Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Mi Vida

   by oyster50

   CopyrightÂ(C) 2015 by oyster50

   ------ Description: Many things can be found in the dry ranges of South
Texas.  One of them is work.  Good work.  Sometimes, though, going through
the motions of the job, one doesn't know what manner of strangeness can
come into one's life, turning routine into a little bit of an adventure. 
Meet Dave and what he finds hidden behind the seat of his work truck, a
Guatemalan waif.  She's looking for her aunt.  Or something.
Codes: Ma/Fa, Ma/ft, ft/ft, Fa/ft, Mult, Consensual, Romantic, Lesbian,
BiSexual, Heterosexual, Incest, Brother, Sister, Group Sex,
Polygamy/Polyamory, White Male, Hispanic Female, First, Oral Sex,
Masturbation, Petting, Slow

   ------



   ------

   Introduction

   Dave's working.  It's not glamorous, but it puts a roof over his head,
food on the table, spending money in the bank.  He's got friends, he's got
family, but he doesn't have that special someone in his life, not that he
hasn't tried.

   It's South Texas in the spring and he's out with a technician to look at
a problem.  The problem's the easy part.  It's not until twenty miles up
the road, headed home, that he finds that you can pick up more than a
paycheck on a job.

   Author's note: I am not fluent in Spanish, therefore I will only toss a
bit into the story for flavoring.  Nor will I attempt to replicate any
accent or dialect that Carlita and her friends may be using.  Rest assured,
it's in MY head.  I hope that as you read the story, you will be able to
add those details for yourself.



   ------

   Chapter 1

   "Look, there's a gas station on the west side of the road about fifteen
miles down the road from the hotel you're gonna stay at.  Meet me there at
around eight."

   That was one of our technicians.  He takes care of the equipment that
measures what's flowing through our pipeline.  His job takes him out into
the middle of nowhere all the time because the sites where his equipment is
located are on or near the right of way of a pipeline that starts way down
in Texas and goes all the way to the land of Yankees up north, billions and
billions of BTUs for heating and electricity and factories.

   Somebody has to make these things work.  That's us.  My part of the pie
is that I'm the electrical guru.  Something wrong with electricity?  I'm
the guy you call.

   I got called because this particular site has had a lot of equipment
failures during spring storms  -" lightning, the tech says.  I figure it's
worth a visit, so a mere five-hour drive, and overnight in yet another
hotel, and then meet with the tech, let him lead me to his site, and I'll
take a look.

   The next morning I'm in the appointed parking lot.  We meet, shake
hands, I refresh my coffee, and then I follow him out to the site.  I love
these things.  The instructions to the site include the dreaded term "then
turn off the paved road".  We unlock and lock a series of gates as we
travel across private land, finally arriving at the little building in the
middle of the endless miles of caliche clay and limestone and cactus and
mesquite and other flora and fauna of the semi-arid land.

   There's a chain-link fence around the building, but the gate's off the
hinges.  We pulled through the gate.  I parked my truck outside the yard
and exited, leaving the door open.  Out in the middle of nowhere, right?  I
opened the back door of the crew cab and grabbed my camera.  Left that door
open, too.

   I looked at the mess, the result of too many weeks on the road, and I
promised myself that I'd clean the thing out.  After all, it's spring, and
the layers of winter clothing were a couple of feet deep, the things that
had served me well in the dead of winter.

   "Dunno what they're looking for," Duncan said.  "No water.  It's a long
way to come to strip the place for copper.  But every time I come here, the
gate's off and the door's open."

   I nodded.  I kicked a bundle of clothes rolled haphazardly together,
stashed against the side of the building.  I saw evidence that this place
had been a stop for a lot of people.

   "Yeah," he said about the sad bundle of clothing.  "The right of way's a
common path for illegal immigrants.  The coyotes dump 'em on this side of
the Rio Grande.  Some of 'em come this way, headed for Houston, or at least
closer than they were..."

   "Must be tough," I said.

   "Yeah.  I can imagine.  This place in July ...  I hate it."

   We went about the business at hand.  He opened up enclosures filled with
equipment, I peered inside, we chatted.

   I made recommendations, sketched a few things on a pad.  "I'll put all
this together in an email and send it to you, and copy our bosses," I said.
"They have to justify paying me the medium bucks."

   "Yeah, I know," he commiserated.  "You think your ideas are gonna work?"

   "I give 'em about a 90% chance.  This is just doing the housekeeping" I
said.  "We should've put this stuff in on the original installation, but
people didn't know back then.  If this doesn't work, then the next steps
are more expensive."

   "Oh."

   "It's worked everywhere we've tried it, but lightning is a strange
thing. Does crazy stuff."

   We secured the cabinets, did our best job of repairing the door lock and
re-installing the gate, and then I followed him back through the scrub and
onto the highway.  I turned north.  He turned south, headed to other sites.

   I was on the long road, driving through the countryside.  Wasn't even a
main highway, but it was a pretty good road.  I punched up some good music
on the sound system.  My music.  Miles by Mozart, my preferred travel mode.

   I was engaged in the arpeggios of a piano sonata when I thought the back
of my seat moved.  I shrugged it off as an irregularity in the road that
I'd failed to notice.  A little later, it was a definite push, and I was
thinking about hitting the shoulder for a look when a dark-haired head
popped up.

   "SeÃ+/-or, tiene agua?"

   It is to my great credit that I didn't exercise any of several options,
among them crapping my pants, driving off the road, or screaming.  I also
credit myself with my terribly measured response.  "Huh?"

   The rounded face, crowned and framed with short, dark, shiny and
disheveled hair, with a pair of dark expressive eyes, looked thoughtful,
then said, "Do you have water?"

   Okay.  Time to use my expansive Spanish vocabulary.  "Si." That was
about it.  On the front seat beside me, a concession to what I know about
working in South Texas, sat a little ice chest.  I reached over, opened it.
Extracted a bottle.

   "Gracias.  Thank you."

   Okay, I do know a little more Spanish.  I just as well try it.  First,
the face in the back seat sucking down that water looked young.  Early to
mid-teen, but I'm used to judging white kids, so I could be wrong.  Second,
if there was mayhem on his mind, he had me dead to rights.

   'His'.  I could be wrong about that.  Let me try.  "¿Cómo se llama?" I
think I remember that was something like "What's your name?" I added
another ten percent of my entire Spanish vocabulary, "Por favor?"

   "Carlos Ortiz," the kid said, then kept talking, dumping a string of
Spanish on me that made as much sense to me as Sanskrit does to a turtle.

   So okay, the remainder of my Spanish: "No habla."

   The face knit again, a little struggle evident, then "I am sor-ry.  I
learn Eengleesh.  Not use it."

   "Better than my Spanish, Carlos," I said.  I started pulling the truck
onto the shoulder, slowing down.

   "Thank you for the water.  I will go away now," the kid said sadly.

   I spoke slowly.  "I am not going to make you get out.  I  -" you may sit
in the front seat."

   A smile.  "Gracias!  Thank you!"

   The truck stopped.  The kid popped open the door, ran around the front,
opened the front passenger-side door and got in.  I tugged my seatbelt,
indicating that he should buckle in.  Got a questioning look.

   "Seatbelt.  For safety," I said.  I unbuckled mine, crawled over the
console, tugged on his, pulling it across the slight torso...  ??? 
Something's not right here.  The accommodations don't match my definition
of a 'Carlos'.

   I kept my thoughts to myself and pushed the belt's tab into the
receiver, snapping it.

   'Carlos' must've sensed something in my motion because the smile waned a
bit.

   I motioned to the little ice chest, now on the passenger side floor. 
"More water?  Coca-cola?" I flipped the lid up on the console.  Inside was
my little stash of snacks for the road.  "Food?"

   The kids snagged a granola bar, peeled back the wrapper, and devoured
it.

   Okay.  Now I have to ask.  "Carlos?  Or Carlita?"

   The dark eyes flashed and the face turned downward.

   "Carlita."

   "Okay," I said.  "I am Dave."

   "Hello, Dave," she said.  I noted that a little less accent was used.

   "How old are you, Carlita?"

   "Catorce aÃ+/-os ...  uh, fourteen years[PtC1]."

   She looked it, I guess.  The disguise transformed her into an asexual
waif who could be anywhere from ten to eighteen.

   "Where are you from?" I asked.

   "Guatemala.  Near Guatemala City."

   "Do you know where you're going?"

   A sigh.  A headshake.

   "Do you ...  you want me to take you to an immigrant shelter?"

   "They would keep me.  I do not want to be kept."

   "Your English seems to have gotten better."

   "I was raised in an orphanage since I was six years.  It was run by
American missionaries.  They taught us English."

   "Why did you not stay there?"

   "Narcotraficantes," she said.  "The police did not stop them.  We were
robbed, then forced away.  My tia, my uh, aunt, she came to America to
start a business.  She was going to send for me when she could."

   "Your aunt.  And you said you lived in an orphanage," I said.

   "She was not really my aunt, just a friend of my mother.  She worked in
the orphanage, she is an educated woman."

   "Do you know where she went?"

   "Not Houston.  New Orleans, I think.  The last letter was a year ago."

   I'm thinking 'lost child'.  I don't know what I would do in the same
circumstances.

   "What is your plan?" I asked.  I had to know if there WAS a plan.

   "The group I was with, we were going to go to Houston and then I was
going to try to ride with somebody to New Orleans."

   "How were you going to live?"

   "Churches.  They tell me that churches will feed us.  I have some money
also."

   "Money?  How much?"

   She looked around the truck, I guess to gauge how likely I was to rob
her.  "I have fifty-one dollars."

   "Carlita, that's not much money.  And is Carlita your real name?"

   "Yes.  It is nice to be called by my name again.  I have been Carlos for
weeks."

   "You travelled as a boy?"

   "Yes.  I have heard stories about what happens to girls."

   I'd suspected as much myself, but I said nothing.

   "Nobody knew.  Until you.  I hid it well.  Even my ...  monthlies?"

   "Okay.  Period is a more common word, Carlita.  I'm surprised you
succeeded."

   "There were so many.  I did not let myself stand out.  I was not loud, I
was never the first or the last in line."

   "Very wise."

   "Until you fastened my belt, nobody knew."

   I smiled.  "I'm sorry.  I will tell nobody.  Now, when is the last time
you've had a good meal?"

   She looked at me with sad eyes.  "Days."

   "Do you have clothes besides the ones you are wearing?"

   "I have a pair of pants and a shirt and under ...  undergarments.  They
are not clean."

   'Damn!' I told myself.  I couldn't just dump Carlita off somewhere.  I
guess I was raised wrong.  Dad was one of the world's worst about taking in
stray dogs.  It must've rubbed off.

   "Carlita, do you want help?  I can help you.  We can get you some new
clothes, wash what you have, have a good meal or two, then see what we can
do about locating your tia..."

   She looked at me.  I know what she's thinking.

   "No, I am not trading you those things for something else."

   "Why would you do this?"

   "I solve problems for a living.  You have a problem.  Maybe I can help."

   "Why?"

   "Because a man should take care of those who need help."

   "I have no money to pay you."

   "I'm not doing this for money.  I make enough money already.  Helping
you will not hurt my money."

   "You do not know me."

   "Okay," I said, "Tell me about yourself.  Then I will know you."

   She sounded almost as if she was doing a classroom presentation.  "My
name is Carlita Ortiz, daughter of Maria Guerrera and Pablo Ortiz.  My
parents were killed when I was five.  I was raised in an orphanage run by
the good people of an American church.  They saw that we had a clean safe
place to live and that we received education.  One of the people who worked
at the orphanage was a lady named Estella Hernandez.  She treated me like
her own daughter who was my age.  They lived in a small house at the
orphanage.

   "In the last year, the narcotraficantes started visiting, demanding that
they be given things and that they use our buildings.  The police were
told, but they did nothing.  Tia Estella said that many people were
travelling to America to start new lives, and that if I could hang on, she
would go there and then call for me.  She and her daughter left.  I used to
get letters.  From New Orleans."

   New Orleans.  As much as I hated the place, it was one of our major
headquarters.  I did not work out of that office, not actually IN New
Orleans, but one of the field offices in another town.

   "The narcos became more vicious," Carlita said.  "They beat up the old
man who ran the orphanage.  He was in the hospital, then he left to go back
to America.  His wife went with him.  I knew things would not get better,
so I started this journey.  It has not been easy.  I have been in America
eight days.  Two days ago I was afraid that they discovered I was a girl,
so I ran away.  I found that small building yesterday.  I knew that if
something did not happen, I would die there, but you came up." She turned
her head towards me.  "I prayed."

   "I always wanted to be the answer to somebody's prayer," I said.

   I caught the eyes flashing.  There IS life in there.

   "Where are we going?" she asked.

   "The town where I was staying has a couple of big stores.  We need to
get you some clothes, and you get to pick out a place to eat..."

   "Any place.  I am hungry..."

   "Open the console.  Get you something..."

   "Thank you.  I did not want to ask..."

   "Carlita, you get to ask.  I may so 'no' or 'later', but you get to
ask."

   "I ask you if we can find el baÃ+/-o ...  a restroom."

   "See?  That was easy.  Next stop."

   The 'next stop' was one of those gas station/everything else stores that
populate the highways these days.  I accompanied her inside, mainly because
I didn't want the staff to think she was some homeless waif.  Actually, she
WAS a homeless waif, but I wasn't going to let her be mistreated for it.

   When she came out of the restroom, her face was still wet, short hair
brushed back from her face.  She straightened her back, smiled.  Yes, the
clothes she was wearing easily camouflaged any indication that she was
female.

   I saw her eye the hot food counter.  "Would you like to get something
here?  We can do this, then after we get you a change of clothes, we can do
a better choice for dinner."

   "I would like this for now," she said.

   "Then let's tell them what we want."

   I worried about the impact of fried foods on a stomach that might've
been on short rations recently.  Carlita held no reservations on the
subject.

   The next stop was the department store.  South Texas.  Plenty of chances
for me to ask a Latino staffer to help Carlita choose some clothes.  She
kept looking for me and I kept nodding assent.  Jeans.  T-shirt tops.  A
nice blouse.  Some better shoes than she had.  We loaded up the basket.

   "Do you need other things?" I asked.

   "What sort of things?"

   "The sort of things that young ladies might need that men do not ever
understand."

   "Yes."

   Detour through another section of the store.

   "Now, something to carry your things when you travel," I said.

   "I have that small backpack."

   I'd seen it by now.  "If you want another backpack, that's fine.  Yours
has seen better days."

   "You are spending too much money, Mister Dave."

   "I'm not.  These are things you need."

   "I am not yours to take care of, Mister Dave."

   "No, I suppose you're right, Carlita.  You're somebody who needs help. I
am in a position to help."

   She looked a bit sad when she thought about it.  We headed to the
checkout lines, I paid the bill with a piece of plastic, and we loaded up
the truck.

   "Now, Carlita, I have a hotel room..."

   Her face fell.

   "No, that's NOT what you think.  I stay in a lot of hotels.  This room
has two beds and it has a shower in that room, too.  And laundry
facilities. You can get cleaned up and feel a lot better.  And then we can
go eat and then start trying to find your tia."

   "I am sorry, Dave.  I hear the coyotes telling some young girls that
they can make a lot of money as putas.  I cannot be a puta."

   "I am not trying to make you a puta, Carlita.  I am trying to help you
find your tia." I had some trepidation as we arrived at the hotel.  I
worried that going to my room with a teenager, boy or girl, and make no
mistake, Carlita was still carrying off the 'boy' thing well, would get me
in trouble.  I don't think anybody noticed.  Or cared.

   Carlita's head, however, was on a swivel through the lobby, into the
elevator, up the hall, and then when I opened the door.

   "This is your room, Dave?  Are you wealthy?"

   "No," I said.  "Not wealthy." We distributed the shopping bags.

   "Okay, get yourself a change of clothes.  The shower is waiting on you."

   "Oh, very much so," she said with a hint of a smile.  Still scared.

   "Take your time.  I will be in here on the computer."

   Carlita went into the bathroom, closing the door behind herself.  I
heard the shower running.  I opened up my laptop on the room's desk and
started searching for whatever organizations might keep track of illegal
immigrants.

   I was poking around when I noted that the water stopped, then several
more minutes passed and this adorable waif came out of the bathroom.

   I turned.

   "Dave, this is the first time I feel clean in two months."

   "It suits you well, Lita."

   She smiled broadly.  "You call me 'Lita'.  My family called me Lita."

   "If you wish, I will not call you that," I said.

   "No, please.  It makes me feel almost like good things again." Her hand
went to her short dark hair.  "Now I can be a girl again."

   "Yes you can," I said.  "Do you want to wash your other clothes?"

   "If we could.  They are worth keeping, I think."

   "Then let's do that," I said.  We gathered up the grimy bundle along
with the other clothes in her scruffy backpack, went up the hall, and
started a load of laundry.

   "I have never been in a place like this, Dave." Those big eyes regarded
me.  "I am sorry.  Perhaps I should call you Mister Dave."

   "You can call me Dave, little friend," I said.  "That works just fine."
I looked at my watch, then the washer, did a quick calculation, then, "We
can go back to the room and work while these wash."

   "Sí ...  okay." Lita was constantly shifting her language.  Her English
was surprisingly good, but when she didn't take the time to make a
conscious effort, the first words were Spanish.  Okay, I can stand to learn
a little Spanish.

   Back in the room, she stared at the computer.  "I have never used one."

   I'm now trying to think of any fourteen year old American kid I know who
could honestly say that.

   "It's mostly easy," I said.  "These have become part of life now.  I'm
looking for organizations that might have information on people like your
Tia ...  I need her name."

   "Estella Hernandez."

   "That may help." I looked at her.  She was right at my side.  Okay, I
did an assessment that I'd not done before, really.  Five feet two, maybe
three.  Hundred pounds or so.  Dark hair, now cleaned and pushed behind her
ears.  Eyes were brown, of course, but a lively brown, rounded, situated
perfectly on a rounded face.  The kind of eyelashes that women spend too
much of their lives trying to achieve, eyebrows just perfect.

   The actually HER size girl clothes made her a cutie in that timeless way
that young girls seem to achieve.

   I started clicking links and sending email inquiries about 'Estella
Hernandez'.  "Best I can do," I said.  "I've never tried doing anything
like this before."

   "Nor I," she said.

   "It may be easier now," I told her.  "Undocumented immigrants do not
have to hide like they once did."

   "I am undocumented," she said.

   "You're young.  Nobody will look at you."

   "I could be your niece." She paused, "When people see us together."

   'Oh, yeah, ' I thought.  That's the archetypical thing  -" dirty old man
and his 'niece'.

   "That might work," I told her.  "We almost look alike."

   First giggle.  There HAD to be a first giggle.  This was it.  She
giggled.  "You look too Anglo.  I look like every Guatemalan girl you'll
ever see."

   "You're the only Guatemalan girl I've ever seen.  Do they all call
themselves Carlos and dress like boys?"

   "No.  Of course not!" and a giggle and a flash of eyes.

   I smiled.

   "You.  You like to joke."

   "We have plenty of time to be serious.  It's good to laugh in the middle
of it."

   "It is."

   I finished tapping out the last email and turned to her.  "You have the
TV tonight.  Here's the control."

   "Show me.  I did not get to touch the TV at the orphanage."

   That's another hiccup in my mind.  I took these little bits of
technology as givens.  EVERYBODY knows how to use them, right?

   "Okay.  This one is the 'on-off' button."

   "Why does it not say that?"

   "Some may say 'power', but this little symbol is more or less universal.
That's a zero for 'off' and a one for 'on'."

   "Okay."

   The hotel's cable selections included a few stations in Spanish.  She
paused on them.  "These are not shows I wish to see.  Nor do you speak
enough Spanish to understand them.  It would be selfish of me."

   We were in separate beds, naturally.  She laid back, wiggled like a cat
stretching.

   "Never.  I have never had a bed like this.  So BIG.  Clean.  I had clean
bed at the orphanage, but small.  One person.  At the end, two of us slept
in it.  Since I left, I have not slept in a bed." She spun to face me. 
"Dave, this is wonderful."

   "Glad you like it."

   "But I do like it.  I did not expect it.  I heard stories of people like
me in shelters.  Crowded.  Some not nice people.  This is nice."



   ------

   Chapter 2

   "Watch TV.  I need to go shower myself."

   "Okay, Dave." She smiled.  I like the smile.

   I did my shower and shave routine, making sure that this time I brought
my clean clothes with me since I was not alone in the room any more.

   I let the stream of hot water soak the funk off me, all the while
thinking about morality as taught me by my father.  I voluntarily took on a
responsibility with Carlita.

   In Dad's terms, "You brought it home.  You fed it.  You owe it something
now." He applied it to strays.  I saw many a dog come and go.  Dad had an
immense heart when it came to the pups, and he seemed to have almost
endless resources of people he could call upon to find homes.  I'd watched
him pick up starving, ragged strays, nurse and feed them back to health,
then see somebody's little boy hugging HIS new best friend.

   I had one of those in the adjoining room, smiling as she figured out the
operation of a TV remote control for the first time.

   I finished shaving, made one more pass with a towel, and dressed myself,
then padded into the room in my bare feet.

   "I broke it, Dave.  I'm sorry.  It was working.  I pushed something. 
Now it's broken."

   I smiled.  She looked so contrite, nervous, no, scared, actually.

   "No, Lita.  Very seldom can you break the TV by pushing buttons on the
remote." I looked.  Sadly, she pushed the remote across her bed towards me.
I looked.  She'd accidentally switched video inputs.

   "This is an easy one.  Here..." I said, extending the remote to her.

   She shook her head violently.  "No.  NO.  I broke it."

   "You can't break it by pushing these buttons.  You just told it to do
something that doesn't work here.  Take it.  Go ahead." I extended it to
her again, then I sat down close to her.  "Now, push this button.  It says
'Menu'..."

   I talked her through it.  Didn't take long to get the picture back.

   "Is this show okay?  I am curious about these things." It was a nature
documentary.

   "It's very okay, Lita," I said.  "After five we'll go eat."

   "Yes.  That is good."

   I leaned back in my own bed, thinking.  One thing crossed my mind.  She
was exploring her new world, even if it was something as mundane to me as
the TV remote control.

   I guess I dozed off.  I awoke to the gentle push of a hand and a soft,
"Dave?"

   I opened my eyes.

   "It is after five."

   "Okay.  All I need to do is put on shoes.  What sort of food do you
wish?"

   "I would like McDonald's."

   "Seriously?  There are some good restaurants around here."

   If you don't want McDonald's, that is okay."

   "McDonald's," I said.  Disbelief.  Then realization.  She'd never BEEN
to America.  What do kids outside the country know about America?  I guess
McDonald's is one of those things.  Oh, well, I can endure it.  Not like
it's the first time I ever ate at one.  "McDonald's it is, then.  For
Lita."

   "You do not eat at McDonald's?"

   "Sometimes.  I sometimes drive through and get a hamburger and eat it
while I drive."

   "I have heard about McDonald's.  I thought Americans ate there all the
time."

   I smiled.  "No, we do not.  But I think Lita needs to eat at McDonald's
at least once.  Put your shoes on."

   A freshly washed, neatly dressed Lita is a neat thing.  She had a little
bounce in her step and a smile on her face.  Her clothing wasn't meant to
emphasize that this was a young female, so the indications of that fact
were subtle.  And, dare I think about it, alluring.

   We walked out to the truck.  I clicked to unlock her door.  She looked
at me quizzically.  "It's unlocked," I said.  "You can get in."

   She did.  She buckled her seatbelt, looked at me while she did it.  Eye
contact.  "I remember, see?"

   "Yes, you do."

   She looked behind the seats.  "Desordenado.  Messy, correct?  If you
were not messy, I could not hide."

   "I'll keep that in mind next time I think about cleaning out my truck,"
I said.

   "You may clean it now," she said.  "You do not need to pick up more
Carlitas."

   The comment startled me, I guess.  I looked over at her.  She was
smiling.  "Until this one finds her tia."

   McDonald's was less than a mile up the road, a paean to mediocrity, as
far as I was concerned.  After all, this is Texas, and in Texas, fast food
burgers mean Whataburger, to the discerning, but Lita's idea of America
was, among other things, a place with McDonald's.  The Land of Golden
Arches.  I pulled in, we got out, I locked the door.

   "How well do you read English," I asked.

   "I read better than I speak," she said confidently.  And she took my
hand.  I looked at her.

   "This is ...  Look over there..." she said, catching my question before
I voiced it.

   I looked.  There was another adult with a kid in tow.  Okay, I'll buy
it. I smiled.  Taking my 'niece' to McDonald's.

   Ten minutes later we're seated in a booth each with a tray of burger,
fries and a drink.  She was a couple of bites into hers.

   "Well, Lita ...  McDonald's.  Good, or no?"

   She smiled.  "Good.  I saw McDonald's in Guatemala.  I thought American
McDonald's must be good.  First time I have eaten at McDonald's."

   "Good," I said.  "I did not want to disappoint you."

   "I am not disappointed." She dove back at that burger.

   I felt better about the whole deal than common sense told me I should.
We finished the meal, dumped our trash and got back in the truck.

   "Wanna ride around?"

   "Ride around?" she asked.  "Why?"

   "Just to see things.  Or there's TV back in the room."

   "But you just ride around?  For no reason?"

   "The ride IS the reason, Lita."

   "Yes, I want to ride around."

   We did.  I'd spent enough time in this town to know the main loop, so we
did that.  I pointed out some restaurants that I enjoyed.

   "A lot of Mexican places," she said.

   "Texas was once part of Mexico, and a lot of people who were not Anglos
stayed after the Texas Revolution.  And a lot more have come since then."

   "I see.  All these places are not from undocumented..."

   "Most are not.  Perhaps many of the workers, though ...  there are not
Guatemalan restaurants."

   "Perhaps that is what Tia Estella is going to do.  Or maybe something
else.  I think people would not know what to expect from Guatemala.  But
the food I ate in Mexico is not too different, I think."

   "That's good to know.  I didn't want to think of having to feed you
McDonald's every day."

   "I don't think I want McDonald's every day.  It was good, but I think
other things may be better."

   "And Lita would be correct.  Tomorrow we will start with breakfast."

   Our little road trip took us out on a loop through the countryside.  I
knew the route because it passed by one of the stations I took care of.  I
pointed it out.  She looked appropriately interested.  She was also
interested in the farmland, just turning green with the spring planting,
and the family homes and ranches.

   "And these are ordinary people?  Like you?" she asked.

   "Yes.  My brother has a place rather like this.  He works a regular job,
raises some cattle on his place.  Makes a little money from them, I guess,
but it's what he wants to do.  I have my own place, but it's just a
half-acre.  My job takes me away too often to really care for a farm. 
Animals need care every day."

   "People do, too, I think."

   "Yes, they do.  But people can feed themselves and clean up after
themselves and sometimes that works okay when people are alone." And what
did I just say?

   "I wanted to be alone," Lita said.  "On the trip.  I was afraid.  If it
had been discovered that I was a girl, it would have been bad.  I know
girls who were attacked.  What is the word when a man forces a girl..."

   "Rape."

   "Yes.  I cannot even keep the word in my head because I feared it. 
There were girls with us when our group started.  I do not know what
happened to them.  I think it was not good." She sighed.  "I knew that each
day longer, I was closer to being found out.  That is why I left on my
own."

   "How did you do that?"

   "We were walking in a group along that path, the one your building was
near.  As it got dark, I just walked away from the group.  What would
happen to me out there was better than what would happen if I was found to
be a girl." She looked at me.  "Now I am not alone.  You are my first
friend since I come to America." She smiled.

   We completed the loop, returning to the hotel, found something on TV.

   "I did not destroy the TV this time, Dave," she said.

   "I see that.  I need to get you into using a computer, Lita."

   "I would like that.  I see yours."

   "That's my company's computer.  I have one at home that you may use. 
You need to learn.  It's not hard.  Every American kid knows how to use
these things.  Email, Searching.  Reading.  Watching videos."

   "I have heard of that.  I have not used a computer, though.  Was only a
dream."

   "I will help that dream, Lita."

   "Thank you, Dave."

   The TV droned for a bit.  I was reading on my iPad.  I caught a motion
out of the corner of my eye.  Carlita rolled to face me.

   "You said you have a brother?"

   "Yes.  He's a year younger than me.  Ron.  And a sister, a year older.
Patricia.  We call her Pat.  Ron works in a refinery.  Pat teaches school.
Ron has two children.  Pat isn't married.  No children.  Pat and I live on
the same street."

   "Oh.  And what is it that you do?"

   "I'm an engineer.  I work with electricity."

   "You are not married?"

   "No." This was a sore point, but Carlita couldn't know it.

   Her eyes widened.  "No children?"

   "No."

   "How old are you?"

   "Twenty-eight," I said.

   "In Guatemala, men who are twenty-eight have families."

   "Perhaps in Guatemala it is easier to find a good wife."

   She looked over at me from her bed, smiled a little.  "I hear much about
America.  I see TV.  I read.  Women are very free here, more than
Guatemala."

   "I don't know how things are in Guatemala," I said.  "I've heard there
is a difference."

   "My Tia Estella says it is not the same as when she was younger, but
there is a difference even now." She looked longingly at my iPad.  "Can I
see it?  Your iPad?"

   "Sure.  Of course." Nothing on the thing that would give Lita any cause
to worry about this man who'd rescued her.

   She held it, gauging its weight.  "Show me."

   Okay, I can do this.  "These are icons.  They represent applications. 
People call them 'apps' for short.  Each one is a program that does
something or shows me information.  This one," I pointed at the map, "tells
us where we are and can give us directions on how to get where we want to
go."

   "How do you do that?"

   "Just tap it with your fingertip..." and we were off on Lita's trip into
technology.

   "How much does such a thing cost?" she asked.

   I told her.

   "It is no wonder that I did not see one at the orphanage.  That is much
money."

   "Not so much, Lita.  I have an older one that I will give you if you
want it."

   Her face lit up.  Truth?  I bought the latest, the one she was playing
with.  I tossed the older one into a cabinet with the intent of putting it
on eBay.  The couple of hundred bucks I'd get for it wouldn't be nearly as
much fun as seeing Lita smiling.  I have a niece and a nephew, but they
each have one, or at least something like it.  Lita?  I knew that
everything she owned was in this room.

   I took a moment to assess the girl in the bed smiling with the soft glow
of the iPad's screen illuminating her face.  I was thinking that most
people from her corner of the world would be darker, shorter, tending
towards Indian, that is, native Central American features.  To be sure,
there was some of that coloration, but her hair was tinged with brown, a
bit lighter, the eyes were a bit more European, their shape more rounded. I
also thought that girls in that region ascended into puberty rather earlier
and tended towards bustiness.  Not Lita.  Lithe.  Since she wasn't trying
to hide them, there were nicely developing breasts evident, but I could see
how she was able to pass as a young boy in that department.

   I decided that she was entertaining herself quite well, so I retrieved
my laptop and caught up on the day's email, both business and personal.  I
was engrossed in typing out a reply to a business-related query when I
sensed a presence.  I looked up and found Lita standing there beside me.

   "I do not think I have said 'thank you' enough, Dave," she said.

   "You are clean and happy.  Your smile is all the thanks that I need."

   "No, it is improper of me not to say it.  I am not an ignorant,
unschooled child.  Thank you.  You could have left me on the side of the
road or you could have given me to the police.  You did not.  I am
fortunate.  You are a good man.  Thank you."

   "Lita, if you want to say it formally, then I must say you're more than
welcome.  I wish I could imagine others being as strong as you are under
the same conditions."

   "I did not have a choice, Dave.  My country is not a safe place for
those in the middle between government and the narcotraficantes.  Some have
already been taken.  I know what would happen to me if I lived.  Some are
killed, not because of being on one side or the other side, but just being
in the middle."

   I am still learning of Lita's capabilities in English.  I said so.

   "The people who gave us the orphanage were very good teachers.  For four
hours every day in class, we could only speak English.  I learned fast. 
Tia Estella said that if we came to America, we could live much better if
we could speak English well.  She speaks it well also." She looked down. 
"Tell me if I use words wrongly.  I need to know."

   "I know native Americans who do not speak as correctly as you," I said.
"And you've already heard just about all the Spanish I know..."

   Brown eyes flashed.  "You tried."

   "I did.  I wasn't prepared for bringing home a Carlita."

   "You are bringing me home?"

   "I don't know what else to do.  If I turn you over to the authorities,
you'll go into a system with thousands of others..."

   "I do not want that.  I was with others..."

   "They will not put you with boys, Lita."

   "I do not wish to do that.  Even with girls.  I become an object."

   "I just want you to understand that you have the option.  You can walk
out that door right now and I won't stop you.  I can't.  You are NOT my
property."

   "I do not want to go unless you do not want me with you.  I am already
a..." she paused to think of a word.  "A burden."

   "Not since I got you, Lita.  But we will go home tomorrow and I don't
know how that's going to work."

   "Is there not room?  I have slept many places.  A clean floor is better
than many places I have slept."

   "No, I have a spare room.  It has a futon in it that makes a bed. 
Nobody uses it.  It is yours now."

   "I am not trouble.  I can clean.  Cook, maybe."

   "You're fourteen.  You're not going to be my housekeeper.  You should be
in school."

   "I do not know how that can happen," she said.  "I would like to go to
school."

   "My sister is a teacher.  Maybe she'll know how to make it happen."

   "Your sister may not like me."

   "Lita," I said, "I like you and I only met you today."

   "I want you to like me," she said dramatically, flopping herself back
onto the bed.  "I want so many things.  I want to see my Tia Estella again.
I want my hair to grow back so I won't look like a boy.  I want to go back
to school.  I want to live in a place where I do not have to suspect bad
things from every person I see." She sighed, equally dramatically.  "It is
NOT wrong to want these things, is it, Dave?"

   "No, it isn't, Lita.  One does need to temper wants with reality,
though."

   "Tell me about my reality, Dave."

   "We will do our best to find your Tia Estella.  It may take time.  You
dress like you do now and you do not look like a boy, you look like a girl
with very short hair.  I will see what we can do about getting you back
into school.  In the meantime, just because you are not in a classroom does
not mean you cannot learn.  And there is no place where you should let your
guard down about strangers.  Even people you know may have ill intent."

   "Ill intent.  You mean that they might want to hurt me."

   "I'm sorry.  I forget that English is not your first language, although
you do it very well.  I make it worse.  I tend to use a wider choice of
words..."

   "Vocabulary," she interrupted, carefully enunciating the syllables.

   "Yes, vocabulary.  I do not mean to talk to you like you are an infant,
but if I use words you do not understand, stop me."

   "Thank you, Dave," she said seriously.  "I want to learn.  If you teach
me by talking to me like a child, I will only learn as a child."

   "Some people do not want to work so hard."

   "Dave, I did not take the chances I took with the thought of life being
easy when I get to America.  I want a good life, not just one better than I
was facing."

   I noted again the maturity of her thoughts.  Scared me.  Too many of the
women who'd circulated in and out of my life didn't think like this.  I
shook my head.

   She caught the motion.  "What are you thinking?"

   "How I am going to try to help you.  Your aunt is a mystery.  I do not
know where to start."

   "You sent those emails.  Email.  It is like magic.  You must show me
how."

   "You'll learn it all, Lita." I was getting ready to talk to her more on
the subject when my cellphone rang.

   "That's my sister," I said.  "I told her that I had a change in my
life."

   Her face began to fall.

   "No, I mean a GOOD change." I punched the button and said, "Hi, Sis."

   "You're crazy," my dear sister said.  "You can't just do that."

   "I absolutely CAN do that.  She's with me.  I get to help her."

   "Does she even speak English?"

   "Hah!" I barked.  "She speaks better English than most of your
students."

   "Seriously?"

   "Yeah," I said.  "Horrible little thing.  Big brown eyes.  Bilingual. 
Been on the road for weeks, acting like a boy to get here.  She's looking
for her aunt."

   "Her aunt?"

   "Yeah, like OUR aunt, you know, Mom's friend..."

   "Not related, you mean."

   "Yeah.  Her Tia Estella took care for her in the orphanage.  Left to
come to the States to get set up and was going to bring Carlita along when
the situation stabilized.  Carlita said things got really bad there, so she
came up on her own."

   "Oh, poor baby."

   "That's sort of where I'm at.  I'm thinking that between you and me, we
can help her out."

   My sister sighed.  "That's our dad talking.  You've just picked up
another stray."

   "This one's just learning to use my iPad," I said.

   "Well," Sis sighed, "I'll help all I can."

   "Thank you, Sis," I said.  "Love you."

   "Love you, too.  Bye." I clicked off the call.  Lita was watching
intently.

   "I am a burden."

   "You are not a burden.  You are a person who needs help.  Now my sister
is in on helping you."

   "How is that going to happen?"

   "She lives on the same street I do.  Between the two of us, we will give
you a place to call home and we will try to find your Tia Estella."

   "Your sister.  She has no children?  No husband?"

   "No.  Never married."

   Lita's face had a curious expression.  I suppose she was parsing new
information.  "She is a school teacher?"

   "Yes.  And the school year is almost over.  I don't think she has
anything planned for the summer this year.  Last year she went to Europe."

   Her eyes flashed.  "I went to America."

   I smiled.  "Yes, you did."

   We watched a bit more TV in between sessions of questions about
technology.  My own mind was going like a marble in a blender.  I don't
know what I actually expected from somebody in Lita's position, but she
seemed to be taking it well.

   I found it interesting that in order for her to look at my laptop, she
snuggled into my side as I explained.

   "Many people use these in America?"

   "I guess," I said.  "I use it for work.  I use one at home for
entertainment.  I also have the iPad and this iPhone.  They do many of the
same things."

   "The keyboard, the place where you type, it is not in order."

   "No, but just about every keyboard you will see is going to be in this
same order.  It's a standard."

   "You do it very fast.  I could not do that."

   "Yes, you can," I said.  "I've been using keyboards for twenty years.  I
think you will get a little practice and you will do better.  Here.  Try
it." I pushed my laptop over to her own lap.  "Now, your fingers rest on
these keys..."

   She looked at me from close range, big brown eyes filled with curiosity
and intelligence, then back at her fingers.  She made a few tentative
keystrokes.

   "You don't have to worry.  The key for each letter will always be in the
same place."

   "But that place is not right."

   "Somebody else long ago decided what was right, Lita."

   She moved her hand to search for a letter, then pecked it with her index
finger.

   "No, don't do it that way.  Put your hands back where I showed you. 
Find the letter and use THAT finger.  Reach up or down, or sideways, but
the same finger always hits the same letter..."

   "Oh.  Okay.  I think I understand."

   I let her play a little while.  She was beginning to know her way around
the keyboard.

   "They do have a way to set it up for Spanish, Lita..."

   "No.  Not Spanish.  I am learning a new thing in a new country and
knowing it in English is a better way, I think."

   My head went 'Huh?' but I saw her logic.  I also saw that she USES
logic. I glanced at the clock on the bedside table.  "It's getting late and
we need to get up early in the morning.  It's time for sleep."

   Another of those looks.  She smiled.  "Last night I sleep on the leaves
under a bush.  I think this is better."

   She turned the covers down on her bed and situated herself under them.
"Dave?"

   "Yes, Lita?"

   "Come here.  Close."

   "Yes, Lita." I came close.

   "Bend over."

   I did.  She sort of jumped up, planted a kiss on my cheek.  "That's for
taking care of me," she said.  "Thank you, Dave."

   "Thank you, Lita.  I have enjoyed our day."

   I turned the light out and rolled over to sleep.  My normal pattern is
two hours of hard sleep, and then I wake up and roll over.  I had just gone
through that cycle when I heard a soft rustle, then my bed moved and a warm
form snuggled against my back.



   ------

   Chapter 3

   Lita was snuggled against my back.  A little shiver from her slight form
provided an acceptable reason for her move.  She didn't put her arm around
me or wiggle or give any other indication that this was anything but a way
to handle sleeping in an air-conditioned room after weeks of sleeping
outdoors or in makeshift shelters.

   I surmised that the kid had already had enough trauma in her life
without me making a big deal out of this so I went back to sleep, albeit
rather fitfully.  It's been a long time since I slept with somebody,
especially somebody who was, in my mind, forbidden fruit.  Still, I slept,
drifting deeper into darkness.

   I woke up to a wiggle.  Not mine.  Hers.  She was trying to slide out of
bed without waking me.  I sat up.  "Lita?"

   "I'm sorry, Dave, I shouldn't have done this..."

   "What did you do?"

   "I got into bed with you.  I was cold and I have never slept in a bed as
big as that one by myself.  And I felt alone..."

   "You don't have to apologize, Lita.  Nothing happened.  We just slept."

   "Good girls do not sleep with men.  Especially men they only met that
day."

   "What good girls don't do has nothing to do with sleeping," I said.

   Her brown eyes flashed, then a little smile grew.  "It is...  'sleeping'
...  it's a nice way to say something without using other words that sound
bad.  There is a word I cannot remember..."

   "Euphemism?"

   "Yes.  Greek root.  'Eu' means good, nice..."

   "Fourteen year old Guatemalan waifs are not supposed to know Greek
roots."

   "Books.  Many books."

   "Okay," I laughed.  "I forget.  Lita is smart."

   She cast her eyes downward.  "Do you think so?"

   "I do," I replied.  "Go get dressed.  We need breakfast, then we drive
to my home."

   "Dave," she said in a 'little girl' voice, "Are you angry that I got in
bed with you?"

   "No, I am not.  But Lita, I can get in much trouble for that if others
find out.  There are many laws to protect young girls in this country."

   "We did not do anything, Dave.  We slept."

   "The people who enforce those laws will not understand or believe that,
Lita."

   "I will not speak of it.  We did no wrong.  You have done much right for
me, Dave."

   "Thank you.  I am happy to help, but there are too many people in the
world who would see me with bad intent."

   She sat, pajama-clad, on her bed, legs crossed.  Totally charming,
except, maybe, for that too-short haircut.  "Do they think that you search
the desert for helpless girls?"

   "You're trying to make logic of it.  Logic has no place to those with an
agenda."

   "Agenda?"

   I forgot.  She does have a great command of English, but it's not her
native tongue.  "They look at things with a single goal in mind.  If what
they see does not match what they desire, they start shedding truth to make
things fit."

   "Oo-oohhhh!  I understand.  Agenda.  I will remember it.  I had an
agenda.  Save Carlita and find Tia Estella."

   "I do not mind YOUR agenda.  You will not put me in jail.  Now go get
dressed."

   She grinned, bounced off the bed, grabbed some clothes and hit the
bathroom.  When the door closed, I hurried with my own dressing.

   I was putting on shoes when she came out, passing her hand across the
top of her head.  "I so much want to look like a girl again," she said.

   I surveyed the clean, neat creature in front of me.  Definitely a girl.
"You're definitely a girl," I said.

   She caught my eyes, put her hands over her smallish breast bumps.  "I am
small there, too.  Most girls my age are larger."

   "If you were larger, you would not have made it this far.  You can
barely hide those."

   "I did not want them noticed.  THEM I don't care about.  My hair ...  I
so much look like a boy."

   "Hair will grow.  I know boys who wear theirs longer than yours and
girls who wear theirs shorter.  You don't look strange."

   That got me a little smile.

   "Put your shoes on.  Let's pack our stuff up."

   Ten minutes later we were out in the parking lot and a short time after
that, seated in a little diner for breakfast.

   I watched her read the menu.  She asked questions.  I told her what I
liked.  We gave our order to the Latina waitress.  Lita smiled, said
something in Spanish to her that got a smile in return.

   She saw me smile as the waitress left.  "It is good to be pleasant to
people," she said.

   "Yes it is, Lita."

   "I watched you.  You try to be nice.  It is good."

   She devoured her breakfast.  "Breakfast.  Yesterday I had no breakfast.
Today, I have too much breakfast."

   "I don't indulge like this very often."

   "Indulge.  Eat too much?" she asked.

   "Indulge.  Give somebody more than they need, maybe.  I don't NEED to
eat a breakfast like this every day.  Today's special, though."

   "Why?" she asked.

   "Because I have you with me."

   Her face brightened up.  "You do not think I am troublesome?"

   "No.  Different.  Not trouble."

   The waitress asked about coffee.  I looked at Lita.  "Do you?"

   Her head bobbed.  She held up two fingers.  "Dos, por favor." Smiled.

   "I will take care of YOU, too, Dave," she smiled.  "You are taking care
of me."

   That made me smile.

   "How long until we get home?" she asked.

   I noted the 'we' and 'home'.  "A little less than six hours," I said. 
"No, make that seven.  We'll stop someplace for lunch."

   "Not McDonald's," she grinned.  "I have had McDonald's now."

   I laughed.  "I generally feel that way about McDonald's myself, Lita. 
We can talk about what to eat when we get hungry again."

   "What do you eat at home?"

   "Oh, that varies.  I eat simply.  Cooking for one is a pain.  Sometimes
my sister and I will cook and eat together.  Sometimes I have friends over.
Sometimes I go out to eat."

   "But you always have food."

   "And you didn't."

   "There were days I was hungry coming here."

   "I'm sorry."

   "Do not be sorry.  I am here.  It is better than staying in Guatemala."

   I paid our check, talking about things all the while to Lita.  I didn't
know what she did or did not know about the way we did things in America.
It was evident when we walked out to the truck.

   "Your credit card?  You use it like money."

   "Yes.  It keeps me from having to carry actual money.  Not as much,
anyway."

   "How much is too much?"

   "I generally have a hundred dollars on me, in case I want to buy
something on the side of the road or in case of an emergency."

   "A hundred dollars.  Just like that."

   "It sounds like a lot of money, but it's really not.  I like to have a
little cash for the road."

   "I think I understand."

   "There are many ways to do business, Lita."

   "You do not mind me asking all these questions?"

   "No.  You want to learn.  I like that."

   "I will learn." She sat back.  I heard a click, glanced sideways and
caught her grinning at me.  "See!  I learned."

   I laughed, "Yes, you did."

   "If you did not have to show me, though, I would still be Carlos."

   "How long do you think you were going to keep being Carlos?"

   "I do not know.  It is better that I am Carlita now, I think."

   "I would have tried to help Carlos."

   "A man is more likely to protect a girl, I think."

   "You may be right."

   "I am right."

   She was.  Charmingly, disarmingly right.  Still, along with the cuteness
and the need, Lita was a major change in my life.  My head was running a
string of thoughts.

   "Do you think we will be able to find my tia?"

   "I don't know.  This is a new thing for me.  I'm sure somebody will know
something.  We'll just have to look hard."

   The drive from South Texas up towards Houston was revelatory to Lita. 
The view from US 59 is a constant stream of businesses on the highway and
homes a bit further back.  "It's all so BIG and NEW," she said.

   "Yeah," I replied.  "Houston's overflowing south pretty fast."

   "This is Houston?"

   "Technically, no, it's one little town after another.  They all just
grow together into one big blob.  I guess it could be called the Houston
metropolitan area."

   There's no way I'm driving through Houston, not with a toll road looping
well outside it.  I took the toll road.  The company foots the bill for a
few bucks in tolls.  I live longer without the aggravation of the higher
traffic on the freeways.  Lita's head was on a swivel.  She saw the high
rise buildings of downtown.

   "That's the middle of Houston," I said.  "We're in the middle of eight
million people."

   "I am glad I did not come here by myself."

   I mulled that thought.  I don't know how I would have done it myself,
not at fourteen.  "I'm glad you didn't try."

   "I was going to try.  Everybody said 'Go to Houston'.  I was going." She
gazed out the window.  "Now I am NOT.  Since I have now seen Houston, I am
glad."

   "Not my favorite place," I said.  "I go there when I need to go there,
no more than that."

   "The orphanage was not far from the city," Lita said.  "Much good in the
city for the right people.  Much bad, too, for too many people.  No place
for Lita.  I hear of people, young people, who live on the streets."

   Her eyes saddened.  "I was afraid I was going to be one.  Then I decide
to come to find my Tia Estella.  I did not have much chance, but better
chance than staying in Guatemala."

   I am thinking of history, the great migrations of my ancestors who left
Europe for the New World, never again to see or hear the family they left
behind.  I glanced over at the dark-haired waif beside me.  That's where
she was right now.

   I didn't harbor much hope for finding her aunt, but I wasn't even giving
a hint of a thought about turning her over to the government for their
tender mercies.  I had images of the same group of people who gave us the
IRS, TSA and public toilets and what they'd do dealing with this
fascinatingly intelligent young girl.

   Once we passed the majority of Houston, I asked her about lunch.

   "I do not know what to choose."

   "Okay.  I know a place.  We try it.  I need to see what I need to feed
Carlita."

   "Carlita will live quite well on dry tortillas."

   "No, Carlita may exist on dry tortillas, but we can't call that
'living'."

   She smiled.  "You used that word one way.  I used it another.  It is
good to speak English with you, Dave."

   "Lita, I'm amazed that you speak it as well as you do, but please, if I
talk too fast or you don't know a word, stop me."

   "So I can learn."

   "So you can learn.  I do not want to embarrass you, though."

   "I won't be embarrassed."

   "You shouldn't be.  Like I told my sister, you speak better English than
a lot of people who've been speaking it all their lives."

   We drove along silently for a few minutes.  She broke the silence,
asking the question that I'd been asking myself.  "Dave, what happens if we
cannot find Tia Estella?"

   "Gosh, Lita, I don't know.  What does Lita think?"

   "That Lita is fourteen years old and does not have family in America. 
Or Guatemala.  And fourteen is too young..."

   "Lita, you have me.  I rescued you.  I will take care of you until you
decide you need to move on, and if you DO move on, then I am a phone call
away." Then I parsed my OWN words.  Mighty committal of me.

   "You would do that?"

   "Of course.  It's the correct thing to do.  What are my other choices?"

   "You did not start this trip thinking you would find me."

   "No, I didn't.  But since I have, I have responsibility for you."

   "Responsibility," she said carefully.

   "Yes.  Duty."

   "Duty can be bad," she said.  "Hard.  Difficult."

   "Or pleasant.  Easy.  Enjoyable.  The duty to care for the garden means
that one can see the flowers."

   "The same goes for cleaning the baÃ+/-o."

   "You are the flower, not el baÃ+/-o," I laughed.

   "Oh.  ' El baÃ+/-o'.  You are using Spanish." She had a cute smirk.

   I snorted.  "Oh, don't make fun of my Spanish.  It's el baÃ+/-o because
a bathroom is masculine and something else is feminine and that other
thing, who knows?"

   She laughed with me.  "So you DO know?"

   "Yes, your aunt is tia, your uncle is tio, you are Latina, your friend
is Latino because he is a boy.  The toilet is also a boy.  It all gets
confusing to us Americans."

   More laughter.  "And English as you speak it is NOT difficult.  You say
'should've' and a poor little girl from Guatemala is supposed to know that
is the same as 'should have' which is entirely different than 'could
have'?"

   "You amaze me, Lita.  You know these things."

   "I study hard.  I pay attention.  Brother Hardin and Sister Sarah were
good teachers.  I learned.  They smiled at me.  I worked in classroom with
them so I could learn more."

   "You learned well.  Our life would be difficult if you did not speak
English."

   "You would not be the same with me?"

   "No, but it would be very much more difficult."

   "I think you are correct." She smiled, then, "but what happens to Lita?"

   "Lita does what Lita wants.  If you want to say with me, you stay.  I
take care of you.  If you need clothes, you get clothes.  You have a place
to stay.  You have food on the table.  My house becomes YOUR house.  And I
imagine that my sister will be the same way."

   "And your brother?"

   "Him, too.  His children become your cousins."

   "Cousins ...  In Spanish..."

   "I don't know.  Get the iPad out of my bag behind the seat."

   "I can unbuckle my seatbelt?"

   "Yes, for long enough to get the iPad."

   In a minute she was seated again.  I heard the click.  She snapped the
protective case off my iPad.

   "Push that button to turn it on."

   "It wants me to do something."

   "It's looking for my finger.  Use your finger on the button a couple of
times."

   "My finger?"

   "It's looking for a fingerprint.  Yours won't work.  Do it twice."

   "Now it wants numbers."

   "Enter 5-1-5-1"

   "Okay.  Yes, there it is."

   "Now hold the button at the bottom down until Siri wakes up."

   I heard Siri's businesslike voice and Lita's delightful giggle.

   "Ask Siri to translate cousin into Spanish."

   "Siri," she said, "translate 'cousin' into Spanish."

   "Hmm," Siri said.  "Let me think.  Here is what I found."

   "Primo." Giggle.  "Or prima, if it is a girl cousin.  So I will have ...
cousins."

   "If that is what you wish."

   "What of school?"

   "Problem.  But Pat will know who to talk to for answers.  You can't be
the first undocumented child in the school system."

   "I must go to school.  Maybe university.  College."

   "All those are possible."

   "You are not married, Dave.  What if you decide to marry, what would
your new wife think of Lita?"

   "Well, Lita, right now I am not thinking of marrying anyone I know.  If
I meet somebody, then I shall explain Lita.  Lita is part of the deal."

   "Like a daughter?"

   "Yeah.  If I had a daughter when I was fourteen."

   "If she objected to Lita?"

   "If she objects to Lita, then she is not somebody I want to marry. 
People must understand one another before marrying.  Suppose she had a
child?  Would I expect her to get rid of the child because I objected?"

   "No.  But I am not your child.  It is different."

   "Lita, people form connections for many reasons.  One of them is birth.
Sometimes it's friendship.  Sometimes it is other reasons.  Just because
you are not my child does not mean ...  Wait a minute ...  didn't I just
meet you yesterday?"

   Giggle.  "Yes.  I still must have plans."

   "Okay.  Let us assume...  " I looked sideways at her.

   "Assume.  I understand 'assume'."

   "Okay," I continued, "let's assume you stay with me.  For all intents, I
am your legal guardian..."

   "Guardian.  I understand that word.  I think you mean more than I know
about it."

   "'Legal guardian' means I can make decisions for you, like medical care,
schooling, things like that."

   "Oh, okay."

   "Okay, so I'm your guardian.  That's serious stuff.  And just like I
wouldn't get rid of a cherished pet because a new girlfriend does not like
it, I would not get rid of you."

   "So you are saying that I am safe, then?"

   "You may change your mind after this lunch," I said.  I was pulling off
the interstate, headed to a Mexican restaurant I'd visited several times.

   "I'm not Mexican," she affirmed.

   "I know.  Neither am I.  But the food is good."

   It was.  She LOOKED satisfied.  I FELT satisfied.  We got back into the
truck.

   "How much further?"

   "Couple of hours," I said.  "Actually, less than that."

   "Okay.  Yet you stopped to eat."

   "I did not know what to feed you when we got home."

   "I am easy to feed."

   "Lita, there's a difference between the food you need to stay alive and
the food you want, to LIVE."

   "I am not difficult."

   "I don't want you to forever eat only the things I want."

   "You are making room for me."

   "In my life, yes.  In my home, yes."

   "For me."

   "For Carlita.  Yes.  It's not difficult to understand.  If I brought
home a kitten, I would give it the food it liked and buy it toys and a bed
so it would be happy."

   She folded her arms.  "So I have become a kitten."

   "You have become what you wish to become."

   My phone rang.  I pulled it from its holster and looked.  Pat.

   "Hey, Sis," I said.

   "You still got your little friend?"

   "Yes, I do," I said.  "We just finished lunch at a Mexican restaurant."

   "I thought you said she was Guatemalan."

   "She said the same thing," I laughed.  "I don't KNOW any Guatemalan
restaurants." I glanced at Lita.  Yes, she was paying attention.  And yes,
she was wearing a slight smile.

   "Where are you?"

   "'Bout an hour and a half out."

   "Okay, just checking."

   "Thank you," I said.

   "You're welcome.  See y'all in a bit.  Bye."

   "Bye."

   "Your sister?"

   "Yes.  She checks up on me.  If something happened to me, she's who
they'd call first.  Then my brother."

   "My new cousins.  How old are they?"

   "Daniel is eight and Stacey is six," I said.

   "So I am the older cousin."

   "Yes.  But they'll love you."

   "Love me?"

   "Yes.  You're going to be new and interesting, but they're good kids and
they will love you."

   "It is good to be loved," she said.

   "My sister will love you, too," I said.

   She smiled.  We'd the left the sprawl of the Houston area behind us now,
with farmland on both sides, the truck eating up the miles.  She kept
giving me a running commentary of her observations, a stream of
consciousness narrative, following our route on the iPad in her lap after I
showed her the mapping app.

   We passed through the smaller towns and the bigger ones, crossed into
Louisiana and half an hour later we pulled off the interstate and I
navigated up familiar roads to the little subdivision that was my home.

   Idling up the street, I braked for a couple of kids on bicycles, pointed
out Pat's house, and then turned into my driveway.

   "This is YOUR house?"

   "This is it.  Mine." I killed the truck.  "Let's unload." And we were
opening the door.

   "It is not locked?"

   "Oh, yes, it was locked.  It talked to my iPhone."

   She looked at me quizzically.

   "Easiest way to do it.  My key still works, though."

   The house was cool, a bit dark.  I flipped on some lights.

   She pirouetted, looking.  "YOUR house." She looked at me for
reassurance.

   "And yours for as long as you want to hang around."

   "This is paradise."

   "This is middle-class America," I said.  "Let me show you your room."

   "My room."

   "Your room." I opened the door.  Not much clutter.  I had three
bedrooms. One for me, one filled with hobby things, and this one, set up
for the absurdly rare guest.  I opened the futon out from 'sofa' mode to
'bed' mode.  "I need to get you some linens for it.  And a pillow.  This is
your closet.  And your chest of drawers."

   "Mine."

   "Yours.  Your space.  Expand and fill it."

   She dropped her pack, stepped up to me, tossed her arms around my neck
and kissed me.  "Thank you, Dave."

   I was flustered.  A kiss.  Of course I knew I was making a bigger deal
out of it than I should.  It was a mere peck.  A happy 'thank you'. 
Still...

   "You're welcome, Lita.  Let me show you the rest of the place."

   Bathrooms.  "This one in the hall, you can put your things in."

   "I have no bathroom things."

   "We can go buy those things.  Or you can go with Pat.  She knows much
more about what girls need for bathrooms than I do."

   We did the kitchen.

   "Not like a Guatemalan kitchen.  But I understand it."

   "This is the pantry.  You see the refrigerator.  Look in them and see
what YOU want to keep.  Part of taking care of the kitten."

   Giggle.  "I'm still a kitten."

   "Always."

   Garage.  "This is MY car.  The truck belongs to the company I work for."

   "And you have this car."

   "For what I want to do."

   And the back yard.  Covered patio.  A shade tree, two actually, with my
hammock still in place from last weekend's lazy Sunday afternoon with a
good book.  She bounded out and dropped her heinie into the hammock,
swinging sideways.

   "This is paradise, Dave."

   "Maybe not in July."

   "In July.  I can ...  you will let me buy books?"

   "Yes."

   "I dreamed of reading a book in a hammock."

   "That's what I was doing last Sunday."

   "Can we both fit?"

   "I dunno," I said.  "Hammocks sort of make sure that two people are VERY
friendly."

   "Not if you stay at one end and I stay at the other." Those dark eyes
smiled, beckoning.

   Okay, she's friendly and appreciative.

   "Try it." She scooted towards one end.  I almost flipped us when I tried
to get in, but we managed to fit, including a lot of laughter.  "See!  It
can work."

   "Until somebody asks why I'm cuddled up in a hammock with a fourteen
year old girl." I swung my legs over the side and stood up.  I knew there
was room for plenty of problems.  No sense in putting them on Lita right
now, though.

   Still, she was smiling broadly when she climbed out of the hammock, then
she caught my expression.  "Is there something wrong, Dave?"

   "No, Lita.  It is as good as it can be."

   "That is not what your face said, Dave," she said softly.  Where'd she
get this sense of empathy?

   "It's just that society will question why I am keeping a fourteen year
old girl with me."

   "If you were married and you had a fourteen year old daughter and your
wife died, nobody would ask that question."

   "No, but they can look at us and know you're not likely my daughter."

   "I see that.  But still, the thought is correct, is it not?"

   "Yes."

   "Is it a problem right now?"

   "No."

   "Dave, yesterday morning I was sleeping under a tree in Texas.  Today I
have a place with a hammock and a bathroom and a real bed.  Perhaps we
should enjoy this day and not think about bad things for a while."

   "Okay, little princess..."

   "I have never been a princess before, Dave.  That is what I mean.  Let
us enjoy it.  Let ME enjoy it.  Please..."

   "Enjoy it, princess," I said.  She was right.  Today.  This weekend, at
least, we could ignore those questions.  Of course, I knew that when Pat
left school, she'd be over to see Lita, and then the questions would come,
and, I hoped, some solutions.



   ------

   Chapter 4

   I knew that Pat would be here as soon as she got out of school.  I was
right.  The phone rang.

   "Hi, Pat," I said.  I noted that Lita was watching me.

   "You two made it home?"

   "Yep.  We're here.  Getting settled in."

   "What's she think?"

   "Hang on.  Let me ask 'er." I turned to Lita.  "Pat wants to know what
you think of the place."

   "It's a..." she paused, searching for the word.  "Palacio.  A ... 
palace.  A home."

   "Happy words," I told Pat.  "So you're coming to meet her?"

   "As soon as I can get there."

   "Okay.  We'll see you soon."

   I re-holstered my phone.  "Pat wants to meet you."

   Lita turned bashful.  "Will she like me?"

   "She will like you."

   "You do not think I am a ...  an intrusion?"

   I'm thinking of what manner of Guatemalan orphan can use the word
'intrusion'.  "No, you're not an intrusion.  You're an addition." Then,
"You're an enhancement."

   "Enhancement," she repeated.  "Means that it is better, yes?"

   "Better.  Yes."

   "But I am not your plan."

   "Lita, my plan was to spend another evening alone in my hotel room, then
drive that long drive home by myself.  You have provided me with somebody
to talk with, if nothing else."

   "But you bought me things.  Food."

   "Worth every penny."

   "I am trouble."

   "Not trouble," I countered.  "Besides, I am responsible for you.  I will
NOT turn you over to people who do not care.  I care."

   I did care, I told myself.  It was easy for me to take a stand against
illegal immigration as a principle, but here I was, faced with what happens
to this one little teenaged girl.  Sometimes one's view of a problem
changes when the problem has a face.  She was sitting cross-legged at the
other end of the sofa from me.  Make that a soft, rounded, CUTE face, a
slightly prominent bottom lip when she was sad or concerned, brown eyes
that came alive when she smiled or laughed.  I was trying to imagine her
when her hair grew out a bit.  Right now it was of a length that was not
long enough to identify her as a girl.

   "You are thinking," she said.

   "What makes you say that?"

   "I see your face.  I know you are thinking."

   "I am.  I am thinking about how I cannot give up on Lita."

   And there was a knock on the door.  "That would be my sister," I said as
I got up to open the door.  She came straight in, stopping long enough to
give me a hug.

   Carlita was standing.

   "You're Carlita.  I'm Dave's sister Patricia.  Everybody calls me Pat."

   "Hello, Pat.  Your brother has rescued me.  Please call me 'Lita'."

   "Sit down, you two.  We can talk," I said.  I was trying to decipher the
look on Pat's face.  Lita's expression was easy.  She was apprehensive.

   Pat spoke to me, first.  "Gee, Dave ...  Lita ...  I couldn't have left
'er on the side of the road."

   "I did not give him a choice at first," Lita asserted.  "I hid in the
back of his truck."

   "I've seen his truck, Lita.  You could have brought some friends," Pat
said, trying to defuse the conversation.

   Lita missed the joke.  "I had no friends.  That is why I was on my own.
If I had stayed with the others I feared they would find out I was a girl.
Being a girl with those people would not have been good.  I would not
live..."

   "It's that bad?" Pat stays more or less informed on issues of the day,
but I keep telling her that she only sees the aspects of news that slant in
a certain direction.

   "Yes, Pat," Lita said softly.  "Many young boys and men.  Few young
girls.  Much bad.  Very bad.  I knew.  I saw.  That is why this..." She
touched her short hair.  "And the clothes I was wearing when Dave found
me."

   "These clothes look new," Pat said.

   "Yes.  Dave took me to Wal-Mart..."

   "Dave, you sad thing," Pat said.  "She needs better than Wal-Mart."

   "I'm a guy, Pat.  I knew Wal-Mart had what we needed to get by.  I will
leave it to you to get her properly outfitted."

   "You don't have to do that, Dave," Lita said.  "This is good.  Better
than I ever had."

   "Oh, Lita," Pat laughed.  "Let him spoil you.  You need good things. 
Dave doesn't know.  I can help you."

   Lita's face brightened.  "You would help me also?"

   "Of course." She sighed heavily.  "I don't imagine that Dave bought you
things like shampoo and girl things."

   "I need things.  My monthly ...  In maybe a day.  Maybe two."

   Pat looked at me.  "You're clueless."

   "He is a good man.  He did not know and I did not say.  His money..."

   "Money's not his problem, Lita.  Would you like to go with me to shop
for things?"

   "You would take me?" Lita was incredulous.

   I wasn't.  Pat and I have the same dad and we're both suckers for
strays.

   "Of course I will, dear," Pat said.

   I pulled my wallet and extracted a credit card.  "Whatever you two think
you need," I said.

   "This is too much.  I cannot repay..."

   "Not a question of you repaying, Lita," I said.

   "Let's go, Lita.  We can shop, then decide what to do for dinner," Pat
said.  She turned to me.  "Dave, we'll let you know how it's going, okay?"

   I caught Lita looking over her shoulder at me as she left with my
sister.

   I let them go, busying myself around the house, unpacking the detritus
from a week on the road, putting on laundry, running the vacuum cleaner,
making Lita's bed.

   Wait.  'Lita's bed'.  Did I really understand what that meant?  I mean,
I am preparing for a fourteen year old girl to live with me.  To be sure,
she has a haircut like a boy, but she's still a young girl.  Oh well, I can
do this.  I don't often run around my own house in the nude.  I can just
make SURE I don't run around my house in the nude.

   I fire up my laptop, my personal email account, and check, hoping that
some of my forays into the world of undocumented immigrants might yield a
result.  I can hope.  There's ALWAYS hope.  However, I don't have high
expectations.  That's why I wasn't disappointed when nothing showed up but
a couple of promises to email me if any information came up.

   I knew that one of the priests at the local Catholic church was
Hispanic. I considered giving him a call.  I desperately need insight into
a world I've never had to deal with.  I can do power systems and control
systems in ways that amaze some people who know what they're doing, but
I've never delved into a world that lies right below the surface of
society. Searching for Tia Estella was part of that.

   I was a couple of chapters deeper into a book when my phone rang.  I
looked.  Pat.

   "Yeah, Sis."

   "We're headed for that Chinese restaurant," she said.  "Meet us there."

   "Lita does Chinese?"

   "Lita said she would like to try Chinese."

   "Is she okay?"

   Giggle.  "Of course she's okay.  I don't abuse children."

   "That's not what your students say."

   "The process of learning is often painful," Pat said.  "Bye!"

   I pulled out onto the street in my little personal SUV and headed out to
meet the pair of shoppers.  I pulled into the restaurant parking lot and
spotted Pat's own SUV while I searched for a parking spot.  By the time I
parked, the pair was out of her car waiting for me.

   First thing I noticed was Lita's haircut.  No, it was still alarmingly
short, but it had obviously been worked over.  The result was a short,
sassy 'do, maybe something you'd see one of those 'alternative' girls
sporting.  And she was looking at me expectantly.

   I laughed.  "New look for my Lita," I said.  Immediately I realized that
I'd said 'my Lita'.  Freudian slip?

   Lita caught it,, too, I saw.  Her eyes flashed above a grin that
increased in intensity by three decibels.  To us electrical types, that's
just enough to be discernible as a change.  In the positive direction.

   "The girls at my hair salon did the best they could, Dave," Pat said. 
"I think it's cute..."

   "So do I," I admitted.  Caught another flash from Lita.

   "Sharissa said that if we kind of keep showing up every month as it
grows back out, they can do things with it." Pat smiled.  "Trying to let
Lita be a girl again."

   Lita struck a little pose, hand on hip, one knee bent, head tilted as
she smiled.

   "Yeah," I said.  "It's working." Inside I was thinking that just what I
needed was a fourteen year old illegal orphan who not only had fastened
herself to my life, but who was also fastening herself to my heart.  Was
showing alarming levels of cute.  And I think she knows it.

   We went inside for dinner.  I let Pat explain the workings of a Chinese
buffet.

   "I can have ANYTHING?"

   "Yes."

   "As much as I want?"

   "Yes."

   Enjoy it?  She did.  I paid.  I followed the pair back to the house
afterward.  I couldn't see Lita's head, but I could see Pat's and I could
tell that they were talking.  I pulled beside my company truck in my
driveway and Pat parked behind me.

   "Come get Lita's bags, Dave," Pat commanded.

   I obeyed.  Quite a few bags.  The front door unlocked when we approached
and Pat pushed it open.  She and Lita went inside.  I followed.

   "I need to put these in my bathroom," Lita announced, bouncing up the
hall with a bag from a drugstore.

   "She's a doll," Pat said.  "So damned bright.  And you're right.  Her
English is better than most of my students'.  Just that little accent."

   "Told you."

   "It's not gonna look good, Dave," she said, voicing what I knew was a
truth.  Fourteen year old girl  -" late twenties guy.  "I asked her,
though. She wants to stay here.  She did say that tomorrow night she will
stay at my house.  Try it on for size, so to speak." Pat's voice was soft.
"Might be better..."

   I nodded.

   Lita came bouncing out.  "Dave, what is a 'green card'?  I hear about
green cards.  How to get one.  I think that my Tia Estella has a green
card. I just remembered."

   "That's something we can track," I said.  "Monday I will try to see what
I can find out."

   "And another thing, Dave," Lita said.  "You can look for the man who
used to run the orphanage.  He was from Texas."

   "Thirty million people in Texas," I said.  "It's nine hundred miles
wide."

   "I have his name and an address."

   "Why didn't you say so?"

   "I have it written down," she said.  "In my little book."

   I'd seen the little book when she transferred her meager belongings to
the new backpack.  I had no idea that it was anything other than a tiny
keepsake from a life before this.

   "This ...  two days, one night ...  it is happening so fast.  I have so
many thoughts.  Now things are slowing down and I am safe and I can think."

   Pat and I swapped glances.  "Those are two good ones, Dave," Pat said.

   "I know."

   "Let me get my book," Lita said.  She went to her room, came back. 
Looked at the pile of bags.  "Oh, I'm sorry," she said.  "I forget my
manners.  You bought me all these things.  Dave, let me show you..." She
smiled, took the bags and went back to her room.  My eyes followed.

   "What an interesting young person," Pat said.  "I don't know if I could
have survived what she's been through."

   "You talked?"

   "Yes, we talked.  She told me where she came from and how she got here.
Brave little girl."

   What showed up coming out of the hallway might not have been physically
tall, but she pushed the 'little girl' thing pretty hard.  Shorts.  Bright
orange.  Cotton blouse.  Blue.  Both fit well.  And those crazy pink
athletic shoes we'd bought the day before.

   "What do you think?  Is it good?  Pat chose the colors."

   "You deserve a splash of color, Lita," Pat smiled.

   "This is not a splash, this is an explosion," Lita retorted.  "But you
think it is okay."

   "It's festive," I said.

   "You would not be ashamed to be with me where people could see me like
this?"

   "Not in the least," I said.

   "Pat also bought me a...  el sustenador..." her brow knit as she
searched, then "A bra."

   I laughed.  "See, Lita!  That's why I don't speak Spanish.  A bra is
masculine..."

   She developed a wry grin.  "I see.  I don't think about it.  I learned
it that way but I did not think about it.  It feels very feminine." A hand
went to her chest absently.  She thought about what she was doing and it
dropped to her side.  She smiled at me.  "So I look okay?"

   "You look delightful.  Pretty.  New haircut.  New clothes..."

   Giggle.  "Let me show you some more." And she skipped back up the hall.

   "You liked that?" Pat queried.  "I was hoping.  That tan skin of hers.
Those eyes.  She begs for colors."

   "It works." I didn't want to admit, not to Pat, not to myself, exactly
how it worked.

   "I wanted her to have a couple of informal outfits and a couple of
'playing around' outfits and a nice dress for, I dunno, whatever she might
need a nice dress for."

   The dress made an appearance draped over Lita's form.  She was wearing
matching shoes with very conservative, but slightly elevating heels.  It
was royal blue.  I mused at the fact she went from that blast of rainbow
colors to this and her face went from exuberant to soft and pensive.

   A word escaped my lips.  "Beautiful."

   "It would be better if I had longer hair," Lita said.

   "Perhaps," I replied.  "But right here, right now, it's beautiful."

   The little thing pirouetted.  Slowed halfway to toss a look over her
shoulder with that gentle smile.  I almost shook visibly.

   "I have MORE," she squealed.

   "That one works," Pat said.

   "Now I have to think about where to take her so she can wear it."

   "Anywhere.  Take her anywhere.  She is soooo well-mannered.  Somebody
taught her well."

   "Look at THIS!" Lita's voice came up the hall.  It was another shorts
and blouse outfit, not quite as brash as the first one.  She held her arms
out, palms up, did that bent knee thing again.  "I now have T-shirts, so I
have several ways I can wear these shorts." Smile.  "And a bathing suit.  A
BATHING SUIT.  I have never had such a thing."

   I'm thinking TWO things now.  First, how big a hit Pat had done to my
credit card.  Wasn't a big deal.  I make a whole lot more money as an
engineer than she does as a teacher.

   Second thing, though.  Whatever that number might be, the smile on
Lita's face was worth it.

   The next few minutes were occupied as she showed up in jeans, better
quality than the ones we'd bought at Wal-Mart.  They fit better.

   "I thought about buying them a bit big, thinking she's going to grow
some more, but, hey, I don't want Lita looking like a rag bag," Pat said.

   "Yes," Lita said.  "A rag bag.  Like when you first saw me.  Do you like
this better?"

   Inside my head the little boy was jumping up and down saying
'Yesyesyesyes!' but I couldn't do that, so I said, "This is a definite
improvement.  But nobody will ever mistake you for a boy now."

   Smile.  "I do not want to be a boy."

   "You're not a boy, Lita," I affirmed.

   Pat's eyes flicked back and forth between the two of us.  "Wanna catch a
late movie?"

   "Miss Lita, could I take you to a movie tonight," I asked.

   "A movie?"

   "Yes," I said.  "Pat, what's showing?"

   Pat ran down the list.

   "I don't know.  You choose," Lita said.

   "Pat?" I said.

   Pat chose.  We all piled into my SUV and took off.  Lita chose the back
seat.

   Seating at the movie.  I was in one seat.  Pat was two seats down.  Lita
was in the middle.  During the movie, several times, I felt her hand touch
my arm, then withdraw.  Finally, we ended up sharing the armrest, then she
was leaning against me.  And it wasn't a bit unpleasant.  And nothing to
make a big deal about.

   Leaving the movie, Pat beat her to the car and slid in the back seat
herself.  "You ride in front, Lita."

   Lita's eyes flicked back and forth between me and Pat.  "Okay."

   Happy girl sitting there on the other side of the console from me.

   "Never," Lita said.  "I never went to a movie before.  I liked it. 
Everything." She turned to me and smiled.

   We chatted all the way home.  Pat didn't even come inside.  She hugged
Lita and left for her own house.

   I let Lita into ours.  Oops.  I said 'Ours'.  Well, it is.  I offered
her a place to stay as long as she needed it.  So yes, 'our house'.

   "I'm going to take a quick shower before I go to bed, Lita.  Just so you
know what the noise is."

   "Then I shall do the same," she said.  "It seems like what you do."

   "It is.  Some people are different.  I sleep better if I'm freshly
bathed."

   "Okay," she popped, turning towards her room.

   After my shower, I did my customary pass through my little kingdom,
noting that Lita was still in the bathroom although the shower was now off.
The door opened.  There she was, dressed in that nightshirt.  She smiled at
me.

   "Thank you, Dave," she said.  She tiptoed up to plant a kiss on my
cheek. "You have given me a wonderful day.  Once again." And she crossed
the hall into her bedroom.

   I went to my own bed.  It's a GOOD bed.  I stretched out, arranged the
covers, picked up my iPad, opened the book I'd been working through.  After
I'd dozed and had to re-read the same passage twice, I put the iPad on its
stand, running a clock app, turned off the bedside lamp and rolled over. 
Five minutes later I was getting just about to sleep when I felt the bed
move the tiniest of amounts.  A soft form slid in, snuggling against my
back.

   It's MY bed.  During my normal sleep, I usually grab a spare pillow and
use it to prop myself comfortably.  The pillow gets squeezed.  In the
middle of the night, the 'pillow' moved, wiggled loose.  I woke up.  Since
the 'pillow' didn't run frightened from the room, I located the real pillow
and went back to sleep.  And when I rolled over, there was a warm thing
right behind me.

   Sleep.  Figure it all out in the morning.

   Morning.  Sunlight pushing in around the dark drapes.  Propped up on one
elbow, I looked at the angel lying next to me.  My motion woke her up.  Her
eyes opened.  Shy smile.

   "I guess I did it again."

   "It's scary, Lita."

   "Why is it scary, Dave?"

   "Lita, there are laws about men who mess with young girls.  I could go
to jail."

   "You did not mess with me."

   "That's pretty hard to say when you're in my bed."

   "Dave, I have been through a lot.  I wanted to be close to a friend. 
Tonight I will stay at Pat's.  It will be better.  I'm sorry..."

   "Lita, don't be sorry.  It's okay.  But please NEVER say anything about
us in bed together."

   "We SLEPT together, Dave.  I know what the word can mean.  But we really
slept."

   "And last night I rolled over and held you."

   "I know.  And I got away.  You were looking for your pillow.  If you
were going to do bad things to me, would you have let me go?"

   "Maybe."

   "Maybe," she said.  "I know about what happens between a man and a
woman," she said.  "I even know about adults and children.  I do not think
you were trying those things.  You are too happy when you see me happy."

   "I am very happy to see you happy."

   "Good.  Now I will go to my room and get dressed for the day.  You will
do the same.  We will have desayuno ...  breakfast.  And then you will show
me what normal people do in America on Saturday." She rose up, planted a
little girl kiss on my cheek, then bounced out of the room...

   ...  leaving me flabbergasted.  What manner of child did I rescue? 
"Child'?

   I'd best follow instructions.  I dressed.  I heard cabinets opening in
the kitchen.

   There's Lita, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, going through cabinets. 
"Breakfast cereal?  And milk?  And a banana?  It is something I saw on TV.
American breakfast?"

   "One of 'em," I said.

   "Then that is what we will have." That self-assurance was back.  Three
days now.  I'd seen flashes of it.

   As ordered, I ate breakfast with her.  Made coffee.  Drank a cup with
her as well, actually sitting out under the patio, just the way I'd always
dreamed that one day I'd do with a completely compatible spouse whose face
never quite gelled in my dreams.

   "What do you do on Saturday?"

   "I usually do my grocery shopping."

   "Then I need to see this.  So I can be an American."

   "You want to be an American.  No more Guatemala?"

   "No family in Guatemala.  No home.  No people who will care for me.  I
would have to live on the streets or be some man's pet.  If a man wants me
for a pet."

   I'm looking at her and now she's injected that 'pet' image.  "Then you
are American.  I don't know how I will make that happen."

   "We will make it happen.  There must be ways."

   Breakfast finished, we took care of the dishes.  She's not a shirker.  I
sat at the table and worked on my grocery list.

   "What things does Lita want?"

   "I do not know what to want, Dave.  You have given me more than I can
imagine."

   "Well, if you see something, we can get it."

   I never looked at the standard American grocery store as anything out of
the normal.  This was Lita's second, if we counted Wal-Mart a couple of
days previous.  I noted her self-restraint, but bits of awe squeaked out
around the edges.

   Again, not shirking work, she grabbed a couple of handfuls of plastic
bags and helped me carry our stash into the house where we put things away.

   "Now what?" she asked.

   "I don't know about everybody else, but there's a nice breeze.  That
makes this a boat day."

   "Boat.  Like in water?"

   "Boats aren't fun unless they're in the water.  Are you afraid of
boats?"

   "I have never been on a boat."

   "Then it's time to introduce you to my lady."

   Her face fell.  "You have a lady..."

   "My boat's name is Tracy.  All boats are female."

   She brightened back up.  You named her after somebody?  A Tracy?"

   "No.  She was named when I bought her.  It is bad luck to change a
boat's name.  So she stayed Tracy."

   Half an hour later, we're off the main road, down a secondary road, and
into the marina.  "There's Tracy," I said.  "The one with the brown sail
covers." Tracy was a Nonsuch 36.  Just as big as I could be comfortable
sailing by myself.

   "She is ...  Are you wealthy, Dave?"

   "Huh?"

   "You have a large house.  New things.  This big boat.  Are you rich?"

   "No.  I work for the things I want, that's all.  Let's go."

   I grabbed the ice chest with an afternoon's ration of soft drinks and
escorted Lita aboard.

   "New things.  So many new things.  I must learn.  Teach me, Dave.  I
don't want to be useless."



   ------

   Chapter 5

   So she wants to learn and I relish the thought of a buddy to go sailing
with.  I can single-hand my way in and out of the marina, but sometimes,
especially if there's a good wind like today, I have to sprint between the
engine controls in the cockpit and the mooring lines along the starboard
side.

   So I showed her.  "Lita, this line holds us to the dock.  If we let go
too early, the wind will shove us to the other side, against that other
boat.  I am going to set it up for you." I uncleated the line, then took a
turn around a winch.  "Hold onto this line.  It will tug, but you can hold
it.  When I tell you to let it go, just unwind it from around this winch
and throw it on the dock."

   "This is a line.  That is a winch.  There is the dock.  I am learning."
She smiled.  "I can do this."

   She did exactly as told.  As I motored out of the slip, dead slow, I
called her back into the cockpit.

   "This is the cockpit.  This is the wheel.  This handle makes the engine
go faster or slower.  This one makes us go forward or back."

   No wake in the marina, not that the rule is of much effect to me anyway.
This is a sailboat.  The difference between stopped and all fifty of her
horsepower pushing her eight and a half tons through the water was a matter
of eight knots and barely a ripple.  Still, we were at walking speed as I
eased her out into the empty deepwater channel.

   "Where are we going?" Lita asked.

   "One of these days we will go out into the Gulf of Mexico and hop down
the coast.  Today we're just going a few miles down the channel and a few
miles back." I shoved the throttle forward.  The little diesel took up a
busier note.

   "And this is as fast as she goes."

   "She?"

   "Boats are 'she'."

   "And bras are 'he'," she giggled.  "It all makes sense now.  Can I look
around?  Down there?"

   "Of course.  Make yourself at home." I hadn't given her the tour,
choosing instead to get out of the marina before we became the subject of
too many questions.  Not that I was doing anything wrong, but Lita was an
illegal and a minor and questions could be inconvenient.  She was with me.
Safe.  I wanted to keep her that way.

   I heard thumping and other sounds, then her head appeared in the
companionway.  "This is a good little house.  We could live here."

   "That would be worse than living at the house.  There is little room. 
We would have to be VERY close to one another."

   "Many families in Guatemala live in homes not this big.  Or this nice.
You have places to sleep.  A place to cook.  Do you have water?"

   "A hundred and fifty gallons.  Almost six hundred liters."

   "The bath is very small.  How can you bathe?"

   "I stop.  Jump over the side, swim for a while, get out, rinse off with
fresh water."

   "With clothes?"

   "Sometimes not.  Depends on where I am.  If others can see me.  I know
places where I am not bothered."

   "You do this alone?"

   "Quite often."

   "I am a bother."

   "Lita, you are not a bother.  No way."

   "You are happy I am here?"

   "Yes.  You being here makes me happy.  If YOU are happy."

   "It is my first time on a boat.  I am happy.  Excited.  And learning
things."

   Lined out in the deep water channel, I checked the wind.  It was just
right.  Time to teach Lita some things.

   "Lita, take the wheel."

   "I have never done that," she squeaked.

   "I know that.  Now turn it a little."

   She turned it slightly left.  The nose of the boat eased to port.

   "Now go the other way.  She did.  The boat responded.  She smiled at me.
"I see."

   "Okay.  Your job is to keep the boat pointed down the middle of the
channel while I hoist the sail."

   "Hoist," she said.

   "Put it up to use it.  You hoist a sail."

   "And you want me to drive?"

   "Steer."

   "Steer.  The middle of the channel." Since her last move had pointed us
to starboard, she turned the wheel and let the boat line back up.

   "Do you think you can do it?"

   "I can do this, Dave," she said.

   I moved forward, attending to the sail handling, letting it luff noisily
until I could get back into the cockpit, where I could give it a proper
set.

   "Now hang on, Lita.  When I set the sail the boat is going to want to
change course.  You're the helmsman.  You steer.  Make the boat go where
you want it to go."

   "Helmsman."

   "Person who steers."

   "I am not a man.  I am helmsLita!" she smirked.

   "You're making bad jokes."

   "It's a good joke.  You smiled."

   I find myself smiling about Lita more and more.  "I enjoy bad jokes."

   "Then I will do more of them." A gust heeled the boat over a bit.  She
squealed.

   "It's okay.  We're not going to see enough wind to cause us problems."

   "It is okay that we are ...  sideways."

   "Heeled," I said.  "And yes, under sail, it is normal.  Now I'm going to
shut off the engine.  We don't need it."

   She paid attention as I went through the simple procedure.  Even though
that little diesel is pretty quiet, shutting it down brought relief from
that noise.  Now it was wind and water.  And powerboats.  Always powerboats
buzzing back and forth on a Saturday.

   "It would be peaceful without those other boats."

   "Powerboats," I said.  "Fun.  But a different kind of fun."

   "I like this fun, Dave.  I do not desire noise.  This is not noise." Her
small hands gripped the wheel.  "Am I doing good?  A good helmsLita?"

   "The most perfect helmsLita."

   "I do not think you have many choices.  I am the one you have."

   "You're doing great, but if you want me to take over ...  You made it
easy for me to get the sail up."

   "Hoist the sail." Her dark eyes laughed.

   "You learn fast."

   "I watch.  You teach.  I learn."

   "Would the helmsLita like a cold drink?"

   "Yes, she would."

   I opened us each one.  I sat back, put my foot on the wheel, gaging
gauging its tendency so I could steer with my foot.  "You can sit down
now."

   I thought she'd sit across the cockpit.  I was wrong.  She sat right
next to me.

   "On the high side," she noted.  "It will balance the boat."

   "What do you know about balancing the boat?  And sometimes it's called
trimming."

   "It makes sense."

   "It does, especially in a smaller boat, but here, a hundred pounds of
Lita isn't much compared to three tons of lead under us."

   "You must explain that."

   I tried.  She listened.  I said, "When you get inside the cabin there's
a shelf with books on it.  Get the black plastic binder."

   "Okay." She was back in a flash.

   "Open it.  It's the book on this boat.  I have pictures."

   She paged through.

   "There," I said.  "That's this boat out of water for a bottom job."

   "What is a bottom job?"

   "We washed the bottom and painted it with a coating that discourages
more growth.  That fin, the big thing, is the keel."

   "Keel," she repeated.

   "It's lead.  Plomo.  Heavy.  It wants to point straight down when the
wind wants to push us over."

   "I understand now.  Forces."

   "Forces?" My turn to question.

   "Yes.  Wind pushes.  One force.  Gravity pulls.  Another force.  They
... balance.  Yes?"

   "Si, mi Carlita," I said.

   "Oh, I am YOUR Carlita now?"

   "Yes, you are my friend, Carlita."

   She looked at me.  "I think that 'my friend Carlita' is different than
'my Carlita'."

   "It is.  You are your own person.  You are my friend.  You do not belong
to me."

   "I understand.  So you cannot be my Dave?"

   "I..."

   "It is okay.  I understand.  I will be back." She took the binder back
down below and returned.  Sat in the same spot.  "You take care of me.  I
can be your Lita."

   "Thank you.  I can be your Dave," I replied, then the thought hit me,
what I'd just said to her.  I was afraid to look at her.

   "How do you stop this boat, Dave," she asked.

   "You don't.  You can douse the sail..."

   "Douse?"

   "Take it down.  But the wind will still blow it.  We just won't have
much control."

   "But if we wanted to stop.  You have bread.  And cheese.  And meat.  La
torta?  Uh ...  sand ...  wich."

   "That's the plan."

   "How do we do that?"

   "About a mile further, there's a cut  -" a waterway out of the channel.
It's deep enough for us, and we can drop anchor."

   "Anchor."

   I explained what an anchor was, how it worked, and how we'd set it.

   "Now all you have to do is point the nose of the boat into the wind
while I drop the anchor.  But don't get upset.  When the boat stops, the
wind will blow it backward and you won't have much control."

   We executed the maneuver.  I dropped the anchor overboard and then
doused the sail.

   "Now it is very quiet, Dave," she said.  "Let us make sandwich ... 
Sandwiches?"

   "Yes.  I hope you like them."

   She smiled at me.  "I hope you like them.  It is me, cooking you a
meal." She handed me two slices of bread with bologna and cheese, a
favorite of mine.  Made herself one, then sat by me.  Together we ate.

   Afterward, more learning ensued as we pulled up the anchor and headed
back up the channel.  Once in the channel under power I took the helm.  She
went below for several minutes.  I heard the inevitable call.  "Dave, how
does this toilet work?"

   "I should've showed you before we left.  Come up here and take the wheel
and I'll take care of it."

   She came up.  "Sorry.  It is not the same..."

   "I know.  And that one's difficult, too, more than others." I headed
below, flushed the head, came back up.

   "Men can go anywhere.  I am a girl.  It is more difficult."

   "How did you ...  on your trip?"

   "I always went like I was doing the other thing.  Away from the others.
Nobody watched.  But I saw others.  Just run around.  Stand there.  Do it.
The first thing." Those brown eyes looked at me.  "Men."

   "Sorry.  I was made this way."

   She giggled.  "I am not angry.  I am just talking.  If you ...  on this
boat, you stand on the side and..."

   I laughed.  "Guilty."

   "I would have to turn my head and look away."

   "With you, I would go below."

   "Why?"

   "So you would not have to look away."

   "What is there to see?  I have seen it.  Not much to see, especially if
you are not watching.  Looking."

   "Can we change the subject?  I don't want to talk about peeing over the
side with a fourteen year old girl."

   "It is something people do, Dave.  It is ...  natural."

   "Natural is fine," I said.  "I don't want to talk about it."

   "Okay.  We will not talk about it.  Your boat.  Will we do this again?"

   "If you wish.  Some people do not like sailboats."

   "I like sailboats.  THIS sailboat.  It is the only one.  When do you do
this again?"

   "Next weekend.  Usually Saturdays in the summer."

   "Do you ever stay overnight?"

   "Not in the summer.  Too hot and too many insects."

   "You will bring me again?"

   "Any time you want."

   "I want to do this again."

   In the car on the way home, she popped the question.  "Your sister?  She
asked if I would stay at her house?"

   "She did."

   "Do you not want me at your house?"

   "It is not that simple, Lita.  I am a single man..."

   "And I am a fourteen year old girl.  You have told me this."

   "I can't help that..."

   "But if I wanted ...  Dave."

   "Please try, Lita.  If you lived with Pat, it would be better.  You
could see me every day that I'm in town..."

   "I would rather see her when you are out of town."

   "Lita..."

   "I will try, Dave."

   "Do you want to have dinner with her?"

   "That is okay," she said.

   I noted the tone, the loss of brightness.  I handed her my iPhone. 
"Call her."

   "I do not know how to use this."

   More instruction.  Then, "Hello, Pat?  This is Lita.d" Pause.  "No, he
is driving.  We want to ask if you will have dinner with us." Pause.  Lita
asked me, "How long?"

   "Tell her an hour and a half.  We need to unload and I want a shower."

   Lita put the phone back to her ear.  "He says an hour and a half.  He
wants to shower.  I do also." Pause.  "Yes.  We will see you soon. 
Goodbye."

   "Now touch the red button."

   She started to.  "It went away."

   "She disconnected before you did."

   "You have phone numbers in here," she said.  "It does many things."

   "Yes, it does."

   She handed it back to me.  "Maybe one day I will have one."

   "That can happen, Lita." I was thinking that if she hung around, I had
an older model iPhone in a drawer that would go on my plan for a few bucks.

   An incoming phone call had us meeting Pat at a local restaurant.  Lita
surprised me by reading the menu, asking a couple of questions, then
choosing her own meal.  She watched others for cues on how to act, asked
questions on manners of me and Pat.

   "I do not want to be uncultured," she said.  "Things that are okay at
the table in Guatemala might not be so good in a restaurant in America."
She looked to me with those big brown eyes.  "I do not want to be ... 
uh... vergüenza ...  somebody not good to see..."

   "An embarrassment?"

   Her head bobbed.  "That is the word.  I do not want to be an
embarrassment." She repeated the word a couple of times.  "Is a big word."

   "You've been with me in several restaurants, Lita, and you are no
embarrassment."

   "No, Lita," Pat said.  "You are not.  Not like those kids over there."
She nodded her head in the direction of a family with two kids that would
fit the definition of 'out of control' quite well.

   Lita's eyes rolled.  "I am not a little animal.  I may not know the
right things to do, but I want to learn them and do them."

   I smiled.  "Lita, you do very well.  You are mature beyond your years."

   "My years.  They are a problem."

   "How so?" Pat said.

   Lita cut her eyes at me.  I wondered  -" would she...

   "If I was older, Dave would not make me go stay with you, Pat.  He is
afraid..."

   "Lita," Pat said.  "He has good reason.  It is risky for him."

   "I am a good girl, Pat.  Dave has been good to me."

   "I will be good to you also," Pat said.

   "It's not my choice, Lita.  You are my friend.  It is just very
suspicious for you to stay with me."

   "Suspicious..." she said.

   "It looks like something wrong may be happening."

   "You know nothing wrong is happening, Dave.  I am a good girl."

   "I know," I said.  "Pat knows."

   "Pat, you do not yet know.  But I am a good girl.  I will stay with
you."

   I caught the look on her face.  Little bits of sadness there.

   We finished our meal and the three of us walked out into the parking
lot. As we neared Pat's car, I said, "You can ride with Pat if you want."

   She stepped sideways, closer to me.  "I will ride with you.  I need to
go to your house and get clothes and..."

   "Okay," I said.  I looked at Pat.  Her face was hard to decipher.

   In the car, Lita questioned me.  "Why did we not have Pat ride with us
here?"

   "She was not at home when we called her, Lita."

   "Oh.  Dave, I do not dislike Pat."

   "Then why do you not want to stay with her?"

   "You are the one who found me.  You are the first American I met on this
trip.  You ...  I do not know the words..."

   "You're comfortable with me.  You know me better than Pat.  You will
know Pat better.  She is a good person.  I am sure you will be happy."

   "Your Carlita may be not happy."

   Something almost exploded in my head.  "Now you're my Carlita?"

   "You found me."

   I tried to laugh to defuse the situation.  "There is a question of who
found whom here."

   "It is not funny.  You found me.  I like being with you."

   "Lita," I said, "I have work.  I am on the road many days, just like
when we met..."

   "Dave, I am not...  impotente..."

   Okay ...  that one I can parse.  "Impotente.  Like helpless."

   "I am not helpless.  If you are not here, I can feed myself.  I can make
our house ...  clean."

   "Lita, that's not the problem.  It's that age thing."

   "I am like your daughter, Dave.  That is what people will see."

   "Lita, You are fourteen.  I am twice your age.  If I was your father, I
would have had..."

   "Sex at fourteen.  I know math.  This is not about sex, Dave."

   "I know it isn't, Lita.  You know it.  I know it.  Other people may not
believe it at all, though, and it could be bad for both of us."

   "I will try with Pat, Dave.  But you ...  you talk with me.  You make
jokes.  I make jokes."

   "We have done well together..."

   "You took me to your house.  You took me to your boat.  You did not have
to do those things."

   "I did those things because I wanted you to enjoy yourself.  You have
had too many bad days."

   "There is the other question, Dave."

   "Other question?"

   "Yes.  Did you enjoy yourself?"

   "I always enjoy my boat."

   "You are not answering the right question, Dave," she said seriously.

   "Okay, Lita.  I enjoyed it more because you were there with me.  I
enjoyed the solitude when I went by myself, but I enjoyed today because you
were there."

   "Thank you."

   "For what?"

   "For saying that you enjoyed having me." She folded her arms across her
chest.  "You enjoyed having me with you.  Now I will go stay with Pat and
you will be by yourself."

   "I know," I said.  "You are fun to talk with."

   "It is fun talking with you, too," she said.

   We pulled into my driveway with Pat right behind us.  I knew what I
needed to do.  I couldn't figure out why my head was making such a big deal
about it.  I'd known Lita three days now, and in those three days the only
time we'd been out of each other's presence was when we attended to our
private functions.  Or went to bed.

   And we woke up together.

   Inside, she gathered up a backpack full of the things she needed for the
night.  Smiled.

   "So Pat and I can go to her house now.  We can get the other things
later." She shot me a look.  Then she paused, rummaged through her pack,
pulled out her little book.  "Here's the address for Brother Hardin.  Maybe
you can find him.  Maybe he knows something of Tia Estella." She pulled a
cheap pen out and scribbled on a page, then tore it out of the book. 
Handing me the paper, she tiptoed up and kissed my cheek.  "Thank you for
today, Dave." She turned to Pat.  "We can go now."

   Now Pat shot me a look as the pair left.

   The evening was still young.  I sat down, though, unpacked my laptop and
fired it up.  On the 'net, I started looking for Brother Hardin.  Her note
had his name, Bob Hardin, and an address in care of a church in Texas.

   Some days you feel lucky.  Seven-thirty on a Saturday night?  Why not?
Phone call was free.  I punched the number into my cellphone.  I expected
interminable ringing or an answering machine.  Instead I got a female
voice.

   "Cornerstone Church.  Can I help you?"

   "My name is Dave Johnson.  I am looking for Bob Hardin."

   "Brother Bob?"

   "That would be the one."

   "He used to be our pastor here," the female voice said.  "He's sort of
retired now."

   "This is in reference to an orphanage in Guatemala," I said.

   "Oh," she replied.  "That's why he's retired.  He got beat up pretty
bad. His health isn't too good."

   "I'm sorry to hear that.  I know the 'beat up' part of the story."

   "He's home tonight," she said.

   "Do you have a phone number?  I have a question or two about some people
he was associated with down there."

   "Nothing bad, I hope?"

   "No, ma'am," I answered.  "I'm just trying to help one of his kids."

   "Sad," she said.  "He had all those kids.  Having school.  Place to
stay. Feeding them.  We sent so much stuff down there.  Money.  Clothes. 
And then that happened."

   "I understand it was a bad situation."

   "I guess I can give you his number.  You sound okay."

   "I try to be okay," I said.  "I'm ready to write."

   She read me off the number and I read it back to her.

   "Thank you so much," I said.

   "I hope things go well for you and the people you are trying to help,"
she said.

   "I do, as well.  This is a great help."

   "Okay, then.  God bless you!" And the phone clicked.

   Working on Lita.  Kept her picture in my head.  Thought about that one
trekking up from Central America, the length of Mexico, then into Texas. 
Had to be a brave little thing.

   I mouthed a little prayer and dialed the number.  This time it was a
male voice.  A little inflection made me think it was an older voice.

   "Hello."

   "Is this Brother Bob?"

   "Yes, it is.  May I ask who YOU might be?"

   "Dave Johnson.  You don't know me.  I have some questions about a couple
of people associated with the orphanage in Guatemala, if you don't mind
talking."

   "Oh, I don't mind ...  If it's about money, though ...  The church no
longer supports it."

   "No," I said.  "It's about a couple of people."

   "Which people?"

   "Did you have a lady working with you by the name of Estella Hernandez?"

   "Oh, bless her name," he said.  "She was trying to get to the States. 
I'm afraid ...  you hear so many stories about people, those poor
unfortunate souls, who try to make that trip.  She ...  she passed away. 
In a hospital in Mexico.  Infections ...  she had my address..."

   "That's a bad thing," I said.  "I have a young girl here who is looking
for her Tia Estella."

   "She was 'Tia Estella' to many of our children.  A truly good, selfless
woman."

   "My young friend said that Estella was going to America and was going to
call for her when she got settled in.  New Orleans."

   "I know some of the community there in New Orleans," he said.  "Some are
doing well.  Others ...  It is not easy.  Your friend..."

   "My friend is fourteen.  Carlita Ortiz."

   "Carlita Ortiz de Guererra."

   "You know her?  You remember?"

   "I remember ALL my kids," he said.  "Carlita was especially memorable.
She is bright.  Past bright.  Insatiable love of learning." He had to be
smiling.  His voice sounded it.  "She calls herself 'Ortiz'?  We talked. 
She said that Americans take their father's names.  So smart."

   "That's Carlita," I said.

   "How did you meet her?"

   "I parked my truck in the scrubland in South Texas.  When I left there
and got onto the highway, her head popped up from behind my seat.  I could
not turn her over to the authorities.  She deserves better.  Not a number."

   "No, she is not a number.  There was no school task that she could not
complete, not the tasks for children her age, not tasks for children much
older.  And her English.  We tried immersion for language.  She was the
best.  And she is in America?"

   "She is staying with my sister," I said.  "I was trying to find her
aunt. But now ...  The news will devastate her.  And I do not know what I
can do about her.  No documents..."

   "Is she safe where she is?  If she had to stay there for some time..."

   "Yes.  But you ...  you know of no good place?"

   "Dave.  You did say your name was Dave, right?"

   "Yessir," I said.

   "I am on a small pension.  I have no place here.  I know of orphanages,
but her undocumented status would keep her out of many, and of the others,
she ...  Carlita ...  she deserves ...  is capable of much better."

   "I don't know what to do.  I mean, Brother Bob, she's good here as long
as she needs or wants, but without documents ...  school ...  medical ...
all those things will be difficult."

   "I understand.  Dave, let me write down your phone number.  Perhaps
there is a way out of this."

   "Brother Bob, if you could do anything, Carlita will appreciate it.  And
if Carlita does, so will I."

   "Then let me make some inquiries next week.  I will call you next Friday
and we will talk."

   "Thanks, Brother Bob."

   "You're welcome.  Take care of our Carlita."

   "Yessir," I said.

   I spent the remainder of the evening doing little tasks around the
house, dreading that I was going to have to break the news to her about her
aunt, but I was also harboring hopes that Bob would be able to help her.

   Finally I went to sleep.  Was sleeping good when the phone rang. 
Through a bleary eye I saw the clock.  2 AM.  Caller ID.  Pat.

   I answered.  "What's up?  It's 2 AM?"

   "Yes," Pat said.  "I know what time it is, thank you.  And I have a
crying teenager here.  Your name comes up."



   ------

   Chapter 6

   I'm groggy and I'm trying to parse Pat's words.

   "She's crying?  Why?"

   "I dunno, Dave.  Maybe the stress is catching up with her.  Maybe ... 
You didn't, like, DO anything with her, did you?"

   "Pat," I gasped, "she's FOURTEEN!  No!"

   "Well, at least come over and talk to her."

   "I'm on the way.  I'm driving.  Just in case."

   "In case of what?"

   "I dunno.  Just in case."

   "Okay, I'll look for your headlights, then."

   "Tell Lita I'm on the way." Time to rescue Lita again.  But I don't know
from what.

   I drag on a pair of shorts, swap my white t-shirt for a colored one,
slide my feet into a pair of loafers and in a few minutes Pat's letting me
in her front door.  Lita's sideways on the sofa, knees drawn up, her arms
wrapped around them, rocking slightly, her face streaked with tears.  She's
not faking, or if she is, she's good at it.

   I cross the room and sit close to her, at her feet.  "Lita," I said
softly, "what's wrong?"

   She turned her face up, fixed me in the gaze of those big brown eyes. 
"It is too much.  Pat is very nice to me, but I need to be at your house."
She shook.  A little sob.  "Please?  It is too much."

   Pat was at my side.  "Lita, you know the problem."

   "I will not be a problem, Pat.  Te prometo.  I promise.  Dave, I will
not be a problem."

   I looked at Pat.  She shrugged.  "We're both in this pretty deep now,
anyway.  As long as she doesn't make a big deal, the neighbors shouldn't
say anything.  It's not like the Feds are tracking people down."

   "I know." I touched Lita's hand lightly.  "Come on, Lita.  Let's go
home."

   "Are you ...  sure?" Half sob.

   "I am sure.  Come with me.  I talked with Brother Bob.  I will tell you
what he told me." Then I realized what ONE of those things was.

   She stood up.  Barefoot, her five feet two inches next to me, her head
was at my chest level.  She faced me.  "I will not be a problem."

   "You're not a problem, Lita."

   "I'm sorry, Pat.  I am sorry.  I don't know.  Perhaps again later,
okay?"

   "Okay, sweetheart," Pat said.  "Dave, be careful."

   "I AM careful," I said.  I was.  I'd survived a lot so far.  Why did I
feel like Lita was disassembling me?

   She got her shoes and her bag and came to the door.  Pat looked a bit
sad, a bit confused.  I kissed my sister on the cheek.  "Thanks for trying,
Sis," I said.

   I opened the door.  Lita walked out ahead of me, got in the car.  "You
drove this here?  It is not far to walk."

   "Yes, I know.  I walk here all the time.  It's just that I don't think
it would be a good idea to be seen walking down the street with a fourteen
year old girl in her nightshirt.  That's how problems start."

   "What did Brother Bob tell you?"

   "We will talk inside the house," I said.  I was feeling dread.  After
all, a constant thread since I'd met Lita was that she wanted to find her
aunt.  I don't know that she had any other plan.

   We pulled into my drive.  She went inside, put her things up in her
room, then came to the living room.

   "Dave, you do not look happy."

   "Lita, I do not have good news."

   She watched my face carefully.  I saw sadness overtaking hers.  "Brother
Bob says that your Tia Estella caught an infection..."

   The tears welled up.  "She is not okay?" Her eyes flicked to mine for
the answer.  "She ...  she is gone?"

   "She is gone.  Lita, I am so sorry..."

   She started to sob.  What could I do?  I held her in my arms.  Let her
cry.  Shed a tear myself for a woman I'd never met, but who meant so much
to my Lita.  I let her cry.  Held her.  Felt her breathing, sobbing.

   Finally, she drew a big breath.  Stopped sobbing.  Still in my arms, she
turned her face up.  "Dave, I have nothing now.  No plans.  No goal.  No
hope."

   "You are never without hope, Lita.  I told you that you are good here as
long as you want."

   "But you sent me away.  To your sister."

   "Lita, I am trying to be a decent person.  I thought that maybe you
would be more comfortable living with another female.  I mean, you and I,
we have to take care around each other.  About decency."

   "I am decent.  You are decent.  Is not a problem, Dave."

   This statement was made by a teen, tawny-skinned, dark-eyed, soft,
smelling of bath soap, in my arms.  It could be a problem.

   She sat straight, realized where she was, slid off my thigh.  "What else
did Brother Bob say?"

   "He says he is going to look into some ways to change your status here.
It would be so much easier to take care of you if we got you legal status."

   "There are ways, Dave.  I knew of people who paid money for them.  I did
not have money."

   "I have heard of sch things, Lita.  I know nothing of how they might
work."

   "Brother Bob may be able to find out.  You would spend money ...  for
me?"

   I looked at that face, still tear-stained.  Decided I'd saw off an arm
and a leg to help her.  "I'll be back, Lita," I said.  I went to the
bathroom, dampened a washcloth, came back.

   "Hold still," I said.  "Turn your face up."

   She said nothing, just obeyed.  I gently washed her face, cleaning away
the tear tracks.

   "Thank you, Dave," she said.  "It is late."

   I connected with her eyes.  "Lita, if you go to your own bed, you're
going to end up in mine later, am I correct?"

   She looked at me, eyes soulful.  Nodded.  "I try not.  But so many
things.  So soon.  You are safe."

   'Yeah, I'm getting less safe with every passing minute, ' I thought. 
"Then come on.  Let's go to bed."

   A smile.  I saw a smile.  When I stood, she stood with me.  "Hold my
hands, Dave, while I say a prayer for my Tia Estella.  She was very good to
me.  If ...  We would have a good life in America."

   I let her take my hands.  She nodded her head, spoke softly in Spanish
for a minute.  "You would have liked her, Dave.  She may have made you a
good wife."

   "I would have enjoyed meeting her.  She was somebody who made Lita
happy."

   "It is late.  Let us go to bed."

   And I have a million thoughts in my head precipitated by a fourteen year
old hand tugging me toward the bedroom.  I watched her turn the covers
back. She smiled at me.  "I will be back.  I will bring another pillow. 
You hold a pillow when you sleep."

   She bounced off, came back, pushed her pillow into place.  "Get in."

   "You first."

   "No," she said.  "It is YOUR bed.  I must fit myself in what is left
after you take your place."

   I got into bed as I was told.  Slid under the covers.  Arranged my
pillows.  "Okay," I said.

   She slid onto her side of the bed.  "At the orphanage for many years I
had to share my bed with another girl.  It is a good feeling to me.  I am
sorry that I upset Pat, but I wanted to be here with you, Dave.  You have
been the one to take care of me."

   She looked at me intently.  "Do you now regret it?"

   "No, I do not.  But this is strange."

   "Strange?"

   "Sleeping with you."

   "You have slept with me already.  We sleep."

   "Okay.  Good night, Lita."

   "Dave?"

   "Yes, Lita?"

   "This is for the trouble I am." She bounced once.  Kissed me on the
corner of my mouth, bounced again, and rolled over away from me.  I snapped
the bedside lamp off.

   I heard 'Tia Estella' and a string of soft words in Spanish.  In the
middle of them, I think I caught my name.

   I rolled in the opposite direction, pulled a pillow into my chest and
drifted off.  In the middle of the night I hit that semi-awake state to
roll over and found myself with an arm around me.  That role played by my
pillow?  I was playing that role for Lita.

   I had to roll.  I was beginning to have a cramp.  I tried to move slowly
and gently so as to not wake her, but...

   "I am sorry, Dave."

   "'s okay, Lita."

   She rolled away from me and I rolled to a comfortable position and
resumed sleeping.

   I woke up again later.  Pillow was gone.  Replacement was Carlita.  I
gently looked for my pillow and rolled over.  This is going to be
difficult.

   Woke up in the morning with her knees in my chest.  My bladder was doing
that 'high level alarm' thing.  I eased out of bed.  She was turning over
and stretching as I hit the bathroom.  When I walked out, she was at the
door.

   "Can't wait," she said, zooming past me.

   I waited for her to get out before I dressed.  She came out.  Stopped.
Smiled demurely.  "We kind of fit, didn't we?"

   "Yes," I said, wondering about her knowledge of what happens to the male
in these situations.  "Go get dressed.  We need breakfast."

   "I can help make breakfast.  Show me what to do."

   "Get dressed.  What we do is go just a bit up the road and let somebody
else cook breakfast."

   "That is not good use of money, Dave.  We can have breakfast here."

   "Then we will do that next week.  Today..."

   "Okay.  If you say it is what you wish..."

   "I wish to tell Lita that she is not my personal servant."

   "Lita will tell you that she is a part of this house, much as you are,
and she will do her part."

   "And Lita is quite welcome to do what she wishes." I smiled.  "Lita,
thanks for offering."

   "Thank you, Dave."

   "Come on," I said.  "Or do I have to pick you up and throw you in the
car?"

   She has a cute smirk.  "Maybe you do."

   I reached for her.  She squealed and bounced back.  "I'll go!"

   We walked out the door.  "You would have..."

   "You asked for it."

   "You're funny, Dave."

   "You're delightful, Carlita."

   We buckled in and headed to the little neighborhood diner.

   "It is sad about Tia Estella, Dave."

   "Yes it is, Lita."

   "I will honor her memory by being the person she saw in me."

   "What person is that?"

   "A good student ...  no, the word is ...  scholar.  A good person.  I
can be those things."

   "I will provide you a way to be those things.  I have no other person to
do things for."

   "If you did.  Meet a lady.  You would still help me?"

   "Lita, I do not want a lady who does not make room for Carlita.  Men get
married all the time and they bring children..."

   "I am not a child."

   "Carlita, you're fourteen."

   "Last night at dinner, THOSE were children..."

   She was referring to a herd of children that bracketed her age.  The
concept of manners was not something that darkened their minds.  She's
right.  If those are 'children', she's not a child.

   "That's not what I mean, and you know it."

   "You are right.  I know what you mean.  But I am not your child.  A
woman might not think the same way as if I were your child."

   "Anyway, Lita, there is no woman in my life right now who is even close
to becoming my wife, so this discussion is not needed."

   "It is fun to argue.  In English.  I must think hard."

   "You will always have a place to stay, Lita.  Unless somebody finds out
that you sleep in my bed."

   "I will tell no person."

   "You and I.  Partners.  Okay?"

   She looked over the console at me.  Strange smile.  "Okay.  Not father
and daughter.  Not man and wife.  Partners." Giggle.  "Like a boy and his
dog."

   "Who's the boy, who's the dog?"

   "I am not a boy.  Nor a dog.  But like that." She laughed.  "Work
together."

   "Yes.  Right now we eat together." I was pulling into the parking lot.
Sunday morning.  Church crowd.  I was nodding acquaintance with a few
people, so I waved.  Carlita nodded.  One couple peeled off to come talk.

   "Hi, Dave," Perry said.

   "Hi, Perry.  Hi, Dinah.  This is Carlita.  Carlita, this is Perry and
Dinah."

   "Hello," Carlita said.  "Happy to meet you."

   "What's the accent?" Dinah asked.

   "I learned English in school in Guatemala," Lita said.  "I am in the
United States to study.  Dave is helping me.  And his sister."

   "Oh," Dinah said.  "That's nice.  Dave's a good guy."

   "He is," Lita concurred.

   "What are you studying?" Perry asked.

   "I originally planned on studying English and Spanish to become a
translator.  English is my second language."

   I'm listening to maturity here.  Might BE a fourteen year old girl. 
Doesn't SOUND like a fourteen year old girl.

   "Wow.  Well, yes, today a good translator might find plenty of work."

   "I may change, though.  I have done well in mathematics and sciences.  I
may decide on a more technical study.  Engineering, perhaps."

   I caught the look tossed my way.

   "Well, good luck to you, Carlita," Dinah said.  "We need to hurry
along."

   "Goodbye, then," Lita said.

   "Yeah, bye, y'all!" I added.

   We found ourselves seated in a booth.  "What do you order here?"

   "Breakfast, Southern style.  Eggs.  Grits.  Sausage.  A biscuit with
gravy."

   "I shall have that, then.  And coffee."

   "And orange juice?"

   Her head bounced.  "That also."

   We gave our order to the waitress.

   "Now," I said, "you're fast.  When Perry asked you what you were
studying, you had an answer very fast."

   "I could not tell him that I am in school like a fourteen year old
girl," she said.  "So I answer like I am older.  Did I speak correctly?"

   "Very correctly," I said.  "I believed you.  And I caught that little
joke, too.  You being an engineer."

   "Why should I not?  You are an engineer.  I heard you talk while I was
hiding in your truck.  You speak comfortably about your work.  Cannot a
girl be what she wishes?"

   "A girl can be what she wishes.  But you're fourteen."

   "I have time.  And I did not lie.  I do well in math and science.  You
will see."

   "We will see.  School is just about over for this year.  You do what
American kids do in the summer."

   "What is that?"

   "Vacation."

   "I do not want a vacation, Dave.  I want to know as much as an American
student of my age."

   "You may be disappointed as to what American kids your age know, Lita."

   "Then you shall do things so I can learn.  I have escaped Guatemala.  I
have survived Mexico.  And Texas.  I am not ready to be normal."

   "Okay.  You're not normal.  What are you, then?"

   "I am Carlita who wishes to learn.  Do you have a biblioteca ... 
library?"

   "Yes, we do.  But you can find a lot ...  more, actually, on the
Internet."

   "You must show me more about the Internet."

   "We can do that when we get home."

   The waitress set two plates of food before us.  I asked for, and got,
hot sauce, dashed some on my eggs and grits.  Lita tasted hers then asked
for the bottle.

   "This is bland?" I asked her.

   "You think so.  I think so.  Is good.  But bland.  I think I could do
better.  We must go to the market."

   "Huh?"

   "Take me to the market.  I will buy foods."

   "Groceries."

   "Yes.  Groceries."

   "You can cook?"

   "Everybody worked at the orphanage.  I learned to cook.  I learned many
things to keep a house clean and in order.  Dave, I will not be a burden."

   "I do not imagine you will be." This was no spoiled brat of a kid,
product of helicopter parents and 'everybody's special' upbringing.  She'd
completed a trek that would have left her American contemporaries
whimpering and lost and she'd received the news of a lost loved one and
she's right here, right now, thinking on her feet about the way forward for
herself.

   We finished our meal, paid the ticket, walked out into the sunlight.  In
the car, she reminded me.  "Groceries."

   "Yes."

   Under her tutelage, I bought things that I never tried and things that I
have tried.  We brought it all home.  She put things away.  I showed her my
pantry and she'd already used refrigerators before, so that wasn't a leap.
Done.

   "Now.  More computer ...  the Internet."

   "Okay.  Now this is how you turn it on..." And lessons.  Search engines.
Files and documents and saving.  Word processing basics.  These are all
things that we take for granted.  Escapees from Third-World orphanages
don't have that exposure.

   "You have to work tomorrow, is that correct?" she asked.

   "Yes.  Will you be okay here?" I was hoping she'd say yes.  I couldn't
think of options.  It's hard to say 'Hey, I need a babysitter for a
teenaged girl who's staying at my house.'

   "I will be okay.  And you will have a meal when you get home."

   The rest of the day was filled with explanations of the TV and the
Blu-ray player and...

   "It's too much!  Almost too much.  I heard of America, where there are
so many things.  I never thought I would see them, not this soon."

   "I do not want you bored, Lita."

   "I am not bored, Dave."

   "That is good today, Lita.  Tomorrow I will go to work.  You will be
here alone."

   "I can be alone in our house."

   I caught 'our house'.  "Pat will be at work as well.  She gets home a
half hour before I do, but is still gone all day." I paused, mentally
noting that I should get my spare iPhone activated.  "You have the
telephone.  I always have my cellphone.  If you need me, you can call me
any time.  I will show you how to send me a message from the computer, too.
That is a better choice because on Monday I have many meetings."

   I showed her the messaging application.  "Now, if you type 'Dave', it
will pull up the path to my phone.  Here.  Try it."

   Her face broke into a grin when the action took place.

   "Now, if you put the cursor in this block you can type a message.  Go
ahead."

   She typed 'hello dave'.

   "Now hit 'send'."

   She did.  In a few seconds, my phone buzzed.  I showed it to her.  Her
message.

   Squeal!  "Lita is in the modern age!" she laughed.  "This icon," she
moved the cursor.  "It is a picture."

   "Yes.  This part on the computer is a camera.  If you click that, the
camera takes a picture and sends it as part of the message."

   Giggle.  Click.  My phone buzzed.  A smiling Carlita.  I may make it my
desktop.

   "There is a way to do this in real-time video, too."

   Her eyebrows arched.  "So while you are at work I can send you a picture
of me."

   "Or we can chat and see each other's faces."

   Her eyebrow arched.  I learned fast.  I know that her agile mind is
running now.  "This could be used for many things, Dave."

   "It is," I said.  "Some good, some less good."

   "Less good?"

   "People send pictures of themselves..."

   "That is less good?  If a woman wishes to send pictures to her man ...
her husband ...  is that not good?"

   "That might be good.  But sometimes a girl, especially a young girl, may
be chatting with a man she is beginning to trust and he talks her into
sending..."

   "She is a stupid girl."

   "When people get emotional, sometimes they get stupid at the same time."

   "I understand."

   "I am telling you this because it happens very often."

   "How could it happen to me?  I am sending pictures to YOU." Her eyes
twinkled.  "I trust YOU.  And if you were going to do things, I think you
would have tried them while I was in your bed."

   "There are places on the Internet where people go to meet other people
to chat."

   "I see."

   "I would rather you didn't see."

   She giggled.  "We are having a serious conversation and you make a
joke."

   "Because we are having a serious conversation and I wish to see you
smile."

   "I will smile for you, Dave." She gave me an exaggerated smile.

   "That's not the one I want.  I want the one that happens when you're not
trying."

   Her eyes told me something cryptic.  The smile just signaled happiness.

   Lunch was sandwiches.  "Show me what you like for a sandwich, Dave. 
Next time I will know."

   Over the course of eating sandwiches we discussed my food tastes and
hers.  "I did not have choices most of the time, Dave.  I ate what was
provided."

   "This is here and now.  You have choices."

   She smiled.  "I have riches I never imagined here, Dave.  But if I cook,
will you eat it?"

   "Lita, I have eaten food from many different cultures.  I will try what
you cook.  I suspect that if you find it satisfactory, so will I.  And if I
do not like it, I have options."

   "Options..." she repeated.

   "Choices.  I can find other things."

   "Okay.  Options.  But if I ruin food."

   "If you ruin food, we will get more food."

   "And you will not be angry?"

   "Angry?  Because you TRIED?  Hardly."

   "Okay.  I will try."

   Afternoon.  Intro to search engines.  Wikipedia.  "I can find out
EVERYTHING."

   "Yes you can, Lita.  But you must know that the Internet contains
everything.  Some things, most things, are good.  Some things are not good.
Pornography."

   "Pornography..."

   "Pictures and movies and such of people in sexual situations.  Sometimes
innocent searches will bring you to places that you do not want to see."

   "I know the word.  In Spanish it is almost the same.  Pornografía.  It
is easy on the Internet?"

   "Yes.  Most of the sites will have a warning for viewers under the age
of eighteen."

   "I will take care about pornography, Dave."

   "Tomorrow I will get you an iPhone, Lita.  Just about every teen in
America has a phone." Yeah, it might be an exaggeration, but it looks that
way to me.

   "You will buy me THAT?  Like yours?"

   "It is my old one.  I kept it just in case this one was damaged.  I will
give it to you instead." That's another discussion about cellphone accounts
and plans and who pays for what.  I'm learning exactly how complex modern
society is, all the things that I just know because I've been immersed in
them forever.  Carlita's learning for the first time.

   We played, puttering around on two laptops, me on my newer MacBook, her
on an older Windows machine.  Got the 'how does this connect to the
Internet' question, gave a quick lesson in wireless technology and the
difference between the home network and the cellular data network.

   She showed me a flash of cooking skills in the kitchen for dinner,
making up something savory, dumping it over rice.  I hovered the whole
time, making sure that she understood how my kitchen worked.

   She marveled at the rice cooker.  Giggled.  "I learned to cook rice on
the stove for thirty people.  This is too easy."

   After dinner, we were in the living room.  The TV was on, Lita was on
her computer.  Every now and then, she'd ask a question and I'd answer.

   We shut things down, each chose a bathroom and showered.  And it was
bedtime.  She was standing in the door.

   I didn't even argue.



   ------

   Chapter 7

   Okay, maybe it was like sleeping with my little sister, that is, if I'd
HAD a little sister.  I'd slept with my BIG sister on trips where Dad had
gotten a hotel room with two beds, he and Mom taking one, me, Pat and Gary
getting the other.  THAT kind of 'sleeping with your sister', not the OTHER
kind.

   I decided to NOT fight the occasional incidental contact with Lita
during the night.  Reviewing things in the morning, I surmised that she'd
come to the same decision.  I don't even begin to understand her thinking.
On one hand, she's insistent on sleeping in the same bed with me.  On the
other hand, it was almost like she had a proximity limit  -" only so close,
and not any closer.

   Seems to have changed.  I woke during the night to roll over to a more
comfortable position.  Lita was spooned up behind me, her arm over me. 
When I rolled, so did she.  I deliberately did NOT snuggle against her. 
Didn't matter.  Before I drifted back to full slumber, she eased back
against me.

   Choice.  Lita?  Or a pillow?  I chose Lita.  Tentatively put my arm over
her, fully expecting her to wiggle away.  She didn't wiggle and to my
surprise, she put her arm over mine and sort of wiggled into place.

   I willed myself NOT to react.  Was only partially successful.  I don't
know if I can do this.  I tell myself that I can.  In four days this little
creature has fastened herself to my heart.

   'Heart' wasn't what was stirring when I woke up with her heinie pressed
against me in the morning.  I squeezed out of bed, trying hard (Hah!) not
to disturb Lita, heading myself to the bathroom to relieve my bladder.  I
was trying to tell myself that the erection was because of bladder
pressure. 'Myself' didn't believe it.  Took a while for the erection to
subside to the point where urination was possible.

   When I turned around, I jumped.  There was Lita, bleary-eyed, waiting.
She pushed past me to the toilet, silent.  I shut the door behind myself,
decided to slide back into bed for a while.  Didn't know what I expected.
Surely, now awake, Lita would retreat to her own bed.

   Wrong.  Nightshirt-clad little thing raised the covers and crawled back
in, not saying a word.  Equally silently, she pushed up against me, facing
me, her arms folded to her chest between us.

   I lay there, moved my arm at my side.  It wasn't particularly
comfortable.

   "Your arm.  You can put it over me.  I do not mind," a soft voice said.

   "Are you sure?"

   "I am sure."

   "Lita, this is difficult..."

   "Why?  Am I causing you pain?  Do you not like me?"

   "I like you plenty.  That is causing me difficulty."

   In the dim light of the room I could make out the soulful eyes looking
into mine.  "Why, Dave?  What is wrong?"

   "You are a young and pretty girl.  I am a man."

   "Oh." She sighed heavily.  "That.  I do not know everything about that.
I know what a man and a woman ...  I know that a bad man will take what he
wants from a woman.  I am not a woman, Dave.  You are not a bad man."

   "You are enough of a woman..."

   "Am I?"

   "You are."

   "Nobody ever told me I am."

   "You worried about the others on your trip."

   "Those ...  those were animals.  Anything ...  anyone ...  female ... 
there were two GIRLS who disappeared.  Gone." She shivered and with the
shiver, inched closer to me.

   "It's okay, Carlita," I said, relishing her name.  "You are here.  You
do not have to worry about that any more."

   "This is home for me?"

   "As long as you want it."

   "I do not understand something, Dave.  My Tia Estella ...  the letter,
she said she was in New Orleans."

   "Are you sure she said that?  Maybe..."

   "Maybe I read it wrong.  I cannot believe she is gone."

   I held her.  "I am here for you, Lita."

   "You did not say 'my Lita'."

   "My Lita."

   Closer.

   "Are you not going to work today?"

   "No, Lita.  Today is a holiday.  No work."

   "What holiday?"

   "Memorial Day.  In America, it is supposed to be a day to remember those
who died in our wars."

   "Sad day."

   "Not for most people.  They do not know what the holiday is for, only
that they do not have to work."

   "Then we can stay in bed longer."

   I puzzled that statement.  "If you wish."

   "I like this.  I feel ...  safe ...  good."

   Okay, this time it's too close.  "Lita, that's a little too close."

   "Why?"

   "Lita, you are a pretty young girl.  There is part of me that does not
know that you are Lita, my friend, who I take care of.  That part only
knows Lita, pretty young girl."

   "It is not a good feeling?"

   "I'm not supposed to be having that feeling."

   "But it feels good."

   "It feels good, but it is wrong for me to feel that way."

   "I have good feelings too, Dave."

   "We cannot..."

   "I know we cannot, Dave.  But we can feel good like this, can we not?"

   "It does feel good."

   "It feels safe.  Like I am supposed to feel safe."

   I have a million thoughts, probably due to loss of blood supply to the
neurons I need to think clearly.  I've never BEEN a pedophile.  I know she
HAS to feel it, yet she acts oblivious.  So, I hold her.  Another wiggle,
her breathing stabilizes, and I think she's asleep.

   I willed myself to quit thinking and dozed off myself.  This time I woke
up as she was moving, putting her hand on my shoulder.  A little kiss on
the cheek.  A Lita-initiated hug.

   "Dave?"

   "Mmmmm.  Yes, Lita?"

   "I went back to sleep."

   "Me, too."

   "Because I feel safe.  Good."

   I smiled.  "You're my Lita."

   "Your Lita desires breakfast."

   "It is a holiday.  Let us get somebody else to do breakfast for us. 
Then you're going to need to wear something besides that nightshirt," I
said.

   She bounced out of bed and up the hall.  I watched.  Kind of hated
myself for the things I noticed.  I sighed, got up, got dressed myself.

   I met her in the hallway.  "Do I look okay?  I want to look normal."

   I scanned her from head to toe.  Yeah, 'normal' was one word that
worked. "You look fine," I said.  "Typical young girl.  Maybe cuter than a
lot of them."

   She hit a pose I hadn't yet seen from her, twisting on one leg, looking
over a shoulder.  "Only maybe?"

   "Maybe MORE than 'maybe'."

   Her eyes met mine.  That grin.  I think I know who it's for.

   Made a good start to the day.  I suggested her breakfast order, then let
her sample different items from my plate.

   "This is American breakfast?  Again?"

   "The biscuit and gravy is a Southern thing.  French toast?  I learned in
a Cajun kitchen..."

   "Cajun?" she asked.

   "We'll talk.  They're a sub-culture in Louisiana."

   "Oh."

   "It's not all bad." I smiled.

   She smiled in return.  "And bacon and eggs and sausage?"

   "A plot to keep America fat."

   She giggled.

   "This is from when men and women were expected to do physical work all
day," I said.  "The breakfast is still here.  The work isn't."

   "You are not fat, Dave."

   "I know.  I allow myself a breakfast like this on special occasions."

   "What is today's special occasion?"

   "First, it's a holiday.  Second, I have Carlita with me."

   "I make your day special?"

   "Looks that way to me."

   A little satisfied smile spread on her face.  "You make my day special
too, Dave.  Since last Thursday ...  I did not know if I would ever eat
again.  Now you are telling me that if I eat all this, I will be fat."

   "It's easy and it happens to a lot of people."

   "I am not fat.  I was hungry.  I walked much.  I am thin."

   "You are a young girl.  Girls your age come in many shapes and sizes. 
You're in the middle of the range."

   "I have eaten more since I found you than I did in the last two weeks."

   "I guess that's good," I said.

   "It is very good," she replied, then she loaded another forkful of
French toast.

   There was this thing looming, though.  Tomorrow I have to go to work,
and as charming as I might find her, they won't let me bring Lita with me,
so we talked.

   "I don't know what to do with you tomorrow."

   "I will stay home.  You have shown me TV and the Internet.  You have
food.  I will tidy the house."

   "Tidy?"

   "Yes, clean..."

   "Lita, you are not my slave."

   "No, I am not your slave.  I am your partner.  We live in that house
together.  I should help you with it."

   "You have books..."

   "I would like to see a biblioteca ...  library?"

   "I would take you today, but they are closed on holidays."

   "Is it far?"

   "No.  Let's drive by it." Neat building.  Kind of new.  Has a modern
look.  It's a branch, and honestly, I have walked to it from the house. 
Lita, though?

   "It is not far.  I could walk."

   "You could.  It would be better if I brought you here the first time and
explained the situation."

   "What would you explain to them?"

   "I will explain that you, Carlita, are an exchange student, and you have
my permission to use my library card."

   "I am not an exchange student."

   "Okay, then, I'll tell them that I found you behind the seat of my truck
out in the middle of Nowhere, Texas, you're an undocumented alien..."

   "Okay.  Exchange student."

   "Until we get some help getting your status resolved..."

   "Resolved?" she questioned.

   "Fixed.  Made into something that we can work with."

   "Oh, okay."

   "Until then, we may have to tell a little lie or two..." I paused, then
said, "I don't want somebody to take you away from me."

   "Me also.  You take care of me.  I like it  -" having somebody who will
look out for me." She looked at the passing scenery.  "What are we going to
do today?"

   "My brother is having a barbecue.  We are invited, if you're up to
meeting more of my family."

   "They invited me?"

   "No, they invited me, before I knew you existed.  Now you are part of
the deal..."

   "I am unexpected."

   "Not exactly.  Sometimes in the past I've brought a friend..."

   "A woman?"

   "Yes, I have had women friends."

   "And your family has met them?"

   "Yes." Okay, strange line, but I'll play along.  Let's see where she's
heading.

   "So if you bring me, they will think I am your lady?"

   "No, they will see you and I will tell them you are my ward."

   "What is  -" ward?"

   "Somebody who I take care of."

   "Not like wife?"

   "No.  Not like wife.  Not like child."

   "Friend?"

   "Not necessarily.  But you and I know that you are my friend."

   "We should go.  You said they have children?"

   "Yeah.  Son's eight.  Robert.  Named after our grandfather.  Daughter's
six.  Kinsey.  And his wife is Carlie.  Almost Carlita..."

   "And they will not be unhappy if I show up?"

   "No, they won't."

   "Then we should go.  I would like to meet your family.  Do I need better
clothes?"

   I regarded her apparel.  Neat.  New.  Tidy.  "Nope.  You're good."

   "We go home first?"

   "Yes, for a little while.  Don't want to get there too early."

   We pulled into the driveway and walked inside.

   "Your books.  You do not mind if I read them?"

   "Of course not.  And the computer is there for you.  Use it wisely. 
There are traps."

   "I know.  You told me."

   We had a little lesson on the DVD player as well.

   "So many things to learn," she said.

   "You'll learn them, Lita.  You're a very intelligent girl."

   We worked in the house a little, then I decided to call Gary.

   "Hey, bud," I said, "I just wanted to warn you that I'm bringing
somebody with me.  I hope you have enough food."

   "Always got plenty.  Girlfriend?"

   "No.  Definitely a girl.  Definitely a friend.  We're hanging around
together.  Thought she needed to come with me."

   I glanced at Lita.  She was watching as I talked.

   "Come on.  We'll wait for you."

   "Okay," I said.  "Want me to bring ice or something?"

   "Nope.  Got everything.  Bring yourself and your friend."

   "'Kay, old son.  We're on the way."

   I clicked the end of the call.

   "Girlfriend means more than a girl who is your friend?" she said.

   "Yes, it does.  And if I was fifteen, I would be very happy for you to
be my girlfriend.  But you're half my age."

   "Umm-hmmm," she said.  "I see."

   We loaded up for the trip to the brother's house.  I played tour guide,
pointing out different things, answering questions from my young friend.

   "It is like on television," she said.  "It is real.  You live in this
place.  I live in this place."

   "You do," I said.  "If this is where you want to live."

   "If you will let me.  Keep me."

   I replied to the 'let me'.  "Of course I'll let you.  So far, I am very
happy with you." I parsed the 'keep me' comment, then stored it for future
consideration.  The town turned to suburbs, then thinned out a bit more.  I
zigzagged down a couple of side roads and said, "There it is.  Gary's
house."

   "It is like the one you showed me that first day in Texas.  This is
his?"

   "His and the bank's.  Mortgage."

   "Mor-gage..." she repeated.  "What does that mean?"

   "It means he borrowed the money from the bank to buy it."

   "It is a normal way to do things?"

   "Yes.  My house is mortgaged, as well."

   "I have much to learn."

   "Baby," I said, "very few fourteen year olds know about mortgages."

   "I am not like the others.  I want to know things."

   By this time, we were in the driveway and she hadn't glommed onto the
fact that I'd just called her 'baby'.

   Bobby and Kinsey bounced out of the house to meet their uncle.  Saw
Lita.

   Kinsey's the more forward of the two.  "Hi!  I'm Kinsey.  Who are you?"

   I wasn't sure what to expect.  I hadn't seen Lita faced with direct
questions from strangers.  I was pleasantly surprised.  She squatted to be
face to face with Kinsey.

   "I am Carlita.  Your Uncle Dave's ward..."

   "Hi, Lita.  What's a ward?"

   "He takes care of me.  Like a puppy.  Except I'm people." She looked
over at Bobby.  "You must be Bobby!"

   "I am," Bobby said.

   By this time Carlie was in the yard to meet us.  "Hey, Carlie," I said.
"This is Carlita.  Lita, this is my sister-in-law Carlie."

   "Hi, Lita," Carlie said.  "Welcome to our home." She turned to me. 
"He's in the back yard tending to the meat.  Lita, are you gonna follow
him, or do you want to come with me?  Or you can play with the kids..."

   "I will go with you."

   "Awwwww," Kinsey intoned.

   "I will play with you later, Kinsey," she said.  "I am sure we will have
time."

   "Okay," Kinsey said.  "Come on, Bobby.  Let's go to our clubhouse..."
and the pair bounded off.

   I followed Lita and Carlie into the house.  They turned toward the
kitchen.  Lita looked back over her shoulder, gave me a smile, and I kept
going on out on the patio.

   "Grab a beer!" Gary said.  "I'm in 'wait' mode.  Brisket's been on since
last night."

   "Low and slow," I said.

   "And smoky." He glanced around.  "Where's she at?"

   "In the kitchen with Carlie," I said.  "And don't be rude.  She's not a
bit used to the kind of conversations you're capable of."

   "I will be on my best behavior." He smirked.  "So how long's this been
going on?"

   "Since Thursday.  She's here for school.  One of those programs."

   "Some program.  Let a single guy take care of a teenaged girl."

   "Despite what you might imagine, I am a paragon of virtue.  Besides,
they were in a bind."

   "Shhhhhh!" Gary hissed.  "They're here!"

   I was a little surprised when Lita moved to my side.  "Gary, this is
Carlita.  Lita, this is my little brother."

   "Hello, Gary," Lita said.  "Thank you for allowing me to be here."

   "We are glad you came to visit us," Gary said.  "Your accent..."

   "Guatemala.  I learned English at the orphanage, but it is not perfect."

   "You speak more English than I do Spanish," Gary said.

   Lita giggled.  "That is what Dave said, as well."

   "Y'all sit down," Gary said.  "The meat's good for another hour.  Let's
relax..."

   I sat on the porch swing.  Another little surprise.  Lita sat on it
beside me.  Not REALLY close, but still...

   "What do you think of America, Lita?" Gary asked.

   Lita unleashed a stream of thought.  Looked at me.  Smiled.  "Ever since
Dave picked me up at the airport in Houston..." she was effusive in her
comments.  Interrupted, though, when Kinsey grabbed her hand.

   "Lita, come see my room!"

   "Kinsey!" Carlie said, "Maybe Lita wants to sit and talk."

   "Oh, if you will excuse me, I would love to see her room, Carlie," Lita
said.  She stood and followed Kinsey, joined by Bobby.

   Once she was out of earshot, Carlie jumped in.  "She's a bright thing.
Lovely accent, but a larger vocabulary than I would expect."

   "That's what I thought," I said.  I didn't add that she's good at making
up a story on the fly.  Airport, indeed.

   "You don't feel strange taking care of her?  I mean, a teenaged girl..."
Carlie said.

   "It's a step, but I'm pretty civilized.  I can actually see women and
not start unzipping my pants."

   Carlie laughed.  "Your brother couldn't..."

   "Yeah, the ONE girl on the planet that would fall for his bullshit..."

   "Heyyyyy, I'm right here!" Gary whined.

   "But Carlita..."

   "Whatever she needs, I am to supply it, within reason, of course.  She's
a bright one.  Speaks and reads two languages.  That's the plus.  The minus
is that she's way behind on technologies we take for granted, but we're
working on it."

   "But school's over next week," Gary said.

   "I know.  Gives us all summer to get her up to speed.  Remember. 
Orphan. Doesn't have anyplace else to go.  And so far, we get along fine."

   I heard Kinsey and Bobby and Lita coming through the house, then out
onto the patio.  Lita took her place beside me.  "Kinsey is like a
princess. Those rooms ...  your children are fortunate..."

   "I wish they realized it sometimes," Gary said.

   "When Dave showed me my room at our house..." she paused, realizing what
she'd said, " ...  his house, I was amazed.  I have never had my own room,
nor a bed that big..."

   "Bed," Carlie said.  "Do you mean that futon?"

   "It's a better bed than I've had since I can remember.  And I do not
have to share it with another girl.  The orphanage was crowded, always. 
Sometimes I had to sleep with another girl ...  Not since the last two
years, but when I was younger..."

   "Dave," Carlie said, "You need to get her a REAL bed."

   I caught the glance from Lita.  "He will.  He has told me.  We will
shop."

   "What are you going to do while he is at work?"

   "Tomorrow I will stay at home and read and perhaps watch TV and make
sure the house is in correct order.  I do my part."

   "Lita..." I started.

   "Now, Dave, we have talked.  I did not come to America so that others
would care for me.  I am not helpless."

   "Can we call you if we're doing things in town?" Carlie asked her.  "If
you don't mind running the roads with me and the kids, that is..."

   "That would be very nice," Lita said.  She looked sideways at me.  "See?
I knew something would come up."

   "Yeah.  Pat starts summer vacation, too ...  I figured she and you could
get together, too."

   "Pat's gotten kind of silent, lately," Gary said.  "Maybe ...  Do you
know if she's seeing somebody?"

   "Haven't heard.  Lita stayed there Friday night.  I don't know what our
sister's up to.  But she said she'd be glad to include Lita in her daily
travels."

   "Anyway," Gary said, "I'm haulin' that brisket out.  It needs to rest a
bit before we slice it."

   "I'll hold the tray, brother.  Let's do it."

   We attended to the male portion of the meal while Carlie, Lita and the
kids set the table.  The meal was memorable.  Brother does a good brisket,
and Carlie put together a great set of side dishes.  I noted that Lita had
no difficulty at all with the menu.  She wasn't eating to be polite.  She
was enjoying it.

   We helped with the cleanup, talked a bit more, then I begged off and
loaded Lita back into the car for the trip home.

   "Well, barbecue?  You liked it?"

   "I loved it.  Can you do that?"

   "I can."

   "Then you must do that and I will do like Carlie and fix the rest of the
meal and we will bring your family to OUR house."

   I noted that 'our house' again.  She caught me glancing at her.  She ran
her hand over her short hair.

   "I wish my hair was back.  Every woman has pretty hair.  I look like a
boy."

   "You do not look like a boy.  Not in that shirt." Her casual t-shirt
wasn't tight, but it was snug enough to show that she did have female
attributes.  Not big ones, but definitely female.  The dark hair and the
dark eyes and the slightly darkened skin all put together a cute package.

   "My hair..."

   "Will grow back.  You can cut it like you want it.  Right now, it looks
unconventional..."

   "Unconventional," she repeated.  "Is that a good thing?"

   "It's not a bad thing.  You handle it well.  Of course, I never knew you
with longer hair, but this is good..."

   She smiled.  "I am not ugly."

   "No, you are NOT ugly."

   "Carlie is tall.  I am short."

   "You are Carlita, not Carlie.  You are yourself.  You should be happy.
You are cute."

   Her smile broadened.  "Do you really think I am cute?"

   "Yes, you're cute.  You're smart and funny and serious, too."

   "Then I am not bad to have around you?" she asked.

   "No, you are not."

   "You are not bad to have around me, also.  This could have been very
bad. I found you.  It is good."

   "I found you.  Yes, it is good."

   I think that's when we realized what we were saying.

   We left it at that, talked about the day, about the kids, about the
food, planned for a light dinner.

   "You work this week.  You do not work on the weekend?"

   "No.  Not on the weekend."

   "Could we go out on your boat?"

   "Can you be my crew?"

   "I will be your crew."

   Our evening went as we'd planned.  Light dinner.  Tried to find a movie
on TV, ended up searching Netflix, found something she wanted to watch.  At
eight we paused it to attend to our nightly routines.  When I finished
shaving, I walked back into the living room.  She was clean, fresh,
fragrant, smiling, wearing that night shirt.

   I sat at the opposite end of the sofa.  She scooted toward me, laid
down, put her head on my thigh.

   "Does this make you unhappy?"

   "No, it does not, Carlita." I stroked her short hair, like petting a
cat. She purred.

   "Short," she said.

   "Neat," I said.  "And it will grow." I worried about something else
growing.  It did.  I willed it not to grow.  It did anyway.  I paid
attention to the movie.  It went away.

   I looked at the creature next to me, silly cotton nightshirt reaching
down her frame to mid-thigh, then long, tawny legs, delicate feet.  I
stroked her hair again.

   "Is it wrong ...  bad, to feel this good, Dave?"

   "Good?"

   "Safe.  Cared for."

   "No, it is not wrong, Lita.  Why would you ask?"

   "Others are not as fortunate.  I am fortunate."

   "Not your fault.  I can have one Carlita.  No more.  One only."

   "You have one Carlita," she said.

   The movie ended.  I let her turn the TV off.  "Tomorrow it is yours.  We
put the paper with my phone numbers by the phone.  There are numbers for
Pat and for Gary and Carlie.  If you have problems."

   She stood up and stretched.  I tried not to look as that nightshirt rode
up, revealing her pastel panties.  She acted like she didn't notice me
looking.

   So innocently she said, "Come, Dave.  It is bedtime."

   "You're not even trying to sleep in that room, are you?"

   She turned to me and smiled.  "I do not like sleeping there.  I like
sleeping with you.  Do not be silly.  Come on."

   We toss the covers back.  She crawled in first, then I got in and she
wiggled into my arms.

   "I am safe here."



   ------

   Chapter 8

   She's safe here.  Hasn't been a week and this girl seems to have
insinuated herself into my life.

   In bed together like a couple of kids, totally chaste.  As for myself, I
relish the warmth and comfort of having her there.  Little times during the
night, I feel a hand reach over and touch me  -" my back, my arm, my
shoulder, as if she's reassuring herself that I'm real.

   I find myself waking up with her pulled back against me is comforting,
like I'm absorbing some kind of calming, soothing energy from her placid
form.

   Of course, people move around in their sleep.

   I woke up to the sound of the alarm on the nightstand.  Instant
erection. During the night Lita has slid down in the bed.  She was still
cuddled up, her arm over me, but her face was resting on my belly right
above my pubic mound.

   The alarm's insistent tone woke her as well.  In the dim light of the
room she saw where she was.  I don't know what I expected, maybe for her to
recoil in horror or something.  Instead she hugged me harder, nestling her
face into my belly.

   "I do not like you having to go, Dave."

   "Me, neither.  You can stay in bed.  I am used to getting up by myself."

   "One more hug." And she did it again.  I KNOW she knows where she is. 
She finally scooted up, kissed my cheek.  "Thank you.  I slept well." She
bounced out of bed.  I eased out, watching her walk up the hall toward her
room.  I hit the bathroom, was getting dressed when she showed back up.  I
was tucking my shirt into my pants.  She watched.

   "I am going to miss you today," she said.

   "I will miss you as well, Carlita," I said.  Here's where I was supposed
to stop.  I didn't.  "I have gotten used to having you around."

   "Five days.  Five very good days, Dave," she said.  "I hope Brother Bob
can help us."

   "Me, too."

   "Let us have breakfast," she said.  "Show me how to help."

   "Coffee," I said.  "And cereal."

   "You fix the coffee.  I would like some coffee.  I will fix cereal."

   My coffee is a ritual.  By the time I had it working, I turned and she
had two bowls on the breakfast table.  I sat down across the table from my
Lita.  She smiled.  "Last banana.  We need more.  Can we go shop after you
come home?"

   "Yes.  We need bananas and you need a swimsuit."

   "Why do I need a swimsuit?"

   "If we go on the boat this weekend, we may wish to swim."

   "I do not know how to swim."

   "I will teach you."

   She smiled at me.  "I saw those other people swimming.  I wanted to ...
but I never..."

   "It's easy."

   We finished our cereal.  I poured the coffee, a cup for her, my travel
mug for me.  I started to leave.

   "No," she said softly.  "Sit for just a minute and drink coffee with me
...  It is a thing we should do."

   "Okay," I said.  I looked at those brown eyes, the softly rounded,
softly smiling face across the table from me.

   "This is what I shall do today," she said, and she laid out her plans.

   "You're not my slave, Lita.  Do not work so hard."

   "I am your partner, and I will work as I see fit." She gave me a
determined look, and my mind is doing backflips over the 'I am your
partner' comment.

   Carlita's turn:

   I am in a place I never knew I would be.  I once knew I would be in
America.  Many times during my trip I thought maybe I would not.  I acted
like a young boy.  Young girls did not fare well.

   I found Dave when he found me.  Here I am.  One day I will tell more of
my story.  Today, though, I have been with Dave since last Thursday.  It is
Tuesday, not a whole week since I met him.

   He is going to work.  I am staying home.  Home.  His house that he has
told me to use as my own for as long as I want to be here.  Poor Dave. 
Where else would I want to be?

   I fix him breakfast while he makes coffee.  He is going to give me a cup
of coffee and run out the door.  I make him sit with me for a few minutes.
It is early morning, a time when people think differently than they do
later in the day.

   I can tell that he is anxious to leave for work, but I make him talk
with me.  There is something in his eyes this morning that is different.

   I think I know what it is.  We have been sleeping in the same bed.  Dave
worries.  He explains to me about American laws about men and young girls.
I am fourteen.  I will be fifteen in two months.  I have grown breasts, but
they are not big like some girls.  My father, he was not Guatemalan.  I
think I got some of that from him.  But I am a girl.

   The first night we were together in a hotel room in Texas, he put me in
my own bed, a huge bed such as I had never imagined I would sleep in.  And
in the middle of the night, the bed was too big, so I got in bed with HIM.
I think it scared him.

   He tried.  Dave, apparently, is one who tries to be good and proper.  He
tried to get me to stay with his sister.  She lives right up the street. 
She is not married.  She has the room in her house.  It was very nice, as
nice as Dave's.  I don't know why I started crying that night, but I asked
for Dave.

   I'm sorry, Pat.  I don't know why I find Dave necessary.  He came over
in the middle of the night and got me and tried to put me in my own bed.  I
talked him into letting me into his, just to be close to somebody who would
not hurt me.  I have heard stories.

   Dave is not the man in those stories.  He is not one of the loud young
men on the trip, who bragged about their ways with women and their
experiences.  There is a macho image, and then there is real.  Dave is
real.

   This morning, I woke up in a different place.  The alarm clock makes
noise and wakes Dave up.  It wakes me up, too, and I find that I am holding
onto Dave and my cheek is on his stomach.  It is soft and firm and warm and
comforting and I snuggle into him and make him stay in bed just a little
long.

   Dave thinks I am completely innocent.  I am, but I am not stupid.  We do
breakfast and I make him sit with me for coffee, and he gets up and is
going out of the house to go to work and I know from American television
that there is something I need to do.

   He is headed to the door.

   "Stop," I said.

   He stopped, looked at me like he was going to ask me why.

   I moved.  Stretched up, and kissed him on the cheek.  He looked
surprised.

   "When the man leaves for work, the woman kisses him.  I have watched
American TV."

   "The woman is his wife, Lita."

   It is my turn to smile.  Not much.  I do not want to scare him.  "Come
back home, Dave.  I will be here."

   I return to the kitchen.  There is a dishwasher machine, but I do not
know how to use it, and I know about water and soap.  I do the dishes.  If
it is going to be my home, I will be the one who takes care of it.

   Dave says that all the books and all the disks of video and the TV are
mine to use.  And a computer.  I know he stuck an old cellphone in his
pocket before he left.  He says it will be mine.

   I am not being nosy.  It is a poor farmer who does not know his fields.
I walk through the house, opening doors, peeking at cabinets and closets,
then out into the garage, and into the back yard.  There is a patio.  A
device to cook ...  His brother prepared meat on one yesterday.  I want to
work with Dave to use ours.

   The yard is small but private.  There are trees.  It is cool in the
morning.  I know about the heat later.

   All these things are running through my head.  I am learning so many
things and there are so many more things I need to learn.

   Dave says 'relax and read or watch TV or whatever'.  I need to read but
I need to know things.  That means the computer.  Dave showed me a little
bit, so I propped up in HIS chair, he says 'recliner', with the computer,
and I start looking at things I need to know.  When I lay my head back, I
can smell Dave.  It is a good smell.

   The keyboard.  All the letters in the wrong places.  Dave says one
finger touches the same letter every time and that I need to use ALL my
fingers, so Lita has to force herself to LEARN.

   I look at the computer until the middle of the morning.  I have another
plan.  I open my notebook and look for the phone number for Brother Bob.  I
got a nice lady who gave me another number.  I called it.  I recognized the
voice, even though it was far away.

   "Brother Bob, this is Carlita..."

   "Mia Carlita, mi Corazon," he said.  He sounded happy to hear me.  "I
see a phone number in America."

   "I am in America.  Did you talk to a man about me?"

   "Yes, I did.  Carlita, are you okay?  Not in trouble?"

   "I am very okay.  I am not legal.  I need to be legal."

   "I am working on that, Carlita.  Your friend..."

   "Dave," I said softly.  Why do I feel warm when I say his name?

   "Yes, Dave ...  Carlita, will Dave be able to pay some money... 
mordida?"

   "Brother Bob, Dave owes me nothing.  He found me behind the seat of his
truck, and he has done nothing but take care of me since then.  He has
spent money on me."

   "He may be asked to spend more.  The people who do this thing, they are
good at it because they are inside the government of Guatemala, but they
are doing something illegal as well.  They want money."

   "I know.  I tried that.  I did not have that much money."

   "It can be done.  If there is money."

   "I will pray that there is money, Brother Bob.  Dave is a good man."

   "So everything is okay, then."

   "Yes.  I have a place to BE.  Not just stay, but BE."

   "Carlita, I always marvel at your English."

   "You taught me, Brother Bob."

   "No, I started to teach you.  You kept going."

   "Dave had books in his house.  There is a ...  library I can walk to. 
Dave's sister teaches high school.  I will become educated."

   "You are educated, Lita."

   "I will become MORE educated."

   "I called people yesterday about your needs, Lita."

   "They make these ...  documents, correct?  The documents are not real?"

   "Yes, that is true.  The person you become is not you.  You will still
be Carlita, but you will have a new birth certificate and a passport..."

   "And student visa?"

   "Normally you are too young for a student visa."

   "Then make me eighteen." There.  I said it.  If I was going to be a new,
official, Carlita, then I would be a Carlita who is old enough to do
things, make decisions on her own in America.

   "Carlita, you do not look..."

   "Brother Bob, we both see so many people.  Young people.  Old people. 
It is very hard to look at people and know how old they are.  You did not
look seventy..."

   "I do now, I'm afraid," he said.

   "And I look young, but nobody can look at me and say for certain I am
fourteen or eighteen.  So eighteen, please?"

   "I will call them.  I will call your Dave this evening and talk about
money."

   I felt warm.  Brother Bob said 'your Dave'.  "If I am eighteen I can get
work and pay Dave back the money.  He is a much better person than the
coyotes..."

   "I know about the coyotes.  Predators who prey on people trying to get
from Mexico to America.  Many bad stories.  Many dead people in the deserts
and dry lands."

   "I could have been one of those.  Dave was parked at one of his places.
I hid behind the seat of his truck while he was not looking.  I was thirsty
and hungry..."

   "And he gave you drink ...  Christly man."

   "Yes.  In so many ways, Brother Bob.  You would like him."

   "I will talk to him this evening, mi Carlita," he said.  "Stay in the
hands of the Lord, my little friend."

   "I am certain that the hands of the Lord brought me here, Brother Bob.
Thank you for everything."

   "De nada, Carlita.  I do as I am compelled.  I only wish I could have
stayed in Guatemala to watch you and the others grow up."

   "You are there and I am here and I pray nightly for the others, Brother
Bob."

   "And I will help the one I can help, Carlita.  Keep safe."

   "Thank you.  I will call you again, you know."

   "I look forward to it, Carlita.  Goodbye." I hung up the phone and laid
back in the recliner.  Eighteen year old Carlita.  I could work.  Passport.
Student visa.  I could be student in college, if ...  I will talk to Pat.
She may know about how to get Carlita into college.

   The other question.  How much money?  Would Dave have it?  Would Dave
give it to me, or to those who get it?  Can I get work to pay Dave back?  I
think I know the answer to that.  I have a feeling.  And I smile.  Today I
am worried about this.  Last week at this time I was drinking brown water
from a plastic bottle and eating the last of a cold tortilla with a smear
of beans on it and wondering what I was going to do in Texas, and some of
the other boys  -" I won't call them 'men'  -" were starting to look at me
like maybe they did not believe I was Carlos.

   Now I am in this house and my friend is worried because I am Carlita and
he has feelings.  From what I felt of myself when Brother Bob mentioned
Dave's name, maybe Dave is not the only one.

   I turned on the TV.  Dave showed me how to change the channels  -" all
the shows  -" and it is interesting because it shows America, but I am
certain that the America it shows is not the America I am in.  It is still
good, though, because I choose the stations in English.  I hear English
spoken and I understand most of it and I learn to speak English better
because I will sound like the talk on TV.

   I quickly learn that I know more words than much of TV.  I push buttons
and find a show with animals  -" wild animals, and I listen to it being  -"
I saw the word  -" narrated.  Better words.

   And the computer.  Type the question.  Get answers.  So easy.  I can
find anything.  I find the town where I am living.  Learn.  I find that it
has a university.  Learn.  I find its history.  Learn.

   In the middle of the day the phone rings.  It says 'Dave Johnson' and
there is that feeling again.  I pick up the phone.

   "Hello, Dave," I say.

   "Hello, Lita.  How are you doing?  Bored?"

   "Dave, if you were dropped in the middle of Guatemala, would YOU be
bored?"

   "Well, no, I don't think so."

   "Then I am not bored.  I called Brother Bob, Dave."

   "Yes?"

   "Yes.  He is going to call you this evening.  Dave, I must tell you..."

   "Tell me what?"

   "The people who can fix things for me, they will want money.  A lot of
money."

   "Lita, what you think is a lot of money is not what I think is a lot of
money..."

   "If you spend your money, I will get a job and pay you back, Dave."

   "Lita, you're fourteen.  It is hard for you to get a job..."

   "Maybe now, but not forever." I held part of the story.  I do not want
Dave to think of me lying about my age.  I told him the truth.  I am
fourteen.  But if the birth certificate and the passport say eighteen, then
what is the truth if the government says I am eighteen?

   "Lita, let us not worry about this until we know what it is going to
cost.  What does he say he can do?"

   "These people, they will give me a passport and a student visa and a
birth certificate."

   "Like an exchange student?"

   "Yes.  Like an exchange student.  I will be legal.  It will look that
way."

   "How long will it take?"

   "I do not know.  Perhaps Brother Bob may know."

   "That's good news, Lita."

   "I want to talk with Pat today, too.  I want to know about school."

   "She gets home before I do.  Her number is on that computer.  Open the
mail program up..."

   I moved a cursor and clicked.  It is magical, except everybody knows
about it and it's not magic, but the first time I saw it...  "I did that."

   "Now click on 'contacts'.

   "Okay.  Oh, I see ...  everybody..."

   "They're in alphabetical order by last name."

   "Johnson ...  yes, I see it.  I will call there after three."

   "Maybe three-fifteen.  Give her time to get out of school."

   "Okay.  And Dave?  Thank you.  I'm sitting here and this is overcoming
me."

   "Overwhelming?"

   "Yes.  Overwhelming.  And I like it."

   "Well, take care of yourself, Lita.  I'll be home as soon as I can."

   "Okay, Dave.  I am waiting for you.  Bye-bye." I heard the phone click.
It was like a light turning off inside me and I'm wondering why it feels
like this.

   I know about a vacuum cleaner.  I saw one here.  I took some time to
vacuum the house.  Very meticulous.  Meticulous.  I like the word.  It is
big and not many people use it, especially girls from Guatemalan
orphanages. I can be meticulous.  I will have to ask Dave about where to
empty the vacuum cleaner.

   Wait!  I walk around the back of the house and find the big plastic bin.
That's where.

   Much to learn.  New house.  New life.  And think about Carlita being
eighteen.  It is a big change.  Most people have four years to discover how
to change from fourteen to eighteen.  I do not have that long.

   I will make mistakes, but I can see them being understood because I am
new to America.  "The poor Guatemalan girl ...  she does not yet
understand," they will say.  I will work hard to understand.

   Part of what I need to understand is why I am having  -" feelings.

   Three-fifteen.  I am calling Pat.

   "Hello," she says.

   "Hello, Pat.  I am at Dave's house.  I have questions."

   "I saw the caller ID.  I wondered why he was home."

   "He is not home.  He is at work.  I am here.  I have questions."

   "What sort of questions?"

   "About education.  I went to school in Guatemala.  If I wanted to go to
school here..."

   "You would have to be tested to see where you are, academically
speaking. I'm sorry, I mean..."

   "I understand 'academically', Pat.  Thank you for caring..."

   "Hon," she laughed, "I just left a school full of kids who don't
understand 'academically' and they've been speaking English all their
lives. I have to call some people.  Your legal status..."

   "I am working on it.  It is not yet correct."

   "I can still ask the questions in general terms," Pat said.  "Next week,
I will be on vacation.  If, during the day..."

   "Carlie said she'd come take me with them if they were in town, too."

   "Good.  I don't want you to be trapped in that house..."

   "I do not feel trapped.  There is the library..."

   "You don't feel trapped and you speak of the library ...  Carlita, you
are special."

   "No, I am just Carlita, Pat."

   She laughed.  "Cute!  Trust me.  Special.  Now I have to pay attention
to traffic.  I can come over there when I get on the street.  We can wait
for Dave..."

   I got that little feeling again.

   "That would be nice."

   "Ten minutes," she said.  "Bye!"

   I went back to my book.  Mark Twain.  I heard the name.  Big book.  Lots
of pages.  The language is old, from the 1800's, and I have to stretch to
follow as he writes because not only is it English but it is not the
English as I learned it.  It is essays and short stories and not too much
to take in at once, and I am learning.  Dave said he liked Mr.  Twain and
he has the book on his shelf so...

   I hear the knock on the door.  I open it.  Pat is standing there. 
"Please come in, Pat."

   She walks in and looks around.  "All day by yourself."

   "I did the morning dishes.  I vacuumed.  I tried to watch TV.  I looked
on the computer.  Now I am reading.  " I picked up the book.

   "You are reading Mark Twain."

   "Dave likes him."

   "And what Dave likes..."

   "Is probably a good idea," I said.  "Would you like a cold drink?  There
are some in the ...  refrigerator.  Coke.  Ginger ale."

   "A coke would be nice."

   I brought us each one.  "American school.  To finish..."

   Pat looked me in the eyes.  "They will test you to see where you belong.
We have grades, one through twelve.  You are fourteen.  You should be in
the eighth or ninth grade.  Ninth grade is the beginning of high school."

   "Secondary.  They have that in Guatemala.  I did not go to the
government schools.  I was taught in the orphanage school."

   "Were they hard?"

   "Some of the others said it was very hard.  I do not think so.  I try
very hard to learn."

   "Well, you will be tested, and depending where you are from the tests,
you can start school next term.  August."

   "And I must wait until I have become correct..."

   "I don't know.  I know we have some students who are ...  undocumented.
If I can set up the tests, when do you want to try them?"

   "As soon as you can set them up.  I must know this of myself," I said.

   The phone rang.  I looked.  It is Dave.  "Dave," I said to Pat.

   "Talk to him."

   I picked up.  "Hello, Dave.  I am talking with your sister."

   "You let her in our house?"

   I felt that little flutter when he said 'our house'.  "Oh, stop being
funny.  She is your sister.  We are talking about school."

   "I can't talk now.  I'm in traffic.  Just wanted to tell you I'm on my
way home."

   "Home will be here when you arrive," I said.  "Be careful.  Bye-bye."

   She smiled at me.  "Lita, don't take this wrong, but how long do you
think you will stay here?"

   "Dave says I can stay as long as I want to stay.  What I need ...  Pat,
where does a fourteen year old girl go?  Where would YOU go?"

   "Lita, I can't begin to understand what you've been through and what I
would do in the same position.  Just be careful with Dave.  Your living
here will look very suspicious.  He is a good man, my brother."

   "I will take care of Dave, Pat.  He has been a good man to me.  Very
good."



   ------

   Chapter 9

   Dave's turn:

   Carlita tells me that my memory is not good.

   "I asked you why you wanted to buy me another swimsuit.  I have one from
the other day with Pat."

   "I guess I forgot." I did forget.  Probably a mental block that secludes
thoughts of Carlita in a swimsuit.  I could be wrong.  She could look like
a toad.  I watched her move over to the sofa to pick up the book she'd been
reading.  Nope, no way that's any kind of toad.

   "I've been reading.  I talked with Pat.  She says I will have to be
tested to see where my education puts me in the American system."

   "That could be a strange experience.  I don't know what you know.  I DO
know that you sound well-educated."

   "I tried to learn.  There were people who helped me.  I can read.  I
know something of English grammar..."

   "I know kids your age who don't even know that English HAS grammar..."

   "I am not like that, Dave.  I wish to do well.  I do not want people to
say 'that is all Carlita knows how to do'.  I want Carlita to have no
limits.  I can do mathematics.  Add, subtract, multiply, divide.  Algebra."

   "Algebra?"

   "There was a book at the school.  I asked about it.  They let me use
it."

   "Fourteen year old American students do not use algebra books.  There is
some algebra in their math classes."

   "I can do this," she said.  "The other day on the boat, you explained
about the ...  keel.  And balancing forces.  I understand those things. 
"Brazo de momento...  " is 'moment arm' the correct term?"

   "That's physics, Lita."

   She stared at me, those brown eyes serene.  "You are engineer.  You
cannot separate science from numbers.  Physics is math with materials."

   Inside my head the little guy was running around saying 'What?!?'
Outside, I just smiled.  "You surprise me, Lita."

   "I hope it is a good surprise."

   "It was a surprise when you popped up behind my seat.  It's been getting
better and better every day."

   She turned around and walked up to me.  I looked downward into her face.
"Dave, I think you are a good man.  I am glad you found me, okay?  Very
glad.  Come sit.  Let me show you what I learned today on the computer."

   I sat on the sofa beside her, apparently not close enough, because she
eased over, her thigh touching mine, and excitedly went through some
websites.

   "I can search.  I type here.  I get places to go.  I learn."

   "Be careful.  Sometimes innocent searches can take you to places that
are not proper for young girls.  And there is 'chat'.  Do not chat."

   "What is 'chat'?  Like you and me?  Talking?"

   "Yes, except on the computer, where people may not be as they seem.  It
is a common place for bad men to search for young girls."

   "I know about bad men, Dave.  I hear stories.  I grew up in church.  I
know what is right and what is wrong.  That does not change for me because
somebody says that what I learned is not proper for today."

   "Where did you hear that 'not proper for today'?"

   "I listen on my travels.  The men talk of their..." She paused,
searching for the right word, "conquests.  Talk to silly girls and tell
them things to get what they want." She looked at me.  "Men think that
girls are for only one thing.  Maybe two.  Make babies.  Keep house."

   I remained silent, letting her talk.

   She looked carefully at me, started a bit of a smile.  "I can keep
house."

   "I can see what you did today.  But keeping this house is not what Lita
needs to do.  Lita needs to be ...  what Lita wants to be, not what some
man wants..."

   "Unless it is a special man who wants what Lita wants," she giggled.

   "You will find that man, if you don't get distracted by one with sweet
words and flashy clothes and a nice car," I said.

   "I'm sure I can tell the difference, Dave..."

   "Many a young girl has said that, Lita.  Don't chat on the computer."

   "I won't.  You say no.  Is no." She smiled.  "Now, this is something I
thought was interesting..." and she showed me more discoveries.

   "You're smiling," she said.

   "Yes, because my Lita is happy.  I was worried.  Big house, you alone
here..."

   "It is your house.  Part of you is here always.  And you have ME here.
So there are two of us."

   I didn't hear from Brother Bob for three days.  In the meantime, I got
used to having this remarkable young girl running around my house.  It's
been a long time ...  Maybe it's because American kids are so jaded about
things.  Much of it was new and exciting to Lita.  We went to the library
one evening and stayed until they closed.  We left with books.

   I introduced her to ebooks.  "You have given me the world, Dave."

   "I just showed you the Internet, Lita."

   "No, I'm not talking about that, Dave.  I'm talking about how you have
given me a place to stay and a place to learn."

   Pat came over to check on Lita.  Ran into a smiling girl, shorts-clad,
acting like she'd inherited the kingdom.  I let the two of them take off
shopping.  Tossed a credit card to Lita.  Both of them looked at me.

   I shrugged.  "She needs to know how it works.  Don't get crazy."

   They were gone and I was puttering around, noticing that I was saddened
by the empty house, when the phone rang.

   "This is Dave," I answered.

   "Dave, this is Bob."

   "Brother Bob," I said.  "Good to hear from you.  I take it you're well."

   "Better than yesterday, and the good Lord willing, I'll be better
tomorrow.  I have some information, Dave."

   "Lita  -" Carlita is hoping," I said.

   "I know she is.  We talked.  Dave, she's a precious thing.  All children
are, you know.  I probably raised a couple of hundred orphans in Guatemala,
but there was only ONE Carlita.  She's bright in ways that an old Texas
missionary can't fathom."

   "I get some of that.  Her English..."

   "I know.  We used her for a translator.  A teacher.  Fourteen.  She
called me, Dave.  She says good things about you, your sister, your brother
...  they accept her."

   "What else is there, Brother Bob?" I asked.  "I cannot begin to
understand a person who would turn his back on her.  Of course we accept
her.  I told her that she's good here as long as she wants.  Not 'needs'. I
know there are Federal shelters and programs that would provide food and
shelter.  I said 'wants'.  I see Lita, I see a girl who wants the right
things."

   "Yes, as do I.  I should have adopted her and brought her back with me,
but when the narcos beat me, I had to come back before I could make those
things happen.  You have no idea how many nights I prayed for her by name.
I prayed for all the little faces, Dave, but Carlita was in the front of
them all."

   "I can see her standing out.  She's ...  something."

   "I know.  Now, let me tell you what I have accomplished."

   "Go ahead," I said.

   "You can imagine that the government of Guatemala is, shall we say, open
to a little persuasion, in the form of US dollars."

   "I understand that much south of the border is like that."

   "Sad," he said, "but justice and attention can be bought.  The
Guatemalan Ministry of Foreign Affairs issues passports.  They have a
consulate in Houston, some people I have dealt with, as well as some people
others have dealt with, with, shall we say, negotiable ideas of Guatemalan
law."

   "I imagined they'd have a consulate in Houston," I said.

   "They do.  Working there is a Senor Juan Rios.  He has indicated to me
that he will be able to provide Carlita with a Guatemalan passport and a
birth certificate."

   "That's great!" I said.  I knew there was more to the story.

   "There is more, of course.  He said that the fees and service charges
for such activity would be five thousand US dollars..."

   I didn't bat an eye.  I have the money.  I saw what that debit would do
to my savings and balanced it against the face of Carlita Ortiz.  Mouse
versus elephant.  "How do we do this?"

   "Are you certain?"

   "Is this a guy who, when bought, stays bought?"

   "Ah-hah!" Brother Bob said.  "The proverbial 'honest politician'. 
You're a smart man, Mister David Johnson."

   "I read books without pictures, Brother Bob."

   "Uh, just so you know, I had a friend do a background check on YOU. 
Carlita is precious to me.  I worry."

   "Except for a speeding ticket three years ago, I doubt that you found
anything," I said.  "And in your shoes, I understand.  So what do we do
next?"

   "You show up at the consulate in Houston.  Senor Rios will meet you and
go to lunch with you.  He is supposedly a well-read man.  During the course
of the meal, you will give him an envelope with five thousand dollars and
two passport photos of Carlita.  Expect your documents in two weeks."

   "Will Senor Rios be available on Friday?"

   "Yes.  He is flying back to Guatemala on Saturday."

   "And naturally, if he STAYS in Guatemala, I'm out five grand and
Carlita's still stuck."

   "He's a good politician.  You can consider that my promise to you and
Carlita."

   "I will take Friday off and do as you say."

   "Do not bring Carlita.  Does she have a place to stay?"

   "She has taken over my house," I said.  "And my sister finishes the
school year.  I think she is off on Friday.  If not, my sister-in-law is
available." I didn't tell him a couple of things  -" first, that Carlita
took over my heart as well as my house and second, that she had stayed here
by herself with no problems.

   "Good.  Dave, this is an answer to my prayer.  Carlita's, as well. 
Thank you so very much."

   "Thank you, Brother Bob.  For my little friend."

   "Tell Carlita that I still pray for her and that I hope this works well
for her."

   "I will do that, sir."

   "God bless you, Dave.  Goodbye." And the phone clicked.

   Carlita and Pat returned.

   "Did you buy anything?" I asked.

   "One thing, only," Lita said.

   I noted Pat's off-center smile.  "She DIDN'T buy another bathing suit,
Dave.  She told me..."

   "I know.  I forgot." To Lita I said, "So what'd you buy?"

   "This!" she said, presenting me with a metallic foil covered box.  "I
liked the smell.  Pat said you bought some once before."

   I ignored the fact that she bought me a present with MY money.  Where
the money came from was insignificant compared to who was giving the gift.

   "Thank you, Carlita," I said.

   She stood in front of me, innocently twisting, expectant.  I opened my
arms.  She jumped into my grasp, hugging me.  Kissed me on the cheek. 
"Thank Pat, too.  She helped me choose."

   "Thank you, Sis," I said.

   "She was insistent," Pat said.

   "I know it is YOUR money, Dave, but maybe just a little bit of it is
happiness from me?" She cocked her head, gave me those brown eyes.  I was
gone.

   "It is from Lita.  That makes it the best of gifts, no matter who pays."

   "Well, I have a phone call to make," Pat said.  "Lita, the offer to stay
at my house still stands."

   "Oh, Pat," I said, "Friday I have to go to Houston.  Aren't you off?"

   "Yes.  Carlita?  Would you want to run the roads with me?"

   "I would love to, Sister Pat," Lita said.

   "Good!  Then call me when you're ready.  We'll try to do something
interesting."

   "Very good," Lita said.

   "G'night, y'all," Pat said.  The door closed.  Carlita went to it and
turned the deadbolt to lock it.

   She turned to me.  "You will wear that cologne after you shower
tonight?"

   "For my Lita."

   "Your eyes," she said.  "I see something..."

   "I talked to Brother Bob," I said.

   "Did he have good news?"

   "Very good news.  That is why I am going to Houston."

   "Why am I not going with you?"

   "I was told not to take you.  Tomorrow we need to go get passport
pictures for you.  Your government will give you a birth certificate and a
passport.  I will meet a man at the Guatemalan consulate..."

   "They will do many things if you give them money."

   "I will give them money."

   "How much, Dave?"

   "It is not important."

   She gave me a stern look.  "It is important to me.  I knew a number
before I left.  Families with men who had good jobs could not get that
money." She stuck her bottom lip out.  "How much?"

   "Five thousand dollars."

   "That is what three families will live on for a year..."

   "It is what I bring home in three weeks, Lita."

   "It is too much."

   "For Lita, I would sell my house..."

   "Dave..."

   "Lita, I am going to do it."

   "I cannot pay that back."

   "I do not expect you to try..." I sighed.  "It is something I wish to
do."

   "You are ...  I do not know WHAT you are, Dave."

   "I am Dave, the guy who helps Carlita, that is all."

   "I cannot repay you."

   "Carlita, we will get you a passport and a birth certificate and you
will have a life in America.  I do not expect to be repaid by anything
other than seeing you happy."

   The unexpected.  She slid over from her end of the sofa and put her arms
around me.  "Dave.  You are a good man.  Thank you."

   "You're welcome."

   She raised up and kissed my cheek, catching the corner of my mouth.  "I
am going to take my shower.  You go take yours.  Take this!" she said,
handing me her gift.

   I showered, and as per her instruction, I used the aftershave.  When I
walked back into the living room, her nostrils flared and she smiled.

   "It smells good."

   "Thank you.  It is a gift from somebody very special in my life."

   I started to sit in my recliner.

   "No," she said.  "Sit on the sofa.  So I can smell you."

   "Okay."

   She picked up her book and slid up against me, lounging, reading.  I did
the 'reading' thing, too.  Something was on TV, noise in the background.

   Ten o'clock came.  "Bedtime," she commanded.

   She commands, I think I will obey.  We went into the bedroom like it was
the most natural thing in the world.

   When she crawled into bed, she announced, "I will sleep close to you.  I
like the smell."

   And she did.

   I did the Friday trip.  Brother Bob was correct.  SeÃ+/-or Rios was a
personable fellow, accented English, but talkative, especially about the
immigration and conditions back in Guatemala.  He accepted the envelope.

   "SeÃ+/-or Dave," he said, "I know this way of business is strange to
you. You must understand, what I will do, will take the cooperation of many
others.  This will secure their cooperation."

   "Thank you, Senor Rios," I said.  "I am only trying to help a lady."

   "Such is life, senor," he said.

   Saturday was a boat day, apparently something looked forward to by
Carlita because she woke me up as soon as light crept into the room.  We'd
packed for the event the night before, and under the push of a dark-haired,
shorts-clad cutie, I was ushered out the door and up the road for breakfast
on the way to the marina.

   As soon as we stowed the bags, she was at the docklines.  "Start the
engine, Dave.  I can do this."

   "Are you sure?"

   "Check me.  You showed me once."

   I showed her once.  She had us singled up to the dock, waiting for
departure.  I cranked the little diesel, let it idle for a few minutes,
then said, "Okay, Lita, cast off the docklines!"

   She performed flawlessly.  Once we cleared the confines of the marina
for the open channel, she pushed me away from the helm.  "I am your
helmsLita.  I can do this."

   So I watched her do it.  Amused.  First, she KNOWS.  Second, she WANTS
to.  Third, she tells me.

   I whipped out my iPhone and snapped pictures.  The only thing that would
have been better was if there was enough hair on her head for the wind to
toss it.

   She got us past the congestion of the areas near the marina and said,
"You can steer with your foot, now.  What about wind?"

   "Not good," I said, pointing to the indicator on the masthead.  "Almost
straight on our nose.  We'll motor to where we need to go."

   "We have enough ...  fuel?"

   I laughed.  "We could motor to Guatemala."

   "Let us not do that," she said.

   "We won't, then," I replied.  "Hold the wheel for a bit more." I
rummaged through a locker and pulled out the drive unit for the autopilot.

   "What is that?"

   "Autopilot.  It will steer for us.  We only need to watch in case it
gets stupid." I hooked it up, locked the heading in for straight down the
channel.

   "Now, we can sit."

   "And this will steer."

   "And it is not as cute as Carlita."

   She grinned.  "You are good to me."

   We motored down the channel to a popular spot for boaters to stop and
swim.  It was early.  We were the first boat there.  Unfortunately, our
deep-draft keel would not let us get to the beach, but I nosed in and stuck
the keel in the soft mud.

   "I felt the bump."

   "We're in the mud," I said.  "Let me change into my swimsuit and I will
put us an anchor ashore."

   She reached in a bag and retrieved my trunks.  "Okay."

   "I'm going to go below and do that."

   "Okay." She smirked.

   I was near the forward berth, stripping.  Naked, I twisted to retrieve
my trunks and my heart almost stopped.

   Lita.  Naked.  She squealed.  "You are not supposed to look."

   Would've been more convincing had she covered herself.  Or not eyed me.

   I turned quickly and stepped into my trunks and pulled them up.  Still
facing forward, I asked, "Are you..."

   "I am done."

   Fifteen minutes later we had an anchor onshore and Lita was in the water
with me.

   "I cannot swim."

   "Everybody can swim.  Let me show you."

   Which is a bad thing to have to do with a fourteen year old girl you've
just seen naked, because there I was, supporting her body horizontally with
my arms and I didn't intentionally have her breasts resting on my arm, nor
did I mean to stare at the taut, well-shaped ass just breaking water right
here in front of me.

   Or in shallower water, where she could stand, I don't actually believe
that she's deliberately rubbing up against me, but my erection didn't care.
And that flash of eyes.  Did she notice?  Or was I imagining things?

   She progressed from a dog paddle to a pretty good crawl, then I followed
her closely as she swam a circle around the boat.  Ended up with her
hanging around my neck.  Water was up to my chin, so she couldn't touch
bottom.  It was a good excuse.  Finally, we climbed back into our boat for
a cold drink.

   In the interim, other boaters showed up, families, mostly, with kids who
ranged widely in age.  We went back in the water.  She visited some other
kids, a few who might have been in her age range.  Came back to me.

   "That girl, the one with the yellow swimsuit.  I want a suit like that."

   Lita was wearing a conservative one-piece suit.  The girl in question
was wearing a bikini, not a particularly scandalous bikini, as such things
go, but a bikini nonetheless.

   "You would wear that?"

   Now there are many answers she could have given me right now, especially
if the incident belowdecks was as much an accident as it was supposed to
be. The answer she gave was, "You would not like to see me in a suit like
that?" And a tilt of the head and a smile.

   The girl is going to kill me.  Or I'm going to beat myself to death. 
The shower was now my masturbatory receptacle.  It's a wonder I didn't clog
the drains before.  Now...

   We returned to the marina, Lita still acting completely innocent and me
being completely confused because I MUST be misreading what I was seeing. I
don't want to admit what's happening on so many fronts here.  After all,
I've known Carlita for a week.

   Life continued for the two of us.  Carlita spent time with Pat.  She ran
the roads with Carlie and the kids.  Carlie reported to me that Lita was a
watchful addition to her crew.

   "No trouble at ALL, Dave.  She's a HELP.  Amazing the way she guides my
two around.  We enjoyed the zoo.  She enjoyed the zoo, but I honestly think
she made the kids enjoy it even more."

   Pat talked with people at the local school board.  Her supposition about
testing was correct.  All we had to do was wait until Carlita's legal
status solidified.

   Around the house, though ...  Never again would I leave something undone
the night before and have to take care of it the next day.  Lita...  "It is
your house.  It is my house.  It is OUR house.  You go to work.  I have
nothing to do except play.  I will take care of you, Dave."

   Apparently taking care of Dave meant bumping into him a little more
frequently.  The cologne was an excuse to go to bed early, read in bed, and
snuggle close when the lights went out.  I learned to sleep around the
occasional but all too frequent raging erection.  Like I said ...  shower.

   I couldn't tell her NOT to lie against me on the sofa.  I was afraid of
sitting in the recliner for fear that she'd sit in my lap.  And through it
all, Carlita acted if she was completely happy and innocent and oblivious
of what she was doing to me.

   The most I got was the occasional hug and a kiss on the cheek.  Two
weekends later, I'm completely taken by the girl.  If it meant being
celibate just to have her around, then celibate I would be.  I came home on
a Monday.

   She met me at the door.  There was a worry wrinkle on her brow.

   "What's wrong?"

   "A delivery.  Fed-Ex.  They would not let me sign for it.  Said that you
must sign.  I said that you were at work.  They say you must make
arrangements.  They gave me this paper."

   "Okay." I looked.  "It's from Guatemala."

   "Yes."

   "Do you think..."

   "I can hope," she said.

   "Let me get them to hold it for tomorrow.  I will pick it up at their
office."

   I made the phone call.  Got off the phone.  Nostrils flared.

   "You cooked?"

   "Arroz con pollo," she said.  "I hope you like it."

   "I will like it.  It is not from a can or from the freezer.  It is not a
restaurant.  Carlita made it.  I will eat it across the table from her."

   She grinned, then turned her head demurely.  "You make me ...  feel too
good."

   "You make my life good, Lita."

   "Then let us eat."

   It WAS good.  Simple.  We talked about chicken and rice in several
countries and how people really live and eat.

   The next day, I couldn't wait to get to the Fed-Ex office.  I signed for
the courier envelope and took it out to the truck.  I pulled the zip strip
to open it, reached inside.  Unfamiliar passport.  Guatemalan.  Opened it.
I remember that picture.  Carlita.  Not smiling.  Passport photo.

   Then I fished out the birth certificate.  Official-looking thing.  I
surveyed the information.  Made-up names and locations for the parents. 
And the date of birth.  Had to be wrong.

   I opened the passport again.  Looked.  Compared the dates.

   And according to the documents issued by the government of Guatemala,
Carlita was eighteen years old.



   ------

   Chapter 10

   Still Dave's turn:

   I called the office and talked to the boss.  "Got a domestic issue that
needs my attention," I said.

   "Aw, just take off.  Not like you don't have the comp time," he said.

   "Thanks."

   Next call.  Carlita.  She's liking her iPhone.  I got a picture
yesterday from her with Carlie's kids' kitten.  I thought it was a picture
with TWO adorable kittens in it.

   "Hi, Dave.  Did you get that package?"

   "Yes.  Are you at home?"

   "Yes, I am at home.  No plans today."

   "Stay right there.  I am coming home."

   "Is it bad?"

   "No, I am surprised, but I think it is good."

   "Drive carefully, my Dave," she said.  The phone clicked.

   'My Dave'.  I only hoped it was more than mere words.  The little pixie
was inside my head and inside my heart as well.

   I cannot ever remember a slower, more aggravating drive home.  It seemed
like they ran all the idiots out of the asylum and put them in cars in
front of me.  I finally arrived and pulled into the driveway.

   I was walking towards the door when it flew open and Lita bounded out.

   "Dave.  What is it?  You did not sound like Dave."

   "Come inside, Carlita."

   She followed me, closing the door, turning the deadbolt as I'd told her
early on.

   I sat on the sofa.  She sat beside me.  I reached inside the package and
retrieved her passport.  "Here," I said.  "Lita is a legal visitor to the
United States.  Here is the visa in your passport."

   She squeaked, "I am very happy.  What other thing?"

   "A birth certificate."

   "Good.  I am a person."

   "It needs to be studied." I handed it to her.  "Look at the birth date.
The year."

   "!996."

   "Were you born in 1996, Lita?"

   She smiled at me.  Strange smile.  "This document says so.  Dave, there
is no other to say I am not..." she squealed.  "Eighteen.  Not only am I
legally in America, but I am eighteen in America." She looked closely.  "I
am no longer Carlita Ortiz de Guererra.  I am now Carlita Sanchez de Luna.
I shall be Carlita Luna.  " She put the certificate and the passport down.

   "Dave, do you know the difference between fourteen year old Lita and
eighteen year old Carlita?"

   "I cannot see a difference."

   She shifted up onto her knees beside me.  Her arms looped around my
neck, hauling me in, and her lips met mine.  She kissed me.  Hard.  Long.
Not  -"definitely not  -" a 'little girl' or a 'young teen' kiss.

   "That is the difference."

   "Oh, god, Lita ...  I can't..."

   "Dave, Dave ...  My Dave ...  I am eighteen.  You can..."

   "Carlita Otiz!  This morning when I left the house you were fourteen and
I could not think of touching you."

   She fixed me in her gaze.  "David Johnson, you cannot prove that I am
Carlita Ortiz-Guerrera, fourteen years old.  Here is an official passport
and a birth certificate that say I am Carlita Sanchez de Luna and I am
eighteen.  Nobody.  Nobody can say other things.  I have papers."

   "Then why are you kissing me?"

   "Because I am your Carlita and you are my Dave.  We have been together
every day and every night for almost three weeks.  You smile when you see
me in the morning.  You smile when you see me in the evening.  The last
words at night are 'Good night, Carlita'." She paused, keeping our eyes
connected.  "Am I not correct?"

   "You're correct.  But..."

   "But what, my Dave?"

   She did it again.  I try to build a fence and she batters it down. 
Those brown eyes...  "I am trying to be honorable..."

   "You have been honorable, Dave.  That is one thing..."

   "One thing?"

   "Am I not presentable?  You said I was cute."

   "You are."

   "Perhaps you do not wish a brown-eyed, dark haired girl with this
skin..."

   "No, Carlita.  You are adorable."

   "Then adore me."

   "I already do."

   "Then why is there a problem, Dave?"

   "You have not known me for three weeks."

   "I know you.  I know what your sister says of you.  What Carlie says of
you.  I know how you have treated Carlita.  Even when you knew it was
trouble, you allow me to sleep in your bed.  You did not do bad things. 
Did not even try..."

   "Because Lita is fourteen and has had enough bad things."

   She held onto me.  "Now Carlita is eighteen.  Some things are bad when
Carlita is fourteen.  They are not so bad when Carlita is eighteen."

   "Carlita..." I was losing the battle.

   She kissed me again.  Artless, but serious.  "I do not ...  have never
kissed a man ...  a boy my age, like I wish to kiss you."

   "Carlita..."

   "Kiss me, Dave.  Kiss your Carlita."

   She won.  I lost.  I put my arms around her and kissed her, feeling her
soft lips move and mold to mine.  I opened mine slightly and brushed hers
with my tongue.  Her mouth opened and she sucked on my tongue then met it
with hers.  I backed away.

   "That is how to do it?  I did not know." I was stroking the back of her
head.  Yes, it was short hair, but it was Lita and what else did I want for
perfection?

   She inched closer, her lips moist, slightly open.  I met hers with mine.
A little moan from her filled my being.

   Keeping our kiss going, she twisted around into my lap.

   "Oh, god, Carlita..."

   "My Dave..."

   "Carlita, this is too much..."

   "No, it is not."

   "You don't realize..."

   "Perhaps I do," she said.  "We sleep together.  I know what happens to
you when I am close in the night."

   "You said you were sleeping with me because..."

   "Because I felt safe.  It felt good.  That is truth..."

   "But there is more to the story..."

   She looked flustered.  "Is not a story.  It is the truth."

   "'More to the story' is a figure of speech.  I did not mean you are
telling me a lie."

   "I am not thinking.  I know what it means.  At first I wanted to be
safe. Now I find it more than just safe.  I feel things that I have not
felt in myself from a man near me."

   "We cannot do that, Lita."

   "What?"

   "Sleep together."

   "All we do is sleep."

   "You have kissed me..."

   "Like this?" and her lips met mine.  Carlita is a fast learner.

   "Yes.  But it is no longer Dave taking care of his Lita..."

   "You will not take care of me?"

   "I will take care of you.  But this ...  you, close, at night..."

   "You did nothing before."

   "You did not kiss me like this."

   "I am kissing you now, so I cannot sleep in our bed?  That does not make
sense..."

   "It's different, Lita..."

   "It is not different.  You did not do things that I did not want to do
before.  Would you do those things now?"

   "No.  You're my precious Carlita.  I will protect you.  Even from me."

   "Dave," she said softly.

   "Yes, Lita."

   "I like kissing you, Dave..."

   "I like kissing you, Lita."

   "Then..."

   Oh, hell, just give up, Dave.  Let HER set the limits.  A couple more of
those kisses and she wiggled and looked into my eyes.  She HAD to feel it.
My erection.

   "You cannot tell, Dave.  About me.  How good I feel.  I can tell about
you."

   "I know, Lita.  I am afraid..."

   "Do not fear, Dave." Another kiss.  So not only did she KNOW what was
happening, but she was not worried about it.

   "I did not know it would feel this good.  You hold me.  It is so very
good." Her small hands clasped my face.  She put her forehead against mine.
"This means something, Dave."

   "What does it mean?"

   "I am eighteen."

   Okay, Dave.  Try one more time to slow the train down.  "Yes.  I need to
train you to drive."

   She saw what I was doing.  "Pat will be surprised, as will Carlie and
Gary."

   "Yes, they will."

   "Dave?"

   "Yes?"

   "Do you love me, Dave?"

   Gongs went off in my head.  I looked at her face.  My mind ran through
conversations of the past weeks, the images of her running around the
house, sitting there reading, Lita on the boat, in her swimsuit.  Did I? 
Of course I did.  "Yes, Carlita, I do."

   "That is good," she said.  "I think I love you also."

   "Makes things awkward, Carlita.  Two people who love each other, living
together..."

   "Two people who love each other should live apart?"

   Why is it that when she says it, I sound like an idiot?

   "Do not be silly," she said.  "We will live together as Dave and
Carlita, just as we have done.  The difference is that I am eighteen.  That
is ...  legal.  I looked.  I know what is legal for eighteen here."

   "Okay, Carlita, you win."

   She smiled broadly.  "I am glad I win.  One day you get a Carlita.  One
day Carlita gets Dave.  I have won." She wiggled.  "Does it hurt you that I
sit on you?"

   "I ...  uh, yeah, kinda..."

   "Why?  What hurts?"

   "My ...  uh..."

   "Verga?  Pene?"

   "It was pointed the wrong way when it got very happy about Carlita," I
said.

   "Can it be fixed?"

   "Yes."

   "Fix it.  I like sitting there."

   "Turn your head."

   "Why?  Are you going to show it?"

   "No."

   She smirked.  "Then I am not turning my head."

   "Okay.  You win." I slid my hand into my pants and straightened up my
straining erection.  "You're not supposed to watch."

   Giggle.  "I saw it the other day," she laughed.  "Today I did not see
it. I saw you touch something, though.  Is it fixed now?"

   "Yes."

   "So I can sit there."

   "Yes."

   Giggle.  "I like hugging and kissing, Dave.  No, that is wrong.  I like
hugging and kissing Dave." She smiled, sliding back into my lap, molding
herself against me for a kiss.

   "This is dangerous."

   "Why is it dangerous?"

   "It feels too good.  Makes me want more..."

   "We are not dangerous, Dave.  I know it feels good.  Mi cuchara... 
kitty?  It feels good."

   "That is dangerous.  Your kitty..."

   "Is that the proper word?"

   "The proper word is vagina, but that is what doctors use.  Many use
'pussy'.  'Kitty' works.  I think it is cuter ...  more suitable for sweet
Carlita."

   "Why is it dangerous?"

   "If we forget ourselves ...  Carlita does not need a baby..."

   "That means that yours and mine ...  Inside me..."

   "Or close..."

   "We will not do that.  Do you know about...  mÃ(C)todos
anticonceptivos?"

   "Birth control.  Lita, if we do not ...  we do not need it."

   "Dave, I am going to be in our bed."

   "Our bed."

   "You want it to be our bed?  It has been 'our bed' to me."

   For the first time, I initiated the kiss, followed it by a shower of
little ones on that precious face, bringing a higher level of sparkle to
her glow.  "It is our bed.  What does that have to do with..."

   "Everything.  Maybe not.  Maybe.  I shall go to bed like we have been
going to bed, but if we kiss..." She held my face, imitating my shower of
kisses.  She pulled back smiling.  "Now, Dave, today you promised to bring
me to the library."

   "That's a good idea, Carlita.  If we keep this up..."

   Another kiss.  "Maybe I want to keep it up."

   "Eighteen year old Carlita is much more bold than fourteen year old
Carlita."

   She smiled as she stood.  "Fourteen year old Carlita wanted to...  " She
took my hand.  "Come on."

   She's right.  Getting out of the house was in some fashion a relief from
things that I didn't want to stop but was afraid to continue.  We hit the
library.  Between Carlita's passport and my underwriting, she came away
with a library account.

   In the car, she grinned.  "Books.  So many books."

   Next thing, we headed out to the suburbs.

   "Where are we going?"

   "To give Carlita her first driving lesson."

   She squeaked, "You mean it?  Serious?"

   "Of course.  Eighteen year old girls drive in America."

   The goal was the large, empty parking lot of a business long ago closed.
There were still lines on the pavement, though, and I put Lita in the
driver's seat.

   "Now, carefully..."

   Forty-five minutes later, she'd had enough.  "Too much at one time. 
Maybe again tomorrow?"

   "Yes." My phone rang.  "Pat," I said to Lita.  "Hi, Sis."

   "Where are you?"

   "Out giving Lita a driving lesson."

   "Huh?!?  She's fourteen."

   "Yeah.  About that.  Wanna meet us for dinner?"

   "Sure!  You buying?"

   "Okay.  This time." She named a restaurant.

   We met her there, got seated.  Pat noticed Lita's heightened intensity.
"Okay.  What's up?"

   "I am legal, Pat.  Look!" She shoved her passport across the table.

   "Wow!" Pat said.  "This looks real."

   "It is real.  Guatemalan passport.  Visa.  I am a tourist."

   "Neat."

   "Look closer," I said.  "There's a birthdate."

   Pat might not read Spanish, but the format of the birthdate was pretty
much universal.  She looked, sucked a breath in.  "Dave.  This says she is
eighteen."

   "I am," Lita said.  "I also have a birth certificate, official, from
Guatemala.  I am eighteen."

   "That changes things," Pat said.  "Do you still want to do the testing?"

   "I would like to.  I have no school standings from Guatemala.  I will
need that here."

   "I will make arrangements," Pat said.  She turned to me.  "Dave, this
changes things.  These are real?"

   "As real as they can be," I said.  "You can imagine that in the case of
somebody from an orphanage, birth records might not be available.  Lita has
a birth certificate and now a passport.  She's legal."

   "In more ways than one, you know..."

   "I don't have to worry about being hauled off for living with Carlita
the underaged, undocumented waif."

   Carlita smiled.  Repeated.  "I am eighteen.  Dave is teaching me how to
drive.  I have a library card.  Life is good."

   We enjoyed the meal then headed home.  I was driving, my right hand idly
sitting on the shift lever.  I felt her hand touch it, then take it and
mesh our fingers.

   "I am Dave's girlfriend."

   "You are.  Dave is happy about his girlfriend." I was.

   And we were headed home.  Watching something on TV was more enjoyable
with Lita snuggled against me.  At least that's the way the evening
started. It progressed to us lying face to face on the sofa, then, "Your
chair.  Sit in your chair."

   She meant my recliner.  I sat in it.  She deposited herself into my lap.
"This is what this chair is for."

   "Carlita, you are too hard to resist."

   "Then do not resist me." And a shower of kisses.

   I turned her head and nibbled an ear, dissolving her into uncontrollable
giggles.  She caught her breath.  "Are you ...  is it okay?  Your ... 
thing."

   "Not exactly."

   "I did it again."

   "No, I did it again.  Raise up a little." I shoved my hand into my pants
and rearranged things.  Her hand was on my arm as I did.  Her eyes...

   She smiled, kissed me.  "We should go take our showers."

   "Yes, it's late enough."

   I halfway expected ...  I was in my shower, head full of shampoo, when
the stall door opened.  I'm in sooo much trouble.

   "Sit there.  Let me do that," she said.

   I couldn't open my eyes because of the shampoo, so I sat, let her
massage my scalp, then pull the shower hose to rinse me off.  I wiped my
face and opened my eyes.  Beautiful.  Wet, naturally.  Conical young
titties with dark brown areolas and perky little nipples.  A sparse mound
of pubic hair.  Those long legs I'd admired so much when she was in shorts
or a bathing suit.

   Giggle.  "You are not supposed to look.  Now do MY hair."

   So that's the way it's supposed to work, then.  I shampoo that short
hair, all the time feeling her bump against my erection, the one I didn't
have until she stepped into my shower  -" the one I was going to jerk off
before I got into bed tonight, just like every other night.  It was a
wonderful feeling.  It had been at least a year since I'd taken a 'friend'
out of town for the weekend and showered with her.  That didn't work out.
This was Lita, and I was rinsing her hair and she turned and pulled our
naked bodies together for a kiss.

   "Lita..."

   She giggled.  "it is okay, Dave.  We have already seen each other naked.
I like this shower.  It is big." And she proceeded to wash herself like
showering with me was business as usual.  She handed me her washcloth. 
"You wash my back.  I will wash yours."

   I obeyed, and she did as promised.  She turned around, looked down.  I
was still semi-erect.  She looked back up.  Smiled.  "Kiss me one more time
in the shower."

   I can follow orders.  And I can feel my erection grow as she presses it
between us.  After the kiss, she turned the water off and pushed me out. 
"Here is your towel." I dried off, then shaved.  I noticed, though, that
she dried off within easy view.  And she got dressed.

   "Put this on, Dave," she said, pushing the bottle of cologne towards me.
I was still nude and she wasn't hiding her looking at me.  Following her
lead, though, I put on my normal sleeping attire, drawers and a T-shirt.

   The last few nights, maybe a week or so, we'd spent a short time reading
before turning out the lights.  The bedside lamp was on, so I thought
that's what we'd do.  I crawled into bed and she crawled in after me.  When
I rolled over on my back to reach for a book, I was overtaken by Lita.

   "A lot of kisses, Dave.  I like kissing Dave."

   I did.  Explored her neck.  She returned the move.  And I'm lost.  I
moved from her neck to her throat, pushing the loose neck of that
nightshirt down.

   "Ah, mi dios..." Her hands grasped my head, pulling me away.  I thought
she was stopping me.  She didn't stop me.  She put my face down on top of
one of those soft mounds.  More kisses, then I started down her neck and
found she'd balled her nightshirt up under her arms.  She pushed my face
down.  I feasted.  Her breath came in gasps.

   Finally...  "Dave ...  I must stop..."

   I stopped immediately.  Cradled her, stroking her hair and face.  Bright
brown eyes looked up into mine.

   "Dave, I mean it.  I love you."

   "Lita, I love you, too.a"

   "I am afraid, Dave.  You spoke of babies.  I do not want a baby, not
right now.  I am afraid that feelings are too much..."

   "I understand completely, my Carlita."

   "It is ...  Oh.  Too many feelings, not enough words."

   She smiled, twisted upward to kiss me.  Smiled.  "Dave ...  do you know
...  I say 'touch myself'?"

   "Masturbate."

   "Is that English?"

   "Yes."

   "It is almost the same in Spanish.  At night, my shower, sometimes I
touch myself." She smiled, cast her eyes down.  Do you..."

   I nodded.

   "I did not ...  could not, in the shower with you.  I think I need to.
Do you?"

   "Yes."

   "It is not strange if we do that?  I ...  you ...  great, large
feelings..." She snuggled into my side.  "I ...  this finger ...  How do
you?"

   "It is more involved for me."

   "Why?"

   "Men, when they orgasm..."

   "In Spanish is orgasmo."

   "There is liquid.  Semen.  Sometimes much."

   She giggled.  "Sometimes I do much, too.  Do you need a towel?"

   "If I do that, I need a towel."

   "I will be back." She bounced off, bounced back with a pair of face
towels.  Stood beside the bed and slid her panties down her shapely legs.
"Is easier," she said.  "Should you?"

   "Okay," I replied.  Since she took hers off, so would I.  I kicked the
covers to the foot of the bed and raised my butt, sliding my drawers off.
Yes, I was erect.  In full view.

   "Lita will learn something tonight," she said.  She got back into bed,
propping herself up with a couple of pillows so she could watch me.  "How
do you do it?"

   I showed her.  "How do YOU do it?"

   'Demure' left her as her fingertip dipped in between tan lips and
revealed pink.  "Right here." She wiggled her finger, then circled it.

   I wanted to dive in and replace her finger with my tongue.  All I did
was lick my lips.

   "Do yours.  I will do mine," she commanded.  We started out that way. 
She stopped.

   "Is something wrong?"

   "No." She turned over, halfway atop me, and kissed me.  Simultaneous
with the kiss, a lightning bolt shot through my body as her hand grasped
me. "Perhaps I should do yours and you should do mine?"

   My hand coursed up the inside of her thigh, welcomed to soft young
flesh. My finger...

   "Si!  Si!  Ahhhhh!!!" Her lips fastened to mine, her hands grasping my
bicep as my finger did what my tongue envied.  She went completely rigid,
then shook.  No breathing.  Finally, a sigh.  "Dave, you did it to me ...
You.  My Dave."

   I kissed the top of that cute head.  "My Lita." I was willing to forget
the rest of the plan in the interests of letting her enjoy the aftermath of
her orgasm, but I felt a hand exploring.

   "These.  Feel funny.  Good." Her fingers curled under my balls.

   "Careful," I said.  "Very sensitive.  Do not squeeze hard."

   "Mmmm.  Like this?"

   "Perfect."

   "And this." She halfway sat up, experimenting.  "It slides.  Hard
inside. Soft outside.  This part, very soft.  Her fingers explored the
head. It is wet ...  Sticky.  Is that ...  semen?"

   "No.  That is for making things slide together."

   Her eyes brightened as she parsed that and came up with an idea. 
"Slide. Like inside me?"

   "Yours does, too."

   Giggle.  "Yes.  Right now ...  I am very wet.  She reached for a towel.
Stopped.  Dipped her fingers in.  Touched her fingertips to her tongue.  "I
know how I taste.  I must taste Dave." She scooped the biggest drop from
the head of my straining dick and locked her eyes to mine as she stuck her
finger in her mouth.  The corners of her mouth turned up into a smile. 
"Almost the same."

   I dipped a finger into her wet pussy and put it into my mouth.  "Mmmmm.
Lita is delicious."

   "I am clean right now.  Except for that."

   "Lita, I would like to kiss you there."

   She shook visibly, nodding her head.  "Yessss..."

   I died and went to heaven.  My face between Lita's thighs.  Delicious.
And she was truthful.  There was much.  All of it delicious.  In the
process of mecollecting it, my Lita came twice.  I cradled her again,
showering her face with kisses.

   "Dave," she said softly, "You ...  me...  orgasmo.  You did it to me. 
Three times.  Never before, anybody.  Me and my finger only.  " She wiggled
that finger, then her hand encircled my shaft again, stroking.

   "Now I can do this for my Dave," she said.  She stroked, her head
resting on my chest.  A few strokes, though, her head was lower.  And
lower. And, "Dave ...  I am going to..."

   Another bolt of lightning.  "Carlita.  No."

   "You do not enjoy?"

   "No, I enjoy too much.  I am very close to orgasm and it will be a lot."

   "You are my Dave." Her mouth closed on the head of my dick as her hand
jerked.  Instinctively her tongue worked and she slid down, maybe two
inches, then back up.

   "I want to bite."

   "Gently."

   "I will be careful." Teeth gripped me lightly, then warm, wet suction.
Tongue.

   "Lita," I gasped, "It's coming."

   "Mmmm." Her head bobbed and I was transported out among the stars.  In
retrospect, she could have gagged and puked and squealed and run off, but
with each surge I got an "Mmmm."

   She didn't know when to quit, either.  Finally she stopped, turned to
me, smiling.  "There is no more."

   "I guess not."

   "Did I do good?"

   "Beyond perfect."

   "There is no 'beyond perfect', Dave."

   "The people who wrote the dictionary did not know my Carlita," I said.
She climbed up to put our faces together, never giving a thought that some
men might find kissing the girl who just blew them might be distasteful.  I
got kissed.  I kissed back.

   "We are now together, Dave," she said.  "We love each other.  And we
have now made love.  Are you angry?"

   "Many things, Carlita.  None of them is anger."

   She sat up, peeled the nightshirt off over her head.  "I do not need
this.  You do not need yours."

   I can take a hint.  I peeled my shirt off.  If Carlita wanted us naked,
that was the way we'd be.

   "I do not feel like a child now, Dave."

   "You did not feel like a child tonight, Lita.  Eighteen years old is not
a child."

   She giggled.  "I had a birthday." And we drifted off to sleep together.



   ------

   Chapter 11

   Still Dave:

   I woke up in the middle of the night when I went to roll over and found
a naked body next to mine.  The fog cleared and I knew it was Carlita, not
Carlita the strangely capable but somewhat scared young teen I'd rescued
almost a month ago, but rather a strangely self-assured Carlita.

   Naked.  Like me.  I cuddled her into my arms, awakening her enough so
that she purred and fitted herself against me.  I heard a soft, "Dave."

   Drifted back to sleep.  The alarm went off.  She ran up the hall to her
bathroom as I stood up.  I watched her naked.

   'Boy, Dave ...  What have you done now?' played in my head as I stood in
my bathroom emptying a full bladder.  When I turned around, she was leaning
against the doorjamb.  Still naked.

   I couldn't help but smile.  She's beautiful, like some creature of the
forest, lithe, sultry, alive...

   "It is morning, Dave.  I still love you."

   "You're not thinking 'terrible mistake'?"

   "No, I am not.  Do you have to go to work?  I will make breakfast."

   "I am calling the boss in a bit.  I am not going to work."

   "Is that okay.  It is not bad?  Trouble?"

   "No, I can do it every now and then.  Not often."

   "Good.  We should talk."

   My heart tumbled downhill.  "Talk?"

   "Yes.  You.  Me.  What is now and is to be."

   "Are you regretting..."

   "How serious can we talk if we are naked?" she asked with a little
smile.

   "A serious talk with clothes on?"

   "Right now it is too early for a serious talk." She turned and walked to
the bed, then turned to face me, and let herself fall backward onto it.

   I know what the little head wanted to do.  The big head advised me that
despite what official records might say, impregnating Carlita was not what
either of us wanted at the moment.

   Still, the pose ...  I crawled over her, trapping my erection between
us, carefully keeping it away from the warmth it so desperately strained to
sample.

   "I wished that you would do this, Dave," she said.

   "Carlita, you are too beautiful..."

   "I am not beautiful.  I see TV.  I am not those women."

   "You are above those women.  Beautiful."

   She raised her face to meet mine.  The kiss was exquisite in its
honesty.

   "Put me in our bed."

   'Our bed'.  That which I feared has come upon me.  I picked her up and
turned her to gently lay her down, then slid in beside her.  Her hand
explored.

   "It is hard."

   "It is excited by my Lita."

   "And this happens.  It is ...  interesting." Giggle.  "I like to hold
it. It gets more hard."

   I couldn't help it.  I kissed her, my hand roaming over that smooth
belly, upward to cup a firm breast.

   "I had you in my mouth last night.  I heard talk of this.  Did I do it
correctly?"

   "Very correctly.  Did I..."

   "Oh, mi dios!  Dave, never.  My own finger is not like that.  What you
did  -" your kisses, your tongue there ...  I..." she kissed me, giggling.
"Did you like doing that?  I was not dirty?"

   "No, you were not dirty, you were delicious, and I liked it very much.
Very, very much."

   Giggle.  "Would you do that to me now?  It is so new and wonderful."

   "I am getting wet as I think about it, Dave.  Is that okay?  Normal?"

   "Yes, and I love your taste..."

   She tossed the covers off us and rolled onto her back, giggling.

   "You're a nut," I laughed.

   "I found something new.  I like it.  Very much I like it.  And I love my
Dave."

   "And I love my Carlita." I eased down her lithe torso, noting in the
morning's light that her ribs were showing.  I guessed that her diet for
the last several weeks was poor., but it hadn't affected those titties. 
Beautiful.  Worthy of worship.  I kissed each one.

   "I am small."

   "You are beautiful.  Perfect."

   "If I was bigger..."

   "You would still be my Carlita and I would love you as much."

   "Not more?  Big tetas?  Those men ...  boys..."

   "I like these.  Just as they are." I covered an areola with my mouth and
sucked it as my tongue did the exploration.  Her hands clamped on the back
of my head, holding me there as her back arched.

   "Mi dios ...  No English ...  Ahhhhh!"

   "So beautiful," I said, kissing my way downward.  Her navel  -" a cute
innie.  My tongue ...  Okay, that's good for uncontrollable giggles.

   Pubic mound.  Firm.  Warm.  And the beginning of heaven in the form of a
moist slit.  Her pussy's lips were closed, hiding everything.  My tongue
started at the back and worked forward, not inside, just tracking the
cleft. She quivered and spread her legs.  It opened up like a blooming bud
of a rose, pink, ever so moist...

   Her breath changed to pants and gasps.  Lovely, tasty little thing. 
Never in my life had it been like this one.  "Mi dios ...  Dave.  Si, si
... yesssss!" Her hips rose off the bed, pushing herself into my mouth, she
gave a mighty quiver, then collapsed.

   I took this as a sign that I was to be cradling this angel in my arms.

   She came back, a fact telegraphed by her hand pulling my head down to
her.

   "It was ...  Dave.  No words.  No Spanish.  No English..."

   "Dave..."

   "Si, mi Carlita..."

   She smiled.  "You try for me.  That is good, but no.  Your Carlita must
be good in English."

   "Mi Carlita..."

   "Si, Dave.  Your Carlita."

   "Dave?"

   "Yes?"

   "La pildora...  anticonceptiva.  Pill?  El condon?"

   "Birth control pill?  Condom?"

   Now she looked almost bashful.  Her head bobbed in the affirmative.

   "Carlita..."

   "Yes?"

   "That is for your marriage..."

   Doe-eyed little thing.  I knew what was coming and I'm as lost as a man
can be.

   "Dave, it is still done in my country that a mother and father find a
mate for their child when she is old enough."

   "Arranged marriage."

   "Yes.  Arranged marriage.  Sometimes the new couple have met.  Sometimes
they have not.  Yet they are married.  Sometimes love is not there at the
beginning.  It is tradition and duty.  For the fortunate ones, then love
comes."

   "You're telling me something here."

   "You are not ignorante, Dave.  Yes, I am telling you something.  I have
no mother and father to arrange my marriage, so I must do it for myself.  I
have arranged to marry you.  I am fortunate.  Love is here."

   "Carlita, you are fourteen..."

   She shook her head vigorously.  "No.  Eighteen.  I have papers."

   "Are you sure?  You are very young to say that you will stay with this
man forever."

   "Are you preparado ...  ready?  To keep your Carlita forever?"

   "Yes."

   She smiled at me.  "There!  It is done.  We are married.  Now we must
register at el ayuntamiento.  The place in the city where records are
kept."

   "Huh?"

   "You promised.  I promised.  What is marriage if it is not two people
promising?"

   Why do I feel stupid when SHE says it?

   She turned her head away, turned back to me smiling.  "And if husband
and wife, then there are things that we can ...  must do.  And we do not
want Carlita with a baby until later."

   "Condoms.  Birth control pills.  I can buy condoms.  I don't know how to
get you birth control pills..."

   "Maybe Pat will know..."

   That's when I almost passed out.

   Her brow furrowed  -" thinking.  Then her eyes...  "You go to work
today. I will meet with Pat..."

   She stood up.  "Come, I will fix breakfast."

   Carlita's turn:

   I try very hard to speak English.  I am starting to think in English
when I speak, but there is one time that I do not have English because I
cannot think.  It is Dave.  My Dave.

   Three weeks ago I lived afraid that men and boys would find out I was
not, Carlos, but Carlita, and touch me and do things to me that I did not
want done.  I knew of young girls and women who started the trip with us
who disappeared, and I think I know why.

   I met Dave.  Since I met Dave, I have been in his bed every night.  The
first night it was because the bed was too big and I felt somehow wrong to
be in it by myself.  The second night, I felt frightened that I was in the
wrong place.  The night I tried to stay with his sister, I knew that I
missed Dave.

   After that, I knew I was supposed to be next to him.  I have feelings. I
had feelings that grew inside me for Dave.  I do not know why, other than
he is a good man  -" a handsome man, and he is smart and kind and I do not
know why he has no wife.

   I was fourteen.  He and Pat both explained to me the trouble that could
come of me being fourteen and living with Dave.  Dave could not  -" would
not send me away.  He risked much.  The laws of America put men in prison
for incorrectly dealing with young girls such as Carlita who was fourteen.

   That is one reason that I called Brother Bob.  He was the missionary who
ran the orphanage where I lived and learned.  I told him I was in America
and I needed to be legal and could he please make me legal and eighteen.

   I am now Carlita Sanchez de Luna, eighteen years old.  And Dave is safe
from being a criminal for having Carlita in his house, and Carlita is safe
because she has her Dave, although last night he did not know  -" maybe he
did know but was not sure  -" that he was MY Dave and I was HIS Carlita.

   I have been sleeping with Dave.  I never before got warm feelings in my
kitty because of a man, but when I am with Dave, in the night, I get warm
feelings.  They do not go away easily.  Every night when I take my shower,
I know that I do that thing with my fingers to my kitty and waves of fire
wash over me and I can live around Dave.  Last night...

   I kissed him.  He tried to stop me, to protest.  He cannot argue well.
He says he is trying to be honorable.  To fourteen year old Carlita, he has
been honorable.  With eighteen year old Carlita, honor means another thing.

   "I did not want to do bad things to Carlita.  Carlita has seen enough
bad things," he said.

   "Now Carlita is eighteen.  Some things are bad when Carlita is fourteen.
They are not so bad when Carlita is eighteen." I win.

   I learn that kissing a man you love means that you use your tongue and
fire goes through you and your kitty...

   He tried NOT to sleep with me.  I won that one also.

   I sit on him.  I learn about my Dave.  For the first time, I feel his
verga grow under me.  I have heard much talk from the boys and men on my
journey.  They brag of their vergas.  I did not care.  I did not want to
know.  With my Dave ...  I have felt him in the night, I think he is asleep
and I get very near him and I feel him get  -" hard.  It pushes away from
him like it is reaching for me.

   I have seen it, but only a short time, on the boat.  He is very careful
to NOT let me see...

   We stop.  Go to the library.  I have a library card.  So many books.

   Dave says that eighteen year old girls in America can drive, so we go to
a place and he begins to teach me to drive.

   And we have dinner with his sister, Pat.

   I show her my passport.  I am proud.  I am legal.  And Dave told her to
look at my birth date.

   I wish could understand what Pat was thinking.  She said that being
eighteen changes things.

   I do not know what things she speaks of.  I know that I am changing
things.

   Last night we went to take showers.  I am very brave because I am very
sure.  He is in his shower, with the door closed.  I am naked.  I get in
his shower.

   I win.

   We get out of the shower.  I do not leave.  I am naked.  He is naked. 
And his  -" thing  -" it is still hard.  Mine is hot.  If I were in my own
shower, my finger would work.  I am in front of Dave.

   Maybe.  We get into bed and I talk about my finger.  "Do you do
something like that?"

   He says he does.  He says that with men, there is much liquid.  I tell
him that with me there is much liquid, too, and I get us towels.  When I
get back to the bed, I take my panties off.  I smile because he is watching
me and he loves me and this makes him happy.  He takes his panties off.  I
see his thing.  It is standing up.  I know that I make that happen.

   He showed me what men do.  I showed him what Carlita does.  We were
going to do ourselves.  That is a plan that did not work.  I could not do
it that way.  I rolled over and kissed him and said we should do each
other. When I touched him, he shook.  I shook too and I could feel my kitty
very wet.  I was very wet and he wanted to taste.  I let him taste my
fingers.

   His finger is magic.  Mine is ordinary.  His is magic.  Orgasmo!

   He says he wants to kiss me there.  I have heard talk of this.  Talk is
nothing.  Dave is everything.  Orgasmo!!!  I am unconscious.  I wake up
with Dave kissing me.  There are many kisses.  Big kisses that pull my soul
out, little kisses that make me feel so very happy.  I learn kissing from
Dave.

   It was my time to make my Dave happy.  I started doing with my hand as
he did.  It is strange but very exciting.  I lay my head on his stomach so
I can see very close.  It is alive ...  I know what the wetness tastes like
...  I have heard talk, so I know what is done.  Maybe Carlita should try.
I take him into my mouth.  The only taste is that wetness.  It is salty,
pleasant to me, and Dave likes it very much for me to do this.  Like a
banana, except this banana is alive and when I move my lips over it and
press my tongue on it, he makes happy sounds.

   I bite a little.  Suck some more.  He warns me.  I will not stop.  What
comes out now is different.  I sense that this is a special time and that
this is what I was supposed to do with my hand, but my mouth is working
instead.  It splashes.  I can only swallow and keep doing...

   I do not know when to stop.  I did not know this is how a man works.  I
keep sucking and he finally stops splashing, then it stops coming and I let
him out of my mouth.

   He is either dead or very very happy.  Dead men do not tell Carlita that
they love her.  I did not let him put on clothes for us to sleep together.

   This morning I am alive and I am a new Carlita.  I have said that I love
my Dave and it is forever and he has said that he loves his Carlita and it
is forever and I say that this makes us married.

   I know there is one more step to being married in the old way.  And past
that step, we must make record in  -" he says  -" government records.

   This will happen.  I said it will happen and Dave says it will happen.

   He was going to stay home today.  I have plans.  First, I need to see a
doctor and have  -" he says  -" birth control.  Fourteen or eighteen,
Carlita is not ready for a baby.  I am not a silly Indio in the forest who
starts with a baby at sixteen and spends her life tending the garden and
making food.  I am Carlita Luna, soon to be Carlita Johnson, and I wish to
be a proper wife to my American husband.  I will be educated and I will be
proper and he will be happy and he will be proud of his Lita who hid behind
his truck seat one day in Texas.

   So I sent him to work and at eight o'clock I called his sister.

   "Good morning, Pat," I said.

   "Good morning, Carlita," she replied.  "What are your plans for today?"

   "I have no plans yet.  I wish to talk to you of things that a woman must
know."

   "Sounds very serious," she said.  "Should I come get you?"

   "No," I said.  "It is a pretty morning.  I will walk to your house."

   "Come on, then.  I have coffee."

   It is a pretty day, but here the warmth comes with humidity.  Still, I
enjoy the little walk.  Dave and Pat live in two separate houses on a very
nice street.  America is a pretty place.  Every house has a lawn and a car
or a truck and there is no trash in the street.

   I knock on Pat's door.  While I am waiting, I notice there is a car
there that is not hers.

   Pat opens the door and invites me in.  There is a young girl sitting on
the sofa.  She is not fat, but plump.  Her hair is brown, longer than mine,
but not too long.  She has blue eyes, like Dave and his sister and brother.

   "Carlita, this is my ...  friend, Brindy McPherson.  Brindy, this is
Carlita, the girl who is staying with Dave.  She is from Guatemala."

   "Hello, Brindy," I say.  "I am very happy to meet you." While I am
saying that, I am thinking that she is at Pat's house very early also.

   "Brindy, Carlita and I need to talk a bit.  Can you excuse us?"

   "Sure," Brindy said.  "I'll be in the room.  I have some job apps.  I
need to work on a resume'."

   "Sit," Pat said.  "What's on your mind?"

   "Pat, you are a teacher.  You know of the problems of young girls, am I
correct?"

   "Yes, why?" Pat looked suspicious.

   "I need knowledge of the way things are done in America," I said.  "I do
not know ...  I cannot ask Dave.  He is a man.  He would not know..."

   "What sort of information?"

   "If a girl wanted, uh, birth control, how does she get it?"

   "Would this girl be Carlita?"

   I nodded.  "I am new to America.  I do not know how.  If I meet a boy
... Carlita does not want a baby..."

   "You might meet a boy?"

   I nodded again.  Maybe I am not a good liar.

   "You are living with my brother and you might meet a boy."

   "I do not want a baby..."

   "I'm not asking any more questions.  I know a place.  They can get you
what you need.  Pill.  Other things."

   "Other things?  Like  -" condom?"

   "Condoms.  For one or two times.  For many times, you need the Pill or
other things."

   "These other things?"

   "They put a tiny bit of plastic inside your uterus ...  Do you
understand uterus?"

   "I think so.  It is close to the Spanish word.  Inside me.  Deep inside
me.  It does not show.  It does not stop..."

   "It won't stop diseases.  Carlita, it is NOT good to have many boys. 
Disease ...  there is a lot of it."

   "One boy.  Only.  Maybe.  I am a good girl.  I was raised in a church
orphanage by Christian people.  I am not a puta." Then I realized that when
I said 'one boy' she was counting how many boys I knew in America and who
they might be.

   "Here's my laptop.  I just did a search for birth control.  IUD.  Here
is some information." She handed me her computer.

   "I will go get us that coffee going."

   I saw Brindy walk to the kitchen behind Pat.  I could not hear the
conversation.  I read the screen quickly.  I can search at home.

   I stood up to go to the kitchen to help, and through the open door I saw
something that surprised me in a great way.  Pat and Brindy were kissing.

   I sat back down.  There are things I am not supposed to see.

   "Come fix you a cup of coffee," Pat said.

   When I walked into the kitchen, Pat was leaning against the counter
stirring her coffee and Brindy was sitting at the table.  I smiled and made
little talk while I poured my coffee.

   "Your question, Lita?  If you want, I can call people and find out when
we can get your need taken care of."

   "That would be wonderful," I said.

   I sat with my sister-in-law and her friend.  Inside my head it was like
bees around the flowers  -" many thoughts going in many directions.

   After I finished my coffee I decided that maybe today I needed to stay
home and read or ...  look on the internet.  Carlita needs to know about
birth control.  Soon.

   Back to Dave:

   Phone rang.  I looked.  Pat.

   "Yeah, sis!"

   "You and me  -" we need to talk."

   "You sound half mad."

   "Yeah ...  no.  Curious."

   "Carlita said she visited you this morning."

   "She came over for coffee this morning then went back home.  We talked
for a little bit."

   "She's with Carlie and the kids.  They said they're going to the water
park and won't be home until six or so."

   "Good.  How about you come by here and let's talk?"

   "About what?"

   "When you get here..."

   "Okay.  You don't have to be so cryptic."

   "I'll see you in a bit."

   So, okay  -" she called while I was at work and she doesn't want to tell
me over the phone.  Sounds like trouble, but what?"

   You can imagine how the remainder of my day went.

   Twenty minutes after I got off work, I was knocking on her door.  Whose
car was that?  I've seen it before.

   I got introduced to Brindy.  Neat kid.  A little plumpish, but not badly
so.  Could benefit from a smile on her face.  Pat asked Brindy to leave the
room.

   "So what's the crisis?"

   "Carlita was here.  Asking about birth control."

   You could've hit me in the face with a shovel and not had more impact.

   She snorted.  "Your face tells me a lot.  You never could hide things.
You and Carlita..."

   "She's eighteen..."

   "She was FOURTEEN two days ago, dammit!  Geeze, Dave!"

   "Pat..."

   "Pat, nothing!  You could've..."

   "Pat, she's got a birth certificate and a passport and nobody can prove
either of them to be anything other than completely kosher."

   "Which is beside the point, Dave..."

   "Pat, Carlita is ...  nothing I've ever seen.  You should listen to her.
Watch her work.  Read.  Learn."

   "And what else, Dave?"

   "Nothing.  Not saying anything..."

   "Brother of mine, you don't HAVE to say anything.  Your face says..."

   "What, Pat?  That I love 'er?  That I adore her?  That in three weeks
she's become part of me like no woman ever has?  I didn't bring her home
for this.  I didn't."

   "Yet here you are..."

   "I offered her a place to stay, no strings attached, no quid pro quo,
nothing.  We..."

   "She's fourteen.  Too young..."

   "Shit, Pat," I spat.  "The little darlin's been through more than any
kid on this block.  Two months on the road to get here, disguised as a BOY.
She's better educated than 95% of your high school, already.  You SAW with
your own eyes what she does.  Is she faking reading?  Speaking?"

   "What's that got to do with going to bed with her?"

   I hung my head.  "I love her."

   Pat deflated.  "What?"

   "I love her.  Don't know why.  Ain't sympathy.  You know the women I've
dated.  Carlita's NONE of those.  Just popped up behind the seat of my
pickup truck and my life is upside down."

   "You told Gary you picked 'er up at the airport."

   "I never told you that.  Carlita said that, trying not to frighten
people."

   "You love her."

   "I love her."

   "What does she say?"

   "She loves me.  Said arranged marriages were not uncommon among some
people in Guatemala, and since she did not have parents, she arranged her
own.  I can't fight that.  I love her."

   "Fourteen."

   "Eighteen."

   "Whatever.  Dave, she can walk out of your life tomorrow..."

   "It's happened before," I said.

   "You were a wreck."

   "You've had your turn in THAT barrel," I said.  "If she's with me for a
week or a month or a year or the rest of my life, I'm better off for it."

   I heard a sound.  Pat did, too.  We turned.  Brindy was standing there.

   "Pat, I don't think you can claim the high ground here.  He loves 'er.
The heart wants what the heart wants, okay?"



   ------

   Chapter 12

   Still Dave's turn:

   "The heart wants what the heart wants." Brindy looked so serious when
she said it.

   "Brindy!" Pat said.

   "Pat, you know what I mean..."

   My eyes are darting back and forth.  I'm trying hard to parse all this.

   "Brindy, this is a good time for you to do that thing we talked about.
Dave and I need to talk."

   Brindy frowned.  "Pat, don't beat Dave up.  Carlita looks like a good
kid.  What you told me about 'er, she needs a break, too."

   I caught the 'too'.

   Brindy grabbed her purse.  "Good meeting you, Dave.  I hope things turn
out okay.  Pat, I'll be back in a bit.  Or do you want me to hang out
somewhere and call you or you call me?"

   "GImme an hour, okay?"

   I knew I had less than an hour to live.

   Brindy left.  "What's with Brindy," I said.

   "Brindy, dear brother, is why I couldn't say anything about you and the
fourteen year old orphan girl..."

   "Carlita.  And what's Brindy got to do with it?"

   "Brindy and I ...  She just turned eighteen ...  Last weekend."

   It dawned on me.  Hey, I'm a good engineer.  Interpersonal
relationships? Not so much...  "You and Brindy ...  Pat, I didn't know
you..."

   She fixed me in her stare.  "Dave, the LAST man I was with was YOU."

   "Pat..."

   "You're my brother.  I know we didn't have a future ...  I was coming
down from that turd.  You were freshly dumped..."

   "Oh, just come over," Pat said.  "I got some wine.  Got a couple of
movies I wanna see on NetFlix.  And neither of us needs to be alone..."

   She was right.  Another evening by myself  -" I didn't need that crap.
"I'll be down there.  Want me to bring anything?"

   Wasn't ONE bottle of wine, it was two, and we started out laughing about
wine and crackers and cheese and the stupid movie and then we were on the
sofa, both at the same end.

   Did I mention that Pat is NOT a bad-looking woman?  And both of us were
pretty mellowed and lit.

   Sitting on the same sofa, at the same end, she ended up leaning against
me, laughing, then lounging on me, and I had my arm around her.  It's my
sister, right?  Felt good.

   Felt better when she put her arm under my leg to pull herself closer,
and left her hand there.  Way up there.

   The movie was on the ragged edge of soft porn, and what happened on the
screen was Big Hollywood sexy.  I felt fingers stroking idly on the inside
of my thigh, I smelled the fragrance of her hair.  If I turned my head, I
could smell a little more of the enticing aroma.  I turned, buried my nose
in her hair.

   Okay, those fingers are WAY high now ...  We should stop, but my hand's
on her waist and I swear it slipped up and cupped the underside of her
breast.

   An alcohol-infused giggle accompanied the fingers that moved to measure
the lump in my pants.  "I haven't seen you naked since I was twelve."

   "Stop that!" I said, not too seriously.  "I haven't seen you since I
stopped peeking in your door..."

   Giggle.  "I've grown since then." An index finger traced the length of
that bulge.  "So have you..."

   She scooted up a bit higher, too close ...  and we kissed.  I remember
it getting frantic after that, the two of us using each other to make up
for recent failures and hurts, and the truth?  It was GOOD.  Multiple
times. We moved from the sofa to Pat's bed and tore the covers off and went
at each other like animals.

   Somewhere during the night we got covered up and slept, two naked adults
still sticky from frantic hot sex.

   "Dave," she said, shaking me from my sleep the next morning.

   I woke up to see the face of my sister, her hair a disheveled mess, her
face inches from mine.  Realized that HER naked body was pressed against
mine, accounting for my erection.

   I silenced her by the expedient of putting my lips against hers, rolling
her over on her back and penetrating her as deeply as I could.

   Protest?  There was one ...  a couple of words ...  but I discounted it
because it did not jibe with the legs wrapping around me as I thrust.

   Pat comes easily and her pussy is alive with tremors and spasms and I'm
unloading HARD in her.

   That time ...  she's lying against me.

   "What were you saying?"

   "Dammit, brother, this is a mess with a capital 'M'.  I ...  we just
fucked.  Sister and brother..."

   "Male and female."

   "Doesn't matter," she said.

   "I love you, Sis.  Apparently we had some pent-up frustrations."

   I'd have believed she was more upset if her hand wasn't playing with my
dick, still slippery from five minutes ago.

   "It was GOOD," she said.  "But still wrong..."

   "You ARE protected, right?" I asked.

   "Hell of a time to ask, Dave," she said.  "And yes, of course..."

   "Then it's just a little more than a brother and sister giving each
other a hug," I said.

   We tried it for a week, giving each other sexual release, for sure, and
sibling love as well, but at the end of the week, the enormity of what we
were doing sort of caught up.  I moved back into my house, Pat stayed in
hers.

   At first, after that decision, we avoided one another, but slowly things
got back to a normal brother and sister relationship.  It was a while,
though, before I could look at my sister and not think of her naked, riding
me almost angrily.

   "I turned my sister into a lesbian," I said.

   "Don't flatter yourself, Bro," she laughed.  "I gotta admit, it was
good, you and me, but if anything, I've always been kind of bi."

   "Brindy?"

   "One of those cases you read about in the paper.  Mom remarried. 
Stepdad was abusive."

   "Was?"

   "He can practice his abuse in jail now.  They arrested 'im.  I'm the one
who reported him..."

   "And now..."

   She shook her head.  "It wasn't' supposed to happen like that. 
Devastated, abused young girl.  Needed a friend, and high school kids, they
apparently don't do that kind of friendship.  Brindy and I started talking.
She'd come over and visit, we'd watch TV..."

   "I know how that can get," I said.

   "You do.  I do.  I should know better..."

   "How long?"

   "Eight months..."

   "All the way?"

   She didn't have to answer.  Her head hung, nodding.

   "We hid it."

   "Did a good job," I said.  "I had no idea ...  I wondered why you looked
at me weird when I brought Carlita home..."

   "It weirded me out, Dave.  FOURTEEN!  And I was a mess over Brindy and
she was seventeen."

   "And a student at your high school."

   "That, too.  But Saturday was her birthday.  She's eighteen."

   "Permanent?"

   "Yours?" she asked pointedly.

   "God, I hope so..."

   "Carlita's young and sweet and..."

   "Pat, Carlita's been through it.  Not talked about it.  Not read about
it.  Actually been through it ...  I am not going to be the one to hurt
her."

   "Kind of the way I feel about Brindy.  You saw her..."

   "And you're okay with me and Lita?"

   "I don't know if I'm okay..." Her eyes flashed.  "Dammit, Dave, maybe a
little bit jealous..."

   "Pat, we talked..."

   "I know.  We needed to go buy a trailer on the outskirts of town with an
old pickup truck on cinder blocks in the front yard..."

   "Or recognize that society would never..."

   "Which is what we did, Dave.  I cried..."

   "I didn't know that."

   "I did.  Almost ...  Called you back.  Begged."

   "I know.  For weeks I lay there wishing ...  But it's gone."

   "I know.  So Carlita..."

   "She's like nothing I've ever dealt with, Pat.  That vocabulary of hers
...  the way she talks, you KNOW she's not a native English speaker, her
sentence structures, her word use, it's quirky, but she's so obviously
smart."

   "And she's collected you."

   "She's collected me.  Says we ARE married.  De facto.  Promised each
other."

   "She's fourteen, Dave."

   "Papers say eighteen.  Who's gonna say different?  She's certainly in
the range for the physical characteristics..."

   "I know," Pat acknowledged.  "She says 'marriage'?"

   I smiled, thinking of the serious look on her face when she told me, 'I
have arranged my OWN marriage.' "Yeah, her idea.  I'm all for it.  What a
partner."

   "You're not suffering from some weird 'hero' syndrome, are you, Dave?"

   "No.  I don't think so.  You don't know how scared I was when she..."

   "She what?!?" Pat spat.

   "She crawled in bed with me.  First night.  In Texas.  I woke up with
her in bed with me that next morning." I saw Pat's look.  "Pat, NOTHING
happened.  Lita said that the queen bed she started out in was just too
much."

   "And since then?"

   "Every night.  Said that the enormity of the situation ...  She needed
to NOT sleep alone in a strange room."

   "That night that she tried to spend the night here..."

   I nodded.  Pat looked horrified.

   "Pat, we did NOTHING.  She and I occupied the same bed.  The only
touching was snuggling."

   "So when did you..."

   "Last night.  She said that things that were bad for fourteen year old
Lita were maybe not so bad for eighteen year old Lita, and she kissed me.
Really kissed me.  And technically, no, we haven't done that..."

   "She's a virgin?"

   "Yes."

   "She asked me about birth control.  I'm taking her to the clinic
Wednesday morning.  We talked about the Pill versus the IUD."

   "I heard that's expensive..."

   "I was gonna pay for it and hit you up..."

   "We can do that."

   "Yes," she laughed.  "Keeps me from whipping out a credit card with
'David Johnson' on it."

   "You're laughing now.  Does that mean you're good with this?" I asked.

   "Kind of like Brindy said.  'Where's my moral high ground'?"

   "She just sort of told you what she thought."

   "That in itself is a breakthrough, Dave.  I'm trying to get her to be
assertive.  So, are you good with Brindy?"

   "I guess."

   "It was a good week, Dave.  If you weren't my brother..." Her eyes
looked wistful.

   "It was, Pat.  I've thought the same thing.  But now, here's Carlita. 
Her, it can be us.  You and I, we really never could ...  Maybe in a city
far away..."

   "Carlita deserves your best, Dave."

   "I want to give her my best, Pat.  I think we both have release here ...
Brindy's a cutie in her own way..."

   "It's about what's inside," Pat said.  "Really is.  She's like ...  It's
like she put out these tendrils that enveloped me inside..."

   "As opposed to popping up from behind my truck seat."

   My cellphone rang.  Carlita.

   "Hi, Sweetness," I said.

   "We are nearing home," she said.  "Are you there?"

   "I will be in a minute.  I am talking with Pat."

   "Oh," Lita said tersely.  "Please be home for me."

   I smiled.  "I will be."

   Pat smiled.  "Your face lights up, Dave.  Go home and be there for her."

   "Okay, Sis," I said.

   She followed me to the door.  Gave me a hug, a little longer than
normal, before letting me go out.

   In a couple of minutes I was inside the house, waiting.  I heard
Carlie's SUV pull into the drive.  I went outside, met Carlie and the
bunch, collected Lita, who wisely did NOT grab my hand, bounced into the
house ahead of me.

   I closed the door behind us, got an armful of bouncy teen.

   "I missed you, Dave ...  I really missed you."

   "I missed you, too, my Lita.  How was your day?"

   "I visited Pat.  Dave, there was a girl there," she said.

   "Brindy," I replied.  "I met her today."

   "I saw her kissing Pat.  They do not know.  Dave," she continued, "It
was like I kiss you."

   "I just found this out today," I replied.

   "Is not normal..."

   "It was a surprise to me to find out, especially about my sister."

   "She does not know that I know."

   "It will soon be known," I said.  "She says she will take you to the
clinic."

   "I have studied IUD," she said.  "It will keep me from pregnant ... 
pregnancy.  It is not like the Pill.  I cannot forget.  And it will work
the first day I get it."

   "Carlita, my lovely little friend, we do not have to do this.  You can
remain a virgin."

   "Virgin is in here, Dave," she said, tapping a finger to her head, "And
here," putting her hand over her heart.  "I love you, Dave."

   "Even after spending the day with my niece and nephew?"

   "Especially after spending a day with them." She punctuated her
statement by grabbing my belt and pulling me toward her.  We kissed.  She
was almost tentative at first, then more confident, her tongue searching,
playing with mine.  I had her in my arms, one hand cradling her head, the
other cupping a cheek of that firm young ass.

   When we broke from the kiss, she was smiling.  "It is good to see that I
am still ...  You still want me."

   "Why would I not?"

   "You may think during your day  -" 'I cannot have a stupid wife from
Guatemala who looks almost like a Carlos instead of a Carlita."

   "First..." little kiss, " ...  You are not stupid.  Second..." little
kiss, "I have seen you with no clothes on and no Carlos looks like that..."

   She bumped against me, rubbing against my erection.  She smiled.  "I am
glad.  We must go in the bedroom."

   "Why?"

   "We must do something.  It makes Carlita your wife, a woman."

   "Carlita, we cannot.  You could get pregnant." I knew she was plenty
mature enough.  I'd been with her to purchase supplies for her period and
emptied the results from the trash.

   She reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out a strip of foil-wrapped
condoms.

   "Where did you get those?"

   Giggle.  "I ask Carlie."

   "So Carlie knows..." I started sweating.

   Carlita smiled.  "Yes, she knows.  And she will not tell.  We talked
while the young ones played.  She knows you are my Dave and that I am
eighteen."

   "My Lita."

   "I will be your woman Lita after this, Dave.  I am ready." Her fingers
measured the bulge in my pants.  "You are ready also."

   "You're saying..."

   She looked at me, halfway smiling.  "Today is the day that Carlita is a
woman.  That means you are inside me."

   "I know what it means."

   "You keep trying to tell me that I do not have to do this.  I keep
telling you that I am your wife, Carlita.  Is that still true?"

   "Only forever, Carlita."

   She tugged.  "Then this is part of it.  Come, Dave."

   "You're really something," I said.

   "A good thing?"

   "A wonderful thing."

   She took my hand and pulled me toward the bedroom.  Okay, she's winning.
She turned around.  "Would you like me naked?  I would like you naked."

   I smiled.  "Naked Lita is pretty."

   Her face brightened.  "Do you think that is so?"

   "Yes, it is true."

   We were shedding clothing as we talked.  I stood on one foot, peeling
off my last sock, stood straight, looked.  Carlita was a vision, lithe,
thin body, small breasts, long legs, all covered with that tawny skin, and
those brown eyes burned into me.

   "Last night it was too much.  I did not look," she said.  "Now I get to
look." She smiled.  "You are good looking man.  I like your face.  You are
strong." She stepped up to me, let her hands roam my chest.

   I smiled.  "You make me feel good, Carlita."

   "It is first time I am happy to see naked man.  You.  Last night, I did
not see all of you.  Today..." She smiled.  "I have got a good man.  Does
it feel good when I touch you?"

   "Yes."

   "It felt good the very first time you touched me, Dave.  It was not
supposed to feel good like that.  I knew ...  You held Carlita in the
night. It felt very good." Her hands touched my hardness, gently grasping.
"This.  I felt it grow in the night.  It made me feel things I did not
understand, but you are my Dave and if I was to have feelings like that, it
should be with you."

   "You knew.  Lita, I did not know you knew..."

   She smiled shyly.  "If I would say something, you would not let me in
your bed, so I said nothing.  And felt good in the night.  Now..." She
gently stroked me, looking up and smiling.  "Let us get in bed.  I want to
be touched also.  And more."

   I took her to bed.  Or she took me.  Or we both ended up there.  Doesn't
matter.  She was exploring and being explored, apparently for the first
time, between last night and today.

   She was fascinated with my anatomy.  She leaned over me, her face close
to the present center of my existence.  "It is very interesting, Dave. 
Last night ...  I sucked it.  You liked?"

   "You couldn't tell?"

   Giggle.  "That means you liked it?  When you squirt?"

   "Yes.  Carlita, it means that I have never been as excited by a girl as
I am by you."

   "I do not know what I am doing, Dave."

   "You are doing what makes you happy.  What you want to do."

   "You can tell me to do things, Dave."

   I can?  "Then lay on top of me, Carlita.  Put my face between your legs
so I can kiss there..."

   Giggle.  "In a minute, Dave.  First you need to kiss here." Her face was
before mine.  Our lips welded together, tongues dancing, her making happy
noises into my mouth as I let my hands touch her all over.

   "I like kissing you," I said.  "You are my little dream girl."

   "Am I really?  I do not have blonde hair nor blue eyes."

   "I get to feel you beautiful.  See you beautiful.  Think you beautiful."

   Her smile broadened.

   I rubbed her short hair.

   "I will let it grow, Dave.  I like Pat's haircut.  It is neat."

   "You do what you want.  My Carlita is neat." Another kiss.

   "You really do love me, Dave.  I see your eyes." Giggle.  "Now what was
that thing?  Your face between my legs and me on top of you ...  That means
your thing..."

   Sixty-nine.  I propped my head up with a pillow so I could reach her. 
She could get the head of my dick in her mouth.  I lapped happily.

   Breathlessly she panted, "I cannot put you in my mouth, Dave.  I am not
in control.  I do not want to bite you..."

   "Then hold it.  I like what I am doing..."

   "Ahhhh ...  I like what you are doing.  Mi dios ...  Nnnnnghggghhhh."
One.  I slowed down, savoring the abundant pouring of juice.  Delicious. 
She scooted out of my reach, bounced up on her knees.

   "Dave, it is time."

   "Time for..."

   Her bright eyes.  "Time for us.  You.  Inside me.  You must show me how
a condom works."

   "One more time, sweet Carlita.  You don't have to..."

   "I WANT to." She waved a condom packet.  "Show me."

   I showed her.  She giggled.  "It will catch what I ate last night." She
was exploring the new feeling of my condom-wrapped dick.

   "What you ate last night would make a baby for Dave and Carlita, and it
is not time for that."

   "It is time for this, Dave.  How do I..." Big brown eyes.  I'm not
supposed to be getting lost in them, but I am lost.  I lay back.

   This is a first for me, too.  I've never 'done' a virgin.  Read about
it. "I think that the best way would be for you to get on top of me.  That
way you can control how fast and how deep you want to go.  Here..." I
motioned for her to straddle me.

   "Carlie said do NOT play without the condom.  She says one drop near my
hole could mean a baby."

   "Carlie is right.  As much as we want to..."

   Lita found herself a position.  Played with the feelings of my
condom-clad dick rubbing its length along between the lips of her...

   "My kitty.  You feel soooo good there." She sucked in a breath noisily.
Hunched herself and moved back and forth, eyes closed.  They popped open.
"Dave, I forget myself ...  So many good feelings..."

   "Yes, there are.  You are so many good feelings."

   "I..." She rose up, her fingers aiming my dick at nirvana.  She eased
down, the head trying to find its way inside.  She bit her bottom lip. 
Pushed.  "I have had two of my fingers inside.  You are bigger than two of
my fingers."

   "Slowly, baby..."

   "I want Dave IN me," she said.  She worked it, pushing, pulling back,
pushing again.  She was incredibly sexy.  And incredibly tight.

   "Slowly, princess," I said.  "I love you."

   A smile worked around the bottom lip she was biting.  Determined look.
She rose up and pushed down, wincing.  I felt her inner thighs hit my
pelvis.

   "OH!" she squeaked.  Then, "Dave, you are in me.  I am YOUR woman.  What
I have given you should only be given to my husband."

   "Are you hurt?"

   She shook her head.  "IT ...  Little hurt.  Now, no.  If I move..." She
made a tentative motion, rising, sliding back, easing forward.  "Mmmmm. 
Good.  This is good.  Dave, I am not sure what to do."

   "What makes you feel good, my Carlita.  What you just did was good."

   "Like this?" She put her hands on my chest.  Moved again.  Smiled at me.
"I see why this is done for fun."

   She did another, and I moved with her.

   "Yes, if you do that ...  And I do this ...  Dave, I sound silly. 
Carlita has discovered sex."

   "Carlita is a beautiful, exciting woman, and if she is happy, I am
happy."

   She started to develop a rhythm and I worked with her.  Trouble was, it
was just TOO good.  I wasn't going to last much longer.  Nothing I could
dredge up from memory could override what I was feeling and seeing with
Carlita.

   "It's coming, Lita," I hissed through clenched teeth.

   "OH, mi Dave, mi vida!  Do it!"

   I thrust up into her.  Hard.  Several, forcing my orgasm to empty me
into her.  When I finished, she collapsed into my arms.

   "Dave, my love, I DID it.  You did it.  I could feel you grow.  I could
feel everything, and when you pushed hard, I did it.  Orgasmo!!!  You make
me, Dave..."

   "I love you, Lita.  We need to get that out of you, though..."

   "I don't want to move, Dave..."

   "Okay, mommy."

   Her eyes widened and she rolled away as I gripped the condom.  I started
to stand.

   "Don't.  I want to see."

   I stopped.  She had to play.  I had to let her.

   "All that stuff.  It is white.  Last night this was in my mouth?"

   "Yes.  Are you sorry now?"

   Giggle.  "Maybe if I see this first.  But I know what it is in my mouth.
What do you do with it now?"

   "I peel it off and flush it in the toilet."

   "I will go with you."

   "Why?"

   "You will see."

   She followed me into the bathroom.  "Okay.  Show me how."

   "Since I am now mostly soft, it slides right off." I peeled the rubber
off and dropped it in the toilet and hit the handle.

   "Turn," she said.  She was kneeling.  "I know what it tastes like." And
she slurped my almost flaccid dick into her mouth.  "Mmmmmm."

   "My god, Lita..."

   Her head popped up.  "You did not like?"

   "No, I very much liked.  Just surprised."

   "Why surprised?  Is this not a good way for me to be?  To make my Dave
happy?"

   "Lita, you are more than I dreamed."

   "Would you still kiss me?' she asked, standing.  She wiped her lips. 
Smiled.

   "I will kiss you every day for the rest of my life." I took her in my
arms.

   "Dave, never leave me.  Never send me away.  I am your Carlita."

   "Yes, you are.  And I love you."



   ------

   Chapter 13

   Dave's turn:

   I'm just glad the phone call didn't come sooner.  I looked.  Carlie.

   "Hi, Carlie," I said, trying NOT to sound like the cat that ate the
canary.

   "Hello, Dave.  I know, you know..."

   I play stupid.  "What is it you know..."

   "Your little friend..."

   "My Carlita..."

   "Oh, she's YOUR Carlita now?"

   "Yes, I can say that.  We've decided to get married, since she's
eighteen, you know..."

   "I saw the passport.  Can you even DO that?"

   "We're sure going to find out.  Either we do it here or I have to buy
tickets to Guatemala, but we ARE getting married." I glanced at Carlita. 
Happy.  And smug.  And very, very naked.

   "She explained all about herself, Dave.  And you.  She talked about you.
And practically FORCED me to show her where to get condoms.  I'm assuming
she has plans..."

   "Yes, she's known for her ability to look ahead and make plans."

   "The first time we met 'er, she was fourteen.  Dave..."

   "Carlie, she has official documents.  That passport.  A tourist visa. 
And an official, stamped copy of a birth certificate.  She's eighteen."

   "Fourteen."

   "Carlie, nobody will ever prove otherwise.  As for what she was when she
found me..." When I said that, I got arms wrapped around me, her head
leaning against me.  I was totally charmed.  "Let's just say that
record-keeping in Guatemala isn't really THAT good.  Nothing to prove what
she was when she left.  Only what she is now."

   "Maturity..."

   "I already discussed this with Pat, Carlie.  Think about who you're
talking about here.  She left Guatemala by herself.  She travelled two
months masquerading as a young boy with a horde of other immigrants.  When
things started to get too hot and she thought she might be discovered to be
a female, she split off from the group and figured out a way to get to
civilization.  You go ahead and tell me that any American fourteen year old
is going to be able to do that."

   "When you put it like that..."

   "And you've talked with her.  She's NOT stupid, not by a long shot. 
Pat's gonna have her tested for her scholastic standing pretty soon. 
School ...  she wants to be educated."

   "She sounds educated.  Her English is better than a lot of people I
know."

   "And I love her, Carlie.  Haven't loved a woman in a long time, and
NEVER one like this." That comment got me a squeeze and a tender kiss on my
arm.

   "She loves YOU, Dave, and as much as I found it surreal, looking at her
face, she does not sound like a love-struck teeny-bopper." Carlie sighed.
"She says she's going with Pat to a clinic on Wednesday?  Why the condoms?"
She paused.  "Ohmigod!" then she said, "Dave, be careful.  She's precious."

   "Yes, she is precious.  And determined.  And cute..."

   "Well, the marriage thing ...  can I tell your brother?"

   "Why not?  My sister knows..."

   "She does?"

   "Yes."

   "So when's the wedding?"

   "Lita and I are working on that."

   "Good luck, Dave.  You're a pretty decent brother-in-law.  And I LIKE
Lita."

   "Thank you, Carlie.  You married below your station.  I appreciate you."

   "'Kay, Dave.  Tell Lita I said 'hi'."

   "Okay.  Bye, Carlie." The phone clicked.

   I turned to Carlita.

   "Carlie is worried about me?"

   "Mostly.  Me, a little bit, but you, mostly."

   "I heard you defending me, Dave.  What you said is true."

   "All of it, Carlita?  The part about of deciding when to get married?"

   "Yes.  Very much so.  We will belong to each other."

   "We already belong to each other, Lita."

   "I want other people to know.  And when other people say 'married', they
do not understand what Dave and Carlita promised to each other.  They
understand 'married' the way that it is done where it is written in the
records of the government."

   "That is the best of reasons, Carlita.  Other reasons are that if one of
us is sick, the other can deal with doctors and hospitals, and I can put
you on my insurance for your medical needs and for you to drive our car."

   "Our car?"

   "Carlita, there is much more to marriage than love and family.  There
are legal things.  When we are married, half of everything I get from that
day forward belongs to you according to law." I saw her face change.  "And
the law is silly, because when two people are really married, everything
one has belongs to the other, completely."

   The smile came back.  "I do not have anything, Dave.  Am I enough?"

   "You are Carlita, my princess.  My friend.  Soon to be my wife.  What do
you want to be?"

   "Your wife," she said, shifting around to in front of me, surveying the
seating options, choosing to plop her butt in my lap and wrap her legs
around my waist.

   "Careful, Lita," I said.  "Things are awfully close together."

   "In two days we will try this again, Dave, and I will not worry." She
rose a bit, kissed me.  "Two more days." She giggled.  "We have five more
condoms."

   "Sweetness," I said, kissing her, "Tomorrow we cannot do this.  You have
a visit to the clinic on Wednesday.  They will have to examine you
there..."

   She looked sad.  "We cannot?"

   "Not tomorrow.  And today, you're sore.  It hurts, right?"

   "It hurts a little.  I saw blood."

   "I saw it too, little one," I said.  "I do not want to hurt you."

   "It does not hurt but a small amount.  The other part really feels
good."

   I regarded the lithe form scooted back on my lap, her pussy a safe
distance from my dick.  I had my hands grasping her waist.  "You're
incredibly pretty."

   "I am not, Dave.  I know..."

   "You are.  I know."

   One more time that night.  Shower together.  Discuss.

   "I like us in the shower.  It is good."

   Sleep.  Naked again.  I wake during the night, roll over toward her,
feel her hand grasp me.  Delightful.

   Tuesday we had to forgo contact, at least the genital part of my Lita.

   "But you are not going to the clinic, Dave..."

   "What are you saying, Carlita?"

   She turned almost shy, demure.  Softly, "you know..."

   "Explain what I know."

   "I like your ...  thing.  Verga.  What do I call it?"

   I ran down the list in my head and every name I knew did not sound like
it should come out of Carlita's mouth.  "Whatever you wish, Carlita.  The
names I know do not sound nice, except the ones that sound like a doctor's
office."

   "It has a very soft nose.  Like a puppy.  I have a kitty.  You have a
puppy." She grinned.  "I should kiss his nose."

   She unzipped my pants, fished my dick out.  Was a bit more than a kiss.
The head disappeared into her mouth.  Popped out.  "I think you like this
very much."

   "I do."

   "I like it, Dave.  I know what happens if I do that." She smiled up at
me.  "I like it.  And I can kiss you and your puppy gets hard..."

   "It can't get any more hard, Lita.  It's about to explode."

   Giggle.  "Then I must do this.  I think you have too many clothes on."

   "You have clothes on, too."

   "Do you want me without clothes?  Naked?"

   "You're beautiful naked, Lita."

   We undressed together.  She is beautiful.  Really.  I can't resist.  I
scoop her into bed, attack her, starting with kisses, her mouth responding
with a searing reply.  I move downward, those beautiful teen breasts,
fascinating dark nipples like nothing I've ever experienced.  On the way
down her belly I decided that although penetration was off the table,
there's this delicate orchid...

   She shook and squealed through first one orgasm, then another.  I ended
up holding her.

   "Dave, Dave ...  You make me feel like I have never felt." Her hand
pushed mine down to her glowing kitty.  "Not just here." She put her hand
over her heart.  "Here.  And here." She touched her head.

   "I wish I had more words, Carlita.  You are more than I have words for."

   "I am glad.  Happy." She bent upward to kiss me, then smiled.  "It is my
time for Dave."

   "It's okay, Lita.  I'm okay..."

   "Stop, Dave.  Stop telling me I do not have to care.  I am your wife. 
Caring is what I do for you, just as you care for me.  And this way..." Her
hand grasped me.  "Okay???"

   "You win."

   "We both win if we love each other." She rolled over, her face hovered
over my straining erection.  She kissed it.  Giggled.  "My puppy." Her head
bobbed downward and my breath failed.  She managed to get maybe two or
three inches into her mouth, sucked, and pulled back, her tongue licking me
inside her mouth.  She looked up shyly.

   "I am without art."

   "No, you are most certainly NOT without art.  You are my Carlita Maria
Luna Johnson and you define art."

   "But what I do.  It feels good?  Very good?"

   "Exquisite.  More than very good."

   "I like it.  Like when you do it to me.  Your tongue." Giggle.  "My
tongue." Her head bobbed back downward, her right hand grasping my shaft,
sliding up and down in time with the bobbing of her head.

   She popped up, got up high enough to kiss me.  "You're marvelous."

   "That is good?"

   "Very good."

   Giggle.  "I am having fun."

   "Me, too." She went back at it.

   I leaned back, feeling my balls draw up.  It won't be long.

   "Something is happening.  It tastes good.  Much.  I feel it grow."

   "I'm close, Lita..." I gasped.

   She bobbed back down without another word.  A few more strokes and her
"Mmmm" changed to "Mmmph" as the first spurt left me.  She actually giggled
with my dick in her mouth, kept sucking.  Every drop.  Her fingers explored
my scrotum.

   She stopped sucking.  "It got very tight.  Now it is loose again." She
weighed my balls in her hand.  "It is funny.  Interesting." Those brown
eyes engaged mine.  "Was it good?  What I did?"

   "I was transported through time and space," I said.

   "That is good," she grinned.  "And tomorrow ...  no more nasty rubber
things.  Just Carlita and Dave."

   "Tomorrow and every day afterwards."

   "I will love you every day and every night, my Dave."

   "Yes, my Carlita.  I will love you every day and every night."

   She smiled, kissed me.  "Now it is time for us to eat.  I have not
cooked today."

   "Let's go find food," I laughed.  "If I had no Carlita, I would eat a
sandwich.  With Carlita, we will do a restaurant."

   "It is money, Dave."

   "I know.  I have money.  But we will think about how we will feed
ourselves without a restaurant every night."

   She smiled.  "I am your wife.  It is my place."

   "You are my Carlita, yes, my wife, but you are also Carlita who may be a
student and Carlita who can go with Carlie to have fun during the day."

   "What about Pat?"

   "Pat..." I mused.  "We need to talk to Pat.  There is Brindy..."

   "Carlita and Dave cannot make love all the time.  Do you think Pat and
Brindy...  ?"

   "Sweetheart," I answered, "I don't even begin to know.  My sister's not
had the most success with men ...  Maybe this is what was missing."

   "What do you know about this?"

   Okay, this one is my wife.  I need to get used to sharing things with
her, so I told her.  No, I did NOT tell her about the crazy week with me
and Pat, but I gave her Pat's story about Brindy.

   "Brindy is a rescue, like me."

   "Rescue?"

   "Pat says that your father used to find lost puppies and take care of
them.  She said when you rescue one, it becomes your responsibility." She
looked at me with those soulful brown eyes.  "I am a rescue as well, true?"

   "You might have started as a rescue, Lita.  Now I cannot think of my
life without you."

   "You started out as a good man, David Johnson.  Now you are my husband.
I do not know how it works on American TV, but in the Guatemala I knew, a
wife was with her husband forever if she was a good wife."

   "I will be a good husband and you are too cute."

   She bounced into my arms, smiling.  "Really?  It is true?  I am cute to
you?"

   "Adorable.  Perfectly adorable."

   We finally managed to drag ourselves out for a sandwich.  I worried
about Carlita's affinity for American food.

   "Do not worry.  I ate cold tortillas.  Sometimes with beans, often
without.  This sandwich ...  you call it 'po-boy'?  Is good.  Very good. 
Coca-Cola.  Very good.  And I can cook, Dave."

   I smiled.  Want my Carlita happy.

   Found out that she'd NEVER ridden a bicycle, either.  "You are teaching
me to drive a car.  I have never ridden a bicycle.  I see one at our house.
You can teach me that also." She smiled.  "Boat.  Car.  Bicycle."

   "My bicycle is too big for you.  We will get you one that is your size.
I know a park that is perfect for riding bicycles."

   Her smile.  It's so darned easy to love her.

   I come home the next day and get accosted at the front door.

   "I take it that the clinic did as they said?"

   She smiled.  "I am safe.  I will not be pregnant." She tilted her head
with a shy smile.  "I don't know if I will be safe from Dave.  I think he
wishes to do things to me." The smile told me what I needed to know.

   "No more rubber things, Dave," she said as we undressed.

   The very best condoms STILL stifle the feeling.  Without a condom on me,
Carlita is even more of a delight.  After the first one, she's smiling.

   "I felt it.  I felt it all." Giggle.  "Now I feel it coming out of me.
Dave, I am truly your Carlita."

   "Truly.  Carlita, are you serious about marrying me?"

   "I am serious.  Why?"

   "Tomorrow we can go get the license that we need to get married."

   "Can we get that license in Texas, Dave?"

   "Yes, we can.  Why?"

   "I would like to be married by Brother Bob."

   I thought about that.  Why not?  I mean, other than the fact that
Brother Bob KNEW that Carlita wasn't eighteen until faked documents said
she was.  I voiced my concerns to Carlita.

   "Let me talk with him, Dave.  I will do that tomorrow.  How does this
work in America?"

   I explained to her about marriage licenses and waiting periods.

   "Three days?  We must wait three days?"

   "In this state we can get a judge to waive that, if we have a good
reason, like we're leaving for a trip.  Texas has the same waiting period.
I'm not sure if they will waive it."

   "Waive?"

   "It means to legally do away with."

   "Oh.  But how about this," she said.  She's getting more assertive with
each passing day, especially since she KNOWS where she is in my life.  "We
get the marriage license in Texas tomorrow.  And since we must wait three
days anyway, we wait until NEXT Saturday and get Brother Dave to do the
wedding."

   I smiled.  "Carlita, you're serious."

   "Dave, we have vowed.  We have sealed our vows with our bodies.  When
two people vow before God, what can a man add?  Brother Bob is important in
my life.  I would like him to put the official seal on what we already know
as truth."

   She hit me with that little smile of hers, then said, "Dinner.  We must
do something.  I have cold beans from yesterday.  We have vegetables and we
have meat and tortillas and your Lita will be in the kitchen."

   I noted the delightful state of nudity.  "Put some clothes on."

   "You do not want me to cook for you naked?"

   "Something hot might splash on something important," I laughed, latching
my lips on one of a pair of important things, causing her to squeal and
giggle.

   "You are right, my husband." She smiled.  "You want me like that?"

   "I want you for everything.  My Carlita to talk with, my Carlita to
watch movies with.  My Carlita to sail with, my Carlita to make my life
bright and happy because it has Carlita in it."

   She was smiling and humming as we worked together in the kitchen.  Okay,
I'm dealing in a stereotype that probably had NOTHING to do with Lita, but
in my mind's eye, I saw her as that Indio girl she talked about.  No, this
one is by no means ignorant and I am damned sure NOT going to have her
downloading kids at the age of sixteen or fourteen or eighteen or whatever,
but there in my mind's eye  -" tawny body, dark hair, eyes that flash
fire...

   She turned, caught me looking.  I expected to get that 'you're staring
at me' lecture.  Instead, I got a smile.  "You are thinking of me, aren't
you?"

   "Yes, I am, Lita.  It's been impossible NOT to think of you since I
first met you."

   "We were scared.  Now we are not scared.  We have love for one another."
As she was talking, she was heating tortillas on my cast-iron griddle,
stacking them on a plate.  I pulled the frijoles out of the microwave and
we assembled our own meals at the counter, then went to sit.

   She didn't even complain about her lack of cooking skills.  She was
trying, which is more than I can say about a lot of women, although none of
them had ever occupied my kitchen.  Now it's Lita's kitchen, too.  From her
smile, I think she knows it.

   Carlita's turn:

   I am a woman now.  That is what I was told when I was younger, that to
be a true woman, one must mate with a man, and that good women mated with
their husbands.

   I am a good woman.  I was not raised and taught to be a puta.  Brother
Bob had some sad women whom he helped at the orphanage, women who gave
themselves easily to many men, who had babies although they were not yet
married nor were they much older than me.

   I decided that I would not be that sort of woman.  Perhaps if I had
become one, just a little, I could have been the woman of one of the
narcotraficantes and stayed in Guatemala, but no, I was not going to do
that.

   When I put myself in Dave's truck, hiding under the clothing behind his
seat, I thought that even if ...  One clean American would be much better
than a gang of dirty, loud mestizo boys.

   Dave never tried.  When he first met me, when he found out that I was
Carlita, not Carlos, from that time onward he treated me as precious.

   I know he was frightened because of my age, but when I got my papers and
I became eighteen, I did not let him stay frightened.

   It happened.  During the weeks that I lived with Dave before my papers
came, I learned something.  I learned that I loved Dave.  It was not a
difficult thing.  He is good to look at in that American sort of way.  He
is not fat and he stays clean and he shaves and his face is very nice when
he smiles and I know that if I smile at him, he cannot keep himself from
smiling.

   I loved Dave.  When I told Brother Bob that I wanted to be eighteen on
my papers, part of the reason is that I am learning about America and
eighteen is a magic number for doing things for myself and I need many
things to happen so I can be American.

   The other thing is that I learned that if I was eighteen I could be
married without problem.  And I decided that I should marry Dave.  I saw
Sister Brenda and Brother Bob and how two Americans can live together and
be good to one another.  I saw Brother Bob after Sister Brenda died, and he
still loved her.  That is the love between a husband and his wife and I can
be that way with my Dave.

   Poor Dave.  He worries about me and about what people might think about
me.  I have talked with his sister and with his sister-in-law.

   Carlie took me with her and the children to a museum and a park.  The
kids played.  I talked with Carlie.  I told her that I loved Dave and that
I was eighteen and we could be married and that I needed condoms.

   "You need..."

   "Yes," and I nodded my head.

   "That means you..." She looked between surprise and anger.

   "Dave and I have already decided to be married.  In fact, we are
married. We vowed to each other.  It will happen.  The condoms are for
something else that will happen."

   "You and Dave."

   I got warm when I thought about it, warmer when I told Carlie.  "He is
my husband.  If I lived in the village, my mother and father could find a
husband for me and we could be married and start living as husband and wife
until the priest came or until we could travel to the town.  This is like
that."

   "You and Dave..." She looked surprised.

   "Only since I am eighteen."

   "You were fourteen two weeks ago."

   "This," I showed her my passport, "is from the government of Guatemala.
It says I am eighteen.  I have a birth certificate that says I am eighteen.
I want to be eighteen.  I am eighteen."

   She looked at me, listening to my words, starting to smile.  "Dave never
knew what hit him, did he?"

   "I do not know what you mean."

   "Carlita, my brother-in-law is not uh ...  very good around women.  He's
kind of socially inept." She looked at me.  "Do you understand?"

   "I think I do," I said.  "Socially means 'among people'.  Inept means
'not very good'.  Am I correct?"

   She smiled.  "You are correct.  He is not one of those men who are
always with one woman or another.  You came along, his heart just opened up
to fit you exactly."

   I smiled.  "I think so.  Carlie, I am not a bad girl.  I will not use
Dave.  I love Dave."

   "You love Dave."

   "Yes.  I love Dave.  I know how to be a good girl.  I will be a good
wife.  I will take care of Dave, his heart, his life."

   "Well," Carlie smiled, "You can bet that Dave will take care of you as
well."

   "I know that," I said.  "That is part of it.  Since I meet ...  met
Dave, he has included me in all his life.  I stand beside him and I am very
happy.  He is very happy."

   Carlie laughed.  "I imagine he would be.  Should be.  You are unique."

   She raised her eyebrow.  I think Carlie worries about my English.  I
know a lot of English.  Now I am starting to think in English, but big
words...  "Unique.  Only one," I said.

   "Yes, you're one of a kind.  If you weren't so young, I would be very
happy..."

   I smiled back, tapped my passport.  "I am eighteen."

   Carlie laughed.  "Okay.  You are eighteen."

   We stopped at the pharmacy.  "In Spanish it is farmacia," I said.  I
bought six condoms.

   "Carlita!  I thought that Thursday you were going to the clinic."

   "Yes.  Pat is going to take me."

   "And you are getting an IUD?"

   "Yes."

   "That is two days.  SIX condoms?"

   I smiled.  "It is my Dave."

   Dave met me at the car when we got home.  I let him close the door
behind us before I attacked him.

   We talked about my day.  I told him that I saw Pat and Brindy kissing.
He told me that he and Pat have talked, and that she says she is taking me
to the clinic, but that is in two days.

   This is today and it is time for me to be a woman.

   "Carlie knows," I tell him.

   He tries one more time, telling me that we do not have to do this, that
I can remain a virgin.  What Carlie has told me makes sense now.  This is
my Dave.  He is NOT one of those men who have many women.  I kissed him.

   I understand many things about Dave now.  One of them is that when he is
close, I make him hard.

   He keeps trying to be honorable in his mind.  I know it, but I know that
we are married and we are honorable, so I can play with him.  "It is good
to see that I am still ...  You still want me."

   "Why would I not?"

   "You may think during your day  -" 'I cannot have a stupid wife from
Guatemala who looks almost like a Carlos instead of a Carlita."

   "First..." little kiss, " ...  you are not stupid.  Second..." little
kiss, "I have seen you with no clothes on and no Carlos looks like that..."

   "Good," I tell my Dave.  "We need to go to the bedroom.  There is
something we must do to make me a woman."

   "We can't," he says.  "You could get pregnant."

   I show him the condoms.

   My name is Carlita Maria Luna Johnson.  I am a woman, the wife of David
Paul Johnson, an American engineer.  My life is very good now and I want to
see what happens next.



   ------

   Chapter 14

   Still Carlita's turn:

   I waited at home on Friday.  Dave says he is going to get away from his
work at lunch and we are taking a short drive back into Texas.  I have my
passport and my birth certificate and he has his driver's license and birth
certificate in case it is needed.

   At the middle of the morning, I call Brother Bob.

   "My Carlita," he says.  He sounds happy to hear from me.  "How are you
doing?"

   "Brother Bob, my life is very good.  I have papers.  I am in America. 
The papers say I am eighteen, so I can do many things on my own in
America."

   "I am glad.  Your friend Dave saw to it.  It was a lot of money."

   "I know.  I did not have that much money.  I could not do that.  That is
why I crossed the border with the others."

   "You are fortunate, Carlita.  Many who cross, they end up in government
shelters and programs."

   "Many who started did not get here, Brother Dave.  I traveled as a young
boy.  Young girls ...  it was bad.  When I got to Texas, I got away from
the others.  I think it was suspected that I might be a girl.  I had to
leave."

   "And you met Dave."

   "I hid in his truck.  When I let him find me, he did not question.  He
started taking care of me.  Each step of the way, he asked me what I wished
to do.  He was very proper.  Now I am fed and clothed and have a beautiful
house, and Brother Bob?"

   "Yes, Carlita?"

   "I want to marry David Johnson."

   I heard him breathe hard.  "Carlita, you do not have to get married, do
you?  You are not ...  He did not..."

   "No, Brother Bob.  I am not pregnant.  Dave is very proper.  We are
going to get a Texas license to be married.  I would like for you to do our
marriage."

   "Carlita, you are fourteen..."

   "Brother Bob," I said.  "My papers say I am eighteen.  You taught me
well.  I know right and wrong.  I know about things that are holy and
sacred and I know that marriage is one of those.  I have talked with Dave
about these things.  We wish for you to marry us."

   "Carlita, you do not need to be some man's toy.  If you come here, I
will see that you have a place to stay and perhaps a job."

   "Brother Bob, I love you.  You have been like my father for many years.
You have made Carlita who she is.  But I love Dave.  Love him.  I have a
home and I have his family and I will go to school here and then if I am
smart enough I will go to college and in all of it I will be a good person
as you taught me."

   "You are serious."

   "I am serious.  I have counted the costs, as you taught me."

   "Carlita, you never were the same as the others.  I know what your age
was.  You did not act that age.  You acted timeless." He sighed.  "Have
your Dave call me, but if YOU wish, I will marry the two of you."

   "Thank you, Brother Bob," I said.  "I will continue to pray for you
every night."

   "I need your prayers, Carlita.  And I will pray for you and your Dave."

   "Thank you, Brother Bob," I said.  "We will call you this evening."

   "I look forward to it, Carlita.  Adios!"

   I leaned back in Dave's chair and breathed the good smells from it. 
Closed my eyes.  Carlita is to be married.  IS married.

   I dress well, better than ever in my life.  My jeans are new.  I have a
nice shirt on.  New shoes.  When Dave comes into the house to take me away,
I ask him if I am okay in my dress.

   "You're charming, Lita.  Absolutely charming."

   The trip is not a whole hour.  We go into the big government building
and ask for the marriage license.  The older lady who does these things
looks at me strangely, but I am not to be frightened.  I am with Dave and
even though I am a citizen of Guatemala, it is allowed for me to be married
in America.

   Dave pays the money and accepts the license.

   "Congratulations, Mister Johnson.  Senorita Luna," she says.

   "Thank you, Mrs.  Holden," I say.

   Dave thanks her also, and we leave.

   "Dave, why do you think she looked at me like that?"

   "It could be because you are young looking.  It also could be because
she knows that if you marry an American, you get to stay in America when
your visa expires.  There are some marriages in name only, just for that
purpose."

   "I am not doing that, Dave," I said.  "I was a young girl.  I have given
myself to you and am now a woman and I will be your wife.  And Brother Bob
says that he will marry us next Saturday." I giggled.  "Let's go home and
be together."

   "Yes," Dave laughed.  "We'll go home and do what everybody thinks we've
been doing all along."

   I smiled.  "I like it, too, Dave.  I was afraid that I would not be good
for you."

   "You are very good for me, for so many reasons, Carlita.  That is why I
am marrying you.  You are easy to love."

   I reached over and took his hand.  It is what I wished to do as he
drives.  I really wish to do more, but I cannot fit in his lap while he
drives.  Part of my mind is jumping like a little girl, singing 'I'm
getting married', and another part is calm, saying 'Carlita, you are a wife
now.'

   "You look happy, Carlita," Dave said.

   "I am happy.  I am getting what I dream, Dave.  Pat says that next week
I will be tested so I can see where I am in American education and I can
take summer classes so I may catch up with others.  Since I am eighteen, I
can get ...  equivalency?"

   "GED?" Dave asked.

   "Yes.  If I get it then I can take tests for college, you said."

   "I think that's the way it works."

   "Many things to understand.  My poor Tia Estella would be happy to know
I am trying to be educated."

   "Lita, you already are educated.  Like when you came to America, you do
not have papers.  There is the fact  -" you are educated.  There is the
paper..."

   I laughed.  "I understand.  There is the fact  -" I love my Dave and we
are married.  We need the paper."

   He glanced away from the road and smiled at me.  "There are a million
reasons I love you, Carlita."

   "Only ONE million?" I giggled.

   "One million and one," he laughed.

   "Tonight.  Sandwiches.  We do not leave the house," I said.  "Tomorrow,
we do our boat."

   "Our boat?"

   "Yes," I smiled.  "Doesn't it become our boat when we are married?"

   "It became our boat, Carlita."

   I relaxed in my seat.  I turned sideways a little so I could see Dave.
Adoration is better when you can see what you adore.

   He freed up his right hand and reached over towards me.  I took his
hand, squeezed it, and put it to my lips.

   Dave's turn:

   With each step I take, I move closer to believing my amazing good
fortune.  I'm driving back home from just across the border in Texas.  I
presented myself and my officially eighteen year old Carlita and a bit of
money and now we are in possession of a marriage license.

   Next week we're driving to a small town outside Austin and we will stand
before Brother Bob and become married in the eyes of the State of Texas.

   Me.  David Johnson.  The perennial failure at intersex relationships. 
The nice guy who had girl friends so many times, but so few girlfriends.

   And my hand is being held and kissed by an impossibility.  In the
Hitchhiker's Guide books, they have the 'infinite improbability drive' that
transports across the galaxy based on improbability interfacing with
location.  Apparently one of those locations is in the mesquite scrublands
of South Texas because the likelihood of parking one's pickup truck for a
while to look at things, then getting back in and driving off only to find
that one has acquired Carlita is the probability of two to the power of
276,709 to one against.

   Yet there she sits.  My Carlita.  I've never been happier.

   She releases my hand, runs her hands over her short hair.  I know the
length bothers her.  Still, Pat managed to get her into a hair salon and
those people worked out a cut that wasn't too out of place on that young
face.  I've seen girls with shorter, less flattering cuts.

   Since she's touching it, I do, too.

   "It will grow," she says.

   "I know it will, but you are still beautiful."

   "I had pretty hair, Dave."

   "I believe you," I said.  "But I have never known Carlita with long
hair. Carlita with short hair is still pretty."

   She is.  I get lost in her eyes.  She has a tiny bit of an overbite. 
When her face is soft and pensive, I melt.

   I gently touch her cheek.

   Carlita's turn:

   Dave touches me.  I know what it is to be adored.  I want to make him
feel that as well.

   "How does this radio work, Dave?" I ask.

   "You see the button with the on-off symbol."

   "Yes," I say.  "You told me that it was becoming universal.  I see it."

   "Push it.  That turns it on.  The volume knob is for how loud."

   I push the button.  It is no music.  Noise.  Static, I think is the
word.

   "Now press those arrow keys.  They will find the radio stations."

   I push the button.  There is music, but not good music.  I push again.
NOT music.  And again.  And then I think of something.  "These buttons. 
One through nine and zero?"

   "Memories.  Favorite stations."

   He is my Dave.  I need to know if he has favorite music.  I push the
button that says 'one'.  Not music.  Talk.  'Two'.  There is music, but
static, too.

   "We're out of range of that one.  The first one, it's not the time for
what I listen to."

   I have learned that pushing buttons cannot break these things, ever
since I thought I broke the TV that first night in the hotel room, so I
push more buttons as he drives.  There is one that says 'CD'.  I know what
a CD is.  I push the button.

   Music.  Not modern music.  Beautiful music.  Complex.  I have only heard
a little of this kind of music.

   "This is your CD?"

   "Of course.  This is my car."

   "You bought this CD?"

   "Yes.  Do you not like this music?"

   "I have only heard a little.  Can we listen?  Who is this?"

   "The composer is Vivaldi.  The orchestra is the Academy of St Martin in
the Fields.  It is called Primavera  -" Spring."

   I leaned my head back and closed my eyes.  The music did for my soul as
Dave does for my soul.  I am being fed.  Lifted.

   "Are you okay?" Dave asked.  He looked over at me.  "Carlita, you have
tears in your eyes."

   "Dave," I said, "What you have done for my body for the first time, this
has done for my ears.  I never ...  Beautiful ...  How?  I feel like I am
three years old and I do not have the words to announce my feelings." I
actually shook  -" quivered.  "I have discovered ...  Where has this magic
been all my life?"

   "You LIKE this?"

   I could but nod my head.  Finally  -" "More.  Do you have MORE of this?"

   "Shelves full.  Computer has files  -" iTunes ...  This is the music I
travel with, Carlita.  Until Carlita came along and gave me a new song..."

   "Dave, I could NEVER be this song..."

   "Oh, but you ARE, Carlita.  This song and a thousand others."

   "Why have you not given me this music?" I looked at him sternly.

   "I guess I was sort of scared.  I mean, some young people like music
very much, but it is not the music I listen to."

   "This is the music you listen to, is it?"

   "Yes."

   "Dave, my love, you have made Carlita a woman and now you have given
Carlita ears."

   "You're not just saying that because you found that CD?"

   "Dave," I said.  "Look at me.  These tears?  Are they real?"

   He nodded.

   "I am affected."

   "I am surprised," Dave said.

   "I am also surprised.  The music overcame me.  It is too much.  I have
never heard sounds like that."

   He laughed.  "If Vivaldi brings tears, then Mozart is liable to render
you uncontrollable."

   "Another thing I will find out." I smiled.  "I will turn the music off.
We are almost home and there are other things that I wish to have more of,
as well."

   It is true.  Dave's body is something to be learned as well.  I also
think that as I have found out, there is much to be learned by what Dave
does with my body.  I giggle to myself.  Thinking of these things makes me
tingle and get very wet there.  Arousal, it is called.  I can read about
this on the Internet.  I do not feel comfortable talking with anybody about
it and I do not want Dave to think I am stupid.

   And we are home.  Inside our house.  I put our marriage license in a
safe place so that it will be there next week when it will be needed and I
turn to Dave.  "We have all afternoon, Dave.  What would you like to do?" I
smile for him.  "That does not need clothing..." I am a woman.  He is MY
man.  What I want is not bad.  Not bad at all.  I think Dave is surprised,
though.  And he is smiling as he locks the door.

   I am learning this part of life.  I know that when we first get to one
another, things happen fast and very much hot, and then we slow down; and
that is the part when I feel purely loved as we stay in each other's arms.

   Dave kisses me softly.  I can see his blue eyes.  Now we are not in a
hurry.  We WERE in a hurry.  I think Dave was thinking of Carlita's body on
the way home.  I know that Carlita was thinking of her Dave.  I told you
that I was wet just from remembering and anticipating and I was not
disappointed.  This is all new to me.

   Now, though, we are gentle and soft, except I am holding his...

   "Verga.  Puppy.  What are the other words, Dave?"

   "Pecker.  Dick.  Apparently 'cock' is mandatory if you're doing
pornography."

   "I am not doing pornography.  I am loving my husband.  And 'pecker'
sounds like something a chicken does." I slid my hand on it, gripping the
skin, sliding it up over that purple head.  "Hello, Mister Dick." I bent
over and kissed it.  Yes, it is soft like a puppy's nose.

   He is still sticky, which means that he will taste of us making love.  I
can get half of it in my mouth if I try, and every bit of it is good.  Dave
likes this.  I can tell from the sounds he makes.

   "Lita, you're wonderful."

   "I have something wonderful right here, Dave," I say.

   "I want something wonderful" he says.

   "You have me," I say.  "Am I not wonderful?"

   "You are more than wonderful.  Get on top of me and put your legs
alongside my head."

   I am thinking that this is a good idea.  I do as he wishes.  There is a
problem.  When HE kisses and licks me I lose all control.  That's okay with
me, though.  We can play.

   Yes, it is play.  Two people who love each other, doing things that make
each other feel good.

   And Dave does me so good.  I run out of words.  There are no words, not
Spanish, not English ...  I wake up in his arms.  In the arms of my Dave.
He is caressing my face.  I am truly his Carlita.

   I smile and kiss him and turn around and sit in his lap with my legs
around him.  It is a good position from which to be adored.  It is also a
good position if Dave gets hard, I think.  I know that if we kiss, and I am
naked, he will soon be hard.

   There is still a tiny bit of soreness.  I started this week as a virgin.

   He is hard.  "Dave, I love you.  Do you know it?"

   "I know it, my Carlita," he says.

   And if I wiggle a bit, Dave is inside me, as it should be.  After I get
my breath back, I put my arms around his neck and smile at him.

   "You look happy," he smiles back.

   "Why should I not be happy?  I have my Dave as close as I can get him,"
I say.  Then I kiss him so that we join even closer.  Sometimes I think
this is fun and sometimes it is very serious.  This time it starts out fun,
but after that kiss it is very serious.

   "Love me, love me, love me," I say.

   "Forever-ever-ever," he replies, and I know it's that way for him.  I
just know it.

   I wiggle.  He shakes from how I make him feel.  I start moving, feeling
him inside me, moving in and out and that little bit of me that is my
center when we are doing this, it is getting touched and tugged with every
move and I know that I am going to have an orgasm and I keep doing this
thing because his breathing changes.

   It is happening for my Dave as well.  Let me see if we can be kissing
when it happens.  Our lips are together and I feel him push into me and
swell and throb and yes, there's his and mine is ...  push.  Push.  Rub. 
Push hard.

   Our mouths are together when I squeal.

   A few more wiggles.  He is shaking and my kitty rings like a bell from
the feelings.

   "David Johnson," I say, "If I ever lose you, I will die..."

   "I will never leave you, Carlita.  It is only a miracle that I met you,
so I will cherish you forever."

   "I like 'cherish'." I kiss him again and we stay this way.

   Finally he says, "Lita, we have made a wet spot in our bed."

   "Move," I tell him.  I do not really want him to move, but we must. 
When I stand, I understand.  I did not think.  Everything that comes out of
him mixes with everything that comes out of me and that's a lot of wetness.
There is a spot on the bed, as he has said.

   As I walk to the bathroom to get a towel, I feel the juices running down
my leg.  I get a towel and throw it to him for the bed and I get another
and clean up myself.

   We have done the bed.  We have done Carlita.  I giggle.  That leaves
Dave.  "Come here," I tell him.

   "What?" as he walks over.

   I kneel.  "You are a mess.  I will fix it." I smile.

   And now Dave is not a mess and Carlita has a smile.

   And the phone rings.

   "Pat," Dave says.  Then "Hi, Pat." Pause.  "Yep!  We got it.  It's gonna
happen." Pause.  "I dunno.  Lemme check." He looked at me.  "Lita, wanna go
eat with Pat 'n' Brindy?"

   "Yes," I said.  "That will be good."

   "We'll meet y'all there.  What, forty-five minutes?" he said, then,
"Okay, Sis!  Luvya!  Bye!"

   "We are going out to eat?"

   "Yes.  Seafood place."

   The one we ate at last week?" I remembered that one.  It was good.

   "Yes.  You told me you liked it."

   "I did."

   "We have time for a quick shower," he said.

   "You do not want your sister to smell that we have made love?" I
giggled.

   "I'm sure she believes we are making love, Lita."

   "I believe that she and Brindy are making love, too, are they not?"

   "Not our business," Dave said.

   "It is okay, Dave.  Moral high ground," I said, tugging his hand. 
"Shower."

   Showers with two people are not just about being clean, and since I have
been with Dave, I have never been so clean.  And as we are drying each
other off, I know I have never been so happy.

   We go to the restaurant in our car and Pat and Brindy are there waiting
for us.  Brindy looks happier today than she did the first time I saw her.

   Brindy talked about her recent high school graduation and asked me about
my wedding plans.

   "We will go visit Brother Bob.  He will perform a simple ceremony," I
said.  "Dave and I will be married according to Texas law." I smiled,
thinking about it.  I know that in the eyes of God and in accordance with
the old ways, Dave and I are already married, but having it recorded so
that we can tell everyone, that is good.  "Dave will just be that older man
who has the young wife," I said.  "And he's not that old, is he?"

   "He's not," Brindy said.  "And you and Dave make a good-looking couple."
She smiled.  "Right, Pat?"

   Pat smiled.  "And remember.  Next Tuesday morning, you and me, we're
going to the school board office and get your assessment done, okay?"

   My head bounced, nodding.  "Yes!  And I can get into school." I saw my
Dave's face.  He's happy.

   The next morning was Saturday morning and we were out of the door at
seven o'clock.  We ate breakfast on the road and by eight-thirty we were on
the boat, getting ready to depart.

   "Okay, crew," Dave said.  "Do you remember how we do this?"

   "I do," I said.  "Engine."

   "Go ahead.  I'm watching."

   He showed me how to check the oil.  I did that.  Then I started the
engine, remembering that he said to let it warm up.

   I told him which mooring lines to drop and had us singled up to the
dock. "Have I forgotten anything?"

   He shook his head.  "Are you going to take 'er out?"

   "I am.  Drop the breastline and stand by me," and I eased the boat out
of the slip.

   Dave was smiling.  "You learn fast, Lita."

   I giggled.  "I am your helmsLita."

   "You are more than that," he said.

   He let me take the boat out into the ship channel past all the
industries.  I know what it looks like.  Once we got past where all the
people are, I stood up.

   "What are you doing?" he asked.

   I just smiled and pulled my T-shirt over my head and off.

   I watched his eyes.  I have nothing on under that T-shirt.

   "Lita!"

   And if that wasn't enough, I hooked my thumbs into my jeans and pushed
them down, catching my panties as well.  Nude.

   "Lita--" He was trying to sound serious but his eyes were staring at me
and I felt the sun on my bare skin.

   "Somebody will see," he argued.

   "I am not going to stand up.  They cannot see into the cockpit."

   "You're so darned beautiful," he said.  "Naked in the sun..."



   ------

   Chapter 15

   Dave's turn:

   I am looking at a naked girl on my boat.

   Scratch that.  I am looking at Carlita, for all intents and purposes my
wife, and she is indeed naked on OUR boat.  She's lounging in the cockpit,
smiling.

   "You're beautiful."

   "You think so, my Dave," she says.  "That is enough." She smiled.  "Put
the autopilot on.  The channel is straight here."

   The boat's little autopilot does a good job of keeping the middle of the
deep water channel.  I engage it and lock in the course.

   "You need to change into your bathing trunks, do you not?" she said,
grinning.

   "You can't watch the helm like that, Lita.  I need to go below."

   "Why?" giggle.  "I did not."

   Okay, I sweep the area.  No boats.  I stand and shed my clothing,
becoming as naked as she is.  And erect.  She moves over next to me,
fondling my hardness.

   "Carlita, you're going to get us in trouble."

   "I am in trouble.  I have been in trouble ever since you did not put me
out of your truck in Texas," she laughed.  "This is something we must do."

   She bent over and gave me a deliberately wet suck, then twisted around
and straddled me.  Entry was easy.  Mind-blowing, sure enough, but easy. 
And so tight and hot and wet.

   Giggle.  "You.  Me.  Under the sky."

   Indeed we were.  And even with the added stress of the possibility of
discovery, I am enraptured with this honey-skinned beauty.  In the bright
sunlight, her joy is completely obvious.

   I've always wanted a giggling, happy lover.  The one presently
straddling me is effusive in her glee.

   "It is so wonderful, Dave.  Us.  We are wonderful together." Then things
got serious as her motions synched up with mine and the feelings started to
overcome us.

   I'm glad the autopilot was watching, because there's a period where I
know I wasn't.  Logical conclusion, it was.  There we were, motoring down
the ship channel, still coupled, juices flowing out of her and onto my
sack.

   "You're the most beautiful," I said.

   "I love you telling me that, Dave.  I know you believe it." She kissed
me, one of those almost childlike kisses on the lips, then a shower of them
around my face.  "Now we can put on our bathing suits."

   We did that, then I cautioned her about the sunlight.  Sunburns are a
real problem on the water in early summer, so we covered our bodies with
loose cotton overclothing.

   She pouted.  "Now I cannot see my Dave."

   "Nor can I see my Lita," I said, "But we will not burn."

   "Now," she said, "How far to where we will anchor and swim?"

   "Two hours," I said.  "Anything closer is going to have a lot of people
on Saturdays."

   "And you do not want a lot of people?"

   "No," I said.  I raised an eyebrow when I said it, looking at her.

   She caught the eyebrow move and she giggled.  "Oooohhhhh!  Maybe we do
not need the bathing suits."

   "Unless there are other boats anchored there."

   "I hope there are not other boats."

   There weren't.  The little side channel off the deepwater ship channel
was once needed to service some oil platforms which today are long gone. 
The channel's there, silting up, but still deep enough for my deepwater
keel to find a home in.  I tossed out the anchor and shut down the engine.

   "The depth indicator says twelve feet.  Like four meters," Lita said.

   "Swim on top of it." A couple of weekends and she'd gotten comfortable
with her swimming abilities.  We were going to hang around the boat anyway.

   After we set the anchor, she looked at me expectantly.  "Swim suit?  Or
no?" And that smile, shy at first, but those eyes told me a different
story.

   "Let's take them with us and put them on the ladder in case somebody
comes up.  As much as I enjoy watching you naked, I don't want us to get in
trouble."

   "I can do better," she said.  She grabbed a mesh ditty bag and stuffed
our swimsuits into it, then tied it to the end of a line and tossed it over
the side.  "There!  Swimsuits!" and she stood and started stripping.  I did
the same.  When I stood up, she stood there in the sunlight, completely
nude, smiling confidently.  She grinned, stepped over the lifelines and
flopped backward into the water.

   I dove in to join her.  Yes, the water in the summer is warm, and it was
brackish as well, our point on the ship channel being subject to the tidal
sweep, but nude, if felt good coursing over my body as I swam.  She swam up
to me, smiling.  We treaded water.

   "Hold onto the ladder, Dave," she said.

   I paddled over to the ladder and held on with one arm.  She swam up to
me and insinuated herself against me, laughing.

   "Dave, this is too wonderful." She gave me a kiss tinged with salty
water.  I held her against me with my free arm.  "You have one arm to hold
me.  I can hold you with one arm." She did.  That free hand ...  Giggle. 
"Fun.  I love you and this is fun." Giggle.  "Now it is hard..."

   Her eyes twinkled.  I know her mind's working.  Something else, too, as
she experiments with our two bodies buoyed up by the water.

   "Uh, Carlita..." I started, then, "My god..."

   "Yes, God is involved.  And Dave and Carlita." She wiggled me deeper
inside her.

   "Have you ever..."

   "Never," I said.  "I needed Carlita..."

   "Kiss me."

   I can do that.  I can also meet her insistent pushing with my own.

   "Ennnghhh!  Dave!" Her nostrils flared.  "Oh ...  good ...  si ... 
si..."

   "Yes, my Carlita," I snorted, pushing hard.

   "Hard, Dave ...  si ...  Yesssss!"

   Her eyes were squeezed shut and she was shaking and I felt my first
surge.

   "Mmmm, Dave!" and she pushed against me, feeling it herself.  We matched
thrust for thrust, climaxing together.

   "It is too much," she sighed.  "Dave, am I a bad girl for thinking of
this when you are not here?"

   "No," I said.  "You are my Carlita, my young wife ...  I think of you
like this, too."

   Another salty kiss.  "And I am not bad if I want to be naked in front of
you, in the sun?"

   "No."

   Giggle.  "And this is not what bad girls do?"

   "They might do this, but when you do this with me, it is not bad.  It is
the best of good things."

   I heard a motorboat in the distance.  We stayed neck-deep in the water.
It came closer.  I'm not the only one who uses this channel.  The little
boatload of fishermen crossed the lake toward us, slowing down as they
transited the channel, passing between us and the bank.  The two occupants
waved.  We waved back.  I think that Carlita might've gotten a little
higher out of the water than intended, because one of the guys changed his
wave to a thumbs-up sign.

   "Did you flash those guys?"

   Giggle.  "I may have gotten too high out of the water when I waved."

   "You are a BAD girl sometimes, Carlita..."

   She wrapped me up in a searing kiss.  "Will you love me if I am a little
bit of a bad girl?"

   "You're the perfect amount of bad girl," I chuckled.  "That titty,
though ...  too pretty."

   "They are your titties, Dave," she said.  "This is mine." She giggled as
her fingers grabbed my dick.

   "Fair trade," I said.

   "Yes.  Fair trade."

   Carlita was taking to swimming quite well.  She was comfortable playing
in the water, trying various strokes I'd shown her, and she dove and
surfaced like a sleek little dolphin.  That I got to watch her enjoying
herself as her naked body cut the waters, I knew I was rich beyond
imagination.

   She rolled over, playing with a backstroke, giving me full view of her
glistening body.  She saw me watching, made a few more strokes, then swam
up to the ladder.

   Smiled.  "You are watching me."

   "Yes, I am.  You're beautiful."

   Giggle.  "Maybe I am.  It is just me.  No clothes.  Wet hair.  And you
still find me beautiful.  Climb up the ladder a little bit."

   I didn't question.  I did as told.

   "Now turn..."

   I did.  Got myself sucked into the mouth of a tawny mermaid.  She
squealed when I let go of the ladder, dumping the two of us back into the
water.  She tugged me to the ladder again and I held on as she wrapped
herself against me.

   "How perfect you are," I said.

   "Only you, Dave.  I do not need to be perfect for any other man.  Only
you."

   Eventually we stopped swimming ate lunch, and weighed anchor for the
trip home.  South wind?  Sail.  Actually it was a quartering wind, and we
made good time, heeled over just a bit, lounging together, until we neared
the congestion of the city.  Carlita took control of the boat while I
secured the sail.

   We docked and loaded up to go home.  She punched the sound system on. 
"My music," she said.

   It took a long shower for the two of us to get the salt off our bodies.
Afterward, we're lying together on the sofa, still nude.  The curtains are
drawn, naturally, and the front door is locked.

   "Perfect day," I said.  "You surprise me."

   "How do I surprise you?"

   "Taking off your clothes on the boat."

   Giggle.  "I thought that you like looking at me without my clothes, and
I thought it must feel good to be in the sun without clothes." She twisted
to give me a sassy little kiss.  "I can tell you liked it."

   "I like seeing you.  You're beautiful in so many ways."

   She bumped her forehead against mine.  "I am in your head, am I not?"

   "You are."

   Giggle.  "We made love in the water.  It was good.  Interesting. 
Different."

   "You make me adventurous."

   "That is the word.  Adventurous.  You.  Me.  Adventure."

   "Yes it is, sweet one," I said.

   Carlita's turn:

   We took our boat out on Saturday and found a place to anchor and swim.
Poor Dave.  He worries.  As soon as we got away from all the people I took
my clothes off for him.  No, he did not ask.  He was actually worried, but
while he was worried, I could see that he was also excited and that is what
I wanted.

   We found his place to anchor and swim.  Nobody else was around, so we
took off clothes and went into the water naked.

   I am liking swimming now.  It is something that Dave has taught me.  It
is fun, but it is even more fun without clothes and it is also fun when
Dave has no clothes and we make love in the water.

   I am not mercenary.  I am not one of those women who go to a man because
he has money and a house and will buy things for them and give them money.
I would be with Dave without his money.  He knows things, cares for people,
even illegal immigrant girls who sneak into his truck.

   When we are home at the end of the day, we work together.  He does not
sit around and smoke and drink cervesa  -" beer  -" and talk with the other
men while his wife works more.  He is there in our house, making it OUR
house.

   Sometimes he does not know I am watching him, like one day when he is
working in the yard.  If he is not wearing a shirt, and he is wet with
sweat ...  I like to look.  He bends over to do something and I can see his
pants tighten there where I have so much fun.  He is surprised when he
walks into the house and I do not let him get in the shower before we make
love.

   "What brought that on, Lita?" he asks me.

   I smile.  "I watch my Dave.  Dave is not the only one who gets to
watch."

   "You're crazy and I love you."

   I smile.  "It is good to love crazy people, Dave," I tell him.

   I have found my sexuality.  It is that man over there wearing shorts
right now.

   Dave and had a serious talk about how he worries about me being
fourteen.

   "My Dave, you tell others that I am not like an American fourteen year
old girl.  All the things that I have done to get here, things I have seen.
Dave, I am not a silly young girl worrying about what clothes I wear or how
others think about what I look like."

   It is not fair that I use his own argument against him, but I know what
-" no  -" who I want.

   "Marriage is forever," he says.

   "I am aware of that.  I believe it also." I put one hand on each side of
his face so I could look into his eyes.  "Dave, I want to marry you and it
will be forever.  Do you see something different?"

   He shook his head as much as he could while I am holding it.  "Carlita,
I have fallen in love with you but I am scared of being hurt."

   "I will not ever hurt you, Dave.  We may argue and we may be mad at each
other, but I will always love you.  If that is what you think of when you
think of me being your wife, that is what I intend." I kissed him.  "I love
you.  I am not in your bed for any other reason.  That is the only reason
for me."

   That was two nights ago.  Dave is getting better.  I understand what is
going on inside Dave's head, though.  I know that he loves me.  He knows
that he loves me.  He is having a battle inside his head because I was
fourteen when he met me and for us to be together as man and wife, now that
I have papers that say I am eighteen, that is difficult for him to accept
sometimes.

   I also think that sometimes Dave thinks I am like so many fourteen year
old girls, that do not know what they really want so they wander around
like bees visiting flowers, never spending very long in one place.

   Carlie tells me that Dave has not had good fortune with women.  I can
see that -"it is evident, because he is a good man and is successful, but
he is not married.  There are only two ways to explain that  -" either he
is like a bee among flowers, which he is not, or he has not found the woman
who would be right for him.

   That is me.  I look at Dave and I know that he will be good to me
forever, like he already has been.  It is up to me to do the same for him,
to learn about him and make us partners in everything.

   Now we're home.  We have put away the things we used today and I put my
hands on his chest and push him backward through the house to the sofa.  He
falls backward onto it and I am on top of him, kissing him.

   He is kissing me back.  "Tell me again that I am not taking advantage of
you, Carlita," he says.

   I smile.  "My Dave, I do not know who is taking advantage here.  I am on
top of you.  It seems that I may be taking advantage."

   "You make me feel happy, Lita," he said.

   "Me also," I replied.  "We can take advantage of each other for the rest
of our lives." I hold him on the sofa and kiss him.  "Dave, you need to
stop thinking too much about this.  You get the wrong thoughts.  I am your
wife.  You are my husband.  That is the way it is to be."

   I get his arms around me.  "My Carlita ...  All my life..."

   "I know, Dave.  And you have saved my life and you have become my life,
too."

   "I need to stop worrying and just be happy that I have you in my life,"
he said.

   "Yes, you do.  I am not going anywhere.  You go to work.  I will be here
for you when you get home.  If I can go to school, when I get home, you
will be here.  Do you know why, Dave?"

   "Why?"

   "Because I love you and this is our home.  It was your home, but you
brought me here and now you are my husband and this is our home." I planted
a kiss on his lips, just a short one.  "Now, those sandwiches you showed
me? Grilled cheese?  Because it is late and we have been on the boat and we
will eat a small meal and go shower, okay?"

   He nodded.  I am getting used to knowing what needs to be done.

   I worry, though.  I do not want to be the one who controls all the time.
I need Dave to take charge, too.

   We each have a sandwich and some soup.  The soup is from a can.  I can
make better soup, but this is right now and good soup takes time, as do
many things worth having.

   It is time for showers.  I look at Dave.  "Together?"

   He smiles.  He does not have to say words for me to know his answer.  We
are naked together and the clean warm water is flowing over our bodies. 
Two naked bodies wet together is good, like when we are swimming.  This
water is not salty.  It is clean and warm and we have soap and cloths and
we wash each other and I giggle because Dave pays too much attention to
some parts of me over other parts.

   Of course, you know that I do the same to him.  I have learned that when
he is hot the sack that holds his balls gets loose and I can hold them in
my hand and roll them around.  He likes this.  I do, too.

   I know he likes it because he is hard.  I make sure he is very clean
there.

   Out of the shower, I watch Dave shave as I am drying the little bit of
hair that I have.  It is still too short, but it will grow and if it is too
short for Dave, he says nothing about it.  When he holds me he rubs his
cheek against my head and he breathes like he is breathing me into his
body.

   We do get dressed for the evening.  I have my nightshirt.  Dave has
pajamas.  That is an Indian word.  I know this, and the first time he uses
it, I laugh.

   "What's funny?"

   "'Pajamas' is an Indian word.  Different Indian.  From Asia, not from
Guatemala."

   He tells me I am smart.

   "Two ways," he says.  "Intelligent.  And funny.  You joke with me."

   "Of course I do," I laugh.  "I like for you to smile."

   "I'm the one who is supposed to say that," he says.

   In the living room, I am still learning about the music.  I get Dave to
play for me some of his favorites.  He talks to me about Mozart and Bach
and Beethoven and Handel and Vivaldi and so many others.  THIS is a true
New World.  More new than being in America and becoming an American girl,
finding this music captures  -" captivates  -" me.

   "You listen to this music while you WORK?  " I ask him.  "I cannot. 
This part  -" I would have to STOP working just to hear it."

   "I know," he replied.  "Sometimes I stop, too." He paused.  "Something
that might make it better..."

   "What is that?"

   "If you come to this end of the sofa and let me wrap you in my arms."

   I giggled.  "Makes it better for you, I think." But I was already
moving. Yes, it IS better.  Dave's arms around me, I feel his body behind
me, he smells fresh from the shower and he is nuzzling my short hair with
his nose, breathing me in.

   It was Mozart on the stereo.  Something that Mozart does very well.  I
am learning.  Allegro.  Spritely.  Happy.  Made me wiggle back deeper into
Dave's arms.

   "Perfect," I said.  "This is the most perfect moment I can ever
remember, except when we are naked and..."

   "That's perfect in a different way.  This is a perfect moment for
Carlita and the man who adores her." His arms tightened around me, holding
me ever so close.

   "Dave?"

   "Yes, my Lita?"

   "Dave, when this is over, bedroom, okay?"

   "Very much okay."

   I could tell he's thinking of it, because he is hard, this hard thing
pressing against my butt.  I reach behind me, push my hand between us,
touch the hardness, so he knows that I know.  "You can say something..."

   "I didn't want to force you ...  You are much much more than sex to me."

   "Oh, Dave," I said.  "You are NEVER about sex to me.  You are about LOVE
to me.  This..." I squeezed him, "is love between us.  Always love.  All
the ways we do things with each other, is love.  And maybe sometimes I
would like to be picked up and tossed into the bed by MY Dave."

   The music clicked off in the middle of the rondo of Mozart's Horn
Concerto #1.  I found myself lifted up in his arms.

   I squealed.  "Not in the middle of THIS music..."

   "There's something in this room that is greater than the music, little
one," he said.

   I fought, naturally, because I'm being carried off and a girl is
supposed to fight.  I didn't fight very hard, though, and by the time I was
dropped onto our bed, I was starting to wet though my panties.

   That's okay.  My panties got removed.  Nightshirt got pulled over my
head and I only looked as Dave stripped out of his pajamas and knelt
between my legs.

   "You asked for it."

   "Oh, noooo," I squealed as I spread my legs wide.  I started to say
something else but I was penetrated and that's a wonderful feeling.

   "YOU!" I hissed, and I put both my hands behind his head and pulled his
face to mine.  No more talking, only kiss.  Long, hot kiss that goes with
what we are doing to each other down there with him inside me and he is
pushing in and out and it's NOT just him because I am becoming an animal,
that part of me wants ALL of him and I am pushing back when he pushes into
me and I am twisting myself so that my pleasure bump is rubbing him and I
KNOW that I am going to orgasm soon.

   I pull my lips from his long enough to hiss "Dave.  Coming.  It is
coming ...  Oh, si ...  yesssss!"

   That is all that Dave needs as well because I feel him inside me, his
juice firing into me...

   He finishes, starts to roll off.

   "No," I demand.  "You stay right here."

   "I am too heavy."

   "You are my beast.  You have carried me away for your pleasures.  You do
not care if you are too heavy..."

   He kisses me.  "I do..."

   "I know you do.  I do not.  Stay here.  Do not dare to move.  You are
still in me."

   He smiles.  "Carlita, where did this come from?"

   "This?  What 'this'?"

   "This desire..."

   "Dave, Dave, Dave ...  This desire is from inside the mind and heart of
the Carlita you rescued..."



   ------

   Chapter 16

   Still Carlita's Turn:

   There is only one thing left to dream  -" that is that Dave would have
much money so he did not have to leave me in the morning to go to work.  I
have seen American TV, so I know that when the husband leaves for work, his
wife is at the door to kiss him.

   I do that.  I did not see on TV where the wife puts her hand on the
front of her husband's pants and touches him because he likes the feeling
as much as she does.

   I am a little sad when I watch his truck go up the street.  I close the
door and turn the lock and then turn to look at my house.  My home.  What
to do today?  I do know that Dave's sister Pat is a school teacher and
school is over for the summer, but she told me that she still has some work
to do.  That means that maybe...

   I dial Pat's house.  Get the answering machine.  Okay, I can try
something else.  I have the number in my phone's history.  I dial it.

   Happy voice.  Brindy.  "Hi, Carlita."

   "Hello, Brindy," I say.  "I am without husband.  I think Pat is
working..."

   "She is," Brindy said.

   "Are you at her house?"

   "Yes." Brindy sounded cautious.  "Why?"

   "We are neighbors and friends.  And alone.  Would you like to have
coffee with me?"

   "Oh!  Gosh, thank you, Carlita.  That is very nice.  Your house or
mine?"

   I noticed that she said 'my house' when she is staying at Pat's house,
so, as Dave says, that is a piece of data.  "I have some very good coffee
that Dave uses.  You do not know how funny he is about his coffee.  Come
over here."

   "I'll be there in a minute," Brindy said.

   I go to my kitchen and get two mugs out and do as Dave showed me,
grinding the roasted coffee beans, then preparing to brew.

   I hear a knock on the door.  I open it.  "Come in, Brindy," I say.  "You
are the first guest I have entertained in our house.  Come sit in the
kitchen.  The coffee will take little amount of time to brew."

   She followed me into the kitchen.

   "You said 'our house', Carlita," she said.  "You sound very sure of it."

   "Oh, I am.  My Dave, he is MY husband.  It will always be that way.  So
it was his house.  Now I am here, it is our house."

   "I'm happy for you, you know," Brindy said.  "Pat started out being
wrong.  Fourteen.  Eighteen.  The heart leads..."

   "I understand that," I said.  "I loved Dave.  It was easy to be in love
with him, but when I was fourteen there was nothing I could do.  If I was
still fourteen, I am afraid that we would break the laws."

   Brindy nodded.  "Been there."

   I took a sip of coffee.  "With Pat?"

   "Yes.  So many laws.  Teacher and student.  Adult and underaged minor.
It didn't start out that way.  I was being abused at home.  I trusted Pat."

   "You were rescued as well," I said.  "I did not offer Dave a choice to
rescue me.  I was hiding in his truck.  Another man might have made me get
out, still out there in the dry places, or might have taken me to the
police and turned me in.  He did not."

   Brindy smiled.  "I bet he crapped himself when you popped up."

   "He managed well," I said, remembering.

   "I needed a friend," Brindy said.  "Somebody I could trust."

   "I needed everything BUT a husband," I said.  "Pat was your teacher?"

   "Yes," Brindy said.  "You should see her.  She's a great teacher. 
Students who are in school to learn love her.  She's just ...  She looks
like somebody you can talk to.  So I talked.  I told her how my step-dad
was beating on Mom and then he started beating on me.  She talked me into
going to the police."

   What could I say?  I just sipped my coffee and let her talk.

   "They arrested him.  Mom and I, we both had marks on us from where he
beat us, and people had seen him hit her while they were at a nightclub. 
There were other things ...  drugs.  I think he was a suspect in a couple
of robberies.  Not a nice man.  After they arrested him, Mom and I had a
rough time.  Pat was good to talk with.  We started being friends outside
school.  She invited me over to spend the evenings with her when Mom was
out.  It got comfortable to be there..."

   "I know about being comfortable and safe around someone," I said. 
"Dave, that first night.  He put me in the finest hotel room, the finest
place I'd ever been, in a huge bed by myself."

   "Hotel?"

   "Yes.  You know, when he works out of town, he stays in hotels.  This
was a Holiday Inn Express."

   "I've been in those.  They are nice."

   "Super nice," I said.  "I was raised in an orphanage, Brindy.  They did
the best they could for us, but money was not much and we did our best to
make it work for everything.  Then, I left even that for the journey."

   "You dressed as a boy, you said."

   "I cut my hair short." I brushed my hair with my hand.  I want it
longer, maybe not REALLY long, but certainly longer.  "I got boy's clothes.
I am not very big here anyway," I said, touching my breasts, "But if I wear
loose boy clothes, I look like a boy.  I said I was eleven, you know,
before a boy starts to become manly, his voice, his other things..."

   "How did you ...  Body functions?  Period..." she thought for a second.
"Menses?"

   "I played a young boy, very shy, so I go away to perform my functions. I
had backpack with supplies.  Twice ...  two periods.  I almost got caught
from them.  We slept in groups, always with clothes on.  I never got close
to anybody.  Still, when we get into America, some of the older boys, I
think they were suspecting that maybe Carlos was really Carlita."

   "Sounds scary," Brindy said.

   "Beyond scary.  I knew of three girls who started the trip who
disappeared.  I do not think they left, I think they were taken and raped
and killed.  There were bad people in that journey, some younger, some
older, but bad ...  That is when I left the others and started into the
bushes, the little trees.  I came to a clear path.  Dave calls it the
'right of way', where a pipeline goes.  It made my walking easier, but I
drank my last water and ate a tortilla with beans, my last meal, and I saw
that little building."

   "Little building?"

   "Yes.  Dave says it was a metering station, where they measure the gas
in the pipeline.  I thought it was a small house, where people could live.
It was small, but I know people in Guatemala who live in smaller ones.  I
slept there one night.  Somebody had been there before.  The gate was open.
I slept beside the building.  The next morning, I heard trucks coming up
the road so I hid in the bushes."

   "That was Dave?"

   "Dave and another man.  They talked about work.  Dave left the door of
his truck open.  Have you seen the back seat of his truck?"

   Brindy shook her head.  "No.  Why?"

   "It is a mess.  He has equipment and his winter clothes back there.  I
just crawled in and hid."

   "How long were you hidden?"

   "Until we got to a good road.  Then I asked for water." It just occurred
to me.  He was listening to music.  Mozart.  And I was so frightened that I
did not notice.  "He gave me water then he pulled off the road.  I thought
he was going to put me on the side of the road." I smiled, remembering the
next part.  "He didn't.  He put me in the front seat.  I did not know how
the seatbelt worked.  When he put it on me, that is when he found that I
was not Carlos."

   "You're smiling."

   "I am.  Since that time, Dave has been treating me like I am a real
person.  He did not have to do so."

   "That is what Pat did," Brindy said.  "She treated me like I was a real
person.  That I had things to say that she wanted to hear.  That my being
around made things better."

   I smiled.  "Yes.  That is it.  Me being around makes things better.  Him
being around makes things better.  And one plus one is MUCH greater than
simply two."

   "You DO get it," Brindy said.  "I harbored the idea that maybe..."

   "That I was here because I am a poor Guatemalan girl and a rich American
man who will take care of me is a good thing to get?  I know, Brindy.  It
is easy to see that, but I do not have that mind nor that heart.  I was not
raised that way.  Dave is a good man.  I have fallen in love."

   "You fell in love..."

   "Yes," I giggled.  "I told him that I loved him.  He said it was too
soon.  I told him that, okay, arranged marriages still happen, and since I
had no family, I had to arrange my own marriage, and I chose him."

   "But he loves you..."

   "Yes, he does," I said.  "I think he has struggles inside.  He thinks
that perhaps he is doing something wrong.  I have to make him believe that
he is doing exactly right."

   "Pat has the same struggles," Brindy told me.

   "How long ...  you and Pat?"

   "Never.  Until I turned eighteen.  I know she has had men.  Sadly, men
have had me..."

   "I'm sorry," I said.  "You do not have to say anything."

   "No details.  Just a stupid girl who thought that maybe sex builds a
relationship.  You?"

   "Dave was the very first.  First kiss of a man.  First touches.  First
...  And only after I got my passport and birth certificate.  Pat explained
to me the laws.  Dave explained to me the laws.  I love Dave.  The last
thing I wanted was for him to be in jail because I love him."

   "But when you got your passport..." she looked at me, expecting me to
say something.

   "Brindy, you must know that Guatemala is not a very good country for
many things.  Records of birth often do not exist, yet, for a bit of money,
they can be made to exist.  Also passports and visas.  Dave could have
turned me over to authorities and he would have been finished with me and
nobody could say anything because he would have been correct."

   "He didn't do that."

   "No.  Dave could NOT do that.  It would not be Dave.  He called Brother
Bob who ran the orphanage.  Brother Bob knew people in Guatemala that make
things possible.  I called Brother Bob myself and told him that if they
were going to make me a person, then make me an eighteen year old person.
Dave paid a lot of money for my documents.  He did not have to do any of
that.  He did because he cares.  He loves me.  He did not wish to admit it
but when I got papers that say I am eighteen, I made him say it."

   She smiled.  "I sort of did that to Pat.  No papers, of course.  But
'I'm eighteen.  Where do we take this?' I think Pat and Dave do not do
relationships very well.  Until us."

   "Yes," I said.  "I do not know about Pat as much, but I think you are
right about Dave.  I know he loves me and we will do well together.  But
you and Pat?  A future.  Forgive me, Brindy.  I do not know of
relationships between two women."

   She snorted.  "Oh, I'm on new ground myself.  I don't know.  Long term
stuff, I don't know.  I think that Pat and I, we have that possibility. 
It's not like it used to be for two women.  And I think it's always been
easier for women than men, but for right now, I really like it.  I love
Pat."

   That's the first time I heard her saying that.  Actually, it is the
first time that I ever heard a woman say she loved another woman like that.

   She took a deep breath.  "Boy!  We've covered some ground this morning!"

   I see that she is trying to change the conversation.  "We have.  You are
like the sister I need to talk with about things."

   She smiled.  "I think that, too.  I never had a sister."

   "I will be your sister, then," I said.

   "Okay, sister.  Do you need to go anywhere today?"

   "I have nothing today.  The house is clean.  The kitchen is clean. 
There is not enough laundry for me to load the machine." I smiled.  "What
do you want to do?"

   "I think  -" mall.  Just walk around.  I have a little money.  May not
buy anything, but we can go anyway."

   "Go to the mall.  That is very American." And I had a credit card.  Dave
gave me one, just said don't get crazy.  Said that married people do not
buy big things without talking together first.  "Your car.  How did you get
a car?"

   'My grandparents gave me the car for my graduation.  It is a used car."

   "It is YOUR car," I said.  "That is very much."

   "I have to work to pay for insurance and for gas..."

   "But you have a car.  I cannot even drive..."

   "Dave is teaching you."

   "He is," I smiled.  "It is very new, though."

   "And when you can drive, his car will be your car as well."

   "Yes, and I will drive, but it is still a big step up for Carlita."

   We went to the mall.  Walked around.  Early summer, it is hot outside
and a lot of people go to the mall even in the morning.  I bought clothes.
'An outfit', Brindy called it, a pair of shorts and a shirt that she says I
can wear and look good.  It does not ...  It is not tight, and it covers my
belly, but the colors match and I think that Dave will like it.

   We have lunch with Pat.  I don't think she is too surprised to see me
with Brindy.

   "Are you ready for the testing," Pat asked me.

   "Yes."

   "Are you studying?" Brindy asked.

   "I did not study this morning.  You and I have been talking.  And what
is to study?  Either I already know this, or I do not.  If I do not really
know it, I want to be told, so I can learn what I need to know."

   Pat smiled.  "You are different, Carlita.  Most of my students simply
want to pass the test, get the credit, then forget the lesson and move on."

   "I know better.  There is school, and there is learning.  I wish to
learn.  Just like English.  I want to speak correctly.  I do not want to
pass a test that says I know English, I want people I talk with to think
that I speak well."

   "You are opinionated."

   I didn't know that word, but I knew 'opinion'.  "Opinionated?" I
repeated.  "From opinion.  It means that I have opinions, right?"

   "Yes.  You have opinions."

   "Are they incorrect?"

   "She's got you, Pat," Brindy tittered.

   "No, they're certainly not incorrect, but they are different than what I
usually hear."

   "I do not mean to offend.  You are a teacher.  I am not trying to make
you angry."

   "You're wrong, Lita," Pat said.  "You are saying things that make a real
teacher happy."

   I smiled.  I know what I think is correct and unless I learn
differently, I cannot change what is right just to make people happy.  Like
Dave.  It is right that I love Dave.  I cannot change it.

   We finished lunch, talking about things, people in the restaurant, our
expectations of summer, and MY marriage.

   "You're serious, aren't you?" Brindy asked.

   "Yes, I am."

   "I'm not trying to talk you out of it, Lita," Pat said.  "But people
live together without getting married.  It happens all the time."

   "Others may do that," I said.  "I do not want to do that.  It says
something to me if we are married.  Dave needs to know ...  I want the
world to know..."

   "But you don't have to actually get married.  I'm just saying."

   "Pat," I said, "I understand you.  Please understand me.  I was raised
in a Christian orphanage.  My parents were married.  I learned that God
ordained marriage.  I would not be a person who honors her own history if I
did not."

   "What's Dave say?"

   "That we should be married." I smiled.  I know that he really thinks
that.  It is just that he gets nervous.  He will be less nervous as time
passes.

   "And you're going to Texas to do this?"

   "Brother Bob and his wife operated the orphanage.  They are a lot of the
reason I am here today.  They helped me live and learn and grow.  Having
him perform my marriage  -" OUR marriage, that's just the natural
progression."

   "Natural progression?" Brindy repeated.

   "Did I say it wrongly?"

   "No.  It's just that English is your second language and I don't think I
would have used that phrase and English is my first language.  Only
language, really," Brindy said.

   Pat's face brightened.  "Carlita, I just had a thought."

   "Okay.  I like thoughts," I said.  I was trying to be a little bit
funny.

   Pat's giggle told me I succeeded.  "How would you feel about a job?"

   "Job?"

   "Yes.  We need an instructor for our English as a Second Language
class."

   Brindy giggled.  "Brilliant, Pat!  Carlita?"

   "It pays?  Money?"

   "I'm not sure," Pat said.  "But you would be perfect.  We have one
teacher.  You would not have to teach the class alone, but the other
teacher does not speak Spanish as a native.  You do."

   "I would do this," I said.

   Pat went back to school after lunch.  Brindy and I 'hung out', as
Americans say.  I was home before Dave got there.  He walked in the door
and I was there waiting.

   "What did you do today, my baby?" he asked.

   "Sit down.  I will tell you," I said.  He sat.  I took his shoes off and
squeezed his feet.  He moaned.  I giggled, "You do not make this much noise
when we are making love."

   "When we are making love, my speech centers shut down," he said.  "Come
sit on me."

   That answers the question.  He still wants me.  THAT way, too.

   "Do you know that I missed you today, Carlita?"

   "I missed you as well, husband," I said.

   "I am," he smiled.  "Your husband.  The way it's meant to be."

   "Good." I kissed him.  "I know you worry."

   "I will stop worrying.  You're the best thing that ever happened to me."

   "I am a THING?"

   "Yes," he smiled.  "EveryTHING."

   "You are a thing, too." I twisted around so I could get the kisses that
I wanted.  I know he wanted to give them to me.  After two of them, it
becomes known to me that sitting sideways in his lap is poor technique.  I
get up and resettle, astraddle his legs.

   "You're crazy beautiful, Carlita," he says.

   "Dave, Dave," I say.  "You do not know what you do to me." I know that
this is something he cannot understand and it worries him.  I kiss him
hard. "I do not know how it works, Dave.  It is not a long time we are
together, but I cannot think of being with another man.  You." Kiss.  "You
only." Kiss.  "You forever."

   Dave's response to this makes me very wet, excited ...  I like this
feeling now that I can do something with it besides my fingers.  I bump my
forehead into Dave's.  "My love, the door is locked.  Nobody will bother
us. And there is a big bed for us..."

   Dave is strong.  He holds me with his arms and stands up, carrying me.
He carefully puts me in the middle of the bed and starts undressing.  I
start undressing, too.  Perhaps when I am older I will not be as curious
about his body, nor will the things he does to me be as new and exciting,
but I really think differently.  When he gets into bed, I push him onto his
back.

   "I wish to play," I say.  I sit next to him, close enough that I can
reach that marvelous thing.  He watches me as I play and explore.  I ask
questions, but I know he is having fun, because he jerks and moans. 
Finally I cannot stand it any more.  There is a big drop of liquid there. I
know how it tastes and I want it and more.  I slide away a bit so I can
reach him with my mouth.

   Maybe I should not go "Mmmmmm" when I do this.  His body goes rigid.  I
giggle.  "You make me happy, Dave.  This.  I love this.  Mmmmmm."

   "Lita!" He hisses.  "Put yourself on top of me."

   I like that, too.  He gets pillows for his head and I scoot back so I am
there for him  -" his lips, his tongue.  Sooooo good.  I feel the quivers
start, then the heat, then waves and I understand.  Speech centers are not
working.  A few Spanish  -" "Oh, mi dios ...  si!  Si!" and a little
English  -" "Yesssss!  Daaaave!" and then just squeaks and moans.  The
world turns to colors, then I wake up in his arms, being kissed on my face,
ever so gently.

   "Dave, my life begins and ends with you."

   He gives me that smile that got all this started.  "Carlita, there is
nothing that makes me happier."

   I enjoy the time in his arms abut I know that I still have an emptiness
and Dave has this amazing hardness.  I know that because I am holding him
in my hand, squeezing, sliding my hand up and down.

   I know how to do this.  I put my lips on his and I twist and get on top
of him again.  There it is.  There I am.  I move a little bit and that
wonderful head is fixed at the beginning of my hole.  One slow, looong push
...  In me.

   I move my mouth, taking a breath.  "Tell me you love me again, Dave."

   "I love you, Carlita, my angel."

   I enjoy the feeling of fullness with Dave inside me.  It is still so
very new.  Little movements.  I feel things.  I can bend forward and little
movements mean that my button is rubbing him each time I move.  My finger
never did me as well.

   Dave adds another flash of lightning when his mouth covers one of my
titties.  I do not know if they will grow.  They are not big.  Many of the
girls my age have larger ones.  I am glad mine were small when I made the
journey, but now ...  but Dave says 'perfection'.  That extra lightning,
though...

   No more thinking now.  It is all down there.  Him in me.  Me with him.
Moving.  Sliding.  Now I cannot see, either.  No words.  No sight.  Just
fire.  Again I am riding fire and pushing HARD on Dave.  I feel his hips
push up into me and his back arches and I feel fire inside me, pulsing,
squirting.  It is good.  Better.  BEST.  And darkness.

   I wake up again in his arms, the sound of music flowing over me.

   "Dave, which one is that?" I ask.

   "It is for what you told me.  Your new world?  This is Antonin Dvorak.
His Symphony for the New World."

   "It is beautiful, Dave."

   "Not as beautiful as you, my Carlita."



   ------

   Chapter 17

   Dave's turn:

   Every day since Carlita appeared in my life, I walk into the house at
the end of the day expecting the dream to end.  It has to be a dream.  Even
with the little text messages during the day, because she knows that phone
calls are an interruption, but the texts are little bits of happiness.

   Still, I can't believe it until I open the door and she's standing
there. Shorts and a top and those loud little cross-trainers on her feet
and it's like some crazy fantasy that I never thought was in my heart, but
here she is.  And her arms are around me before I can get mine around her.

   Before she can say it, I do.  "I love you and I miss you, Carlita."

   I know she's spent the day with Brindy, so dinner will be something we
leave the house to find together.

   Wednesday when I get home, I get wrapped up and I know exactly why.

   "Dave, I cannot believe it.  Tests.  And then I am a graduate of high
school in America."

   Dinner with Pat and Brindy.  Pat said, "Tell 'im about Spanish..."

   "They thought that since I was Guatemalan, they would have to speak to
me in Spanish.  I asked that I be tested in English.  Dave, I am in
America. Most people speak English."

   "And you still..."

   "They said that she should take the GED test next month with their
regular group of students, you know, adults who dropped out of high school.
If she does that and passes..."

   "I will pass, Dave."

   ""She'll pass, Dave," Brindy giggled.  "She'd be in the top quintile of
our graduating high school class right now."

   "If she passes," Pat continued, "then they have a regular little
graduation ceremony for their non-traditional graduates."

   Grinning, Carlita said, "and I have a piece of paper that says I am a
high school graduate."

   "At fourteen," Pat said.

   "Eighteen," Carlita and Brindy said together.

   "And married," Carlita spoke, her brown eyes flashing at me.

   "And with your GED, we can use you in our English as a Second Language
class."

   I got a couple of vacation days out of my accrual, clearing my schedule
for Friday and Monday.  Plans.  I got 'em.

   Thursday night we packed.  Yes, Carlita has a dress, a simple sheath
thing that Pat and Brindy helped her pick out.  I have not seen it, just
heard the description.  Pat told Carlita that the bride's dress is not to
be shown before the wedding.  She's talked to Brother Bob and he assures
her that there is a place for her to change before the ceremony.

   Brother Bob called me, too.

   "Dave, I pray that you're serious about Carlita."

   "I'm completely serious, Brother Bob," I said.  "I love her like no
other woman ever in my life."

   "Dave," he said.  "She has had a tough life.  That she made it to the
United States speaks of her uniqueness and strength."

   "Brother Bob," I countered.  "I know that.  I recognize that she is
unique and that she is strong in many ways.  I don't know why I chose not
to turn her in to the authorities, but I didn't.  I thought I could do a
better job of helping her.  And then I fell in love with your unique
creature."

   "You know, Dave, I loved every one of those kids, but Carlita stood out
as special..."

   "Don't I know it, Brother Bob.  I've never harbored feelings for young
girls, but there's something about her that belies her age..."

   "I hope so, Dave.  You and I and she all know what her real age is."

   "Look, Brother Bob," I stated.  "I will take care of her for the rest of
my natural life.  When our marriage is legal, she's on all my insurance,
she's half-owner in my house, I'm teaching her to drive, and if she can get
into college in the fall, she'll be there, too.  And you know what?  I'd've
put her through college, married or not, but the rest of that, marriage
makes it easy for us both."

   "Dave, she and I have talked.  She swears to me that she loves you, that
you are an honorable man and she is an honorable woman.  Make that 'young
woman', if you will, but she swears that this is to be a REAL marriage, not
some scam to gain American citizenship.  And it is to be forever."

   "Brother Bob," I answered, "I know of no other kind of marriage."

   "You SOUND honest, Dave.  You paid the money for Carlita's documents. 
You risked ...  knowing that one phone call from anybody could have landed
you in jail."

   "I am honest, Brother Bob.  And I want to take care of Carlita."

   "Then I shall see the both of you on Saturday.  Would you pray with me
over our mutual friend?"

   "Of course," I said.  I listened to him intone the words and joined him
in 'amen'.

   "See you Saturday, Brother Bob."

   "Right.  Tell Carlita that I send my prayers."

   "Yessir."

   Friday morning we slept in a little and ate a late breakfast at a local
diner over Lita's objections.  "I am supposed to cook breakfast, Dave, and
eating here costs money."

   "We did the dishes last night and this way we don't have to wash the
breakfast dishes and I can afford to feed us breakfast."

   She was smiling as she objected weakly.  After breakfast, we hit the
road.  In a short time she grinned.  "I am back in Texas again.  When I
return to Louisiana, I will be the wife of Dave."

   "You're already Dave's wife," I said.

   "I know.  But I will have the paper.  So many things require the paper."
Her hand touched my arm as I drove.  "Real things require the head.  And
the heart."

   "I have to be careful coming back from Texas," I said.  "Last time I
brought home a fourteen year old girl."

   She grinned.  "And this time you bring home a wife.  Maybe you should
stay out of Texas after this weekend."

   Mid-afternoon found us at a church outside Austin.  We walked into the
church office and got directions to find Brother Bob.  "Little house at the
back of the property," the church secretary told us.

   We knocked on his door, were greeted with a happy smile from an older
man who had a decided limp.

   We had a pleasant visit.  I guess that his visiting with the two of us
in person helped ease any doubts.  I mean, I don't LOOK like trash.  I
dress conservatively and I'm clean, and I have Carlita sitting beside me
holding my hand.  And it's impossible to be mad about Carlita.

   "My Carlita," he said, "You're still beautiful."

   "My hair, Brother Bob," she said, touching her head.

   He smiled.  "Dave, she had lovely hair.  On top of the rest, the
intelligence, the manners, she is a pretty girl."

   I squeezed the hand holding mine.  "Yes, she is.  Cute.  Smart.  Funny.
Happy."

   "I remember the happiness as well," Brother Bob said.  "The girl with
the smile.  The girl with the books.  The girl who took the little ones
aside to teach them."

   I glanced at my Carlita.  She was smiling bashfully.  "Brother Bob ...
If only things had stayed the way they were ...  I would be there still. 
But the narcotraficantes ...  You taught us to pray.  I prayed.  I took
this journey ...  and now I have found Dave." She smiled softly.  "Brother
Bob, it is because I prayed.  One does not travel so many kilometres ... 
miles, and end up with a good man.  Not when there are so many bad men."

   He smiled.  "You do believe that, don't you, Lita?"

   She nodded.

   He caught me in a steady gaze.  "This is pre-marriage counseling, Dave.
Carlita sees you as an answered prayer.  Are you prepared to accept that
responsibility with her ...  in her life?"

   "I would not be here, Brother Bob," I said.  "I fought with myself, my
head, my own heart, over Carlita."

   He smiled.  "Then tomorrow afternoon, Carlita says she has a dress to
wear for her wedding.  I will gather witnesses..."

   "We have witnesses also, Brother Bob," Carlita said.  "It is my surprise
for my husband.  His sister and her friend and his brother and his wife and
children will be here to see me and Dave become married." She turned to me.
"I hope you are not angry.  I did this on my own.  Your family becomes my
family and I think they should be here."

   "You're perfect, my Carlita ...  Brother Bob, it is like this with her.
She knows  -" does perfect things  -" for others."

   "You are seeing the Carlita we knew at the orphanage.  Always more
mature than her years."

   We left, heading to a hotel for the night.  She smiled when I opened the
door to the room to let her in.

   Giggle.  "This is how things start, is it not, Dave?"

   "The first time I brought you to a hotel, I was scared that I would be
arrested."

   "And I was scared that I would be forced..." Giggle.  "Now I do not want
to be stopped."

   We finally got showered and fit for the public again around six in the
evening and headed to a restaurant for dinner, planning on meeting our
family.

   "I can't believe you got all those people to come here, Lita.  This is
wonderful."

   She smiled.  "Dave, your family loves you.  They think I am good for
you."

   "I think you are good for me." When we pulled into the parking lot, I
noted two cars with Louisiana license plates.  Recognized the cars, too. 
Upon our entry into the restaurant we were pointed to a separate room.  We
entered to applause.

   Carlita curtsied.  "He did not know until I told him this afternoon,"
she said.  "Thank you all for coming."

   Smiles all around the table.  I get a better idea of what's going on
with my Carlita and her new family.  I've always been kind of standoffish,
a loner, staying to myself a lot, well, except for that week's experiment
with Pat.  I talked with my brother and sister sporadically at best.

   I find that Carlita talks to Pat daily, probably having more to do with
Brindy.  And I find that she's calling Carlie, my sister-in-law, several
times a week, that is, when she's not on the road with Carlie and the kids.

   "You don't see it, I guess, brother," Gary said.  "She's adopted a
family.  That's the best I can explain it.  And the strange part?  She
fits. That's good people there."

   "I hope so.  Tomorrow I'm marrying her."

   "Oh, hell, bro!" he laughed.  "She married you before YOU knew what hit
you."

   "Probably so, Gary," I said.  "Didn't know what to look for.  And there
she is."

   She was talking with Carlie about the kids.  She looked, saw we were
talking about her.

   "Good children, Gary.  You should be very happy."

   "I am," Gary said.  "What about you and Dave?  Children?"

   Carlita flashed her eyes at me.  "When the time is right.  I am going to
college first.  It would be difficult to have children and be the mother
they need while I have so many other things to do." She was reading my
face. "When the time is proper, Dave and I will have children and all the
time I will pray that they are like Rob and Kinsey."

   If you want to see a man beam, talk about his kids like that.  Works for
the mom as well.

   Pat and Brindy showed nothing that could be mistaken for anything more
than a couple of travelling buddies at dinner.  Brindy and Carlita have
connected, and Pat remains impressed by Carlita's maturity and command of
English.

   Her command of Spanish?  Oh, come on  -" native speaker.  And since we'd
chosen a well-recommended Mexican restaurant, Carlita ran interference with
the staff, pleasantly slipping between English with us and Spanish with
them.

   "Which language to you THINK in, Carlita?" Pat asked.

   Carlita smiled.  "Both.  I work very hard to NOT think in Spanish and
then translate into English.  Some words  -" vocabulary  -" I have trouble.
Dave knows," she said.  The twinkle in her eyes when she glanced at me, I
knew EXACTLY when she loses track of what language she's using...

   "It is the same when I read English.  I must read the English words and
put them into my mind in English and recall them in English.  If I read
English and change it to Spanish to remember, then I become very slow.  It
is like reading where you say the word as you read it, then you think about
the word."

   "See, Robby?" Carlie said.  "That's what your teachers say."

   "Carlita can be my teacher," Robby said.

   Carlita beamed.  "Robert, you make me very happy when you say such
things."

   Again ...  you want to make a momma happy, you do stuff like that.

   By the end of the evening, I had the distinct impression that my family
saw Carlita as much more value in their lives than I am.  I don't know ...
Carlita  -" to me she was a gift.  Now I'm thinking that my family sees her
as a gift to them as well.

   At one PM on Saturday I'm standing at the front of the little church
meeting hall, wearing my suit.  When I drove here with Carlita, she was
still wearing jeans and a nice blouse, carrying a suitcase.

   When the church pianist started a sweet piano arrangement of
Boccherini's Minueto, the doors at the rear of the church opened and Gary
walked up the aisle with MY Carlita on his arm.

   A vision.  Not quite white.  Linen.  Full length.  Natural drape.  A
small bit of colored embroidery on the bodice.  My Carlita.  A wreath of
orange blossoms or something like them around her head.  Not a drop of
make-up.  Just absolutely perfect, as if I'd enticed this mythical creature
right out of the forests.

   Gary escorted her to my side and stepped back.  Brother Bob stood
straighter than I'd seen him stand yesterday.  He was holding his prayer
book.  He smiled, turned, and put it down.

   "Dave, Carlita, Friends," he said.  "Let an old man do this one from his
heart." He held both our hands in his and intoned a prayer, then led us
through the vows.  We exchanged rings.  I gave my new wife a chaste kiss.

   Brother Bob smiled.  "Friends.  Family.  I present you David and Carlita
Johnson.  May the Lord smile upon them for the rest of their lives."

   I thought I was going to do a quick brush of a kiss.  I put my arms
around Carlita.  She stepped in against me and our lips connected.  Quite a
bit more than a brush, it was.  We turned to face our family.  Carlita held
my hand.

   "My family," she said.  "I am Carlita, wife of your brother, Pat and
Gary.  I am aunt to your children and I am friend to your friends.  This is
my husband.  This is the way it is supposed to be." She turned.  "Thank
you, Brother Bob."

   He put his hand on her shoulder.  "Great things, Carlita.  I expect
great things."

   I already think she's done great things.  For one, she injected life
back into my being.

   Informal wedding.  Hugs all around.  Hands shaken.  Backs clapped.  I
slipped Brother Bob an envelope.

   He caught me a moment later.  "Dave, this is ridiculous.  Not for a
wedding..."

   "Look, Brother Bob.  I know you have irons in the fire in places I don't
know about.  I'm sure that a thousand bucks will be put to good use."

   He gave me a wry smile.  "You're for real?"

   "Very real.  I don't think I could fake that one out." Carlita was
squatting down to talk with Kinsey.

   "She's always been good with children, Dave."

   "Brother Bob, she was fourteen..."

   Same wry smile.  "Eighteen now.  Just ask her.  You will stay in touch,
will you not?"

   "We will," Carlita answered for me, sidling up against me.  She smiled,
tugged my hand.  "Dave, it is time to go.  I need to change clothes, as you
do also.  And you promised to take me on a drive through the countryside."

   "Hill country," Brother Bob said.  "Beautiful.  A bit late for the best
flowers, but still beautiful."

   "That's what we're doing for a couple of days," I said.

   "We are going to get our household in order," Carlita said, "then go on
a real trip, just for the joy of traveling.  This time it will be for joy."

   Our wedding party walked out into the sunshine.  Everybody else was
heading back home.  Lita and I are staying.  A nice hotel awaits us, and we
have a couple of free days to love and live, free of cares.

   In the car driving off, she's playing with the new ring.  "It is mine,
Dave.  You are mine.  I cannot believe it."

   "Me neither," I said.  "I kept thinking that I would wake up from this
wonderful dream."

   "It may take us a while to change clothes," Carlita said.  "We never
have to worry again.  Married, Dave.  So much I did not know when I started
that journey.  I was going to America for a new life."

   "Is being Missus Johnson new enough for you?"

   "Beyond dreams, I think.  Beyond dreams."

   When we got back to the hotel, the desk clerk HAD to ask about our
attire.  She was Latina.  Carlita explained her new status and a rush of
two languages while I smiled over her shoulder, then we went to the room.

   She pressed me back against the door, kissing me.  I kissed back.  "Do
not damage my dress.  I will wear it again at special times."

   So I carefully undressed her.  She stood before me, naked, a vision, no
longer bashful about her own nudity.

   "You think I am beautiful, Dave."

   "I do."

   "I am too small here, and my hair is too short, and I am too thin."

   "Your breasts are perfect, your hair is cute, and you are not too thin.
I love you.  Let me see you as beautiful."

   "I will allow that.  You can be my prince who rescues young girls who
call themselves 'Carlos'.  My prince is not dressed appropriately." She
looked at me to see that I heard her, then smirked.  "You were dressed
properly for a wedding.  Now it is a honeymoon, and you require different
dress.  You must be naked."

   I undressed while she sat on the bed.  Naked, I stood before her.  "Now,
how do I dress for a honeymoon, little one?"

   "You need a Carlita around you," she said, leaping into my arms, her
legs gripping my waist.  The first time she did that, I almost fell.  Now
it was part of our repertoire.

   "You're right.  A Carlita is exactly what I need." I sat back on the
bed, keeping her in my arms.

   "You are very hard.  That is a good thing for a honeymoon," she smiled.
"We are married officially, Dave.  It is time for us to  -" consumar?" she
looked at me, questioning.  "English?"

   "Very close in English," I said.  "Consummate."

   Giggle.  "In English, it has 'mate' in it.  I know what 'mate' means."
She wiggled.  I KNOW she knows what 'mate' means.  I'm still marveling at
her command of English, that she can pull apart a word like 'consummate'
and make a play on it.

   She put her hands on my chest and pushed, urging me backward.  I lay
back with her now astride me.  "I need you to be inside me.  To mate."

   "My mate," I said.  I was going to say something else but all my nerves
shut down except the ones centered in my dick.  She had me inside her.  No,
this isn't the first time.  Yes, it's wonderful.  And yes, I think it's
even better.

   "I have you, don't I?" she smiled, tilting her head, looking down at me.

   "Yes, you do."

   "This feels so right.  I am a proper woman.  I am a wife.  Dave's wife."
Giggle.  Then wiggle.

   "God, that feels good, Lita..."

   "It is supposed to feel good.  It is for you and me to enjoy and to
share." She rode me, smiling for a while, then her eyes squeezed shut and
her lips straightened as she neared orgasm.  I could feel my own burning
start and I strained to wait for her.  Her fingers meshed into my chest
hair, her hunching thrusts becoming strong, insistent.  "Daaaave ...  Oh
... godddddd!"

   And I squirted.  She felt it.  Pushed down hard, encouraging me, riding
her own orgasm down with mine.  She fell into my arms.  I felt the warm
plop as I softened and fell out of her.  Kissed her.

   "Dave.  I am your Carlita and I have come in English..."

   "You are a nut, my dear."

   "I am completely happy being a nut.  I am YOUR nut."

   "Forever, right?"

   "Most correct, Dave.  Forever.  I have a paper that says forever, and we
have become married before the State of Texas, but better, we are married
before God, and what God has put together, let no man put asunder."

   And all that was just to change into our touristing togs.  We got out of
the room, hit the road, took a winding route through the countryside.

   "How far are we, Dave?  From where we found each other?"

   "About three hours driving."

   "Oh."

   "Why?  You want to go back there?  I can't get to the metering site.  I
don't have keys."

   "Oh, you didn't meet me until we were on the good road," she said.  "The
bumps stopped.  I knew we were not still out among the trees."

   "And the rest is a wonderful story.  Yes, we can do that.  Why don't you
try to find us a destination for lunch tomorrow.  It's Sunday.  Everything
will be open."

   "How early do we need to arise?"

   "Not really early."

   "Then let's do it, Dave." Giggle.  "I am trying to be..." she paused. 
"Spontaneous."

   "You're doing great."

   "I have Dave.  Dave has me.  We fit together well."

   Driving along, we visited a roadside barbecue joint for dinner, then
headed to a hilltop that I'd been advised was a perfect vantage for a
sunset.  It was almost a Zen moment for the two of us, sitting quietly,
holding hands, watching the orange orb sink behind the hills

   Then it was back in the car, driving back to the hotel.  I let Carlita
choose the music.  She's still exploring.  Everything is new to her, both
music and much of life.



   ------

   Chapter 18

   Carlita's turn:

   It is funny how a paper makes a difference.  Without a paper, I am
fourteen.  With a paper, I am eighteen.  Without a paper, it does not
matter how much I love Dave and Dave loves me, we are not married.  With a
paper, we are married.

   I think, though, that fourteen or eighteen, those numbers do not matter,
and I think that paper or no paper, I am married to Dave and we have
honored our family and our church by a wedding ceremony and I am Carlita
Johnson and those things that are behind me are things to think about as I
count my blessings.

   I wake up on the first day after my wedding and I look at my husband, my
Dave.  What a good man.  I am fortunate that he has an enormous heart to
love me with, and I am fortunate as well that he is pleasant to look at. 
Little girls often dream of their future lives.  A little girl in Guatemala
dreamed of going to school and being a working person and having a husband
who had a good job and who could buy a house for children.  I had that
dream.

   I have a husband who owns a house.  It has room for children.  I have
already been asked to work as a teacher for people who speak Spanish but
not English.  It may not pay money, but it is my first job since I left the
orphanage.

   You see?  I have met my dreams.  If I have met my dreams when I am
fourteen or eighteen, then life may only get better.  I must dare to dream
bigger.

   I look at Dave lying beside me.  In sleep, he still has some of the
smile that I love.  It is morning and soon we will go to breakfast.  I am
naked.  So is Dave, as is proper for a man and his wife on a honeymoon.

   Also it is proper for me to slide back under the covers and touch him.
Places on a man ...  I have been curious and have asked a lot of questions
about myself and about Dave and about the two of us together and one of the
things that I find he enjoys is ...  he's lying on his side, turned partly
away from me.  If I push my hand down there, I can cup his sack and tug
gently.

   He makes a noise, a happy noise, and rolls onto his back.

   "Mornin', my love," he says.

   "Good morning, my Dave," I answer.  "I was just beginning to play..."

   "Yes, you were ...  I didn't want to be asleep and miss it." He pulled
me gently on top of him.  He says 'light as a feather'.  He likes me there.
I like being there.

   "I am not finished playing," I tell him.

   He holds my face between his hands, kissing my nose.  I like being
kissed on the nose, but not nearly as much as I like being kissed on the
lips.  I do not tell him that.  I show him.  After the kiss, I rise up on
him and point to a spot above my right nipple.  "Bite here.  Not too hard."
I smile for him.

   Yes, that spot likes to be bitten.  I know now.  I know many things
about myself that were not revealed until I became Dave's wife.  My
breasts. I think they are too small.  Dave says they are perfect and he
kisses and sucks and nibbles.  The first time he nibbled, he hit that one
spot just above my right nipple.  It was like touching fire.  "There, Dave.
Bite harder."

   He bit.  I was consumed with fire ...  I forced him.  Maybe he wanted to
be forced, because he was very hard, but I was in charge.

   After we both exploded, he was holding me.

   "Am I a strange person?  I liked being bitten."

   "You are not strange.  You are my Carlita.  My Carlita is perfect."

   "It is normal?"

   "Carlita, little one," he said, "what we do for and with each other, not
a bit of it is strange.  You get to say what you like.  As long as it
doesn't hurt you, it is okay..."

   "That is how it works?  If I like it, it is okay.  If you like it, it is
okay, also?"

   "And you get to say that you do NOT like something, as well..."

   "I like it all, Dave.  All of it.  I like being a woman with a man.  I
like making love..."

   "We're supposed to like it."

   "No, you do not understand what I am saying.  This is something between
you and me."

   "There's supposed to be."

   "Maybe it is so, but this is something I did not anticipate," she said.
"I saw some movies, some TV, heard talk about being in love.  I did not
understand." I bent over a little to kiss him.  "Now I understand.  At
least I understand more..."

   "I'm still learning, too, Carlita," Dave said.  "It is a very happy
discovery to find that YOU are part of me..."

   Dave's turn:

   I survived the honeymoon.  Make that WE survived the honeymoon.  As it
has been since that head popped up from behind the seat of my truck, I came
away even more impressed with Carlita.

   I watched her with others.  We'd go to a restaurant or a shop together.
She had poise and presence.  Bumping around Texas, the Latino influence was
evident, and she flipped back and forth between English and Spanish easily.
I'm starting to pick up Spanish myself, but her conversations tend to bring
smiles with others.

   I remembered her corralling my family to show up at our wedding.  I see
Carlita now, hear her words in that matter of fact, measured tone as she
lays out ideas and facts when we talk, and I imagine her doing exactly that
with my family.

   "I told them that you are family and I have no family of my own so they
are MY family and that the greatest honor would be for them to be at our
wedding, Dave." She looked into my eyes as if she was explaining things to
a child.  "They are our family now, Dave.  If I was not married to you,
they would be a fine family for me to adopt.  But we are married and they
are my family because I and you belong together."

   Fourteen.  Eighteen.  Timeless.  No words could describe Carlita
adequately.  She was like a forest goddess, able to change from sweet young
girl to sultry big cat  -" jaguar, maybe, and while her hands excited my
body, her mind pierced me to the heart.

   I'm thinking too much.  Home.  We each grab a handful of luggage and
enter the house as a married couple for the first time.  I close the door
behind us.

   "Lock it," Carlita says.

   I look over at her.  Those dark eyes are sparkling.  "It is time for us
to make love in our house as an officially married couple," she said,
"Although we were married in our hearts and in God's eyes weeks ago."

   "Missus Johnson, would you like to choose where this is to happen?"

   "The bed of my marriage, Dave.  Where I gave myself to you the first
time."

   I picked her up.  Next to nothing for weight, all of it a giggling tawny
creature that was far more than my feeble fantasies ever imagined.  I
dropped her in the middle of the bed.  Her hands went down to start working
her jeans off and I started undressing myself.

   "Shirt off?  So you can see my inadequate breasts?" she giggled.  She
knows the answer.  The breasts are perfect for her.  Fourteen?  Maybe
they'll grow, but if they don't I'm good with it.  Those eyes...

   I'm naked now and so is she and when I crawl into bed beside her, her
hands clasp my face.

   "God gave you to me, Dave.  You are something, someone, that I never
dreamed of.  I did not know how to dream properly." And she kissed me.

   That's pure Carlita.  Sometimes she's playful, giggly, still in that
'kid with a new toy' stage of marital relations, and sometimes she's like
this, treating our mating like a sacrament.  And delightfully, sometimes
she switches modes in the middle of the festivities.

   I love worshiping her naked body and now, she's learned that fact.  No
longer self-conscious, she bounces around the house at odd times...  "como
un indio", she laughs, teasing eyes flashing.  "Catch me in my forest,
Dave!"

   She's not that hard to catch, you know ...  I guess I wasn't that hard
to catch, either, in retrospect.

   Weeks pass.  We've developed our routine in life together.  Yep! 
Carlita's a licensed driver now, but on two evenings a week she's at a
classroom teaching English to other immigrants.  I've shown up, just to
observe.

   "Class, this is my husband, Dave," she says, introducing me.  I stand,
bow slightly, hearing a lot of low voices, "esposo de Carlita".

   She's got poise as a teacher, despite her obvious youth.  Of course,
most of her class are people who WANT to speak better English.

   Pat says that some of the officials at the school board are VERY happy
with her performance.  She's had observers from local, state and Federal
government.  Her name appears in a lot of correspondence, I'm told.

   So I get a squeal of a phone call one day.  "Hi, honey," I answer.

   Another ear-piercing squeal.  "Dave, my love, my husband, my rock.  I am
going to college."

   "Of course you're going to college, baby.  We talked.  You have your
GED. You've taken the tests.  We've got you registered..."

   "No!  I know all that we've done.  This is much better!  I am being
awarded a scholarship."

   "Who?"

   "The school board talked to the university.  If I choose to do education
...  Scholarship.  Books.  Tuition.  All of it.  And a stipend for
continuing to teach as I have been teaching.  Do you know 'stipend'?"

   "I know 'stipend'," I say.  "They are paying you."

   Apparently Carlita was more affected by that bit of news than I was. 
Giggles.  "I am Carlita Johnson and I have a JOB!  In AMERICA!  As a
teacher!"

   The oddball part of the story here is Brindy.  Pat succumbed to the idea
that Brindy would attend Carlita's classes.

   "In a whole classroom full of 'English as a Second Language' Brindy is
'Spanish as a Second Language'.  She helps because my students see that it
is no easier to learn Spanish than it is to learn English, and much
discussion takes place in both English and Spanish as they work with her."

   Having Brindy and Carlita both in class puts me and Pat with time on our
hands at the same time, so we talk.

   "She's blossomed," Pat said.

   "Which one?  Carlita or Brindy?"

   Pat smiled.  "You're right.  Both, really.  Carlita, there's something
about her that made this seem like her destiny.  There's an indescribable
undercurrent to her that I noticed that night when she tried spending the
night here the first time.  But Brindy..."

   "Yeah, I can see changes."

   "It's good, you know ...  She was so beaten down when we started
talking. There was that time where she would not leave her own house unless
she was with me.  Then she moved in.  Now, it's like she's taking wing."

   "Are you afraid to lose her, Pat?"

   "I don't know what I fear here, Dave.  My original intent, I swear, was
to help this girl who was in a bad place in her life."

   "And now?" I asked gently.

   "I love her."

   "And she..."

   "Says she loves me.  But she's ...  I dunno, Dave..."

   "You don't LIKE the new, self-assured Brindy?"

   "Oh, don't put it like that.  That sounds so..."

   "What's it supposed to sound like, Pat?"

   "I dunno..."

   "Do you think she's moving away from your relationship, or that she's
just growing as a person and you still want a rescue..."

   "You make me sound shallow, brother."

   "Not trying to, but if the shoe fits..."

   "I'm..." n "You're dealing with another human being, Pat.  You and she
tied yourselves together for whatever reason.  She's still there.  Carlita
says that Brindy talks about you often.  From what I gather, Brindy is
quite happy with you."

   "Really?"

   "Yeah.  Really.  So is there enough stuff inside my sister to work
through this?  It seems like YOU might be the one who's backing out,
now..."

   "I'm ...  I'm just thinking things."

   "Maybe overthinking, Pat.  She's a good kid.  Really."

   "Kid," Pat said.

   "Not in the 'immature' sense," I corrected myself, "Kid, chronologically
speaking.  Kid, as in, has some growing to do.  Kid, as in changes and
possibilities..."

   "All of those, Dave," Pat said.

   "Carlita's that, too, Pat.  And I'm in it for the duration."

   "I distinctly heard you say that in front of God and everybody," Pat
said.

   "And you're less serious about Brindy than that?"

   "No.  I mean, I dunno.  Dave, you know I'm not a hundred percent into
being a lesbian.  Bisexual..."

   "I seem to remember that," I said.

   "Until Carlita came along ...  Nah, no sense in even talking about it.
We decided we couldn't do that.  And I'd never do that to Carlita."

   "Nor would I, Pat.  And it would be horribly unfair to Brindy.  I like
Brindy myself."

   "Wanna harem?" Pat smirked.

   "Heavens, no," I said.  "Carlita's about to kill me as it is.  And you
couldn't talk Brindy into that, AND you love 'er too much anyway."

   "You're right.  I do.  I'm acting like one of those turds we used to
steer around when we were younger."

   "Turds don't have age limits, Pat.  And you're NOT one."

   "I just need to be an adult."

   "You need to be what you were from the beginning  -" Brindy's friend. 
The rest is still there.  You can't be a bad lover if you're taking time to
be a friend first."

   "Says the guy with the orphan behind his truck seat," she smiled.

   "See!  You're smiling."

   "I am.  I'm imagining the look on your face when she popped up."

   "Wasn't nearly like the look on my face when she crawled into bed with
me the first time." Pat knows the timeline.  She knows that Carlita and I
slept together from the beginning, and she knows when it became sexual.

   Giggle.  "Wasn't that 'I won the sexual lottery' look, I'll bet."

   "No, was more of 'We find the defendant guilty' look.  But how could I
turn Carlita down?  More hurt.  More loss.  More stress."

   My phone rang.  "Speaking of stress..." I put it to my ear.  "Hi,
sweetness."

   "Hi, love," Carlita said.  "We're out of class.  Tell me that you
haven't eaten."

   "I haven't eaten, nor has Pat.  We're sitting here talking."

   "Would Pat be interested in pizza?  We haven't had it in a while."

   I looked at Pat.  "They say pizza, if you're up for it."

   Pat nodded.  "Pizza's good," I told Carlita.  "Who's ordering?"

   "Brindy's got the app up already.  Our house or theirs?"

   "We're at our house."

   "Okay, then.  And Dave?"

   "Yes, my Lita?"

   "I love you."

   "I adore you, too." I said.  The phone clicked.  I turned to Pat. 
"Looks like a family meal."

   "My family.  Your family.  Not bad, Dave.  Sorry I got weepy earlier."

   "It's okay.  Friends talk, okay?"

   "You're a pretty good friend, for a brother, you know..."

   "And you're a pretty good sister, too, you know," I said, mimicking her.

   I heard a car pull into the drive, then the door opened and Brindy and
Carlita entered.  I got Carlita wrapped around my neck, not a lascivious
display, just an enthusiastic hug and kiss.

   "Did things go well?" I asked, not expecting a negative answer.

   "Yes, they went well.  I have walk-ins.  We are crowded."

   "Word is getting out," Brindy chirped.  "I've always wanted to be PART
of something like this." She smiled at Pat.  "Pat, this is YOUR fault."

   I knew about the conversation that preceded this, so I knew why Pat's
smile was so bright.  Brindy slid onto the sofa next to Pat and kissed her
on the cheek.  She turned to Carlita.  "You're not the only one who can
find happiness."

   "You are my sister, Brindy," Lita said.  "I am glad you're happy."

   The pizza came, we ate, then Pat and Brindy left.  I could tell that
Carlita was dying to tell me something.

   "What are you holding back from me, my Lita?" I asked.

   "Oh, just that Brindy worries about Pat, rather like I worry about you."

   "You don't have to worry about me, little one," I said.  "I can think of
no greater blessing than I have in my arms right at this moment."

   "You are sure, Dave?"

   "Very sure, Carlita.  Why do you ask?"

   "Because Brindy worries.  She thinks that Pat notices that she has
changed from when they first met."

   "You have changed from when we first met, darling," I said.

   "I know.  I am not scared fourteen year old Carlita.  I am eighteen year
old Carlita, wife of David Johnson, a teacher, and soon to be a college
student."

   "And why would I not find every bit of that very charming and
desirable?"

   "Brindy says that the college campus is a place where we will meet many
people.  She says Pat worries that Brindy may see somebody her age who is
more attractive."

   "That's a possibility."

   Carlita reads me.  "You have the same worry, but you should not.  You
are my Dave, my rescuer and my husband and I would be a silly, bad girl to
have my head turned by another man.  Or boy.  You saw Carlita as a whole
person.  Others will be as those boys and men on the journey.  They will
think of a girl as one thing and only one thing."

   "I love you, Carlita.  I cannot keep you away from the world.  College
is a place you should be."

   "I can be Carlita at college, Dave," she said.  She kissed me.  "And
Carlita is not complete without Dave, just as Dave says he is not complete
without Carlita."

   The last part of the conversation took place as she walked up the hall
and started undressing.  That's a sort of hint.  Tonight it's a romp.  I
have a happy girl in bed with me and it is pure joy.  She's stone cold
sober and completely delighted and exciting and beautiful and I cannot
imagine a better way of making love than her tender gymnastics.

   We're both glowing afterward.  I brush that dark fringe of hair above
her eyes, caressing her face.

   "My hair is growing, Dave.  I look more like a girl."

   This from a naked nymph.  She was by no means busty, still slim,
although a few weeks of a good diet had made her ribs less prominent.  "I
never mistook you for a boy, Carlita.  You made a very poor Carlos."

   Giggle.  "Nobody got as close to Carlos as Dave did when he buckled the
seatbelt."

   "I'm glad you're not Carlos." I kissed her face, lingering to brush my
lips along her forehead, relishing that fringe of hair brushing my cheek.

   "It is time for me to get my hair cut.  The lady said that if I came
back every few weeks while my hair grows, they can make it look like I
want."

   "What do you want?"

   "You ask me that while you kiss me there and brush my ...  bangs.  Pat
says 'bangs'.  This is correct?"

   "That is correct."

   "You like them, do you not?"

   "I like my Carlita.  What do YOU want?"

   "Not very long.  And yes, my Dave likes bangs.  He shall have them as
they grow."

   "You're such a doll."

   "I am a doll to be cuddled and loved."

   I clasped her in my arms as she plastered herself against me.  "I love
you, little one."

   Her hand slid between us, seeking.  I gasped when she found her goal.

   Giggle.  "You know I am going to touch you and still you gasp.  Is it
that good?"

   "You ask me every time."

   "Because every time I smile because I make you happy."

   Just so happens that I know this one little spot on her ...  she gasps,
changing to a purr as my finger slickens from her juices and then circles
gently.

   "Ahhhhh ...  Dave, if you could just lick me there..."

   I believe I can.  NO, I don't feel like a child molester.  I've
compartmentalized the fact that she was fourteen when we found each other.
She's married to me and she's officially eighteen and while she's of a
slight frame, she's not the smallest adult female I've ever met.

   I love her taste and I relish the way she can't stop her hips from
writhing with pleasure and the hisses of her voice commanding me... 
"Harder!  There, Dave.  Right there.  Stay ...  Oh, mi dios!  Toomuch ...
Godddd!" Her first of the evening.

   The second comes with her riding me, her hips mobile, insistent, knowing
that she can pleasure herself using me, and that her pleasure results in
mine.  And then it's a shower, then a cuddle into slumber with music
playing in the background.

   We're wending our way through the US citizenship morass, too.  We
applied for her green card, presenting marriage license and copies of her
passport and visa, and I swear that we may have to get an attorney who
knows these things.  And a check.  Not as big as the check I gave up to
make her legal, but still, a chunk of change.  Fortunately, I have the
money.  I wonder at the problems that a legal immigrant might face in
coming up with the money.

   I've followed up with phone calls.  We added a statement of her
employment status as a college instructor.  That helps.

   Still, it was bureaucracy at its worst.  I marveled at the idea that
thousands of people a month were flooding in, following in Carlita's
footsteps and nothing was being done to stem the flow, but at the same
time, somebody who wanted to pursue a legal route to citizenship had
hurdles and hoops beyond imagination.  Okay, Lita and I just might have
twisted the system a little bit, but here she is and I want to keep her.

   I WILL keep her.



   ------

   Chapter 19

   Dave's turn:

   At work, Dave, that's me, is a subject of conversation.  It's an office.
Everybody seems to know everybody else's business, except mine, not that
they didn't try, so when I come back after a weekend, sporting a platinum
band on my ring finger, the questioning begins.

   The questions ranged from slightly coarse to sympathetic.  Yes, I have
pictures.  Yes, she's young.  Eighteen, if you must know.  No, she's
actually from Guatemala.  Speaks perfect English.  NO, this isn't one of
those things to get her citizenship.  Yes, she's GETTING citizenship.  NO,
NOT pregnant, thankyouverymuch.

   "Her name is Carlita.  NO, I did NOT get her from one of those foreign
bride websites.  Met 'er in Texas, actually."

   After two or three days, everybody had a piece of the information and
had time to compare notes to try to put the whole story together.

   Several weeks later I gave them the news about Carlita's GED,
scholarship, and teaching position.

   The boss walked into my office, plopped down in a chair, a sign that
this wasn't one of the 'completely business' visits.

   "You got everything straight between you and human resources?  Your
marriage, I mean?"

   "Yep!  Insurance.  Made 'er the beneficiary on all my insurance things."

   "Still haven't met 'er.  Having a barbecue and pool party at my house
this weekend.  I know you don't do a lot of the social stuff, but if you
want..."

   "Lemme talk to Carlita."

   "Please do.  Seriously."

   So I get home.  "Chili," Carlita says, as if I couldn't tell from the
smell.  "Brindy says it's a cold-weather dish.  It is HOT outside.  But you
liked chili enough to make it one time and show me."

   She has a delightful way of laughing, averting her eyes, then looking
back at me to see if I'm laughing, too.  "I looked it up.  Chili is NOT
Mexican.  I used your recipe, but I added things..."

   "Things..."

   "The pet store had an iguana..." And she looked at me.  Broke into that
giggle.  "Gotcha!"

   I followed her into the kitchen.  "Cornbread," she pointed.  "And beans.
In a separate pot, as you directed."

   I noticed the table.  Four places.  "Company?"

   "Brindy and Pat.  Tomorrow I am going out with Carlie and the children.
We will go to a park."

   "And tomorrow night is a class night?"

   She nodded enthusiastically.  "It is a good thing that I can do for
others, Dave.  I enjoy it.  Brindy enjoys it.  You have a sister.  I have a
sister.  What can be better?" She turned away bashfully then turned back.
"Perhaps what happens after everyone leaves after dinner?  That might be
better.  But with clothes on, this teaching part is very good."

   "Come here, you perfect thing," I said.

   She flashed those dark brown eyes.  "I am a thing?"

   "Yes," I laughed as she stepped toward me.  "Much too good for you to
just be human."

   She was in my arms.  "I can accept that, then.  You are my thing as
well."

   A knock at the door told us that Pat and Brindy were here.  Lita bounced
to the door to welcome them into our home.

   "Chili," Pat said.  "It's summertime..."

   "I turned the thermostat down," I laughed.  "Carlita wanted to try my
recipe.  She claims she got an iguana from the pet shop..."

   "I did NOT," Carlita squealed.  "I told HIM that.  His recipe did not
call for iguana."

   "And you're a heck of a guy to talk, anyway," Pat attacked.  "You've
eaten alligator.  That's just a big wet iguana with no dietary
restrictions..."

   Brindy giggled.  Carlita swung her arm around my waist and turned to
kiss me.  "If you want iguana chili, I will be the one to cook it for you."

   "I don't want iguana chili," I said.  "And I think that Carlita's done
very well with this.  Let's eat."

   A meal as it's supposed to be  -" surrounded by family.  Okay, make that
a somewhat non-conventional family, you know.  Me and my 14/18 year old
wife, my sister and her lesbian lover, but in my defense, I loved the whole
bunch.

   I'm not really sure how my brother and his wife are looking at Pat and
Brindy.  I'm leaning heavily towards 'denial'.  I mean, I don't exactly
know myself.  I definitely remember a decidedly heterosexual version, but
that was years ago.  She says 'bi'.  Okay.  That puts me in the position of
considering how she's going to fit with Brindy.

   I've never talked with Brindy about any of this.  I don't know how that
would work anyway, like I could walk up and say 'Brindy, let me ask you
some rather intimate questions about your sexuality and your relationship
with my sister.' Somehow I can't see that as being a good move.  I guess
that means that whatever their relationship is, it's none of my business.

   I've got my own relationship to enjoy.

   Another day.

   She's sitting over there on the sofa when I walk in from taking care of
a little issue with the car.

   "I am enjoying this book, Dave," she tells me.

   I smile at her.

   "You won't let me work on the car." The tone is just a tiny bit
accusatory.

   "I will let you work on the car.  This wasn't the thing to work on. 
Nothing to learn here."

   "Dave," she said softly, "I have everything to learn.  You take things
for granted.  You were raised in America.  You have been around these
things all your life.  I have not."

   She's right.  Of course she's right.  She's Carlita.  She knows a lot of
things, one of them being what she doesn't know, and she's right.  "Push
harder next time, precious," I said.  "I forget."

   "Go wash your hands and then come to me," she said.

   I did as ordered.  She put her book down.  "Lie down and put your head
here." She patted her lap.

   Darned right I'm following THOSE instructions.  I stretched out on the
sofa, laying my head in her lap, gazing up at her face.  Her hand caressed
my cheek.

   "What did I do to get this lucky?" I asked.

   "It is not luck, Dave.  I know this.  This is what I prayed for.  I
prayed for a good man for a husband.  You showed up."

   "You mean this," I said.

   "Yes.  I have told you before.  I have told others.  Brother Bob, him I
told when I called him to discuss marrying you."

   "I am satisfied, then.  You are my own answered prayer."

   We've had this conversation before, and it makes her smile.  "You prayed
for a fourteen year old Guatemalan refugee?" Giggle.  "YOUR prayer caused
me to go through ALL that tribulation?  Why couldn't you have prayed for
that girl that runs the checkout at the supermarket?"

   "Because she's not a magical creature of the forest who causes me to
dream..." For that, I get a kiss on the nose.

   "Besides, I've seen your birth certificate.  You're eighteen."

   "Yes, I am.  And I am married.  And my husband takes good care of me. 
He has promised me Vietnamese dinner."

   I had.  The first time I'd taken her to a Vietnamese restaurant, I
didn't know what to expect, but I explained to the friendly staff that
Carlita had never eaten that cuisine.  I love the stuff.  I was hoping...

   "I love this," she said.  "It is differently spiced, but it is so
fresh..."

   And that puts the place on our list.  And I promised her today.  That
lets her run around with Carlie and the kids and not have to worry about
cooking when she gets home.  It's been fun for the two of us, me being a
guy who loves every cuisine on the planet, her being unfamiliar with a
lotof it.

   "There is more to food in America than McDonald's," she said.  "Italian.
Greek.  Lebanese.  Vietnamese.  Cajun.  Tex-Mex."

   "Do you miss the food of home?"

   "No.  yes.  Sometimes.  But that little Mexican restaurant..." We'd
become regulars at a small business run by real Mexicans cooking the foods
from their home, not the Anglicized versions.  I'd gotten used to hearing
80% of the clientele speaking Spanish, and with Carlita as translator...

   The conversation started off about food, but quickly moved to Carlita in
America.

   "Dave, I miss some things.  I feel bad sometimes about the ones I left
behind, but Dave, they were children.  I was becoming a woman.  The narcos,
they ...  took young girls." She gazed into my eyes.  "You worry.  No,
Dave, I promised you before God, forever..." She touched my arm for
affirmation.  "It stopped being home when they beat poor Brother Bob and
stole the sound system and TV from the church hall." She touched me again.
"I am Dave's wife and I am in America and I am becoming American."

   "I love you, Carlita."

   "Yes, that is the reason.  You love me.  I love you." Her face broke
into a mischievous smile.  "And you take me to good restaurants."

   "I could chain you to the stove and make you cook."

   "That's fine," she said.  "Chain Carlie here, too, so she can show me
how to cook like she does." Carlie was a great cook.  My brother had gotten
lucky in that regard.  My sister, on the other hand, was okay.  As the
saying goes, 'damning with faint praise'.

   It was something Brindy laughed about, telling me "Carlita is a better
cook than Pat.  And I don't know why."

   "I don't know either.  But she does well."

   "Yeah," Brindy said.  "She gets into it.  She asked Mister Garland if
he'd give her some leaves off his banana tree so she could make tamales. 
Then she brought him a plate of 'em."

   Carlita's head popped around the corner.  "You're talking about me and I
am not there to defend myself," she laughed.

   "We're saying good things," Brindy countered.  "Talking about your
cooking."

   The ringing of the doorbell announced the arrival of Pat for dinner.

   We were safe together, two unconventional couples, so socializing
between us was frequent, as were visits to the brother's house.

   One night in bed, though, those questions about Brindy and Pat were
answered.

   "Dave?" Carlita said.

   "Yes, angel..."

   "What do two women do in bed?  I did not want to ask nor did I want to
look on the Internet.  Brindy says that she and Pat sleep together.  What
do they do?"

   "What do we do?" I asked, taking her close for a kiss.

   "Mmmmm, yes ...  that..."

   "The things I can do with my mouth..." I moved down to her chest, loving
those pert titties.

   "Oh, yes, that would be good..."

   And I kissed my way lower, landing a dozen little kisses on her pubic
mound, disturbing that sparse dark hair.  She purred, then gasped as I
moved lower, kissing those tight lips that were becoming very engorged,
opening slightly to reveal pink wetness.

   "Yes, that would be very enjoyable..." she managed to take a breath. 
"But Dave ...  inside ...  there is a need for something inside..."

   I slowly inserted two slick fingers.

   "Ahhhhh ...  that is very good, but ...  I know there is better ...  you
have better..."

   "There are toys that can replace that one thing."

   "Oh, but my Dave, it would not be the SAME..."

   "The toys may be bigger and they do not tire..."

   She pushed me over on my back, straddling my thighs, grasping my dick.
"But when you would touch a toy, it does not smile..." she stroked it, then
traced the coronal ridge with her fingertips.  "Nor could I make a toy
shake like this..."

   She knows my weaknesses and her fingers are playing now, teasing,
stimulating...  "I could not make love to a woman, Dave.  I find that I
like this..." she smiled, stroking me.  "You know that I can feel you
inside me when you come..."

   "I can feel you when you come, too, angel.  And if we do it together..."

   "We do it together much," she told me.  "I do not know who to ask, so I
ask Carlie."

   "You talked with Carlie about sex?"

   "Yes.  I did not ask Pat.  She is with Brindy.  Brindy is a woman. 
Carlie is with a man  -" your brother." She paused.  "Who should I ask if I
wish to know?"

   "Carlie's good, I guess," I admitted.  "What did she say?"

   "Carlie says that for a woman to have orgasm from a man inside her is
not usual." Carlita giggled.  "You are an unusual man..."

   "You are an unusual woman, Lita..."

   "I have this toy.  I do not think that I will ever desire another toy,
Dave.  It would not be part of my Dave, to smile and to shake and to make
me feel that we become the one flesh..." Her fingers curled under my balls,
one fingertip finding a special spot, pressing.  I shook.  She smiled.  "I
am quite properly heterosexual, Dave."

   "As am I, Carlita, and you are about to cause a fountain."

   She giggled happily.  "See!  I like playing with THIS!"

   'This' was pulsing on the ragged edge of orgasm.  She knows the trick I
showed her.  Works for me, anyway.  Her fingers encircled the base of my
dick, squeezing just a bit.  She held me like that until the pulsations
subsided.

   She tilted her head, looking thoughtful.  "SO!  Does Carlita want to
feel it inside her kitty, deep, splashing, or does Carlita want to feel it
in her mouth and taste it?" She looked at me.  "Does Dave want to get
Carlita's flower all over his face, or does Dave wish to have Carlita
kissing him while she comes in his arms..."

   "Surprise me," I smiled.

   She rose up and plunged me deep inside her.  ALL the way inside her. 
Foreplay?  We need no foreplay.  Carlita playing with me, teasing me, she
is very wet and I am leaking juice and that is because this is the way a
man and a woman are meant to make love.

   She's on top, in total control, and she's so beautiful, that silly short
black hair barely moving as her active young body works happily.

   "Come!  Cradle me, Dave," she says.

   I curl up and take her in my arms, half sitting.  Our lips meet.

   "This ...  this is so good ...  I am completed, Dave."

   "Yes, my Carlita." I cannot thrust very well in this position, a
situation that is probably for the best, because her teasing and the
previous conversation has me charged up.  I don't know if I'd have enough
self-control to keep from pumping myself to an almost immediate orgasm. 
This way, though, I am at Carlita's loving mercies.

   I know where she is in the process by the expedient of feeling her teeth
in my left pectoral muscle.

   Muffled.  "MMnnnn, Dave, mi vida!"

   I caress the back of her head with one hand, the other holding her in
place against me.  I can get little thrusts in, and that's almost enough as
she starts to vibrate.

   "O mi dios!  My goddddd ...  Davvve!" she hisses against my chest.

   And I come.  I know she feels it because she rises just a bit and slams
back down with my surges, then becomes still.  I feel the hardness of her
cervix high up inside her as it spasms against the head of my dick.

   We held onto each other for some minutes, neither speaking.  That wasn't
where the communication was taking place.  I finally softened enough to pop
out.  Apparently that was what she was waiting for.  She slid backward,
putting her face at my soggy, soft dick, taking it into her mouth.

   "I could not be with a woman, Dave, because I need YOU so I can do
this," she said after the first suck.  She went back down for another.

   "Put yourself up here, Lita."

   She turned around so I could feast, then we curled up together.

   "See," she said, "You have taught me things that only Dave and Carlita
can give each other."

   I kissed her.  "You are wonderful."

   "I am your wonderful, Dave."

   "You are.  There can be none better.  Those eyes..."

   "They are not blue eyes, Dave."

   "That matters not at all.  They are brown and they are beautiful and
they speak language that my soul can hear."

   "You are just saying that."

   "Nope.  Carlita is a cutie.  Carlita is beautiful.  Carlita is sexy. 
Carlita is funny.  Carlita is my life."

   She can look so utterly charming.  Innocent.  And how innocent can this
girl be with a bit of shiny wetness from our combined juices on her cheek?
But she is.

   Work intrudes.  Yeah, the same 'work' that had me in South Texas where I
met Carlita for the first time; from time to time I had to do overnight
stays.  Before Carlita, I didn't mind.  The company picks up the tab for
the gas and the hotel and the food, and it's a change of scenery, a new
routine.

   Now I have Carlita.  That's one wonderful reason to want to stay home. I
had explained to her that company policy forbade me from taking her with
me, indeed, the fact that I hauled her back home from Texas was a major
violation of rules.

   "You go earn us money, Dave.  I will be okay here."

   "Are you sure?"

   "Pat and Brindy are a phone call away, as are Carlie and Gary, and I
have promised Kinsey that she could stay here when you are out of town.  I
can drive, and for two nights I will miss you, but we will soon be together
again."

   Naturally, Kinsey teased her brother, Carlie reacted, and Carlita
countered by keeping BOTH of the kids.

   "My niece and nephew," she told Carlie.  "We will have fun.  You and
Gary can have a couple of days to yourselves."

   "She WINKED at me when she said that," Carlie told me.  "You married a
nut."

   "Yep.  I admit it.  We fit together so well, Carlie."

   "The kids love 'er," Gary told me.  "She crosses over between being a
kid herself and being quite the responsible adult.  I listen to her talking
to them sometimes and I don't even think she's eighteen.  She's more mature
than most eighteen year olds I know."

   "Eighteen hundred miles, Gary," I said.  "She left on an eighteen
hundred mile trip disguised as a boy and she survived.  I think that's a
maturing factor, don't you?"

   "Dunno if I could do it myself," he admitted.

   We exchanged phone calls several times a day while I was gone.  We did a
Skype session each night, although she had both kids in bed with her.

   "Of course they sleep in bed with me, baby," she said.  "That is part of
their adventure.  And we have been to the swimming pool with Brindy and
Pat, and we have gone to the children's museum and the library.  And I am
waiting for you to return to me."

   The path home at the end of my trip seemed longer than usual.  I called
her when I was twenty minutes out.

   "I miss my Dave," she said.  "I have brought the children home.  Pat and
Brindy are off together.  I have absolutely NO plans for dinner, and I am
waiting for my Dave."

   She met me at the door como un indio.  Not a stitch of clothing.  Bright
smile, though.  Dark, perky nipples.  Eyes laughing.  Took my hand and led
me to the bedroom.  I think my head was on the bedside table because she
definitely screwed my head off.

   "Was this a bad thing to do, my Dave, my love?"

   "It was horrible.  Terrible."

   "Good!  I should punish you for leaving me." Her hand grasped my still
slick dick, teasing.  It hardened under her touch.  "I think I shall punish
you more."

   This time she lost consciousness.  I held her soft form in my arms,
kissing the bronze face of an angel until her eyelids fluttered.

   "Oh, my Dave.  It is so wonderful."

   "It is so wonderful that I have you to love, little indio girl." I know
she's not pure Indian.  No, the facial conformation, the eyes, they belie
European influences, but she plays the indio because she knows she teases
me when she does it.

   "I missed you at my side, Dave.  Perhaps, though, it is not so bad. 
Look how much we just did.  We are very intense together."

   "Considering that I don't think my legs work any more," I said, "You
could be right."

   "Do not leave me unless you must, Dave, but know that when you return,
we do THIS.  We are very good together."

   "None better, angel," I said.  "The kids were not too much trouble?"

   "They sometimes wished to be trouble but I did not let them," Lita said.
"They are well-mannered.  Having them was a good thing."

   "Carlie and Gary probably appreciate it," I said.

   "I am thinking that they did much appreciate it.  Carlie looked very
tranquil."

   "Tranquil?"

   "Yes," she said.  "Like I am tranquil right now.  Except that my stomach
is now making sounds."

   "Ah, tranquil," I repeated.  "Perhaps we do a quick shower so we can
argue about where to go for dinner?"

   "Yes, Dave.  I have places that I cannot reach for myself in the
shower." She gave me that placid little smile of hers.  I couldn't stand
it. I caught her face between my hands and kissed all over it.  When I
stopped, she pushed me back and stretched out on top of me.

   "I belong here when you kiss me with those thousand little kisses, each
meaning 'love'."

   I slid my hands down her torso, relishing the smooth, youthful skin,
cupping her tight butt in my hands.  She wiggled against my semi-hard dick,
mashing her pubic mound against it.  Her eyes flashed.

   "We may never leave the bed tonight ...  I want you again."

   "I want you..."

   "No, Dave, you do not understand.  This is my body wanting your body.  I
can feel you.  If you get much more hard..." The kiss that followed that
statement was hot.

   Yes, I got hard.

   We did get into that shower, both our knees weak.  Showering is a game
for us, even when I was completely spent.  She commented as she lathered me
up.

   "I think I broke it again.  I do that often, do I not?"

   "Indeed you do."

   "You told me it was mine, Dave." She rinsed me off.

   The towels are new.  Big, thick, fluffy, and I love drying her off then
gazing at her nudity.  My Carlita.  Not the least bit shy in front of me
now.

   Tomorrow night's class night for her students.  Tonight?  Just us.



   ------

   Chapter 20

   Carlita's turn:

   Mister Jackson, the old man next door, has banana trees behind his
house. That is a cause for me to see him in his yard one day.  We have been
introduced.  He knows me as Dave's wife.

   "Hi, Carlita," he says when I wave.

   "Hello, Mister Jackson," I reply.  "I have a request.  Perhaps we can
have a trade."

   "What do you want that I have, dear?" he asks.

   "Banana leaves.  You have banana trees.  I need banana leaves."

   "What does my neighbor need banana leaves for?"

   I smile.  I am thinking of the ladies who worked in the kitchen at the
orphanage.  When I was old enough to be useful, I often helped them and in
return they taught me.  "I wish to make tamales in the Guatemalan style. 
Sweet tamales with fruit and chocolate and nuts in them.  Guatemalan
tamales such as those are made with banana leaves."

   He smiled back.  "And if I were to provide you with leaves, I could
expect tamales in return."

   "I would be grateful.  A plate of tamales would be one result."

   "Come over then, dear.  Show me which leaves you need."

   After I put the leaves in my kitchen, I called Carlie.

   "Hi, Lita!"

   "Hello, sister," I said.  "I told the children that one day I would make
sweet tamales for them.  My neighbor has given me banana leaves and I am
hoping that you will bring the children over so we may cook together."

   "Wouldn't miss it for the world, Lita," she said.  "Let me get their
shoes on."

   I laid out my ingredients and started preparing them, just as I have
learned.

   The doorbell rang.  I wiped my hand on a towel and went to let Carlie
and the kids in.

   We had fun.  The tamales made by the children were not as neat as mine,
nor were Carlie's, but this is their first time.  I have had many times.

   "You made so many," Carlie said.

   "Yes.  It is that way," I replied.  "If you are going to make twelve
tamales, is a lot of work.  If you are going to make five dozen tamales, is
only a little more work.  I have some for me and my Dave.  I have some for
Mister Jackson in payment for the banana leaves.  I have some for you to
take home."

   I set up my pot on the stove for steaming our tamales.  "These are good
for breakfast as well," I said.

   "And what did you call these?" Carlie asked.

   "Tamales negros.  Black tamales.  Every country has something like this
-" a dough with a filling.  Some sweet.  Some not sweet.  Americans only
know of the Mexican tamale which is like our tamale Colorado  -" red
tamale. And your Italian food has ravioli.  And there are many others.  I
hope you like these."

   She eyed the kids.  They had a spoon and were attacking the remainder of
the fruit and nut filling left in the bowl.  "I think I'll like them."

   While the tamales steamed, Carlie and I talked.  Of course, we were
interrupted a time or two by the children, but we sent them out to play in
the back yard.  Much of the conversation was about the children.

   "Have you and Dave talked about children?"

   "We have," I said.  "We will have children, but first I must go to
college.  I wish to be educated, then we will have children."

   "And Dave knows this?"

   "Of course.  Dave brought the subject up."

   "Oh."

   "Why do you ask?"

   "One time," she said, "He said that he didn't want to have children. 
Maybe it is because of you."

   "I hope it is because of me, Carlie.  I love Dave.  I think he will be a
good father.  He is a caring person.  Otherwise Carlita would be in a
government shelter in Texas."

   "You're right, Lita," she said.  "I see the way he looks at you.  He
loves you.  If you are good to him, he is yours forever."

   "I want him to be mine forever, Carlie.  Before I met him, I did not
consider wanting a man.  I met Dave.  He changed me.  For him only."

   "You were fourteen..."

   "I know, Carlie.  But it is not unheard of for a girl of fourteen to
marry.  Among the poor, it is almost common.  It gets a hungry mouth out of
the house." I sighed.  I knew of such.  "It also often means a baby when
the girl is very young.  That is one reason I am waiting.  My papers say
eighteen.  My body, it is fourteen."

   "Yet you and Dave..."

   "Yes.  And he is very gentle with me unless I do not want him to be
gentle.  Sometimes I am excited and I do not want gentle.  I want to be
owned by Dave."

   "Good!  You enjoy your Dave.  That is good, Carlita.  I know women who
do not enjoy sex very much."

   "You and I, we have talked.  I did not know about sex before Dave,
except that it was forced on girls by men who wished to use them.  No, I
wish to use Dave and he likes being used."

   "And you're home, making him tamales.  You'll keep him."

   Carlie left with a plate of tamales.  A BIG plate.  I brought a plate
over to Mister Jackson.  His wife met me at the door.

   "Tamales negros," I told her.  "They are sweet.  Mister Jackson gave me
the banana leaves to wrap them properly."

   She smiled.  "The old goat will be very happy to get these, Carlita. 
Thank you."

   And I went back home to wait for my husband.

   Tonight's class night.  I have already invited Pat and Brindy to dinner
with us.  We will have tamales for dessert.

   Brindy comes over in the middle of the afternoon.  We work on her
Spanish.  She is my assistant in the class I teach.  It works well, because
Brindy tries to speak Spanish as my students try to speak English and
sometimes they try to help each other.

   It is a pleasant thing.  I am  -" we are helping people who wish to be
helped.  The school thinks we are doing a good job.  They say they will
give me money to help if I go to college to become a teacher.  When they
first said that, I was very excited.  I like this teaching.  But I think
that I don't want to be a teacher like Pat.  Pat and Brindy tell me stories
of what goes on in schools.

   All my students here want to be here.  In Pat's class many of her
students do not want to be in school and they become problems.  I do not
like to think about having people around who want to be problems.

   Pat showed up at our house about fifteen minutes before Dave did.  We
sat at the table and had our meal.  I am proud to say that my tamales are
well received.

   After the meal, they went home.  Dave moved to his chair.  That means I
get to sit on Dave.  I like it.  It is peaceful.  He holds me in his arms
and whispers loving words to me and if I turn a bit we can kiss and we have
good music playing in the house and I am clean and safe and fed and happy
and ever so loved.

   Then it is time for me to go to class.  Brindy's car pulls into the
driveway and I go out to meet her.

   We walk into the building together, Brindy and I, and we are greeted in
English and Spanish.  I suspect that many of my students are doing their
best to speak English to me, and they also like to see Brindy smile when
she returns their greetings in Spanish as well.  Brindy is becoming more
comfortable with her new language.

   The class goes well.  I started out from the first day telling my
students that the more they spoke English, the easier it would get.

   "When you see a baby learn to walk, his first steps are very hard, are
they not?" I said this in English, then switched to Spanish and said the
same thing.  "Rodolfo," I said to one of my students.  "Did you fall down
often when you were little?"

   "Si ...  Jes..." His round, heavily tanned face smiled broadly.

   "And now, Rodolfo, do you fall often?"

   "Cervesa ...  I fall.  No cervesa, I walk.  I run.  I climb." Rodolfo is
the class clown.  He is smart.  He works on a construction crew, but he
wants to speak better English so he can become...  "El jefe ...  If I speak
better Eengleesh, I will be the boss."

   I'm the teacher, and because of my obvious age, I'm also a mascot and a
little sister or daughter to many of them, and Brindy's, well...

   "Dees Anglo girl, she ees trying ver' hard to learn Spanish ...  why?"
one older woman asked.

   "To be able to talk to people like you.  If you speak bad English and
she speaks bad Spanish, maybe you can talk to each other."

   She started to say something.  I think Senora Vasquez thinks I am too
young to be a teacher.  "Senora Vasquez, you are in America.  Do you not
find people here who are good?  Who are happy?  Who will smile when you
smile and laugh when you laugh?"

   "Si.  There are also..."

   "And there were none like that in Mexico?"

   She started to say something.  I continued, "There are good people and
there are not so good people everywhere.  Brindy is good people.  She likes
to see people smile when she uses her bad Spanish."

   "In Mexico..." she started.

   I interrupted.  "You are here.  Did the Anglos kidnap you?"

   "No."

   "Be happy.  I am happy to see you.  You are happy when you have success
with English."

   Sometimes it is not about learning, I see.  I understand that people are
not all the same.  It is not like mathematics where if I put the same
numbers on the page, I get the same answer.  So I get Senor Rodolfo, who
always laughs, and Senora Vasquez, who is sour, like a bad fruit.

   Back to Brindy.

   The next day Dave is out of town for two days and Pat is in Houston for
a seminar.  Brindy does not want to miss our class, so she is not going.

   I question this.

   "I would go, but then Pat is in the seminar all day and I am in Houston
by myself.  I don't know Houston and I don't think I would like being there
alone."

   "Stay with me," I say.

   "Your house or mine?"

   "Mine," I reply.  Of course.  In my head I know that it is the house of
me and Dave.

   We go out to eat together, and then I call Dave and talk to him in one
room and Brindy calls Pat and talks to her in the other.  After our phone
calls, she is back in the living room with me.  I sit in Dave's recliner.
It has his aroma, that smell that he let me choose for him.

   Brindy notices me close my eyes and breathe to smell Dave.

   "You really love him, don't you?"

   "I do.  He is my husband, forever."

   "I think Pat really does love me," she said.

   "I am happy to hear that.  She has said this to you?"

   "Yes, but it wasn't like it was just words.  Carlita, you know what it
feels like to be loved, don't you?"

   I closed my eyes for a second.  I know.  It feels like Dave's arms. 
"Yes I do, Brindy.  I cannot describe it."

   "Neither can I," she said.  "But I think I feel it."

   "This is a good thing?  Do women get married?"

   "They can now.  Used to not be able to.  Now we could..."

   "I would be at your wedding," I said.

   "Thank you.  I don't know who else might.  My life with Pat is not
general knowledge.  I know that Dave knows.  I do not think that Carlie and
Gary know.  I don't think that any of Pat's friends know.  None of my
friends know."

   I do not know what to say.  Pat and Brindy are the first female couple I
have ever met.  I think that my best plan is to be a friend and watch my
sisters love one another.

   "I know.  And it is okay.  I have never known Brindy without Pat.  It
is, to me, the way things are supposed to be."

   Brindy smiled.  "Thank you.  I wish we had been in school together.  You
would have been a good friend."

   "We ARE in school together..."

   "We're TEACHERS!" she giggled.

   "Oh, yeah..."

   It was time for showering before bedtime.  I say this to Brindy.  "You
can use the hall bathroom, or you can use the master bathroom.  It has a
bigger shower."

   "Bigger?"

   I smile.  "Yes.  Two of us in that shower.  It was made for that, I
think."

   "Two of US?" Brindy squealed, smiling.  "You and ME?"

   That wasn't what I meant when I said it.  I meant Dave and me, but I saw
Brindy's face, so happy, I could not hurt her.  "Yes, if you want that. 
Girls shower together in school, do they not?" In my orphanage, there was
one shower for the girls.  We all used it, several of us at the same time.

   Brindy's head nodded.  Her eyes smiled with her face.  She was happy. 
"I will go get my clothes."

   When she got back, she looked at me.  "Well?  We have to get undressed,
I guess."

   "Yes, it is preferred," I laughed.  I started undressing, turning away
from her.  When I turned around, she was naked, covering her breasts with
her arms.  The part she didn't cover ...  there was no hair.

   "Where is your hair?"

   She giggled.  "That's Pat's thing.  We shave.  I thought it was weird at
first, but now I like it.  The things we do ...  No hair in the way..."

   I am thinking.  Dave has never complained about my hair.  I do not have
much, like some of the older girls I have seen, but I do have hair.  Should
I surprise Dave?  "Maybe I should shave.  It would surprise Dave."

   "I think he'll like it," Brindy said.

   "I have never ...  How do I do it?"

   "I dunno.  I shave Pat.  Pat shaves me."

   "You would shave me?"

   "I would shave you."

   "Let's shower, then.  And maybe I get shaved." Okay.  Maybe it was a
little bit sexy, but mostly I was thinking about Dave when I surprise him.

   In the shower, there is room for two of us, but I did not notice that
when Dave and I are in the shower, we bump into each other very much.  Dave
has always washed me and I washed him.

   Brindy and I tried washing ourselves.  "Uh, Lita?"

   "Yes?"

   "It is not enough room for both of us to shower."

   "Dave and I have no problem."

   "You wash each other."

   "Yes."

   Giggle.  She handed me the soap.  "Wash me."

   I did, except for her female parts.  "My turn.  Your turn," she said.  I
think she was very happy.  She started to wash my female parts.  I think I
stiffened.

   She looked at my face.  "No?  I can..."

   I don't know why I nodded.  She washed me good, not as good as Dave, but
good, then rinsed me.  She stood, smiling.

   "Do you still want to be shaved?"

   "Yes.  I have shave cream for my legs.  And a razor.  They are there on
the shelf."

   "I saw them.  Sit."

   I sat.  Brindy smeared the shave cream over me, taking great care, then
held the razor.

   "Last chance.  You still wanna?"

   "I want you to do it."

   "I will do your first one.  Dave will have to do the rest."

   When she touched me, I almost shook.  'Carlita, ' I told myself, 'she is
just shaving you.'

   She did a very thorough job, talking as she did it.  "I am going to have
to pull your lip so I can get this part."

   I almost came to pieces at the end.  "There's this one little tuft of
hair right here," Brindy said.  Her finger poked my cleft, at the very top.
It is right above my special place.  I think now that maybe her finger went
into me a little deeper that she really needed.

   I gasped.

   She giggled.  Smiled.  "Sorry!  I'll be careful."

   I try to make a distance between myself and the feelings.  It is very
hard.  I am actually sweating.  I did not think ...  I try to think that
she is like a doctor examining me.  it is not a doctor, it is Brindy, and
Brindy is cute.

   And she is smearing the shave cream over me with her fingers.

   "Just double-checking.  I think I got it all.  Let me rinse you off."
She picked up the showerhead and turned it on, letting it run so it was not
cold, then she directed the spray over me.  Her fingers moved everywhere
over me, making the soap go away.

   I gasped when she held me open to rinse.  She giggled.  "Don't want to
leave soap in here," she said.  Her fingers...  "Okay!  Done!"

   "Give me the hose," I said.  "You have made me sweat!"

   "Here," Brindy said.  "I'll do it." She held the shower hose and touched
me to turn around.  "There!  Better?"

   We got out of the shower.  Okay, now I looked at Brindy.  She is wet and
naked.  I like being wet and naked, too, but we are dripping.  I hand her a
towel and take one for myself.

   She giggled.  "We showered together ...  You're not weirded out about
that, are you?"

   "No.  You are my sister.  It is not weird."

   "Good.  Dry me off and I will dry you off." I cannot refuse her happy
eyes.  We brush and dry each other's hair.  This is not unusual.  I used to
brush the hair of my friends at the orphanage all the time, and I loved
having my hair brushed, but now my hair is still so very short.

   Still, Brindy...  "It feels good to be touched, cared for, doesn't it?"

   "Yes, it does," as I brushed and dried her hair.  I could not help but
bend down to smell it.

   "Mmmmm.  Smells so good."

   She swiveled on the stool to face me.  "Thank you.  We smell the same,
you know.  Same shampoo."

   "Dave likes the smell."

   "Dave is fortunate.  He gets to smell..."

   I don't know why I bent over, but I did.  "Smell..."

   She put her nose in my hair, just like Dave does it, and breathed deep.
Her own "Mmmmm."

   I put my sleeping shirt and panties on.  Hers is almost the same.

   "Dave likes this.  I asked him about some of those things in the ladies'
department at the clothing store.  He says 'No.  T-shirt and panties. 
Sexy. Very sexy'."

   Brindy giggled.  "Pat's the same way.  And I like this."

   We watched a little more TV, then it was bedtime.

   "We ARE sleeping together, right?" she asked me.

   "Yes.  Of course.  I do not want to sleep alone in that big bed by
myself."

   "Do you sleep in your shirt?"

   "Sometimes.  Sometimes we do not have clothes on."

   "Pat likes us to sleep nude," Brindy said.  "I am very comfortable like
that.  Do you mind?"

   I shook my head.  "It cannot hurt," I said.  This time when I undressed,
I did not turn.

   We actually went to sleep when we turned the light out.  She wanted
music.

   "I like Enya."

   "Dave has Enya," I said.

   "I know.  Pat gave it to him."

   "I will put it on."

   And we went to sleep.

   I woke up to her stifled cries in the middle of the night.  I rolled
over.  She was balled up like a baby.

   I touched her gently.  "Brindy..."

   "Hold me.  I had ...  that bad dream..."

   "Bad dream ...  He forced me," she sobbed.

   "Oh, Brindy," I said, holding her to comfort her.  I held her long. 
Started to drift back into sleep as Brindy's sobbing stopped.  Almost
asleep, I forgot that my arms were around Brindy, not Dave.  I love Dave's
butt.  My hand ...  It found Brindy's.  Much different than Dave.

   Brindy sighed.  "Gosh, Lita ...  I need that..."

   "I was ...  forgot..."

   "Felt good." She backed away.  "I'm sorry ...  I have the dream
sometimes.  Pat knows to hold me."

   "Come.  I will hold you more."

   Her hand goes up behind my head and pulls me toward her and I should
stop but I do not.  I have never kissed anybody like that but Dave.  Now I
have kissed Brindy.  Different than Dave.  Very good.

   I did not stop her from kissing me again.

   "You are beautiful, Carlita..."

   "Brindy, what about Pat and Dave?"

   "We are part of them.  They were together once.  Has he not told you?"

   "My Dave and his sister?"

   "Yes.  Pat told me.  They lived together for a week.  They could not
stay together.  She has tried other men.  Now she has me.  And your Dave
has you.  They had each other.  Now we have them..." she kissed me again.
"And we could have each other..."

   "I have never made love with a woman, Brindy."

   "I told you what we do.  You asked." Her hand was touching where she had
shaved me, ever so gently.

   "You have done this with other girls?"

   "I hadn't until Pat.  I don't think Pat did, either ...  we learned."
She paused.  "If you do not want to..."

   I kissed her.  "It is science.  An experiment."

   I have not suckled a breast since I was an infant.  Brindy is bigger
than me there.  I know what Dave does to me.  I did that to Brindy.

   Brindy bites.  Almost too hard.  I know what the feeling is between my
legs.

   "Does Dave eat you?"

   I nodded.

   "I would like to do that ...  you do not have to.  To me..."

   "I must."

   Now Carlita has made love with a woman.  It is different.  Brindy is
different than Dave.  That is natural.  I love Dave differently than I love
Brindy.

   Now I wish I could have Dave on one side of me and Brindy on the other.

   "Are you going to tell Pat?"

   "I think I should, Lita.  Are you going to tell Dave?"

   "There will be a right time.  Yes."

   "We are a family, Carlita."

   It is a strange family we have become.

   Pat came home that evening.  Brindy brought me to their house.  Brindy
met her at the door, kissing her.  "I love you, Pat."

   "I love you too, Brin." She looked at me.  "Dave's not back until
tomorrow, right?"

   I nodded.

   "Do you have Carlie's kids coming over?"

   I shook my head.  "No.  Brindy said it was okay to stay here.  If it is
not, I can go home."

   "Certainly not."

   "Okay.  Thank you," I said.

   "Dinner," Pat said.  "Where?"

   "Chinese?" Brin asked.

   I bounced my head.  "Yes?"

   We had Chinese.

   It wasn't until we got back to their house that Brin started.

   "Pat, we need to have us a conversation.  You and me, we've always been
open, right?"

   Pat looked wary.  "Yeah, why?"

   "Well, I told Carlita about you and Dave."

   Pat turned to me.  "Carlita, I..."

   "It is okay, Pat.  I ...  I know he loves you.  Sister.  Now I know that
he loves you more than a sister, too.  Still.  I can see the look.  But I
can be married to him.  You cannot.  And you have Brindy, who is my
sister..."

   "And more," Brindy said.

   That night, we sat in the bed and talked about our lives, who we loved,
how we loved them.

   The next day, Pat was working.  Some teachers do not take the whole
summer off.  Pat works with other teachers on curricula.

   I am at home waiting when Dave comes home.  I do not think he
understands when I have him so urgently.  I enjoyed Brin and Pat.  It is
wonderful.  Dave has given to me my sexuality, and I have shared it with
people who love him almost as I do.

   Well, I know Pat does.  I have not asked Brindy.

   That night Dave and I are in our bed.  Sometimes we talk for a long
time. It is nice and clean and cool and quiet, except for the music that I
love to hear.

   We are naked.  I like being naked with Dave.  I am a young married woman
who was completely inexperienced with men, so I still find Dave's body
fascinating.  I get to explore and in return he explores me and it is very
good.

   But sometimes we talk.  We talk of our histories and people we have
known and people we know now, and we talk of things that happen around us.
He talks of his work and I talk of my days with his family  -" my new
family, and my classes.

   He toys with my hair while I am propped up, talking with him.

   "It's getting longer, you know," he says.  "If you go back to being
Carlos you will need to get it cut."

   I giggle.  "I like being Carlita, thank you.  Do you WANT me to be
Carlos?"

   His fingers are toying with back of my neck, making me tingle.  "No, no
...  Carlita is the love of my life."

   "It is that way, is it not," I said.  "Dave is my heart, my life."

   "That's a good way to be, since we married each other."

   "Very good," I said.  Yes, with Dave, I think that every night we are
together we are to make love, except when my monthlies come.  I hate the
nights he is out of town.  The first time, I stayed at Pat and Brindy's
home.  Late at night, I touched myself after Dave and I had our late night
Skype session.

   I can do myself quite easily, but it is not as satisfying as having my
man in my arms or between my thighs.  And I felt guilty because now I am
his wife.

   So I asked him when he got back, "Dave, while you are away from me, do
you do yourself?"

   He nodded, almost like he was ashamed.  "I did one time.  I thought of
my Carlita's face, her smile, the way her body brings me happiness.  And I
did.  It's not the same.  Not nearly as good."

   "I would hope I am better than your hand, Dave."

   "Your HAND is better than my hand."

   Yes, that was one of our explorations.  I showed him how I did myself
and he showed me.  And I took over for him.  I wanted to SEE it happen.

   We discussed our feelings.  "Maybe THREE days, Dave," I said.  "If we
are apart three days, we can do ourselves, but YOU," I giggled, "YOU must
think about ME when you do it..."

   "We could Skype..."

   "Noooo," I said.  "I am at Pat and Brindy's.  Or I have my niece and
nephew..."

   "Niece and nephew sleep in bed with you."

   "I do myself in the shower, then.  But I think of Dave." I put my hand
around the specific part that I think of, right before the waves wash over
me.  "Two days, though, when you get home, we have a big one.  Then another
big one." I giggled at his happy smile.  "And then a third, maybe not so
big.  Dave, you make me love you  -" sex with you."

   That gets me big hugs.  I love his arms around me.  He has me in his
arms and he is rubbing his face in my hair  -" my still too short but
getting longer hair.

   It is getting late and it is time, almost, to go to sleep and there is a
perfect way to prepare for sleep.

   Tonight we go to sleep naked.

   By the end of the summer, I am used to being in America.  I think I will
still see surprising things, but the everyday things, the parts of life,
going to shop, the malls, the stores, the people, the roads, the houses, I
know about them now.

   Married?  Of course I am married.  I know that this is America and
people marry and divorce and marry and divorce and don't marry and just
live together, but this is me, Carlita, WIFE of Dave, and 'forever' means
something.

   Dave and I are comfortable together.  Neither of us worries about
something that the other does not like, something that we may do wrong and
make the love stop.

   We have had arguments, because people argue, but we also make up very
fast.  Sometimes he wins.  Sometimes I win.  My new car is NOT red.  I
wanted red.  But it is the sort of car that I wanted.  We traded his in for
a pickup truck that I wanted.  It is not red either.

   Do you know how much fun you can have making up after arguing over the
color of a pickup truck?

   I start college in two weeks.  I have told the school people 'thank you'
for their offer, but I am not going to be a teacher.  I am not sure what I
shall be, but Pat can be the teacher in this family.

   When we are out during the evening, people automatically expect me to be
with Dave, if they know me, or Dave to be with me, if they know Dave.  We
are inseparable.  I still do not like him working out of town.

   I have also made him clean out the back seat of his company truck.

   "You do not need to find another Carlita."

   "Nope," he said.  "The one that I found has become mi vida."

   I know a secret, though.



   ------

   Chapter 21

   Dave's turn:

   We have Carlita registered for college, major to be determined.  We had
a long talk.  The local school board was willing to foot the costs of some
of her college if she promised to teach when she graduated.

   Carlita's not stupid.  She talked with Pat, my sister, who IS a teacher
in public school.

   "My students WANT to be in my classes," Carlita said.  "Pat's students,
some of them do NOT want to be in school.  I am not ready for a life of
dealing with that."

   So me being a semi-sentient male who recognizes that he's hit the
lottery, I don't push her.  I know my Lita.  I know that she'll get a
direction soon enough, and to be quite honest, if she wants to spend four
years in college and come out with a BA in Medieval Literature, I'm good
with it.

   "It is not an easy thing, Dave," she said in a communicative cuddle one
evening.  "So much of America I am learning.  In Guatemala, maybe if I am
educated to high school level, I can be a shop girl or work in an office.
Now I am in America, where people do everything.  Girls  -"women do
everything." She kissed me.  "What should I do?"

   "You should be Carlita.  If you want to be a shop girl, then be a shop
girl..."

   "I don't.  I want more.  Like my Dave.  Like my family."

   "Then go to college.  The first semester or two, take courses that will
give you credit towards most of the other degrees.  And if you decide, then
you can take another path."

   "I only take a path that has Dave walking beside me," she said.

   I kissed her back.  "I shall be at your side."

   Weekends on the boat.  It's summer on the Gulf Coast and it's still too
hot and humid and mosquito-infested to spend the night on the water, but
just about every weekend we're out.  Lita's the coolest crew I could ever
imagine.

   She came back from a shopping excursion with Brindy and Pat one day.  I
got home about the same time she did, having put myself on the road for
work, a couple of days out of town.

   "So what'd you buy?"

   "Brindy said I need a new bathing suit."

   "Nothing wrong with the one you have," I said.  I was picturing her in
that conservative two-piece.

   "Let me model this one for you.  I will be right back." She left the
room with a smirk on her lips.  I heard, "Close your eyes, Dave..."

   I closed my eyes.

   "Now you may open them.  I hope you like it."

   On whatever scale bikinis might be measured, it wasn't completely over
the edge, but on Carlita, honey-colored skin, slender body, those hips,
long legs, the perfect breasts, the bright yellow fabric was like
highlighting text on a page.  I couldn't think of words.

   "You don't like it," she said sadly.

   "No, no, I love it.  You're beautiful.  It makes you hot ...  I want you
to be..."

   "I am hot for you, Dave," she said.  "This is for the boat.  Other
people may see it, but it is for YOU."

   "C'mere," I said.  "Never in my life have I held a girl who can wear a
bikini like that."

   She almost leaped into my lap.  Beautiful.  Sometimes she knows it, like
now, and it's wonderful that she's given herself to me.

   "Look," she said.  She reached behind her neck and tugged at a bow.  The
top fell free of those delectable titties.  "I think it comes off very
easily." She wrapped me in her arms, trapping one of my hands over her
right titty.  "I think that is a selling point."

   So on our jaunts out of the marina, she wore that bikini, covered of
course, with a big, loose cotton shirt as a concession to the summer's
ferocious sun.

   The autopilot got a workout, too.  I may never be a member of the
Mile-High Club but I have multiple participation points in the Motoring
down a ship channel in a small boat Club.

   Okay  -" truth.  There is ONE way to do overnight in the summer without
the mosquitoes and the heat.  It's not totally without risk, but if you
sail out about ten miles into the Gulf, that takes care of the mosquitoes.
And if you tie up to one of the many offshore structures, parts of the
offshore oil and gas infrastructure, you can be reasonably secure, and the
heat?

   Sleep nude.  Under the moonlight, in the cockpit.  At sunset, the Bimini
top comes down, giving us an unfettered view of the sky.  The gentle
rocking of the boat in the waves is hypnotic, as is the sight of a nude
Carlita in the moonlight.  It's magical.

   I know she's a child of the city, mostly, in Guatemala, but I get to see
her transformed in the moonlight to a creature of the mountain forests,
lithe, athletic, sleek, beautiful, and maybe I am just a tiny bit biased,
but I never dreamed of seeing a girl naked, standing at the prow of my old
boat.  But there she was.

   And she was in my arms.

   We slept.  I have a few slats I can use in the cockpit to let us use the
mattresses from the main cabin.  We used those so we could sleep side by
side.  We woke up only when the sun rose.

   I raised up to look over the coaming before I stood, naked.  No boats
around, not close enough, anyway.  Lita stood, equally naked, stretched. 
Looked at me.  smiled.

   "We did HOW many times?  Three?  Four?"

   "I did four.  You?"

   "I do not count mine.  There are so many.  It is how many times I have
you inside me.  So, yes, four." She knelt on the mattress, turned her face
up to look into mine.  That's Lita's augmentation to a good morning kiss.
I'm all for it.  She releases me.

   "Perhaps a quick swim, after we put away our bed?"

   "Sounds good," I said.  We stowed the mattresses and slats, then had
breakfast  -" granola bars, cold cuts and bread and iced drinks, then I
watched a real life naiad knife off the deck into the water.  I joined her.
We swam a bit, letting the warm Gulf water cleanse us, then we climbed the
stern ladder back into the boat and hosed off with fresh water.

   She started the engine preparatory to getting underway while I handled
the bow line holding us to the structure.  I cast us loose, the bow of the
boat shearing away in the breeze, and once clear, she took the helm while I
hoisted the sail.

   We sliced off toward the distant channel entry.  While she maintained
course and sail set, I pulled the Bimini top up to offer us shade.  She's a
natural.  She smiles, a foot maintaining the proper course with the wheel,
eying the sail.

   "I'll get dressed when we get closer.  I could be one of those naked
people, Dave."

   "Nudist?"

   "Yes, nudist.  I could be a nudist if you were the only one to ever see
me.  This is for you." She smiled.  "And I would not like other women to
see your ...  dick.  Is MY dick."

   I was actually saddened when we hit the first marker for the channel's
off shore terminus.  However, the approach of two large service boats
headed out to the offshore rigs served to underline our need.

   She pulled on her OTHER swimsuit, not the bikini.  With the bottoms
covering those sweet rounded cheeks, she minced up, put a titty in my face.
"One.  I need you to do one..."

   I sucked it hungrily, feeling the responsive little nipple harden to my
tongue.  She backed up, shrugged her way into that stretchy swimsuit top.
Still sexy.  She took the helm from me while I stood to put on my trunks.

   "You.  Step here." Her eyes sparkled.

   I stepped close and she took me into her mouth.  Takes my breath away.
Every time.

   "You are my Dave and this is something I love from my Dave," she said.

   The wind was favorable for us to make most of the trip back home under
sail.  As they say, the fuel economy is great.A week later, I come home,
get my naked Carlita and something's missing.

   "Lita?"

   She grinned.  "Yes, my Dave?"

   "Your pubic hair..."

   "I have no pubic hair.  Brindy and I were talking and she says that she
and Pat both remove theirs.  That it saves them the problem of having a
hair in one's mouth at an improper moment.  So I am shaved." She looked at
my face, looking for signs of disapproval.  "If you do not like it, it will
grow back."

   "I like it." Inside my head I'm thinking that this is pure Pat.  Pat's
shaved pussy ...  Well, I'm not supposed to be thinking of my sister's
pussy, am I?  "Let's go try it out."

   A week after that, though, was a bit of a shocker.  You see, Carlita is
attached to Brindy and Pat.  Pat never has been on my boat, a result, I
think, of our history together.  Of course, neither has Brindy, her having
arrived late on the scene.  Naturally, I operate on the assumption that
Carlita knows none of the history between me and Pat, so she invites Brindy
and Pat out one Saturday.

   She told me the plan.  I signed off on it.  Had no reason not to,
really. So the four of us motor out of the marina early one Saturday
morning.  Brindy and Pat get the Grand Tour of the boat from Carlita.

   The three of them emerged from the cabin wearing those big floppy cotton
shirts over bathing suits.  I know Carlita's wearing her bikini today.  If
the light's right I can see ...  Yes, Pat's wearing one as well.  Her
shadow passes Brindy, then the light hits Brindy.  She's wearing an
old-fashioned one-piece.

   Brindy and Pat settled into one of the settees and Carlita shoved me
aside by the expedient of plopping down beside me and swishing her hips
sideways.

   "Go change, Dave," she said.

   "Yes, cap'n," I replied.

   "Yeah.  Go put on your swimsuit," Pat echoed.  When I glanced over, she
had a smile.

   Heading south in the channel in the summertime means that we motored the
whole way.  We passed up a popular landing where recreational boaters
beached to swim.

   "We cannot get close to shore there," Carlita told Brindy and Pat.  "Our
keel is too deep.  We have stopped there, though, and anchored.  But mostly
we have our spot.  It is further away, but it is mostly private."

   I have a strong suspicion that Carlita has given them some idea of what
use privacy might be.

   We motored on.  Closer to the outlet to the Gulf, we were discovered by
a pod of dolphins, much to our amusement.  Dolphins and sailboats are a
happy pairing.  They stayed with us, Brindy squealing excitedly as the
dolphins cavorted alongside and ahead of us.

   The dolphins stayed in the deepwater channel when we turned out of it,
though.  A half an hour later, I dropped anchor.

   "Here?" Pat said.  "It's wide open..."

   "It is here," Carlita said.  "We can hear other boats coming.  They will
come and they will go.  We stay here.  If we are in the water, they can see
nothing..."

   I'm thinking about what shouldn't be seen if we're just a bunch of
people in bathing suits.

   I need to do a better job of thinking.  Really, I do.

   Carlita stood, peeled that loose shirt off.  I thought she'd just dive
over the side.

   I would be wrong.  She kept undressing.  My Lita.  Little nudist.

   "There!" she announced, and then she dove overboard.

   "She really did it," Brindy said.  "She said she would..."

   "And we said we would, too," Pat said.

   "I know, but that was in the living room at home.  This is out here.  In
the open.  And it's REAL."

   "Are you?" Pat asked, standing.

   Brindy's face steeled.  "Yes.  I am.  I need to get over this." She
stood and Pat started peeling her own shirt off.

   Flabbergasted, I just sat there, watched Pat strip, not my first time
seeing that, mind you.  Brindy was another story.  She turned away from me
as she took her shirt off.  Pat helped her out of her bathing suit.  I
noted Pat's distinct lack of shame at appearing naked in front of me.

   Brindy, however, finally turned.  Pat, I'd seen naked.  Carlita, I'd
seen naked.  This was my first view of Brindy, the standard brown-haired
girl.  She was a bit plump, juicy is a good term.  No bush.  Pat's thing,
apparently.  Breasts a little bigger than Pat's, HUGE compared to my sweet
Carlita, with a bit of sag.

   Carlita's head was watching us over the stern where she'd climbed the
ladder.  "They have no clothes, Dave.  It is your turn."

   "Yeah, come on, Bro.  Get with the program.  Let's swim." Brindy was
balancing on the edge of the deck when I stood up and slid my trunks down.
Pat looked.  Smiled.  I was half erect.

   Carlita's head disappeared when Brindy splashed into the water.  Pat
kept looking.  "Come on, Dave.  Let's take the plunge together."

   I KNOW she meant it as a double entendre, but we did his the water
together.

   I surfaced in a cluster of female bodies neck-deep in the water.  I felt
a hand grasp my dick.  I flicked my eyes to Carlita.  She smiled.

   "I forgot how it feels to skinny-dip," Pat said.  "When we were little
kids..." She gave some signal to Brindy because the two of them swam to the
other side of the boat for some alone time.

   "You're a deceitful nutcase," I told Carlita.

   "I know," she giggled.  "I was telling them about our fun, being naked,
and they said that they'd like to try that.  This is the only way." She
kissed me, hanging onto a line we toss over the side of the boat when we
swim.  "I guess I could have taken the boat out with them while you were
doing something else, but then I would not have this." Her fingers grasped
my dick lovingly.  "Is it not a little exciting, Dave?  I saw you.  You
were hard.  In the boat, when Pat undressed."

   I started to say something.  Her mouth on mine stopped me.  "I love you,
Dave." Kiss, then breathily, "I know about you and your sister."

   "Then ...  Uh..."

   "Dave, she is your sister.  Of course you love her.  And of course you
may not live with her and marry her.  I am your wife.  That is as it should
be.  But I know."

   "Did she tell you this while Brindy was there?"

   "No, not at first, but Brindy knows, too."

   "So I was naked in front of two women..."

   "Who have loved you  -" your dick  -" it is always mine now."

   On the other side of the boat, Brindy said, "You kinda stared, baby."

   "I didn't mean to.  It's..." Pat said.

   "I know.  You and him, y'all were good to each other.  My only
experiences were NOT good."

   "Carlita adores him.  That part, too."

   "You're jealous."

   "Yeah, I guess ...  A little..."

   Brindy smiled just a little...  "Maybe I'm a little less lesbian than I
thought."

   Pat kissed her.  "Two of us.  But that's Carlita's husband.  Are you
sure?"

   "And Carlita's our sister, and well, you know ...  she's sure."

   "So me, you and Carlita ...  That leaves Dave."

   "Dave," Brindy said.  "Completely in love, almost a hundred percent
conventional Dave."

   Pat smiled.  "Carlita could make him do ANYTHING.  I could, too, you
know ...  But if ...  where's that leave my Brindy?"

   "You're my habit, rabbit.  Gonna be one heck of a weird family, if we do
what I'm thinking about."

   "You're thinking about it?"

   "Yeah, I guess I am.  I saw Carlita, she's totally into Dave, and she
sees it and she smiled, and dammit!  The girl actually licked her lips. 
And YOU saw it, and ...  You have this look, Pat.  You ain't as subtle as
you think you are."

   "ME?!?"

   "Yeah.  And Dave's ...  it's actually kinda  -" I dunno  -" tasty
looking."

   Pat wrapped Brindy up in her arms.  Brindy was holding the line to keep
them above water.  "Brindy, I will love you forever, whether we do this
thing or not."

   Back on my side of the boat, I was floating more or less on my back with
Carlita beside me.  Her hand was...

   "Lita!  If they come around here, they'll see!"

   "I will give them something to see, then," she giggled, floating down.
Her head raised, then bobbed down.

   "Oh, goddddd," I said.

   I heard a female giggle.  It wasn't Carlita's.  Her mouth was occupied.
And I knew the giggle.

   "Is this a private party?"

   "Pat!"

   Another giggle.  "And Brindy, too!  Gee, Dave!"

   Carlita's head popped up, grinning.  "I cannot help it sometimes.  I am
sorry..."

   "If you were sorry, you wouldn't be grinning like that," Brindy said.

   "Yeah," Pat added.  Then she giggled, "Dave, don't let it go away..."

   "I can fix it," Carlita said.  Her hand stroked it.

   Pat swam closer.  Carlita's lips were at my ear.  "Dave.  I love you. 
This is okay." She covered my mouth with hers, insinuating her tongue into
the mix.

   I felt a hand grasp my dick.  Wasn't Carlita's.  She was wrapped around
me.

   "Remember this, Dave?" And lips sucked me into a hot mouth.

   I heard Brindy sort of squeal.  "Pat!  You really did it!"

   Pat kept sucking.  Carlita pulled back from my lips.  "I love you, Dave.
So does your sister."

   A third set of hands touched me.  Brindy.

   "Lita," I said.  "No..."

   "Dave, I love you.  You have loved Pat like you have loved me.  If you
want, we will stop."

   By this time, Pat was at my head, holding onto the rope with one hand,
floating beside me and Carlita.  "I feel bad.  I should have asked."

   "You did, Pat," Lita answered.  "You asked me..."

   "Carlita, my only..."

   "Your only wife, Dave.  I will always be."

   Now Brindy's face was beside Pat's.  "Maybe we're not as lesbian as we
thought, Dave.  Pat didn't ask you, but I will."

   "Ask me what?"

   "If she could ...  you know ...  Dave, I've never sucked a guy
voluntarily.  Got forced a couple of times.  You, though, with Pat and Lita
...  You gotta have something.  May I?"

   "Yes.  I'd love it."

   "Can we get back in the boat to do it?"

   I looked at Carlita.  My mind's not working.  Part of it might be due to
the diversion of a major part of my blood supply away from my brain.  The
rest is shock.  Total surprise.

   "Let's get in the boat, Dave."

   I followed Pat and Carlita up the ladder.  Brindy motioned for me to go
ahead of her.  I started to climb the ladder.  Felt a hand touch my butt. I
stopped, one foot on a rung.  The fingers touched my sack, tentative, then
withdrew.  I continued into the boat.

   Carlita met me in the cockpit, issuing a searingly hot kiss.  "Now Pat,"
she whispered.

   I turned away from Lita right into Pat's arms.  "Hi, Bro," and I
remember the feel of her kisses.

   "You can touch him, Brin," Lita's voice said.

   Brin's hand.  "So hot..."

   Pat pulled back.  "Dave, let Brin..."

   "Brindy, what would you have me do?"

   She was sitting.  "Stand in front of me."

   I did.  My eyes darted to Carlita.  She was watching intently, her lips
slightly parted.  Her tongue flicked out, licking them.

   Brindy's hand curled around the back of my thigh, pulling me closer.

   "I didn't want to wave it in your face, Brin," I said.

   "Thank you.  This is a step, Dave." She looked at Pat sitting beside
her, stroking her wet hair.

   "You don't have to, baby," Pat said.

   "No.  Lita and I talked.  Dave's.  The only one..."

   That statement seeped into my mind as she leaned forward.  There was a
soft, almost scared kiss in the tip of my dick.

   Her hand gently grasped the shaft, sliding the skin up and down,
watching the skin slide part way over the head (I'm circumsized) and back.
Another soft kiss.  I watched her wet her lips, then a kiss that became a
suck as she pushed her face forward, taking an inch, then two, into her
mouth.

   For a second, nothing.  No suction.  No tongue.  Then "Mmmmmm." And the
tongue wiped the underside and she gently suctioned me.

   "You did it, baby," Pat said.

   "It's good," Brindy said.  "I could like this ...  I do." She looked at
Pat.  "Not quittin' you, though.  This is just different."

   Carlita was now next to Brindy, opposite Pat.  "He IS good, is he not?"
She put her hand on my dick, tugged me toward her mouth, sucked me in.  She
imitated Brindy's 'Mmmmmm."

   When she released me, what happened next almost buckled my knees.  My
Carlita turned to Brindy and kissed her full on the mouth.  And Brindy did
not look the least bit surprised.

   Pat watched them, then stood and kissed me like it was the most natural
thing in the world.  "You probably have questions, huh?"

   I sat heavily on the cockpit settee.  Carlita was immediately at my
side. "Dave, you are my man, this is correct?"

   "Always, Carlita," I said.  "But this..."

   "We all love you, Dave.  Me and Pat and Brindy.  I know you love me,
Dave, and you love Pat because, but even more than as your sister.  And
Brindy?  Who can possibly NOT love Brindy..."

   "You and Brindy..."

   Almost shyly, Carlita nodded.  "But no other man will ever be inside me
in any way." She looked over at Pat and Brindy.  "Nor them.  You will be my
man.  And Brindy's, and Pat's."

   "Wha..."

   "It's okay, Dave," Pat said.  "It's a bit much.  If you don't want ...
none of this happened today.  It will never be spoken of again."

   "I never imagined.  Pat, when I married Carlita..."

   "I know, Dave, and when Brin moved in with me.  But we talk.  When
you're out of town, Carlita stays with us ...  We talked."

   I saw Brin's curious expression.  "Apparently more than talked," I said.

   "I wasn't in on that, not the first time."

   "Brin.  Me." Carlita sighed.  "You were gone and I am curious and Brin,
she is pretty, is she not?"

   "Yes, Brin is pretty."

   "If you were alone at home with Brin, tell me you would not be curious
...  if you were me."

   "I would..."

   "But you would not do anything because you are a man and Brin is a woman
and that is ...  would be wrong.  But I am a woman and Brin is a woman
and..."

   "I didn't seduce your wife, Dave," Brin said softly.

   "She did not, Dave," Carlita said seriously.  "It was very science ...
scientific.  I wanted to know..." she looked at my face, reading me, and
saw something that allowed her to giggle.  "Brin is fun.  Pat is fun." She
giggled again.  "But you know about Pat already."

   "Pat?" I said.  "You..."

   "Big ol' pile in the middle of the bed that you and I mated in.  And one
of the results was that YOU need to be in there with us."

   Carlita's hand gauged my erection.  She planted her mouth on mine and
swung astraddle me.  It's a familiar move that culminates in me being
inside her.

   Brindy saw it.  I mean, there we are, the four of us, in the boat's
cockpit.

   "You need to understand, Dave.  This is us.  You are my mate and my
husband, but..." She got off me.  "You have mated with Pat.  It is
Brindy's..."

   Brindy was standing at Carlita's side.  She placed her hand on Carlita's
shoulder.  Carlita turned and they kissed lightly again.  "IF you want..."

   "Dave?" Brindy said in a small, almost plaintive voice.

   How could I refuse that?

   "I want you ...  it ...  inside me."

   "Are you sure, Brindy?  You don't have to..."

   "I want to.  This gets me over the badness.  Just like Pat did and
Carlita did.  I need Dave."

   She was almost scared as she imitated Carlita's straddle.  She kissed
me. "I kissed you.  I never kissed the guy who did me.  I am kissing you."
She reached down between us, guiding my dick into her.

   God, she was wet.  Slick.  Almost dripping.  And tight.  Like Lita. 
Like Pat.  She wiggled, seating herself fully onto me.  Kissed me again. 
When she pulled back, Pat kissed her, long and hot.  Carlita took care of
me, her lips working, as I loved, from my mouth over my cheek, to my neck
and back, all the time whispering "I love you, my Dave.  Forever and ever I
love you."

   Brindy's face pushed Carlita's gently aside to kiss me.  She wasn't
inactive.  I was thinking she'd be scared, her only reported hetero
experiences being horrible ones.  She was not acting scared now.

   "That's it, Brin ...  Ride with him," Carlita urged.

   "Yeah, Brin.  Get it.  Love it in you..." Pat said.

   I glanced up to see Pat's hand in her own pussy, her fingers circling
her clit.

   Carlita pushed up next to Pat, pushed her hand out of the way and took
over.  Kissed my sister, who put her own hand in Carlita's pussy.

   I know Carlita's easy to push over the edge.  She was biting her bottom
lip, starting to vibrate.

   Brindy's hands turned my face to hers.  "Dave.  Me..."

   "Yes, my Brindy," I said.

   "Kiss me."

   I did.  One of her hands left my face.  I felt her fingers feeling me
sliding into her, then they worked a little rub on her clit and... 
"Gahhhhh!  Oh, Dave ...  Nnnnggghhhh!"

   That was it.  I shot.  Deep inside Brindy, I unloaded.

   Her face was at my cheek.  Tears were running.  "Dave, I love you ... 
because they love you."

   A breathless Carlita slid against my right side and a flushed Pat sat on
my left.  "Bro, our lives have taken a strange turn."

   "And we love you, Dave.  You are expected to love us back."



   ------

   Chapter 22

   Carlita's turn:

   I was very scared, but it is my Dave.  Maybe not as brave as the day I
left the orphanage, but I had to be brave to undress on the boat.  Maybe it
is because there is much that I do know about my Dave.  One thing is that
when I am naked in front of him, he is in my control.

   I am a good girl.  I would never use that control to do anything bad to
Dave.

   I like the feeling of sun on my body.

   Pat and Brindy and me, we already talked.  We were in bed at Pat's
house. We were all naked.  Both of them have bigger breasts than me.  Now
that I know that Dave has had Pat's breasts, I feel nervous about mine. 
But Dave says ...  still, I will ask him again.

   We were in bed.  Brindy and Pat and I, we have done things to each
other. I am trying to understand that this is also making love because I
love these two, first, as sisters.  Now, perhaps more.  I analyze.  Not the
same way as Dave.  If Pat and Brin were removed from my life, I would be
sad.  If I lost Dave, my life would end.

   I want Dave as my husband.  That is a forever thing for me.  I said so.

   "We do not have to do this ever again, Lita," Pat said.  "You and Brin
...  I ...  we thought you wanted..."

   "I want my Dave.  I want Brin.  I want you.  Maybe this is wrong."

   "We don't have to do it ever again, Carlita," Brin said softly.  "We'll
love you and Dave just like always.  He's a good guy.  Pat..."

   "I dunno if I ever got over 'im, Carlita.  I dated another guy for a
long time.  Just wasn't Dave.  Stopped.  Brindy and I ...  She was my
student.  I could be in jail.  Nobody knew but us, though, and now she's
eighteen..."

   "I know about eighteen," I said.  I reached over, touched Brindy's
breast.  Pretty.  I like my Dave's chest.  I LOVE Dave's chest.  But Brindy
...  And Pat...  "Is it okay if I do not want to stop?  But my Dave.  He
will not understand."

   "Your Dave, Lita.  He is YOUR Dave.  If you love him and explain things
...  He will understand."

   "I want to keep Dave." I took my breath in.  "I miss his dick.  In me.
It is wonderful what we have done, but I want live Dave, his dick, him,
inside me, mating with me, feeling his life in me."

   I saw Pat squeeze her legs together.  So did Brin.

   "Pat?"

   "Sorry, Brin.  Flashback."

   "Dave's..." Brin queried.

   Pat nodded.  "I know exactly what Lita is saying."

   "I ...  it was never like that for me.  I was kinda drunk and the guy
was kinda, I dunno, he didn't really care ...  none of 'em."

   Pat said softly, "It's really good with Dave." She looked up at me. 
"He's delicious, isn't he?"

   I cannot help but smile.  That is another thing that I could not give up
to become a lesbian.  I am thinking of that feeling of life in my mouth.

   "You..." Brin said.

   I nodded.  "Oh, yes, Brin.  Much."

   "He makes you?"

   "He has never made me do anything.  I do it because I love it ...  him
...  it..."

   "I was forced."

   Pat said simply, "We must get Dave..."

   "The boat," I said.

   I kept my secret well.  On the boat, I am naked.  I look at Dave.  He
loves me naked in the sunlight.  Como un indio.  I jump in the water and
swim back to the ladder and climb so I can see him when Pat and Brindy
undress.  Brindy is shy in the sunlight.  Pat is less shy.  When Dave
undresses, he is almost erect.  I lick my lips.

   We girls, we have planned.  Pat and Brindy go to the other side of the
boat.  When they come back, I am sucking Dave.  As they swim over, I
whisper to Dave, "Dave.  I love you.  This is okay."

   Pat holds his dick, then says, "Remember this, Dave?" and she sucks him.
It is quite sexy watching Pat sucking Dave.  I whisper to my Dave, "I love
you, Dave.  So does your sister."

   I kiss him, then see Brindy come to him.  I know Brindy is nervous.  Her
knowledge of men is not good.  She has been hurt.

   She touches him.

   "No, Lita." He is protesting.  I know my Dave, he is thinking.

   "Dave, I love you.  You have loved Pat like you have loved me.  If you
want, we will stop."

   Pat is on his other side.  When he protests, she says, "I feel bad.  I
should have asked."

   "You did, Pat," I answered.  "You asked me..."

   "Carlita, my only..."

   "Your only wife, Dave.  I will always be."

   Now Brindy's face was beside Pat's.  "Maybe we're not as lesbian as we
thought, Dave.  Pat didn't ask you, but I will."

   Pat gently touches her.  Brin asks Dave to get back in the boat.  I
notice that Brin is the last one up the ladder, following Dave.  I know she
touches him because he stops.

   We all kiss him in the boat.  Brindy needs to suck Dave.  Her only
experience, a boy pushed himself into her mouth.  She has seen me and Pat
do it lovingly.  She does.

   "I could like this ...  NO, I do like this," she said.

   I showed her again how I love my Dave in my mouth, then I turned and
kissed Brindy.  Dave's eyes got wide.

   Pat distracted him from his thoughts by kissing him.  "You probably have
questions, huh?"

   I said, "Dave, you are my man, this is correct?"

   "Always, Carlita," I said.  "But this..."

   "We all love you, Dave.  Me and Pat and Brindy.  I know you love me,
Dave, and you love Pat because, but even more than as your sister.  And
Brindy?  Who can possibly NOT love Brindy..."

   "You and Brindy..."

   "Yes, Brindy and me.  But no other man will ever be inside me in any
way." I nodded at Pat and Brindy.  "Nor them.  You will be my man.  And
Brindy's, and Pat's."

   "Wha..."

   "It's okay, Dave," Pat said.  "It's a bit much.  If you don't want ...
none of this happened today.  It will never be spoken of again."

   There is only one more step.  Pat has mated with Dave.  I have mated
with Dave.  It is Brin's turn.  I watch her sit on my Dave, see his dick go
inside her.  I squeeze my legs together from the feelings this gives me.

   Pat and I stroked Brindy's wet hair while she and my husband mated.

   "She is pretty, is she not, Dave," I said.  He had three of us kissing
him and Brin while they mated.

   They both came.  I know that because I know what Dave looks like when
the fire takes him, and I know how Brin blushes.  Brin is beautiful as she
kisses my Dave.

   "I love you, Dave.  Because they love you."

   Pat sat next to him.  "Our lives have taken a strange turn, huh, Bro?"

   "We love you, Dave," I tell him.  "You are expected to love us back."

   "This ...  this is so much..." Dave said.  "Lita?"

   "Yes, my Dave..."

   Brindy slid off his lap, leaving him slick and soft.

   "Brin ...  he's all messy.  One of us should..."

   "I ...  Dave?" Brin asked.  "Lita, is it okay?"

   "I have done it, Brin.  It is better than okay."

   She knelt between his legs.  Pat and I cuddled him while Brindy sucked
him clean of their juices.  He turned his head.  I know what he needs right
now, but I know that when I am sucking him, there is no way that I can give
him my breast.  With Brindy sucking him...

   "Aaahhhh, my Dave..."

   A giggle from Brindy.  A giggle!  Brindy has sighed and cried but I have
never heard her giggle before.  I look down at her between Dave's thighs.
She is holding his dick in her hand.  "It got HARD again!  I was just
suckin', you know, and it got HARD!"

   "That's the way it's supposed to work, Brin," Pat said.  "Ask Lita."

   I gasped as his teeth nipped my nipple, then I could say, "Yes.  Two. 
Three.  Four.  Five ...  many times."

   Since I was kneeling on the settee beside Dave so he could get my
breast...

   "Lita, if you swing around..."

   I know exactly what happens if I swing around.  Many times we have done
this as we motor or sail in our boat.  I swing my leg over.  Usually I have
to reach down to guide him inside me easily.  This time, Brindy is helping.

   "God, that is SO hot," she says.

   I can move my butt and Dave can push and it is a very good position,
made better because we are outside in the boat.  We have shade from the
Bimini top, but we are still outside.

   I open my eyes long enough to see Brindy and Pat kissing, using their
hands on each other.

   Then I cannot see any more.  I feel lightnings and surges and heats and
I am coming.

   "Watch him inside her, Brin," Pat said.  "Maybe we can see."

   My Dave was lost in the moments before he spurts inside me.  I barely
remember them getting down in the cockpit, looking at me and Dave, where we
are connected.

   "So cool ...  his balls.  They bounce," Brindy said.  "He's so slick and
she's so pink..."

   "I wonder," Pat said.

   All of a sudden, Dave plunged up deep inside me and I felt him swell and
pulse as he soaked me inside with his semen.

   I heard Pat giggle.  "Yep.  His balls are sensitive, just like before."

   "Look," Brindy spoke.  "He's still pumpin'.  It's leaking out."

   "Mine, this time," Pat said.

   I felt Pat's breath beneath and behind me.  My Dave moaned in my arms.

   "Geeze, Lita..."

   I kissed him.  "Was not me only, Dave."

   "I know," he managed.

   I kissed him again softly.  "Tell me that you do not want to be loved
like this often."

   "Oh, God ...  Lita ...  I don't know what to say..."

   I got off him.  I saw Pat move in between his thighs and start sucking
and licking him.

   Brindy touched my thigh.  "Lita, I could do that for you ...  clean you
up, I mean.  I've never..."

   I nodded, spreading my legs.

   It did not take long.  She did more than clean me.  She worked on my
little button and I had another one.  I was laying back against the seat
when I heard Pat.

   "Oh, no you don't, Dave.  We gotta start back, hard on or not."

   Brindy looked sideways, shyly.  Pat smiled.  "Okay, maybe one more. 
Brindy?  Rock, paper, scissors?"

   I giggled.  Brindy's paper covered Pat's rock.

   "Dave, is it okay?" Brindy asked him.

   "It's always okay, Brindy, love," he said.

   I smiled.  Dave is good with this.

   "That thing you did to him while we were coupling," I asked Pat.  "Show
me."

   "Get down here," Pat said.

   I saw Dave pushing in and out of my Brindy.  Each time, his sack bounced
with those wonderful heavy balls.  Brindy is very juicy.  Her juice is
flowing down.  It will soon be at his balls.

   "Just reach there and fondle them like I know you do for him."

   Pat's hand was tracing the curve of Brindy's butt, a beautiful curve.

   I did as she said, feeling Dave bounce in my hand.  My fingers went
higher, feeling his dick stroking in and out of Brindy.  I had juice on my
fingers.  I licked one.  Offered the others to Pat.  She sucked my fingers,
then wet her own and we shared more.

   Brindy was starting to make her squeals as she neared her orgasm.  I
tugged Dave's balls.  He thrust harder.  I saw Brindy rise up one more
time, then slam down on Dave.

   "Now watch," Pat said.

   I gave him one more tug and that thick ridge on his dick started
throbbing.  He tried to shove deeper into Brindy.  I kept fondling him,
watching the white semen start to leak between him and Brindy.

   "Hot, isn't it," Pat said.  "I'll clean up Brindy and you clean up Dave,
okay?"

   There's more to it.  We have been swimming in salt water, then we have
been up in the boat, sweating.  A quick plunge over the side takes care of
our sweat.  This time, nobody is scared of touching.  Back in the boat, we
use the fresh water to wash ourselves free of the salt.

   I don't know how Dave managed to weigh anchor.  I handled the engine and
the helm.  After all, I AM the HelmsLita.

   We headed back up the channel towards home, sail taut under the wind.

   Dave urged us to put on some clothes for the trip back.  "The sun's
gonna burn you."

   We all got somewhat dressed.

   You might imagine that the conversation on the trip back was different
than on the trip out.  You would be correct.

   I was sitting close to my Dave at the helm, as is my custom.  Pat was on
the shady side of the cockpit, Brindy beside her, looking very relaxed. 
And she had giggled.  Maybe she does giggle when I am not there, but this
one I heard.

   I caught the eyes of Pat and Brindy and I put my hand on Dave's dick. 
"Dave," I said.  "I know you have loved me more times in one day.  Have you
ever loved two women in one day?"

   "Nope.  Just one at a time."

   "You have had me.  You have had Brindy.  Perhaps you should have Pat."

   "Pat?" he said.

   Pat smiled.  "It's been a while, hasn't it, Bro?"

   "Come sit by me, Brin," I said.

   Pat stepped out of her swimsuit bottoms while Dave tugged his down.

   Brindy giggled again.  "He's hard, Lita."

   "C'mere, Dave," I said.

   He stepped over, his dick hard, bouncing.  Close.  I bent forward,
giving the head a suck.

   "Brindy?" I asked.

   She nodded.  There is life in her eyes that I did not see before.  Maybe
she had that light only for Pat.  Now...

   Dave stepped in front of Brindy.  She took as much of him into her mouth
as she could, going 'mmmmm'.

   "Brindy!" Pat squealed.  "It's MY turn."

   Pat did not straddle Dave as I and Brindy had done.  She lounged back
and pulled him between her thighs.  I felt myself moisten again as I
watched him moving in her.  I watched the muscles of her legs as she met
his pushes with her own.

   The autopilot took care of the boat while I and Brindy cleaned our
mates.

   "I guess you three have this all figured out, huh?" Dave said.

   "It is not 'figured out' until YOU say it is okay.  We can go back to
being Dave and Carlita and they can go back to being Brin and Pat," I said.

   "Yeah, Dave," Pat said.

   "Might still look at you funny, though," Brindy said.  "When Carlita
told me that you make her come when you're inside her, well ...  Pat never
got into that kind of detail.  But me ...  you did.  I did.  All of 'em
I've ever had were either me or Pat ...  And Carlita ...  But you, you're a
guy, and you didn't use your fingers or your tongue." She looked at Dave,
turning back into shy Brindy.  "Dave..."

   "It's kind of hard to get my head around," Dave said.  "Lita, we
vowed..."

   "All our vows stand.  No other man will ever touch me."

   Brindy got up and sat next to Dave on the other side.  "No other man
will ever touch me, Dave."

   Pat knelt in front of Brindy, put her head on my thigh.  "No man will
ever touch me, Dave."

   I caught Dave's arm.  "Dave, these are vows, too.  Just as we vowed
before we went to Texas to be officially married."

   "I heard."

   "You told me when we vowed, it was more real than the state could
make..."

   "I remember that.  But, Lita, what am I supposed to vow to Brindy and
Pat in return?"

   "You called me 'Brindy love', Dave.  Pat says she loves me.  Lita says
she loves me.  You said..." she looked almost, no, she looked sad.  "Was it
just because we were naked and excited?"

   "No, Brindy, it has never been like that, not with Pat, not with my
Carlita, not with you."

   I smiled with him.  I know he is getting this.

   "I will love my wife, Carlita, because she is my wife.  I will love my
Brindy and my Pat because they are something that I cannot find words to
define, but I will love them until death, as well."

   "That is a vow," I said.

   He looked at me, those blue eyes looking deep inside my heart. 
"Carlita, I don't know of any woman who would do this."

   "Dave, I am fourteen sometimes.  Sometimes I am not Carlita who is
eighteen and in control of her wonderful life.  Sometimes I am Carlita who
is fourteen and scared and lost and who must climb into a truck to save
herself.  And that Carlita, she is not sure of what she needs and what she
wants, but she wants her Dave and she loves her Dave and she loves her
Brindy and her Pat, too.  It is Carlita's heart, Dave.  It is big.  Is
Dave's heart as big?"

   I look at his eyes.  They - the corners  -" are wet.

   "You are my Carlita forever.  You brought me life.  My heart is big
enough."

   Brindy was crying.  She heard it all, because I did not whisper.  I want
everybody to know how I feel, what I think.  I see Pat.  She is wiping her
eyes.

   I touched my Dave's cheek.  "I love you, Dave."

   "I love you, Carlita.  You two," he said to Pat and Brindy, "you need to
understand.  I love you as well, but this is my Carlita and I am hers.  If
she says 'no more', then there is no more.  She is first."

   Brindy straightened her back.  "I accept that.  Same thing goes for my
Patricia.  But we're ...  I dunno.  I'm going to have to look it up."

   "We must have rules," I said.  "My Dave is the man among us.  We will
share him, but nobody gets Dave unless I am there."

   "What about when Dave is out of town?"

   The three of us looked at Dave.  "Got a rule, Dave?" Brindy questioned.

   "Nope.  That would be silly.  Carlita knows what happens when I get
back."

   I blushed.

   "Oh, don't blush now, little Lita," Dave laughed.  "After everything
that went on today, you're embarrassed to let those two know we have sex
when I get home?"

   "Lots and lots of sex."

   "Mucho grande sex," Brindy giggled.

   I like giggling Brindy.

   Dave laid back against the back of the settee.  I think we took a lot
out of him.

   "Rest, baby," I said.  "I will watch the helm."

   "You are the HelmsLita," he said.  He stretched out flat on the settee,
laying his head in my lap.

   "I cannot steer like that.  Brindy?  Pat?  Can he put his head in your
lap?"

   "Me," Brindy said.  Dave turned around, putting his head on her soft
thigh.  She put his hat over his eyes so he could sleep, caressed his face.

   Pat slid up next to me, bent close to whisper, "D'ya ever ...  when he's
resting?"

   "Yes.  He loves that."

   "Just a little.  Not gonna make 'im come.  Just a nice relaxing suck."

   "Relaxing for whom?" I giggled softly.

   Pat's eyes are like Dave's.  Very expressive.  This time it's laughter.
And a little lust.

   Brindy watched Pat maneuver his shorts open.  They call it 'commando'.
No underwear on.  He is soft, something that I love.  Pat's head goes down,
mouth open wide.  Dave's soft dick, it all fits in her mouth, just like it
does mine.  A few moments of sucking and she puts him away carefully, then
lifts his hat and kisses him as Brindy caresses her face.

   "Sleep good, Bro.  We're going to need you later."

   He woke up before we neared our home marina.  We squared the boat away
preparatory to docking so when we finally did tie up, the big activity was
hauling trash away and bringing away the clothing we'd brought.

   Brindy and Pat are in Pat's car for the drive home.

   That's the first time I am alone with Dave since...

   At first, nothing was said.

   "Something wrong, my angel?" he asked.

   "I am waiting."

   "What are you waiting for?"

   "For you to explode and call me a puta and a bad, unfaithful woman and
to cast me aside for what I have done with Pat and Brindy."

   "Do you think I would do that?"

   "It could happen."

   "The Carlita I know analyzes and researches before she decides.  Did you
not do that in this case?"

   "I did.  I know the Dave that I love and I know his heart, but things
sort of tumbled with Brindy, so I had to rethink.  I think I know my Dave,
that he has a big heart, that he has once loved Pat as more than sister and
still loves her, and that he has room in his heart for Carlita the orphan
whom he risked much to be with, and that he simply must have room for
Brindy."

   "Wow!  That sure tumbled out."

   "You are my Dave and I was not scared.  Now I am scared because you have
stopped being excited by me and Pat and Brindy and you can think, and maybe
your sweet little Carlita is something else in your eyes."

   "You are Carlita, my indio nymph.  You are beautiful in a dress and you
are beautiful in jeans and you are beautiful in the sun with the light on
your beautiful body.  You too have a big heart.  I said before God and
family that I would never leave you.  I will not do that now."

   I let my breath out big.  "I love you, Dave."

   "Now," he said.  "You have said it is not just us, that on top, there is
Dave and Carlita, and just under that is Brindy and Pat and we have all
shared ourselves with each other.  Right?"

   "Yes."

   "You expect that to continue?"

   "Yes."

   "Why?"

   "Because we all love each other very much and it seems to me that the
time when I felt most loved, most connected to my Dave is when we put our
bodies together, give them to each other."

   "And you feel like that with Brindy and Pat?"

   "Yes."

   "What if you find another whom you might love?  Somebody who is not part
of our little group?"

   "Never!" I blurted.  "Dave ...  I love you..." I felt wetness on my
cheek from the thought of me with another.  But wait, Brindy, then Pat. 
"No.  I don't know how to say it.  Brindy and Pat.  You and me.  Try to
understand.  I will be very good to you, Dave."

   "I want to be very good to you, Carlita.  Forever."

   "But you loved Pat.  More than sister.  And Brindy.  Her face.  Her
eyes. She has so sweet a spirit.  You called her Brindy love.  It's like
they're part of us."

   "It's very complicated."

   "You are my Dave the engineer.  You do 'complicated' every day." I
giggled.  "Part of you had no problem with Carlita and Brindy and Pat."

   I saw him wiggle in the seat as he drove.  "Pat showed me things.  While
you were in Brindy.  There is no way I could do that with just you and me."

   We pulled into our driveway and unloaded.  Inside the house we put away
the clothes in the laundry room and when I turned, he was naked.

   I smiled.  Dave is through having complex thoughts now.  He acted
reluctant when I pushed him toward the shower, laughing.  As we walked
through our bedroom, I said, "We need to get a king-sized bed."



   ------

   Chapter 23

   Dave's turn:

   Hi!  My name is Dave and I'm going to Hell.

   At least that's what a lot of organized religions would say.  Others
would say 'meh...  '

   I just opened the door and let my Carlita into OUR house.  We've been
sailing with Pat and Brindy, and I have been DONE.

   And Carlita says we need a new bed.  King-sized.

   I know Pat has a king-sized bed.  She and I shared it for a crazy week.
If she hadn't been my sister and this wasn't our hometown, I'd still be in
that bed with her, but those are big hurdles to overcome.  We sort of
separated.  I still saw her and yearned, that is, until Carlita's head
popped up from behind the seat of my work truck in the Texas scrub country.

   Carlita more than erased the sting of not having Pat.  Carlita is a
little force of nature, a survivor, wise in some ways, naïve in others,
but to be married to her is to have in my arms a dream.

   A lot of people say that a husband on the road leaving behind a young
wife is asking for trouble.  I didn't worry.  Not my Carlita.  When I was
gone, she either had the niece and nephew over with her or she spent the
night with Pat and Brindy.

   Then Pat had to do an overnighter.  Left Brindy behind with Carlita, a
combination apparently somewhat akin to an open container of gasoline and a
lit match.

   That led up to today on and around the boat.  Seems like my little
Carlita has a nudist propensity.  Today.  Me.  Carlita.  Pat.  Brindy. 
Everybody did everybody.  And now ...  I look over the room to Carlita.

   Something needs validating.  I swoop her off her feet and carry her to
my now-undersized bed, dump her in it, start to undress her.

   "You.  Undress.  I will be ready."

   I shucked clothing off in record time.  When I stood up, naked and
erect, she spread her legs enticingly.

   "Dave, I know what we need."

   God, she's wet and she's tight and she's Carlita, tawny and sexy and
exotic and exciting and I cannot resist...

   "Take meeeeee!" she squeals when I enter.

   It's over in a couple of minutes.  I start to roll off, away from her.
Carlita is having none of that.  She hooks her leg behind mine and rides to
be atop me.

   I muss her short hair, making her break into a full grin.

   "You still NEED your Carlita, do you not, Dave?"

   "Always and forever."

   "This is spiritual," she said.  "It is past love.  It is sacrament.  A
sacrament.  You and me."

   I love her analysis.

   The next statement was a bit of another shock, even after everything
else that happened today.

   "I am First Wife."

   "What?"

   "That is how it will work.  I will be First Wife.  Brindy and Pat will
be junior wives.  Like I have read." She wiggled her ring finger at me. 
"See?  Wife!" She dipped that finger between her legs, coming up with it
goopy with a string of my come mixed with her copious juices.  She waved it
so I could see.  "See?  Wife!" Stuck the finger in between sassy lips. 
Smiled while she sucked it, giving me a bashful look.  Pulled it out. 
Pushed me back onto the bed and kissed me.

   "I love you, Dave."

   "I love you, Carlita.  You're nuts, but I love you."

   "Do you love Pat and Brindy as well?"

   "Pat's always been my sister..."

   "She did not love you like a sister today, nor did you love her like a
brother..."

   "Yes, I love Pat."

   "And Brindy?"

   "I hardly know Brindy."

   "Pat loves her.  I love her.  Would we love a bad person?"

   "No."

   "Then you love Brindy.  Dave, she is fragile.  Her journey, it was in
some ways as dangerous as mine."

   I sort of surmised a little of that from snippets of conversation over
the weeks since she moved in with Pat.

   "I will be good to her."

   "You called her 'Brindy love'.  Dave, did you hear her giggle?  That is
the first time I heard her giggle.  You made her happy.  You are good at
making us happy." She grasped my dick.  "Not just this."

   I guess I submitted to a horrible fate, letting myself become the chosen
mate of three women.

   "Let us go to Pat and Brindy's.  They are probably ready for us."

   "Ready for us?"

   She giggled.  "Yes.  They probably did what we just did."

   Lita and I dressed and walked the half-block to Pat's house.  "Tomorrow
we will shop for a bed, then they can stay with us."

   Inside my head another explosion went off.

   "They're moving in?"

   "Shhhh!  Neighbors will hear.  We talked about it.  Maybe.  We will
see."

   I looked at the dark-haired pixie walking beside me.  Only a few weeks
ago, she was fourteen, a refugee, without anything to her name but a few
dollars and a change of clothes.  Now she's making arrangements for our
lives and she's ranging far afield in doing so.

   "You work.  Pat works.  Brindy and I will be college students.  Somehow
with four of us, we will make the house work." Giggle.  "And every night,
we will all be in a big bed together."

   When Carlita knocked at Pat's door, it opened only part-way.  Brindy's
face peered at us, broke into a smile.  "Come in."

   We went inside.  First thing I notice is Brindy's naked, smelling
freshly showered.

   "Your sister is a beast, Dave," she smiled.

   "No mystery, Brin," I said.  "We grew up together."

   "That's not what I meant.  But then you know the other part, too, don't
you?" She grinned mischievously.  She looked at Carlita.  "Did you ask
him?"

   I eyed my smiling doll.  "Ask me what?"

   "We are all shaved..." She smiled.

   "I know.  Told you I loved it, but it makes you look like you're eleven
from the bellybutton down."

   Carlita giggled.  "And my Dave gets very hard for eleven year old
Carlita."

   "We want to shave you, Dave," Brindy said.

   Pat walked into the room.  Brindy looked over her shoulder.  "We're
asking him about shaving..."

   "I guess I can do that."

   "You do not have to do it, Dave," Carlita said.  "We will do it for
you."

   I'm wondering what's coming next.

   "We love you," Pat said.  "Who better?"

   "You do not have to worry about my hair in your mouth.  We will not have
to worry about yours."

   "Makes perfect sense," Brindy said.  "We will be very careful.  You have
something of value that we wish to protect."

   I looked at Brindy.  Naked.  Pat.  Naked.  Pat's cleft was higher in the
front of her pubic mound than Brindy's or Carlita's.  Both of them had
bigger breasts than my Carlita, but I honestly prefer Carlita's.

   Carlita ...  Whose hand is stroking the growing lump in my pants. 
"Baby, we should not have clothes on here.  It is their home.  It is not
proper."

   I stood up beside my Lita and undressed.  Didn't lose the erection.

   Brindy giggled.  "Dave, you're hard again." She bounced onto her knees
in front of me like a kid with a new toy.

   I was going to worry about Carlita.  Shouldn't.  Carlita's hand was
touching Brindy's head gently, encouraging.  Brindy's fingers explored my
dick and balls, then toyed with my hair.  "We need to get rid of this," she
said.

   "I'll get the scissors..." Pat said.

   "Scissors?" I blurted.

   "Yes, silly," Brindy said, flicking her tongue at the head of my dick.
"Pat sheared most of mine off with scissors, then shaved the rest.  You
have more than I do." Her eyes cut to Carlita.  "Lita, you could get a
towel."

   "Okay," Lita said.  Kissed me.  Pushed the back of Brin's head, forcing
her closer to my dick.  Brin giggled.  "Maybe just a little one," she
grinned.

   My eyes rolled back in my head.  She pulled back.

   Carlita and Pat were back.  I was made to sit on a towel, then endure
three laughing females snipping around my genitalia with scissors.  I was
nervous.  They weren't.

   "Now," Pat said, "you need to shower.  It helps if the hair is very
wet."

   "By myself?"

   "Lita?"

   Lita smiled.  "I do not want to appear greedy.  Perhaps a game of
chance?"

   Three pennies.  Odd man wins.  Pat.

   In the shower, I and Pat refamiliarized ourselves with each other. 
"Dave, I love having you back.  And Brindy.  It's like a shroud has been
lifted."

   "It's a strange setup, Pat.  You know I love you, but Carlita ...  I'd
kill myself before I hurt her."

   "I would do the same for Brindy.  We can make this work."

   This time it was two towels, shaving cream...  "This is for women's
LEGS," I said.

   "Alternative use is shaving crotches," Brindy said.  "It is very good."

   More giggling and tugging at my genitals.  I can't watch.  Finally I
feel a warm washcloth carefully wiping me.

   "Jump in the shower, Dave," Lita orders with a kiss.  "Rinse it off and
come out.  We wish to try it out."

   "We?" I'm back in the shower.  Quick.  The water's cold.  I don't give
it a chance to warm up right now as I rinse the traces of the shaving cream
off.  A cold shower is just what I need right now.

   Pat is smiling as Brindy and Carlita bring me into the bedroom.  The
covers are at the foot of the bed.  There's a huge, smooth, cool, clean
surface.  "Lay him down in the middle of it, Lita," Pat says.

   I don't know what I expected, but three delightful faces at my freshly
shaved crotch was nice.

   Pat giggled.  "We did a good job.  He hasn't been this smooth since we
were little." She laughed.  "It's all much bigger now.  Lita, you get the
first try."

   Lita's cheek rubbed my slick pubic mound as she fastened her mouth
sideways at the base of my dick.  Brindy's mouth fastened opposite Lita's.
Brindy had the advantage.  There's this spot right at the base of my dick
that just sends me soaring.  Lita knows about it.  Brindy doesn't.

   Lita's head pops up.  She glances at me, then Brindy, strokes Brindy's
hair.  "Brin," she says softly, "let me show you something..."

   Brindy backs away.  Lita's fingertip.  "Right here.  This spot.  Your
finger.  Your tongue.  Suck it.  Even bite it a little.  Doesn't matter how
many times we did it, that spot is good for another one."

   "You never showed me that," Pat said.

   "Wasn't sure about it.  Little Dora the Explorer there..."

   Lita's head popped up.  "That's ME!" Another giggle.  "And when my hair
grows more..."

   "She found it.  Drives me NUTS!"

   "I only use it for good, not evil," she tittered.

   I felt a warm mouth working on me.  Looked down at Brin's head bouncing
in my lap.  I'm in heaven.

   "Pat," Lita said, "Why don't we take your car over to my house?  We'll
get clothes so we can spend the night and not have to go home in the
morning."

   "What about Brin and Dave?"

   "We will return.  They will still be here."

   "I thought your rules..."

   "My rules, my interpretation.  I was here when we started.  I will be
here when we finish.  Let's go."

   They dressed and left.  Brindy scooted up next to me.  "Kiss me bunches,
Dave," she said.

   I provided the kisses, cradling Brindy tenderly.

   "I love Carlita, you know," she said softly.  "And you.  And Pat.  Right
now, you.  More."

   "I'm glad.  You're a delight."

   "I'm fat."

   "You're not fat.  Delightful.  Juicy."

   "Another word for 'fat'," she said.

   "Do you really want to win this argument?"

   She started to reply.  I silenced her with a kiss.

   "Pat said you were good.  Carlita said you were good.  I'm about to
explode, Dave.  Again.  You did me today..."

   "Made love to you..."

   "Was it?  Making love?"

   "Yes, my Brindy."

   "I'm your Brindy?"

   "Yes, if you want that."

   "With Lita and Pat, you have love for me?"

   "I love you." My words changed to "mmmmm" as she kissed me.

   More kisses.  "Dave?"

   "Yes, little Brindy?"

   "Did I suck good?"

   "Yes."

   "You didn't come."

   "Baby, I'm only human.  This one's gonna be number five.  It's not going
to be an easy one."

   Little girl voice.  "But that's ...  I really want you to."

   "I want to, myself."

   "One more kiss," she said, then she slid down.

   Pat and Lita came back with Brindy still lavishing attention.  When they
walked in, she popped up.  "I want Dave to come in my mouth."

   "It is five times," Carlita said.  "It is not the easy one." Lita kissed
me, patted Brindy.  "Let's see what we can do."

   Carlita is a problem solver and she does not mind sharing in a success.
Brindy was getting more and more excited when it became obvious that I was
getting close.

   Pat was reclined at my head.  "They're soooo hot, Dave."

   "Can't ...  talk..."

   Pat giggled.

   Carlita's fingers worked on my scrotum, tugging, occasionally probing
that spot.  Brindy's mouth ...  she was giggling and hmmmmming as I kept
getting closer.

   "He is very close, Brindy," Lita said.

   "Mmmmmm" And that brown head bobbed to put as much in her mouth as was
comfortable, then her tongue worked on me as she pulled back.

   "OHGOD!  Brindy!!!"

   "Emmmmphhhhh!" And she kept sucking.

   "That is good, Brindy.  He is, that is, yours."

   I felt her suck each surge from me, the swallowing, more sucks.

   "Now kiss him," Lita coached.  "It is done that way."

   Brindy kissed me, lips closed.  I probed with my tongue.  She opened up
and we kissed deeply, the way I know she likes.  Finally I just lay back on
the pillow.

   "Wow!"

   Carlita was beside me.  "Was Brindy good, my Dave?"

   "Brindy is very good."

   "I didn't think you'd kiss me after you came in my mouth."

   "I told you he would," Pat said.

   Now I had Brindy on one side and Carlita on the other.

   "This isn't good," Pat said.  "You don't have enough sides."

   Two giggles.  "Spread your legs, Dave," Brindy said.

   "Oh, sure," Pat laughed, crawling into the space.  Giggle.  "Look what I
found."

   I was hopelessly soft.  Five shots since this morning.  Pat captured the
whole thing in her mouth.

   I moaned.

   "I never got to play with it soft very much," Pat said.

   Dinner.  I needed to replenish some nutrients.  Pat and Brindy took off
to get Chinese takeout.

   Carlita was in one of my favorite places, supine on top of me.  She was
smiling.

   "You are depleted."

   "Pretty much, pretty girl," I said.

   "I am still pretty?  I have small titties.  Theirs are bigger."

   "Yours are perfect.  Theirs are fun.  Yours are fun.  Yours are perfect,
as my Carlita is perfect."

   "I love you, Dave."

   "Good.  Lita, this is all very much fun, but is it what you want?  Me
and these two?"

   "If it was you and those two, I would be angry and very much hurt, but
it is you and us, and I am very much happy."

   "I would like to make love with you, Carlita, but..."

   She slid sideways off me, her hand reaching for my flaccid tool.  She
giggled.  "I have done this by myself many times, Dave," she said proudly.
"Five."

   "Indeed you have, my Lita."

   "Can you eat me?"

   "I would love to eat you.  Get up here."

   She straddled me in a sweet sixty-nine.  From her delightful taste, I
knew she'd been excited all evening.  Delicious.  Of course, with her
height, I have to curl up so she can stretch enough to reach my dick.  It's
not helping here, still soft.  I'm enjoying myself and the little motions
of her hips tell me that she's getting close.

   "Oh, yesssss, Dave!"

   We were curled up, satiated, dozing together when Pat and Brindy
returned.

   "Wake up, you two," Brindy said, prodding us.  "We got FOOD!"

   Lita looked at me, her face undecipherable.  "Dave, we must go home."

   "Why?"

   "We must go home."

   "Are you okay?  Do you feel sick?" Brindy asked.

   "No, Brindy.  Dave must take me home."

   "Okay," I said.  I stood up, started getting dressed.

   Pat walked into the room.  "Is something wrong?"

   "I dunno," I said.  "Lita says she needs to go home."

   "Are you okay, Lita?" Pat asked.

   Lita's eyes stayed downcast.  "Dave must take me home.  I am sorry.  We
must go home."

   I shrugged.  "We're going home."

   "Let us know..." Pat said.

   The walk back to the house was silent.  Normally Carlita is talking
about something.  Not tonight.  Her eyes looked at her feet.

   I got her inside our door, locked it, held her.  Don't know what I was
expecting.

   Bursting into tears wasn't on the list.

   "Lita?" I blurted, holding her.

   "Dave ...  my Dave.  I cannot ...  I am not ...  open.  I am Carlita, a
simple girl from Guatemala who has one husband who has one wife ...  I
cannot..."

   "Oh."

   Small voice.  "I love you, Dave.  You.  You are to be my husband ... 
Mine only."

   "I thought you..."

   "I thought maybe ...  But my heart, it hurts.  I cannot hide it."

   "Carlita ...  my Carlita..."

   "Dave," she sobbed, tears coursing down her cheeks, "I am YOUR Carlita.
I cannot be somebody else's Carlita.  I gave myself to you..." More sobs.
"You will send me away..."

   "Never, my little Carlita ...  Why would I send you away?"

   "I have broken my vows ...  We have..."

   "I vowed I would be your husband forever.  I screwed up as much as you
...  more ...  you may not want me."

   Another round of sobs.  "Always want ...  My Dave..."

   "Baby," I said softly.

   "I gave YOU to others.  I gave ME to others.  I thought it was okay,
that many do this."

   "Maybe many do.  Maybe Carlita doesn't."

   She turned big brown eyes up to mine.  "You wanted them."

   "I ...  Come, sit..." We ended up on the sofa.  I kept her in my arms.
"My Carlita ...  I thought it was something you wanted ...  I just want my
Carlita to be happy."

   "YOU cannot hide that you enjoyed it."

   "No, I enjoyed it, but if it makes my Carlita cry, it is not worth it."

   "You love them."

   "Of course I do.  Pat is my sister..."

   "Brindy is not your sister."

   "Brindy is Brindy.  Yes, I guess somehow I love her, but she is not my
wife.  You are."

   She nestled into my arms more.  "My Dave.  Your Carlita ...  we have
damaged ...  US..."

   "Do you still love me, my Carlita?"

   "Yes." Sobs.

   "I still love you."

   "I am selfish.  I do not wish to share..."

   "I quite understand."

   "Dave, you LIKED it.  You responded.  With Pat.  With Brindy.  Will I be
enough?"

   "You are more than enough.  I did not seek other women, my little
Carlita."

   "You ...  several times."

   "I have done 'several times' with you, little girl."

   "We have damaged..."

   "Do you think so?  We, we're still here.  I have my Carlita in my arms."

   "You want Carlita?  Only?  Not Brindy?  Not Pat?  You ...  I saw your
juice in them."

   "Carlita, my angel, I have made love to nobody as much as I have made
love with you.  You are my love..."

   "But, your..."

   "It is a dick.  It responds.  If you were acting sad when this happened,
it would not respond.  You seemed like that was what you wanted, for us all
to be together, having each other.  You did Brindy and Pat.  I did Brindy
and Pat." I sighed.  "I would rather my Carlita."

   "Brindy and Pat want Brindy to have a baby.  Yours.  They say it is the
closest that they can get with Brindy and Pat's DNA."

   "Then I shall go to a doctor and give him a specimen of my semen."

   She kissed me, her cheeks still tear-stained.  "Dave, thank you.  I am
Carlita, once a lost orphan.  Once an illegal immigrant.  Now wife of Dave,
if Dave still wants her."

   "Carlita Ortiz Luna Johnson, I said in front of God and family,
'forever'.  Forever isn't even close to being over.  Will you accept Dave
who has had Brindy and his own sister?"

   "I accept you."

   "Then it is done."

   "Dave," she said.  "You can make Brindy pregnant.  I will understand.  I
will be pregnant for Dave when I am a graduate from college and I have
proven myself."

   "I will gladly see the child of me and my Carlita."

   "But Brindy..."

   "Brindy?  I don't know."

   "She loves you, Dave.  Never like I love you, but in her way.  So does
Pat.  Not only as your sister."

   "I am sorry.  I belong to Carlita.  No, I guess I'm not sorry.  I have
Carlita, the woman I desired even before such things were possible.  I
didn't know I was supposed to be dreaming and wishing for Carlita from
Guatemala.  Now I have her and I want no other."

   "Are you certain, Dave?  Many men would think that having several women
would be a good thing."

   "Those men do not have my Carlita, she of the dark hair and brown eyes
that laugh..."

   "Dark, SHORT hair."

   "Hair will grow.  Your mind, your words, your thoughts, those things are
more to me than the outside of Carlita."

   "Perhaps bigger..." she put her hands on her chest, "tits."

   "If they are not on my Carlita, then they cannot be perfect."

   She started to smile.  "Me.  You.  Okay?"

   "Okay.  Past okay."

   She kissed me.  I kissed back.  Okay ...  yeah ...  today was fun.  What
red-blooded male wouldn't like having THREE young women after him?  But I'm
more than a hard dick looking for satisfaction.  Sometime in the future,
there's supposed to be Dave with a wife, Dave with a wife and child, Dave
with a wife of many years, sharing the golden years.  I'm looking at this
dark-haired beauty and thinking she could be all those things and dammit,
Dave, don't think with your dick.  You're better than that.

   "Your Dave is stupid and thinks with his dick sometimes, Carlita.  Never
leave me."

   "Your Carlita knows, Dave.  I have thought with parts that are meant
only for you.  I understand.  I married you.  Everlasting."

   "Yes."

   "I do not know if you have strength to consummate our words, Dave."

   "My heart does."

   "Dave," she said.  "I may be a simple Guatemalan orphan," she said,
playing her 'poor little me' card.  "But I know that consummation requires
our bodies..." Her hand touched the lump in my shorts.

   "Carlita..."

   "Do you still want me that way?"

   "I wanted you that way when I could have gone to jail, Carlita."

   "Take me to the bedroom, Dave."

   I can follow instructions.

   "Undress me." Quickly she stood naked in front of me, an exotic little
goddess of green forests.

   "Now undress yourself."

   I did as told.

   "You, me.  I can do this," she said, kneeling.

   The aftermath.  Tearful.  That's okay.  I had my arms filled with the
one who fills my heart.

   "No, Dave.  I am Carlita, your wife.  It is not supposed to be any other
thing.  Me.  You.  Our bed.  I will talk to Brindy and Pat.  They will
understand."



   ------

   Chapter 24

   Carlita's turn:

   Dave's phone rang.  He looked.  "Pat."

   "Answer her, Dave," I said.

   "I love you," he told me.  "Hi, Pat..." Pause.  "My Carlita has had a
meltdown.  I wasn't sure when this all started how she was doing this.  It
just didn't seem like her." Pause.  "I don't know.  She just ...  Like it
was screaming at her from inside.  She broke." Pause.  "Yes, she's okay
right now.  We had a good cry together." Pause.  "No, nobody said anything
hurtful.  She wants me for a husband.  I want her for a wife." Pause. 
"Yeah, I'll ask her."

   Dave turned to me.  "Can Brindy talk to you tomorrow?"

   "Yes, I will talk to Brindy.  Monday we have errands to run.  We are
friends."

   "She says that she and Brindy are friends and that they have things to
do together." Pause.  "Okay.  I love you too, Sis.  G'nite."

   "What did she say?"

   "She says that Brindy's having a melt-down, too.  Brindy thinks SHE did
something."

   "Nooooo," I said, shaking my head.  "Brindy ...  She's ...  I do not
exactly say it right ...  has been broken." I crawled up into Dave's arms.
"I have done things very wrong, Dave."

   "You are my Lita.  I love you."

   "But by doing these things with Brindy and with Pat, I have hurt them,
Dave.  It is only that when I said to Brindy that we shower together, she
thought I meant she and I, not you and I, and she looked so happy with that
...  I do not want to hurt Brindy.  I wanted to make her happy."

   I kissed my Dave.  "But I want to make YOU happy.  But some things are
too much for me to bear."

   "You make me happy, little one.  Pat and Brindy, we love them, and love
will get us all through this."

   I made Dave sleep without clothes.  "I must feel you very much all
night, Dave."

   I tried to sleep.  I kept thinking of Dave and me, and thinking of
Brindy crying because I made her sad.  She has had enough sadness.

   I finally found sleep with Dave's arms around me.

   He tried to get out of bed on Sunday morning and let me sleep.  It does
not work.  The absence of Dave in a bed where he has been is cause for me
to awaken.  I follow him, both of us naked.  He hears my footsteps and
turns.  I do not offer him a choice.  I am in his arms.

   "Dave, let us have breakfast, then I must do something very difficult."

   "Difficult?"

   "I must talk to Brindy, Dave.  Pat ...  you and Pat, I know you
understand.  She understands.  But Brindy ...  Brindy has been broken and I
am part of Brindy now and I must help her not be broken."

   "Can I help?" Dave asked.  "With Brindy, I mean."

   "No, it is mine to do.  Get the eggs out.  I have frijoles in the
pantry. There is salsa verde."

   I know there is salsa.  I made it myself.  I worry that I cook with too
many chilis.  Dave likes them, I have found.

   Soon we have scrambled eggs, tortillas, frijoles and salsa.  It is not
an American breakfast.  It is close to a Guatemalan breakfast, and Dave
says he does not feel deprived.

   I do not want Dave deprived of anything that I can give him.

   We clean the kitchen together after breakfast.

   "I wonder if Brindy and Pat are up?" I ask him.  "I need to talk to
Brindy.  Dave, I should do that with only her and me."

   "I understand, little one," he says.  "I have yard work to do."

   "Let me call her then," I said.  I was afraid when I said 'Call Brindy'
to my phone.

   It rang three times before Brindy's voice answered.  "Lita!  Are you
okay?"

   "I am okay, Brindy.  Can you come here so we can talk?"

   "Ohhhh.  Talk.  Yes, I suppose..."

   "I will make coffee."

   "I'll be there in a bit."

   Then I thought, what if Brindy has a meltdown, as Dave says?  I cannot
make her walk home, crying, up the sidewalk.

   And I do not want Brindy to cry.  I kissed my Dave as he walked out the
back door into the yard.

   I watched the coffee drip.  It was just about finished when the doorbell
rang.  I went to open it, seeing Brindy AND Pat.

   "Where's Dave?" Pat asked.

   "He is getting rid of a tree that is in the wrong place in the back
yard."

   "Good.  I'll go bother him for a while, let you and Brindy talk."

   Now I have another worry.  Pat and MY Dave.

   "I made coffee.  You can bring him a cup." The three of us went into the
kitchen for coffee.  Pat left through the back door with two mugs.  Brindy
and I retreated to the living room.

   She spoke first.  "Something happened, didn't it, Lita?"

   "Yes.  I woke up.  Brin, yesterday ...  the before things, those are not
ME."

   She looked sad.  "Were we not good?"

   I nodded.  "Yes.  We were good.  But Brin, I am married to Dave.  What I
have is his.  What he has is mine."

   "And all the stuff yesterday?"

   I closed my eyes.  "Yes.  Everything that could be tickled, it was
tickled very well.  But my heart, Brin ...  I am Carlita, a girl from an
orphanage, raised in a church.  I know that all this, it is wrong..." I
opened my eyes, saw her soft, rounded face, sad.  This is MY doing.

   "Gosh, Brindy, what am I supposed to do?"

   "I know.  It's tough.  I dunno what to do either.  I mean, I LOVE Pat.
That's for sure.  But you ...  Dave ...  Lita, I've never been loved. 
Cared for.  Since Pat, now you and Dave.  I do feel loved."

   "We do not have to sleep together to love each other, Brindy," I said.

   "I know." She hung her head.  "I guess I am guilty of that.  It's just
that before, those guys, they did the physical things, but not the things
that y'all did to my heart.  When you and I ...  it was inside my heart,
too.  Just like with Pat.  She is in my heart." She glanced up at me, then
looked away.  "And Dave ...  I'm sorry.  He is your husband.  I will not
interfere.  It's just that with Dave, I felt like it was real.  Those other
guys  -" before  -" nothing like Dave."

   When she looked back at me, there was a wet track down her cheek.  What
am I supposed to do?  I opened my arms and held her, touched her hair.

   "Brindy, you are my sister.  I love you."

   "I made you do things you think are wrong."

   "I did them because I love you and wish to see you happy."

   "You're not angry with me?" she asked.

   "No, I am not."

   "Are you angry with Pat?"

   "No.  Why?"

   "We sort of took your husband."

   "I looked.  I still have my husband, so you did not take him."

   "What did he say?"

   "That he wants me happy." I looked at her face.  "I think he wanted
everybody happy but he is my husband, Brindy."

   "I would recognize that every day, Carlita," she said softly.  "Every
day." She sighed.  "I wonder if Pat is talking to Dave?"

   "I only hope that is all they are doing."

   Brindy started to smile.  "Brother and sister.  That's just kinky."

   I smiled at her.  "They are two adults, Brindy.  Before.  Maybe they
should have married."

   "Can't do that.  Brother and sister is a no-no.  No marriage.  Is almost
as bad as an adult and a fourteen year old girl." She arched her eyebrow to
see if I understood.

   "That bad, huh?"

   Now she is smiling, her head bouncing 'yes'.  "I am better now, Lita. 
You do not have to hold me like I'm a baby."

   Yes, I still had her in my arms.

   "Sister kiss?" Brindy asked.

   "Sister kiss," I replied.  A little kiss on the lips, it is enough.

   "I want you to be my sister, whatever," Brindy said.  "I was scared that
you would not want to be my friend after you left last night."

   "No, Brindy," I said.  "I left because I must understand Carlita and
Dave.  Brindy has done no wrong." She leaned against me.  I smiled.  "I did
not know I would come to America and get a sister."

   "I will be a good sister.  I will not sleep with your husband."

   "He remains useful, Brindy.  You did not damage him."

   "Good one, you know."

   "Dave?  I love him.  I have no other experience."

   "I do.  He is a good one.  Of course, you also made me very happy."

   "Stop that, Brindy!  You are starting things..."

   "I'm sorry.  Was just remembering.  I wonder what Dave and Pat ... 
should we go see?"

   "Dave will not do anything without me," I said.  I am confident.  He is
MY Dave.

   She smiled.  "I don't think Pat would, either.  We need to take good
care of them.  I know I'm a bit bent, but so is Pat.  We prop each other
up. You, though ...  you're some sort of supergirl.  All the way from
Guatemala."

   "It was the hand of God," I said.  "I am sure.  How does one travel a
thousand miles and end up with Dave?  Miracle."

   "Milagro!" Brindy said.  Her attempts at Spanish make me smile, as they
do so many in our class.  How can they not like Brindy?  How can I not LOVE
Brindy?  She is sometimes so fragile, like a beautiful orchid that is a
bright blossom, but that withers at a touch.

   We heard the back door open, two voices, Pat's was loud and irritated
and Dave's was apologetic.

   "I told you to let me move those cut branches, but nooooo," he said.

   "It's sticky.  It's sticky and won't come off.  Water doesn't touch it."

   "What's wrong?" Brindy asked.

   "My sister got pine sap on 'er.  She now has personal knowledge of what
mankind has known for millennia.  Pine sap is sticky and won't dissolve. 
Come on, Sis," Dave said.  "I have some paint thinner that'll get it off."

   "You'd better."

   They were still arguing when they walked into the garage.

   I sat back.

   "Brother and sister.  They sound like it, huh?"

   "I don't know," I said.

   "Oh.  Sorry.  Me neither, 'cept I knew families and brothers and sisters
argue."

   "One time they did not argue..." I said.

   "Oh, they probably did.  While they were doin' each other."

   "I don't think so.  Yesterday, they seemed to get along quite well."

   "You.  You have Dave.  You get along well with him, too."

   "Yes." I giggled.  "Can we not talk about Dave and his..." I felt my
face get hot.

   "Oh.  Okay.  Just know that it was a very happy thing for me.  Like it
made that part of me clean again."

   "It is okay, Brindy."

   Dave and Pat came back in.

   "Great idea, Bro," Pat said.  "Now I smell like a chemical factory."

   "Go ahead and bitch," Dave laughed.  "I can get that branch and you can
go back to the piney fresh scent..."

   Pat looked at Brindy who was still leaning against me.  "So you two,
you're okay?"

   "She is my sister," I said.  "Sisters are forever..."

   "Brothers, however," Pat laughed, "are entirely disposable." She
sniffed. "Phewwww!  Dammit, Dave!"

   "Sorry, Sis," my Dave said.  "I told you to let me do it by myself."

   "Yeah, but you're so damned helpless sometimes.  Carlita's smart enough
for the two of you, fortunately."

   "I know that," Dave laughed.

   "Well, we're off to an adventure, then," Pat said.  She and Brindy left.

   That means I and Dave must talk.

   He started with, "Looks like you and Brindy are okay."

   "Yes," I said.  "Brindy thought she had done something to hurt me.  She
is tender."

   "What did you tell her?" Dave asked.

   "That you are my husband.  That we are married.  That we all did things
that were very enjoyable and that I loved her and Pat like sisters but that
my heart belongs to you."

   "What about that neat little body?" he asked.

   "That belongs to you, too.  That I wanted her to be happy, but I am
yours.  She wanted you again, as well.  I told her that you are mine."

   "Then it's settled, isn't it?  Me and my Carlita."

   "It will always be Dave and Carlita.  But Dave ...  Am I being selfish?"

   "Selfish?"

   "For keeping you to myself?  Brindy wants you..."

   "Brindy has Pat."

   "I know," I said.  "But Brindy is so fragile sometimes.  That is how..."
I paused.  "She said that you ...  fixed her."

   Dave looked at me.  "I don't know how.  I think 'fix' takes more than
making love a couple of times."

   "Yes," I said.  "She ...  her only experience with a boy was very bad.
Abusive.  She said that you loved her." I could see the confusion on my
Dave's face.  "That is true, am I correct?"

   "It is true in the sense that I want good things for her, baby," he
said. "But she is not my wife.  YOU are my wife."

   "What did Pat say?  I am sure that she talked with you about this."

   "Pat said that Brindy was crying.  She thought she'd done something
wrong."

   "Brindy," I said.  "I never wanted to make Brindy cry."

   "Me neither," he said.  "But..."

   "I know," I replied, getting close in his arms.  "She knows what I know
about you.  You make me a woman."

   "That's not a very enlightened statement," he laughed.

   "I know.  I said it to Pat and she said the same thing.  I do not care.
It is a truth.  My Dave, he makes me complete."

   "My Carlita ...  that is truth.  You make me complete as well."

   "Brindy said that they sort of took my husband.  I said that they did
not take you because I still have you." I smiled.  Kissed him.  "I have you
any time I want you, just as you have me." I kissed him again.  "Dave," I
said.

   "Yes, little one?"

   "If Brindy..."

   "If Brindy what?"

   "If Brindy ...  you would make Brindy feel good.  Loved."

   "I have my Carlita to make feel good and loved."

   "You do that very well.  My Dave," I said.  "It is Sunday.  We do not
have anything else to do."

   He makes me scream sometimes.  My mind, it does not know Spanish or
English or any language at all, and I hear my Dave's breathing stop and
start again as he squirts life inside me.

   "So beautiful," he says.  I am naked on top of him.  Sometimes we do not
move.  It is so very good.

   I close my eyes.  In my head I hear Brindy's softest voice, "it was a
very happy thing for me.  Like it made that part of me clean again."

   Things are not so simple.  I know of love in many ways.  I love my Dave
as a woman loves her husband.  I love Dave's family as one should love
brothers and sisters and nieces and nephews.  That includes some of the
love I feel for Pat and Brindy.

   But for Brindy ...  What is a poor Guatemalan orphan supposed to
understand of these things?

   It is not what I feel between my legs.  I did not feel that when I
hugged Brindy this morning.  I felt that when SHE talked of having Dave. 
What is that supposed to mean?  Am I excited when I think of Brindy finding
joy with Dave like I find joy?  Or when she talked of Dave and Pat?

   I saw Brindy smile when she spoke of Dave and Pat.  And I know what I
felt.  And now, thinking of Brindy being happy, I feel it THERE.

   Dave does not understand why I am trying to get him ready for me again.
He is easy to get ready and I am still on top of him and I can feel him
deep inside me.

   "You are so beautiful, Carlita," he says.  "What brought THIS on?"

   "My Dave, who is my everything.  My Dave, who made his sister happy.  My
Dave, who took the darkness from my Brindy."

   "Your Brindy?"

   "My Brindy," I affirmed.  "Also Pat's Brindy and your Brindy."

   "My Brindy?"

   "In accordance with the Old Testament, you have lain with a maiden.  She
is now yours."

   "But ...  Last night I had Carlita crying in my arms."

   "And Carlita may yet cry in your arms, but you are my Dave and you will
hold me."

   I am trying to understand all the feelings that I am having.  Having
Dave hold me in his arms helps me.

   We are thinking of the things we do not have to do today.  We can have
our home together, without worries.  I tickle him to arousal.  It is not
difficult.  Sometimes I only need him.

   We shower together afterward.

   That is when his phone rings.  We do not usually get calls on Sunday
morning.

   He looks.  "Gary," he says to me.  He answers the phone.  "Hey, Gary,
what's up?"

   I watch Dave's face fall apart.  "A wreck?" Pause.  "At the emergency
room?" Pause.  "Yes, we'll be right there.  See you in a bit.  We're
praying..."

   He turned to me.  "Get dressed.  Pat and Brindy got in a wreck.  They're
in the emergency room."

   Dave's turn:

   How fast things go off track.  Lita and I were contemplating a lazy day
of playing around the house when the phone rang.  I saw the display.  Gary.

   "Hey, Gary!  What's up?"

   "I just got a call from the hospital.  Pat and her friend Brindy are in
the ER.  Car wreck.  They want us up there."

   "Bad?"

   "Might be.  Pat didn't call.  The ER desk did.  We're dropping the kids
at the neighbor's right now."

   "We'll be out the door in a minute.  We're getting dressed," I said.

   "Got it.  See you in a bit."

   I hung up, relayed the conversation to Carlita.  We jumped into jeans
and shirts and tugged on socks and shoes.  She grabbed her bag and I
stuffed my billfold into my pants and we rushed out the door.

   It's twenty minutes to the hospital.  Parking is disastrous unless
you're a doctor, but we shoehorned into a slot and hurried to the entrance.
I hit the security window.  "Family of Pat Johnson," I said.

   "And Brindy McPherson," Carlita injected.

   "Has Gary Johnson showed up yet?"

   The guard shook his head.  "Nossir.  Hang on." He punched his deskset,
put the receiver to his ear, mumbled unintelligibly.  He turned to us.  "If
you can sit over there, a doctor will be out to talk with you shortly."

   I was numbed as I escorted Carlita over to a bank of chairs.  A couple
of minutes later Gary and Carlie came in, equally grim.  We all sat silent,
Carlita squeezing my hand for all she was worth.

   Finally a door opened and a scrubs-clad man walked out.  "Johnson
family?" he asked.

   We stood.  The guy shook his head.  "I'm sorry.  Too much damage.  We
did everything we could."

   Carlita sagged against me, her face in my chest.  Carlie grabbed Gary
and sobbed.

   "You mean..." I asked.

   He nodded.

   "Can we..."

   "If you must.  I'd advise against it.  Really.  What's in there is not
your sister."

   "What about Brindy McPherson?" Carlita asked.

   "Are you Carlita Johnson?"

   "Yessir.  And this is my husband, Dave."

   "She asked if you could come see her.  Both of you."

   "Is she..." Carlita started.

   "She will be okay.  She asked for you."

   "Go see her, baby," I said.  "Let me and Gary have a moment."

   Carlita took off.  I turned to Gary.  Guy's gotta cry sometime.  Losing
your sister is one of those times.

   "We'll get through this, baby," Carlie told Gary.  "We'll get through
it."

   I felt a hand tug me.  I turned.  Carlita.

   "Baby, can you come talk to BrindY?"

   "Yeah.  How is she?"

   "Bruised.  Scraped.  Come."

   "I'll be back," I told Gary and Carlie.  I left, towed by Carlita.

   Once we got through the doors, she stopped.  "Dave, Brindy just lost ...
She has no place to go."

   "Simple.  She is Carlita's sister.  She comes with us."

   "Good.  I am glad you thought that on your own.  I was going to have to
tell you."

   We walked up the aisle to a curtained cubicle.

   "Brindy?" Carlita whispered, "It is me and Dave."

   "Come in," Brindy said, her voice sounding broken.

   I stepped up to the bed.  Carlita was correct.  Brindy looked pretty
beaten up.  I reached over and touched her cheek lightly.  "Bad day,
muffin," I said.

   "Pat ...  she ...  It was so fast..." Her eyes teared up.

   "Don't talk about it," I said.  "Not right now.  We're here for you."

   Carlita was holding Brindy's hand.  "You are our Brindy.  We are here
for you.  Whatever you need..."

   I heard the curtain swish.  "Mister Johnson, one of the police officers
is here, if you want to talk to him."

   "Sure," I said.  "Can I get my brother?"

   "Yes."

   I retrieved Gary and Carlie.  We met the officer.

   "Folks, you have no idea how much I hate this part of my job," he said.
"I'm sorry."

   "What happened?" Gary asked.

   "You realize that this is a preliminary investigation.  Your sister and
the driver of the other vehicle, neither one survived.  It appears that he
was coming off a side road and didn't stop at the stop sign.  Your sister's
car took all the impact on the driver's door." He looked down, then back at
me and Gary.  "Who's next of kin?"

   "That's me and Gary," I said.  "Legally.  Mom and Dad left us a few
years ago."

   "Kids?"

   "No," Carlie said.

   "Can I get addresses and phone numbers?"

   We gave him the information.

   Next item was the disposition of Pat's remains.  Fill out a form.  Make
a phone call you never want to make.

   Gary and I and Carlie huddled.  "Doctor said that an open casket
funeral's a stretch," Gary said.

   "She didn't like funerals.  Said she didn't want one of those when Momma
passed away."

   "Folks," I said, "We need to consider one more opinion in this."

   "Who?"

   "Brindy.  She and Pat were really close."

   Gary raised an eyebrow.  The look on Carlie's face indicated to me that
she knew more than she wanted to discuss.

   "Let me see if she's up to it," I added.

   "We don't have to make a decision just right now," Gary said.

   "Okay.  Let me see what Brindy wants."

   I returned to Brindy.  "Are they keeping you here, baby?" I asked.

   Brindy heard 'baby'.  She lost a bit of the sadness.

   "They say she can go home, Dave," Carlita said.

   Carlie and Gary slipped in to see Brindy.  Didn't say much.  Carlie bent
over and kissed Brindy's cheek.

   "We're so sorry, Brindy."

   They left.

   "I don't have family," Brindy said.

   "You have us," I said.  "Always."

   "Yes," Lita reinforced.  "You will come home with us today.  That is
where you should stay."

   "I love you guys," Brindy said.

   A mound of paperwork and a wheelchair ride later, we had Brindy in our
car, headed home.  I drove.  Brindy and Carlita rode in the back seat.  I
left the two of them at the house while I went to the pharmacy to retrieve
some prescriptions for Brindy.

   The drive let me deal with my own thoughts.  I'm having a lot of
thoughts.  And I miss my sister.



   ------

   Chapter 25

   Carlita's turn:

   My Dave is devastated.  My Brindy is devastated.  I am devastated.  In
an instant, our lives changed since we were taking Brindy home with us, we
invited Carlie and Gary home with us.

   "Maybe later," Carlie said.  "We need to get the kids."

   The hospital rolled Brindy out to our car in a wheelchair.  I noticed
that she was sore as she stood and slid into the back seat.  I sat beside
her, holding her in my arms as she cried softly.

   I am used to our car being a place of happiness.  It is not happy today.
I do not know what to say to Brindy or Dave.  I am sad.  I know their
connection to Pat was more than mine.  They are likely very much more sad.

   This is new to me.  I am expected to be mature and what I really want to
do is cry and hold onto people who love me, but they are sad like me.

   I cannot help it.  Pat was good to me, a friend and more, and she is
Dave's sister and Brindy's love.  We help Brindy from the car to the house.
She is walking like she has some pains.  And I start crying and I can't
help it.  We're all sitting on the sofa in a big pile, sobbing.

   Dave is stroking my head like I'm a puppy.  I push closer against him
and then I'm in the middle with Brindy on one side and Dave on the other. I
climb onto Dave's lap and Brindy slides over, very close to Dave, still
crying.  She moves slowly.  She is sore from the wreck.

   Dave's kiss on my cheek helps both me and him, but Brindy ...  I take
his hand gently and move it to touch Brindy.  Very quietly I whisper in his
ear, "Dave, she needs you now, also."

   She turns wet eyes to him.  "Please, Dave.  Please mean it."

   Dave's eyes meet mine.  He raises an eyebrow.  Dave and I  -" we do not
have to speak to communicate.  I nod.

   "Always, Brindy.  Me and Carlita and you.  Always."

   "I LOVED Pat," she sobbed.  "She's..." sob "Gooooone..."

   "It's okay to cry, baby," Dave said to her.  When he finished talking, I
put my mouth on his.  This guy that I love so much ...  my heart is big. 
For him.  For Brindy who is wetting my shirt with her tears.  I pull away
from his kiss and bury my face in his neck.

   Carlita must understand love.  It is not easy.  I know the ways ...  One
man, one woman.  I could easily do that, but I have let Brindy into our
lives.  It would have been easy to watch if Brindy made a life with Pat.  I
would have been happy to see them together, loving and living.

   And in one bad afternoon, Pat is gone.  I hope that the prayers of this
little Guatemalan orphan are counted in her favor.  She truly did good in
her life.

   And now here is Brindy that I let into the life of me and Dave and I am
asking my heart what I am supposed to do with Brindy.

   I am supposed to be sister to Brindy.  I am supposed to be friend to
Brindy.  Those are easy answers.  The more difficult answer is what I wish
Dave to be to Brindy.  Even as HIS tears wet my hair, I love my Dave and I
know that he has a big heart also.

   I wonder what Brindy needs.  I tug her gently and slide sideways off
Dave's lap, tugging Brindy into my place.  Dave looks at me with a question
in his eyes.  I smile a little and nod.

   He does that thing to Brindy that makes me feel so loved  -" he puts
little kisses on the top of her head.  I do not know how it will affect
Brindy.  It makes Carlita feel loved and cared for.  I watch.

   It does affect Brindy.  She presses into him.  I touch her, rubbing her
back, so she knows that I approve of this.  I also touch my Dave.  He needs
to know...

   Dave's phone rings.  I lean next to his ear so I can hear.

   "Hey, Gary..."

   "Hey, brother ...  Carlie's got food.  I'd sure like for you and
Carlita..."

   "And Brindy," Dave said.

   "Yes.  And Brindy.  Y'all come over." I heard his voice waver.  "Dammit.
This ain't easy."

   "We'll be there in a bit.  We sort of need to talk about things.  I
never planned on this, brother," Dave said.

   "Nobody ever does.  But it's us, you know ...  all the family we have."

   "Carlita and Brindy need to get in on this.  Brindy's..."

   "I know," Gary said.  "Pat told me."

   "Then Brindy gets a say on things..."

   "You're right..."

   "We'll be there in a bit," Dave said, then he ended the call.

   "I don't want to be trouble," Brindy said.

   "You're not trouble, you're family, Brin," Dave said.

   That's another reason that I love Dave.

   Brindy twisted, pushing Dave's legs apart.  I did not know what she was
doing, but she slid one leg between his.  "You get the other leg, Lita."

   I did that.  Very big hug.  It is like Dave is holding twins.  One arm
for Dave.  One arm for Brindy.  She has her head on Dave's chest.  She is
looking into my eyes.  I touch her hair, just gently, because she probably
needs comfort now more than ever in her life.

   "Brindy," I say, "Let's get you showered, then we go to Gary and
Carlie's."

   She nods to me.  "Dave, take my keys.  In my closet, there are some
jeans and my blue blouse.  Panties and a bra in the dresser.  My stuff is
in the left set of drawers."

   "Okay.  I can do that," Dave says.  Brindy and I slide off him.  Brindy
is moving slowly.  I know she is hurting.  Dave kisses me, sees my eyes,
then kisses Brindy before he leaves.

   I suppose that at another time, helping Brindy get undressed would be
strange, but Brindy and I, we have been intimate.  I know she is sore now,
though.  Very gently I help her out of her clothes, then I think that she
may have trouble showering, washing herself if she is sore, so I undress
myself as well.

   Her eyes ...  I can see and I understand.  I hold her against me, being
careful, touching her hair, comforting her.  She puts her face at my neck.
Shakes.  A crying.

   "It's just not right, Lita," she sobs.  "I had Pat.  Pat had me.  Now
... nobody."

   "Brindy, that is wrong.  I am not a substitute for Pat.  Dave is not a
substitute for Pat, but you have us."

   Sobs, as I held her in my arms.  Brindy needs much.  I finally get away
to start the shower.  We both get in together.  I am very gentle as I wash
her.  I know it is supposed to be just washing  -" clinical  -" but it is
Brindy and she is soft and ...  but no.

   I wash myself quickly and we get out.  I dry her, then myself.  Her hair
is wet.  I start to dry it for her.  Dave knocks on the bathroom door.

   "Dave," Brindy says, "this is YOUR house.  Come in."

   That is all right.  Dave has seen us both naked before, and this is not
about sex right now.

   "Here," I say, handing him the hair dryer.  "Dry Brindy's hair."

   Mine is still short.  A good toweling gets me almost dry.  Dave is
brushing and drying Brindy.  As I walk past him to get dressed, I see a
bulge in his pants.  I give it a squeeze and smile at him.  Dave is a man.
He is MY man, and I am very happy to know that he gets aroused when he sees
me naked.  Now he sees me and Brindy, and I know that Brindy excites him,
too.

   I come back into the bathroom as he is finishing her hair.

   "There you go, Brin," he says.

   "Thank you, Dave.  Help me stand up.  I seem like I'm getting more sore
with every passing minute."

   "That's normal, Brin," Dave said.  "I've been through that myself. 
We'll pick up your prescriptions on the way to Gary and Carlie's.  You can
take one then."

   Dave and I both helped Brindy dress.  I helped her walk out to the car.
She started to get in the back seat.

   "No," I said.  "The front seat will be more comfortable."

   "But..."

   "No, I am serious.  Dave?"

   "She's right, Brin.  Front seat."

   We took off, stopped at the pharmacy.  Dave took her driver's license
and returned with her prescription and a bottle of water.  "Take one," he
said, handing her a pain pill.  "It'll help."

   "Dave," Brindy said, "What am I going to do?  I have no family that
counts.  No place to go."

   "Did you not listen to Carlita?" Dave asked.

   "Carlita is too good, Dave."

   "Carlita is Carlita.  Light of my soul, heart of my heart.  What she
says is how I feel, Brindy.  We are going to talk about Pat's insurance and
Pat's house and ...  You will have a place."

   "I can't live there, Dave.  Just can't."

   "I would hope not." Dave glanced back at me.  I nodded.  "I would hope
you stay with me and Carlita."

   "Why, Dave?"

   "Because we love you."

   "But..."

   "We LOVE you," I said.  "We ...  if you left, we would hurt, Brindy."

   Dave reached across the center console and touched her arm.  She broke
into tears.

   I cried again.  No Pat.  From the day Dave brought me home, there was
Pat, trying to take care of me, then being my friend and my sister.  She
was part of my world and now she's gone from us.

   Gary was only slightly better.

   We made a half-hearted run on the food for dinner.

   The conversation was about practical things.  Funeral.  No open casket,
something Americans do that I do not understand.  No burial.  Pat's wishes
asked for cremation.  A memorial stone in the family cemetery plot in the
oldest cemetery in the city, that will be Pat's physical memorial.  She
lives on in our hearts.

   Tomorrow we go to the family attorney and look at Pat's will.  Her
insurance.  The house.  Gary posed the question as to whether or not
Brindy's name was included on official documents.

   "I don't know," Brindy said.  "We never talked about it.  People her age
don't..." And Brindy started crying again.  I slid next to her to hold her.

   "I'm sorry," Gary said.

   "No, it's okay, Gary," Brindy sobbed, trying to control herself.  Carlie
sat on the other side of Brindy, comforting her.  "Pat's wishes ...  It's
hard to talk about Pat's wishes.  I mean, we were LIVING.  Nobody our age
thinks about THIS..." More sobs.

   "Brindy, we'll make sure you're taken care of.  What Pat had ...  If she
had a husband, he would be heir.  She had you ...  We know.  We intend to
honor that."

   "I'm sorry, Gary..."

   "Nothing to be sorry about, Brindy.  Pat is Pat.  Our sister.  Never
said we agreed with everything she did, but we still love her and it would
be a dishonor if we did not consider you."

   The trip home remained somber.  Poor Brindy.  Lost the one closest to
her.  Life turned upside down.  And she is physically hurting, as well.

   We stopped at Pat's house.  Brindy needed things for the night.  As you
can imagine, we walked into the house and the emotions flooded both of us.
The house was as it was left this morning when two people went off with
full expectation of returning in the afternoon.

   I helped Brindy pack a few things for the night.

   Back at our house bedtime posed a question.  Brindy started to prepare
the bed in the room that was supposed to be mine when I first came home
with Dave.

   "No, Brindy," I said.  "We sleep in here."

   "That's for you and Dave."

   "And Brindy."

   "Dave," Brindy called.  "Are you okay with this?"

   "Of course, baby," Dave said.  "Unless you're too sore.  If it hurts,
you can sleep in the spare room.  Lita and I have been talking about
getting a king bed.  We can try to make do with this one..."

   "Lay down," I told Brindy.  "Let me massage you where you're sore."

   She stretched on the bed, slowly moving limbs because of the soreness.

   "Dave, come help," I said.  "Now where, Brindy?"

   "My shoulders.  Lower back.  Thighs.  I guess I just jerked into a ball
when it all happened."

   She was lying on her stomach.  I worked on her shoulders, having learned
what Dave likes.  Brindy moaned.

   "Too hard?" I asked.

   "Noooooo."

   Dave was sliding his hands up and down her thighs, stopping to squeeze
and knead.  She moaned for Dave, too.  Her face buried into the pillow.  I
saw her shoulders shake with a sob.

   "I've lost my Paaaaaaat..."

   "I'm so sorry, Brindy.  We all lost Pat." I ran my fingers through
Brindy's hair, caressing her head and neck.  I know she likes having her
neck touched.  It is not a sexual thing, unless it's a sexual thing.  This
time...

   "Carlita, do you love me?"

   "Yes, my Brindy."

   "Dave, do you love me?"

   "Yes, Brindy.  Impossible not to."

   "I need y'all.  I do."

   "You got us," Dave said.  He looked at me for agreement.  I smiled, bit
my bottom lip, something that I know has an effect on him.

   When we finally did go to bed there was a discussion.  Just the two of
us, Dave has HIS side and I have MY side and we have happy times in the
middle.

   Now there are three of us.

   "Brindy.  In the middle." I smile at Dave.

   We are all wearing pajamas.  Well, Dave is wearing pajamas.  I have my
nightshirt and panties, the same as Brindy.

   "I can't sleep with these bottoms on," Dave said.

   I watched Brindy while Dave pulled the pajama bottoms off.  He is
wearing dark blue briefs.  Brindy's lips part just a little when he
undresses.  I know what happens to me.  I squeeze my thighs together.  I am
thinking, 'not tonight.'

   The two of us, Dave and me, we fit in this bed wonderfully, bumping
together during the night, moving apart, finding each other again.  I
remember those first few nights when we were learning to sleep together,
even before I became mate of Dave, how I learned to fit against him no
matter which way he turned.

   With Brindy added to the bed, it is a new set of problems.  These
problems are made worse because poor Brindy is sore from the wreck, and
when she moves, the pains wake her up.  That is why I know she is aware
that she is holding me in her arms.  I suppose Dave learns the same thing.
And if Brindy consciously wants to hold Carlita, then when I turn, I can
hold Brindy, gently, so that I do not hurt her.

   In the morning, Brindy squeezes past me to get to the bathroom.  I roll
over and kiss my Dave.

   His eyes open.

   "Did you guess who was kissing you?"

   "I know who is kissing me, my princess," he said.  "Those lips..."

   I learned to kiss from kissing Dave.  I like it.  I also like to push my
hand down and feel him.  He says 'morning wood'.

   Brindy is back.  She is on Dave's side of the bed.  She pushes him. 
"Get in the middle.  Make room for me," she tells Dave.  I smile.  She
slides into bed and between me and her, we make a Dave sandwich.

   I am not surprised when she snuggles up facing him and feels my hand
down there.  She puts her hand on top of my hand, looks at me with a
question in her eyes.  I answer her question with a smile.

   Perhaps Dave feels used.  Violated.  I know how to make him feel
something else.  I leave Brindy's hand holding his dick and I put mine
underneath, tugging at his balls through the cloth of his briefs.

   I put my lips next to his ear.  Whisper.  "Everything is okay, Dave. 
Everything." I kiss his ear, then a little louder, I announce, "I must go
to the bathroom."

   As I slid out of the bed, I winked at Brindy.  She smiled at me and
kissed Dave.  He put his hand to the back of her head, encouraging her.

   I took my time in the bathroom.  I know what I wanted to see when I got
back.  It may be wrong for me to think this way, but if ...  Brindy is
hurting.  I think Dave is hurting.  I am hurting, also, but I was not as
close to Pat as those two were.

   I peek into the room and smile.  Brindy is atop my Dave, doing him like
a bunny.  He is curled up to kiss her.

   Brindy will be okay.  I know that making love with Dave is a restorative
to many things, including me thinking that I had ruined us by bringing Pat
and Brindy into our love-making.

   I walk in quietly.  Brindy's eyes are closed tightly, tears on her
cheeks, her mouth welded to Dave's.  Her insistent hunching causes the
covers to slide off her beautifully rounded butt.  She breaks her mouth
away from Dave's, letting loose with little "Ah!  Ah!  Ah!" I know she is
close.

   I know exactly how to put Dave over the edge.  I reach down.  His balls
are bouncing as he pushes up into a very wet Brindy.  I cup them in my
hand, squeeze very delicately, and tug.

   He thrusts up, hard.  "OhgodBrindy!  Nnnnggggg!"

   "Do not move," I say to them as I crawl back into bed.  I stroke
Brindy's head, sort of pushing, encouraging her to kiss Dave.  When she
does, I kiss his cheek.  "I love you."

   Now Brindy is crying again.

   "Brindy, what is wrong?"

   "I am such a slut.  Pat hasn't been gone twenty-four hours and here I am
fucking your husband, Carlita."

   "You cannot fuck Dave, Brindy.  You can only make love with Dave.  He
loves you."

   "I love you, Brindy," Dave says.  "I thought you..."

   "Oh, god, Dave!  I did, so much..."

   "Then it is affirmation of life, Brindy.  With Dave, you are alive.  And
loved."

   "But you..."

   "Brindy, I love you as well.  We will be together.  The three of us.  I
do not know how it will work.  It may be painful and we may not understand
and get mad, but it is the three of us.  Right, Dave?"

   Poor Dave.  I could drop my shoe into a volcano and tell him to retrieve
it and he would do so.  I am now telling Dave that he will have me for a
wife, as we promised, and he would have Brindy for ...  a wife.  If she
would have that arrangement.  Since she was half naked, dripping from their
love-making, I think that the physical part of Brindy is okay with it.

   And Brindy is desperate for love, so I think that part will work, too.

   "You mean it, Lita?" Brindy asked.

   "Yes, I mean it.  We will determine how it is to work.  Dave, can you
handle two wives?"

   'Uh, Lita ...  baby ...  are you sure?"

   I kissed him.  "I am sure."

   Brindy rolled off on the other side of Dave.  I touched him, still wet
from his loving with Brindy.  I know what I want.  I bend down, sucking
him. Yes, I know it is Brindy's juice as well, but this is not the first
time for that.  I feel him grow.

   "I love watching that, Lita," Brindy says.  Her hand touches my head,
feeling me move up and down with Dave's dick in my mouth.

   "Dave, are you all right?" Brindy asks him.

   "Ohgod..." is all he can say.  He is hard now and I move.

   "It's so sexy when it's hard, ain't it, Lita?" Brindy commented.

   I throw a leg over Dave.  This is my favorite place in the entire world.
I am not like Brindy.  I remain almost vertical, his dick pushed all the
way into me.  I think I can feel it in my stomach.

   "Dave Johnson, I forever love you," I say.

   "I love you, my beautiful princess," he replies.

   Now I lean forward, my hands on his chest, his hands on my waist. 
Brindy is propped up on one elbow, watching.

   "You're beautiful," she says.  "Dave, you're sexy and delicious. 
Carlita is beautiful.  It's like you two, making love, she becomes more
beautiful." She kissed Dave.

   I take one of my hands and stroke her short brown hair.  Short.  But
longer than mine.  Feels so good.  She leaves Dave's mouth and puts her
tongue on my nipple.  I shake, hold her head there.

   "Oh, Brindy..." It's like she is pouring gasoline on the fire that Dave
has started.

   "Dave," she said.  "Now I'm jealous.  She got to taste you and me..."

   "Brindy, how kinky are you?"

   "How kinky to I have to be for my husband?" Brindy said.

   "Straddle my face."

   Brindy still moves slowly.  Sore.  And she is careful not to hurt Dave,
but she positions herself where ...  She shakes, letting her breath out.  I
hear Dave's "Mmmmm." Muffled.

   All this.  Too much.  Two more pushes and I am there.  As I toss my head
back to let my orgasm happen, Brindy's hand pulls my face to hers.  We kiss
as I come.  I hear Dave grunt and feel him push into me and feel his fire
inside me.  And a muffled "OhgodLita!"

   "I'd better let 'im breathe," Brindy says, getting off his face.  "Poor
Dave."

   When I get off him, Brindy gets him.  Her mouth sucks him in.

   "I get you, Lita," he says.  Dave.  His tongue does me another one.

   We need a bigger shower.  It is big enough for two.  Three of us shower.
I get Brindy, then Dave, because Brindy cannot move so much without pain.

   We go out for breakfast.

   "I still feel like a slut," Brindy said.

   "Affirmation of life and love, Brindy," Dave says.

   We were finishing up breakfast when the phone rang.  Dave answered his
brother.  They talked for a few minutes, ending with, "Okay, we'll be
there." He put his phone up and said, "Lawyer's gonna see us at ten. 
Brindy, did you and Pat, like, sign papers together?"

   "No.  We talked about it.  Why?"

   "Insurance?  Then it'll all be yours.  Will?  Probably takes care of
everything else.  Did Pat show you where she kept all her papers?"

   "Yes."

   "We need to bring whatever we can find.  And we need to get stuff
together for Pat's memorial service, for the rest of the friends and
family. I think Carlie and Gary are working with a funeral director on
that."

   Brindy's head hung.  "I hate all this.  Want my Pat."

   "I'm sorry, sweetie," Dave said, touching her fingers with his.  "None
of us wanted this.  We just have to deal with it."

   Dave paid the breakfast check and we got back into the car.

   "Some of this isn't going to be a bit pleasant," he said.  "We went
through all of it after Dad died.  "Toughest part was opening closets and
seeing every shirt and pair of pants and remembering him wearing them.  Pat
was there to take care of things when Mom passed away.  She helped Dad. 
Me, Pat and Gary had to do it for Dad.  Brindy, we'll be right there with
you, but if you need privacy, you get that, too."

   "I need my Carlita and my Dave," she said.

   "You have us," I said.

   And somehow I knew that it was supposed to be this way, maybe not for
everybody, but for me and my Dave and MY Brindy.



   ------

   Chapter 26

   Dave's turn:

   Sisters aren't supposed to die when they're thirty.  There's an
emptiness I can't begin to describe.

   Also indescribable is the avalanche of thoughts surrounding Brindy and
Carlita and me.

   Went to Pat and Brindy's house, got the filebox with Pat's papers, met
Gary and Carlie at the lawyer's office.

   Short version?  Mortgage insurance.  House is paid off.  Same thing on
the car, what's left of it.  Of course, insurance gives replacement value.
Life insurance  -" a couple of policies.  Brindy's listed as the
beneficiary.  Brindy's not going to worry about money for a long time.

   Still, it's a sad ride home.

   Brindy was silent for most of the trip.  None of us were in a talking
mood, I guess.  Reality was sinking in.

   Finally, Brindy spoke.  "I guess we need to empty out the fridge. 
Perishables.  The rest ...  it can wait."

   We went home, got an ice chest and some boxes and headed over to Pat's
house.  Carlita and I attended to the task at hand.

   I heard Brindy sobbing.  Carlita went to look for her, came back.

   "She is face down in the bed.  Dave, it is not easy for her."

   I looked up.  Pat's home.  I had my own sob to add.  Got Carlita wrapped
around me.  We finished unloading the fridge.  Carlita got cleaning
materials and wiped the interior down.

   "Do we shut it off now?" she asked me.

   "No," I said.  "Worst thing we can do is turn it off.  Just let it run.
Let's go get Brindy."

   We helped her pack up more clothes to get through the next few days and
we left for home.  My home.  Carlita's home.  And I'm hoping that Brindy
finds it HER home.

   There's no other way that I can see.  Brindy's with US.  I don't begin
to understand what went through Carlita's mind, changing her from "MY Dave"
and "Dave's Carlita" to this thing that popped up with all of us together.
I thought maybe it was just a brain fart, and that we'd go back to Dave and
Lita here and Brindy and Pat there.

   Now there's no Pat.  And Brindy, it has been explained to me, has no
family to fall back on.  Sure, I'm being all analytical.  With the
insurance money from Pat's policies and the money from selling Pat's house,
Brindy could do a great start on her own, but that's just writing numbers
on a piece of paper.

   What's really apparent is that Brindy wants Dave and Carlita now.  I
need to get some time to talk with Carlita about this.  I really want to
know what she's thinking.  But right now, I can't see us getting much time
alone.  Still, it's a goal.

   We're home.  I take care of unloading.  Lita and Brin go inside.

   Several trips later, I'm finished.  Brindy hands me a glass of ice and a
soft drink.  "Lita says you like this stuff.  Here.  Come talk with us."

   I need to learn to trust Carlita more.  She's sitting there, still,
demure, neat, looking like the same adorable creature that won my heart so
fast.

   "Dave, we need to talk about love and husbands and wives and families
and how people live together."

   My eyes darted to Brindy.  "Yes, we need to talk."

   "Dave, we need to know YOUR heart.  You must be totally honest with us."

   "Carlita Johnson, I am totally honest with you.  What are we
discussing?"

   "I want you.  You are my husband.  I want you to want Brindy.  She is my
sister."

   "You are my wife.  Brindy..."

   "Dave," Brindy said, "I cannot marry you.  You are already married.  But
you said you and Carlita were married in every important way before we went
to Texas.  And Carlita is married.  I cannot marry her, either.  But here I
am.  I love the two of you."

   Carlita slid beside her, took her hand, laced their fingers together.  I
remember the first time she did that to me because she turned those brown
eyes to me and announced that she loved me with a finality that was almost
scary.  "I love Brindy also, Dave.  And I know that you love Brindy..."

   "So what are you saying?"

   "I think Brindy should live with us."

   I glanced at Brindy.  She looked apprehensive.  "I get the feeling that
you mean..."

   Lita's head bobbed.  "You get to say 'no'."

   I swallowed.  She saw it.

   "I do not think that 'no' is what you want to say.  You are worried."

   "It's just that three ...  a triangle ...  I don't know how that's
supposed to work."

   "It is simple, Dave," Lita said.  "Just as you and I learned to live
together ...  you and I and Brindy will learn."

   "Brindy ...  a threesome?"

   "Dave ...  if Lita was single, I would happily live with her.  If you
were single ...  You and me.  Can you love us both?"

   "I'm afraid you two might kill me."

   "This is not about sex, Dave," Brindy said.  "Is it, Carlita?"

   "No, Dave, just as you and I are not just sex.  You make me feel
important and loved.  That is the important part.  Brindy is my friend,
like the sister I did not have.  There is room for her in my heart and I
know that there is room in yours." She stretched her hand to Brindy. 
"Brindy, we need to propose to Dave."

   I had two pairs of eyes looking at me, a pair of lively brown, a pair of
cool blue, as the two of them knelt before me, Brindy following Carlita's
lead.

   "I see this in movies.  A proposal on bended knee," Carlita smiled. 
"Dave, will you marry us?"

   "Yes, Dave," Brindy followed.  "Marry the two of us.  We will live
together and have fun together, and..." she looked at Carlita, smiling. 
"When we have babies, you will be the father to them because we will create
them together."

   "W ...  wait ...  have you two talked?"

   Lita nodded.  "We all talked  -" me, Pat, Brindy.  You were to be father
to all our children." She smiled slightly.  "You were to provide sperm for
them to be impregnated.  At first it was to be given to a doctor for a
clinic.  But after ...  I thought you could do them just as you would do
for me.  Now..." She kept her eyes locked to mine.  "You have not answered
our proposal."

   "I will be husband to both of you."

   "Good!" Brindy said.  "Now help me up.  This soreness is worse today."

   Lita and I helped Brindy up.

   "I have the stuff to make arroz con pollo," Lita announced.  "I will be
in the kitchen."

   "Can I help?" Brindy asked.  "I want to do my part."

   "You are too sore right now.  Dave will help you.  I can do this.  I
will be back soon." Carlita's look told me that I was expected to know what
was going on here.

   She left.  I turned to Brindy.  "Can I rub something?"

   "My neck.  Lower back.  Shoulders."

   "Be easier in bed," I said.

   Brindy looked at me like she was surprised.

   "Lita, I'm gonna rub Brindy in the bedroom, 'kay?"

   "Sure!" with a hint of giggle.

   Not about sex.  I massaged the areas she requested.

   "Dave, are you SURE?  I mean, you 'n' Lita ...  like a perfect couple.
Pat said so."

   "I admit I'm kind of nervous, Brin," I said.  "I love Lita to pieces. 
But she says..."

   "She said it first.  Her idea."

   "So are YOU sure?"

   "Me?" Are you crazy?  I love Pat ...  but I was jealous of Lita.  At
least a little bit.  I ...  when the idea of the four of us ...  I almost
made a puddle.  Pat said that she really regretted that you and her ... 
best ever, she said." She sighed.  "Don't get me wrong, me and Pat, she
really rang my bells, Dave.  But I ...  really, not a very good lesbian. 
Bi.  And apt to get excited by you.  Lita, too, just so you know..."

   "I didn't know much of this, Brin," I said.

   "Did you know that Pat has ...  had a toy she named 'Dave'?"

   "No, I did not."

   "She does.  Surprisingly, it's just about exactly the same size and
color." She winced as she rolled onto her back.  "Not nearly as much fun as
the real one, just so you know what I think."

   "There are many things that you do not know, my Dave," Lita's voice said
from the open bedroom door.

   "And I suppose that I'm about to find some of them out."

   "I don't want us to have secrets, Dave," Carlita said.

   "It's kind of a biggie, though," Brindy said.  "Sit down."

   I looked at her, then Carlita.  "Ooooo-kay..."

   "You know that Pat and I ...  for a year, before I turned eighteen."

   "She told me that," I said.  Pat had, in a private conversation after
I'd seen Brindy move in with her and after Pat had pretty much accepted
Carlita's place in my life.

   "Before I showed up, Dave," Lita said, "They had a plan for you."

   "They had a plan for me?  Brin?  You and Pat?"

   "Yes.  Pat and I had a plan.  Pat could not marry you, but I could.  We
were going to draw you in with us and I was going to marry you, of course,
depending on if I found you acceptable, but since Pat said you were
acceptable, I sort of assumed..."

   Carlita smiled.  "And then I showed up and married you first."

   "See, Dave," Brindy said, "Pat and I, we were going to be your wife and
your sister, all living together ...  that's what we discussed.  And then
you bring my angelic sister in and marry her."

   Too much.  I flopped back onto the bed.  Carlita flopped beside me. 
That put me between Brindy and Carlita.

   "See, my Dave," Carlita said.  "We all talked about this.  I knew where
you were wanted."

   "That did not make you jealous?  YOUR husband?"

   "At first, yes, but I love my sisters, so I keep my mouth shut and
listen to how Pat loved you and I start to understand.  The more we talked
the more I understand that I am not the first one to LOVE Dave as hard as I
do, and that I could love Pat and Brindy AND Dave ...  But Dave is my
husband."

   "And we wanted Carlita to be your wife ...  as you were married, it was
as it was supposed to be.  But that day on the boat, when we all ...  Dave,
I could be your wife, too."

   "But Pat..."

   "If Pat and I could get married, I think maybe we would have, maybe not.
I am still nervous about that idea.  I'm not a very good lesbian, and to
tell you the truth, Pat wasn't either, not with a plastic dong named
'Dave'. But we wanted to be VERY close..."

   "I was not sure I could do that, Dave.  Then this.  Yes, we can do
this." She rolled towards me and kissed me.

   "You two are kind of deceitful," I said.

   "Why?  Because we both LOVE you?  WANT you?" Brindy spouted.  "Exactly
how do you think we should've handled you?"

   "I dunno."

   "Me also," Carlita said.  "I do not begin to understand how to ask such
a thing of a man."

   "No," I laughed.  "You just crawled into his bed and wormed your way
into his heart."

   She giggled.  "Brindy would have done the same."

   I rolled over and kissed Brindy.  "You'd've hidden behind the seat of my
truck and scared the crap out of me?"

   "If it would make you love me."

   "I love you, Brindy," I said.

   "You'd better love us BOTH," she said.  "I'm not here to take you from
my sister."

   "Carlita is always going to be my Carlita.  Now you.  My Brindy."

   The bed jerked as Lita bounced out to check her cooking.

   Brindy's hand reached around the back of my head.  "Real kiss," she
said. "Help me with the sadness."

   Easy to lose myself in that face.  The hand that's stroking my butt
though, is Carlita's.  I canot help the twinge of guilt.  I guess I looked
'caught'.

   "Kiss her again,"Lita said, nudging me towards her.  As my lips met
their eager counterparts on Brindy's rounded face, I felt Lita's lips
working lightly on the back of my neck.  I shuddered.

   She giggled.  "Check him, Brindy.  I bet he is very hard."

   I felt a squeeze.  Brindy giggled.  "Yes, he is."

   "Neck.  One of his spots," Lita giggled.  "Now, dinner will be in a bit
of time.  Poor Brindy.  Cannot move well."

   "I can move," Brindy said.  "Just not fast.  Who needs a hug?"

   Carlita bounced over me into Brindy's arms.  They molded themselves
together, kissing each other's cheeks.

   "See," Brindy said.  "I can move."

   I scooted down alongside the pair, joining the hug.

   "Love," Carlita said.  "It is what we have."

   "I need y'all," Brindy said.  A sob escaped.  "Pat..."

   "I know," I said.  Held the two of them, sharing the sobs.

   Carlita's doing quite well as a cook.  Dinner was great.  Phone calls
started coming in, well-wishers, people who knew me or Pat or both of us. I
advised them of the memorial service on Wednesday.  The calls stopped at
nine.

   During the course of the evening, I took care of the kitchen while
Brindy and Lita went back to Pat's, bringing back more of Brindy's things.

   "Come in the bedroom while we put my stuff away," Brindy said.

   I followed like a happy puppy.  I can see that I'm being moved out of
the dresser to make room for Brindy.

   As things get shifted and other things get stowed, there's a lot of
giggling.  In view of the earlier crying, this is an improvement.

   Finally, Lita reached into the box and came out with...

   "Meet 'Dave'," Brindy said.

   Carlita stuck the tip of the rubber dong into her mouth, pulled it out.
"Nope.  Real one's better." Giggle.  "It's close to the same size, though."

   Brindy's giggle as she worked on my belt.  "Let's see 'em side by side."
I kicked my pants off and got pushed back onto the bed, already erect. 
Carlita put the dildo alongside my erection.

   "Yeah," Lita said.  "Pretty close.  But if I suck on THIS one, it gets
BIGGER!" Her head bobbed down and I groaned.  "Tastes better, too!"

   "Yeah, but..." Brindy started.

   "You didn't!" Lita squeaked.

   Brindy's head nodded.  "Yeah ...  I did.  Before we ...  you know ... 
Pat used it, too.  I helped..." a darkness spread across her face, then
waned.  "I sort of knew that Dave would fit..."

   Lita giggled.  "I've never used one of these ...  things." Her eyes
laughed.  "But since it's here..." She handed it to Brindy.  "Make it wet!"

   Brindy worked the dildo in her mouth, coating it with saliva, while
Carlita shed her pants.  She rolled onto her back beside me, spreading her
legs.  "Go ahead," she told Brindy.  I propped up on an elbow and watched.
Yes, it did look like me, and yes, I've watched myself entering that
glistening pussy many times in the past, but this...

   "Nah ...  Not the same."

   "Not nearly as good, huh?" Brindy said.  "When I got the real thing,
that's what I said."

   "I'm right here," I said.

   "We voted," Brindy giggled.  "You're MUCH better than the dildo." She
eased down gingerly, wincing as she put weight on her shoulders.  She
rolled and took my dick into her mouth, sucked.

   I started to say something, got my mouth covered by Carlita's.  I moved
a hand down to caress Brindy's head, ran into Carlita's hand already there.
Carlita pulled her mouth back from mine.

   "Brindy, do you really want it that way?  Or..."

   "I want this one, Lita," she said.  "Like this."

   I'm not complaining.

   "Come down here and help me," Brindy said.

   What happened next is the stuff of fantasy  -" the two of them working
me over with lust and love.  Brindy did most of the work on my dick,
pulling her lips back a few times to kiss Lita and to let Lita suck on me,
but mostly Lita worked around the periphery, tonguing, nibbling my sack,
laving my nuts with her lips and tongue.

   "He is close, Brin."

   "Mmmm-hmmm," Brin intoned, keeping the suction, the tongue going.

   "He is very tight, his balls.  There is squeezing."

   Brindy went, "Mmmp!" with the first jet to escape me, then kept on, her
fingers circling my shaft to help milk me dry.

   When she stopped, she kissed Lita.  "This Dave is MUCH better."

   "I know, huh?" Lita laughed.  She crawled up to kiss me.  Brindy was a
little slower, settling beside me gingerly.

   She kissed me, too.  "Dave, thank you for loving me."

   "You don't have to thank me," I said.  "I do love you."

   "And I love you, too," Lita said.  "Now, showers.  The three of us
cannot fit.  How do we decide?"

   "Flip a coin," I said.  "Three coins.  Two alike, they shower together.
I got quarters in my pants pocket."

   I secretly hoped that Brindy would not shower alone.  She didn't.  She
and Carlita each flipped heads.  I had tails.  Watched the two of them
naked, Carlita helping Brindy undress.

   They came out of the bathroom still naked, naturally, heads wet.

   "I can help dry your hair," I volunteered.

   "No, not tonight," Brindy said.  "Too much heat, it's not good for your
hair."

   "I did not know that, Dave.  But I do not have much hair anyway.  Go
take your shower."

   When I got out, I did my normal shaving and then splashed on some of the
cologne that Carlita had picked out for me.

   I walked into the bedroom wearing nothing.  I halfway expected to see
the pair dressed, but no  -" Carlita was sitting beside Brindy.  Brindy was
pointing out places to be kneaded as Lita massaged her.  I must've made a
discernible sound because Brindy's head turned to see me.

   "Oh, hi, Dave."

   Carlita turned also.  "Step closer, Dave."

   I did.  She wrapped her arms around me, burying her face into my
abdomen. "Mmmmm.  My Dave, fresh from the shower." Giggle.  "It starts out
soft.  See, Brindy?"

   Brindy smiled.  "Don't make me jealous, sis," she said.  "You've had
this all to yourself."

   I know part of Brindy's story.  Her experience with male sexuality
before me was not a happy time.  She'd been physically and sexually used
and abused.  Frankly, I'm surprised that she didn't swear off men entirely.
That's when it hit me.  Pat.  Pat's heart had been broken by a man ... 
sort of where she and I ended up going waaaay down a path that brother and
sister do not normally walk, but she came out of it wanting NOT be hurt,
but not hating men ...  because of ME.

   Now Brindy is seeing the happy side of heterosexual relations.  Okay,
those kisses with Carlita ...  Make that the happy side of a variety of
sexual relations, but one where dicks weren't brought into the room erect
and forced upon her, rather a place where a happy girl  -" my Carlita  -"
is excited to be able to use ME for everything physically possible.

   And if it meant that she smiled at seeing my soft pecker, then I'd
gladly pay that price.

   "Come closer.  It's cute when it's soft," she said.

   Lita grinned.  She knows...

   Squeal!  "It's getting HARD right there in front of me."

   "Because you are sexy, Brin," I said.

   "Lita, he says I'm sexy."

   "I know.  He says I'm sexy, too.  Dave is deluded."

   "Poor Dave," Brindy giggled.

   "You two need to stop this.  It's too early to go to bed."

   "We can go to bed.  We can watch TV.  Let us find a movie, Brindy," Lita
said.

   Yes, she can take over my life.  It wasn't that great before.

   I slid into bed between them, propping up on pillows as they yeaed and
nayed over NetFlix until something looked good to both of them.

   Three people.  Queen bed.  Quite cozy.  A little too cozy.

   "Bed-shopping tomorrow," I said.

   "Mattress like this one," Carlita said.  "Don't you agree, Brin?"

   "Yes."

   The movie started.  I wasn't particularly interested, but I watched
along with my girls, laughing with them, realizing that  -"duh!   -" we
didn't have a stitch of clothes on.  I finally noted that Brindy's pajamas
were on the nightstand on her side of the bed and Lita's were placed on
what used to be MY side of the bed.  I guess I'm going to be in the middle,
at least for the time being.  I suppose that this arrangement might evolve
over time.

   My back started cramping up from staying in that same position too long.
I needed to roll onto my side.

   But which side?  Was somebody keeping score?  I decided that since
Brindy'd been the major player in my orgasm before our baths, I'd roll in
Carlita's direction.

   I did.

   With a lilt in her voice, she said, "Hi!"

   I felt Brindy spoon up behind me, her cheek on my shoulder blade.  And
"Mmmmm." And an arm thrown over me.

   Lita turned on her side to face me.  At close range I surveyed those
delightful brown eyes, couldn't resist putting a hand to her cheek. 
"Beautiful."

   She smiled.  "This is good." And a little kiss.

   I slid my hand down her taut belly to her soft mound, watched her face,
the smile deepening, then a catch in her breath as I insinuated a fingertip
into her moist cleft.

   I jerked, too, as a warm set of fingers pushed between my thighs from
behind, cupping my balls, tugging.

   Lita captured my hand with hers, holding my finger in her cleft,
tugging, getting my finger to massage that beautiful pink pea.  Her smile
turned serious.  Her hand pushed me onto my back, her lips pressing against
mine, her tongue a welcome invader in my mouth.

   She tossed a leg over me, careful not to hit Brindy.

   "Oh, my," Brindy said.  "You two are sooooo sexy."

   Lita worked her pussy against my dick, slicking me up with her juices.
Brindy's hand explored our juncture, touching, smearing juices, marveling
at the hard versus soft, the yin and yang, the binary of life, finally
guiding the head of my shaft into Carlita's hot opening.  Carlita settled
me inside her with a sigh.

   "My Dave," she said, "I love you so very much." Her arm gathered Brindy
into us.  "I love US being together."

   I pushed up into her.  She slid on me, dragging her clit on the base of
my shaft.  Brindy's hand ...  my balls, then a sigh from Lita.  "Yessss,
Brin!" I could see Brin's arm as she caressed her sister.  Lita got into
her happy rhythm.  The totality of all the inputs was intense.  If it
weren't for Brin's lovely sucking before our showers, I'd be spurting into
Lita right now.

   Instead, I was riding with Lita on her trip, watching those pert nipples
harden, the little areolas wrinkling, her face flushing as she neared the
cliff.  I was determined to last until she...

   Her head tossed back, that short black hair splaying as much as its
length allowed.  "Si.  Si.  Mi dios.  My Daaaave!"

   And I let myself go.

   I fell back on the bed, Lita landing atop me.  Brindy lightly kissed us
both.

   "Soooo neat!" she said.  "He throbs when he's coming.  You turn red..."

   Cleanup was taken care of by Brindy's hungry mouth.  When she finished,
the three of us traded sloppy, sticky kisses.

   Movie?  What movie?

   Somehow we arranged ourselves around each other and succumbed to sleep.
Last thing I remember was my nose in Brindy's fragrant hair and Carlita's
face resting against my back.

   God, I want this to work.



   ------

   Chapter 27

   Carlita's turn:

   Day Three of the Great Sadness.  Brindy and I went to the clothing store
...  Listen to me.  When I was in Guatemala, the 'clothing store' for us
was one shop that handled second-hand clothes sent from America to Pastor
Bob at the orphanage.  Now I am IN America and there are too many clothing
stores for me to list and Dave has money for me to no longer need used
clothing.

   Brindy and I have the sad task of buying dresses for Pat's memorial
service.  Pat.  My sister Pat, who became my sister in one day and in the
weeks following, my friend as well, then in the last week ...  more.  Pat,
who was the care-giver and lover of my other sister, Brindy.

   With Brindy's and the sales lady's help I walked out of the store with a
beautiful dark blue dress that they both assure me is appropriate for the
memorial service.  Brindy bought one of similar style and color.  Anybody
who sees us side by side will know that we wish to be considered as
connected together.

   Dave is home.  I do not want to leave Dave alone too long.  His sadness
is deep.  Brindy has told us how deeply Pat felt about her brother in her
life, even the part where they were so much more than brother and sister.

   Dave put his suit on that afternoon and we all loaded up to go to the
memorial service.  Pat had a lot of friends and us, her family.  Gary
delivered the eulogy.  We received the good wishes of dozens of Pat's
friends, then it was time to go home.

   Home.  Without Pat.  We had only each other.  Gary and Carlie went home
to themselves and the kids.  Brindy and Dave and I went home to ourselves.

   We all cuddled together, clothes on the floor beside the bed.  One more
good crying for our lost Pat.

   Brindy sat up, touched both me and Dave.  She wiped her eyes.  "It is
time for us to start living.  I don't think that Pat wants us to mourn
forever." She looked at Dave.  "Tomorrow you go back to work.  Lita and I
will do our Thursday night English As a Second Language class.  We will
live together.  Love together.  Be together."

   "Brindy..." I said.

   "I cannot live in pity.  I lived in pity until I met Pat.  She showed me
how to live and love, but she still had those corners of hurt and loss.  We
were trying to work through those.  Now that she is gone, she would tell me
to hold my head up and be happy." She bent over and brushed Dave's lips
with hers, then she kissed me.  "Let's go fix us something to eat."

   She hopped out of bed, headed for the kitchen, snatching shorts and a
T-shirt as she went.

   I caught Dave when he tried to get up, laid him out, and crawled on top.

   "I love you, Dave," I said, kissing him.  "Brindy is right." I felt him
hardening.  I flashed my eyes at him.  "Not now.  Later.  Me.  Brindy. 
You. That part of our life will be very full." I punctuated my statement
with a squeeze as I bounded up off him.  "Come on."

   College starts in a week.  Brindy and I, both ...  we have the books. 
We have the schedules.  Fortunately we have two cars, because there is not
much overlap, even though we are taking the same courses.

   Of course, much discussion.  We are family.  We have moved much from
Pat's house to ours.  We have given and sold much.  The house is now on the
market.

   Brindy and I are home one day.  Dave has been out of town overnight. 
Brindy and I ...  We long for our Dave, but we have each other as well.

   Dave comes in late in the day.  We know he has been driving, trying to
get home to us.

   We all exchange kisses.  I can feel his body, firm, expectant, needing.
I also know something is going to happen.  Dave and I talked.

   "Sit, Brindy," Dave said.

   Brindy had a questioning look in her eyes, but she complied.  I sat next
to her.

   "I hope that I understand your feelings for me, Brindy ...  for us.  We
want you to have this," he said.  He pulled a little black jeweler's box
from his pocket and opened it.

   I already knew what was in it.  Brindy had no idea.

   "We can't officially marry you, Brindy.  I want you to have this ring,
though.  Carlita..."

   "I want you to have this ring, too.  You are part of us."

   Brindy's tears wet Dave and I both.

   "It's scary," Dave said.  "You could pick up and leave at any time ...
We want you here, though."

   "Dave," Brindy said, "That 'leaving' thing, that's always true, no
matter what.  I love you and Carlita ...  My Lita," she said, brushing my
hair with her fingertips.  "Whatever was wrong with me, you two have fixed
it.  I worry how we will fit together as a marriage..."

   I smiled.  "We have fit together quite well, Brin."

   "I know ...  It's wild, it's ecstasy, but ...  Lita, he's your Dave. 
You want time alone with him..."

   "He is your Dave as well, Brindy.  Our schedules with school and life,
we will have time where it is just the two of us, or me and Dave, or you
and Dave.  And we will learn like we already know, that the three of us
together ...  It is different sex ...  but it is between people who love
each other."

   Dave puts the ring on Brindy's finger while I hold her hand.  "This is
serious, Brindy."

   She put her arms around his neck as he knelt before her.  They kissed.
"I am serious about you two.  Both of you.  Never one over the other.  Lita
knows I am not trying to take her husband, Dave knows I am not trying to
take you, Lita."

   "We shall be a family," I said.  "A little different than many, but a
family, nonetheless.  We know that we are married to each other.  The rest
of the world will only see a married couple who are providing a room for
their friend.  We have my old bedroom..."

   Brindy giggled.  "That you never slept the night in..."

   Dave just smiled.  "I put her in there a time or two.  Tried."

   I grinned.  "I tried harder NOT to sleep without my Dave.  Now I will
not sleep without my Brindy either."

   Brindy and I went bed shopping the next day.  We would make a point of
being home on Friday to have the new bed and mattresses delivered.  Our
shopping also included new linens and extra pillows.

   I find it very pleasant to have Brindy at my side as I run the errands
needed to keep my house ...  our house going.

   "You're more domestically minded than I am," Brindy told me.  "You know
what it takes to run a home."

   "Dave.  He provided me with a place.  I suspected that my role was to
keep it going for him.  When I became eighteen and could drive."

   We brought things home and built a meal.  I let Brindy show me one of
her favorite dishes after we looked up the recipe on the Internet.  "I just
am not as comfortable as you are in the kitchen, Lita.  Your arroz con
pollo..."

   "All around the world," I said, "there are chickens, and in many places,
there is rice.  Every place, arroz con pollo even if they call it something
else.  Carlie makes Cajun chicken fricassee.  I told her, arroz con pollo.
Everywhere.  Rice with something to add flavor."

   "You make sense."

   "So you add things that taste good to you.  You learn what to do with
vegetables, what to do with meat, you put them together, you make a dish."

   "I can learn like that."

   "And recipes also.  We use both."

   "Did you ever have a recipe for making love with Dave?"

   I smiled.  "No.  Dave.  Me.  Girl.  Boy.  Things just matched.  You?"

   "Me 'n' Pat ...  We found ways to please each other.  The men before,
pleasing me was not on the agenda.  I was supposed to be lucky to be with
them."

   "That is behind you now.  Dave ...  I can see that he very much enjoys
pleasing you."

   "I enjoy pleasing him." She smiled at me.  "I enjoy pleasing you, too,
Carlita.  You rock my world."

   I felt warmth down there.  Squeezed my legs together.  Brindy noticed.
She smiled.

   "We could be naked right now..."

   I smiled.  "We could.  Laundry to do.  That's all."

   "Do you..."

   "I think I do.  Poor Dave.  He is at work.  We are here, about to be
naked."

   "We will make it up to him, Lita."

   "We must.  I know what you do to me.  it is different than what Dave
does to me..."

   "Oh god, yes," Brindy said.  "That THING!"

   "Come on.  Let's go put our clothes in the bedroom."

   Brindy's kiss is not the same as Dave's kiss, and honestly, there are
too many other things that Dave brings that will forever keep me thinking
of him, but Brindy's kiss ...  we undress and I know...

   Making love with Brindy ...  She is very gentle and soft and satisfying,
but there is not that feeling deep inside where Dave is deep in me and I
feel him pulsing and I am having pulses of my own.  That is missing with
Brindy, but I love her no less.  She is tender and I enjoy feeling her as I
do so many things with her.  But afterward, she tells me, "I bet you miss
the same thing as I do.  Poor Dave."

   "Dave is a lucky man to have us." I smile.  "I am fortunate.  I would
consider myself fortunate to have Dave only, Brindy, but you are in my life
now and I am doubly fortunate."

   She was playing, touching my small breasts.

   "They are not big.  Most females, especially from Guatemala..."

   "Does Dave like them?"

   "He loves them, he says."

   "I think they're pretty.  Not like mine.  Different."

   "I like yours.  Soft.  Round.  Mine are just humps on my chest..."

   I gasped when she rolled over and suckled my nipple.

   She giggled.  "Does it feel like I don't like them?"

   Sex is going to make me useless.  Brindy, too.  At least we are freshly
showered when Dave gets home and dinner is ready.

   We kiss him as we head out the door on our way to our English class.

   The class goes well.  There are many soft words about the loss of Pat,
but the class, we lift it, teaching, making things interesting as I teach
English to Spanish speakers and Spanish speakers exercise their English in
teaching Spanish to Brindy.  By the time this class ends, she will be doing
quite well.  My sister is not stupid.

   We return home to Dave.  He is watching a movie on TV.  I get on one
side of his chair, Brindy gets on the other, and we kiss him at the same
time.

   "Do you think he has showered, Brindy?" I asked.

   Brindy's eyes laugh.  "Smells awfully good, you know."

   "I think he is good enough to eat."

   Brindy is already fishing his thing out of his pajamas.  I notice that
he does not protest much.  She kisses the end of it, then smiles at me.  I
suck him into my mouth.

   "Is this a movie you need to finish watching?" Brindy asks.

   "Movie?  What movie?"

   We took him into the bedroom.

   "Last night in this bed, baby," Brindy said.  "New one's coming
tomorrow."

   We told him this while we were undressing.  Now I have his hard dick in
my hand.  This is what I need.  I see Brindy look at me as she reaches down
to cup his balls.

   I am thinking how wonderful those parts are.

   We have him in bed now.  "You are so easy, Dave," I say, kissing my man.

   "You're so sexy, Carlita," he replies.  He musses my hair.  Still short,
but getting longer.  I see his eyes.  He is not lying to me.  He thinks I
am sexy.  I kiss him again, and I sigh heavily into his mouth as I feel
Brindy nipping my buttock.

   He laughs.  "Brindy getting you?"

   "She is soooo badddd!"

   He jerked.  I turned to see Brindy's eyes laughing, Dave's dick in her
mouth.  "Dave," she said, "You oughta eat Lita and let both of us play with
this thing.  It's the missing piece."

   I let him lick me for a bit, but I know what I want ...  Brindy is
sucking him.  I whisper, "I need this inside me."

   "Mmmmm ...  I know.  You first ...  He's gonna come like a rifle ... 
fast."

   "I am almost there right now.  Dave's tongue."

   Dave whines when I climb away, taking my kitty away from his tongue.

   "We're gonna make a Dave fountain," Brindy announces as I straddle him.
She slides alongside him, kissing his chest.

   "Beautiful Brindy," he says, stroking her hair.

   I am starting to ride him.

   "Lita," he gasps, "I can't control..."

   "Dave, it's not about control.  It's about letting go..."

   She is right because I am letting go, my body shaking as I pound myself
down on him in my climax.  And I feel him swell and throb.  He is squirting
into me.

   "I feel that, little one," he says.  "You ...  inside ...  on me."

   I have read.  I know he is feeling my cervix when I am coming.

   "You two are soooo sexy," Brindy says, her voice breathy.  "Let me..."

   I fall forward into Dave's arms.  Brindy is between our legs, licking,
eating up the juice from both of us.  I know how good that tastes because I
have done it to her and Dave.

   "MmmmmBrindy..." I squeak, then I cover Dave's mouth with mine.

   Brindy is soon beside me and Dave, her face sticky with our juice.  I
turn my face and kiss, licking around her mouth, then she kisses Dave.

   "Two of you.  Too much," he says.

   "You're up for it,"Brindy smiles.  "We both love you too much."

   He kisses her, then me.

   I laugh at Brindy.  "Let's get him hard again.  It's YOUR turn."

   "I'll try," Dave says.  Of course, I know he's good for more.  Many
nights, he and I, two, three, four times ...  I have walked funny.  I
already know the spots that make him hard fastest.  Brindy is learning.

   Dave is in heaven.  Two girls.  One a little tiny bit plump, her brown
hair shaking as she nuzzled, sucked and licked, the other short (still)
shiny black  -" me.  He is touching both of us.  Hard as a rock.

   I smile at Brindy.

   She rolls sideways, spreading her legs.  "Possess me, Dave."

   He is between her thighs, penetrating her.  She is holding onto him,
wrapping her legs around him, meeting him push for push.

   I am touching his butt, feeling the muscles as he thrusts, then I pay
attention to his balls.  They are the sign.  Brindy is starting to squeak.
I know she is coming.  It encourages Dave.  His balls draw up tight and I
see his dick drive hard into her and start pulsing.

   "Oh my god..." Dave said.  He started to get off Brindy.

   "No.  Stay there.  I need my Dave."

   He did as he was asked.  I saw his dick soften and fall out of Brindy. A
gout of his semen flowed out with it.  I want that.  I dipped fingers,
heard Brindy moan into Dave's mouth.  Finally she gave him a little push.
He rolled off her, his depleted dick lolling on his pubic mound.

   "Me or you?" I asked Brindy.

   She sighed.  "Wowwww.  I do him.  One of y'all does me..."

   "I need some Davey juice," I said.

   "Get up here, Brin," Dave said.  "I'll share with Lita."

   It's a difficult position, but we managed.

   "Gives me an idea," Brindy said.

   "I wanna hear your idea," Dave says.

   "You'll like this.  Me 'n' Lita, sixty-nining.  And you get whoever's on
top, doggy style.  Whoever's on bottom gets ALL that juice."

   "We can try that if I ever get an erection again."

   Giggle from both me and Brindy.  "He's challenging us."

   "Goddddd!  Teeth!" Dave hissed.

   I looked.  Brindy had the head of his dick in her teeth, gently, I'm
sure.  She gulped him into her mouth.

   Brindy's suggestion worked.  I like Dave doing me doggy-style.  I feel
his balls slapping me.  I know that it's a good position for him on the
third session for the night, and there's Brindy, her legs spread, pink,
wet, tasty.

   And when I lick her, I get licked in return.  And, "Hold still, Dave. 
Your balls..."

   I feel Dave throb and I feel Brindy pushing her face between our legs.

   It's new.  It's very exciting, and I climax.  So does Dave.

   When we finally part, Brindy is lying there, streaks of Dave's come
mixed with mine, across her face.

   I win Dave for the shower.  We are washing each other.

   "Dave, I hope you can live like this.  Brindy is ...  she belongs to
us."

   "That's why we gave her the ring," he said.  "But you, princess ... 
you're first.  I don't want to think about choosing, but if I had to,
you're first in my heart."

   I kissed him.  "Thank you, my Dave.  I am your Carlita.  She is our
Brindy."

   "She is our Brindy.  But you are my life."

   I love Dave toweling me off.  He is rubbing that thick towel on my head.

   "Saturday.  New haircut.  It is getting longer."

   "It's beautiful," Brindy said.  "A little trim, a little shaping..."

   I pulled the hair down towards my eyes, looked at Dave.  "You like this.
It is called?" I looked to Brindy.

   "Bangs.  Like mine?"

   "I love it," Dave said.

   "I will do that.  And I will see what happens as the rest grows."

   "You get a say, too, Brindy," Dave said.

   "I like the bangs.  Her face ...  Pixie."

   I smiled.  I have two people who like the way that I look.

   We help Brindy dry off after her shower.  She is still a little sore
from the accident.

   And to bed.

   And I don't know why, but I wake up in the middle of the night and touch
Dave gently.  He is asleep.  Naked from the waist down.  I reach down,
touch him.  It is soft and I am overcome with a desire to have him in my
mouth.  I slide down, suck him in.

   He moans, stretches onto his back.  I feel his hand on my head, then
another, smaller hand touches his.  Brindy.

   He is hard.  I wonder ...  no head movement.  Almost none.  Suction. 
Tongue.  Gentle chewing.  He is harder and harder, giving me salty juice. I
know he is very close.  I feel the bed move, then soft breath on my face.
Brindy.  She kisses me on the cheek, strokes my face as I keep Dave to
myself, fluttering my tongue.

   He erupts.  I catch the first spurt, pull away, say, "Yours," to Brindy.
She finishes the task.  We return to position on either side of Dave.

   "We love you, Dave," Brindy says.

   "Mmm-hmmm," I add.

   "I love the both of you..."

   Back to sleep.  Tomorrow night we'll have that BIG bed and could spread
out, but I really don't know if we will.  I won't.  I know how long I've
slept with Dave and I know that even from the beginning I felt compelled to
sleep up close to him.  I don't know about Brindy, though.  Then I smile.
Beds are not just about sleeping.

   The alarm goes off.  Dave has to go to work.  I will not let him leave
without seeing him off, so I get out of bed with him.  So does Brindy.

   I see Dave's dick swinging as he heads to the bathroom.  I head up the
hall to the other bathroom.  When I am back, Dave is in the bedroom getting
his clothing ready.  He still has no drawers on.  His dick, MY toy, is
swinging slightly as he moves.  Brindy walks into the room, sees me looking
intently.

   She giggles.  "Dave, we need a good morning..."

   I pull him close.  He does not fight.  I suck first, then Brin.  He is
not soft any more.

   "Now I have try and get dressed with a hard-on."

   Brindy's eyes flashed.  "He'll think of US all day now, won't he?"

   "You know I will," Dave said.  "Even without that little bit of
happiness."

   While he dressed, I prepared him breakfast.  He left with the kisses of
both of us on his lips.

   The new bed arrived at ten in the morning.  By the time the two delivery
men had left our driveway, Brindy and I had a new set of linens on it.

   It was irresistible.  We both dove into the middle of the huge expanse.
I rolled toward her, found myself in her arms.

   "Should we wait and do it with Dave, or should we..."

   "It is a bed, not magic, Brin," I said.  I can see a little problem.  I
now have two people in my life and I can resist neither of them.  Blue
eyes. Oh, so soft face, begging to be kissed.  How could ANY human wish to
abuse this girl?

   It depends on what you use to define 'abuse'.  Clothes flew off the two
of us.  Her body is lush, soft, pink.  I am tan, like milk just tinged with
coffee, according to my Dave.  Apparently both of them think I am pretty.

   Brindy's nipples are pink.  Mine are darker.  I love the feel of her
nipple in my teeth, making her squeal and writhe ...  her payback ...  I am
wet and so is she and fingers first, then ...  Mmmmmmm!

   We're curled up in each other's arms, lassitude, punctuated by giggles.
"I can get the artificial Dave out of my drawer."

   I shake my head.  "No.  Not nearly like the real Dave.  When he gets
home tonight, we drag him straight in here..."

   "I understand.  I've used the artificial Dave too many times, wishing it
was the real one, being sooo jealous that YOU had him ...  Even when Pat
and I ...  Lita, baby, she was still fixated ...  made me that way.  Dave
was the be-all and end-all of maleness.  She told me how he was.  I
couldn't compare HIM with the men I'd known, but she kept telling me
different..."

   "Dave got in my heart soooo fast, Brindy.  I don't understand.  Maybe I
do, a little.  After months of those MEN on the trail ...  to find this man
who only offered to help, never asked, never tried to take ...  Maybe there
are other men out there like that, but I will never have to look, to find
out..."

   "Lita, truth.  Okay?" Very serious look from a naked girl holding me
close to her.  I can feel our bodies touching all the way down.  It is very
good  -" wonderful even  -" but it lacks that I have when Dave holds me
like this  -" his hardness pressing against me.

   "Always truth between us, Brindy."

   "One more time  -" you and me  -" sharing Dave.  Is it REALLY okay?"

   "Brindy," I said with a kiss for emphasis.  "Yes.  We share Dave.  Dave
shares us.  And we have each other.  This is wonderful ...  I come ... 
climax ...  from you ...  But Dave, his ...  inside me ...  that is
wonderful and it is for procreation..."

   "I'm on the pill and you have that IUD."

   "Still, his thing inside me, inside you ...  It is as it is supposed to
be..."

   She looked at me.  "Do you want to stop THIS?"

   "Never!" I said.  "I love you.  This is wonderful for us."

   "Oh." She smiled.  "And we still get Dave.  The real one."

   I flopped onto my back.  "The one that tastes and throbs and pierces and
gives life..."

   Giggle from Brindy.  "Yeah ...  yes, it really does.  That's ONE of the
things it's for."

   She rolled over trapping me.  "How about one..."

   I kissed her.  " ...  more..."

   I have two people in my life and I can resist neither of them.



   ------

   Chapter 28

   Brindy's turn:

   Brindy McPherson.  Lost.  Found.  Lost again.  Found again.

   Rough life.  Single mom.  They used to call them 'the projects'  -"
public housing, you know.

   In the projects out of sixty units, there were two white families. 
That's rough, and I won't tell you any more than that.  Rough.  Mom got on
the waiting list for Section 8 housing which got us out of the projects,
but it was still rough.  When I got to high school, I was a young girl who
saw entirely too much, knew entirely too much, but actually loved school,
especially English and social studies.  I could hang in there in math and
science, but I LOVED English, especially the parts where I was required to
write.

   High school, though, hormones and the whole mating ritual.  I'm not too
bad looking, but not one of the cheerleaders or the top tier 'faces'.  Mom
didn't deny me the chance to date.

   I fell into a trap.  I got badly used because I was one of those idiots
who equated 'he wants to fuck me' with 'he loves me'.  Got me one of the
new milestones of sexual promiscuity  -" an abortion.  Got me another, too.
Gonorrhea.  Chlamydia.  I was fighting all that when I showed up at the
beginning of my senior year in Pat Johnson's English class.

   I was seventeen, abused.  Pat was a great teacher.  Something about her
though, made her seem approachable, so I approached.  English questions,
naturally.  How do you get a foot in the door as a writer?  She took me to
some readings at the university.  After about a month and a half of hanging
out, things progressed.  One of us kissed the other one.  I honestly don't
remember who initiated.  Maybe we just collided.

   Seventeen year old student and a teacher.  Pat knew what could happen.
We were very discreet.  I graduated.  Turned eighteen.  Less discreet. 
Moved in.

   Pat lives on the same block as her brother.  We talked about her family
and mine.  There was something, though, about the way Pat talked about her
brother.  A look there, one that I could not decipher.

   "Pat, you can tell me.  Did he ever abuse you?  There's something I'm
not getting."

   "No, Brindy," she said.  "If he had, it would be easier."

   "Tell me."

   You must understand that I know about incest, I'd just never been
exposed to somebody who'd participated.  Pat and Dave.  I suppose that when
you take two people who are as close as brother and sister, pull them out
of a couple of failed relationships, toss them together, both a little sad,
add a couple of bottles of wine...

   They lived together a week, Pat said.  Almost got to the point of just
packing up and moving to another state and living together as husband and
wife.  From the way Pat talked, they both agreed that common sense
prevailed.  Learning more about Pat, I wonder.  Pat talked with me about
her brother.

   "He's like the perfect man, Brindy.  Best lover I've known.  He's a good
person.  Good looking."

   By the time I moved in with Pat, we'd already decided that I was going
to meet Dave and we were going to get married and he was going to have me
and Pat living with him and sleeping with him.  I can tell you that those
conversations were curious and impassioned and in addition to sleeping with
a minor, Pat committed another felony, plying me with wine.  I get mellow,
she gets mellow, we make love, we talk, things make a lot more sense when
you have a buzz and a few orgasms on you.

   I never met her brother until he brought home Carlita.  I didn't meet
Carlita, either, until the day that she and Pat talked about birth control.

   Pat was upset.  I know she was upset for several reasons.  First,
Carlita, when Pat first met her, was fourteen.  Carlita's new passport and
birth certificate say she was eighteen, she was living with Pat's brother,
and she wanted birth control.  That was the second part, I think.  Pat had
to face the idea that there WAS another woman in her brother's life and
they were having sex.

   It was entirely impossible for me to see Carlita and get angry at her.
She's little, lithe, big brown eyes, short dark hair, looks like you could
make a great story using her as the character in a fantasy story about a
nymph of the rain forests or something along those lines.

   Seeing her with Dave ...  Seeing Dave with Carlita, the way he included
her in a space they created for each other.

   I can see that if Dave treated Pat like that, if he'd treated ME like
that, I would have tumbled like a house of cards.

   Carlita joined me and Pat many times on days when Dave worked, even
after he married her.

   Pat worked some days in the summer, too, as part of curriculum
development at her school.  That put me and Carlita alone together.

   Carlita is inquisitive.  "I do not begin to know what would happen
between two women in bed," she said.

   "You kiss Dave, don't you?"

   "Yes."

   "He touches you?"

   "Yes."

   "Uh, you can tell me to stop being nosey if you want, but has he ever
... down there, with his mouth?"

   She nodded with a grin.  "Oh, very much yes ...  You and Pat?"

   "Yes.  When you love somebody..."

   "You love Pat."

   "I do, but I am afraid I'm not a very good lesbian.  I still find men
attractive, too.  We have ...  toys..."

   "Toys?"

   "Like a man's penis..."

   "I have never seen such a thing."

   "Do you want to?"

   "I think I would."

   I showed her 'Dave'.  That's a kick.  What do you do with a woman who
has a dildo named for her brother and tells you it's the same size?  I
didn't tell Lita that it was named 'Dave', not that day.

   I didn't feel like I was cheating on Pat, and Carlita did not think that
exploring things with me was cheating on Dave.  We ended up in bed. 
Several times.

   I can't keep secrets from Pat.  I told her.

   "No, I understand, Brin," she told me.  "That means there's still a
chance.  We need to approach Lita, rather delicately."

   We did.  Carlita objected, but Pat talked of love, the love she had,
illicit though it might sound, for her brother, and how we all could fit
together.

   I was surprised that Lita bought it.  We planned.  Executed the plan,
starting one crazy day on Dave's boat.

   It was the first time that I WANTED a man.  It was Dave.  It was the
first time that a man made me climax.  It was Dave.

   It was supposed to keep going.  Pat and I could not have a baby
together, not two women, but if Dave gave me the baby, then it was the
closest I could get to Pat's DNA.  Pat denied it, but I really think she
wanted his baby as well.  We had a plan.  When we solidified our
relationship, Dave was supposed to impregnate me.  I think a missing pill,
maybe a whole cycle or two, on Pat's part and...

   That evening it all fell apart.  Carlita ...  second thoughts.  Regrets.

   The next day, Pat and I went for a ride, just to get out of the house.
Pat said she still thought she could get Dave to give semen to impregnate
me.  I didn't say that I wanted him to give me semen the old-fashioned way.

   Riding in the country.  The wreck.  Screams, then nothing ...  I lost
Pat.  I thought I'd lost everything.

   Dave.  Carlita.  They took me in.

   We got a new bed.  There is a hole in me where Pat was supposed to be,
but I was surrounded by love in Carlita and Dave.

   They gave me a ring.

   "Dave cannot marry you officially, Brindy," Carlita said.  "But rest
assured, you are married to us.  We are married to you."

   We're all together, and all really confused as to how this is supposed
to work.  King-sized bed is certainly big enough for the three of us. 
Actually, I was quite happy sleeping with them in their old queen bed.

   Pat loved me, I know, but Dave and Carlita?  Yes, they do.  They're not
trying to substitute for Pat in my life, they've given me a life after Pat.

   The first morning ...  the day after Pat's accident.  Dave ... 
affirmation of life.  I cried.  I cried for losing my Pat.  I cried for
being alone.  I cried because Dave and Lita told me that I was loved and
wanted and Dave was inside me and Lita was in the bed with us, kissing us
both, touching Dave in ways that she knows will make him come in me.

   Since then the three of us have made love many times.  The day the bed
was delivered, it was me and Carlita in the middle of it.  It's not about
sex, but gosh, it could be.  Carlita is cute, sexy, that forest nymph
exterior.  More, though, a caring person, a lover who is exuberant and
adventurous.  We do so well together, but together we admit that we need
Dave.  I revel in thinking of him filling me or the sight of him filling
her.

   Life together, though, for the three of us.

   Carlita's teaching me to cook things she knows.  Until college starts,
we're alone during the day while poor Dave goes to work.  Our house is
immaculate, for one thing.  Another thing, we've cleaned out our neglected
flowerbeds.  I laugh.  The one in the front of the house might be
ornamental, but the ones in the back are herbs and things.

   "Too late for summer vegetables.  I want chilis  -" peppers.  Next
spring..." Carlita said.  "And maybe tomatoes and some other things."

   "I'm turning into Farmer Brown," I laugh.  Actually, though, the
activity helps me with my extra weight.  Dave swears he loves the way I'm
built.  I'm thinking that Dave has clear choice, slender Carlita who's put
on a few pounds since I first met her, and me, with my extra pounds.  I
can't tell by his enthusiasm in bed that he prefers one over the other.

   Dave still has to go off on overnight trips in his service area, though,
and that leaves me and Lita to our own devices.  College started, though.
Some classes I'm on campus and Lita's home, or vice versa.  Sometimes we're
both there.

   Frankly, I'm amazed.  I know for a fact that Carlita is fourteen despite
documents to the contrary.  I also know, though, that she pays attention
and grasps things and she will see a couple of facts and derive more
answers on her own.  She surprises me.  She surprised Pat, too, for that
matter.  Dave?  Dave was so in love with Carlita that he was beyond blind
to anything except those big brown eyes.

   So Lita and I have looked at our new college books, talking the subject
matter of each, trying to compare that with the abbreviated course
description.  Like I said, I'm not stupid, by any measure, but Carlita...

   Let's fast forward a month.

   The domestic front.  Comfortable.  All three of us had trepidations
about how a three-branched 'marriage' would work.  We tiptoed around each
other, poor Dave measured himself out right down to the caress.  We still
flipped coins for who got to shower with whom, but honestly, sometimes I
just WANT to shower by myself.

   I also asked for and got a TV in what is ostensibly MY bedroom.

   Don't get me wrong.  I absolutely LOVE the two of them, but sometimes I
just desire some ME time.

   The announcement of that fact got me Carlita moping around for two days.
Finally, the dam burst.  "What have we done wrong, Brindy?" she asked
tearfully.

   Yes, Dave was at work.  Lita and I have some of our best conversations
when he's gone.

   "Not a thing, Carlita," I said.

   "You just called me my whole name, not 'Lita'.  Have I done something
wrong?" She was near tears.

   I can fix this.  I put my arms around her, over mild protests.  "You're
my sister and my wife and more things than I can comprehend, Lita baby. 
Nobody's done anything wrong.  I guess that sometimes I want to be by
myself with a book or a movie."

   "It's not because you don't like me?"

   "Like you?" I kissed her.  "I love you.  If there was no Dave, I would
be happy with being Brindy and Carlita." I kissed her again, longer.  "But
we have Dave, and he loves us, and we love him."

   "I love him and you love him, so you want to be alone?  This makes
little sense," Lita said.

   "Alone, by myself, for a little while.  Maybe read.  Maybe study.  And
when I come out, I will still love both of you like I did before."

   "Are you sure?"

   "Yes, just like I am sure that I want a BIG shower for ALL of us.  No
more coin flipping." I'd deposited insurance checks into my bank account
and the three of us discussed a plan to do some alteration to the house. 
The old-fashioned big bathroom gave way to a larger shower complete with
multiple showerheads and benches.  The bathroom pushed a wall back into the
space of Dave's third bedroom, the one he used for his toys.

   "We're your toys, Baby," I said.  Carlita nodded assent.

   The carpenters start in a week.

   "Would I do that if I suddenly didn't like you?  Or Dave?" Another
tender kiss.  "You forget what you do to me, little girl."

   "I like what I do to you.  I like how we love each other.  I worry.  I
think Dave worries, too." I put my hand on Lita's cheek focusing my eyes on
hers.  "Lita, I LOVE Dave, just like you love Dave.  I was going to marry
him, remember?  You're not the only one who thinks that marriage is a
'forever' thing."

   "So this is the fight that couples have in marriage?"

   "I think it is.  Have you heard of 'makeup sex'?"

   "Dave and I, we have made up..."

   "I cannot imagine you getting mad at Dave."

   "It is true," she said.  "Over sex?"

   "Sex?  Seriously?  You never told me..."

   "It is not important.  We made up."

   "What was the argument?"

   "My monthlies.  Period.  I wanted Dave and he said 'no'.  I was very
hurt.  Did not talk to him for a day."

   "He knew you were mad.  Why were you mad?"

   "Brindy, I wanted him inside me.  He did not ...  period."

   "Who won?"

   She smiled demurely.  "We both did, when he made love to me ...  Water
washes things off ...  I did not expect him to put his mouth on me, just to
hold me in his arms and be inside me ...  then shower..."

   I giggled.  "You got mad at him for NOT wanting sex?"

   "Yes.  I love him.  Sex is part of it.  I have desires too, you know ...
I love Dave.  I do not know everything about male and female.  I know what
I wanted and I know about soap and water."

   "So you've done it while you're having a period."

   "Yes.  Those are days I did not want to miss.  I wanted every day, Dave
inside me." She looked at me.  Smiled.  "I still do.  But I do so much
enjoy my Brindy as well."

   "I'm with you on Dave, Lita.  I honestly never thought that I would make
love with a man, nor enjoy sex with a man, nor WANT a man.  Dave..."

   "He is that to me, Brindy."

   "So it's not bad that he's that to both of us?"

   She shook her head.  "I like what we have.  It is working."

   "So if you want to borrow my room, you can, you know..." I said.

   "Maybe if you and Dave ...  I don't have to be there.  Me and you, we
get plenty of time together, only us.  But we both get in bed with Dave ...
Maybe he might like one of us at a time..."

   "Maybe.  But he's your husband.  You don't..."

   "You do not listen," Lita said.  "He is OUR husband.  I had him to
myself.  When I had him to myself, I did not have YOU.  Now I have you and
him.  And if I want to read or study and you want to make love with Dave,
that is okay.  When you finish, Dave will still be there for me.  Just as
you will."

   I smiled.  "So did we fight enough to warrant makeup sex?"

   "Dave says he can tell that you and I have made love by the way we
taste."

   "Uh-huh.  And when you and I have made love, the feeling of Dave inside
me is sooo much more satisfying."

   "Best of both worlds, is it not?" Lita grinned.  She sort of eased me
towards the bedroom.

   I've married a Disney character.  She looks like that to me  -" a
big-eyed, slender princess.  I saw her on her wedding day with Dave.  Yes,
the Dave that Pat and I had planned for ME to marry.

   I couldn't get mad then.  Still can't.  I love her.  It's all so
confusing.  How's a person supposed to LOVE two people?

   I asked Carlita that.  She gave me one of those big-eyed adorable smiles
and said, "Brindy, do not try to analyze.  Just let us happen.  I tried to
analyze.  I got the whole 'one man, one woman' pile of thoughts in my head.
The analysis did not fit the reality."

   "That means the analysis is wrong, Carlita."

   "Exactly," she said.  "I would love Dave, no matter what.  I would love
you, no matter what.  So I have both of you." She fixed me with those brown
eyes.  "I trust that I DO have you, do I not?"

   "You do," I said.

   Now we're in college and much of the days when Dave is not home, we're
studying.  Except sometimes the homework's done and the housework's done
and I look at those big brown eyes and that slender frame and I get,
well...

   "Can we wait for Dave?  He's coming back tomorrow?"

   She flashes her smile.  "I don't know.  He may bring back another
Carlita."

   "There cannot possibly be another one," I say.

   "Maybe.  Perhaps not."

   "C'mere, you," I said.

   Big bed feels a little empty without Dave in it.  Lita and I gravitate
to the center.  Yes, there's hints of Dave's aftershave there.  We miss
Dave, but we have each other.

   Dave, though, I think his enthusiasm for road work is flagging.

   He comes in on Thursday afternoon.  Lita's got a Thursday afternoon
class that I don't.  It's me and Dave.

   "Hi, pretty girl," he says, sweeping me into his arms.  My husband...

   He kissed ME.  "Lita called me on the way to her class.  Said I oughta
see if I can work off some of your tension."

   "Lita says I'm tense?"

   "Yeah.  Says you worry way too much about everything.  She can't do your
classes for you, but she says you might need..."

   "Dave time..."

   "Her words."

   "Of course they're HER words, Dave.  We talked last night.  We knew
you'd be home while she was in class and I was gonna make you wait until
both of us were here before ...  I didn't want to ...  It seemed like
cheating on Lita..."

   "You worry too much."

   "She says that.  I'm sorry..."

   "Don't be.  You're more adorable than I can stand.  If Lita hadn't
popped up..."

   "Literally," I giggled.

   "Yeah, if she hadn't ...  Pat's plan would've worked."

   "And now, even better," I said.  "I have the two of you, it's just that
sometimes it gets to me." I pressed up against him.  He kissed me, pressing
back.

   I can't help but giggle at his laughing eyes.  "Dave..."

   "Yes, my Brindy?"

   "We missed you.  I get you first, is all."

   "Get me?"

   "Yep.  I own you, all to myself, right now..."

   "So you want..." He raised an eyebrow.

   "Yep.  That.  Right now." I pushed him toward the bedroom.  He mumbled
something about a shower but I kept pushing, shedding clothing as I went.

   A flurry of kisses and caresses later, I'm on my back with Dave's face
hovering above mine.  He's inside me and it feels wonderful.  I have a
plan, though.

   "Honey," I say, "are you lucid enough to answer a question?"

   "I can still talk.  I wouldn't trust my ability past that."

   "Good."

   He kissed me, a flurry of kisses.  The first time I saw him to that to
Lita, I melted.  Now they're mine too, and I melt.  "What's the question?"

   "Serious now.  Are you sure that you want BOTH of us?"

   "Brindy, I have no right to want both of you, but I do.  I love you ...
I love Carlita ...  Please don't take that away from me."

   "I have no intention, lover," I said.  "Right now we're mated. 
Connected." I wiggled upward, pushing him into me deeper for emphasis.  "I
don't want to lose this either.  I could never replace what YOU do, or what
Lita does, either one." Another wiggle.  "You fill me.  She makes me soar.
I need both of you." I pulled his face to mine, locked my lips against his.
From that, we mated.  The guy makes me COME!

   "Now, shower..."

   We were bumping about the kitchen when Carlita walked in.  She waltzed
up to me, giving me a kiss, then to Dave for another kiss.

   Laughed.  "You both have showered.  Dave, did you help Brindy with her
stress like I asked?"

   "Are you still stressed, Brindy?"

   "I don't think I am," I laughed.  "I'm sooo relaxed we're making a
casserole."

   So, yes, we're good.



   ------

   Chapter 29

   Dave's turn:

   Somewhere in my past I have suppressed the memory of the time when I
saved a truckload of orphan puppies from an erupting volcano.  Suppressed
memory.  That's got to be it.  Nothing else explains my fortune.

   I walked in from work today.  They knew I was coming home.  Phone call.
When I opened the door, there they were, both of them, each clad in one of
my shirts.

   On Carlita, the shirt fit almost like a robe.  On Brindy, I guess it was
a bit tight when buttoned, because hers was unbuttoned all the way down the
front.

   Got kisses from both of them, Lita first, then Brindy.

   The new 'normal'.  My universe.  Ably administered by Carlita, includes
me and Brindy.

   Brindy told me in a private moment, "I let Carlita sort of lead this,
Dave.  She's your primary owner."

   "You two decided this?"

   She shook her head.  "No, and if I were to propose it, she'd argue.  I
decided.  I get a say.  And I think it's fair.  You get one wife, Dave, in
everyone's eyes except ours.  To everyone else, I'm your friend.  Lita's
friend." She smiled.  "We can be one thing behind closed doors, but in
public, I'm your sister's kind of odd friend who hangs around all the
time."

   "You should talk to Lita."

   "I have.  I know what she says.  I know what YOU say.  This is just me,
okay?"

   "Okay, if that's what you want."

   "Dave, I wanted Pat.  You and Lita, I wanted, too.  I still want all
that.  Just..."

   "I know.  I miss Pat, too.  Every day." I saw moisture rise in her eyes,
held her close.  "Forward, angel.  We need to look forward."

   "I know.  Still hits me, though," she said, forcing a smile.

   "Me too, baby." That gets a hug.  Yes, the month or so since Pat's death
is the longest I've ever gone without seeing her, and she's been my sister
forever.

   Also gets real tears on my shirt.  I can control my own tears, being a
guy and all that, but feeling Brindy's soft sobs pushes me almost over the
edge.  Did push me back to the sofa where we settled in each other's arms
for a bit.

   Responding to my kisses on the top of her brown head, she stirred.  "I
need to go put the lasagna in the oven.  Today's my day to do dinner."

   "Okay," I said, releasing her.

   "You," she said, "hit your recliner.  I'll be back." She smiled over her
shoulder.  "Sure don't want Carlita thinking I'm not holding up my end of
the house."

   "Carlita knows we all pull our weight around here."

   "Yeah, so weigh your butt in that chair.  I got this."

   I did as told, kicking the recliner back to a relaxing angle while
Brindy made noises in the kitchen.  Presently she was back.

   "DO you want company?"

   "Always."

   She cuddled up on me.  It's easy for me to wrap my arms around her.  She
feels good here.  I close my eyes to savor ...  a flood of thoughts ... 
Carlita, my rescue, the little girl who rescued me right back.  My Pat ...
if only we'd understood and withstood ...  And I'm holding Brindy and it
feels so right.  She wiggles as if she's trying to get us to merge
together.

   "This is working, isn't it, Dave?"

   "This what?"

   "Me 'n' Carlita 'n' you.  Us.  Together.  It's working."

   "Seems to be," I said.  "I still have episodes of not believing
everything."

   "Me, too.  Just like right now.  In the way back of my mind, I have this
little idea that I'm cheating on Carlita with you.  It's really crazy, too,
because I can't figure out if I'm cheating on Lita because I enjoy being
with YOU so much and I'm supposed to be with her, or if it's because I
enjoy being with you and I'm taking her husband."

   "I know.  I'm sure we all have the same thoughts."

   "I dunno, Dave.  Carlita's the one that has the solid claim.  She's your
wife.  I saw you two lay claim to each other." I'd had talks with Carlita
on the subject.  Her comment: "I love you both.  You are my husband. 
Brindy is my sister, no, more than that.  Maybe my wife.  We belong to all
of us.  It is love."

   I looked at Brindy, kissed her a few little pecks until she turned her
face to mine, our eyes connecting.  "It is love," I said.

   Brindy giggled.  "It is love.  That's what Lita told ME!  Dave, our
Carlita is leading us around."

   "You think?!?" I answered with a tinge of sarcasm.  "You say that like
it's a BAD thing."

   She giggled.  "I did NOT!  I adore her.  She has this way..."

   "Ever since I figured out she wasn't Carlos," I reminisced.  "I was a
goner."

   "I could tell that the first time I saw you with her.  I saw you look at
her..."

   "She probably sees me looking at you that way, too."

   "Do you really?" she cooed.

   "I do."

   More wiggles.  Very comfortable.  And arousing, the manifestation of
which did not go unnoticed.

   Sexy giggle.  "My resolve," she said.  "You will NOT get an orgasm until
Lita gets home." Giggle.  "Might get a little suck or two.  And I may have
an orgasm.  But yours waits for Lita." And a decidedly hot kiss told me
that the earlier darkness, the earlier introspection, was past us.

   More kisses.  I made a move to unbutton her jeans.  Giggle.  "They stay
on.  Your hand..."

   I slid my hand inside, pushing under the waistband of hiphugger panties,
finding her hot and moist, making me want to rip those pants off and bury
my face in that happy, plump pussy.  Her hand on my cheek lined my lips up
with hers before I got too far down that road, though.

   What she wanted, a joyous little bit of fingering, a happy orgasm, she
got.

   Brindy is a spectrum of results for orgasm.  I've seen her breathless,
laughing, crying, even once just basically unconscious, although Lita was
more likely to pass out from sexual overload.  This time it was giggles.

   Breathy voice.  "I love my Dave."

   "Love my Brindy," I said.

   The two of us were sitting on the sofa folding clothes from the laundry
when Lita bounced in.  Her nostrils flared.

   "Our lasagna.  Best in town," she said.  She stopped to kiss each of us.

   "How was class?" Brindy asked her.

   Lita shrugged.  "English 101.  I think I'm going to test out of it
instead of sitting there with the herd."

   "You can do that?"

   That dark hair bounced with her nod.  Okay, I know she knows what that
move does to me.  The spark in the look she gave me provided the
affirmation that she did know.  "I can.  I'm the anomaly, you know. 
Bilingual.  Most of the kids think I should sound like the character in a
bad movie, and I don't, and the instructor says that if I can pass the
test, he's good with seeing me next semester for the next step.  Or maybe
THIS semester."

   "Darnit!" Brindy said.

   "Oh, you..." Lita turned to her, "You and me, Algebra 101?  Friday
morning we're BOTH taking the test to get past that one."

   "Lita..." Brindy started, "I'm not quite with you there."

   "I don't think you're right, Brin.  And I talked to the professor.  He
watches you and he watches me and I told him we both should be able to do
it."

   "If you think so..."

   Carlita's smile came blazing.  "I have more faith in you than YOU do,
baby doll."

   'Baby doll' was MY term.  I used on either of them indiscriminately.

   "Dave," Brindy squeaked, "she's using YOUR names..."

   "Because she loves you like I love you both."

   "Do you think I can do this?"

   "Lita says..."

   "Thank you, Dave," Lita said crisply.  "Now, in celebration of our
successes in academics, I think that Saturday should be a sailboat day."
She looked at the two of us.  "Objections?"

   "Luvit!" Brindy replied.

   "Sure.  I have this wonderful crew."

   Soon we were around the table, enjoying, as Brindy puts it, the best
lasagna in town.  Watching her and Carlita working off a recipe was a
particularly enjoyable Saturday.  Carlita's tendency towards use of peppers
worked its way into the effort.  Brindy says she's getting used to the heat
now.

   Talk around the dinner table.  Brindy.  "People say that red wine goes
with lasagna.  Have you ever been a wine person?"

   "I've had wine with a meal.  Why do you ask?"

   "People talk.  I listen.  Then I read.  Just wondering."

   "You're eighteen.  You're too young to buy wine."

   Lita brightened.  "You buy it.  WE drink it.  I read the same stuff.  We
talked."

   "You might not like it," I said.

   "Maybe not.  But we should try, don't you think?" Brindy flicked between
me and Carlita.  Looking at Carlita myself, I sense collusion.  And it's
not a bad thing.  I mentally add wine to the list of things I need to buy.
Brindy and Carlita have been handling grocery shopping very well, but the
problem with living with a couple of eighteen year olds is that they aren't
old enough to buy alcoholic beverages.  Okay, that's ONE problem.  There
are others.

   The new shower has been complete for a week now.  It's one of those
magical things.  Huge.  Room enough for three people to actually shower,
with multiple shower heads, teak benches.  You can shower in it.  Or other
things.  Wears a body out.

   Upside?  We're very clean.  Paragons of personal hygiene.  Second
shower's a lot faster, basically just washing off the sticky bits from the
festivities after the first shower.  There's not a mad rush into the middle
of that bed every time we shower, though.  Sometimes we retire to the
living room for a movie or a couple of TV shows

   I'm thinking that the old recliner has to go.  I've seen that somebody
makes 'em wide enough for a couple, or, I'm guessing, a very happy
threesome.  I can ask Carlita and Brindy to do the research.

   Tonight, dishes done, showered, we decide on a board game and some TV.
Both are essentially mindless, tools to key off conversation between us.

   Board game out of the way, I'm lounging back on the floor, my back
against the sofa, Brindy on my left, Carlita on my right, there's a pride
of lions eying a wildebeest on the Serengeti with lunch on their minds.

   Loose cotton pajamas.  I've stopped wearing scrubs.  No fly.  My girls
LIKE the fly.  Carlita's hand dips into my fly.  "Brindy," she giggles. 
"Look!"

   "It's sooo cuuuute!" Brindy squeals.  "For ME?"

   It's a silly game.  I love being the toy.  Brindy twists down and starts
licking and sucking, little teasing things, while Lita works my balls out
of the fly.  Completing that task, they both attack me.

   Two female asses in the air, Brindy's softly rounded, Lita's almost
pixie like, muscular.  I desperately need two faces because I want to eat
them both at the same time.

   "Oh god!" I gasp.  Brindy's head pops up.  "Oh no, you don't.  Not right
now."

   "We're teasing," Lita laughed.  "It's fun!  Look, Brindy, we almost went
too far."

   My dick was visibly pulsing.

   "Come on," Brindy said, rising.  She tugged my hand.  Lita was up,
turning out lights.  Except the mood lighting in the bedroom.  Mood?  Yeah,
complete sexual abandon.

   Tonight was Brindy's night to be first with me.  All that load that the
two of them had worked up?  Dumped it into Brindy while she shuddered
through her own orgasm.  During my recharge time, Lita and I worked Brindy
off again, lapping up the juice oozing out of Brindy's orchid of a pussy.

   We snuggled her, something Brindy seems to live for, kissing her from
both sides, both our hands stroking and caressing her body.  It IS a neat
body, so different from my Lita, delightful in a completely different way.

   "My turn, Dave," Lita said.  "Tonight.  Hard.  Period in a day or two."

   "You said that didn't stop you," Brindy laughed.  She smiled at my
discomfort.  "Oh, look at you, Dave.  There's nothing about you two that
Carlita hasn't told me.  Including THAT!"

   I was about to say something when my thought pattern was disrupted by
Lita's mouth sucking me in.  She popped off, pushed me onto my back.  "I
ride," she commanded.

   I'm not complaining.  She fits there perfectly.  This was her first
position ever, and it's a favorite.  Brindy doesn't watch.  She
participates.  After a couple of luxurious thrusts, Lita pulls up, almost
off me, just the head of my dick inside her.  Brindy's there.  I feel her
lips and teeth biting my dick sideways.

   "Where'd that come from," I gasped.

   "You like it?" Lita asked.  "She bit you?"

   "You know I like that." I heard Brindy's giggle, then another attack on
my shaft.

   "We know you like it, but we never tried while you were in us."

   Lita squealed.  "You bit me."

   "You know I like biting that ass," Brindy said.  She moved around as
Lita resumed her waves of hip movements and I thrust into her.  Brindy
kissed Lita, then me, then fastened her lips on one of Lita's pert little
breasts.

   "Nnngggghhhhhh!Brindy!!!!"

   "Love you, baby," between sucks of that brown nipple.

   "Come, Dave!  Hard!" Lita demanded.

   I responded.  I could tell from the sharp motions of her hips, the smack
as she bottomed herself on the base of my dick, that she was there.

   Brindy's finger on my balls.

   "Godddddddddd!!!!!!" I exploded.

   Brindy's fingertip touched the base of my dick, feeling my pulses.  Lita
just sort of collapsed into my arms.  I kissed her head gently.

   "God, I love you two," Brindy said.  "Did I help?"

   "Brindy, you're magical."

   "You are," Lita sighed.

   "Thank you.  Now relax and let me clean things up."

   "But I want some," Lita said in a little girl voice.

   "Okay.  You get Dave.  I get you."

   A knot.  We made a knot.  Lita on her knees beside me, loving and
worshiping my dick, Brindy on her back underneath Lita, lapping happily,
her ministrations causing Lita to lose track of her progress on my dick.

   Before our quickie 'post-sex' shower, I got a faceful of the pussies of
both of them.

   Of such things is a great night's sleep made.

   Made it through the night without further shenanigans.  We'd had to have
a serious discussion.

   "I love it.  You both KNOW I love it.  But waking up at two AM for
mind-bending sex when I have a road trip the next morning, it's very
difficult for me."

   I found my head cradled against Lita's chest as Brindy gently patted my
cheek.

   "But we REALLY love you, Dave.  THAT way, too," Brindy cooed.  "And if
you're going to be gone overnight..."

   So they tried NOT to wake Dave up on worknights.  Mostly succeeded. 
Occasional errors.  Horrible.  Starts with a tentative stroking of my
flaccid organ.  I suppose if I REALLY didn't want to, I could ignore that
approach, but seriously?  Stroking.  Then the question, in the form of a
gentle tug on my hip, urging me onto my back.

   The first time that happened when the three of us were in bed together,
the lips closing on me were Carlita's.  One of her hands, though, reached
for Brindy, touching her, waking her gently, to join in.  That's what told
me that Carlita was jelling on the reality of the three of us together.

   Everybody gets a climax.  Everybody eats somebody.  I don't care. 
Brindy.  Lita.  Delicious in slightly different ways, Lita's movements a
bit sharper, Brindy's are languid, and it's Lita who came up with the 'eat
Dave's dick like an ear of corn' move.  To have BOTH of them do me like
that, it's the fastest I ever came from oral sex.

   Wednesday morning, out the door to work, and before I'm at the office,
there's the cellphone and my day's disrupted for one of those "Please come
help us figure this out" calls.  My techs are good, but if they get in
trouble, I'm there for them, even if it means three hundred miles one way
for a four-hour job.  I double back and get my travel bag, kiss my two
wives, then head up the road.

   This time I head northeast.  Saves me the chiding "Be sure and look
behind your seat, my Dave" laughing statement from Carlita.  "You know how
you are."

   Five hours of driving gives one plenty time to think.  I think I'm the
luckiest guy in the world.

   A fast food burger was lunch.  By mid-afternoon I was at the company
site, assuring the tech and his manager that I did not have problems with
coming up here on short notice.

   "You need me.  I'm here.  Yeah, you could probably do it, Bruce, but if
you're not sure, then I need to be here.  Next time..."

   "Next time I won't need you here."

   "And that is how we grow," I said.

   We knocked out the problem in no time.  I demonstrated a trick or two
that made things easier, and we washed up at the end of the day.  I headed
off to the nearest hotel for the night.

   As soon as I got in the room, I was on the phone, updating ...  which
one do I call?  Okay.  Lita.

   "Hi, baby," I say into my iPhone.

   Giggle.  Brindy.  "Are you saying that to Lita and thinking, 'Wow!  I'm
glad I don't have to talk to Brindy?"

   "Hardly.  And don't be mean.  I miss my wives."

   "Both of us?"

   "Both of you."

   "Me too?" Lita's voice.

   "I have to miss you.  I checked behind my truck seat and there wasn't
another one."

   Squeal.  "Beast.  Bad man," Lita chuckled.

   "He must be punished when he returns."

   Two giggles.  My questions produced no answers.  I fear I may be in for
something.

   Okay, I went to dinner by myself, returned to the room, did a Skype
session with my two giggling girls.  Yes, they giggled.  Yes, they were
delightfully naked.  And yes, they absolutely forbade me to masturbate.

   I willed myself to sleep.

   The next morning, I spent a few hours at the site, doing a bit of
training, working on the relationships that make this business feel good
and work better.  I had a goal.  If I left at the proper time, I'd be back
home when the girls showed up after classes.

   I timed it well.  When I pulled my company truck into the driveway, the
girls' cars were there.  I walked in, got smothered in happy kisses, then
Carlita and Brindy both stepped back.

   Carlita put on a stern expression.  Brindy stood beside her, trying NOT
to giggle.

   "You were insolent last night.  We decided you should be punished."

   "I do remember my insolence.  I apologize."

   "Your apology is noted, but the punishment stands," Brindy said. 
Carlita's trying to play a role.  Not doing very well.

   "What is my punishment, my mistresses?" I asked subserviently.

   "You will disrobe," Brindy said, sounding ever so formal.

   "I need a shower."

   Carlita suppressed a giggle to state, "We determine what you need and
when you shall receive it.  Disrobe, as you are instructed." She glanced at
Brindy, who nodded approvingly.

   "Here?"

   "Here," Brindy ordered.  "Quickly."

   I complied.  I know it's a game, and I know that these two love me, so I
go along.  In a short bit, I'm standing there with my clothing in a pile at
my feet.  I'm totally nude, and pretty much totally erect.  I expected one
or the other to kneel before me.

   "Now, into the bedroom," Brindy commanded.

   Okay, I'll play along.  I turned the corner to a point where I can see
the bed.  Now I understand why a king-sized bedframe with four posts was a
requirement.  Attached to each of the posts was a restraint.  Okay, they
might not have suited the purpose in a Pakistani interrogation chamber, but
in a suburban American bedroom, they looked plenty adequate.

   "Lay down on your back." Brindy's still in charge, and the smile on
Carlita's face tells me she's a willing participant.  What am I going to
do? Protest?

   I was splayed and shackled into place.  Lita stripped, bounced beside
me, kissed me.  "We are doing this because we love you and want you to take
a more correct path.  Now, Brindy and I will administer your punishment."

   By now, Brindy was naked, kneeling at my head.  She bent over, neatly
dropping a nipple into my mouth.

   "You may suck."

   I was sucking.  Strange.  My hands automatically tried to move to knead
that soft, plump titty.  Ran afoul of the restraints.  She saw that. 
Giggled.  Pulled the titty away, just outside the reach of my mouth.

   Then I gasped.  Lips and teeth closed on the shaft of my dick.  Carlita.
Sideways.  Knows I can't STAND that.

   Brindy giggled.  "I am going to help my sister."

   Good?  Yes, it felt good, but I bucked against the restraints trying to
get that just RIGHT twist of friction, and both of them knew it.  Hands and
mouths, giggles and wiggles, the occasional tittie presented to my lips,
then Brindy's plump pussy.

   "Two," Lita laughed.  "You get one of us at each end." She eased herself
down over my prong, knowing that she was in total control now, because she
could bring herself off and I couldn't QUITE get the movement to give me my
own easy climax.  And Brindy was straddling my face.

   I love pussy.  Brindy's is beautiful and savory and sweet and tangy and
exciting and she lowers herself to present me with complete access.  Her
fingers toy with the sides of my head as I lick and suck.  I relish her
squeaks and giggles.  I know she loves it, and at the other end, Lita's
bucking herself against me.

   Brindy hisses, "Dave, take a deep breath!"

   I know what that means.  I gasp deeply just as her pink petals cover my
mouth.  My tongue keeps working, first to bring her completely over into
her climax, second to handle the gout of juice.  The fact that she's almost
silent except for muted whimpers means she and Lita are kissing.  Lita's
close.  Her moves are sharp, insistent, one, two, three and she's down
against me, frozen.

   I'm throbbing.  I'm on a hair trigger.  I can't remember EVER being so
wonderfully, exotically, expectantly, painfully close as the two of them
peel themselves apart, then off me.

   "Poor Dave," Lita says, kissing my cheek.  I'm slick with Brindy's
juices.  That's no obstacle to either of them because Brindy's on the other
side of me, each of them lying against me, heads resting on my
spread-eagled arms.

   "He looks remorseful, don't you think, Lita?" Brindy says with a smile.

   "I think perhaps that is so," Lita says.  "We only have to perform one
more punishment before we can release him."

   "You would LIKE to be released, wouldn't you, Dave?" Brindy queried.

   "Yessss," I hissed.  "Please."

   Carlita's giggle tinkled in my ears.  "Brindy, I am afraid he is going
to explode."

   "I know," Brindy said.  "Tell you what.  You get the head, I'll get the
rest." She turned to me.  "Is that..."

   "We do not have to ask his permission," Carlita said sternly.  "Yes, you
get everything else.  I will get the head."

   Indescribable.  It was simply beyond words.  I was straining.  My balls
throbbed in time with my heart beat, my dick waved like a metronome.  The
pair of them slid down, made a production out of kissing each other, then
positioned themselves.  Their eyes connected, two heads moved, Lita's mouth
closed over my corona, Brindy's lips and teeth got my shaft, and I CAME.

   Lita went "Mmmppph!" Her head bounced up.  She pointed my dick at Brin,
who took the next surge.  I think they worked out the choreography
beforehand.

   I went out in a blast of sounds and colors.  Woke up with my head
cradled in Brindy's lap, Carlita working the buckle open on my last
restraint.

   "What did you two DO to me?"

   "Let Brindy tell you," Lita said.

   I looked up at Brindy's face.  "Your sister bought these.  We talked
about using them on you.  I brought them over with me.  Lita and I talked."

   "Lita?"

   Giggle.  "Yes, Dave?  Did you not like our game?  Part of you liked it.
I liked it.  Brindy liked it."

   "You two amaze me."

   "We are yours," Carlita said.  "Now, do you think you can manage a
shower?  Then we will go out to eat."

   I managed a shower.  Love the shower.  Love my girls.



   ------

   Chapter 30

   Still Dave's turn:

   Late summer on the Gulf Coast.  Still pretty hot, but not like July and
August.  Friday when I come in from work I note that bags and boxes are
ready for tomorrow's boat day.

   Carlita comes to me first, Brin right behind her.  "We're ready for the
boat.  I looked at the weather.  I have a plan."

   "I want to hear it," I said.  Kissed her, then Brindy.

   "We want to go out in the gulf," Brindy said.  "Lita tells me that you
went out and tied up to a platform and spent the night out there.  Can we
do that?"

   "You thought about food?"

   Lita smiled.  "Of course.  We will need to get ice on the way to the
boat."

   "We got canned stuff and snacks," Brindy said.  "We can leave early
tomorrow morning.  Lita says we motor out of the channel and then sail in
the Gulf and tie off late in the day."

   "That's the plan." I looked at Carlita.  She was smiling.  I was
smiling, too.  Those trips are memorable, the two of us bonding.  Now we
add Brindy.

   With each day that passes, I shed a little apprehension about being that
guy with two wives.  I dearly love my Carlita.  My life on the planet would
have been properly complete with her at my side.  How does a guy's life get
MORE complete?  That would be Brindy.  I see the two of them and I see two
distinct personalities.  Brindy is often subject to quiet moods.  Carlita
seldom is.

   I don't know about parties and carnivals in Guatemala, but some days
Carlita's like the videos of Carnival in Brazil.  She just bounces.  Oh,
she certainly has her quiet times.  She's an avid reader, but when she gets
moving, she's very active.

   Brindy, on the other hand, seems to have a placidity to her personality.
She can laugh and giggle and play, but she seems to recede to a quiet place
very easily.

   Loving the two of them?  Easy.  They complement each other.  I see
something else.  They love each other.  It seems to me that the sexuality
they share with each other is as natural as can be between them and somehow
it includes me in ways I cannot seem to analyze.

   "Do not be silly, Dave," Carlita tells me.  "We love YOU.  That's what
makes me and Brindy fit together so well.  We share a love of you."

   "But I know that you two ...  When I'm out of town."

   Those brown eyes twinkled.  "Of course, yes.  And if it was me out of
town, I suspect that you would love on Brindy in much the same way.  Or if
it was Brindy..."

   "But you love me..." One of my insecure moments, I guess.

   "Of course I love you, Dave.  You are my Dave, my rescuer, my partner,
my friend, my mate." She put a finger in the middle of my forehead.  "And
you would do well to recognize that.  And further, our Brindy is the exact
same way.  Maybe you did not rescue her from the desert, Dave, but you DO
know that you are the first man to make love with her?"

   "She was no virgin..."

   "Dave, my love, my Dave," Carlita said.  "I know she had sex.  Scared,
then forced, then submissive ...  never like Carlita, wanting, loving,
sharing, desiring ...  Having YOU that way is why Carlita is not a virgin.
You, with Brindy ...  She was those things with you too, for her first
time." That rounded tanned face melts me.  Her eyes.  "You have Brindy
forever as surely as you have me, Dave." Smile.  "You know that, don't
you?"

   "I guess I sort of understand it like that."

   "You have to be the man for the two of us."

   "I am."

   "It is the three of us." Falling back into the recliner with her, we
cuddled and kissed.

   The next morning we were at the marina early, forgoing our normal 'laze
around in bed' Saturday activities.

   We were hauling things between the car and the boat when one of the
other marina denizens showed up.  I know him pretty well.

   "Hey, Dave," he said.  "Haven't caught up with you in a while."

   "I know," I said.  "Been going out pretty regular, though.  Saw your
boat gone a time or two.  We must be crossing paths."

   "Yeah ...  you and that old sailboat ...  wouldn't think it'd be that
exciting."

   "Depends on what you want for excitement.  Out in the gulf, a little
wind..." I saw Lita and Brindy walking up.  I motioned to them.  "Besides,
I have a crew.  This is my wife Carlita and our friend Brindy."

   "Hi.  I'm Roger Smith.  That's my boat over in slip 12."

   "I've seen it," Lita said.  "It looks very nice."

   "Dave, one day y'all need to come with me and Sammi for a day trip."

   "We can do that," I said.  "Me 'n' Carlita and Brindy."

   "Y'all hang out together."

   "Yep," I said, smiling enigmatically.  "Sort of works that way."

   I know that ol' Rog was still thinking about that when we motored out of
the marina.

   Like I said, late summer on the Gulf Coast.  Still hot.  And I don't
know if it was something they'd planned before the trip or if it was a
reaction to that little look on Roger's face, but before we motored out of
the slip, the two of them were in bikinis and although we usually wait
until further down the channel to uncover the sail, the two of them were on
top of the cabin, delightfully mobile, taking the canvas sun cover off the
sail.

   I caught a glimpse of Roger inside the glassed-in cabin of his cruiser,
watching.  Well, if I was him, I'd be watching, too.

   When the pair bounced back into the cockpit, they were both grinning.

   "I know what you two just did."

   "Welllll," Brindy giggled, "He was  -" he looked kind of surprised at
what you implied."

   "I said nothing," I defended.

   "Your eyes.  Dave, we look at your eyes and know more about what you're
thinking than what you actually say," Carlita said.  "I know it.  So does
Brindy.  And apparently so does Roger."

   "Still..."

   "Just gave him something to think about," Brindy said.  "Fat girl and
forest nymph."

   "You're far from fat.  I'll concede the forest nymph, though."

   The forest nymph slid over and started working on my belt buckle. 
"Don't you need to get into those baggy trunks?"

   "Yeah.  That'd feel good."

   "Leave the jock strap off," Lita ordered.  Brindy giggled.

   Lita's eyes flashed.  "Brindy, go below with him and make sure he
dresses properly.  I'll take the helm."

   "HelmsLita," I said.  She smiled.

   The hatch to the cabin stays open, a concession to the heat, and Lita
can watch and hear me and Brindy arguing about my changing clothes.

   "Just get out of those, Dave," she instructs.

   I obey.  I'm naked.

   "Now, back up the ladder," she says.

   "Lemme get dressed."

   "I KNOW you're not bashful.  Do like I said."

   I know what she wants.  I take two steps up the ladder.  Carlita can see
me.  And Brindy's face is...  "Gahhh!  Brindy, that's good."

   "Now get dressed."

   I pull on the trunks and a teeshirt.  The legs on those trunks are
loose. She slides a hand up my leg.  "Perfect!" she announces.

   I get to watch that cute, rounded bottom ascend the ladder ahead of me.
Can't resist a nip.  She squeals in response.  Life is good.  In the
cockpit, I sit beside Carlita.

   "Why don't you get the autopilot working?"

   "Autopilot?" Brindy asked.

   "Yes," Carlita said.  "It keeps us in the center of the channel.  It
will hold the heading in case we take our hands off the helm."

   "You and Dave..."

   Carlita nodded vigorously.  "Uh-huh..."

   "I wondered.  I know y'all used to go and anchor in that spot, but I
wondered how you could do it while you're underway."

   "That's how," Lita giggled.  She tugged at the leg of my trunks,
exposing me.

   "I like it in the sunlight," she announces.

   "Oh, you like it any way you can get it," Brindy giggled.

   "Yes.  You are correct."

   "Let me get the autopilot," I managed to say.  I have a strong suspicion
that these two have something in mind.

   "He looks tense," Brindy announces to Carlita.  "Don't you think?"

   "Mmm-hmmm," Lita replies.  "Rock, paper, scissors?"

   "I'm the prize?"

   Giggle.  "One of us is going to suck you," Brindy says.  "Do you
object?"

   Carlita won.  I did, too.  Of course, this is a three-way marriage and
all that Lita won was the choice of where her mouth was when the two of
them made me come.

   Thank god for autopilots.  There was a period where none of us was
paying attention to navigation.

   Five miles further down the channel, neither bank is inhabited.  Brindy
got up and went below, coming back with a bundle of fabric in her hand. 
The bikini came off, replaced by shorts and a teeshirt.  "I don't care what
it looks like, bikinis just aren't comfortable to me," she said.  "You
don't really mind, do you, Dave?"

   "Nope.  I get plenty enough time with you naked."

   "I am going to change, too," Lita announced.  She dropped her bikini in
a swift move, then picked up Brindy's discarded bikini before bounding down
inside the cabin.  She returned with her clothing, still naked, smiled and
shimmied into her shorts then snaked her way into her own teeshirt.

   Practical.  There was a bit of recreational traffic on the waterway,
too, mostly fishermen taking advantage of the slightly cooler weather. 
Leaving the protected waters of the channel we traded the little choppy
waters for three-foot waves, giving the boat a noticeable motion.  Hoisting
the sail stabilized us quite a bit.  Shutting down the engine left us with
the sounds of wind and water.  This is sailor heaven.

   Carlita already knows it.  She's been with me out here.  It's Brindy's
first jaunt offshore.

   "It's never moved like this, Dave," she stated.

   "Uncomfortable?"

   "No, kind of soothing, actually.  Like being rocked."

   "Okay, if you're sure.  As long as we're out here, we're gonna rock. 
All night."

   "It's lovely while you're sleeping," Carlita injected.

   "I bet it is," Brindy answered.  She looked up at the expanse of the
sail, white fabric drawn sleek and tight by the wind.  We were clipping
along nicely, weaving our way through the offshore oil and gas platforms,
some of them active, generator sounds rumbling over the water.  The tiny
course corrections we had to make did not require changes to the set of the
sail.  We just rocked along, sunlight sparkling on the water, the sound of
our wake modulated by the whoosh as we climbed each small swell and surged
down the other side.

   "That's the last one," Lita announced.

   "Last what?" queried Brindy.

   "Manned platform.  Where we're going, there won't be any people on the
platforms where they can see us.  So..." She stood up and shucked her
shirt, then her pants.  "Okay, love, your turn." She grinned.  "Both of
you."

   "You both are beautiful," I blurted.  They are.  My girls.  I get to say
that.  We leaned back against the coaming, sipping sodas, enjoying the
ride. A GPS traced our progress toward our goal, a little spot in the gulf
where the single structure of an offshore metering station rose out of the
waves.  I know what it is.  I've worked on some myself.

   I donned shorts when we got close.  I had to go forward and tie us off
to the structure and the last thing I wanted was some sort of damage to my
tender bits.  I gave us seventy-five feet of three-quarter inch Dacron. 
The wind shouldn't shift appreciably in the next twenty-four hours, so we'd
just be sitting there at the end of that line, rocking in the swells.

   We rigged other lines over the rail around the hull, gripping spots for
swimming.  A long poly line streamed aft of our stern, just in case.

   "Let's swim," I said.

   "How deep is it here?" Brindy asked.

   "Look at the nav display."

   "It says seventy-eight feet."

   "Then that's what it is."

   "And we're gonna swim?"

   "Only on the top," I laughed.  "Salt water.  You'll float easily.  Just
don't get far from the boat."

   I heard the splash of a rare Guatemalan forest nymph hitting the water.
"Come on," I said.

   "Well, if you and Lita..." And a splash.  I joined them.

   Swim?  Yes.  The warm waters of the Gulf felt good, washing away the bit
of sweat from our trip out, then soothing land-based muscles, held in the
warmth of the Mother Ocean.

   There was also quite a bit of laughing and sighing as hands touched and
teased and lips hit various places that the three of us knew made each
other quiver.  Finally, Carlita announced readiness to get back in the
boat.

   We did that.  To be sure, we were all squeaky clean from an hour-long
swim, but if you dip in the salt water and let it dry, you're going to be
uncomfortable.  Our answer to that was to switch on the wash-down pump and
hose each other off with fresh water in the cockpit.

   Afterward the teeshirts went back on while we prepared dinner.  Three
little steaks went on the grill when a simple rice pilaf neared readiness.
And wine.  Three glasses.  Two bottles.

   "You packed TWO bottles?" I questioned.

   "Wanted to make sure we had enough."

   One bottle took us through our dinner.  Afterward the dishes went over
the side in a mesh bag.  Old trick.  When I pull 'em back aboard in the
morning, they'll be picked clean and somewhere some marine life will have
shared our dinner with us.

   Time to rig the bed in the cockpit.  This might've been a problem.  The
space I have is just a bit bigger than a double bed, not quite a
queen-sized bed.  The times that Lita and I did this we had plenty of room.
Now we're adding Brindy.  We'll have to be very friendly.

   We're that friendly.  First, we just stretched out side by side, taking
in the magnificence of the nighttime sky, unimpeded by the light pollution
of civilization.  All we had was the platform's warning light and our own
anchor light.  In the clear night air, neither of them interfered with the
view.  It's beautiful.

   "Wine," Brindy said with a start.  "We have that other bottle."

   "Yeah," Lita said.  "And part of the one from dinner."

   In the light of the rising half-moon, the three of us sat cross-legged
on our makeshift bed, glasses of wine in hand.

   "I kinda see how somebody could like this," Brindy said.  "At first it's
sort of yuck, but then it sort of grows on you..."

   Carlita started giggling.

   "Whaa-aattt?" Brindy asked her.

   "You just described the first time I did YOU down there..."

   "Or Dave," Brindy giggled, getting into the game.  "The idea of sucking
that thing was disgusting until I saw you and Pat doing Dave..."

   Okay, drinking wine just a little bit too fast, and I'm thinking with a
hundred percent certainty that neither of them had previous experience with
alcohol.  They were giggly and I had a wonderfully warm glow.  Next time
I'll make sure they bring something besides Solo cups to drink from.

   Brindy turned to Carlita.  "You thought that I was gonna be yuck?"

   "I never did that to a woman before.  The only experience I had was with
Dave." She smiled at me.  "Dave, who tastes wonderful and sends me among
the stars.  You are telling me that the first time you did not  -"
trepidation?"

   "Well, kinda, I guess.  Pat did me.  I knew I should do her." She looked
at Lita then at me.  "Tastes pretty good, huh?"

   Carlita grinned, draining her cup of wine.  "Yeah ...  and look what
we've done to Dave."

   Brindy grinned.  "I love it!  Don't you?"

   "Oh, very much yes," Lita replied happily.  "Dave, lay back!"

   "Just a second," I said, draining my own cup of wine.  I lay back, my
erection straining for the galaxies above us.

   "I kinda ache for it inside me," Brindy told Lita.

   "Okay.  Then you get the first one."

   My girls.  They share and they take turns.  And they have a lot of
confidence in me, that I can manage three orgasms a day.  Three?  Piece of
cake.

   I particularly enjoy the kissing and fondling that precedes Brindy
climbing astraddle me.  Or how, after Brindy and I both come our brains
out, Lita sucks me ever so gently, then presents her own pink pussy for my
tongue while she laps happily at the languishing Brindy.

   I'm afraid that Lita's attentions to Brindy flagged when I tongued her
to one climax, then the second.  The three of us snuggled together, cooled
by the moisture-laden breezes.

   Fingers played lightly underneath my scrotum, bouncing my balls gently.
That's a Carlita thing.  I moaned just a little.  Brindy took that as a
sign that my chest needed nipping.  A second moan and she covered my mouth
with hers.

   I heard a little happy giggle from Lita as fingers wrapped around my new
erection.

   "We get you, don't we, Dave," Brindy said breathily.

   "Oh god yes," I managed as Lita sucked me into her mouth.  I felt that
wetness.  My fingers found more wetness and I knew what was next.  Lita
mounted me, tugged my shoulders so I would sit up and cuddle her. 
Beautiful.  Brindy knelt beside us stroking, kissing, touching, her soft
voice encouraging us.

   Like we needed encouragement.

   Brindy was gently squeezing my sack when I emptied into a squeaking,
orgasmic Carlita.

   Here I was making love to a fourteen year old girl.  Oh, I knew her fake
paperwork said she was eighteen, but we both knew the truth.  And we both
loved each other dearly.  All three of us.  Six months ago I couldn't have
imagined myself with an eighteen year old.  Now ...  It's easy to see
forever when you're lying between two girls you'd give your life for.

   We woke up to pinkening skies as the sun started to break the eastern
horizon.  Yes, I know  -" "Red sky at morning, sailor take warning." I
wasn't The Ancient Mariner though.  We knew a change in weather was coming
but we also knew that the change would be preceded by winds from the
southeast, putting them over my starboard rail on the sail back, and we had
plenty of time to beat the coming rains and squalls.

   The three of us made quick work of disassembling our makeshift bed.

   "That answers that question," I announced.

   "What question?" Carlita returned.

   "Whether there was enough room for the three of us in bed."

   "We sleep very close," Brindy answered.

   "I put part of you inside my mouth to save space," Lita popped brightly.

   Oh, yes, I remember that.  A luxurious blowjob followed by a salty kiss.

   After I finished stowing the bedding, I climbed back into the cockpit,
wearing shorts.  Untying our bow line, you know.  Wanna be careful.  After
I got the line loose and stowed, I washed my hands.

   Lita already had the engine running, easing us away from the platform.

   "C'mere!" Brindy commanded.

   I stepped across the cockpit and stopped in front of her.  Her fingers
curled into the waistband of my shorts.  She jerked them down.  Giggled. 
"Lita!  Look what I found!"

   Carlita giggled.  "You need to share!"

   Brindy's head bobbed forward, taking me in.  She worked me over with her
mouth, using lips and tongue and teeth, then slapped me on my butt.  "Go
give some to Lita."

   "I can't do that.  She's steering the boat."

   "I'll steer," Brindy said.

   I waddled to the end of the cockpit with my pants around my thighs. 
Lita's good.  She finished with a tease, gripping my loose skin between her
teeth, shaking her head.  Then, "Set the sail!"

   I pulled my pants up and did as told.  We killed the engine and
proceeded under wind power.

   Back to lounging, where my pants were pointed out as an impediment.  I
removed them, but reminded my nudist partners that in an hour or so we'd
need to put clothes on because we were nearing the areas where the
platforms were manned.

   "So what if they see us naked?" Brindy queried me.

   "Yes, what if they do?"

   "I dunno.  I guess they can't do anything.  But still ...  All this is
mine.  I don't want to share it."

   "Oh, okay, then, Dave, my love," Brindy said.  "You're right.  It is
yours."

   A bit later we were all in teeshirts and ...  Well, I had shorts on. 
They refused.  At least the teeshirts were long, almost long enough so that
when one of them stood, not much showed.  I know where to look.  I look a
lot.  Damn cute!  Brindy's got that sexy curve to her ass.  Carlita's is
quite athletic-looking.

   Can't see either of 'em right now.  I have one in each arm, a foot free
to steer if the autopilot loses its mind.  The quartering wind has us
moving at hull speed, the wake gurgling, the 'whoosh!' as the bow rises up
and courses down each wave.  It's an incredible bit of sailing and it's
made even better because I get to share it with two girls who love me.

   See?!?  It's not all about sex.  This far into things, I find kindred
spirits when it comes to likes and dislikes.  We all love the outdoors, at
least as far as sailing.  We're going to have to rethink things when the
weather turns cold, though.  The trip back had enough squeezes and tickles
and touches to be entertaining but we were saving the major event for when
we got home.

   By the time we backed the boat into the slip at the marina, we had
everything ready to offload.  I noted that Roger's boat was still out.  Oh,
well.  We hauled everything off the boat and got in the car for home.

   Brindy was ebullient over the whole experience.  "Loved it.  Every bit
of it.  Lita, you told me it was fun!"

   "I kinda liked it before Carlita.  Carlita lifted it to a whole new
dimension."

   Lita smiled.

   "So did I detract?" Brindy asked.

   Lita's head was already shaking.  "Not hardly," I said.  "I love my
Brindy, too!  I'm just glad you didn't get seasick and puke all over the
boat."

   "No way," she laughed.  "I'm part of this mess.  You're stuck with me."

   "I suppose," I said, feigning sadness.

   "You're horrible."

   Might need punishment," Lita offered.

   "Perhaps so," injected Brindy.

   We pulled into our driveway.  I was happy to be home.  OUR home.  The
boat's fun, but I'm thinking three naked bodies in that big shower, then
three naked bodies in the bed.

   First thing, though ...  All the bags hit the floor, and we're in a big
bundle of hugs.



   ------

   Chapter 31

   Brindy's turn:

   Months.  Months have passed since that horrible day when I lost my Pat.
I can't replace her.  We all  -" me, Dave, Carlita  -" lost a lot with
Pat's passing.

   I am family, though.  I don't know if there's a way we can make it any
more than what we have in our hearts, but I have a marriage with Dave and
Carlita.  They have the piece of paper from Texas for theirs.  I'm the
add-on, and they both tell me that the paper would add nothing.

   I have money.  Pat's house sold fast and for a good price.  Her life
insurance  -" double indemnity for accidental death  -" was assigned to me.
She was taking good care of me.  Practical Pat.  Taking care of business.
Will?  Me.  Insurance?  Me.  I'm set up pretty well, not that it's any sort
of compensation for my Pat, but I fit in with my Lita and Dave.  The money
simply means that I'm not hanging with them because of my financial
situation.

   I'm into them.  That's giggle-worthy.  Dave's into me, around six
inches, very often.  With Carlita it's fingers and tongue.  I guess I'm
bisexual.  Thought I was more lesbian when it was Pat, but when she
revealed secrets about her and her brother, we both started talking about
it.  She missed him.  Wanted him.  I saw her eyes when she spoke of him.  I
knew there was still something there.  We started talking about 'what if'
scenarios.

   "What if we want a baby?" It was her question.  I guess I'm the one who
brought up the idea of getting a sperm sample from Dave.  We talked more.
Had a plan.  Were gonna get Dave over and get him drunk and ...  Then we
scratched that one.  We'd just approach him and be direct about it.  Dave
would marry me and then he could have both of us.  And one or both of us
would get pregnant with Dave's baby.

   That was the plan.  Sort of had to wait until I turned eighteen so I
could move in with Pat.

   All those plans sort of went away when he showed up with Carlita, big
brown eyes, lithe figure, that silly short black hair, English with a
foreign lilt and a brain that I wasn't ready for.  And Dave fell for her.

   They got married.  I was there watching.

   Over the summer Carlita often hung out with me and Pat when Dave was at
work.

   Then there was the week that Pat had a conference in Houston and Dave
was out of town.  I spent the nights with Carlita at her house.  She's so
innocent in so many ways, but she's also inquisitive and sexy.  We ended up
in the shower together.

   Pat has this thing about pubic hair.  I never thought of having a shaved
pussy as being a conversation starter.  After all, I just don't walk up to
somebody and say 'Hi, I'm Brindy and I shave my pussy.' First, I am NOT
that forward.  Second, Pat shaved it for me.

   Lita was fascinated.  I shaved hers.  Icebreaker.

   Middle of the night, we're sleeping in the same bed, both nude.  I wake
up in the middle of the night.  Bad dreams.  Lita goes into her 'caring'
mode.

   More talk about the relationship between me and Pat.  I let the cat out
of the bag about Pat and Dave.

   "That explains much," Carlita said.  "He is very gentle, but when he
speaks Pat's name ...  I think he was affected when he found out about you
and Pat.  I thought it was because you were female.  Now I think it is
because Pat has another in her life."

   We made love.  I'm not a slut.  I really am not.  Lita is the second
woman I have made love with and there's a connection between us, loving
brother and sister who have loved each other.

   I have a sister.  We've made love.  Pat has a brother.  They've made
love.  Somehow there's a level of rightness to it, at least that's what I
tell myself.

   I told Pat, of course.

   This did not change the way that Carlita and I interacted in public.  In
private?  Oh, a time or two...

   And when Dave's out of town, Carlita's over at our house more often than
not.

   I know it sounds sexist when I say it, but a bunch of girls can get
silly talking late at night.  Pat and I were sitting on the sofa, being
very close, kind of intimate.  Carlita squeezed onto the sofa with us,
watching some movie.

   Over the next couple of weeks we got more open in front of her, talking
about us and her and Dave.  It was one of Dave's weeks when he was on the
road for two nights that she slid into bed with us.  Scared.  Felt guilty
the next day.

   "You and I have something in common, Carlita," Pat told her, trying to
console her.

   "What is that?"

   "Dave."

   "He is your brother.  My husband."

   "Lita," Pat said.  "Dave and I..."

   Carlita's face.  "Brindy told me."

   Pat told the story.  I'd already heard it, naturally.  "We needed ... 
We had each other..."

   "You could not be married, but you love him..."

   Did I say that Carlita is very perceptive?

   "I have cheated..."

   "No, Lita.  We are friends..."

   "If Dave ...  with a friend..." Lita started.

   "Dave would not.  Nor would you.  Me and you and Brindy ...  sisters. 
Simply sisters."

   I honestly didn't think that Carlita would buy it.  She has a sense of
morality.

   I was wrong.  The second night, the three of us were in bed.  It was the
first time that Carlita and Pat made love.  Actually, it was the three of
us.

   After that, Carlita ...  I expected her to have remorse and avoid us. 
Wrong again, Brindy.  Carlita stuck to Dave when he was home like she was
an extra appendage.  When he left, though, if she didn't have Gary's and
Carlie's kids staying with her, Carlita was with us, and having her in bed
was just as natural and comfortable as we could dream.

   We told her about Pat's plan.

   "I am not going to ...  Dave and I talked.  After I am out of college,
then we may have a baby.  I want us to have a baby.  You and Pat," she
said, "Yes, Dave's sperm would be almost like you getting pregnant by Pat."

   "Would Dave do that?"

   "There are many ways..." Lita said.  "The easiest ...  If I am enjoying
making love with you and Pat, then why would I object if Dave was to..."

   That led to that last boat trip with Carlita and Dave and me and Pat.

   I was scared.  My own sexual experience with men.  At sixteen I thought
I was in love and gave myself to a boy who was out for something that had
little to do with love.  He hurt me the first time.  All the other times, I
tried to think I was enjoying it but I found out that I was dry and he was
self-centered and artless, and then came the time that he and a buddy ...
cheap wine, maybe with some enhancement ...  I had a hairy dick forced into
my mouth while another was forced into my pussy ...  it was horrible.

   Then another boy.  And another ...  It wasn't better.  Wasn't even much
different.

   I turned to Pat.  Pat provided somebody to talk with, made me feel
something that I didn't get at home with Mom and that beast she was
attached to.  Pat ...  soft talk one evening, me crying ...  she was
drinking a glass of wine.  I took a sip, then a gulp ...  two glasses later
for each of us, I was being held, she was close, warm ...  the kiss seemed
natural and loving and something that I dreamed a kiss could be.

   We shared each other.

   I know she told Dave a little lie when she said that she and I had not
been physical until I was eighteen.

   I wouldn't let her feel remorse about a mutual seduction.

   Nobody knew we were an item until I turned eighteen and moved in with
her.

   Now there are four of us on the boat and poor Dave has no idea that
three of us are planning on using him.

   I was the scared one.  It was the first time I really WANTED to make
love to a man.  I think that those points are key.  "I wanted." "Make
LOVE." I have two women that I love telling me that Dave is who I need.

   I'm really not that good of a lesbian.  Don't get me wrong ...  On every
level, Pat has lifted me.  She showed me that sex was something to be
shared and relished and given and taken.  My first lesbian contact. 
Carlita was my second.

   I don't know how many boys, exactly.  None of them was any good.  Pat
and Carlita.  Good.

   That day on the water ...  Dave was floating on his back when Pat and I
swam around the stern of the boat.  Carlita had him in her mouth.  Both of
them obviously enjoyed it because when Pat swam up beside him, Lita
released him from her mouth and smiled at me.

   Pat took him, obviously relishing...

   By the end of the day I had actually MADE LOVE to a man.  Had a man
relish me.  I know.  I saw his eyes.  Carlita and Pat were right.  Dave's
eyes do not lie.  He called me 'Brindy love'.

   That night, Carlita had a meltdown.  I think that she had second and
third and fourteenth thoughts about having a group marriage.

   The next day was the tragedy.  I lost my Pat.  We ALL lost our Pat.

   I thought that since Lita had the meltdown, I was on my own.

   Carlita said 'no'.  Says I am her sister and I stay with my family.  She
and Dave are my family.  I don't know how I would have survived without
them.  Losing Pat was the darkest of dark times.  Alone, I might not have
had the will to live.

   They never let me think I was alone in the world.  It was like I was
supposed to love Carlita and I was supposed to love Dave and I was supposed
to receive their love in return.

   Carlita saw to it that I made love with Dave the morning after the
tragedy.  I am not sure, never will be, but I think that is when we three
decided to be married together.

   Carlita and I actually formalized it on bended knee.  I love Carlita's
sense of propriety.

   Carlita calls the days that followed The Great Sadness.  I didn't know
what to do ...  what else I was supposed to do.  I tried staying occupied,
but when I slowed down, I realized that I wasn't going end up on the sofa
with my head in Pat's lap, her fingers stroking through my hair.  That's
what got me started with her.  She was so gentle, her actions transmitted
an air of love and caring.  I was destined to fall.

   During The Great Sadness I spent days with Carlita and evenings with her
and Dave.  They helped me.  I think I helped them, especially Dave.

   And we slowly, sometimes awkwardly, became  -" I want to say a couple,
but there's three of us  -" a solid unit.

   There have been awkward moments.  One thing ...  Carlita and I have
plenty of time for just the two of us.  We're trying to figure out the best
way for us to get Dave all alone with each of us in turn.  The three of us,
well, we just sort of rotate through all the positions.  With Dave ... 
he's the center of attention.  That dick ...  I want it inside me.  So does
Carlita.  I wish he had two.

   Lita and I take turns with that.  Three of us.  He's so sexy when Lita
is riding him.  I can touch and kiss and bite both of them, or I can
straddle his face.  I have to be careful doing that, though.  I lose
control.  I may smother him.  Or Lita will.

   Still, there's only one Tab A for Slots B and C.  We tried 'Plastic
Dave', Pat's dildo.  She's the one that named it 'Dave'.  Sorry.  Doesn't
substitute for either me or Carlita.  I prefer fingers.  Tongue.  And
naturally, Dave.

   I talked with my sister about it.

   "It does not mean that I do not love you," Carlita said.  "I do.  I love
you just like we are now.  (Naked housework is a very neat and erotic
exercise) I love you with Dave and me together.  But what you said..."

   "That I want some time with just me and him..."

   "I want that, too sometimes."

   "How do we do it?" I asked.  "You know I can't ...  it would be
uncomfortable to be in another room.  I want to participate."

   She giggled.  She makes me giggle as well.  "Yes.  You'd think that you
and Dave are having a private moment and then he jumps because I have my
fingers around his balls or my lips down there lapping up the juice..." She
smiled.  "Right?"

   "I've done that."

   Giggle.  "And it's spectacular.  We do stuff like that and we OWN Dave."
Her dark eyes flashed.  "But ...  Maybe tomorrow when Dave gets home, YOU
keep him and I go do the grocery shopping, and the next time it's MY turn
and you go get the oil changed.  Maybe once a week for each of us?"

   "You're my wife and I love you." Afterward, she and I are naked and I
feel loved.

   "And it's not wrong to want it like this with you and Dave or me and
Dave, just so you know." She flopped that dark-haired head back onto my
stomach.  "Mmmmm."

   So we're happy.  I stroke her hair.  It's getting longer and I swear
that she really is going for that Dora the Explorer look.  She knows Dave
thinks it's drool-worthy cute.  I do, too.

   College students, she and I are both going to college.  We're students.
There are thousands of us.  Half them are boys.  I could say 'men' but that
would be inaccurate in most cases.

   I've been hit on big-time.  Somebody's always having a party and wants
me to come.  I talk with Lita.

   "Yes.  Same thing.  I don't think so.  I ask them if they are inviting
my husband as well, and I wave my ring at them."

   "Does that work?" I ask.  "I have a ring."

   "It seldom works.  People do not think that being married means much."

   "It's all about sex," I sighed.  "Carlita, it IS.  Why don't I feel that
way about you and me and our Dave?"

   "Because we love each other and we love our Dave," she said.  "I ... 
even the guys who seem nice.  The cute ones.  The smart ones.  I just don't
get the feelings, not the feelings I get when I think of Dave."

   I had to smile.  "I know.  Girls, neither."

   "Yes, girls also."

   "Still, it is kind of flattering to be noticed."

   "Yes.  But I notice that my Brindy is smart and funny and likes quiet
times to read with her headphones on and she cooks.  Those are parts I
know. They make my Brindy so desirable." She smiled demurely, flashing
those dark eyes.  "Dave thinks so, too.  Sex is part of us, not all of us.
And we had the other things first."

   "You and I, we had the other things first.  I was sex to Dave first."

   "I don't think so, Brindy," Lita told me.  "Dave simply took Pat's love
for you as meaning that everything you were to Pat, you would be to him. 
And when he found out that you were all those things to me ...  And since,
he has found out for himself."

   "It is complex, all the ways we fit together."

   "I know.  I once thought we were wrong, but now I do not think we are
wrong," Lita said.  "Dave has two wives."

   "And Carlita has a husband and a wife..."

   "I do, do I not?"

   "You do.  I do." I smiled as we walked across the quad towards the
parking lot.  "We're going home and..."

   "Getting ready for Dave," she giggled.  "Some days I do not think he
knows why we are so aggressive toward him."

   "Dave's our husband.  Wives should be that way about their husbands."

   Lita's head turned to me with laughter in her eyes.  "Even it is two
wives and one husband."

   Did I mention that I love our house?  Mom was never much of a
housekeeper.  The burden fell on me and me alone once I was tall enough to
reach the kitchen sink.  Our house now?  Carlita and I and Dave have an
immaculate home.  He does the outside, we do the inside, it's clean and
orderly.

   We stay on top of the chores.  Today is the day we change the sheets on
the bed.  Of course, sometimes those sheets don't make it a week.  We don't
waste much of the juice from the three of us, but sometimes it's just so
good that nobody wants to make another move and spots end up on the sheets.

   Making a king-sized bed is easy with two people.  We make short work of
it, and there in front of me is an expanse of clean, crisp cotton and
across from me is this smiling ...  What's Dave call her?  Forest nymph.  I
can see what those people at school are attracted to.  Of course, they
don't get THE smile that's reserved for me and Dave.

   She flops into the middle of the bed, rolling over on her back,
stretching.  Fuly clothed.  Cute.  Oh, so delectable.  No wonder Dave fell
so hard.  Of course, he says the same thing about me and I think he's
hopelessly delusional but it's wonderful.

   I crawl in from my side of the bed, meeting her in the middle.  I get
close ...  she puts a hand behind my head, pulling me in for a kiss.

   "Thought we were saving this for Dave," I said.

   "We both have our clothes on.  I just needed to stretch out for a little
while."

   "And I can't resist you.  Poor Dave never knew what hit 'im, did he?"

   Carlita smiled.  It's a conversation we have had many times and we both
enjoy it.

   "He is my Dave.  It did not take me long to see that." She smiled. 
"Turn around.  You are upside down."

   She wanted to cuddle.  I can spend hours with my arms around somebody
that I love.  Lita is one of them.  I nestled up against her.  Kissed her
nose.

   ...

   The first time I did that, she looked at me with serious eyes.  "Why did
you do that?"

   "What?"

   "Kiss my nose."

   "You didn't like it?  I'm sorry.  Just seemed like your nose needed to
be kissed."

   "Dave did not tell you?"

   "No, mi Carlita.  Dave has done that?"

   "And it was perfectly charming."

   "But I should not?"

   She answered me by wrapping me in her arms and kissing me like she was
searching for her soul.

   ...

   "If you had gotten to Dave before me, I think YOU would have him..."

   "I would have had to share him with my Pat," I said.  "You and Pat, you
made Dave an acceptable man to me."

   "He is a good man for us."

   "If I had not known that Pat loved him and you loved him ...  Lita, you
don't know how I was about men..."

   "Dave ...  Me.  Brindy.  I had months of men and boys that scared me and
worried me.  I knew some good men.  But Dave ...  Do you not just love to
see his eyes when he smiles for you?"

   "He does smile for me.  He smiles for you.  He looks into my eyes and
when he says 'I love you' I know he means it like no other man ever will."

   Poor Dave.  He walked in after work, having talked to us when he left
his parking lot, and we did not give him a hint of what we had in mind.

   Five minutes after he was in the door we had the three of us naked in
that bed.  Lita and I determined that we wanted to see if we could bring
him off without letting him inside either of us, mouth OR pussy.

   The answer is 'yes'.  And the results had the three of us sprayed with
semen.

   "You two are horrible, horrible teases."

   "Did you not enjoy it?" Lita giggled.

   "You ...  you squirted all over us," I said.  I had come in my hair and
on my face.  So did Lita.

   "I came so hard it was painful."

   "Poor Dave," Lita said, right before she sucked him into her mouth.  I
took care of kissing him.

   We finally let him up.  Carlita took him by the hand and towed him
towards the bathroom.  We made sure he was clean.  While he was shaving, we
put dinner out on the table.

   "I'm in heaven," he announced.

   Dave's turn:

   It was only a few months ago that I was single, just a guy going through
the motions of life.  Now I'm looking across the table at two charming
women who have claimed me (and each other) as a mate.

   I went from the rescuer of an illegal immigrant to the husband of a
startling young wife, and I've lost a sister to a car wreck and gained
another eighteen year old wife.

   My brother and his wife just sort of smile and shake their heads.

   "You never did do things the way everybody else did," Gary told me. 
Gary's kids say 'two aunts and an uncle.'

   The people I work with know I'm married to Carlita.  She showed up with
me at a company function two weeks after we were married.  Subsequent
functions, though, a big barbecue, I show up with BOTH my wives.  THAT
raised eyebrows.

   Neither of my girls is destined to be a Sports Illustrated swimsuit
model, but both are ever so easy on the eye, lithe, pixie Carlita, sweetly
curved brunette Brindy, and at the barbecue I was subject to have one or
both hovering near me at a range closer than would easily be attributable
to 'friends'.  And they knew I was married to Carlita.

   Monday morning at the office, Greg, one of my co-workers, caught me
before the staff meeting.

   "I'm gonna have to re-think my assessment of you, bud," he said.

   "Finally recognizing my superior intellect?" I smirked.  I knew that
wasn't it.  I knew that I was going to eventually get questioned.  I guess
Greg takes the lead.

   "I thought you were kinda nuts when you married that young Guatemalan
girl  -" Carlita?  But then you show up with TWO girls and buddy, you can't
tell me that the second one is just your friend."

   "Ah, Brindy," I smiled.  "Delightful thing, isn't she?"

   "Y'all's 'friend'?"

   "She was living with my sister until the accident.  We couldn't put her
on the street.  So yes, she lives with me and Carlita.  It's a happy
arrangement."

   He cocked an eye at my statement.  "Arrangement."

   "Yeah," I smiled, saying nothing more.

   "You're just a nice guy, helping out a poor unfortunate girl, then?"

   Okay.  Time to make the guy's heart hurt.  "Two of 'em, actually." I
grabbed a donut from the box on the table, turned on my heel and headed
back to my office.  I wondered how long before THAT conversation made the
rounds.

   We're a modern office.  There are twenty or so occupants, three females,
the rest men, and there's the normal amount of gossip.  We have the
requisite guy who likes to portray himself as the office chick magnet. 
He's had three marriages in the past five years.  I think I just knocked
him out of top slot on the office gossip chart.

   I was filling out reports, closing out projects, when I heard enough of
a noise to look up.  Gracey was at my door.

   "Didn't want to startle you.  Just grabbing a mint." There's a jar of
candies on my desk.  It's my contribution to the office harmony.

   I straightened my back and turned.  "Help yourself.  How're things
going?"

   "Going as well as can be expected for me.  You, on the other hand..."

   I smiled.  "Life is good."

   "I was happy to see you and Carlita at the barbecue.  The other girl
rather surprised me.  Got tongues wagging, you know."

   "I can imagine.  They're a couple of cuties.  Lita and Brindy."

   "Brindy.  Cute name.  She seems like she's getting over something."

   "She had a tough life.  She was staying with my sister until the
accident.  Now she's living with me and Lita."

   Gracey's a sweetheart.  Mid-forties, spread out just a bit with three
daughters, but still enough to turn a guy's head, but she's been married to
the same guy since they met in college.  She and I share pet stories.  Now
I have two pets.  Gracie's entirely too genteel and nice a person to mess
with over this.

   "Greg..."

   "Ahhhh," I said.  "Greg has a vivid imagination."

   "He likes to talk."

   "Yes, he does," I said.  "And I like jerking his chain."

   "So, Brindy?  Living with you and Carlita?"

   "Yes.  Strange family.  She was very attached to my sister.  Had a rough
family situation before.  Now she has no family except us.  Carlita says it
makes perfect sense for her to be with us." I deliberately didn't put any
emphasis on my words.

   "Well, you're a nice guy.  I'm sure that you're taking good care of both
of them." She gave me a wry little smile and left me sitting there.

   Naturally the girls were waiting for me to get home to see what was said
on the Monday after the barbecue.

   "I never came right out and told them."

   "Next time, Brindy, you will wear your wedding band.  Everybody will see
yours and mine and know they are the same."

   "Do you think that's what we need to do?" Brindy questioned.  "I mean,
Dave ...  your work..."

   "I'm one of the least interesting people there," I answered.

   "We think you're very interesting," Carlita smiled.



   ------

   Chapter 32

   Carlita's turn:

   We are now well settled into being a family, Dave, me and Brindy.  Our
home stays clean and neat and we usually cook our meals, but we still
reserve the option to go out to eat.  And we have the boat for our refuge
quite often.

   I am doing well in college.  Brindy is also doing well, but she
struggles a bit at some of the work.  That means that we study together,
usually with Dave in the living room watching TV or reading, at least until
we finish studying, then we go attack him.  He attacks right back.

   One day Brindy was at an afternoon class.  Dave had been out of town for
two days.  I knew he was supposed to be home early due to his travels, so I
waited.  He called me when he was about half an hour away.

   "No Brindy," I said.

   "I know.  Thursday classes."

   "Yes.  I will be here when you get home and I have absolutely nothing to
do.  It will be you and me."

   "And that is not a bad thing, my Lita."

   Do not mistake what I am saying.  I do so much love my Brindy.  OUR
Brindy.  And you must know that I love OUR Dave.  It is just that while
Brindy and I often have time together when Dave is on the road, my time
alone with Dave is limited sometimes and forgive me, but sometimes I do
want it just to be me and the man who shared my becoming a woman, the man
who became my husband.

   You may think that I met him at the door without my clothes on.  I did
not.  I heard his truck pull into the driveway and I went out to meet him,
kissing him there in our front yard in the sunlight, as a wife should kiss
her husband.

   "Come inside, my husband," I told him.

   "Yes ma'am," he smiled, following me inside.

   He dropped his overnight bag at the door and wrapped me in his arms. 
"God, I missed you!"

   I could not talk because my mouth was now fastened to his.  He has to
bend over to kiss me because I am still short.  I find myself picked up in
his arms, still being kissed so wonderfully that I feel my feet curl.

   When I pulled my mouth away from his, I twisted and fastened my lips to
his neck.  Then just a little bit of teeth.  I felt him shake.  I know he
likes this.

   I stopped.  "So this is how it's gonna be, my love?"

   "Yesyesyes."

   He did not put me down.  He carried me directly into the bedroom.  I
know what that means.

   We undressed in front of each other.  He was very hard.  I know ...  two
nights without me and Brindy.  We did not do things on the computer.  We
have done that, me and Brindy at home in our bed, Dave far away in a hotel
room, and we tease each other in front of the camera and encourage him to
stroke himself.  We can see him come, huge white spurts of juice.  I think
it's wasteful like that, though, because that same juice in bed with me and
Brindy ...  we have sucked it right into our mouths.  That is good.  And
even better, he has squirted it inside one of us and the other two get to
lick it out.

   But right now, I have him in this bed, all to myself.

   He's propped up on an elbow, gazing at me.

   "You are so incredibly, exotically beautiful, Carlita."

   "I am beautiful to you.  That is what I want."

   "You have succeeded."

   We had hard, passionate sex, then we made love, slowly, each of us
taking time to attend to the other.  I was spent.  I snuggled up on my
Dave's arm.

   "I almost feel bad about not waiting until Brindy is home."

   "I have that feeling too, Lita.  But sometimes..."

   "Sometimes I just want it to be me and you.  Love you, Dave.  Love
Brindy, too.  But you are my man, my husband who will father our children.
That is special.  Brindy cannot father my children.  That is sad because I
really do love Brindy."

   "I love Brindy too, little one," he said.  "But you rescued me first..."

   I giggled.  "Yes, I rescued you by hiding in your truck."

   "Dave," I said, my tone presaging something serious.  "I do love Brindy.
Dave, I want us three together forever.  This is not cheating Brindy.  I
have made time for you and Brindy alone..."

   "I know.  But since you said something, you must be feeling something."

   "Yes.  This, you, me, Brindy, it confuses me.  I am like her sister. 
But we ...  Like last night..."

   "Baby, I know.  I could not sleep in the same bed with either of you and
not want to make love with you."

   "You did.  You slept in the bed with me many times..."

   "And lost sleep trying not to have those thoughts about my Carlita who
was wildly pretty but only fourteen."

   "So it is still okay if I love Brindy and want her with us?"

   "Yes."

   "It is like my heart got bigger so that I could love you and I could
love Brindy."

   "As it should be," he said.

   "You know, it is difficult to talk to people about this marriage. 
Everybody understands falling in love and being married to one person, then
falling out of love and divorcing.  Nobody understands that two girls and a
man can have a marriage where everybody is in love with everybody else."

   "I understand that," he said.  "I guess one day I will come right out
and say that we are all married."

   "Our family knows it.  My niece and nephew say they have two aunts and
an uncle."

   "I know," Dave said.  "I was almost surprised surprised they let the
kids still come over."

   "Oh, you know I talked with Carlie.  Brindy and I both did, really." We
did.  It was an interesting conversation, Carlie's 'I can see what's going
on there' along with my and Brindy's 'But we love Dave' and 'we love each
other'.  Turns out that we're not nearly the shock as finding out that
Carlie's brother is gay.

   "So let's just live and love, little Carlita," Dave said.

   We were still in bed together when Brindy came home.  I knew it was her
from the key in the front door.  I was lying on my side facing Dave.  We
were both nude, his dickie lying soft on him.  Soft?  Yes.  We had seen to
it that he had emptied it twice since he came home.

   Brindy came through the house and found us naked in bed together.  That
is not a bad thing among us.  We, the three of us, are completely open
about our nudity and sexuality around each other.

   Our evening wear for watching TV is Dave in his loose-fitting pajamas
and Brindy and I each in long cotton sleeping shirts.  Nobody wears
anything under that.  It allows very convenient access if somebody desires
something of another.

   Poor Dave.  He has the only dick and sometimes Brindy or I start with
him before bedtime.  I cannot remember the last time I went to sleep
without having climaxed.  It is like that.  We even decided that just
assuming that Dave sleeps between Brindy and me is not the way it should
always be.

   But back to this wonderful late afternoon.  Dave is naked.  I am lying
next to him, also naked.

   "Hi, Brin," I say.

   "Hi, my sister.  I need you and Dave."

   "Trouble?" Dave asks.

   "No, it's just that math is not as easy for me as it is for you and
Carlita."

   She was unbuttoning her blouse, undressing.

   "Come on, baby," Dave said.  "You need cuddles."

   She wiggled her naked body between me and Dave.  We both petted her
softly until she wiggled, spreading her thighs a little.  I know that's a
sign that Brindy...

   Dave was kissing her, so I get the other end.  I stop on the way to the
ultimate destination because I love Brindy's breasts.  They are bigger and
softer than mine, and since I so much enjoy having mine played with, I want
to do that to Brindy.  I know she likes to have her nipples nipped.  I do
that, first one, then the other.

   She squeals into Dave's mouth when I do.  I put my cheek against her
right breast and bury my face in it.  The hand that is stroking, playing
with my hair, is so gentle and loving.  I respond, my fingers touching,
gently stroking, lightly scratching, the lips of her pussy.  It's plump and
hot and moisture is beginning to show.  I know that when she starts to get
excited, she opens up like a flower blooming.

   I see that.  Also I see that Dave is still kissing her and he is hard
again and if I move down in the bed, there is Dave and there is Brindy and
one fits inside my mouth and the other is opening like an invitation for me
and Dave.

   Dave grunts into Brindy's kiss when I suck him.  She moans into his
mouth when my tongue traces the moisture between her spreading lips.  I
enjoy both.  I know she is very close and Dave is very hard.  I put my hand
on that tight butt of his and urge him to get into her.

   I am sure that this is doing Brindy good.  I love the magical appearance
as Dave's dick pushes her plump lips apart and enters her.  They moan
because of the pleasure each of them feels.  I moan in sympathy, feeling
surges in between MY legs.

   There are two people that love me and will make me happy.  We are ALL
happy.

   Then the question is what will we do for dinner.

   Brindy takes charge this time, tugging me and Dave towards the shower.
We have decided that one, maybe two nights a week we will go out to eat. 
This is a good time.

   When we get home, I check my email while preparing to study.  There is
one from my faculty advisor.

   Carlita JohnsonI would like a meeting with you in the next few days to
discuss your ongoing status at our university.  I am responding to reports
from your instructors who say that I should speak with you about
non-traditional progression.

   I am available tomorrow all day or on Monday after 3 PM.  Please try to
determine a suitable time for us to have a conversation.  It will be to
your great benefit.

   Thank you Bartley Baker

   "Dave.  Brindy.  What does this mean?" I asked.

   They both read the short email.

   "If he says you'll benefit, it must be good," Dave spoke.  "You've been
telling me..."

   "You're the whiz, Lita," Brindy said.  "I'm not stupid, but you, you're
a whiz.  Have you talked with any of your instructors?"

   "Yes, I have," I said.  "I talked to them about testing out of their
classes.  I'm sorry, but I really don't think I need any of the classroom
instruction to meet the requirements.  Dave?"

   He shook his head.  "You're smart, Lita.  Started seeing that the very
first day."

   Saturday we had to tend to the yard and the house.  Sunday was a boat
day.  I love our boat.  We had a cool wind from the northwest so we sailed
out.  That was good.  It was a little too cool for us to be naked, so
that's not so good.  Brindy is fast becoming an accomplished sailor, as am
I.  That's good.  The water is cooler, and with the wind, we know we would
be cold, but when we get to our spot for lunch and Dave has us anchored,
I'm naked anyway, cold or not, and over the side.

   I taunt my two loves over the side with me.  I enjoy seeing Brindy swim.
Her body is a bit rounder than mine and she seems so graceful in the water.
Sadly, I think it is too cold in the water, but then I remember an article
I read about saving body heat in survival in cold water and I gather Dave
and Brindy to me.

   "It works," Brindy giggles.  "Only YOU, Carlita."

   Okay, we clung together there in the water, naked, long enough to prove
a point, but then we had to get OUT of the water.  That wind on wet bodies
-"COLD!  The fresh water washdown hose?  Even colder.  Brindy and I left
poor Dave to finish rinsing himself off in the cockpit as we headed below.
There are towels and blankets and Brindy and I toweled off, helping each
other, then we took care of poor shivering Dave.

   The little cabin heater was lit, turned wide open, trying to heat the
cabin, then it got too hot, so we turned it off and the three of us dove
into the modified master berth.

   Modified?  It was cozy for two before.  Now it is cozy for three and I
have learned the magic of hot chocolate, although now we make it with the
Mexican chocolate and it takes a bit of work, but three of us enjoy sitting
together in the cabin, sipping hot chocolate and as Dave says, 'basking in
the afterglow.'

   Monday morning Dave is off to work and Brindy and I both have morning
classes, but we drive separate cars because I have to be on campus an hour
early to talk with my faculty advisor about that email.

   I knock on his door.  "Come in, Carlita," he says.

   I am not totally unfamiliar with him.  We have talked several times,
always good, because I have always done perfectly on my coursework.

   "Hello, Doctor Baker," I said.  "You should know that I have been
apprehensive about your email all week."

   He smiled.  "Carlita, I stated specifically that this was beneficial
meeting for you.  Why should you worry?"

   "Because some may think it is beneficial if I stay home and keep house
and have babies."

   Now he laughed.  "You need to tell that to those people with the table
in the student hall."

   I knew the people.  He says 'people' but I say 'girls'.  Our campus has
its own groups of students who wish to change the world to fit their own
agendas.  That table is full of literature that tells me that my Dave is a
vestige of a patriarchal system that suppresses women.  I do not waste time
arguing.  I should have them brought to Guatemala in the villages where
EVERYBODY struggles for food and water and shelter and having a strong
family with MEN, husbands and brothers and uncles, is necessary for life to
go on.

   "Those people do not want to hear what I may say, Doctor Baker.  They
talk of free speech, but the only speech they allow to be free of
interference is theirs."

   He shook his head.  "One more reason we're talking, Carlita.  Let me ask
you something.  Your coursework  -" you told your math instructor that you
could test out of his class.  And your English instructor?"

   "Yes."

   "English is your second language."

   "Only a little bit second," I said.  "I learned English in the orphanage
in Guatemala.  I tried to speak and read English as much as I could.  When
I came to the United States, I told myself that I would not go to the
Hispanic communities and speak Spanish, I would learn English.  Now I am
married to an American man and I speak English all the time, except when I
teach the English As A Second Language classes.  I help my students learn
English.  It is good.  My students wish to learn."

   "I have a report of those classes.  The school board wanted to give you
a stipend to attend college and become a teacher.  There is talk of you
becoming the head of their bi-lingual program."

   "I know of that," I said.  "I am very much appreciative and I will keep
teaching the classes but I do not think that teaching is the career for
me."

   "What is your choice?  You did not declare a major.  That is not unusual
for a first semester freshman.  Have you decided?"

   It is time for me to admit to others what I have told myself.  "Yes,
Doctor Baker.  I will declare for electrical engineering."

   He looked steadily at my face, pushing his glasses up higher on his
nose. "Okay.  I do hope that your skills in mathematics go well past this
entry level course.  Engineering has a way of shedding students like no
other course we offer."

   "I think I am good for the challenge, Doctor Baker.  The man I married
is an electrical engineer.  I wish to do what he does."

   "That's one good reason to choose, Mizz Johnson, but this is going to
require major commitments from you.  Do you want to talk to a faculty
advisor from the engineering department?"

   "I think that may be something for the near future," I said.

   "Now let me tell you the real reason I asked for this meeting."

   "Yes, sir," I said.

   "Carlita, do not be so formal.  Others may call me Doctor Baker, but my
name is Bart."

   "Okay ...  Bart.  What are you going to tell me?"

   "I am going to tell you that we have approved your request to test out
of this semester's coursework."

   I think I squealed.

   "I take it from your reaction that you accept this?"

   "Yes, Bart.  When?  And can I then go on to the next courses?"

   "I am talking to department heads, and they are receptive.  Do you want
to just walk into the classroom and try to catch up?"

   "Can I have a week with the books?  And can I talk with my instructors?
I may go sit in the classes.  When can I take the tests?  I'm sorry.  I
have too many questions."

   "Carlita, you have a way of answering many questions that are stumbling
blocks to other students.  I will talk with your instructors."

   "I must talk to my husband ...  New books, new tuition..."

   "I will also talk to the people who handle our programs for gifted
students."

   "Gifted?  Bart, going to college in the United States is a gift.  If I
can be an engineer, it is a gift..."

   "Oh, no, Carlita.  The professors in the engineering department will
insure that they give you nothing you do not earn."

   "I do not mean that.  I am speaking of opportunity."

   "It's not often that I get the kinds of comments on students that I've
gotten on you, Carlita.  I'm watching.  Others will be.  I will run
interference with the engineering department.  You're carrying fifteen
hours this semester." He paused.  "Well, you WERE carrying fifteen hours. I
suspect the semester is over for you.  We will know by the end of the week.
Do you want to consider a heavier load?"

   "I may do that, Bart.  This load has not challenged..."

   "Look, Carlita," he spoke, a look of concern on his face.  "What you're
talking about doing, I've seen students burn out.  Don't be one of
those..."

   "I have family here, Bart.  My husband..." I started to say 'my Brindy',
but stopped short.  "I have my good friend Brindy.  I have Dave's family
and I have the wonderful old couple in the house next door.  If I break
down, I have many people who love me much to put me back together."

   He smiled.  "Don't try to do this all on your own.  Use your family and
friends and use your professors.  I have a feeling that they will see
Carlita in the front of the regular students."

   I sighed.  "Oh, Bart ...  such good news ...  I may burst."

   "Please don't," he laughed.  "Burst students are hard to clean up.  Is
there ...  do you have any questions?"

   "When do I start?"

   "We have notified your instructors that tomorrow you will start taking
the tests to finish their courses."

   "Then I will go to class today and then I will go to lunch with my
friend Brindy and others and this evening I will tell my husband that he
will not be the ONLY engineer."

   That evening when the three of us have made love, Dave told me softly,
"You are the first engineer I have ever made love with."

   He is right.  I will be an engineer.



   ------

   Chapter 33

   Carlita's turn:

   I met with Brindy for lunch at the house and told her the news.

   "I knew it, Lita.  All along, I just knew it.  You're not normal.  Let's
text Dave and see if he can call us so we can tell him."

   "We should," I said.  I cannot stop giggling.  I worry that I will
offend my Brindy and my Dave.

   Brindy texts Dave.  "If you can call, please do.  Carlita has news too
good to wait."

   It was not two minutes until Brindy's iPhone sounded her 'Dave' tone. 
She answered it and put us on speaker, laying the phone on the table.

   "We're both here, love," Brindy said.

   "My pair of cuties.  What's such good news that you MUST tell me right
now?"

   "I just completed the first semester, Dave," I said.  "Over.  Done.  I
take the tests this week."

   "Wha..."

   I recounted my conversation with Doctor Baker.  "Just like that.  I knew
I was doing quite well, but my instructors ...  I mentioned to a couple
about testing out of the courses.  Doctor Baker wants me finished with this
semester and into the next."

   "My little Lita," he said.  "Amazing."

   "Money, Dave," I said.  "New classes..."

   "Well ...  I can..."

   "We can," Brindy interrupted.  "We have the money.  Dave, it's not fair
for you to take the whole load.  Carlita is my wife too, you know..."

   I looked at Brindy.  She caught my eyes.  "You know that's true, Lita
... If it were just me and you, I'd be sure to support you.  It's you and
me and Dave, and we spread it all out..."

   "My Brindy," I said, "The college wants to talk to me about their
'gifted' program.  I may get some help with the tuition and fees."

   "That's all very nice," Brindy said, "but you two don't need to worry
about it at all.  We got it covered."

   "I'm very happy, Lita.  It's great news.  And Brindy, I love you, baby
...  every day you reaffirm that we made the right decision.  You're part
of us."

   "Inseparable," Brindy said.

   "Let me go back to work," Dave said.

   "Okay, baby," we both said, almost in unison.

   When he hung up the phone on his end, I turned to Brindy.  "We need to
do something special for Dave to celebrate."

   She giggled.  "Oh, gosh...  'Special' may kill 'im."

   "Oh, we're already going to do THAT," I tittered back.  "What can we do
for him that makes him just look at us and be happy we're together?"

   "Lita," Brindy said.  "You see how he looks at us.  That's the happiest
guy on the planet."

   "We need to tell him, Brindy.  Just like I tell you every day.  We need
to tell Dave."

   "You do tell me every day, Lita.  I live for that from both of you.  You
make me live."

   She gave me a very good kiss before she left for her afternoon class.

   I pulled my knees up and propped my laptop on my thighs.  Time to get on
with the new college program for Carlita.  I emailed all my instructors and
asked what I needed to do to take the completion tests and when I had to do
them, then I closed the computer and went into the kitchen.

   I looked at the stove, I looked at the refrigerator, and for once I did
not know what I wanted to do for my family for dinner.  I think I have too
many thoughts in my head.  I have had this happen before.  It happened when
I decided that Dave needed to be my husband.  It happened when I thought I
could not share Dave.  And it happened when I knew that Brindy needed me
and Dave and that she would be of our flesh, wife to me and Dave.

   This new circumstance at college, maybe it is not as momentous as
deciding on a mate or another mate, but it had so many thoughts going in my
head.

   I walk out of the kitchen, go to the recliner where I loved being in
Dave's lap so many times, and I put on the headphones and listened to good
music from my iPhone so if I got a phone call, I would not miss it.

   I allowed myself to drift on the edge of a nap, feeling very happy,
satisfied.  It is almost November.  In May, I was scared, hungry, in the
world alone.  Now I am Carlita Johnson.  I am a wife, more than a wife.  I
am a student in college.  I am on my way to becoming an American citizen.
There is a man working today and he will come home and love me as the man a
woman desires.  There is a woman studying at college.  She will come home
and love me in a way I never imagined.

   The three of us make a family.  Life is good and I expect that it will
get better, and for that, I am thankful.

   Author's note: You haven't heard the last of Carlita and Brindy and
Dave. I don't know exactly When they'll pop up again.  It may be only a
cameo.  But look for them.
   I've enjoyed the ride with this story.  I hope you readers did also.