Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

by kinkychic and kinky’s_sis

My heart was in my throat as the passengers streamed from Susy’s plane. Why is the one you’re dying to see always the last to emerge? It was ages before I spotted her trundling her suitcase through the gate.

“Maddie!” she cried. Rushing to the barrier she leaned across to hug me. When we parted, I held a single rose up for her. Then we were both sobbing and kissing, totally oblivious to anyone and everything.

She gave me a quizzical look when we got to the car. “No, I didn’t win the lottery,” I said. “It’s a hire car.”

“You thought of everything,” she said, hoisting her suitcase. “Where should I put this?”

When her case was stowed away in the boot, I said, “Now concentrate, and help me get out of this place so I end up going the right way on the M25.”

Coincidences don’t come much bigger. Turns out that Chloe and Jenny were on her flight, too. After learning her name, Chloe had asked if she was “Maddie’s Susy.”

Susy knew right away what Chloe meant. It had stopped her dead, but she answered, “Yes, I guess I am,” feeling puzzled for a moment before she realised whom she was speaking to. “Ah, yes… you’re the one on the flight crew who Maddie got to know so well,” she told Chloe with a smile. “Right, she did tell me about that.” They shared a laugh.

“I’m sure Chloe would have loved to spirit me into the loo for a quick fuck,” Susy said as I maneuvred the car out of the airport parking lot. “But she behaved herself, and we chatted for a while. I liked her quite a lot. Oh, and the attendant named Jenny asked me to send Lucy her love, along with, and I quote, a ‘sexy French kiss’. She paused. “Is there, um, something I should know about that?”

I explained how Jenny and my sister had hooked up on both our flights, then again when Lucy went to her place for the weekend.

“That girl… she’s a genuine firework,” Susy said admiringly. “By the way… did you tell your mum about us?”

“Yes,” I said. “And it was so totally amazing in the end. Everything came out. You and me, the two of us with Lucy, Lucy with me, even Lucy and Jenny.”

“And she didn’t have a conniption, like you thought she would?”

“No, not at all. But you want to know the best bit? Mum’s got a date coming to dinner tonight. A woman! Julie’s her name, and she’s soooo fucking hot.”

“Oh my God! No way!”

“Hold on, there’s more. Lucy’s old girlfriend Katie is coming with her new girlfriend, Megan. We haven’t met her yet. Which of course leaves one problem: Lucy. She’ll be odd man out.”

“Oops, shit! What do we do?”

“Well, I’m sorta hoping that Katie might be able to convince Megan to invite Lucy in with them, make it a threesome. If not, then I guess it’s gonna have to be you and me taking care of her.”

“Er, Maddie… are you suggesting that this is going to be some kinda orgy? I thought it was just a dinner party.”

“Mum’s not planning on an orgy, I’m sure, but I just have a feeling things might go that way. Katie and Megan are staying over, so are you, and Mum’s date probably will be, too. That’s a lot of gay women and girls under one roof. Mum says she’s bisexual, but this party just might convert her to full-on lesbian.”

Susy shook her head, clearly awed. “Bloody hell, Maddie… you’re a bold one, I’ll say that!”

***

Dinner was wonderful. Julie was one of the funniest, most charming ladies I’ve ever met. Mum hung on her every word. God, she looked so happy.

Megan was delightful. Just as quiet as Katie to begin with, but a glass of wine had loosened her up.

After the meal was over, Julie stood and proposed a toast. “To you beautiful girls, my lovely Rosie…” She paused to blow a kiss to Mum, “and not a man in sight!”

The lights were turned down and Julie selected an Al Green CD to play. Two more bottles of wine were opened, and glasses refilled.

Mum and Julie got up to dance first. I expected Mum to be somewhat embarrassed, but whether it was the wine she’d drunk or just letting herself go, she settled herself into it, wrapped up comfortably in Julie’s arms. Susy and I joined them on the floor. I was used to dancing to faster, more recent music, but it didn’t matter. We were happy.

Julie called out to the younger girls, “Come on, you three… join us! You can dance together.”

So they did. It was almost comical at first. The girls didn’t know what to do, but they soon worked up some sort of rhythm, all holding on to each other.

Lucy nodded toward Mum. My God – she and Julie were kissing! Nothing too passionate, just a lovely soft kiss that hinted at much more. Julie’s hands were gliding over Mum’s back. Fuck, it looked so hot.

“You want to kiss me, then?” asked Susy. I gave a bashful nod, and then we were buried deep in our own embrace, snogging for all we were worth..

I had my eyes closed, enjoying the moment, when Susy broke away. “Look,” she whispered. The three girls were taking turns kissing each other, each kiss lasting longer than the one before. Lucy had slipped a hand up inside Katie’s top, and was caressing the girl’s budding breasts.

“Your mum’s watching them,” Susy whispered.

Shit – she was! Mum’s eyes were wide as she stared at the girls, but I saw a little smile on her face. She was definitely enjoying the show! Then Mum looked towards me as she took Julie’s hand and guided it to her breast. The look on her face seemed to ask, May I? I winked my answer. Then she and Julie were kissing again, but with far more ardour.

The three younger ones flopped down on the sofa in a tangled heap. Their hands were freely exploring, clothes awry as they groped each other.

“Are you okay with this?” I asked Susy, nodding toward Mum, then the girls. “Not… uncomfortable or anything, right?”

She slowly shook her head, eyes burning with excitement. “Maddie, I’ve never seen anything so fucking hot. I mean, look at the girls… they don’t even care that we can see them. Oh, my – look, they’re already at each other’s pussies!”

I realised then that we four adults were watching the kids – supposedly dancing, but really only swaying in place while we took in the show. Julie had a hand pressed to the front of Mum’s skirt. I was clutching Susy’s arse, pulling her against me. We each had a leg pressed between each other’s thighs as we began to grind our bodies together.

From the corner of my eye, I saw something fall to the floor. It was Megan’s dress, and her panties soon followed. Katie was kissing her barely-there breasts, and Lucy was down between the preteen’s legs, face nestled in Megan’s sparse pubes. I could see my sister’s tongue, languidly toying with her new lover’s slit.

Julie and Mum had gone still. My mother’s mouth was hanging open, a mixture of expressions crossing her face. For a moment I thought she was going to put a stop to all this, then Julie drew her back into a kiss, and Mum submitted with a whimper.

I noticed that as their kiss grew hotter, Julie was deftly unfastening the buttons on Mum’s top. All of a sudden, before my mum was fully aware of what her lover was up to, Julie tugged my mother’s bra down and took a nipple into her mouth.

Mum gasped in shock. She looked incredibly nervous – in fact, she seemed to be on the verge of pushing Julie away and fleeing the room. She needs encouragement, I told myself.

Reaching for the hem of my top, I quickly pulled it over my head. My bra followed it to the floor. “Let’s make love now, Susy,” I said. “Mum’s freaking out – we’ve got to, to stop her from running away!”

“From her own fear, eh?” Susy gave me a merry smile. “You’re right… the poor creature must learn to survive in the wild.” And with that, she ducked down to nuzzle my bare breasts as Mum looked on with mixed emotions – first at us, then at Lucy and the others, who were struggling out of what was left of their clothes. Susy raised her arms, and I pulled off her top. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and our breasts mashed together as we cuddled into another kiss.

More clothes went flying. By then, the youngsters were totally naked. Katie straddled Megan, scooting back until her pussy was inches from her friend’s face. Bending down, she and Lucy took turns licking Megan, sharing a messy kiss every now and then.

“Fuck!” Susy groaned, watching the hot sex action on the sofa while she wriggled the snug skirt I wore down over my hips, then unfastened her own with a flick, letting it drop. My panties were halfway down when her hand found my pussy.

The next time I opened my eyes I got a shock. Mum and Julie were naked, kissing and groping each other’s boobs while frantically engaging in mutual masturbation. I had just enough time to notice how beautiful they looked together before my thoughts were interrupted by a shriek.

It was Megan. Katie often squirts when she gets off, and now she was coming in Megan’s face, much to the girl’s surprise. Then Megan went quiet, and her own body began to shake. Lucy was bringing her off in a short but intense climax. Then the three of them collapsed in a heap together.

Julie was trying to coax Mum to the floor, but I could see her reluctance. So I sank down, pulling Susy with me, turning her around so we landed in a sixty-nine. I buried my face deep between her legs; her tongue danced over my clit. In our passion we rolled over, Susy ending up on top. I felt a leg at my side – Mum’s leg. I grabbed it with one hand, urging her down with us. Then I was lost to the world, buffeted by my own stormy climax.

I heard a scream, but it wasn’t me. Shit, it was Mum! We were coming at the same time. I was vaguely aware of three faces peering down at us, then I went over the edge. I couldn’t help it. I even forgot about licking Susy. It was Lucy who saved the day. She knew I was useless at the moment, so she thrust her face alongside mine – licking Susy’s clit, then driving two fingers into her pussy.

Just as my own climax began to subside, Susy’s began. She clawed at my legs, her lips buried in my pussy as she shook. Susy hardly ever shouts, but someone did. It was Julie. She was coming, too. She was coming on Mum’s fingers.

Gradually, we all returned to earth. Mum looked confused, Julie gleeful, the rest of us happy and spent. Only Lucy was dissatisfied. “We have a big sex party, and I don’t even get to come? Bollocks to that! Who’s gonna fuck me now?”

Mum’s hand shot to her mouth. “Lucy, whatever are you saying?”

She grinned back. “Do I have to spell it out?” She looked from one to the other of us. “I’ve already done it with Maddie, Susy and Katie, so that leaves Megan, Julie… or you, Mum. So who’s it gonna be?”

Julie glanced at Mum, who shook her head. “I – I couldn’t! You can’t ask me to do something like that, Lucy. It’s not right. I’m your mother, for God’s sake!”

Mum’s new lover, on the other hand, seemed utterly unfazed. Julie turned to Megan and said, “We can toss a coin for her, if you want. What d’you say?”

Perhaps frightened at being the centre of attention, Megan shook her head. Julie gave a huge grin. “Thank you, love.” Shifting her gaze to Lucy, she said, ”You’re all mine, then.”

Mum was stunned. “Julie?” she whispered, but her lover was already approaching Lucy, who looked as if she might swoon from sheer delight.

I beckoned Mum to join Susy and me. She meekly obeyed, and I sat her down between us. Katie and Megan went back to their seat and cuddled together. Julie was still on her knees. Lucy stood in front of her with both hands on her hips, swaying from side to side, a coy look on her face.

Mum gripped my hand. “I don’t want to look, b-but I can’t help it. For God’s sake, Maddie – she’s making love to my little girl! Should I… should I allow this to happen?”

I gave her arm a squeeze. “Mum, relax. Lucy knows what she’s doing.”

“More than I do,” Mum said, a touch of sadness in her voice.

Julie stared as Lucy fondled herself, making a show of it. Once again, I admired my little sister’s ability to tease a potential lover. She rubbed her little boobs, pausing to tug at the nipples, then reached down to stroke her tummy. She spun around and wiggled her arse, then reached back with both hands, clutching her buttocks, pulling them apart. Julie gasped at the sight of Lucy’s bumhole.

Lucy peered over her shoulder, transfixing Julie with a glance. “Lick,” she commanded.

Still kneeling, Julie shuffled forwards until her face met Lucy’s arse. We watched her tongue emerge, slipping into the crack, trailing up and down through the dark pink cleft before sliding down. Lucy bent over as Julie’s tongue found her bare pussy.

Mum clutched my hand tightly, pressing it into her lap. “Maddie, my God, my God,” she whispered. “I c-can’t believe this is happening!”

Lucy suddenly turned around, thrusting her pelvis into Julie’s face. Julie barely paused in her licking, delicately tracing my sister’s slit with the tip of her tongue.

Mum didn’t seem aware of it, but she was pushing my hand down between her legs. I didn’t know how to respond. Could this be turning her on? Meeting Susy’s eyes, I raised an eyebrow at her, Shit! She just shrugged, with an expression that seemed to say, What’s a girl to do?

I very slowly uncurled my fingers, feeling Mum’s pubes, which were somewhat matted with her wetness. She pressed harder, and so did I, allowing one finger to slide between her dewy lips.

Now Mum turned and stared at me, shaking her head no. But she still held my hand down there. And then another hand covered one of her breasts. It was Susy, cupping the creamy globe in her palm, a nipple bulging between her fingers.

Her eyes wide open, Mum turned to gape at Susy. She began to speak, but my lover put a finger to Mum’s lips. “Shush,” she said, then leaned in and kissed her.

Susy’s hand came down on top of Mum’s and mine, pressing them both against Mum’s very wet pussy. Mum was rigid, tight as a bow. As Susy persevered with the kiss, she began to move  our hands around, as if she was using them to masturbate my mother. I could feel Mum’s cunt beneath my fingers, felt her lips part to the touch, the erect nubbin of her clit against the tip of my finger.

I couldn’t restrain myself for one second longer. I began to pleasure my mother.

She shivered, a moan escaped her lips, then she was returning Susy’s kiss. She slowly fell backwards onto the carpet, pulling Susy with her, their mouths still together. Now they were kissing like passionate lovers.

I dropped to my knees, pushing Mum’s legs apart, taking a moment to marvel at the beauty of her cunt. My fingers trailed down from her clit, spreading the lips open. Then I slipped inside. Her hips slid towards me, and her pussy gobbled up my fingers. Bending down, I kissed her clit, my tongue flickering and teasing the swollen nub. Mum grasped my hair, pulling me into her.

I began to fuck her, quickly falling into a rapid tempo of thrusts and withdrawals. Her clitoris was a tiny erection between my lips, so lovely to suck on. Mum wrapped both legs round my back, almost squeezing the breath out of me.

I heard a wail. I couldn’t see, but I knew it was Lucy. Susy and Mum broke their kiss to look, then my mother’s body jerked violently as her own orgasm kicked in. Mum told me later that she was driven over the edge by the sight of her lover making Lucy come. Her hips bucked wildly as she stared at the ecstatic face of her younger daughter. “My baby,” she whispered. Then with a cry of “Oh my God, Maddie!” her climax reached its peak.

Suddenly Lucy was there, one arm around Susy, the other hugging Mum to herself.

Mum’s twined legs suddenly fell away, releasing me. I could breathe properly again. She pulled me to her, our lips met and she kissed me like a lover. Her tongue entered my mouth, and I tenderly sucked on it before she gently broke away, gazing into my eyes for the briefest moment before turning to kiss her other daughter. Lucy responded eagerly, kissing Mum hard and deep.

When they finally parted, Mum hugged us to her, openly crying, “You girls have made me do some very wicked things… and it was one of the most beautiful experiences I’ve ever had. I love you all so much.” Smiling through her tears, she buried her lips in Lucy’s hair.

I hadn’t noticed Julie leaving the room, but then she arrived with a tray of glasses filled with wine. “I think you ladies need a drink.” We didn’t speak. What more was left for us to say? We each took glasses, then clinked them in a silent toast.

Katie and Megan were watching this, having finished their own fun. Julie served them each a glass of wine, “Would you girls like to show me your room?”

Exchanging quick glances, the girls grinned and reached out to her. Taking their hands, Julie led them to the stairs. They didn’t bother with their clothes, which were scattered about the room along with ours.

Mum was gobsmacked. “Well, I didn’t see that coming. Now what?”

Lucy spoke up at once. “We go to bed, Mum – your bed.”

“What, all of us?”

In unison, we answered, “Yeah.”

So upstairs we went  – a mother, her two daughters and the eldest daughter’s girlfriend, intent on another hour or two of hot, sweaty lesbian sex. We left our clothes behind, too.

***

Later, we returned to our own rooms to settle in for the night… unless we chose to fuck again, that is. Julie was in with Mum; Lucy, Katie, and Megan took the spare room with the double bed; and Susy and I retired to my room.

We climbed into bed and nestled together. I looked searchingly at Susy. “So… are you shocked by all of this?”

“Yes… well, no. With you and Lucy, I suppose I should’ve expected anything.” She giggled. “Who knew I’d be having it off with your mum, though?”

“But… you’re okay with our lifestyle? It doesn’t put you off?”

She smiled. “It doesn’t, not a bit. I’m in love with you, Maddie. I adore your family, and think your friends are amazing… but I love you most of all.”

“So you and me… ?” I let the question hang.

Susy rolled onto her back, pulling my body on top of hers. I could feel my thigh resting against her warm sex. “Yes, you and me,” she whispered. “For always.”

We sealed our love and our lives with a kiss.

The End

Note from JetBoy: Many thanks to BlueJean for his editing work.

by Biker Guy

A mighty rushing wind almost drowned out the screams of Allison’s mother and father, yelling for her to take cover from the twister bearing down on their house. Allison didn’t know what to do, but something prompted her to open the lid of the old oak chest her clothes were kept in. Terrified, the twelve-year-old climbed inside. She could barely fit, but managed to close the top and curl up into a ball.

Within a few seconds the screams ceased. The violent sound of cracking wood seemed to fill the air all around her, making Allison’s blood turn to ice. The chest rattled and shook before suddenly catapulting into the air and tossing the girl around like a rag doll. In what seemed like a lifetime, but in reality, must have been just a few seconds, the chest struck the ground and the girl was knocked unconscious.

Sometime later Allison opened her eyes, completely disoriented, and began screaming, “Momma! Momma, help me! Please!”

There was only silence. She tried to raise the lid of the chest but it wouldn’t budge. Wondering where her parents were, Allison began to cry.

Her father had said something about a twister. She’d learned in school that it was also called a tornado, a powerful storm that could destroy anything in its path. If a tornado really had struck their home, it was possible everything was destroyed, and her parents might be hurt or even dead. Now she was really scared. “Momma! Daddy! Anyone!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, but only silence answered her.

Once again she tried moving the lid, but something was blocking it. She realized the chest was tilted slightly, and threw her weight against one side. The container rocked a little. She did it again and again until finally it tipped and the top was flung open.

She took a breath of fresh air, then gasped in horror when she saw the devastation around her. Only the stone foundation of their house remained. The barn had partially collapsed, the wagon was smashed into pieces, and the windmill was nowhere to be seen. “Momma! Daddy!” she yelled as loud as she could, afraid that the worst had happened.

Allison brushed the dirt from the thin muslin material of her house dress. It was high summer and already she was sweating from the heat. The air was eerily calm considering a vicious storm had just passed. She walked amongst the rubble looking for any sign of her parents.

Eventually, she found the twisted body of her mother, arms and legs bent at impossible angles. “Momma!” Her mother’s eyes were open, and Allison dared to hope she was still alive. “Momma?”

She touched a shoulder but got no response, then put an ear to her mom’s breast, listening for a heartbeat but hearing nothing. She watched the woman’s chest for any movement, but there was none.

“Oh, Momma…” Allison dropped her head and sobbed. Her mother was dead.

After a time she got up and continued the search for her father, to no avail. She decided the storm had carried him away and abandoned any hope that he was still alive.

She searched for any foodstuffs that were still in one piece, and found some bread – dirty but edible – and a couple jars of fruit that miraculously hadn’t broken. Everything else was either crushed or simply gone.

She went to the well and dropped the bucket down to draw some water. At least she wouldn’t die from thirst or starvation – for a while, anyway.

Allison found a tattered blanket and took it to the barn. Most of the roof was either gone or had fallen in, but one corner was still sheltered, so she gathered hay for a makeshift pallet. Finally lying down, she covered herself with the blanket and cried herself to sleep.

***

Janice Blankenship, known by most as Crazy Jane, and by her few friends as CJ, sang at the top of her voice as she slouched in the saddle on the blond filly she called Alice. Her voice could curl the toes of a dead man, but she was pretty sure there wasn’t another living soul in this godforsaken corner of Kansas for hundreds of miles.

Crazy Jane was an odd duck. She had rejected society’s traditional role of a woman. No frilly dresses, husband, or screaming kids for her. She was a free spirit – She was a cowboy.

Cowboys were becoming a dying breed by the 1890s. The railroad shipped cattle all over the country, replacing cattle drives, and the need for wranglers had dwindled. CJ was only in her mid-twenties (she wasn’t sure exactly), but she’d been a cowboy since her teen years.

When she turned eighteen, she left home and never returned. Her father had refused to have anything to do with a daughter who pushed aside all the values he expected her to aspire to – a husband, a gaggle of children; a boring life spent barefoot and pregnant, toiling over a hot stove.

She’d always felt at home on the back of a horse, and the hard earth served well enough as a bed. Naturally, she had to put up with dumbass men who cursed her, attempted to grope her, and ridiculed CJ’s desire to be a cowboy. She had to prove herself for every job she took on, but once folks got a glimpse of her excellent riding and roping skills, and her ability to wrangle cattle, most took to accepting her. Those that didn’t found out the hard way that, although she was only five foot two and weighed barely a hundred pounds, every ounce of her was muscle. After a fight or two, CJ usually earned the respect of the other cowhands.

It wasn’t that she hated men – CJ wasn’t a virgin – it was just that she had no desire to settle down with anyone. She accepted the fact she’d most likely never marry and end up a spinster, but she would rather die in a saddle than a rocking chair.

Spying dark clouds on the horizon, CJ knew a bad storm was coming. What made the flat prairies and abundant grasses of Kansas a fine place to graze cattle was also ideal for breeding twisters. She’d seen enough of them to know they were best avoided. “Time we made a detour, Alice.”

The horse sensed the danger and without any prodding made a sharp left turn away from the storm. Soon CJ saw a funnel cloud off in the distance, safely out of their range. The power and magnificence of nature was playing out in front of her. It was beautiful in its own way – the sight of the twister churning up the ground, swirling and skipping over the land as if it was alive, was nothing short of awe-inspiring. She could hear the power of its roar echoing across the grasslands. The idea that what had been a light breeze minutes earlier could now lift buildings, rip trees from the earth, and suck a lake dry fascinated her.

Debris was tossed for miles, but when a man’s body fell from the sky just a few feet away, her heart sank, knowing that a family had lost a loved one. “Reckon we should see if anyone survived.” She didn’t hold out much hope.

Just the slightest movement of the reins told Alice what to do, and the horse carried her along the path of damaged earth.

***

Allison woke up with a desperate need to pee. Emerging from the wreckage of the barn, she lifted her skirt, squatted, then let a stream of hot urine soak into the ground. When she was finished she stood, not sure what to do next. Her mother needed burying, and she should try to salvage whatever she could from the wreckage, then find other people. But she just couldn’t find the energy to do any of that.

She wanted to cry, but her tears had dried up. There was an emptiness in her heart that made her feel like dying. Looking toward heaven, she wondered why God had spared her. Was surviving punishment? She sat on a piece of wood that used to be a part of the family wagon, the hot sun beating down on her. This is what hell’s like, she decided.

Allison undid the braid holding her long blond hair – evidence of her Scandinavian heritage, her father had once explained to her. She shook out the straw and dirt, trying with no success to work out the tangles. She needed her hairbrush. She needed to wash away the grime and sweat. Maybe after a bath she would feel better and then be able to get down to the business of survival.

Suddenly, she wondered where the horses were. She hadn’t seen any of them, dead or alive. The two cows and the chickens were also gone. Maybe the animals had the sense to get out of the way of the storm, at least she hoped so.

The large metal trough was still next to the hand water pump. She pumped water until there was enough to adequately bathe in. She’d let the sun warm it up awhile before she got in.

Allison sifted through the rubbish and salvaged some items she thought might be useful. Amazingly, she found her hairbrush! She put everything she found in a large traveling bag. Her clothing was scattered all over, but she managed to rescue another house dress, an extra pair of bloomers, and a couple of Daddy’s shirts. She tested the water and decided it wasn’t as cold as before, then took off her dress and bloomers and stepped into the trough.

The water wasn’t nearly as warm as she thought it would be, and the shock of it raised goosebumps on her fair skin. She dunked her head under quickly, soaking her thick locks, then used a piece of soap she’d found to lather herself up. Lye wasn’t ideal for washing hair, so she just used a bit to get the dirt out. After washing she just lay motionless, letting the sunlight continue to warm the water.

A familiar throb between Allison’s legs grew and spread out to her belly, triggering bodily reactions that made her feel ashamed. She had masturbated for the last year and enjoyed the pleasant way it made her feel. Her adolescent body was transitioning into womanhood, creating needs she’d never anticipated. How could she be doing something like this so soon after discovering her mother dead? She felt disgusted with herself.

However, nature’s power, as demonstrated by the twister, could also make a young girl obey its command.

She ran her hands over the mounds on her chest. They were small enough that she could cover them with her palms. Her nipples stuck out, often in a hardened state and extremely sensitive to the touch. Her trailing fingers made her privates shiver. She’d developed the start of womanly curves over the course of time and the baby fat on her tummy had disappeared, leaving her stomach flat.

Allison felt sure playing with herself wasn’t allowed by the Bible, but out in the wilderness there was no one to preach against it as a sin. She told herself God wouldn’t give her these feelings if they were bad, and when she made herself tingle all over – well, that had to be a good thing. She rested a hand on the light colored hair covering her mound. It felt so nice to touch her sex. Just the pressure of her fingers made the girl tremble with excitement.

She gently rubbed that wonderful nub at the top of her vagina, producing quivers of joy that radiated out to her extremities and made her muscles tense. She pushed a finger between the labia, penetrating the tight opening there. Her insides felt so warm and wet, and when she began to move in and out, tiny tremors shook her body. Moving faster, rubbing her clitoris with her other hand, Allison came to the place where the cares of the world vanished, if only briefly. Adrenaline pumped into her system, causing her vagina to tighten around her finger, body seizing up. That wonderful feeling of joy and happiness overtook her and she ascended to her happy place.

She basked in the aftermath of what she would learn later was called an orgasm. Her finger, still buried deep inside, was coated with a sticky fluid. She stood up, water dripping from her body, forming rivulets between her breasts and buttocks. She stuck the finger in her mouth to savor the tangy flavor. Her hand returned to the source and brought more of the juice to her mouth. She liked how it tasted. Then, bowing her head in renewed sorrow, she began to cry. “Momma,” she whispered. “Oh, Momma.”

***

CJ saw the devastation as she trotted up to the remains of the farmhouse. She doubted the family had survived the twister, but maybe there were useful things she could salvage. Then she noticed a figure rise from a horse trough, water dripping from their body. She came closer and saw it was a woman. A girl, actually.

The girl shook her head, long yellow strands of hair swinging around her naked body, spraying water everywhere. Her firm, tight ass was dimpled, and didn’t show any signs of sagging.

CJ’s horse snickered, alerting the girl. She spun round and CJ was startled by her beauty. Small, pert tits drew her attention. A patch of lightly colored hair partially covered her privates. She was gorgeous.

Allison covered her breasts with an arm, her other hand obscuring her mound. “Stay away from me!” she yelled to the man on the horse, terrified he might try to rape her. “My daddy has a gun and he’ll shoot you!” She reached for her dress and struggled into it, concealing her nudity. She looked for something to defend herself with, but only the bar of lye soap came to mind, and the idea the strange man would be scared off by that seemed almost comical.

CJ held up both hands, hoping it would put the child’s mind at ease. “It’s okay, little girl. I don’t mean no harm.”

Allison was surprised and confused. The person had a woman’s voice… but the body of a male. “You’re not a man?”

CJ laughed. “Nope, don’t believe I am.” She could see the odd look on the child’s face. Her appearance tended to unsettle some folks. She gestured towards the wreckage of the farmhouse. “You okay?”

Remembering her manners, Allison replied, “Yes, ma’am, I’m fine, but my momma’s dead, and… and I can’t find my daddy.” She felt the need to cry again, but managed to stifle her tears.

The dead body that fell from the sky must’ve been the child’s pappy, CJ reasoned. Poor girl.

CJ dropped down from the saddle and left the reins wrapped around the horn. “Stay here, Alice,” she commanded. The blond palomino snorted, easily smart enough to know what her mistress was conveying. “Mind if I partake of your bath water?” she asked the young girl. “It’s been a while since my last one.”

Allison gave a tentative nod.

CJ tested the water with a hand, finding it suitably warm. “My name’s Janice,” she told the girl amicably. “Or Crazy Jane, if ya like. Most folks just call me CJ, though.” She removed her gun belt, hooked it across the saddle horn, then glanced in the girl’s direction. “Don’t you touch my shootin’ iron, ya hear?”

The girl bobbed her head up and down again. “Yes, ma’am. I’m – I’m Allison, ma’am.”

CJ leaned against the side of the trough and removed her boots. “Glad to meet you, Allison. Wish it wern’t under these circumstances, though. How long you been out here?” She removed her vest and chaps, idly hanging them over the water pump.

“We moved here from Ohio in March,” Allison replied, while CJ unbuttoned and removed her flannel shirt, hanging it with the rest of her things. “Daddy was planning on raising a wheat crop.”

“How many in your family?”

Allison was shocked to see this strange woman was disrobing in front of her, but decided not to remark on it. “Just the three of us. My brother died from fever back in Ohio.” She hung her head in dismay. “I guess Momma and Daddy are gone now too…”

CJ untied a strip of cloth she kept strapped around her chest. Corsets were uncomfortable and not practical in her line of work, and she needed something to keep her breasts from bouncing around while riding. Her breasts jutted out, dark brown areolas surrounding the nipples. “So what’re you gonna do now?”

Allison’s eyes widened with amazement. This woman was baring her breasts without any sense of shame. “Uh… I – I don’t know,” she replied, looking down at her feet, trying to ignore the familiar buzzing in her vagina.

CJ had no problem getting naked in front of people. She didn’t flaunt her body or anything like that, but when working as a cowboy, modesty between workmates wasn’t always possible. “Well, I can take you as far as Cheyenne,” she said. “It’s the biggest city close by that’d have an orphanage.” She unbuckled her belt and pants, slid them down, then stepped out of them.

Allison had never seen another woman’s bare breasts before, except when her mom had nursed her little brother. She marveled at the ample mounds, the dark skin that surrounded this woman’s large nipples. The buzzing in her loins had returned, and she couldn’t understand why.

“I don’t want to go to an orphanage, ma’am. I heard bad stories about them.”

CJ pulled her bloomers down and slung them over the pump. She stood naked in front of the water trough, scratching her crotch absentmindedly. “God, it feels so good to get out of those nasty clothes!”

Allison’s breath caught in her throat. She’d never seen another woman’s sex before and was intrigued. The dark hair there was abundant, spreading out to CJ’s waist and merging with the finer covering of hair on her legs.

Hands clasped in front of her, Allison found herself discreetly applying pressure to her vulva through the thin material of her dress.

CJ peered at the poor waif who was staring at her nudity. “Never seen a naked woman before?”

Allison shook her head. “No, ma’am.”

“Well, d’ya like what you see?”

Allison swallowed hard. “I… I don’t know. It’s kinda interesting.” After a brief pause, she boldly asked, “Why do you have so much hair?”

CJ patted her mound, unabashed. “Well, bein’ a cowboy don’t give a girl much opportunity to be all ladylike, see. Besides, it ain’t like I mosey round naked all day.”

She couldn’t help but notice the girl’s hand, still resting between her legs. She’d caught a brief glance at Allison’s young body before she’d slipped her dress back on, and had enjoyed the view. “Looked like you got a few stragglers down there yourself. It don’t show so much, though, what with you bein’ fair-haired and all.”

Feeling her face grow hot, Allison wasn’t sure how to respond, so she remained silent.

Turning toward the tub, CJ climbed in. “Be a doll and hand me the soap, would’ya?”

Allison scooped the soap from the ground and passed it to the woman. When their hands touched she felt a tingle cruise through her body. She blushed hotly, knowing she shouldn’t be feeling this way about a woman, but also knew it was beyond her control.

CJ saw the way color reached the girl’s cheeks and found herself becoming aroused. It’d been a long time since she’d been intimate with another person. She usually took care of those urges while lying on her blanket under the vast panorama of the night sky. Occasionally, after a drive, she would join the men when they headed to town to find women and drink themselves silly.

One time, a saloon girl mistook CJ for a man and started feeling her up. There were some red faces and a few heated words when the girl realized her mistake, but she quickly had a change of heart and continued to flirt. That night, Crazy Jane Blankenship discovered the considerable pleasures of sex with another woman.

However, her current source of interest was a young orphan girl who’d just lost her home and family. CJ tried to put any untoward thoughts out of her mind as she scrubbed her close-cropped hair. “How old are you?”

Allison could barely speak. “Twelve summers, ma’am. How about you?” She wondered if it was okay to ask a grown woman her age. CJ had lines on her face, and the skin on her hands was rough and calloused, but her body looked much younger.

CJ rinsed her hair. “Around twenty-five, more or less. Sorta lost track of the years.” The girl probably thought she was ancient. Hard work and the elements had forged a face that was not particularly attractive. Maybe if she took better care of herself, she could soften her looks somewhat, but what cowboy wants to look like a painted lady?

Allison went an even deeper shade of crimson. “Oh. I thought… uh, never mind.”

“It’s okay,” CJ said, suddenly wanting the adolescent to think she was pretty. “I know I don’t look all that fine no more.”

“I think you’re pretty, in a different kind of way.”

“How so?” CJ chuckled. Oh, the innocence of youth, always truthful to a fault. She raised herself from the water slightly and soaped her breasts. Her slick hands moved over her nipples, sending ripples of desire to her pussy. She was getting wet, and not just from the water.

Allison gave CJ a shy smile. “Well, you ride a horse, and carry a gun, and…” she hesitated and looked down at the ground, “it – it kinda makes me feel all tingly inside.”

CJ’s heart gave a lurch when Allison smiled. The girl was awful pretty. Her oval face was framed by long, silky, blonde hair. High rosy cheekbones, pert nose and bright blue eyes combined to make a perfect face. CJ’s pulse quickened. “What d’ya mean, ‘all tingly inside’?”

Allison didn’t know if she should tell this stranger about her secret feelings. “Uh, I probably shouldn’t tell you. Momma would say they were bad thoughts.”

Rising to her feet, CJ lathered her ass and crotch. Turning so Allison could see her pussy, she soaped her pubic hair and then parted her labia as she washed them, giving Allison a clear view of the pink interior. “Well, truth be told, I tingle inside too. Matter of fact, I’m gettin‘ those tingles right now.”

Allison turned every shade of red. “Oh, my Lord, you get that too?” She looked intently at the insides of CJ’s vagina – the woman didn’t seem to mind being looked at, after all. It was pink and glistening with moisture. She wondered if some of that moisture was the same stuff that came from her own private place, and suddenly had an urge to taste those sweet fluids.

CJ sat back down and raised her legs to wash them. “Well, there ain’t nothin’ wrong with feelin’ like that, I reckon. The good Lord gave us those urges to make us feel good.”

Allison snaked a hand down between her legs again. “Yeah, I think so too. It feels too good to be a bad thing.” Even though she’d touched herself before, it felt about a hundred times better when she did it while watching this woman bathe.

“Reckon you could come over here and scrub my back, Allison? I’d be real grateful.”

Moving closer, Allison took the soap from CJ, then began to lather her back. CJ groaned in delight. “Goldarn, that feels good!”

Allison marveled how smooth CJ’s skin was, compared to the roughness of her face. “You’re so soft,” she said in an almost reverent whisper.

CJ was becoming aroused by the gentle touch of the girls’ small hands. “That’s ’cause that part of me don’t get the wind and the sun. Guess if I wore a hood over my head, my face would be soft too.”

Allison soaped CJ’s neck and ran a hand over her cheek. “I think your face is just fine.” She returned to washing the woman’s back. “If you raise up, I can reach lower.”

By now CJ was just about ready to explode from the casual touching. The idea that this young girl found her pretty tickled her pink, and now those wicked thoughts were getting harder to dismiss. She stood and exposed her backside.

Allison continued to lather up CJ’s back, moving lower and then coming to a stop just above the cowboy’s firm butt. She debated whether she should wash there too, then decided to do just that. She slid her hands over the taut buttocks, then trailed her fingers down the space where the cheeks met.

CJ shivered, not from the chilly air but from the stimulation, and she almost came on the spot when Allison traced a line of fire down her ass crack. She reckoned Allison must be feeling the same way; could feel the little girl’s hands trembling as she spent an unwarrantable amount of time washing her butt.

“Allison… I’m feelin’ awful excited right now. I’m gonna touch my pussy, if it’s all the same to you. If you wanted to play with yourself too, I wouldn’t mind.”

“I call it my kitty.”

CJ chuckled. “Sure – kitty, pussy. There’s a whole bunch of other names, too. When I’m feelin’ specially wicked, I like to call it my cunt.” She rubbed her mound, then inserted two fingers into the moist cavern. Her fluids were now oozing freely. When she turned her head she saw that Allison had a hand under her dress. She continued to fuck herself, knowing that the moment she touched her clit she would come for sure.

As she watched CJ play with her kitty, Allison wondered what it would feel like to put a finger deep inside herself like that. The thought of it gave her a delicious shiver. She detected her own familiar scent, but there was another, stronger aroma wafting towards her as well. She wondered what it would be like to taste the musky juices from this woman’s kit— no… cunt. That was what CJ called it. The word sounded so wicked, so forbidden.

Those thoughts took Allison over the top, and suddenly she was spending again, crying, “Oh, my Lord, it’s happening!” She plunged a finger inside herself as she came, coating it with her juices.

CJ pinched her clit, and a violent shudder shook her body. Hot, thick juices oozed down her hand as she went off yet again. She let out a choked cry. “Shit!”

Woman and girl gasped for breath as they recovered from their orgasms, robbed of energy. CJ slumped over exhausted from what had to be one of the most intense climaxes she’d ever experienced.

She looked up at Allison. The pretty young thing was glistening with perspiration, a hand still beneath her dress. Withdrawing it, Allison put her fingers into her mouth like she always did, barely aware she was doing it.

CJ was fascinated. “Can I have a taste?”

Allison rubbed her fingers along her slit, then reached out to CJ, who took them into her mouth. Her taste buds were alive with the musky flavor, her nose tickled by the sweet aroma. “Tastes real nice,” she said. “Toothsome, even.”

“Can I try yours?” Allison meekly asked.

Shoving two fingers between her labia, CJ swirled then around inside, then brought her hand to Allison’s mouth.

“There’s so much of it…” Allison said, her eyes wide with wonder. She stuck out her tongue and licked the sticky fingers clean, reminding CJ of a puppy. “My goodness, it tastes sweet!” the girl declared, grinning from ear to ear.

Now it was CJ’s turn to blush. “I’m really wet ’cause you set my body on fire, little girl.” She regarded the child with unconcealed interest. “Any chance you might take that dress off for me? I’d surely love to see all of you again.”

Allison considered CJ’s request, finally deciding they’d done so many wicked things that one more probably wouldn’t matter. She raised the dress over her head, draping it over a bent fence post. The two of them took in the sight of each other’s nudity for a long moment. CJ stepped out of the trough and drew Allison into a gentle embrace. They pressed their bodies together, and the sudden intimacy caused CJ to have another, less intense orgasm.

Allison realized CJ had done that wonderful feeling again. She never knew they could happen so quickly, one after the other. Without asking permission, she slipped a hand between the woman’s legs and collected the warm fluids on her fingers. Bringing them to her mouth, she tasted the savory substance, loving it even more than before.

When Allison touched her pussy CJ came a third time. She thought this pretty young girl might give her a heart attack, she was doing such a good job. Once she’d got her breath back, CJ said, “You’re real beautiful, Allison. I never saw someone so lovely.”

Allison’s lips sparkled with juice. CJ leaned forward and kissed her, pushing her tongue inside the girl’s mouth. Allison wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She’d never kissed anyone before, besides her parents, and never with tongues. Still, she found her pussy quivering at the new sensation.

They kissed intensely until Allison broke away. “I – I think it’s gonna happen again…”

“Let it go, sweetie. Let it take you over.”

CJ cupped Allison’s pussy and rubbed it until her fingers were wet and sticky with the girl’s spend. Allison’s knees buckled, and CJ grabbed arm before she fell. She brought the liquid offering to her mouth and sampled it with pleasure, then extended her hand to the girl. Allison’s tongue flicked out and tasted her come from CJ’s fingers.

CJ felt herself reaching for another orgasm, but finally pushed it away. She was too exhausted. “That was… incredible.”

Allison flushed. “Thank you. I liked it too.”

CJ brushed a few strands of golden hair from Allison’s face. “Think we should wash off before we get dressed.”

They both climbed in the trough and helped each other get clean. This time they shared a simple bath, rather than explore their sexuality any further.

On to Part Two!

2

Error happened.

A quick recap of the Story Thus Far: Rural paramedic Nettie Hastings finds herself in the middle of a flurry of unexplained overdose calls and, with the help of her best friend and former lover, Terry Wilder, has begun putting clues together linking the source to her own hometown. Some suspect Terry’s involvement, as his ex-wife is a convicted drug trafficker. A DEA agent named Bridgette Ramscone is brought in to work the case, and she takes a special interest in Nettie who, in the meantime, has entered into a clandestine affair with Terry’s preteen daughter Halee. After a late night sex party at Nettie’s, Halee accidentally discovers that her long out-of-the-picture mother Kathryn is involved in the overdoses. She slips out on her own, intent on confronting her mom. Nettie and Terry follow, but the three of them are captured by Kathryn and her gang, and in the melee, Halee is shot. Kathryn is persuaded to let Halee go, along with Nettie to take care of her, but she holds onto Terry as a hostage. Halee survives surgery, and Nettie meets an anesthesiologist named Hannah, who recognizes Nettie’s passion for young girls. As it transpires, Hannah is a lesbian, one who has a very special relationship with her underage daughter — a fact she is quite pleased to share with Nettie.

For a more detailed breakdown of this story’s chapters, please consult the Chapter Links.

by Rachael Yukey

It was a little after nine when I crossed the Franklin County line, the knowledge that I was only fifteen minutes from home easing some of the tension in my gut. A heavy overcast obscured the moon, leaving my headlights as the only source of illumination. The overall effect was heightened by the leaden doom of Black Sabbath, issuing forth from the speakers at a much higher decibel level than could possibly have been good for me.

The world is full of kings and queens, who’ll blind your eyes and steal your dreams… it’s Heaven and Hell! Ronnie James Dio proclaimed in his full-throated roar.

You got that right, Ronnie, I thought.

And they’ll tell you black is really white, the moon is just the sun at night, and when you walk in golden halls, you get to keep the gold that falls… it’s Heaven and Hell!

It felt like the perfect metaphor for the kind of mother Kathryn Wilder had turned out to be.

My mom had Terry’s two youngest girls at her house for the night. Naomi was staying with Chelsey, who was still crashing at her grandma’s house. I’d already decided I would return to my apartment for the night, then collect the youngsters in the morning. But as I neared the point at which County Road Two intersected this stretch of state highway, I found myself slowing, signaling right, and turning onto the gravel in the direction of the meat locker. What was I looking for? No idea.

As I crested the rise leading up to the entrance, the same one I’d passed through with Terry in an ambulance a little over a week before, I let off the gas, allowing the vehicle to coast down. I came to a stop and got out, leaving the car to idle behind me on the road.

Using my phone’s flashlight, I picked my way forward. The foliage covering the old entrance was much more beaten back than it had been the previous week; clearly, the DEA people had traveled in and out of here more than a few times. About ten meters in, a swinging gate with a padlock had been placed, with yellow police cordon tape disappearing into the woods on either side. I wondered if Bridgett had made some poor bastard run that stuff all the way around the outside of that substantial piece of property.

Turning around, I made my way back to the car, got in, and drove on. The last song on the album I’d been listening to was just kicking off, the somber tone and lyrics an eerie companion on this dark, empty stretch of road.

It’s a long way to nowhere, and I’m leaving very soon. On the way we get so close to the back side of the moon.

“Lonely is the word, Ronnie,” I said out loud. My own voice startled me.

About a quarter mile from the driveway leading to the meat locker, I reached the junction to Merlin Creek Drive. Signaling right, I eased onto the badly maintained minimum maintenance road. I slowed almost to a stop as I passed the point at which Terry and I had plucked Darren Sanders from beneath his rolled ATV only days before. Then I accelerated again, easing along the crappy little trail at about twenty miles per hour.

The road wended downhill in the opposite direction from the valley where the ugly old meat locker squatted, skirting Merlin Creek at a distance of about one hundred yards. Between the road and the creek were small residences; cabin-sized houses and a handful of mobile homes. It was almost exclusively the territory of snowbirds, but not the rich kind. Most of the residents were elderly, and throughout the course of the upcoming summer, I knew the ambulance would be down here half a dozen times or so.

Leaving the line of dilapidated summer housing behind, the road twisted back again in the direction of the meat locker, trending gradually uphill until it terminated at a dead end on what appeared to be an abandoned farmstead. It occurred to me that I’d never before been this far down Merlin Creek Drive, and hadn’t even been aware this place existed. All the buildings were collapsed except for the house, which looked as if it was likely to drop at any second. The moon was finally poking its way through the cloud cover, and I could see better now.

As I pulled up into the yard, my headlights fell upon some modern tillage equipment. Clearly whatever cropland attached to this old homestead was still being cultivated, and a farmer was staging machinery here. But more than that, there were recent tracks heading back into the woods that looked about the right spacing to have been made by large ATVs, such as the Ranger that Darren Sanders had gotten himself pinned under. I came to a halt, killed the engine, and got out of the car.

Wandering around by the light of my phone, I discovered two ATV trails. One led off further in the direction I’d been heading which, if my orientation was right, would eventually come out on a stretch of county blacktop. The other headed straight down into the valley toward the meat locker.

All of this tallied with what Bridgett had told us. The trail heading vaguely northwest would be the path through private property Kathryn’s people had been using as an access point. The one going straight west led down to the meat locker and auction grounds. Both sported newly placed steel gates, with crime scene tape extending off in either direction.

I was standing in front of the gate that led down to the locker when the bright glare of a powerful flashlight blinded my eyes. I stumbled backward in a blind panic, landing on my ass. Then the light moved to my left, still illuminating but no longer dazzling me.

“Nettie Hastings?” someone said. It was a male voice, cracked with age, a voice I knew but couldn’t quite place at first.

The figure holding the light stepped forward. My fear was already subsiding; there was no menace in that ambling shuffle. The man stood over me, extending a hand. I took it, surprised at the strength of the grip, and got to my feet. Finally I was able to identify the stoop-shouldered old man standing before me.

“Adam Bixley,” I said.

A grin cracked the seamed, aged flesh, but there was no humor in it. “Big as life, and twice as ugly.”

My mind flipped rapidly through its catalog of small-town family interrelationships, and came up with an answer in seconds. This man was the great-grandfather of Jason Bixley, the boy who had died in the car crash that had set all of this into motion.

“I was so sorry about what happened to Jason,” I said automatically.

“Not as sorry as I was,” the old man replied, “but thanks. I heard you worked real hard to save him. Thanks for that, too.”

He looked me up and down, searchingly. “What’re you doin’ out here, Nettie?”

“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “I was just coming back from Minneapolis, and…”

“The Wilder girl’s in the hospital down there, ain’t she?”

“Yeah. That’s why I was there.”

“And those bastards who shot her have your man.”

I nodded. Terry wasn’t exactly “my man”, but it didn’t seem worth pressing the point.

“What are you doing out here?” I asked him. “And how’d you even get here? I didn’t see another car.”

Again, that humorless grin. It was the grin of a man forced at gunpoint to eat shit and smile about it.

“Oh, I parked my four-wheeler off in the edge of the woods. You wouldn’t have seen it if you weren’t lookin’ for it. Didn’t bring the love wagon, ‘cus I didn’t figure on meetin’ a pretty girl like you out in the middle of nowhere.”

He flashed me the first genuine-looking grin I’d seen from him thus far, one that, in other circumstances, might have pushed certain buttons in me, even in a face as aged as his. I’d heard that Adam Bixley had been a real ladies’ man in his day, and standing here in the woods with him, I glimpsed the force of personality that made it so.

He turned away from me to face the gate. “As for the other bit,” he said, “why, if we were to cross this police line, we’d be on property that I own.” He made an expansive gesture in the direction of the forest.

“Wait… what?” The implications flooded my mind. “You own the meat locker?”

Bixley looked back over his shoulder at me, that pained, humorless smirk on his face once more. “Ran the place for twenty years. And mostly lost money. By the time I bought it, most people were already just buyin’ meat at the grocery store.”

He turned back to face me. “I’ve been comin’ out here most every night for the last week. Every time I stop right here, think for a bit, then turn around and go home. Never quite have worked up the sack to wander on down there. You know, I haven’t been back to that valley since I shuttered the place, and that’s thirty years gone now.”

The shape of it was already crystalizing in my mind. “If you did cross this line,” I said carefully, “what is it you’d be looking for?”

The corners of his mouth turned upward. “You’re a bright one, aren’t you?” He pulled the collar of his lined flannel shirt up, covering his neck, then looked to the heavens and let out a slow breath. Finally he lowered his head, meeting my eyes once more with the air of a man having come to a decision.

“Tell you what,” he said. “It’s getting damn cold out here. Let’s go sit in that car of yours, and I’ll spin you a little story.”

***

Once we were comfortably ensconced in my Kia, the heated seats toasting our asses, Bixley withdrew a hip flask from beneath his heavy flannel shirt, took a long draught, and then passed it to me. I tossed back a sip of the straight vodka, reminding myself firmly to go easy; I still had to drive home. Bixley took the flask back, capped it, and hugged it to his chest.

“I bought the meat locker and the auction grounds in 1971,” he said. “At the time it was still doin’ all right, and the cattle auctions were a big to-do. People would bring their kids out with picnic lunches and stay all day. Deals got made, neighbors spent time together, people fell in love at those things. Now, I knew small farms were on their way out, even if nobody else seemed to. But I figured that by the time it all went to hell, I’d have a nice, classic prohibition-vintage brick building that I could convert into something else. Never got around to it.”

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, staring straight ahead through the windshield and into the darkness. “Turns out, the business went south even before the little farmers started goin’ bust. By ‘75, you were already gettin’ to a place where farmer’s wives had to get jobs in town to make ends meet, and not many were buyin’ beef by the quarter or half anymore. Say, is there any way to turn this backside burner off?”

I switched off the seat heater on his side, and he nodded his thanks.

“Anyhow,” he went on, “it was right around that time… ‘76 or so… this young guy up from St. Cloud waltzes into my office. Had a smile that never quite got to his eyes. I didn’t like him.”

He wiped his mouth as if eradicating a bad taste. “So this kid tells me his grandpa was the guy who built the locker. Prohibition was goin’ on at the time, and it was only a meat processing plant up front. See, the sewage treatment lagoon was bein’ put in at the same time, and after handin’ off a little cash to get some construction bosses to look the other way, they built a tunnel leadin’ from there to the locker.”

Bixley turned his head to look at me directly. “It didn’t take a genius to see what the kid was sayin’. If you think a bit, you realize a place like that is the perfect setup for rumrunners. The lagoon is out in the middle of the woods, on a road that nobody travels except the maintenance men, and they’re only doin’ it during the day. Even better if you can get some of the maintenance people in on the action, but if not you still have all night to go in and out. So you have an entrance in the underground maintenance accessways at the lagoon, then a half mile worth of tunnel to get to your distribution point, which has vehicles carryin’ stuff out on the regular. Meat plant packaging is the perfect wrapper to hide damn near anything.  And you can use the tunnel for storage. It’s perfect.”

He chuckled. “Now, if you were livin’ in Bronning back in the seventies, there were still lots of people around who were alive during Prohibition, so you knew from hearin’ their stories that this town was investigated by the feds. Seems they had an idea that most of the booze filterin’ into Franklin County and the surrounding parts was comin’ through Bronning, but they never could quite figure out where. So the kid’s story made sense. Well, almost.”

He uncapped the flask, took another swig, and handed it to me. I tossed back another small swallow.

“Only one little problem,” he went on. “At that point I’d owned and run the place for goin’ on five years; hadn’t seen nary a hint of any kind of tunnel entrance. I told the guy that, and he said ‘You just come back here with me tonight, after all your workmen have gone home, and I’ll show you’. Now, I almost told the kid to take a flying fuck at a rolling donut, if you’ll pardon my French… like I said, I didn’t like the little bastard. But then my curiosity got the better of me.”

Bixley ran a hand across his face, momentarily easing some of the lines, and I caught a brief glimpse of the younger man he had been. “So we come on back around elevenish, after the cleanup crews had done their bit and gone home. He leads me straight down to the basement like a man who’d been in and out of that building since the day he was born; I figured he had to have seen some blueprints or somethin’. Come up against the foundation wall at the end of the corridor on the west side of the building.” He paused, pursed his lips. “Y‘know, I should’ve realized there was somethin’ funny about that wall bein’ red brick when the rest of the foundation was poured cement, but I’d never given it a single thought.”

He shook his head, as if marveling at his own ineptitude. “Turns out it was just doing a damn good imitation of a brick wall. Pieces of brick maybe half an inch thick, mounted to a steel panel. This guy asks for somethin’ to stand on, I get him a step-stool, and he hops up on it and works this latch up on top of the foundation between the first floor joists. You’d never find it if you didn’t know where to look. It took a little doing to get the mechanism to work; it probably hadn’t been opened since the thirties. But that damn phony brick wall slid right off to the side, behind the actual foundation cement. And there was the tunnel.”

I could see where this was going now. “So what did you use it for?”

Bixley couldn’t quite seem to meet my eyes. “Well, first we had to get the other end opened up. The entrance at the lagoon end had been concreted over; that place has been completely rebuilt three or four times. It took a little cash gettin’ tossed around to get the job done, probably not too different from how it happened in the twenties. The little weasel from St. Cloud saw to all that. Then we started doin’ the same sort of thing they’d done during prohibition, but with different product.”

He drank again, then went on. “You see what I’m gettin’ at, don’t you? It started out with just pot, mostly. A little bit of magic mushroom, stuff like that. Nothin’ heavy. I didn’t really see the harm. You know, missy, I think booze wrecks more lives than just about any other drug there is, and it’s legal. Besides, the deal solved my problem in a hurry. By 1980 the meat processing business was runnin’ pretty heavily in the red, but it was just a front at that point.

He gave a heavy sigh. “But by 1985, it wasn’t just pot anymore. When we started I promised myself I’d never move the hard stuff, but you build up a tolerance, if that makes sense. Commit one felony, the next one is just a little bit easier. I still wouldn’t allow heroin, but I started lettin’ ‘em move some coke through there. I mean, coke’s safe enough, as the hard stuff goes, right? At least that’s what I told myself. And this is right around the time that the shirtail operators farming four hundred acres and milking thirty head were going tits-up left and right, so lots of folks were lookin’ for a little something to get ’em through the night. Then in ‘91, one kid died, and another came pretty damn close.”

He took another sip, laid his head against the headrest, and closed his eyes. “The coke didn’t get ‘em, not by itself. It was laced with some other shit. But it was coke that I knew damn well had come through my meat locker.” He offered me the flask again.

With a mighty effort of will, I shook my head. “Is that when you quit?”

“I confronted that little shit. Rufus Hellman was his name. Told me he had no idea what I was talking about, and when I threatened to go to the cops, he said him and his buddies could just dig a hole and pull it in over the top of them, and I’d get hung out to dry. I figured he probably wasn’t wrong. So I told him I’d keep my mouth shut, but I was out. Closed the place down, laid everybody off, never reopened. And that was the end of that. Leastways, I thought it was.”

“Until now,” I said.

“Yeah,” he said bitterly, “until now.”

“You never did answer my question,” I reminded him.

“You mean about what I’d be lookin’ for down there?” he laughed a dry old man’s laugh. “Sweetheart, I don’t even know myself, not really. But I’ll tell you this. Those DEA folks grilled me like a goddamn cheese sandwich. Can’t really blame ‘em, seein’ as how I own the place. But they never once mentioned the hidden door or the tunnel. Only way to explain that is they never found it. I want to know just what might be in there.”

“You didn’t tell them about it.”

“Nope. That’s a dead dog I’d just as soon let lie. Oh, they can’t come after me for it; statute of limitations on drug trafficking is long since up. But a man comes to value his good name, and wants to keep it. If the story gets out now, it could just as well go on my tombstone. Adam Bixley, cocaine dealer. ‘Cause that’s how people will remember me.”

I threw up my hands. “You could have just told them you knew the tunnel was there, but never used it for anything. How were they to know? There’s a good chance that Kathryn Wilder’s organization never found it, anyway, and nothing’s back there. But it needs to be checked.”

Bixley took another drink. “Yep,” he said, “I coulda told ‘em that. Except here’s where it gets a bit complicated. The only people in or around town who had any idea what I was actually doin’ in there were people who were directly involved, and let me tell you, honey, they weren’t many. Most of the workers that went in and out of that place every day had no idea what was happenin’ in the basement. One of those few who did know was my son Josh, who was in on the deal. You remember Josh?”

I nodded. Joshua Bixley had been a lifelong alcoholic, dead two years from cirrhosis of the liver.

“So, when I closed the place up, I secured the front doors with a big iron bar, and a lock nobody was gonna get through with a boltcutter. That was one of the things the DEA folks were interested in, because nobody hacked their way into the building. Somebody oiled the hell out of that lock, and opened it with a key. The bar and the lock were found off to the side of the building, but not the key. They wanted to see my key, and know who else had one.”

“So you’re saying Josh had the other one?”

“Yup, and when he passed away I never got it back. Didn’t even think to ask about it, truth be told. Mine was still on my keyring after all those years, and you could tell right away it hadn’t been used. I didn’t tell ’em that Josh had the other, ‘cause the man who inherited everything of his, and would have gotten it, was my grandson David.”

It all came together in a flash. “Jason’s dad,” I said. “Did he know about the tunnel?”

Bixley laid a hand on my arm. “Probably,” he said. “Joshua had an almighty guilt about it all; I guess that’s part of what drove him to drinkin’ so hard. Him and David were awfully close, and I’d be surprised if he didn’t let it spill at some point.”

I sat back and closed my eyes, staggered by the implications. If Adam Bixley’s key hadn’t been used to open the meat locker, then it must have been the one in the possession of his grandson. And had his great-grandson been mixed up in this too? I ran a hasty mental map in my head; the route that Jason Bixley had been on when he died was the logical choice if he’d been returning home from this semi-hidden back entrance to the locker.

I opened my eyes and looked to my right. Bixley’s hand was still on my arm, a cynical smile playing on his lips. “You see it, don’t you. It would explain what Jason was doin’ heading for home at six AM on a school day, wouldn’t it?”

“Jesus, Adam,” I groaned. “Why didn’t you tell all this to the DEA?”

Bixley met my eyes, his gaze suddenly a little hard. “You wait’ll you’re having to contemplate turnin’ in your own flesh and blood,” he said. “It ain’t as easy as you think. That’s why I’ve been tryin’ to work up the guts to go down there and get a look. You up for a little stroll?”

I shook my head. “We’ll never get close,” I said. “The DEA is bound to have security cameras with motion alarms set up all around the building.”

He rolled his eyes. “Damn computerized crap. I never even thought about it.”

“What about the lagoon side?”

“I’ve already been out there. Couldn’t even find the old entrance. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if ole’ Rufus shit-for-brains paid some local contractor to concrete it over and keep his mouth shut. It’s the valley or nothin’.”

“Adam,” I said. “Listen to me. The people behind everything that’s happened here these past few weeks stuck around after the raid, and we still don’t know why. One of them was checking something out when he rolled his ATV on top of himself. Now they have Terry Wilder, and his daughter’s been shot. The answer to all of that might just be in that tunnel. We have to do the right thing here. You know that.”

He nodded slowly. “Fine,” he said. “Make the phone call.”

As I lifted my phone, I noticed there’d been a text over fifteen minutes ago. From Terry. I realized that the phone was synched to the car, and I’d turned the car stereo off so we could talk. Cursing my carelessness, I opened the message.

Only getting a few minutes of privacy tonight, it read. The Dickweed Brigade is increasingly paranoid, and something is going to play out soon. We’re running low on rations. Info that might be of interest to Special Agent Tightbuns: there’s something hidden either in the meat locker, or in the immediate surrounding area. Something valuable, something Kathryn is terrified of losing. Don’t know what, but guessing it’s the reason they stuck around instead of vanishing in the wake of the raid. 

Thanks for the updates on Halee’s condition, on being there when she woke, and for everything else. Tell her that I do NOT blame her for this situation, and she shouldn’t either.

I sat back, stunned. Then I got my brain in gear and typed: That goes with other info I just got. On it. Keep holding on. Fumbling a little in my excitement, I pulled up Bridgett’s number.

***

Half an hour later we were standing out front of the lone building; myself, Bridgett, three of her subordinates, and Adam Bixley. I hadn’t been this close to the building since the summer before my senior year, having never gotten closer than the auction yards during the previous week’s raid. Bixley, who hadn’t seen the place in over thirty years, was staring up at the big double doors as if eyeing a malignant tumor. The old iron bar was back, but with a shiny new heavy-duty lock that sported a small keypad.

Bridgett stepped forward. She punched in a combination code, and two of her men stepped forward, lifting away the heavy bar.

As we stepped through the outer doors, Bridgett flicked a switch, and the place lit up. Bixley’s eyes widened in surprise.

“We have it on battery power, with a gennie that automatically fires up when the batteries get low,” Bridgett explained. “Lead the way, Mr. Bixley.”

I knew it had to be my imagination, but I could swear to God the place still smelled of cow. We took a left turn just past the entry doors, then down a short corridor to the basement stairway. The stairs were a tight wrought-iron spiral. “I’m guessing nobody moved product up or down this staircase,” I observed.

Bixley chuckled. He seemed somehow at peace, a far cry from his troubled demeanor in my car earlier. “Lord, no. There was a big pull-rope dumbwaiter at the opposite end of the building. I ripped it out and put in a motorized lift.”

“That lift still works, too,” Bridgett remarked.

We walked in silence from there, turning two corners. The big floodlights the DEA people had brought in were almost blinding in these narrow hallways. Finally we came to a brick wall at the end of one of those corridors, with doors leading to rooms on the right and the left.

“Now that you’re really looking at it, this does seem like a strange place for a brick wall,” one of Bridgett’s men observed.

“Especially considering that all of the other outside foundation walls are concrete,” Bridgett murmured. “Damn, I feel stupid.”

“Don’t feel too bad,” said Bixley. “I was down here two or three times a week for five years and never noticed.”

Another of the agents, a round-faced blonde woman almost as tall as me, stepped forward and ran a finger along where some mortar was missing between the bricks. “Look at this,” she said. “The steel backing is showing where the mortar flaked off. If we’d just looked a little closer…”

“Never mind that now,” snapped Bridgett. “Mr. Bixley, if you’d be so kind.”

“I’ll need somethin’ to stand on,” he replied.

An agent ducked into a room, and came out with a folding chair. Bixley clambered up on the chair, an agent on either side supporting him by the elbows.

He shrugged them away impatiently. “I’m old, but I’m not that goddamn feeble,” he snapped. Reaching up between the joists, he did something I couldn’t see from the floor. The wall visibly seemed to come loose, rocking slightly.

“Lubed up like a whore’s sweet pussy,” Bixley observed. “Beggin’ your pardon, ladies. Now, just push that panel back and to the right.” The two agents who had attempted to support his elbows obliged, and the door slid back and sideways, disappearing behind the concrete foundation.

The tunnel was very old, made of poured concrete that was starting to crumble. It was perhaps eight feet high, and ten feet wide. Large flashlights illuminated pallets stacked high with plastic bundles, set two-by-two and going back until the light faded.

Bridget nodded to the tall blonde woman, who produced a penknife and stepped forward. Donning medical gloves, she cut a slit in the top of a bag, and dipped a finger in. She turned back towards us, holding up a finger to the light. The blue glove was covered with a brown, powdery substance.

Bridgett and the other agents stepped forward for a closer look.

“Godalmighty damn,” said one of the agents, a compact man with black hair and a swarthy complexion. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Mexican Brown,” said Bridgett in reverent tones. “Holy shit. Holy shit! This is the biggest goddamned cache of heroin I’ve ever seen in my life.” She sounded slightly elated. Then her phone rang. Looking annoyed, she swiped the accept button and held it to her ear.

“Ramscone,” she said. A pause. “Yes… at what time? Uh… no sir, I don’t have any information from that quarter, but I have just made a major discovery at the meat locker, one that I can’t discuss over an unsecure connection, but is going to need a large security contingent.” There was another long pause. “Yes sir, I understand… of course. Please keep me informed.”

She hung up and turned to us. “Okay, let’s lock all this up, and get every available agent to guard both the building and the valley. We’ve been authorized to draw from county and state police forces as well. Meanwhile, we have a bigger problem.”

She turned her eyes to me. “There’s a situation in International Falls. I’ll explain on the drive back to town.”

An icy hand clutched my heart. Terry. Oh, my God.

On to Chapter Twenty!

1

Error happened.

by kinkychic and kinky’s_sis

As we were waiting to board the plane, Lucy said, “I wonder if Jen–” but stopped herself before she said the name.

I knew that she was about to mention Jenny and Chloe. God, I hoped they weren’t on our flight. I was still heartbroken over Susy and had no real desire for another sexual encounter with Chloe. It would be awkward, having to make excuses.

But they were on our flight. We saw Jenny in the aircraft doorway as we walked through the boarding tunnel. I began to panic. Lucy squeezed my hand, astonishing me when she said, “Don’t worry, sis. I’ll handle this.”

Chloe was further along inside the aircraft. She waved, beckoning us with a radiant smile. Lucy pushed ahead and spoke to her, while I held back.

Chloe’s smile vanished while she talked to my sister, but once I approached her it had returned. “Don’t look so worried, it’s fine. I’m happy for you,” she said. “A bit sad, but hey, I’ll get over it. I’ll come and have a chat later and you can tell me all about her.”

Somehow they had arranged that Lucy and I had the very last two seats at the back. That meant the cubbyhole was immediately behind us.

I took my seat with a huge feeling of relief. Then I felt like an idiot. I’d only been one of Chloe’s many conquests, I suspected. I’d been worried over nothing.

The passengers had finished boarding and the doors were closed. The stewards began their headcount, pointing at each seat as they went. I saw Jenny tap Lucy on the head as she counted her, giving her a cheeky wink, for which she was rewarded with a beaming smile.

As the plane carried us homeward, I was jolted from my sleep, a hand gently shaking my arm. “Oh good, you’re awake,” Chloe said. She sat beside me in Lucy’s seat. “So, you want to tell me all about your new girlfriend?”

I’d instinctively liked Chloe when we had first met, so I had no difficulty in telling her all about Susy, how we had met and how I fell in love. I didn’t go into the sexy details, though. Well, not too much.

Chloe seemed genuinely delighted. “What a lovely story and honestly, I’m happy for you,” she said. “That doesn’t mean you can’t keep in touch with me if you’d like to; as friends, I mean. I’d like that. Besides, I’ll be there to pick up the pieces if it doesn’t work out.” She laughed, then, “Sorry. That was thoughtless of me.”

I smiled at her. “Don’t worry, I know what you mean and yes, I will keep in touch. I promise.”

We chatted for a while until Lucy and Jenny came back. Chloe gave my hand a squeeze and a quick kiss on the cheek before she got up to make room for my sister.

I could see the satisfied look on Lucy’s face. “You obviously enjoyed yourself,” I said. “Was she nice?”

“Oh my God, Maddie. She was amazing. But are you all right?”

“I’m fine, honest. So come on, you can tell me all about it.”

“What, really? You want details?” she asked, grinning at me.

“Of course. I’ve got to have some fun.”

Here’s what she told me.

***

I was half asleep when Jenny took my hand. “You want to come with me, Lucy?”

I came wide awake. I mean, did I want to? Oh God, yes, I did. I was out of my seat right away, following her up the aisle.

“Chloe will look out for us. We’ll be safe back here,” she said. “I’ve done nothing but dream about you, Lucy. Sometimes I feel awful, guilty for wanting such a young girl, but then I tell myself you’re the forward one and you know exactly what you want. I can’t fight it, I don’t want to. I need you, Lucy.”

I eased her hands away and began to undress, giving Jenny my sexiest look and slowly taking my clothes off to tease her. She reached for me, but I pushed her hand away. “Uh-uh, not yet.”

When I was naked, I climbed up onto the work surface. I sat with my back to the wall and raised my knees with both feet next to my bum.

I watched Jenny’s face as I spread my pussy open, showing her my little clit. She looked up at me with a quizzical expression. Now I nodded, and she came to me.

She stroked my clitty with one finger. And even though I knew the touch was coming, it still made me jump. A small sigh escaped my lips.

Now she caressed it between her finger and thumb. A tingle shot through me and I felt a dribble leaking from my pussy, running down to my arsehole.

Slowly, she lowered her head and kissed my clit. “Fuck!” I exclaimed as her lips drew me in. I heard her giggle like a schoolgirl before she began to suck like mad.

I reached for her hand, bunched two fingers, and pushed them into my pussy. It wasn’t difficult, because I was drenched.

But she was fucking me too gently, so I told her, “Jenny, it’s okay. Do it harder.”

Soon the build-up began, and my body tightened. I knew I wouldn’t last much longer. She looked shocked and worried when I said, “Stop.” I pulled her fingers out and then climbed up onto my knees with my bum facing her. “There you are, lover. Now you can fuck both my pussy and my arse. Two fingers back there is fine.”

My bumhole was already wet from where my cunt had leaked, so Jenny’s fingers slid straight in without me having to give much of a push. I reached underneath and found my clit, rubbing it furiously as Jenny fucked me back and front.

I was getting close when she pulled her fingers from my arse. “No!” I wailed, but her tongue immediately took their place. My arse was still open wide from her fingers, and her tongue easily thrust into me.

That was it, I was fucked! I began to tremble. The tremble became a shake, and I was coming. It was gloriously intense. My head hit the work surface as I flopped down. My hips jerked into her hand and tongue. I had to clamp a hand to my mouth or I would’ve wailed out loud.

Finally I had to cry out, “Jenny, stop! Or I’ll have to pee!” Thankfully, she did, or I would have pissed for sure, and that wouldn’t have been good, not in there.

Jenny helped me to turn around and sit. I pulled her to me. “You do realise that you just fucked me, but you haven’t even kissed me yet.” I seemed to be saying that a lot lately.

She stared at me. “I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t anything like that,” she said. “You’re a sexy little bugger, aren’t you?” Then her lips found mine.

It’s marvellous: no matter how many people you’ve kissed, they’re all different. Jenny’s kiss was beautiful and soft, deep and loving.

I gently squeezed her breasts, then caressed them. I felt, rather than heard, the groan in her throat. Her nipples came to life, responding and hardening to my touch. I broke our kiss and lowered my lips to her breast, taking a nipple between my teeth.

I sensed her struggling with her skirt, and tried to help, but she told me. “No, it has to come up, not down.”

She was already rubbing at the front of her knickers. I took her hand and slipped it inside, pressing it into her, urging Jenny to masturbate. She hunched forward, her pussy thrusting and grinding into our joined hands.

Climbing down from my perch, I got her to lean over the worktop. I took my hand out of her panties, but she didn’t stop rubbing herself. Now I was behind her. I eased her cheeks apart so my tongue could give a long lick upwards from her pussy to her arsehole. I lingered there a bit, probing and tickling.

I eased my fingers into her pussy, leaving her to concentrate on her clit, then pushed two more fingers into her bum, just as she’d done with me.

Right away, I could feel her climax getting close. I turned my body to kneel between her legs, my mouth pushing her fingers away. Her swollen clit came between my lips. I nearly lost my balance when I pushed my hand into her vagina. It went all the way in with barely an effort.

Her pelvis thrust at me hard. My mouth was flooded to overflowing, her juices running down my arm and chest. She had the longest orgasm I’ve ever seen – shaking, then relaxing, shaking again, and on and on.

Finally, she gasped, “No more! I’ll die!” I withdrew my hands and she collapsed, kneeling down next to me, kissing my face.

She reached for a towel, and dried me off before pulling me to her. “Lucy, for God’s sake… shit, that was incredible.” I smiled at her, and she said, “You are going to call me, yes? Promise you will? I want you to visit so we can fuck in an actual bed. D’you think we can arrange that? Oh God, say yes.”

I knew that’s what I wanted, so I didn’t hesitate. “I’ll find a way, Jenny. That’s a promise.”

One last wonderful kiss, then we tidied up and dressed, and here I am.

***

I was feeling down. The last five weeks had been something of a nightmare. The only way I had of communicating with Susy was by satellite phone, and there were a number of problems with that. For one thing, Susy didn’t have her own phone. They were expensive, and she couldn’t keep asking to borrow one. Almost as bad, though, was the signal dropout caused by the mountains. We soon found it was a waste of time.

Lucy got to spend a weekend at Jenny’s place. I was amazed at how easily Mum agreed to that. I told her that Jenny was a lovely girl we met in South Africa and how they’d become such good friends. I said she was trustworthy and would look after Lucy just as I would. Oops, I thought. But Mum said that Lucy was stuck indoors on the computer quite enough and needed to get out more. I hadn’t realised just how gullible Mum really was. Of course, it helped when Jenny phoned Mum and they had a long, friendly talk.

When I asked Lucy how her weekend went, her first answer was, “Well, she’s got a strappy, which is more than we have, so I really did get fucked. And of course, so did she.” She considered a moment, weighing her words carefully. “She’s lovely and very good in bed, but she’s a bit weird. I can’t really explain. Wouldn’t mind a visit now and then, but nothing too serious.”

How wise little sis was becoming.

Then Susy called and asked if I could meet her at Heathrow. She was coming to England!

“Yes!” I said, punching the air. When my heart stopped racing, I told her she had to split her journey up north and stay with us overnight. I said I was set on having a heart-to-heart with Mum.

“Oh God, Maddie, are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure, you little fool,” I said. “Really, darling, it’s not just because of you. It’s time I was out of the closet. I’m fed up pretending. Besides, I wouldn’t be surprised if she hasn’t already guessed.”

***

For ages, I’d been agonising over talking with Mum about my sexual leanings. I thought of her as a total conformist who wanted to live her life without ever rocking the boat. Now there I was, about to tell her I was gay. But Susy was coming to stay the night, so it was time for me to be open with my mother and sod the consequences.

“Mum,” I began, “I need to talk to you about Susy.”

Putting the last of the dishes away, Mum briskly dried her hands. “”What’s wrong, sweetheart? Did something happen to her?”

“No, no… I guess I’d better just come out with it. Susy and I are girlfriends.”

“Girlfriends… oh, my.” She was silent for a moment, then said, “So, does that mean…?”

I nodded. “It does, Mum. I’m gay… and I’m in love with Susy.”

“Goodness.” She took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, then nodded. “Well, if that’s the case, I’m glad you told me. You’re still my daughter, and I still love you to bits. That won’t ever change.”

I was almost giddy with relief. Taking her in my arms, “I whispered, “Thank you, Mum… thank you. I didn’t know for sure how you were going to respond.”

She shrugged. “I think it’s completely normal for girls to be attracted to one another. Sometimes it turns out to be more than just attraction.”

Okay, that intrigued me… but there was something else I needed to ask. “Um, when Susy stays, you don’t mind if she sleeps with me instead of in the spare room, do you?”

“In your bed?” She studied me for a bit. “No, I don’t mind, but what about Lucy? She’ll be right across the room in her bed. What will she think?”

That was the one question I felt a little weird about answering. I didn’t exactly feel comfortable outing my little sister. Then again, if Mum asked Lucy if she was gay, my sister would probably roll her eyes and reply, “Well, of course!”

“Mum, Lucy is the same as me. We’re neither of us interested in boys. We never have been.” I watched for her reaction. There wasn’t much of one. “Can I ask you, Mum… were you ever attracted to girls?” I took her hand. “I understand if you don’t want to answer.”

I didn’t think she was going to, but suddenly she seemed resigned. “Yes, I was. I had two serious girlfriends before I met your father. I loved him, but I missed being with women. I don’t think I’m lesbian, mind you – just somewhere in between.”

She paused for a second. “That’s why I haven’t dated since your father died, even though I wanted to. There’s a woman who asked me out, and I was tempted to say yes, but I was worried about upsetting you and Lucy, so I said no.” She gave a shaky laugh. “I must admit, I’ve wondered about you and Lucy… if you liked girls, I mean.”

I pulled her into another hug. “Oh Mum, I’d have told you ages ago if I’d known you felt this way. Listen, if this woman still wants to go out with you, please say yes. It’s time for you to live for yourself.”

She was softly crying, but then asked me, “What about Lucy, has she, you know… had sex yet?”

Now I knew it was crunch time. Could I lie to Mum when it was a direct question? “Yes, she has. With, um, Katie.” That was Lucy’s best friend, and the first girl she fucked after me.

I trailed off, scared of the next bit.

She looked into my eyes. “I won’t be cross, I can’t be. But… did you ever sleep with Lucy? You two have become very close in the last few months.”

I sighed. “Yes, Mum… we’ve done some things together. She was curious, and wanted me to show her things. We sort of got carried away.”

“Are you two still having sex?”

“Yes, Mum… we really enjoy being together. I’m sorry.”

Mum seemed somewhat dazed. Guess I couldn’t blame her for that. “And that Jenny she met, I suppose that they’ve been intimate, too.”

“They are, yeah… but Lucy seduced Jenny, not the other way around.”

“Now why doesn’t that surprise me? And Lucy’s only twelve. My God!”

“Mum, think about it. Is Lucy like any other twelve-year-old you know?”

She had to laugh at that. “No, I suppose not.”

We hugged again. “I’ve wanted to tell you I liked girls for a long time… but it didn’t seem too important until Susy came along. I didn’t want to hide her from you.”

“There’s no need, sweetie. If you girls really love each other, you’ve got my full support. So… does Susy know you’ve been with your sister?”

Okay, we were getting into dangerous waters here. Still, Mum had taken my other revelations so well that I decided to be completely honest with her. Still, I couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed by this point. I could only imagine how freaky all this sexual activity must’ve seemed to Mum.

“Actually, Susy’s already had sex with Lucy. In fact, the three of us did it together a couple of times.”

Her mouth dropped… then she said, “Should’ve guessed that, I suppose.”

It seemed that Mum had very quickly accepted things. Apparently, I’d been worrying for nothing all this time. I guess there’s a lesson in that.

“So, Mum, are you going to tell me about the woman who asked you out? Do I know her?”

“No, I doubt if you do, Julie Davidson’s her name.”

I thought for a moment. Where did I know that name from? “Does she play tennis at the sports club?”

“Yes, I think she does, why?”

“My God, Mum, she’s so hot. I get wet knickers watching her play. I’m sorry, but it’s true.”

Mum laughed. “Bugger, so do I!”

“Wow. My mum with wet panties, that’s cool. So when are you gonna ring her?”

“You really don’t mind? What about Lucy?”

“Mum, we’d both love it if you found someone. Especially if it’s another woman!”

“I can ask her around for dinner. Would you be okay with that?”

“Mum, all you need to worry about is Lucy flirting with her. You’d best warn Julie beforehand.”

She put a hand to her mouth. “Really? She wouldn’t, would she? No, don’t answer that!”

On to Chapter Six!

A quick recap of the Story Thus Far: Rural paramedic Nettie Hastings finds herself in the middle of a flurry of unexplained overdose calls and, with the help of her best friend and former lover, Terry Wilder, has begun putting clues together linking the source to her own hometown. Some suspect Terry’s involvement, as his ex-wife is a convicted drug trafficker. A DEA agent named Bridgette Ramscone is brought in to work the case, and she takes a special interest in Nettie who, in the meantime, has entered into a clandestine affair with Terry’s preteen daughter Halee. After a late night sex party at Nettie’s, Halee accidentally discovers that her long out-of-the-picture mother Kathryn is involved in the overdoses. She slips out on her own, intent on confronting her mom. Nettie and Terry follow, but too late – Halee arrives first. The three of them are captured by Kathryn and her gang, and in the melee, Halee is shot. Kathryn is persuaded to let Halee go, along with Nettie to take care of her, but she holds onto Terry as a hostage.

For a more detailed breakdown of this story’s chapters, please consult the Chapter Links.

by Rachael Yukey

Late that evening, I sat alone in Terry’s living room. I’d liberated a small pile of records from my apartment while I was picking up a few changes of clothes, and was indulging a long-held desire to test out my own music on quite possibly the only audio system in town that was superior to mine. Sure enough, it sounded fucking great. King Diamond’s horror-story classic Abigail, of which I had recently obtained an original 1987 pressing in mint condition, was full of body, depth, and rich dynamics. Poor stereo, I mused. The bad man is wasting you on crap like Chopin.

I felt a sharp pang at the thought of Terry, wondering what he was going through at that moment. I knew where he was; the media had picked up on the hostage situation, and helicopters carrying camera crews had followed the two Ford Explorers on their trek north. At one point Terry had even briefly appeared on TV, when he exited an SUV, entered a service station in the company of two of Kathryn’s men, then came back out again. Now the two vehicles were hunkered down in Smokey Bear State Park just outside of International Falls, a few miles south of the Canadian border. Nobody knew what they were waiting for, or what the plan was.

Thanks to the media circus there’d been no keeping the situation from Naomi, who knew that her dad was a captive and her sister had been shot before I even made it back to Bronning. Of course, anything Naomi knew, Chelsey knew, but thankfully my mother, who was still looking after Terry’s girls, had prevailed upon them not to discuss it with Dawn or Maya, who were still mercifully in the dark. Mom had also quite militantly shooed away the ladies and gentlemen of the press who came calling in hopes of interviewing the children. She’s not really a bad sort, my mom, despite her controlling tendencies.

Now Chelsey was at her grandma’s house. That frail old lady was going to have a job taking care of an injured child, but she’d insisted, and there was no real basis for anyone to object. Thankfully, Chelsey had an appointment to be divested of her arm brace in two more days. Naomi, Dawn, and Maya were home now, and in their respective beds, although I doubted very much that Naomi was sleeping well. I figured I’d check on her when I turned in, and invite her to crash with me if she was still awake.

Halee was in Minneapolis, having come through surgery well, and transferring without incident. Shannon Hudtsted at Thormleton handled patient care during the transfer, and graciously kept me informed throughout the three hour ambulance ride. The plan was for Halee to undergo a second operation the next morning, then be extubated and brought out of sedation in the afternoon. I’d already arranged care for the three younger girls, intending to be at her bedside when she woke.

My right hand rested lightly on a glass of bourbon from a bottle I’d liberated from Terry’s liquor cabinet. I was on my third LP since I’d poured it, and had yet to take a sip. Something felt wrong about drinking while I was responsible for those little girls. I’d seen Terry do it often enough, but I’m not him. He has what seems to me an extraordinary ability to enjoy a drink or two without craving more, but if I have one, I’m going to end up having another three or four at least. I don’t drink to mellow out or catch a light buzz; I drink to get drunk. I contemplated the fact, wondering why it had taken me so long to realize this about myself.

My phone chimed, and I glanced towards where it lay on the end table, right next to the untouched bourbon.

Then I blinked, and looked again. The message was from Terry.

I snatched up the phone, almost knocking over the glass of booze in the process, and opened the message with trembling hands.

It read, Is Halee still alive?

Not “how is Halee”, but “is Halee still alive”. I was stricken at the thought of what the past twelve hours must have been like for Terry, watching his beloved daughter shoved into the boo boo buggy on the ragged edge of death, then not knowing what happened next. I couldn’t even imagine his state of mind.

I got my brain in gear and typed rapidly.Yes. At Children’s. Had surgery in Johnstown, then transferred. More surgery scheduled in AM, then hopefully extubation. Prognosis positive.

Thanks, Nettie, the reply came a moment later. Thought she was a goner.

Where u at? I typed. Can’t believe they’re letting u use phone.

It was over a minute before I got a reply. An agonizingly long minute, but I needn’t have worried. It was simply Terry’s inability to abbreviate.  

They’re not. I managed to squirrel it away between the seats when they first stuffed me into the vehicle. Told them afterwards I dropped it back at the farm. Vigilance has become increasingly lax in the intervening hours, and I was able to retrieve the phone. Am now in a room by myself, so I have a few minutes to communicate.

Any way we can help? I typed.  Do u know what plans are?

Terry spent so long on the next reply that I’d almost given up waiting and was about to call Bridgett. But then it came.

They’re in a bind. They had an escape plan invlving a Canadian border official amenable to bribery, but with present media coverge, the plan’s been scrapped. They have passage off the continent arranged, I think by air, but they’re trying to decide how best to get across the boder. They have little faith in the Canadian authorities’ willingness to let them pass on the basis of my hostage status. 

But they’re feeling rushed. They’re afraid of someone or something, and I don’t think it’s the DEA. Sooner rather than later they’re going to make a move. Hopefuly Special Agent Twinkle Titties and her merry band will be able to take advantage of any errors. Kathryn seems flustered and uncertain. 

Despite the tension in my gut, I felt a grin spread across my face as I read the typos. Terry’s usually so meticulous about such things. The grin faded as I tried desperately to think like an agent; to anticipate any questions Bridgett would want answered. Who knew when Terry would be able to text again?

Are u all in the same cabin? I replied after a few moments’ thought. Also… is ur spellcheck broken, or did u fail 2nd grade?

Once again, the reply seemed to take forever. Woe is me, I have misspelled. When news of my suicide reaches you, you’ll know the reason why. As for the other… the entire entourage is in Cabin 505, designed to accommodate a large number of campers. I’m alone in a single-bed room at the northwest end, with armed dickweeds occupying adjacent rooms. They have a watch schedule arranged for the night; can’t exit without tripping over dickweed on duty. Windows in this building are all secured shut. 

Kathryn has taken the room most southward. The dickweed who broke his leg has not yet received medical attention; they’re using Ibuprofen and cheap booze to keep him quiet. That’s all the info I have; please pass it along to Special Agent Lipgloss. I have notifications silenced, so don’t hesitate to text me back; just be advised that there may be gaps in my ability to respond. Also, I have no means to charge this phone, so once the battery runs out that’s the end of my ability to communicate. Fortunately it was fully charged this morning. Who’s watching my unhospitalized kids?

Me, I replied. Am leaving them with mom 2morrow so I can be there when halee wakes. If ur worried about battery, try texting like a normal person. The reply, when it came, made me smile.

U R so rite LULZ!!! 

Then a few moments later: Going to try to get some sleep now, have no idea what tomorrow will bring. Will check the phone when possible to do so; keep me apprised. Thanks for everything. Remind me to ask you sometime what lulz means.

I sent him back a thumbs-up emoji, then decided it wasn’t enough. Hang in there, my friend, I typed, then called Bridgett.

***

“Hi, I’m Doctor Fletcher, but you can call me Hannah. I’m an anesthesiology resident.”

I shook the proffered hand, captivated by depthless green eyes that bored into mine. The woman was an absolute knockout, her perfectly proportioned face framed by a shock of red hair pulled back into a sensible hospital bun. A head shorter than me, her body was tight yet curvy in all the right places, with ample breasts and a luscious ass. I longed to see that ass in something more provocative than hospital scrubs.

Her gaze traveled downward, inclining her head sufficiently to peek at my toes, then back up. It was nothing one would ordinarily take offense at, or even notice, but I’ve been in the periphery of Franklin County’s gay community long enough to read the signs. This hot little number was checking me out! I was glad to have chosen nice jeans and a sweater that hugged my figure.

I had to force myself not to stammer. “Nettie Hastings. Pleased to meet you.” Hannah fixed me with a radiant smile, then turned to the bed upon which Halee lay, wires and tubes crisscrossing her body, the ET tube I’d placed en route to the hospital still protruding from her mouth.

As she examined the readings on the infusion pumps, Hannah spoke over her shoulder. “Nettie. Is that short for something?”

“Antoinette.” Hannah bent over to inspect some tubing, and I didn’t even try not to stare. Oh my God, that ass! Suddenly she glanced back at me, immediately noticed where my gaze was fixated, and hit me again with that big, sunny smile.

“Antoinette,” she said. “That’s lovely. It’s almost a pity to abbreviate it.”

I caught myself beaming at her; I’ve always privately agreed. But it’s been ‘Nettie’ for as long as I can remember, and sometimes it’s pointless to fight the wind.

“I’d love it if you called me Antoinette,” I heard myself say. Good God, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d experienced this kind of immediate, panties-on-the-floor attraction to someone I’d just met, and I was pretty damn sure the feeling was mutual.

She straightened and faced me again, her eyes this time roaming my body a bit more overtly. Yup, it’s mutual, all right.

“When we have family or friends present for an extubation,” she said, “I like to just go over the process, so they know what to expect,” she said. “Right now Halee’s receiving an infusion of sedatives. The main one is this white stuff hanging from the pole here.”

“Propofol,” I said, “and right next to it you’re running a Ketamine drip. With timed bumps of Fentanyl for pain management.”

She looked up at me, a delighted smile cracking her face.

“I’m a paramedic,” I explained.

Suddenly her expression changed to that of a woman coming to a realization. “Antoinette Hastings. Now I know why your name sounded familiar. You actually sank this tube, didn’t you? We get all the EMS reports for patients in ICU. All right, then.”

She turned back to the pumps, pressing the stop buttons for both of the sedatives. “There we go,” she said. “She’s off the sedation. Halee’s nurse should be back soon. I’ll be back in twenty minutes to take her off the vent, assuming she’s breathing spontaneously.” Those gorgeous green eyes positively sparkled. “It was nice to meet you, Antoinette. I’ll see you soon.”

***

Twenty minutes later I stood anxiously at Halee’s bedside in the ICU, my nervousness balanced somewhat by clinical curiosity. I intubate a dozen or so people a year, mostly in cases of cardiac arrest, but the last time I was present for an extubation was my clinicals during medic school. It’s just not a thing we do in the field.

Hannah the Smoking Hot Anesthesiologist tapped a brow experimentally; Halee’s eyelids flickered. Hannah looked back at the ventilator, set to a mode that allowed a patient to take their own breaths. She pointed to a reading that told us Halee was now breathing spontaneously at a rate of eighteen per minute, with the machine only assisting those ventilations. She nodded at me, and I grinned back.

Turning back to Halee, Hannah disconnected the ventilator hose from the endotracheal tube, using her other hand to hit the standby button on the vent before it started throwing alarms. Halee continued to breathe, the air rushing through the open end of the tube making for a strange, hollow sound. Hannah, the middle aged, matronly RN and I watched the monitor expectantly.

“End tidal is holding, and she’s satting nicely on room air,” the nurse observed after about a minute.

“Better than I’d expect with that pulmonary trauma,” Hannah agreed. She indicated the tube, turning her eyes to me. “Let’s get rid of this thing. You put it in there; would you like to be the one to pull it?”

I crossed to the rack of gloves on the wall, selected a set of mediums, and returned to Halee’s side as I pulled them on. Hannah handed me a syringe, which I connected to the air line on the ET tube.

“This is a first for me,” I said. “I put these things in every once and again, but I’ve never pulled one before.”

“Hell of a lot easier than putting ‘em in,” Hannah observed with a chuckle.

I used the syringe to suck the air out of the cuff, then eased the tube from my lover’s throat. Halee started, squirmed a little, then settled back, breathing comfortably under her own power.

“Excellent,” Hannah exulted. I crossed to the garbage can, flinging the tube and syringe into it with satisfaction. Stripping off the gloves, I tossed them in as well.

“Sats at 97 percent, and a rate of 16,” the nurse observed in a cheerful voice. “Can’t ask for better than that.”

“She’ll probably wake up before too much longer,” Hannah said. “I don’t suppose you bring a lot of people out of sedation on the box.”

“God, no,” I said. “Mostly putting them under, or keeping them that way.”

“She’ll be groggy,” said Hannah. “Partly the lingering effects of sedation; partly the pain meds she’s still getting. She might remember everything that happened right away, it might take her a while to retrieve those memories, or she might never remember. It’s okay to ask her what she remembers, but not so good to pressure her. Let it come, or not come, in its own time.”

There was a ding from the little collar radio the RN was wearing. “Excuse me,” she said. “That’s my other patient. If I can’t come right back, I’ll send someone else so there’ll be a nurse in here when she wakes up.” She left, sliding the glass door closed behind her.

Hannah turned back to me, an entirely new expression on her face now that the nurse was gone. “Are you staying in the metro tonight, Antoinette?”

“I… I’m not sure yet,” I stammered, knowing exactly where she was going with this. “It depends on how Halee does when she wakes up. I’m kind of responsible for her sisters at the moment, too.”

“Yeah,” said Hannah, “I heard that this is the girl whose dad is a hostage up by International Falls. God, that sucks. But listen: if you stay tonight, or any other time you’re down this way and need a place to crash, I’ve got a pretty nice house over in Bloomington. It’s just me and my daughter there, plenty of room.”

With a smile that made her intentions abundantly clear, she stuck out her hand. I shook it… and let her slide the scrap of paper it contained into my palm.

“It was a pleasure to spend time with you, Antoinette,” she said. “I hope we can meet again under happier circumstances.” Tipping me a wink, she left the room.

I slipped the paper into the pocket of my jeans just as Halee’s nurse was returning to the room. She smiled at me, commencing the hourly checks ICU nurses have to perform on their equipment. She took notes on the numbers displayed on the infusion pumps, visually verifying those against the amount of liquid remaining in the bags.

I returned to Halee’s side. She was starting to stir. Then she lifted her hands, stopping suddenly as if something didn’t feel right. Her left hand crossed her body, fingers playing across the IV catheter and attached line in her right forearm. The nurse instantly dropped what she was doing and unpackaged a moist wipe.

I reached out and took the hand that was toying with the IV. She started a little, then relaxed. I squeezed her hand gently. “Halee,” I said, “it’s me, Nettie.” Her mouth moved, soundlessly forming my name.

“Halee,” said the nurse, “my name is Bobbi, and I’m your nurse. You had surgery, and you’re coming out of sedation. Don’t open your eyes yet, and don’t try to talk. Okay, honey?”

Bobbi swabbed gently at Halee’s eyelids with the wipe. “There we go. Now you can open your eyes whenever you’re ready, Halee,” she said. “I’m going to sit you up, and we’ll get you some water. Your throat probably hurts a lot right now. That’s because there was a tube down it.”

Bobbi pushed a button on the side of the bed, and the head began to incline upwards. “If it hurts as we move, just hold your hand up to let us know,” she said. “You got hurt, and your tummy and chest are probably going to be sore.”

Leaving Halee in a semi-reclined position, Bobbi took a large cup of water with a straw through the top from the side of the bed. “Can you open your mouth just a bit, Halee?” Halee’s lips parted, and Bobbi slipped the straw between them. Instinctively she closed her lips around the straw.

“Try to drink a little,” Bobbi advised. Halee sucked some water up through the straw, wincing as she swallowed. But then the cold liquid’s soothing effects took hold, and she drank a little more. Suddenly her eyes flew open. Instantly she closed them again, her left hand flying up to block out the light.

“Nettie,” she croaked in a soft voice. “Are you there?”

“I’m here, Halee,” I said, squeezing her hand. “Just rest and try to drink a little more.”

Halee groped around, found the straw that Bobbi still had positioned near her lips, and stuck it into her mouth. This time she took a longer drink, and it seemed to go down easier. Then her eyes opened again, just slits this time. She blinked a few times, adjusting to the light. Finally the eyes were fully open, if a bit droopy, and they flicked back and forth, taking in me, the nurse, and the room she was in.

Extracting her hand from mine, she felt around on her torso with both hands, coming to rest on the large dressings that covered most of the right side. She looked back up at me, extending her trembling hand. I took it, held it firmly against my chest. Tears were burning my eyelids.

“Nettie, wh-what happened to me?”

The nurse held up a hand before I could speak. “What’s the last thing you remember, Halee?” she asked.

Halee’s eyes seemed to unfocus a little. “Mom. Chelsey had a picture of her. I went to the house…”

“It’s okay,” I assured her. “Don’t try to force it.”

Suddenly those eyes were boring holes in me. “I had a gun. That guy fell, and I picked up his gun. Then I just hurt. All through here.” The hand that wasn’t clutched in mine swept across her torso in a broad gesture. “Nettie… did I get shot?”

“Yes,” I said. Tears were on my cheeks now. “You got shot, but you’re going to be okay. You’re going to heal, Halee. Try not to worry.”

The eyes cast downwards. “I didn’t shoot anybody,” she said in a small voice, “did I?”

“No,” I assured her, “no, you didn’t. You didn’t hurt anyone, Halee.”

Her mouth tightened. “My mom’s a bitch. I hate her.”

“Don’t think about that right now.”

“Nettie…” Her head moved slowly, rising once more to meet my gaze with dawning awareness that all was not as it should be. “Why isn’t my dad here?”

***

The ICU staff kicked me out at five. CT showed some remaining abnormalities in Halee’s gut, meaning another, much less invasive surgery would have to be performed the following day, and unless I was next of kin I wouldn’t be getting anywhere near her until late afternoon at the earliest. I knew some bureaucratic machinations had already taken place to get me the access I’d been granted, and elected not to push my luck.

I’d ended up telling Halee everything that had transpired, knowing she’d learn the truth anyway the moment she saw any news on the big flatscreen mounted to the wall opposite her bed. She blamed herself for her father’s captivity, despite my best efforts to dispel that line of thinking.

Kathryn Wilder’s little party was still holed up in Cabin 505 at Smokey Bear State Park, and completely incommunicado. The authorities had attempted to open a dialog, with no response. I’d texted Terry three times throughout the course of the day, filling him in on Halee’s status, but he had yet to reply.

As I rode the elevator to the highest level of the parking ramp, I dug out the little scrap of paper Hannah had given me. It contained her name and a phone number. I punched the digits into my phone.

She picked up on the second ring. “This is Hannah.”

“Hi,” I said. “This is Antoinette Hastings, we met this morning in ICU.” I took a certain delight in letting my unabbreviated name roll off my tongue.

Her voice went from neutral to sensuous in an instant. “Oh, hi, Antoinette!”

“I just got kicked out of ICU for the night,” I said as I exited the elevator and tried to orient myself, “and I’ve decided to make a run for home.  But I wanted to thank you for the offer. I might take you up on it another time.”

“I understand,” said Hannah. “But I’m wondering: were you planning on getting something to eat on the way out?”

***

I ended up meeting Hannah and her daughter Bethany at a little Italian restaurant in Roseville, conveniently situated on my way out of the metro.

“It’s a three hour drive for you,” Hannah had insisted on the phone, “and I know what an emotional roller coaster you must be on. Let’s get some decent food in you before you head out. My treat.” It simply sounded too good to say no.

Bethany, aged thirteen, was a younger carbon copy of her mother. Red hair, green eyes, and a delightful developing figure. I caught myself staring, and when I looked away, I could see that Hannah had caught me in the act. But she didn’t appear to be upset. In fact, she sported a knowing little grin.

“You don’t look old enough to have a thirteen-year-old,” I told Hannah as we examined our menus.

“Oh, I’m not,” she said with a wry smile. “I had Bethany when I was fifteen.”

“Ah,” I said. “I’m impressed.”

Hannah’s brows disappeared into her hairline. “That’s not a response you get very often when you tell someone you were a teen mom.”

“Well,” I said, “usually the tale of a fifteen-year-old mother is pretty tragic. There are several women with stories like that in my hometown’s trailer park. They’re underemployed, on drugs, and their kids are on track to end up the same way.”

I leaned forward, arms on the table, and lightly placed my fingertips on the back of her hand. “But look at you. You became an anesthesiologist while taking care of a little girl, and now you have a successful career, a beautiful daughter, and a house in Bloomington. I’m impressed.”

Hannah captured the hand that was touching hers and squeezed. “Thank you,” she said.

The sexual tension between Hannah and I was palpable, and it suddenly occurred to me to wonder if it might be making Bethany uncomfortable. A glance to my right dispelled that concern. The girl was staring at me with the corners of her mouth turned up, something akin to hunger in her eyes. I was instantly aroused, yet caught off balance at the same time. What exactly was happening here?

“You sure know how to pick ‘em, Mom,” she said, her voice low and husky. “She’s really cool, and smoking hot.” The girl placed a single finger on my shoulder, then slowly drew it around the outside of my shoulder blade and down my side. I shivered deliciously. The fingertip reached my waist and trailed away, the hand smoothly returning to the table and lifting a water glass to those thin, delicate lips.

Heart pounding, I looked back at Hannah, who was just sitting there placidly, still holding my hand, wearing a sly smile.

“Was I wrong?” she asked.

I was casting about for the best way, some way to answer when the waitress arrived. As we placed our orders, I realized how isolated we were – a back-corner table in this dimly-lit establishment, no other diners nearby. I wondered if Hannah, who seemed friendly with the staff, had arranged it that way on purpose.

“I knew right away you liked women,” Hannah said as soon as the waitress disappeared. “You were looking at me the same way I was looking at you. But I also thought I saw something in the way you were looking at the girl we extubated. Like she’s more to you than just your friend’s daughter. Was I wrong?”

Discomfiture warred with arousal, mixed with a certain sense of relief. Bridgett Ramscone had told me that it would be easy to find kindred spirits in the metro. It appeared I’d already found one when I wasn’t even looking. Nevertheless, I was uncertain how much I ought to reveal.

Perhaps sensing my nervousness, Hannah came to the rescue. “I’m sure I wasn’t wrong,” she said, “but I guess I’ll break the ice. I already knew I was gay by the time I got pregnant with Bethany, but I was still trying to run from it, which included sleeping with half a dozen guys in my high school and not being careful. That’s how I got knocked up.”

She took a sip of iced tea. “Anyway, while I was pregnant my eleven-year-old cousin had a lot of questions about pregnancy, and how you got that way, and all the anatomical stuff that goes along with it. I ended up showing her my lady place, and what all the parts were. It got me so excited that I came.”

Oh, the images that were churning through my head. It was an effort to regulate my breathing.

“It ended with me helping my cousin have her first orgasm,” said Hannah. “We became lovers after that, and I haven’t had sex with a man since. It was the start of me accepting myself for who I am. I’m a lesbian who loves both girls and women. Bethany found out when she caught me with her fourteen-year-old babysitter about four years back. Then two years ago, she told me she’d been trying to have an orgasm, but hadn’t managed it on her own. That was the big turning point in our relationship.”

I was staring at her, mouth agape. I looked from Hannah to Bethany and back again. “So, you two…”

“Uh-huh,” said Bethany, grinning.

I sat back in my chair, chewing the inside of my cheek as I assimilated all of this. I met Hannah’s eyes. “So what exactly did you have in mind when you invited me to your house?”

“Well,” she replied, “I didn’t have any solid expectations. I mean, it was pretty obvious you were devastated over Halee getting shot, plus that whole situation with her dad being a hostage. But at the same time we were obviously attracted to each other, and I thought at the very least I could save you a hotel bill and we could get to know each other a little.”

She smiled a wicked smile. “Or, if you were into it, maybe we could have a little fun to take your mind off things. And if I’d read the situation right with you and Halee, then maybe you’d be interested in getting to know Bethany, too.”

She took another sip of her tea. “I wasn’t wrong, was I?”

I was feeling relaxed now. Actually, a little elated. “No,” I said, “you weren’t wrong. Halee and I are lovers. But we’re not exclusive, and if I didn’t feel like I have to get back to Terry’s other kids, a little fun to take my mind off of things would have been perfect.”

Bethany lightly touched my shoulder. “Would you maybe want to have some fun with me, too?”

I looked at her with a smile. “Definitely. But I have to ask: do you two do this a lot? I mean, Hannah brings someone home, and you both…”

“We do it very seldom,” Hannah broke in. “for obvious reasons. I don’t even hint at it unless I’m pretty sure I’m with someone who’ll be okay with it. Too much risk.”

I realized that Bethany’s fingertips had moved from my shoulder to the back of my neck, and were lightly massaging. I caught her eye, and she smiled at me.

Hannah chuckled. “You’re in trouble, if we ever get you to our house,” she warned me in teasing tones. “Bethany goes nuts for tall women with dark hair.”

Bethany pulled her hand away as the waitress arrived with our food, and talk turned to other things as we enjoyed our wonderful meal. They told me about Bethany’s father, who sounded like the absolute model of the non-custodial parent.

“I was sleeping around so much that we had to do a paternity test to be sure who the dad was,” Hannah admitted. “Ralph took the responsibility seriously from day one, never missed a child support payment even when he was in college and hard-up for cash, and he absolutely dotes on Bethany. He works in another state, but he keeps an apartment up here just for his visitation weekends.”

In my turn, I told them about Terry and his girls, and my strange sort of semi-domestic situation there. My tales of small-town living fascinated and horrified them by turns.

“You seriously can’t buy a cup of coffee before eight AM?!” Hannah sounded flabbergasted.

“Yup,” I replied. “That’s when the cafe and the grocery store open. Our only convenience store closed down last year.”

“So… you don’t even have a gas station?” Bethany sounded confused.

“Oh, we do,” I said. “But it’s really old-fashioned. They do full service, which means an attendant comes out and pumps your gas for you. It’s the only one I know of that’s left. And they’re also a really good auto repair shop; I get all of my work done there. But it’s not a convenience store. They sell candy bars at the counter and have a cooler full of off-brand pop, but that’s it. No groceries, no medicine, no coffee.”

Finally we were standing in the parking lot next to my car. “I like you a lot,” said Hannah. “I know we live a few hours apart, but I’d love to see you again.”

“That goes for me, too,” said Bethany.

“I think you can count on it,” I said with a grin. Hannah approached me boldly, body flowing against mine like a cat. Then our arms were around each other, and then we were kissing. Hannah, as it turns out, is a phenomenal kisser. We were both a bit breathless as we pulled apart.

“God, I wish I could get in on that action.” Bethany sounded more than a little disappointed.

“Not in a public parking lot,” said Hannah with a smile.

“Will you take a hug?” I said, holding my arms wide. The girl settled in, body melding itself against mine in a way that was almost as sexy as her mom’s kiss. It was with great reluctance that I let her go.

“Thanks so much for dinner, and for the company,” I said, taking Hannah’s hand briefly in mine. Then I popped the car door, folded my six-foot frame behind the wheel, and keyed the ignition.

On to Chapter Nineteen!

1

Error happened.

by kinkychic and kinky’s_sis

The next day we were all seated on the verandah enjoying the cool of the early morning when a messenger arrived, asking for Tiny. He passed over a letter.

Tiny called out for Agetha. “The dog basket and some blankets. We’re going to have visitors.” He asked us to come with him and Vusumuzi in the truck, since Susy’s help might be needed. “You have tranquilizer if we need?”

We drove to Susy’s base camp to fetch two baby dik-dik. Tiny explained that someone had brought them to the camp. They’d recently been orphaned when baboons killed their mother.

“A dik-dik… that’s a small deer of some kind, isn’t it?” Susy asked.

“Actually it’s a tiny pygmy antelope,” I told her. “There are quite a few around here but we hardly ever see them, they’re so shy. They won’t last long without a mother. Once we did try to save one, but it didn’t survive. We’ve got to try, though. I’m sure you’ll agree.”

The two tiny animals appeared surprisingly calm. but didn’t look to be very strong. They wouldn’t have been more than ten or twelve inches tall had they been standing.

Susy stepped straight into her vet role. “They can’t be more than a few days old, which in some ways is good,” she said. “They don’t look frightened of us, so I don’t think we’re going to need the Diazepam after all. However, they urgently need to be fed.”

Vusumuzi explained to her that dik-dik didn’t drink water. He didn’t know why, but at that age, all they would take was mother’s milk.

Susy was thinking hard. “There are a number of animals that don’t need water. They get it from the plants they eat. I doubt that cow’s milk is the same as their mother’s, but we don’t have a choice. That’s what we’ll have to give them.”

Tiny rummaged in the bag he carried. “Here, I have these.” He produced two baby milk bottles, sealed in a plastic bag. “I guessed we might need them.”

Grinning hugely, Susy gave his arm a squeeze. “Good job, Tiny!” 

Susy had some milk warmed to blood temperature and filled the two bottles. She passed one to me before kneeling beside one of the two orphans. It immediately took the rubber teat in its mouth and began to suck. I did the same to the other dik-dik and was rewarded with the same result. “Not too much at first,” Susy murmured. “Just enough to give them a little strength. Then we need to get them moved.”

Tiny told us the dog basket was the nearest thing we had to the way their mother would have kept them hidden, safe from predators. Neither animal seemed unsettled when we moved them into the basket, and they snuggled together as we carried them to the truck.

Back at the farm, a short distance from the house, there was a sturdy fenced-off area that my father had set up years ago. At one end was a small building. It only had one door, but there were several hatches for ventilation. Each opening had burglar-proof mesh over it – to keep baboons out when the place was occupied, Tiny explained. To the side was a small porch-like structure with a couple of rickety old chairs, a deal table, and a wooden bed.

Although the place hadn’t been used for some time, it was clean and tidy. Both members of our newly acquired family seemed to be asleep when we placed them in a corner.

“We have to feed them four or five times a day, I’d guess,” said Susy. “Oh, and tomorrow I want to weigh them, so that we can check their progress.”

The three of us fed them twice more that day. By the third feeding, they were used to our presence, and began to expect the bottles.

I was awakened in the middle of the night by Susy. She was getting dressed. “Wait for me,” I said. “I’ll come with you.”

We fed the dik-dik again, then fetched the chairs and sat, watching them snuggle back down. Quite soon, they were fast asleep. Susy took my hand in hers. “It’s too early to be sure, but I think they’re going to be okay. A couple of more days should tell the story.”

***

A week later, Susy had gone back to her unit. She did have a job to do, after all. Spotty and Stripey – our names for the baby dik-dik – were by then walking about when they weren’t sleeping.

“We should leave the door open today, see if they will come outside,” Tiny said to me. Lucy and I sat under the porch and waited. It was ages before a tiny snout poked out, then disappeared. Ten minutes later, two snouts were in the doorway. Then the babies emerged, glancing nervously about. Spotty saw us and came straight over, clearly looking for his bottle. Stripey soon followed.

After they fed, the dik-dik explored the compound. One section had a number of bushes growing there. Together they found a spot inside the largest one and settled down side by side, almost hidden from view. It was exactly what they would have done in the wild.

We knew they couldn’t be left unguarded in the open. There was too much danger from baboons, possibly even cheetahs. We decided to wait until they wanted to feed again, so we could entice them back inside.

Then a young native boy turned up. Tiny had sent him. “My job is to guard dik-dik,” he said, puffing out his chest. “I have my game,” he continued, showing me the pile of polished stones in his hand. The natives play a kind of solitaire with a series of holes dug in the ground.

I told him that we’d be back in a couple of hours. He looked puzzled. “When the sun is about there,” I said pointing to a tree. Then he nodded and grinned.

That evening, Susy returned. “Let’s weigh them again, and see how they’re doing,” she said. The first time we’d tried weighing them, they hadn’t even registered on the scales, which weren’t sensitive enough. It was two days before they did register. Now, a week on, their weight had almost doubled. 

Susy pointed to a small pile of droppings. “Have you noticed? They’re almost house-trained. They only go in two places.”

I had forgotten, but then I remembered Dad telling me about the little piles of scat. “It’s how they mark their territory,” I said. “All of the family go in the same places, sometimes making quite large piles.”

We’d already discussed how long we thought Spotty and Stripey would need milk, and when they would begin to eat from the bushes. “They don’t eat grass,” Vusumuzi had told us. “Only leaves.”

In fact, the very next day, we saw Spotty nibbling at a bush, though he still came for his milk. I knew then that we had succeeded. They were going to be fine. The next question was going to be whether we could let them go back into the wild, or would they always be domestic pets.

***

I checked with Mum first, then asked Agetha if we could stay on a little longer. I told her I wanted to see Spotty and Stripey progress a bit more before we left. A couple of phone calls and our return airline tickets were put on hold.

It was Saturday, and we were expecting Susy sometime after breakfast. Tiny and Lucy were off to the vineyards.

As soon as she arrived, we exchanged kisses, then went to check on our two youngsters. They came straight to us when we were inside the gate. The guard boy, Ngozi, was sitting in the shade, happily playing his game. He was delighted with the fresh supplies we had brought him.

Spotty and Stripey took very little milk. They clearly didn’t really need it anymore. Satisfied that all was fine, Susy and I walked hand in hand back to the house.

“Maddie, I’d like to go to the river today. Would you mind?”

“Brilliant, I’d love to!” 

Under our now familiar tree, we sat and watched the surroundings. I thought Susy was unusually quiet. Finally, I spoke up. “There’s something on your mind, Susy. You want to tell me?”

“Give me a kiss, Maddie, please.” It was a lovely kiss, but felt a little strained.

“Tell me,” I whispered.

She was struggling to find the right words. I could see the worry on her face. “You’ve decided, is that it?”

She took both my hands in hers. “Maddie, I love what we have and what we share together. You’re my best friend, and my lover. Well, you and Lucy. But especially you. It’s just… I can’t commit to a permanent relationship. My work is too demanding. It wouldn’t be fair to you.” She paused, struggling with what to say next.

But I spoke first. “Susy, I understand, you don’t have to say anymore. I don’t know what I expected. But I’ll still be there for you if you just want a friend… or more, sometimes.”

She pulled me to her, squeezing and then kissing me. I fought back my tears, not wanting her to see me cry, or make her feel guilty.

But I came even closer to crying when she said, “I knew you’d understand. No, I don’t want our friendship or anything else to end. It’s just that I can’t put my life aside for anyone right now… not even you. It would make me very happy if you could accept our relationship on those terms.” She sighed heavily. “Oh God, it sounds awful when I put it like that.”

“No, Susy, it’s not awful. Now, how about you stop talking and kiss me.” She didn’t see my clenched knuckles as I fought my tears.

We shared a passionate kiss, then slowly undressed one another. Laying me down in the shade of our tree, Susy began to caress my bare body. 

I gradually felt better as she made the sweetest, most beautiful love to me. It took far longer than usual before I reached a climax. But finally, I was able to forget my sadness and succumb to the rising heat.

Sometime later, when I had returned the favour, we cuddled together. I resisted the temptation to say how much I loved her. For the moment, being in her arms would have to do.

We had showered and were ready for dinner when Tiny and Lucy got home. Lucy has an uncanny way of sensing things. She didn’t push herself on Susy at all. She was surprisingly sweet and friendly. Susy had relaxed. The two glasses of wine she’d drunk no doubt helped.

I was okay, coming to terms with how things were to be. I resolved to be patient, yet clever and cunning. I’d work my way into her heart. She would be mine, or whichever way around it worked.

The weight lifted from my mind, and I smiled as I took her hand. She looked searchingly into my eyes, then nodded. She could see I was content.

***

After dinner we went to visit our little friends, arm in arm, the three of us. “You okay, Maddie?” Susy asked me.

“Never happier, honestly. I’m fine.” And I realised that I was. Everything was going to work out in the end.

Spotty and Stripey skipped about, seemingly content with their lot. We watched them play a while. “Tiny thinks we should open the gates tomorrow and see what they do,” I told Susy.

“Oh God, no. Surely it’s too early?”

“No, the time is right. They’ll decide whether to go or stay. If they go, we can do nothing more. If they stay, they won’t ever have a natural life.”

“Maddie, I know you’re right, but my heart doesn’t want to see them go, to never know what happens to them. I should know better, of course.”

We took the chairs outside of the enclosure and, leaving the gate open, sat and watched. As always, it was Spotty who led the way, his sister trotting behind. At first, they came to us, and I could see that they were skittish at being out in the open. They explored their new freedom for a while, then of their own accord went back inside the enclosure.

When we went to check, they were both inside the hut, snuggled together as always.

For the next two days we repeated the exercise in the early evening, but each time they still returned to the hut. On the third day, they were gone quite a while. I was about to say that I thought they’d left us when they calmly walked up and came back inside.

It was the fourth day when they failed to return. We sat for an hour but there was no sign. Finally, leaving the gate open, Susy and I went home. We both cried along the way.

It was several days later, and the three of us were on the way to the rock. I sensed something was following us but as hard as I looked, I saw nothing. To be honest, I was growing increasingly worried.

We were having a nude swim when I glanced up to the top of the rock. Spotty and Stripey were there, watching us. “Look,” I squealed, “it’s them!” Quickly, we rushed to them, and when we sat down, they sat beside us. 

After a short while, Spotty came and sniffed at each of us before he turned and nudged Stripey with his snout. Then they turned and leaped away. We never saw them again. But I knew they were fine.

That evening, Agetha said. “Is first time we ever know dik-dik survive after try and rescue. Is good, yes? You very clever girls.”

***

We were flying back to England the next day. I would be sad to go. In fact, I’d rather have stayed, but by then, Mum was insisting that Lucy and I come straight home.

Susy was coming to dinner that evening. I felt incredibly nervous, scared of making a fool of myself. I was sitting on the verandah, alone with my thoughts. Then Tiny came and sat down. He passed me a glass of wine. I realised that I was going to miss this wine. I’d actually grown to love it.

Tiny took my hand in his huge paws. “I’m not as stupid as Agetha thinks. I see your suffering and your love. I don’t pretend to understand, but I respect. Let me tell you, little one. Susy does love you, it is clear. Everything will be as you wish, just wait and see.”

I looked at him, astonished. “Tiny, how…”

He stopped me talking. “I see very much but say very little, and I am a good judge of people. You two have love, real love. She will see in time. Be patient. You have all become like the children we never had and we love you as such. The way you love is your choice. I say I don’t really understand but I am old-fashioned and set in my ways. Things are very different today, very strange to me. But respect is also important.”

I squeezed his hand. “Tiny, I don’t know what to say, but thank you for such kind words.”

On the surface, dinner was the usual happy affair. I tried my best to not show my sadness. Tiny stood up, glass in hand. Agetha looked at him. “Tiny, you drink too much. Now sit down, fool.”

He looked at her but didn’t sit. Instead, he raised his glass. “I invite you to drink to family. My lovely wife, Agetha.” She scowled at him but he continued. “Our new daughters, Lucy, Maddie, and Susan. You have made us happy with your presence in our home. A joy. Yes, a joy to watch. Next year you will come again,  we pay. It would make us very happy.” He raised his glass, “To family… our family.”

Agetha was staring at him as if he were a stranger. “Mijn God, first time he speak sense for years.” She looked at each of us. “He right, maybe not so stupid. You will come, you must promise. Is your other home.”

After the table had been cleared, we went to sit on the verandah. Lucy came with us, but Agetha reached to take her hand. “Come, child. Maddie and Susy, they walk now.”

As we exited the house, I turned to Susy. “I want to say goodbye to my dad.”

We stood quiet and still for a while, Susy holding my hand. Then we walked to the now-empty animal enclosure. 

“We leave very early in the morning,” I said. “Are you staying with us tonight, or would you prefer Tiny to run you back?” 

“Of course I want to stay, I have to be here when you leave. Would you stop talking and kiss me, please?”

At bedtime, Lucy climbed into her own bed. Susy and I cuddled and kissed but by some instinctive mutual agreement, neither of us tried to go any further.

Agetha called us at the crack of dawn. Breakfast was ready. It was a sombre affair, except for Lucy being her usual cheery self.

Then it was time to say goodbye. Susy gave Lucy a long hug, then took my hand and led me back to the bedroom. We fell into each other’s arms and I held her tightly as my lips sought hers.

She was kissing my tears away. “Maddie, I’ll see you soon, I promise.”

I made a huge effort to control myself. “I know, I’m just being silly. Come, we have to go.”

They were waiting for me when we emerged. I gave Susy one last hug and then ran to the truck. Tiny barely waited for me to settle myself before he was in gear and moving off.

We all heard Susy yell. “Wait!” Then she was charging towards the truck. Tiny braked as if he’d been expecting it.

She reached up and grabbed my hand. “I love you,” she whispered to me.

I leaned out until our lips met for a fleeting kiss. “I know you do, and I love you too.” We pulled apart and I gave Tiny a nod. “Thank you.”

I turned and stared at her dwindling figure, giving her a last wave as we rounded the corner. Then she was gone. Lucy held my hand – not speaking, just giving me something to cling onto.

On to Chapter Five!

A quick recap of the Story Thus Far: Rural paramedic Nettie Hastings finds herself in the middle of a flurry of unexplained overdose calls and, with the help of her best friend and former lover, Terry Wilder, has begun putting clues together linking the source to her own hometown. Some suspect Terry’s involvement, as his ex-wife is a convicted drug trafficker. A DEA agent named Bridgette Ramscone is brought in to work the case, and she takes a special interest in Nettie who, in the meantime, has entered into a clandestine affair with Terry’s preteen daughter Halee. On this particular evening, Nettie hosts a sleepover with Halee, Halee’s ten-year-old sister Naomi, and the sisters’ good friend Chelsey. Nettie and the girls play a game Truth or Dare that gets very wild. Later, while Nettie is asleep, Halee accidentally discovers that her mother Kathryn (Terry’s ex, the drug trafficker) is in the area, and clearly connected to the recent overdoses. Furious, Halee sets off on her own to confront her mom before Nettie awakens. A horrified Nettie attempts to pursue the girl, but Halee has a good head start.

For a more detailed breakdown of this story’s chapters, please consult the Chapter Links.

by Rachael Yukey

Terry answered the phone on the first ring. “Morning, Nettie,” he said, as my Kia’s engine purred to life, “I was about to call you. Did something go down with Halee this morning?”

“Has she been there?” I asked, backing out of the driveway and onto the street.

“Yeah, about twenty minutes or so ago. She said everything was fine, you guys would be along shortly, and she was going for a bike ride. But everything wasn’t fine. She was about ready to swallow nails and shit a barbwire fence. Who pissed in her…”

“Terry, shut up,” I broke in desperately. “Listen, I’m coming to pick you up. Call my mom and ask her to come watch the kids for you. Tell her from me it’s an emergency.”

“Whoa, Nettie, what’s…”

“Just do it, Terry. I have to make another phone call, and right now.”

I killed the connection. “Hey Siri,” I said, “call Ramscone.”

“Agent Ramscone, DEA.”

“Bridgett,” I said, as I turned onto Terry’s street. “Kathryn Wilder is in the area, and she’s staying at a house on Shadow Lake Road. I can’t remember the fire number off the top of my head. Halee Wilder found out and took off on her bike; I’m pretty sure she’s heading that way now. I’m just now picking up Terry. Can you get some of your people and…”

“No, I can’t,” she said, as I pulled up to the curb. Terry was standing on the porch with an ominous expression, and less than a block away I could see my mom approaching on foot with that hoity-toity walk of hers, like she’s the fucking queen of England or something.

“We were ordered out last night,” Bridgett went on, “and I’m doing an exit debrief with the county sheriff’s department in Johnstown, with all of my agents.”

Terry got into my car, already beginning to speak. I urgently held up a finger.

“Fronse is here too,” she was saying. “Look, I’ll tell the sheriff’s department to dispatch some people, but they probably won’t be there right away. Meanwhile I’ll get moving in that direction. Nettie, listen to me: do NOT approach that property. Do you understand? Those people are dangerous. I have to hang up now and get units moving.” The line went dead.

“Goddamn it,” I growled, dropping the phone into my lap..

“Okay, Nettie, what the hell?” said Terry.

“Your fucking ex,” I said. “Remember that old blue farmhouse just off of Shadow Lake Road where Crabby Drunk Guy used to live, with all the machinery and crap all over the yard? She’s staying there. Chelsey’s mom and aunt are mixed up with her somehow. Halee found out while I was still asleep, and I think she’s heading out there now.”

Terry’s face drained of color. “I assume you were just on the phone with Ramscone?”

“Yeah, but she was ordered out, and she’s got all of her agents in Johnstown for some debrief right now. Fronse, too. She’s going to come, and get the sheriff’s department moving. She said we should stay away until they get there.”

Terry was shaking his head. “The moment Halee gets there, Kathryn will realize she’s been found out. She’ll crawl into a hole, probably never to be seen again, and she might just take Halee with her. Our only shot is to catch up with Halee before any of these things happen. If you want to stay here, that’s fine.” He reached for the door handle.

My gut clenched at the thought of Halee being taken away. “Fuck that,” I told him, shoving the gearshift into drive. I slammed the accelerator to the floor, my gimpy-ass Kia actually laying rubber as we pulled away from the curb.

“How fast do you think Halee could get there on her bike?” I asked him.

“In the mood she’s in? Halee does everything at double speed when she’s pissed, and she’s been working out on the elliptical all winter. Besides, that place is very close to town as the crow flies. She can cut through on the bike trails, assuming she knows the route, and that’ll knock five miles off. If she’s pushing it, she could be almost there by now.”

I punched the accelerator as we headed out of town, kicking it up to ninety on the heavily patched blacktop of County 225. It was mostly cropland, punctuated by old homesteads flashing by on either side. Collapsing barns and outbuildings stood incongruously within fifty yards of modern homes, mostly occupied by people commuting to jobs in town. The remnants of dairyland.

Just a few miles south, I braked hard, forcing Terry to snatch at the OS bar above his window. Tires screeched as I turned onto Shadow Lake Road, almost skating right the fuck into the ditch as asphalt suddenly gave way to macadam. Significantly, Terry didn’t tell me to take it easy, or slow down. Gravel sprayed as I laid into the gas again.

“Grab my phone,” I told Terry, “and pull up Bridgett’s number. It’s in there as Ramscone. Once we have the mailbox in sight, text her the fire number so she knows where to send people.” I felt his hand scrabbling around in my lap, plucking the phone from between my thighs. At the speed I was going, I didn’t dare take my eyes off the road.

After what felt like hours but was really only a few minutes, I was forced to dump some velocity as the road became twisty and hilly. We were almost there. I braked as the driveway came into view, the old mailbox a little worse for wear than the last time I had been here. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Terry stabbing at the screen of my phone.

The rutted driveway was almost a quarter mile long, and in appalling condition, which didn’t jibe with the theory that someone was living out here. Pine trees pressed in on either side. I dimly recalled that there was another entrance to the property from County Twelve, mostly used by the grain farmer who had been renting the cropland for years. I supposed any new residents might be using that.

“Nettie, watch it!” Terry yelled.

Even as he spoke, I was slamming on the brakes, my front bumper coming up just short of a tree that had fallen across the driveway.

“Fuck!” Terry exploded. Both of us were pushing our doors open, scrambling out of the car.

“The homestead is only maybe a hundred yards up,” Terry was saying, neatly vaulting the lower part of the trunk. “Come on.”

I got over it with somewhat less grace, but right on his heels. As he ran, Terry was texting on my phone. “I’m telling Special Agent Perfume Factory to use the County Twelve entrance,” he tossed over his shoulder.

In spite of everything, I smiled. Leave it to Terry to keep his wits about him, doing his best to take the edge off of a tense situation.

As the woods gave way, we slowed to a trot, looking around. The farmyard was the same war zone it had been ever since I’d first responded here, six years gone. Rusted hulks of farm machinery, dead lawnmowers, piles of rotted wood, scrap metal, and general debris. Bizarrely, a water tower reservoir rested on its side on the ground, brought here for some purpose long forgotten. The old hip barn was half-collapsed, as were several other outbuildings. A long, rectangular poultry barn appeared more or less intact, and a few old sheds were still standing. A house stood in the rough center of it all, it’s blue paint chipped and weathered. As we neared the house, we could hear a voice shouting. A familiar voice.

“Mom!” Halee yelled furiously as we approached, rounding the corner of the house into our view. She banged her fist on a windowframe. “Mom! Come out, goddamn it! Mom!”

“Halee!” Terry called out, taking off in her direction at a dead run with me close behind. Halee’s head whipped around. She stood there waiting for us with hands on hips and feet apart. We slowed as we neared her. Halee’s face was red.

“The whole place is locked,” she spat out. “I was just about to break a fucking window.”

Terry hauled up short next to his daughter, pulling her into his arms. I piled in, hugging her from the other side. Terry pressed my phone into my hand.

“You’ll do no such thing, young lady,” he got out,breathless from running. “We’re getting the hell out of here, and right now. Law enforcement is on its way.”

“Are they?” said a female voice from behind us. “Good to know. That means we’ll need you with us to clear out an escape path.”

Disentangling ourselves from Halee, we turned around. Emerging from the open garage door of the old poultry barn was the curly-locked blonde woman, and four men with guns in their hands. Don’t ask me what kind of guns. I grew up rural and can tell you all about deer rifles and shotguns, but one handgun looks like another to me. All I can tell you is that they looked enormous.

I instantly understood how Kathryn Wilder could weave a spell over a person, even a man as bright and self-aware as Terry. From thirty yards away, she had a presence. Fashionable slacks protruded below a long, elegant coat. A scarf that was more an accessory than a neck-warmer looped around her neck. All these things enhanced her appeal, but I knew immediately that this woman would command your attention were she wearing sackcloth.

The five of them approached deliberately, the four men fanning out as they moved forward.

Terry’s face was pure venom. “You unimaginable wretched bitch,” he said.

“Nice to see you, too, Terry. It’s been, what, almost five years?”

Her head turned towards me. “Is this who you’re shacking up with lately? She’s pretty, but Jesus, she’s almost as tall as you are. That must be really strange in the sack.”

She stopped about ten yards from us, and held out her arms. “Halee. My God, I didn’t even recognize you at first. Come to Momma, sweetheart.”

Halee’s face got even redder. The veins in her neck stood out. “People are dead, Mom,” she said. Her voice was low, but vicious. “Kids have been overdosing. Nettie’s dad was killed.” The voice was trembling now, rising in both pitch and volume. “And I heard about what happened at the meat locker. Seven kids tied up in there, and they all would have died if things had gone just a little bit different. You did that!” She was yelling now, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You killed people, Mom! And you tried to kill more than you actually got. Kids I go to school with. Go fuck yourself. Go fuck yourself, you bitch!”

Kathryn’s arms were back at her sides, her appearance still utterly composed. “I never tried to kill anybody,” she said. “We didn’t anticipate the withdrawal symptoms until they actually started to happen, and then we did what we could to ameliorate the effects. When we realized that people were getting too close… and you have your dad’s girly-friend there to thank for that, by the way… we were bringing the kids in to give them some stuff that our chem guy said would help wean them off before we pulled out. Then a couple of them got lippy and threatened to go to the cops. The guy I left in charge panicked, doped them up, and put them in that room. If I’d been there, that wouldn’t have happened.”

“So what about the explosion?” Terry demanded to know.

“I have no idea,” she said, “and I probably never will, because we’ll never get near the place again. Now look.” She glanced one way, and then the other, as if suddenly on the lookout for something.“I don’t have time to play Twenty Questions. We need to move, and the three of you are going to be our safe passage. We have vehicles just over that hill there.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder, indicating a rise. “Start walking in that direction, and don’t do anything cute.”

As we got moving, I found my voice for the first time. “What kind of person uses her daughter as a hostage?” I spat out.

She gave me a sour smile. “Aren’t you adorable. Ever been to prison, honey? It sucks worse than just about anything you can imagine. I’m going back there for decades if I’m caught, and I lost my kids a long time ago, anyway. Don’t worry… I intend to fuck right off the continent as soon as we’re clear of Minnesota. Once we’re there, we’ll let you go.”

As we crested the rise, I could see three Ford Explorers parked at the bottom of a ravine, in what looked for all the world like a graveyard for antique farm equipment. The four men had closed in on us, and were only about ten feet behind, Kathryn bringing up the rear.

“Why here?” Terry asked as we descended the hill. “Why the fuck did you have to bring it out here, where your goddamn kids go to school?”

“Oh, Terry,” she said in a sweet, almost singsong voice. “You gave me the idea. I still can’t figure out what possessed you to move to a nowhere place like this, but I realized it was a perfect location to develop the new product. It’s too out of the way for anyone to notice, and the only active police presence was that moron Fronse. That, and there are certain raw materials we needed that happen to be abundant in the area.”

She let out a bark of laughter. “Then there was you, Terry. You’ve been watched ever since they started investigating me. It wouldn’t be hard to shunt any suspicion your way, maybe even set you up to take the fall if things went wrong. Unfortunately it all went south before I had a chance to arrange that. Too bad, really – I’d love to see how you like being behind bars, lover boy.” That sweetness in Kathryn’s voice now dripped with venom.

We’d reached the bottom of the hill and the waiting SUVs. Kathryn seemed to consider options for a moment.

“Okay,” she said with an air of decision. “We’ll leave one truck behind. Let’s have…”

“DEA! Stay right where you are!” boomed a woman’s voice through a bullhorn. Bridgett. I looked around frantically, trying to make out where the voice was coming from. Before  I could orient myself, rough hands pulled me behind the rusty shell of a combine, a gun suddenly at my temple. We were quickly joined by Kathryn and the remaining three gunmen, two of whom were holding guns on Halee and Terry. Bridgett was still speaking into the bullhorn.

“You are directed to place your weapons on the ground and your hands on your head! You are surrounded by greatly superior numbers. I repeat, weapons on the ground, hands on heads. You have two minutes to comply before we start moving in.”

“Dammit,” muttered the man who was covering Terry. “I knew we shoulda cleared out the moment the fuckin’ locker got hit.”

“And you also understood perfectly well why we couldn’t do that,” Kathryn replied calmly, then raised her voice. “Listen up, DEA. In case you somehow didn’t notice, I’ve got hostages. I want a clear path, and safe passage out of here. We’re going to be driving out in two of these SUVs, and if you interfere in any way, there’ll be one less hostage. Any questions?”

Silence. Kathryn smiled grimly. “I guess they don’t have questions. All right, let’s go. Hostages out front.”

I felt the pistol nudge me in the back, and somehow got my feet moving. I hadn’t realized until this precise moment just how scared I was. Every step was like trudging through quicksand. Terry, Halee, and I walked roughly abreast, me in the middle, guns to our backs. Halee looked pale and afraid; Terry’s face a mask of purest hatred.

Suddenly from my left came a yelp and a curse. My head jerked around in that direction, and I saw Halee’s captor pitching forward, pinwheeling his arms. The lower third of his right leg had disappeared into a hole in the ground. As he passed the fulcrum point there was a snapping sound, he screamed, and the gun in his hand went flying. All of this happened in the barest fraction of a second.

The man hit the ground whimpering, then screaming again as he withdrew his leg from the hole. I saw Halee dive for the ground, coming up with the gun. She turned towards us, handling the weapon gingerly, fear written into every facet of her expression.

“Okay,” she said, her voice trembling with pure terror. “Okay…” she seemed at a loss as to how to proceed. She was slowly backing away, trying and mostly failing to steady the firearm.

One of Kathryn’s men, the one who wasn’t covering Terry or myself, stepped towards her. “Listen here, kid,” he said. “Quit wavin’ that thing around, okay? You’re just as likely to shoot your dad as one of us. You don’t want that, do you? Just put it on the ground, nice and easy.”

The man was still moving, having detached himself a bit from the main group. Halee swung the gun towards him. He made a flinching motion, raised his gun, and fired.

Halee dropped the gun with a hideous scream, a hand flying up to clutch the right side of her chest. Another shot, and the girl fell to her knees, still screaming. Then she pitched forward. It was all happening in a macabre sort of slow-motion before my eyes. Terry yelled “Halee! No, goddamn it!” and was rushing towards her, heedless of the weapons arrayed against him.

“Stop shooting, you idiot!” Kathryn was yelling, all vestiges of her former composure lost. And then my paralysis broke.

“No!” I screamed, breaking into a run. It was only maybe a dozen steps to where Halee lay, and I fell to my knees next to her, Terry at my side. “Oh no; no no no no,” I heard myself saying, but another part of my mind was clinically considering the two exit wounds in her back. One was in the upper right, the blood foamy and pink, a sure sign the bullet had gone straight through a lung. The other was through the right lower side of the abdomen and bleeding profusely.

“Let’s get her on her side,” I said. The voice seemed hardly my own, as if I was merely a spectator. Terry helped me roll her onto her left side, with another pair of hands assisting. Kathryn.

“Get away from her,” Terry spat out at her through clenched teeth.

Kathryn ignored him, her face once again the picture of utter calm. A quick glance up told me that the three of Kathryn’s men who were still functional were standing over us, weapons trained on myself and Terry. Clearly Kathryn had no intention of giving up her hostages.

I tried to move Halee’s clothing aside as best I could, inspecting the entrance wounds. The chest injury presented in almost identical fashion to its counterpart in the rear. The abdominal wound was oozing red blood, but I had some hope that it hadn’t hit anything too important. Halee’s eyes cast around frantically, coming to rest on Terry.

“Daddy,” she moaned. Her breath hitched and gasped, and I watched the foamy pink stuff being sucked into the chest wound, then expelled again.

“Don’t try to talk, Halee,” I said. “Just rest; we’re taking care of you.”

Her eyes flicked to me. She seemed to be having trouble focusing. “Nettie,” she whispered. “Love…”

“Shhh,” I said, putting a finger to her lips. I shrugged out of my jacket, reached around behind her, and pressed the fabric to the exit hole from the abdominal wound. I looked up at Kathryn. “Give Terry your scarf,” I said, “so he can hold pressure on the entrance wound.”

She pulled it free of her neck and handed it to him.

“What about the sucking chest?” Terry asked me as he pressed the scarf against his daughter’s abdomen. His voice was raw and harsh with emotion.

“Is medical attention required?” a voice called out from above. I looked up, and Bridgett was standing just uphill from us on the opposite side of the ravine, not far from the treeline.

“If we don’t get an ambulance out here, she’s going to die,” I called back.

“No ambulance!” one of the gunmen snarled at me.

“I have one of the Bronning rigs staged just over the ridge,” Bridgett called back.

“Kathryn, listen to me,” I said, putting as much urgency into my voice as I could muster. “She has a punctured lung. Hear how she’s breathing? That’s only going to get worse.”

Halee shifted a little on the ground, and suddenly she screamed, hands clutching at her wounded abdomen. The initial shock had worn off, and the pain had arrived. The scream choked off into a fit of agonized hacking. My heart was hammering in my chest. Kathryn Wilder was simply staring at her daughter, face a mask of impassivity.

“Kathryn, please,” I begged. “She needs to go to the hospital, and I need to go with her.”

That, at least, got a reaction. Kathryn flicked her eyes towards me, a sardonic grin curling her lips. “Nice try,” she said. “You’re not the only ambulance driver around here. The crew that came with that truck can take her just fine.”

“No, they can’t,” I shot back. “Without me it’s a basic life support crew, and she needs more than that. She needs a paramedic on the way to the hospital, and I’m the only one within thirty miles. The EMTs on that truck are good, but they can’t do the things that’ll keep her alive.”

“She’s telling the truth, Kathryn,” Terry put in.

I looked down at Halee. Her face was twisted in agony, her breathing increasingly labored. I was starting to get mad.

“Look,” I spat out. “I’m taking Halee to the hospital. And if you have any love left for your daughter, you’ll let us both go.”

I gathered Halee up in my arms, freezing as I heard the sound of a safety being flicked off behind my head. I very nearly lost control of my bladder.

“Just stay still, missy,” one of the men said.

I turned my eyes to Kathryn. Fear warred with determination. “Is this really what you want?” I whispered.

Bridgett’s bullhorn-assisted voice boomed forth. “EMS has been apprised of the situation and is requesting permission to extract the patient. Will you allow it?”

My mind rebelled at the idea of allowing EMS personnel in a hot zone, but I knew that Kathryn would never allow agents or cops to get near, and Halee was dying by inches. Even if I wasn’t permitted to go with her, they could get an intercept coming with an ALS rig from another agency, and there would maybe be a chance. I held eye contact with Kathryn, daring her to look away.

“Fine, send them in,” Kathryn called out suddenly.

“Can I go with her? I really am the only provider nearby that’s qualified for this.”

She threw up her hands. “All right then, go. But Terry stays.”

One of her men rounded on her. “What, are you fucking kidding…”

“Let her go!” Kathryn turned steely eyes on him. He held it for a long moment, then dropped his gaze. “Just keep your guns on Terry. One hostage will be enough. If the cops try anything cute, we shoot him in the leg to prove we mean business.” She gave Terry a thin-lipped smile. “I’ll take care of that myself.”

An ambulance crested the rise, jouncing badly on the rutted path that had been beaten into the long grass by the SUVs. As it neared, I could make out the occupants of the cab: Nate Hauss was driving, with Lori Hendersen in the shotgun seat. Both were volunteers of long standing, and knew what they were doing.

The rig pulled up alongside. Lori slid out of the cab, eyeing the armed men warily. I could see Nate getting out on the other side. Lori’s eyes shifted down to Halee, widening slightly.

“Lori, grab me the ALS bag and the first-in bag, right now,” I said. Frightened for my own life and dying with anguish over Halee though I was, years of habit kicked in, and I took command instantly. Lori spoke not a word, just popped the side door, and trundled her dumpy yet somehow graceful body up the two steps into the box. She emerged a moment later with both bags, dropped them on the ground beside me, and went back for the monitor. Nate was at the back doors, pulling out the cot.

Terry and I tore into the bags. “Occlusive dressings?” he inquired, even as he was ripping one out of its packaging.

“Both front and back on the chest wound,” I replied. I had extracted a set of trauma shears, and was slicing away the jacket and sweater. Terry mopped blood from his daughter’s chest and adhered one of the dressings to the skin, valve over the wound, and then looked in the bag again.

“Fuck,” he spat out, “there’s only one of them. We’ll have to make one.”

“Already on it,” said Nate, who was using shears to cut out a neat square of plastic from the packaging Terry had just ripped open. As the two men worked to secure it to Halee’s back, Terry holding the plastic and Nate taping it down on three sides, Lori was applying large dressings to the still-bleeding abdominal wounds. Me, I was frantically searching for an IV site. Fortunately Halee had good vasculature, and a vein was easy to find.

I fought a momentary battle with myself over the use of a clotting agent. My horseback estimate of Halee’s weight left her right on the cusp of being big enough for it. Then I looked back down at the rapidly-soaking dressings over her abdomen, eerily reminding me of Sam Jensen’s injury only a week ago, and decided to chance it. There wasn’t much hope otherwise. At least with the occlusive dressings preventing her from sucking air into the chest cavity, Halee’s breathing was starting to ease.

“Load her up,” I said. As several pairs of hands lifted Halee from ground to cot, I feverishly dug the clotting agent out of the ALS bag and drew it up. Halee screamed with pain as she was lifted, the first sound she’d uttered in several minutes. Her eyes fell on Terry.

“Daddy, help me,” she moaned. Her voice was phlegmy, and I wondered how much moisture there was in her pipes. Terry tried to move towards the cot she was being strapped to, but a gun to his temple and a muttered, “Uh-uh, buddy boy,” from one of the gunmen brought him up short.

Carrying my loaded syringe, I made for the rig as the cot was shoved into it. “Tell your hired goons to help with the bags,” I tossed over my shoulder to Kathryn.

“What about him?” Lori wanted to know, indicating the man who had broken his leg. I glanced in his direction. He was lying on the ground, clutching his deformed calf, and weeping.

“Fuck him,” I said shortly. “Let’s go.”

The last thing I saw before slamming the side door behind me was Terry. He stood staring at the rig into which his daughter had disappeared, mouth a little slack, tears coursing down his stricken face. It’s an image that’s burned itself into my brain forever.

***

“Just what the hell were you thinking, Nettie?”

I was in the passenger’s seat of Bridgett’s black DEA suburban, situated in the visitor’s parking lot at the Pinewood Memorial Hospital in Johnstown. Halee was at that moment undergoing emergency surgery to get the hemorrhaging under control, after which she’d be transferred to Children’s in Minneapolis. Unless the weather improved, she’d be making the journey by ground with Thormleton. I’d already been on the phone with my boss, asking if I could be allowed to personally oversee the transfer, and Greg Wahlberg had politely but firmly told me to go the fuck home.

Bridgett was eyeballing me over a steaming cup of Starbucks coffee, the question still hanging in the air between us. I took a sip of the coffee she had bought me, mulling over the crazy, fucked-up sequence of events. Kathryn Wilder and her men were currently en route to the Canadian border, Terry still their captive. They were being shadowed, but the hostage situation prevented any direct action.

“We were hoping to get to Halee before she got to Kathryn,” I said at last. “Terry was afraid that she’d disappear and take Halee with her, long before your people made it to the scene.”

Bridgett pursed her lips. “He probably wasn’t wrong about that, but nevertheless you’ve immensely complicated things. Now we have a girl in critical condition, and they still have a hostage.” Her expression softened. “To be fair, it doesn’t sound like she got shot because of anything you or Wilder did. It was just rotten luck.”

I felt a sour smile take hold of my face. “Poor Halee,” I said. “She thought really fast and got hold of the guy’s gun when he dropped it, but then once she had it she didn’t quite seem to know what to do.”

“We can hardly blame her for that,” said Bridgett. “Most adults would have done no better. Nobody is ever really prepared for the reality of having a loaded weapon pointed at them.”

Tears stung my eyelids. “I was so goddamn scared,” I admitted, focusing my gaze on the steam issuing from the drinking orifice in the lid of my coffee cup. “I almost pissed myself at one point.”

Bridgett laid a hand on my forearm. “I got shot at once, during a sting,” she said. “I shit my pants. There’s no shame.”

I sipped more coffee, fighting to keep my emotions in check. Once I was sure I wasn’t about to explode in a fury of weeping, I spoke again. “So what’s the plan now? How are they getting Terry back? Come to think of it, why aren’t you out there directing traffic?”

“Because they’re not even within my regional jurisdiction at this point. I’m still in the loop and part of the operation, but my job is the situation on the ground here. There are still a lot of unanswered questions. According to what you’ve told me, Kathryn stated that there was a reason they stuck around after the locker operation got hit. It might tie into whatever the hell Darren Sanders was doing on that ATV out on Merlin Creek Drive. And the one good thing about this whole shitty turn of events is that I’ve been given some extra time and resources to look for those answers.”

She sipped more coffee. “As for Mr. Wilder, for the moment we just hope Kathryn makes good on her promise to let him go. We don’t have the slightest clue what her exit strategy is, so all we can do is hope that once there’s no longer a hostage, there’ll be a weakness we can see and exploit to prevent her from getting away.”

“Have you questioned Judy and Lisa Milne?”

“They’re both in custody, and they both instantly lawyered up. We’ll probably have to offer them a very good plea deal to get any information. Of course, that also brings up another question. Mr. Wilder’s three younger girls and Chelsey Milne are now at Mr. Wilder’s residence, under the care of your mother. Do we bring the state in for short-term care arrangements, or is there a better option?”

“Chelsey has some other family in the area who might be able to help,” I said. “If not, I can take her for a little while. Terry’s girls, too. There’s no need to get the state involved.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” said Bridgett. “There’ll be a little bit of red tape, but nothing my people can’t handle. Look, I need to get back to Bronning and coordinate a few things. Why don’t you ride back with me?”

“I should be here when Halee comes out of surgery,” I said.

“What for? My understanding is that she’ll be kept under sedation, and transferred to Minneapolis on a vent.”

I sighed, knowing she was right. “Fine,” I said. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

On to Chapter Eighteen!

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