Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

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 has begun putting clues together linking the source to her own hometown. She and her former lover, author Terry Wilder, suspect the involvement of police chief George Fronse, but have no proof to back it up. Meanwhile, she has finally consummated a burning desire for Terry’s preteen daughter.

For a more detailed breakdown of the first eight chapters, please consult the Chapter Links.

by Rachael Yukey

“Goddamn it, I told you not to trust that bastard.” George Fronse’s face was red. I regarded him coolly from my seat at the opposite side of his desk.

I’d awoken from that same stupid fucking dream at around three AM, just barely stifling a scream. Halee, sleeping beside me, had stirred but not awoken. I’d managed to get to the living room before dissolving into tears, and had stayed up until it was time to awaken Halee. I made her breakfast while she showered, and then we made out a little, leaving us both a bit breathless as she departed for school.

After she left, I lay down on the couch and promptly slipped into a restless slumber, only to be thrown out of it by a phone call from George an hour later, asking if I could come right down to his office. And this was how he opened?

“Which bastard did you have in mind?” I said, carefully keeping my voice neutral.

“You know exactly who I mean. Look, the first person you blab to about this is Terry Wilder, and then what happens… one more case just a few hours later, and it all dries up. Not a single case all weekend.”

I put on a shocked expression, clapping both hands to my cheeks. “Oh, no. We went two whole days without any kids going into unexplained, life-threatening distributive shock. Tragic, I tell you.”

George’s face got even redder, a feat I would not have sworn was possible. “Dammit, Nettie, I don’t want more kids getting sick either, but if somebody’s behind this and you just drove them into hiding, we might have lost our chance to catch them.”

By this time, I was pretty sure my own face was getting a little red. “And if you don’t chill out, I’m going to leave. I don’t have to sit here and listen to this.”

George’s eyes widened. He clearly wasn’t used to people telling him what they did or didn’t have to listen to.

“Besides,” I said, “you know as well as I do how supplies work for the better class of street drugs. Out here you only get enough supply for maybe a week or two, everyone goes nuts and ODs on it, and then it’s over for awhile.” It struck me that I’d just had this exact same conversation with Terry the evening before.

“Even if you’re right,” I went on, “and we tipped somebody off, it’s one hell of a leap blaming Terry. I talked to five hospitals, six ambulance services, and the county Sheriff’s department. The Sheriff’s people would have talked to every city police department in the county, and probably the Sheriff’s departments in the neighboring counties. Hundreds of people got clued in on Friday.”

George’s face was still red, every muscle in his jaw tight. “Nettie, I know he’s your boyfriend, or whatever you two are calling it at the moment, but you can’t tell me you don’t have questions. I checked him out when he moved to town, you know. Has he told you that his ex-wife has been to prison on drug trafficking charges and an attempted homicide, and is barred from seeing the kids unsupervised? That she hasn’t seen the kids in over four years? And then there’s his career… best-selling novels, and major film producers fight over the chance to work with him. He gave that all up, and for what? Bronning? The guy is worth a fortune, makes over half a million a year in royalties, but he’s living in a house that’s like a hundred and fifty years old and drives either that old shitkicker pickup, or a Chevy crossover if he’s got his kids along. It doesn’t make sense, Nettie. Nothing about him makes sense.”

George’s words came out in a rapid-fire rush, leaving me with the feeling that he’d been dying to say this to somebody for a good long time.

“George,” I said, trying for a conciliatory tone, “are you listening to yourself? Terry’s barely been in town for four years, he’s already the single most active ambulance volunteer we have, and you’re practically accusing him of being a drug kingpin.” I ran a tired hand across my face.

“Look, even if you’re right, it wouldn’t have mattered. He’s on the damn ambulance squad; there’s no way I could have gotten the word out without him hearing about it.”

He was fiddling with a pencil. “Maybe getting the word out at all was a mistake.”

I folded my hands in my lap, leaned back, and stared at him for a long moment. “Please tell me you’re kidding. This is crazy dangerous stuff, George. I almost lost Samantha Jensen. And you’re telling me I should have kept it to myself? What the fuck?”

“A lot more people will be at risk if whoever’s behind this isn’t caught.”

I sighed. “If there’s even anybody behind it. Did you just call me here to throw accusations around, or was there something you needed?”

George opened his mouth, closed it again, and rapped his knuckles on the desk a few times. Holy crap, he’s totally on edge.

“Look,” he said at last, “you did a really good job of putting some clues together and coming to a conclusion last week. I was wondering if you’ve seen or heard anything since then that we can add to it.”

I had, of course, but I was damned at this point if I’d to breathe a word to George about the place Halee called the locker. “Nothing comes to mind,” I said. “Anything else?”

“If you do think of anything, I’d appreciate it if you come to me and no one else.”

“I can’t promise that.” I pushed myself out of the chair. “You can play cloak and dagger games if you want, but my patients come first.”

George reddened again. “On your own head be it. At least clue me in as soon as possible.”

I shrugged, turned on my heel, and left the office.

Zipping my coat as I stepped out into the chill morning air, I tried to still the turmoil in my mind. I set off for my apartment building, doubt and indecision swirling through me like a cyclone. Reviewing what I knew about Terry, I reluctantly acknowledged there were huge gaps. Outside of generalizations about his work, Terry never talked about the past. I don’t even know where he grew up.

It wasn’t exactly news to me that Terry was loaded. Neither his house nor his vehicles were new, but there were telltale clues like the expensive booze, the jacuzzi in the big bathroom, and his kids getting the best of everything. I hadn’t known about the royalty income, but it explained a lot; not even Terry’s kids seemed clear on what he did for money. So what DOES he do for hours on end in his office?

I realized with a start that my apartment building was less than a block away; in my musings I’d lost all sense of space and time. I shook my head to clear it.

“Nettie!” a voice called out. “Hey, Nettie!”

Looking to my left, I saw Lori Henderson in her yard, setting potted plants out in the sun. Lori, a heavyset divorced woman with graying hair and four children, is second only to Terry when it comes to putting in on-call volunteer hours for Bronning Ambulance.

Right then, I would have preferred to be left alone, but I diverted course, crossing the street and stepping gingerly into the slowly greening grass of Lori’s sizable yard. Out here at the edge of town, the houses are spread pretty far apart.

“Hi Lori,” I said. “What’s up?”

“Can you believe Robbie’s retiring?”

I shrugged. “It had to happen sooner or later.”

“Well, sure.” Lori extracted some more pots from her tray of plants. “But I think we all expected a little more notice.”

Saying nothing, I grabbed a couple of the pots and placed them in the sun next to the others Lori had already laid out.

“Thanks, dear, but you don’t have to do that,” said Lori. “I just wanted to talk to you about picks for the new ambulance director. I’m on the committee for that, you know.”

I continued transferring pots from the tray to the grass. “Honestly, I haven’t thought much about it, Lori. I think everyone always assumed that it’d eventually be either you or Nate.”

Lori gave a high-pitched little laugh. “Honey, I’m raising four kids by myself, I work forty hours a week, and I’m on the city council. I don’t have near enough time. As for Nate, he doesn’t want the job. I’m guessing you don’t, either, or you’d have spoken up by now.” She paused. “We were thinking about talking to Terry Wilder.”

I blinked in surprise. “Terry?”

“Think about it, dear. Robbie’s been the director for going on thirty years. No matter who we get, the transition is going to be a little bumpy, don’t you think? We need someone who’s a good organizer, and knows how to work with people. Think about all of the other EMTs on the squad. Is there anyone else that wouldn’t just be a disaster?”

I considered for a moment. Lori had a point, but still…

“That’s not going to sit very well with some people,” I said. “Terry’s still new in town, and he’s only been on the squad three years.”

“Oh, I know. But everybody likes him, and he’s smart as a whip. So far the only person who’s applied is Stacy. Now, how good a job do you think she’s going to do?”

I made a face. “Oh, God.”

“Exactly. You know Terry better than the rest of us. Can you ask him if he’d be interested?”

I dusted a bit of potting soil from my hands. “I don’t expect he’ll say yes, but I’ll talk to him.”

“That’s all I ask, dear.”

I cut across Lori’s lawn, arriving less than a minute later on the front steps of my apartment building. My mind was churning even worse than before. Stop it… you know Terry. George is full of shit. Even he probably knows it. 

But is he? And do you really know Terry as well as you think?

I pulled the glass door about halfway open, then released the handle, letting it slip back closed. Turning around, I set off across town again. Towards Terry’s house.

***

When Terry answered the door, his hair was tousled and his eyes puffy. He was wearing a pair of old sweats and a t-shirt.

“I can come back,” I said.

“Naw,” he said, waving me in, “I stayed up later than I expected to last night, is all. After I shoved the kids out the door this morning, I lay back down for a bit.”

I almost asked him what had kept him up, but decided that way lay madness. I really didn’t want to know who he might be fucking.

“Are you on call?” he inquired.

“No,” I said as I followed him into the kitchen, “but if you’re about to offer me a drink, let’s not. I’m going to try to mostly stay sober at home until this overdose thing is over. If I drink, I can’t hop on for calls.”

Terry was taking two mugs from the cupboard.

“A little caffeine, then?” he suggested.

“That I’ll take.”

Settling onto the living room couch with my coffee, I tried to organize my tangled thoughts. Terry eased into his recliner, regarding me over the top of his steaming mug.

“What’s up?” he said at last.

So much, I thought. My mind was a jumbled disaster. I wanted to hold him, I wanted to scream at him, I wanted to fuck him, I wanted to never see him again. There were so many things I wanted to say. I chose the simplest.

“Lori wanted me to ask if you’d be interested in the ambulance director’s job,” I said.

Terry set his coffee down. “Run that by me again?”

I shrugged, finding myself in the awkward position of arguing in favor of something I wasn’t entirely sold on myself.

“It’s a weird situation,” I said. “Robbie was one of the first people in town to get his EMT after the state mandated licensed providers for medical transport, way back in the seventies. He’s been with Bronning Ambulance literally since it became a thing. Did you know there were only four of them, at first? Their jobs let them be on call at work, and they did heel-and-toe twenty-four-hour shifts. They were on literally half the time.”

“Jesus,” said Terry. “And we bitch about the amount of on-call time we’re doing.”

“Right,” I said. “And Robbie is only the second director. He’s had that job for over thirty years. I think we all just kind of liked to pretend that he’d never leave, but if it crossed our minds at all, we figured either Lori or Nate would eventually take his place. They’ve both been on the squad for a long time, and they’re really active. But it turns out Nate doesn’t want it, and Lori’s got too much on her plate. The only person who’s submitted an application so far has been Stacy.”

Terry rolled his eyes. “Fuck that up one side and down the other,” he said. “I understand why nobody wants her to get the job. But why me?”

“For somebody who thinks she’s an idiot, you sure don’t mind pinning her to the sheets,” I said.

Terry raised his eyebrows, but let the comment pass. He simply sipped at his coffee, waiting me out. I glanced down at my hands, then forced myself to meet his eyes.

“You’re really good with people,” I said at last. “And you’re organized. I remember when you came in to practice skills for your EMT class, and you had all of your notes in that neat little binder, sorted by topic. They’re looking for someone who can smooth over arguments and problems, keep people working as a team, and who’ll get the paperwork done. I think the ambulance committee figures you check those boxes.”

Terry considered that as he sipped more coffee.

“Still,” he said, “I’ve only been here a few years, and I know how things are in a town this size. People still refer to this house as the Jensen place, and even in ten years it will most likely have failed to become the Wilder residence. I’m the new guy in town, and that won’t change for a long time. My presence as head of the ambulance squad would probably cause some friction all by itself. Nate may not want the gig, but I can tell you right now he’ll be less than enthused if it goes to me.”

I shrugged. “Probably. Look, I’m not arguing for or against it, Terry. I’m just relaying the message.”

Terry nodded slowly. “Fair enough,” he said. “I’ll give Lori a phone call later today. I’m not sure I want the damn job, but if people really think I’m the right man I’ll at least give it some thought. Is that what you came here to discuss?” His eyes said that he knew damn well it wasn’t.

I nursed my coffee, pondering. Terry and I had our problems, it was true, but he’d never given me reason to distrust him. I cursed myself for letting George’s rantings make me paranoid. If only I wasn’t so goddamn tired.

“I saw George right before I came here,” I said.

“Yeah?”

“He seemed really on edge. And he has the idea that if I hadn’t talked to you, the cases wouldn’t have stopped.”

Terry stared at me, openmouthed. I had to suppress a grin. He’s usually so damned imperturbable that I took a certain underhanded pleasure at seeing him rendered speechless. It took him a few seconds to find his voice.

“Are you seriously trying to tell me that he considers me a suspect? I knew he didn’t like me, but…”

His voice trailed off. I sighed, weighing how much I ought to say. In for a penny, in for a pound, I decided.

“I don’t think it’s a matter of dislike,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “But let’s be honest, Terry. You’re kind of a mystery. Everyone knows you had this amazing career before you came to Bronning, and they wonder why you gave it up. And where your kids’ mom is. You’ve never even told me that stuff. Plus, George checked you out, when you first came here. He spilled it all to me this morning. I got the feeling he’d been wanting to get it off his chest for a while.”

Terry leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin. His eyes were boring holes through my skull. It was everything I could do to avoid looking away.

“Spilled what, exactly?” he asked in a low, serious tone.

I bit my lip. “He says you’re rich… worth millions, and that you still get a significant income in royalties. Which seems weird, considering that you live in this old house and drive that old pickup. He says that your ex has been to prison, and that she can’t see the kids unsupervised.”

Terry was watching me impassively. “I’m not surprised that he went digging.” he said. “Most small-town cops would probably have done the same thing. As for the rest…”

Pushing himself out of his chair, he crossed the room in a few swift strides. Gazing out the window, he went on.

“I haven’t told you or anyone else very much about my past,” he said, “because I wanted the nearest thing possible to a fresh start. For all that I was successful in California, my life was very much akin to a breakneck runaway freight train over which I exerted limited control, at best. I wanted to slow down, regain some perspective, and stop devoting more time to my career than I gave to my children.”

He turned from the window, and came over to sit beside me on the couch. He put his hand on my knee. I hesitated a moment, then placed my hand over his and squeezed.

“You must have been aware, on some level, that I’m financially well-off,” he said. “Certainly you’ve spent enough time here to read the signs. I have assets parked all over the place, and even lacking that, you don’t want to know what I get in quarterly royalties. With those alone I could buy half of Bronning, and the half worth buying at that. I try to avoid calling undue attention to it.”

“What about your wife?”

Terry shrugged. “I met Kathryn at a very posh event that she was hosting. I’d just had one of my books picked up by a major film company for the first time, which took me from Chevy to Mercedes overnight. The producer invited me to this thing, and I was just bowled over by how expensive and larger-than-life everything was, especially our charming and beautiful hostess.”

He smiled a little at the memory. “Christ knows what she saw in me; she obviously had money and I was still living in a studio apartment in the worst part of LA. But we were a thing by the end of the week. There was a heat between us of sufficient intensity to peel paint. The movie took off… well, you know that, it was The Angira Conspiracy. I went from dirt poor to modestly wealthy in a matter of months. Anyway, long story short, we ended up married before the year was out.”

He hesitated, and I squeezed his hand as I sipped at my coffee. This was a story I’d been waiting three years to hear.

“Anyway,” he went on, “she told me her money came from investments, and I guess I believed that, because she did have a fair chunk of change in the markets, and it was all yielding very nice returns. As it turns out, the money she had to invest in the first place was from her position as the lynchpin of an international heroin smuggling operation. Like, tens of millions of dollars a year worth of product moved. And she kept on with it, right under my goddamn nose, for the entirety of our marriage.”

“God,” I said. “That sucks. Do the kids know?”

“Halee knows everything. Naomi knows some. Dawn is vaguely aware that her mom has been to prison, and Maya… I don’t think she has a clue. Of course, Maya has no memory of her mother, and Dawn’s is hazy at best.”

“How did it end?”

“She got caught,” he said simply. “I was on location on an island just off of South America; I’d flown down there to do some hasty rewrites on a couple of movie scenes. The kids were at home with the nanny, and Kathryn was ambushed by federal agents along with several of her compatriots in the middle of finalizing a deal. To make matters even more exciting, she had a gun in her purse, and took a shot at one of the agents.”

“Is that when you stopped writing for Hollywood?” I said.

“I could hardly continue at the pace I’d been going as a single father,” he said, “especially considering that I was long past any point of needing the money. Kathryn copped a plea to tip over some other people that had been on international wanted lists for years, and got the mandatory minimum instead of the fifteen years or so she’d otherwise have been slapped with. All the same, she went to prison, and I got custody without breaking a sweat. She hasn’t seen the girls since.

“Even if I wasn’t willing… which I am… part of the conditions for my moving out of state with the kids was a court order mandating that I make them available for supervised visitation at regular intervals, in a place where Kathryn’s probation allows her to go. She has yet to take advantage of it, despite the fact that we go to California twice a year so the kids can visit their relatives on her side of the family. I’ve reached out to her every time we’ve gone to Cali, with no response.”

I realized that we had shifted, and were sitting close enough now that our bodies were touching. We were still holding hands.

I was trying to think what would be the right thing to say, when I was saved by his ringtone.

“This is Terry,” he said. I could hear a female voice on the other end, but couldn’t make out anything it said.

“With what symptoms?” he inquired. More chirping on the other end.

“All right,” he said. “I’ll be there to pick her up in a few minutes.” Another pause. “No, not at all. She gets the benefit of the doubt. I’ll be right there.” He signed off.

“Halee is at the nurse’s office at school,” he said, rising to his feet. “She’s complaining of nausea and chills. The nurse says her color is good and she’s not running a fever, and suspects that it’s an act. I’m going to run over and pick her up.”

Terry was already going for the foyer. I got up and followed, with a funny little lurch in my stomach.

“Do you think it’s an act?” I said.

“I don’t know,” said Terry, seating himself on the bench and tugging his shoes on. “How did she seem this morning at your place?”

“Fine,” I said. “Unusually cheerful, if anything.” It was true enough, even if I wasn’t about to tell him why. 

Terry nodded as he tied a shoelace. “That aside,” he said, “Halee almost never gets sick. Nor is she one to play hooky, or duck any sort of responsibility. If she’s trying to get herself out of school, there’s a reason.”

I sat down next to him on the bench, and reached for my sneakers. “I’ll go with you.”

***

I waited in the passenger’s seat of Terry’s Chevrolet crossover while he ran into the school to fetch his daughter. A feeling of dread I couldn’t define settled over me like a shroud.

It was only a few minutes before Terry strode from the building with Halee close on his heels, flinching a little as she stepped into the chill wind. Terry was carrying her backpack.

“Dad,” Halee said from the back seat, after we had pulled away from the curb. There was a frantic sort of urgency to her voice.

“I know,” said Terry. “You’re not sick. What test did you fail to study for? And what hell shall I rain down upon you for playing sick to get out of it?”

By his tone it was obvious that he was pulling Halee’s leg, but for once I didn’t find him amusing.

“Dad,” said Halee desperately. “You’re not funny. Listen to me. Something’s going on. There’s like six or seven high school kids that are out sick today, and most of them are names I put on that list for you last night.”

Terry signaled left and rounded the corner onto his street. His house is only a few blocks from the school, and we were there before a minute had passed.

“Are you sure they were called in as being sick?” he asked, as he pulled up to the curb.

“Yes! I heard them talking about it when I was walking past the office. Ms. Coombs was saying there must be some bug going around or something.”

Terry put the car in park, but left the engine running. His eyes met mine.

“What do you think?” he said.

I pondered for a moment. “All of those kids live in the service area,” I replied slowly. “If any of them had gone to the hospital by ambulance, we’d both know about it.”

Terry nodded slowly. “True. Which begs the question: where the hell are they, exactly? Are they all at home? That would be the first thing to determine, and it’d look pretty damn peculiar if you and I just started walking around banging on doors looking for allegedly ill teenagers.”

“Dad, what do you think is happening?” Halee put in from the back seat.

Terry twisted around and looked his daughter in the eye.

“I have no idea, kiddo,” he said. “That’s what we’re trying to sort out, and you’re not going to be here for it. I want you to go in the house, and stay there. Everyone thinks you’re sick, remember? I don’t even want you taking Lanie for any walks. I’ll take care of that when I get back.”

“Back from where?” the girl pressed.

“Damned if I know,” he replied. “Listen, Halee… one thing. I want you to really think. Any conversations you’ve heard about this place called the locker. Can you think of anything anyone has said about it, other than what we already know? Anything that might give us an idea where or what it is?”

Halee leaned her head against her seat and closed her eyes. Then she opened them again.

“I don’t think it’s very far,” she said. “I’ve heard kids from town talk about walking there. And…” she hesitated, closing her eyes again for a moment. “All I can think of was hearing somebody talk about things hanging from hooks. And something about cows. I’m not even sure it’s related.”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. There was something tickling at the back of my mind, just brushing the edges of my consciousness.

“All right,” Terry was saying to Halee. “Listen… I’m proud of you. You did exactly the right thing today. Now, in the house with you. I’ll walk that mange-ridden beast of yours when I get back.”

“Just for that, I’m going to brush her on your bed,” said Halee. There was a smile playing about her lips, and I was relieved to see the tension come down a notch. Halee slid out of the car, shouldered her backpack, and trudged up the walk.

After the front door had closed behind the girl, I turned back to Terry, still racking my mind for whatever secret it held.

“Hooks and cows,” he mused.

“I feel like it means something,” I said, “but I can’t quite figure out what. You know, like when there’s a word on the tip of your tongue but you can’t quite remember what it is?”

“Yeah,” said Terry, “but if it doesn’t come to you pretty damn quickly, there’s only one immediate place to go. George Fronse’s office. Somebody needs to verify whether those kids are at home or not, and it can’t be us.”

I saw motion through the windshield out of the corner of my eye, and glanced towards it just in time to see a City of Bronning patrol car round the corner and accelerate towards us.

“Speak of the devil,” said Terry. The cruiser drove the half block to where we were parked, then pulled in alongside. The driver’s-side window slid down, and Terry thumbed the window button on his armrest. He and George Fronse stared at each other through their open windows, mere feet apart.

“I was about to call you, Nettie,” said Fronse without preamble. “But then I saw you here in the car. Listen…” he hesitated, eyeing Terry with overt suspicion. He sighed heavily.

“A bunch of kids are out sick at the high school, and somebody out on the north edge of town called in and said he saw a group of teenagers walking up Pine Point Road. I did a little discreet checking, and none of those “sick” teens are where they’re supposed to be. So I drove out along Pine Point, and I didn’t find anyone. Did you hear me page fire out for a search?”

I winced, mentally kicking myself. “No,” I said. “We’ve got our pagers, but not our radios. The pagers don’t get the fire dispatches.”

George dismissed this with a wave of his hand. “We’re going to start searching all those little back trails, and the woods if we have to,” he said. “Quietly for the moment; I haven’t alerted the general public. But I have called in some help from the Sheriff’s Department.”

“Do you want an ambulance staged for it?” Terry broke in.

George looked right past Terry. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you, Nettie. I’d like to get an ambulance in the vicinity, and I’d prefer not to officially page it out just yet. Besides, I don’t want to use the on-call crew. I was hoping you’d be willing to find a partner and stage with the B rig at the Lake Randall boat ramp out on Pine Point.”

“Is that where you’re putting your command post?” I wanted to know.

“That’s right,” he said. “The fire department is staging there now. I have to go brief them, and get things moving. Will you help?”

I touched Terry’s arm. “You up for it?”

“Let’s do it,” he said easily.

George’s face gave eloquent testimony to exactly what he thought of Terry’s participation, but he didn’t give voice to his thoughts.

“Then I’ll see you at the CP,” he said, and quickly pulled away.

***

As the ambulance garage door closed behind us, Terry set the rig’s radio to the city channel and spoke into the mic.

“On-call crew and anyone else with their ears on, be advised: Rig Two will be participating in an activity with Fire and Law Enforcement on Pine Point Road, with an ALS crew. We are still in service, so we will be available to take calls if Rig One goes out.”

“On-call copies,” Nate Hauss’ voice came back.

Terry nudged the accelerator, easing the rig off of the concrete apron and onto the street.

“I don’t know the back roads north of town all that well,” he told me. “What’s out there?”

“Not much,” I said. “It’s hilly, so most of it never got cleared for farmland. The sewage treatment lagoon is set up in just about the only large flat area, about half a mile northwest of town. Then there’s this valley where they used to do open-air cattle auctions. The auction pit is still there; mostly old bleachers that’d probably give you tetanus if you looked at them from twenty feet away. The only building still standing down there is…”

I broke off, realization flooding into my mind.

“Oh, my God, Terry,” I said in a whisper.

“What?”

“The old meat locker. It’s been closed down since before I was born, but it’s a brick building with steel supports so it’ll probably still be standing when time stops. It’s…”

“The locker,” Terry said, cutting me off. “Goddamn it. Hooks from the ceiling. Cows. They’ve been going to this closed-down meat locker.”

I was furious with myself. “Jesus Christ, Terry,” I fumed. “I should have seen it.”

Terry slowed, signaled, and eased the rig onto the narrow gravel of Pine Point Road. “Give yourself a break,” he said. “Have you ever been out there?”

“Kids used to hang out over there during the summer and drink,” I said. “I was there two or three times. Nobody ever got into the building that I know of; it was secured pretty well. No windows to speak of, and the doors had big iron bars holding them shut. Somebody got hurt in the auction pit the summer before my senior year, and the cops started keeping a closer eye on the place. My understanding is that people stopped going.”

Terry shook his head. We crested a rise, and were treated to a spectacular view of Lake Randall. The ice had broken and the center of the lake was clear, but it was still iced over all the way around up to about fifty yards from the shore. About a mile distant we could see the boat ramp, with Fronse’s command post trailer already set up, a number of fire/rescue vehicles and ATVs, and a milling crowd that looked to be pretty much the entirety of Bronning’s volunteer fire department. As the road dipped again, the trees blocked our view of the lake and the ramp.

“Cops only stay vigilant about such things for so long,” said Terry. “That was what… eight years ago? I’d bet they’re not watching so closely now. Who the hell knows what goes on down there?”

He plucked the mic from its clip. “EMS to law enforcement on the city channel.”

“Fronse here.”

“We have some new information, George. Don’t dispatch any search parties yet. We’ll be arriving at the CP in about two minutes, and will relay it in person.”

George was standing outside of his command trailer when we reached the boat ramp, and he waved us over to the vacant spot next to it. Two county sheriff’s deputies were with him, and another county cruiser was pulling in. Terry brought the ambulance to a halt alongside George and rolled down his window.

“I was about to get people moving,” George said shortly. “What have you got?”

“We have some reason to believe that those kids might be heading for the old meat locker,” said Terry.

“What… the meat locker?” George’s eyes were disbelieving, then suspicious. “I’m surprised you even know about that place, Terry.”

“I didn’t, until a few minutes ago,” he said. “Nettie told me about it. But long story very short: we think that’d be the first place to check, and with all hands on deck.”

“What the hell makes you think they’re going there?”

“I repeat, it’s a long story,” said Terry. “Right now we can teach, or we can do. What’s your pleasure?”

George’s eyes narrowed to slits. “All right. We’ll get everyone headed in that direction. Do you guys know how to get there?”

I saw Terry’s thin smile at George’s transparent attempt to trap him into admitting knowledge of the location. He turned to me.

“You’ve been there before,” he said. “Can you find it?”

“The times I was there, we cut through the woods,” I replied. “By road, I’m not sure.”

“More like trails than roads,” said George, “but it’s just barely dry enough that we should be all right.”

“We’ll follow someone, George,” said Terry. “It’d be kind of stupid for EMS to be first in, anyway.”

Fronse nodded and turned to go, but then a thought struck me.

“George,” I said. He turned back to us. “I…” the words stuck in my throat. I shook my head and tried again. “I think you should page both rigs out for this,” I said.

George’s eyebrows went up. “Take both trucks out of service when there aren’t even any patients yet?” he said incredulously. “Come on, Nettie, stop holding out on me. What do you know?”

“I don’t know anything,” I shot back. “Not for sure. For fuck’s sake, George. You’ve known me my whole life. I’ve single-handedly kept two people close to you from dying. Do you trust me, or not?”

George held my gaze for a long moment. Slowly his hand moved to the collar mic attachment for his belt radio.

“Franklin County, this is Bronning PD one. I need EMS paged out; two ambulances to stage in the area of 55242, County Road Two.” The whole time he was speaking, his gaze never wavered from my face. Now he turned his attention to Terry.

“You know how to get to County Two?”

“Vaguely,” said Terry, “but I’ve got Nettie here to navigate. We’ll be good.”

The pager chimed. “Bronning ambulance rigs one and two, your call to stage near 55242, County Road Two is at 10:23. You’ll be assisting law enforcement from that point.”

“Rig Two copies,” said Terry into the mic.

“Rig One copies,” came Nate’s voice.

“All right,” said George. “There was gravel leading down to the old auction yards a long time ago, but it’s pretty grown over now. Last time I was out there you could still get a cruiser down it if you were careful, but that’s been five years or better. If you go to that address on County Two, there’s a field approach you can pull into while we go down and get a look. If the road is passable, and the scene looks secure enough, we’ll signal you down. The first thing you’ll come to when you enter the valley is the auction pit. Use that as your cold zone while we approach the building. If it looks like the cold zone might turn warm, I’ll give you the word to retreat.”

Terry and I both nodded; this is standard procedure. EMS personnel are never to risk our necks under any circumstances. Providers who became patients can’t help anybody and tie up resources.

George turned away, and Terry rolled up his window, put the truck into gear, and pulled out.

On to Chapter Ten!

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 has begun putting clues together linking the source to her own hometown. She and her former lover, author Terry Wilder, suspect the involvement of police chief George Fronse, but have no proof to back it up. Meanwhile, she has finally consummated a burning desire for Terry’s preteen daughter.

For a more detailed breakdown of the first seven chapters, please consult the Chapter Links.

***

by Rachael Yukey

“Are you sure about this, Nettie?” Terry’s tone was heavy with skepticism.

Seated on the couch in his living room, I could hear him in the kitchen, removing a bottle from the selection of fine whiskeys he stored in his liquor cabinet. Glasses clinked, and there was a gurgling sound as he poured.

“What’s the poison of the evening?” I asked.

“This,” he said in reverent tones, “is a twenty-five year old Glenfarclas, and it will restore life to the dead, if administered within a reasonable length of time.”

“Seriously, though,” he went on, returning to our main topic as he crossed through the dining area and into the living room, a drink in each hand, “how does this even make sense? Eight cases in a week, one more goes to Jordan Friday afternoon, and then bupkis for the rest of the weekend? How the hell does that work?”

He handed me a glass, then sat. “Cheers,” he said, raising his.

I clinked glasses with him, and took a sip. “Holy shit.”

He sipped his own drink, then smiled. “Umm hmm.”

“You just ruined me, you bastard. I’ll never be able to buy budget Scotch again.”

It was Sunday evening, and I’d just arrived back in Bronning following my weekend tour at Thormleton. I was still wearing my work polo, and tactical pants stuffed with supplies. I’d spent the whole weekend at work, picking up a Saturday nightshift to make up for a lack of personnel. For the entire thirty-six hours, if I hadn’t been with a patient, my mind had been on my Friday evening tryst with Halee, and my body was a hot steaming mess.

My mind wasn’t in a much better state. Guilt and shame were directly at war with elation. One minute I was proud to have made Halee’s first experience with a partner a happy one, the next I was wracked with remorse at having violated a child. Yet even in the most profound depths of contrition, little gears were whirring, planning our next meeting. I knew I had lost. Even sitting here in front of the man whose trust I’d breached, I wondered where in the house she was, and how I could spirit her back to my place.

With an effort, I wrenched myself back to the matter at hand. “The fall-off in cases isn’t as weird as you think it is,” I said. “It’s a pretty normal pattern, at least out here in the middle of nowhere. There’s always meth and weed floating around, but we don’t get the steady stream of higher-end narcotics like they do in the metro. We talked about this last week, remember?”

Terry nodded, idly swirling his drink around in the glass.

“Anyway,” I went on, “a new supply of heroin or whatever comes in, we get hammered with overdose calls, and then it goes away until the next batch shows up. It’s not so strange.” I took another sip of my life-restoring drink.

Terry sipped at his own, looked away for a moment, and then met my eyes again. “You don’t find it oddly coincidental that we told a whole slew of people what you’d noticed, and it suddenly went away?”

“You’re the one who just used the word ‘coincidental’. Just because something happened before–”

“I know, I know,” he broke in. “It’s the classic fallacy: post hoc, ergo propter hoc. I get that. I still think this is one hell of a coincidence. And I’ve officially ceased to trust George Fronse.”

“Why?” said a voice from the bathroom. Both my head and Terry’s jerked around in unison.

Halee stood there framed in the bathroom doorway, wearing a yellow bathrobe that came only to her knees, a towel wrapped around her hair. She looked clean and wholesome and achingly desirable. In seconds, my heart was hammering in my chest.

“Jesus, kiddo,” said Terry. “You’ve got to stop sneaking up on people.”

She frowned. “I told you I was taking a bath.”

“And I spaced it. How much of the conversation did you hear?”

“All of it.”

Terry pursed his lips and gazed at the ceiling. Then he met his daughter’s eyes. “Sit down for a minute.”

Halee crossed the room and settled into the big recliner.

“Halee,” he said, speaking slowly, “has there been any talk at school about any kind of new drug… or anything some of the older kids might be using? Someplace new they might be going? Or anything at all unusual, aside from Jason Bixley’s death?”

Halee looked thoughtful, then nodded. “Sometimes when the high school kids are around, you hear them talking about going to a place called ‘the locker’. I think it’s new… I mean, I haven’t been hearing about it for very long. I just figured it was a cool new hangout.”

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees as I regarded my little lover. “Do they say anything about what goes on there?”

“Nope, I’ve just heard them talking about it in little groups. I do remember someone saying the best shit… sorry Dad, that’s their words… is at the locker. I guess that’s how people talk about drugs, isn’t it? They’re pretty quiet about it, now that I stop to think. I just noticed it because… I don’t know.” She shrugged.

“Because you’re a good listener,” I said. “What was the last thing you heard about it?”

“Ummm… it was Friday. That the locker was going to be closed this weekend.” Her eyebrows shot up with dawning realization. “This has something to do with all those cases you were talking about, doesn’t it? The cases that haven’t happened since Friday. Cases of what?”

Terry was sitting ramrod straight. “Halee,” he said, ignoring his daughter’s question, “when did you start hearing about the locker? How long ago?”

“Maybe a month or so ago.”

“Before the cases started,” I mused.

“What cases?” said Halee. “Come on, Dad, what’s…” Her eyes widened. “Wait a minute. I just remembered something.” She pulled her legs in under herself, careful to hold the end of the bathrobe down. I forced myself not to stare at the place where her thighs disappeared beneath the fluffy yellow fabric. “One of the volleyball players… it was Sam Jensen… she was out of school the first two days of last week because she had some kind of allergic reaction or something. She’s one of the kids I’ve heard talking about the locker.”

Terry and I shared a long look.

“And come to think of it,” Halee went on, “the night she went to the hospital was the same night last weekend when you guys went out on an ambulance call.” She fixed her gaze on me. “It wasn’t an allergic reaction, was it?” the girl pressed. “She’s one of your cases.”

Terry rose to his feet, circled around the coffee table, and gazed down at his daughter. “Listen to me, kiddo, and take it seriously. Nothing we say is to leave this room, understand?”

“I’m good at keeping secrets.”

“You’d damn well better be. What happened to Samantha Jensen was no allergic reaction, and it might be related to what happened to Jason Bixley. It’s happened to a handful of other people in their late teens or early twenties, although I don’t think any of the rest are kids who attend your school. You with me so far?”

Halee nodded.

“We don’t know exactly what it is, but it’s dangerous as hell. This is something that can kill you. If you get an invitation to the locker, the only answer is fuck, no. If you hear anyone in your grade talking about going there, we need to know about it as quickly as possible. In fact, if you hear anything unusual, anything at all, you come to either Nettie or myself right away. Can you do that?”

“Sure,” said Halee. Her eyes were wide.

Terry returned to the couch and sat down. “Just don’t draw attention to yourself. Don’t ask questions, or try to persuade anyone not to go. Don’t do anything you don’t normally do. If you hear something, great, but don’t go out of your way to hear anything. Make sense?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you list the names of everybody you’ve heard talking about this?” I asked.

“I think so. It actually hasn’t been very many people.”

I dug in one of the cargo pockets of my pants, pulled out my notepad, and tossed it to Halee. I followed it with a pen.

Halee began scribbling in the notepad. Suddenly she looked up. “If I can’t find one of you, who should I talk to?”

“I’ll give you my old flip-phone,” said Terry. “First try calling me, then Nettie if you don’t get me. Unless someone is going to die if we take our hands away, we’ll answer. You good with that, Nettie?” I nodded.

Halee regarded us, her expression even more serious than usual. “You really don’t want me talking to anyone else, do you? Not even Chief Fronse.”

“It’s complicated,” I said. I flashed her a surreptitious look that I hoped she understood to be an apology.

“Very complicated,” said Terry, “and I’m not going to explain it all to you at the moment. I need you to trust us on this one. Say nothing to anyone… just tell one of us if you hear anything. Can you do that?”

Halee nodded. She got up and crossed to the couch, where she handed me back the notepad and pen. “These are the ones I can think of.” She held my eyes for a moment, with startling intensity.

“Thanks, kiddo,” said Terry. “Now, I want you upstairs, with both the stairway door and your bedroom door closed. No eavesdropping. Got it?”

Halee’s face was the picture of pinched dissatisfaction, but she didn’t argue. “Lanie, come,” she called out. The Boston terrier trotted out of the bathroom, where it had been sprawled on the throw rug next to the tub. Halee scooped up the dog and entered the stairway, pulling the door shut behind her.

Terry downed the remainder of his scotch in a single gulp. “The locker. Does that mean anything to you?”

“Never heard of it.”

“It could be nothing,” he mused. “One of those back-country hangouts where small-town kids go to drink beer and make out. And it could be that Halee’s just now hearing about it because she’s getting a little older, and rubbing shoulders with the high school kids more often. Could be that we just scared the living bejesus out of her for nothing.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“Not even a little bit. Another drink?”

***

Terry and I sat up for about another fifteen minutes, looking over the list of names Halee had given us. There was nobody there that either of us knew well enough to just walk up to and hit with questions. We’d just tentatively agreed to call the sheriff’s department the following day when we heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

I glanced down the hall in time to see Halee emerging from the stairway door.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’m not eavesdropping; I just need to use the bathroom.”

“It’s all right,” said Terry. “I think we’re just about at a point where we might as well table the discussion till tomorrow. What do you say, Nettie?”

“Is that code for you’re getting too old to stay up late and need your beauty rest?” I teased.

“Look at me,” said Terry. “Clearly the beauty rest is paying dividends. Besides, I have to get up and get kids to school in the morning.”

“Dude,” I said, as a snickering Halee disappeared into the bathroom, “it’s not even eight, for God’s sake. But it’s okay. If you’re too decrepit to keep up, I’ll go home and watch a movie or something.”

Terry chuckled, raised his glass to me, and sipped. “You won’t,” he said. “You’ll just play that godawful noise you call music until you fall asleep on the couch.”

“Yeah, I don’t really watch a lot of movies at home,” I said. “It’s not as much fun alone. You don’t have anyone to talk about it with.” That’s not really true; I’m just not that much of a TV person at all. It’s one thing that Terry and I have very much in common. But a wicked plan was forming in my mind. I sipped slowly at my drink, stalling for time. We heard the toilet flush and the water run, and a moment later Halee came out.

“What are you planning to watch?” she asked, eyeing me speculatively.

Holy shit; she’s thinking the same thing I am! “I haven’t decided,” I said. “What’s good these days?”

“Well, there’s a new Top Gun coming out,” she said, “and I haven’t seen the first one. I’ve been meaning to get around to it.”

“Damn,” I said. “I saw that when I was a little kid, but it’s been so long I don’t remember much. Maybe I should watch that.”

“There you go,” Terry broke in. “It is a school night, but you’ll have time to watch it together if you start soon. I even have that one on my Prime account if you want; Halee knows the password.”

I felt a delighted grin fighting to break free, and Halee was making a visible effort to keep her own emotions in check. Terry himself had just made it easy for us.

“What time do you want her home?” I asked.

“I usually expect her in bed by ten-thirty on school nights,” Terry replied.

“What if I just bring some school clothes and crash at Nettie’s place?” said Halee, wearing a secretive little smile that she didn’t let her father see.

***

“Now that Dad’s not around, are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Halee inquired as we trudged the five blocks to my apartment, our shoulders hunched against the wind. My Kia was still parked in front of Terry’s house; I couldn’t exactly drive it home after downing three shots of his wonderful yet highly potent Scotch.

I hesitated, pulling my scarf more tightly around my neck. How much to tell? It wasn’t a matter of trust; I just wanted to protect her. Halee’s mature for her age, but she’s twelve, for God’s sake. Besides, there wasn’t much I could tell her that she didn’t already know.

“I can’t tell you very much,” I said slowly, “because I don’t know very much. You’ve heard the gist of it; kids are overdosing on something weird and new, and it’s more difficult to treat than most overdoses. Oh, and the whole thing seems to be centered around Bronning. That’s… really all I’ve got.”

“What about the stuff with Chief Fronse?”

Damn. “That’s hard to talk about, because I’m not really sure of anything,” I told her. “It’s just that there’s been some weirdness about the whole thing that seems to involve the cops. It’s probably nothing. I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”

She didn’t look entirely satisfied, but chose not to press the point. We walked the rest of the way in silence, throwing little glances of anticipation at each other.

Once the door was bolted securely behind us, I scooped Halee into my arms, lifting her feet from the floor as we came together in an open-mouthed kiss. I carried her that way into the living room, supporting her by her buttocks, then tumbled backwards onto the couch, taking her with me. Using her position atop me to take control, Halee rained kisses on my cheeks, forehead, and the corners of my eyes. I slipped both hands beneath the Bauhaus t-shirt she wore, running my fingertips up and down the ridges of her spinal column.

Now her mouth was on my neck, driving me wild with desire. I brought my leg up between hers, planting my foot on the couch. Halee pressed herself against my thigh, starting a slow, rhythmic humping motion that didn’t stay slow for long. In moments her cheek was pressed against mine, lips slightly parted, her breath coming in shuddering gasps as she gyrated against my leg with an increasing urgency. She threw her head back, and I could see beads of sweat on her forehead.

Suddenly she stopped. “H-hang on,” she said, obviously struggling to get enough air to speak. “Where’s your TV remote?”

I blinked, completely brought up short. “Wait, what?’

She rolled off of me, landing on the floor. “Ow,” she muttered, massaging her butt cheek with a rueful expression. Then she looked up. “Your remote,” she repeated. “We should turn that movie on. That way if Dad gets into his Prime account, it’ll pop up on his home screen and he won’t wonder what we’re really up to.”

I stared at her in awe, then laughed. “You’re some kind of evil genius, you know that?” Plucking the remote from the end table, I tossed it to her.

While Halee logged out of my account and into Terry’s, seated on the floor with her back to the couch, knees drawn up, I placed one foot to either side of her, massaging her legs with my toes while restlessly toying with her hair. As she pored through her dad’s purchased films in search of the cinematic blockbuster in question, I let the tips of my fingers drift down to caress her jawline.

“You know,” she said a little breathlessly, “this would go faster if you weren’t making my hands shake.”

My chuckle came out a bit breathy as well. “I like making your hands shake.” Finally locating the movie, Halee got it started, then pressed the mute button, dropped the remote to the floor, and twisted her body around until she was looking up at me. She smiled. “Your bedroom? I’d rather do this without Tom Cruise watching.”

I rose from the couch. Halee reached up, and I took her hands in mine, helping her to stand. I pulled her close, caressing her belly.

“Tell you what,” I said. “I just got off a thirty-six hour shift, and I’m still in my work clothes. I know you had a bath earlier, but how about taking a shower with me?”

“Mmmm…” she said, as if savoring something particularly tasty, “That sounds great.” Then she twisted her head, looking up at me with a frown. “Did you really not get to shower for thirty-six hours? Gross!”

I chuckled as I unwrapped myself from her. Taking Halee’s hand, I led her towards the bathroom. “It’s not as bad as it sounds,” I said. “We have bedrooms and a shower at the station. I took one yesterday morning.”

“How much do you get to sleep?”

“That depends.” Now in the bathroom, I closed the door, turned on the ceiling fan, and then took her into my arms. “Management doesn’t care what we do if we’re not running, so if we get our asses kicked at night, we can crash between calls during the day. It works out all right – most of the time, anyway.”

What I didn’t tell her was that I really hadn’t slept well at the station this weekend. Not because I didn’t have time; it hadn’t been busy. And not because of the dreams; they’d been mercifully silent these past few days. No, it was because every time I closed my eyes, visions of Halee’s gorgeous naked body came calling, consuming me in equal measure with shame and lust. I’d masturbated to an explosive orgasm the previous night in that crappy little bedroom at the station, but sleep? Not so much.

Dana Fraser had been riding as a third on my truck for the entire tour, and I’d been tempted to see if I was right about those speculative looks I’d seen her giving me. As I’d predicted, she was already sleeping with Darren Tanner, but he was off-shift, and I figured it was way too early for them to be exclusive. But I restrained myself, thinking it better to at least wait until she’s no longer my trainee.

Now I leaned down to kiss this lovely creature in my arms, intending to keep things easy, slow, and sensuous. It didn’t stay that way. Halee turned up the heat in a hurry, kissing me with a desperate longing that made it clear she was as primed as I was. Her fingers found the bottom of my work polo and lifted. I raised my arms, hoping I didn’t smell too bad. Once she had it up as far as she could reach I took over, freeing it from my arms and casting it to the floor. She placed delicate little kisses along my collarbone as she reached around to unclasp my bra.

A funny thought interrupted my rising passion. “Last week when you were here, I told you I didn’t need a mommy to dress me,” I whispered, as she let the undergarment fall. “Do you think I need one to undress me now?”

A delighted smile cracked her face. “Have you been a good girl… or a bad girl?”

“I’m feeling pretty naughty at the moment… ohhhhh!” I moaned as she took one of my nipples into her mouth and sucked, teasing it with the tip of her tongue.

“Well, then,” she said primly, tilting her head up to meet my gaze, “I guess you have to take your bath and go to bed without dessert.”

“I’m going to eat you for dessert,” I announced, pressing my open mouth to hers. Our tongues met and clashed, then she pulled away. Her increasingly ragged breathing was music to my ears.

“You’re being a BAD girl,” she said, already short of breath.

She let go of me and bent down, twisting the faucet handle in my bathtub. She held her fingers under the water, adjusting the temperature as it warmed. Once it was set to her satisfaction, she stoppered the tub.

“No shower?” I wanted to know.

“No, young lady. I’m giving you a bath, and you’re going to like it,” she pronounced in imperious tones, barely suppressing a giggle.

I was already turned on, but at this proclamation I became instantly and impressively wet. I’ve never been much into roleplay – not that I’d ever had a partner who’d displayed more than token interest in such games – but little Halee playing Mommy to my wayward child is one of the hottest things I’ve ever experienced.

“Fine,” I pouted, my attempt at petulance falling a little flat due to a basic inability to steady my voice. “You can make me get in the bath, but you can’t make me wash up.”

Halee put on an exasperated air, also spoiled slightly by her breathiness. “I have to do everything,” she muttered.

She unbuttoned and unzipped my tac pants, then squatted to tug them down my thighs. Leaving the pants around my ankles, she trailed her fingers up my legs, stopping just short of my plain white cotton panties. Then she caressed the large damp spot I’d left, making me shiver and go up on my tiptoes.

“Naughty girl,” she intoned, no longer able to keep her voice from trembling, “You got your underpants all wet.” She pulled them down, too, dropping them on top of my pants. I lifted one leg, then the other, letting her pull the clothing out from under me, then I repeated the procedure while she got the socks. Neither of us said a word during this process, which was followed by Halee dipping her fingers into the now half-filled tub.

Finding it satisfactory, she stood. “In you get,” she said. Her voice was steadier now.

I stepped into the tub, and sank down gratefully into the wonderfully hot water. Lying back, I felt instantly renewed and refreshed, my aching level of arousal momentarily forgotten in the sheer pleasure of the moment. Then Halee passed a trembling thumb across my mouth, and it was all over for me, the impulse to relax instantly forgotten.

I caught her thumb between my lips, sucking it into my mouth. Halee let out a little sigh of pleasure and closed her eyes. Then she gradually withdrew her hand, shaking her head at me.

“No playing around, little lady,” she whispered. “Bad little girls have to be cleaned up before they get to have any fun.” Casting her eyes over the various items arrayed on the shower surround shelves, she selected a sponge, anointed it with a little body wash, then began the slow, torturous, exquisite process of cleansing my body. She did my torso, avoiding my tits for the moment. Then she made me sit forward and washed my back, using unhurried circular motions that drove me wild.

Then Halee instructed me to lie back. Setting the sponge aside, she shampooed my hair, her hands gliding sensuously across my scalp. After using the spray nozzle to rinse my long black mane, she took up the sponge once more, this time going to work on my tits. She spent some time there, delicately teasing my nipples with the sponge until I was ready to scream, then moved to my legs.

For someone who was brand new to sex with a partner, Halee turned out to be a natural fucking tease. She lifted one leg, then the other, slowly bringing the sponge up the backs of them until it was just below my buttocks. Then the outsides, then the insides. Slow, sensuous, ever-so-sweet torture. She came to within millimeters of my pussy, then backed away. Every time she reached the top, I lifted my hips, more impatiently each time. Then I was letting out little moans every time she came close, then sucking in my breath and shuddering from head to toe when she ran the sponge across my aching center.

She flashed that same shit-eating grin that she uses when she beats me at cards, pressed the heel of her hand against the sponge, and began a fast back-and-forth motion. I use an extra-slippery aloe vera soap (the perfect accompaniment to bathtub masturbation), and in combination with the texture of the sponge, I was squealing, gasping, and bucking my hips like a pissed-off rodeo horse.

Halee dipped down to take a nipple in her mouth, sucking ferociously, and my midsection went off like a nuclear warhead. I writhed up and down, barely aware of water splashing over the edge of the tub. Finally my orgasm subsided, and I lay back in the cooling water, eyes closed, face barely above the surface and knees drawn up. An unfortunate reality of being six feet tall is that you don’t fit into a standard American bathtub.

Gradually I became aware of fingertips tenderly caressing my cheekbones. I opened my eyes to see Halee’s face less than a foot from mine, cheeks flushed and her breath coming in gasps. She was wet all over; my orgasmic thrashing had splashed water all over her.

I emerged from the tub all at once, towering over her like a great hulking monster. Halee backed off as I stepped out, dripping and naked. I bent over and scooped her up, carrying her from the bathroom and down the hall to my bedroom, kissing her face and neck all the way.

I dropped her onto my bed. Without a word, she sat up and yanked the t-shirt over her head. I shoved her back, undid her jeans, and tugged. She raised her butt from the bed as I tugged the jeans and panties off in one smooth motion.

Then I was all over her, my hands roaming Halee’s body, my mouth scouring her belly, her neck, and her barely-there tits. Her breathing was heavy and labored. I rolled her on her back, began landing kisses there, and suddenly became aware of a fresh-looking bruise on her left buttock. I froze, slid my hand down to that sweet little ass and caressed it with my fingertips.

“You’re bruised,”

Halee giggled. “It’s been aching ever since I fell off your couch,” she said.

Relief washed over me. I’m not sure what I’d been thinking, but in my line of work you see enough abused kids that you can’t help but have a bit of a reaction to such things.

I ran my fingertips along the crack of her ass, and she shivered deliciously. “I’ll have to kiss it and make it better,” I said.

“So you’re the mommy now,” she replied, her voice coming out as a breathy giggle.

“Damn right,” I replied, kissing my way down her spine. Delicately I kissed and licked the cheek with the contusion, then attacked the other side with more gusto, adding little love bites to the mix. I then ran my tongue down one side of her crack and up the other. Halee was humping the bed, her every breath a moan.

Finally I flipped her over, letting my  fingertips roam up and down her legs, all the while eyeballing her gorgeous pussy lips, with their light dusting of dark brown curls. I bent to nuzzle her chest, lingering long enough to run my tongue across each nipple in turn, then kissed her tenderly on the mouth.

Bringing my lips to her ear, I whispered: “I want to taste you.”

“You mean, my…”

“Yes.” I was caressing her pussy lips now, and lightly nibbling at her earlobe. “Uuuummmmm…” is a rough approximation of the sound she made. “Are you ready for that?” I whispered.

Halee didn’t speak; merely nodded. I kissed my way downward, circling her belly button with my tongue on the way by, tracing a delicate pathway down her belly and between her legs. I licked her outer lips, then took one after the other into my mouth. Halee was shivering, trying to hump my mouth, and making odd little mumbling noises.

I finally settled between Halee’s legs, wriggled my tongue into her dripping slit, thrusting it in and out a few times, then flicked it across her clit. Halee moaned, mashing her delicate little treasure into my mouth.

I went to work with my tongue – responding to her, picking up the pace as her gyrations became more urgent. Her hips thrust into the air, then she settled back, pressing her backside deep into the mattress. I rode with her through it all, my tongue never letting up in its assault upon her clitoris.

All of a sudden Halee went up on her feet and shoulders, arching her body up from the bed. I went with her, grabbing her ass with both hands to hold her up as she came, those now familiar “uh… uh… uh…” sounds emanating from her lips.

Halee’s body went limp, and I carefully lowered her to the bed. Then I stretched out alongside  her, snuggling with my lover. She tucked her head into my shoulder, still gasping for breath. Finally lying quiet and still she looked up into my eyes.

“Was I a good girl, Mommy?” I inquired in my best cute teen voice.

“You can come out of time out now,” she said, and we both laughed.

“So what’s it like?” she asked. “I mean, licking me down there?”

“You’re welcome to find out anytime,” I told her, giggling a bit.

“Do you want me to now?”

“Tempting, but probably better not,” I said. “You do need to get some sleep, after all. Have you ever tasted yourself, like on your fingers?”

She shook her head.

“Want to know what it tastes like? You’re all over my face.” I leaned in to kiss her, moving slowly so as to give her ample time to abort. She met my lips tentatively, hesitantly – then darted her tongue into my mouth.

She pulled back and giggled. “God, I can smell it.”

“Does it gross you out?”

She shook her head. “It’s nice.” She licked my lips, then around the outside of my mouth. She smiled at me, sampled the flavor from her own lips, then engaged my mouth in a passionate kiss. Finally we broke apart, resting our heads on the pillows. Reaching down, I pulled the top sheet and comforter up to cover us both.

“You know,” she said, “this could be a thing. We can be movie buddies, and Dad’ll never think twice about it.”

“I had that thought. What time do you need to get up?”

“Well,” she said, “I’m definitely going to need a shower in the morning.” She giggled, then sobered. “Say about seven?”

“All right,” I kissed her forehead, then slipped from between the sheets, getting to my feet.

She grabbed my wrist. “Hey, where are you going?”

“To get my phone, goofus. I need to set an alarm for tomorrow.” I leaned in and kissed her. “I’ll be back in a few.”

I found my phone, got the alarm set, killed the TV as the movie credits were starting to roll, then took a brief detour to the toilet. By the time I returned to the bedroom, Halee was out cold.

On to Chapter Nine!