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 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!