0 comments/ 818083 views/ 64 favorites What A Week By: PhoenixKiwi MONDAY. It was Winter-time and the darkness arrived early with the night-time cold keeping all but the foolhardy or dedicated, indoor in front of the fire at night. Monday evening and I had finished school and sports practice early and arrived home long before dark. While Mom was putting the finishing touches to our evening meal I had worked studiously in my room, completing most of my homework, finishing it after clearing the dishes into the washer and returning to my room. The usual procedure at our place was for Mom and Dad to settle down in front of the TV for the evening, eventually stumbling off to bed about 10.00 clock. Dad usually finished up dozing and Mom reading or knitting while I liked to do crosswords. Our lounge was a long room, lavishly carpeted with 2 Lazy-boy chairs bracketing an open fireplace at one end angled towards the TV at the other end of the room. There were a sofa and a chair down each side of the room but I preferred to lie on the floor facing the flickering fire to do my crossword, the junk on TV holding little interest. Each night about 9.30 either Mom or myself made a hot drink following which we all drifted off. By the time I reached the lounge Dad already had his chair tilted right back, the foot-rest was right up and he was dozing gently with his head tilted to the side facing the TV. Mom was leaning partially back and also had her foot-rest up and was reading her new library book and hardly looked up when I took up my usual position facedown in the middle of the room forward of my parents. I worked on my crossword for some time before dropping my pencil and resting my chin on my hands and gazing reflectively into the flames, thinking how pleasant it was in the warmth. I looked up at Dad and saw that he was completely out of it, snoring quietly and contentedly, and when I looked across to Mom I saw that she was still engrossed in her book and to my surprise I found that in her relaxed state her knees had fallen apart giving me a clear view up her dress to her panties. My mouth immediately went dry and I could not drag my gaze from the sight even though all I was seeing was the bunched up material of the crotch of her white knickers. Mom was not wearing stockings so the whole picture was in fact fairly innocent but to my inexperienced mind it was highly stimulating. When I finally did manage to drag my eyes away from this view it was to see Mom look up from her page and see where I had been peering. She flushed and quickly closed her legs and I buried myself back in my crossword trying to look innocent. After some time I peeped up again to try and ascertain her mood, be it anger or embarrassment, and to find out how much trouble I was in. I found to my amazement that she was leaning back again and her legs were spread open once more giving me an even wider view than before and I wondered what Mom was up to. As a 15 year old my sexual imagination was on a steep rise but my experience remained at nil. I had had no involvement with girls and full or partial nudity was not something that occurred in our home. The most erotic encounter I had previously had occurred about 5 years previous when I had accidentally walked into the bathroom while my younger sister Wendy was standing in her knickers and vest. Wendy had not really developed much at that time and her breasts did not even push out the front of her vest. Wendy's violent protestations soon had me retreating from the bathroom in acute embarrassment and I had never seen her in an undressed state since, the opportunities being few and far between now that she spent most of her time at boarding school. I finally lifted my gaze and caught Mom's glance, when she sort of smiled at me, and asked her if she wanted a hot drink. She wanted one but Dad didn't so I headed to the kitchen and heated some milk and when I returned with the mugs Dad was snoring again and Mom was still lying back with her legs still apart. When I had delivered her drink and was back on the floor with mine I again peeped and saw that something had changed – Mom had obviously pulled her panties on tighter as now they were not bunched up at her crotch but were stretched tightly showing an outline of a bulge with what seemed to be a split down the middle. My cock was rock hard and pressed against the carpet and I was frightened that I would start spurting in my pants. I had discovered the enjoyment that I could get from rubbing and fondling my cock some time ago but I had never done anything outside the privacy of my bed where I had always been able to clean up the mess I made afterwards. As soon as I had finished my drink I decided to head off to bed and relieve myself so I climbed carefully to my feet, trying to keep the state of my cock from Mom's view, and I went to her to give her the usual goodnight peck on the cheek but when I put my hand on the back of her chair and leant down to kiss her she turned her head and our lips met briefly. Mom smiled and. with a twinkle in her eye, said, "Goodnight, Sweetie, have a sound sleep and don't get up to mischief." I was soon in bed and quickly brought myself to a very messy peak, fantasising about Mom, and afterwards I wondered at her words. TUESDAY. When I got down for breakfast Mom was bustling around in her nightie and a very thin dressing gown. This was highly unusual as, in the past, she was always fully dressed and I suddenly started to become aware of how sexy she looked. She was a typical middle-aged woman who had borne two children and taken reasonable care of herself. She was slightly overweight but was always well groomed and she was still firm and curvy in the places that she should be. I was immediately ashamed and embarrassed at my thoughts but that didn't stop me noticing the smooth, creamy white flesh of the top of her breasts which was visible when her top gaped open as she leant over to put my breakfast in front of me. I hurriedly finished my food, got to my feet to head off to school and, after pulling on my coat, I grabbed my lunch box and went to head out the door. Mom grabbed me and gave me a tight hug and a kiss on the lips. "Have a good day, Sweetheart. Look forward to tonight." And she kissed me again as she released me. Even through the thickness of my clothes I could still feel her breasts flattening against me as she hugged me. School was the usual uninteresting experience and I was pleased to be finally walking up the drive, another day over. Mom greeted me with yet another hug and kiss, an unusual occurrence, us being a fairly undemonstrative family, and sent me upstairs with a mug of hot soup to do my homework with the information that dinner would be a couple of hours. Things happened as normal and I was down in the lounge with my crossword about 8.30, hopeful, but without much expectation, that I might get another sight of Mom's underwear. I lay there for only a few minutes before Mom's knees fell apart and I was on the receiving end of much the same view as last night. Tonight however Mom was wearing different knickers, this pair was pink in colour and were light, filmy and, most important of all, they were SEE THROUGH. I was awe struck – I could see a dark black mass which I took to be hair, the same as I was growing above my cock, and two bulging lips with some pink fleshy bits poking out from between them. This was a cunt which I had heard so much about but never seen or really understood before. The sight almost had me groaning and when Mom lifted her left knee and lay her right one flat, opening herself even more it was too much for me and I gushed out my discharge without so much as touching my cock. Luckily I was wearing underpants and heavy sweat pants that prevented my discomfort showing and when I met Moms gaze the look on her face seemed to indicate that she was aware of what had happened to me. A sports program started on TV which got Dad's attention and Mom, not being a sport fan, sat up and said she was going to have an early night and for Dad not to wake her when he finally came to bed. A couple of minutes after Mom headed off I climbed to my feet, said 'Goodnight' to my father and followed her upstairs. I couldn't help myself from glancing in as I passed her open door and saw Mom standing in front of her dressing table in her underwear and when she saw me in her mirror she smiled and turned and beckoned me in. "I see you're going to have an early night as well but would you mind staying up for a few minutes and doing me a favour first? I'd love it if you would massage the tension from my shoulders and neck?" Mom was looking in to my eyes in the mirror and I couldn't speak, my mouth being completely dry, but I did manage to nod eagerly. She smiled, removed her petticoat, sat in front of her dressing table in just her bra and panties, and picked up a bottle of body lotion and handed it to me. I was so nervous my hands were trembling and I almost dropped the lotion and Mom obviously mistook the reason for my nervousness and reassured me, "Don't worry, Dad always watches the whole of this show and anyway we will hear him coming up if he decides not too." For the first time I started to realise the forbidden aspect of our actions and became aware that Mom was participating in our wickedness. I opened the lotion, poured some on my palms and after rubbing my hands together to warm it I began to massage her shoulders. Mom reached up and slid the shoulder straps of her bra down her arms and then she leant back and let me rub her, gently at first but firmer and firmer as we went on. After a few minutes I could feel the tension disappearing from her and I slowly changed from massaging her shoulders to rubbing and fondling her throat and neck, softly and gently stroking her and I felt completely gratified that she was relaxed so completely as I petted her. I moved from her throat and began to run my fingers over her face and she just sat there, with her eyes closed, obviously revelling in my ministrations, and I was excited to see her legs fall apart and expose her lightly covered pussy to my view in the mirror. It appeared that her cunt was opening up but I thought that was a silly thought and that I must be mistaken Eventually Mom reached up and grasped my hands and pulled them down to massage her upper chest and the top of her breasts. After a very short time she unfastened the clip between her breasts and let her bra fall away uncovering all of her breasts for my attention. The nipples were hard and sticking out but I did not realise the significance of this but it was obvious, even to my inexperienced eye, that she loved me rubbing and playing with them. I could see in the mirror that her legs were slowly spreading even further and I watched, intrigued, as her hand dropped down, cupped and then pressed her cunt hard through the cloth of her panties. I don't think she was aware that she was doing this but suddenly she sort of shuddered and reached up and pulled my hands away from her and said, somewhat shakily, "Thank you for that, Darling. I feel really relaxed now and I will sleep great tonight. I think it's time we both got off to bed now. Give me a goodnight kiss and away you go." I bent to place my lips on hers and was somewhat shocked to feel Mom's tongue run across my lips as we were pressed together and it was with some relief that I hobbled from her room with my erection making movement really uncomfortable. Another masturbatory session soon had me spurting my second load in a short time and I really crashed completely out, not moving till it was time to get up for school. WEDNESDAY. This morning Mom was wearing a pair of silk pyjamas that I didn't even know that she owned, they clung to her and it was clear that she had nothing on underneath as when she moved the silk clung to her body and worked it way between the cheeks of her bum and the cleavage between her breasts. Mom was definitely sending me a message but I was too nervous to understand and act on it. When it was time to leave this morning Mom actually wrapped her arms around me and pressed her lips firmly against mine, probing and thrusting with her tongue until I opened my lips a little and allowed the tip of her tongue to brush against my teeth. I daringly allowed my hands to drop down and momentarily squeeze Mom's buttocks before pulling away and heading off to school in a highly excited state. I didn't dare allow myself to think of where all this might be leading. I arrived home to the news that Dad and Mom were out for the evening and I would be left to fend or myself. To save cooking Mom had ordered me a pizza and she ran me down to get a video so I was quite happy to be left on my own. I consumed the pizza watched the video and then decided to investigate Mom's underwear drawer. I hadn't realised what sexy and sensual underclothing that women wore and I was soon aroused with the thoughts that the sight and feel of these flimsy items induced. I carefully replaced everything and headed off to bed where I masturbated myself to sleep. I awoke to sound of the front door closing and heard my parents coming upstairs. Dad stopped off at the toilet and Mom stuck her head in my door, which I had left ajar, and I pretended to be asleep, not sure if she was fooled or not. I could make out the sounds of her undressing as Dad joined her and then she came back down the hall to enter the toilet next to my bedroom, not completely closing the door, and I was soon treated to the sound of her piddle hissing and splashing as she relieved herself. The sound of her wiping herself dry and then washing her hands was highly erotic and caused evil pictures in my mind. Mom returned down the hall to the master bedroom and left their door open, normally a sign that they were not intending making love as they always firmly closed it when they did. She had not been in bed very long when I could hear her kissing Dad and him protesting that they should close the door. "No. Just leave it. I looked in and he's sound asleep. Don't break my mood - just make love to me." Mom carried on kissing him and I could clearly hear everything. "God! You're hard tonight! I can't wait to feel that ramming into me. Do you want me to suck it a bit for you first?" This was rapidly getting too much for my imagination and I decided that hearing it was not enough. I quietly threw back the bed-covers and slipped out of bed and began to crawl silently down the hall on my hands and knees. "God! I'm drenched. Put it in. Please!" Mom sounded anxious and then I heard her grunt and moan out, "Oof! That's great. As hard as you can. Hurt me just a little bit." By now I had reached their door and I slowly lifted myself up until I could see over the bed-end. Mom was flat on her back, naked, and Dad was lying on top of her, between her widespread legs, and he was still wearing his vest and he was thrusting his hips frantically at her. I couldn't really see what was going on but then Mom wrapped both legs right round Dad's waist and with their violent movements I finally got a glimpse of how his cock was buried deep inside her. I was so engrossed in watching that I neglected to take care not to be seen and I suddenly became aware of Moms eyes meeting mine. I nearly died and stood there in total fear waiting for the outburst that I was sure would follow but Mom merely smiled a little and then carried on with what she was doing. The two of them became more and more aroused, with Dad ramming his cock harder and harder into Mom, and I think that she eventually forgot that I was watching. The sounds of their lovemaking were not as I had dreamed they would be – they were both grunting, groaning and muttering to each other, the dirty words that they were using shocked me a little – I didn't think women spoke like that, and their actions were causing squishy moisture noises from where they were joined together. Dad's cock was larger and redder than I had imagined and the whole business was wetter and more violent than I had thought, not as sweet and gentle as in my dreams. Mom was not ladylike at all and was just as enthusiastic about the whole business as Dad was – I thought that ladies only made love because they had too not because they enjoyed it. Their violent motions seemed to increase in tempo and power until the two of them seemed to reach a peak at the same time, clasping each other tightly and shaking and shuddering and crying out together for some time and then slowly calming down and relaxing, still cuddling and kissing each other. I crept back to my bed amazed and aroused at what I had seen and a bit jealous of their love for each other. Once again I brought myself to a climax. THURSDAY. This morning Mom was only clad in a thin nightie that draped her to mid-thigh. In the morning sunlight she might just as well have been naked as the bright light turned it almost completely see-through and I could see the cheeks of her bum and the split between them as she was faced away from me fixing my breakfast. I could see the small clump of dark hair framed in the gap at the top of her thighs and, when she turned, her breasts and nipples were almost as clear as if uncovered. I was still a bit nervous about dropping my gaze down to her pussy area when she was watching and did not even glance at this area. Mom placed the plate in front of me, gave me a quick peck on the cheek and said, "Did you enjoy the show last night?" "What do you mean?" I gulped out nervously. "The video that we picked up. What did you think I meant?" she replied, all innocent, and I started to wonder if the whole scene had veen a figment of my imagination. "Oh! Yep it was pretty good – plenty of action and as usual the hero won." I went on with my breakfast intending to get away to school before things got any more embarrassing. When I was ready to go Mom stopped me and, wrapping her arms round me again, she demanded, "Give me a good hug and kiss before you go, I miss you when you're not here." She pressed her lips to mine and once again probed with her tongue, forcing me to open my mouth and let her invade. To my surprise I loved the feel and the taste of her tongue and the sensation of it slipping, sliding and pressing against mine quickly gave me yet another erection which she must have noticed even through all the clothing I was wearing, she was hugging me so tightly. This kiss went on for what seemed like forever and like yesterday I let my hands drop down and cup the cheeks of her butt. Unlike yesterday, this time I kept holding them, squeezing and fondling, which she didn't seem to mind. When she finally pulled her mouth from mine she put her lips close to my ear, still hugging me, and whispered, "Thank you! That was lovely. You kiss ever so well and taste great too. I think you had better get off to school before we do something we shouldn't! I'll tell you what, since you're being so sweet and caring to me – you can choose what colour panties I wear for you tonight. Mmmm?" My mind reeled. What was going on here? I wasn't ready for this! But I was going to make the best of it. "What about some transparent ones?" I bravely blurted this out as I squeezed her bum as firmly as I could and pulled her hard against my erection. Mom's eyes widened as I did this and she did not say another word as I headed out the door to school. THURSDAY. (cont.) All day at school the ramifications of what was occurring between Mom and me ran round and round in my head – what was all this leading up to and was I getting the right answers to the questions that Mom's actions were asking? Did she in fact want to have sex with me and if so why? I was only an inexperienced boy and she seemed more that satisfied with what she and Dad had done. Maybe what we were doing was completely normal and happened between all mothers and sons as part of growing up. Should I discuss it with some of my friends? For some unexplainable reason I was reluctant to talk to anyone about it at this stage and decided to wait for a while and let things just happen and see where it would all lead. What a Week! Author's note: This story documents a week of life-changing events for a woman who is the victim of a crime, and a man who helps her deal with the after effects. For a while it seems that every crime leads to another one, and they come to depend heavily on a police detective, and a private investigator who has a way with computers. Along the way you will come across robberies, a police shootout, an old murder or two, some sex, and a budding romance. All of the characters who appear in the story are more than eighteen years old. None are modeled after anyone living or dead. The crimes that are chronicled in this story are not based on any particular events, but are typical of felonies that occur all over the world, hundreds of times every day. The story is rather long, nearly 50,000 words, to be devoured in one reading. The principal characters' experiences are influenced by events that took place twenty years earlier, and this may be confusing if you are reading while tired. Taking it in two sittings, rather than one marathon session, may enhance your reading pleasure. Hans * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * FRIDAY AFTERNOON * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * I sat and watched Celia walk away from me for the last time. She held her back very straight and walked as if she were studying every step before putting her foot down. She was very beautiful, very clever, and very sure she could find someone whose personality would be a better match for hers than mine was. This was the finale of four years of marriage and a year of separation. Seeing her walk away made me feel sad, yet surprisingly relieved that the tension between us had played out and I wouldn't have to listen to her complaints any more. She was probably right, we simply weren't meant to be together. But if so, why did it take us five years to find that out? I looked down at the table and saw that my cup of coffee was untouched, so I drained it and threw a few bills on the table as I got up. We had just left the lawyer's office, where we affixed our signatures to the final documents to bring closure to the relationship that at first had its ups and downs, and later its downs and further downs, and finally its way, way, deep downs. Celia had walked out of the cafe onto State Street, so I turned the other way, toward the Elm Street exit. I had no idea where I was going, only that I needed to walk in the crisp autumn air to clear my head and get my thoughts and feelings organized a little. An hour later I was still walking aimlessly, up and down unfamiliar streets. The houses looked well lived in, with mature shrubbery and trees in their front yards, and I realized that the placid scene had calmed me down. But by then I had no idea where I was or what direction I had to go to get back to my car. I remembered that my new smartphone has a GPS function, so I punched in the Vector command and the name of the restaurant we'd had coffee in, and stood in the shade of an acacia tree while I waited for the little electronic marvel to sort out my problem. Sure enough, fifteen minutes of following the phone's directions took me right to the parking lot where my SUV stood waiting. But who was that sitting in the front passenger seat? I approached the driver side cautiously and opened the door, not knowing what to expect. A young woman sitting there turned her head and looked me over. "Is this your car?" she asked. "Yes. I didn't expect to find anyone sitting in it. Is there something I can do to help you?" "Maybe. I need a ride home, and I don't have any money with me for a cab or even a bus. It's in Tempe, about a twenty minute drive. Would you please take me there?" "Well, to use your word, maybe. I don't know you or anything about you, and before I go driving around town with a perfect stranger I'd like to know what this is all about." "Fair enough. This all happened an hour ago, and I'm still upset over it, but I've been sitting here planning how I'd say it. Otherwise I'd just start crying again and I'd never get the words out. Please be patient. "My name is Melanie Sanger. My friends call me Mel. I graduated in May with an MBA degree, and I'm employed as an assistant project manager with an engineering firm here in Phoenix. Unfortunately, my purse was stolen while I was standing waiting for a light to change, and I'm left without my driver's license or credit cards or money, and I don't have any family around here right now. The only thing I have is my employee ID badge, because that was hanging around my neck." "How did you come to be sitting in my car?" "Honestly, I didn't know what to do. I saw a lot of cars parked here and looked them all over. Most were locked. Some had so much clutter in them that I formed a negative opinion of what their owners must be like. Yours was nice and neat, with the sort of things I'd expect to find in a car, like your road atlas, sunglasses, and a water bottle. I opened the door and it didn't smell like tobacco smoke or stale beer, so I decided to take a chance that you'd be my hero. Was I right?" "Again, maybe. What sort of neighborhood do you live in?" "Oh, a very nice one. Well kept single family homes, virtually no crime, not a risky place to live or drive or walk." "Well, as it happens, I have nothing pressing to do right now, so I guess I can take you home. My name is Peter Donnelson, and my friends call me Pete. When we get to your house, how will you get in?" "I know where there's a key hidden." "Have you reported the theft of your purse to the police?" "No. I don't have my phone. It was in my purse." "Then before we go anywhere else, let's go to the police station and you can file a report." An hour later we pulled up in front of Melanie's house at 1226 East Aurora Avenue. She had described the house to me, with its first floor sided in dark green shingles and the upper story and gables white, contrasting with dark green shutters. I was sure that she knew the house, although that didn't prove that she actually lived there. I got out of the car with her and waited by the front steps while she did something around the side of the house, and came to the front with a key. I unlocked and opened the door for her, and went inside with her to look around to make sure nobody had used her keys to ransack the place. Then I called the detective who had taken the report so she could tell him that she was home safe and sound. She was looking as if everything was smooth sailing from here on. I hated to burst her bubble. "Look, Melanie, I don't want to alarm you, but somebody knows where you live from your license, and has your keys to get into your house. You'd be wise to get a locksmith here to change all the locks, but I don't know if you could get one to come out and do it on a Friday evening. Your safest move might be to pack up some stuff for overnight and go to a hotel." "But I haven't any money or my checkbook or a credit card. All that stuff was in my purse." "Well, I could pay for you to stay one night in a cheap hotel, if that's any help." "You'd do that for me? Why?" "I guess for the same reason that I took you to the police station and drove you home. Just trying to help a fellow human who's in trouble. There's nothing in it for me other than knowing that I've done the right thing. But you don't have to accept my help. If you prefer, you can sit up all night waiting to be robbed and/or raped and/or killed in the comfort of your own home. Your choice." "I don't know that I'd feel comfortable in a hotel room, all alone. I doubt that I'd be able to sleep at all." "Don't you have any friends you could stay with overnight? Or maybe somebody you work with? Do you have a boyfriend who could come over and stay here with you? Maybe friends of your family? Someone you went to school with?" "If I had anybody like that, I'd never have gone to sit in your car. We're from Minnesota, and that's where all our friends are. My parents moved here to be close to me when I took this job. I'm a stranger in town, and so are they. Now they're off on a cruise of the Mediterranean, and I'm here all alone." She sniffled a little. "And I'm scared." Then tears began to pour down her cheeks. "Okay, try this. I've got a guest room you can stay in tonight. You get your things together and I'll be out at my car." I walked to the car and called Detective Vincent again, and explained how things were shaping up. "Can you find out any more about this young woman? I have no reason to doubt what she says, but the whole thing seems maybe a little too pat. I'm really uncomfortable getting so deeply involved with her, and I can't tell whether I'm keeping her safe or putting myself in danger. What's your take on this?" "I see your point. Of course, you don't have to take her to your home, but if she's on the level she's in a bad spot without your help. I could get her into a cell here at the station for the night, but that's not a very good accommodation. Suppose we try this: Take her to a restaurant for dinner. Don't rush things. Give me a chance to do some checking. I'll find out what I can about her employer, and try to get somebody in the company to vouch for her. I'll call you as soon as I know something." We were just finishing up a leisurely dinner at Turner's, a well known restaurant on the eastern fringe of the downtown area, when Detective Vincent called me. "Sorry that took so long. Melanie Sanger has no police record. I got Mr. Jenkins, the owner of the company, who referred me to his personnel manager or whatever he called her, and I finally got my call returned after she used her phone to have a fight with her boyfriend for an hour. She was ready to kill the next man who spoke to her, and of course that was me. Anyway, she verified that Melanie Sanger is a real employee, the photo on her employee ID badge is current, she is entrusted with taking care of a lot of important stuff at work, and there have been no complaints of any kind about her. I guess that's all I can do for you. What you do now is up to you." "Okay, sorry to put you through so much trouble. Thanks for your help." * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * FRIDAY NIGHT * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * I took Melanie to my home, a thirty year old split level in a respectable suburban neighborhood. I was glad I'd mowed the lawn early in the week, and that the bushes along the front of the house weren't in need of trimming. Getting out of the car in the built-in garage, she commented on how neat everything was. "The way you keep your garage is the same way I like to keep my bedroom and bathroom. Everything in its place, ready for the next time I need to use it. I think that letters of reference, no matter how glowing they are, serve very little purpose in evaluating job applicants. What employers should demand is a tour of the applicant's private places, to see how they keep their things where nobody's watching." "So I passed the test?" "You get a star. I'd paste it on your forehead if I had one. I guess I'll have to owe you one." "The guest room is down at the end of this hallway. The bathroom is right next to it. That door at the end of the hall is the linen closet. Better check to see that there are towels in there. If not I'll get some from my bathroom. "While you do that, I'll check the closet in the bedroom. I'll shove the stuff in there over to the left, so you'll have the right half for your clothes." I turned to go out the door as she was coming in. "There are extra hangers just above, on the shelf. Holler if you need anything" "Oh, thank you. That'll be more than enough room for me." "That TV on the dresser is hooked up to its own cable receiver, and you can get a lot of channels on it. If you'd prefer to watch a big flat screen TV, come to the living room and you can watch it with me." "Wow! You really know how to provide a welcome for an unexpected guest. You deserve another star for that." "Two stars! I'll look like a Major General. Look, Mel, after you get yourself settled in here, you can join me for a beer if you'd like. Or I may have some wine if you'd prefer that, and there may be a few cans of soda. I'll be in the living room watching TV if there's anything good on." "Working your way up toward Lieutenant General, aren't you? I'd like to take a shower and get into something comfortable first. Save me a seat." I was settled for the evening in my favorite chair, with news on TV and a book in my lap, when Mel came out. I had to laugh when I saw her blue sweats, the same color as the ones I had on. But the laughter died on my lips as I took in her overall appearance. Her medium brown hair was all out straight, and it just touched her shoulders. Devoid of clever camouflage in the form of hairdo and makeup, she looked like an angel. I think I must have gulped, which led her to ask, "What? Do I look all right? Is there anything wrong? Are my pants split up the middle or something?" "All right? I'll say you look all right. Beautiful would be closer, and even that falls flat." "You don't have to say things like that. This is just me - plain, ordinary, old me. But thank you for the compliment. I hope it means you approve." I was at a loss for words, so I hurried a gulp of beer and almost choked on it. I was sputtering and coughing and Mel came over to my chair and clapped me between the shoulder blades, which seemed to help a bit. I got over it quickly, and looked up to see that she was trying to stifle a laugh. "What's so funny?" "I was thinking this was the most dramatic entrance I ever made. I'd have been satisfied with 'Hello' but first you looked as if you'd seen a ghost, and then you almost died by choking on your beer. All that's missing is fireworks." "Wait a minute. You must see yourself in a mirror quite often. Don't you see what you look like? Are you so accustomed to seeing yourself that you no longer see yourself? I don't want to belabor the point, and I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable, but . . . wait, answer one simple question. You go to work, and you see a lot of women on the way. Then at work there must be women that you see every day. How many women do you see who are better looking than you? Be honest, now." "Oh, I don't know. I see a lot of women who are pretty, I guess. But I never think about it. Once in a while I see somebody who is profoundly homely, and I feel sorry for her, but when I see a woman who is strikingly good looking, I usually notice that it has a lot to do with how she's dressed, and how she carries herself. Packaging and presentation. And here tonight I haven't either. Just me, no makeup, wearing a baggy old sweatsuit. Truth in packaging. What you see is - oh, whatever." "You were starting to say, 'What you see is what you get,' weren't you. And you got embarrassed because you're not here for me to get anything. And then you got further embarrassed because we're talking about personal matters, and we don't even know each other. And the final anomaly is that we're sharing a house for the night, and planning to have a drink together, yet we're total strangers." Instead of answering, she turned her head away. "Mel, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. You're a victim of circumstance. You had your whole life in your purse, neatly and systematically arranged, I'm sure. Then in less than a second it was all snatched away, and you feel lost. I shouldn't be making you embarrassed, I should be helping you to relax. Come on, let's go look in the beer refrigerator in the storeroom and see if we can find something you'll like." I could tell that she got up and went to the storeroom with me just to be polite. Her heart wasn't in it. What she really felt like doing was collapsing into a chair and crying until she was exhausted. I didn't blame her, but any sort of activity, even walking through the kitchen to the storeroom would be better than just giving in. She needed to feel that she was conquering her misfortune, but right then the score was Misfortune one, Miss Sanger zero. She selected a white wine and I poured her a glass, using the fancy stemware. I grabbed a bottle of beer and twisted the cap off, and we were ready to be entertained by the magic box with the big flat screen on the front. An hour later she was looking drowsy, so I turned off the TV at the end of the show and walked her down the hall to the guest quarters and said good night. I wished I knew something else to do for her, but I couldn't undo what the purse snatcher had done to destroy her brave facade of self sufficiency, alone and friendless in a big city. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * SATURDAY MORNING * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Saturday morning dawned, as it usually does after Friday night. I got up and went to the kitchen only to find Mel already there, mentally inventorying the kitchen refrigerator and my pots and pans. "Good morning, young lady. I didn't expect to find you up already. What's on your mind?" "I thought a nice omelet might be a small way to show my appreciation for all you did for me. I'll try to make one just like I make for my father on the weekends. This is about the time I usually get up, and once I'm awake I can't get back to sleep again. I was never much for lying around in bed with my eyes open." I opened the refrigerator. "There's some good cheddar cheese in here that would go well in an omelet, and in that little drawer there may be some sliced pepperoni or hard salami. That big frying pan usually works all right, but I'd spray it with Pam just before pouring the eggs in." "Do all the burners work?" "Darned if I know. I just use the one on the right front. Cooktops always have four burners, but for a single guy that's three more than necessary." "I'll warm the plates. Oh, the oven looks brand new. You don't use it?" "I wouldn't know what to put in it. I could use it to store my dress shirts, but my dresser drawer works just fine." "Hasn't a woman ever lived here?" "Not with me. As part of our divorce settlement we sold our big fancy condo and split the money, and I used my share for a down payment on this house. It was rehabbed just before I moved in, with a remodeled kitchen and all new appliances. Do you need anything you don't see?" "I think I've got everything I need. Wait, where's your whisk?" "My which?" "Never mind. Go in and watch the morning news or the weather forecast or sports scores while I whip up a breakfast for you." Ten minutes later we were seated at the dining room table. The toast was perfectly browned, the omelet was perfectly cooked, not too dry and not too moist. "Mel, what did you do to this coffee?" "Why, what's wrong with it?" "Absolutely nothing. It's wonderful, completely different from what I usually make, but I'm sure you used the same water and the same coffee. Do you have a secret?" "No, I just made it the way my father likes it. He always says that he can't get his eyes open without a good cup of Joe, as he calls it." "It sounds as if you're pretty close to your father, am I right?" "Very close. I'm an only child, so I'm my mother's daughter and my father's son, too. He's always coached me on taking care of myself, and being a productive member of society. When I was a little girl, every morning before I left the house he'd say, 'Mel, don't expect somebody else to take care of you out there today. Keep your wits about you and stand up straight.' Now, every morning I can hear those words, as I look at myself in the bathroom mirror." "I take it that your parents are retired. What'd they do in Minnesota?" "They're both teachers. My father was an Economics professor at the University of Minnesota in Minneapolis, and my mother taught English at the same high school I went to." What a Week! "Why don't you tell me a little about yourself? Like growing up, your family, what you like to do in your spare time, going to school, your job, what your home in Minnesota was like, whether you like cats or dogs, your favorite color, and anything you have strong feelings about." That drew a smile and just the start of a chuckle. "I went to school in Minnesota, all the way from Kindergarten through grad school. In high school I was on the swim team, and I fooled around a little with gymnastics but I wasn't coordinated enough. In my spare time now I go to the gym to work out, just to keep myself in shape, and I enjoy hiking when the weather is good. My parents moved here to be near me, and also of course to get away from the cold winters in Minnesota. What else did you ask?" "Your favorite color?" "I like blue, as you can see from this old sweatsuit. How'd I do? Did I pass the test?" "With flying colors, whatever that means. I guess the color that's flying tonight is blue. For both of us. Is Jenkins Engineering your first employer out of grad school?" "Yes. It's an interesting job. I'm exposed to all the intricacies of engineering design and analysis and testing, even though I don't know how to do any of that. My part in it is to make sure that everything that goes on in our project is within our budgetary guidelines and that we are not only on schedule now, but also that our forward projections show that we'll finish on schedule. I'm finding out that it's not like building a house, but more like creating a whole new technology. It'd be like building a house if first you had to invent wood and nails and concrete, and also saws and hammers and trowels. Our client wouldn't have contracted for this work to be done by an engineering firm if they had any idea how to do it themselves. So the client is eager to see progress and anxious to have the whole project finished, but at the same time they're uneasy because they don't understand what our engineers are doing. In terms of the technology, this is out in the wild blue yonder, so there are a lot of surprises and we have to look to the client for decisions that nobody knew they'd have to make, back in the beginning. That means changes in what we've got to do, which means well documented change orders, to keep from blowing the budget and losing money on a job that ought to be profitable. To soften the blow I have to gather up good news from the engineers and send out glowing progress reports to keep the client happy with our progress. Our engineers get impatient with the need to keep communicating as we go. They'd far rather be left alone to do their work. Putting them in solitary confinement until they're done would make them happier than having me hovering at their elbows. So an important part of my job has turned out to be getting along with people in house who don't see any need to have me there at all, and presenting our client with problems that make them uncomfortable and getting them to agree to contract changes to take care of those sticky problems. I can smile when there's nothing to smile about, and dump unwelcome ideas in people's laps and get them to accept them." "It sounds as if this is a lot different from what you were led to expect when you were in school. Are you happy with your work, or do you wish you'd gone into something else?" "Oh, I like it. It's challenging but there are satisfactions that come from organizing some of the chaos, and getting approval of things that our people were afraid the client would balk at. I'm finding out that to do the job right I have to put in a lot of hours, but the salary is about fifty per cent more than the next best job I was offered. They warned me in the beginning that at times I'd have to put in a lot of time to get the job done. It's not as if I have a lot of other things to spend my time on. "The downside is that because the work is so different from anything I've done before or anything I learned in school, I feel a little insecure. I should just let myself feel satisfied with the things I've done well, but something inside doesn't let me feel comfortable with that. I find myself using the success of the project to measure my self worth, which is stupid of me because that makes my value dependent on the work of a lot of other people. So all that gives me something to fight with myself about. "This week has been tough. Long hours, hard work, lots of frustrations. I was already feeling pretty down when I walked out of work, and the relief I felt because it was Friday was about the only positive emotion I'd had all week. Then I got to the street corner and that punk snatched my purse from me. I felt just about destroyed." "I wasn't going to bring that up again, but since you did, what do you plan to do about canceling credit cards and all that?" "I have all my cards photocopied, front and back, and the copies are in my desk at work. As soon as I get there I need to start making phone calls." "Would you like me to take you there, so you can get all that done this morning?" "I guess so. It'd work out well because the office will be about empty so I won't have any distractions. I can get into the building all right because I have my ID badge. I have my copy of the police report, so I can refer to the number on that. If I could get that out of the way today it'd be great. But won't that interfere with your plans?" "Mel, you flatter me. I'm one of those engineers you were talking about who would be comfortable working in solitary confinement. Five days a week I'm buried in my work, and it's like living under a rock. Then on Saturday mornings I crawl out and look at the sunshine, and ask myself what I feel like doing to unwind. Whatever it is, I just do it and let it clear my mind so I can relax a little. Bachelor life isn't anything like married life, and since that didn't work out all that well for me, I now have my unplanned, unscripted weekends. Almost anything that doesn't hurt is okay with me. Maybe I can deliver you to where you work and go off and browse through an art museum while you take care of your phone calls. I'll give you my cell phone number and you can call me when you're almost finished, so I can be there to pick you up. Think that'll work?" "That'd be great. I'm imposing on you, but I don't have a lot of choice. As humbling as it is, I really have to depend on your kindness because I'm so totally helpless." "Suppose we get your phone calls taken care of, then swing by your house and make sure it didn't get broken into last night. You really ought to get the locks changed. We can call a locksmith and have him meet us there. Another thing is that we ought to go to your bank so you can get a new ATM card. Most banks around here close at noon on Saturday so we'd better do that first. And the DMV - better give them a call and see what their Saturday hours are." "You're right again. What's wrong with me? I'm the one with the degree in management. My mind is in such a mess that I couldn't manage a trip to buy a loaf of bread. I ought to be thinking of these things and organizing a plan. And you, Pete, you're telling me that your Saturdays are completely unstructured, yet you're the one who's mapping out all these things that I need to be doing. What's with that?" "Just rising to the occasion, that's all. Chalk up forty per cent to the old saw about 'A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do,' and sixty per cent to going all out to impress a beautiful young woman. In other words, some of it's the way I was brought up, and the rest is pure testosterone." "Oh!" "Oh, I'm sorry if I shocked you with my explanation. I'm just being honest. But don't worry. I won't attack you or take advantage of you. You're still safe with me. I'm the same person this morning that I was last night, and you made it through the night all right." "Well, yes, I see what you mean. But I wasn't expecting that any kind of sexual overtones would, um." Long pause. "What I mean is, well, oh, I don't know what I mean. Forget I said anything at all." "I've made you uncomfortable again, haven't I. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. Let's just get ready to travel and go take care of your errands. I'll try to be more diplomatic." * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * SATURDAY AFTERNOON * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * By mid afternoon we were at a good stopping place. Mel had gotten a new bank card, called all of the companies that had issued the cards she lost in her purse, followed up with confirmation by email, and got a replacement driver's license. All the locks on her house were re-keyed so that the old keys wouldn't let anybody in. We hadn't had any lunch, so I declared that it was time for a break. Three blocks from her house we found Barney's Pub, and went in for a sandwich and a beer. Mel sat back in her chair and let out a long sigh. "Oh, it's so good to have all that taken care of. I'm sorry that I've been such a pain. You've been a life saver, Pete. With the house all locked up again, I can pack up my stuff and get out of your hair now." "I'm sure you're eager to sleep in your own bed again. But before you go dashing for home, I think we ought to talk this over." "What's to talk about?" "Your house. Look, I don't know very much about burglary. I have a varied resume, but it doesn't include breaking and entering. I suppose that going into somebody's house and stealing their stuff is business as usual to some people. Finding that the keys won't work would probably be a disappointment to a professional thief, but I don't know whether it would stop him cold. If he'd gone to the trouble to travel all the way across town to your house and had his mind made up to clean you out, I'm not sure that the keys not working would stop him. Why wouldn't he just go ahead and break something to get in, and go ahead as planned." "But how could he get in?" "I doubt that he'd do anything out in front, where he could be seen from the street and the houses nearby, so maybe he'd go around the back and punch out a window or whatever." "Oh. But I'll be in there." "Exactly. That's what I'm leading up to." "You mean he'd come into the house with me in there? But why?" "Well, basically the same reason we go to work five days a week. This is his profession, the way he earns a living. But it's a risky profession, and long ago when he decided to make it his life's work, he must have made up his mind not to let anybody stand in his way. In other words, if he comes in and finds you there, he'll probably take care of you first and then go on and rob the house. You just wouldn't make any difference to him." "Well, then what should I do? I don't have a gun to keep under my pillow, or even a baseball bat to club somebody with. I don't have any way to keep myself safe from attack. This is awful. Oh, Pete, I'm getting scared." "All I can think of is that maybe I ought to stay with you for a few nights to help protect you, or else you ought to stay with me for a few nights. Really, that'd be the simplest, because we're right in your neighborhood now, so we could just go back to your house and you could get enough clothes to wear to work for, say, this week." "All week?" "I don't know. How many nights do you think we ought to give this guy?" "Oh, this is awful. I don't know what to do. Help me, Pete." "Okay, we'll compromise. Let's pick up enough clothes for three days, all right? I'll try to get Detective Vincent on the phone and talk this over with him. The police must know a lot more about burglars than we do. Maybe we ought to get an alarm system put in. I had one put into my house, but I paid a guy to do it because I don't know anything about that stuff." "We have a security team at work. Maybe they know something about it. I can talk with them on Monday, see what they have to say." "Okay, so Monday night you'll have information from your security guys, and I'll have whatever I can find out from the police, and we'll put our heads together and work out a plan. Right now we'd better get back to your house and pick up your clothes for work." We emptied our glasses and went out to my SUV. I drove down Mel's street and was about to park in front of her house when I noticed a van in the driveway. "Do you recognize that van?" "No. My parents have a Lexus, and it's parked in the garage. They took a shuttle to the airport, and they'll come back the same way, but not for two more weeks." "Okay. I'm going down the street to park and call the police." I went to the end of the block and made a U turn, then pulled up at the curb and called 911 on my cell phone. The 911 operator asked that we stay on the line until the police showed up. I drove slowly back past Mel's house so we could read the license number on the van and give it to her. Then we parked across the street beyond her house, and waited. It was only about five minutes later that a police cruiser came up the street and parked across from us, and in my mirror I saw another cruiser parking a few houses back the other way. Mel had her keys out, and she took her new driver's license with her and went over to talk with the policeman who showed up first. I saw him punching something in on his dashboard computer terminal, and then he handed the license back to her and walked up to the front door with her keys in his hand. I looked back and saw the other policeman walking along the driveway, toward the back of the house. Mel came back to the SUV and got in, watching nervously. The first policeman was inside the front door by then and we had our windows down so we could hear what was happening. All was quiet for a few seconds, and then a man's voice shouted. The first word was "police" but we couldn't make out the rest. Then it was quiet for maybe a minute, until we heard a gunshot. Immediately there were two more, close together. Then a pause, and two more close together. Then it was quiet again. "I hate to tell you this, Mel, but I think they've made a mess of your house." No sooner had I said those words than the cell phone, which I had laid on the center console and forgotten about, came to life again. The 911 operator asked, "Are you still out in front of the house?" "Yes, across the street in my car." "Good. Stay there. Whatever you do, don't go in the house. There has been a serious injury, and an ambulance is on the way. Keep this line open and I'll tell you what to do, but for now just sit there." "What happened? We heard shots. Are the policemen all right?" "Yes, but that's all I can tell you right now. In a little while you'll know all about it." As she was saying that, I heard a siren coming from behind us. The sound got louder, and then died as an ambulance pulled up in front of the house and parked. About the time that the medics were getting out of the ambulance, I heard another siren coming from the opposite direction, and pretty soon an unmarked car pulled right up to the front of my SUV and parked. The door opened and Detective Vincent walked up to the SUV. He stuck his head in my window and asked, "Is the 911 operator still on the line?" "Yes. Here, take the phone." "Are you there, Lois? Yeah, Steve Vincent. I'll take it from here, so you can hang up. Your first one, isn't it? Good work, holding it all together like that. I'll tell Greg when I see him." He punched the off button and handed the phone back to me. "Just stay here until I come back for you. It's going to take at least half an hour to get our work done in the house. If there hadn't been any shooting it'd be a lot simpler. The ambulance guys have to do their thing, and some people will come and take a lot of pictures and get fingerprints, and then we can get out of your hair." "How would it be if we go down to Barney's Pub and wait there? Here's my card, with my cell phone number circled. Would that work for you?" "Probably a good idea." While we were talking, an ambulance attendant came out the front door and stepped into the back of the ambulance. He came out and went back to the house, carrying a beige colored package under his arm. "Yeah, now that I've seen that, I'd say Barney's is an excellent idea. You could easily be waiting an hour, maybe two." "Why, what'd he get?" "A body bag. Well, there goes my golf game." He started to move away and then turned back toward us. "Why in the world would anybody be so dumb as to start a gunfight with a couple of cops? Cause of death is terminal stupidity." Barney's was busier than when we left. We got a table and I got a white wine for Mel and a club soda with a lime squeeze for me. Jack Daniel's would've hit the spot but I was driving, and I figured we'd be there long enough to have a few refills. If I had to describe Mel's condition in one word, I'd say numb. The reason I can say that with assurance is that I wasn't very far behind. I tried to make conversation, but my heart wasn't in it, and I doubt that she even heard me anyway. When she was halfway down in her wine glass, she set it down on the table and put her arms out straight in front of her, kind of like pushing the world away from her, and she shuddered. Then she relaxed her body and turned to me, as if she'd just noticed that I was there. "Pete, what a weekend! I feel awful about getting you involved in this mess, but I thank God that you're here with me. I'm calling in to work and telling them that I'm going to be out for several days. After all this, I need time to get myself back together. When we can get back into the house I'm just picking up casual clothes. In answer to your kind invitation to stay with you a while longer, I'll be happy to do so, and I thank you. "My house - I don't know whether I can ever bring myself to stay there or not. I doubt that it'll be really haunted, but in my mind it will be. I liked that house, but it's going to be hard to go into it without thinking of that horrible man. I wonder if he's the same one who stole my purse. He left me feeling violated, and then he went into my house, where I'm supposed to feel safe. He must have had a gun, so if I'd been in there I'd probably be dead now. And instead of surrendering to the police he tried to shoot them. His mind was filled with terrible intentions, robbing and killing, when he died. If his spirit is lingering, it might be still angry and full of hate and greed. Mel paused, and seemed to be retreating from our booth at Barney's to somewhere out in space where she could examine herself objectively. Then her words came out, rapidly, all in a gush. "I don't know if I'd like to live where that man died. I wonder if it'll feel different when I go back in there. Maybe I'll feel his awful thoughts and feelings. No concern for other people, just thinking of himself. Evil. That's what he was, evil. A violent, evil man. His intentions were evil and his feelings were evil and his actions were evil and that's how he died. "I'm just glad it's over. I never thought I'd say this, but I'm glad he's dead. Is it wrong to feel that way? If it is, I don't care. It's how I feel. He made me feel this way. It wasn't my idea. Maybe I should think how he did me a favor, coming to rob me and getting killed by the police. He gave me, what do they call it on TV? Starts with a C. Closure? That's it, closure. But I still feel violated. Damned crook! Rotten, through and through!" The torrent of words came to a halt and I sat there looking at her. There was nothing I could add to any of it. She had spilled all those words out, but they were honest words and she was certainly entitled to think and feel that way. I reached over and took her hand in mine. "I'm still here for you. Whatever I can do for you, I'll do it. But just as you were saying, the ball's in your court now. You'll have to come to grips with this, pull yourself together, feel what you feel and reconcile yourself with it. What you're doing, expressing your reaction to what happened, is probably the best thing. Just don't shove it all down deep, where it can come bubbling up later and make your life miserable forever. What a Week! "You seem to me like a good person. A good person shouldn't have to suffer because of the actions of a bad person. This is a lot to get over but I hope you can get back to being the person you were before." "Oh, Pete, I'm going to need you so much until I can get over this. On my own, right now, I doubt that I could walk a block down the sidewalk. I'd probably just flop down on the ground in the fetal position and cry and moan. You give me strength. I was proud of myself when I walked across the street to the policeman to give him my keys, and then walked back to your car. Every step I took, I was saying to myself, 'Look at me. Look at how straight and tall I'm holding myself. Look at how steady my hands are.' Is that ridiculous or what? I'm a hiker! Across the desert. Up the mountains. I'm strong. I'm tough. But look at me now, reduced to a helpless little blob by a rotten criminal. You're going to have a frail little old lady on your hands, hanging on your arm and depending on your strength. I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that's how I'll be for a few days. Be prepared to deal with an invalid." "Mel, except for going to college, did you ever live on your own, without your parents, for very long?" "Well, I guess it depends on what you mean by 'very long.' I was here for six months before I moved in with them. Does that count?" "How did it make you feel?" "I liked my job right from the beginning, and the people I work with. I remember getting up in the morning and being anxious to get to work. Then at the end of the day I felt a little lost, I guess. I'd often stay at work late, and I was - oh, reluctant, I guess - to go out of the building and be on my own, pick up my dry cleaning, get my supper, be in my apartment alone. I felt that I was just drifting, sort of purposeless. I often thought that I was like a zombie, just doing what had to be done, one thing after another, without any feelings about it. I was very neat, just the way I've always been, but I didn't feel any satisfaction from it." "Did you call your parents and cry on the phone?" "Yes. How'd you know that?" "Just a lucky guess. Okay, one last question. Exactly when are your parents supposed to get back here?" "If I had my purse I could pull out my little calendar and show you. I'll check the calendar when we go into my house and give you an exact answer. Roughly two weeks from now." "All right, here's what I think. I may be totally wrong, because I don't have all that much to go on, but I think that you'd better stay with me until they get home. You're telling me that you didn't do all that well living alone before they got here, and with all that's happened this weekend I think it's not going to work out well if you have to go home alone every night. I don't mind if you move into my house for a while, in fact I enjoy your company. Let's see how it goes these next couple of days and nights, especially the nights. Maybe we can get a clue for how we ought to plan the coming weeks until they're back here." "I'm sure you're right. I never thought of myself as such a delicate little wildflower that I need my mommy and daddy with me at all times, but maybe I just never outgrew that feeling. You know how girls can't wait to get their own place and be on their own? I never felt like that. I moved out of our home and into a dorm at U of M, just as a convenience, but my folks were nearby. Am I just naturally dependent? I can hold my own in a meeting, stand up in front of customer reps and our own top management and rattle off facts and figures without a quaver. A couple of times wiseguys have tried to embarrass me because I'm a woman in a man's job, and I've made them look like idiots. So maybe it just depends on the setting and the context. Something I ought to give some thought to. Maybe we can talk about it some more when I'm safe in the cocoon of your house. Right now, I know that I need you with me to feel safe. Let's see if that feeling fades during the first week." It seemed like a long time until Detective Vincent called. It might have been an hour, maybe longer - I was totally unconscious of the passage of time. When we got to Mel's house, he was waiting for us in the front yard. He took Mel by the arm and guided her up the front steps and into the little entryway that leads to the living room. I was following close behind, and I could see that nothing seemed out of order. He was talking softly to her, almost whispering in her ear. His attitude was calming and considerate. That was exactly what Mel needed, but I couldn't hear what they were saying. They were in the middle of the living room, looking all around, and I suppose she was telling him that she didn't see anything out of place. They progressed into the dining room, which was a different story. A very expensive-looking case, that looked to me like polished cherry wood with wrought silver hinges and latches, was askew in the middle of the table, and silver flatware pieces had been pulled out of it in such a hurry that many of the little elastic straps that held knives, forks, spoons, and serving utensils in place had been torn right out of the flannel lining. When Mel saw that, she gasped and grabbed the detective's arm with both hands to support herself. "Oh, God, my poor mother will be so hurt when she sees this!" she cried out. Then the detective said something and they both looked down at the floor, where a white pillowcase containing the silverware had been dropped and the contents had partially spilled out onto the carpet. He gestured with his hand toward the opposite wall, and I saw that a very handsome glass fronted china closet in the far corner of the room had been pulled open and some of the contents were spilled out onto the floor, about half of the pieces broken. The door itself was hanging crookedly from one hinge, and its beveled glass was broken. Not much seemed out of place in the kitchen. Some glassware had been pulled out of a cupboard, but it seemed to have been set carefully on the counter. A food processor that retailed for about five hundred dollars had been left untouched, probably because it would be heavy to lug out to the van. The burglar had also passed up some very expensive cooking pots and frying pans, probably near to a thousand dollars worth in all. Mel looked carefully at a little statue of Buddha that was actually a ring holder. No rings were on it, and she said something to the detective about that. Upstairs the master bedroom was a mess. A free-standing jewelry box was lying on its side. I overheard him tell her that the jewelry had been shaken out onto a bath towel that was over by the door. Mel's bedroom had not been torn up very much. Detective Vincent stood in the doorway going into that room from the hallway and explained, loudly enough for me to hear, that the burglar had apparently just gone in there when he was interrupted by the arrival of the police. He came out and went into the bathroom across the hall when the police came up the stairs. Then he came out partway and fired a shot at the policeman who was in the lead. The bullet was stopped by his Kevlar vest. The policeman shot back, hitting the burglar twice in the chest. The burglar fell down but still held his gun. From the floor he was trying to get off another shot at the policeman, who beat him to it and shot the burglar in the neck and forehead, killing him. The bathroom was splattered with blood, as were the hall carpet and the wall beyond the bathroom door. Down on the baseboard I could see some pieces of bone, along with gooey stuff that I recognized as brain tissue. If the burglar had made better use of that stuff, he might have left the house in handcuffs instead of a body bag. There wasn't much more to see upstairs, and rather than stand there admiring the bloodbath we went back downstairs and sat down at the kitchen table. Detective Vincent had left his attache case sitting on a chair, and he opened it to pull out a file folder containing his notes and report on Mel's purse snatching. He scanned the report quickly and said, "I took a very quick look in the van that's out in the driveway. I think there's a purse on the floor on the passenger side. If it's yours we may be able to recover some of the stuff that was stolen from you. We'll go out that way when we leave here and look at it. "Now about the house. I have here a card from a company we sometimes use for cleaning up crime scenes. In this case, it will be up to you to decide if you want to get some expert help on that, but you saw the upstairs hall. I doubt that you want to clean that up yourself. I wouldn't. I can call them and get somebody here to look the place over, or you can wait to see what the insurance adjuster says. "Do you know what company your homeowner's insurance is with? While we're here we ought to get them working on this. They may have some additional thoughts on the cleanup." "It's Allstate. They insure my dad's car, too. We ought to look at that just to be safe, but the garage has a brand new padlock on it and if it hasn't been tampered with the car is probably okay." I looked sideways at Mel's face as she was talking. The words came out smoothly, not in little gasps, and her voice sounded normal. I hoped that meant that she was coming to grips with the crime scene that used to be her home. I reached over and put my hand lightly on hers. She squeezed my hand quickly but didn't hesitate to let it go, which also seemed encouraging. The detective was scribbling notes on a yellow legal pad. "Miss Sanger, where will you be staying until we release the crime scene and the cleanup is completed?" Mel turned to me and was about to ask a question, when I said, "She'll be staying with me. I have a house with extra bedrooms, and she can bunk there for as long as it takes. I think you have my address and phone numbers in your folder already." "All right. Now about your parents, Miss Sanger. They are in Europe, is that right?" She nodded. "Do you have a way to contact them?" "The travel agent said that in an emergency I should call her, and she would be able to get a message to them, tell them to call me, but that it might take a day before I'd hear from them." "Do you remember the travel agency? You probably have their card in your wallet, but that may be missing." "Pete, would you please get the phone book out of the top drawer, right below the wall phone?" I got it and she flipped to the yellow pages. "Here it is. I marked it so Mom could call them when they were planning the trip. World Wide Travel, on Broad Street." "Would you like me to place the call, or would you prefer to do it?" I spoke up. "Why don't we leave that till we're at my place. I can call from there, on the house phone, and that'll give them a number to use for the message, since your phone is missing. May I just tear that page out of the book?" Mel, the champion of neatness and order, looked aghast at the suggestion and laid both hands over the page protectively. "No, of course not." "Oh. Sorry. I'll copy down the number." I pulled out one of my business cards to write on. "Do you have a name I can ask for?" "Ellen." "Okay, got it. I'll call her Monday morning. What else needs to be taken care of?" "I'm lost without my phone. If it's in the van, may I take it with me now?" "Not today. I can have it examined by a tech on Monday and you can probably pick it up at the station Monday evening." "If my purse is in the van, I'd like to get out some of my business cards. Could you help me with that, please?" "Not just yet. You can't handle the purse or anything that's in it. Our people will want to lift prints off the contents to find out who has handled your stuff since it was snatched from you. We'll see what we can do. "Anything else come to mind? No? Then let's go out to the van." The detective put on gloves before he opened the doors. "Don't touch anything If you see something that's of interest to you, just point to it. But first I'm going to take pictures of the interior, so just look around while I'm doing that." Mel spotted her purse on the floor by the front passenger seat. It was larger than I would have expected, considering how neat and orderly she was. I decided that it probably had a bunch of little pockets inside, or maybe some sort of an organizer. She would never just throw her keys, wallet, card case, phone, makeup and whatever in there, then burrow through the pile when she needed something. Mel looked around the rest of the van's interior but didn't see anything else of interest. Detective Vincent opened the rear doors to get a better look. "It looks as if he hadn't come back out here at all. I think he was spotting things that he'd steal. He must have thought that he had all afternoon to do this, and planned to get the loot all together by the back door and then lug it out to the van around sundown. That way, if anybody saw him taking things out of the house and called 911, by the time the police got here he'd be long gone. We're looking at a well planned, systematic attempt to clean out the house of anything that he could get a fast buck for. This certainly wasn't the first time he'd done this. I know you don't want to think about your personal involvement in the apprehension of this robber, but thanks to you, a career criminal, probably one who was responsible for a whole lot of crimes, has been taken off the street permanently, at minimal cost to the taxpayers." Mel seemed to accept that comment without revulsion, although she held onto my arm a little tighter. None of it bothered me very much. I hadn't expected to see the brain tissue on the baseboard, but I was pleased to see that a criminal career had been terminated. The fact that the police had been able to wrap it up so quickly and so finally, made me feel grateful for their protection. Better that they were there to shoot it out with the robber, than me or - God forbid - Mel. The danger inherent in their job was illustrated by the fact that the bad guy got off the first shot, and only a lightweight vest of Kevlar kept it from killing the lead policeman. I may gripe about overeager enforcement of speed laws, but I try to keep in mind that those guys in uniform are doing a job that I wouldn't sign up for on a bet, and the guy they're protecting and serving is my very own personal self. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * SATURDAY NIGHT * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * When we'd got home and changed into our color coordinated sweatsuits and sat down in my living room, I looked over my list of things to do and checked off the ones that were done. Sunday would be our day of rest. The only things that still had to be done were the ones that would wait for various people to come to work on Monday. Leaving a message for Mel's parents was the most delicate of those. Walking through the house with an insurance adjuster would be grim, but not as shocking as discovering the grisly mess the robber left, on Mel's first walk-through. If the adjuster could handle the cleanup contractor, it would take a load off Mel. Mel looked worn out. I could sympathize because I felt tired myself. Getting your emotions tied up in knots can be as tiring as doing hard work, it seems. I sat down on the sofa and she sat in a reclining chair, but after a few minutes she came over and sat on the sofa with me. "Pete, I don't want to embarrass you or put you in an uncomfortable position, but would you please hold me for a few minutes? I've been trying to be a brave girl ever since lunchtime, and my bravery tank is empty. I need to be held and reassured and protected for a while." I took her in my arms. She was sitting right next to me, and she leaned toward me as I wrapped my arms around her. Her head wound up in the middle of my chest. I stroked her hair gently, and my other hand patted her shoulder. "It's all right," I kept repeating, like a mantra, finally changing the lyric to a chorus of "I've got you and you're safe in my arms." All the time I was doing this, I was running over in my mind just how safe we really were. Before I moved into my house I had a professional do things like pinning my doors, installing heavy duty deadbolts, and putting redundant locks on my windows. Next a security company installed a good, basic alarm system. Then I stashed six handguns around the house and put a shotgun under my bed. It wasn't impossible to break in, but it was pretty difficult, and an intruder wouldn't be happy with what would greet him if he did. The more I thought about it, the more I thought Mel would be safer in the master bedroom, with me sleeping on the living room sofa where I could head off an intruder before he could get to her. "Mel, I think you ought to sleep in my bed tonight. I'll sleep right here, sort of like a guard. I want you to be safe, and I want you to feel safe, too. You need a good night's sleep." "I don't think you'd sleep very comfortably on this sofa, Pete. You're too big." "That's all right. If I get uncomfortable I'll get out my old air mattress and put it on the floor. You seem exhausted. Let's get you into bed." I took her by the hand and guided her into the master bedroom, where I picked her up and laid her on the bed, then took off her slippers. I made sure the pillow was positioned just right for her head and pulled up the covers. "Now go to sleep and think beautiful thoughts. Good night." "Will you kiss me good night, please." "Sure." I bent down and kissed her gently on the lips. "Good night." I walked to the door and had my hand on the knob when she said, "Pete." "Now what? Do you want me to read you a bedtime story?" "No. I just want to thank you for all you've done for me." "You're welcome." I slipped out and closed the door softly. I went to the linen closet and got out a pillow and a light blanket, in case I got cold sleeping in my sweatsuit, which seemed unlikely. It took me a couple of minutes to get myself adjusted to the sofa, and then I switched off my mind and drifted off to sleep. "Pete." I felt a small hand on my arm and opened my eyes to see a small, pretty face looking at me. "I'm scared. I need you to hold me. Please?" "Mel, if we sit here on the sofa and I hold you, neither of us will get any sleep." "No. I mean in your bed. It's big enough so we can be comfortable. I'm not trying to seduce you, but I need to be held and protected and comforted if I'm going to get any sleep. Please, Pete." Well, who could say no to that? I tried my best to convince Little Pete to stay down and not spoil my attempt to be what this little girl needed right then. The strange thing was that long after we'd gone to sleep wrapped in each other's arms, I kept holding onto her. I'd wake up and check on her, and every time I was holding onto her as if my life depended on it. What was that all about? Wasn't I in bed with her because she needed me? Did I need her just as much? * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * SUNDAY MORNING * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * I woke up first, but I didn't want to move right away and wake Mel. So I adjusted my position a little, put my arms around her again, and dozed off into a light sleep. When she started to move around I loosened my hold on her and let her figure out what she was doing there with me. My eyes were still closed when she raised up, leaned over me, and gave me a sweet kiss on my lips. Then she snuggled her head down onto my chest and muttered, "Thank you, Pete. My protector. Thank you." I waited until Mel got up and went into the guest bathroom before I did the same, using the master bathroom. Not knowing what the day would hold for us, I shaved right then and swapped off the sweatshirt for a clean T shirt. I went to the kitchen and was pleased to see that the elves had put a pot of coffee together, and it was dripping down, requiring no effort on my part. A stray thought drifted through my mind, to the effect that I could really get used to this every morning. I shook my head to get rid of inappropriate ideas like that, but even after chastising myself I could feel a smile on my face. What a Week! Mel materialized out of nowhere. One minute I was alone in the kitchen, and the next minute she was in back of me, wrapping her arms around my torso and snuggling her face into my upper back. "Pete, I've got to tell you something. I slept better last night than I have in years. All because of you." Years? What's that all about? Around eleven we headed out to Mel's house to get some more of her clothes. I called the police to ask if it was all right for us to go into the house without an escort and the desk sergeant said it would be all right. He said that as soon as the insurance adjuster had gone through the place with a policeman they'd remove the crime scene tapes, and as long as we didn't take anything but clothes it would be all right. I was just slowing down in front of the house, ready to turn into the driveway, when I spotted a red Subaru way back in the driveway, almost to the garage. "Holy shit!" Mel hadn't been looking ahead, and she jumped when I said that. "What is it?" "A car in the driveway. Punch 911 on my phone. Deja vu." * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * SUNDAY AFTERNOON * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * "Police department. What is your emergency?" "This is Peter Donnelson, near the Sanger house at 1226 East Aurora Avenue. I've brought Melanie Sanger to her house to get some of her some clothes, but just like yesterday, there's a car in the driveway that we don't recognize. Please send some policemen to investigate. Since there's probably someone in the house who shouldn't be there, I suggest a silent approach." "You said this happened yesterday? Is this the house where the suspect was shot to death?" "Yes. Exactly." "Where are you right now?" "Down the street, sitting in my SUV." "All right. Someone will be there in a few minutes. Please stay in you car. Do not get out of it, and whatever happens, do not go into the house. Please stay on the line until the police have cleared the house." As before, I drove slowly down the street until we were not quite directly across from the house. Mel was very quiet through this whole interchange. "Pete, could this really be happening again?" "We won't know until the police get here and clear the house. Do you have your license and keys ready?" "Right here. We're getting pretty good at this." The phone came to life. "Is this Detective Vincent's case?" "Yes, it is." "Thank you." Pause. "Two patrol cars are on their way." What followed was truly deja vu almost all the way. This time there were no gunshots, and the policemen finally brought a man out in handcuffs, and put him in the back seat of the patrol car that was parked behind me. Then the policeman who had gone in the front door came over and invited us inside. This time there were two cardboard boxes near the back door. The silverware had been put into one, along with a pillow case that appeared to contain jewelry. The other box contained various items of electronics, with the interconnecting cables still attached. "There's more upstairs. But it's such a mess up there that I doubt that you'd want to go up there." "But that's where I have to go. We came here to get my clothes, and they're upstairs. The bedroom at the end of the hall, on the right side. Is that badly torn up?" "Come with me and see for yourself." We climbed the stairs and Mel let out a scream. "Look what that son of a bitch did to my dressing table! And look at my clothes, pulled out of the closet and thrown across the bed! What kind of a rotten bastard could have done this?" I was as shocked by her language as she was by the mess that the thief had made of her bedroom. I was in the doorway, and couldn't see a whole lot with the policeman in my way. I glanced around and noted that the dresser drawers were closed. I asked the policeman, "Is this where the burglar was working when you came in?" "Yes. He was in here, taking the clothes out of the closet. He didn't even stop when I yelled from the front door. Maybe he was in the closet and couldn't hear me. I don't know what he expected to find in there. These are good clothes, but they're not what I'd expect a burglar to go after. Seems pretty strange." "It's almost as if he expected to find something in back of them. Mel, is there anything back in the corner of the closet?" "I think I put a box of old records in there. You know, vinyl disks that play music. And there may be a pair of old hiking boots. You don't think he'd want them, do you?" "No, I was thinking of something more valuable. Something he could easily convert into cash." "But there's a whole attic. If he thought something was hidden in the house, why look in my closet?" "Look, you've got to get your clothes out anyway. Let's take a few minutes to straighten them all out, and put them into my car. Then if there's something funny going on in this closet, we can look around in there and see what it is." I backed the SUV into the driveway and folded the back seats down. Mel got a sheet out of the linen closet and laid it across the cargo space, and as I brought the clothes down from the bedroom, Mel laid them out flat on the sheet. Three trips later, they were all there, and Mel folded the rest of the sheet over them. Then there were the shoes, which we put into trash bags and set carefully just ahead of the sheet, so we wouldn't wrinkle her clothes with them. Back in the house, I asked the policeman what his plans were. "I've got to stay here to watch the place. They're sending out a truck to get the Subaru, and somebody should be coming out to secure the back door again. That door's getting a lot of abuse. One more burglary and it'll be firewood. When you drive out, I'm going to back my car into the driveway and sit there, where I can watch the house and the street. If you folks want to go get a bite to eat, I'll stay here till you get back." Before we left, I took Mel back up to the bedroom with me to have another look at the closet. It just didn't look right to me. The right side and left side didn't match, yet there was no apparent reason not to make the closet symmetrical. I did some pacing and arm reaching to get approximate distances, and while it was pretty approximate I still thought it wasn't the way it ought to be. Maybe exact measurements would help answer the question. Then back to Barney's we went. While I was waiting for our food to be served, I made a call to Rudy Berg, a friend of mine from back when I was married, who did house repairs and renovations. He knew where Barney's was, and agreed to meet us there in a half hour. Our phone conversation had just ended when the waitress came out with our lunch. The pastrami on rye was outstanding, and the cole slaw tasted good, too. The draft beer I saw being handed around looked mighty tempting, but I stuck to coffee and Mel had iced tea. Rudy arrived when I was on my second cup. I offered him lunch or something to drink, but he declined. When we left he followed us to the house. I explained to the policeman that Rudy was there to look at the closet with us, and invited him to go upstairs with us, but he said to just go ahead. In the bedroom, Rudy went over the closet with a flashlight and said he needed to do some measuring. He went into the next bedroom, then came back to Mel's, carefully measuring and jotting notes in a little pocket notebook. Finally he asked us to step into the closet with him. It was a tight fit. "Look over here and you can see what the left end of the closet looks like. It's finished off with drywall, all taped and sanded, and you can see the baseboard that matches what's in the rest of the house. Now look at the right end. See how the wall looks sort of uneven and lumpy? And notice that the baseboard is missing. "I've measured, and I believe that about two feet of your closet space is missing. In other words, somebody has put up a false wall, making a two foot square hiding place in back of it. I don't know what's in there, but they didn't go to all that trouble for the fun of it. There must be something important hidden back there, maybe something you couldn't hide in the attic. My guess is that your burglar knew about it and was trying to get at it when the police arrived today." I didn't want to get carried away playing detective, and decided to blow the whistle on our discovery. I asked Rudy to stay in the living room with Mel, while I went out to the driveway to talk with the policeman. I explained what we thought we had found, and asked if Detective Vincent could join us. It turned out that he had already been called, although he hadn't said he'd come to the house. I asked if he could be called again, and waited while the policeman talked to the desk sergeant. Then he turned to me and said, "He'll be here shortly. Shame to do this to him on his day off, but that's the job, isn't it. Just don't let anybody touch anything till he gets here. He's very particular about his crime scenes." I said that we'd wait in the house, and went into the living room to wait in upholstered comfort with Rudy and Mel. The three of us speculated on what the secret treasure might be, and kept coming back to two favorites, a large amount of money, and a body. Nothing else seemed to make any sense. Detective Vincent joined us. I didn't know that he and Rudy had met before. Rudy quickly explained what he had found upstairs, by measurement and by direct observation, and took him upstairs to show it to him. When they came back down, the detective sat quietly, lost in thought. Finally he addressed his remarks to Mel. "Miss Sanger, the criminals who have targeted you and your family must have you pretty well on edge. We investigate crimes like these every day, but they usually come one or two at a time. The way these crimes against you have cascaded, one after another, is new to me. First your purse was stolen, then your home was burglarized, then there was a shootout with the police, then another burglary, and now we suspect that there may be something of importance, walled over in your closet. "I'd bet my paycheck that these crimes are all connected somehow, and the key to all of them may be behind that false wall in your closet. Looking forward, we'll catch the people who are behind this crime wave, and when we do I want to see the DA get convictions. We could tear out that false wall right now and maybe convince a judge that we were justified in doing it, but I'd rather take the time to get a warrant before we touch it. That's going to slow down the process but I think the delay is justified. I'd like to review everything with a lawyer representing your parents, who own the house, before going to a judge with a warrant. That way we can assure you, and the state, that everything has been handled properly. "Do you understand all this?" "Yes, you've explained it clearly. I'll feel a lot more comfortable if you deal with my father's attorney. I'll go upstairs to my father's office and get his name. Be right back." I was opening my mouth to ask the detective how the mystery in the closet related to the other crimes, when Mel's voice shrieked, followed by, "SON OF A BITCH!" Detective Vincent was quick. He leaped up from his easy chair, drawing his pistol as he ran to the stairway, and took the steps three at a time. I was right on his heels, too close to see around him. Rudy was right behind me. When we got upstairs, Mel was backing out of the room, a small bedroom made into an office. The detective took two steps into the room and knelt on the floor, and I could look over him to see a man's body lying on the floor. The detective felt for a pulse on the neck, and then slid his hand down inside the shirt. "Dead, completely cooled to room temperature." He lifted the man's left hand a few inches. "Rigor mortis has set in, and hasn't let up yet. The rigor says that he died between three and twenty-four hours ago, but his body temperature says it was more than four hours ago. No blood that I can see. Could we have been walking around up here with that body lying there all the while?" He rose up slowly, as if he was suddenly very tired of these discoveries, and said, "Rudy, I need your business card so I can call you when we're cleared to take out that closet wall. Now all three of you, get out of here and don't come back until I call you. Our crime scene people will need to do a lot more than they did before, and this place will be crawling with people very shortly. Also, this may be a dangerous place to hang around. No telling what'll happen next. And besides, I'll be yelling at a few people, really loud. You go home and forget all about this. Say nothing to anybody about anything we've seen here. Check to be sure you're not being followed. If you are, drive normally but call 911 right away. Lock your doors and windows at home. Try not to be alone. Got that?" We all nodded, and when he jerked his head toward the stairs we walked out, and drove slowly away, without another word. By the time we got back to my house, I was feeling just as tired as the detective was of this whole business. It seemed that all of the emotions connected to this series of events were piled up in my brain and blocking out all conscious thought. I drove slowly, mechanically. We got home all right, but if you asked me exactly what streets I took, I couldn't tell you. I went in through the garage and did a quick walk through to make sure the grim surprises hadn't overflowed from Mel's house into mine. As I walked back to the garage, I passed Mel hauling the first load of clothes. I got an armload of clothes and a bag of shoes and headed to the guest room. Mel looked up from sorting out dresses, and she looked tired, too. "Oh, Pete," was all she said. I took two steps and wrapped her up in a gentle hug. "Pete, will you ever forgive me for getting you involved in this mess?" "Just breathe, Sweetie. Try to relax as much as you can. Focus on what you're doing and try to let your brain stop thinking about things that are scary and confusing. Put every hanger onto the closet rod as straight as you can. Space them evenly. Let that simple task be so important that it blots out everything else. All right?" "What did that mean?" "What? Didn't you understand what I was telling you?" "Of course I understood that. But what you called me? Don't you know what you said?" "Well, I, wait, I think I - no. What did I say?" "You called me Sweetie. Did you mean that?" "Oh, that must have slipped out." I stopped to try to collect my thoughts. "Mel, I've been trying hard not to let my feelings for you get out in the open because I didn't want to presume - or - oh, I've been having very special feelings about you, and I didn't want to let you know because I really have no right to - ." "Stop right there, Pete. I've been feeling that way, too. You can call me Sweetie any time you want. That's the first good thing to come out of all this, this, this mess." We just stood there for a year or less, holding each other close and enjoying the way it felt. Finally I said, "I'll go down and bring up the last of the stuff from the car, lock up, and we can go in on the sofa and talk some more, let it all hang out. Please." "I'd like that." Later, on the sofa, I fought hard to do what I'd promised, say how I felt and try to invite Mel to do the same. "Look, Mel, do you mind if I call you Sweetie? How's Honey?" "I like you to call me whatever pet names you want, because it makes me feel warm, secure, wanted, everything that I haven't been feeling. Well, any name except Poopsie. I didn't earn a master's degree to be a Poopsie. "I've been so alone, Pete, and you know I hate to feel alone. Oh, that makes me sound like some kind of a weakling, and I'm really not, but I don't like to feel that I'm doing everything just for myself. I want to feel part of something bigger, like a family. Or a relationship. I want to do everything to the very best of my ability for my own satisfaction, but even more for somebody who will be proud of me. And until I met you I'd been feeling that nobody cared what I did or felt. You make me feel attached, and appreciated, and wanted. "I don't think that came out the way I wanted it to. But please try to understand." "I do. Mel, I've been feeling alone for a long time, too. Ever since things started going sour with Celia, I've been keeping my thoughts and feelings to myself. That's about three years. Three long years. "Now listen, because this is important. When your house gets all cleaned up, no more corpses, fake walls, hidden treasures, unwelcome visitors - when it's all safe for you to go back there, I don't want you to go back. I want you to stay here with me. We need to see if we can have a normal relationship, and see if we're as special for each other as we hope we are." I paused while I searched for the right words. "Mel, I'm looking for a miracle. I need you to fall in love with me." We were on the sofa. I was as far at the left end as I could get. She was sitting a little bit away from me, turned toward me and looking right into my eyes. I laid my right arm across her shoulders. Without any pulling on my part she slid over against me, and with a wiggle she sort of molded her body up against mine. Her head leaned against my chest and she let out a sigh. I knew that she was done talking, but she surprised me with one last request. "Pete, love me. Carry me to your bedroom and undress me. I don't know what I want you to do, but I want to feel your skin against my skin. Nothing separating us. Can you do that, please?" I was totally surprised by her request, but I went along with it willingly. We relaxed together, feeling the comfort of each other's body. We didn't do anything or say anything, mainly because we didn't need to. Communication by osmosis, I guess. Eventually we fell asleep that way, and we hadn't moved a muscle when the phone woke me an hour later. The caller ID window had some abbreviations that I didn't recognize, so I answered, "This is Pete Donnelson." "Hello. This is Professor William Sanger. I got a message to call this number, although I don't know why." "Oh good. Professor, you got the right number. I'm a friend of Melanie. She's here with me, at my house. There have been some unusual things going on at your home on Aurora Avenue, involving criminal activity. Melanie is all right. I'm keeping her with me so I can protect her. The police are investigating what's happened at your home, and right now it's a crime scene. That's the best summary I can give you in a few words. Now I'll put Mel on and she can tell you all about it." Mel tried to talk calmly to her father, but eventually the tears came spilling out. I tried not to listen, but she was sitting on the far side of a king size bed from me - what's that, about six feet? - so it was hard not to get every word. I was on the side toward the wall, so when I got up to give her some privacy I had to walk right past her. She reached out and took my hand, and pulled me down to sit beside her. So much for privacy. She didn't cry long, and kept on talking. "Daddy, I want you and Mom to go on with your cruise, and see all the things you've been dreaming about all these years. There's nothing to be gained by coming home. In fact, if you did you couldn't even stay in the house. It's all roped off with yellow tape, and swarming with people who work for the police. There has been very little damage in the house, and once the police are done with it, I don't think it'll take a long time to get it back to normal." There followed a period of silence at our end, while the professor voiced concern for his little girl. "No, Daddy, I'm just fine. I'd be an emotional wreck if it weren't for Pete. He's been wonderful. He has a nice house, and I have my own bedroom and bathroom and even my own cable TV. It's like a three star hotel but better because Pete's here to watch over me." Long pause, and a little chuckle. "Yes, I hope so. We'll see. Hold on a sec. I'm going to put Pete back on." What a Week! "Professor, I believe that things here are all in good hands. Melanie is safe because she's with me. Your home is safe because the police are guarding it around the clock. I know it must be hard to hear all this and just shrug it off and go on touring Greece or whatever, but I don't know of anything you could do that's not being done." "Are the police tearing the house up as they investigate?" "Some, but not a whole lot. Nothing that can't be put back the way it was. There's a false wall at one end of Mel's closet that they plan to tear out. The lead detective who's in charge is named Steven Vincent, and he's competent, in my opinion. If you'd like to talk with him, I can give you the number of his cell phone. Wait a second. Here it is," and I read him the number. He sounded a little relieved as he answered, "Thank you. Let me read it back to you." He did. "That's right. He's trying to get to the bottom of what's been happening, but he seems to be sensitive to your interests." "Look, Pete, the house is just a house. What's important is my little girl. You'll take good care of her?" "Count on it." "Oh, here's her mother. Can you put Mel back on?" "Sure. Here she is." I covered the mouthpiece and said, "Your mother." Mel took the handset and covered the mouthpiece again to say, "Girl talk. Go fix coffee." I was surprised at how long Mel and her mother talked. Probably half about Mel, and the other half about me. I supposed that was a good thing, because once they were home they'd have to get to know me, and all about me, before they'd give their consent to - no, let's not go there yet. Things were going along well, and there was no need to rush anything. I had the draperies closed so my naked body wouldn't be on public display. All except for the back of the house. That was the north side, and having those draperies open gave a pleasant, soft light to the house. My lot was a third of an acre, about ninety feet wide and a hundred and sixty deep. The house sat only about forty feet back from the street, which gave me a big back yard, about ninety feet square. Several of neighbors had used their back yard space for swimming pools, and one had a tennis court. All the back yards were fenced, mine with a seven foot high block wall. The realtor told me that the original owner had a trophy wife who liked to sunbathe nude. The wall provided privacy, and not having a pool avoided certain risks, not the least of which are randy young pool boys. The yard itself was quite plain. There were small clumps of bushes at the corners and in a couple of places along the back wall. Otherwise it was a grassy lawn, uniform, a healthy green color thanks to the automatic watering system, restful to look at and easy to take care of. I was sitting on a barstool at the kitchen counter, looking out the back window and thinking about everything and nothing. The coffee had almost finished dripping through when Mel came out holding the phone out to me. "My father wants to say something to you, and then you can hang up." "Hello. Professor?" "Yes, Pete. You and I will have a lot to talk about when I get home. I hope you weren't offended by my unfriendly tone when we first talked. I deeply appreciate what you're doing for Melanie. Any favor you do for her is a favor for me. Feel free to call me if anything comes up that I ought to know about. I'll try to get hold of the detective, but whether I do or not, I'll expect that my main contact will be you. Is that all right?" "Just fine. While I've got you here, the detective wants to work with your lawyer to make sure your interests are protected when they do a thorough search of the house. What lawyer do you want to use?" "Young fellow named Seth Warren. He's in Phoenix." "Fine. I'll see that he gets consulted. If anything important comes up, I'll let you know. I hope you enjoy your tour. Take lots of pictures." "We'll have enough to put you to sleep with. Thanks again. Goodbye." I handed the phone back to Mel. "Whatever you said seems to have smoothed things over between your father and me." "I just told him that you're not much but you're the best I could find on short notice." "Well, that sounds like a fair assessment. I'm like the bird in the hand." "Oh, Pete, I want to say something but I guess I feel foolish thinking it." By then I had poured two cups of coffee. She picked hers up and took a tiny taste. "Ooh. Needs to be doctored. Want me to fix yours?" "Please. But first explain what that cryptic comment was about. You can't just drop something like that on me and then leave me hanging." "Well, there's something that I feel like telling you, but I hardly know anything about you, and we've only known each other for less than seventy-two hours." "Well, then, what do you want to do about that? Blurt it out, or find out more about me?" "Both. But I'm tired of holding this in. I'll blurt first and listen later." She came over and put her arms around me. "Pete, I think I love you. Now what do you think of that?" "Relief. I feel the same way and I didn't want to say anything about it this soon, afraid I'd scare you off. I'll even add something else. Being here in the house with you, both of us stark naked, feels like the most natural thing in the world. It sort of symbolizes being totally honest and open with each other. It was one thing to be together on the bed like this, feeling your skin on my skin. But walking around in the kitchen, talking, fixing coffee and doing all the other normal things without having to hide inside clothing, seems to me like a whole 'nother level of closeness. I don't think we could manage it if we didn't love each other." "Yes, you're right. If you were anybody else I'd be running away screaming to put something on. So here we are, both naked, both at ease with it, and able to carry on as if we do it every day. It's not as if we'd just finished having sex. We're about as totally open to each other as we can get. We must trust each other. We must not want to hide anything from each other." There was a long pause. She was thinking about something and I didn't feel like interrupting. "Pete, I've got a good thought to share with you." "Go right ahead." "I think this is the happiest day of my life. Oh, please, when we sit down to have our talk, don't tell me you're an ax murderer." "This coffee tastes a lot better than my usual. Let's take our coffee cups with us and go into the living room so I can tell you the story of my life. Then you can decide what I am." We got comfortable and I began my story. "I was born and raised in Columbus, Indiana. My father worked for Cummins Engine Company. After I was old enough to go to school, my mother got a job in the school cafeteria, and it was good because when I was on vacation, so was she. I loved my parents very much and we were a close family. I have a sister who's three years older than I am, and she sort of looked after me as I was growing up. I told her everything, and she always gave me good advice about everything. When I wanted to start going out with girls, I never once approached a girl without talking about her first with my sister. Sex was the same thing. She told me exactly what to do and how to treat the girl. No 'wham, bam, thank you ma'am' for her brother! My entire social adjustment I owe to her." "What's her name?" "Anita. She's married now, to a building contractor named Harry Wilson. They have three kids and live in Lafayette. Or as the natives say it, Lay-fayette." "Do you still consult with her about your women friends?" "No, and I sure blew it with the last two. Could've used some sisterly advice on them. Especially the one I married, Celia." "Okay, sorry for the interruption. But just remember this - I want to meet Anita and spend enough time with her so we can really get acquainted, whenever it can be worked out." "Simplest thing in the world. In the winter months Harry gets pretty well frozen out of work, unless he's on a job that can be worked completely inside. We could get them to visit us for Christmas, when their kids will be off from school for a couple of weeks. I've got plenty of room here. I could give them airline tickets for a Christmas present. After we get done stumbling over corpses, let's set that up. "Back to my story. After high school I enlisted in the Army, put in five years. You said you hope I'm not an ax murderer, and I'm not. But I have killed people, when I was overseas. There was nothing frivolous about it. They were people who had to be killed, so I killed them. Afterward I didn't feel all torn up about it. War is like that. They were people who tried to kill me and my friends, because they didn't like us and because we were their enemy and it was their job. The only way for us to get out alive was to kill them first. Didn't leave much room for decision making. But I want you to understand that I know how to kill people, and I know I can do it, so when I say I'll protect you, I mean it. If some guy comes after you, you're safe but he isn't. I had to tell you that, but I hope we never have to discuss it again. It's not my favorite topic. "Back to my story. I got out of the Army and went to Purdue University, majored in Civil Engineering. I got advance credit for ROTC courses because of my military service. That shortened up my credit hour requirements enough for me to squeeze in some graduate level courses in my last two semesters. Then I completed my master's degree in one summer plus another semester, and come Christmas time I was finished. That January I started working for a structural steel outfit that I'd worked for during two summers, and I learned a whole lot doing the design and specs on steel for some big industrial buildings. Funny, it all looks so simple and yet it's so complicated. The company I worked for was really good, top of the line. Four years later I was recruited for a senior engineer position with Finston and Webley, where I work now. They're another top of the line outfit, in their case working bigger buildings. That's one thing I learned from my dad: 'You're known to the world by your business card, so make sure the company name says you're one of the best.' "That's enough about my school and work. I don't make enough to be rich, but I'm careful with my money and I'm comfortable. When you decide to quit work to have a family, we'll do all right on my salary alone." "What? Where'd that come from?" "I just threw that in at no extra charge. Go ahead, try to tell me with a straight face that you haven't thought about it." Mel didn't say another word but snuggled up a little closer to me, so I continued. "Now about my private life. I dated a bunch of women, some of them Anita would have approved of, some not. I never was in a mood to get serious with any of them, until one came along who might have been a serious candidate, so I had her move in with me. The odd thing was that her name was June, and she moved in with me in June. That lasted a year, right to the day. On our anniversary date we had one hell of a party, just the two of us. It was great, because we both knew that we were finished, and this party had nothing to do with the L word or forever. We woke up hung over and sore and sticky and walking funny. That day she moved out what was left of her stuff, and I helped her. "I guess maybe I was on the rebound from June when I met Celia. We both had been burned in previous affairs, so we went very carefully, one step at a time. We dated for six months or so and then she moved in with me. After a few months that seemed to be going well and I proposed. We got married quietly and stayed married for four years, but it was really over in two years and we just didn't want to admit it to our friends or each other, or especially to ourselves. We got a legal separation and that lasted a year, with a marriage counselor thrown in, to make it seem that we were trying. But we were just going through the motions. Our divorce became final, we signed the papers, said goodbye, and I took a long walk to get my mind straightened out. And it worked. I swore that I would never fall again. I could see that I was simply looking for a clone of my sister. None of my women could measure up, and I'd had enough of them to know that no woman ever would. So I knew for sure that I'd never have another serious relationship. I was destined to be a player, and for family life I could be Good Old Uncle Pete to Anita's kids. That was it, forever. "Somebody said once that everybody's forever is different, and we never know how long our forever will be. My forever lasted an hour and a half. It ended when I found you sitting in my car." "You mean all this was just Friday? Three days ago? Do I have that right?" "Exactly. And by yesterday afternoon I was falling seriously in love. The whole deal - together; two and a half children; picket fence; down life's pathway; have and hold; love, honor, and cherish; all that stuff. Care to comment now?" "Comment? I'm speechless! Dumbstruck!" "Then what do you think I feel like? Oh, well, back to my story. After Celia and I cooled down, our marriage was a sham. We were just trying to act married. The only thing that held us together was our reluctance to admit failure. We were not two people in love, just two stubborn fools, with powerful egos and damn little common sense. That year of separation was just more of the same. So I wasn't on the rebound when you snuck into my car, and into my life. Mostly, I felt disgusted with myself. I had wasted years of my life playing a stupid charade with an unworthy partner." "Wait. Back up a little. You dated women hoping they'd be like Anita. How does that apply to here and now, to me?" "I'll tell you the absolute truth. You're the first woman who's ever made the cut, the first to make it into the final round." "And I'll be just as truthful. I'm getting more anxious than ever to meet this Wonder Woman and see for myself who and what I'm up against." "Well, here it is October. If they can come, you'll have only two months to wait till you can meet her and go off and let it all hang out. I'll call tonight, when Harry will be home from work. "But before that, we'll have your parents here. I doubt that they're naïve enough to think we sleep in separate rooms. I'll bet they'll be delighted to see that you're finally sleeping with a man. If we're a couple, then we ought to act like it. Think it over." "All right, I agree that we ought to do that. But Pete, I need to change the subject a little. I've been trying to work up the courage to tell you something. Please don't get upset with me, but I, ah, I want to have sex with you but I'm afraid." "Why? I'll be gentle with you. We can take it slow, make sure you're ready for everything. I promise that I'll be just as good as the best guy you've ever been with." "Well, you see, that's just the trouble." "I'm not following you." She looked ready to cry. "Mel, Honey, what is it?" "Pete," she sobbed. "I've never done it before. I'm a virgin!" I turned and wrapped my arms around her. "Here, sit on my lap so I can hold you. Sweetie, I love you and you know I'll always protect you from everything. I didn't expect this, but it'll give me a chance to show you just how gentle I can be. I won't hurt you, and I won't let anything scare you, either. I'll make sure you enjoy it. I'll stop any time you ask me to. "Tell me, have you ever had an orgasm?" She was still sniffling a little and I handed her a tissue. "Well, I've played with myself and sometimes it feels really good, but I don't know anything about orgasms. From what I've read, if you never had one you don't really know what they're like." "I think you're in for a wonderful surprise. What about contraception? Are you on the pill?" "Oh, yes. I got a prescription as soon as I moved here, and I take them religiously, every day. I've wanted to become a woman as long as I can remember, but so far I've just been keeping the pharmacy in business." "Let's go in on the bed. I think you've earned the right to be seduced. If you've been worrying about it for a long time, it's about time that we put your fears to rest." On the bed, I got Mel settled with about a thousand pillows behind her back, backed up by the headboard. She could see everything that went on, and she could reach out to me any time she wanted to. She looked a little puzzled but I told her to relax and let me make her feel like a woman. Before she could object, I kissed her, and when we came up for air I kissed her some more. She seemed to enjoy the tongue tussle, and while that was going on I was starting to worship her breasts with my hands. I pulled back and asked her how she liked it so far. "Oh, I loved the kissing, and you're making my breasts feel really good. My nipples are very sensitive." No surprise there. Every young woman's nipples are sensitive, and every one of them thinks that hers are the only ones that are like that. I kissed her under her chin, and went around to the side, under her ear, with little baby kisses. Then I made a big show of cuddling her breasts in my hands and bringing my thumbs up to massage the nipples very slowly and gently. I moved my head, looking intently at the nipples as they grew and stiffened, as if I had never seen anything like that. Then I moved in and licked around a nipple, and slowly let my tongue wash over it. That made her stiffen up and squeal softly. I tried it on the other breast, and followed up by flicking the tip of my tongue over the very end of the nipple. She breathed rapidly, then seemed to hold her breath, then exhaled and inhaled deeply. By then I was back to the first nipple, flicking that one too. Meanwhile I moved my left hand around onto her back, and let it gently slide down toward the cheeks of her ass. I was trying to make every movement soft and slow, and I simply caressed with that hand, without squeezing anywhere. It was down past her waistline when I slowly slid my right hand down to her tummy and then followed it there with my face, finally planting little kisses on her belly button. On down from there was a patch of pubic hair, rather sparse and trimmed short on the sides but not shaved. As I moved my face in that direction the aroma of her arousal was unmistakable. I let my fingers comb idly through her thatch patch, then brought both hands down to her knees to ease her thighs apart. I licked alongside her lovely pubic hair, favoring the slight hollow where the bare skin tents up toward the front of the pelvis. It took a little exploring but I found the sensitive spot there that many women don't even know they have, and that got her heart racing. As her thighs spread out to allow me more room at her crotch, I brought my face down there and gazed at the beauty of her outer labia. With my fingers I parted them and bent my face down to lick them and the inner labia as well. With the point of my tongue I licked just barely inside the inner labia from bottom to top, gradually working my way up to her clit, which was just emerging from its hood. I put the tip of my right index finger beside her clit and slid it around toward the back, which pushed the little bud out from its hood. I jabbed softly at the tip of it with my tongue, and then sucked it in between my lips. Using my lips to steady it, I assaulted it with my tongue, and finally blew it out from my lips and continued to blow on it, which of course made it feel cold. By this time Mel's abdominal muscles were alternately tensing and relaxing, and her voice was uttering mewing sounds, punctuated by soft grunts. Something big was definitely on its way. I used my index finger to stroke her inner labia until they opened slightly, allowing me to insert my tongue. Up until this point she had been able to watch a lot of what was going on, but as I licked up and down in there she had no idea what was coming next, and she might not have even realized that it was my tongue doing that to her. I licked, and poked, and rolled my tongue over those tender tissues, then followed up right behind my tongue with my finger, which was very shortly joined by a second one. I could comment here on Mel's tightness, but any man who has tackled a virginal pussy will know what it felt like, and any man who hasn't would never understand, no matter what I told him. As I reached deeper into her cunt I came to her hymen, which was intact but only partially blocking her birth canal. I could reach my finger down low and get past the hymen, which stretched rather easily without any signs of pain. What I wanted to do was locate the G spot. In all my life I'd messed around with only one other virgin, and it was back when I was a kid and I'd never even heard of a G spot. I don't know if anybody had. That was a long time ago, and wandering around Mel's hymen with my fingers had me confused. So I was fumbling around inside of Mel, disoriented. But although my blind explorations were imprecise, I finally located that magic patch of sensitive flesh. I rubbed gently, and twisted my hand around so that I could apply my thumb to her clit at the same time. It's lucky that I happened to pull my head back before I did that, because when I got those two pleasure centers firing at once, Mel's hips bucked upward violently, and I'd have been knocked cold if my chin had been in the way. What A Week "Well I've been imagining and hoping for something like this all day and the teasing in the car and in the bathroom certainly helped wind me up. I thought I was going to die in the middle of that." I managed to gasp this out, still feeling as weak as a kitten. Mom got up and headed in to the bathroom and returned with a facecloth and hand towel. "We can't leave you like that." She said and she sat on the edge of the bed and washed all the discharge off my belly and chin with the warm soapy face cloth. She dried me off with the towel and taking up the facecloth again she began to wipe my groin clean. Her movements with the warm cloth soon had my cock sitting up and beginning to stand to attention once more and she was careful to finish the cleaning and drying gently, not wanting me to get overexcited at this time. When she had dropped the cloth and towel in a heap beside the bed she lay back down beside me and went on, "Well - as I said the first one was for you, and you seemed to enjoy it, now we'll make this one for both of us." Mom moved closer to me and kissed me again and then guided my head down till I could take her nipple in my mouth. "Work at it gently but not too gently." She ordered, "Woman love to have attention paid to their breasts and nipples and if you suck and lick them and occasionally bite them very softly you will get almost any woman highly excited and ready to have sex with you." This seemed like it might be a steep but rewarding learning curve and I followed her directions eagerly until she was groaning and writhing on the bed under my attention. Mom grabbed one of my hands and guided it down to her cunt and showed me how to run my fingers up and down between the lips of her pussy and then to rub firmly on the small hard nubbin at the top of these lips. The harder I rubbed the more she seemed to like it and she was moaning and crying out quite loudly as we went on. Her whole pussy area seemed to be soaking wet and the sounds my fingers were making as the probed and slipped around were much the same as those I had heard while watching Dad fucking her the other night. I was amazed to discover a large hole gaping open at the bottom of her cunt and Mom seemed very pleased when I instinctively probed with a finger. Pushing more and more in when I found that there was room, I finally had four fingers thrusting in and out of her and she was lying there with her legs flung wide apart, completely open and seemingly mine to do with as I wanted. "I can't wait any longer. Put your cock in me and fuck me. Please! I've got to have you. Please." Mom pulled me over so as I was lying on top of her and I thrust desperately at her, trying in vain to satisfy her needs. "Stop! Stop! Wait for a moment. I'll help you." Mom cried out desperately and finally her words penetrated my consciousness and I stopped my frantic movements. She reached down and moved the head of my cock to the correct place and then said, "There. Push it in slowly. That's where it goes." And I did as she suggested forcing it as far in as I could. When I had it right home and our two bodies were pressed tightly together it felt so wonderful that I just stopped moving and lay there enjoying the feeling. Mom's pussy was squeezing my cock tightly and the hot warmth that I was sunk into felt so right that I never wanted to pull out, however Mom soon encouraged me to start thrusting in and out just as I had seen Dad doing and as I had been doing not so long ago with my fingers. I could feel the moisture building up and seeping out from where we were joined and the sounds of our fucking were quite loud. Mom suddenly wrapped her legs around me and with her heels against my bum tried to drag me even further into her body as she was shoving her pelvis hard back against mine in time with my thrusts into her. She had her head pushed right back and was scarlet from her breasts to the top of her head and she had her eyes tightly shut and was gasping desperately, her words shocking me a bit, 'Fuck me! Fuck me! Harder! Harder!" I was really surprised at her language and desperate to try and satisfy her but not sure what else to do so I just kept on jamming my cock in as hard as I could. I could feel my own climax coming and suddenly I reached a point where Mom's needs became secondary to my own and I had to bring myself off. Another couple of pushes and I began to spurt deep inside her and I wanted to lie there not moving just emptying my balls. Luckily Mom must have also been right on the edge as the same time as when she felt me erupt she also came and we clutched desperately at each other as we shook and moaned our way through a mutual spend. When it was all over I rolled off Mom and lay beside her, recovering slowly, and she finally rolled on to her side, facing me, and looking lovingly at me asked, "Are you sure you've never had sex before? That was incredible and if it was your first time God knows how good you'll be with some practice." "That was definitely the only sex I've ever had with anyone else present. How could it not be great with you? Do you realise just how sexy you are?" I was still weak and only just capable of replying. "Well for us both to cum together on your very first attempt is really unbelievable. Now I think we had better get some sleep – I don't think either one of us is capable of anything further to-night." And after pulling the covers back over us she cuddled closely into me and gave me a chaste kiss goodnight and I was unconscious in no time at all. SATURDAY. For the first time in my life I woke with a naked lady cuddled in to my side. The fact that she was my mother did not diminish my feeling of wonderment and happiness at all and when I looked down on her sleeping form I was overcome with my good fortune. She was sleeping peacefully with her lips parted in what looked like a faint smile and she was snoring very quietly and looked to be totally trusting and relaxed. I was dying for a piss and I attempted to lift her arm from where it was draped over me but when I moved it Mom woke and smiled contentedly at me. "Good morning, Lover. How do you feel today?" she reached up and gave me good-morning kiss. "Absolutely wonderful! Except I desperately need to visit the toilet." "Oh! Right you'd better go then. What's the time?" Mom looked at the bedside clock and sat up alarmed. "God! It's nearly 8.30 and Wendy's first race is at 10.00. We'll have to rush. Quick you use the toilet and grab a shower first as you'll be quicker than me. Bugger. I had hoped to have another sexy session with you but it will have to wait till tonight now." I was infected by Mom's sense of urgency and quickly headed into the bathroom, flicking on the shower to warm up before attending to my urgent need to empty my bladder. After pissing for what seemed like forever I climbed into the shower and stood letting the hot water cascade over me as I thought about last night's happenings. It had obviously tired us both out completely as was evidenced by the length of time we had slept. Suddenly the door opened and I heard Mom come into the bathroom and lower the seat on the toilet and sit down. I pulled the curtain back and looked out at her – she was sitting, totally naked, with her legs apart and piddling quite happily. She looked up and met my gaze and said, "Would you look at the state of me. I'm covered in our mixed juices and yours has gone all flaky and hard. I really need a shower." The sight of Mom perched there, unconcerned, talking to me was extremely stimulating and my cock started to stand up, interested. "Hmmm. That looks delicious. It's a pity we haven't got time to do anything about it. Try and keep it in good condition for later. Now get out of there and let me in." As I stepped out and reached for a towel Mom gave herself a perfunctory wipe with some toilet paper and then hopped directly under the flowing water. I stood there thinking about how great it felt to be naked and drying myself right next to my nude mother in the shower. This time yesterday the thought of this happening had never even entered my head and it was keeping me excited and in a condition where it was not possible to get dressed. I left the bathroom and sat on the edge of the bed and thought about mundane things until my erection has subsided to a state where I could put my underpants on and then finish dressing. Mom then came out wrapped in a towel and began to rummage through our bag for clean clothing. The sight of her backside and hairy pussy below the towel as she bent over was starting to affect me and I found it hard to keep my mind on what she was asking. "What should I wear do you think?" she asked and when I replied that she should wear the same skirt with a clean blouse she agreed and then held up a couple of sets of underwear. "Which of these then?" and I quickly chose the sexy grey set over the white ones and she proceeded to drop her towel and step into the panties and pull them up. They were something like boxer shorts only thinner, lighter and a whole lot sexier. My dick was rising again and Mom noticed my discomfit so she said, "It's of no use you getting excited. Pull the covers back on the bed and look at the state of the sheets. Drag them off and leave them in a heap to get changed." When I pulled the blankets back I saw what she meant, there was a large stained area from where we had fucked and it had dried during the night but not disappeared. Fucking was a lot noisier and messy than I had expected and I did as she asked and stripped the bed down. By the time I was finished Mom was dressed and ready and we headed out to find some breakfast and then to go to the pool and see Wendy. We finished up having breakfast at a McDonalds, which neither of us really enjoyed, and finally located the swimming pool where the swim meet was being held. By the time we had purchased tickets and found seats Wendy's race was being called. Mom and I were so proud as she took her place on the blocks and our excitement knew no bounds when she won easily by half a body length. We had not made our presence known to Wendy before her race, fearful of taking her mind off it, but we shouted and applauded as her win and time were announced until she looked over to see who was making all the fuss. The wide smile of joy that appeared on her face made the travelling and the surprise worth while and Wendy just grabbed her tracksuit top and rushed over to us without bothering to put it on. She wrapped her arms around Mom and gave her a huge hug and a kiss and then turned to me and hugged me to her as well and, with my new found sense of sexual awareness, I quickly noticed the pressure of her breasts pressing against me. "What are you two doing here? It's great to see you. When did you come down? Where's Dad? Did you see me race? How long are you here for? God I'm glad to see you both." Wendy gabbled on, non-stop, obviously pleased and excited to see us and as she spoke I looked her up and down, standing before us in just her racing swim-suit. The suit fitted her like a second skin and really left nothing to the imagination and I assumed that this was for aerodynamics (water-dynamics?) to help her speed. Her breasts were clearly visible and did not seem to be as large as Mom's but her nipples, which also showed clearly, appeared larger. The material indented at her navel and letting my eyes travel lower I could easily make out the size and shape of her pussy with the suit following the shape and contours exactly even pulling into the gap between the lips. It was so tight that I was sure that she must shave herself as she didn't seem to have any hair down there. When I managed to look up it was to see her blush slightly and pull on her top and I knew she was aware of my once over, but she didn't protest at my lecherous actions. "I'll be back in a minute. I'll just get my pants and tell the coaches where I'll be. We can have a cup of coffee and talk till my next race at 3.00 this afternoon." Wendy disappeared and soon returned to lead us to the coffee shop. We spent the time up until her next race talking and deciding where to go for our meal out. The afternoon race was a relay and Wendy's team only came third, through no fault of hers as she won her leg easily, but they seemed pleased with the result and she came away quite content with the way things had gone for her. When we got back to Wendy's dormitory Mom and her went up to her room to get changed and I waited in the lounge watching TV. Mom had a dry cleaning bag with her that I hadn't seen and when they returned they both looked ravishing. Mom had changed into a black slinky dress that draped her to mid-thigh and Wendy's was much the same only in white. I was going to be very proud to be escorting these two. "Stick these in the car for me, dear." Mom requested, "and come back here. Wendy's going to make us a quick coffee as we are a bit early yet." She handed me a small heap of clothing, seemingly her skirt and blouse, but which I discovered also included her bra and panties. I was sure that she hadn't brought a fresh set with her so she must be wearing some of Wendy's – maybe I might get to remove them tonight. That was an exciting thought – to be handling Wendy's underwear. When I was placing them in the back seat I had a quick look around and when I was sure that no-one was watching I bent down and lifted the nickers to my face and sniffed in my mother's odour. Instant erection! We finally found our way to a nice restaurant and enjoyed a long slow meal and finished up afterwards staying at the table to enjoy the music and to sip a little more wine. There was a small, dimly lit and intimate dance floor that I was forced onto, firstly by my sister and then by Mom. Wendy and I didn't say too much, just enjoyed each other's company as we danced together for the first time and I found that Wendy was happy to hold me close to her, something I was reluctant to initiate but enjoyed very much. I was not reticent in pulling Mom close to me and as we swayed together I took the opportunity of whispering in her ear, "I found your underwear when I took your clothes to the car. I suppose that you are wearing some of Wendy's? I find that so sexy." "You'll probably find this even more sexy." She replied, "I'm not wearing anything at all under this dress. There's just one layer of cloth between you and me. What do you think of that, then?" She pulled me even closer to her and ground her lower regions against the erection she had suddenly caused, quickly discovering how I felt about her revelation. "Hmm! I see you do like the thought of me being naked." When we returned to the table Wendy was on the floor dancing and after we had regained our seats I dropped my hand onto Moms thigh, under the table, and fumbled my way under her dress. "What are you up to?" Mom asked, knowing quite well. "Just checking out your story." I replied as I slid my hand up her leg until I reached her cunt and found it to be completely exposed. I gave it a quick squeeze and a rub and had just removed my hand when Wendy returned. Mom excused herself to visit the ladies room and Wendy and I were left by ourselves. "I hope you and Mom are behaving yourselves." Wendy said, looking at me enquiringly. "What are you going on about?" I returned, unfortunately feeling myself blush a little. "I watched the two of you holding each other very intimately on the dance floor and whispering in each other's ear and I swear I saw your hand coming from Mom's leg when I returned to the table. And, you are sharing a motel." "You're imagining things." I weakly replied and I was very relieved when Mom returned. "I think its time we headed off." Mom said and the two women gathered their purses and we returned to the car. Mom drove and I sat in the middle with Wendy squeezing her way on to the front seat with us. I could feel Mom's side and thigh pressing against one side of me and Wendy's on the other – it was great. In the darkness of the car I placed my hand on Mom's thigh and carefully began to massage it, the excitement of getting away with this right under Wendy's nose being overpowering, and when I took the extra liberty of pressing my hand against her pussy I almost messed my pants. I almost went into shock when Wendy took my free hand in hers and held it tightly, pulling it against her tummy just below her breasts. She kept it in her grasp and squeezed it raising both our hands until I could just feel the jiggle of her breast as we travelled. With both my hands occupied in such a manner I was disappointed when we finally came in sight of the dormitory because Wendy released her grasp, but, as she did not move my hand away from her I daringly lifted it a little higher and cupped her breast for a couple seconds. She did NOT protest my fondling her. When mom was parked Wendy leant over me to kiss Mom goodbye and she pushed her body hard against me as she did so. I volunteered to walk her back to the door while Mom waited in the car. At the doorway we were out of Mom's sight and when she had unlocked and opened the front door Wendy pulled me inside and wrapped her arms around me. "Give me a goodbye kiss, little brother. You're growing up into quite a hunk and I've really enjoyed today with you both." She pressed her mouth against mine and I probed with my tongue without thinking and found that she was only too pleased to allow it to enter and explore her mouth. I lifted my hand and grasped her breast and squeezed it and pushed my erection against her. "God! I wish you weren't my brother or even that Mom wasn't waiting out there. You had better go or she will be wondering what we've been up to." And she released me and went to turn away but before she did she went on, " By the way, I was only teasing you about Mom, but if you are doing anything, be careful – you don't want to hurt Dad or get caught. It is illegal you know. Anyway enjoy yourself – I'll look forward to my holidays." And she headed off as I returned to the car. On our way back to the motel Mom quizzed me about why I was so long with Wendy and I explained that she was telling me how much she enjoyed college and swimming. Mom seemed to accept this and we soon reached our destination where we quickly undressed and crawled into bed. "Tonight I'm going to teach you how much pleasure we can give and get with just our mouths. You just lie there and relax and I'll show you first." Mom leant over, kissed me deeply and then started in on me with just her tongue. She licked all over my face and worked her way down my neck and upper chest, and, after giving both my nipples a good seeing to she continued on down. The sight and feel of her thrusting her tongue in my navel and licking my belly had me as hard as a rock and panting for more. Holding the shaft of my cock aside with her hand she chewed and pulled at my pubic hair with her lips and then moved even lower and sucked my balls into her mouth. I nearly came but by now she was not just holding my cock but was also squeezing it and this stopped me from erupting. When she released my balls Mom slid lower and ran her probing tongue over my bum hole and the returned to lick her way up the shaft of my dick. I was almost crying in excitement and with need for relief but she stopped and let me calm down a little. When I seemed to have relaxed a bit she took the head of my cock into her wide-open mouth and slowly lowered her head to let the full length of it enter. She sucked at it and fondled it with her tongue and then slowly began to raise and lower her head as if I was fucking her mouth. She carried on in this way, sucking me as firmly as she could and clamping down on my cock as tightly as possible without actually biting until it all became too much and I knew I was going to cum. I tried to warn her but she was so intent on her ministrations that she just carried on and I watched her swallowing furiously as I emptied myself in her mouth. She managed to get almost all of it and any that escaped her she cleaned up by licking me clean after it was all over. I really didn't know what was best – this or plain ordinary fucking – and I was not sure of how much pleasure Mom had gotten out of it.