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On The Lake

By: LaJan



We may have been born seconds apart 18 years ago and we may be able to finish each other's sentences but we are not much alike! And, I like it that way quite nicely, thank you. Deborah ('Deb' is the only name she'll answer to) was born on my birthday but I got to watch her birth because I wasn't late! She's been late for everything ever since and now was no exception. Despite all my begging, threats, bribes, help, encouragement and badgering, there isn't a thing in the world that can make her do anything exactly when it should be done. So, there I sat on the edge of her bed, watching her decide what clothes she would take off to reveal her swimming suit when she got to the lake! I had grabbed the first (hopefully) clean thing that I saw in my closet and I was ready to leave. She felt the need to colour coordinate, the need to maximize the sex appeal, the need to be perpetually late! It's not as if she were going to the lake with a guy she really liked on a first date; she was going with her older twin sister, who was about to strangle her!

'Deb, if you don't decide to decide on what to wear, if you find the right thing, you won't be able to do anything with it,' I said to her reasonably. I got the response I was looking for: a completely clueless frown and that seemingly small victory gave me the patience to wait a few more minutes.

'I'm leaning towards the jeans and halter top but they look too similar to the bikini, don't you think, 'D'?' Deb unintentionally shortens my name only when she's deeply distracted because she knows I hate it. I, on the other hand, would do almost anything to get her moving, including lie.

'Why do you insist on calling me something that hurts my feelings? You know I hate 'D'; my name is 'Deena.'' I got her attention with that and was about to use it to gain some points to use against her to get her moving. But, I heard Mom clear her throat and realized I'd been overheard. Now that it's just us three, we rarely shut any doors. She was now standing in the doorway of Deb's room with a half frown/smirk on her face. I could see that she saw the situation but she went through the motions of 'correcting me' for Deborah's benefit, anyway.

'Deena, don't tease your sister like that. You know how sensitive she is to teasing,' Mom said, chiding me. Deb was actually so engrossed in her non-decision, I doubt she heard either of us.

'Please help me get her out of here before summer ends,' I whispered to her. 'I can't reach her when she's like this and you know it!'

Mom smiles because she knows it all too well. Looking over Deb's choices, she touches a pair of tight jeans and a pretty white top, saying, 'I think these two would make you look the best, even if it's for just a few minutes.'

That does the trick. Deb lights up immediately and hugs Mom as she leaves the room, biting her lip and giving me a sly conspiratorial wink. And, sure enough, Deb picks a jeanskirt and t-shirt combination that she'd decided against almost 30 minutes ago.

As she assures me that she's 'hurrying', I remind myself again that being born at the same time doesn't mean that we're alike. How else could she be a teenager and I a woman, she 'Aquarius' and I a 'Taurus', she a ditz and I so normal?

I already had the trailer hitched when Deb finally came down to the garage. As she walked up to me, I noted what I always do: she looked fantastic. No matter what she wears or how she wears it, she looks spectacular but never seems to flaunt it because she doesn't seem to really take notice. At one time, I was jealous (although, I'm told that I'm very cute, myself) but I've gotten over it. I guess being born at the same time bonded us so that the differences in our looks and personalities couldn't pull us apart.

'Can I help with something?' she asked, knowing that she couldn't while knowing that I wanted to hear her ask anyway.

'No, but thanks. If you've got everything, we're ready to go.' The twin jet skis were gassed up and secured, our 'day bags' were in the back of the truck, light munchies were stashed on the console between the bucket seats, and I was 'good to go'.

Mom waved, we both waved back as we pulled away, and we were off to the lake.

Driving slowly and carefully, I wove through the residential streets and eased the big Chevy and trailer onto the freeway. Deb and I exchanged a glance and grin. We were barely 18 years old but trusted with almost anything because we proved ourselves responsible. In reality, we got in a mountain of shit but always managed to come out clean with Mom none the wiser by using our combined skills. And, though there were many close calls, Deb and I always came up with a working solution that kept us smelling like roses! So, Mom had no qualms about letting us take the watercraft out without her, and we planned to have a lot of fun, but nothing that would jeopardize our freedom. At least, that was the plan...

It's only a couple of miles to the lake's boat launching area that we prefer and, when we got there, I stopped the truck with a sigh and got out. I had to pretend not to see the look of triumph or the pumped left fist Deb couldn't resist as I walked to the launch ramp and she moved to the driver's seat. I had to smile (when she couldn't see it, of course!) because this was as bitter as her drop-dead good looks for me to take but there was no way to deny it: I cannot back the truck with the trailer but she can, and easily! If there's someone else on the launch or the nearby docks, we like to play a little game. I give her hand signals that would send the trailer into parked cars or off the edge of the dock or right over me! She always acknowledges my signals and then backs up fast (faster than most people would drive forward), her long, golden hair flying in the breeze. We've had men scream, thinking they're about to witness disaster while she places the trailer dead center in the middle of the launch. Every single time, she's perfect. (I'd tried twice, dumping the trailer off the side of the launch once and wasting almost 30 minutes trying not to the second time.)

This time, there's nobody around to 'ditz' but I still stood 10 feet to the side of the trailer and motioned her rapidly towards me. She waved back, punched the gas, and skidded to within 3 inches of my legs! I was still screaming when she got out of the cab yelling 'Ditz!' and started running for her life!

Deb rightfully feared for her life as I chased her around the truck and trailer, never stopping long enough for me to catch her, laughing her fool head off. When I got a cramp, she came to me and kissed me on the cheek.

'I love you.' No apology, no apparent guilt, no fuckin' problem. I grabbed her by the back of her hair, pulling her face close to mine. She maintained the most humble and serene look on her face and I kissed her, on the lips. That appeared to shock her more than the threat I was planning so I just shook my head, released her hair, and smiled at her, smiling at the other half of myself. She graced me with a beatific, glowing smile and all my anger dissolved in laughter.

We got the skis launched easily, parked the truck and trailer, and changed, putting our street clothes in storage compartments under the seats. After putting the life vests on, we started the jet skis and headed for the middle of the lake. There, we beached on a mostly submerged sandy hill (Folsom Lake was rather low at the time from a hot summer’s water usage) and looked for the best place to go first.

I had broken up with my second boyfriend two days ago and I wanted to, at least, 'check out the field' while Deb had broken up with her latest almost a month ago. Deb went through boyfriends like water through a colander but never gave up trying to keep one. And, with all the attention she attracts, there are always guys around, though I get as many 'nibbles' as she does. My last boyfriend said it was because Deb was so attractive that she scared off the guys that didn't have much confidence. (For some reason, I didn't bother to return away more of his calls after that...) We saw pockets of people in a bunch of places and picked the spot most likely to be a group of guys. We were too far away to really see them clearly but riding up to them is part of the fun, anyway. Off we went, sometimes riding flat out, sometimes making lazy circles, sometimes standing the skis up on their tails (or trying to!).

By the time we were near the spot we'd picked, we saw that it was a dud. They were a bunch of beer drinking middle-aged farts, which, nevertheless, gave us a lot of shouted compliments mixed with their come-ons. Leaving them, we rode parallel to the shore for a while, just cruising and enjoying the sun.

We both noticed them at the same time, although our reactions were quite different: I slowed and did a double take; she gunned her ski and dumped rather spectacularly. Deb and I worked on 'accidental' spills but this wasn't one of those: this one was real. I turned back to help but she was up right away (wearing the vest) and waved me off. When she got back to the ski, I turned to the shore and beached my jet ski near the two people we'd seen.

They looked like twins, too! He was tall (maybe 6'3'), with a lot of thick & curly, light brown hair framing a strong but sensitive face. Wearing a rather short swimming suit, which really showed off his muscular physique, he looked concerned as I climbed off my ski and he came to meet me. She was also tall (about 5'10', like Deb), with hair similar to his but jet black. Her figure was identical to Deb's: perfect. The same long, shapely legs, firm large breasts, full lips and big, dark eyes. She, too, looked concerned and was actually going into the water to help Deb beach the boat! Seeing this, the guy 'helped' me by wrapping an arm around my waist and leading me to their blanket. I was a little worried about that until I saw Deb being led to the blanket the same way!

We all sat down and he said, 'That was quite a little fall you took! Are you OK?' I felt the usual twinge of jealousy ('Why is he talking to her first'?) and got over it. I was having a harder time getting over him being so close, so nice, so good looking. Deb answered him sounding a bit breathless but, otherwise, allright.

'I'm fine, now. But thank you for your concern. I'm Deborah; please call me 'Deb'. And, this is my twin sister, Deena,' she said.

'I'm Darlene and this is Dale. We're glad to meet you. That fall was bad! Does it happen often? Those things look so difficult to ride that I'd imagine falling would be a common occurrence.' Darlene seemed to talk just like Deb, too, and I was surprised to see that Dale looked as bored as I felt. She and Deb got into the workings of the jet skis and their animated talk left Dale and I out completely. When they got up and walked to the skis, I turned to Dale and started to say something but he was smiling at me and I stopped short. He held my eyes too long but we heard Deb yell to us that she and Darlene were going to take one ski out together for a while. I almost cheered because I really wanted to be able to talk to Dale alone for a few minutes and he seemed to sense that (or feel the same way?). I told them to be careful as I removed my vest for Darlene and Deb said she would. As soon as they were out of sight, Dale turned to me but I spoke first.

'I don't want to cause any trouble between you and your girlfriend but you really look nice and I'm glad we have a few minutes. Deb can be a little intense...'

'So can Darlene,' he interrupted, 'but, she's not my girlfriend. This is our second date and she's more interested in a jet ski than me. You, on the other hand, are pretty damned nice yourself, and I'm also glad that we're alone.' He was still staring into my eyes but I could almost feel his eyes exploring my body. I was wishing it were his hands, though. As if reading my mind, he reached out and touched the side of my face. I should have slapped him or, at the very least, moved his hand away, but I didn't want to. When I put up no resistance, he gently pulled me closer and kissed me, casually at first, then with rising passion. I kissed him back just as passionately. He moved back a little, looking into my eyes again, then stood, reaching for my hand as I stood, too. He led me a short ways away to a sandy spot in some thick bushes. There, he kissed me again and slowly ran his hands down my back to my hips. At 5'7', I'm not short, but he had to bend over quite a bit to kiss me while standing and I allowed him to touch my hips, too. I did not intend to 'get physical' with him; it just sort of happened. But I wound up on my back with him pulling the crotch of my swim suit to the side, sliding down the front of his trunks, and shoving his hard dick deeply and eagerly into me. I remember thinking that I'd read somewhere that boys eventually learn that 'foreplay is a good thing' and then he started pounding me. For maybe 4 minutes, he fucked me hard and then he came. I had not done much more than lie there and let him use me but I felt fine. I think most of it was the strange/good feeling that I was really past my last boyfriend now! Ha! What a crummy way to do it but it felt good anyway. I let him rest beside me a few minutes then bent down and took him into my mouth until he was ready again. Then, I slowly spread my legs and guided him back into me. He was much better this time and I had to almost fight to get him off of me to let us go back to the blanket.

Deb and Darlene were (of course!) already there. We said our goodbyes (mine with a lot of guilt but also his number!) and returned to the jet skis. Deb turned to me and I could see that she wanted to go home, now. I led us back to the boat launch and loaded the jet skis (after Deb backed the truck). Once in the truck, and starting to drive away, Deb told me to stop. I did and she sat there for a moment before beginning. I thought I was going to get yelled at for the 'casual sex' with someone else's boyfriend and I was ready to take it quietly but I was very, very wrong.

'Deena, I have something to tell you. Remember, as we grew up and developed, you used to let me see your body because you started changing first?' I remembered. I had let her look closely and even touch me. Because we are so close, though, it was as if I were touching myself, and, since none of us even bother to close doors at home anymore, we've seen a lot of each other (and Mom) over the years. I still feel that close to Deb, but she hasn't tried (or asked) to touch me for months and I assumed that she'd seen enough, now that she was developing, too. Now, looking into her eyes, I knew why: she needed to touch a woman, not those self-important pigs she'd been dating! She was now looking completely miserable, thinking about the implications, complications. I was thinking of them, too. But, this just wasn't the time or place to worry about it.

'Deb, I love you and I always will. Tell me what happened when you rode away with Darlene,' I said, reaching for and holding her hand. At first, I was sure she wouldn't reply, waiting so long to begin. Then, in a small, shaky voice she started.

'Deena, I love you and I don't ever want to hurt you or disappoint you. But, when I saw Darlene, I finally knew the person that I am. I really did freak; that's when I accidentally dumped the ski.' She paused, grinning sheepishly, and continued. 'As soon as I saw her I felt like she is 'the one'. I felt compelled to tell her, even though, at the time, I was sure she was Dale's girlfriend. But, when I sat near her, I had no idea what to do or say. She's the one who nodded to the skis and I jumped at the chance to talk to her and be with her alone for a while. We didn't go out very far and she asked me to stop. When we were just floating out on the lake, with her still holding on behind me, she said she thought that I was just like her. I was thinking that we do look a little alike! Then she said that she wanted me and thought I wanted her, too. I could barely breathe but I released the bars, wrapped my fingers around hers and she leaned close to me. She said that we should talk and pointed to a little cove, close by where she and Dale had spread their blanket. We headed back and saw that you and Dale weren't where we'd left you. Darlene explained that she and Dale were not together and that she thought you and Dale would be good together!'

I told her what I did and she listened, begging for more and more details. Soon, she'd heard everything and that opened her to telling me the rest of her story.

'We went on to the cove and beached the ski, again. She took my hand and led me into the nearby trees and... and, then,... she kissed me. Deena, I love to kiss and hug and hold you and Mom. And, I told you the truth about my boyfriends in the past, but this was so much more 'right' and I was finally sure of why it never worked out with them. She lay beside me on a small patch of new grass and green leaves and we talked about everything: how I felt about possibly being gay ('Lesbian', I corrected for her); how you'd feel, especially being my twin; how Mom would feel if I never had a husband; how I'd live my life 'out'. Darlene isn't 'out' yet and has been dating guys for two years like me. I felt good about all that we said, so she moved into my arms and we kissed again. Then, she showed me what it was like to really make love! Back there, with her, I actually had an orgasm for the first time and she showed me how to help her, too. It was so natural, so beautiful, so right for me!

'Please, don't be upset with me, 'D'! I have always thought I wanted what you wanted but I know now that I didn't really need that at all. I was looking for the right person and the right kind of person. I think Darlene is that person.'

She finished in a rush and look to me with hope and expectation. It was easy to give her both with a smile and a tight hug that hid my tears behind her. She would probably understand my tears of happiness but I didn't feel like chancing it. This day would probably change our lives more than any other. After a moment, I took her face in both my hands and kissed her, hard on the lips, the same way I'd kissed her less than 15 yards away half a day ago. And, we sat there a moment, just seeing each other again, (seeing ourselves in a way only twins can).

I let go of her, reached for the ignition again, then turned back and simultaneously we said (almost) the same thing:

'I have Dale's (from her) / Darlene's (from me) phone number if you want it!' Then and there, laughing because it surprised even us, we knew we would be just fine. Yeah, we'd be alright. 

On The Lake



Last month I took my day-cruiser out on the lake by myself and as I motored around, I saw a guy way out in the middle of the lake, floating on an air mattress all by himself. I figured I'd see if he needed a lift since he was out so far. As I got closer, I noticed that he was naked. I was a little surprised but I was very curious and slowed to check out the situation.

"Hey!" I yelled out as I got closer. "You OK?"

"Yah. Uuh." He seemed a little embarrassed. "I could use a ride though if you don't mind."

"Not at all." I told him.

I helped him and the mattress into the boat and we began talking. As we talked there was an intimate connection between us that we both felt and before I even realized what I was saying, I asked him if I could suck his cock. 

"That... That... would be gr... great." He sputtered then leaned back in the seat.

He was a little taller than me and had a leaner, but still sexy physique. I'm a little more muscular and it was obvious that we were both excited by each other. I slipped my swim suit off and stroked myself for a few seconds. Then I got down on my knees and began to lick his cock. It quickly responded to my efforts and in no time was hard as a rock and throbbing. I quickly sucked it down my throat and began bobbing on his rod like a crazed maniac. A few minutes later he was pumping a huge load down my throat as I sucked every drop from his pumping cock. He rammed his cock in and out of my gulping throat as we both held on for dear life. After sucking every drop from his gorgeous cock, I climbed back into the drivers seat and began softly stroking my throbbing cock. I was out looking for a place to jack off anyway and was lucky enough to run into this guy. I restarted the boat and asked him which way. I didn't expect him to return the favor. In fact, I considered it a favor that he gave me the chance to suck such a big beautiful cock.

"Well I'm camped over there," he pointed to a small cove. "but I'm not in a big hurry to get back."

"Oh, OK." I said. "You feel like taking an evening cruise around the lake?"

The sun had begun to go down but it was still a very warm and pleasant evening.

"Yah, Sure." He answered, then without saying a word, he got down on his knees and began tentatively licking my cock all over. I could tell that he had never done anything like that before, but it felt great anyway.

There were a few boats still out on the lake so I tried to avoid them as much as possible. The sides of the day cruiser were just high enough to hide the fact that I was getting a pretty good blow job but I didn't want to take any chances. My new lover had moved between my legs and was really giving it everything he had. As I raced across the surface of the lake, he brought me closer and closer to cumming until I couldn't hold out any longer and blew my wad into his slurping and sucking mouth. When I was finally done I slowed to an idle and he licked my cock clean and sat back in the other seat.

"My name's Pete." He said after a brief silence. "What's yours?"

"Rick." I said. I looked over at him and his cock was once again hard as steel. Our eyes met. "You want to go below?" I asked.

"Yah."

I quickly shut off the motor, found the anchor and tossed it over the side. Then I crawled into the cabin and up onto the triangular bed in the bow. Pete was right behind me and as soon as I lay down on my back he spread his naked body over mine. It didn't take long for my own cock to come back to life and as he began grinding his cock against me, I kissed him. It surprised him a bit but he didn't seem to object. So I did it again and this time he kissed me back. Softly at first but we were soon acting like a couple of animals in heat. We rolled back and forth on the bed, making out and exploring every inch of each others bodies with our hands, fingers, lips and tongues. 

"You're makin me so hot." he whispered into my ear.

I rolled him onto his back and straddled him. "You want to fuck me in the ass?" I asked as I stroked his throbbing cock.

"Oooh yah!" he moan and squeezed my cheeks. "I'd love to."

"OK, now just relax." I instructed.

I reached into a small compartment and pulled out a bottle of suntan oil. The sun had gone down by now so I turned on a small light so we could both see exactly what the other was doing. I pushed my butt back and let his throbbing cock slip between my ass cheeks. I popped open the bottle and bent over so my butt was pointing up in the air. Then I squeezed a few drops at he top of my crack and let them run down over Pete's cock and my tight little hole. I stroked his cock up and down with my ass cheeks and could feel his veiny shaft sliding along my tender opening and I shuddered. I then leaned forward and pushed the open bottle cap into my ass and squeezed a couple squirts of oil into my rear end. Another quick shot of oil on his cock and I closed the bottle and tossed it aside. I then took a deep breath and with my right hand guided the head of his cock to my eager little hole. I slowly leaned back against his rigid shaft and let out my breath, relaxing my whole body as I went. It took a little doing, but before long I felt his engorged cock head slowly slip into my butt. I rested for a second until my body had adjusted to being pried open by his wonderful cock. Passion and lust surged through my body and I began rotating my hips and resting my weight on top of Pete. Inch by throbbing inch I worked his big cock into my ass hole until I was sitting on top of him. Nearly all 8+ inches were buried deep inside me and I slowly began riding him up and down. I did not want him to blow his cum yet so I'd stop and let him calm down before I resumed. After a few minutes of driving him crazy with my slow intense cock riding I slowly turned myself completely around without loosing his cock and lay back on his chest.

"OK baby." I hissed. "I want you to fuck me silly."

And he did. Without saying a word he grabbed my hips and began ramming his huge dick in and out of my tight little shitter. I arched my back so he had a better angle and just let him have his way with me. In fact I helped him have his way by meeting every thrust with one of my own. I turned my head and we sucked on each others tongues. His hips slapped my ass again and again as he continued his assault on my butt. I was enjoying every throbbing inch of his cock as he thrust it into me over and over and over. 

My whole reason for life at that moment was to take every inch of him any way he wanted to give it to me. Then he rammed his cock into so far I thought he'd split he in half and held it there. I felt it swell as he let out a howl of pure lust and the first blast of his hot jis splashed into my bowls. As he held onto me I ground my ass hole up and down his exploding cock which was all it took for me and I too erupted in a mind blowing orgasm. We shook and quivered and our simultaneous climaxes only seemed to intensify and prolong each others and we kept coming and coming and coming. Finally, when we both had finished we just lay there trying to catch our breath and stroking each others sweaty bodies. 

Pete's cock slowly softened and slipped out of my slippery ass hole. I then turned over on top of him and the cum on my chest and stomach squished between us as we tenderly kissed.

"I've never in my whole life felt anything so hot and tight." He whispered as he reached back and began playing with my butt.

"Mmmmm." I cooed. "Thank you. You made me cum without even touching my cock. That's never happened before."

"Really?" He asked. "Wow. I never realized that sex with another guy would be so... so fucking great."

A wonderfully erotic feeling rushed over us both as we began to fondle and kiss again. I could feel his body shudder when I'd suck on his tongue and his reaction to me made me even hotter. Pete then wrapped his legs around me and I could see his eyes look deep into mine as if to say... "Take me baby!" I leaned back on my haunches and he grabbed his legs and pulled his knees up to his chest. I then got down right between his legs and began licking his whole crotch. I quickly found his tight little sphincter and began bathing it in my spit. I tickled it, swirling my tongue around and around his hot opening. He started moaning his approval as I began to concentrate right on his ass hole. I pulled his cheeks apart for better access and began driving my tongue into him. after driving him crazy for a while with my tongue I grabbed the bottle of oil and squeezed a generous amount into his excited ass hole. I put a little on my cock and scooted on my knees into position. I pushed the head of my cock against his tight little opening and he wrapped his legs around me. I held myself up on my hands and knees as Pete ground his body against mine and I slowly worked my cock into him. I felt my head slip into his rear end and I stopped to let him adjust. Then I rested my whole weight on top of him and felt my cock sink into his hot, tight ass hole. We both shuddered as I hit bottom and the overwhelming feeling of passion turned me into an animal and I began licking and sucking on his nipples and neck. I grabbed onto Pete and started making love to him. Slowly at first I built to a feverish rhythm. I drove my

We cuddled for a while until we drifted off to sleep. But we woke a few more times throughout the night and made love. When the sun finally came up we were both a little sore but very happy and satisfied. I dropped him off at his camp and he promised to come back to the lake next year. I never did find out why he was floating around in the middle of the lake without a stitch of clothing on but I guess it didn't really matter after what happened.



On the Lakes



CHAPTER 1

The rising sun sat just above the Wilmot Hills as Jeff Cash drove up to the gates of Mayfair Marina and sat dozing for an hour before the gatekeeper arrived just on 7:00 to begin his day.

Yawning and scratching an ear, the security guy with egg yolk spill on his khaki jacket looked at the windscreen of Jeff's vehicle and said, "You've got no pass so no vehicle entry."

"Excuse me but Mrs Talbot has hired me to skipper Lady Edwina and said she would leave authority for me at the gatekeeper's post to be admitted and to be given the key to Garage 37.

"Well give me a minute while I check the diary," said the gatekeepers, scratching his nuts. "You are not from around here so how do you expect to navigate these eleven interconnecting lakes with their 44 isles and five islands?"

"Easy. I have bought GPS and charts with me."

"Yeah well you are too modern to have come from around here."

The guard came out of his little lockup shelter apparently called a post and handed Jeff a key without explanation. The guy said rudely, "Sign here" and thrust a clipboard holding one piece of paper at Jeff who earned a dirty look when he asked, "Which side of the clipboard do I sign?"

Jeff signed and asked where Garage 37 was and was told between garages 36 and 38.

He had to grin.

The gate opened electrically by remote control from within the 'post' and he drove the pick-up into the compound and had little trouble finding the garage. He unlocked and lifted up the roller door and swore. The place was full of junk and it took him twenty minutes to clear it to the sides to provide enough space to drive far enough so he could close the door when leaving.

He knew where to find Pier 14 and grinned. It would be between Piers 13 and 15. 

Mrs Talbot had emailed him after the agency had picked him from the seven applicants to outline his duties that basically were to operate the old-style 57-foot twin diesel motor cruiser, maintain it and provision it for recently widowed Mrs Talbot and her two daughters.

Jeff punched in the code given in the email and entered the saloon. It was tatty, obviously overdue for a refit. She'd said in the email there were only two cabins in this model so where was he to sleep if either or both daughters arrived with Mrs Talbot? 

Perhaps she expected him to bunk in with the kids?

He went into the engine room under the cockpit and smiled to find it immaculate. The last hired skipper, or perhaps it was her husband before his fatal heart-attack, had cared for everything like a fussy housewife. The 30-year old boat with a cruising speed restricted to 15 mph under lake speed rules, had been re-engined eighteen months ago. 

Jess inspected the owner's cabin. It was roomy but dull with its own bathroom. Opposite the shared bathroom on the port side was a room, too small for a cabin, where Mrs Talbot, who wrote romance books, could work away from the chatter or noise of the entertainment center in the level above. Beyond that the large second cabin had two standard-size double beds and not much room to move.

The gallery had a gas oven. The dishwasher and microwave appeared to be new. So far so good. He switched on the twin fridge and the freezer and closed both doors and poked around and found a dozen cans of beer on a tray and put those in the fridge and then, as an after-thought, loaded two bottles of white wine, soda and tonic water plus a have dozen cans of Coke for the kids. He went up to the very roomy wheelhouse and was delighted to find a day bed. So he could sleep there and there was even a wash basin. For an aging girl Lady Edwina, a modified V designed for lake cruising, was comfortably appointed.

Jeff checked out the controls and navigational aids and as Mrs Talbot had said there was no GPS but radar had been retro-fitted and radio equipment was pretty standard. All-round vision was excellent and seating at the wheel had been upgraded to two modern helmsman-type seats and side sofas had been reupholstered fairly recently. He'd earlier noticed some of the controls were duplicated in the saloon at a forward elevated helm station with one seat over the steps down to the sleeping accommodation.

Jeff went to the marina café for lunch and made four return trips with the plastic carry boxes of supplies Mrs Talbot had ordered and he returned them emptied.

Mrs Harris said, "Mrs Talbot runs an account with me and she's authorized you to add anything you want to it including liquor."

"Thanks Mrs Harris. When will the summer rush begin?"

"Many people will be arriving during the next couple of weekends and then it becomes a mad melee. If you can get away before the weekend then do it?"

Mr Talbot called Jeff just before 6:00 to say she'd accepted an invitation to go away with someone.

They chatted and he was disappointed he'd spend that time at the berth. Irene, as Mrs Talbot had told him to call her, sounded very nice.

"Have you settled in okay without problems?"

"Yes thank you. The engine room is one of the cleanest I've ever seen."

"Well yes. My late husband was fanatical about cleanliness down there. Well go wherever you wish but come back in on the afternoon of the 27th to pick me up please. At least I'll have three weeks cruising with the kids. Oh they're on the way now by bus that gets at the marina gates about 9:00. I suggest leave in the morning because it's practically impossible to get to sleep with the sound of the engines and the vibrations one feels in bed but I suppose if you slow to say four knots it might be okay."

Jeff said he'd set off at dawn and the call ended. He wondered how the hell would he entertain kids and why hadn't she said how old they were or if they still wet their pants at night? Perhaps they were at high school.

With a bit of luck they would be high school kids, preferably senior school kids. He looked around for family photos but found none. Oh yeah, their dad who was no more would have been in photots an so they would have been stored away. He failed to find any kids coloring-in books or cartoon DVDs and began to relax, thinking that suggested they were teenagers.

The aft sliding doors thumped opened just after 9:15 and two young women called together, "Hi Mr Cash."

"Um hi," Jeff said, rubbing his eyes, having been caught dozing.

He gathered in the three empty beer cans and the female with the biggest tits said, "Oh a beer would be fine please. Did mom call you?"

"Yes thanks. I'll get the beer" and looking at her older sister said, "We also have wine or Coke."

"I'll have a glass of white wine, um, Jeff."

He thought that sounded friendly.

"Yes please call me Jeff girls. And who are you?" he asked, looking at that sister who was extremely attractive.

"Linda and that's Becky or Rebecca."

Jeff poured the wine and said, "Sketch in some details about yourselves girls."

Becky said she was in the final year of her four-year degree in finance. She was twenty-two and loved skiing and that was about it.

Linda said she was the quite one of the family and stopped there.

"Linda is twenty-five and works as a trouble-shooter in IT at a law office. She's extremely talented, plays the piano brilliantly and has had the same boyfriend for almost five years and his name is Pete and his parents are loaded.

Jeff could see Linda was cringing and winked at her and said, "I suppose you are just the typical promiscuous college student?" 

She laughed and said good guess.

"Did mother say she won't be with us for the first eleven days?"

"Yes Linda, she's been invited to go away with a friend."

"God mom's a liar," Becky said. "Grandma is in France and says she's not coming home because she's found this incredibly sweet guy who's charmed the pants off her literally. Aunt Alice found out the guy is twenty years younger than their mother and she and mom leave for Paris tonight to get rid of the guy or as mom puts it, to castrate the grubby little gigolo and rescue their mother."

Linda asked what did he think about that?

"Well it's really not my place to comment but I would think your mother has stumbled across new material for her current or next novel."

Becky roared in laughter and Linda smile and told Jeff that was a very intelligent comment.

"Well I managed to gain the rank of lieutenant before I left the navy," Jeff muttered.

The sisters looked at him intently.

"Did you have a girl in every port?"

"What size ship did you command?"

"My mother preferred me having a girl waiting for me in some ports rather than a guy," Jeff smiled, answering Becky, and she rocked in later.

"Linda I became an officer on a frigate. My boss was a commander. Ah I tend not to talk about my indifferent past much."

"That's fine, I tend to talk mostly about my present circumstances and my aspirations."

"Well I'm more interested in hearing about those girls you had waiting in ports. What nationality did you prefer?"

"The ones that didn't want sex all the time."

Becky's mouth dropped open and Linda smiled and said Jeff was teasing her, that he preferred not to talk about old girlfriends.

"Is that true Jeff?"

"Pretty much on the button Becky."

Almost two hours later the girls were yawning and Jeff jumped up and said time for bed because he intended heading off about 6 am.

"Where are you sleeping?"

"In the wheelhouse."

Becky said, "You take the forward cabin and Linda and I will double-up in dad and... I mean mom's cabin."

"Thanks but you two sleep where you wish. My choice is the wheelhouse."

"Well okay. Do we kiss goodnight?"

"Yeah why not? It's a very civil practice."

Becky felt hot and she pressed hard against him whereas Linda was cool and appeared bent on avoiding contact beyond a quick soft touch of the lips.

God had Linda caught his sly glances in her direction? Jeff wondered. Well it didn't really matter. The age gap between them was fifteen years. No way would he place a finger on these girls.

The girls came up to the wheelhouse next morning at 8:15, wearing bikinis and looking refreshed. Linda reached him first after placed his coffee on the buffet table. She kissed him lightly and said she'd take the wheel. Becky was already placing the tray on the table and taking the cover off the plate of four strips of bacon, what appeared to be enough bulk for four scrambled eggs, lightly seared tomato and two thick pieces of whole meal toast.

Jeff, who normally ate a light breakfast after being at the gym, cycling or doing floor exercised, looked at the massive breakfast and heard Becky say softly, "With two nubile women aboard you'll need hearty meals."

She sat across from him and looked at her and she gave him her best sexy look, well so her presumed.

He swallowed and began eating his breakfast.

"Can I push our speed up from 5 knots?" Linda called.

"Yes and I suggest sit her on 12. We're not in a hurry to go anywhere."

Linda said, "That's true and that speed should get us to Bert Arles on Sail Island early afternoon after we pass into Yuma Lake. He provides a selection of packs of recently slaughtered beef, sheep, pork or chicken and also frozen packs. I'd like to pick up fresh steaks to barbecue this evening, some fresh lamb and stock up the freezer."

"Sounds good. Who cooked this, it's good."

Linda didn't reply and Becky shrugged and said, "Obviously not me, I only cook messes."

"There's only a marginal difference between serving a mess and serving a great-looking dish Becky."

"How would you know?"

"My mom and her mom taught me to cook. Um I can teach you."

"I'm really not interested."

"When a guy finally ropes you in he'll expect you to cook and so will his mom."

Becky said thoughtfully then she better accept his invitation.

Early that evening the two women returned from kayaking in the double kayak that Jeff had launched for them the foredeck and walked it around to the transom steps. 

Becky removed her bikini top and said she was ready for the cooking lesson.

Jeff eyed her tits and said, "You'll be doing the cooking and won't want hot fat splattering those two and your belly. Fetch an apron."

Linda arrived wearing just white shorts. Jeff gulped and though oh yeah! She had gorgeous tits, a little larger than a good handful.

She said, sounding apologetic, "We traditionally go about topless on this boat when we settle late afternoon for drinks.

He removed his shirt and Linda said, "Omigod."

He said modestly that he was big into fitness.

"No I mean the scars on your chest."

"Oh those. I came off my skateboard in my teens and slammed into a bronze statue with sharp edges in the local park. I tend to forget I'm disfigured."

"Oh I thought it might have been shell fragments."

"Nope," he smiled. "The only time we came under fire was from pirates in the Indian Ocean but the bastards darted around the side of an island, actually a whole group of small islands, and simply vanished. We didn't have time to get off a single round."

"God look at your scars," Becky said, doing up an apron and staring at Jeff wide-eyed.

"He sustained those in a shell explosion from pirates in the Indian Ocean who then simply disappeared into a maze of fifty islands amid descending sea fog," her sister said inventively.

"Is that true Jeff?"

"Your sister wouldn't lie to you, would she?"

Jeff stood over Becky and made her follow instructions, beginning with the foot preparation, cooking things in sequence and then pointed to when she had to place the items on the plate when serving.

"Omigod, you've done really well Becky, amazingly well for you."

Becky blushed and bit her lip but obviously was pleased.

"Jeff would you instruct me on one meal a day and then I'll watch you prepare a meal and Linda if she'll let me hang over her. She gets..."

"Of course Linda will," Jeff said, cutting in. "Linda wants you to succeed."                               "Yes that's fine," Linda said. "You too are getting so buddy-buddy that it seems inevitable that you will hook up but I won't mind."

Shocked that this had come into the open instead of remaining as private thoughts, Jeff said, "Christ I'm only enough to be your father."

                 Becky said he wasn't that old and Linda challenged, "Well how old are you?"

"I'm thirty-nine, a retired navy man."

The young women eyed him, saying nothing, and that really made Jeff squirm.

"What!" he barked.

"That sounds like so much bullshit to me," Becky said while Linda said he was over-stating his position.

She said, "Mom won't find out if you don't tell her."

"Well mom probably would have beaten us to get at you."

"Becky!"

"What?" she said, sounding mystified and they waited for his response. 

Jeff scowled and said nothing and Linda said, "Well lovely dinner thanks guys, I'm off to read. You two clear away and they go off and do it before this oppressive tension sinks our boat."

When Linda had gone, Becky said, "Do you want to fuck me?"

"No," Jeff said.

She dumped the plates she had in her hands and ran off crying.

"Jesus," he groaned. "This is worse than being in the Navy."

Sometime during the night Jeff awoke as the sheet covering him was lifted and she felt warn and unclothed flesh against him.

"I'm giving you a second chance; fuck me."

He signed and rolled over to face Becky and her tongue thrust between his loose lips and her hand found his dick.

Jesus.

Linda awoke them in the morning, arriving with coffee and yelling, "Good morning you disgusting creatures."

But she laughed so the two disgusting creatures simply stretched and said good morning

"What's he like Becky?"

Jeff cringed and didn't feel very much off the hook when Becky said, "Absolutely top shelf."

"Oh lucky you."

Linda returned to the deck below and Becky said, "Come on, shaft me."

"But it's daylight and Linda might come back up and..."

Becky ignored the protest. She rolled on top of him, pushed her hand between them and worked up his thickening erection and then inserted it into her pussy.

Jeff rose to the occasion and Becky said, "Oooh, I never seem to get enough sex."

For the next two nights Jeff received his night visitor and he was disappointed Linda had not swapped with Becky. He frequently thought with desire of resting his face between her modest mounds and pressing their softness against his fiery cheeks.

Oh yummy.

On that third morning when Linda had brought coffee to the 'disgusting creatures' she said, "Captain if you lay off the shallows of Allen Bay later this morning I'll paddle ashore and buy fresh milk, bread, eggs and anything else you guys think we want."

"No I'll go," Becky said. "I'll take the opportunity to go for a run and that will give you two some quality time together."

Jeff's glance turned Linda's face strawberry and he looked away, fighting the urge to smile. He waited and waited and finally Linda answered and said, "Well okay. Don't bother with a newspaper because we get all the news and other depressing stuff on TV news. Buy a couple of good magazines... no get a half dozen because mom will read them too."

After Jeff had held the kayak for Becky to slide into it and she glided off and called bye, Jeff said he'd go below and polish something in the engine room.

Linda took the cue and said softly, "Aren't you interested in having sex with me?"

Jeff virtually leaped at her.

She braced and cushioned the collision with her softness and bit into his neck.

"Jesus," he croaked. "Where?"

Here in the cockpit.

It sounded like an appropriate place but they didn't comment, being too intent on staring at one another and then engaged in a big body press and kiss that had tongues involved.

"Hurry I want to be fucked," she groaned and had her command granted.

Linda kicked off her shorts and panties and stood breathing heavily watching Jeff unlace his basketball type boots.

"Get your top off."

"My tits are too small to interest you."

"Tits are tits."

She smiled toothily and said, "Oooh" and hauled off her top and bra.

She then gulped, "Oh damn, you might be too big."

"I wasn't thinking of your butt."

She shrieked, "Oh god" but appeared comforted when he said he had never failed to slot it home.

Well she was tight and they both groaned ecstatically as she'd licked his dick wet and it slid in on the juices she was generating. 

Linda said perhaps she shouldn't say it but the feeling of being penetrated was one of the best feelings she ever experienced.

"Say that to me as often as you wish," Jeff said, as she held her legs out wide and looked at the scars on the right-hand side of his chest as he began to build up rhythm.

"You're so nice," she said, removing a hand from supporting a leg to gently touch his scars.

Jeff watched her face as she did that and to his horror almost ejaculated but managed to save the day.

He came close again as they labored and she said mischievously, panting, she promised not to squeeze him. Not long after that she heaved into a series of releases screaming at him, "Fuck me, fuck me."

What the fuck did she think he was doing?

Therefore after all that, it didn't surprise Jeff after he roared into his response that when he removed the condom Linda said in awe, "Gee that's a heap of semen."

"No," she shrieked, holding him off, as he moved in and asked her to open her mouth.

They dozed and later Jeff awoke to find Linda sucking his dick erect.

She pulled off and said, "If we go again now we'll have time to clean up and look innocent when Becky returns. She's such a sweetheart doing this for us; earlier I'd said we ought to come here and send you ashore to get milk and other supplies."

"Isn't that what sisters are for?" Jeff asked, wetting his forefinger with saliva.




On the Lakes



* * *

Linda and Becky left the boat at the refueling wharf where Jeff was topping up tanks with diesel and fresh water.

They found their mom in the marina café and the shrieks of greeting almost reached the refueling wharf.

Irene Talbot looked at her daughters fondly and saw they looked healthy and were becoming tanned, both blessed with having olive skin. She assumed they both would have been attended to sexually, hopefully not as a threesome, because that behavior was endemic on boat cruising.

"Did you bring back grandma?"

"No Becky. We found she is very happy and your aunt and I thought we'd like a piece of the guy. He manages an art gallery, is short and slight with a charming manner and all his life has found difficulty attracting women because he has a pointy nose and speaks with a big of a stutter. Your grandma says she's getting the best sex of her life and lots off it. Claude insists she doesn't wear panties. She works as the office lady and sometimes when she stands at the counter watching people who've entered the galley, she says Claude bangs her from behind. God I can't believe I'm talking about my mother like this."

"Gran introduced both of us to sex, I mean female on female sex," Becky said calmly and her mom and sister looked at her horrified.

Irene had a heart flutter when she saw the well-built Mr Cash. She'd seen head shots of all applicants before the agency made the appointment but now she was viewing all of him. His dark short-cropped hair was abundant and she was aware his penetrating green eyes were focused on her breasts and felt her nipples tighten.

Oh god, already? Actually he'd been hired to skipper the boat.

As Jeff approach he saw the girls, er young women, smiling a greeting in his direction and he thought holy shit. He'd been told she was forty-six but she looked no older than just over forty. Oh boy, great tits if they were natural and she appeared only a little over-weight... and fucking tall. She was his height.

"Hi Irene."

"Hi Jeff, you looked tanned and relaxed."

He smiled at receiving the compliment.

"Kiss him mom," Becky urged. "Be friendly."

Irene stepped forward and kissed her skipper.

"Hi again," he whispered as she pulled away and she gave him a look that warmed him.

As they left the marina the girls were playing a card game in the cockpit and Irene sat beside Jeff in the wheelhouse.

"It's costly to have to use a hired skipper," he said conversationally and she smiled and said she had to spend her money on something, that she was well-heeled.

"My late husband ran a very successful professional business as a design engineer."

"And the girls told me you are successful as an author."

"Did they now and what other family secrets did they let out?"

"That you are very nice."

Irene threw back her head and laughed and said that indicated Jeff was very discreet.

He saw the tits push forward and said, "Why don't you change out of those travel clothes into something boatie. It's getting warmer and you might pick up a couple of coffees on the way back."

"You want me back up here?"

"Indeed."

"And wearing what?"

"Whatever you feel comfortable wearing."

"Just a bikini bottom?"

He laughed and said that was late afternoon affair but to please herself.

"Jeff I'm forty and..."

"I was told forty-six."

"Oh bad memory lapse. I'm forty-six and you might..."

"I might nothing. You look in good shape to me... much like a 40-year-old I reckon but not those who starve themselves in the vain hope of retaining their youth."

"Have you had sex with my daughters?"

"Yes."

"Both at the same time."

"No."

"I like you Mr Honest Cash. And thank you for being attentive to my daughters."

Jeff shifted uncomfortably as she left and wiped a few tiny bead of sweat off his brow. Well that was one time when telling the truth had apparently paid off. Irene was a liberal woman and obviously that's why she was a good writer. He wondered what she'd be like to fuck and guessed she'd been getting it somewhere since her husband's death. Irene didn't have the look of a woman with an abandoned pussy. Sexually active women seemed to be able to produce that special look and held themselves differently, at least that was his theory. He believed they began letting themselves go when their sexual activity waned.

They had entered Lycoming Lake, a drowned valley with dozen of surviving hilltops between the entrance channel from Lake Howell and the Lycoming Dam 42-miles to the south. They anchored for the night in the lee of Shamrock Island on which a small herd of protected deer roamed and fed on the growth under the afforestation that reseeded after the clearance before the dam was constructed almost fifty years ago.

"This is one of my favorite anchorages," Irene said, the first to appear and wearing only her bikini bottom. Her tits (Jeff rarely thought of them as breasts) swung slightly as she walked and Jeff hung his mouth open until he was sure shed seen him gawking.

"It's beautifully warm," he said thoughtlessly as it had been so for most of the day. He looked up into her soft smile and said boldly, "Very impressive Irene."

"Hush, here come the girls with the drinks and nibbles."

Almost two hours later Becky stood and said, "I'm off to get dinner."

Irene said she would come and assist.

"Mom leave her, Jeff has been teaching her to cook and to present a meal."

"Well done Jeff," Irene said, showing surprise. 

Becky arrived up with artichoke, cheese and olive antipasto and it was beautifully arranged on the plate and everyone made appreciative noises.

That was following by Penne with shrimp and red pepper flakes and a Vodka sauce.

"Darling I cannot believe my eyes," coed Irene, and Becky colored and obviously was delighted.

"How on earth has Jeff managed to get you going into cooking when everyone else has failed with the break through?"

"Jeff applied real incentive. He said the guy I married would expect me to cook and so would his mom. It was a bit about his critical mom that did it for me."

Becky cleared away and return with a desert called Dulcia Domestica (dates stuffed with chopped nuts, coated in red wine and drizzled with honey before light cooking.

Irene shrieked in delight and led the applause.

"Do you just read a recipe book and then instruct Becky?"

Jeff shrugged and said he didn't need recipe books. When he entered the navy he spent much of his first year after basic training working in the galley. 

"If you couldn't cook you got all the dirty jobs to do so guess what?"

Jeff fell asleep waiting in vain for Irene to come to his bed.

During the next ten days he managed to plunge into Linda twice and Becky four times on occasions when Irene was down below writing. The sister not receiving that attention would station herself reading in the saloon, ready to yell oh hi mom if her mom appeared.

They tied up at Buckwheat Landing, a mile upstream of the dam, to visit the charming village and to have a restaurant lunch.

They were eating when Becky announced she and Linda had decided to leave the board and bus home to have some summer days with their friends.

"Mom you'll be okay with us not being on the boat won't you? I mean for appearances sake because you are bound to come across people you know when you get to some of the more popular places."

"Yes dear, I will be okay and Jeff will continue to be a gentleman, won't you Jeff."

"Um yes."

"But I doubt he and you two always behaved decorously."

Jeff said, "Quite so Irene but nothing we are ashamed of."

The girls looked shocked and then looked murderously at Jeff.

"Well come on girls, back to Lady Edwina to pack. Jeff could you pay for our meals and then go to the bus depot and get a list of departure times for my brilliant young cook and her sister."

After they waved the girls off at the bus station, Irene said, "Is it a wild guess than you intend taking advantage of me, I mean can I expect to be that lucky?"

"I assume nothing. I place you in charge of our joint behavior."

"Oh very clever Mr Mariner. But aren't I too old for you?"

"No."

"Oh and so what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking you might turn out to be a great bang."

"Oh god, it sometimes doesn't pay to ask you a direct question."

"Let's run to the boat."

Jeff seized her hand to run with her but she laughed and said, "No, no. That was a joke. Let's just walk and window shop, but you may hold my hand if you wish."       * * *

Fucking Irene was a wondrous experience for Jeff and his impression was it didn't go amiss with her either. She gushed almost as heavily as he did and it left them both possibly sharing the same thought, namely, oh god they must do that again.

When they stripped, Irene led him to the bed by his erection, taking care not to walk too fast or too unevenly. That reminded Jeff she'd been fucked many times and knew what it was about and she had heaps of self-confidence. He recalled the times of going to bed with women who couldn't bear to touch his dick because, quote, they didn't k now him or, quote, weren't used to touching an erection.

Irene folded on to the bed and whispered, "Sixty-nine."

Oh boy.

Jeff thought he could hear wolves howling, birds chirping, water tumbling over a fall and women screaming, "Fuck me, fuck me."

He adored that illusion and looked that the moist cunt presented to him with the outer hair neatly trimmed while he felt Irene's lips slide over the sensitive head of his dick. His balls boiled but everything was okay, he was in control.

Jeff licked up and down her hair-trimmed vulva four times and then he parted the flaps and sunk his tongue in until it was straining at the roots and then he waggled it, heard Irene groan, and then felt nectar mixing with the wetness that had been around his tongue tip.

Oh boy, he grinned, feeling he was very much alive, his nerve ends were dancing and this delightful and quite large cunt awaited his plunging dick. It was almost as if the earth stood still, and he had single-channel focus, that this mature cunt in his possession was his kingdom, his universe.

Then Irene squeezed his balls a little too hard. He yelped and his acute focus on cunt evaporated. But he didn't mind. He'd glimpsed into the jaws of creation, felt the privilege and that and was aware sometimes the briefest of glimpses are the ones that are the most unforgettable and therefore become the most treasured.

"How are you doing babe?" he asked, lifting and twisting around a bit to view her.

"Fine but sucking this big piece of meat is aching my jaws; I want it in me."

He didn't reply verbally. Instead he rolled off, turned her over and pulled his grip around her belly until her butt was up high and facing him.

"What are you doing?" she enquired.

"Um where are you aiming to put it?"

"In the wider slash this time."

"Ah good man. I don't want you up my butt until I know you better."

Rolling on the condom, Jeff thought why did she require to know him before she took it up the butt. He could deliver a memorable butt fuck without them knowing each other. It was a little difficult to understand women at times.

He considered tactics and then working up behind her thrust it into her deeply, expecting her to gasp and come like a waterfall.

But no. Although the lube was not abundant at that stage, and he felt the friction and she must have do so as well, she said laconically, "Oooh, it's lovely having a guy who's not too small for me."

Eh?

He was also surprised by her strength, in banging back at him, and by her endurance. He was almost seeing his vision turn into two dark red pools when she groaned and bucked and he filled the pouch of the condom.

She panted and covered him with glory by saying admiringly, "You fuck very well for a younger man."

At the accolade, Jeff was almost ready to go again immediately.

Well almost.

For the next three weeks they fucked their way around the lake, often going at it three to five sessions each twenty-four hours. Jeff had never met a woman who loved fucking so much. She was now even encouraging him to take her butt.

They then docked and went to her home for a fortnight where Irene, with his consent, introduced Jeff to her neighbors and her fiancé. They then returned to the lakes.

"I write best on the water," she said. "Well stay on up here until the cold begins to get at us. I can become so wearisome."

Irene's new book, 'Days Occupied by Sex' was really quite autobiographic involving her recent past, although she denied that emphatically when that was suggested at a media conference. The book took off like rampant influenza.

* * *

Irene and Jeff were quietly married in her hometown at her church with Linda and Becky being their bridesmaids and Jeff's two younger brothers being their attendants.

Jeff's stepdaughters were delighted he was making their mom so happy even though her mom had confided to them she might need a vagina transplant. The three of them had a really good laugh over that.

Initially Irene had said no when Jeff proposed, saying he should marry someone a little younger than himself who would bear him children.

"Why?" he said. "In marrying you I gain two great stepdaughters. I'm on to a real winner here as they are such lovely young women."

The couple spent their honeymoon in France and for the last five months have been cruising the lakes out of the Mayfair Marina. During that time Irene has completed her next novel and commenced a new one. She is delighted that Jeff is so good at suggesting ways her hero and heroine can meet and then describe novel ways in which the hero gets to ball her in their first sexual coupling. Irene gets Linda or Becky to stay on the boat with Jeff when she's away promoting her books or attending literary workshops. She has no wish for her skipper to feel lonely.

THE END



On the Lam



 This is a sequel to the story Jail Breaking. When you disregard all the well justified criticism of my punctuation and spelling in that effort, the majority of the numerous and overly generous comments relate to the ending or lack thereof. Technically as a short story it is complete, but I admit not in an entirely satisfying way. I also notice in the comments that most readers did not see the various characters the way I do. Again my fault for not giving enough back story. I have great sympathy for the women in my story and less for my protagonist who in a very dishonest person. As the comments came in, I saw a sequel develop that would please some but not all readers. However, this story holds true to the one rule I try to keep. A character cannot step out of character no matter how absurd the situation. They must be true to themselves. Keep this rule in mind as you read the sequel.  

  You will notice the improvement in the grammar. You have Vickietern to thank. It is still not perfect, but she did a great job with what I gave her. I would also like to thank Jerry S who has been slaving away on my latest opus and for which I am stuck for an ending.  

I was seated on the back porch, watching the sun set over the western Catskills. The cabin -- you could not call it a house -- was just one large room and the rather spacious screened-in back porch. That room contained a small kitchen and a sleeping loft, and a small bath with a shower stuck out the far side.

This part of the Catskills is in the main undeveloped. There is no industry, farming is near impossible, and there is nothing to mine. The tourist spots are all to the south and east. It's a good place to go if you want to be alone and close to nature.

"Ein cent for your thoughts," she says.

"Save your money, I don't have any," I reply.

She is Annette Malene Grafin von Kabchreuth. I met her in Montreux on Lake Geneva -- she more or less picked me up. I was eating in one of the overpriced café restaurants that seem to populate all of Switzerland.

"Is this chair taken?" she had said.

"No, feel free."

But she didn't take the chair to another table as I expected. She sat right down. To my quizzical look, she responded.

"I wish to practice my English."

"How did you know I spoke English?"

"Most Americans do," she said with the laugh that has become so familiar to me. It is a laugh that says all Americans are a bit simple, and, for this reason, quite amusing in their immature ways.

That was the start of it. She had no great difficulty seducing me -- why she wanted to at first falls somewhere between amusing and kinky. I am convinced she truly enjoys sex and plenty of it, but only on her terms. She is easily bored and perpetually in motion. Since we arrived in the Catskills, she has hiked every trail, gone swimming in every body of water, and found all sorts of amusements I never knew were there. The locals love her. Why not? She loves to spend my money, and she is beautiful.

She is not what I would call sexy. She is tall at five eleven, and thin. She has a beautiful oval face that has a mop of blond hair and clear blue eyes. She is as flat chested as a boy with a tiny waist and a cute little bottom. The boy-girls in Bangkok have more feminine curves than Annette, but her smile is to die for. I could easily love her but for her baggage.

Annette is thirty, married with three kids. The children all girls are in school. The Graf, that's a kind of Count, is usually off on a business trip with one of his mistresses. Annette plays while he is away, and is the authoress of many travel books. But she tells me it's all business when they are at home together. Apparently a lot of effort goes into being a German aristocrat.

She is a blood relative of her husband, a kind of cousin. It was a quasi-arranged marriage, though she tells me they are very much in love. I know after six weeks together that her idea of love and mine have little in common.

"You left your wife after nineteen years because she took a lover just once?" she asked, appalled at my shocking conduct.

"I didn't love her."

She burst into laughter. "You were married too long to use that excuse. It is more than that -- you are lying, mostly to yourself. Your anger is not sufficient to cover the pain you caused. It is hard to lose a husband, father, and son. The reasons must be greater than you give."

"I wasn't going to let them walk over me."

"Nonsense. That might bring on a separation or a divorce possibly, but a complete break with your entire family because of a little sex? No, I think you are one of those hopeless romantics. You seek what you will never find because it is only exists in films and books. In real life we take what we can get and are grateful."

"How could I live with what she did?" I asked.

She gave that infuriating laugh of hers. "Because you cannot live without her, nor without those other women from whom you also run. You can't even face them, so you hide. You are afraid that you will go back to them because you have no life without them."

She is unfortunately right, at least emotionally. I had been living a lonely and purposeless existence until Annette came along. It's surprising the things that you miss. The way your daughter's laughs. The kiss your wife gives you first thing in the morning. The once a week call from your mother with all the family news, knowing she is only calling to see how you are doing. It's all a trap. Give in to it and they will tie you up so tight you will never get free. Annette has it correct -- I didn't leave, I ran away. I can't go back, for I may never possess the will to leave again.

"I'm here with you -- this is my life," I said.

"I am on vacation. Soon I will return to life. My true life, and you will be no more than a pleasant memory," she said as she stroked my face with her hand.

"I guess that tells me where I stand."

"Stop being a spoiled little boy. Go back to your wife. You have punished her enough for her little sin."

We saw things so opposite. I could not blame her, we were from different worlds. Oddly I knew my mother would agree with her, but I had to keep searching. Even if I failed to find what I sought, I promised myself a good time trying. I left my wife and family last New Year's. I spent the first several months touring the Far East. I made my way across Asia, ending in Europe, Switzerland to be precise. During this time, I never suffered for female companionship, but every last one wanted something. Annette was different. Oh, she wanted something, but it was just a good time. She had managed to dampen the pain in my chest. It is hard to be alone and hard to shake feelings that have built over a lifetime. You don't choose your family, but you still love them.

"It is nice to watch the sunset. I am glad I came. The Swiss were so stuck up," she said as she seated herself on my lap.

She weighs almost nothing, but I knew where her being naked on my lap was going. When we were alone, she rarely wore clothing. I had no neighbors to see, and I was myself only in a pair of running shorts.

"Can we wait until the sun goes down?" I ask.

"You watch," she says pulling down my shorts.

My cock is hard and ready, and she slips in into her as easy as can be. She has small breasts but large nipples. They are very sensitive and she moans as I tweak them. She is not tight in the vagina, but she has developed her muscles there. She uses them to caress my dick. She always takes the top position, and she does all the work. It is a slow but intense ride. As light fades, she picks up the pace, her kisses become more forceful. Her tongue is fucking my mouth. One hand slips down to her clit. I work her nipples with my own hands.

I can feel her orgasm -- they come in a kind of wave. You can feel her rise into it, and then it crests, and she slides down the back side. There will be yet another wave and then another.

"Don't cum! Not yet. I think I have another," she says.

When I finally get there, she pinches my little nipples with her long nails. It's like sending an electric shock through me, and I send everything I have into her. She puts her forehead on mine and her eyes look right at me. It is all but dark -- only the dim light from the cabin's interior lights the porch.

"Now was that bad? Did it hurt my husband or your wife? And if it did don't they both deserve it?"

I have no comeback. She is right.

"How rich are you? I think very," she said.

"Does it matter?"

"Yes it does. You are very rich like my grandfather. He hid his wealth too, but then as with you grandfather made it dishonestly, trading western goods on the black market in East Germany with my father," she said.

"You think I am a crook," I said.

"But of course, and a smart one because you have not been caught."

"This doesn't bother you?"

"I am a woman who married a man because her father needed the respectability that came with her husband's title. How can I criticize you?"

"Yet you say you love your husband."

"Why not? He may have married me for Grand Papa's money, but it was a bargain we both made."

"What about love?"

"How silly you are. The love comes after, as you struggle together, sacrifice for each other, bring your children into the world and raise them together."

"You are here with me and he is somewhere else with another woman."

She shrugged and said, "Sometimes...you need to feel romantic with a silly American who is lost and lonely because he believes in fairytales." She leaned in, and the kiss was as soft and sweet as night in the mountains.

At that moment, my cell phone rang. It was the contractor on the 27 Division Street Building in Shamont.

"I have gone through this place, it's a mess," he said

"So clean it up and fix what's broken as we agreed," I said.

"But nothing is standard and nothing makes sense. All these hidden spaces and an underground exit into the carriage lane. What good is this space? You can't rent it, and only a fool would buy it."

"That's my business. I am paying you to restore the building. I don't care that it has no modern purpose, it's not meant to," I said and hung up on the idiot. My anger had gotten the best of me. I am so annoyed by ignorance!

"What?" I said as she gave me a knowing look.

"You are just like my grandfather, always chasing the gelt."

"I happen to like the building! My grandfather used to walk me past it when we went for ice cream. He had an interesting story about it," I said.

"He had a story and now you have a scheme. It is always so with men like you. Never play fair, always cheat," She said and pressed her lips to mine once again, but nothing soft this time. Annette had a habit of taking what she wanted.

___________________________________________

Elizabeth Parker looked the exact opposite of her boss, State Senator Maria Consuela Ruis. The first-term Democrat from the Bronx was a short, plump woman with dark brown skin reflecting her Hispanic and African ancestry. Maria wore her black hair short, and her dresses long, as befit a forty-seven year old good Catholic mother of three.

At five feet eleven inches, the twenty-seven-year old Liz Parker towered above her boss. The younger woman was a white Anglo-Saxon Protestant. At first glance, they were an unlikely team. But in the view of the political bosses "they went together like white rice and beans." 

Their bodies and backgrounds were different, but they shared a common set of beliefs. As a team, they were a one-two punch. Maria was not a pretty woman by any standard, but she had a personality that could win over the coldest fish and a talent for saying things that others could never get away with. Somehow coming from Maria the cruelest insult sounded almost a compliment.

Liz was the opposite -- she grated on people, especially men, but she had good looks that could not be denied. She could easily have carried another ten pounds and still be called slim. Maria could lose forty and still be plump. These women burned with ambition and their life experiences complemented each other.

Maria had grown up in a political clubhouse in the Bronx, the Daughter of a ward captain father and the female Democratic club leader. Married at twenty-two straight from City College, to Salvatore Ruis, an established business man of forty. She then expected to live a quiet life.

She'd had two children before she became convinced that Sally, as he was known, would never be able to keep it in his pants. His infidelities only increased through the course of their marriage. Her third pregnancy was an accident resulting from the combined families' insistence that she give him just one more chance. Divorced at thirty and estranged technically from her church, she was forced somehow to make a new life for herself.

Sally paid Maria alimony in addition to child support. She used that and a scholarship to get a law degree from Columbia. Her political resume describes her as a practicing attorney, but she never had a law office or a paying client. She worked in the family Court as a law guardian and an assigned counsel, and her election to the State Senate was a fortuitous accident. The former holder of the office was thought unbeatable. Her primary challenge was a mere formally meant to help force her appointment to a Family Court Judge's chair. If you don't give me the nod, I will conduct an expensive, time-consuming primary. Who could have known at the time that the Federal Prosecutor had already prepared a grand jury indictment of the incumbent, and an unbeatable case. So there was no primary. Then she had no opponent, and no opposition in the general election.

Maria came to Albany, a shrewd and capable politician in need of the skills required of a good legislator. Liz on the other hand had worked in the State Senate as a legislative assistant to the majority all through her college years at Russell Sage College. She continued to work full time while in Law School. She made her one false step on graduating by taking a position at the State Attorney General's office. After six months, she quit to work for a senior Republican legislator. Liz met Maria by accident in the Legislative dining room -- the two literally ran into each other. When they had recovered their spilled salad plates, Maria invited the younger woman to dine with her. Forty-five minutes later a coalition was born. Liz became the Senior Aide to Senator Ruis.

"What you got for me?" Maria asked Liz.

"Well, David P. Landon, Jr.," Liz said.

"Now who is he?"

"I believe he is the key to Stuyvesant, Ltd," Liz said grinning like the cat that swallowed the canary.

Maria had to smile in spite of herself. When she had been growing up in the Bronx, the borough was largely a slum. A man named Robert Moses had used an instrument known as Eminent Domain to slice the Bronx into pieces with interstate highways. Whole neighbors were obliterated. Those that remained were bisected by impassable roadways. Stores were on one side and homes on the other of the limited access roads. What had been a series of middle-class neighborhoods was rendered New York's worst slum overnight.

When Maria was still in City College, a professor had encouraged her to read Robert Caro's biography of Moses titled, The Power Broker. If Maria could accomplish one thing as a legislator she, intended that to be a reform of the State's Eminent Domain practices. She had in her first weeks in office stumbled onto a rumor about some entity called Stuyvesant that was somehow gaming the system. It had all the makings of a scandal that could in turn cause real reform.

Liz slid Landon's file across the table to Maria.

"He's forty-six, married twenty years, the father of twin daughters both at Wesley—" Liz said.

"Expensive that."

"Wife comes from money. He has what appears to be a small Eminent Domain practice in a minor firm. But of the condemnations that Stuyvesant limited has exploited he was the lead attorney for the landowners at least ninety percent of the time. "

"Could it be a coincidence?" Maria asked.

"Rather a consistent coincidence, and if you look at all the Stuyvesant purchase and sales agreements, you can see that no attorney representing Stuyvesant ever appears. An agent out of Wyoming does all the signing. Now how could they operate without a New York attorney?"

"So what we think is that attorney Landon is connected to Stuyvesant."

"They somehow get advance notice and then they buy surrounding properties. While the proceedings pend, Landon is privy to everything that is happening. They can't lose."

"You think this Landon will talk?" Maria asked.

"Why not. He's a lawyer. If we call him before the committee he knows we will give him immunity -- then he is forced to talk or go to jail. He has nothing to gain by shielding his accomplices." 

"But he may have a problem with the United States Attorney," Maria said.

"So he does a few years in minimum security at club fed. He's earned it." __________________________________________

Doris Landon was cuddled next to her lover. Mark was a tall, well-built man. As a lover, Mark was aggressive and dominant. He knew women were attracted to him, and he enjoyed pleasing them. All in all, Doris thought him a very satisfactory lover, and their affair was exceeding stimulating. If only her husband David had been more understanding.

Things had gone very bad with David since he walked out on her at New Year's some eight months ago. He apparently had discovered the affair, and despite everyone in the family trying to reassure him it was nothing to be concerned about, he had stormed off to parts unknown.

Doris was terribly worried. She loved the big jerk. He was the man she had married and the one she intended to grow old with. All she was after with Mark was a bit of romance, some harmless fun, and those feelings you get when you are young and in love. David should be able to see that, but of course he didn't. To put it bluntly, David was dull, always was and always would be. He was an attorney for God's sakes, and as if that was not bad enough he did only condemnation work. Doris had no idea what his work involved, but knew it was immensely boring.

Mark was exciting, different, and well hung. He was everything she had given up for a good home and family. She did not love him, of course. Did not believe that she ever could. He was an interlude, as in a British movie where the wife meets the handsome guy in the train station they have a torrid affair, and then she goes home to her dull as dirt husband. But in the movies the husband understands. They're together in the end, the man and wife.

David was gone, and frankly she did not believe he could take care of himself. He had left his law practice. He had taken no money, just his clothes and his beat-up old Honda Civic. She was worried. David had never actually been on his own. Doris had married him while they were at school together, and in the early years she'd supplemented his income with her family money. David never made much. His best year he brought in $90,000, the same year she had earned $130,000 plus benefits as a full professor. She had their health insurance -- on his own David could not even afford to get sick. Where was he and what was he doing? She was overwhelmed with guilt and worry.

Everyone in the family said he would be back. He would cool down and come back -- after all what else could he do? As his own mother said, he had no life that didn't involve the family. He loved his daughters so much, and now he was not speaking to them for taking their mother's side. Her mother had been right when she said Doris had waited too long to take a lover. David would never have left her if the girls were still in need of him. With the girls in college he could leave. He was the kind of man who would always put his duty as a father first. He must come back and be a good husband. But it had been eight months without a word.




On the Lam



"You're thinking about him again," Mark said, sliding his arm around her.

"Sorry, can't help myself. Guess I have been married too long," she said as she turned into her lover for a kiss.

"Usually the wife is worried about the husband finding out, not the guy himself. It's a bit of a blow to my ego."

"Just how many married women have you been with mister," she said with mock outrage.

"A few. It's exciting, wicked, forbidden and so sexy, but not really sad. The woman usually isn't lying next to you worrying about her missing husband." Mark did not say that part of his fun was knowing that he was making the husband a cuckold. Taking the husband's woman, and there was nothing that husband could do about it. David had killed part of the fun. The guy just walked out and disappeared. Mark had never met him but had understood the man was under his rich wife's thumb. David may not have cooperated, but still Doris was fine pussy, and while she was only Assistant Department Head at the moment everyone knew she was going to replace the Department Chair during the coming Christmas break. He was due to step down at year-end. That would be good for a non-tenured Assistant Professor who was tapping the fine pussy of the new Chairwoman.

"Sorry," Doris said.

She reached down for his flaccid cock and began to stroke it, "How about I give you my full attention."

____________________________

Liz was stumped. It had all seemed so easy. Get this middle-aged family man in front of the committee and offer him immunity in return for his testimony. Simple and risk-free on their side. If he refuses to talk, he gets held in contempt and that makes good publicity for the Senator. If he lies, he gets prosecuted -- again good publicity for the Senator. But if he tells the truth they get the scandal they want, and the Senator has a hot issue to ride.

Trouble was, no David Landon. She had started looking in the obvious place, his work. But he had simply called in last January 2 and said he was through. No one had seen him since he quit, and more troubling, all his work had been completed before he left. No one had noticed, but apparently he'd planned to leave for some time. So how to find a man who had decided to skip?

The Shamont Bank Labor Day picnic was a big affair, held not on Labor Day but the week before. Employees, family, and friends gathered in the Lamp Lighter picnic grounds for a big day of food and amusements, over five hundred people in all. The Shamont family were the hosts, like medieval Princelings feasting the serfs. Liz had no problem getting an invitation. Lots of pols attend to glad hand. She was but one of the crowd of supplicants at the Shamont family table. The Shamonts included the Boswells, the Landons and several other branches of the extended family.

Liz figured the picnic might be a good place to pick up a line on what had happened to David Landon. His daughters were certainly there. You could not miss the Landon girls in the brief halter tops and Daisy Duke Shorts. They were two hot looking women. They seemed to enjoy turning the guys on, but they were also two responsible young women. They organized all the kids and ran all the games, exhibiting an energy and dedication to purpose that was tiring to watch. Parents could relax and party because the Landon girls were taking care of the kids. Of course, many a young male was happy to help out. Liz had to laugh at the young and some not-so-young men falling over themselves to help take care of the little ones and leer at the Landon twins in the skimpy attire.

Liz wandered the site and tried to glad hand as many people as she could while unobtrusively asking about David Landon. The official story seemed to be that he was away on a trip. But no one seemed to know where. Rumor had it that he'd had a mid-life breakdown and the family had shipped him off for a rest cure. 

Eventually, she found herself walking towards a group of tables that were clearly the Shamonts' immediate court. A tall blond man, rather good looking though a bit on the heavy side, was directing the barbecue crew. As she approached, he was looking over to smile and wave at an attractive young woman who was holding her own court among what could have been a group of suitors. Liz had already identified most of the Landons and Boswells by asking around. The blond man was Lawrence Boswell, Jr., and the woman was his wife, Anne. She had something of a reputation as Liz had learned. Boswell seemed to be enjoying himself and seemed unconcerned by the obvious flirting his wife was engaged in.

"Excuse me aren't you Lawrence Boswell?" Liz said on approaching Larry.

"Yes but everyone calls me Larry. Lawrence is my father," Larry replied. "I've wanted to meet you. I am Elizabeth Parker, an Aide to State Senator—"

"Ruis. Yes, I know. I saw you at the Senate hearings on the downtown renewal. It's a project very close to Dad's heart. I think he sees it as his legacy to the region," Larry said.

Liz was familiar with the proposed project a substantial redevelopment of the City Center in the old Shamont downtown commercial district. A lot of stores and homes would be displaced by Eminent Domain. The rumor around the Capitol building was that it was a done deal, but one that had divided father and son. Larry junior was against the project, believing it displaced too many small business and families. For this, he was viewed as some kind of weak sister.

Larry had handed Liz the opening she needed by mentioning the project.

"Well, I guess you consulted with your brother David Landon about the land acquisition issues," Liz said, watching for a response.

Larry frowned, "Dave is not available right now, took a bit of leave from life."

Liz was fed up with the company line. "Look, to be up front about it, the Senator feels that using Eminent Domain to displace so many homes and business has a significant downside. She would like to call some expert witnesses to discuss the issues. In this regard, we tried to reach Mr. Landon, but he seems to have disappeared. Might you be able to tell me how to reach him?"

Larry now looked very uncomfortable, but before he could speak a woman with stunning good looks broke into the conversation.

"My husband has left me—thank you, Larry, but the time for hiding the truth needs to come to an end. We do not know where he is or even if he is still alive," the woman said, who Liz now knew was Doris Landon.

Doris looked like a woman in deep mourning, and Liz's heart went out to her.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Landon, I didn't mean to pry into your personal affairs, but we have been looking to consult with your husband. Forgive me and let me say I see where your daughters get their good looks from."

Liz began to walk away, but Doris grabbed her arm.

"Please, if you find my husband tell him — tell him — I beg him to come home."

Liz felt like a twit, realizing that these people had no idea that the man they saw as a loving husband and father was in actual fact a criminal. How could a man do that to his family, and why? These people had money, he didn't need to steal. She could not help but think that David Landon was a heartless man.

___________________________________________

Annette had returned home to live her middle-class life and to write her latest travel book. Rupert Von Kabchreuth was home from his latest business trip. As usual it had not gone as well as his father demanded. He was a disappointment to that old crook. However, something had changed. The old man was mellower this time, or as mellow as a man who had been taken and tortured by the Stasi in his youth could be. You had to respect that the man never talked about it and that legend said he had never given out a single name. Count Rupert knew he wasn't in that league -- it took more than courage to play there. It took an iron nerve and a Cracker Jack criminal brain. Rupert knew he would never accomplish what the old man expected, not on his own.

He did sense that something was wrong with his wife. He cared for Annette. They were distant cousins, and the marriage had been arranged, but he would not have married her if he didn't like her. And he believed her affection for him was true and deep.

"What's the problem? You have not been yourself since you returned from America," he said looking across the kitchen table.

"Nothing really, except, do you ever wonder what it would be like to find...Love. I mean as in the romances."

Rupert studiously refused to laugh, "I think you let your naïve American get to you," he said.

They did not hide their affairs from each other. They kept them discreetly hidden from the public, but they had promised each other when they married to be honest and remain friends no matter what. Rupert was the actual aristocrat, but the title brought no money. Annette's Grandfather had the money, but her father was a nameless East German. It wasn't a love match more a like match.

So far, they had kept their promises to each other, but Rupert hated that she slept with other men. This was selfish he knew, because he loved women and was not going to limit himself to just one. But he always felt that Annette was special. She had always been discreet and rather sparing with her sexual favors. As wives go, Rupert considered her to be at the top of the class or even in a class by herself. This American was another matter. He had evidently gone where those before had not.

"Made you think, did he?"

"Not so much think as feel...like maybe there could be something more," she said. Then jumped up, came around the table, and grabbed her husband for a kiss.

"Komm mein Mann. Make me forget him," she said drawing Rupert towards the bedroom.

________________________________________

"This is an exceptional place, how did you find it?" Sheila Morgan said to Liz Parker.

They were having brunch in the Ilium Café in Troy. It was a pleasant informal sort of place with a broad breakfast menu.

"Little things the locals know," Liz said.

It was Sunday of Labor Day weekend. The Senator had gone home to the Bronx to press the flesh as the saying goes. Liz was off duty when she ran into her old school friend Sheila, who was touring Colleges with her daughter Paula. Mother and daughter had visited a number of schools while coming up the Hudson Valley. In Troy, they'd looked at Liz's alma mater Russell Sage, an all girl's school, and Rensselaer Polytech, a big well-endowed school. Paula was only a high school sophomore, but the trend was to start looking and planning early.

"I still can't believe how big you've gotten," Liz said to Paula.

"Well, maybe you can convince my mom as a big girl that I don't need a chaperone every minute."

"That is exactly why you do need your Mom looking out for you," Sheila said and hugged her daughter affectionately.

"Oh, look, isn't that the English Professor who gave the talk yesterday?" Paula said.

Liz had been sitting with her back to the door. But now she turned to see Doris Landon enter with a tall good looking black man. He had his arm around her waist and as the two took a corner table they discretely kissed. It was a brief kiss but it had an aspect of long familiarity about it.

"Yes I believe it is, now what was her name—"Sheila said.

"Doris Langdon, Mrs., and that is not her husband," Liz said unable to keep the disapproval out of her voice.

"Don't judge, Elizabeth, we can't know all the facts. You need to get over Edward some time," Sheila said.

"Who's Edward?" Paula asked.

"Just your average snake that wears pants," Liz said.

Sheila laughed and told her daughter she was too young to hear that tale.

It was in fact not all that much of a story, though it hurt like hell, that's for sure, even all these years later. Edward Ryan was the best looking guy in his graduating class at SUNY Albany. They were going to get married after their first year school. That is, until Liz had a class unexpectedly canceled one afternoon. As in every bad story, she returned to the apartment they shared to find Ed in their bed with another woman.

The story only got worse from there. She ran out crying. She had no place to go so she ran to her friend Sheila's. Sheila and her husband and their two children had a matchbox sized house in Kingston. They were a good decade older than Liz. He was a teacher, as was Sheila until she decided to return to school and get her law degree. They lived modestly, but they had a couch she could sleep on.

Two weeks went by, and she decided that she had to forgive Edward. He had made a mistake. She called him and asked to meet at a grungy little bar called the Elbow Room near the law school. When he arrived, Edward appeared contrite, but when she tried to patch things up—

"I've something...oh this is hard..." he said.

"What?"

"Well, it's like this—I'm in love."

"You bastard. Are you breaking our engagement?"

"I guess so—"

"You either know or you don't."

"Please don't be angry, I can't help how I feel."

"I suppose you want the ring back."

"Well..."

"Here take it," she said, throwing the little diamond ring at him. I'll come by on the weekend to get my stuff."

"Don't bother -- Nancy and I are going to California next week."

"But what about school?"

"I'm quitting -- it's not what I want any more."

"I co-signed your school loans. If you drop out, they'll come due. How are you going to pay them?"

"I'm not. We are going to live off the grid. Nancy says you don't know what life is like until you get back to basics."

"Listen you idiot, if you don't pay those loans they will come looking for me."

"I can't help that. I have to be going," he said, and walked out on her.

After that law school became a struggle. She ended up very deep in debt, although she worked full time all through school. She was still trying to dig her way out, but she had learned a lesson: MOST MEN SUCK.

"That looks like a very hot relationship," Sheila said referring to Mrs. Landon and her paramour.

"I wonder how long it's been going on," Liz said.

"I would guess a while. They don't act like it's a new thing."

"Her husband left her," Liz said.

"Well, he seems to have been replaced," Sheila said.

"But she says she wants her husband back."

"Could well be -- can't see that relationship working," Sheila mused.

"Maybe she wants both," Paula said with a smirk.

"Watch it young lady. All you are doing is leaning me towards an all girl's school," Sheila said, but you could tell she was not serious.

The bottom line was Liz might have to reevaluate the whole David Landon story.

____________________________________________________ Agnes Landon was at the end of a hard day. As the head nurse at the medical center, her job had become chiefly administrative. But these times of tight budgets and endless bureaucracy made hers a difficult job. Nevertheless, what was bothering her was the worry and anger she felt about her son, David Landon, Jr. She had always been exceedingly close to her son. He had always been the best of boys. Honest, loyal, and loving were just some of his good points. He had some bad points as well, he was stubborn and a wee bit lazy. But what had always troubled his mother most was the almost profound sadness he displayed. As a child for days on end he never smiled, and he was ever so quiet. A good day for her was when she could make him smile and just maybe hear his laugh. Those were very few and very far between.

Doris Boswell was a dream come true. She had brains, looks, and money. More important still, she was one of those people that always wore a smile and worked hard to see that everyone else did as well. When he was with Doris, his mother knew that David, Jr. was happy too. The icing on the cake was that Doris's mother was Margret Boswell, who was Agnes's BFF. As children Angie and Meg had sworn a sacred oath to be friends forever. Both families were thrilled that the kids had found each other. Agnes however always knew that it was Doris who had married David. He was a passive man but a bit of a romantic, a stubborn impractical dreamer who would have thrown his life away looking for what you can never find in this life.

Agnes knew her son and where he had gotten his silly notions of how life should be. As a young girl, she too had been a romantic. She had married David, Sr. as a young nursing student only seventeen years old. Her friend Meg married Larry Boswell a year later. David and Larry had met Angie and Meg on a double date arranged by friends. They were setting up the rich Shamont girl, Meg, with the equally well-to-do Boswell boy, Larry. Both girls had believed in love at first sight, and their romantic beliefs lasted just a few years into the respective marriages. The honeymoons were over when the women found out their husbands were cheaters.

Dave and Larry had become good buddies due to their wives' friendship. It was only natural that they should take a few male bonding trips together. When Meg came to Agnes with proof that the only fishing that took place on the fishing trips was trolling for female companions, poor Angie was devastated.

Meg was a Shamont, and there was a lot of money and prestige on the line. Besides, as a good Catholic girl divorce was not an option you chose if it could be avoided. Angie's situation was far worse. She was never the sophisticate Meg was, and she hadn't been using birth control. Little David was a year old, and she had just found out she was pregnant again when Meg dropped the news about David Senior's infidelity.

From her own point of view, Angie had no choice but to stick it out in the marriage. Staying is what you did for the sake of the kids. At that time, there was only little Dave, who had become the center of his mother's life. After all, David, Sr. was not a bad man, he was a loving husband most of the time and a good father. He just strayed a bit. Angie would get past it, but the romance had died, replaced by bitterness and hurt.

Dr. Suparmanputra was tall for an Indonesian, new to the hospital, and apparently unattached. Like most doctors who flirt with nurses, he was not out for a meaningful relationship, just a bit of fun. Angie was a surgical nurse at the time, busting her butt to make the family budget work and trying to deal with her husband's infidelity. Doctor Soup, as he was known to the nurses, was attentive and generous to the tall blond nurse with the very American figure. Had things been different at home Angie would not have succumbed to his advances. But she needed a bit of help in the form of a man's shoulder to cry on. She needed to feel that she was desirable. She needed her self-respect back.

As things worked out for the Landon and the Boswell couples, an accommodation was reached where the spouses played within limits. As time went on things mutated to where the wives played more than the husbands. Perhaps the women had more opportunities. It seemed somehow more acceptable for the ladies to have discreet romantic affairs than for two married men to chase every skirt. Eventually, decrease in the aging male libido caught up with the husbands. These were not the marriages that Agnes and Margaret dreamed of as girls, but dreams are one thing and reality another. Agnes had compromised so a son held close to her heart could grow up in a good home and obtain a good life with a loving wife. Everything had been fine, until the holidays last year.

Doris was a young woman, only thirty-eight. She was at that dangerous age where women begin to doubt their own appeal to the opposite sex. David had been an adequate husband. As a father, he was caring and attentive. He clearly loved his daughters and was devoted to them. He helped and supported his wife in her career, and unlike most men did not begrudge the woman her greater success. On the other hand, Agnes didn't delude herself that David was anything but dull. As a man, he was a lawyer, and the profession seemed to define him. He didn't race cars, engage in sports, or collect anything. Worst of all, as he aged he appeared to have become even more somber.




On the Lam



It was little wonder then that Doris was looking for a little fun outside the marriage. She was a fine woman who took care of Davy. He was not the kind of man who could do that for himself, but Doris on the other hand was self-assured and independent. As she aged and matured, Doris' looks seemed to increase. She was one of those women who went from pretty girl to beautiful woman. Was it any wonder she had found a younger, handsomer man? But the woman had a head on her shoulders too. She was not leaving her husband, just looking for a discreet affair.

Why had David walked out? He was a smart man. He should know he couldn't leave everything behind and survive. But Agnes had learned you could always count on her son's stubborn nature to overcome his good sense. When David stormed out, she expected him back within a few days, but that had been eight going on nine months ago. 

Where was he now? How was he living? The families had agreed to give him his space and let him cool down. Maybe that was no longer the best strategy. Before he left, he had said hurtful things, mainly to his mother and wife. Perhaps if he knew they forgave him, he would come back? He is, after all, a good son and a good husband. The kind of Father who would give up his life for his children.

_____________________________________________

The good son was holding a pair of sevens. The game was Texas Holdem, but it was being played in a hotel room in Monte Carlo. The game was illegal and rigged. I was here out of boredom. After Annette returned to her family, I was a bit lonely and decided to continue my European tour where I had left off. Monaco had to be the most boring place on the face of the earth. If I had not stumbled onto the poker game, I would have been long gone. It was not the first time I had played poker with Europeans. The game was popular and cheating rampant.

This particular fixed game was a challenge. I had drifted around it for several weeks trying to figure how it was done. The game always had at least five players. Three were regulars and in on the fix. The fourth was the mark, always a rich, loose player, and the fifth someone like me -- a conservative player included to make the game look good. A sixth or seventh player could be added but were not a necessity. The thing is, these guys were good -- they could probably have won honestly. But that would have taken more time and effort.

I had become focused on beating the cheats. What else was there for me to do these days? The mark tonight was a German businessman, Felix Gunther. He was already down two hundred thousand Euros. He was an affable guy and apparently quite wealthy, but even he was beginning to feel the pain. I was down just under twenty thousand, but things were about to change.

"We'all still playing table stakes," I said.

I find it is best when dealing with certain Europeans to emphasize an American accent. They kind of expect it, and when you are about to cheat a cheater it is wise to give him what he expects.

The game was simple. The deck we were playing with was short a few cards. Those cards were in the possession of the player to the right of tonight's big winner, Stephen LeCour. The three sharks rotated who would win, but the play was the same. They slipped a few cards out between each deal and then stored them until needed. The dealer was in on it, his name was Franco. If he had a last name, I never got it. Problem is, he had a real caffeine habit. Normally he took one bathroom break every two hours as did the rest of us, but tonight we had a very attentive and stunningly attractive new waitress. Michelle was wearing a skirt that was cut extravagantly short and a blouse that had far too many buttons undone. I had been paying more attention to her than to the game, and she had been flirting right back while religiously keeping all the drink glasses filled, including Franco's coffee cup.

When Franco had need of an early break, I innocently suggested that Michelle step in as dealer. In such a position, her tits would be where I would get a perfect view. The others snickered but had no objection. Michelle was more than a sexy waitress, she was an excellent mechanic as well. Not cars but cards, and she was not obvious -- she had real skill.

When I saw, the King of Spades and Queen of Hearts flop followed by the Seven of Diamonds, I knew what was coming. My friend across the table held a pair of kings slipped to him by his confederates. He came in with a small raise as a pull, and that's when I asked about the stakes.

"Qui monsuier, what is on the table," Stephen said.

"Good because I'm all in," I said now pushing two stacks of bills that when you removed the top twenty Euro notes were five hundred each of crisp five hundred Euro notes.

I saw old Stephen blanch, but how could he lose -- he was holding three kings against a stupid American who had spent most of the evening losing while ogling the cute waitress.

"What's a matter, should we start calling you Stephanie?" I asked as insultingly American as I could be.

"I call my brash friend."

When I flipped up my sevens to his kings, he was smirking broadly. When the Jack of diamonds fell, I thought he and his partners were going to have an orgasm. As Franco reentered the room fresh from his bathroom break, Michelle the bitch that she was smiled as she dropped the fourth seven right on cue.

"Oh, so sorry-ee monsieur," she said as if showing genuine distress.

Of course, the sharks suspected they had been played, but just how was a mystery.

"Well, my American friend," Gunther said to me at the bar after the game broke up, "it was almost worth my two hundred thousand to see the look on Stephen's face." He then added, "You are a very lucky man."

"No, and here is your money back," I said.

"But I can't accept that -- you won it."

"No, I cheated as did the others. The only honest man in the game was you."

At that moment, Michelle appeared in a black dress tight enough to have been painted on. I handed her a stack of Euros that would have choked a goat.

"Merci. Chaque fois que vous avez besoin d'un mechanic," she said before drifting off.

Gunther could barely contain himself.

"But why, my friend?" he asked.

"Nothing else to do, actually," I said.

"Gut, then you will come home with me and meet the family. They should be back from mys. I can promise you the best schnitzel in Germany," he said.

That is how I came to Stuttgart.

__________________________________________________

Ollie Blackstone was a retired NYC police detective who just could not sit at home. It was said he could find anyone. He did not always do it through legal means.

"Sorry, Maria, no luck. I traced him to the Catskills, but he was gone when I arrived."

Senator Ruis had known Ollie since she was a little girl. The short fat black man who everyone underestimated was an old friend. He was the one who had got the goods on her ex and helped get the settlement that put her through law school.

"Not your fault Ollie, but you have absolutely no idea where he went?"

"No. The guy is clearly not running or hiding. He was in the western Catskills with a woman for part of the time. She was German, very good looking and married. Quite friendly she was. But he's the shy type, although the locals thought he was a pleasant enough fellow."

Maria could only smile at that -- David Landon the pleasant crook.

"How do you know the woman was German and married?" "Most of the people in that neck of the woods and I do mean woods are white. Many of Irish or German decent. I reckon they recognized two of their own and respected the wide gold band she wore."

"Poor Ollie, what did they think of you?"

"Well, Maria, with people like that, they may well think themselves better than you, but they are just too polite to let you know it," Ollie said, a smile turning the corners of his mouth up.

"So we came up empty."

"Not entirely. I think I identified his Achilles heel. That family of his is something different. Firstly, I think he walked because the wife is having an affair. The rest of the family play around quite a bit themselves, but your boy never did. They believe he's a modestly successful attorney. But I am dead sure he's the Stuyvesant entity, lock stock and barrel. He is a crook no doubt, but a shrewd one, maybe even a great one. He's not worried about the law, but the family is another matter. I think he will do just about anything to avoid them."

"So how do I use that, if we don't know where he is?"

"I guarantee someone in that family knows. You just need to hit the right button. He has one other problem, a property called 27 Division Street. Something he bought early on. The lot is controlling for the Center Square Development. The property itself is worthless, but he has spent a fortune on it. He has not been as careful as he should be there. Unlike his other dealings, it ties directly to the project. Be hard to see any legitimate purpose to his actions."

__________________________________________ "Guten Abend Frau Gunther! Ich freue mich, Sie kennen zu lernen," I said in my miserable German.

"Hello, Mr. Landon. I am very pleased to meet you, and your German is truly awful," Sophie Gunther said in perfect American English, suppressing a laugh as best she could.

"Felix might have told me his wife was an American," I replied.

"I'm Canadian actually, and Felix always loves to trick North Americans that way."

Sophie had to be at least fifteen years younger than her husband. She was a looker, as the saying goes. A small but not petite woman. She was built. Round in all the right places. I wondered why Felix was roaming around Monte Carlo alone when he was married to such a young hot wife.

The couple had two children, a boy four and a girl two, and they lived in a big house in the suburbs. When I say big, I mean by European standards, about ten thousand square feet. It had an addition, a large entertainment room with a bar and enough open space for dancing. As with so many houses in Germany, it was ultra-modern and lacking in any familial warmth.

I missed that cabin in the Catskills, but staying with the Gunther's was no hardship. My hosts put me up in an extravagant guest room overlooking a neighboring vineyard. They did a lot of entertaining, so having an extra male seemed right up Sophie's alley. She proceeded to pair me up with all her free female friends. The problem I had was with my hostess's definition of free.

"Sophie may I ask a question?" I said, sitting with her at a small round table in the kitchen's breakfast nook.

"Of course Dave."

"I seemed to be paired up with Mrs. Erickson last night at your dinner party."

"Yes, did you object to her as a partner? She is quite attractive and has a lively personality," she said.

"Well, she is married and I believe happily living with her husband. But he was not with her last night, I was."

"But she was only out for a pleasant evening. She would not have seduced you on a first meeting. She and her husband would need to reach an agreement before that could happen. But she did want to meet you. You have made a very good impression so far, and well, you have what I would say is an exciting reputation." She said all this with a wicked smile on her face.

I hesitated before asking my next question even though I was by then somewhat secure in what the answer would be.

"Mrs. Gunther, would you by chance have some understanding with your husband?"

"Why Mr. Landon, what would ever give you such an impression?" she said, that smile of hers getting broader, and a blush now tinting her cheeks.

She was so clearly yanking my chain at this point I had to laugh.

"So what's the deal?"

"Well, as you know by now my family lives in Canada. Two big a trip to take with the kids more than once every other year. So on those trips, when I am allegedly off visiting them, I get to play so to speak. I always choose a respectable man. Someone Felix will not know or hopefully ever meet. On his side, he goes gambling. This way we get to indulge our vices within limits. He loves to hear about my little adventures, by the way." She said this with only the mildest bit of embarrassment.

"I sometimes think that I am like Alice passing through the looking glass. Left is right and right has become wrong,"

"My poor friend, you have I believe a bad case of prudish romanticism. What you need is to relax and enjoy life. After all, if one breaks some legal conventions why hesitate to bend social rules," she said.

"I'm not judging -- as you suggest I am hardly an angel. But escorting married women makes me uncomfortable,"

"Well, this evening Fraulein Deiter, with whom you are paired, is unmarried, but unfortunately she is not free. So you must be on good behavior and be simply a filled seat. I have invited her man Rupert Von Kabchreuth and his wife, Annette. They have an understanding. He keeps a mistress or two and she has the occasional discreet affair, but only where no one will know," Sophie informed me.

"I see Mrs. Kabchreuth has relatives to visit as well."

"No, she is a travel writer. When she is abroad she plays, but only with men her husband will never meet. They are well off but not rich. He is our version of a Count."

"I am impressed, but tonight then I am strictly the extra man filling in," I said.

"Yes, be a good boy, no showing your backwoods prudishness,' she said, giving my hand a pat.

The evening began with cocktails shortly before eight. Dinner was to be at nine, but they rarely ate until later. Most evenings went till after midnight. The guests that night were all in the auto parts business like my host.

"Good evening Herr Landon. I have heard so many good things about you," Annette said.

"Truly pleased to meet you, countess," I replied.

{Whispering} "What the hell are you doing here David?" "Same as you, pretending we have never met."

Fraulein Deiter was rather good looking. She was a tall brunette with an exceptionally well-developed chest, young, maybe mid-twenties. She had almost no English and as already mentioned my German might get you a glass of wine or coffee but little more. Most of the guests spoke English, so I made out just fine until Sophie cornered me around midnight. She pulled me onto the garden steps away from her other guests.

"Why didn't you tell me you slept with Annette von Kabchreuth?" she said, none too pleased.

"Why would you say that?"

"You two have been avoiding each other all night and you are just her type."

"Which is?"

"Tall, foreign, and bose(wicked)," she said.

"Sorry, didn't think it showed," I said.

"Do you realize how impolite it is to embarrass poor Rupert this way? I shall have to have Felix apologize."

Then she turned to go back to her guests, leaving me alone to walk into the garden. The ornamental trees, shrubs, and pathways were lit with architectural precision by hidden lights. A voice spoke out of the shadows.

"A most pleasant evening for late October, but I fear we will not have many more," Rupert Von Kabchreuth said.

"You may be right, but I assure you that where I am from in New York it is much colder," I said.

"Odd, my wife spoke of the heat."

"Well, there you have the problem, hot summers and cold winters."

"Well then I shall try to avoid going." He had walked out of the shadows.

"You know," he began, "I believe I am better looking and a bit younger than you, but of course that still leaves you taller, richer and far more exciting."

"I don't believe I would be called exciting."

"Now that is a false conceit because you are decidedly dangerous and that always excites women."

"Perhaps you misjudge me," I said.

"I think not, at least not in my wife's view."

"Now perhaps you misjudge her."

"Oh, I did not state her intentions, only her desires. But I should be getting back."

"Guten abend, Graf. I hope to see you again."

"Good evening Herr Landon, and may you return home soon." With that the Graf took his leave.

____________________________________________

"Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Boswell," Liz Parker said to the newly appointed Executive Vice President of the Shamont Bank.

"I hope I am and will always be available both to our customers and the community," Larry Boswell, Jr. said, indicating that Liz should take a seat.

"Senator Ruis sends her regards."

"Well, how may I be of assistance to the Senator?"

Liz actually hated what she was about to do. Larry Boswell was a nice guy, although but for his families money he would have been a nice guy finishing last. As it was, she did not envy him his wealth or his position. His was a classic case of money not solving your problems.

Anne Boswell, Larry's wife, was as Liz had discovered a tramp. She barely tried to conceal her sexual indiscretions. The other women and men in his family were hardly any better, if more discrete. The Shamont fortune was built on theft and corruption. Larry, Sr. was a grand old crook. The Center Square Project had an abundance of what the politicians called honest graft. When Center Square was complete, most of the participants would be set for life, or at least until the next election and another turn at the pig sty trough that is Albany.

Larry junior, as Liz had discovered, was in on none of it and had argued against all of it. He had been to family counseling with his wife on two occasions, and was headed back again because Anne was pregnant and there was little chance that this -- her second child -- was a blood relation of her husband. It was Anne's fifth pregnancy and it was felt another abortion might be unwise, and besides, she had carelessly let it go a bit long. How Ollie had discovered all this Liz did not want to know.

Liz realized she had been looking out the office window at the soon to be leveled downtown Shamont. With a sigh and a straightening of her shoulders, she dropped the bomb.

"This is a subpoena for your appearance before the State Senate Sub-Committee of Standards and Practices. This is a relatively new group and we are investigating allegations of improper activities in the state's Eminent Domain proceedings," Liz said, handing the paper to Larry.

"But I know nothing about Eminent Domain. I assure you I have no connection with the Center Square project."

"Oh, we know that, but you do know the whereabouts of David Landon, your brother and closest friend. David knows everything, chapter and verse. He is a veritable expert on the corruption connected with Eminent Domain, and we've got him dead to rights," she said, pulling an oversized document from her briefcase.

Liz was smiling as she handed the photocopy of the deed for 27 Division Street to Larry. The ancient building had been in total disrepair and in need of being torn down. Stuyvesant, Ltd had held it for three years and then in the last year restored it completely to its 1857 conditions. Long before the Center Square was announced and before it was known to any but a select few insiders Stuyvesant took ownership. The plot of land described in the deed was critical to the project. The only thing that Liz and the Senator had not worked out was how Landon proposed to profit. He had paid five thousand dollars for the building -- all it was worth.

The property taxes due when Stuyvesant bought it were over ninety thousand dollars. Landon had paid those taxes and kept the building from falling down, then invested heavily in taking the building back to an archaic condition. When the building was taken by Eminent Domain, which it would be, he would at best get the five thousand back. Landon would lose all the taxes paid and all the costs of building repairs and restoration. It seemed a stupid move, but Landon was far from stupid.




On the Lam



Ollie had used some contacts to try and locate Landon in Europe, where they believed him to be. Surprisingly, some members of Interpol had heard of the lawyer. He was a card sharp these days, noted for being involved with crooked games, though the details were vague and his whereabouts unknown.

"But he's a player and a cheat," the contact had said.

"Look Dave is not what you think. He had a problem in his marriage and he well, he is a hopeless romantic. He couldn't face things and he ran—"

"Mr. Boswell that deed you hold shows that DAVE bought a key property in his corporate name long before the development was public knowledge—"

As Liz spoke, Larry looked down and saw the names on the deed. He dropped it as if it were on fire. Then he stood abruptly and turned his back on her to look out the window.

His head sagged and he muttered, "Stuyvesant."

"The name means something to you?" she asked.

Still looking through the window he said," I take it you never heard of Peter Stuyvesant."

"The Colonial Governor of New York," she said.

"Not right. Petur Stuyvesant was the last Dutch Governor of New Amsterdam. He was forced to surrender the colony to the English and it became New York. He cut the best deal he could for the colony's residents with the new SOVEREIGN. The people kept their religion and their PROPERTY."

"I guess I am still missing it."

"It's a joke turned inside out, just Dave's style. The Sovern state of New York taking people's property, but he and Stuyvesant fighting back."

"So you believe me now?"

"He's not a bad man."

"PLEASE!"

"He only left—"

"Because his wife's a slut like your—"

He had turned to look at her as she spoke.

"Sorry, did not mean that—"

"You know about Anne," he said, looking defeated and tired.

"Please I'm very sorry," she said.

Larry sat back down, "What do you want?"

"All he has to do is come testify, we'll give him limited immunity. He makes restitution and maybe has to cut some kind of deal with the Federal Prosecutor. But he should get no serious time. A two-year trip to Ray Brook maybe. Does he play tennis?" she said, forcing herself to smile."

"And if he won't come back?"

"Would get very embarrassing for the families. Lot of people could get hurt. Your relatives are not exactly saints."

"And of course there is Ann—"

"WE would not want to use that—"

"BUT the Senator would."

Liz had no comeback. Politics is a dirty game.

"Ok, I will speak to the family and then David. He's a good man. I doubt he will throw them all under the bus to save himself.

She got up to leave, but she couldn't just walk out -- she needed to explain herself.

"What the Senator is trying to do is change the system to help a lot of people who can't defend themselves. Please try to understand! If there was another way...Sometimes to do good you have to do things that are awful," she said.

"Spoken like a woman," he said.

"That's not fair. If I had time, I would tell what a man did to me once upon a time. So believe me, I have no sympathy for your wife or Mrs. Landon."

"We're going to compare wounds now? Well, consider this. We don't even know the race of the father -- there appear to be a number of possibilities."

Liz had no response and so made a hasty retreat, but what she really wanted to do was rush to Lawrence Boswell and hug him, and comfort one of a very few truly good men she knew.

______________________________________________________ 

They were gathered in Agnes Langdon's kitchen, a big farmhouse style room recently redone by Agnes, They were spread out along one side of the long Shaker reproduction style table. Agnes was in the center, Doris Landon to the right, Larry's Mom, Margret, at her left and the twins were bookending the group. Larry had not invited the men. They have no power in this matter, he thought, and would only confuse the issues.

"I have something to tell you," he began.

"Is it about David?" Doris asked.

Larry could feel her pain. She had been suffering he knew, and not for the first time he wondered how his friend could bear the pain his actions caused.

"Yes, a woman by the name of Elizabeth Parker came to see me today. She is an aide to Senator Ruis. They are looking for David," Larry said.

"Did you tell her that so are we?" Agnes asked.

"No. Because I know where Dave is. I did not tell you because I wanted to keep in contact with him, and if I had betrayed his confidence he would have cut me off as well."

"You might have at least informed us of how he was," said Larry's Mom.

"No, he was right. It's more important that someone knows, in case David needs anything," Doris said.

"Ok, what's the problem and what does this Senator want?" Agnes asked.

"Well, David has been speculating in condemned properties and I am afraid the time has come to pay the piper."

"What does that mean?" Agnes said.

Larry explained, "I checked out this Stuyvesant company this afternoon. Its land purchases seem suspect."

"But why suspect David?" Doris asked.

"Because he left here with nothing and seems not to need money. Add to that an obvious pun on the corporate name and it spells David and some less than honorable acts.

"I don't believe my son would do anything wrong," Agnes said.

"I didn't accuse him of wrong doing, but you need to admit that the circumstances are suspicious."

"We need to talk to him," Doris said.

"I'm going to call him as soon as we finish," Larry said.

"I need to speak to my son," Agnes demanded.

"He won't speak directly to you and if we try he will cut me off as well. At least with my doing the talking we know where he is and that he is all right," Larry said.

He was trying to convince these dominant women that the man they had always bullied into doing as they wished would no longer Listen to them.

"Can you at least tell him I love him?" Doris asked.

"Yes and tell him we miss him and to come home," the twins chimed in.

"Look I have been telling him that from the beginning, but the question now is about these allegations. If he comes home, he could go to prison. He's a lawyer, he will know that. So what do I ask him to do?" Larry said.

"Tell him I will stand by him no matter what. If he doesn't come home to help us through this, I will understand. But if he does come I will never leave his side no matter what he has done or what happens," Doris said, trying not to break down.

"Tell my son that we forgive him and as Doris says whatever he needs," Agnes said.

"Right, if it takes every penny we have to bail him out," Larry mother said.

The women all started to cry now. Larry knew what he must do, and that was, lie, for he knew what Dave wanted and that was an apology. He wanted them to beg his forgiveness and promise to leave him alone. The problem was they didn't see their actions as truly wrong and they could never conceive of letting him go. Larry didn't think they were capable of releasing David, and unfortunately, this was a fact David knew. But hey, what are good friends for if not to tell you what you want to hear. 

______________________________________________

"Very impressive, Felix," I said.

We were walking through the Stuttgart Kraftfahrzeugteile plant. My friend and host for the last six weeks Felix was the President and chief stockholder of the automobile parts manufacturer.

"I hoped you would be impressed," Felix said.

"How could I help that? This place is so efficient and clean! I did not expect a factory to be so clean."

"What did you expect, grease everywhere?" he said, slapping me on the back.

Instinct told me the invite to the plant had an agenda to it. Call it being too long a lawyer, but Felix wanted something. He and his wife Sophia were always entertaining, but the last several weeks I felt I was being examined like a prospective bride. One dinner after another had the same group of auto parts manufacturers in attendance. They seemed to want to know everything from what I ate for breakfast to how I slept at night.

Felix led me out of the manufacturing plant to the much smaller administrative building. All the four buildings on the three acre site had a utilitarian appearance. The office building was two floors. The sales division was on the first floor and accounting on the second, with the executive offices. Felix had walked me through the engineering and warehouse buildings and finally into manufacturing. 

He was an excellent tour guide, but the tour was clearly over when he walked me into his office. Waiting there for us were his brother Hans, Wilhelm Jenner, and Ulrich Franks, The latter two were technically the CEOs of two of his competitors. But competition was the last thing these guys wanted. Ulrich was maybe early forties, He was called Rick by his friends and had just taken over his rather small company from his father. Willy Jenner was East German originally. The man had to be in his sixties, but barely looked fifty; He was a wise old fox with a very dubious reputation.

"Guten Tag, gentlemen," I said.

In return, I received a round of, "Hello Dave."

Felix's administrative assistant served us coffee and we proceeded to chat about nothing in particular for about fifteen minutes until, on a signal I did not see, Felix broached the topic I had been brought for.

"Dave, we were interested in knowing your opinion..." Felix began, but hesitated.

"What we ask is your sight on possible expansion by us into the North American market," Rick said. He was not a patient man.

"Well, I believe you are already in that market. After all, German cars use proprietary parts and tools. Different parts and equipment for each make," I said.

"Basically correct, But we want general after market," Hans said.

"Well, why ask me I am surely no expert on your business—"

"But you know the local situation," Felix said.

"I see when we say North American we don't mean Mexico, too dangerous, and well Canada— wages are rising, Unions somewhat strong, and there's rising currency strength. No, we are thinking the US, with declining wages, weak unions, and most important an attractively corrupt government. So any states, in particular?"

"We were thinking North Carolina or New York," Rick said.

"I see, but why New York?"

"Outside New York City it has high unemployment, no taxes on corporations, and soon cheap natural gas," Felix informed me.

"I see. Well then good luck to you," I said.

"You don't understand Mr. Landon we need someone who is familiar with the local customs," Hans said.

"Such as?"

"You know, gratuities and such," Felix expounded.

"I see, you seek someone to handle the honest graft, as we call it."

"Precisely. We seek a facilitator of sorts," Rick said.

"We see you as a good match," Felix said.

"Why?"

"Well, your experience," Felix said.

"Felix are you implying I am a cheat and crook?" I asked.

"Yes, which is exactly why we need you," Wil said, speaking for the first time. "To put our cards on the table, we need someone who will get his hands dirty and knows the system. But someone we trust. We trust David Landon. He maybe is someone it is best not to play poker with, but he will not cheat his friends."

"Well, thank you, gentlemen for your high opinion of me, but somehow I do not feel this is the whole group."

"Obviously we are a delegation. To determine the interest and to ... well, determine the extent of any problems," Felix said.

"Problems?"

"We consider your possible legal difficulties," Rick said.

Just the previous evening, my brother had called to tell me that I had a legislative committee coming after me. Some State Senator was threatening to hold the family hostage for my appearance.

"Let me assure you gentlemen I will handle any legal difficulties I have. However, I still have a few family issues to resolve. Women can make a man wish he was in jail."

My last remark was greeted with appropriate good humor, then they turned things over to Wilhelm to make the actual proposal. It wasn't a bad deal. I would still be a crook, but the kind of respectable corporate type found acceptable in American society. I was only forty-six. I had plenty of time to start a new life and career, and here it was being handed to me.

"I must certainly consider your proposal, but I will need some time to reflect. I also need to return home to settle my family problems."

"Of course, we understand, but we will need an answer before the New Year," Felix said, to general agreement.

"I will give you my answer by Weihnachten," I said.

"Sehr gut," Wil said. He was obviously the leader, and I wondered why he had chosen me, in particular. _________________________________________________ The call from Larry the evening before the Stuttgart meeting had shaken me. Larry would not be able to holdout, those women would twist him until he gave them everything they wanted. I did not believe for a minute that they were truly remorseful. However, I knew they were sincere in their love and concern for me. It would be so easy if I could hate them, but how do you do that?

The fact that they now saw the tip of the iceberg of my nefarious dealings was the most troubling. Doris and my mother were particularly formidable, and mother Boswell had a fortune at her back. They would unravel me as easily as the twine on a kid's kite. I didn't even want to think about how they could use my daughters against me. You never stop being a father no matter how hard you try.

My first move was out of Germany. I had to go home now, anyway. I booked a flight to Amsterdam. I pulled a two-day layover there to organize my response to the good Senator Ruis. Yet another women that God had cursed me with. I was beginning to wonder if the Deity had it in for men in general or I was a special case. The knock on the door came while I was waiting for the call back from Albany.

She walked straight in, never saying a word. She began undressing like we were an old married couple and this was our shared hotel room.

"Mind telling me how you found me, Annette?"

"Sophia bugs the Gunther family house phones as well as their cell phones. Felix is not allowed to play on the side. She's as jealous as she is promiscuous. But she has a point -- like most men in such a relationship he is an easy mark. If you don't protect your man, you will lose him."

"I see. She heard me book my reservations and called you, but what did you do with the family?"

"The minute you left, Rupert took off with his newest woman. I believe you met her. The kids are at Euro Disney with Grand Mama. I was specifically uninvited. So here I am, all yours. When does your flight leave?"

"Day after tomorrow at 4 a.m.," I said.

"Gut! Es gibt Zeit -- we have time to make love, liebchen!" she said.

Naked, she lay back on the bed, spread her legs, and slipped her fingers onto her mound of Venus. She was the picture of lust. Her nipples stood tall on her chest and there was never a doubt what I would do.

I realized in that instance that I had made a grave mistake. I had let this woman in. She knew me, understood my lust. I was a hopeless heterosexual male unable to resist a woman in heat. Never let them get your number or they will use it every time. I was on her like a shot. I felt her teeth sink into my shoulder as I penetrated her. She rolled me onto my back.

"My turn," she said, riding me cowgirl, her had hand on her clit.

My hands were on her breasts. Those small firm mounds of flesh with their hard points. She grunted as she took her pleasure. I was totally lost in her passion. Completely owned by lust. She came quick and then slowed down.

"Make it last," she said squeezing me.

She held us together in an embrace. It took me a minute to realize she was crying.

"What's wrong?" I said.

"Nothing and everything. Please let me do this. No stupid talk."

We fucked or made love for most of the evening. I didn't know which. We would go at it, rest, and then start again. Just before the hotel kitchen closed I ordered food and two bottles of white German wine.

"So why did you cry through most of our loving making?"

"Because I love you! Verdammte Mann!" she said.

"Is this all we can have? Fucking?"

"What more can we have?"

"A life together."

"We are both married."

"To cheating spouses."

"I have children who need me and Rupert says that you will take Wilhelm's offer and go back to America permanently."

"So your husband is in on it. Did he tell you why Wilhelm picked me?"

"They say you are the type of crook who will never give up his friends. Jenner is the same -- he is from East Berlin. He cashed out of the black market when the wall came down. You are his type of man."

"Your husband must be as well. Doesn't he work for Jenner?"

"Yes but that is purely a family matter and my father makes sure my husband's hands stay clean. Rupert isn't the kind of skilled professional thief you are," she said.

"And your husband. What does he think of my new employment?"

"He fears I can leave him for you so he is happy to see you leave."

"So you came for one last—"

"I came to say I love you, and you should go home to the wife that you love and forgive her for being a trottel. We women can be so foolish for men, but a good husband needs to be understanding and forgiving. Otherwise he is not a real man at all. " She said this with a sincerity that hit me right in the gut.

Annette was a special woman. We kissed. I didn't know how I could leave her, but I knew she would never leave her husband and kids. He could bed every woman in Germany and she would never go. The most she would do was sleep with other men to restore her pride. We were a hopeless pair. Two romantics trapped in marriages with practical spouses. Annette and I had told ourselves we could be practical too, but it came at a high cost.

She was right on one thing. My ever practical wife had let herself be foolish because she wanted another man. Was she truly sorry? Could we ever have a marriage of equals? An honest relationship? So many question and I had no answers.

I have no memory of Amsterdam beyond an airport, a hotel room, and Annette.

Her last words to me were, "Go home to your wife and make love to her, but remember I love you and I don't give up what I love."

______________________________________________________ The Christmas tree was up in Rockefeller Center. New York had reached the time of year when people were feeling the stress that comes from trying to be merry. The Dutch flight attendants had recommended the Club Suites Hotel, where they stayed in New York. The rooms are minuscule, but it is across the street from Rockefeller Center, an easy location to get to and away from. I am told that more people get engaged and more marriages break up in December than in any other month.

I had thought to end my marriage on the first of last January, but here I was, still married. The divorce would be a slam dunk for Doris, if she wanted it. If not I would need a lawyer and a good one -- my finances were a bit sticky. It would be embarrassing should my wealth become known.

I didn't want any publicity that might offend my new German partners. Oh yes, I took their offer. Why not? Free enterprise is the American way, and what could be any more enterprising than being the bagman for a group of German industrialist.

Jimmy Landrew was thrilled to hear from me. He had missed me it seems, as had his creditors. He was more than please with my new position, as were many of his friends. It is amazing how many fine and expensive restaurants they have in New York with extremely dark corners. In one week I believe I justified Wilhelm's faith in my abilities. I sent him a simple email.

"Ready whenever you are."

"GOOD," Wilhelm Jenner.




On the Lam



He was a careful man and I like careful men.

Jimmy had some reservations.

"This Standards Committee is no Moreland Commission. The Governor will not be stepping in to save you," Landrew said.

"Don't worry, Jim, I wouldn't finger you. Besides, the only thing they got that directly ties me to any property subject to an Eminent Domain Proceeding is 27 Division Street. You never gave me that. Division Street is my ace sitting at the bottom of the deck," I said.

"I'll never figure you. How do you stay so calm? These people want to hang you out to dry."

"Never bluff into a stacked deck," was all I replied, leaving Jimmy to shake his head and worry.

That evening I returned from yet another overpriced dinner with the assistant to the assistant to somebody whose only function was to make an arrangement for some insurance, banking or legal work. All very legal with no actual cash changing hands and no real connection between the parties. There were, of course, the Jimmys of the world who needed loans, but they were the small fish who knew who, where, when, what, and why. The money flows for the information and for protection for my back. The graft is built into the deals. The finance, insurance, and legal work all looked legitimate and it was all pay for play.

The knock on the door came as I dropped my expensive suit jacket on the chair by the little desk. When I opened the door, she walked right in and began to undress. I was struck by déjà vu.

"What are you doing here, Doris?"

"You didn't come to me so I had to come to you."

"How did you find me?"

"A little birdy told me. On or off," she said

"What?"

"Stockings on or off."

"STOP IT."

"Can't, sorry. I need my man. It's been a year. I need my Davy."

"What happened to Mark?"

By now she was completely stripped and moving toward the bed. "He's gone, poor thing. His contract was not renewed."

"You fired him?"

"No, his contract was not renewed."

"You are the department chair."

"No, not till January. Come on, I need it."

She had her hand between her legs, masturbating herself. Am I that easy?

"This is not happening."

"Yes it is."

"Maybe just once."

"Whatever you say."

"You fired the bastard?"

"Outgoing chair did. Man likes to seduce other peoples' wives. He would not saddle me with that kind of man in my department."

"You just fuck them."

"Shut up and fuck me."

Afterward, we lay together. I had forgotten how good she felt. She had a fine body and she knew how to use it on me. No woman could do to me what Doris could. Only Annette was her rival. I could see how these women, who looked nothing alike and came from completely different backgrounds, were made of the same flesh. They liked sex but needed love. They wanted to own their men but remain aloof. They could be frustratingly practical but crave romance. Yet they would always make the rational decision. The safe and selfish choice with the justification that it was the only practical way. My problem was that I was helpless when it came to them.

"This isn't going to work," I said.

"And why not? The skinny German bitch is so much better?"

"She is not the issue. Your lying and cheating is the problem."

"You hypocrite. I didn't lie. I did everything but send you a picture. As to lying, you did that through our entire twenty-year marriage. What a fool I was to believe the poor innocent Davy charade."

"I admit I may have concealed a few things," I said.

"You are a cheat and a crook. Apparently a shrewd one, but that changes nothing. I was racked with guilt when I first heard the truth. I blamed myself. But then Annette told me the whole truth. It's just who you are."

"I had no choice. I had to support my family."

"Bushtit, my family has money!"

"You think I wanted them to support us?"

"Ha, there you have it, pride, you are proud of what you did. It's a pity you can't tell people."

"None of that justifies what you did."

"Yes it does, because you cheated first. You held back who you are. I got only part of what I was entitled to."

We took a break then to fuck some more.

"Come home," she said, "I promise to be good."

"No!"

"Yes."

"Maybe."

"So why did Annette tell you where I could be found?" I asked.

"She says we should be together, that you love me."

"Did it occur to you she has her own selfish reasons for getting us back together."

"Of course, I'm not stupid. She figures that she can see you on the side. She thinks we will reach some accommodation."

"I'm not interested."

"Neither am I. Mark and all that are behind me. I have learned my lesson," she said.

"Bullshit! You have already made some deal with Annette. Do you think I would trade one cheating wife for two cheating wives?"

"For a man facing prison you are a terrible prude," she said.

"David why are you smiling?" she then asked.

______________________________________________________

The driver picked me up in front of the hotel. The cabby was not interested in a drive to the South Bronx until I showed him the five crisp hundred dollar bills.

"The fare plus two hundred going and the fare plus three hundred coming back. I shouldn't be more than an hour," I said to the rather surprised Sikh cabby.

When we arrived at the location, it was a store front on a not bad looking block of buildings. Unfortunately, most of the stores were empty and there was vacant ground across the street. The cab waited for me right out front in a space clearly marked no parking.

The district offices of Senator Ruis were anything but impressive. The reception I received was hostile at best. The receptionist was placed behind a simple office desk. She was a young black woman who apparently took an instant dislike to my hand tailored European suit. I hope it was my suit as opposed to the color of my skin, but you just don't know. Two young Hispanic males were at a card table working on what looked like voter registration books. These rose as I entered, as if I were there to call them out to a fight.

"Is Senator Ruis available?" I asked.

"Do you have an appointment?" the young woman asked.

"No, but I am sure she will want to see me."

"You need an appointment. Are you a constituent?" she said, not quite able to keep the sneer out of her voice.

"Just tell her David Landon is here and see what she says."

I guess I said it with enough confidence that she hesitated.

"Wait here, I will tell her." With that she rose and headed toward the back offices.

The boys moved closer menacingly, but I only stared them down. A short, plump woman came toward me extending her hand.

"Mr. Landon, I am so pleased to meet you." The woman I presumed to be the senator said.

Behind the senator a now sheepish looking receptionist trailed. The Senator offered coffee which I declined, and then led me back to her rather modest office.

"I must say David, you are not what I expected," Senator Ruis said.

"Oh, what were you expecting, a gray haired overweight middle-aged family man? You are about a year too late."

"I see. Well, shall we discuss Eminent Domain in general or Stuyvesant in particular?"

"Neither, I don't have that kind of time. If you need advice on ED Law, I can give you several excellent attorney referrals. As to Stuyvesant, the business of my clients is confidential."

"Well, I have a subpoena right here that will test that."

"Save the effort. The chairman of your committee canceled your subpoena yesterday."

This apparently was not news to her, but she didn't figure I would know it so soon.

"You are well informed."

"You need to be in my line of work."

"And what is your line of work?"

"Lawyer, formerly Eminent Domain and now general corporate."

"I still have you on the Division Street purchase. If we expose that, it will make the papers in Shamont."

"Oh, I expect that. In fact I am counting on it. Let me ask you where were you born and raised?"

"Here of course. This is my home," she said waving her arm toward the window.

"Well, I was born in Shamont. My grandfather took me for ice cream along Broadway until he died and my mother took me with her shopping along Main Street. Do you think I want Shamont to end up like this?" I said, waving toward the same window.

From my pocket, I now extracted the envelope with its letter. It had been delivered to me by the express mail service that morning.

"What this?" she asked as I handed her the letter.

"Read it," I said turning toward the door.

It was on the Governor's official stationary, very formally thanking me for my donation of 27 Division Street to the State of New York. Behind it was a very extensive bit of research that proved what my Grandfather had told me so many years ago, 27 Division Street was a building for secrets. It housed bootleggers in the twentieth Century and more important for my purposes, fugitive slaves in the mid-nineteenth century. 

"But I don't understand," she said.

"What's not to understand? The one entity the Sovern can't take property from is itself. The building on Division Street in Shamont has been gifted to the citizens of the State. Who have graciously accepted the gift of a station on the Underground Rail Road, now part of the States' historic Trails and Landmarks. The building is in its original condition, complete with hiding places and secret entrances."

"So you gave a building away. You are still a cheat and a crook."

"But one too smart for you and those who would tear up my home for some graft. Without 27 Division Street, there is a big hole in the middle of the Center Square Development. They will need to redraft and reapprove. It will take years to come back. Good day Senator."

The Senator could only stare at the documents and shake her head. There was more to this than met the eye. More to the man than you expected. He was no saint, but clearly not quite a villain. 

____________________________________________________ Epilogue

The Russell Sage College's Bush Memorial Chapel is a large neo-classical building. Today it is filled to capacity. Wilhelm Jenner was pleased to see so many of the Shamont family had chosen to attend. He had been told this was to be a small quiet wedding. But the hall was filled with the various branches of the Shamont family and their German guests, including his daughter the Countess von Kabchreuth.

The bride looked pretty in her simple white dress. She was a few years younger than the groom. He had been married before -- that was a bit of a scandal and the reason why he -- a Catholic -- was not marrying within his church. It was the bride's first marriage and she was very clearly in love.

She had just the maid of honor standing witness -- a short, plump Hispanic woman. The best man was another matter. Tall, expensively dressed, he had the look of a lawyer and he outshone the groom in appearance. But none doubted the superior character of the groom, Lawrence Boswell, Jr., the new president and chief officer of the Shamont Bank & Trust, or the chaste beauty of his bride, Elizabeth Parker. None in the room would say the same of the best man, David Landon, nor of his wife.

Wilhelm Jenner, seated in the audience, was well pleased with the opportunity to mix with his new associates from Shamont. When David had suggested acquiring the bank after the failure of the Center Square Development, Wilhelm was unsure, but all had turned out well. They were now building their facilities with the money of others and the active support of the Government. David had been the right choice. He was just corrupt enough to pull the necessary deals off. He had first come to Wilhelm's attention when Annette took off to America with him. Wilhelm investigated and liked what he discovered. Annette's husband gave them respectability as Wilhelm's own father had predicted. Unfortunately, Rupert was near useless when it came to their business. They were the little fish, and the big ones were always trying to swallow them.

Landon had fixed things well. The state got the land for them cheap, exempted them from all taxes, and subsidized the training of their workers. There would be cheap power when the state lifted the fracking moratorium, which Landon said would come when gas prices rose. The wedding today neutralized one of their problems, the good Senator Ruis. Landon had run rings around her with that historic building scam. Jenner did not believe for a moment that Landon had not originally been planning to hold the Center Square scheme up for some kind of blackmail with that building. It was the kind of ploy Wilhelm himself would have used.

Wilhelm Jenner had come a long way from the days when he sold pirated black market rock and roll records on the streets of East Berlin. He did not look his sixty-seven years, and today he felt young. Why not? The evening before he had bedded two women together -- the mother of the groom and the mother of the best man. They had come to his room to beg his intercession with "Poor misguided David," as Agnes described him.

"How can I help? Surely yours is a family problem," he said.

"He respects you, Mr. Jenner. Make him listen to reason," Margaret begged.

"Call me Wil, please. Ladies, may I offer you something to drink while we discuss this?"

They had been amazingly easy to get into bed -- the reports he had received had not been wrong. He did not tell them that he had already ordered David to stop acting like a child and reconcile with his wife. That way he and Annette could be safe. He had even promised to send her over frequently, ostensibly on business. That last promise Annette had negotiated with him in return for help reconciling the Landons. She had had to play a trump card, but Rupert getting his mistress pregnant had freed Annette up for that move.

The ceremony ended and the wedding party adjourned to the Victorian mansion along Washington Park that was the new home of David Landon, a big house in a Victorian neighborhood. A house that could hold the entire family and their many guests.

"David, may I speak to you?" Agnes Landon asked.

"Yes mother?"

"I want you to know that I—"

"I know you never intended to hurt me. You were looking out for my best interests. It was certainly not your fault that things were...well, not quite what they seemed."

"I love you and always will. No matter what, you are my son. I've done some things I'm not proud of but—"

"Life's not a bowl of cherries," David said, a smile breaking his usually somber face.

"I used to say that to you. Didn't I?"

"And smile and things always work out. Be happy, you only live once."

"Are you happy...?"

David reflected on that as he looked across the small garden in which they stood to where his wife Doris was speaking to his mistress Annette. The two women were laughing and enjoying themselves.

At that moment, Annette turned to him. She smiled and let her hand come to her belly. She wore an empire waist gown shorter in the front than the back. It was a very elegant dress befitting of a Countess and one that hid her developing figure. She moved her hand away and turned back to Doris.

"Of course, why not be happy? We only live once," he said, embracing his mother.

"Oh, I'm so pleased. Life is so difficult we needed to keep the family together. Wilhelm said that just last night. He is a wise and understanding man. The Countess is so lucky to have him as a father." 

"Yes, mother I'm happy, and I have learned my lesson. I'll be a good boy from now on. Never bet into a stacked deck no matter how pretty the dealer is," he said. Agnes was puzzled by the last statement as she followed his gaze across the room to where Doris stood next to Annette Malene Grafin von Kabchreuth. The daughter of her latest paramour who hoped his daughter's latest pregnancy would give him the grandson he craved. 

Ok there we have a sequel and I hope enough ending to satisfy. Feel free to comment. 



On the Lam



I don't know how long it took for me to separate out the buzzing of bombs being dropped from a combat plane in my dreams from someone leaning on my door buzzer in the middle of the night. It didn't help that the buzzing stopped when I was awake enough to think about where it was coming from and that it started again as I dozed off.

When I decided it wasn't in my dream, I groaned and rolled over on my side and willed it to go away. When it started again, I rolled out of bed, looked at the time on my alarm clock—4:00 a.m., both too late to be up and too early to be getting up—shrugged into a robe on top of my sleep pants, and padded down the bedroom hall and then down the staircase into the foyer. Whose idea, I wondered, was it for a single man to live in a sprawling twelve-room house?

Turning on the porch light, I peered through window on one side of the double front doors.

Kyle.

I turned the porch light off again and retreated to the kitchen at the back of the house, reasoning that he wouldn't find me there. I automatically switched the "on" switch on the coffeemaker by habit. That's what I did every morning no matter what time I entered the kitchen. I stood at the sink, peering out of the bay window into the backyard. If I stood real still, I was sure he wouldn't think I was home—not that I was considering that I'd turned the front porch light on and off and that he could see me as well through the window at the side of the door as I'd seen him.

I didn't do sudden wake ups in the middle of the night well. It was not a good time to expect coherence from me.

There was a vehicle on the parking apron at the back of the house. Some sort of blue van. Nondescript. Easily overlooked. It wasn't mine. It must be Kyle's, but that didn't compute either. Kyle was the sports car type, not the nondescript van type. I should know that; I'd bought him a Miata convertible. When I'd done so, he had mentioned being interested in anything but two-seater sports cars.

I hadn't heard any buzzing since I'd come into the kitchen. So, maybe Kyle had left, I thought. The van was still in back. So, maybe the van wasn't his? Whose then?

I padded back to the foyer, turned the porch light on, and looked through the window.

Kyle was sitting on the porch step, looking out into the front yard. This wouldn't do. The neighborhood would start stirring in, what, three hours? I wasn't a morning person. I didn't have any idea, really, when the neighborhood started waking up. I did know that it would be light enough soon for the neighbors to see him sitting out there. And, what? Should I skulk here in the foyer waiting for him to give up and leave?

With a sigh I opened the door. He stood up from stoop—as great looking as ever. The "aw golly gee" mop of blond hair, the "trust me" smile, the mesmerizing blue eyes, the muscular, yet boyish, five-foot-six physique, and the sexy tight T-shirt and scruffy low-rise stone-washed jeans. As he breezed by me, he gave me a brilliant smile and said, "Is that coffee I smell brewing?"

"You can't be here, Kyle," I said to his back, which was retreating toward the kitchen. Kyle knew just where the kitchen was in this house. "This is the last place you should be."

"Which makes it the perfect place to be," he said, as I followed him into the kitchen and watched him take his favorite coffee mug out of the cupboard. "Got any eggs and toast to go with the coffee?"

"I could call the police right now," I said.

"Yes, you could, Dan. I don't see the French vanilla creamer. Ah, here it is." He was rummaging around in the refrigerator. He'd stripped off his T-shirt. He was like a little kid. He'd run around the house naked if he thought the adult in the house—that would be me—would permit it. But it was a tease. He knew the effect his naked torso had on me.

Coming up out of the refrigerator, he turned, smiled at me again, and said, "But you won't, will you?"

"You've got a lot of nerve, Kyle—taking over $60,000 from the company and waltzing off. And where's the Miata I bought you? Is that van in the back yours?"

"I thought it best to park it in back," he said. It didn't escape me that he avoided saying who owned the van.

"And I'm Gus now. Gus McCracken."

"Who the hell names their son Gus McCracken?"

"Yeah, that's kind of a bummer, isn't it?" he said. "I don't see eggs in the frig. You got any donuts to go with the coffee?"

"Just toast or cinnamon buns," I answered, as I moved toward the bread box. But what the hell was I doing? The little bastard who had stolen from me—from my company—flitting in here in the middle of the night, and I was serving him coffee and cinnamon buns.

"You're looking good, Dan. You've kept yourself up real well."

"Where the hell have you been the last eight months?" I asked, pulling a plate out of the cupboard to put two buns on and going to the refrigerator for butter. Kyle liked to butter his buns. He always said that when he'd given me a massage—and it had always made us laugh.

The question was a mistake. He started pattering on about Jamaica and the Cayman Islands and about black bulls until I was just too worn out to keep focused on the problem of him being here. In my defense, it was now 4:30 in the morning, and I hadn't gotten to bed until after 1:00.

"You can't be here, Kyle," I finally broke in to repeat. "I'll give you a half-hour head start before I call the police to say you were here."

"And to tell them you served me coffee and cinnamon buns before waiting a half hour to call them?" He laughed and warm, endearing laugh of us. I could see his point.

"I want to go upstairs with you," he said. "Come here."

I stayed on my side of the kitchen. The knife stand was right next to me. But would I be using one to fend him off or to slit my own wrists? The jury was not just out on that. It was over the hill and half way to Cleveland.

"You are not staying the night, Kyle."

"It's Gus. And we're pretty much past night. It's probably about time for the paperboy or milkman to be coming by to see me leaving your house if I left now."

"There haven't been men delivering milk to the house since the fifties, Kyle. Forty years before you were born."

"Take me upstairs and fuck me, Dan. I've missed your cock."

"That's not going to happen. You can take the guest room at the top of the stairs for a couple of hours of shuteye. But when I get up at eight, I want you gone. If you are, we'll forget you ever were here. If not—"

"I'm not wearing any underwear under these jeans, Dan. I haven't been fucked as well as you can do it in months. Take me upstairs and fuck the shit out of me."

"Don't bother to turn off the light when you go up to the guestroom," I said, trying to keep my voice stern, yet dignified—hiding my trembling hands behind my back. "The cup and plate can go in the sink. I'll put them in the dishwasher tomorrow—like I always did. That guestroom has its own bath. Towels are in there already. The bed's made. Lock your door, as I sure as hell will be locking mine."

Gathering my robe about me, I put my nose in the air and stomped up the stairs.

I didn't, however, lock my bedroom door.

I was barely asleep when I felt Kyle's body stretch out beside mine on the bed. I was enough asleep to mold my body to his before realizing that it was eight tumultuous months since I last did that. I made some effort to push him away, throwing in a, "No, Kyle, we can't be doing this," but the effort was half-hearted and he knew it was.

"You didn't lock your door," he said simply. We both knew he didn't have to say anything more than that. He kissed me on the lips while gliding his hand under the waistband of my sleep pants—he, of course, was fully naked—and grasping my cock. I resisted the kiss for perhaps half a nanosecond before we were playing sucky face. And then I just lay back, sighing and groaning, as he worked his mouth down my torso, opened his lips over my erect cock, and let his tongue glide down the full length of my shaft. He'd always given divine blow jobs. He hadn't forgotten how.

I had my legs bent, feet flat on the surface of the bed for leverage, and my pelvis raised to his buttocks, thrusting hard up inside his passage as he rode my cock to bucking cowboy-perfect position mutual ejaculations.

I don't know how truthful he'd been about the black bulls he'd found in Jamaica and the Cayman Islands, but I'd be in a state of abstemious grief for eight months and was as healthy as they come in cum production. So, not longer than ten minutes after completion in cowboy style, I had Kyle on all fours under me, was fully mounted, and was fucking him again doggy style. He held steady as a statue on the outside while he was all undulating muscles rippling across my thrusting cock on the inside. He talked dirty to me in low, growling tones and I just closed my eyes and pumped and pumped and pumped.

Falling at the side of him afterward, I embraced him, and, with a sigh, drifted off to sleep.

When my alarm went off at 8:00, he was gone. The guestroom hadn't been used—indeed, there had been little time for him to use it as he was in my bed, riding my cock, almost since I'd flounced upstairs. His cup and plate weren't in the sink or the dishwasher.

I was left wondering if he'd really been there at all, or if my lack of him—and of any sex for months—had let my dreams take over reality. One thing was for sure. I'd regretted that, probably in my dreams, I'd told the ghost of Kyle to be gone in the morning before I got up.

* * * *

The day was nearly spent when I came home that evening. Twilight was settling in and the front of the house was bathed in the pastel reflections of sunset. I wasn't thinking about much except the previous night. The thoughts were mixed. I'd had my chance to get Kyle arrested and maybe to have recovered some of the $60,000 he'd walked off with—or, rather, had driven away with in the Miata convertible I'd paid for and with all the clothes and jewelry I'd hung on him—so, make that $100,000 he'd taken from me. Conversely, I hadn't had a night in the sack with a man like that since he'd left me.

I also couldn't believe that Kyle still had any part of what he'd stolen. I wanted to think that he'd come back just to see—and sleep with—me, but I knew better. He already was out of money again.

Was Kyle worth the loss of $100,000? In many ways he was. But keeping him hadn't been an option. He obviously had been on the lam even when he was living with me, and the police were still actively seeking him. I hadn't been the only one he'd stolen from while he was here—or before I first laid eyes on his beautiful nude body. The police made that perfectly clear to me, as if they had discerned what my relationship with him had been and didn't trust me to give him up. Not that this wasn't justified. He'd been here last night and I hadn't given him up—didn't even call the cops this morning after he'd left.

I poured myself a scotch from the bar in the living room and walked into the kitchen, ready to fix myself some dinner. I looked out of the bay window above the sink. The blue van was parked in back of the house.

Had it been there this morning after Kyle had gone? Had I even looked? I was sure—or sort of sure I had. Of course I wasn't fully sure that last night had happened at all.

I put the glass of scotch down on the counter, turned, and climbed the stairs to my bedroom. Kyle was lying on his back in the center of my bed, naked, legs spread and bent, pillow elevating his buttocks, and his hand holding a dildo half-buried in his passageway.

"I didn't think you'd ever come home," he said as I walked into the room.

"How did you get into the house, Kyle?"

"I have a key."

"The key was taken away from you when you were arrested."

"I'd made duplicates before that."

"What is it that you want here, Kyle? If you think I'm going to bankroll you to be able to stay on the loose, you're sadly—"

"You know what I came here for. Come over here."

I had no intention to come under his spell again. I just forgot to tell my feet that. He scooted to the foot of the bed, on his belly, and reached up and unbuckled my belt and unzipped my trousers as I came up to him. He sucked my cock, as I unbuttoned my shirt, pulled it off my back, and then dropped my trousers and briefs. When I had stripped, he turned on his back and let his head drop over the end of the bed, giving me a straight passage for a deep-throated face fuck that had me moaning in remembrance of how good Kyle was at this.

Then I sat on the foot of the bed, as he—much smaller than I was and quite limber—sat in my lap, his channel sheathing my cock, facing me and, using the leverage of his feet planted on either side of my hips, rising and falling on my cock. His passage was tight, which surprised me, as I was sure he slutted around, and he had a thing he did with the muscles of his passage walls that made love to my cock and milked it as no one else had ever done.

"What do you want to drink while I'm fixing supper?" I asked him later when we went downstairs. He was sitting in the living room, facing the fireplace.

"I'll have a Bloody Mary."

"I forgot you liked those. I'm afraid I don't have any mix for that—haven't had it since you were gone."

"I'll have whatever you're drinking then. Who have you had in your bed since I left, Dan?" he called to me where I was puttering around in the kitchen, pulling another steak out of the refrigerator and dumping it in the marinate sauce where I'd put what was to be my steak before I'd gone upstairs.

"Nobody, Kyle. There's been no one since you," I answered as I entered the living room and handed him a glass of scotch.

I expected him to say something about that—something about owning and controlling me—but he didn't say that, and he didn't really need to say that. He'd proved just now, upstairs, that he owned and controlled me. Instead, he jumped the discussion.

"The print over the fireplace. That's new, isn't it? A Chagall?"

"Yes, it's a Chagall. And, yes, it's new. Why is it, though, Kyle, that you won't talk to me about the money you stole from me?"

"You seem to have done all right since I was here. The Chagall, for instance, what did that set you back? $18,000? You're probably worth 25 percent more now than you were when I left."

Yes, the Chagall had cost almost exactly $18,000, and, yes, my worth had gone up significantly in the last eight months. He'd always been good with figures and estimates, but not that good. He'd been alone in the house for who knew how long? Had he been snooping in my papers?

"Have you been snooping in my financial papers, Kyle?"

"You know what I'd like you to do to me after dinner, Dan?" was his response. And then he told me in graphic terms what he wanted me to do to him.

I barely was able to make it through preparing and serving dinner when we were upstairs, on the bed, Kyle flat on his back, with his arms raised and tethered to the two corners at the headboard and his legs spread and bent, as I hunched over him and fucked him missionary style. Then I was under him, holding his waist in my hands, my dick up inside him and punching, as he counterpunched, using his feet planted on either side of my thighs for leverage.

We fucked in various positions throughout most of the night. When I woke the next morning, once again he was gone. He'd cleaned up the dishes from supper the previous night. He still hadn't occupied the guestroom I'd told him he could use the first night. 

After breakfast, I called the office to tell them I wouldn't be in that day. I went to the men's store and bought him a new wardrobe of clothes in styles I knew he'd like. Then I went to the grocery store and stocked up on foods I knew were his favorites. I also picked up the mix for the Bloody Marys he drank.

I spent most of the afternoon fixing his favorite dishes, having to go back to the grocery store for ingredients I'd forgotten to get earlier. Then I spent most of the night sitting and watching them molder on the kitchen cabinet top. He didn't show that evening, or that night. I lay in bed going over all of the sex positions we'd used the previous night and the ones he'd whispered in my ear were yet to come.

Eventually, I went to sleep. There were no dreams and there was no Kyle coming into my bed late in the night.

* * * *

I fairly ran to the door from the kitchen the next morning, where I was eating breakfast, when I heard the buzzing of the door. It wasn't the leaning on the buzzer style of Kyle, but I maintained my hopes until I got to the door, threw it open—and found that it wasn't Kyle.

"Detective Taylor," I said, "Please come in. Has there been a development in the case? I haven't seen you in more than a month."

My heart was racing. They'd apprehended Kyle. And not only did they have him back in custody now but he'd somehow also implicated me in everything. The police were here to arrest me for aiding and abetting. Was not turning him in aiding and abetting? And fucking him while I harbored him? The angel on my shoulder was throwing the word "probably" back at me.

"I came to warn you," the detective said as he came into the foyer and I directed him to the living room.

Shit, here it comes, I thought. A lecture and a warning for aiding and abetting.

"Warn me?"

"Yes. The guy who embezzled from your business is in the area. A tourist down in the Virgin Islands was robbed by him and identified him. The guy's name was Gus McCracken. His charge cards were taken and they're being used in this area. So, we think that Kyle Anderson is back in the area. Not too many Gus McCrackens floating around."

That's what Kyle and I thought too was what I almost said. But I didn't. And the Virgin Islands? Kyle hadn't mentioned that. I'd have to check on where they were in relationship to Jamaica and the Cayman Islands. Had Kyle been giving me fake information on that too?

". . . make sure you haven't heard from him—and will tell us if you do."

I only realized then that the detective had continued to talk. And he obviously was still suspicious about the aiding and abetting thing. He was firing a shot across my bow. I was in trouble if I got caught harboring Kyle. But then I looked up as we sat in the living room, and I knew that wasn't an issue. I knew that Kyle wouldn't be back—at least not in the near future.

"Yes, of course, Detective Taylor. I'll let you know immediately if I even get a hint that he's coming around here. Perhaps too you should have some sort of periodic surveillance of this house to see if he does try to come here."

"That's a good idea," Taylor said, sounding a bit surprised. He looked more relaxed, like it wasn't quite as suspicious anymore. Maybe I'd passed some sort of suspicion test by suggesting the stepped-up surveillance.

I felt comfortable doing so, as I was positive that Kyle had gotten what he wanted here and was on the lam, somewhere away from here now. I had looked up, over the fireplace, and had just seen now that the new Chagall was missing. I'd have to check, but I was confident that all of the new clothes I'd bought him were gone too. He'd come and gone during my return visit to the grocery store. There was no question who had taken the Chagall and who wouldn't be back until the money from that had run out.

Not that I'd tell Detective Taylor to add $18,000 to the damage Kyle had done—not to mention whatever else I'd find missing later today.

And, God, I missed Kyle already.