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Salvation of the Third Kind Ch. 1

By: Whiff666



The door was an old, heavy oak, turn of the century thing, beaten and weathered, with years of damage around the area of the latch. A fairly new key set was about a foot above it, but as he pushed in, it opened without resistance. The moment it did, the smell hit him in the face.

Predominantly urine, but a sickly sweet, acrid odor too. And a hint of Lysol. His eyes adjusted slowly as he slipped in, and closed the door behind him. There was a bare light bulb at the end of the hall, to the right of the stairs which started just past the steel panel that read "Super". He thought about knocking, but decided not to. No sense in drawing attention to himself. In his light raincoat, worn against a threatened rainstorm tonight, and worsted brown suit, the tie loosened on his white shirt, he already stood out too much in this neighborhood.

As he struggled to take it in, this place, this awful place, a guy staggered down the stairs who looked like a homeless man. With a heavy, ratted beard, a knitted hat pulled tight to his head, but hair still sticking wildly down from under it, and three layers of dirty clothes, he was the picture of destitution. As the man slithered past Dan, the body odor added to his horror. Susan, lovely, earthy Susan. Here? In this hell of a walk up?

There was a wood door to his left, and squinting, he could read the number. 101. 221 would, presumably, be upstairs. He started up. As he did, a low moan echoed, he couldn't tell where it came from. Jesus, he thought, it's Dante. At the top, the hall turned right, and he looked down at the two rows of flimsy doors on both sides. The only light came from a dirty window at the far end. His stomach did a jump, as though he was going to throw up. He took a deep breath.

His mother's voice came back to him, whispering over the phone from Phoenix. "You have to find Susan, dear. I can't ask Bradley. She called me yesterday and sounded awful. Begging for money. I told her to come out here, we could try to work things out, but she wouldn't hear of it. She sounded drunk, dear. As though she could hardly get the words out. She started crying when I told her I wouldn't. You know how Bradley is about her. Anyway, use your credit card for anything you need for her. I pay those bills. This is the phone number."

He found the address at the library in a reverse phone book, and looked in the Atlas for the street map. Even though the train ride from Boston was five hours, it wasn't far from Grand Central, so he caught the seven o'clock. He was afraid he had remembered this area from stomping around years ago, but it was even worse than that. The last two blocks toward the river, the derelicts, bums, whores and scavenging teens were thick, even at noon.

One skinny black teen solicited him. "Ten bucks, baby, a nice blow job, right in the alley there hon."

He asked where 1517 was, and she just glared and turned away, muttering "Crackhead." He finally found it, without help. There were about five of the ancient brownstones, right in a row.

He was standing in front of 221. It had been listed as Crockett, A S. The little tag in a green brass holder hung at an angle said "Doke". He took another deep breath, and turned the knob. As he stepped quickly inside, looking guiltily down the hall to see if anyone noticed his trespass, the smell changed to a strong, thick perfume. It was awful. Susan was sprawled on her side on a cot in the corner, her back to him. She turned when she heard the door, and smiled at him. "Hi, baby. Bliss'll take care of you, honey. What chou like, honey? You know what, thi's yer lucky day, baby. You carryin', I'll take you to the moon fer fifty and a nice hit."

He stared, feeling the impulse to gag again. He had last seen her waving gaily from the back seat of a convertible, heading into the city from Cambridge, after taking him to dinner with a couple of "dear friends". That was, lets see, a year and a half ago. Her blonde hair spinning crazily around her head, giggling happily, her pretty, sensual face laughing. The two guys had been happy to get going, they didn't like her attention to her "Little brother", a year and a half younger than she was, too smart for his own good, she boasted to them.

She had been born the day her dad killed himself at 17 Wall street, as Bradley sat outside the waiting room, already after their mother. They had often giggled that Mum must've been pregnant the day the two were married, otherwise both of them would have wanted to wait longer, a "proper interval." As it was, he and Susan had grown up together, raised mostly by a nanny, and what emotional support they had came from each other. Bradley had hated her from the beginning. He and Susan had decided in their teens it was because she reminded him Mother wasn't a virgin when they married. Perhaps, in a way, that really was the reason.

He walked over and sat down beside her on the cot. Closer, he could see how red and watery her eyes were, and she seemed to have trouble focusing as he neared her. One arm was thrown out to the side, and looking down, as the springs squeaked, he saw raw, red dots on the inside of her elbows. One was bleeding. His stomach heaved hard, and he tasted the railroad tuna salad as it tried to come up. He fought to control his nausea.

She was mumbling "Whassa matta, honey. Look, I know I.. well yeah, but looka these tits, baby." Her fingers started wrestling with the two buttons on the dirty cotton shift she was wearing. He whispered "No, No Susan." She stopped, and tried harder to focus on him. He whispered "It's Danny, Susan. Danny."

He thought he saw brief recognition for an instant. But then, she sighed, and said "Come on, honey. Don't jive. Doke tod ya, din't he? Jus' fifty an a hit. Take ya tuh heaven, baby." The tuna came up, spraying over the bare mattress as he twisted his head away. He could hardly smell it over the stench of cheap perfume. He remembered how nice she always smelled, as they cuddled to each other in his bedroom when he had the frequent dreams about robbers, or goblins, or, when he got older, Viet Cong.

He ran over to the sink in the far corner, letting the rest of the sandwich out, explosively, as he turned on the water. The noise from the tap dominated the room. There was something nasty looking already in there, but he shut his eyes, though he knew it was too late. The anger was starting. That rage he used to get, that led him into boxing, light heavy Champ two years running at Yale. Bradley loved to get him to shadow box for his friends' amusement. He had always just gone along, unlike Susan, who began rebelling about the year they threw her out of Wellsley. They had grown apart so fast, she thinking he lacked courage, he thinking she was a latter day hippie.

He cupped water over his face, then sipped some to cover the taste in his mouth. He turned, trying to control himself, pictures of grabbing her, dragging her down the stairs, out in the light, heading for a hotel, dancing in crazy sparkles in his mind. He heard her mumbling "Danny?" when the door flew open. A short, very black man came running in, brandishing a knife. He had black, waxy, shiny frizzed hair, a leather jacket, and tight jeans over a pair of black cowboy boots. Susan started to scream "No, no Doke, don' hit me. Ain't my fault, baby. Ain't..."

The man took two long steps to her and backhanded her face. He lost control. Even as Doke turned, and brought the knife up to a ready position, he grabbed the skinny wrist, and pounded his well practiced right uppercut into the man's solar plexus. He felt the wrist go limp, twisted it, heard the knife clatter to the floor, drew his arm back, then watched as the man slowly sunk to his knees, eyes bugged out in pain. "Wha, wha....."

He'd seen it before. If they were out of shape, only one punch, in just the right place, was all it took. But it wasn't enough for him, as the man struggled, raising his head with obvious effort, and his sister wailed "Doke, Doke." He punched down on the grizzled chin with every ounce of strength he could muster, and watched the eyes roll up, then closed as Doke collapsed into a heap. He felt his head clear slowly, the adrenaline still there, but satisfied, at least a little. He felt pain on his knuckle. Enough to keep control, he thought.

Susan was staring down at the huddled, bleeding body beside the bed, on her knees, a hand over her mouth. She was sniffling softly. He recognized that, the sad, belittled sound of a daughter becoming more and more estranged from her mother, with only her half brother to turn to. He remembered that, the sound, when his mind was buzzing with her closeness, the feel of her breasts pushing against him, her smell. His stomach heaved again.

She looked up at him, still no recognition in her face. He looked around, saw a canvas bag under the window, open, with clothes pushing up through the top. It was bright red. There was a pair of dirty white high heeled shoes at the foot of the cot, and he grabbed them, speaking in as normal voice as he could manage, that still sounded threatening, telling her "Put these on."

He stuffed the clothes back in the bag, zipped it up, then pulled Doke's wallet out of his pants. There was a huge wad of dirty bills, and he counted out five hundred. He wondered later where he got that particular number, what was she owed for services rendered? He threw the rest in a messy heap over the crumpled leather jacket, along with the plastic wallet. Then, because he was still angry, he kicked the black man in the ribs. "Lets go, Bliss."

He'd been afraid she might yell, or complain, or fight. But she just let him drag her along, tripping as they ran down the stairs. He felt desperate to get out of there, into the sunshine, fresh air, or as fresh as it gets in New York. Away from that smell. He stood on the curb, sensing people watching him, mumbling, one of the whores pointing at Susan, but he took deep breaths, trying to rid himself of the memories. Finally, he looked at Susan. She was staring at him, mouth open, but he had no clue what might be going on behind her wide, watery blue eyes.

He looked around, but naturally there wasn't a cab in sight. He started up the street, when he saw one drifting down the other side. He dragged Susan out in front of it. The black guy driving started screaming "Hey motherfucker, I don' want no trouble. Git the fuck outta my way."

He flashed a fifty, and the cabbie shut up instantly. "Where to, bro?"

On the twenty block ride uptown, to the Olympia, where he was known from the years at Yale, Susan curled up in the far corner of the back seat, watching him blearily, breathing hard. He was settling down, and caught a brief glimpse of a furry patch under the dirty white skirt. Christ, he thought, no fucking panties. He unzipped the bag, and rooted around, finally finding a pair, red, with a flower in the crotch. He handed them to her, and she silently struggled into them, as he felt a pulse in his groin, remembering how sexy he had thought she was as a teen, practically the only woman he ever knew of his age. He remembered being surprised when he finally got laid within two weeks of getting to college, it had been amazingly easy.

The desk clerk recognized him. His first look had been with a sneer of distaste as he took in her tear streaked face, filthy dress, and shaking hand, but the light dawned when Dan flipped the Visa card to him. "Mr. Harcourt? Ah, yes sir, awfully nice to see you. Of course, yes, we have a nice twin bed, small sitting room. A Doctor? Yes, there are two I could call, uh, well, is it an emergency, sir? Yes, yes, I guess it is. Uh, may I make a recommendation, sir? Dr. Smith might be more appropriate, though there is one possible problem, sir. Yes, he's black, sir. But he's very experienced with, umm, problems like this, sir. I saw you fight in Madison Square Garden three years ago, sir, did I ever tell you? The year you went to the semi's in the Golden Gloves, sir. If I may say so, sir, you were amazing. I always thought the referee should have stopped Davies from his below the belt tactics, sir. Thank you, sir."

The message light was on when he got to the room. "Doctor Newcome will be here between two and three, Mr. Harcourt. I've given him, uhh, an idea as to the problem, sir. Thank you, sir."

Susan stood in the middle of the room, staring at him. When he hung up the phone, she whispered "Danny? Danny, is it you? Really?" He took her in his arms, feeling hers reach tentatively around him. Her hair stunk, a strong, body odor kind of smell, but it was mixed with the perfume. He guided her to a chair. She didn't want to let him go, but he made her sit down.

Pulling off the raincoat, his suit coat, and then, after thinking, his shirt and pants, he stepped quickly into the bathroom. There was shampoo, after shave, conditioner, and two kinds of soap' in little plastic bottles and paper on the counter by the sink. Even some cologne. He went back and rooted around in the bag. There were a pair of red pants that smelled clean, and a tank top. He found a pair of panties that had a stain in the crotch, but smelled all right. He was carefully avoiding thinking.

"Come on, Susan. You need a shower. Come on." He pulled her up, and unbuttoned the shift to her navel. Her tits fell out, they were bigger than he remembered, and as he pulled the thing down, he realized she had gained a little weight. It actually looked good, a little fullness in the hips, that he remembered as thin and wiry. Her thighs weren't as muscled. He'd always heard people in her kind of shape got skinny. Maybe it's a good sign, he thought. Maybe she hasn't been like this too long. He saw her hand shaking.

As he pulled her into the white tiled bathroom, she stumbled and moaned. He turned on the spray, and tried to push her into the bathtub, but she couldn't get her leg up over the edge. As he pushed down his boxers, knelt and pulled off the panties with the flower, he felt his cock stiffen, but tried to push it out of his mind. He stepped under the water, and lifted her in with his hands under her shoulders, feeling scratchy hair in her armpits. She grunted when she felt the water, and from the effort to get her feet under her. Her hands grabbed his hips.

He poured shampoo on her hair, the long, soft hair he remembered always so clean and fresh smelling, and put a little in his own. As he massaged and scratched, he felt a couple of bumps, that broke loose when he picked at them. Jesus Christ, he thought, bugs or something. He looked carefully, letting the spray wash the foam out, spreading the long strands so he could see her scalp. The skin looked white, he thought, not too bad. Finally satisfied, he stripped the paper off the deodorant soap, and used a washcloth on her face, then started down her body. He could feel his prick now, rock hard, straining out to her, and kept trying to ignore it.

Suddenly, he felt her hand surround it. He was scrubbing her back by now, and he heard her coo "Mmmmm, baby, it's nice and hard, baby. Bliss'll take care of that for ya, baby." He shut his eyes, and grabbed her shoulders tightly, shaking her. "Susan, Susan, stop it. Stop it." She looked up at him, and grinned, an evil, daffy, pleased look in her eye. He felt her hand start to jack at him. He got some water in his eye, as they struggled. Anger made him slap her.

Her hands came up to her face, and she started crying. There was a wailing emptiness to it. A hopelessness. He felt his heart pang, sadness ripping through his gut as he thought about them giggling as they swam in the lake during the summers, buck naked as ten and nine year olds. Fuck life, he thought. Fuck his dad, fuck his mother, oh shit.

He released her shoulders, and she stayed like that, bawling softly, so he knelt and soaped down her stomach, then into the thick, matted tan fur between her thighs, thicker in a slim rectangle right above her slit than in the larger triangle of lighter, shorter hair that went under her. As he pushed the washcloth there, feeling her spread her legs slightly to allow him access, he heard her choke "Go ahead, baby. Go ahead, make Bliss feel good, baby." He pushed his finger up inside her, hearing her groan, but her hands came down to his head. "Go 'head, honey, use your tongue, make it wet, baby." He kept thinking what's in there, Susan? What kind of filth, what kind of disease? His cock spasmed.

He grabbed her hips, and twisted her around roughly, shoving her against the tiles. Pulling her butt cheeks apart, he ran the washcloth through the crack, trying not to notice the brown clumps surrounding her rectum. He rubbed hard, as she yelped softly, one hand waving weakly behind her trying to stop the friction. He cleaned her legs quickly, then turned her around, and made her sit down, the shower spray hitting her right in the face. Her feet were filthy, and he scrubbed for a couple of minutes, noticing the length of the nails. When he finished, he leaned back on his haunches, his dick still straight out. Idly, he threw away the washcloth, and soaped himself up, then wrapped his hand around his cock. He stared at her fantastic body, nice full tits, abdomen still flat, pussy spread a little, the water beaded sexily. He stroked twice, then squeezed and felt his nut. The jiz flew out onto her stomach.

Her eyes were wide as he did it. She looked down at her abdomen, even as the spray drained the white goo away, then back to his face. "Danny, Danny, what...." He slapped her again, and she started to cry. "Jesus fucking christ, Susan, Bliss, whoever the fuck you are. Wake up, will you. Jesus."

He waited for his heart to slow, then dragged her out, grabbed a big towel, and started to rub her down. He heard her mumbling through her sobs "Danny, Danny, why, I'm sore baby, I can do that, baby, I can, oh shit." As he started to rub her hair, he thought damn, a comb. Then he remembered the one he carried. For some reason, he wanted her hair to look nice. He toweled himself down quickly, ran out to his coat and then back in, making her sit down on the toilet. He used the hotel hair dryer along with the comb. She had enough sense to turn slightly away so he could get at the back. He ran the comb through, down to her shoulder blades, as he directed the hot air behind it. It started to look nice, the way he remembered, and his cock stiffened against her shoulder. He felt her start, then lean back against it. He felt a tear roll down his cheek as her hand reached around and covered the head of his shaft. He pushed her roughly away, and pulled his hips back. She tried to twist her head around, but he pushed it back.

As he was sliding the panties up her legs, he felt her shiver. Looking up, he saw her hand drifting vaguely toward her pussy. "Baby, you got off, honey, I gotta too, honey. Hey look, you carryin'? Lets get high baby, then get off, okay honey?" It's gonna be a nightmare, he thought.

To Be Continued...

Salvation of the Third Kind Ch. 2 & Ch. 3



Two

He felt better after the good club sandwich, and full glass of milk. Susan had gulped down the chocolate eclairs, but hadn't touched the sandwich or the milk or the bread. She hadn't said a word for the last hour, just stared at him. She had started rubbing her thighs, nervously, and had been pacing for the last ten minutes. There was a new, edgy look in her eyes.

Suddenly, she hurried over to the little bar, and pulled at the door. When it didn't open, she stared at it, then looked at him. "Danny, open it, will you. I need a drink." He told her to eat something. She answered "Fuck that, little brother. I need a drink." She shivered again, and her eyes softened. She stood, and cupped her braless breasts through the tank. "You like 'em, huh Danny. You always have, honey. C'mon, get me a drink, baby, and let's get it on. We always wanted to, didn't we? I remember your little cock getting so hard when we'd cuddle. It isn't so little anymore, Danny." She giggled, a strained, choked sort of sound. "Maybe I oughta call you big brother, from now on. C'mon, baby. It'll be great. Remember how you used to peek at me when I showered? You thought I didn't know. Fucking Bradley. I used to watch you beat off too, honey. I remember trying to get Ma to send you to the local school, so you could get laid. You never thought girls liked you. Fucking Bradley. Fucking private school."

His anger fired again. He could feel himself charging up, wanting to strike out. He closed his eyes. "Susan, sit down. Sit down."

She waited for a moment, then pleaded "C'mon, Danny, open it, please? I really need something, I mean, just a taste, that's all honey." He pushed the chair back, and as he rose, caught the edge of his knee on something under the table. He felt a surge of anger, and reached her with two long steps, grabbing her wrist, and throwing her to the bed. He stood over her, breathing hard, and her eyes were wide as she stared back at him. "Go ahead, Danny. Beat on me, then fuck me, baby. I like it rough, honey." His stomach did something strange, and he exhaled noisily, the anger leaving him as quickly as it had come.

Through his confusion, he heard a soft knock on the door. He had to change gears. Oh. The Doctor. His mind whirling, he pushed the table with the silver and food into a corner, and hurried to open the door. The lightskinned, heavy set black man standing there with a satchel in his hands stared at him. "Mr. Harcourt?"

He just nodded.

"Josh Newcome, Mr. Harcourt. Can I come in?"

He realized he must look strange, standing there, breathing hard, and mumbled "Dan Harcourt, Dr. Newcome. Forgive me for being rude. Please do come in."

The man took three long, ponderous steps, then stared at Susan, spread eagled on the bed, rubbing her thighs again, at the table littered with food in the corner, and the clothes strewn around. His gaze returned to Susan. He seemed lost in thought for a moment. Then he said "Mr. Harcourt, she probably ought to go to a hospital. She has to detox. Get the various poisons, god knows what they might be, out of her system, then some behavioral stuff. About all I can do is give her a sedative to keep her calm. She's starting to come down, now. It's always hard to tell what they'll do when this happens, but it's almost always awful."

He took a deep breath. Calm, calm. "Dr. Newcome, I want to be completely candid with you. We have a complex family situation, which unfortunately spills over to our monetary situation. Neither Susan nor I could pay for the first hour of a hospital. But your fee here will go on a credit card that has a nice high limit. She has gotten to this point quickly, she was reasonably normal a year and a half ago, and this is the first hint of problems we've had. Without imposing on your medical judgement, I would beg you to help me try to do this myself, without involving anyone else. I have good reasons for wanting to do it that way."

At that moment, Susan groaned. "Danny, Danny, I need some help, honey. Just a little help. Can this man do it, honey? Come on, honey. Be nice to Susan, okay?"

Newcome looked at him, then sighed, sat down beside the blonde, who wiggled a little, and held her arm out to him. He began examining her, seeming to pay particular attention to those red marks, and pushed up the pants to look behind her knees. It took about ten minutes, then he sat straight, and looked at Dan. Again, he seemed to be thinking. Appearing to come to a decision, he rose, picked up his bag, put it on the table beside Susan, and opened it. As he puttered around, he said "The tracks are new, relatively recent. I can't see any other signs of her using. When you found her, was she high, excited, or comatose, dreamy? Right, well, that does sound like heroin. You may be very lucky, Dan. Can I call you Dan? Here's what we can do. I'll take some blood, and get the tests run. May I assume I should take some vaginal samples too? Right, thought so. Not as rare as you might think, Dan. I'll give her a sedative, it'll last about ten hours. Help me get her undressed, Dan. You're in for a rather exciting twenty four hours."

An hour later, he was sitting in the chair, watching Susan sleep, sipping a beer. He had thought about calling Mother, but decided she probably didn't want to hear anything, assuming, as she always did, that no news was good news. His mind, now under control, reviewed the last hours. He didn't feel any shame about jacking off on her. He had been so tense, with her closeness, so overwhelmed, so excited. He remembered her revealing her own feelings as she pleaded for a drink. Wonder how true that was, he thought.

The Doctor's words, "I'll call you at seven, Dan. By then, I'll be able to confirm that it's heroin, let you know if there's any venereal disease, though you understand the Aids problem, don't you? Right. Tomorrow around noon, I'll let you know if there appears to be anything like meningitis, that sort of thing. At that point, I can give you some more pills. All they are is a barbiturate that will let her deal with the withdrawal more easily. She can have a drink tomorrow, and smoke tobacco if she wants. Theoretically, if everything is as it appears, she should be pretty well detoxed by then. Let me put some antiseptic on that hand of yours."

He thought about the lecture he was missing today. "Business Policy in a World Market." Who the fuck cared. It was downhill from here, he wasn't going to be a Baker Scholar, somehow he hadn't cared enough to make the effort the second year, though he had been good enough coming out of first year. All he had been able to think about was getting a good job, breaking free of the monetary yoke of his parents, buying that Jag in the little show room over on the South Side. He already had three fabulous offers. A flashback hit him, Susan, eighteen years old, going away to College, kissing him on the mouth in front of Bradley and Mother. Whispering "Fuck 'em, Danny, just remember me, okay." Then french kissing him wantonly.

He felt himself choking, wanting to cry. He looked again at her relaxed face, just as a frown took away the soft peacefulness. Then her whole body twitched. But she settled back down, and he gave a sigh of relief. Christ. She was gonna wake up in the middle of the night.

He took the elevator down, then walked in the sultry, late afternoon chill to the drugstore around the corner. He picked up a razor, he needed a new one anyway, and Advil. It was better than asiprin. Muscle aches, fever, nausea, you couldn't beat Advil. He grabbed a paperback, a pack of cigarettes, and at the last minute, a pack of condoms. He flushed at the idea, but kept them as he paid, with Doke's money. It hadn't been Doke who got her like this, he thought. Somebody else. Maybe one of those fags she had been with last time he saw her. He made a note to himself, in his mind, to try to worm it out of her. As he walked back, he stared down a black guy who eyed him from a corner. Until the guy sauntered away, he hadn't realized he'd stopped, wishing the guy would make a move. Wanting to hit someone.

Three

A noise woke him, and as he jolted out of a dream of making love to a faceless woman, he heard rattling around in the bathroom. He bolted, half asleep, in after her, and found her with her head under the spigot, gasping, then drinking, then gasping again. He pulled her roughly away. She turned and aimed a slap at him, water spitting out of her mouth. He caught the wrist, and held it, waiting for some semblance of awareness to return to them both.

Her eyes were wide, fear, or terror, or hate, he couldn't tell. Then "Danny? Where am I, Danny? What happened? Where's Doke? Danny, can you help me, Danny? I need a little help, honey. Did he leave something for me, darling? Come on, honey, I'll make you feel good, baby." He sighed as he dragged her back into the room, toward the bed, struggling with each other, her tits bouncing, trying not to notice. His cock was hard, and he had to pee. Jesus.

He slapped her hard across the jaw, wanting to somehow jolt her, make her see herself, become the Susan he knew. She collapsed, glancing off the side of the bed, then falling in a heap to the floor. He remembered Doke. But she started to bawl, in long moans, gasping after each, as he stood over her with his cock tenting his boxers. He reached down and pulled her up, feeling that goddamn hair under her arms. He pushed her back on the bed, where she fell, curled up, still sobbing. He hurried into the bathroom. It took a few moments for his penis to let the piss out. As he finished, he grabbed a glass, and filled it from the tap.

Where were the pills? Bedside table. He found them on the floor, must have been knocked off. It was one of those bottles you had to press and turn. He knelt beside her, pulling her hands away from her face, wet from her tears. "Take these, Susan. Here." He pushed them into her mouth, then showed her the glass of water. She stared at him, then at the water. Sighing, she lurched to a sitting position, her knees spread on either side of him as he knelt there. His eyes fell to the crotch of her red panties. He saw a quick grin on her face, then a frown, and a shudder, and she grabbed the glass, gulping it down, swallowing, then coughing. She took a deep breath, then closed her eyes. Tears squeezed out onto her cheeks.

He started to rise, to get the Advil, but she stopped him. In a small voice, trembling "Danny, Danny, d...don't go, stay with me. Did you cold cock Doke? I think I remember that. You jizzed on me, too. I remember that. You...we were both naked. I wanted you to fuck me, Danny. The Doctor. Oh shit, Danny. I hurt honey. Look, where'd you bring me? If we're uptown, you can get right down on tenth street, honey. Ask for Louie. Underneath the "Sweet Spot". It's a bar. Tell 'em it's for Bliss, baby. He'll make it right." He saw her head nod. A shiver ran through her.

He got up, went in to the bathroom, and splashed water on his face. He ran his fingers through his hair, wet, so the wildness wasn't so bad. He went back, and found her on her back, staring at the ceiling. Her boobs stood full and firm, leaning to the side slightly. She was wiggling her toes, and looked over as he approached. "You've gotten big, Danny. Buffed, too. Can't remember the last time I saw you without clothes on. Why wouldn't you fuck me, Danny? That was a big load you dumped on me. I'd have liked that in my pussy, honey. My little brother, so strong, saving me, Danny, help me Danny, I need some thing, Dannnyyyyyyy."

He lay down and nuzzled to her, one arm under the pillow, the other around her waist, His cock was pulsing. She rolled to him, groaning. "You want me to turkey, don't you Danny? Oh darling, I'm just chippin' honey. I can get off it, really. But I need it now. It's been a stressful day, Danny. Jus' need somethin' to relax, that's all. I'll give you a nice blow job, little brother. Don't you beat off no more, now. I guess I might get pregnant, baby, but I'd love to eat your spunk, honey. I like the taste, I do. And I'm good at it, everybody says so."

There was a long silence, as she snuggled to him. His cock was starting to pulse, her naked boobs, pillowing as she writhed gently against his fevered skin, starting to excite him toward madness. He was having trouble breathing. He heard her start to whisper "You're not gonna do it, are you Danny? You think it's terrible, you think I'm terrible, an addict, a whore." She started to cry mournfully again. "Danny, I am, I am. Help me baby, help me." Another long silence, as she sniffled softly, wiggling closer to him.

"Danny, fuck me, Danny. Remember when we used to fight, you said I was a hippy whore? I remember, I wanted to jump you right there. You were so handsome, mad like that, so forceful. You still are baby. I fucking near creamed every time you slapped me. I remember that, too. I'll be good, darling. And it helps, y'know. Last time, when Eddie got me down, he had all these guys, and they fucked me one after the other. It helped take the edge off, Danny. It helps, Danny. So fuck me, baby. Shoot your cum up in there, we've wanted to all these years, come on, honey, come on."

Her hand had snuck down to the slit in his shorts, and she pulled out his cock, stroking it. She sniffled, and took a deep breath, then she started edging down his body, kissing his chest, then his navel. As her mouth engulfed his prick, sinking it slowly into her throat, feeling her muscles work around it, his hands gripped her head. He tried to pull her away, but she batted his arms away, and it got to be too good. He groaned, feeling sadness, passion, regret, and wonder at this whole tragic scene. She went on and on.

Suddenly, as she jerked up and smiled at him, he saw a little line of liquid connecting her lips with the head of his cock. "You're starting to leak, darling. Good sign, good sign. Eat me a little, okay? Just a a bit. I'm already hot, Danny." He saw a shadow cross her face, and a quick frown, and another shiver. Then she rocked back and skinned off her panties. Lying there with her legs pointing toward him, raised and spread, she pulled her cunt lips apart. "Right there, baby. Right there, see, the clitty. Go ahead, baby. Make me feel good. Get my mind off the shit." That was what did it, he always thought. The sense that fighting with his urges only deepened her pain.

Somehow, he expected her to taste nasty, raw, fishy. But she was sweet smelling, musky, a tart taste over a lightness, he thought. She was already wet, and his tongue lashed into her deep, helped by her yawning hole as she held it wide open. When his tongue flicked at the hard spot at the top of her ovaled inner lips, her hips jerked against his mouth, knocking his head back. "Ohh sorry, Danny. Feels so good, baby. Go ahead, go ahead."

He covered the whole top of her slit, sucking hard, his tongue touching more carefully on her clit. He tried to caress it, with the flat, rather than zing it. She was sighing, undulating nicely, not too much, but enough to help him, to urge him on. He kept at it, and felt her slowly increase the urgency of her movements. His wildly spinning mind thought maybe she'd be satisfied if he could get her off this way. He felt her hands over his ears, pulling, but grabbed her wrists, and kept up his sucking and tonguing. Dimly, around the roar in his ears, he heard her start to wail "Yes, yes darling, oh god yessssss."

His mouth suddenly filled with cream, as her hips went wild and he opened wider, trying to stay with her. The suction broke, his tongue flicked out, and she squeaked when he hit the hard little nub. He was having trouble breathing. She was gasping, muttering unintelligibly, occasionally arching upwards, as her cunt fluttered around his buried tongue. After a moment, he heard her groan breathily, "Stop, baby, stop. Fuck that was nice. You aren't a cherry anymore, huh Danny? You know what you're doing down there."

He raised to his knees, wrapping his hand around his cock. It wouldn't take much, and he figured she was finished, for a while. Susan saw him, and scrambled up to grab his hand. "No, honey, no. Want the main course now, baby. Come on Danny. Fuck your screwed up sister." He choked "Wait, wait Susan. Need a rubber." He scrambled to the bedside table where the package was, and shakily, extracted the little envelope. As he turned back to her, she slapped it out of his hand. "No, baby, no skin. Want it bareback from you, Danny. Those ass holes, always made them wear a skin, I think. Gimme a baby, little brother. Come on."

She sounded as though she was in agony. Her face was frowning in a sad, yet excited way. "Fill me baby. With that big cock, and your jiz. I always wanted you, Danny. Always. Used to get off with your jockeys in my hand. Fuck me, baby, fuck me. Here, let me put it in. Ahhhhhh, shit that feels good. Do it Danny. Oh god, finally." He was staring at her, wondering as he plunged into her oozing hole whether he was ruining himself, yet knowing he would never regret this moment. He felt his dong bump something at the bottom, then push through it, hadn't ever felt that before, but began to undulate in and out slowly, the thrills scarily wild, his heart so full he could hardly keep his head. The terrible crack house was gone, her sickening behavior, the stench forgotten, all there was the memory of her running through the woods, hair flying, skirt bobbing up and down, those long legs beating him every time, as his mind became thirteen, yearning for his sister all over again.

She began to groan in time with his thrusts. Her legs gradually worked up from his thighs to his back, as he ground harder and harder into her, soaring, the gentle friction on his cock seeming to radiate throughout his body. Their skin was slippery now, sweat lubricating the rub of her nipples on his stomach, her lips and mouth sucking and groaning in a rhythm that seemed to dominate his mind. He lost track of time, and no thought of control lingered. There was just the thrill, the rapture, as images flashed in his throbbing soul, until suddenly, she pulled away, arched, and began calling "Oh, oh, oh."

Then, as his hips began a crazy tattoo, she groaned, and held her pussy against his groin, eyes shut, lost in some other world. He felt the contractions, and began to shoot. The release flung him away somewhere, out there, soaring in ecstacy, a place he'd never been before. He couldn't think, couldn't stop his hips from humping, couldn't see. His mind suddenly filled with an old image of her body in profile, water running over it, hands washing her hair, causing little jiggles of her tits. He felt his cock spasming, time after time, each a thrill beyond dreams.

He collapsed onto his elbows, gasping, and gradually began to hear her crying, an honest, gentle, unforced release of her own. He kept kissing her, lightly, tasting the salty tears, wondering if she was sad, wondering if he'd made her happy, wondering if she was still feeling the pain of withdrawal. He finally raised up to look at her face, to find she was smiling.

Interlude

Dr. Newcome smiled as he pulled the stethoscope away from her chest. "She's a lucky young lady, Dan. All the tests are clear, and I have to tell you there wasn't any sign of antibodies we often see in Aids patients. Even before the tests show it. Do you have any idea..."

Susan piped up "Doctor, I'm the fucking patient, am I not? You could address me. I mean, what am I? Chopped Liver? Okay, I know, but still. I'm better, really. It'd be nice, to get high, it feels good, y' know, but I can live without it. Thanks to you, and Danny. Still, I know it isn't over. The problem is, where do I go from here? Can you help, Doctor? I can't go to Betty Ford. If you need to know something, how 'bout asking me."




Salvation of the Third Kind Ch. 2 & Ch. 3



Dan smiled, thinking that's the Susan I know, snippy, full of ginger. She was sitting there with just her panties on, cross legged, staring at the large black man. Josh Newcome smiled, and took her hand. "How long had you been on the street, dear? Weeks, months, a year? Your habit isn't very old. Maybe a few weeks. Is that all it's been?"

Susan answered "Well, I got pretty hooked on coke a while back, but I was getting it from a boyfriend. He used to pass me around some, but still. I wouldn't call that on the street, would you? I hooked up with Doke, I dunno, maybe a month ago. Yeah, I guess three weeks. This guy got me high, then left me nodding on a street corner. Doke jived me, and took me to that house where Danny found me. I did crack once, but the powder suited him, I guess. I was out of it, so I took whatever he gave me. I had my own needle. Matter of fact, it's in that bag over there. But listen, how 'bout my question. What the fuck do I do now? Pardon my french."

Newcome sighed. Then he laughed. "Drink, Susan. Become an alchoholic. I know how to fix that, and it takes a lot more time than becoming a junkie. Seriously, you have to get away from the environment, the temptations that got you here. I don't know how to do that. I don't suppose you have a job, and I gather your parents are not an option. I think that leaves you with Dan. It's always someone like that who pulls someone like you out. Where you were, romance, work, acquaintance doesn't give anyone enough nerve. It takes a close relative, love without judgement. That's rarer than most people think. I've known a few fathers who did it, but.....well, I'm no shrink. I'd stay close to him." Nodding at Dan. "The guy who saved your ass. Pardon my french."

They all laughed, as Susan smiled at Dan. "Whatever you say, Doc."

To Be Continued...



Salvation of the Third Kind Ch. 4 & Ch. 5



Four

They hurried along, her new light blue dress outlining her leggy body, his raincoat over his arm. She breathed "I don't like this, Danny. I mean, what good does it do? He was just a typical yuppie, or X generation, whatever, taking advantage of a fucked up broad. Drugs are all over the place. It was a typical Saturday night party, nothing special, just went bad. He didn't know shit. Probably gave me an overdose. I can't even remember if he fucked me. Probably did, but I couldn't have been much fun."

But he didn't care. He had watched her for three days now, fighting the tension, the pain in her eyes constantly, except when they made love. That seemed to get her relaxed, at least for a while. The anger was on him, and he knew he had to soothe it. They turned the corner, and she stopped. "There. That awning. Yeah. Fifty Seven. I remember, 'cause I thought, varieties, y'know. Heinz. Suite seven. I think the third floor. Oh shit, there he is, just coming out. Eddie fucking Sebastian. Liked to pretend he was connected."

The guy wore a pair of linen pants, a golf shirt, a lime green jacket, and was signaling for a cab. The doorman was whistling too. It was ten thirty on Sunday, and there weren't any coming. Dan handed his overcoat to Susan, loped across the street, up to the lime green jacket, and yelled "Eddie. Eddie Sebastian. Hey, buddy."

Eddie looked at him blankly, but instinctively smiled. "Uh, hi there. Look...." Dan jerked Sebastian down the street, smiling, his hand firmly on the inside of the forearm, inside the elbow.

"Got a car down here, Eddie. Get ya where you wanna go, okay? Look, remember that party a month or so ago? There was a girl there, Shelly, Sally, Sue, somethng, wondered if you had her number. Real turn on, I thought. You left with her, but I figured, by now, you know, you might be willing to let me have a shot at the little bitch. Whaddya think. Remember?" As they turned the corner, Eddie was starting to smile.

"That whore? Shit, she was deader'n hell. Couldn't get a rise out of the bitch. Don't have a number, pal. She kinda dropped out of circulation, know what I mean? Your car over here?" When he didn't answer, the look on Eddie's face got nervous. They got to the alley, and he shoved Eddie in, waving to Susan with his free arm. He was starting to breathe hard. Eddie started to stutter "Hey look, what is this? Don't fuck with me, man. I got connections, know what I mean?" Susan came around the corner, her eyes wide. Eddie blanched.

He gave Eddie a short jab in the stomach, feeling soft, out of shape flab give. The breath whooshed out, as eyes widened. It was the best way. No bruising, no blood. Yet. Dan wanted blood. But he wanted to make the guy piss his pants too. "Remember my sister Susan, asshole? The one you dropped off downtown? High on whatever shit you gave her? I don't give a fuck for your connections, asshole. The only question is whether you leave this alley alive."

Eddie's face was pale now, leaning against the brick, holding his stomach, trying to catch a breath. He waited, assuming Eddie would do something stupid. After a couple of minutes, he did. The idiot sucked in air, breathed "Fuck you, motherfucker." and swung at his face. Dan ducked, came up smiling, letting Eddie see it coming, then broke the thick nose with a left jab. Now he had blood. Eddie sank to the ground, bright red flowing down his face onto the lime green jacket.

He crouched in front of the gasping, sobbing man. "I could kill you, asshole. Right here," touching the adams apple "or right here" touching the soft flesh on the side of the head near the ear. "But my sister says you're just a poor, stupid, limp dicked, pretense of a man. Not worth the risk. But next time you do this shit, and I find out, which I could, I won't let her talk me out of it. Nighty night, motherfucker." He landed a hard right on the jaw, feeling bone crunch, and Eddie was out like a light. It felt terrific.

Susan was watching with her hand over her mouth. "Jesus, Danny." He strode out with his hand on her elbow, and she stumbled, ran a couple of steps to keep up with his long strides, and started to laugh. "Oh Danny, he looked so scared. That was so nasty, baby. So fucking nasty." She threw her arms around him, spinning in front of him, still heaving with her pleasure. They kissed right there, open mouthed, wild with the thrill of revenge.

They got back to the hotel ten minutes later, Susan ripping off her clothes in a frenzy as they got to the room. He had calmed down enough to want to leave, but she was naked before he even got a chance to say so. He stood staring at her as a hand worked under her groin, pulling on her now trimmed pussy. "It's time for some pain for your fucked up sister, baby. I want you up my ass. Hard. Hurt me, Danny. Get me off with that cock of yours inside my shithole. I'm gonna cum so hard they'll never let us back in this place."

Her frantic plea got to him, and he tore off his shirt, then fumbled with his pants. By the time he had freed his cock, she was on the bed, head down, hands pulling her soft butt cheeks apart. He buried his head there, licking at the small, wrinkled hole, hearing her moans. "Do it, baby. Go ahead, hard Danny, hard."

She was whimpering into the spread of the made up bed, twisting her hips from side to side. He slapped one buttock, muttered "Hold still" and pushed his stiff cock at her hole. Something happened, and it buried inside her a couple of inches, feeling tight as hell, but warm. He inched upwards, humped forward, and felt his cock plunge deeper. She wailed into the bed. He began to fuck his sister's tight bowel with abandon, amazed at how deep he got, the tightness of it, but the pleasure he was getting, as she groaned, the sound muffled by the bedsheets.

After several strokes, he shook sweat off his forehead, and reached under to her cunt, burying a finger inside her. He heard her begging "Go, go, go. Fuck me, baby." He felt fluid dripping down his hand as she creamed. His hips started moving faster, as he found himself bending slowly down to her back, wanting to feel her skin, letting his weight fall on her so his other hand could cup her swinging tits.

He could feel her intestine start to open up, relaxing. She was still groaning softly, but her hips met each thrust, each hard stroke. God, he thought, she's so fucked up. And so am I. His hips froze as he felt his nut come, a wild, intense blowout, grinding in his stomach, thrilling him. She was growling, her eyes closed. Her pussy was spasming around his finger. He could smell her musky, hard cream, soaking his hand. He pulled roughly out, and flopped down with his hips near her head. When he shoved her shoulder, he saw her eyes, and it was that look he remembered from the first day, trying to get him to open the bar. An evil, excited leer. She almost jumped onto his cock, her mouth taking it all in, no more than an inch outside her face, and he felt suction, and throat muscles, and tongue. He groaned with pleasure.

She sucked for a couple of minutes, noisily, occasionally gasping for breath. Her hair falling down hid her face. When she finally had him cleaned to her satisfaction, she lifted her head, and he saw the dampness on her face, and her mascara streaked. He pulled her against him, murmuring "I'm sorry, babe. I didn't mean to hurt you. You got me so damn excited. You okay?"

She smiled in a wan, slightly crazy way, as she stared at him. "Danny. Oh Danny, you didn't hurt me. This is so fucked, but that was so neat, I mean the blood, the nastiness, the pain, I had a terrific cum. Just terrific. They all are for us, huh? I don't remember ever being so happy, darling. Every time we get off, I remember something, your face when we used to cuddle, your little prick when we used to skinny dip in the lake, the way you look when you sleep. Do you know you snore? Not loud, just a little snuffle. Did you like it in my ass? I sure did. It used to be a punishment, like retribution for my sins. But it felt like love, with you. I'm sorry I wasn't a virgin there, for you."

On the ride up to Boston, her freshly showered smell soothing him, her hand on his thigh, as they both read, he wondered about what was going on between them. She kept saying she was his whore, and he felt a thrill each time she said it. He didn't think he had ever enjoyed sex so much, even that first one, the skinny sophmore excited by the new freshman stud. He'd known her five minutes when she whispered, at the frat party, "I'm on the pill, Dan. Just so you know."

Susan had gotten better at it as the evil drug left her system, more athletic, wilder, smiling more. They liked to talk about their childhoods, times they were close, their secret desire for the other, before and after sex. They had masturbated with each other, sucked each other to completion, and fucked several different ways. Yet she was still, in his mind, Susan. Sister Sue. He found himself wondering, often, if this was love.

On an impulse, he asked her "Is this love, Susan? I mean, like, everlasting, get married, have children love? The girl I want to spend the rest of my life with love? I feel that way sometimes, about you. Then sometimes I can't help thinking we're fucked up." He had asked her intimate, important feeling questions when they were young. This felt natural, the same thing, as though she weren't his lover.

She looked at him, reached up and petted his chin, then slapped him very gently. "I haven't a fucking clue, Dan. It is what it is, and it feels so good to me, I'm afraid of losing it. But who can tell what it'll turn in to? Where you and I will go? My bad dreams are you going off to work in your grey flannel suit. I worry because I think that's your good dream. But I'm not gonna look for trouble, not for a while. The bloom'll wear off, honey. Even if it were all normal, y'know, it would. Wear off. I guess we'll find out more then." She smiled brightly, though a tear was drifting down her cheek. "But I think for sure we'll always have something of this fucked up weekend. I know I will."

Interlude

He sat gazing at her, the soft, post coital smile on her face as she snored lightly in the motel room where she had slept for three months, and where they had begun to feel married. He showed her Boston, the B School campus, Cambridge, the "Red Zone", a neighborhood devoted to porn. She temped as a secretary, but mostly waited for him, thinking up strange, bizarre sexual games they could play, the theme mostly his raw anger that weekend in New York, and their crazy experiences there.

She tried AA for a while, but not long. Still, she kept saying as long as she had him, their long nights in bed, his love and attention, she wasn't tempted, not even a little. She rarely had more than a glass of white wine to drink, and hadn't even finished that pack of Marlboro's he had bought in the city. But her sexual appetite was voracious.

They had talked about trying to move somewhere where they could pretend to be married, where their parents couldn't find them, where they could hide in a cocoon of their love. But he had accepted the job in Chicago, truly amazing money, the second chair in a programming division, something about a multiplexing operating system.

The day he had told her about it, she had first bubbled about living there, the windy city, a fresh start. But when she examined the literature he received as indoctrination, her enthusiasm began to fade. There wasn't a decent place to live within an hour's drive of the smoky, beat up area that housed the glass palace where he would be spending so much time. The company she was temping for asked her about taking over an office in Waltham. They spent one weekend looking at apartments. He called the local Venture Capital company that had made him an offer in January, but both openings had been filled.

"We can visit, baby. I need you, but we have to live our lives, don't you think? I won't be happy depending on you all my life. But I'll always be your whore, Danny. No matter what."

Five

Jed was a nice guy, he had to admit. Standing there with Susan hanging on his arm, in the lovely white wedding dress, her familiar perfume tingling his cock, as the Wedding March boomed out of the organ, he reflected on the last three years. In some ways, being apart had been nicer than being together. Every time they spent a weekend, two or three times a month, it was like a whole new beginning.

He thought she had bloomed, the success she had with the temp agency giving her back the confidence that had seemed to disappear in New York. She had lived in three different places already, and they had made a special place for her in the Los Angeles office when she had finally said yes to Jebediah Fulton, young, rising film editor. "He has this curvy dick, Danny. I mean, it gets hard okay, and he eats me all I want, but, I dunno, there's something funny about the way it fits my pussy. Not like you, honey. And he wants to fuck my ass, but I won't let him. That's your hole, baby. Nobody's been in there since you."

He had been jealous when she first told him. But the thrill of fucking an engaged woman for ten straight hours, as she promised him again and again they would always have each other, made the weirdness of it seem just another step in this strange relationship that showed no sign of decreasing its intensity. He'd dated a little too, one brunette with even bigger tits than Susan, but in spite of Bev's enthusiasm, it was a pale imitation of his wild trysts with his sister.

He felt a quick grin pass his face as he remembered the nights in Mother's big house in Phoenix, when Bradley died, sneaking down to the pool to skinny dip in the warm, soft nights, then sleeping together until they heard the squeeky voice at one door or another calling "Dear, it's ten o'clock already, I know it's different time dear, but still, the cook will have a fit if she has to wait for breakfast much longer." Repeating the litany at the other door. Giggling as they heard her retreating footsteps, the smell of their lovemaking surrounding them.

They started the slow walk down the aisle. The big Arizona adobe church was lovely, open and bright. A perfect place to start a new life. As they got about half way there, she leaned over and whispered in his ear "Your jiz is running down my leg, darling. You were awfully juicy last night." He stumbled as she giggled. Mother was watching them with that sappy look on her face, her new "beau", as she called him, sitting beside her. He had always thought she had to be awfully naive not to know what was going on in her house during the frantic year of probating the will, setting up the Trusts, even as Jeb burned up the phone lines to Susan.

He remembered her stubborn anger at Jeb the day he called to ask her to keep the money in LA.. "Danny's going to supervise the investments, darling, and Chicago's the place. So just don't fuss, Jeb. Besides, it'll give me a chance to keep in touch with my brother. No, I'm fine, dear." At that moment, she was humping her cunt up to his fingers, both of them grinning.

The minister asked "Who gives this woman to be married?" He thought he sounded very proper as he boomed out "Her mother and I." Susan giggled again, and he caught Jeb frowning. Better be careful, Susan, he thought.

But she wasn't. She called him from Fiji, two days later. "It's beautiful, Danny. And Jeb loves the gambling. He's amazingly good at it, keeps winning money at craps. Is it true the odds are closest in craps? What a word, craps." She giggled as he heard her tinkling a drink. "He's off skin diving, honey. I'm sitting here with that red bikini on, remember the one I used to pull up into my pussy? We met a nice couple last night, they live in LA too. Look, I thought that night before the wedding would hold me, Danny, but I'm horny already. The agency has a conference in Houston the eighteenth to the twentieth. Could you fly down for the weekend? Jeb's going to be in the middle of some damn movie."

Of course, he went.

Epilogue

The hot tub in his penthouse threw up steam into the chilly fall New York night as they cuddled together, ten years of marriage for her, seven for him. Brother and sister, still unable to find any love that rivalled the one that burned between them. Beverly had screamed at him the night before, "We've had this planned for weeks, Dan. For Christ's sake, are you fucking your sister or what? I mean, the minute she calls, you go running to her. Those goddamn Trusts are no excuse. It's not as though she lacks for anything."

They were nestling to each other, just their heads out of the warm, soft water, her hand around his soft cock, his around her shoulder, cupping her tit. She'd gotten a good silicone job three years ago, not too obvious, but her tits stood up rather nicely, he thought. She was talking about her latest confrontation with Jeb.

"He wants children, Danny. I told him I didn't. He said he'd met someone who did. I said, go for it, asshole." She sighed, and her grip tightened. He started to harden. She twisted around, and pressed her bald pussy to his hip. "Danny, we aren't being fair to them, are we? Beverly called me screaming last night. She sounds miserable. Not to mention pissed off. Let's say fuck it, baby. Let's go to Mexico, or Europe, you know, somewhere where we can be together, every day, every moment, darling. My love. My lifelong, fucked up, nasty love. I want your children, Danny. Not his. The clock's ticking baby, and If I'm gonna do it, it should be soon."

He felt himself harden further in Susan's grip, thinking shit, after that great nut just an hour ago. She was right, he knew. It was no one's fault. His psychiatrist said it was a residue of their loveless youth. But the shrink was not convincing when he talked about working through it, freeing himself from this compulsion, this obsession. He knew he didn't want to lose it.

"I've been looking at a little Web business in Paris, Susan. I can pick it up cheap, and it won't take up much time, but give me something to do. We can winter in Cannes."

They laughed, remembering a time long ago. In unison, they both said "Pardon my french?" He rolled toward her, as she swung a leg over his hip. As they kissed, her tongue filling his mouth, amazed at her power over him, the future seemed to glow in his heart. At last