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Lost At Sea

By: Ellisyn



The stewardess was being very slow. Annoyed that she was being put on hold, Miranda Davis turned and looked over her shoulder for the woman she had ordered a glass of wine from nearly fifteen minutes ago. The man sitting next to her, who had been buried in a book until now, glanced over with her movement. 

"Business or pleasure?" He asked referring, no doubt, to the fact that they would be landing in Hawaii soon. Turning her gaze to the tall, broad shouldered gentleman, Miranda shifted her hold on the magazine she was reading so that her glittering wedding ring could be clearly seen. She had no interest in the man beside her, other then someone to talk to. 

"Neither," She said with a small smile. "I'm going home." The man arched both brows and put down the book he was reading. Miranda glanced at the title, Forbidden, it said in fiery red letters featuring a very realistic and graphic depiction of a half nude woman tied to a stone alter. She felt a slight wave of unease.

"You're from Hawaii?" He asked, stating the obvious and Miranda smiled nervously, twisting the ring on her finger. "Yes." Just then the stewardess finally came over with her order and Miranda took it gratefully, wishing it were something stronger, but she wanted to greet her husband, David, with a clear head. She had missed him terribly in the three weeks she had been gone and frankly she was looking forward to a long, hot bath and a good fuck. Never having been with another man, Miranda had no basis for comparison when she said her husband was fabulous in bed. He was a gentle, generous lover who demanded very little and gave a lot. Thinking of what awaited her she shifted slightly in her seat and tried to get a look out the window. The man was still watching her. 

"Homesick?" He asked, and Miranda paused to get a better look at him. He wasn't classically handsome but he had an interesting face. He had very short dark hair and stoic green eyes. She would have bet money that he was single, single and looking, it was apparent. 

She tried to sound to impatient. "A little, yes." The man's gaze slid over her wedding ring that she was twisting. He smirked, as if amused by something. 

"Miss your husband?" He asked in a tone that was more than conversational. Miranda eyed the man. 

"Yes…very much." She said carefully. 

The man leaned over, very close to her. "I bet I can guess what you miss the most." 

Miranda's eyebrows shot up as she stared at him. How dare he? "Excuse me?" Her tone was cold. 

He smiled brightly and picked up his book again. "Sorry, I'll just go back to my book now." Miranda frowned and rifled impatiently through her magazine. She was not reassured by the fact that they still had three hours yet to fly before she was home. 

Miranda was a beautiful woman. She was turning thirty-four in three weeks but she looked ten years younger. Her long platinum blonde hair was most often seen in a sleek French braid that hung nearly to her waist nicely complimenting her copper complexion and clear blue eyes. Today she had it pinned up in a neat twist that completely hit the secret of its luxurious length. She wore a cream-colored travel suit that showed the delicious curves of her magnificent body. Miranda was proud of her figure. She was always sure to eat smart and exercise daily, mostly for David who couldn't stand an ounce of fat, but somewhat for herself too.

The dipping neckline of the silk jacket extenuated her deliciously heavy breasts and its cinched waist, held in place by a delicate gold chain showed her catlike slenderness. The man beside her took all of this in from the corner of his eye, and Miranda could sense him watching her. She scanned the plane for an empty seat but they were filled to capacity. She clenched her teeth and picked up her wine to take a sip. The plane trembled and a goodly amount of the dark fluid splashed across the front of her jacket. Miranda frowned deeply as she called for a stewardess. She dabbed soda water on the fine silk as she inwardly seethed. She had wanted to look nice for David and now her best travel suit was ruined. 

"Everyone, we're going through a pretty bad storm and might experience some turbulence, the captain requests that everyone fasten their seatbelts and please refrain from leaving your seats." The chipper young stewardess smiled sweetly at the passengers aboard and a collective sigh was heard amidst the sound of two hundred seatbelts fastening. 

Glancing out the window, Miranda's stomach clenched at what she saw. Dark angry clouds swirled all around them, lightning flashed and the plane groaned as it hit another pocket of air. The sighing soon stopped and was replaced by an eerie silence as everyone tried to stay calm. The plane bucked and dipped in the storm and people grabbed for airsick bags. The putrid smell of vomit filled the cabin as the plane veered off to the left, and then the right and the smell of smoke filled the air. People began to panic, steward call lights went off right and left but they were all buckled in and not responding.

A sudden nosedive had Miranda grasping the seat in front of her to keep from slamming backward. Oxygen masks dropped suddenly from the ceiling and Miranda felt a wave of panic as she struggled to put hers on. Someone screamed and the plane started spinning, making everything blur and distort. 

We're upside down. Miranda thought. I'm going to die! It was clear the plane was in trouble. It spun and flipped through the sky like a fighter jet, but unlike a fighter jet, it was heading straight for the ocean. Screaming was heard as through the windows the ocean was rushing up to meet them. A sickening crunch was heard as one wing was ripped from the plane. Miranda screamed and then the plane hit and her world went black.

It was the cold, not so much the water itself that awoke Miranda. Surrounded by flaming wreckage and huge, angry waves, Miranda surfaced in the frigid water and felt a wave of burning pain overtake her. Her vision spun crazily as a huge wave lifted her high into the air and sent her crashing back down, down, down deep into the water. She couldn't breathe, she panicked, and then as she surfaced, strong hands were lifting her, pulling her into a dingy. She passed out again from the pain.

Miranda awoke to a throbbing pain in her temples and the sensation of constant movement that made her nauseous. She slowly, painfully opened her eyes and the first thing she saw was yellow. Shiny yellow, pushing herself up on one elbow she realized it was very early morning and she was in a yellow, rubber life raft…lost at sea. Panic overwhelmed her and she spun about. There was only one other person in the lifeboat, the man who had been sitting beside her and he was staring out at the water. 

"Oh my god…" Miranda's voice shook. "Oh my god, where are we?" Pain throbbed in her head as she spoke and the man turned to look at her. 

"I really don't know I'm afraid." He said calmly. Miranda searched for signs of other life, anything, anything but the miles of flat blue ocean that surrounded them. There was nothing to see, nothing but water. At least the storm seemed to be over. They were lifted high on ocean waves but set gently back down to be lifted again. Miranda tried to calm down, to take stock what they had to survive and of her condition. Her clothes were wet, dirty, and torn, but still intact. 

The gold chain dangled uselessly at her side. There was no blood that she could see, but her head throbbed painfully. A gentle examination brought her fingers away red and she realized that she had a gash above her ear. Considering everything that had happened, it seemed she had gotten away quite lucky. Her hair was still halfway pinned up, long tresses of it falling down, some streaked with red. She pinned it back up with shaking fingers and turned her attention to the man who was watching her. 

"Are you okay?" She asked him. 

He nodded lying back against the raft. "I have a terrible headache and I feel a little sick but I think I'm all right." 

Miranda swallowed. "Did…did anyone else survive? Do you know what happened?" 

The man shook his head. "No I just grabbed the flotation device under my seat, you can thank me later. I didn't see anyone and I don't know what direction to go so I'm just letting the ocean carry us." 

Miranda felt a wave of sickness wash over her. "We're lost at sea." She all but whispered and he scooted closer to her to put a hand on her shoulder. 

"Hey, it's going to be okay. They'll find us, today probably." Miranda swallowed. Her throat was very dry.

"How long has it been, do we have any supplies?" He opened a tiny pouch in the side of a raft and pulled out a bright orange nylon bag. He handed her a nearly full water bottle. "It's just been the night, the storm stopped a couple of hours ago. We have five of these, three flares, and ten aluminum pouches that I suspect are food." Miranda gratefully accepted the water taking a long drink. She could have swallowed the whole thing but she knew they should save it. "And there is a first aid bag, let me see your ear." 

Miranda let him dab some iodine on her wound, but since there wasn't much else to be done, it had to be left at that. It stung badly and he gave her two aspirin, also found in the first aid pouch. "Did you use a flare?" She asked him. He nodded. "There were five total, I used one right away and another after the storm ended. Don't worry too much, they know where the plane went down, they'll find us." 

Miranda nodded choking back her tears. She noticed with some displeasure that that her wedding ring was gone, undoubtedly, lost forever. She pulled her knees up to her chest and tried to fight the motion sickness. "What's your name?" She asked him. He held out his hand, a ridiculous gesture of greeting in their current predicament, but it would have to do. She took his hand slowly. 

"Kevin." He told her. "And you?"

"Miranda." She said and he offered her a smile. "Good to meet you…although I think it could have happened in a better way." The sun slowly started to beat down on them making the temperature shoot up to an uncomfortably sticky heat and Miranda took off her jacket. She was just wearing a camisole underneath but it didn't seem like a time for modesty. Her body screamed for water and she took a tiny sip. 

"At least I get to work on my tan." She offered with a lame smile and Kevin laughed. "I'm going to turn tomato red I can already tell." He said also removing his shirt. They both scanned the sky for signs of help, but it was clear and blue and the only thing seen flying there were clouds, not even birds, which, Miranda thought, was a bad sign. She fell asleep again and woke up abruptly to Kevin easing himself down on top of her. A brief struggle ensued but he pinned her down with the weight of his body. 

"Listen up Miranda," He said holding her down. "I'm a lot stronger than you. If I wanted to, I could just throw you overboard for the sharks, no one would ever know. Understand?" 

Miranda's blue eyes widened as her instinct to scream overwhelmed her. 

Kevin laughed when she screamed. "No one is going to hear you. You think the sharks will help?" Miranda began to cry and he smiled cruelly. "You scream all you want baby but you had better cooperate or I will use you as bait to go fishing, understand?" Miranda thought about trying to fight him, but it was impossible. He was huge compared to her and even if she could throw him overboard there was no way she could paddle the dingy faster than he could swim. He slapped her hard. "Understand?" He said again. Miranda 's head began to throb terribly and she nodded as she felt blood run down her neck from the gash on her head. 

"I hate women like you. Always think you're better than everyone else. I was watching you when you got on the plane, you've got a hot body." He buried a rough kiss against her unwilling lips and instantly she bit down hard. He came up cursing and hurled her over the side of the raft. The cold water was a shock. Miranda panicked as she realized she was now swimming in the middle of the ocean. Kevin sneered as the tide began to carry him away and she screamed swimming after him. 

"Don't leave me here, please!"

Slowly he paddled back to her. "Going to behave bitch?" His voice was ice cold as blood ran down his chin. Her chin quivered as she looked up at him fearfully. 

"Yes, yes, I'll do what you want, just don't leave me here."

Smiling he hauled her back on board and instantly his hands were roaming over her body. "Take off your clothes." He commanded. "All of them." 

Miranda bit her lip but complied. She had no choice. Slowly she peeled off her camisole and her breasts hung beautiful and heavy, the nipples hard from the cold water and Kevin watched her hungrily. She unfastened her belt and shimmied out of the ruined slacks so that she was wearing just her pink, silk panties. Kevin reached over and yanked them off of her. Her high heels and trouser socks had been lost in the crash so now she was naked. Without further ado he tossed her clothed overboard and all she could do was shriek in protest. 

"Want to join them?" He asked, and she meekly shook her head. She was completely naked now and very embarrassed. She was all honey tanned flesh and golden hair. Her neatly trimmed snatch shone like gold in the brilliant sunlight and Kevin laughed aloud. "Christ, a natural blonde." He climbed up her body, suckling her nipples into his mouth and ran his rough hands down her sensitive flesh to her dry, unwelcoming cunt. He slid down her body and parted the lips of her vagina with his fingers. 

Miranda lay tense and unmoving on her back on the floor of the raft, trying to remove herself from the situation in her mind. She was jerked quickly back into her body however, when he began to suck her clit, his warm, wet tongue rolling over her sensitive nub. David never, never did that and she leaped a mile as his mouth caressed her. He growled against her cunt and held her hips down with his hands, reminding her to stay still once again. He pushed her knees apart with his hands and went to work on her. He circled her clit with his tongue and traced a path down to her tight slit.

He sucked hard on her clit making her quiver and Miranda squirmed as electricity sparked through her hips. Her blood rushed downward to her cunt and the gentle rolling ocean waves only aided in the alien sensations she was being flooded with. As her body moistened to his touch he slid a finger up inside of her and Miranda clenched her teeth as her fucked her and sucked her clit. She tried to fight the impending built of orgasm but she could no more resist it then she could fly to safety and as the tidal wave swept over her she had to bite her lip from crying out as her body arched right up off the raft. Kevin laughed cruelly. "I knew you would enjoy this you dumb cunt." 

"Get on your knees." The command was spoken roughly and whimpering, wondering what horrible things he would do to her now, she obeyed climbing to her knees and holding on to the rope that ran all around the raft. His eyes roamed over her tight, tan ass and that sweet, tight cunt and he grinned to himself. His most forbidden fantasies were finally coming true. 

Miranda jumped a mile when she felt his hot, throbbing cock brush against her thigh. Kevin reached around, fondling her nipples as he teased her clitoris with his cock. He ran his hands down her body and lifted her open sliding effortlessly into the tight confines of her pussy. Miranda gasped as he slid himself inside of her. His cock pushed through the slick canal of her vagina spreading her wide open. He had to be twice as thick as David and at least three or four inches longer. 

She felt the wave of erotic sensation that always accompanies first entrance and struggled desperately with the instinct to push back against him. She gripped harder onto the rough rope and felt it cut into her hands. He placed a hand on each of her hips and slowly, savoring it, began to fuck her. His strokes were deep and slow stroking a coal buried deep within her. 

He slid out and then back in, his breathing became ragged as he slowly picked up speed until he was fucking her very hard and fast and Miranda could no longer stop her body from pushing back to meet him. Her mouth hung wide open as she grasped the rope strangled cries emanating from her parted lips and her hair spilling loose and falling like gold all around her. Kevin clung harder as he thrust again and again his cock imbedding itself in the now welcoming wet snatch. 

Miranda groaned as his cock sank itself up to the hilt again and again, hitting the smoldering embers within her over and over. She gasped pushing back against him and gasped more when his pace quickened. He began to slow then reaching a hand around to caress her swollen clit, his cock still sliding rock hard in and out of her tight cunt. She could feel herself opening and closing around his throbbing hardness and the sensation was amazing. Where his fingers touched her clit it felt like a fire was burning and she trembled, becoming unbelievably tight when she came to orgasm. 

Kevin smiled as he pulled out her, his dick glistened in the sunlight from her pussy juices and he tenderly massaged her ass as he leaned close to whisper in her ear. "Did you like that baby?" Miranda froze, still clinging to the life raft; she couldn't believe this was happening to her. She was instantly bombarded by guilt and disgust. As soon as she got off this godforsaken raft she was sending this pervert straight to prison. As if reading her mind he grabbed her and flipped her around to face him. 

"If you breathe a word of this to anyone when we're rescued, you're reputation will be ruined. I know what kind of high-class society bitch you are. What will your husband think? By the way, I threw your wedding ring into the ocean." 

Miranda's jaw dropped and he took the opportunity to shove his dick in her face.

"Suck it bitch, and if you bite I'll throw you in and leave you there for good." Miranda felt her resolve crumbling once again. She was helpless. What else could she do? Tears began to course down her cheeks as she took his cock into her mouth. Kevin groaned as her lips wrapped around his cock. 

"Suck it like you mean it slut and you had better make it good." Knowing he wasn't kidding she began to suck his cock, taking it deep into her mouth she caressed it with he tongue like a pro. David liked her to give him head; it was harder with Kevin because he had such a huge cock. Her pussy throbbed and twitched beneath her. 

Traitor, she thought. Kevin groaned as her hot wet mouth engulfed his throbbing cock. God she was good. When he felt himself approach orgasm he pulled he away and pushed her onto her back. Taking each of her legs up over his shoulders he thrust his cock into her swollen cunt and began to fuck her hard. 

Miranda gasped as his huge member sunk mercilessly into her pussy. She felt her snatch immediately tight, swallowing his huge cock and she clung to each side of the raft as he fucked her, ramming his dick deep inside of her. After a moment, he trembled clinging to her legs as his balls tightened and he came. A sick feeling washed over Miranda. She and David were trying to have children so she wasn't on the pill. What if she wound up pregnant? She could feel his cock twitching inside of her and shifted slightly so he could pull out. 

Feeling her move beneath him, Kevin grasped her legs and pulled her body up hard against his cock. He held her there for a long ten minutes fucking her so slowly and moving such a small amount that the fire in Miranda's loins began to ignite again. When he had recovered he began to move harder and faster. "Tell me how good it feels." He commanded. 


Lost at Sea



When the doorbell rang, they had just finished dinner. Lori, the twelve-year-old, jumped up to answer the door before either her father or brother could rise, but she quickly returned to the dining room with a quizzical look on her face.

"It's a policeman, Daddy. He wants to talk to you," she reported.

A jolt of fear shot through Frank, but he tried to hide it from his children. 

When he went to the door, he saw the caller was actually a Georgia State Trooper. "Are you Frank Parker?" the trooper asked.

"Yes," Frank confirmed.

"Are you the husband of Meredith Parker?"

When Frank nodded, the trooper looked at the two children and said, "May I speak with you in private, Mr. Parker?"

Frank felt his throat constrict, and he had to clear it before he could speak. "Bobby, Lori, please go to your rooms. I need to speak with the officer alone."

Both kids began to protest, but when their father barked "Now!" at them, they jumped and hurried to obey. They weren't used to hearing that tone of voice.

Once the children had left the room, the officer turned back to their father. "Mr. Parker, I've been asked to give you some bad news. Your wife's airplane is missing and presumed down. It dropped off the radar tonight approximately halfway between Miami International Airport and Nassau. A Coast Guard ship is in the area now, looking for survivors."

The facts were straightforward enough. In her role as regional sales VP for a major multinational corporation, Meredith had set out to visit their Caribbean headquarters in the Bahamas, accompanied by the region's chief financial officer. She was an experienced small plane pilot, so the 180-mile flight to Nassau should have been routine. As a result, Frank had thought nothing of it when Meredith had called to let him know her plans. Now, he was distraught. This had to be his worst nightmare: his wife's plane had crashed at night in the shark-infested waters of the Caribbean Sea.

The officer provided a few additional details that did nothing to give Frank any encouragement before he left, promising that the Coast Guard would call with updates in the morning or earlier if there was any news..

No sooner had the door closed behind the trooper than both Bobby and Lori came running to his side, anxiety written on their faces, asking questions that their father couldn't answer. Frank knew they had been listening; he would have eavesdropped too if he'd been in their shoes. 

The three of them clung to each other, each trying to find encouraging things to say to the others. Lori began to cry and although he was trying to be brave, Bobby's eyes were red as well. Frank did his best to keep it together for his children's sakes, but inside he was frantic.

There was no thought of cleaning the dishes or doing homework; their anguish kept the three of them within arm's length of each other for the rest of the evening. It grew past the children's normal bedtime, but still no phone call came. Finally, exhausted by the lateness of the hour and their fears, all three gravitated to the master bedroom, and the children slept with their Dad for the first time since they'd been little and afraid of thunderstorms.

They were up and trying to eat breakfast the next morning when a representative from the Coast Guard called. The slim hope stirred by the call was quickly dashed when the officer told Frank that the cutter searching the area had found nothing.

Frank called the principal at the middle school the kids attended to let her know why Bobby and Lori would be absent that day. Then he went to check on the two of them, only to find them in front of the television watching a report on the missing plane on CNN. Frank wasn't sure whether to let them keep watching or turn the set off, but before he could reach a decision, the phone began to ring again, and from that point on, whenever Frank would hang up from one call, another would come in. Not surprisingly, the first calls were from Meredith's parents and his own. All were frantic with worry while still trying to project a false optimism that she would miraculously be found. Frank promised to call back immediately with any news.

Next came the calls from their friends and colleagues of Meredith. All wanted to say or do something to help, but none of them had any idea how to do so. The conversations were short and awkward.

Most difficult of all were the calls from the media. He should have expected those, but Frank was caught off guard when the first reporter phoned, and he talked to the reporter from the Journal-Constitution much longer than he wanted. Then representatives from other media began calling, and when Frank realized what was happening, he began screening all the calls and returning only those from people about whom he cared.

Sometime during all this activity, the procession of neighbors and friends began, each set coming to their door with condolences and with food. At first their generosity was appreciated because Frank had no energy for preparing meals, but soon he and his children had more food than they could hope to eat in a week. It was an old Southern tradition to express concern and condolences with food, but while Frank appreciated the gesture, every roast and casserole was a bitter reminder that his wife of twenty years was almost certainly dead.

The next few days were horrible: the Parkers were virtual prisoners in their own home, kept there by their desire not to have to deal with other people and by their hope for some news from the Coast Guard. Frank made daily calls to the office in Miami for updates, but the reports were always negative. 

Then, five days after the state trooper had arrived on their doorstep, came the news they'd been dreading. A Coast Guard officer called to tell Frank that wreckage from his wife's plane had been found. There were no signs of any survivors. "I'm sorry, sir," the officer concluded, "but we're going to have to cease search and rescue operations at this time."

Frank wanted nothing more than to hide away and mourn in solitude. But that option was not available; instead, he faced a seemingly endless list of responsibilities, all painful. The worst, of course, was having to tell Bobby and Lori the sad news and trying to console them. When they had finally calmed down, he had to phone relatives and close friends to let them know. Next was a call to their church to arrange for a memorial service, followed by one to the newspaper to submit an obituary. Then came more calls to share the time and date of the service. By the time he was done, Frank felt physically and emotionally exhausted.

Somehow the family made it through the service and began the slow, painful process of trying to resume a normal life. The following week the kids returned to school, and the resumption of their routine seemed to help a little. 

Frank was not so fortunate. Now a whole new set of duties fell on his shoulders. At the urging of a friend, Frank contacted an attorney to find out what his legal responsibilities were. He was shocked to learn that he would have to petition for a death certificate. "But her plane crashed at sea!" he protested. "How can there be any doubt?"

"I know," the attorney commiserated, "but in the absence of a body and a physician's certificate, the court must make a formal declaration."

"Am I going to have to wait seven years?" Frank asked in distress.

"No," the attorney assured him, "in a case like this where an individual has been lost at sea, there's usually no significant delay. After the attack on the World Trade Center, death certificates were issued within a matter of days even though some of the bodies were never identified. You may have to answer some questions, but typically such cases are resolved very quickly."

"I can get the petition started for you," the attorney went on. "I can also help you get all your other documents changed."

When Frank looked confused, the attorney said, "You know, like any joint bank accounts, your mortgage, your insurance, car titles, your will -- anything like that. While I do that, you need to contact your wife's company to see about any benefits to which you may be entitled, as well as to claim any personal belongings."

Frank shook his head in weariness. In his grief, he hadn't never stopped to think just how complicated it would be to untangle the life he and his wife had shared.

Now he faced another chore that he dreaded: calling on the widow of John Collier, the financial executive who had been on the plane with Meredith. Frank had met Collier only a couple of times at his wife's company functions, but he had taken an immediate dislike to the executive. In Frank's eyes, Collier was one of those egotistical types who thought he was smarter than everyone else. In the brief time Frank had spent with the man, Collier managed to drop enough names and boast about his accomplishments enough to leave a bad taste in Frank's mouth. But that wasn't his widow's fault, Frank reminded himself, and he felt he had a duty to call on her.

Frank had phoned ahead, so Amanda Collier was expecting him. As the two exchanged condolences, Frank realized that she was probably the only one who truly knew how he was feeling.

When they'd been seated in her living room, she asked kindly, "So how are you doing now, Frank?"

"It's hard, Amanda, it's really hard. I just can't accept that she's really gone. So many things keep reminding me of her." 

He shook his head helplessly. "You know what's the hardest thing? When I'm out on the street or in a crowd of people, I keep thinking that I've spotted her. The other day, I must have scared some poor woman half to death when I chased her down because I thought she was Meredith." He looked at the floor, recalling the memory and his emotions when he had realized what he was doing.

Amanda watched him with sympathetic eyes; she knew there weren't any words to help.

Finally, he looked up at her. "And how about you, Amanda, how are you doing?"

"It's not easy, Frank, but I'm going to make it," she told him. "The truth is I'm probably doing much better than you. John and I didn't have any children, so I don't have two to console the way you do. Also -- and I wouldn't tell this to anyone else -- John and I weren't getting along very well before all this happened. I'd caught him having a couple of flings in the past, and I think he was in the middle of another affair. If this hadn't happened, we'd probably be headed for divorce before too long."

"I'm so sorry to hear that, Amanda," Frank told her sympathetically. "I can only imagine the conflicting emotions you must be feeling."

"Yes," she agreed, "one moment I'm relieved that I don't have to deal with his cheating any more and the next I'm filled with guilt because I don't feel sadder. And despite everything, there's a part of me that still misses him."

"Are you going to be OK financially?" Frank asked, trying to change the subject.

"I'm not sure," she admitted. "The good news is that the company provided life insurance on Frank, and because he died while on business, with the double indemnity clause I'll receive twice the face value. The bad news is I'm going to need every penny of that money because I've learned Frank had made a series of bad investments in the futures market and severely depleted our net worth."

What Amanda had said about her late husband did not surprise Frank. It took no stretch of the imagination for him to believe that an egotist like John Collier would not prove a faithful husband. For that matter, the idea that Collier would fancy himself a wheeler-dealer in the market was entirely in keeping with Frank's mental picture of the man.

What did grab Frank's attention was Amanda's mention of the company-paid life insurance. He remembered his attorney's advice and made a mental note to contact the benefits department of Meredith's company right away. If Collier had been covered, surely Meredith would have had a similar policy, and until he could find a job, those funds might come in very handy.

After chatting a few minutes longer, Frank arose from the couch. "Amanda, please forgive me, but I'm going to have to cut my visit short. Billy and Lori will be getting out of school soon and I've got to go pick the two of them up. But please stay in touch, and if there's anything I can do to help, even if you just need a sympathetic ear to bend, please don't hesitate to call me."

When Frank drove up to their home after picking up Bobby and Lori, he was surprised to see a car parked out front. Frank got his children into the house through the garage, and a minute later, the doorbell rang. Outside were a man who looked to be in his fifties and a younger woman, both dressed in business attire.

"I'm Special Agent Harold Barnes," the man introduced himself, "and this is Special Agent Celia Murray. We're with the Georgia Bureau of Investigation. We'd like to come in and ask you a few questions in conjunction with your wife's disappearance."

When she realized the two were law enforcement officers, Lori wrapped her arms around her father's waist and buried her face in his side. Frank could feel her tears dampening his shirt, and he held her tightly.

"What's this about?" he demanded angrily.

Before the first agent could speak, Agent Murray interceded. "I'm so sorry we've upset your daughter, Mr. Parker. All we're trying to do is complete a routine check in connection with your petition for a death certificate for Mrs. Parker. If you'd like us to come back later, we'll try to do so at a time that would be better for you."

Frank ignored her and turned to face his daughter. "It's alright, honey. Nothing bad has happened."

The female agent abruptly bent down on one knee, reached into her purse, pulled out a tissue and handed to the girl. "Here, honey," she said in a gentle voice. Lori hesitated and then shyly accepted the tissue, wiping her eyes and then blowing her nose. 

When Frank saw that his daughter had calmed down, he put his arm around her and spoke to her. "These people need to talk with me a while about your Mom, Lori. Why don't you go get started on your homework? I'll be right out here in the living room if you need me." With that, he gently pushed the twelve-year-old toward her room. Then he turned to face the officers.

"If it won't take too long, let's go ahead and try to get this over with."

The three of them stepped into the living room and seated themselves around a coffee table. "We just need to get a little background information on your wife, Mr. Parker," the male agent began. "How long were the two of you married?"

"We got married in 1990, right after we both graduated from the University of Georgia," Frank replied, thinking back to the beautiful brunette coed he had wooed and won so many years ago.

"And she was employed by International Marketing Corporation up until . . . well, until her disappearance?"

"That's right," Frank confirmed, "she was Sales Vice President for the southeastern U.S."

"If her region was the Southeast, why would she have been traveling to the Bahamas?" the younger woman asked.

"At IMC," Frank explained, "the Southeast included Puerto Rico and the Caribbean as well as the U.S. Their Caribbean headquarters are in Nassau, so it wasn't uncommon for Merry to fly down there."

"Merry?" the woman asked.

Frank felt his voice grow husky. "Merry was my pet name for her."

Agent Murray reached across and patted his hand sympathetically. "That's alright, Mr. Parker. I know this is hard for you."

The older agent decided to change the line of questioning. "Was it normal for your wife to fly her own plane on business trips?"

"Yes," Frank replied, "Merry's Dad was a pilot and she got her license as soon as she was old enough. She took every opportunity to fly herself because she said it made her independent of commercial airlines' schedules. She used to say she could get where she needed to be, complete her business and be back home while the competition was still stuck in the terminal. She felt like it gave her an edge, especially when she was starting out."

The two agents made notes; then Agent Murray looked up at him. "And what about you, Mr. Parker. What do you do?"

Frank managed a smile. "I'm a house husband." Seeing their looks, he went on. "I was an aerospace engineer up until three years ago, when my company cut back and I was laid off. The only prospects I could find for a new job would have required me to relocate out of state. But in the meantime, Merry's job was going great. She'd gotten a couple of major promotions and was earning a great salary plus big bonuses. It didn't make sense for her to quit, so we agreed that I'd manage the household and take care of the kids while she worked."

"And how did this change affect your relationship with Mrs. Parker," Agent Barnes asked.

"Why is that relevant?" Frank asked irritatedly.

"Please bear with us, Mr. Parker," the younger woman interceded. "We're required to check to see if there could be any factors that might have played a role in your wife's disappearance. It's all routine."

Somewhat mollified, Frank looked at the two of them. "Of course it was a big change for me, but I'm an engineer. I'm trained to measure and assess all the factors in a design. It was easy to see that my changing roles was the right thing for our family at that time. I made it possible for Merry to devote herself to her career, and I made sure that Bobby and Lori always had a parent there for them at all times."

Neither of the agents said anything, and Frank felt as though the question was still hanging in the air. "I don't mean it was easy," he went on. "She was always calling on customers or attending meetings at corporate, so I didn't see as much of her as I would have liked. Sometimes it felt like her job came first and . . ." He suddenly realized what he was saying, and added swiftly, "But that's pretty much par for the course in corporate life. Besides, it's worked out well" -- he caught himself -- "until now."

"Just two more questions, Mr. Parker," Agent Barnes said. "Did you notice any changes in your wife's behavior in the time prior to her disappearance?"

"Not really," Frank replied after a moment's thought. "I know she was under a lot of pressure in the last year or so, and her travel schedule was heavier than ever. But Merry said she was in line for a major promotion. When she got it, she promised the new job would cut down on her travel as well as come with a high-level title and a big bump in her salary."

"Last question," Agent Barnes said, writing on his pad. "Are you aware of any changes in your finances that your wife might have made in the last few months?"

"No," Frank replied with certainty. "I keep up with all our finances, and I haven't seen anything out of the ordinary."

The young woman glanced at her partner. "I think we've taken enough of your time, Mr. Parker. We should be able to wrap all this up pretty quickly, and we'll let you know as soon as we've concluded. In the meantime, if you think of anything you feel we should know, please call me at this number." As she spoke, she handed him her card, and the two agents headed for the door.

Frank headed back to his children's bedrooms to make sure they were getting their homework done. Both looked busy when he peeked in their rooms. "They're strong kids," he thought. "They've been through hell and they're holding up well, all things considered."

The next day, Frank drove to IMC headquarters to pay a visit to the benefits department. The head of the department met him and, after expressing her condolences, handed over a box filled with Meredith's personal effects from her office. Frank had to swallow hard when he saw the framed family portrait she had kept on her desk. 




Lost at Sea



The director then turned him over to a specialist to advise him on Meredith's benefits. The first order of business was to look at Meredith's 401K account. Frank had regularly seen her annual statements, so he wasn't expecting any surprises. When he saw the final total, however, it was quite a bit higher than he had expected. Apparently, during the last year Meredith had upped her contributions to the plan, putting in more even than the company would match. "She was really trying to provide for her family," the specialist commented with admiration.

The specialist went on to advise Frank to withdraw the funds as soon as possible and roll them over into his own IRA so that he could more easily manage the funds.

The other surprise Frank got was the sheet he received outlining the life insurance benefit he would receive as Meredith's beneficiary. He learned that Meredith had opted for the maximum amount of insurance for which she was eligible. With the accidental death multiplier, Frank was amazed to realize that he would receive almost four years' worth of Meredith's income! "The insurance company will pay that out in annual installments," the woman explained. "Otherwise, the taxes would eat you alive!"

Payment of all of the benefits, of course, was contingent on the company's receiving a copy of Meredith's death certificate, but, after the visit from the two GBI agents, Frank felt confident that would be forthcoming soon.

Frank left the office building much relieved. He had thought he would have to begin an immediate search for another job; now, he realized, he had a significant grace period to get his life together. "Thank you, Merry," he whispered fervently.

Frank was making dinner for the family late one afternoon several days later when the doorbell rang. When Frank went to answer, he found Special Agent Murray on his doorsteps again. After he'd asked her in, she explained the purpose of her visit. "Mr. Parker -- Frank -- I wanted to let you know in person that our investigation has been completed and that your wife's death certificate has been issued. You should receive a copy from the court by certified mail in the next few days."

Frank heaved a sigh of relief. He had believed there would be no problems, but it was a relief to know this important task had been accomplished.

Just then, a panicked scream came from the back of the house, and Frank was horrified to hear Lori's voice yelling, "Help me, Daddy, help me!"

He turned and sprinted for Lori's room. Celia Murray was right on his heels, her hand reaching for the service revolver in the shoulder holster under her jacket. When Frank burst into Lori's room, he found his daughter staring at a large red bloodstain on her jeans. "I'm bleeding, Daddy," she wailed.

Frank was terrified. "What happened, Lori? Did you cut yourself?"

As he started for his daughter's side, a hand caught his elbow and pulled him back with surprising strength. "Let me handle this," Celia said firmly, and pushed him toward the door. 

"But I . . ." he protested, but the young woman would not be moved.

"I'll handle this, Frank. Just go out in the living room and wait."

Something about the authority in her voice made him pause, and with the determined young woman blocking his way, he tentatively stepped back into the hallway. Celia calmly closed the door in his face!

After fifteen anxious minutes, the door opened and Celia came out. Before Frank could ask a question, she grasped his arm. "Lori is fine. You need to go to the store right now and buy a package of sanitary napkins. Get the smallest size they have." 

"But Lori -- Bobby. . ." he began to protest. 

"I'll take care of Lori, and I'll let Bobby know what's happening. You just need to go to the store and get back here as fast as you can," she said.

As Frank drove to a nearby convenience store, the realization hit him, and he began to berate himself. "She's started having her menstrual period, you idiot! You should have realized that immediately." 

On the return trip he continued to curse himself for never talking to his daughter about the maturation into womanhood. "Oh, Merry, I need you more than ever," he thought in self-pity.

When he got home, Celia met him at the front door and snatched the bag away from him. After looking at the package, she smiled. "You did good, Dad." Then she disappeared back into Lori's room. 

After thirty more minutes, Celia reappeared with her arm around Lori, who hung back somewhat shyly. Frank fell to his knees and hugged his daughter when she came to him. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. I should have talked with you about that a long time ago. I just didn't think about it."

"It's OK, Daddy," the girl spoke up, "I just didn't know what was happening, and I was scared. Celia explained it all to me. I know what to do now." As she spoke, she slipped her hand into Celia's, and Frank realized his daughter had made a new friend.

He stood and turned to Celia. "Thank you so much. It's a good thing you were here -- I guess I panicked for a moment." He looked down at his daughter. "I'm afraid I'm not so good with girls."

Celia smiled, but before she could speak, Bobby popped around the corner. "Just because my dumb little sister has her first period, does that mean we're not going to have any dinner tonight? I'm starving!"

"Bobby!" Lori shrieked, but Frank grabbed her before she could attack her big brother.

"Bobby, if you talk like that to your sister again, I guarantee you'll be going to bed hungry!" Frank warned his son. But before his threat could sound too ominous, he went on, "Now, go wash your hands and set the table!"

Then he turned back to Celia. "The least we can do is offer you a meal for all you've done. It isn't exactly gourmet cooking, but there's plenty to eat."

The young woman was clearly embarrassed. "Thank you, but I can't intrude." Her protestations were halted, however, when Lori tugged on her hand. "Please, Celia, please stay and eat with us."

Gazing at her new friend, Celia smiled and said, "Alright, Lori, just for you." Looking up at Frank, she smiled again. "Thank you. I'd love to have dinner with your family."

The four of them sat down to eat, and Celia found herself the target of numerous questions from the two children about her experiences enforcement. Frank ate and listened, both in amusement at his children's curiosity and in admiration at the easy way Celia handled their questions. He suddenly realized that this was the first time the two of them had really seemed to come out of the shell of their sorrow.

When dessert was over, Frank shooed Bobby and Lori off to do their homework, then offered Celia a cup of coffee. As the two of them sat at the table, Frank got a chance to ask his own questions. "You certainly seem to be comfortable with Bobby and Lori. Do you work a lot with young people?"

She smiled. "Actually, I come from a big family: two brothers and three sisters. I was the oldest, so I guess I was second Mom to the rest of them." She paused to take a sip of her coffee, then went on, "That's why I knew what to do with Lori this afternoon. I got to walk each of my sisters through the trauma of puberty."

She looked at Frank and smiled again. "For what it's worth, my Dad was just as helpless as you were today."

Frank grinned sheepishly. "Well, all I can say is I'm glad you happened to be here. Even when I finally realized what was going on, I still wouldn't have known how to get Lori calmed down so quickly."

She smiled to acknowledge his thanks; then her expression grew more serious.

"How are they coping with the loss of their mother?" she asked.

Frank sighed. "About as well as can be expected, I think. Lori has been very clingy -- I think she's really missing the female influence. As for Bobby, it's hard to tell. He's been sullen and somewhat withdrawn, but I don't know whether that's the result of Merry's death or just the fact that he's a teenager now."

Celia looked at him sympathetically. "From what I've seen, I think you're doing a great job with them. It's just going to take time, for them and for you."

With that, she stood and said, "I really enjoyed the meal, Frank, but I've intruded on your family far too long. I need to get going, but if it's alright, I'd like to say goodbye to Lori and Bobby."

When Frank nodded, she walked down the hall, and Frank heard her say goodbye to Bobby. Then she spent a few minutes in Lori's room, and when she returned, Lori came with her, her arm around Celia's waist. "She really has made a new friend," Frank thought in wonder.

A couple of days later, a package arrived in the mail for Lori. When his excited daughter tore open the wrapping, she found a pink stuffed elephant, along with a note from Celia. Frank was gratified by the thoughtfulness but bemused by the selection. "Lori's too old for stuffed animals," he thought, but he was surprised to see the toy given a prominent place on Lori's bed. "I guess there's still some little girl left in her yet," he conceded.

He called Celia's office the next day to thank her. "I would never have thought of that," he admitted, "but somehow it was just the right thing for Lori."

Celia was delighted that his daughter was pleased with her gift, and made Frank promise to keep in touch and let her know how Lori and Bobby were doing. 

A couple of weeks later, Frank was paying bills one morning when he got a call from Bobby's home room teacher. "I'd like to meet with you to talk about your son," the teacher told Frank. "He's having some discipline problems in school."

Frank agreed to meet with her the next day, but he decided not to say anything to Bobby that night. He wanted to wait until he learned what was happening before confronting his son.

The meeting was set for the following day after classes, while the kids were at Phys Ed. Mrs. Soldana, the home room teacher, told the concerned father that Bobby's behavior in class had grown worse over the last few months. "I didn't want to say anything at first because I know he's been through so much," the teacher explained, "but it seems to be getting worse. He's become increasingly disengaged from his classes, he's not doing his homework, and his other teachers tell me he's not paying attention in their classes. He's always done so well up to now, but his grades are really going to plummet this semester if he doesn't do something to turn things around."

Frank was troubled. "How much do you think being a teenager has to do with this, Mrs. Soldana?"

"There's no question that's a tough age for kids, especially boys," she told him, "but we're used to that. I think his mother's death is affecting him more than he may have let on to you. You may want to consider getting counseling for him."

Frank thanked the woman and returned to his car to wait uneasily for his kids to finish their gym classes. He was upset to learn about the problems Bobby was having, and was determined to have a long talk with the boy.

When Frank got Bobby and Lori home, he sent Lori to her room to get started on her homework, then led Bobby into the master bedroom. The boy's face darkened -- he knew he was in trouble.

Frank recounted his visit with Bobby's homeroom teacher and cited some of the examples she had given him. "What's going on, Bobby? Why are you acting this way?" Frank demanded.

"No reason," the boy replied sullenly.

"Come on, you're smarter than that," his father shot back. "Don't you care about your grades?"

"Not really," Bobby mumbled.

Frank was frustrated by his son's unresponsiveness, and in anger he tried to shame his son into a reaction. "What would your mother think if she knew you were screwing up?"

"Who cares?" Bobby shouted back angrily. "She was such a whore!"

In shock and anger, Frank grabbed his son and yelled at him, "Don't you ever speak of your mother that way! How can you say such a thing?"

In fear at his father's rage and pain at his strong grip, the boy blurted out, "I saw her. I saw her fucking that man!" As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he slumped to the bed and began to sob.

In astonishment, Frank sat down on the bed beside his son, put his arm around him and held him as though he were a small child. "It's alright," he kept repeating, trying to calm the boy's obvious anguish.

When Bobby's crying had subsided, Frank lifted his son's head. "It's alright, Bobby. I'm not mad at you. Just tell me what you saw."

His son looked at him tearfully. "It was last fall. You let me ride my bike to school one day, but I forgot my math homework, so I sneaked out at lunch to come home and get it. While I was looking for it in my room, I heard Mom come in. I didn't want her to catch me so I hid. That's when I heard the man's voice."

"What man?" Frank asked, a little too quickly.

"I don't know," Bobby said, "some guy. I never saw him before."

"That's okay," Frank soothed him, "just tell me what happened next."

"They came in here, and then it got quiet, so I thought I could sneak out. But then I heard Mom make a funny sound and I was scared and I looked in and they were on the bed . . . and they were fucking!" The words poured out of his mouth faster and faster as though he was desperate to spit them out, and when he finished he began to cry again.

"Why did she do that, Dad? How could Mom act like such a whore?"

As Frank listened to his son's story, he felt himself go numb. But he had no time to deal with his own emotions; his son needed him.

"I understand, Bobby. It's OK. I'm sorry you had to see that, but I'm glad you told me."

He took his son gently by the shoulders and turned him around to face him. "Sometimes people we love make mistakes or do something we don't like. That doesn't mean we don't love them any more, it just means we don't like what they did. I don't know why your mother would do that, son, but I know she loved you and Lori very much. It's the good things she did that I want you to remember about her."

He held his son and continued to talk to him for a while longer. When he felt that the boy had calmed down sufficiently, he gently urged him to start on his homework while Frank went off to the kitchen to get dinner started. Before Bobby left, Frank enjoined him to say nothing to Lori. The boy promised, and Frank felt fairly comfortable that he would keep the disturbing news from his sister.

The rest of the evening passed without further incident, but once the kids were in bed, Frank's emotions began to erupt. His first reaction was to deny what Bobby had told him: his son had to be mistaken or to have misinterpreted what he saw. But he couldn't maintain that rationalization very long: his son had been too upset by the experience, and, Frank had to admit ruefully, a teenager these days would certainly recognize sex when he saw it.

With that admission, Frank's thoughts turned bitter. How could Merry have betrayed him? He had thought they had a good marriage; how could she have been screwing someone on the side? For that matter, who was the other man, and how long had the affair lasted?

"It's hard enough to lose your wife in a plane crash," he thought in despair. "It's worse to learn you lost her long before that."

Sleep was slow in coming that night, and the next day Frank was in a black mood. It was Tuesday, a day he would normally go to the gym, and after the kids were off to school, he decided to keep his routine. For a while the exercise helped divert his attention, but when he hit the treadmill his mind returned to his wife's infidelity.

"How could Merry have done that -- and in our own bed?" he asked. Somehow the location made the betrayal even worse. "For that matter, how could she know I wouldn't be home?" But the answer hit him immediately: "It must have been one of the days when I went to the gym. I'm such a creature of habit, she would have been pretty certain the house would be empty."

But the answer to that question immediately raised others. "If she planned her little assignation to fit my schedule, that doesn't sound like it was a spur-of-the-moment thing. How often did she meet 'him' there? It couldn't have been every week; her travel schedule would have interfered."

Every question seemed to raise another; each only added to his anguish.

He did his best to act normally around Bobby and Lori, but over the next few days, he continued to suffer. He found himself making a trip to the drugstore to buy antacids; he'd never had stomach problems before. 

Compounding his misery was the lack of anyone to talk to about his discovery. He certainly didn't want to involve his parents or Meredith's -- he knew the news would be devastating to them. Likewise, he didn't want to talk to his friends and risk becoming the subject of gossip in the neighborhood. "And," he thought, "I certainly don't want to risk having any of schoolmates teasing Bobby or Lori." He felt trapped.

He was working at his desk one evening when he noticed Celia Murray's card. "She told me to call her if I had any additional information," he remembered, but in truth he was desperate for any excuse to share his news with someone and get another perspective.

He called the cellphone number she had hand-written on the card, and when he identified himself, Celia seemed pleased to hear from him. But her tone changed to one of concern when he told her he needed to talk with her. "Are Lori and Bobby OK?" she asked anxiously.

"They are, but I'm not," he replied. "Could you possibly have lunch with me tomorrow? This isn't the kind of thing I want to discuss over the phone."

She quickly agreed and suggested a place near the GBI offices where she worked. "It's a quiet little place -- we should be able to talk," she assured him. When he hung up, Frank found himself feeling a bit better at the prospect of unburdening himself.

Celia was waiting in the restaurant when Frank came through the door. She smiled in greeting, but her smile quickly disappeared when she saw the pained expression on his face. After they were seated and had placed their orders, she could stand the suspense no longer.

"For heaven's sake, Frank, what's happened?"

"You told me to let you know if I had any more information about my wife," he said. "Well, I don't know if this is relevant to your investigation, but I just found out that Meredith was cheating on me." As he said that, he was ashamed to feel tears flood his eyes and run down his cheeks.

Celia reached across the table and grabbed his hands. "Oh, Frank, that's horrible! Tell me what happened."

The whole story of the meeting with Bobby's teacher, the confrontation with his son and Bobby's anguished revelation came spilling out, interrupted only by the arrival of their food. Celia listened quietly, letting him tell the story at his own pace. Only when he'd reached the end did she speak. "Poor Bobby," she said, "it's no surprise he's been acting out in school: this must have been eating away at him ever since it happened. And then with her death -- it's no wonder he's been so conflicted."

She'd released Frank's hands when the waitress had brought their order, but now she leaned across the table to reach for him again. "I can hardly imagine what this had done to you, Frank," she said quietly, and Frank could see the sympathy in her eyes. "Was there any indication that something was wrong, Frank? Now that you look back, did you see any clues?" she asked.

"No," he said, "I can't say I saw anything. You know what they say: 'the husband is always the last to know.'" He looked down at his untouched plate for a second, then back up at the woman. "Ever since she got her big promotion, our sex life had fallen off pretty sharply. But between the pressures of her new role and her travel schedule, I figured it was understandable. I didn't like it, but I felt like I had to accept it for our family's sake. She kept telling me things would get better once she move up to the national level, but," he paused, "I guess that wasn't to be."




Lost at Sea



Then he scowled. "What's killing me is I don't have any answers. I don't know who the bastard she was sleeping with was. I don't know when their affair started or how long it had been going on. I don't know if she was in love with the guy or if she was planning to leave me. Worst of all, I don't know why she would do that to me and the kids."

Celia squeezed his hands. "Frank, please listen to me. The truth is that you're not likely to ever get the answers to your questions. You're going to have to let all that go. With her death, none of that matters any more. All you can do is focus on taking care of your family and yourself."

"I know you're right," he said, "but it just hurts so bad to be betrayed that way. It makes me wonder when she stopped loving me."

"No!" Celia said fiercely, "you're wrong. Whatever else may have happened, it's clear that Meredith still cared deeply about you and the kids. Look what you found out at IMC: she bought the maximum life insurance to make sure you all were protected. She maxed out her contributions to the 401K plan to put money away for your future. I don't know what else happened in her life, but those sure look like caring acts to me. "

"Thanks, Celia. I'll try to remember that."

As they stood to leave, he looked down at the table. Neither one of them had touched their food. "I guess I'm not a very good lunch date," he said wryly. 

"Don't worry about that," she replied lightly, "missing a meal or two is probably a good thing for me."

Frank looked down at her slim shape. "It sure looks good to me," he thought. Then he was startled to realize he was thinking about her in a sexual way. "It's been a long time," he told himself ruefully.

As they walked out the door, she took his arm. "Please stay in touch, Frank, and let me know if there's anything I can do. I'd really like to help." Then she reached up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. As she turned away, Frank thought he saw a hint of a blush on her cheeks.

Driving back home, Frank was surprised to find that his mood had lightened. "I guess I really needed to get that off my chest," he told himself.

The next Saturday, Frank had been out in the yard picking up limbs that had fallen during a storm. When he got inside, he saw Lori talking on the telephone. He turned to Bobby, who was standing nearby. "Did someone call?" Frank asked.

"No," Bobby said dismissively, "she's just talking to her new BFF Celia."

Frank was surprised. "Does she call Celia often? And what's a BFF?"

"Oh, Dad," Bobby replied in exasperation, "you're so out of it. BFF is 'best friend forever.'"

Just then, Lori looked up and saw her father. "Daddy, can we ask Celia over for dinner?"

"Let me talk to her," he said, extending his hand toward his daughter. When she handed him the phone, he said, "Hi, Celia, I guess you heard that. Would you like to have dinner with Lori tonight? Bobby and I will be here too."

He heard her melodic laugh followed by a quick acceptance.

"Great," he said, "why don't you get here about 6:00?"

After they'd concluded arrangements, Frank hung up and turned to his daughter. "Well, she's coming," he said. "I hope you're happy."

"Oh, yes, Daddy" she squealed.

"Well, in that case, you and Bobby need to start doing some straightening up around here so she doesn't think we live like pigs."

"Oh, Dad, do I have to?" Bobby complained, but before Frank could reply, the boy turned and started to pick up the clothes he'd left in the den.

"He's still a teenager," Frank thought, "but he seems to be doing better."

As he turned to head for the kitchen, Frank began to consider what dish he could make. "Definitely something better than spaghetti and meatballs," he thought, remembering the first time Celia had eaten with them. He finally decided on a fish dish he considered one of his specialties. He felt confident in his ability to make it, and the kids liked it well enough, which was always a plus.

To do that, he knew he'd have to make a trip to the grocery store. Explaining his errand to Bobby and Lori, he enjoined them to stay in the house till he got back. He found a nice piece of salmon in the seafood department, and then decided to pick up some dessert from the bakery. "I ought to pick up a nice bottle of wine while I'm at it," he thought, and turned his cart down the appropriate aisle. After finding what he wanted, he made a detour to the store's floral department and picked up a bouquet for the table.

On his way home, he began to think about what he was doing. "I'm really going all out on this meal!" he realized in surprise. He finally decided it was because he owed Celia a good meal. "After all, I did ruin her lunch," he told himself.

Celia rang the doorbell promptly at 6:00, and before Frank could get to the door, Lori was already showing her in. To Frank's amazement, even Bobby deigned to present himself, and the teenaged boy actually made a little polite conversation. 

For his part, Frank found himself feeling a bit awkward and inarticulate, but if she noticed, Celia made no sign. Instead she chatted happily with Lori and willingly went with her to see something the girl wanted to show Celia in her room. By the time the two of them reappeared, dinner was almost ready.

The meal proved a great success. Celia was suitably impressed by his cooking skills ("Ooh, a man who can cook. Mother warned me about men like you!" she teased) and was also clearly at ease with his kids, both of whom chattered away to her in response to her questions. 

When dessert was finished, she insisted on joining in the clean-up, and with her help the dishes were soon cleared, rinsed and put in the dishwasher to be run later. At that point, Bobby wandered off to resume a video game he had paused, and Lori wanted to watch a favorite program she had TiVo'd, so the two adults refilled their wine glasses and wandered out to the living room.

"Frank, everything was wonderful," Celia complimented him. "I don't know when I've had such a good time. Thank you so much for asking me."

"I think Lori would never have spoken to me again if I hadn't," Frank laughed, and Celia joined him. "She's a wonderful young lady, and you're lucky to have her," she responded. "And her Dad does pretty well too." Frank felt his face flush.

But then Celia's face took on a more serious look. "Frank, in addition to having a lovely time with you, I'm glad you invited me because there's some information I want to share with you."

Frank caught the new tone in her voice and looked at her curiously.

"This is highly confidential, Frank, but I feel I know you well enough to trust you. And it concerns you, at least indirectly."

Now she definitely had his attention.

"As you know," Celia began, "the GBI had to make a routine investigation before a death certificate could be issued for your wife. And, as you also know, we found nothing to give us any reason not to proceed with the declaration, which was duly issued." 

She took a deep breath and continued. "Naturally, we did the same thing on John Collier, but there we found a few oddities. For one thing, it appears he was in financial trouble after a series of bad investment decisions."

Frank nodded. What Celia said mirrored what Amanda Collier had told him.

"Moreover, in the last few weeks," Celia went on, "the security department at IMC let us know that they have uncovered what appear to be significant irregularities in the Southeastern Region accounting department, the function that John Collier headed. Even more disturbing, they believe they've uncovered a fraudulent invoicing scheme that may have embezzled millions of dollars from IMC, and John Collier appears to have authorized it!"

"Poor Amanda," Frank commented, "she didn't deserve this."

But then he began to process what Celia had told him, and new possibilities began to arise. "Could John Collier have had a hand in the crash?" he asked. "Could it have been a way to cover his tracks?"

When Celia said nothing, Frank's imagination went into high gear. "What if Meredith found out about Collier's scheme? What if he murdered her to silence her and used the plane crash to hide the evidence? Could he still be alive? Maybe he's tucked away in some villa by the sea, laughing at all of us?"

"Slow down, Frank," Celia urged, "you're getting carried away. The most likely scenario is still that the plane went down unexpectedly, just like we've thought all along. If Collier was indeed involved in an embezzling scheme, the crash cut short his plans. We'll investigate all the possibilities, but we can't jump to conclusions, and neither should you."

But it was hard for Frank to turn off his imagination. "You don't think Meredith could have been in on it, do you?" he asked abruptly.

Celia sighed. "It's not impossible," she conceded, "but we don't think it's likely. In the first place, if she were involved, that would mean she was planning in advance to abandon her family. It's unusual for a mother to abandon her children, especially kids their age," she said, gesturing toward the kids' rooms. "Collier, in contrast, had no children, and his wife has indicated that their marriage was on the rocks at the time of his disappearance. Moreover, unlike Collier, Meredith's finances were in good shape, and she did nothing prior to her disappearance that would suggest she was in on any scheme, assuming there was one. In fact, if anything, her actions were just the opposite of someone planning to disappear."

"But all that is just speculation. The one fact we do have," Celia went on, "is that Meredith's plane did go down at sea. 

She had hoped to calm Frank, but as she looked at the man, she could see that he was still upset by her revelations.

"Frank, you've got to promise me that you won't say anything about all this. It's highly confidential, and if word got out, it could jeopardize our investigation. It could also get me fired."

That brought Frank up short; he realized that Celia had taken a risk in confiding in him, and he owed her an obligation to keep quiet. 

"I understand, Celia, and I promise I won't compromise your investigation. But I have to ask: why did you tell me all this?"

She looked at him seriously. "It's highly unlikely, Frank, but there's always the possibility that you might hear something or find out something that could help us shed light on all this. If you do, Frank, promise me you'll contact me right away. No 'Lone Ranger' acts, please."

He returned her look. "I promise, Celia." Then he smiled, "Besides, having to contact you again wouldn't be such a chore."

The smile she gave him seemed to brighten the room.

Shortly after that, Celia had to leave. Before doing so, she made a point of saying goodbye to both Bobby and Lori. Frank noted that Bobby actually paused his game to say good night, a real compliment coming from him. Once again Lori walked her friend to the door, extracting a promise from Celia to call her. But this time, after Lori had hugged her, Celia made a point of leaning back inside the door and bestowing a kiss on Frank's cheek. As she walked to her car, Lori looked up at her father and said, "She likes you, Daddy." 

Frank smiled at his daughter and clasped her to him. "Well, I like her too."

After everyone had turned in for the night and the house had grown quiet, Frank lay in his bed, chewing over what Celia had told him and all the various scenarios he had imagined. "Oh, Merry," he thought, "what did you get yourself into?" Finally, he fell into a restless sleep.

It was a week later while Frank was on his computer when he noticed something unusual. He had been reading about some of his favorite sports teams, and as he got ready to click on his "Falcons" bookmark, he noticed the Facebook icon just above it. On a whim, he clicked it.

Frank was not a Facebook follower; in truth, he rarely ever visited the site. The only reason he had set up an account was to allow him to keep an eye on his children. Both Bobby and Lori loved the social networking site and used it as another way to stay in touch with their friends. 

Frank had initially had no objection, but after reading a couple of scary articles about some of the pitfalls, he set up his own account and insisted that Bobby and Lori "friend" him. He also had them give him their passwords to their pages as well. That way, he reasoned, I'll be able to see any messages or pictures they post, as well as anything their friends send to them. Even more important, he figured Bobby and Lori would know he could monitor them, and that, he hoped, would encourage them to be prudent.

As he logged on to his own page, most of what he saw held little interest for him. But he did notice a "friend request" from someone he had never heard of: Tom Thomason. The name didn't sound familiar, and there was no picture, only a silhouette. When Frank clicked on the name, the stranger's page blandly informed him that personal information was available only to friends.

"Hey, Bobby," he yelled, "do we know a Tom Thomason?"

His son walked into the room and saw that his father was looking at Facebook. "Oh, that guy. Just ignore him, Dad. He's been bugging me to friend him for weeks now. I just delete his requests."

Lori popped into the room just then. "Yeah, he's been trying to get me to friend him too. He's just some Facebook creep."

That was enough to catch Frank's attention: some unknown person not only wanted to make contact with him but also with his children! There were all kinds of scam artists out there, Frank knew, and a few far worse predators as well. He was alarmed, but he didn't want to frighten his children, so all he said was, "You two did exactly the right thing," he assured them. "Don't ever respond to anyone you don't know well over the Internet."

Grasping for ways to protect his family, he had a sudden idea: "I wonder if Celia could help us find out who this Thomason creep is?" He called her at home, and she must have seen his name on Caller I.D. because she answered warmly, "Hi, Frank."

"Hi, Celia, I'm glad I caught you. Is there any chance you could come over? Something odd has come up and I'd like to check it out with you, if you're free."

"It's nothing serious, is it? Bobby and Lori are OK, aren't they?" 

As he reassured her, Frank couldn't help but observe that she seemed as concerned about his children as he was. It gave him a warm feeling.

She told him she'd been working in the yard, but could be over in 45 minutes. To Frank's surprise, almost exactly to the minute her car pulled up to the curb. With Merry, he remembered, you were lucky if she wasn't more than an hour late trying to make her image perfect. But here was Celia, right on time, obviously freshly showered and clad in a casual but attractive outfit, with her hair nicely combed and wearing fresh make-up. It was clear that she'd made a special effort, even in such a short time.  

"You look nice, Celia. You didn't have to get all dressed up for us," he told her.

She squeezed his hand, "Thank you, Frank. I wanted to."

Once she was in the house, Frank called his kids. When they came noisily into the den, he asked them to tell Celia about their would-be Facebook friend. As the official "expert" in the family, Bobby seized the opportunity to show off by rapidly logging on to each of the three of the family's Facebook accounts in turn and retrieving the friend requests from the mysterious Tom Thomason.

After complimenting Bobby on his skill, Celia seated herself in front of the screen and called up all the unread and archived messages, but she wasn't able to uncover any additional information. Finally, she looked up at Bobby and Lori. "The most likely answer is that this is some kind of marketing ploy. If you had accepted the request, you'd probably be receiving all kinds of ads for junk you don't want or offers for imaginary gold from Nigeria. There are some bad people out there, and you should never give any information about yourself to strangers. OK?"

The two kids nodded solemnly, and Frank thought to himself that hearing that message from Celia probably had more impact on them than when he had given it. 

It had grown dark outside while they'd been working at the computer, and Frank knew that his kids would soon be hungry. "Celia, we're probably going to go out to get some dinner in a little while. It won't be anything fancy -- just a family-style restaurant -- but we'd love to have you join us if you can."

Immediately, as Frank had known they would, Lori and even Bobby began to clamor for her to come with them. She laughingly surrendered to the inevitable.

The four of them piled into Frank's sedan and headed off to a casual place not far from their home. As they drove, Celia began asking the two kids about some of what she'd seen posted on their Facebook pages, and soon Lori and Bobby were eagerly talking about their friends and activities. 

As he listened to the conversation, Frank marveled, "Celia probably already knows more about what's going on in Lori's and Bobby's lives than Merry ever did!" He recalled that on the rare occasions before her death when they'd all gone out together, Meredith's conversations revolved mainly around her job. He felt guilty for his disloyalty, but he knew it was true.

The lively conversation continued through dinner and the trip back home, and Frank was pleased when Celia came in the house with them. The kids promptly plopped themselves in front of the tv and asked Celia to come watch with them, but she begged off. "I need to talk with your Dad a while." She took his hand and led him into the living room.

After they were seated, her face grew serious and she said, "I didn't want to alarm Bobby and Lori, but I don't really think those Facebook requests were a marketing ploy. The Bureau has gotten warnings about some identity theft scams, but those normally don't target children. This looks to me like someone is making a concerted effort to get information about your family."

The thought of a threat to his children sent a chill through Frank. "Who could it be? What could they want?"

"I don't know, Frank," she replied. "This doesn't seem to fit any pattern of cyberscam I've seen before."

"What can we do? Should I close their Facebook accounts? Should I keep them off the Net altogether?"

She looked thoughtful. "I don't think that's necessary -- as long as they're careful and don't have any interactions with strangers. And if they get nonsense emails with embedded websites, warn them never to click on the links."

She thought some more and then spoke up. "The trouble with the Internet is that it's so amorphous: you can't tell who you're dealing with or where they are. But it's not quite as opaque as most people think. I've got a friend with the federal government who might be able to help us. He probably can't find out who Tom Thomason is, but he might be able to tell us where he lives. Let me make a phone call on Monday and I'll let you know what I find out."

With that, she arose and went into the den to say goodnight to the two kids. When she returned, Frank walked her to the door, but before he opened it, he hugged her. "You've been like a guardian angel to us," he said earnestly. "I don't know what we would have done without you."

She looked him in the eye for a moment, then gave him a quick kiss on the lips. "I don't know whether I want to be an angel," she said with a wink, "they don't have all that much fun!" Then she turned and walked rapidly to her car, leaving Frank standing there bemused.

True to her word, Celia called Frank late on Monday morning. "Do you know anyone in Palm Beach, Florida?" she asked.

"Not a soul," Frank replied.

"Well, whoever 'Tom Thomason' is, he set up his Facebook account from a zip code that starts with 334, so he's somewhere in Palm Beach County," she said.




Lost at Sea



"I can't imagine why anyone in Palm Beach would be trying to connect with us," Frank said, "but at least he's not anywhere nearby. That's reassuring."

"I agree," Celia said. "Furthermore, we've traced a lot of scams to South Florida, so maybe this really is only some new kind of Internet scheme. Just be sure Bobby and Lori don't have anything to do with those friend requests."

"I will, Celia, and thanks. I feel a lot better about all this."

"I'm so glad I could help, Frank." 

Despite what he had said to Celia, Frank was not reassured at all. On the contrary, he felt as though he and his children were under a continuous assault. First had come the terrible news of Meredith's death, followed by poor Bobby's revelation that his wife had cheated on him. Then he had been told that Merry might have been involved in some crooked business dealings before her death. And now some unknown person was trying to get information on his children. Frank felt like they were under siege, and he decided he was going to fight back.

His first priority was to find the enemy in Palm Beach County and confront him. But how could he do that? A quick check online showed the county had a total population of 1.3 million; searching for "Tom Thomason" would be like looking for a short stick in high grass. Besides, Frank thought, the name was just as likely to be a phony.

Frank's orderly mind continued to wrestle with the problem. Then an idea hit him: "If I can't find Thomason, maybe I can get him to find me." A plan began to take shape in his head. "It's a long shot," he admitted, "but it's all I've got."

The first thing he had to do was to get Bobby and Lori safely out of the way. It was almost time for summer vacation, and that gave Frank an idea. He dialed the number of hiss. "Dad, would you and Mom be interested in having Bobby and Lori come visit for a week? I've got to make a trip out of town during that time, so it would really help me if you could."

When the children's grandfather had gladly agreed and the logistics of their stay were arranged, Frank hung up and immediately called Delta. "I'd like to book a flight to Palm Beach."

His kids were excited to hear about the upcoming visit to their grandparents, but their enthusiasm was dampened when they learned their dad wasn't coming with them. This would be the first time they'd been separated since their mother's death, and the prospect brought back some of the fear of abandonment they'd been dealing with ever since that painful time. Frank hated to cause his children any kind of distress, but he felt he had to do what he had planned, so he managed to persuade them.

The week before their visit was to begin, Frank found himself beset with doubts. "Am I doing the right thing?" he kept asking himself. But despite his uncertainty, the thought of doing nothing was even worse.

His inner turmoil was interrupted briefly by a phone call from Celia, calling to inquire how he and his family were doing. After a chatting a few minutes, her tone of voice changed slightly, and Frank thought she sounded almost shy. "I was wondering if you'd like to get together next week. It's been a while since I've seen you and the kids and . . ." her voice tailed off uncertainly.

"I'd love to do that, Celia, but I'm taking the kids to see their grandparents then. We'll be gone all week."

"Oh," she said, "I understand. Maybe some other time."

"I'd really like that, Celia," he said fervently.

Frank had hated to lie to Celia about his plans, but, he told himself, "at least it was partly true." Besides, he was sure he knew what she would say if he had revealed his true plans. 

When Frank returned home after dropping his children off at hiss' home in the country, he immediately sat down at the family computer. One of the reasons he'd asked Meredith's family to take his kids was that he knew they didn't have a computer. Accordingly, he felt safe in logging on to Lori's Facebook account.

Sure enough, there was a friend request from Tom Thomason. Frank clicked on the Accept option, and quickly received a confirmation that Lori was now friends with the stranger. "If nothing comes of this," Frank thought, "I'll just 'unfriend' him later."

Next came the most difficult part: pretending to be a twelve-year-old girl. He had studied his daughter's previous postings and he thought he could do an acceptable job of emulating her style. "I probably won't fool her friends," he admitted to himself, "but hopefully I can fool Tom Thomason."

He decided his first post should set the stage, so he wrote a brief note mentioning his (Lori's) visit to the country. "Just a little update for her friends," Frank thought, "nothing to make a lurker suspicious."

The next day was when he planned to set the trap. 



Lost at Sea



The divorce was a mere formality. Meredith might no longer be legally dead, but she would be spending the next twelve years of her life in Arrendale State Prison.

International Marketing Corporation, of course, demanded that Frank return not only Meredith's life insurance but also the bulk of her 401K, since it had been funded based on bonuses she had not earned. As an innocent party, Frank might have had a case for keeping some of the funds, but he wanted nothing to do with any portion of the money from his ex-wife.

Instead, he began an urgent search for a job, since his family's savings were all but exhausted. The offer he got from a major aerospace company was a welcome one, not only because it would ensure the means to provide for his family, but also because it meant a relocation across the country. There were too many reminders of Meredith in Atlanta and too many questions from friends and others that he and his children couldn't answer. Finding a new place to live and work seemed like the best solution for all of them. Frank hated to leave the state where he and his children were born, but he was ready to embrace the Pacific Northwest and start a new life.

They'd gotten lucky on the sale of their Atlanta home and were able to buy a nice, if somewhat smaller house in Seattle. Meredith had always wanted to live in a showplace; Frank was happy with something cozier. The kids seemed to like it too, and they were already making friends at their new school. 

He came in off the deck and looked around for his car keys. Finding them, he stuck his head in the kitchen to look for his wife. "Come on, Angel, let's go pick up our kids." Celia smiled happily at him.



Lost At Sea



It was fading into dusk, and a sable pall was descending swiftly over the verdant island and across the water to a smaller, sandy spit jutting from the atoll like an undersea tongue, casting the formerly shimmering swells into a mass of rolling darkness. The soft light of the descending sun reflected warmly off the softly lapping waves, glinting with flecks of blazing orange and red and casting the sea into an endless expanse of fire. It would be a humid summer night, the inky, endless heavens devoid of the heavy cloud cover that had rolled in from the west during the early afternoon, bringing with it a chain of violent rainstorms that blackened the sky and bathed the sea in liquid fury. The air was stifling, seeming to cling to every surface like a smothering shroud, and still thick with gathered condensation from the tempest that had brooded sulkily over the island for the past several hours. The sharp tang of salt was heavy in the air and sweet, pungent bite of ozone could still be detected, left-over traces from the previous cloudburst. The only noises were the gentle crashing of waves, the soft rattling of sand as it was drawn out to sea by the retreating current, and the soft, nocturnal croaks of seabirds as they settled into their hidden roosts for the night. 

Gregory was shocked awake by the freezing surf, which swept over his body, soaked through his water-logged shirt that clung in tatters to his body, and made the raw gashes tracing across his back burn like white-hot fire. Sucking in a startled, rasping breath, he sucked in a mouthful of seawater and immediately choked against it, his lungs burning in consternation and chest constricting painfully. Gasping hoarsely like a hooked fish and spewing soured seawater, he struggled upright into a sitting position, shakily surveying his surroundings. 

The beach was sweeping and curved around the leeward edge of the island until it was lost to sight, a pure-white expanse of sand devoid of shells or seaweed. A perfect canvas of pale beige untouched but for spectral trails left in the sand from the aimless treks of hermit crabs. From the island's jungle wafted the heady fragrance of tropical flowers. He could see thick clusters of heliconia growing below overhanging trees. Their large, waxy blooms grew in vibrant, thorn-like bracts, ablaze among the foliage with bright hues of orange and yellow, perched delicately upon tender stems. Golden flowers the shape and size of swollen wine goblets flared as beacons of flaxen beauty among the thick canopy. 

He suddenly caught sight of a prone figure far off down the beach, draped limply across a shattered length of ship's timber. Staggering upright, almost toppling over into the sand as he was overcome with vertigo, he lurched drunkenly across the beach, slowly regaining the feeling in his legs and growing more confident until he was hurtling across the shore in a sprint. Skidding to a halt as he came upon the body, plowing up a furrow of sand, he cautiously righted himself and was shocked to see a girl.  

She was lying face-up across the wrecked timber, and he was enraptured by her beauty. She had a faintly heart-shaped face, softly curving nose, and thin, defined eyebrows arched delicately over closed eyes. Smooth, tender lips the color of a flushed sunset were parted gently, as if begging to be kissed, while small breasts pressed teasingly against a ragged, sapphire blue dress, firm and shapely under the sodden fabric. Her nipples stood out beneath the drenched cloth, silently provoking him. Curved, womanly hips and thick, creamy thighs peaked mischievously from under her tattered dress, begging him to lift up what was left of her gown and look upon her fully. Blessed with defined, muscled calves, her dense cascade of dark hair flowed across her left shoulder and accented the carnal pull of her face. 

Gregory hesitated for a moment, lost in her beauty, before gently brushing the hair away from her neck to feel for a pulse. But he faltered once again, catching sight of the delicate, smooth skin that awoke some desperate longing within him. He could see her pulse, throbbing softly and steadily, and could discern no serious injuries except for a few minor cuts. 

He shook her gently, and toppled backwards onto his heels as the girl jerked suddenly upright, coughing up seawater. She caught sight of him, and he fell into startlingly bright, deep, brown eyes that sparked with intelligence and something that he couldn't quite place. It was an air of mystery, a sensual daring that taunted him and awoke a predatory, lustful presence within him that roared a challenge of animalistic hunger.

Fighting it back, where it settled uneasily and promised to awake once again, Brandon asked, "Who are you?"

"Who are you?" the girl shot back, defiance briefly obscuring the swirling desire.

"Gregory. I was a sailor aboard ship." He replied, watching warily as she rose shakily to her feet, supporting herself briefly on the shipwrecked timber before standing upright. His eyes raced up and down her trim, athletic figure, noticing for the first time her rounded, sexy ass, firm and curved like a ripened peach. 

"My name is Jane," the girl said, wringing the seawater out of her hair and glancing down in surprise at the ragged remains of her once beautiful dress, which barely concealed her sensuous, womanly figure, "Do you know where we are?"

He shook his head and tore his eyes away from the voluptuous outline of her ass, the hunger returning with a snarl of wanton desire, and stood up, wiping the sand from his sands and turning to watch the rapidly descending sun disappear below the cresting waves. 

Jane felt naked before the young sailor, her dress in drenched tatters and scarcely hiding her body from his searching gaze. She had noticed his interest, his roving eyes that sought to drag away the remaining scraps of her gown and gaze upon her fully. It excited her, to know that he desired her with such carnal hunger and would be so brazen as to appreciate her body. She wanted him to tear off the dress, toss her bodily upon the sand, open her legs with his strong hands, and have his way with her, feeling his cock penetrate her and fill her fully, satisfying every desire she had ever had. It made her wet just to think about it. 

Gregory was not unattractive, in fact, he was quite handsome. He had dark, auburn hair that flared a dull red in the last, glancing rays of sunlight, but mellowed to a soft brown in the encroaching darkness, cut short but still allowed to grow longer on the top. His face was tanned to a light bronze by the sun and burnt by the stinging salt, accented by a strong jaw line that had the slightest suggestion of stubble and soft lips. He had cast off his soaking shirt to reveal a defined stomach and toned, powerful chest, the lean, protruding muscles on his arms picked out in detail by shadow. His fingers were slender, an artist's fingers perhaps, but strong, worked day and night by the hauling of heavy ship lines and lashing. But his eyes, she noticed most of all her eyes, which were bright and scintillated with a predatory gleam that made her stomach drop. They were deep hazel in color, dark and rich like the Mexican coffee her father imported from the Spanish colonies. He seemed to exude a gentle air, but the suggestion of a dangerous power lay coiled like an awaiting serpent below the surface. 

He excited her like no other man she had ever met, and she felt incredibly horny, the carnal desire rippling across her body and setting her afire. She was so wet. 

They settled just within the tree line for the night, with Gregory going off a short way to cut down some saplings to create a crude, but serviceable, shelter covered by verdant palm fronds. They lay side by side, staring up through the cracks in the roof to watch the stars twinkle gently in the darkness.

Jane tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, a move that Brandon tracked casually with his eyes, concealing it with a lazy stretch of his neck. If she noticed she didn't give any sign, but adjusted herself slightly on the ground, the faint outline of her breasts becoming a bit more pronounced against the fabric of her blouse. It made it very hard for him to continue concentrating on the heavens above. He also felt a fluttering knife stab him in the guts, twisting viciously, as she adjusted her long, shapely legs, crossed delicately and drawing the remains of her dress farther up her thigh, smooth and creamy in the pale moonlight. 

Jane bit back a quiet groan of primal desire and took a shuddering breath, allowing a hand crawl cautiously across the ground to settle gently upon her newly exposed thigh. He felt her give a slight shudder, as if she felt the snap of fervent desire run between them. Her hand snaked down and softly drew his hand higher until it was lying against her pussy. 

He didn't allow her the chance to take it back. He pressed down and thrust his pointer finger into her, relishing how wet and prepared she was. He heard her moan in pleasure, but ignored it, curving his finger inside of her and raking gently across her walls. He felt how tight she was and savored the idea of slowly tearing her apart with his cock. He withdrew his finger, hearing her sigh breathily, and she whispered, "That makes me want something thicker, longer. I want you to give it to me."

He quietly murmured in her ear, feeling the predatory lust fully take control, "Soon, but first I want to hear you beg for my cock."

She moaned in longing as his fingers found her clit and began to rub it, first slow and gentle, but then faster and harder as he felt her respond. She began to moan, harder now, desperation and anticipation staining every whimper. Her back arched and she involuntarily spread her legs, opening herself fully and allowing him to have full control over her body. As she drew closer to orgasm, she grabbed her hand and began to squeeze with expectation and pent-up desire. Her legs began to spasm, twitching and jerking, and her breath caught in the back of her throat, hoarse with desire. Then, just as she was approaching orgasm, her body screaming with every fiber to release and relieve the welling pleasure within her, he snatched his fingers away. She gasped in surprise and fury, but was swiftly silenced as he tore the remains of her dress away. 

He reared up and gazed upon her naked body. Arranged like an Aztec sacrifice upon the altar, dark hair flowing out across the ground, her bare breasts shuddered in expectant apprehension, breath catching shakily in her throat and expelled with a rasping hasp. Fingers clenched and unclenched with nervous expectation. Her trembling eyes choked with terror and feral hunger taxed against the gloom, struggling desperately to scent his carnal intentions.

He slowly pulled away his ragged pants, exposing his thick cock. Jane reached forward and grasped his throbbing cock, eyes shining with lust. He watched silently as she bent forward, her rounded, thick ass in the air, and wrapped her hands around his cock below releasing. She traced her fingers down his stomach, watching his cock twinge. 

He didn't feel like waiting though, and growled, "Suck my cock!"

She obeyed, lightly licking him with her tongue, starting at the base of his cock and climbing slowly, circling his full circumference before slowly wrapping her lips around his head, sucking strongly so her cheeks hollowed. She pressed a little harder on his head with her tongue, varying the pressure and making strokes of pleasure shoot up and down his spine. She then enveloped his entire cock, her mouth traveling down around his thick shaft and forming a tight circle, gliding up and down the length of his throbbing cock. Gregory reached down and grasped her hair, gripping it harder and pulling slightly, causing her to stroke faster, traveling the full depth of his cock, from base to the tip of his head, her lips tight and sucking the entire time. He pushed her mouth down deeper onto his cock, and she followed his lead, pushing even further until the head of his cock touched the back of her throat. He groaned and she began sucking harder, letting his cock escape her lips each time, and moaned with the pleasure of knowing she was doing her job. She couldn't contain her lust, sighing into his cock, and he felt her breath tickle her head, causing his hips to buckle unbidden. She felt the motion and it urged her to new lengths, eager, the desire swelling, wanting him and his cock. 

Just as he was nearing the edge, he dragged her away and spun her around so her thick, sexy ass was exposed to him. He felt her pussy and was pleased to see she was wet, almost dripping, just begging to be used. He teased her briefly, running his head over her clit, making her moan in desire and wiggle her ass imperceptibly, begging him to fuck her. He smiled at how eager and obedient she was, giving him her body so willingly and allowing him full control. He penetrated her, putting in just the head, before gripping her hips with strong hands and slowly thrusting his entire cock into her. She was tight against his cock, but so ready and wet that he easily tore her apart. She moaned in a mix of pain and desire, and when he paused she said, "No don't stop. I want to take it all for you. I want you to fuck me!"

A fire erupted within him and he suddenly thrust his whole, thick cock into her. Her body rocked forward and his hands gripped her and pulled her back so she felt every inch. She cried out and dissolved into muffled moans as he began thrusting her faster and faster, his cock sliding in and out of her with ease. He slapped her ass, felt her take it and cry out with pleasure, as he pounded her harder. Her body was now his to use as he wished, and he fucked her for what seemed like hours. She was so good, remaining tight around his cock and dripping wet. She screamed in carnal bliss as he had his way with her body. It felt so good to fulfill her calling, be so satisfyingly filled by his cock, knowing how much pleasure she gave him. 

Eventually, her body gave out from his cock, collapsing limply against the ground, but he dragged her upright and showed her no mercy, continuing to fuck her, refusing to give her rest until he was finished. And she took it, every inch, reveling in it. Soon, he felt himself close to coming. He slapped her ass again, felt her jerk upright with the shock and tighten against his cock, and he raked his nails down her back. She began to moan and her breathing grew more rapid and desperate, as if begging him to, as she felt his cock begin to throb and switch deep inside her. She wanted it so badly. 

He sped up, thrusting into her remorselessly and she screamed in overwhelming pleasure. With the final thrust, he gripped her hips and pulled her entire body onto his cock, feeling every inch bury itself within her, and he came. He collapsed against her, spasming deep inside her, and she moaned quietly as she felt the aftershocks travel through her body. He thrusted into her a few more times even though his cock was sensitive before drawing out, Jane shuddering as his cock withdrew.

Both of them collapsed upon the sand, spent. It looked as though the island wasn't going to be so bad.