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The Cliff

By: MorbidAngelRen



It was overcast when Wesley, Gene, and myself left our little apartment on a trip through the woods. The full moon was barley giving off any light though all the dark blue clouds that drifted over our heads. It was my first trip to the cliff, a place that Wesley and Gene knew well and went to many times to drink and talk about “guy” things. Tonight it was my turn to see the wonders of this place and its so-called beauty.

Wesley packed up a backpack with a blanket, a slingshot, a pack of cigarettes, and his utility knife. Gene through in his a twelve pack of beer and a few other odds and ends and we were off. I must say that the first ten minutes of our midnight hike was not that bad. We went around a baseball field and over a few stumps, but nothing real strenuous. It was when we reached the opening to the woods that they both told me that there was no trail; just a bunch of woods, fallen trees, branches, and briars.

After walking twenty minutes though vines and briars and over holes and trees we finally came to somewhat of a clearing in the sky where above us we could see power lines and the most beautiful night sky. It was so quiet that you could even hear the owls. We walked another minute of so through small brush and briars until coming upon the cliff.

The cliff was about fifty feet high from my own judgment and looked over an area where there were two sets of train tracks. I must admit it was a beautiful sight to the eyes and music to the ears.

Wesley spread out the blanket and Gene popped a couple beers and we sat there talking. It’s amazing what you talk about when there is absolutely nothing to talk about. We must have went on about twenty or more subjects. Well, I should say that they went on about twenty or more subjects. I just lay there under that deep blue velvet sky and watched it like it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

It grew hot and I took off my zipper shirt and sat there in my bra and pants and enjoyed the quiet conversation and that lovely sky. Once in a while one of the guys would let out a disgusting burp, but I would forgive them and go on with what I was doing.

Every once in a while a train would pass on the tracks and we’d bet which track it would be on and which side it would come from. I got it right three times out of five. 

Wesley and I kissed and cuddled and he braided my hair and we were the always passionate couple that we are. We wrestled some and teased here and there and I guess that Gene saw that we were both getting quite in the mood because he grabbed his stuff up and told us to take some private time and he’d meet us at the top of the hill.

He walked off moments later and Wesley and I were left alone on the blanket snuggling like a cute couple. The night sky shown down upon us just enough to where we could see each other. If there is a more romantic place in nature than this place I would like to know. It was so secluded, so quiet, so perfect for us that it made me shiver.

Wesley kissed me gently and pulled me to him. After a couple minutes of kissing we began with the teasing. Wesley freed my breasts from my bra and began to suck on my already cold and erect nipples. His mouth was so warm that the warmth went right down into my heart and soul. His hands were flames heating up my entire body.

I reached over rubbing the growing bulge in his pants. Wesley did not have a large cock, but he did not have a small one either. It was perfect for me and that is all I have to say about it. Soon, I freed his cock from his baggy jeans and was pulling it into my mouth. Wesley, as turned on as he was, began fucking my mouth like crazy thrusting his cock into my warm wet mouth and down into my throat.

His fingers unzipped and unbuttoned my pants and his fingers roamed to my throbbing clit. I was already so most that he looked down at me saying, “Well, someone’s already wet.” I giggled some at his bluntness and began to moan soon after when he trusted his fingers into my wet pussy hole. His hands felt so good on me that I did not want him to stop, but he freed his cock from my mouth, moved his hand, and stripped me down to nothing but my socks.

He rolled over on top of me and rammed his hard cock into me. The quiet night echoed my moans and he fucked me like crazy. He was taking me for all I was worth and I completely loved it. 

After his cock was soaked and lubed with my juices he proceeded to rub the head of his cock at my tiny anal opening. I moaned at him wanting him to fuck me there. He knew I loved it when he got rough and fucked me in the ass and he teased me almost making me beg him to do it.

His cock slammed into my ass and the quiet night was once again filled with the sounds of my screams and moans. His cock felt so great that I could have had it there for hours and still screamed for more. He fucked me so well that my entire body trembled. He held my hands down rapping me in a sense it was so rough and hard.

He was going to come and he slid out of my ass and back into my wet pussy and began to thrust like a mad man. At just that time a train began by and his intenseness grew. If it was a passenger train I know they got a show because as it passed he filled me with his sweet come and I came all over his cock. 

He laid there on top of me for a few moments before pulling his pants back up and sitting down beside me as I stood up and dressed myself again putting on my long sleeved zipper shirt again. We had a cigarette and he had another beer and then we packed up and made our way through the woods and met up with Gene; both of us with unmistakable smiles on our faces.

“Have a good time?” Gene asked with one of those cocky smiles on his face. I just giggle and continued to walk on as the two of them lagged behind me. Once home I climbed into the shower and bathed myself free of the dirt and other things from outside and then slid naked into bed. As for Wesley, he stayed over at Gene’s apartment for a couple hours and had a few beers before retiring around four in the morning only to crawl in bed beside me and wake me up in a very nice way.

We had completely wonderful sex again and then fell asleep in each other’s arms. I must say that the joys of the cliff will always be remembered and that I hope to go back there again someday so that Wesley and I can share time together under the stars and moon with each other in the pure love that we have.

The Cliff House Curse



Note to Reader: This story is not a formulaic stroker, it's a fictionalized account of real life events based on investigative reporting published in the Coast Weekly in 2002. It's written as a first person account because I spent several summers working on a construction crew down at Big Sur, which made the telling of this story that much more relevant to my own life. Plus, I did grow up with a younger sister. I used some of my more unusual experiences with her as a guide for fleshing out the details not contained in the news reports.

The Cliff House was built by some rich Hollywood mogul back in the late 50's. Unfortunately, he ended up throwing his lovely wife off the third floor deck. It's a hundred-and-fifty feet to the rocks below, so, needless to say, she did not survive. Each successive owner has suffered a similar untimely demise -- suicide, car going off the cliff, overdose -- and that's how the Cliff House Curse was born.

The current owners, Redcloud and Zephyr, were unconcerned about the curse, saying it could be appeased with love and purity. In pursuit of that end, they put up their god's eyes hanging in the windows, and their wind chimes tinkling in the trees, turning the place into a reasonable facsimile of a 60's hippie heaven.

Redcloud is not a Native American, but he is a nationally known artist. His specialty is erotic studies. They're all the rage in places like New York City and LA. He's used my sister Caroline as a model a few times. Models get paid $100 per day, plus they get to keep one of the preliminary charcoal sketches he does prior to committing the work to canvas. Caroline recommended me for this gig. She knew I was off for the summer, wasting my time picking up odd jobs here and there until junior college resumed in the fall.

Parking for the Cliff House is a little dirt pullout on Highway One. there's no way of knowing you're in the right place, other than the small numbers on the mailbox. There's no Cliff House sign, no flag waving (flags are big in California right now) just the rusty gate with an oversized padlock on the chain. Even when it's locked, anyone can walk around either side as long as they don't mind getting stickers in their shoelaces.

******

Day One: I lock up my Ford F-150 and hop the gate. As I trudge down the dirt road, the Cliff House suddenly appears from around the bend. It's majestic, a three-story monstrosity of redwood and glass clinging to the rocky coast just south of Nepenthe. It's not a Frank Lloyd Wright, but with the jutting angles and the copper roof over the entry way, it could be. 

Catching my breath at the bottom of the hill, I shove my hair back, hitch up my jeans, and rap lightly on the massive redwood slab door. In a matter of moments, it creaks open.

"Pete!" he beams, "You're Caroline's brother. I can see the resemblance." He shakes my hand vigorously. He's got the Robert Redford features and a glistening Colgate smile. Must've had his teeth capped. Men his age don't have glistening Colgate smiles, they have dull yellow ones. "Glad you could make it," he sputters, his fish oil breath hanging in the air like wet laundry. "Your aura's looking outstanding." He places a gnarly hand on my shoulder and guides me into his wooden castle.

The place takes your breath away. The main floor must have at least twenty-four foot ceilings, with a loft on one side and a stained glass window on the other. Off to the right is a sunken living room with a cinematic ocean view and a huge stone fireplace. His gaudy artwork hangs everywhere; breasts, pussies, legs spread wide open, asses in the air. You can almost smell the wet fragrance of sex just by looking at them.

"The studio's this way," he announces, pointing to the stairs, but I don't notice. I'm staring at this huge painting on the wall directly opposite the front door. It's more realistic than the other stuff; big bronze breasts, flowing auburn hair, deep green eyes, perfect pink pussy with oversized red labia all spread open like a stepped-on tiger lilly.

"You like this piece?" he asks, grinning.

"Yeah.' I stammer.

"That's Zephyr, my wife. She's really something, isn't she?" 

"Oh, sorry," I mumble, looking at my shoes, hoping Redcloud doesn't mind young guys like me ogling his hot wife. I had heard she was once a Penthouse Pet, but it's a little awkward lusting over a Penthouse Pet right in front of her husband. He chuckles, and it makes me wonder what kind of pervert wants everyone to see his wife naked? Not that I'm complaining, but... 

"The studio's upstairs," he says, "follow me." 

 Whatever dude. I'm down with your naked wife. No problem, bro.

I chase him up the spiral staircase, watching his gray ponytail bob behind him. He appears to be in pretty good shape for a man in his fifties. The spring in his step is cat-like, and his shoulders are broad and beefy, not all hunched up like you'd expect from an artist. 

We reach the top of the stairs and once again, I'm overwhelmed by the rustic opulence of the studio. It has high open beam ceilings like an A-frame, with a sliding glass door to the deck. There's a black futon couch, a couple of antique floor lamps, several directors chairs, and of course, art supplies everywhere. I'm guessing he's working with acrylics, since there's no smell of turpentine. There is the faintest odor of incense, mixed with the scent of freshly oiled wood and the the smell of stripper cologne, probably coming from the beautiful twenty-something hippie chick perched on a stool.

"You'll be posing with Monique today," he says, a gleam in his beady eyes. "Have you two met?" 

Monique is wearing nothing but a towel draped carelessly across her lap. She's long and lanky, doe-eyed and alluring, dark skinned and exotic, not Hispanic, not Oriental, not African, something in between. Her smile, with those big pouty lips, is so warm, so wet, I'm reduced to a bumbling idiot in about two seconds. She reaches out to shake my hand and her round, brown breasts quiver deliciously.

"Pleased to meet you Monique." I mumble, "I'm Pete, Caroline's brother." I try to look her in the eye, but those little brown nipples have captured my gaze, much like a bright light in the darkness captures the moths.

"Yeah," Monique drawls, in her exotic accent, "she told me all about you." 

She lets go of my hand and relaxes on her stool. I can see her brown curly bush sticking up above the edge of her white towel. It's a nice contrast, the brown against and the white. That's why I'm staring at it.

"You can change over there, Pete." Redcloud points to a wicker screen off to the side of the room. 

Monique's clothes are draped across the top; jeans, sweatshirt, and a purple thong. I get behind the screen and start to strip. The thong is hanging right in my face. I catch the faintest whiff of vanilla pussy. I pull my shorts off, and my dick springs up, looking for where that luscious smell is coming from, no doubt. Oh great. I take a few deep breaths, trying to calm down, but that only makes the vanilla pussy smell stronger. Completely mortified, I wrap the towel around my waist and stride bravely out into the middle of the room. Redcloud surveys me like a buyer at an auction. A slave auction.

"Perfect!" he exclaims. He clasps his hands together and looks over his spectacles at me, pleased with my sinewy physique. I'm one of those guys who was born to be a Greek God, with the narrow waist and wide shoulders, and it doesn't take much work for me to stay in shape. "How old are you, Pete?"

"Twenty" I answer, a little nervously. I'm already starting to sweat. I hope I don't smell. 

"You've seen a naked woman before right?" 

I can tell he's getting a kick out of asking the question. "I think I can handle it" I reply, sauntering up next to my brown goddess, who looks like she's bored out of her mind.

"OK," Redcloud pronounces, in a profoundly professorial tone, "what we're going for today is sort of a Yin and Yang kind of a thing. Give me your towels and we'll set up the scene." 

We oblige and suddenly, Monique and I are naked, side by side, like a couple of school kids in PE class waiting for our showers. I feel my dick shrinking. I feel like I have to take a crap. 

"Monique," Redcloud intones, "you face me on the stool, one knee up, one foot on the floor." 

He gets her situated while I try not to stare. God she's gorgeous. Almost as tall as me, and, I'd guess, about twenty, with that clear, luminous skin, and that angular, athletic look of unspoiled youth.

"Now Pete, you'll be facing away from me on your stool, with your arm wrapped around Monique's waist." 

I gladly comply, my hand slithering softly across my new girlfriend's perfect skin. She let's out a quiet giggle. 

Ticklish?

"Now," Redcloud says, "you want to look at each other, but actually, you'll be looking past each other and down at the floor so we can accentuate the alienation and the intimacy at the same time." 

I happily stare down at Monique's chest, trying to estimate the size of her small brown nipples. I'm going with seven-eighths of an inch. I could be more precise, but I didn't bring my tape measure.

"Can you hold that for a while?" Redcloud asks

"Sure," I volunteer. 

Monique nods her head in agreement. 

As I listen to the squeaking of Redcloud's chalk on the sketch pad, I can smell her cinnamon breath. Between the cinnamon and the vanilla, and the faintest hint of her stripper cologne (why is it that all strippers smell the same?) I'm luxuriating in a virtual cornucopia of odors. This is the life, I tell ya.

"I don't know." Redcloud's voice breaks the eerie silence. "There's something missing." He strides up to us and removes my hand from Monique's waist. "Like this," he says, cupping my hand under her left breast. 

I like the weight of her boob. It's like it floats there on her chest, but it needs my hand to keep it in place. 

Redcloud takes a step back, eyeing us intently. "Monique, you need to open up a little bit. Show us you're a woman. Do you mind?"

"Oh no," she sighs, like a Hollywood actress when the costume department adjusts her pretty red gown, "That's fine." 

We both watch as Redcloud spreads her legs apart. He ponders the scene for a moment, and then gets down on one knee and gently spreads her labia out a little. She lets out a little gasp when he touches her, but she doesn't protest. By the time he's done, my dick is about three-quarters hard, and I thank God I'm facing away from him. Of course, Monique is totally aware of what's going on between my legs. She gives me a little smirk. 

I try to smile back, but she just rolls her eyes. But really, who's winning here? I do, after all, have my hand on her boob. The sound of footsteps on the stairs bursts the bubble of my fantasy, and I look to my left, right into the eyes of Zephyr, his ex-Penthouse Pet wife.

"Phone call Hon," she says to her hubby. "I told him you were working, but he insisted. Said to tell you it's Christenson, from New York." She shrugs her shoulders, but it looks like it's a real chore, what with those gorgeous tits weighing her down. 

Oh Fuck, what a babe. Sorry Monique, you're history. "Pete, right?" Zephyr asks, "Caroline's brother?" Her hips go Ba Dum! Ba Dum! as she walks over to me. Her tits jiggle like a pair of frisky ferrets fighting to escape from her little spaghetti strap summer dress. She may be middle-aged, but her body doesn't know it. Or her face either; Scandinavian looking, high cheekbones, big lower lip, nose job nose. She glances approvingly at my almost-hard-on as her hand lands birdlike on my thigh. "So glad you could finally make it down here."

I gasp quietly, as my dick stands up straight and tall to meet her.

"Take five," Redcloud announces, "I'll be right back." He hustles down the stairs, and Zephyr blocks his view of my embarrassing condition.

"Would you two like some tea?" she asks, her hand sliding nonchalantly down inside my leg. Instantly, my dick grows another inch.

"Sure," Monique answers from somewhere far far away. "Uh..., Pete?" she intones, shooting me a disgusted look. Apparently, I'm still cupping her boob. She removes my sweaty hand from her tit and gets up to stretch.

"Sorry," I stammer, glued to my stool, about twenty seconds away from ejaculation. 

"Caroline was right," Zephyr smiles approvingly, "you are built." Her hand leaves my leg and traces around my pecks and down the middle of my stomach. "I'll bet there's at least a couple of broken hearts lurking in your past, huh?" Her fingers end up down in my pubic hair, and I have to pinch down hard to keep from squirting. I start to stammer again, and she laughs a little quiet laugh, like it's just between the two of us. "You want regular tea? Green tea? Mint?" 

"Regular's fine," I answer bravely, but my voice sounds odd, like a little kid trying to act like a grown up.

"And you Monique?"

The bronze beauty is standing at the window, staring out at the Pacific. Her perfect round butt -- the very same one I was worshipping like a Holy Deity a few minutes ago -- suddenly seems kind of inadequate compared to the bombshell standing next to me.

"Same," she looks over her shoulder at us, her pert little breast silhouetted against the blue horizon. Too bad it's so small. Too bad she'll never be a Penthouse Pet, like Zephyr. Just then, Redcloud bounds back up the stairs.

"How about you Hon?" Zephyr asks her husband, who is heading for his easel. "Want some tea?" He ignores her. 

What a shit.

"OK," she acknowledges his telepathic answer. "Let me know when it's break time honey, and I'll bring the tea up." 

Zephyr Ba Dum Ba Dums down the stairs and then Monique and I are back to our position. Redcloud works in silence. He's already told us that conversation is impossible while he's creating his art. It breaks his concentration. 

Just as my erection subsides he claps his hands together and proclaims "I think I've got it!" Acting a little overly pleased with himself, he brings the sketch over. "Zephyr Hon," he calls out, glancing towards the stairs, "we're ready now." His velvety baritone voice floats across the room like a message from God. I hold the sketch in my lap and marvel at his rendition of our nakedness. It's really pretty good, especially the detail in Monique's crotch. 

Zephyr glides in with a tray of cups. She grabs my abandoned towel and throws it in my lap and hands me my tea. Then she's staring at our naked sketch. "Oh yeah honey," she says enthusiastically to her asshole husband, "these look great. You're so talented." She slides her arm around her old man's waist and gives him a peck on the cheek.

"You two might want to stretch a little bit," he says, ignoring his wife's affection. "We're going to be going for two hours straight, if you can handle it." He raises his bushy eyebrows, like this is a big challenge for us. Monique sets down her tea and wanders out onto the deck to limber up. 

I sit there with my mouth hanging open as she stands on one leg and pulls the other one up behind her head like a demented ballerina. No wonder she didn't put her towel on. It wouldn't stay if she did. Then she bends down till her hair is dangling on the redwood deck, and the pink of her pussy pokes out between the cheeks of her bubble butt.

"A real beauty, huh?" Zephyr startles me out of my stupor and. clutz that I am, I spill some tea on my bare leg. "Is this your first modeling session?" she asks, as she takes the corner of my towel and dabs at my thigh.

"Yeah" I look down sheepishly.

"I thought so. You need to get up and move around a little. Two hours is a long time to sit still." She takes my tea and I get up, wrap my towel so it won't come loose, and head out to the deck. Monique lays her ankle up on the railing and bends her head down to her knee, and Zephyr looks over, startled. "Careful honey," she says, "that board's about to fall off, and it's a long way down." 

"Oh, OK." Monique goes over to the other side of the deck and continues her routine. All this stretching is similar to what my sister used to do when she was a gymnast, only Monique is much more graceful. My sister would just look like a duck doing this stuff, but Monique looks like a swan, so elegant, so graceful.

Redcloud seems to be brooding about something. "I don't know if I'm going to get this whole thing done today. If I don't, which one of you can come back tomorrow?" He studies Monique as she stretches her legs wide apart on the deck.

"I'm supposed to be in Carmel tomorrow," she answers, squinting over at him.

"How about you Pete?" He looks at me like he's disappointed that he doesn't get to leer at this dark-skinned goddess for another day.

"Sure, I can come back." 

Zephyr gives me an approving glance, and I move around, pretending to do what models do when they're on break, stretching this way and that, trying to catch another glimpse of Monique's luscious little pink pussy.

The waves lap at the rocks below us, and I'm suddenly extremely envious of this old hippie couple living this idyllic life out here in Never Never land. I'll be going back to college in a few weeks, and they'll be going back to the hot tub. Oh well, maybe someday I'll have my own place down here. In fact, maybe I'll buy this one after they throw each others possessions into the sea and get a divorce, which is what happens to everyone who lives here.

"Okay kids," Redcould announces, "back to work." He slaps me on the back and I gulp down my tea. 

"Can you eat vegetarian for lunch?" Zephyr asks, looking over her shoulder at me as she heads for the stairs. 

"Sure," I smile back. I watch the back side of her right tit peeking out of her dress as she bounces down the stairs. I sigh.

"Positions, please," Redcloud announces. 

I wonder if he's noticed that I'm infatuated with his wife. Five minutes and I feel like I've known her forever. I realize I'm going to have to concentrate on Monique so he doesn't get jealous. Unless maybe Monique is his girlfriend? Oh man, this is complicated. But then my hand is cupping Monique's boob, and suddenly it's all very simple. 

The two hours take an eternity, and when Redcloud finally tells us it's lunch time, I can hardly move. I feel Monique's hands on my shoulders. "Feeling a little stiff, Pete?" she asks. I groan as she kneads the kinks out of my back. Her touch is firm and clinical, and there's no way for it to be misconstrued. 

"Thanks," I moan when she's finished. "Want me to do you?" I look over my shoulder at her, but she's already walking across the room, wrapping her towel around her waist. 

"No thanks, I'm fine," she says, disappearing down the stairs like an angel receding into the mist of a dream. 

I creak off my stool, grab my towel, and follow weakly, like an eighty-year-old man trying to keep up with the grandkids. I ache all over. No wonder models are such prima-donnas. It's hard work.

Zephyr's got the massive table set for four, with big ceramic goblets, mismatched pottery plates, and a bouquet of weeds for the centerpiece. Redcloud is at the head of the table, and there's a place set to his left. Just as I'm trying to figure out where I'm supposed to sit, Monique comes around the corner, still topless and gorgeous, and plops down in the chair next to him. Figuring he's going to want Zephyr next to him, I sit down at the other end. 

Everybody's looking out the plate glass windows at the ridiculously blue ocean and the wispy white clouds out on the horizon. It's quiet, except for the faint tinkling of the wind chimes out on the porch. I'm wondering if conversation ruins Redcloud's appetite the way it ruins his concentration for painting. A seagull flies by out the window. 

Zephyr appears with salad plates, and when she puts mine down, I can't help but peek down the front of her dress. She catches my eye and smiles. "Swiss cheese and avocado OK for everybody?" She gathers her answer from the silence, and in another minute she joins us at the table, sitting between Redcloud and me. 




The Cliff House Curse



"This is really good," I say to no one as I wolf down my whole grain, sprouted, rabbit food sandwich.

"Thank you, Pete" Zephyr says, laying her hand on my thigh for a few seconds. Then she goes back to munching on her salad. She doesn't have a sandwich. No wonder she's still got a figure. She's starving herself. 

The table remains eerily quiet. Redcloud seems like he's million miles away, and Monique is staring out to sea like she's getting really tired of being so beautiful, in such a beautiful setting, on such a beautiful day. Her thick black hair is bunched up in a ponytail, and when she swings her head around you expect something to get knocked off of a shelf.

"Monique," I say, trying desperately to make conversation. "Caroline tells me you got a scholarship?" 

She turns to stare at me like I'm speaking a language she doesn't understand.

"At Stanford?" I continue, glancing at her perfect breasts.

"What?" she asks, annoyed. She folds her arms over her chest and looks back out at the sea.

"College is for idiots and fools," Redcloud announces. "College is just a tool of the Establishment. They think if they can channel the creativity of the masses, they can control the masses." He stares at Monique, but she's not taking the bait. Obviously miffed, he grabs his sandwich and stomps out onto the deck, closing the door behind him. I hear myself chewing. I notice that Monique must be cold.

"You're going to school, aren't you Pete?" Zephyr asks cheerfully, resting her hand on my thigh again.

"Yeah, engineering." 

I'm usually proud of my chosen vocation, but in this setting, it has a hollow ring to it. Fortunately, her hand stays on my thigh, reassuring me that I haven't violated the Hippie Code by attending college.

"That's great. You'll be able to write your own ticket when you're done." She turns towards me and her hand slides further up my leg. "Maybe you'll be designing a new bridge down here one day, and you can come back and visit?" She sounds so sincere, so earnest. 

"Sure," I smile, and her hand squeezes my leg gently. Then she gets up to clear the table and I get another peek at the intense jiggling of her tits. I let out a little sigh as her incensey fragrance wafts across my face. Then she's off to the kitchen, leaving me a prisoner of Monique's charms. 

She leans back in her chair and stretches her hands up over her head, her small round tits turning into two perfect ovals dotted a little above the center by her pointed nipples. It's too much. I'm overdosing on breasts. I feel my dick growing. 

Finally, Monique sets down her mismatched silverware and gets up. "Need some help, Zephyr?" she asks as her towel slips off. When she bends over to pick it up, I get that fleeting peek of pink I was hoping for. I stare at my food, seeing nothing but that juicy slit between her legs. Monique wanders off, and I'm alone at the table.

"Which way to the bathroom?" I ask, hoping my hard-on doesn't materialize again and prove to Zephyr that, yes indeed, I really am a sick pervert. I feel her hand on my shoulder.

"Follow me, pardner." 

I gulp. Did she say "pervert" or "pardner"? I trail behind her like a lost puppy, watching her ass swaying it's way down the hall. Ba Dum! Ba Bum! She's got a sweet ass. It's the kind of ass you want to wake up with. For the rest of your life. We snake around a couple of potted palms, and then we're surrounded by ferns and moss. The bathroom is alive with glistening greenery.

"Oh wow, this is cool," I say, like an idiot. There's a jacuzzi tub, and a shower with redwood two-by-two's on the floor, and the whole place is open, with plate glass windows looking out at the sea. There's a gold sink, and an ornate Victorian mirror, and incense holders and candles abound. I remove my towel to piss, and she stands at the mirror, brushing her already brushed hair. 

"It's almost like being outside, isn't it?" she asks, watching me in the mirror.

"Yeah," I mumble, as I finish my business and reach to flush the toilet.

"Wait a second," she exclaims, "we try not to waist water." She scurries over and pulls up her dress, confirming that the "no underwear" clause of the Hippie Code is still being enforced. I stare at her finely manicured bush, which is nothing more than a little fluffy tuft of hair, sort of like the under-the-lip beards the drug dealers on TV wear. 

Holding her dress up around her waist, (for my benefit?) she tinkles a minuscule amount of pee into the bowl. Then she spreads her legs to wipe and I notice that below her tuft, she's totally hairless. I wrap my towel around my waist, hoping my dick will behave itself for at least another minute or two. I try not to watch her but it's impossible. 

She catches my eye in the mirror and smiles. "You're kind of shy, aren't you Peter?"

"I guess so." I shrug my shoulders and watch as she gets up off the toilet and lets go of her dress. It hangs up on her curvy ass, and she has to do a little shimmy to free it. Of course, the little shimmy also causes her boobs to jiggle uncontrollably, forcing me to disguise another long, anguished sigh. 

She flashes me an amused grin. "That's one of the reasons Redcloud put that painting up by the front door. To break the ice, reveal the truth." She looks right into my eyes, and I get the feeling that I'm the guy she was posing for when Redcloud painted her, all naked and exposed. "The human body is nothing to be ashamed of," she says, sort of like a high school teacher in biology class. "It's our Temple, and our Savior, and if we don't accept it, then how can we possible live a complete life?" 

She slides her hand around my waist, and shoves her breast against my arm as she guides me back to the dining room. At this point, I am no longer walking, I am floating on air. She smells even better than Monique: Lilacs, sandalwood, patchouli, tangy vanilla. Christ, it's almost too much to bear.

"Uh oh," she whispers, "looks like you're late." The table is deserted, so I dash up the stairs to find Monique naked on her stool, her labia all spread open, and Redcloud fussing with his palette.

We go for another two hours and I'm about to die when Redcloud finally announces it's break time. Zephyr brings the tea up, and this time she rubs my back. Her touch is heavenly; soft, like a lover, and strong, like a mother, and I'm so grateful, I want to kiss her feet, touch her hair, put her breasts in my mouth. I open my eyes with a start, feeling her body pressed up against my back and her hands on my chest. 

"Don't worry," she whispers, "Redcloud's downstairs on the phone." 

I watch Monique outside, stretching seductively. I watch Zephyr's hands sliding down my stomach towards my growing penis, and I realize I must've died and gone to Heaven. Zephyr's hands flutter past my groin and onto my thighs, her fingertips just grazing my balls. I lean my head back into her flowing hair and sigh.

"You need to walk around a little bit," she whispers, "so you don't get stiff." But it's too late. I'm already stiff. I turn, to tell her I love her, to beg her to run away with me, but she's already going Ba Dum! Ba Dum! down the stairs.

The final two hours are excruciating, and when we're finally done, Redcloud seems disappointed. "This is shit! Utter shit!" He storms down the stairs in a huff.

Monique peels my hand off her tit. "Don't worry, he's always like that." She pats my ass, ambles over to her clothes and dresses in front of the screen. It isn't till she has to find her shoes that she actually goes behind it, where you'd think normal people would go to get dressed. But she's not normal. In fact, nobody around here is normal.

Zephyr strides in, wearing a different dress, sort of a sari kind of thing. The way it wraps around her chest and shoves her left boob up, I'm convinced she wore it just for me. She's got her hair piled up and held together with a wood stick pin, (chopsticks?)and she's got little gold hoop earrings glittering in the afternoon light. "Can you walk?" She asks cheerfully, as she hands me my towel.

"I don't know." I know I can lie down, if you'd be interested in that ma'am. 

"See you next time," Monique chirps, picking up the charcoal sketch with the perfect crotch detail and hustling towards the stairs.

"Bye hon," Zephyr says, grabbing her by the arm and giving her a little peck on the cheek. As the brown goddess recedes down the stairs, Zephyr turns to me and smiles. "Want to jump in the hot tub for a few minutes?" She lays her hand on my thigh for about the eighth time today. "That'll help get the kinks out."

"Sure," I say, wobbling to my feet. 

"I'll bet you never thought sitting still would be such hard work, did you?"

"No, I'm amazed." Hard work? Pun intended? Never mind. We don't need to go there.

She hands me my towel and I follow her down the stairs. "The stretching really helps," she says, her incense fragrance trailing behind her like a cat's tail flicking back and forth.

"So, you've done a little modeling too, huh?" I ask, not interested in her answer so much as interested in her right tit, which looks like it might jiggle right out of her dress.

"You might say that." 

We reach the bottom of the stairs, but, alas, her tit doesn't fall out. "Is it true you were in Penthouse." I ask, aspiring swinger that I am.

"Several times," she answers proudly. "I was the first girl to open it up, let em see everything." She laughs, "and now they all do it."

"I guess that makes you a Pioneer on the Sexual Frontier, huh?"

She stops and turns around to look at me and I get this sinking feeling that I've blown it. 

"That's good Peter, I like that. A Pioneer on the Sexual Frontier." She says it with a deep voice, like an announcer. 

Pleased with the impressiveness of my clever banter, I let her take my hand and we walk out onto the deck off the living room. The view out here is magnificent. You can see down the coast, almost all the way to San Simion, or peer up north towards the Little Sur lighthouse. You can smell the ocean, you can feel the breeze like a promise of new things to come, and you understand why people flock to the California coast to escape from their real lives. 

"It's beautiful isn't it?" she asks.

"No shit." I watch her perfect profile as she gazes out on the ocean. I wonder if I should kiss her now. 

"As soon as we laid eyes on this place, we knew we had to have it. Getting out of L.A. has really rejuvenated our marriage. Man, what a pit that place was." 

I guess maybe this isn't the time to kiss her. "So you two've been married for a while, huh?"

"We've been married forever. We're soul-mates." She looks at me solemnly, squeezes my hand, and then scampers off. "I'll turn on the bubbles," she says, bounding ahead of me. 

A moment later I hear the whirring of the pump as the hot tub churns to life. I wobble around a little lattice fence just in time to see her unwrapping her sari. Her left tit comes out, and then the right, and then her hips, her legs, and then she's naked in all her California tan glory. My jaw drops. The painting on the wall doesn't do her justice. She's ten times more lovely in person. The way her waist tapers in, and her round smooth hips swoop out, and her full breasts hang majestically off her chest, she's almost too beautiful to look at. 

"Well?" she asks, cocking her head, "are you getting in, or are you just going to stand there and stare?" She smirks at me, hands on her hips, daring me to keep looking. I can't help it. I feel like a soldier visiting a topless bar for the first time. 

She slips into the water slowly, oohing and aahing till she's up to her neck. "Come on, don't be afraid," she giggles with pleasure. I sit down on the redwood deck and dip my feet in, marveling at the way her breasts float, bobbing like buoys in the bay. She slides her hands up inside my legs. "Come on."

"What about your husband?" I ask, nervous.

"Don't worry about him. He's running Monique home, and then he'll probably stop off for a drink." Her hands slide up under my towel. "These custom order paintings drive him nuts, but the money's too good to pass up." My towel mysteriously comes loose. "He'll be gone for at least an hour. Just relax. You put in a long day" 

Suddenly she grabs my hands and jerks me into the water, laughing like a kid. "Isn't that better?" she giggles. She floats to the other side of the tub, her tits bobbing merrily up out of the water.

"Yeah." I let out a big sigh and the heat takes over. She slips around behind me and starts rubbing my shoulders. "That's great," I moan. I close my eyes and succumb to the feeling of her fingers kneading my aching muscles. Her hands slide around to my chest, and I feel her breasts pressing up against my back. A minute later her bush is tickling my butt. 

"Zephyr?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you do this for all your models?"

She chuckles. "Only the ones who need it."

"Was it that obvious?"

"All you young guys need it. It's only natural. You have to give your body what it requires if you want to stay healthy, right?" She floats around in front of me and lets her legs wrap loosely around my hips.

"What about Redcloud?" I ask, wondering what the hell is going on. Are they soul mates with an open marriage? 

"What about him?" She lets her tits bob up against my chest.

"Does he know you and me are...?" My stiff dick tickles up into the space between her legs.

"He knows everything, and yet, he knows nothing." 

My dick is now nestled between the crack of her ass. The shaft may even be rubbing her cunt. It's hard to tell. 

"How old are you Peter?"

"Twenty," I gasp as her fingers flutter across my chest.

"Have you ever been in love?" Her hips start to move, ever so slightly, back and forth and I determine that, yes, the shaft of my cock is rubbing her pussy. "I mean real love. Not just sleeping with somebody, but wanting to die for somebody?" She doesn't wait for my answer. "You find out over the years that love is like a living thing. You have to feed it, care for it. It has it's moods. It has its good days. It has its bad days. Sometimes, when it's weak, you have to borrow love from other places to make it strong again." 

I take my cue and slide my hands up under her heavy breasts, gently lifting them, pondering the possibility of taking a big brown nipple in my mouth. She intercepts my fingers and pins my arms back against the ledge of the tub, politely, of course. 

"Just relax," she whispers. She lets her tits bounce around on my chest while she's getting my dick settled back into it's proper position up against her slit. "Are you safe, Peter? No aids or herpes?" 

"I've only been with three women, and they were all safe." I lie. Only two women, actually.

She slides her hands down on my hips and presses just a little. I feel the head of my dick nudge into a soft spot. She stops and lets it settle there for a moment. I feel her pussy lips twitch, and then they grab the head of my penis, like one of those fish that sucks the side of the aquarium. She's got her mouth hanging open, gasping quietly. I want to ram it in so bad, but she''s holding my hips firmly, and I can't move. All I can do is sit there and quiver.

"Do you like that?" she whispers, as my throbbing head slowly works its way inside her.

"Yeah," I warble, like a virgin getting his first fuck. It feels like the head of my dick is almost all the way inside her when the phone rings. 

She freezes. Three rings and it stops. Five seconds go by. Ten seconds. She relaxes, lets out a little sigh, and goes back to work. It rings again. She grunts "shit" and my dick pops out. "It's probably RC," she sighs. "That's the signal, three rings, silence, then three rings again." She pulls herself out of the tub, flops down on the deck, and grabs the cordless phone.

"Oh hi honey," she says in a lilting voice. She sounds pleasant, unlike me, who is dying here in the tub with a little unfinished business waving up and down under the water. "Yeah, he's still here." 

Great, it's Redcloud, checking up on his horny, love-deprived wife. She leans back, and her right boob slides across her chest. "A little while ago." She looks at me and shrugs her shoulders. "No! That sucks. What a bummer!" 

Yeah, I'd have to agree with that. 

"OK, honey." 

I look out at the ocean, but it's not as majestic a sight as it was a few minutes ago. Now it just looks small and cheap, like a faded postcard on an old dusty rack in some shitty roadside gas station.

"Well, you know how it is," she intones into the phone. She dangles her foot in the water and starts swinging it back and forth like she's getting impatient. "No! Really?" I reach for her foot, but she's not paying attention, and before I can grab it and stick her toes into my mouth, she pulls it back out. "OK Hon, see you in a few." 

She puts the phone down and turns to me sadly. "That was your sister. Her car's still in the shop and she needs a ride to work. They told her if she's late one more time they're going to fire her ass." She gets up and grabs her sari. "You can stay and soak for a while if you want. Just lock the door on your way out." 

I watch as her tan ass disappears around the corner. Ba Dum! Ba Dum! Suddenly, her Ba Dum! Ba Dum! has a tawdry ring to it. I feel sick. Lovesick. Jesus. Why does my little sister always have to screw things up? Seems like she has a real knack for making sure I don't get laid. 

Dejected, heartbroken, I sit there in the tub waiting for Zephyr to do whatever it is she has to do before leaving. Thankfully, my hard-on is gone, which makes the angst I'm feeling a little less debilitating. Finally, I crawl out of the hot tub, grab my towel, and shuffle back to the house, hanging my head like a homeless puppy.

I shuffle through the back door just in time to see Zephyr gliding across the sunken living room. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow?" I ask, hopefully.

"You better come back tomorrow." She pauses by the front door. "Redcloud really likes you." She waits a beat, giving me an innocent look, "and so do I." Then she turns to open the door.

"Um, Zephyr," I croak nervously, "would you like to, um, maybe, you know, meet me for a drink sometime, somewhere?"

"Peter," she says, sarcastically, "I'm Married!" She gives me a teasing look, turns to wave goodbye, and then she's gone.

I make my way up the stairs to the studio and pull my clothes on. I feel like shit. My muscles ache. My heart aches. I need a beer. I take a peek at Redcloud's masterpiece before I leave. It's pretty good. Not because of me, I'm not even finished yet, but because of Monique. God what a babe. The way her pink labia are spread out, it's like you can almost smell it. And, judging from her purple thong, it smells damn nice, too. I start thinking maybe I'm chasing the wrong woman here. Maybe Monique's a better bet. At least she's not married. I realize I must be going crazy. Breast overload. Pussy poisoning. Somebody should've warned me.

I stumble up the driveway in a daze. The Cliff House. They really ought to be calling it the CLIT House. I get my truck started and turn on the radio. I should know better -- I mean besides falling in love with a married woman, I should know better about turning on the radio. All you get down here is static, but I do it anyway. There's something comforting about the static. It's telling me that I'm not crazy after all. It's telling me that the static in Zephyr's life is Redcloud, and if it wasn't for him, she'd be free to live the life she really wanted, free to be my lover, and sit at home in my little duplex apartment in Santa Cruz while I'm in school. Yeah, right.

I head up the coast, thinking maybe I'll stop at Woody's Place for a burger and a couple of beers. Then I remember that I'm broke. I never got my hundred bucks from Redcloud. I pull into the lot at the River Inn and call Rob, a guy I work with down here. I ask him if I can crash at his place tonight, and if he's got anything to eat.




The Cliff House Curse



******

Day two: This time Zephyr meets me at the door. She's wearing a little silk robe, and I know what she's got on underneath. NOTHING!. Her hair is all combed and flowing like a renaissance queen, and she smells all flowery and incensey at the the same time. 

"You're posing with me today," she says, batting her eyelashes, "but remember, no fooling around." She furrows her brow, trying to be serious, and I wonder if this is where I'm supposed to kiss her. Just as I'm about to pucker, Redcloud appears out of thin air.

"Hey Pete, your aura's really over the top today." He shakes my hand like he's in a hurry to get started. "This piece is coming along better than I thought." 

I'm guessing, because of his insanely good mood, he must've gotten laid this morning, and that's the reason Zephyr smells so nice, because she had to take a shower afterwards, and now I'm really jealous. 

"I think we'll have this wrapped up by noon" he says, smiling his old hippie smile, and I forgive him for fucking my sweetheart. After all, she is his wife, even though he's not worthy of her. "Shall we?" He motions towards the stairs, and we traipse to our destiny, although his destiny might be down on the rocks where the Hollywood starlet died. I haven't decided yet.

"You know the drill," he says, looking at his palette. I hide behind the screen to strip and watch as Zephyr lets her robe fall off her shoulders. She hangs it on a chair and assumes Monique's position. God she's gorgeous. She makes Monique seem like a real lightweight. Yep, Zephyr's all woman. Just the right ratio of curves to bulges. A perfect feat of engineering. 

I hold my towel in front of me until my back is turned, and then it lands on the chair. Reaching around Zephyr's waist to cup her boob, I notice she's quite a bit softer than Monique, but I'm not complaining, just marveling at her perfection.

"Up a little Pete" Redcloud commands. "You know, with your hand?" I lift her breast gently, and it's quite a bit heavier than Monique's was. She lets out a quiet sigh.

Redcloud starts working, and my dick starts rising and falling like the waves out on the ocean, only a lot slower. Erect. Not erect. Erect. Not erect. I'm wondering what I'm going to do when we take a break and he heads for the stairs and sees me in all my purple glory. Lucky for me, break time comes when the tide is out, and I'm not busted. 

We go through the break routine, he runs downstairs, she rubs my back, I get a hard-on, and she makes sure Redcloud doesn't see it when he returns. Could a woman possibly be any more perfect than Zephyr? I don't think so.

About an hour and a half, and six erections later he announces "We're done. What do you think?" Zephyr hops off her stool, grabs her robe, and tosses me my towel.

"I don't look like that, do I?" she frowns, staring at the canvas. "I didn't realize how little my tits were." She lifts her tits up and looks at them in disbelief. Christ, she can almost put them in her mouth. Redcloud rolls his eyes.

"Come on, take a look Pete." he say as he pulls his wife's robe closed. Greedy bastard. Wants those tits all to himself huh? Those are the kind of tits that should be passed around like a joint of really good pot. Don't bogart those tits, my friend! 

"What do you think?" Redcould asks.

You don't want to know what I think, you tit-hogging asshole. "Wow." Wow, it is utter shit, just like you said yesterday, but Monique's cunt came out pretty good.

"Yeah Pete," Zephyr says, batting her eyes at me, "you look really good on canvas. Don't you think so Hon?" 

Redcloud nods thoughtfully, like he's not real sure yet. "We'll have to do this again sometime," he says, pulling out his fancy hippie wallet with the yin and yang symbols on it. He hands me two wrinkled hundreds. "Keep the change." He smiles at me, like I'm supposed to thank him for his generosity. 

Asshole.

"You're staying for lunch, right?" Zephyr asks.

"Yeah, stay for lunch Pete," the asshole says, "you deserve it." He slaps me on the back. "You worked your ass off these last two days."

"I was surprised at how sore I was last night" I say, stupidly. They clomp down the stairs together, laughing and having a grand old time, and I pull my pants on, fuming like the jealous idiot that I've become. It's high school all over again, and I'm ready to kick some ass.

I take my time getting dressed, just in case they need to have a quickie before I come down. Sure enough, I'm sitting at the dining table a good ten minutes before they come traipsing up the stairs from the lower level, where I assume their bedroom must be. He's smiling like a pig in shit, and her hair's all wet around her neck, like she's been sweating, and she's changed into a tiny denim mini dress and a really sheer, snug, low cut white tank top, with, of course, NO BRA. You can see her big brown silver dollar-sized nipples through the fabric without even trying. 

As she walks by I notice a wet streak trickling down the inside of her thigh. I feel my heart break into a million little pieces, all different colors like the paint on Redcloud's palette. But I smile good-naturedly, and when they light a joint and pass it to me, I take a hit, not wanting to appear lame or uncool. I mean, after all, I am sitting here with the coolest couple in Big Sur. I should be honored, not heartbroken and pissed. 

Zephyr sets our salads down and I take the high road (since I'm high) and I look out the window while her tits jiggle like jello in my face.

"So Pete, college eh?" Redcloud asks, peering at me skeptically.

"Yeah. Engineering," I say, my voice oddly disconnected from my body. I have to think really hard before I speak. This is pretty good pot. "You're not real thrilled with college, huh?"

He laughs. "Oh, you're talking about yesterday? I just said that to see if I could get a rise out of Monique. I like to see what people are made of." He looks at me, and it feels like he's looking right through me. Must be the pot, right? I've got nothing to be paranoid about. Not me. Not unless he's got this place under video surveillance. 

Oh fuck!

"What are you made of Pete?" he asks, like a wise-ass game show host. "Do you want to fuck my wife?" He looks at me, smiling, or is he sneering? All of a sudden my mouth is really dry, I reach for my water, and knock it over. 

"Actually sir, um...." 

Zephyr throws a kitchen towel on my spill, and continues picking at her salad, pretending I'm not even there. 

"Actually sir, um, I was thinking more along the lines of fucking Monique."

"What?' he gasps, incredulous, "you don't think my wife is attractive?"

"Of course she's attractive."

"Well, what is it then? Is she too old?" He glares at me. "She's in her sexual prime, you know. You'd be a fool not to want to fuck my wife. Look at this ass."

She's just getting up to go fetch the rabbit food sandwiches when he grabs her hair and yanks her head down, bending her over with her butt cheeks right in front of me. "Have you ever seen a more splendid ass than this?" He pulls her skirt up, and her puffy pink cunt is indeed quite inviting, although a little sloppy looking, what with that long stream of jizz running down her leg, and the sticky wetness between her ass cheeks. But he doesn't even look, because he's been staring at this cunt for the last what, ten, fifteen years?

"Yes sir," I admit, "she does have a nice ass, but I still don't want to fuck her. No, offense, it's just that, that...."

"What is it? Speak up boy! You can tell me." He lets go of her hair and she straightens up, shoving her boobs back into her tiny top, since they've fallen out.

"It's cause she's your wife, sir"

"That's the only reason? Cause she's my WIFE? What a WIMP! You're PITIFUL! You've got to learn to live a little. Take a chance! Go for the gold!" He turns, grabs his wife's wrist and jerks her closer. "How many men have you fucked since we've been married?" 

"Come on RC," she moans, "he's only twenty." She looks at me helplessly, and, for the first time, I start thinking maybe we're in deep shit here.

"DAMMIT! TELL HIM!" He yanks her wrist around behind her back and gives it a twist.

"No, please, don't" she whimpers, cringing, obviously in pain.

"A couple hundred? Isn't that about right? A COUPLE HUNDRED?" He shoves her across the kitchen and she lands on her ass, knees up to her chest, her lower lip quivering.

I spring into action, amazing myself with my bravado. "Alright motherfucker! Nobody shoves a woman around in front of me!" I grab him by the front of the shirt, drag him out of his chair, and slam him against the wall. Before I have a chance to smash his face in, he starts laughing like a maniac. Next thing I know Zephyr's laughing too, clinging to me, trying to pull me off her old man. "What the fuck?" I turn him loose and he collapses on the floor, giggling like an idiot. 

"He was testing you Peter," Zephyr blurts, spitting saliva into my ear. "He was testing you!" She's laughing so hard she's got tears running down her face. "And you passed!"

"Just wanted to see what you were made of," Redcloud blubbers. It takes him a few moments to catch his breath. Then he sits up on the floor. "That was excellent, Peter, excellent. Here, help me up." He reaches for my hand and I pull him up. "Yes, I think you'll do fine." He takes my hand and shakes it firmly. "Just wanted to see what you were made of." He starts laughing again and then we all sit down for lunch, as if this sort of thing is perfectly normal. 

"Uh, darling," he addresses his wife, pointing at her right boob. She looks down, startled, and tucks it back into her miniature tank top.

"Sorry" She looks at him sheepishly.

"That's alright dear," he says lovingly. He pats her hand and then they proceed to munch at their salads while I stare in disbelief, wondering if I just imagined all this, or if it actually happened. I guess I shouldn't have smoked that pot. Rich people's pot. I should've known better.

"Come on Peter, eat your food," Redlcloud says, seeming genuinely concerned about my welfare. "You can't keep that marvelous body in shape if you don't eat." He stabs a cucumber slice with his fork and ponders it for a moment. "That reminds me," he says, looking over at me fondly, "can you come back on Thursday? We ran out of film for the old polaroid, and I'd like to get your photo in my file, for future referrals."

"Sure," I stammer, wondering why he doesn't have a digital camera. I suppose if you're a counter-culture rebel, a digital camera would be some sort of cop out, so I dismiss the thought and return to the conversation, which seems to be occurring in a very far away place. Damn that pot. 

"I have to stop by and help my buddy raise some roof beams in the morning," I say, watching as the words float out of my mouth like drunk butterflies. "I could stop by after that." I'm afraid to look at Zephyr, so I keep staring at my food.

"Later?" he says, an air of disappointment in his voice. "Well, I guess that'll work. You'll be here won't you dear?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Zephyr says, getting up to fetch the sandwiches.

"Great. You've got a real classic look about you Pete. I've got a feeling you're going to be one of my most requested models. You and Monique. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He flashes me a sly grin and I nod in agreement, afraid to talk. I'd hate to set him off again. What a lunatic.

The lovebirds are acting like they're going to have to go downstairs and fuck again, so after a quick and strangely silent lunch, I let myself out. The Cliff House. What a fucking looney bin.

******

Day three: I speed down the coast drumming the dashboard, checking my hair in the rear view mirror. My big chance has finally arrived, my opportunity to consummate my love for Zephyr. I've got my truck going 90 on the straight-aways, which is something it hasn't done since I was in high school. I round the last corner and my heart sinks. There's a beat up Sentra parked in the Cliff House pullout, which means Zephyr's got company. Shit!

I climb out of my truck and realize that my sister has a car like that. What kind of rotten luck is this? She's been partying with Zephyr and Redcloud a lot lately, but why did she have to pick today? She started out as a model for the old man, and now she's like part of the family. I'll admit it's done her a world of good. No more of those black moods, those Jekyll and Hyde scenes where the innocent little angel turns into a sinister monster in the blink of an eye.

Caroline was a good kid, conscientious, caring, maybe a little homely looking, but not evil. I think because of her "plainness" Dad might have spoiled her a little bit. He was always giving in to her so that he wouldn't have to deal with one of her temper tantrums. She could really get into it, crying herself into a frenzy till you'd think she was going to gag on her tongue and stop breathing. It got scary sometimes, and the results even landed an innocent man in jail on false rape charges.

The trouble started in high school, when every other girl except Caroline had tits. The taunting and the tormenting got to her, and kind of turned her sour for a while. With no friends to turn to, she got into swimming and gymnastics. I suppose it was a way to prove herself, and maybe build up her chest a little, and also learn how to kick some ass if it became necessary. And, unfortunately, in her mind, it did.

The first incident came about when a couple of boys were hassling her on the way home from school, asking her if she'd go out on a date with them. One of them was trying to pull her T-shirt up. Sis lost her temper and grabbed his fingers, bending them backwards till they broke. She'd been getting pretty good on the parallel bars, and her hands were really strong. She called it the Grip of Steel. So, while this guy's fingers were being broken by the Grip of Steel, the other boy jumped in. As if in a Jackie Chan movie, she took him out with a quick fist to the throat that dropped him like a sack of potatoes. I think she amazed herself at how easy it was to take charge of the situation. After that, she went through life like a speed boat leaving a trail of battered and broken bodies in its wake. 

There was Priscilla Collins, the big-titted cheerleader who snagged the one and only boy Caroline was ever interested in. Priscilla ended up having a mysterious accident. Apparently, she fell down a flight of concrete stairs in the library. She survived, but her broken elbow never healed right, leaving her looking like a chicken when she walked.

Then there was Becky, a friend of Sis who became more than a friend, if you know what I mean. Even I figured out what was going on between them in her room after school, and I didn't have a clue back in those days. Things were going great till Becky met a guy she really liked, and decided she wasn't a lesbian after all. Of course, this was devastating to my sister. It was even more devastating when Becky suffered a horrible swimming accident at the diving pool. Apparently her swim suit got snagged on the drain grate down at the bottom, and even though my sister was able to free her, Becky never recovered. She remains in a vegetative state to this day. 

Then there was Mr. Fletcher, Caroline's senior year counselor. He had to call Sis into his office one day to talk to her about a fight she'd instigated during lunch. Unfortunately for him, Caroline was in an extremely bad mood, and when she emerged from his office a ten minutes later, crying hysterically, claiming Mr. Fletcher had "done things" to her, he got arrested. After his conviction, Sis got a two-million dollar settlement. 

Yes, sis could go a little haywire now and then, but ever since she'd been hanging out with Zephyr and Redcloud, waiting to turn twenty-one so she could collect her money, she had mellowed out considerably. 

So I'm down there at the bottom of the Cliff House driveway, wondering if my wacky sister is ruining my date with Zephyr by accident, or on purpose? Surely she couldn't have known about it, so I decide it's just a coincidence, and I tell myself she's probably leaving anyway, heading up to her job at Nepenthe.

I knock on the door and wait. I knock on the door again and wait. I decide that fate has dealt me a bad hand, and I turn around to leave when Zephyr finally opens the door and peeks out.

"Pete?" She looks sleepy, confused, smelling like wine and pot. And pussy?

"I was supposed to come over after you got a new roll of film, for the photo shoot. Remember?" 

She scrunches up her nose, trying to think. "That's right," she smiles, opening the door. She yells over her shoulder "it's Pete, honey." She pulls her robe shut and invites me in. "We were out on the deck" she says with a faraway look in her eyes. "In the hot tub," she adds, as an afterthought. "Here." She hands me a half smoked joint and I follow her into the sunken living room. 

She stops abruptly, and points to a sketch on the wall. "Did you see this one? It's RC's first wife." I turn to look at it, and I see out of the corner of my eye that she's kicking something under the couch. I peer at the drawing of his first wife, wondering what it was Zephyr didn't want me to see that's now under the couch. She slides her arm in mine and asks "what do you think?"

"I think you're a ten times more happening chick than his ex."

"Oh Pete, you're so sweet." She gives me a little peck on the cheek, and the pussy smell coming off her face is overpowering. But in a good way.

"You've got company today?" I ask, knowing the answer. "Carrie's here." She smiles brightly.

"Cool" I say, taking the joint.

"Want some wine?" she asks, politely. 

"Sure" I say, watching as she veers unsteadily into the kitchen. I stand by the dining table, and my eyes wander back into the living room. There's a pair of white panties on the floor by the window, a T-shirt under the piano bench, cut-offs on the chair, and a bra hanging from a potted plant. Looks like somebody's been having fun around here. 

She hands me a glass of red wine and scurries off. "I'll be in the bathroom, OK?"

A moment later I hear the two of them giggling down the hall. I wander out to the living room, sit down on the white leather couch, and take another hit of their kick ass dope. Jesus, what am I doing? I need to put this damn thing out. I look around for an ashtray and spot an open tube of KY jelly curled up on the driftwood coffee table. Hmmm. 

I reach under the couch and my fingers touch something that feels vaguely familiar. I pull out a double ended dildo. The thing's at least a foot long, all slimy on the ends. I can smell it from arms length, and I start to get the picture. Then I hear someone padding down the hall so I put the dildo back. No need to upset them. If they don't want me to know they're fucking, then fine, I won't know.

"Pete, what's going on?" Caroline stumbles in, holding a yellow towel in front of her, and sits down across from me on the rainbow futon. She looks confused.

"You OK sis?" 

"I think I lost my clothes," she giggles, looking around the room. Obviously she's got a pretty good buzz on. "We were in the hot tub" she says unconvincingly. She spies her wine glass on the floor, reaches down for it, and her boob falls out. She's got those high, wide, perky breasts, the kind you might see on a swimmer. She takes a big swig of the wine and leans back, eyes closed, peaceful, boob hanging out. 

She's built a lot like me, narrow waist, broad, firm shoulders, and I suppose if a guy wasn't her big brother he'd think she was okay looking, especially wearing nothing but a towel. Her short dark hair and wide, plain face give her that girl-jock look, only now, girl-jock takes on a whole new meaning. Girl Dildo Operator is more like it.




The Cliff House Curse



She opens her eyes as if she just woke up, probably thinking that we're supposed to be having some kind of conversation. She must've smoked some pretty good weed. Duh. I'm holding it in my hand. I pass her the joint and she smiles, takes a hit, and sets it down. I wait for her to exhale. I'm hoping she doesn't, because the way it makes her chest expand when she takes a puff, it looks like her breasts are going to pop. Shit, I must be high.

She gulps some more wine, rolling it around in her mouth before she swallows it, like it helps her to think. It is a fact that when you smoke really good dope, you do need to think quite hard to make sense out of an ordinary conversation. Finally, it appears that she's figured out what she wants to say. 

"You and Monique look good together. Is she your new girlfriend?"

"If only," I say, pondering my fucked up situation: I'm in love with Zephyr, Zephyr is fucking my little sister, my little sister is so high, she's okay with showing me her tits, and Redcloud is a freaking maniac. What a perfect way to cap off the summer. 

Succumbing to the futility of it all, I surrender to the music on the stereo. God it's awesome. The more I listen, the more profound it becomes. It's like you can see it, almost. The spooky flute, and the weird Caribbean rhythms, it's like the music is coming out of someone's soul. Someone with a weird twisted past. Someone with too many dark disturbing secrets, and no one to tell them to. 

My sister lays back on the futon, uncrosses her legs, and her pink slit peeks out from under her towel. Shit. I can't help but notice that she's shaved herself down there, just like Zephyr. My wiener stirs ominously in my jeans. I knew I shouldn't have smoked that grass. She scrunches her butt forward, trying to get comfortable, and her leg opens a bit more, allowing her smooth labia to spread out and breath. Is she doing this on purpose? Does she want me to lick it? Maybe she's just as perverted as I am. I feel relieved, and ashamed at the same time. 

I stare at her red pussy for a while. It seems to be pulsating with the music. Thankfully, the song ends, and then the next one is slow and floaty, like that big ominous fog bank rolling in from out over the ocean. This happens a lot in Big Sur. A perfect morning turns into a perfectly gray afternoon, but you can't complain. The fog usually lifts just before sunset, and the day is redeemed. 

I sit there pondering the impending gray when my sister pulls the towel up and starts drying her hair again. Looking at her, I'm mesmerized by her perfect woman's body. She's filled out nicely since her gymnastics days. Her small sweet breasts finally have some heft to them, and they're perfectly symmetrical. None of this left one's bigger shit. And her smooth stomach and her meaty thighs seem so lickable. And that little pink pussy. Shit, it looks like it's glistening. God, she looks like she needs to get fucked. Bad. And not by a damned rubber dildo, either. I feel my dick poke out the side of my jockeys.

The cloud song on the stereo starts to turn into a could-burst, and I settle back and close my eyes, visualizing the music again. I see a sky of white breasts, and a tree with pink pussies growing on it. Damn, this is good pot.

Zephyr's voice startles me out of my fantasy. "Aren't we a lively bunch," she says, standing in the middle of the living room, hands on her hips, looking at us disapprovingly. Her little blue robe clings to her curves perfectly. It's open down to her waist, where she's got it tied with a matching sash. She sits down next to my sister, who's curled up on the rainbow futon with her towel in her lap. "Are you okay honey?" Caroline sits up, nods sleepily, and collapses contentedly on Zephyr's chest. "Still haven't found your clothes, huh?" 

"Ooops." She gathers her rumpled towel, and manages to cover up one boob and half a bush.

"Listen, Hon," Zephyr says, pulling her robe back together, since my sister accidentally knocked her right boob out, "Peter and I have to go upstairs and do his photo shoot, but we'll be right back, and then we'll go find your clothes, OK?"

"I wanna come, I wanna come," my sister whines, sitting bolt upright, wide awake, acting like an obnoxious twelve year-old.

"I don't know Carrie, he's gonna be naked."

"That's OK," she replies, straightening her towel out. "I'm nineteen. That's old enough to see a naked man, isn't it?"

Zephyr looks at me and I shrug my shoulders. Caroline jumps up and tugs at my shirt sleeve, her exposed white breasts bobbing anxiously in my face. "Please Petey, please, Can I come? Please?" 

"Sure sis." I pat her on her bare shoulder. "Just try to behave." I pull her towel up for her and catch another whiff of that woman smell that's hanging like a cloud in the room.

"Let's go kiddo," Zephyr says, dragging Caroline by the elbow towards the stairs. I follow carefully, trying not to spill my wine. It's probably a hundred bucks a bottle, and I'd hate to waste it. I stare fondly at the parade ahead of me. God what a sight: Zephyr's clingy robe swaying and jiggling with each step, (Ba Dum! Ba Dum!) and my sister's white ass, with her peachy pinkness peeking back at me from between her legs.

"Hey sis, nice butt." 

"Eeek!" she squeals, looking over her shoulder at me, and then down at her naked body. Frantically, she switches her towel around to cover her butt. When we reach the top of the stairs, she's got it wrapped around her waist. She flounces over to a director's chair, covering her tits with her hands. "Pervert," she mutters, as her legs flop open and her snatch peeks out. She never was very good at wearing skirts. Seems like she was always showing her underwear to the relatives. 

"You can get ready now Pete." Zephyr motions towards the wicker changing screen, so I grab a towel off the stool and disappear. I come out a minute later, with my dick twitching under the towel, ready for action.

"On the stool," Zephyr says, "only this time you'll be facing this way." She gingerly lifts the towel away, and Caroline screams dramatically at the sight of my heavy cock. She covers her face with her hands, but I can see she's peeking through her fingers. I flip her off. She returns the endearing gesture. 

"Knee up" Zephyr commands, pulling my leg forward and tucking my dick behind it. "We're going for a PG rating on this one." She searches for the perfect angle, and ends up down on one knee, giving me a little peek up her robe. I smile wistfully. Click.

"Now, turn around, for the butt shot." She gets me situated, grabbing my ass and twisting it this way and that way till she's satisfied. "Profile please." I gaze out to sea, proudly. I feel like a statue. A statue with a big dick. "Look at this honey, we've got our own Greek God." Click.

"Isn't he a little skinny to be a Greek God?" my sister whines.

"It's an attitude honey." She points at my crotch, which is hidden from my sister's view, and raises her eyebrows. 

"What about me?" my loopy sister blurts, "I can be a Greek God too." She jumps up and joins us, with her towel draped over her shoulder like a toga. She strikes a God-like pose. The Goddess of Whiners? "Take our picture together, please?" She takes her towel off and flings it dramatically on the chair. "But no peeking, big brother" she admonishes me as I stare at her compact rear end.

"How about back to back" Zephyr suggests. "That's pretty harmless." I feel the cheeks of Caroline's ass rub up against mine, and I marvel at their smoothness. 

"Oooh, that tickles." Sis reaches back between us and gives me a goose.

"Alright you two, play nice," Zephyr commands, taking Caroline's hand and placing it on the front of my hip. "There you go. That's good honey. Putting your arm back like that makes your tits look real nice." As I hear the click of the camera, I can't help but crane my neck over my shoulder to get a look. The vision of my sister's tits looking real nice intrigues me. Zephyr stops me. "No peeking!" 

"Is he peeking?" my sister whines. "I'm not going to do this if he's peeking." Her butt cheeks disconnect from mine. Her hand slides off of my hip. All because I peeked. Why am I so stupid? I know why. Because I'm a man. She grabs Zephyr and whispers in her ear. They look back at me slyly . "Uh, Pete," Zephyr says tentatively, "Carrie says that you're peeking and that we can't continue unless you're both wearing blindfolds."

"Isn't that going to look dumb in the photo?" I ask. "A man and a woman wearing blindfolds?"

"On the contrary," Zephyr explains, "it might look really hot, especially since you're brother and sister. When people know that they'll understand why you're wearing blindfolds." She doesn't even wait for me to consent, she just dashes behind the screen and reappears with two silk scarfs in her hand, a red one and a blue one.

"I want red!" my sister blurts, grabbing it and holding it up to her chest to see how it looks. 

"Are you OK with this Peter?" Zephyr asks.

"We're both wearing them, right?" I look over at my sister suspiciously as she tries to tie hers on. 

"Don't worry honey," Zephyr says, "I'll watch out for you." Her body nudges up against my back as she ties my blindfold on snugly. The feel of her breasts pressed against me is reassuring, and I surrender to their evil plan.

"Okay you two," Zephyr announces, "places." She takes me by the shoulders and shoves me gently backwards till I feel my sisters butt cheeks up against mine. "Put your hand back, like before, hon." I feel a hand settle on my hip. "Now, chest out. Look proud." Click. The feel of my sisters ass against mine is getting me aroused. I wonder if it's obvious, standing here naked with a damn blindfold on.

"Let's try one face to face." I feel hands on my shoulders turning me around, and then my dick brushes against something smooth.

"Eeek!" my sister giggles. "It's touching me!" She bats it away, and I wince.

"Be gentle, Carrie. Don't hurt your brother." Zephyr is right next to me. I can smell her. "Put your hand on it. Lightly." I feel fingers wrap around my stiffy.

"Ew!" Sis whines, but she doesn't let go. Click. 

"Good," Zephyr compliments us. "Now, how about something a little more provocative?" The hand remains on my throbbing cock. "Is that okay with you, Pete?"

"I guess so." I gulp, torn between my hard-on and the propriety of a brother-sister relationship that shouldn't involve a sister holding her sibling's erection. 

"Spit on your fingers," Zephyr whispers to my sister.

"Yuck," she whines. "Do I have to?"

"Yes," Zephyr says, easing up behind me. I can feel her silky robe rustling against my skin. She slides her arm around my waist. Suddenly, I can feel slippery fingers slathering up and down my shaft. "Like that," Zephyr whispers. Another set of hands starts fondling my cock, and the first set of hands descends down under my balls. Now, someone is working my cock with both hands, her fingers jerking roughly at my bulging head.

"Careful honey, he's going to make a mess on your tits if you keep that up." 

"What does it taste like Zeffy? Is it sour?" All four hands speed up, and I feel the semen building in the base of my cock.

"Why don't you try it honey, and see for yourself." Zephyr answers. 

I realize I might be on the verge of cumming in my sister's mouth, but that doesn't deter me. After all, I'm young. I'm virile. I'm desperate. Can I afford to be choosy? No. I cannot. What I can do is enjoy the moment. That's the beauty of smoking pot. Sensuality wins out over common sense. 

I'm panting now, thrusting my hips, trying to free myself from the animal urge that's about to erupt like a popped zit. The fingers ravaging my cock go faster. The fingers playing with my balls dig deeper, right into the crack of my ass. The barrage of sensations sends me over the edge and now I'm desperate to cum. It's as if cumming is the only thing that can save me from certain death. Did I mention that I just smoked some really good pot?

Suddenly, I'm spurting into the darkness. I'm spurting so hard it feels like my dick is turning inside out. Caroline squeals, but her hands keep pumping diligently as I shoot out three, four, five squirts. Zephyr leans into me, holding me up as the weakness comes. While I'm still dribbling, I feel a mouth on my dick, sucking awkwardly on my drippy head. 

"Careful Hon, it's sensitive right now," Zephyr coaches my sister, but I don't think she hears her, cause she's really doing a number on it, sucking it like her life depends on it. I groan and try to pull back, but Zephyr's crotch is up against my butt and I can't move. 

"Caroline, take it easy," I beg, as I grab her head and gently push her off me. I don't realize it till later that she's not wearing her blindfold anymore. 

She giggles, "that wasn't so bad," as her hands slip off of me. "I think I need a towel, Zeffy." Zephyr slips away, and then I hear giggling.

"Is it my turn now?" my sister asks innocently. 

I hear more giggling, and the sounds of things being moved around in the room. I hear the futon smack the floor, and the rustle of a sheet being unfolded. I stand there in the darkness, wondering if maybe this was a big mistake.

"Over here Petey." My sister laughs as a hand leads me across the room. My foot lands on something soft, (the futon maybe?) and I feel hands guide me down into the pile. It seems like Caroline and Zephyr are locked up in some kind of complicated embrace but it's hard to tell. 

This little episode does make me appreciate the lives of blind people. We (now that I'm temporarily blind) do need to rely on our other senses for cues as to what the hell is going on, and our other sense do become heightened.

I reach into the darkness and feel a sticky chest. I feel small firm breasts. Firm, yet squishy. It's a nice combination. I reach to my left, I feel a neck, a face. A mouth sucks on my finger. Then it kisses me on the lips, passionately, hungrily. By now the smell of pussy is overpowering, but in a good way. I realize there's a fifty-fifty chance that whichever face, or nipple, or pussy I suck on is going to belong to my sister, but it doesn't matter because if it's not my sister, then it's Zephyr, and that's the reason I'm here.

Hands guide my face back to the firm, yet squishy tits. I take one in my mouth. There' s not much to munch on, but I find the tender nipple and suck it till it's hard. I feel the chest start to heave and hear the panting start to turn to moans. I keep chewing, and then the chest is vibrating as the orgasm comes. Little grunts turn to giggles as the orgasm subsides, and I notice the salty taste of sperm and sweat on the tit that's in my mouth. 

I feel a face sliding up towards the chest, so I get out of the way, and a moment later they're kissing and cuddling like newlyweds. I find myself over on the edge of the futon, wondering who's leg I've got draped across my stomach.

The pile sits up, giggling. Uh oh, I smell marijuana smoke. I feel a tit against my arm. A nice big one. I feel a hand on my thigh. "Inhale," a mystery voice says. Jesus, this stuff is tasty. Must be medicinal, from the old man's stash. My lungs feel like they're getting bigger, like they're going to expand until I turn into a blimp and float away. "Exhale." 

Oh, right, I forgot.

"Can I do you now Zeffy?" my sister asks sweetly. 

I hear some more giggling and groaning, and then I hear that licking sound. I get down on one elbow and feel a shoulder, a collarbone, a big, hefty breast! Carefully, I find my way to Zephyr's face and start kissing her cheek, or is it her forehead?. She pulls me to her lips and we lock up in a tongue swallowing smooch. But it doesn't last long. She's already panting, and she needs her air. 

She slides my head down to her chest and shoves her tits up. I can tell, because one second, I'm kissing down the middle of a smooth, flat plain, and the next, I'm surrounded by huge, jiggling mountains. I find a puckered nipple and suck it into my mouth. Just when I get comfortable, ready for the long haul, my sister's hands slide up and shoves my face away from the jiggling mountains. But that's OK, cause I've got some exploring to do.

I feel my way down a flexing stomach till I reach a smooth, fragrant mound with a face buried in it, lapping furiously. I feel firm shoulders and a sturdy back. Continuing with my blindfolded exploring, I travel south till I reach a trim butt, sticking way up like a very important landmark. It's a friendly butt. I start kissing it. I love this butt. This butt is my destiny. I want to bury my face in this butt. 

I roll over on my back and reach my face up to the wetness that's in the center of this butt. It's tastes good. Kind of peachy. I slather my face in it. The owner of the butt starts moaning, and twitching her cunt. I find her clit and go like hell. It's hard to do, reaching up with my neck, but I can't stop. Don't forget, I just had a hit of some really good pot, and this wet cunt is my whole life, it's my soul, it's my Higher Power. Everything I've ever done culminates right here in this cunt. I dedicate my whole being to this cunt. I swish it and swirl it. I nibble it and nudge it. I inhale it, like a Whopper after a long day at work. 

Finally, the butt girl grunts a few times, and then the shuddering and twitching starts. I hear a series of frantic squeals as the butt girl's orgasm wracks her body. I take it easy on the butt girl's snatch, anticipating the hand in the face shoving me away. The hand never appears, but the snatch does collapse onto my face.

I keep licking softly, slowly, carefully, in case she's sensitive after she comes. My first girlfriend, the divorcee, told me about that. I stick my tongue up inside her. I want to get her stuff all over my face. I start thinking about licking her asshole. Maybe I'll do that later. It can't taste nearly as good as her peachy pussy does.

Suddenly there's a commotion up north. I hear some serious moaning and gasping. Zephyr lets out a howl, and the whole futon starts to shake. It lasts maybe a half a minute. By the time I grope my way back up to where the action is, it's over. Damn! I missed it. I reach for her face. I find it and start kissing her tenderly. She kisses me back. Then I'm being kissed twice. I can't tell who's kissing whom. Then it's down to one again, and somebody's got my dick in their mouth.

I feel a finger playing around with my asshole. I feel lips sucking my nipples. I feel my dick swelling up. Then there are two mouths down there, one slobbering on my head, one sucking my balls. The finger that was knocking at my back door a second ago returns, all wet this time, and slides in a little bit. My dick goes 'boing!' and I'm ready. I hear my sister's whiney voice. 

"I wanna do it. Please, Zeffy, please?" 

I hear Zephyr answer "just a second honey." 

The mouth on my dick returns, teeth and all, but I don't care cause I'm READY! I feel a condom roll down my shaft, followed by some repositioning of bodies. I feel hands plop down on each side of me, as if I'm being straddled. A second later, a really tight pussy settles onto the tip of my hard-on. Or is it an asshole? I can't tell. I push some more. Slowly, carefully. While my dick is being enveloped by this mystery orifice, I feel a cunt descend on my face. I poke my nose up into an asshole. But it's a fragrant asshole. Patchouli and sandalwood. The cunt settles down on my chin and I get situated. I start licking. It's a luscious cunt. The lips are loose and flappy. The flavor is exotic, like some kind of herb's been growing up in there.

My dick's almost all the way in the mystery orifice now. It's starting to fit better. I've never had anal sex with someone. I wonder if that's what this is? I reach up to try to figure out what's going on, but hands pin my arms to the bed. 




The Cliff House Curse



I hear the phone ring three times. The cunt on my face stops moving. I hear Caroline whimpering. The phone starts ringing again, and the cunt on my face departs. A moment later I feel tits on my chest, and arms around my neck. I start fucking. I grab the trim hips that are riding me and hold them tight to my body. I do a little swivel and roll her over so that I'm on top. She gasps. "No!" She sounds like she's scared. I stop, leaving the head of my cock just inside her opening for a while. (It Makes them want it real bad. I learned that from my second divorcee girlfriend.) 

After a few moments, strong, smooth legs wrap around my back and start pulling me in, deeper, faster. I start to fuck. Big time. The old in and out. It feels perfect. It feels like we were meant for each other, like this is part of God's Cosmic Plan: My dick in this cunt.

I hear whispering. "Do it, come on, do it. Come inside me. I wanna feel it inside me." She clamps me to her chest and keeps whispering, pleading, moaning. I feel the sweat on our bodies turning into a river of love between us. I smell sex, emanating from every pore of the slippery body beneath me. My hips smack against firm thighs. My balls whack against a bouncy ass. I want to fuck her for the rest of my life. She starts whimpering, "come on, do it now, please? Come in me, please?" 

I let her have it. I pound it into her, desperate to cum. I was never a fan of condoms, but at this point it doesn't matter. I am so ready I'm about to explode. With a final thrust that elicits a frantic squeal from my partner, I squirt into the condom with everything I've got. It feels like my dick's shooting ice out of the tip. Even with the stinging sensation, I can't stop. I kiss her mouth, I kiss her cheeks, I kiss her neck. I keep pumping my dick in and out, wishing I could make it last forever. I know I'm done squirting, but I can't stop because I'm an animal, fucking my mate. 

I feel hands sliding up to the back of my head. Suddenly my blindfold comes loose and I squint my eyes in the blinding light. I feel a little embarrassed, a little awkward, a little like putting the blindfold back on. I close my eyes.

"Open your eyes, big brother," my sister pants. "Little sister wants to look in big brother's eyes when she's being fucked." I open my eyes, and she smiles expectantly at me, like she's waiting to tell me the punch line of a really long, complicated joke.

She rolls me back over with a flick of her shoulder so that she's on top, just like when we used to wrestle on the floor all those years ago. She sits up, her mouth hanging open, sweat running down her chest. Her hips grind steadily into my pubic bone like a machine. I look around the studio. It's just the two of us. I get that sinking feeling.

"What happened?" I ask, alarmed. "Where's Zephyr?" 

Sis leans down and kisses me roughly on the mouth. "Why? So you can fuck her? You want to fuck her, don't you?" She just keeps grinding. "Well, you can't fuck her cause you're fucking me now. Do you like fucking your little sister? Do you like shooting your come inside your little sister's vagina? Do you like having your little sister's pussy wrapped around your penis? How about you're little sister's tits? Are they big enough, or do you need a blindfold so you don't have to look at them?"

"Your tits are perfect," I say, unconvincingly. She seems a little riled up. I'm thinking maybe we should just forget about this little experiment. Just call it a day and go home.

"Put your hands on your little sister's tits," she commands. I reach up to her and she leans into me as if she's getting ready to do a hand stand. "Oh, that's it!" she moans. "Just like that! Your little sister likes it. She likes it a lot. See, she's not done yet. She's not done fucking her big brother. In fact, she'll never be done fucking her big brother. Not as long as big brother wants to fuck Zephyr. You know why? Cause Zeffy's mine. And if big brother thinks he wants to fuck Zephyr, he's gonna have to fuck me first. Is that alright, big brother? Pinch my nipples. Make me come again." 

She starts grinding faster, rougher, and it's rubbing my dick raw. Her cunt is so tight, my rubbery penis is trapped. The Grip of Steel takes on a new meaning. My dick feels like it's being torn right off my body. 

"Caroline, that hurts."

"What do you mean it hurts? It feels great. In fact, it feels so great that I'm going to have another orgasm. Just give me a another minute. Come on! Pinch my tits! HARD! OH YEAH! THAT'S IT, THAT'S IT! HERE IT COMES." She goes even faster, and I'm praying that the little guy slips out, but she's got it pinned. "UUH!." She grunts out another orgasm, and her convulsing little pussy finally spits out my whipped dick. 

She flops down on top of me like a rag doll. "Oh yeah" she pants, as she kisses my neck, my face, my lips. "Come on, kiss me like you mean it!" She starts mashing her face into mine and shoving her tongue down my throat. When I don't respond with enough enthusiasm, she reaches down and grabs my dick roughly. Then she spins around and drops her butt on my face. 

"Are you gonna eat your little sister now?" she asks, but it's more like a command. "She'll eat you if you'll eat her." She rips my condom off and grabs my tender dick with her teeth. She starts rubbing her cunt on my face, and sucking the shit out of my softy. "Come on, big brother, get it up! Your little sister wants to fuck some more." 

She sits up, and my nose mashes up into her asshole. "Is big brother gonna make little sister come again? All he has to do is lick it right there." She raises up off me so I can get a better view, and pulls her cunt open. "See? Right there. That little bump? That's what big brother has to lick to make little sister come again. Come on, please?" 

At this point, I know better than to turn her down. I reach up with my tongue, but I can't quite get to it. 

"Do it!" she snarls.

"I'm trying, I'm trying."

"Well, you better try harder, cause big brother's not gonna get to fuck Zephyr until little sister's satisfied, and little sister isn't satisfied yet." 

I reach up with my finger and start to work on her clit.

"Spit on it! Spit on your finger!" 

I get my finger wet, and try again. 

"Oh, you're useless." She shoves my hand away, jambs her finger up onto her clit and goes to work. Then I hear footsteps creaking up the stairs. Thank God! I'm going to be rescued! 

"Looks like you two are doing OK," Zephyr says.

"Yeah," Caroline grunts as she lowers her cunt onto my face so I can't talk. I can't breath either, but I'll worry about that later.

"Listen, lovebirds," Zephyr continues, "I've got to run. I'm supposed to meet RC in Carmel, so you two can go ahead and let yourselves out when you're done. 

"Call me tomorrow?" Caroline asks.

"Sure hon. Just don't suffocate your brother."

"He's OK." She starts rocking her hips, and my nose slips up into the crack of her ass again. I struggle for a few seconds, but the more I do, the tighter her grip is on my shriveled dick. Finally, I manage to swivel my face out from under her snatch.

"What the fuck are you doing Caroline?" I shove her off me roughly. Big mistake. I forgot, she's got my dick clamped in her fist -- her Grip of Steel -- and when she topples over, my dick rotates with her. "Oh shit!" I double up in pain, but she won't let go.

"Too rough for you hon?" she snaps, loosening her grip for a second. "You ain't seen nothin' yet. You know what I'm gonna do if I catch you and Zephyr together? I'm gonna cut this thing off." She gives it a jerk. The wrong kind of jerk. "Oh, it'll be an accident. Maybe a broken wine glass?" 

She reaches over to the side of the futon and grabs a half full glass. "Oops" She knocks it over. The red wine spreads out on the floor like a pool of blood. She whacks the glass on the floor like a piano tuner pinging a tuning fork, and it breaks cleanly, leaving a three inch long spear sticking up from the stem handle. 

"Do you think I could cut it off in one swipe, or would I have to saw it off?" She stretches my dick like a rubber band and lays the glass up against it. "Yeah, big brother, you don't want to fuck around with Zephyr, or it'll be the last fucking around you ever do. You understand me?" She draws the edge of the glass lightly across my shaft, down near the base. It stings, and I'm wondering if she's actually cutting me, or just pretending.

"Whatever you say sis. You're the boss. I didn't want to fuck Zephyr anyway. It was Monique I was after."

"DON'T LIE TO ME!" She screams. It's the scream of a wild animal. A wild animal with it's leg caught in a trap. A wild animal that knows it's going to have to gnaw through it's own flesh and bone to get loose. I freeze. I can hear the surf, a hundred and fifty feet below us, smashing on the rocks. I can feel the glass stinging against my dick. I can feel something wet down there, but I don't know whether it's blood or just my semen.

"I'm sorry" I whisper. "I'll do whatever you say. Please Caroline? I'm your brother, not your enemy."

Slowly, she relaxes her grip on my penis, and I cringe away from her, covering myself with both hands. I curl up into a ball on the futon. She crawls around next to me and curls up behind my back. I feel her arm drape lazily around my side. She's still holding the broken glass, but now it's right in front of my throat. 

"Aaw, did little sister scare big brother?" She rubs my shoulder and runs her fingers through my hair. "Little sister didn't mean to. She was just trying to make a point, make big brother realize that there'll be serious consequences if he doesn't behave. It'd be a shame if big brother's face accidentally got all cut up, wouldn't it? I wonder if Zephyr would still like big brother then? With horrible scars all over his GREEK GOD FACE!" 

She knees me violently between the legs. I gasp, but fortunately she catches more of my inner thighs than my balls, and I realize I'm okay. Her animal panting hisses in my ear. The glass spear sparkles in front of my face. Her panting slowly turns to deep breathing. She learned that from her counselor, years ago. It's supposed to be a relaxation technique. Finally, she lays the broken glass down, but she leaves her fingers curled loosely around the stem. 

"Little sister's sorry if she hurt big brother's penis," she sighs, letting her hand slide down my stomach. "Does big brother want little sister to kiss it and make it better?" She giggles, like it's a real cute joke. "Come on, let me see it." She worms her fingers under my hands and takes my dick roughly in her Grip of Steel. "Is big brother gonna be OK? Poor baby." She pulls my dick up so that she can see it better.

"I'll be OK" I gasp. "Can I go home now?"

"You don't want to fuck any more?" She kisses the back of my neck and cuddles up tighter.

"I can't, Sis. I'm too sore."

"I liked fucking you Peter," she says, shoving her bush up against my ass. "Did you know that I'd never fucked a guy before?" She sounds so innocent. So vulnerable.

"I didn't know that."

She starts kissing the back of my shoulders. "Yeah. Never fucked a guy before. Guys don't like women with little tits." She stops kissing me and picks up the broken glass. "Do you like my little tits?" The broken glass lurches towards my face, I close my eyes and cringe, but she's only getting up. She climbs over me and lays down again, so that we're face to face. "Come on honey, look at me." 

I let my gaze wander up her white gymnast's body, past her little swimmer's tits, past her plain wide face, to that broken glass spear she's holding in her right hand, just above the bridge of my nose. 

"Are my tits OK?" she asks innocently.

"Your tits are great Sis." I can hardly talk. My voice sounds far away when it tumbles out of my mouth. Far away and small.

"Touch them. Please? I like it when you touch my tits." She pulls my right hand off my crotch and places it on her left breast. I fondle it carefully, trying not to piss her off. "That's it. Oh yeah. You can do that all day if you want to." She closes her eyes and moans peacefully. After a while she moves my hand to the other tit. I squash it up on her chest gently, feeling her nipple pucker in the palm of my hand. I keep glancing up at that broken glass, but it's still in her grasp, pointing right at my face.

"I like Zephyrs tits," she says wistfully. "I like everything about Zephyr. I know everybody else likes her too, but I think we have something special going on. The way she can tell what I'm thinking, and what I'm feeling inside. Inside there." She points to her crotch and shivers. "She's the first person I've ever been really in love with." She looks at me openly, honestly, and I can see it coming. "God I love her so much," she warbles, tears welling up in her eyes. "What am I gonna do Peter? What am I gonna do?" 

She starts sobbing. Big, woman sobs. The tears stream down her face. I pull her closer and try to comfort her, but it's not working. "Oh God," she blubbers, "I can't stand it. I can't stand it." Her shoulders heave uncontrollably. Her whole body shakes. She slams her fist down on the futon, over and over. I hear a ripping sound and look over to see the wine glass tearing little shreds in the futon cover just inches from my ear.

******

The Cliff House is buried under a gray fog bank. I can see goose-bumps on my forearms. My sister has stopped crying. We've been lying together for a while now, holding onto each other desperately, but for different reasons. The broken wine glass is still aimed right at my face, my left eye, as a matter of fact. She looks at me tenderly, caressing my face. She rubs her cheek against mine. She kisses my nose, my mouth. I can smell her rancid wine breath. She whispers, softly, like a lover. "I need you inside me." Her hand slides off my face and down my stomach.

"I can't," I whisper, "it hurts." 

She kisses my forehead, takes my hand off her clammy tit, guides it down between her legs, and gently cups my fingers onto her labia. She starts moving slowly, deliberately, till the wetness comes. Then she curls my fingers up inside her, and a minute later, she has a quiet orgasm. Her little gasps turn to little, quiet sobs, but this time, there are no tears. 

It is this moment when it all comes together for me. Sure, I was tricked into having sex with my sister, but honestly, I would have done it anyway. I wish I could tell her somehow, but my best bet is to just let this blow over. We'll figure it out later. The affects of the wine and pot are wearing off. Surely she'll come to her senses before too long.

As the sobbing stops, the sun peeks out from below the fog bank. A spear of lavender light colors her forlorn face with an eerie glow. Her face seems to be made out of clay. A cadaver's face. 

She shivers. I take my hand out from between her legs and rub her back. She shivers again. I look around for a blanket, and spot one on the back of the futon frame. Slowly, I roll away from her, trying not to disturb this peaceful moment.

She opens her eyes with a start, her whole body tensing up like she's just been shocked by a jolt of electricity. She grabs my wrist with her Grip of Steel.

"I was just going to get us a blanket," I stammer.

"You're lying to me, big brother," she says icily, digging her fingernails into my flesh. 

"But, Sis, you're cold. Look at you. You're shivering."

"DON'T YOU DARE LOOK AT ME!" she snarls, bolting upright, the broken glass in her hand like a sword. I get up with her, stumbling, trying to catch my balance. 

"FUCKER! I'LL DO IT! I'LL CUT IT OFF!" She waves the thing at me and I jump back, but I'm not getting anywhere. She's still got my wrist in a vice grip. "I HATE you!" she screeches. "You and your fucking PENIS!" 

I keep backing up, struggling, trying to find a way to catch her off balance, but I'm not having any luck. She stays right with me, step for step, her Grip of Steel like a handcuff on my wrist. It's as if we're engaged in some kind of strange primal dance, the two of us matching each other's every move. 

She waves her weapon in front of her. I keep watching her, trying to anticipate her next move so I can grab the glass out of her hand, but what are the chances of that? She's so damn quick, it's hopeless. My left hand's going numb. I can see blood starting to trickle out from where her fingernails are digging into my wrist.

I reach the sliding glass door and stumble backwards out onto the deck. Before she can step through the doorway, I ram the door closed on her forearm. She screams, but it's almost silent, like a cat spitting before a fight. Finally, my wrist is no longer clamped in her Grip of Steel. In that instant I realize if I can get her out here on the deck, perhaps I can lunge back inside and lock her out - at least until she calms down. 

She stands there for a moment with this incredulous look on her face. Then she flings the door open, her glass spear waving in front of her.

"That hurt," she says calmly, looking at the red gash on her left forearm. "Now I'm really pissed! You should know better than to piss off your little sister!" She starts to laugh. A low sinister laugh. A Stephen King laugh. "You know what I'm going to do now? I'm going to cut your stinky, shriveled up little pee pee off. Yeah, I'm not going to wait till you fuck Zeffy. I'm going to cut it off right now. Why don't you just give it to me, and we'll do it real quick so it doesn't hurt, OK?" 

"Lets talk about this Caroline," I stammer. 

She takes a step closer, eyeing me like a tiger. "Talk?" she asks, incredulous. "What's to talk about? Your dick's history, Petey." 

She flicks the glass spear at me playfully. I grab at it and miss. On the next swipe, I feel the sharp edge slice across my knuckles. I see little droplets of blood scatter like rain in the wind.

"Listen to me," I plead, sliding a little to the left so the sun is directly in her eyes. "You know how Zephyr is. She's not gonna settle down with you. She's a slut, a freak. She'll fuck anything that moves."

"NO! STOP IT! DONT' TALK THAT WAY ABOUT MY ZEFFY!" Her scream comes out all dry and hoarse sounding.

"For Christ's sake, Caroline, she's already fucked two-hundred guys since she's been married."

My sister laughs her witches' laugh. "Stupid SHIT! That's just an ACT so the old fart can get it UP! He likes thinking that he's married to a bad ass PARTY GIRL, so he lets her walk around looking like a WHORE. That way when he takes his Viagra, he can actually get a HARD-ON! You're so fucking GULLIBLE!." She laughs again, and then her eyes narrow, and her nostrils flare. "She told me that I'm the only one. I'M THE ONLY ONE!"

"Caroline," I break the news to her calmly, softly. "I had my dick in her pussy when you called Tuesday afternoon. We were in the hot tub, fucking." 

"No you WEREN'T! NO YOU WEREN'T!" 

She lunges at me, but the sun is in her eyes. I dive to the right, like a running back dodging a tackle. As I fall to the deck, I feel the sharp edge of the glass spear slice across my thigh. She turns to finish me off but she catches her ankle on my foot and loses her balance. Reaching for the railing, she gives me an amazed look when the two-by-four comes loose in her hand and she starts toppling sideways.

It's one of those slow motion moments where milliseconds seem like hours. In her frozen-time state, Caroline reminds me of one of Redcloud's garish paintings, her eyes wide, her pussy all exposed as her left leg scissors open towards the sky. In the next instant, I'm lunging towards her. It's instinct, plain and simple. She is, after all, my sister. I reach for her right ankle. By now she's practically perpendicular to the deck, her arms out like wings, her glass spear sailing off behind her into the setting sun. 




The Climax Gentlemen's Club: First Visit



Actually, its the 'World Famous' Climax Gentlemen's Club. World famous, you say? Well, they opened the first known drive-thru nudity window a couple of years back and it received some serious press. In fact, I first heard about the drive-thru from my nephew who lives half way across the country. He had read the story on an Internet news service.

The club is located in Western Pennsylvania on U.S. Route 22 between Delmont and New Alexandria and is about ten miles from where I live.

I had driven past the place hundreds of times, but I had never stopped in. Yes, I had been curious, but not curious enough to take the big plunge and pull into the parking lot. Besides, my wife was usually with me, so stopping was not an option on those occasions.

Until last week, that is. It was about 2:30 pm and I was driving alone on Rt. 22 and feeling especially horny (the little woman and I were in the midst of one of our many sexless periods).

I told myself, 'why not, its about time I found out just what this place has to offer a dirty-old-man like myself.' I pulled into the parking lot, hopped out of my car and made my way into the 'Climax Gentlemen's Club,' er, the 'World Famous Climax Gentlemen's Club.'

Upon entering the main building, I was met by a distinguished-looking, middle-aged gentleman and was told that the cover charge was $15.00. He added that there were two girls currently working with several more to come in 30 minutes, and even more by 5:00 pm.

It sounded good to me. I paid the cover charge and was immediately met by a charming, talkative young lady in a leopard skin bikini. She introduced herself as Amber and led me out of the building to the swimming pool area. She instructed me to find a seat and she would commence dancing. I was a bit surprised as I expected the show to take place inside, sort of like a nightclub with a stage. Then again, it was the middle of a very hot July afternoon.

The pool is an above ground model surrounded by a wooden deck. It only takes up about 20% of the open-air space between two buildings. The balance of the space is covered in gravel and contains a couple of round tables with umbrellas and several more deck chairs lined against the privacy wall, which connects the two buildings.

It was obvious that I was the only paying customer, as the area was unoccupied except for two men who appeared to be working on the pool. The chairs along the wall offered the most shade, so I plopped myself down into one of them, fully expecting Amber to perform on the pool deck.

The speaker system was blaring a loud rock tune as Amber came up to within a few feet of me and began her dance. She immediately undid her top to reveal a beautiful set of 36 DD's. I know the size because I asked if they were real and she affirmed that they were all hers and proudly related the size to me. I was temporarily mesmerized as they jiggled enticingly during her dance routine. Next, she untied her bottoms and pulled them off. There she stood, completely naked in front of me. I was a little surprised at the speed of the strip, but enjoyed it with a lecherous smirk on my face.

Her bald slit stared me in the face, I couldn't take my eyes off it. Yes the tits were nice, but I'm a pussy man and I had never seen a real, live bald clam (my wife refuses to shave for me). I kept focused on her lovely slit as she did her gyrations, talking continuously as she did so.

She rattled on about the radio station, the lack of private dances that she had been getting, etc. I did very little listening, I was too engrossed in her naked body. In one move, she turned around, bent over and stuck her ample ass out at me, placed one hand on the ground to balance herself while spreading her labia with the other. There it was, in all it's pussy-pink glory only about two feet away from my face.

Temptation overcame me, I made the mistake of reaching over and touching her pussy. She immediately pushed my hand away, stood up facing me and admonished me severely. She rattled off the house rules about no touching, pointing to an 8.5 x 11 sign tacked up on the privacy fence, which was too far away for me to read.

I apologized, and she continued to tell me how she had threatened to belt another fellow who couldn't keep his hands off her. She didn't seem to be angry with me, but with touchers in general.

Amber appeared to be very young, under 20 I'd guess. She was pretty and had those exceptional tits, but she was also a wee bit on the chunky side. She had a shapely, but somewhat large, ass that many men would love. Even though I prefer slim women, I still found her attractive and told her so several times.

Since I was the only customer, she continued to dance for me while lamenting the fact that she hadn't been getting the private dances that some of the other dancers had. When questioned, she responded that she had been working there a total of 15 days and had had only 2 of them. She went on to say that the girls made their money doing the private dances. I believe that it was her way of trying to entice me into taking her up on a private dance. I had no idea what went on during those dances, but I could take a wild guess.

In the meantime she had a garter around her right thigh with a dollar bill tucked into it. It was like the tip jars that you see most often at wedding receptions, suggesting that the customer add to the tip, which I dutifully did, several times.

She took numerous breaks from her dancing because of the heat. Soon another customer entered the pool area and sat three chairs from me, also against the wall. Amber left me to entertain him, up close and personnel. Of course I watched her the entire time.

It wasn't long before another girl arrived and Amber let out a whoop. Her arrival meant that Amber could rest up a bit.

The second girl was about the same age as Amber, but was a little taller and thinner. She had a nice set of tits, but couldn't compare in size to Amber's. She too was shaved in the pubic area, which caught my attention early. Her name was Nicki, and even though she was thinner, she didn't have the round, shapely ass that Amber had. I concentrated on her pussy, which was quite nice. She spent most of her time with the other customer, but I did get a few close-up peeks at her charms.

It wasn't too long before we were joined by Summer, who gave Nicki a chance to relax and join Amber in the pool. Both were skinny dipping, but who would have expected anything less?

My mouth salivated and my cock jumped to attention when I saw Summer. She was my fantasy woman, very thin with a nice set of smallish tits, a very shapely and tight little ass, lovely slim legs and a wonderfully luscious, little pussy, which, like the other two, was clean shaven. I fell in lust immediately, my tongue had to have been hanging out.

She was wearing a bikini top and a small wrap-around, and she quickly shed the top and announced that hers were the smallest tits in the club. She pulled the wrap-around up higher on her body but kept it on the entire time she performed and it seemed to make her even more exotically erotic, if that was possible.

I responded to her announcement regarding the size of her tits by telling her that I loved small tits, especially hers. She smiled appreciatively. Her nipples were very thick and erect (how do they do that?). They were substantially thicker than pencil erasers, but about the same length.

She showed me her pussy from all angles; front and back, inside and out, I drooled even more. I told her that it was so nice and very edible. She giggled, smiled and thanked me. When I suggested that she meet me off-site and permit me to demonstrate my oral talents, she declined saying that she had a boyfriend and he probably wouldn't take too kindly to sharing her pussy with me. I sighed, disappointed, but still holding out some slim hope.

Summer then began talking about the private dances. She said that if we went to the back room we could have much fun together. I wondered what kind of fun she had in mind. 'Wouldn't she be concerned about how her boyfriend felt?' I thought to myself. As much as I wanted to have more intimate contact with her, I declined saying that I didn't have enough money, which was true. The price for the short duration, private dance was more than I had on me at the time. I didn't find out until later that they take credit cards. For those of you interested, I was told that the price was $50.00 for a 5-7 minute private dance. Way too rich for my tired blood!

Summer was a bit older (I'm not going to hazard a guess) than the other two girls and it was obvious that she had more experience. She had several moves that the other girls didn't show, and she got me hot enough to want to take out a loan for the private dance. She bent over and dangled her little titties right in my face and I flicked her nipples with my tongue, or tried to. She kept them enticingly just out of my reach. She stood up, turned around and stuck her lovely little ass out at me, then sat down on my lap and ground her pussy into my crotch. Damn! I wanted to eat and fuck that woman.

After accepting several of my dollar bills, Summer eventually took a break, much to my disappointment, saying that she'd be back in a short while.

Another new girl, Sylvia, showed up and began her dance. Sylvia was also older than the first two girls, but seemed even more inexperienced. She later revealed that it was only her second day on the job.

Sylvia was not as pretty as the others, nor did she have the slim body of Summer, but she appealed to me. Her tits were the perfect size for her body style and they had no sag to them. They stood straight out from her chest and her nipples were pencil eraser sized and fully erect (how do they do that?).

Of course I looked at her pussy and the first thing that I noticed was that she wasn't bald. She was the first girl that I'd seen that day with pubic hair. Even though she wasn't shaved, she was neatly trimmed and a natural blonde, which made her pussy appear to be shaved to all but the most ardent observer (like me).

I loved her pussy and told her so, in fact I also volunteered to lick it til the cows came home if she were to be of a mind to let me. She smiled and it seemed as if she was tempted. She did admit that she loved to have her pussy eaten (what woman doesn't!).

Other than her pussy, the quality that attracted me to her was the innocent look about her, which made her seem to be out of place in the club.

As she danced and gyrated, I continued to tell her how much I'd like to demonstrate my oral skills on her pussy. It wasn't long before I noticed her inner lips protruding from her slit. Then when she bent over and stuck her ass out, I noticed some wetness at the entrance to her love tunnel. 'She's getting excited with my pussy-eating talk, or with being an exhibitionist,' I thought to myself. I choose to believe that it was me that had that effect on her.

After about five minutes, another customer arrived, and Sylvia departed to entertain him.

The next girl to dance for me was Cookie, who, like Amber, also had some serious tits. They were well rounded, reminding me of softballs with nipples and very large aureoles. When asked, she told me that she was a 38 D.

Cookie seemed to be near Summer's age and similarly experienced. Her unique muscle control caught my attention as she demonstrated what her Kegel exercises had done for her. I watched intently as she contracted her pussy muscles causing her little clit to move in and out. She turned around, bent over and flexed her sphincter muscle, seemingly begging to be fucked in either hole. "Improves the sex," she told me, with a wink and sly smile on her face. I nodded my head in agreement, 'nothing like a pussy clamped onto your cock,' I thought to myself.

Summer came back out and did a repeat performance for me, all the while extolling the virtues of the private dance. I drooled and licked my lips often to show my appreciation for her fine talents and features (read pussy, ass and legs).

Sylvia and Cookie also performed several times for me. After about an hour and a half of torture (yeah, right!), I left the Climax a much happier and wiser man than when I arrived.

On my way home, I decided to write of my experience, as it had been a very positive one. I thought about it, and realized that I hadn't seen the drive-thru nudie. 'How can I write about the Climax Gentlemen's Club without seeing and experiencing the drive-thru?'

I decided that I couldn't, therefore, I had to make a second trip (nice excuse, eh?).

To be continued...

Any and all comments are appreciated.



The Climax of Gratitude



Foreword

When I first typed this story up, I submitted it for posting in the "B.D.S.M." category. It does have all the elements that are necessary for that and at first, it was accepted there. I was pleased when it received a lot of readers viewing it.

But I have done a lot of reading on this website since then and I've come to realize that this story is more in line with stories I've read in the "Fetish" category. It is generally of a lighter vein. 

While the story is a work of fiction, everything in it "could" happen. That is to say, all the activities are realistically possible.

The Climax of Gratitude

(Or How to Make Her Convulse On Command)

Chapter One 

The Setup

At that point, we had been together as man and wife for over a decade and a half. Getting sex from her was like pulling teeth. It wasn't that she was a cold fish or that either of us was particularly unpleasant to look at.

My ex was short and dark haired with a fiery personality that was given to brittleness.

She could be very passionate upon occasion but seemed much more interested in having money. Not working for it or even spending it, merely having it.

I was of an average height and weight and a natural blond with a driven personality type that I masked with an easy charm. I worked hard to build a life for myself and my family while putting on a happy face and moving around any obstacles life placed in front of me. I just didn't have time to whine (although I do enjoy cheese upon occasion). I simply hated to quit which is why I had stayed with her for so long.

When I had been younger I had made it my business to be a very good sexual partner so it was simple for me to elicit responses from her that she absolutely hated but had to react to (whether she liked it or not). 

More than one former lover had called me a demon in the sack and with good reason.

This night she had condescended to allow me to touch her and do my "dirty business". Well, I tell you, I'd had more than enough of that attitude. I'd been up front with her from the beginning and she had made her choice to continue to stay. 

Chapter Two

The Restraining

I told her I'd be dominating her (within her limits of course). We established a safe word and made sure the kids were asleep before commencing with the festivities.

Our master bedroom was quite large and between the foot of our king size bed and the twin closets was nearly four feet. Above the end of the bed, I had installed two heavy duty hooks into the ceiling joists. This made it easy to stand on the bed while affixing restraints to the aforementioned hooks.

We moved into the bedroom and locked the door. 

Tonight she would be my plaything. And not only did she know it, she was drawn helplessly to it. Like a moth to a flame.

Every once in a while she had to have this but she'd never admit it (not to me anyway).

I told her to strip in that firm, calm voice she hated but was drawn to, all the same. I remained clothed which further angered her by showing that I did not need her to achieve release. 

I placed the worn but clean old socks around her wrists and fastened the leather cuffs around each. Her wrists would be comfortable but she would be immobile for as long as I deemed necessary.

Looping backpack straps with a quick lock and release through the ring in the cuffs; I spread her arms a bit wider than shoulder width. Placing the other end of the loop in the ceiling hooks and pulling them taut left her looking like something out of a naughty comic book. 

To finish off the effect, I tied a rope firmly around her ankles, effectively binding them together.

It was now, at this moment, that I realized I was becoming aroused. Up until this moment, I was prepared for her to turn me away as she had so often before. Instead, she was now mine and by the convoluted mind games she insisted on playing, I was free to do with her as I would for the next hour or two (unless I broke the rules of play).

Standing behind her, my desire began to pool in my loins as I let my eyes travel over her nude, bound and taut form. Forced to stand as erect as possible with head held high was mildly shocking for her and I knew this.

She wasn't uncomfortable, merely available. By turning the tables on her in this manner, it was apparent to both of us that I was now the one in control.

We had talked over the years and I knew what she wanted (upon occasion) more than she did.

Walking around her I inspected her from the side and then the front. Her green eyes could not hide the mounting desire she was fighting.

She quickly became aware of my mounting lust and the effect she was having on me. My flushed face and heavier breathing betrayed any sense of stoicism on my part.

I didn't particularly care that she would be intimidated by seeing me thus inflamed. As much as she could protest about what I liked, some part of her liked it too (and I mean a lot).

Not saying a word I pulled my thick leather belt out of its loops from around my waist. She followed this motion and the look she gave me was filled with passion and fear. But she too, said nothing. It was a battle of silence, at this moment. 

That would change as things heated up.

Chapter Three

The Whipping Starts

Her defiant attitude fed my lust as I knew it would. Being a very flexible guy, I could work with any responsible adult. I preferred those who were as wild and open as I was. 

She wasn't and that was okay; I hadn't married her for the sex anyway. That it later turned into a war was too bad. I dealt with it.

Moving behind her, I watched her hands tighten on the unyielding straps that held her firm. Her breathing increased and deepened. She knew what I was going to do and there was little she could do to stop me.

Her silence was still there; a wall meant to keep me at a distance.

"I thought you'd lose interest, like all the others," she'd later comment to me in what was a rare moment of honesty for her.

But instead of keeping me away, I used her silence as one measure of how aroused she was becoming. 

It seemed that I wasn't above some mind games of my own.

I drew back my arm and lightly snapped out my belt tip onto her helpless back. It wasn't hard but it did what I had intended it to do. It raised her level of awareness and increased her lust. She hated this part of it and I knew that. 

A part of me was very aroused that she would submit to this. All she had to do to end this was utter one simple short word. There would be no recriminations or payback. The scene would be over, period.

Instead, here she stood, nude, bound, helpless, inflamed and forced to become more sexually aroused by the moment. There was simply nothing that she could do to stop me from eliciting any response from her I wished.

And tonight I had a very special wish to press upon this very repressed female. However, before we got to that, she would come to endure a taste of the lash. Not enough to leave lasting marks or break her spirit; just enough to raise her passions whether she liked it or not. And I sincerely hoped she would resist until the bittersweet end.

So I drew back my arm and lightly snapped out my belt onto her waiting flesh again. 

Between us there existed a war for dominance. Tonight I vowed this battle would be mine.

Again and again my belt lashed out. As I warmed to my task and she to hers, I increased both the tempo and the power of my blows. They weren't actually blows, more like taps but they got the job of arousing us done and that was what counted.

I kept to her back, buttocks and back of the legs at first. Staying away from her neck, kidneys and knees I had a fine time. She held firm and wouldn't show any obvious signs that this was affecting her. To someone who hadn't known her, she looked like she was watching a boring movie. 

"Keep it up", I thought to myself, "Show me nothing until I demand it".

My erection was firm and sensitive inside my briefs. It would remain that way until I decided otherwise. Sometimes it was very nice to remain in control.

The belt left slight red marks whenever it landed and as my whipping of her proceeded; her grip upon the straps that held her helpless increased, leaving her fingers white.

Watching her fighting me thus, aroused me and inflamed my desire to do that which she both craved and dreaded.

Chapter Four

The Whipping Progresses

I gradually moved to her side and then to her front. Again, I started lighter on the virgin areas and built from there. 

As the belt found her sensitive breasts and belly, she began to flinch and grimace ever so slightly. Rather like someone who has stepped barefoot on a rock. 

But aside from these reactions, she showed no evidence that she was nude, bound and being slowly and methodically whipped. God I like a resistant female!

She refused to meet my eyes, instead, choosing to look to the middle distance and pretend I wasn't there.

"Fat chance", I thought with satisfaction, "You'll react exactly as I want".

Her suffering was not only beginning to show; it was arousing me. I have always been inflamed by a good whipping where both parties have agreed to it before hand. This was definitely a good time!

As I moved around her, I let the belt land where it would. And not too hard but not too soft either. 

Her resistance began to crack and I found my erection growing with each grimace. Her slight frowns showed more and more frequently as I progressed.

Another sign that she was nearing her breaking point were her shakes. She would start to shake as though she were cold or in great fear. Her arms, legs, torso and head, would shiver and shake as I continued wearing away at her resistance.

I had to be careful that I didn't drive her into "subspace" where she'd tune out and simply go numb or call a halt to everything. The trick with her was to keep within her tolerance levels. That is why I didn't hit her too hard or too long.

Her shaking was a sign that she was nearing the end of her ability to endure. 

Yet aside from the glitter in her eyes, she tried to keep me from seeing that she was growing ever more sexually intense and aroused. But I knew her and I knew what she was trying to keep me from seeing.

I, on the other hand, was enjoying myself immensely. This female had agreed to submit and she was actually holding up her end of the bargain (a rare moment). I felt aroused, grounded and focused. I was in control and I knew what to do and when to do it.

Again and again my belt found her flesh and now it made her wince and twist away.

"Almost there", I thought, "Almost to the next evolution".

I took a deep breath and paused, more for her sake than mine. I ran my hand lightly over her reddened body. She didn't react to this but I could tell it took a considerable effort of will not to. 

Still she wouldn't meet my eyes or say a word.

"Soon, my sweet, soon you will crack", I smiled to myself.

The silence between us was deafening and I gloried in it. As long as I didn't break the rules or hurt her, I could keep this up for a long, long time. She might hate me for it but she'd crack and enjoy it all the same.

She calmed under my sensitive touch and took a deep breath herself. "So much for your respite", I mused silently.

I moved to a position slightly behind and beside her. My belt lashed out and caught her on the upper back. She gasped with eyes going wide and I knew we had arrived at the next stage.

Chapter Five

A New Position

I took the rope off her ankles and had her spread her bare feet for better balance. Then I used the quick release on the straps and pulled her arms down to her side.

As I untied her, she sagged against me briefly. 

Her breathing had been ragged yet quickly returned to normal. Maybe she thought we were through. 

She'd learn better in a moment and I looked forward to seeing her reactions when she realized we weren't done. Her shocked reactions were what made this such a profoundly intense experience for me.

I then had her sit on the edge of the bed while I prepared it for her next ordeal. It was rather a simple procedure which involved placing the up until now, hidden bed restraints in view.

I had prepared the bed earlier against the remote possibility that she might actually submit. Running a rope between the mattress and box spring across the width made the possibility of restraining her arms quick and easy. I did the same for the lower part of the bed.

As I brought them into view she glared at me and made mild protesting noises. But she didn't use the safe word or any variation of it (and that was all that counted).

I bade her lie in the middle of the bed and spread her arms and legs. While she was somewhat reluctant to obey, she did as I told her.

I kept my voice neutral and calm as I held my face as devoid of emotion as possible. What I felt was another matter entirely. I wanted to fall on the woman and use her in the harshest way until I achieved my release. 

"Down Beast!" I ordered myself silently.

I knew that was what she wanted and tonight wasn't about her, it was about making her mine! 

The struggle against giving into such naked lust wasn't as hard as it had been in the early years of our marriage. Then it had been all too easy to give into my baser urges. 

But I had seriously overestimated her intelligence and her desires. What she really wanted was to be left alone by equals and have servants cater to her every whim. She had gotten it into her head that she deserved to be pampered without having to reciprocate and no amount of reason could sway her from this absurd notion. 

That I would actually assert my wants and needs was something she endured (or so she told herself). Yet every once in a while she'd submit to me, even though she told herself she hated it and me for doing it to her. I had reached the point where I didn't care about her protestations. All that mattered was whether she'd use the safe words or not.

So I savoured her shocked expression and reluctant attitude and she turned on all fours and made her way to the centre of the bed. 

Reaching the centre, her small, nude body collapsed onto its back and she reluctantly and slowly spread her limbs. 

Her face was now filled with regret and she was holding her breath again.

I ignored these passive aggressive tactics and briskly threaded the rope through the wrist cuffs. I tied the left wrist first. Moving to the other side of the bed and pulled the rope taut, I then tied the right wrist. 

I wrapped another set of worn but clean socks around her ankles. This time I tied the rope around her right ankle first and then I moved the other side of the bed and repeated my actions.

I found I was breathing heavily and my face was flushed. My erection was painfully hard and I had to hitch it around to stop it from binding on me inside my briefs. 

As I said, I had been looking forward to her reactions and I wasn't disappointed.

Chapter Six

The Pitch

She was spread eagle, restrained and available (as long as I didn't behave like a fool). 

Her face was now much more open than it had been at the beginning. The slow, methodical and inexorable struggle against her own desires was what plagued her the most. And it showed in her shallow gasps and the way her eyes desperately moved about the room, as though looking for unseen assistance.

I was again firmly in control of myself. I was having a good time and more importantly; this night would see me successful in dominating her against her own cross grained and contrary nature.

"Time to start this phase of her struggle" I thought. 

She was unable to stop me from tormenting her further. This only added to my pleasure (and to hers too). At the end, she'd do exactly what a wanted whether she wanted to or not. And I found that I was becoming impatient to see that.

"Wait for it!" I silently and now, harshly, ordered myself.

I moved onto the bed and between her legs. I allowed my eyes to travel insolently about her nude body. Usually, she dressed modestly and went to great pains to keep me at a distance. So seeing her in this manner was both arousing for me and empowering. She was my plaything!

I brought the belt into her view again. She had obviously forgotten about it and her face betrayed her reluctance to continue. 

Blanching, she tightened her hands and struggled slightly against ropes meant to hold thousands of pounds. Her muscles played in bold relief as she tested herself against the things that held her firm. There was no way she was going anywhere and both of us knew it!

"Perfect" I thought.

Now I spoke again in a calm firm voice, although I felt anything but calm. "You have a choice to make" I told her.

"You can take ten strokes of the belt on your bare cunt and you will count before I administer them". I smiled as a told her. Normally, I didn't use such crude terms. That I did now only accentuated my position.

She looked at me with a combination of naked lust and fear.

She finally found her voice, "Suppose I don't go along with you on this?"

"Still defiant to the end", I thought.

"In that case, we'll go with Plan B." I commented.

She stepped right into it, as I knew she would.

"What is Plan B?" she asked nervously.

"Plan B is where I gag you and then I'll be giving you forty strokes where it counts the most!" I said with quiet menace. I kept my face as implacable as I could and that was no small feat, given how I felt.

"I'll take the ten." She responded in a small and fearful voice.

Now we could begin in earnest and in the end, she'd submit to me! How I enjoyed this! It was too bad she was reluctant to do this more often. 

"So much time wasted!' I lamented to myself.

Then I put such self defeating thoughts behind me and bent to my task. 

Chapter Seven

Increased Intensity

Her breathing became a series of shallow gasps and she pulled tightly on the restraints in anticipation. I gloried in her fear and took time to savour her rising tension.

I raised my right hand back, flinging the belt behind me; readying myself for this phase of her struggle.

Then, at the last minute, I had an inspiration which I was sure would outrage her and further inflame me. Such an inspiration could not have come at a better time.

I looked down at her with my arm poised to strike and I commanded, "Arch!"

She looked shocked and responded with exactly what I had hoped for.

"I will not!" she gasped.

I smiled coldly and said quietly but with thick menace, "You will...or we go with Plan B."

"That's not fair!" she protested.

"Arch up to meet the kiss of this belt and count...NOW!" I interrupted

She raised her hips reluctantly and quietly said, "One".

The belt whistled through the air and impacted loudly against her pubis. It wasn't a hard strike but it caught her most sensitive area squarely and she dropped back to the mattress and cried out.

"How sweet!" I thought to myself.

"Again!" I ordered her harshly. The time of silence was quickly being replaced with the sounds of a futile and desperate struggle. 

She looked reluctantly at my face and then at the belt before rolling her eyes. She arched as I had bade her and said in a tight voice, "Two."

The belt found her raised nether regions again. And again she gasped while jerking away. She looked profoundly shocked. The muscles of her abdomen pulled tightly against the belt's cruel kiss. 

That I would dare to treat her in such a beastly way was something she always found shocking. Like I said, she was given to brittleness.

I must admit, I was having a very good time! And I knew that she was enjoying herself, although she would never admit it.

I gave her a few seconds before continuing. After all, the whole point was to make her experience this torment as fully as possible.




The Climax of Gratitude



I raised the belt up in preparation of the next blow.

"Now we continue!" I said.

She glared at me with fear and passion but she raised her hips up and said, "Three".

My response was instantaneous and she flinched hard away from it as I whipped her between the legs. Gone now was all thought of resistance. Instead she wanted it only to end (or so she thought).

"You know what comes next." I menaced her with, when she wasn't fast enough in her counting.

It had become an endurance course for her, this suffering and struggle. Her once proud demeanor had been stripped away leaving only this desperate and struggling creature in her stead.

"Four!" she cried out in fear.

"Arch, I said! And by god she did as I commanded!

She obeyed the words I uttered before I lashed her most sensitive vagina.

Chapter Eight

Reluctant Gratitude

Her breath was short and her struggles increasingly erratic. There was no escape from the belt or from me either (it seemed).

"Say it!" I cajoled her.

She sighed and arched, then fearfully she said, "Five".

The smack of my belt on her most sensitive region was immediately followed by her cry of pain and the sound of the bed springs as they groaned in protest against her renewed struggles.

My unspoken command had her arched well before she was ready for it. 

"Six." She muttered through clenched teeth.

The lash caught her and she pulled with both arms and legs against it. Her torso tightened and she whimpered almost to herself.

I enjoyed her suffering and the sight of her so helplessly aroused and afraid, filled me with resolve. If she had wanted to end it, she could do so at any time without fear of recrimination. She did not.

"Arch!" I commanded before she was ready.

She looked at me fearfully at raised her sweet centre up.

"Count!" I ordered.

"Seven." She said meekly.

I belted her again and again she thrashed about against the intensity of it. Her privates were red but I was taking great care not to hurt her; not with what was about to come.

"Arch...and Count!" I commanded again with increasingly impatient severity.

"Eight." She gasped out.

And I hit her with the belt where it counted most.

"Don't make me say it!" I threatened.

She raised her hips and said through tight lips, "Nine".

I didn't wait but struck her immediately and was rewarded when her nude and bound body heaved against the blow.

"Now!" I said calmly and cruelly, "The last one."

"She raised herself up with firm resolve and said stoically, "Ten".

I belted her in that place and she did the requisite struggle. But it seemed that she thought she had won some kind of victory here. How little she knew.

"Remember when I said I would only give you ten?"I queried.

A quick frown replaced her haughty demeanour as she responded with, "Yes".

"I lied", I smiled down at her.

Her jaw dropped and so did my belt.

"Eleven" I said.

She struggled in earnest now, fear and passion overwhelming her aloof exterior. 

This was quickly followed by me saying, "Twelve", as my own lust struggled to take control.

I had made her think I was going to give her all forty and she was wildly thrashing about. She was right on the edge of "no" but I knew what she needed and nothing was going to keep me from achieving it.

I bent quickly forward and turned my left hand palm up. 

Crooking my forefinger slightly, I quickly and firmly pushed it into her vagina where I made a "come hither" motion". She grunted and convulsed in a powerful orgasm. So intense was it, she could neither draw a breath nor scream out. 



The Climax of Her Life



Ken Garcia had known Danita Mitchell for three or four years, but he hadn't really known her. Which is to say, he knew her because she dated and went to parties with men he knew, so he talked to her, but that was as far as it had ever gone.

Ken had heard a little about her in that time, mostly from her. She dated in those four years three men whom he knew, and probably at least a couple whom he didn't, since there were stretches when he didn't see her. She didn't really change partners a lot, but she had never found somebody she wanted to settle down with either, obviously. Or if she did, the man didn't, at least then.

When Jack and Pamela Diggs invited Ken to a party, he had just broken up with the girl he had been dating for six months, but Pam told him there were going to be some unattached women there too, so he would not really be out of place.

It turned out, he found, that Danita was one of the unattached women. She had reached a mutual understanding that Tony Rowell and she did not really excite each other, so he was there with somebody new.

Ken had never realized that Danita had been interested for some time in getting to know him better; as was said, he hadn't really known her, and she had always been with somebody else, so he hadn't paid all that much attention to her.

He remembered her, in fact, mostly for being one of the few women not to joke about his last name, which was the legacy of a Cuban great-grandfather who spoke Spanish but was of as African ancestry as could be.

Tonight, Danita's smiling face and the loose black braids around it had more of an effect on him -- but in the past he had been concentrating on the woman he was with, as he should. Ken had never been the sort to try to play with other women when he had one right to hand; he figured that if he got two of them to go to bed with him at the same time, it would be work to keep up anyway.

He drifted into talking to Danita, and started admiring the flawless brown skin on her face without being aware of it at first. For her part, Danita was smiling partly because she was getting to talk to Ken, and finding that a lot better than she had expected, better even than she had hoped.

The hours went by quickly, and at a little after midnight people started to disappear. Ken had gotten into thinking about Danita in a way that he hadn't before -- or really two ways. He was thinking that asking Danita on a date might be a good idea, since she was nice to spend some time with. On the other hand, he was thinking fairly often about something he had barely and only briefly considered before, which was what Danita would be like in bed.

Danita was considering Ken in both of those ways, but she had been doing so for a couple of years, off and on at odd moments. But the second was coming up in her mind a lot tonight, as she looked at that broad and well-built body. The first, though, that of spending more time with him, she could do something about.

"Are you doing anything tomorrow?" she broke in suddenly. "I mean, is there anything that you have to get up early on Saturday morning for?"

"No," he said. "There's nothing at all. I should do some grocery shopping this weekend, but that's always true. In fact, if you are not doing anything tomorrow night, I was thinking of asking you about going to a movie with me."

"We could talk about that. In fact," she grinned, "I was going to ask if you wanted to come to my place to talk a little anyway. I still feel lively, and Jack and Pam are going to want to get to sleep soon."

Ken thought about this quickly. Danita must trust him quite a bit to invite him into her apartment after just a few hours of conversation. But of course that wasn't quite it; she had known him for years, if only slightly, and she could well have gotten reports on him from her boyfriends -- or her girlfriends. And in truth he did not plan on trying for more than a goodnight kiss from her, though anything beyond it would be fine, of course.

So they left not long afterward, Ken following Danita's car in his. He had never known where she lived, but he found that it was almost in easy walking distance of his place. She waited by her car until he had parked and walked to her, and he thought to himself that she looked cool and attractive as she stood there alone in the spring night.

Ken found his hands itching to touch the area of smooth brown skin that faced him as he stood behind Danita while she opened her apartment door, but he controlled himself. He hadn't spent enough time with her to try that quite so casually.

They talked for a little while, until one in the morning, and Danita asked him if he would like a drink. He asked for rum and cola, heavy on the cola, and she disappeared into the kitchen for a minute. Ken got up from the couch and walked across the room to look at her records. Ken had by then taken off his tie and opened the top of his shirt.

When Danita came back, she handed him his drink and had a glass of wine for herself. Ken was struck now by what he really should have noticed before, earlier tonight if not a long time before, that Danita was rather tall, only a couple of inches shorter than himself. He had a fleeting image of how that might be very nice, if he got to know Danita much better, and then he settled to think of how it would also mean he would not have to bend very much to kiss her.

And with that came the impulse to hurry things by a little bit, and take a kiss now instead of at the end of the evening. He set his glass down and reached for Danita. She hesitated for a moment, then placed her wine-glass beside his drink and put her arms around him. That kiss escalated, and ended with her looking straight into his eyes and breathing a little heavily.

He held Danita to him, now touching the bare skin of her back as he had wanted to earlier, and they paused, both asking themselves if they wanted to go any further on such short notice -- or was it?

Ken's hand drifted down to her waist and her behind, and when it came to rest at the top of the back of her dress, Danita said softly: "Oh, I don't know..."

Ken was puzzled for a moment, and then realized that his index finger was touching and lifting the tab of the zipper on Danita's dress. If she thought he was going to try to take it down and she was acting unsure instead of objecting and breaking away... It might be worth trying. At worst she would stop him.

She didn't. She only gave a sigh as he lowered the zipper and exposed the rest of the skin of her back, as he took a step back and let the dress fall forward, as her beautiful brown breasts with their wide black nipples came into view (for she had not worn a bra that night).

He took her into his arms again, now touching her all over her back and all over her bare skin, which was everywhere above the waist, and below was only red panties and a pair of pantyhose.

With Danita's intermittent assistance, Ken removed his own clothing, until his broad and muscled body was totally uncovered, and then he pressed her against him, his hard cylinder rubbing into her stomach. His hands then lowered her pantyhose and finally that last crimson protection.

His erection now slid between her legs, not to enter but to tease and excite her. Danita was close enough to his height that she could reduce the sensation by standing on her toes -- but only for a moment, because his erection, by its nature, was going to rise, and the higher she rose the closer it came to being in her.

After a while, Ken simply picked her up and carried Danita into her bedroom and placed her in the middle of her bed.

He lay above her and used his large hands and lips and tongue on her breasts, then moved down. He lowered his head and raised her hips to meet it. He cupped her buttocks and held it an inch or two above the blanket and entered her with his tongue.

Danita was gasping within seconds, then arching her shoulders off the bed, trying to drive his head further in, holding his head at the same time that she tried to lift herself up with her hands, and muttering in a way that showed that she was beyond words.

Ken gave her a fast climax, then began to build her to another. Suddenly he stood, reversed her body on her bed, and lifted her. Danita was by no means small, but Ken was strong enough that she might as well have been. He brought his mouth to her lower lips again, but this time her head hung straight down and his hands suspended her in the air. When she recovered from the startlement and the intense sensation, she reached out one hand to touch the tube of blood-heat meat in front of her.

She murmured, "Oh, it's large!" before her lips touched it and then opened to take it in. Somehow she was willing to go very far very fast with Ken Garcia. Perhaps it was the overwhelming thrill of this unexpected position, of being held head downward with him washing her inner walls with his tongue, but she was enthusiastic about giving him all her mouth could do. But despite her best efforts, she could do very little for him -- not that it was not appreciated -- because Ken built her too quickly to another peak and she had to release him to avoid the danger of harming him in her erotic convulsions.

After this Ken returned her to her bed and entered her with a slow smooth stroke that built to a long hard one. Once again he held her hips in the air, now with his hands spreading her legs far apart and lifting her by her heels. She had a couple of weak climaxes, but just when she seemed to be headed for a larger one, she whispered: "Don't come in me. I want to take you in my mouth."

Ken was willing to indulge her whim, or impulse, or whatever it was. He wanted to explode deep into her tunnel and feel her shake under him, but that could wait for another time. Certainly he wanted another time with her, many more in fact.

He lay on his back while she knelt over him, and her head came far down, licking and sucking and squeezing with her lips until the stream of his seed came up and she accepted it into her throat.

They lay together afterwards, and slept together. In the morning she had breakfast almost ready when he awoke. They took a shower together afterwards, and that aroused them both enough that they returned to her bedroom.

This time Ken circled her nipples with his tongue, and slowly descended from there. He broke off to glance up at the ceiling, smiled, and returned to his task. This time he half-knelt at the foot of the bed, and when she was halfway to heaven he stood up, put both hands on her ribcage, and lifted Danita. Her head barely cleared the ceiling by more than three inches, her hands grasped the back of his skull with a fervor that was more than a little mixed with fear, her legs wrapped round his shoulders, and Ken's quivering tongue was driven into her by her weight pressing down, and further than she had ever experienced before.

This combination unsettled her enough that soon she lost her concentration and her hands slipped. Rather than taking the chance of injuring Ken by scratching for another hold, she accepted the possibility of falling back to the bed. But she didn't.

Ken's hold on her pelvis was strong enough that she simply fell back. Her legs swung up to balance, her back strained with the sudden pull, and her head hung down and backwards before him. And she almost screamed with the sensation; she did shriek.

She shook with a greater peak than he had given her before, and then he lay her back on the bed and moved over her. This time his entry was swifter and his strokes more forceful. That she had just satisfied her passion meant that she was slower to reach a climax this time, but it was clear to Ken that she was going higher up this time, and that he could reach the top at the same moment that she did.

Once again as she reached the ultimate crest, Danita whispered: "Don't come in me. I want to take you in my mouth." Ken said nothing, but moved his hand to stimulate her more. Soon she repeated it, and this time he said, "No. I want to stay with you."

She protested and began to try to wriggle away, but her strength was nothing against his. He increased his force and brought her to a shivering climax just as his hot jet shot into her. She went wild with a convulsion that almost frightened him. Her mouth opened wide, her nails dug into his back, and her hips leapt up to meet his in midair just at the point of his deepest penetration, as his seed tried to continue the penetration further than his straining body could ever hope to. When the frenzy passed, she became quiet and he thought that perhaps she had passed out, or fallen quickly asleep from exhaustion.

He napped beside her and realised the truth only when he awoke to find her body cold.

The police did not believe his story after he called them, and released him only after the coroner confirmed that she had really died of a heart attack brought on by overstimulation.

Her doctor had told her long before that she had a defective heart. Ken had to wonder if this was the reason that she wanted to avoid reaching orgasm with a man in her, that she had been resigned to living a life without a totally satisfying experience with a man. Or if she only feared it when she could not hold herself back.

He was haunted for a long time by the idea that he had been so good with her that it killed her.



The Climbing Tree!



This story is paired with another one of my yarn's "The Big Limousine Disappeared!" For the greater part of the text they are the same story, however the two stories have different outcomes. For the convenience of the reader I have clearly marked the divergence point, where the individual stories go their separate ways. If the reader has recently read "The Big Limousine Disappeared!" then they may prefer to scroll to down and only read the latter part of the text.

My sincere thanks go to Grisbuff and Davnel for their assistance in preparing these two little yarns for posting. It is not a particularly simple task for native speakers of American English to cope with my strictly colloquial British interpretation of the language

The Climbing Tree!

There is no sex in this story

*

Along with Sally and maybe a couple of hundred other people, I stood the instant the first bars of the wedding march thundered out of the church's organ. For reasons of my own, I tried not to, but I could not stop myself turning my head and trying to snatch my first glimpse of the bride as she paraded down the aisle on her stepfather's arm.

Actually that's not exactly true, it's a misnomer; I wonder just why people say aisle? In fact Alice had been escorted by her stepfather down the nave of the church, as most other brides are.

Whatever, I did kind-of get a glimpse or two of her between the other guests' heads. Not that I could make out Alice's face, because it was shrouded by the traditional veil. But I did note that Alice's head nodded just slightly a few times; evidently as she acknowledged several different people in the congregation. But I somehow doubted that any of those little nods were directed at me.

Being that we were somewhere near the back of the church, in a matter of seconds Alice's entourage had passed. I kind-a wondered who had organized the seating plan in the church. At first it struck me as a little odd that Alice would have her old friend Sally sitting so near the back. But on second thought if Alice had been aware in advance that I was going to be accompanying Sally... Well that would have kind-a made sense, in a way. Thoughts briefly passed through my mind about what the seating plan at the reception was going to look like.... And I also began to wonder if my presence would bring any unfortunate repercussions to the receiving line at that venue.

While these thoughts were passing through my head I was watching from behind as Alice's stepfather led her down the nave and handed her over to the beaming Roger Vine, awaiting her before the alter.

Then there was the usual short hiatus in the proceedings during which the vicar and those who are to actually participate in the service exchanged a few hushed words. That was the instant that I realized that it really had not been a good idea for me to come that day, and that I really should not have agreed to accompany Sally. But for some reason I wasn't blaming Sally; I found myself cursing the invention of the telephone.

================

It had started at some unearthly hour the previous Sunday morning. I was comfortably tucked up in bed when the damned telephone's insistent ringing roused me. .

Forcing myself to half-consciousness, I struggled to focus on my bedside alarm and saw that it was three o'clock in the morning.

Scrabbling around I grabbed the ruddy phone and with more than a little difficulty located the answer button; then -- after pushing the thing -- I demanded, "Yes!" into the mouthpiece.

"Hi handsome, did I wake you? Sorry, please don't sound grumpy at me?"

Very suddenly I was wide-awake, very wide-awake. The voice was that of Sally Parsons, a long time friend whom had, not a year before, lost her young husband (and my good friend) while he was on active service for HMG. He was one of the many who... well where and why he died is really of little importance here. What is important is the fact that following his demise I'd promised Sally that I'd "be there" for her, wherever and whenever she needed me.

"What's up kiddo, are you alright?" I asked as gently as I could manage.

"Yeah, sorry Jeff, I'm fine. Just a little tipsy that's all."

"You're not drunk are you Sally? Where are you?"

"No Jeff, just a little tipsy. Alice had her Hen Night this evening, and I went along..."

"Sally, I thought we'd agreed that you were going to give Alice's nuptials a miss!"

"We did Jeff... but..."

"But what, Sally?" 

"Alice... well she's my friend... and your friend too..."

"At one time, Sally; when we were kids. But Alice is a big girl now, and she forgot all about you and me a very long time ago. Anyway, we discussed this the other week, and we both agreed that you attending her wedding, wasn't a good idea under the circumstances. Christ Sally, even your mum agreed with me on that one, and that's a first... one for the record books!"

"But Alice asked me to go along this evening... and I just couldn't find it in my heart to refuse. You know that we were best mates when we were at school together. How could I refuse to go with her on her Hen Night? It was good fun actually, I didn't find it upsetting at all."

"Well, providing that it's only her Hen Night, Sally."

Ah well... you see, Jeff... Um, that's why I'm calling you so late really. We had a great time this evening and I... er sort-of agreed to..."

"Jesus Sal, you haven't said you'd be her maid of honour, have you? I thought we'd agreed on that at least."

"No, no, Jeff I'm not that dumb. I really think standing that close to that alter would... well, the memories..."

"Well that's alright then; but I still think you'd have been better served, not to go at all."

"I know, I know; you made that pretty plain the other week when you were up here. But Jeff, I need to ask a big favour of you..."

"My answer is no, Sally; before you even ask."

"Oh come on, please, Jeff, I need you there! And you did promise that you'd be here for me whenever I needed you. Well, I really do think I'm going to need you here next weekend."

"Sally, you know..."

"Yes, I know, Jeff, and I do understand. I know I'm asking a really big favour of you, but I need someone... you, beside me at the ceremony next weekend."

"Dammit Sally, you're asking too much really! But I did promise you at Bill's graveside. So... under protest and against my better judgement... I'll be there. But you must realize that I have my own crosses to bear. I doubt that I'll be the happiest person in the world."

"Jeff Turner, you are the best friend a girl could have in the whole wide world, I could kiss you."

"Promises, promises, Sal. I'll call you when I get up to town on Friday evening, but God alone knows what time that will be. But hold on a minute, I haven't got an invite; you know that I'm the last person in the world that the George Arnold would invite to his stepdaughter's wedding."

"No worries there, Jeff. My invite says Sally Parsons and companion."

"A little... careless of him, wasn't it?" 

"Possibly, but his Royal Highness knows that you sold your parent's house and that you didn't come back here to live after Uni. I suspect he's forgotten you ever existed. There's no way that he or Alice's mother knows that you've been such a rock for me. Besides I should imagine that Alice sent the invites anyway. Call me when you get in on Friday evening, goodnight Jeff."

"Good morning more like, Sally. How much did you have to drink toni... last night, anyway?

"We're still at it Jeff. Well, some of us are. Alice, kind-a keeled-over about an hour or so ago, so we dropped her off at the Vicarage. Then some of the girls came on over here and we're attacking my mum's cocktail cabinet, what there is left of it. Since then, I've been trying to work up the courage to call you."

"Sally, you know I think that you're are being very silly about this. And somewhat stubborn; but that's no surprise."

"Jeff, you know I think the poor girl was trying to drown her sorrows this evening."

"What girl?"

"Alice of course: I'd have thought that was obvious."

"As obvious as it is that you've drunk far more this evening than you should have, young lady. Alice is getting married next weekend; I'll bet she's like a cat with two tails. And you are going to wake-up with one hell of a hangover tomorrow, by the sound of it."

"Not as bad as the one Alice is going to wake-up with, Jeff; of that I'm bloody sure. Anyway I'd better go. Night, night lover."

"In my dreams gorgeous; in my dreams!" I replied just before the line went dead.

================

A little background would probably help the reader at this point.

Sally was... well, a year my junior, we'd grown up together; Sally had been my neighbour from across the street as far back as I could ever remember. As had her deceased husband Bill Parsons. But Bill didn't live across the street; he lived in the house next door to mine, on the north side of my parents place. Bill and I had been best buddies -- as some folks call it -- since the year dot.

As we had all grown-up together, it had become patently obvious, remarkably early on, that Sally and Bill were one day going to end up man and wife. As they eventually did when Sally was only seventeen years old. Bill, like myself, was just one year older. They'd got married just a few months after Bill joined the army.

I had never been able to understand why; but Bill appeared only ever to have had two goals in his life. Firstly to marry Sally! And the secondly, to follow his father into the army. In his short life Bill did manage to achieve both those goals though.

But Bill -- I'm sure -- had always believed that he'd return wearing his gallantry medals; unlike his father, whose medals were displayed on a little shrine in the family home. 

Alice came into the picture when Bill and I were about ten years old. His Royal Highness George Arnold had always lived at the vicarage, -- the house on the south side of my parents house -- well, the Arnolds had lived there as long as I could remember anyway.

No, he wasn't a vicar; the gigantic Victorian pile had been sold-off by the church many years before, because the up-keep on the place was so expensive; or so I've been led to believe.

Somewhere along the line George Arnold and his first wife had bought it, and spent a load of dough on the place bringing it into the twentieth century.

The first Mrs Arnold -- unlike her husband -- was a very nice person. I can just about recall her, along with Sally's, Bill's and my own mother, taking all of us tykes to the park together when we were small. She did have two children of her own, Reginald (who was roughly a year older than Bill and I) and Susan (who was our age). But for some reason those two never quite gelled (or fitted in well) with the likes of Bill, Sally and me, when we all played together. As tots we never realized it; but as we grew older we kind-a got the idea that the two Arnold children thought we were beneath them socially. 

But then -- when Bill and I were about nine or ten years old -- the first Mrs. Arnold suddenly vanished into thin air, and a short while after Alice's mother replaced her in the Arnold household, bringing Alice and her younger sister Emma along with her.

Exactly what happened in that household back then, and why; has always been shrouded in mystery. Well, no one much talked about it while us kids were around it anyway. Not that us kids were even worried really, I don't think. People just appeared and disappeared as far as we were concerned back then.

Although we probably missed the ice-cream and sweets that the first Mrs. Arnold used to buy us all the time. Er, us kids had liked the First Mrs. Arnold, as you might guess.

But amongst the adults locally -- who only discussed such things when they thought that children weren't listening, couldn't hear them or wouldn't understand anyway -- the consensus of opinion appeared to be, that the first Mrs. Arnold had discovered that said George Arnold had been making whoopee with his secretary. The inference being that certain locals at least, had been well aware of, or at least suspected, that the illicit liaison had been going on for sometime.

Those same rumours purported that at approximately the same time as the first Mrs. Arnold heard rumours of the affair, said secretary's husband also discovered that an illicit liaison had been taking place. Thinking about it now, one most probably led to the other, if you get my drift.

It was further rumoured that a certain trip aboard -- that one George Arnold had taken around that same time -- had in fact been a short stay in hospital while he recovered from a little contretemps he'd had with said secretary's husband.

Shortly after that, the first Mrs. Arnold vanished, and Alice and Emma's mother, moved into the vicarage, eventually to become The Second Mrs. Arnold. It was inferred or rumoured in certain circles, that Alice and Emma's mother had been the notorious secretary referred to earlier.

Yeah well, the adults were trying to ensure that us youngsters did not know the facts. But we youngsters kind-a put it all together between us, from little bits and pieces that each of us overheard at different times.

We also gathered that rumour claimed that in the ensuing court cases, George Arnold's somewhat excessive wealth (or ill-gotten gains as my mother always referred to them) had helped to ensure that he and Alice's mother had carried the day and they had been awarded custody of all of the children.

However that last bit of scandal mongering turned out to be wrong, at least in part.

As youngsters, we didn't understand anything about child custody battles, or the court cases that usually accompanied them. All we knew was that when parents did separate, the children usually lived with one or the other parent; most often -- in our experience -- the parent who did not leave the marital home in the first place. Who decreed which parent the children lived with, or why, we had no inkling; and as it didn't concern us directly, we probably didn't care.

Anyway Alice and Emily (almost universally known as Emma) turned out to be a whole different ballgame from Reggie and Susan Arnold; and their own mother, come to that! 

Alice's mother proved to be more than a little like George Arnold; from the start she had delusions of grandeur, living in that big house. Adult rumour once again, but the consensus was that the pair of them thought that George's money made them something special. Instinctively it seemed, most of the adults around our way had come to refer to George Arnold as HRH behind his back. That same title had very quickly been bestowed upon the Second Mrs. Arnold.

They were both obviously unaware that their... um, well, that many of the locals were not impressed by their lack of respect for the marriage vows they'd both surely taken some years before. You get where I'm going here, I'm sure. Most folks around our way were a little on the conservative side; well, they claimed to be.

Even my old-man -- god rest his soul -- who was a card carrying atheist, termed George Arnold "A cheating bas... louse!" -- and Alice's mother a "Stuck-up little tart!" A somewhat confusing description for a youngster to understand, the woman was unusually tall, compared to most of the other mothers I was familiar with. Not that I can claim that I ever was familiar with the Second Mrs. Arnold, by the way. I do not believe that she ever once said two words to me personally.

Whatever, the Arnold's had delusions of grandeur and as the years went by, we youngsters discovered that Reggie and Sue had been cut from the same bolt of cloth.

But like I said, Alice and Emma were not cut from that bolt. They were very quick to join in and play with Sally, Bill, myself and all the other children who lived locally. They couldn't very well play with Reggie and Susan very much because... well because George Arnold's children weren't best pleased that two more youngsters had joined their household. Or so I sort-of realized as I got older. Mind you, that realisation probably once again stemmed from overhearing my parents talking.

To be completely honest with you, Reg and Sue could be really mean to their new half-siblings when they felt like it. On several occasions I'm aware that they reduced both the girls to tears... and if not for circumstance, things might possibly have been even worse.

However, cunning pair of little shits they were, I don't think Reg and Susan ever behaved as badly towards Alice and Emma when either parent was about.

Don't get me wrong Reggie and Susan were not overtly hostile towards Alice and Emma, well not all of the time, anyway. I suppose the best way describe what I mean is to tell you about the first time Sally, Bill and myself ever met the two girls.

It was at the latter end of that summer's school holidays. Along with a few other friends, Bill, Sally and I were playing on the swings in the park down the road. When suddenly -- over in the little copse -- we heard a young child crying out in anguish. On hearing her screams, Bill and I immediately set off at a run to investigate, followed by Sally and the better part of the other children.

As Bill and I arrived at the edge of the copse, we met Reggie and Susan leaving it.

"What's going on?" Bill demanded.

I'll be honest, there never had been any love lost between Bill and Reg Arnold... or Reg and myself, come to that!

"The silly little bitch is stuck up the tree!" Reggie replied, "She got herself up there, she can get herself down again!"

Then the two of them walked off towards the swings in the child play area.

Bill and I looked at each for a second and then -- because the anguished wailing was still emanating from the centre of the copse -- we dashed on in.

In amongst the trees we found Alice precariously perched some way up the climbing tree, hanging onto a branch with one arm, and the seven or eight-year-old -- wailing -- Emma with her other.

Bill and I had no idea who the two girls were; none of us ever clapped eyes on them before. However there was no way that we could leave them in the predicament they were in, that was for sure.

Bill and I didn't even stop to think or discuss it. Both of us knew that climbing tree off by heart. We shimmied up it in a couple of seconds, and then with the aid of later arrivals passed the still traumatized and weeping Emma hand to hand down to the ground.

Although we helped Alice clime down the tree, I'm pretty sure -- from seeing her later antics up the same tree -- that she hadn't required any assistance herself.

Very quickly we learnt who Alice and Emma were and that Susan and Reggie had brought their new half-siblings to the park to show them around. Then Reg and Susan had climbed the tree themselves before enticing the new arrivals to join them.

However, when little Emma had become stuck and then frightened, Reg and Susan had climbed down and left Alice holding the baby, so to speak.

"That was a pretty shitty thing to do!" Bill had ranted at Reggie when we discovered him and his sister innocently playing on the swings.

"She's only a little kid, she could have fallen and got hurt!" I added, probably to show that I was pretty disgusted with their behaviour as well.

"Silly little bitch, shouldn't have got up there if she couldn't climb down again!" Susan had retorted.

"Reggie's old enough to know better!" I quickly dragged out of my mother's arsenal. Then for some reason I added. "You need your arse-kicked for you, mate!" to Reggie.

In an instant, Reg was off the swing and in my face.

"Oh yeah, and who's going to kick it for me... you?" He demanded holding his clenched fist under my nose.

Bigger than me he might be, but Reggie had made a big mistake! My dad had always told me that, "When push comes to shove..." especially with someone bigger than you, as Reggie was by several inches and at least a year... "You make sure that you do the pushing lad!" i.e. get in first and make the bugger count!




The Climbing Tree!



Reggie ran home with a bloody nose that day, and never again did he call me out. His brat of a sister went with him.

Alice and Emma stayed with us in the park for a while. Emma recovering her composure and Alice getting to know all the local children, before they thought it prudent to return to the Vicarage themselves.

Theoretically that should have been the end of the incident, but of course it wasn't. That day was the beginning of a strange war that was to rage between my own family and the Arnolds, until my parents passed away. That is George Arnold, his two children and the Second Mrs. Arnold -- oh, did my mum have fun referring to her by that name whenever and wherever she needed to; even to her face! 

Anyway George Arnold was round our house as soon as he got home from work that day, demanding that I be punished for bloodying his son's nose. 

Having already heard the story of little Emma being stuck up the climbing tree and that Reggie and Susan had walked off and left her there; my father enquired of me whether Reggie had raised his hand in anger to me first. Bill, Sally and a couple of the other local children present, assured my dad that he had. So my old man turned around and informed George Arnold that his son, "Was a little shit! Who had only received what he asked for!"

From that day forth I was persona non grata with the Arnold's, even if I wasn't with Emma and Alice. To the two girls, I was... well both Bill and I were I think, tantamount to Knights in shining armour.

Of course Alice and Emma were forbidden to play, or even associate with Bill and I. But that wasn't really a very practical ruling, because whenever they went to the park and latterly to school... well, Bill and I were around.

Reggie and Susan though did steer well clear of Bill and me whenever they could manage it. Again they found it impossible in school and that was to lead to a few verbal confrontations between Reggie and I, over the years. However for some inexplicable reason, those... contretemps... always occurred when there were plenty of teachers around who could ensure that those shouting matches didn't escalate -- or degenerate -- into fisticuffs.

At the junior school Alice very soon teamed up with Sally. Bill and I had moved to the secondary school by then, where we ran into Reggie and Susan quite often.

To be perfectly honest I didn't see too much of Alice all that first winter, but as I've just said during that time -- at the junior school -- Alice became firm friends with Sally. 

It was in the early spring of the following year that Alice and I became firm friends, when she fell into the river from the footbridge in the park.

To be honest with you, it wasn't really a river, it was a fairly large lake that had had a stone bridge constructed over it part of it, to simulate a bridge over a river. Possibly some ornamental landscaping left over from the large mansion that had once stood nearby somewhere.

To this day I do not know how Alice came to fall into the water, or if Reg (or Susan) had anything to do with it. But the pair of them, were on the bank that day; I saw them.

Once again it was young Emma's screams that attracted Bill and my attention. However, this time it was all down to me, because at that time Bill could not swim. And, I might add, it was obvious that neither could Alice.

By the way, Bill had something wrong with his ears, as a young child and he couldn't swim because his physicians forbade him to ever risk getting his head under water. Bill had a series of operations during his teenage years and only then did he learn to swim.

Kicking off my shoes, I dove straight into the river and swam out to the middle where Alice was floundering about. Dodging the panicking Alice's flailing hands as best I could, I grabbed hold of her by the plaits and towed her -- arms still flailing -- to the shallows, where Sally and Bill --- up to their waists in the cold water -- took her from me.

A police officer who had appeared out of nowhere, then hauled all three of us up onto the bank. We were then shipped off to the hospital post-haste where we were treated for hypothermia. Not that I really think anyone, but Alice, was really that cold.

The Arnolds never did thank me. George Arnold didn't even acknowledge that I'd saved his stepdaughters life when the local newspaper interviewed him about the incident. All he did do, was complain that the footbridge's parapet was not high enough. However no one else has ever fallen from that bridge to my knowledge, and the council did not raise the parapet.

I was of course fêted in the local weekly rag, which printed a picture of me, and declared that I was a local hero; it must have been a lean news week.

Whatever the notoriety that came from that, had fall-out at my school where I was publicly praised in a school assembly by the headmaster. And it also probably lead to my being selected as a prefect a couple of years later. I was never really one of the goody-two-shoes type who were usually on the receiving end of that sort of dubious honour, if you understand me.

On the Saturday morning of the weekend following the river incident, there was a knock at my parents' front door, and shortly after my mother showed Alice and Emma into our dining room where I was doing my homework. 

Alice thanked me for saving her life and then sat there staring at me. Emma just sat there hanging onto her big sisters hand.

To be honest I was embarrassed, I weren't no hero! I'd just done what I thought I had to do. There was a pretty awkward silence for a while there, until my mother came in and served up ice cream all round. Once that had been consumed the two girls sat there in silence and watched while I completed my homework; somewhat to my embarrassment.

Look, I was eleven years old, I had no idea what hero worship even was; let alone how to handle it. But for the next few years I could do no wrong in either Alice or Emma's eyes. To me they were just a couple of the other local kids; to Alice and Emma it appeared that I had suddenly become guardian angel number one. But I really didn't understand that on that Saturday morning.

"What are you going to do now?" Alice had asked when I finally put my schoolbooks away.

"Go find Bill and Sal!" I'd replied.

"Can we come?"

Yeah well that was it, after that -- nearly every weekend -- Bill and my little gang had grown by at least one member, Alice. Often two, because if Emma was wasn't playing with friends her own age from school, then she'd tag along with her big sister. Never, so I think, did she ever hang around with Reg and Susan.

I say nearly every weekend, because -- since just after Alice and Emma had joined the Arnold household -- every forth Saturday or so, a car would drive in and out of the Vicarage's drive very early in the morning and Alice and Emma would vanish for the day. Sometimes that car would not return them until late on the Sunday evening.

It didn't take a genius to work out that their father was picking two girls up for the weekend when that car did show-up. Shortly after its first appearance, that car had become another clandestine (as far as us children were concerned) subject of discussion amongst our parents. Something else us children were not supposed to know about.

But for some reason, it was something that was not discussed amongst us children as well. Not even Alice and Emma would intentionally mention their father in normal conversation. Although, sometimes young Emma would refer to him in passing.

Anyway about a month after the river incident, one Saturday Bill, Sally, a couple of other children and myself were sitting in the climbing tree. I have no idea what we were doing up there that day or even what we were talking about. Sitting in the top of that tree just because we could get up there, was one of the things we did back then. Alice and Emma weren't with us that day because the car had paid a visit to the Vicarage that morning. By the way Emily had become quite a little tree monkey since Bill and I had shown her all the right, safe hand and footholds that would fit a child of her size.

Whatever Bill and Sally -- who were on the highest perch, from where they could see the river -- suddenly announced that Alice and Emma were "On the bridge with a man!" 

I shimmied up to join them in double time; I suppose because I wanted to get a glimpse of the girls' father.

Sure enough Alice and the man who I now know for sure is her father were on the bridge. Young Emma was standing just on our side of the bridge, looking right back at me.

Then I saw her point to the tree, while turning and saying something to her father and Alice. Their father stared at me -- or the tree anyway -- for a while and then all three of them set off in our direction.

"What'd you going to do, Jeff?" Bill asked.

I looked back at him wondering what the hell he was asking me that for, but Bill went on.

"He's coming over to see you, probably to thank you for saving Alice's life the other week."

My friends were aware that I found my sudden celebrity a little embarrassing.

I quickly started down the tree, I think possibly with the intention of making myself scarce. But I wasn't quick enough and I arrived at ground level at the same instant that Alice and Emma led their father into the clearing at the base of the climbing tree.

"Jeff, this is our dad. He wants to speak to you!" Alice said, by way of introduction.

Then she and Emma -- much to her father's obvious consternation -- disappeared up said climbing tree like rabbits down a hole.

"Be careful girls." Their father called after them, a somewhat concerned expression on his face.

"They're fine Mr! Amongst the best tree climbers around here... for girls."

"So I see. They look pretty confident anyway. But familiarity breeds contempt young man; haven't you ever heard that expression before?"

"Yes sir, but Bill and I test all the hand holds before we allow the little ones... or the girls to go up there. That tree behind you, that looks pretty easy to climb, but it's rotten. That's what we painted the red cross on it for. No one tries to climb that."

At that moment there was a thump behind me; so I knew that my back-up -- in the form of Bill -- had arrived at ground level.

"Ah you must be Billy... William is it? The young man who got Emma out of this same tree I suspect... My god no higher girls!"

The girls father had looked up and... well looking back now I suspect he almost shi... Yeah well.

Anyway both his daughters replied "Okay dad!" Stopped climbing and settled themselves onto a large branch.

"I want both of you to promise me that you will never climb up there if Jeffrey and William here aren't here with you. I'm sure your mother would have a heart attack if she saw you up there. Does she know you go up there?"

"Reg and Susan climb up here all the time, when Billy and Jeff aren't here." Emma replied.

Emma habitually called Bill, Billy by the way. I have no explanation why no else ever did, with the exception of his mother.

"What those two do is their father's business, not mine! I want your solemn promise that you will never climb that tree if Jeffrey and William aren't here with you."

I kind-a figured that was an odd thing for him to say really. But it sort-of inferred that the girls' father trusted Billy and me would ensure that they came to no harm.

"We promise dad." Alice replied.

Then their father's gaze fell on me again. "Jeffrey may I speak to you in private, please?" 

"Sure Mr..."

"Porter. But call me Frank, please Jeffrey; I think you and your friend here have earned the right to do that.

"Er sure... Frank... What can I do for you?" I asked.

"In private, please?"

"Yeah sure, no sweat!" I replied, then he let me lead the way to the edge of the copse. Bill remained by the base of the climbing tree, but he was within shouting range, if you get my drift.

Once out of all the other children's earshot, the girls' father thanked me for saving Alice from drowning. He somewhat overdid the praise part and I was more than a little embarrassed by it.

Looking back after all these years I have to suspect Frank Porter knew that I would be embarrassed and that's why we'd moved to where the other children couldn't overhear him.

Anyway somehow then Frank moved the conversation on to enquiring about -- as Frank put it -- my obvious proficiency at swimming.

I explained to him that before my uncle -- who'd been a lifeguard at the Country Club swimming pool just up the road -- had died in a car accident I'd been in the habit of swimming there several days every week, throughout the year.

"You said 'used to,' Jeff?"

"Yeah, my uncle could get me in for free. My mum and dad can't afford to join that place."

"So where do you swim now?"

"Just, in the sea, on our summer holidays. The council pool is right over the other side of the borough. Cost's an arm and a leg just to get there. My dad takes me there sometimes, when he can. Besides Bill's not allowed to swim because of his ears, and there's no one else much I'd like to go with. It's too crowded there anyway!"

"Jeffrey, I've been very lax. Alice's mother doesn't swim and consequently... Well, she was never enthusiastic for Alice and Emma to learn how-to. I realize that I should have pushed the point... but, oh well, you'll probably understand when you are older.

"Anyway after our scare with Alice last week. We... and both Alice and Emma have decided that it would be prudent for them to learn how to stay afloat, if nothing else."

"My dad says that all children should learn how to swim!" I said, trying to sound grown-up I think. Alice's father appeared to be talking to me as if I was an adult.

"And your father's right, they should. It was I who was remiss, Jeffrey. But Alice and Emma need someone who they have confidence in, to teach them to swim."

"Oh yeah you have trust your teacher. I was... well. The first time I went swimming it scared the pants off me. But my uncle used to swim in competitions, so he soon had me swimming like a fish, my father says."

"I can believe it Jeffrey, and now I'd like you to pass that skill in the water you have learnt on to Alice and Emma for me, if you will?"

"I don't know if I'd be a very good teacher Mr... Frank. They have classes at the public swimming pool the girls could go to."

"No Jeffrey, both of them want you to teach them how to swim."

"I can't sir, it costs a bomb just to get to the public pool."

"I was thinking more of the Country Club pool, Jeffrey!"

"Jesus that place costs the earth, and your dad has to be a member!"

"I'll sort all that out Jeffrey, don't worry about it. But you have to agree to teach them."

Now I do enjoy swimming, and the Country Club's indoor pool was a pretty swish place to swim. I'm not sure whether I agreed to teach the girls because I was flattered to have been asked, or because I was going to get access to the Club's pool again.

Whatever, my acceptance brought a smile to the man's face and our conversation to an end. We went back to base of the climbing tree and he called for his miscreant daughters -- who during his absence had climbed up much higher to join Sally -- to come down. Then after Frank Porter had said something about speaking to my father, all three of them left.

Bill and Sally were full of questions about what the guy had wanted, so I explained that I was to be Alice and Emma's swimming teacher.

"How much?" Bill instantly asked. Bill had a fixation with money at that time; he sort-of assumed I was going to get paid to teach them. To be honest, the idea hadn't even crossed my mind.

It took me a moment or two to realize what Bill was asking. But when I told them exactly where I was supposedly going to teach the girls to swim, the question was effectively withdrawn. Actually another student was added to the list; Sally asked me if I could sneak her in there for a few lessons while I was at it.

When she did, Bill went kind-of quiet for a while. I've explained that because of his ears Bill was not allowed anywhere where his head might inadvertently go under the water. No at the time I didn't know why, it was one of those facts of life that -- as children -- we had grown to accept. I think Bill was more conscious of the fact he couldn't swim than any of the rest of us children recognised.

When I got home that later day my parents informed me that Mr Porter had paid them a call and cleared the way with them, for me to teach his daughters to swim. My father didn't seem at all surprised that his eleven-year-old son was going to teach two girls to swim.

Neither did either my mother or father mention the fact that I was still persona non grata with the Arnolds. Well not outright anyway, and I began to wonder if Frank Porter was aware of the fact.

It seems that he must have been aware, because it had apparently been arranged that Alice and Emma would meet me outside our house at a specific time and we'd go on to the pool from there. I might add that the old vicarage sat back from the road on it's extensive plot and the front of my house couldn't been seen from the Vicarage itself. Damn it, thinking about it now, I doubt they could even see the road through all the trees and shrubs that shielded the place from the sight of all us plebs.

Monday evening when I arrived home from school, I discovered a brand new bicycle waiting for me in our garage. It seemed that Frank Porter had decided that I had deserved a reward. Whether for agreeing to teach his daughters to swim or for saving Alice that day, I know not. No one ever mentioned it.

There was a certain logic in the new bicycle though. The shortest route to the Country Club was along the main road, with its inherent traffic dangers. On pushbikes the longer route through the park and along the path that ran around the edge of the Country Clubs golf course became a practical alternative.

At the Club itself Alice led the way through the main entrance door. All my previous visits to the place had been sort-of clandestine affairs where I'd entered with my uncle by one of the other entrances. Not that the powers that be at the club and most of the other staff hadn't known I was there. I believe my presence had been ignored as long as none of the members complained.

Somewhat to my consternation, Alice marched right up to the reception desk and announced that she was Miss Alice Porter. But she needn't have bothered the woman was already sorting out some paperwork. She handed Alice and Emma cards that had "Associate Member" printed across the top of them. Them she handed me a similar one that had "Personal Trainer" emblazoned across it. Then she listed off a whole list of do's and don'ts, and can and can't's that were specific to my membership card.

No I didn't listen, I was far too busy reading my own name printed on the card. 

When we got to the pool, I noted a sign warning other members that a private lesson had been booked that day and at what time. And on entering we were greeted by one of my uncle's old colleagues who would be acting as lifeguard for the session. The lifeguard being present when anyone under sixteen was using the pool, was club policy by the way. I have no idea whether Alice's father was aware of that fact, that those same lifeguards also gave swimming and diving lessons.

I wont bother going into any further details other than to say that, from that day forth every Tuesday and Thursday evening saw the three of us at the pool. Very strangely I thought, Emily very soon learnt how to swim and rapidly gained confidence. Alice on the other hand, seemed to pick up the floating and swimming side of things pretty quickly, but she definitely lacked confidence. Most of the time Alice insisted that I at least swim beside her whenever she was in the water. Very often, and for no reason that I could see, she'd suddenly start to panic and... well flounder I suppose you'd call it, and I'd have to grab hold of her to reassure her.




The Climbing Tree!



After a couple of months, sometimes Sally would come with us, Alice signing her into the Country Club as her guest. And the really odd thing was, that whenever my attention was taken up with Sally... Well, Alice seemed to be swimming around quite happily and never appeared to panic. Much the same thing had happened after the first few weeks when my attention had been on her sister.

Alice's obvious lack of confidence in the water was beginning to worry me, so eventually I sought the advice of the lifeguard.

"Tell me Jeffrey, how old are you now?" he asked.

"Twelve... just about!" I replied.

"And Alice?"

"Well, I'm not sure, she's starting secondary school next month so she must be eleven!" 

"You're both a bit young, but I think I know what Alice's problem is Jeffrey, and eventually I suspect you'll learn that it has nothing to do with being frightened of the water."

"I don't understand."

"You will one day son, you will one day!"

And that was all he said, no real help to me at all. A bit of disappointment in fact!

As time went by, Emma became such a proficient little swimmer, that sometimes she wouldn't come to our lessons. So very often it was just Alice and I; Sally usually only joining us for one session a week. I think two nights a week without seeing her Billy was too much for Sally. As the summer went on we'd taken to walking our bikes home. I'm not sure why, Alice would complain that her legs were too tired to pedal her bike home again, I think.

No, it didn't make much sense to me either, but my dad told me that understanding why a female says or does anything, is a lot harder than most men realize.

"Leads to the end of a lot of very promising relationships does that, my boy! But you'll work that out for yourself one day. In the meantime, I suggest that you don't argue, say yes and let them get on with it. It keeps 'em happy and they'll most likely forget all about whatever it was, in a couple of days!"

That little speech had left me just as much -- if not more -- confused than the one my friend the lifeguard had given me. But I did remember my dad's words and it was to come in handy a few weeks later.

It was autumn by then and the nights were drawing in. Alice and I were walking back home from the Country club almost in the pitch dark. I'm not sure when exactly but by then we'd taken to pushing our bikes with one hand while holding each other's hand with the other; but we had got into the habit of doing so somewhere along the line.

Anyway very suddenly and completely out of the blue Alice asked.

"Jeffrey, when we grow up, are we going to get married?"

For a moment or two I was lost for words. I really wasn't expecting Alice to say anything like that. We were friends... we'd become very good friends. But... well, I had not reached the age where I thought of females that way, if you understand me.

Scratching around for something to say that would not hurt her feelings, I suddenly remembered what my father had said to me. "Don't argue with them son! Say yes, and let them get on with it!" or words to the same general effect.

"Yeah sure we will, if that's what you want, Alice." I replied kind-a hoping that would be the end of it. 

But it wasn't, well not immediately anyway. The next thing I know Alice's bike is crashing to the ground, her arms are around my neck and she's kissing me on the lips.

After getting over the shock, I did my best to return the compliment. But to be honest, I doubt I made a very good job of it. That was the first time -- other than silly party games -- that a girl had kissed me and... Well, let's say that I hadn't even thought about technique at the time.

A few moths later, Sally, without Bill being aware, I'm sure... er, well, she taught me the proper rudiments of successful kissing. Look, Sally might always have been Bill's girl, but she had always been as close to me -- if not closer -- than a sister would have been.

Sometimes there would things that for some reason Sally did not want to discuss with Bill, and at those times she'd turn to me.

Like for instance, Sally's first bleed. Whether through embarrassment or what, I still do not know; but I was delegated the job of explaining to Bill all about the female menstrual cycle.

Which, by the way, I had had no idea about myself, until Sally herself had explained it all to me -- in far too much detail -- just a few a few hours before. But as my father told me, "Don't argue son, say yes and... etcetera, etcetera, etcetera!"

Anyway from that day forth, Alice had become my sort-of unofficial girlfriend. Well not even that is correct, it's probably better phrased that I became Alice's unofficial -- and very secret -- boyfriend!

There was no hand holding in the street where Reg, Susan or any of their mates might see us. Definitely no heavy snogging sessions to start with. As I said, I weren't really into that kind of thing at that time.

Basically I got the odd kiss on the cheek now and again from Alice, and she habitually walked beside me. Putting Billy's nose out of joint, a little. We'd suddenly gone from Bill and I walking side by side with the two -- or sometimes three girls when Emma was with us -- walking together, but with Sally always holding Bill's hand. To Sally and Alice walking in the middle with Bill and me as outriders. Mind you very often I had young Emma hanging onto my other arm or hand.

In truth -- away from the swimming pool -- I probably had more actual physical contact with Emma than I did with Alice.

Well that was the state of play for the next... what three... maybe four years. Of course Alice and my relationship had developed into secretly snatched snogging sessions by then, well the old hormones had started to do their thing, if you understand me.

These sessions happened most often on our walks home from swimming at the Country club when there was no one else much around. The cycles had dropped out of the picture somewhere along the line; I can't say exactly when or why. Young Emma had also disappeared as far as swimming went as well because... well let's just say young Emma was a little forward for her age, if you get my drift. 

Emma had matched her elder sister when it came to the twin plats turning into a ponytail. And in certain other developments that young women go through about that age, so by then she had a little group of hopefuls following her around most of the time. But I must say that only a couple of times were Bill and I forced to get... serious with any of them. It was clearly apparent that little Emma knew exactly how to handle members of the opposite sex. It was also clear that neither she nor Alice took their troubles to their elder half-brother or sister.

But then, -- during the late summer of my fifteenth year -- my nice little settled world suddenly collapsed around me when both Alice and Emma were shipped off to boarding school. I have to admit to you, that I really did not realize how serious my feelings for Alice had become, until she was no longer there.

How or why the sudden change in their educational arrangements came about, I do not know for sure. By bad luck Sally's a parents and mine, -- who always had been great friends -- had arranged to go on holiday together again that year. Something they'd done many times in the past. Billy and his widowed mother -- as usual -- came along with my family, also something that had happened since the year dot as well. Bill's father had died before he was born and larger parties led to smaller charges or group discounts.

But when we returned home three weeks later we found that all of the children in the Arnold household had been sent away to boarding school.

I did find one short letter from Alice that had been stuffed through the letterbox of our house; no more than a brief note really. Roughly explaining that she and Emma were being sent to a boarding school somewhere, to complete their education. Alice also said that she'd write and give me the address as soon as she could.

Sally and I instantly sallied forth enquiring of friends and schoolmates trying to discover more information. Rumours were rife, but solid information was scarce.

From rumour I... we, Sally and I, deduced that Susan Arnold had managed to get herself caught in a compromising situation with a young man. Actually -- rumour once again -- but reputedly one of Reg's best mates.

Why that had led to all of the children being shipped off to a boarding school, I had no idea. Although later, Sally always said that possibly Susan had made some accusations about what Alice and Emma got up to on the quiet. You know what I mean, muddying the waters as much as she could, in an attempt to spread her father's anger about a little.

By that time I'm sure that both Susan and Reggie had worked-out that Alice and I were an item. Jesus everyone in the damned school knew that. And as Sally put it, referring to their stepfather, "Talk about waving a red rag in front of a bull, anyone mentioning you in the same breath as Alice is likely to give the old sod a heart attack!"

But excepting for that note Alice had left me, no other communication ever materialized from her.

Of course I -- nor Sally -- left it there. In the first few weeks of that school term we found a couple of Emma's friends who were in postal communication with her. One had actually spoken to Emma on the telephone just a few days before. But the impression we got from what girl said that... well I'm not sure how to phrase it... Roughly she said that it sounded like Emma was choosing her words very carefully. As the girl put it "Like Emma was talking to a boyfriend she wasn't supposed to have, while her mother was listening!"

Whatever we did get the school's name and address from Emma's friends, so both Sally and I immediately wrote to Alice asking her what was going on. But four weeks later neither of us had received replies.

In the mean time, knowing what school they were at, had allowed me to approach my maths teacher (one of my favourite teachers in school) for help. But when I'd mentioned the name of the Academy he frowned, and said "Oh dear! I've heard of the place Jeffrey. It's a very exclusive and expensive establishment. What possible reason could Alice's parents have had for sending her there?"

But later he did a little further research for me and informed me that the school in question --Academy for Young Ladies -- had the reputation of being not far short of some kind of prison camp. Well, he didn't say that in actual words. But he did tell me, that it was the kind of place where the young ladies of culture were very closely chaperoned at all times. And he also implied that he doubted that any letters that Sally and I had sent to Alice there would ever get through to her if her parents or the school authorities deemed that I was unacceptable company for Alice.

"A friend of mine went there for a job some years ago Jeffrey. She says that... well most of the young ladies in residence there... putting it succinctly, they have been sent there to keep them away from the likes of you and I! Or men in general in some cases, if you understand me...?" 

Which, I did not at the time, by the way.

"I shouldn't be telling you this, so please don't tell anyone where you heard it. I've been discussing it with some of my colleagues. Susan Arnold, we can understand why she might be sent to an establishment like that; Susan has a bit of a reputation in the staff-room. But Alice and Emma, they were very highly thought of by all the other teachers. They are both highly motivated in their studies and well behaved. Very pretty girls as you know, and... if we discount the fact that you and Alice have been... very close for a long time. None of the other teachers thought they are in any kind of moral danger. And you're not the type to do anything stupid, are you Jeffrey?"

"No sir!"

"But, as Mr Gorman (the headmaster) said, Alice and Emma's parents have never liked you for some reason; do you know why?"

"Yes sir! I blooded Reggie's nose for him in the park, the first year I started here."

"Knowing Reg Arnold, I would suspect that he deserved it. But he was a lot bigger than you, back then!"

"My dad says, the bigger they are the harder they fall. And yes sir, he did deserve all he got from me that day. My dad agreed with me as well. But Alice's stepfather, he got all out of shape over it"

"Then I might hazard a guess, that perhaps it is Alice's relationship with you that has led to her father..."

"Stepfather sir. When I met him, I got along great with Mr Porter, Alice's real father. He even arranged for me to be able to get into the Country Club, so I could teach Alice and Emma to swim."

"Okay, Alice's mother then. I would suggest that... it is possible that Alice's mother and her stepfather have only recently learnt of... Well, you two have never flaunted your friendship, but it is obvious and the whole school knows about you and Alice. You do know that, don't you?"

"Yes sir."

"Well then, it's highly likely that Alice has been shipped off to pastures new to... separate the pair of you."

"Yes sir, that's what Sally and I thought. But they surely can't stop us writing to her?"

"If you write to her at that school, then I somehow doubt Alice... or Emma will ever receive your letters Jeffrey; that's the kind of place it is. And them, successfully getting letters out to you; I doubt that will happen, unless the girls can find a way to clandestinely smuggle them out of the school."

My maths teacher didn't leave it there, a couple of weeks later our French teacher, Miss Lovette, (reputedly my maths teacher's intended) collared Sally and I together and gave us brochures for the Academy. She also translated some of the gobbledegook in them for us. 

According to Miss Lovette, the place literally was a kind of private Approved School. Its curriculum is designed bring (or keep) unruly young ladies under control.

It didn't say any of that in plain English that most people would understand. As I said, our Miss Lovette had to literally translate it for us. But Sally and I were shocked to see that ADHD and couple of other pseudo psychiatric disorders that we had heard of, were mentioned in the text.

However being totally frank, Sally and I were not particularly worried. Okay so we had been cut off from Alice for a while. But we figured that when the Christmas holiday rolled along we'd see her soon enough, and we would be able to work-out some.... Well, as my friendly maths teacher had put it, a clandestine method of communication.

But that had been wishful thinking, it didn't happen! We don't even know if Alice and Emma ever came back to the Vicarage that Christmas. Reggie did, that's for sure, we know that because he was spotted a couple of times by friends of ours. However no one who we knew clapped eyes on Alice and Emma, or Susan Arnold either that year.

Then, a day or so after our own school broke-up for the holiday, the whole Arnold household shipped off abroad somewhere for the rest of the Christmas break. Well George Arnold and the Second Mrs. Arnold did anyway, and one has to suppose that all of their children went with them.

That was to be the norm from then on, around the time any school holidays started, sometimes just the Second Mrs. Arnold and the children, but very often George Arnold as well, would sally forth to far-flung parts of the world.

We heard through the grapevine after each of their trips away, that the Second Mrs. Arnold had a great time bragging to all of her cronies about the magical places she and her husband had taken the children to see. But that was all to come to light in the future.

As the New Year started I was disappointed at how the situation had developed. My... our, Sally's and my plans had come to nothing, and in the ensuing months, my loss of contact with Alice began to have, unforeseen effects on me. I'm told that I became morose and I know my schoolwork suffered.

Well, I hadn't understood it at the time, but looking back later I realize that I really had been in love with Alice. I've been told since that I was effectively mourning my loss of her love. Or pining for her if you like?

Yeah well, my teachers, arranged for me to have a couple of sessions with the school trick-cyclist, and she did her best to explain it all to me. I can't say that she did me any good though.

Sally and I had continued sending letters to Alice at regular intervals, although we doubted she'd received any of them. But we kind-of hoped that someone might get careless one day. The analyst or whatever you call her, told me that I should stop doing that, not that Sally and I took any notice. Actually I don't think that woman achieved anything other than to explain to me that I had been in love with Alice.

It was during the summer holidays -- after it had become patently clear to us that Alice would not be returning to the Vicarage in the near future -- that Bill came up with his master plan.

Bill had been a member of the local Army Cadet Unit ever since he'd been old enough to join. In a funny way that had enhanced my relationship with Sally, because when Bill was at his unit meetings or on camp and exercise with them, Sally was usually with me. And Alice of course, while she had been around.

Anyway, Bill's plan was that when the new school term started, he and I would... well, we'd head up north to where the Academy was situated and then... well we weren't quite sure what we had planned for then. But we figured that we might even be able to break-in to the school and find Alice, or at least find someone who could smuggle messages in to her or Emma.

That was the basic plan, and up to a point it went well. However Bill's plan hadn't included Sally and she was having none of that. So in the end, all three of us boarded the train heading north. Bill had kitted Sally and I out with Cadet Core issue camouflage clothing and all sorts of other gear that he'd begged, borrowed or stolen from his Cadet Unit's stores.

We found the Academy without much of a problem, but at first sight it looked like Fort Knox. The damned place had obviously been a convent or something at one time; it was surround by a wall at least twelve feet high. And as far as we could ascertain none of the students ever left the school grounds during term time.

However we guessed that we would be able to see over the wall from the upper deck of a double-decker bus. We had a good idea of the layout from a little map that had been included in the brochure our Miss Lovette had supplied us with. What she would have said had she learnt of our plan, I have no idea.

Fortuitously we boarded a bus taking local children home from school, with the intention of spying out the layout of the Academy's grounds visually.

"You're wasting your time!" A boy sitting behind us said, as Bill and I discussed a possible route from the wall to the dorm buildings.

We looked at him and he immediately asked which of our girlfriends, was "doing time!"

"Mine!" I replied.

"Well you ain't getting in there, mate! You ain't the first and I doubt you'll be the last. That place has got hidden TV cameras and trip wires everywhere. At least one poor bloke turns up every year trying to find a way in. They all finish-up in the police station, take my word for it. Ain't that right?" he added turning to his friend sitting beside him, who assured us that he was telling the truth.

But Bill pointed out to them that we had all this army camouflage gear with us, and with Bill's Cadet Unit training he was sure we'd get past any security.

The two lads went on to talk about the possibility of hidden mantraps and other such nasty equipment. But we discounted any of that hokum; because there had appeared to be nothing stopping anyone inside the grounds approaching the wall. If there were any mantraps -- besides being illegal -- there would always be danger of one of the students walking into them.




The Climbing Tree!



The two lads didn't have an answer for that argument. But they did inform us that -- if we had a good pair of binoculars or a telescope with us -- from a certain vantage point, it was possible to get a view of the students sports ground and recreation lawns. Then they agreed to take us to the place, after they changed out of their school clothes.

The lads led us out of the village and into some woods. Once in the woods we obviously went in a large semi-circle, passing over some pretty rough terrain on the way and mostly uphill. I never really realized that we were climbing up so high until eventually we came to the edge of the woods and there laid out below us was the school and its grounds. I recognized what I was looking at immediately because one of the pictures in the brochure must surely have been taken from the vicinity of where we were standing. The two boys urged us to remain under the cover of the trees.

"We don't like them to spot us up here too often." One of the boys said.

Why not; it's not private ground is it? Bill asked. The woods hadn't been fenced, and lower down there had been plenty of well used paths.

"No, it's its Forestry Commission ground; anyone can walk here. But you see that pond in the school grounds? Well sometimes in the warm weather some of the girls go skinny-dipping in there. Most of the time the school staff seem to ignore them when they do. But if any of the staff have seen people up here on the ridge, well they get jittery and stop the girls' stripping-off.

"Besides this is the only place from which you can see into the grounds properly, and the logical place for anyone to case the joint from. They're not daft down there, they're really security minded, both keeping the girls in and...

"Randy little sods out!" Sally suggested.

"You got it Sally. So if you've got a mind to try to get in there, the last thing you need is for them to spot someone up here on this ridge; you'll have even less of a chance if they do." The boy grinned back at her.

We lay in the grass at the edge of the woods scrutinizing all the girls we could see in the gardens through binoculars. We noted that both the local boys were equipped with a very powerful pair each. But I'll add that it was September, so I doubted anyone would be swimming.

Eventually Sally spotted Emma talking with some other girls. It was frustrating we could see her but we were far to far away to attract her attention. Then very suddenly, all the girls in the garden started moving in the same direction.

One of the boys told us "It's their evening meal time, we can't hear the PA system that sounds the dinner gong up here, unless the wind's in the right direction."

Then while we watched we saw Alice come out of one on the dormitory buildings and join her sister, then both of them followed all the other girls round the side of a building and out of our sight.

However Sally, Bill and I thought that a good development. We assumed that Alice had been in her own dormitory, so we figured we then knew where to find her.

"Right now's the time for us to go for it, while they are all in the dinning hall eating." Bill suggested. "Where's the nearest place we can get to that wall without being seen lads?"

The two appeared shocked that Bill was suggesting that we go in during daylight. But Bill said it looked like there were plenty of places -- bushes etcetera -- inside the wall for us to hide in. We'd get in while all the students and teachers were eating their evening meal and then lie low until it got dark. Bill was working on the premise that if there were trip wire alarms and cameras near to the wall, we'd have a better chance of spotting them in daylight.

In the event there were no trip wires, and possibly no cameras either; we never saw any anyway. But what must have been there, were, microphones, vibration sensors or something along those lines, buried in the ground. They must have set off silent alarms the instant we hit the ground inside that ruddy wall. 

Bill and I got in alright and we soon found a really good hiding place. However a number of police with dogs came hunting for us, very shortly after we'd gone to ground. Well before any of the students had reappeared after their evening meal.

Sally who'd remained outside the wall was also picked-up, but the two local boys -- who had remained with her -- had managed to make good their escape. Mainly we think because Sally had made an obvious -- diversionary -- run-for-it, to allow them to getaway. Luckily the police dog just tore the sleeve of her jacket and didn't actually bite her.

At the local police station we soon gathered that the local boys had been telling the truth. A boyfriend trying to get into that school to find his girl was not a unique occurrence. Neither was one or two of the students there trying to break out, by the sound of it.

Bill and I were given police cautions for being on enclosed premises, apparently there wasn't much they could do or say to Sally except for warning her about the consequences for aiding and abetting criminal acts.

Then the police got down to the serious point that the three of us were classed as runaways. Well we hadn't told our parents what we were intending to do, and they'd reported all three of us as missing persons.

My father drove up to collect us, and yeah well, Bill and I got a real... bollocking. My father looked at Sally and said, "You disappoint me girl. These two numskulls I can understand, but what did you think you were doing, Sally?"

Sally didn't answer him.

I think we were all in our families' bad books for some weeks after that, and even my teacher friend tore me off a strip.

However that wasn't the end of the incident. Some weeks later I arrived home from school to find a police officer in the house with my mother and father.

"Jeffrey, do you know what a stalker is?" the policeman asked me.

"Er yeah, someone who wont leave someone else alone. Keeps... well, tormenting them."

"That's it lad. So why are you stalking Alice Porter?"

"I'm not, she's my... well, she was, my girlfriend."

"I see, and since she went off to college how many times has she contacted you?"

"Well she hasn't, we don't think she's allowed to!"

"I somehow doubt that my lad. But anyway you have sent her what... it must be two hundred letters now. How many has she sent you?"

"None sir, we don't think she's allowed to write to us."

"Us?"

"My friend Sally and I."

"Well according to her parents, Alice Porter does not wish for you to keep trying to contact her, and what with your little escapade the other week... Well son, you're beginning to fit the outline of a stalker. A young stalker I'll give you... But a stalker, none the less! 

Now if you know what's good for you, you will forget Alice Porter ever existed. Do not write to her again and for gods sake don't try any more stunts like that episode the other week. Or my boy, our next meeting will not ending as amicably as this one has!"

Then the officer wished my parents goodnight and left.

================

No I didn't leave it there, but I ceased writing any more letters to Alice or Emma. Sally though, well she hadn't been threatened with a stalking charge.

What I did was to change tack. Approaching the Arnolds was out of course. But Frank Porter he was a different proposition wasn't he? I could talk to Frank and I felt I could trust him. 

However I knew that finding the guy was not going to be easy, I literally had no idea where to start at first. But then Sally suggested the Country Club.

Well for Alice and Emma to be associate members, her father Frank Porter would have to be a member. I knew for sure that the Arnolds weren't members; it was common knowledge that some one had blocked George Arnold's application and blackballed him. The most likely candidate for having done that, I thought was Frank Porter; but it's something I'll never know for sure.

My father insisted that it could not have been, George Arnold had been refused a membership to the Country Cub long before any of that debacle had occurred. My dad did not specify what "that debacle!" actually was. But he went on.

"No bugger has ever liked George Arnold my boy. He just has the habit of rubbing everyone up the wrong way. The man has much too high an opinion of himself for most people's tastes."

"Hilary was very nice!" my mother added.

"Yeah, never did make much sense, that!" My father agreed, "However did a nice woman like that finish up with a tosser like George Arnold? She was a good-looker as well!"

I was just a little confused, having only ever heard her referred to as the "First Mrs. Arnold" but soon enough, I kind-a worked out whom the "Hilary" was, that my mother was talking about.

Anyway Sally's mention of getting in touch with Frank Porter through the Country Club seemed obvious and I could not understand why I had not thought of it before.

Luckily the membership card that said I was Alice and Emma's personal trainer was still arriving in the post every year. Aren't computers wonderful things, they just keep doing things over until some bugger tells them to stop.

However it did not prove to be as easy as I thought it would be. Enquires from the reception desk gave me two pieces of information, neither much use. Firstly, that they could not give out personal details about members. The woman wasn't being obstructive, she actually suggested that my best bet was to search out the member I wanted see while they were actually on site. However after checking the records she also informed me that Frank Porter rarely visited the club anymore.

Following Bill's Maxim, that if the front door is locked, then use the backdoor (or even a window); I then headed for the swimming pool office. Where by that time my old friend the lifeguard/swimming-coach had been promoted to Manager of Aquatic Facilities.

On hearing the story of Alice and Emma's... internment, he promised that he'd discover whatever he could about Frank Porter, i.e. Frank's address and anything else that might be of use to me, and get back to me as soon as he could.

A few days later he turned up at our house one evening and explained that -- because of company rules -- he could not give me Frank's Porters address or telephone number.

"It won't do you any good anyway, Jeffrey. The number is no longer allocated and an Asian family have been living in the flat for sometime now. I know that for sure because I went around there myself. Seems they bought the place last year sometime, after it had been repossessed by a mortgage company."

"Another dead-end for the boy, then!" My father commented.

"Well maybe not. There's something a little different about Frank Porter's membership to the Country Club; a company in London pays it for. Probably a company perk or something like that. I called them and asked to speak to Frank Porter and... well, I got the strangest reaction. They wanted to know who I was and why I was calling, and then after keeping me hanging on forever, some guy came on the phone and said that Frank no longer works for the company."

"Another dead-end!" My father said.

"Not necessarily, it took them a very long time before that guy came on the telephone, and I'd swear I heard the girl who answered say 'it's someone looking for Frank!' before she thought to hit the mute button. A trip up there might possibly be worth your while Jeffrey.

"Mind you, I can't actually give you the company name or their address, that would be going against Club policy and could possibly cost me my job. Right, I'd better be going now; busy night at the club this evening."

But as he got up to leave, a piece of paper fell from the folder he was carrying. Just a page turn from a secretary's shorthand pad; but scribbled on it was the name and address of a company in the City of London.

The next morning my father dropped me at the station on his way to work.

"You sure you want to do this on your own lad?" He asked, handing me a pile of cash.

"Yeah dad," I replied, "they might take pity on a kid!"

"You're not such a kid anymore Jeffrey. Good luck and don't forget to call your mother. I'm sure she's having kittens about this." 

"Actually finding the building was a lot harder than I anticipated. But once I got inside, there was a big board on the wall, on where eventually I found that the company I wanted was on the seventh and eight floors. I got out of the lift on the seventh and went straight to the reception desk. The young woman sitting behind it was on the telephone and I immediately assumed that it had been her that my lifeguard friend had spoken to.

When I asked for Frank Porter, she gave me a funny look, then picked up the receiver again and pushed a few buttons.

"There's a young man out here sir, asking to see... Francis Porter."

This was odd; I'd definitely asked her if I could to speak to Frank Porter.

Whomever she had spoken to, obviously said something back to her, because then she added, "Very young sir!" before replacing the receiver and saying. "Take a seat please. Someone will be with you shortly."

Maybe five minutes later a man came out of the lift and went over to the young woman on reception. Then they both looked my way as they whispered to each other. Then the smiling the guy walked over to me and asked.

"May I help you young man?"

"Yes sir, I hope so." I replied getting to my feet and shaking the hand he had proffered.

Trying to make my handshake firm but not aggressive, as my father had always told me that it should be.

"I'm trying to locate Mr Frank Porter?"

"Isn't everyone," the man relied as a sort of throw away remark but then he went on, "Would you mind telling why you are looking for him young man?"

"It's a personal matter sir, I'm... well I was his daughter's boyfriend and..."

"She's vanished as well, I thought..."

"No sir. I know where Alice is sir; I just can't get in touch with her. The security at her new school is unbelievable. Alice's mother doesn't like me and..."

"Ah, I see where you are going. But you and Frank got along alright?"

"Good as gold sir, as far as I'm aware. But I only met him a couple of times and that was a few years ago."

"You and Frank's daughter were together that long? She must have been quite young!"

"We were just friend's back then sir. I met his daughter just after he and his wife separated."

Ah, that explains a lot. Mrs. Porter didn't like you and Frank encouraged your friendship with his daughter. Yes that sounds like Frank to me, all right.

"But I'm sorry young man, we really can't help you here. Frank left this company's employ rather suddenly, a couple of years ago now. I'm afraid that no one here knows where to find Frank Porter today. However if you leave me your name and address... well, I'll pass it along and... well, you never know."

Feeling dejected, I thanked the guy and left to go home.

However once again, that wasn't the end of the matter. Two days later I had another visit from a policeman at home; a detective that time.

My parents sat in while he... well he questioned me about why I was looking for Frank Porter and he seemed to understand.

"You'll be very lucky if you find Frank Porter young man. We've been looking for him for a couple of years now. And you know what, it's highly likely that your Alice... and her sister haven't been sent away to stop you two seeing each other. I would hazard a guess that it's to stop their father whisking them out of the country."

"Why would he want to do that?" my father asked.

"Well a certain person did something rather naughty. A certain George Arnold lives next door to you, doesn't he?" 

My father confirmed the fact.

"Yeah well, a certain group of unnamed individuals, but all of whom worked in the City, took George Arnold and his company for a good few million on the quiet a while back. Stitched him up quiet nicely to be honest. Frank Porter disappeared around the same time, and the fraud squad have been looking for him ever since."

"You think that Frank Porter fiddled a load of money out of Arnold."

"We're pretty sure Frank Porter was behind it, Mr Turner. But we can't find him to ask him if you understand me. Lets face it Frank Porter had the motive, didn't he. And if anyone really wanted to hurt George Arnold, then what better place than in his pocket?

"But I'm sorry lad, I can do nothing to help you with your quest to contact the love of your life. But remember, once she's eighteen... well, there's nothing her mother or George Arnold can do to stop you two getting together again then."

The officer then left, but I was to run into him again.

Oh, I should add that the following year my card for the Country Club didn't arrive. When I enquired about it, I was informed that my sponsoring member's account was in default. It appeared that my enquiries at the company in London had led to them updating their computer records.

================

I have no idea for how long Sally kept sending letters to Alice and Emma at that school. Sally -- and all my other friends -- tried their best never to mention Alice or Emma in my presence after that. I really did my best to forget about her.

Although it didn't help that our mothers, and Bill's -- while not ever mentioning either of the girls directly to me -- did try to use their mothers union type network of friends to get information about them. It appears that The Second Mrs. Arnold liked to brag about their holidays abroad and her daughters' achievements. However any information that was gained via that route turned out to be unreliable, often contradictory.

Time passed as it inevitably does. Bill signed up for the army before he'd even left school, much to Sally's chagrin. But if that's what her man wanted, then Sally appeared -- with reservations -- to be happy for him to become a solder. I think we were all somewhat happier to learn later that Bill was going to train to be a helicopter mechanic.

Somewhere along the line my friend at the country club got me a job there. At first just cleaning the pool and later as a part-time lifeguard; I needed to get the relevant qualifications first, both for lifeguard and in first-aid.

I left school and started college. I had had aspirations of going to university, but for a long time I doubted that would be on the cards, financially. University costs money and as a family we just didn't have that kind of spare cash. Yeah, I could have taken out student loans but I really didn't want to spend my whole life with a damned great debt behind me. I hoped one day to own my own house outright like my parents had. God knows what kind of pressure George Arnold might have been able to bring to bear, had my father owed money on our house.

Shortly after I started college Sally and I... Bill was off at his army training camp most of the time, so Sally and I were almost always together. Anyway, we began to hear more and more rumours that Reg Arnold was around, although we never saw him around the Vicarage.

Eventually he got bolder and wherever he was living, we did catch sight of him now and again in town. I say he got bolder because, rumour had it that both Bill and I were looking for Reggie, if you get my drift. We weren't, by the way. I couldn't-a cared less what the bugger did providing he didn't try to get clever with me again.

Whatever, it soon became obvious that the whole damned town was aware of that rumour. Doormen at the local pubs and clubs would get all jittery when Sally and I arrived sometimes. And then shortly after, it would be drawn to my attention that Reggie Arnold had just left the establishment.

It had little effect on me because I was never refused entry anywhere. More likely, I believe, Reggie might have been asked to leave. The Arnolds weren't at the top of very many people's popularity polls.




The Climbing Tree!



It was around that time that I first heard mention of Roger Vine. I had no idea who the guy was -- and didn't care really -- but it was often reported to Sally or me, that Vine had been in Reggie's company.

To be honest it was like a little game I played, I never denied the rumour that I was after Reg Arnold's blood, but I never confirmed it either. Life went on as if the guy had never existed.

Sally and I got on well at college and pretty quickly she announced that she was going to train as a schoolteacher. That kind-a left me wondering where I was really going, but the head of physical education at the college suggested that I should study it at University.

Immediately I came up with the "No student loan for me!" argument but he instantly shot that down by talking about bursaries. I'll be honest I had little idea what he was talking about at the time.

Whatever, a year or so later the bugger swung it and I went off to study physical education at university level. But that was in the future.

Bill completed his training and then because he was stationed miles away while he trained, he asked Sally to marry him. Sally said yes and at seventeen and eighteen they became man and wife. What was extremely fortuitous was that Sally quickly wangled her way into a teacher training college not far from the college Bill was attending.

I missed having Sally around almost as much as I'd missed Alice when she had left. But I was much busier by then. Most evenings and weekends, I was either life-guarding or teaching swimming at the Country Club.

Unreliable reports reached my ears that Alice was already at university somewhere, or alternatively at some flash finishing school, reputed to be in Paris. However as I said, several different universities mentioned, ranging between Oxford and Cambridge, and even Yale in the States on occasions. Someone was deliberately feeding-out misinformation I very much suspected. But whether it was intended to confuse me or Alice's real father, or for some other reason, I have no idea.

The day before I shipped off to university I went to the Country Club to say goodbye to all my friends and colleagues there. And on the way home, for some reason I didn't go the short way along the main road. I took the back path round the golf course and through the park as Alice and I had done together so many times. Boy was that a mistake; did that walk make me feel melancholy!

As a walked through the park itself I remembered it all, everything that had happened there over the years. Especially the day Bill, Sally and I first heard Emma screaming in fear up that tree. And how cold the water had felt when I dived into the lake and dragged Alice out. "Yeah, it is a lake, why the hell does everyone call it a river?" I asked myself staring back at the water.

Then I looked up at our tall climbing tree and wondered whether any children still climbed into its hallowed branches.

Don't ask me why because I can't tell you; but something forced me to climb that tree one more time.

It took but a few seconds and at the top I found that someone had obliterated the initials that Bill, Sally Alice and I had carved into the trunk by the top most (sitting) branch many years before.

Taking out my Swiss-army-knife, I carved them back again. Then feeling even more morose, I climbed down and went home.

================

At Uni I threw myself into everything I could find. Student union, sports clubs... you name it and Jeffrey Turner was on the membership list. Before I knew it I was representing the university in swimming and diving competitions. Not that diving was really my forte, but I was roped in anyway. I believe because the chief coach had heard of my uncle.

I also discovered that I had been very lucky getting that particular bursary. It was the first time it had been awarded to anyone, and it covered my term fees, accommodation and there was even enough money leftover for all my books and the like.

I dated a few girls, but never anything serious. Jesus, I was too busy to get serious with another girl. Thoughts of Alice filled my head when my mind went in that direction.

Well really, by that time, I had it figured that Alice had forgotten about me. Surely she had to be in university herself by then and wherever it was, it was unlikely to be a prison camp like that school had been. As far as we knew Alice had made no attempt to contact Sally or myself. Or Bill either, I suppose I should add.

I was in my last year just coming up to my finals when my mother and father died. A gas explosion they said at the inquest. Just one of those things, another unfortunate and tragic accident!

Bill's mother's house had also been damaged but she had been out at the time of the explosion. She had hers repaired, then she sold it and moved into a house she was to share with Bill and Sally. Possibly she bought the house and they shared it with her, I never learnt the details anyway.

I didn't have my parents' house repaired, I sold it as it stood and banked the insurance money. With my mother, father, Bill and Sally all gone, there was nothing back there for me anyway.

Instead -- on graduating -- I took a job on the south coast, with -- of all organisations -- the Ambulance Service. I have no idea why, but I'd made up my mind to train as a paramedic. I really do not know why, possibly because it had been paramedics who'd been the first on the scene of the explosion that killed my parents. Who knows how or why these ideas get into our heads.

I hadn't been down there a year when I got word that Bill had been killed, following a land mine explosion. Actually they don't call them landmines now.... Oh no, lets not go there. Bill had been picked-off by a sniper when he went to the aid of another injured soldier. Posthumously Bill and another guy -- who did survive -- were decorated for their actions that day.

I went back home for the funeral -- Bill was buried alongside his father -- and that's where I had made my naive promise to Sally. At Bill's graveside I promised Sally that, wherever and whenever she needed me, I would be there for her!

At his funeral, Bill's mother had looked like she'd suddenly aged ten years. Within weeks she and Sally had moved in with Sally's parents. Sally getting a job quite quickly at our old junior school. But within eight months, Bill's mother had past away; from a broken heart according to Sally. The grass hadn't fully grown back on Bill's grave when they laid his mother in with her husband.

Almost another year passed and I was visiting Sally, helping her celebrate her twenty-forth birthday. And my own twenty-fifth, which was due shortly I should add. We were sitting in her parents lounge after dinner when Sally handed me an envelope.

"This is addressed to you," I pointed out."

"Yeah, but you need to read it, Jeff!" She replied.

"What is it?"

"For Christ sake, open it and see!"

I did and then pulled out the card that was within and read it out-loud.

Mr and Mrs George Arnold

Request the honour of presence of

Mrs Sally Parsons and Companion

At the marriage of their daughter

Alice Helena Porter

and

Mr Roger Brendon Vine

It went on the list our local church, the time and venue for the reception, etcetera. 

"Are you going?" I asked.

"I'm not sure Jeffrey. I really don't know that I ever want to go into that church again. Bill and I were married before that altar. Bill's coffin lay there, and so did his mother's and both your parent's coffins. I'm not sure that I ever want to go into that place again."

"Then don't!"

"That's easy for you to say, but Alice wants me to be her maid of honour!"

"She's asked you; you've spoken to Alice?"

"No, Emma called me the other day to ask me on Alice's behalf; the same day as that invitation arrived."

"Where is she... are they?"

"I'm not sure, maybe over the road, but no one's seen either of them. All of the girls just got invitations in the post like me. I still don't think anyone has seen or spoken to Alice since... well, they went off to that school."

"What did Emma, actually say?"

"Well that was a little odd, but then everything about that family is odd, isn't it? Emma was short and to the point. Like she was in a hurry. She just said "Hello Sal" and asked me if I'd received the invitation to Alice's wedding. I said that it had come that morning and she said that she already knew it had. Then she said that Alice had asked her to ask me if I would be her maid of honour.

"You know Alice and Emma must be over there. Emma must have seen the postman deliver that invite, or even may have asked him if he had when he went there. Then she called not five minutes after I got home from the school that evening. She just gave me time to put the car in the garage and get inside the house. She must have been watching for me."

"But Alice didn't ask you herself."

"No!"

"And are you going to go to her wedding, maid of honour or not?"

"I'm not sure Jeff, I'm in two minds. She was my friend remember, probably the best girlfriend that I've ever had."

"Best Girlfriend?"

"You know that, beside my parents, the two most important people in my whole life were you and Bill. But Alice... and little Emma, they are running close behind you. I'm just not sure that I can face going into that damned church again." 

"Then don't Sally, that place holds enough bad memories for me, let alone you. Give it a miss girl, maybe go to the reception later."

"I'm with Jeffrey on that one Sally. You always look like you are about to cry when you drive past the place." Sally's mother added from the doorway.

"Are you going to go?" Sally asked me.

"Jesus no! Nothing in heaven or on this earth could persuade me to attend that wedding, I can assure you of that!"

"That's what I figured you'd say. But you should do!"

"For gods sake why?"

"Because, Jeffrey, just because!"

"Well I wouldn't go even if I did have an invite, which ain't likely to happen you know that as well as I do!" 

I popped in to see Sally before I went back my own home on the south coast the following day. From what she'd said then, I thought that Sally had decided to give Alice's wedding a miss. That early morning phone call I received from Sally the following weekend, proved that I was wrong.

================

Story Divergence Point 

================

So there we were sitting in the back of church waiting for the service to begin. But then we saw Alice do something rather strange; for a woman who is about to get married that is. She stepped past the Vicar and up onto the top of the steps before the altar, then she turned and scrutinised the congregation through her veil. Then, giving her sister Emma a thumbs-up signal, she gave the two cameramen filming the proceedings a cheery wave, kicking her leg up behind at the second.

Having somewhat destroyed the solemnity of the occasion, Alice then returned to her allotted place.

Obviously someone had turned the radio microphones on that the wedding party were wearing because over the PA system we heard the vicar ask Alice.

"Are you ready now?"

By the sound of his voice I don't think the Vicar had been impressed with Alice's strange behaviour. And by the look of him, neither had been her intended.

"As I'll ever be, Vicar! Whenever you are ready to get started, I am!" Alice said in a remarkably confident tone of voice.

Personally I was beginning to think that Alice might have overdone the Dutch Courage, a little and whispered as much to Sally. She didn't answer and when I glanced in her direction I saw that Sally had the biggest grin on her face that I'd ever seen.

And so it began. The Vicar welcomed all present and unnecessarily told us why we were there. Then he announced the first hymn, which -- much to my amazement and I'm sure most of the rest of the congregations -- turned out to be "Onward Christian Soldiers." Not a hymn that I could recall ever hearing sung at a wedding before. But Alice sure did bang it out, as they say.

Over the PA system no one could mistake Alice's voice. When I looked she was holding the microphone attached to her dress, right up to her mouth.

"Christ she's as pissed as a bloody newt!" I can recall thinking to myself. And wondering how many other folks must be coming to the same conclusion.

After hymn had been well and truly murdered... the old boy got down to the serious business. Very soon he was asking Roger whether he took Alice to be his wedded wife, "I do!" Roger replied.

Then the Vicar asked Alice if she took Roger to be her lawfully wedded husband, and she replied,

"I should bloody cocoa! Would you marry the twerp?" Then she went on, "Sorry Roger but you're not going to get lucky tonight, either! But I have to give it to you, you are a patient bugger!"

That outburst brought consternation to the proceedings and a certain amount of guffawing from certain members of the congregation. Neither the vicar nor Roger Vine appeared to have any idea what to do or say.

However, Alice did appear to know what she was doing, and so did Emma. Alice spun on her heel and then taking her sister's hand the two girls began to stride up the nave.

But suddenly Alice's mother and George Arnold seemed to gather their wits about them. Both of them stood and shouted "Alice!" after her.

Her mother adding. "What the hell do you think you are playing at?"

Alice and Emma stopped, then spinning on her heel again, Alice replied. "Mother... if you think he's such bloody good catch, why don't you marry the randy little shit yourself! After all, you're not averse to changing horses midstream are you? You've done it before!"

Then the two girls proceeded out of the church, but not before Alice had removed her radio microphone and handed it to a gobsmacked usher.

While Alice was doing so, Sally and I were attempting to extract ourselves from the centre of the pew but we had little success. It appeared that everyone wanted to get outside; one assumes in the hope that there would be more fireworks to watch and listen to out there.

When Sally and I eventually did get outside Alice and Emma were nowhere to be seen. However the police officer that informed me of Alice's father's misdeeds, was! He was one of four police officers present; I kind-a wondered why he was there in the first place.

Anyway, when he spotted me the detective called us over.

"May I assume that that was the mysterious Alice Porter?" he asked. "What just happened in there, she and the other girl took off like scared rabbits?"

"She just told her mother a few home truths officer; where'd the girls go?" I replied.

"They had a cab waiting!"

"Shit, did you hear where they asked the driver to take them, by any chance?"

"They didn't. It was sitting there with the door open, waiting. We thought it was there for someone else. Whatever happened inside that church, it looks like it was planned well ahead of time!"

"Bugger!" I said.

"Jeffrey my-boy, isn't the world lucky that you're not a policeman." He smiled at me. "I just told you that they got into cab, a black cab to be precise, not a car!"

"And there's only one taxi firm in town who run Black Cabs Jeff," Sally added, "We can go down there and ask them where Alice went."

"Or you could call them, it would be much quicker." The officer suggested. "I'm sure... that with the right credentials," He went on, pointing the number on his warrant card that he'd produced from somewhere. "They'll tell Sergeant Carter."

Then after giving me another smile, he turned around and went over to join one of his colleagues.

"I wonder what they are doing here?" I asked Sally on our way to my car.

"I wouldn't be surprised at all, if they aren't still looking for Alice's father. Not many men could resist their own daughters wedding." She suggested.

After giving my best Sergeant Carter impression to the Cab Company on the telephone, I was informed that the taxi in question had been booked for the whole day. But at that particular moment it was parked just along the road from the Vicarage.

I found that confusing, but I suppose I assumed the Alice and Emma had gone back there to collect some of their belongings. I drove pretty fast and furiously hopping to get there before they left again.

However when I turned the corner, I could see that the taxi had stopped by the entrance to the park. I parked behind it and asked the driver where the girls were. Well, parking the taxi by the park, might have been a blind or false trail.

"And you are?" The driver asked.

"Jeffrey Turner!"

The guy just gestured towards the park entrance with his eyes, in reply.

Dragging Sally along behind me, I ran through gates and scanned the park for any sign of Alice or Emma.

"There's Emma on the bridge." Sally quickly pointed out.

"Yeah, but where's Alice?"

"Were do you think stupid? You get go get Alice, I'll look after Emma." Sally said and took off across the park at a run.

I was lost for a few seconds and then the penny dropped. In the top of the climbing tree I could just about make out a flash of white in amongst the green of the foliage.

================

"Bleeding funny place for someone to hide, and you've made a real mess of that ruddy wedding dress as well, girl. There are bits and pieces of it all the way up this bloody tree."

"I'm sure that is the least of George's concern. That little fiasco today must have cost him the earth. It was some do he had laid on for this evening you know; that will all have to be paid for."

"But why Alice? Surely you could have walked away anytime you liked in the last few years."

"I could have, but I had nowhere to go... and no reason to want to either."

Alice had confused me, so I must have gone quiet for a little while I tried to make some sense of what she'd just said. I suspect that my silence worried her because she suddenly said.

"Jeffrey do you remember that you told once that we could get married when we grew older." 

"Yes Alice, I remember!"

"Well, we are older now?"

"And you want for us to get married?"

"Well I was kind-a hoping. Well... counting on it actually, after what Sally told me last week. You could say that I well and truly burnt my bridges behind me today."

"That sure was a scene kiddo, I've never witnessed anything like that in my whole life."

"Well they asked for it, they had Emma and me convinced..."

"Convinced about what?"

"That you'd all forgotten us. They even had Emma thinking that her friends had ditched her, just in case you made contact with me through her and them."

"You know that your father might add into the equation somewhere along the line, don't you, Alice?"

"Sally mentioned that, but I can't see that stopping my father kidnapping us had anything to do with you and I writing to each other. No, they ruined my life; the embarrassment of that fiasco today doesn't go anywhere near paying them back."

"So you think we should get married then, Alice?"

"It's a plan, but not right away of course. I really can't expect you to marry me tomorrow. We need to get reacclimatized to each other for a while. You know, get to know each other's little foibles and the like."

"Oh yes, that's a good idea!"

"Yeah next week will do, it takes a few days to get a marriage licence anyway."

I shot Alice a look and saw that she was grinning back at me.

"Whenever you are ready, Jeffrey." She said through her smile. "I've waited this long, we can get married in your time."

Then we noticed some movement in the tree bellow us and we heard Sally's voice saying, 

"Jesus that's a long way up! Do you two intend to stay up here until you do get married?"