I awoke first but then, I don't drink. Jimmy, on the other hand, he drinks. Hell, he drank. Let's be blunt, he swallowed. A lot. He swears he quit drinking back in 1993, but he broke his rule last night. From my seat in the train car I got to watch as Jimmy woke up and dealt with the various agonies of his hangover. I giggled. I'm allowed, because he was giving me hell for not joining him as he tried out some suspect liquor he picked up in Rome. When the pain of opening his eyes had subsided, I decided to remind him of what we did last night.

"What's this?" he groaned as I tossed a small booklet at him.

"You don't remember?" I asked innocently as I straightened myself in my seat. I made a note to myself that if I was going to impress the other writers on this train trip, I had better stop sleeping in my clothes. Plus, I had to stop sleeping on one side of my head all night too. My reputation of being a young, creative writer was going to be replaced with 'That slob with the poof-hair.'

Jimmy flipped through the pages, his eyes desperately trying to focus. "What is it?" he asked when he gave up on reading it.

"Oh, just the rules for the most chauvinistic, hedonistic, and juvenile game of scavenger hunt that we could come up with," I answered, nonchalantly, but I was proud of myself.

"Oh shit," Jimmy said. "Let me guess, probably women's bras and other personal items?"

"No, better," I corrected. "Women's bras and personal items belonging to some of the ASSD people on board this train, all of which have to be gathered in three days."

He slapped his head, which was really funny because of how sensitive he was. After he was done sucking air through clenched teeth, he had a very good question for me.

"Why, oh why, did we agree to do a scavenger hunt?" he asked. "I'm trying to get respectable, and you just got respectable! No body is going to read our stories again after they catch us trying to snitch personal belongings. Jesus, this sounds like the plot to a really bad porno movie!"

"No, it sounds like the plot to one of our stories," I offered. "We made the list of items, taking turns trying to think of more and more outrageous items. We've got a very impressive and specific list here, one that would be worth a story in it's own right."

I had his attention now. "I bet we did come up a few good ones," he laughed.

"We certainly did," I said as I snatched the list from him. It's not like he could read it.

"Item number one, Maria's bra," I announced.

"Big deal," Jimmy said. "As popular as that girl has been, I bet they're all over the place."

"Ahh, but we stipulated it had to be ON her at the time we acquired it," I answered.

"Damn," Jimmy said.

"But you're not interested in it, so I should just throw it away," I said as I stood up.

"Now hold on," Jimmy said, and he would have gotten up if he could have felt his legs. "If we put all that work into it, we might as well read it some more. What's item number two?"

"Number two, that would be 'A triple 10 from Celeste or an A+ from Lady Cyrrh, and you aren't allowed to use a story.'" Jimmy wasn't thrilled with that one.

"Fucking A, were we trying to be as immature as possible?" Jimmy asked.

"Hey, they're not all sex related items," I countered. "For example, we've got 'a tuft of Greybeard's beard,' listed."

He groaned, I'm not sure from embarrassment or the pain of the hangover. Then he started laughing, and I knew he was hooked.

"Let me read it again, now that the room has stopped spinning," he said. I tossed him his copy of the list, and watched as he read through the fifty items.

"Wait a minute," he said laughingly. "TypoMan's spellchecker? Isn't that an oxymoron?"

"Oh, I think you said that in retaliation for me naming Allison's underwear. We agreed that two fictional items make good tie breakers."

He thought about it, he really did. Even with a hangover, and even with his nonexistent reputation on the line, he still almost decided to go for it.

"Nahh, we'd get thrown off the train for being bastards," he said. "Besides, this is a time-traveling train, shouldn't we be out enjoying the sights, and not harassing other writers for a stupid game?"

"Hey, we can enjoy the sights, but there's a lot of places we're visiting that I don't care for," I said. "You see one Greek orgy, you've seen them all. I plan to stay inside the train when the group wants to shatter their illusions about how romantic ancient Japanese culture was. This'll help keep us busy, instead of ruining other people's visits."

"Nope, I'm just not doing it," Jimmy said. "I don't care about winning the contest when it might make me look like a jerk to people I respect."

"Really? You didn't feel that way when you signed it last night," I pointed out. "If you don't want to play, I guess you forfeit and I win the prize."

"Prize?" Jimmy asked. He flipped to the end of his booklet, and started reading aloud.

"I is agreed that the winner of the contest shall get to spend one long night in a private compartment, exploring sexual theories and getting totally sated with . . ."

"No," Jimmy said as he read the name of the unlucky lady. "Like SHE would ever go for that!"

"Then how do you explain Janey's signature at the bottom of the page?" I said smugly.

"She must have been shit-house wasted!" Jimmy snapped, his heart probably going all aflutter.

"True, she was," I replied. "There WAS an awful lot of that wine to go around."

"But why would she agree to be the prize of a childish game? Isn't that degrading?" Jimmy asked.

"No, I think the spin she put on it was that she wanted to see how far we would degrade OURSELVES over a chance to spend a night with her. Plus, I think Miles turned her on to the idea of losing control over sex. Remember that great story he told us about Janey and the cards?"

"God bless Miles," Jimmy said, and we had a moment of respectful silence.

"I take it this means you're in?" I asked.

"Like FBI on a UFO," Jimmy said, and it would have been more impressive if his eyes were actually focusing in the same direction. "We got to start the Hunt at noon. That'll give me time to recover."

"Agreed," I lied. "Let me go get you some water," I said as I walked out to get the first item on the list.

>>>>>Item # 41- Homer Vargas's Birth Control <<<<<<<<

As luck would have it, the possessor of one of our scavenger hunt items was walking in the crowded hallway with me. It was Homer Vargas, writer of far too many pregnancy stories. The quested item was some sort of birth control, which gives you an idea of what kind of fucked up mood we were in when we made the list. Oh yeah, we both think we're funny, which is what was going to make filling this list such a bitch.

"Hey Homer, thank God you're here," I said in the conspiratorial tone of men everywhere.

"Why?" he asked, instantly suspicious. Smart man.

"You see, I got this great lady waiting for me, and I don't have any protection on me," I said. "A handsome guy like you has got to have dozens of dates already planned for today."

"Well, maybe," he said, soaking up the flattery. "But you're out of luck, I don't use protection. It ruins the chance of pregnancy, you know?"

I made my best 'worried' face.

'Homer, haven't you heard?" I asked as I whispered closer. "Someone picked up a case of the Trojan Clap, and has been spreading it like wildfire on board the train."

"Trojan clap, what the hell is that?" he said, whispering like I was.

"Let's just say, you'll be lucky if it only takes seventeen years to clear up," I said dreadfully.

"Damn, we better get some condoms then!" he said, subconsciously holding his hand near his groin.

"I know Louie the Leprechaun installed condom machines everywhere, I just don't have any change on me," I lied.

"I've got plenty of change, I'll buy enough for both of us. I owe you for letting me know about the Trojan Clap," he said as he headed for the nearest dispenser.

"No buddy, I owe you," I said as he handed me his condom. Five minutes into the contest, and I had my first item!

>>>>>>>Item # 2 - A triple 10 from Celeste or an A+ from Lady Cyrrh, without using a story.

After picking up condoms from Homer, I decided I was armed for this item. I chose Lady Cyrrh, simply because I couldn't wait to meet this intriguing lady. Someone who regularly reviews bondage, Star Trek and superhero stories, was a must for me to meet in person. Plus, I suspect she might be closer to my age, as opposed to Celeste who might simply think I'm crazy.

Lady Cyrrh compartment was in the exclusive Reviewer's Car. I could hear bickering from Tom, Dick and Harry down the hall, while a dozen guest reviewers were tracking back and forth from Celeste's room. There were no noises coming from Cyrrh's room, which didn't surprise me. She's pretty elusive on the best of days. Heck, I lost five dollars in a bet with Maria on wether she would even show up.

"Hello?" I said respectfully as I knocked on her door.

"Enter," Lady Cyrrh said, and it's a credit to me that I didn't make a wise-ass comment on her choice of words.

The splendor inside her compartment had me amazed and downright jealous. How the fuck did she get a bubbling fountain? Where did the sun roof open to? Why didn't I get the marble nude statues? Even on a train, the Lady traveled in style. Louie and I were going to have a short talk about accommodations. I thought I was lucky to have a sink in mine!

"Welcome, make yourself at home. I think I already know why you are here," a striking, yet small, blonde woman said from a divan made of cushions. Clad in a simple blue nightgown, she had more presence than some of the real royalty I have met on this train ride. I wish I could remember more details about her, but when a woman like her speaks, you focus more on what she says, and not on how dazzlingly attractive she is.

"You do?" I asked, as I sat down on a sturdy stool. A cat hissed at me from behind a tapestry; that wasn't a good sign.

"Oh yes. Someone was here a few minutes ago talking about a scavenger hunt, and trying to earn an 'A+' from me," she said, her blue eyes letting me know what she thought of such a futile attempt. I didn't worry too much about her eyes; I was impressed that Jimmy moved so fast. It had been only ten minutes since I left him!

"Did he succeed?" I asked.

She laughed.

I laughed too; it seemed like the thing to do.

"Last night was . . . very interesting," Lady Cyrrh said, and I took her word for it. "I find that wearing thigh-highs and too much studded leather has given me too many sore spots. After a rough night's sleep, I required your competitor to give me a relaxing massage. He failed miserably. I recommended he go to Celeste, she might be easier to impress."

Yeah, I could see that. Jimmy's single, unlike me, and the thought of massaging this small, delicate lady with the flashing eyes would make any single man tremble. Of course, being married didn't make me any stronger, but I had practice with being strong.

"I think you're in luck, Lady Cyrrh," I said as I rose from my stool. "For your years of service to our group of writers, I think you deserve a great massage on demand."

"A great one?" she said with an even mixture of doubt and interest. As she unbuttoned her gown and let it slide from her shoulders, I found myself praying that I could live up to my own hype.

"There is a table that would be perfect for this," Lady Cyrrh said as she calmly walked into an adjoining room, nude and perfectly at ease.

Thank God I was wearing briefs today.

Reclining on a table clearly made for reclining, Lady Cyrrh presented me her back to me. A table was nearby, and along with the usual whips, feathers, and strangely shaped candles, were the items I needed. A simple bottle of lotion was what I picked up, and I noted that this one came from some land called 'Mu.' I thought they only did floatation devices?

There's something that made me a better masseuse than Jimmy, and that's a rocky first year of marriage. My wife couldn't handle the pressures of a new marriage, financial responsibilities and well, let's face it, dealing with me on a daily basis. Her doctor came up with a novel cure for her stress. I was required to give my lovely, busty, funny wife a sensuous massage every other night, with no hope of me getting laid. A half hour of no stress, without the pressures of doing anything on a regular basis settled my new bride right down. Of course, it just made me horny as hell.

So, with a year of that kind of self-control under my belt, rubbing Lady Cyrrh down was just a refresher course. That's why I was able to concentrate on kneading sore muscles, and not on how smooth and nice her back felt under my hands. Not even the alluring swell of her buttocks, and the intriguing muscles under her shoulders could distract me from my work. Of course, the slippery lotion made me think of a few naughty applications, especially when she parted her legs for me to reach her thighs. However, I behaved like a gentleman, and used my large hands purely to knead, squeeze and rub.

Just as I was starting to believe in my self control, Lady Cyrrh rolled over onto her back.

"That wasn't bad at all," she said. "Now let's see if your luck continues."

It's one thing to massage the lovely lines of a woman's backside; it's another whole slice of body heaven to massage the soft curves of a woman's front. For example, extra care must be taken to lift the breasts, not cup them. Hell, it was next to impossible not to give those pink nipples a tiny pinch, but I somehow did it. Also, you have to be very gentle as you massage the inside of a woman's upper thigh, and resist the temptation to pass a single finger through the tangle of soft hair that is so brazenly displayed. The single most attractive facet of Lady Cyrrh's divine body was that I knew I couldn't do anything really interesting. That didn't stop me from looking.

When it was over, and I was unconsciously panting, Lady Cyrrh sat up and looked me straight in the eye. I would like to say I became lost in her deep blue pools, but there was too much analysis going on for me to drown in anything romantic. However, I did, however, entertain the notion of never washing my hands again.

"You receive an 'A' for the massage, and an extra plus for only touching my clit once," she said as I blushed furiously. Damn, I thought I had been subtle!

"Thanks, but could I have that in writing?" I asked. No one was going to believe my side of the story as it was; at least I could get documentation.

>>>>>>>Item # 11 A Piece of Greybeard's beard.

After earning my A+, I headed towards the dining car. I was a bit hungry, and I was wondering if I could get an ice pack to sit on my crotch. My ability to get other items was going to be diminished if I had an emergency erection all morning long. It was on my way to the dining car that I ran into Greybeard, or, at least, part of Greybeard.

He was sporting this huge lump on the side of his forehead, as well as missing part of his famous beard. The right side of his beard was missing, and his face had this angry red look, like the hair had been ripped out. Trust me, you don't want to know how I know how this looks.

"Oh my, Greybeard, what happened?" I asked, knowing darn well what happened.

"Some bastard knocked me cold and ripped my beard off!" Greybeard snapped. Yep, I was right. I had to give Jimmy credit, the boy could move!

"Wait a minute, who are you?" he asked. I proudly showed him my nametag. Hey, I was nominated for a Golden Clitiride, it's second nature for me to drop my own name.

"Shone Richards?" he asked, butchering the pronunciation of my name. "Never heard of you."

"That's ok, I get that a lot," I said, my dignity stepping aside to make room for my cunning. "By the way, that beard looks really weird with just one side of it there."

"You think so?" Greybeard said with perfect sarcasm.

"Tell you what, I've got a razor here, why don't you at least even it out?" I said.

It was true, I did have a razor, because I was planning to use it for just this reason. Stepping into a side restroom, he begrudgingly shaved. As Greybeard quickly corrected himself, I used my long lost skills of shoplifting to snatch some of his hair. It wasn't hard -- not many people keep an eye on their fallen hair. Well, witches do, but that's another story.

"Thanks," he said gruffly, but I forgave him. I mean, he did have half his beard ripped out, I can't expect him to be friendly. It's a terrible thing to go through this early in the morning. Maybe he can call himself GreyGoatee for this train trip. The thought did occur to me to warn other people about Jimmy's methods, but then, that would just put people on guard against me as well.

Can't be having that, can we?

>>>>>Item # 1- Maria's bra, while she was wearing it.

Relaxing in the dinning car, I was considering my next target when the choice was made for me. My friend Maria walked into the car, and I was quick to wave her over. Only on a fantasy train time-traveling through the past would such a stunningly attractive woman smile and sit beside me just because I asked. It's too bad I was using this unique situation to win a scavenger hunt, but then, I'd rather not think about what that says about my competitive compulsions.

"Hey Maria, you appear to be in a good mood," I said as I imagined various tactics of grabbing her bra. I'm not sure if these thoughts were due to the game.

"Shon, you have no idea how long it's been since I've not had four children to take care of," she said as she tore into a hearty breakfast. I noticed she cut the bacon into pieces much smaller than she needed.

"I can see where that would be a vacation," I answered, trying my best not to sniff her long black hair. Maria has that effect on people.

"It is! To be honest, too many of the people here are less mature than my kids, but at least I don't have to wipe their noses." Did I mention that Maria has these cute little dimples under her eyes? I kept my eyes on them so they wouldn't naturally wonder to her plentiful chest.

"Less mature?" I laughed as I tried nonchalantly to push my scavenger notes aside.

"What's this?" she said as she snatched my notes up. Damn, the woman's fast!

"Oh, just a scavenger hunt, mostly harmless and dull," I lied. "You probably wouldn't want to read it, just guy stuff, really."

"Maria's bra?" she read, and I saw her eyes squint. Oh-oh.

"Maria's bra?" she snapped. "Is that all I am to you guys? A set of big tits?"

"A set of really nice big tits along with a nice ass," was my first thought, but my tongue was quicker than my brain.

"Oh, that was Jimmy's idea," I said. "I talk to you every morning, so I know that there's more to you than that. I know that you're really smart, and helpful, and you've got a wit that's really sharp. It's just that the group only reads the posts you post, they don't ever see the posts you end up deleting because they're too funny."

"Oh, you're saying I don't ever say anything funny?" she accused.

"I, uh, damn," I said. Thankfully, she started laughing. Then she punched me in the arm.

"Boy, I really had you scared, didn't I?" she said as she continued reading the list.

"No, you just have me bruised," I said as I tried to rub the knot in my arm away.

"Good, you deserve it," she said. I watched as she read the list. Maybe if she thought it was funny then the others wouldn't think me and Jimmy were creeps. Maria laughed a few times, she frowned once or twice, but all in all, she appeared to be in good spirits. Maybe Jimmy and I overrated our list?

"If this list gets out, you guys are dead," Maria said, crushing my fragile illusions.

"True, but that why we're trying to be secretive," I said.

"So, you need my bra. What do I get out of it?" she asked as she sat back down next to me.

I had her answer ready. "How about I make you the villain of a Kiko story?" I asked.

"Really?" she said as she hurriedly unfastened her bra from under her shirt. Maria is the only person in the world who would find that offer attractive. My luck is funny that way.

"Sure," I said as she tossed me her bra. Good God, it was huge! If I made a sling out of it, I could kill Goliath and his bigger brother, Harry.

"It's a deal. Now, can I join in on the scavenger hunt?" she asked.

The thrill of actually touching Maria's bra evaporated as I thought about this smart, sexy, creative woman running rampant on the train. I don't think Jimmy and I working together could compete with her.

"Well, Maria, it's like this," I said. "This scavenger hunt is a test of wills between two men. It's like a chess match, it's personal, it's a meeting of strategies, it's . . ."

She interrupted me. "No, I don't want to compete, I just wanted to know if you would like me to help you out?"

My mind derailed from the line of shit I was shoveling.

"Hot Damn! We'll kick Jimmy's ass for sure! Thanks a lot! Now, I might even let you win over Kiko!"

"So, which items do you want to get?" I said as I pushed the list in front of her. I didn't want her to have time to change her mind.

"Let me write these down, while you get us some more to drink." she asked. I gratefully did as she asked. If she could help me win, I would have squeezed the orange juice myself. When I came back, she had made her own list, and was ready to go.

"The contest ends at noon tomorrow, right?" she asked.

"Yep, we'll gather the items at Jimmy's compartment," I said.

"Great, I'll be there, just make sure you're there too! Adios!" she said, and then literally ran off. I had this terrible feeling that I had unleashed a monster. Well, at least it was a good looking monster.

>>>>>>Item #32- A Golden Clitiride Award

The Golden Clitirides were an award that was created by the writers, for the writers. Despite some rather imaginative attempts on my part, I did not win one. Jimmy didn't win one either, which is what it made it an attractive item on our list. Out of the four people who did win one, it wasn't too hard to realize who would be the easiest to approach-- Miss Behavin. Our e-mails have always been on the friendly side, and I was confident that I could borrow her award simply by asking.

The train had stopped somewhere during the Wild West period, and I felt a moment of panic. Saloon girls, dusty streets and horses held an appeal for me, and I thought about postphoning my hunt for a bit. I opened a window to take a look outside, and then immediately slammed the window back down. Apparently, horses shit. They shit a lot, and they shit everywhere. I returned to my mission.

If I was going to be visiting with Ms Behavin, I thought it would be a good idea to at least bathe a little. My compartment didn't have a shower, so I had to use one of the public showers that Louie had included on the train. The little Leprechaun didn't think we needed showers until I pointed out how much of a mess a group of erotica writers could make. He still wasn't convinced till Bronwen made those stains on the ceiling of her compartment. Once Bronwen needed her ceiling cleaned for the third time, Louie was convinced that there was too much fluid flying around to not have showers.

Fortunately, the showers weren't busy at this time in the morning, though I did have to tell LambChop in the next stall over to keep it down. Sure, getting clean was quick and easy, but I was terribly distracted by all the fun going on next door. How does that man fit three fans in a stall with him? Where does he get all the soap? How does anyone get clean with all the moaning going on? Most importantly, why didn't I think to have Louie install a few peepholes?

After my shower, and a fresh set of clothes, I went to Miss Behavin's compartment. Since I was going to be asking a favor, I wore my tuxedo. Ok, it wasn't mine, I stole it from Sean Connery when he was making 'GoldFinger.' Time travel is funny that way. You just don't choose your clothes, you steal them from famous people. My priorities need work though; I was nicking Bond's clothes while Jimmy was reveling in Pussy Galore. On the other hand, I look much better in this tuxedo than Jimmy did the morning after.

I knocked on Ms Behavin's door, which I hear she designed herself. There was a nice plaque with her name, also a nice wooden sign listing who wasn't allowed to even look at her door. It took me a few minutes to read all the names, especially since all the nude pictures on the door kept distracting me. Luckily, my name wasn't on the list, yet.

"Come in, and leave anything smelling like horse-shit outside!" a voice called out. It looks like we have more in common than I thought.

Once again, someone had a much better compartment than I did. As opposed to the Sultan's Quarters of Lady Cyrrh, Ms Behavin had this very nice metropolitan style. I'm not sure how she got a fireplace, but I did like the chandelier. The floor was done in an attractive white tile, dotted here and there with small rugs. To think that I thought the closet in my compartment was a luxury!

Splendor is one thing, but beauty of a feminine nature is far more enticing. The enticement in this room was typing away at a laptop on her couch. I don't usually like white couches, but then, they usually don't have a pretty woman with long blonde hair sitting on them. Her lips were curled into a frown as she stared at her monitor, and I patiently waited till she was done with her problem before I spoke.

This was fine with me, it gave me time to match the beauty before me with the personality I had been reading about for the past six months. This also allowed me to appreciate the little details, like the fact that she swears at the screen often, and that I think she has size 7 feet. Her clothes were worth studying as well-- not many women start their mornings in short black dresses. I worried that she might have a date soon, as not many women I know wear sequins right after breakfast.

"Well, what do you . . ." she said, and then stopped when she looked at me. Damn, I must be looking good. Correction, Sean Connery's suit must be looking good.

"Morning Miss Behavin," I said as I bowed slightly. "There's a favor I need to ask of you, but I thought I could at least be a gentleman and stop by and say hello first."

"I'm glad you came by, please sit down," she said as she scooted over on the couch. Double hot damn! It MUST be the suit, because I think that's the first time a stranger has made room for me on a couch.

Sitting blissfully close to Miss Behavin, I briefly wondered what God I must have pleased to be near so many beautiful women in one morning. Eager to not say anything stupid and mess up my lucky streak, I decided to give her my pitch.

"Thank you so much for seeing me this morning Miss Behavin, but I'm afraid you're the only person I know with the talents to help me this morning," I said.

Her smile was as encouraging as it was disarming. "Whatever can you mean?" she said as she giggled. "And why would it require you to wear such a nice suit?"

She started running her fingers along my arm, but I kept control of myself. I knew it was the suit that had her hooked. Who knew that Sean Connery's sex appeal was transferable?

"You see, you're a writer who can create intriguing personal dilemmas, while crafting characters as real as any I have seen," I said as she kept stroking the arm of my suit. "I usually despise sad stories, yet for some reason I gladly let you rip my heart out with one of your romantic tales. That's how I know you're a fantastic writer, because as a reader I willingly submit to anything you write, knowing I am in good hands."

"Umm, are you listening?" I said, snapping my fingers in front of her eyes. Good lord! The power of Sean Connery's suit was almost too much for a mortal woman!

"Tell me more about what a great writer I am," she breathed as she moved closer to me on the couch. She swung her legs over my lap, her dress barely coming halfway down her thighs. Her hand feeling the fabric of my suit's collar, I repeated my rehearsed speech.

"Well, there's 'New Beginnings,' for example," I said as I absentmindedly placed my hand on her leg. "You had a story about an older man falling in love with a younger woman, but you took the time to establish the guy. You showed his kids, you had his son getting married, heck, by the time the girl showed up, I was ready to fuck the guy, he was so likable."

Instead of a laugh, she simply nodded as her other hand felt my jacket; from the inside. "Keep talking, pretty boy," she said. Now I merely suspected she was drunk. Pretty boy?

"There's also 'Dare,' a story in terrible danger of turning cheesy," I said. It's a good thing I love to talk about stories, or else I wouldn't be able to talk while she did that trick with her fingers on my chest.

"Here's a story that starts with three women, yet quickly sidesteps all the cliches that the title implies. The actual dare was hilarious, not to mention believably done. Plus, you did something any less confident writer wouldn't have done-- you added more characters than you really needed. Having the bookstore owner and Lindsay did a lot towards making the story very real. Is your hand where I think it is?"

"Depends--do you feel it on your crotch?" she asked.

"Uh huh."

"Then you're not only sexy, but also observant," she said, her hand doing something very naughty. "You know, you say you're a fan of mine, but I don't recall any fan letters from you."

"Well, that's because I didn't start reading your stories regularly until after your nomination," I answered. "That's about the same time I got slammed with too much overtime at work."

"I can understand that," she said as she buried her face inside my jacket and simply breathed.

With a gorgeous blonde on my lap and her face in my jacket, I decided now would be a good time to ask my favor.

"Only a writer as good as you could have won the Golden Clitiride Award, and that's why I had to come to you today," I said. "I'm playing a sort of scavenger hunt with a friend of mine, and your award is one of the items. Would it be too much to ask if I could borrow it until tomorrow?"

Her face was still inside my jacket, so I didn't hear her answer at first. Pushing gently on her bare shoulders, I brought her face out.

"So, you want to borrow my golden clit? Can I pick which one you see first?" she said with a leer in her eyes. Only Sean Connery's jacket could have made Miss Behavin make such a tacky statement, and only Miss Behavin could send a shiver through me with such a corny come-on.

"Well, if it's what I must do to win the game," I said, trying not to bounce on the couch with pure joy.

"Perfect, now, get off my couch!" she said as she pushed me with her feet. Confused, I rose from the couch, but she corrected me right away. Grabbing by jacket, she pulled me down till I was kneeling on the floor. Sitting on the couch in front of me, she placed her legs on my shoulders. Her eyes rolled as soon she did this, and she began rubbing her legs on my jacket. Apparently, Sean Connery's suits were an aphrodisiac by touch as well.

My hand held her hips as Miss Behavin ran her legs up and down my shoulders. First one long leg, then the other. This was the best foreplay I had ever done; I just sat there while she worked the magic of the suit into her legs. I was tempted to reach out and touch those lovely breasts, which were spilling from the cleavage of her dress, but I refrained. To be honest, I was afraid that my non-Connery skin might jinx my luck if it came into contact with her.

"Talk," she commanded, so I did.

"'Black Widow' is another personal favorite," I said, licking my lips as her leg accidentally touched my neck as it rubbed by. "I mean, you created an evil woman, using men, and it works. It takes amazing bravery to write such a vile woman, yet because you did, it just made the story all the sexier."

"No, not that kind of talking," she said, and she parted her legs ever so slightly.

I swear, I am never taking this tuxedo off again, ever.

Worried a little that I might break whatever spell Sean Connery's tuxedo had, I cautiously moved my head closer to her thighs. She didn't have any underwear on, which didn't surprise me. As much as she had been rubbing her legs together, I figured the panties must have disintegrated by now. The length of her legs ran down my back as I dipped into her valley, and I hoped that my breath on her sex was more of a turn-on than the feel of my jacket on her legs.

Once I took my first lick of her fountain, I stopped caring about causes and sexy suits. I continued to praise her, but this time it was with kisses, nibbles and gentle explorations. My lips gave her lips a ballad, my tongue sang her clit a song and my fingers composed a sonnet on her thighs. For my endeavors, her sex repaid me with liquid coin, giving me rave reviews with every shudder, twitch and squeeze.

Soon, it was she that was doing the talking. Miss Behavin said a lot of things, most of them incoherent, but believe me, I got her meaning. If I couldn't hear her, I sure as hell could feel her. Fingers tore into the shoulders of my suit, thighs rubbed without restraint on my collar and heels dug into my back as her appreciation became more lavishing.

Time looses meaning when you are between a beautiful woman's legs. Who cares about time when a clit tastes so wonderfully at the end of your tongue? I certainly didn't mind spending hours as I praised her sensuality with my mouth. For me, the morning was well spent as I exhausted every oral method I knew to make her shudder.

When my jaw couldn't take any more, and my lips were bruised beyond normal limits, I came up for air. To the credit of my tuxedo, Miss Behavin took another ten minutes to quit shuddering.

"Since I can't move my legs, would you mind getting my award off the mantle yourself? Then could you please leave while I tried to remember what century this is?" Miss Behavin asked, her blonde hair sweaty and sticking to her face.

I wanted to say yes, but my lips were numb. Simply nodding, I stood up and retrieved the Golden Clitiride. As I passed by a mirror, I was horrified to see that the top of my tuxedo was nearly shredded. What was left of the tuxedo was embarrassingly soaked with the fruits of my labor.

"Oh, and Shon," she said as I covered her paralyzed body with the sorry remains of my jacket. "You're not a half bad writer yourself."

"Maybe next time, you can tell me how half good I am," I tried to say smoothly. I'm afraid it came out more like "Maybe net tim, youse ca tell me ow alf good I im."

Once again, the dinning cart became my refuge. I tried the power of my tuxedo on Bronwen on my way over, and she gave me a motherly pat on the head, so I guess it no longer works. That's ok, my jaw was so bruised as it was, I doubted I would ever want to use Sean Connery's sex appeal ever again.

I was sitting in my favorite seat, an ice pack around my mouth, when Maria came in. She spotted me, and came right over to my table. I was going to say hello, but she had a pissed off look in her brown eyes. Slamming a Golden Clitiride award on my table, she sat down opposite me. Then she reached for my spare ice pack, and applied it to her bottom jaw.

I looked at the name on the award she brought. It read 'Proudly given to John A.'

I didn't have the heart to tell Maria I already had one.

>>>>>>>Item # 13 An organ from Theodore Spoonbender

Spoonbender was that rare writer in our group. Instead of hot sex, or even hot teasing, he preferred hot monsters and stories of cold terror. At first, I thought he was just sick, but then I noticed something. I kept reading him. No matter how horrible or disturbing his stories were, they were never dull. Hell, I still have nightmares about a snake he wrote about once. It might seem odd that I am a fan of someone like him, but he possesses the one quality a writer should aspire to: he has never bored me.

Jimmy was the one to suggest such a gruesome trophy from Spoonbender. I didn't consider getting it until I saw poor Graybeard walking around with his beard ripped off. Jimmy was turning into a worthy opponent, and I knew I couldn't afford to be squeamish. For that matter, I was thinking about warning Theodore, before Jimmy escalated even further.

"Enter, if you must," a voice said before I knocked on the door. Damn that's cool.

Instead of a miniature palace, or even a small laboratory, Theodore's train car was shockingly normal. He sat by the window, sipping from a bottle of beer. His clothes consisted of a simple T-shirt and jeans. A quick check of the ceiling revealed no blood, and neither did the floor. His ruse of appearing normal was freaking me out.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Spoonbender," I said, carefully taking the seat opposite him.

"Why, it's you, Shon!" he said, cleverly trying to appear friendly. "Thank you so much for inviting me along, it has been a most unusual trip."

"I bet," I said. "Probably made a few stops and exchanged notes with the Borgias and De Sade?" Then I laughed, in a way that was meant to be calm, but came out hysterical.

"No," he said as he took a drink from his beer. "I've limited my stops to some beautiful islands and beaches that have yet to be touched by man. It has been quite relaxing. Especially the serving girl who has been providing my meals directly to my compartment."

"Ha!" I snapped. "You've forced bizarre experiments on her, forcing her to serve you while being mind controlled!" I knew I was on to him now.

His eyebrows rose, and I was a little disappointed to see that he did not possess a monobrow.

A knock came from the door, and I was proud that I merely shrieked.

"Here you go Mr. Spoonbender!" a cheerful voice called out. "We've got your roast chicken, just like you asked. I also sneaked some of those candy corn that you like so much."

To my surprise, it was one of the near infinite staff members we had on board. She didn't look mind-controlled, or unhappy. Even her uniform appeared to be all there. Spoonbender was more devious than I imagined. I couldn't figure out what was wrong with her!

"I have this feeling you might need something from me," Spoonbender said as he carved into his roast chicken.

Oh, he's good. "You wouldn't happen to have any spare organs lying around?" I said with my usual charm.

He squinted his eyes at me, feigning shock. Then, he tore deeper into his chicken, and produced something yellow, oddly enough, already breaded.

"I've grown to like the liver of the chicken-- the spices they use on this train are dazzling," he said as he scooped some pieces onto a small saucer. "Please, take these with my blessings."

I wasn't sure if chicken organs would count, but I didn't care. I just wanted to get the hell out of there. Theodore Spoonbender wasn't fooling me! The man who almost permanently scarred me away from pirate stories wasn't tricking me into thinking he's harmless. There was a certain temptation to run to his compartment and try to surprise him, maybe seeing some dread act in progress. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I didn't want to see some dread act. I dropped the livers at my room, and went on to less stressful and happier people.

>>>>>>>Item 47 A Lock of Pami's Hair.

Jimmy and I were already fans of Pami before we met her. Her stories are a combination of flowery descriptions and raw dirty thoughts, two things we both appreciate. True, I might prefer the dirty part to the flowery parts, but hey, I'm only human. That's not to put the flowery bits down; the woman can describe a breast in words that bring tears to my eyes.

Keep in mind that I'm a guy, and that breasts usually bring a tear to my eyes, but Pami's breasts seem to bring the best. Her written breasts that is. Well, her real breasts weren't bad either. Fuck, let's just say I like all of Pami's breasts and leave it at that.

As much as Jimmy and I appreciated Pami's breasts, we were also part-time fans of her hair. We should have known Pami had thick wavy, flowing honey brown hair. Every character of hers had this lovely hair; so it would stand to reason that she would too. The only bad thing about her hair was that even Pami's descriptive skills didn't do it justice. So, of course, her hair made a perfect item for our contest.

It was the middle of the afternoon, and some people were already starting to crash in their compartments. Time travel did that to people; it wore their asses out. You can only hike the Pyramids so many times, or raid the Harem of Hasan before your limbs just give out on you. That was why I took the time to let my jaw heal, and made sure I had a light dinner before meeting up with Pami. If there was one thing this Time Traveling Train had taught me, it was that you better be well rested at all times.

Pami wasn't at her compartment; and neither was she in any of the various social compartments. The train was moving, so I knew she was on board. It was just a matter of finding her on the world's largest train ever. I knew I should have put off looking for her, and maybe find some other items, but I was being stubborn. All right, I'm normally stubborn, but I was more so that night. Theodore's diabolical evil had gotten under my skin, and I was looking forward to immersing myself in something more pleasant. When I found her, she was sitting on top of the train as it speed through the funky lightshow that was time-travel.

I told you I'm stubborn.

"Pami," I yelled, as I clung to the top of the car. "What the hell are you doing up here?"

"I was passing through cars, and I saw all the stars streaking above me. I thought it would be neat to ride up here for a while!" she yelled back. I noticed she tucked a small bag closer to her though, telling me her intentions weren't totally sight-seeing.

"It is pretty fascinating," I said as I crawled over to her. There was no actual wind, or force, but the speed that the lights were moving at, created the impression of velocity. Images were moving too fast to really understand where or when we were, but I didn't want to find out. Finding out would mean falling off the train, and that wasn't on my agenda.

"What's in the bag?" I said when I finally reached her.

"Something I found in King Solomon's quarters," Pami said briefly, her hair whipping behind her like a romance novel cover.

I took the bait. I'm good at following leads that others blatantly drop for me.

"What kind of thing?" I said as I sat next to her.

"It's a wedding gift, I think," she said as she shyly pulled it from her bag.

It was large! Pure ivory, with a silver hilt, it appeared to be the biblical ancestor to the modern dildo. Worn smooth, it looked rather non-threatening, yet still magnificent. My own equipment felt this urgent need to bow before its majesty.

"My God! How's that for a souvenir?" I said.

"A souvenir implies that I'm putting it on a shelf somewhere," she said with a wink. "I was about ready to give it a test ride when you showed up."

"Oh!" I said, blushing a little. Somehow, my request appeared insignificant to her well-endowed toy. "I'll be leaving then, you've chosen a good spot to experiment with."

"Don't go, you've answered the problem I was having," she said as she reached for my hand. Wow, and I wasn't even wearing Sean Connery's suit!

"I need something to lean on, and it looks like you're tall enough," Pami said.

Ah, this was more my kind of luck. Not being one to refuse a request from a lady, I sat down behind her. Pami wasted no time in spreading my legs, and scooting herself right up against me. She even positioned my arms around her waist, and then leaned back. True, it might have been humiliating to become a piece of furniture for a woman, but then, this wasn't a woman. This was a sexy woman who was inviting me to feel her in my arms, see the difference?

When Pami was settled between my legs, she simply hiked her green skirt up to around her knees. I was just grateful that my crotch was touching her back and not a more sensitive area of her body. Maybe she wouldn't notice me stabbing her. My arms were around her waist, tantalizingly close to the swelling cleavage I'd so often thought about. True, a face full of hair wasn't exactly what I had in mind, but it was a small sacrifice.

The impressive instrument disappeared under her raised skirt, but I felt her shudder upon impact. The shudder turned to a long moan as her hand moved deeper into her skirt. I had never been so jealous of ivory. She leaned into me, her full weight easily absorbed by my arms. Although I still couldn't see anything, the constant motion and constant low moans reported everything I needed to know.

Pami's head tilted back, and I was awash in a tangle of golden hair. Now, normally when I hold a woman who is using me for support while she masturbates, I'm a perfect gentleman. In this case, my resistance crumbled and I burrowed my face into her hair. My mouth sought her skin, and when I found it, I gave her the gentlest of appreciative bites.

"Yes!" Pami cried, and I was humble enough to know she was talking to King Solomon's Toy.

There was a delightful squirming in my arms as Pami's arms moved faster. Intoxicated by the clean fragrant smell of her hair, I explored my new found fetish further. Biting her neck, right where her hair starts to grow, was a delicious experience. Softness embraced my face, as her hair covered me softly while I nipped and kissed along the back of her neck. Pami's head moved as I bit, allowing easier access to the dish I had in my arms.

The unseen magic happening beneath her skirt continued; lucky girl. I was left topside with only desires and increasing bravery to keep me company. This is why my hands moved upward, and cupped the bosom that was heaving so heavily. My mouth was still active on her neck, but now my hands were finally able to see just how nice a Pami breast felt in the hands.

Her back was arching, and her chest strained against the bright green material. Well, I'm always willing to help a body part become free of its confines. A little tugging and her breasts were exposed, spilling forth in an abundant surge. Although my mouth was happily kissing Pami's neck, it didn't prevent me from seeing the beauty of holding her breast in my hand.

My fingers found her already hard nipples, and squeezed lightly. I wanted nothing more than to suck her breast into my mouth, but I knew my place. Instead, I focused all that passion on her ear lobe. I transferred the passion to my fingers, which cupped Pami's chest, providing support of a nature she didn't quite suggest. Roaming the underside of her bosom, my fingers pinched slightly the giving flesh, relishing in their ability to sink so deeply into the flesh of her breasts.

The breathing was louder on both our parts now, and Pami was leaning back into me harder now. Her knees came up, and she wantonly fucked herself with a desire that I couldn't have placed on such a flowery writer. Her needs were infectious, and my right hand slipped downward towards her secret place, wanting badly to join in.

Her clit was instantly found by my hand, and my fingers delicately circled the tiny button. The ancient monster between her legs was storming away, a stark contrast to the meager stimulation I was providing. I expected Pami to maybe object, but instead she simply thrashed her head back and forth. Flailed by her hair, I pulled back as she forgot where she was.

My other hand was still clasping her breast. Realizing the end was near, I pinched her nipple, hard. The spasming of her body somehow increased, which told me I was doing something right. A little twisting here, a tugging there, and a sharp bite on her shoulder sent Pami over the edge. Ok, King Solomon's Toy sent her over the edge, but I like to think I held the door open.

The lights stopped streaking across the sky as the train slowed, but I could see they were still flashing in Pami's eyes. Yet there was still the trouble of the train stopping, and people disembarking. Realizing that her arms were no longer moving, I felt it was safe to try to help her stand. On wobbly legs, Pami stood; getting her lovely bosom back into her dress was a much harder task. I was a little embarrassed by how red her large areola was, but the smile on her face wiped any fears I had.

"How do you plan to be repaid for your help today?" Pami said in a formal tone. I think a mind blowing orgasm prompts her to speak with a British accent.

I overruled a dozen dirty, naughty, and desperately appealing ideas. "A small lock of your hair will be sufficient," I said.

She smiled, and shrugged. Reaching back into her black bag, she produced a pair of scissors. To my startled eyes, she then lifted her skirt, and snipped off a lock from 'down there.'

"At prices like these, I might want to browse the catalog," Pami said.

Curse the Scavenger Hunt! "Maybe when time permits," I said with as much dignity as possible, shifting my legs so that maybe my erection would one day go back down.

>>>>>>Items 6, 25, and 27

I ran into Maria in the walk space between compartments. Usually this is good, but I ran right into her with my erection still very present. Barely avoiding doubling over in pain, I managed a weak smile, and asked her about what she was carrying.

"Three of the items," Maria said proudly, a big smile adorning her tanned face. "Take a look," she offered as she handed me a photo album.

I opened the photo album, and my jaw almost hit my belt.

"Good grief, Maria! You can warn a man before showing pictures like these!" I admonished. "I'm not sure I'm old enough to see bondage pictures like these! I recognize you with the whip, but who the hell is the guy with the hood that's licking your heel?"

"That's Uther. Don't you remember your own scavanger hunt?" she said.

I tore my eyes from a fetching picture of Maria and her nipple clamps. "Uther? Item number 26 was 'Bondage Pictures FROM Uther,' because he writes such straight vanilla stories. The hard part was that he didn't seem the type to own any."

"Oh," Maria said as she shifted her feet. "You could have told me that before I wore that leather thong. I think I have a rash!"

"That's ok, at least it's another item. What else do you have?" I asked. I made a note to myself to snitch the photo of her removing her boots.

"Here's Allison's underwear," Maria said as she handed me something impossibly small and lacy. I think the color was blue, there just wasn't enough material to be sure.

"It took a while, but I found a pair in the bottom of her luggage," Maria answered to my questioning look.

"Her luggage? Where was she?" I asked.

"Oh, she was passed out. She was collapsed on the ground, a glass of wine spilt on the floor. I think she was drugged," Maria said with that maddening casualness she possesses.

"Passed out, damn! Was she all right?" I asked.

"Oh yeah, she still had her clothes on, and her other clothes were spread all over the place. I just figured Jimmy had beat me to her," Maria said. "When I checked her pulse and saw she was all right, I went ahead and searched the place."

Hot Mexican blood, my ass! Maria had a heart of stone, and I was damn glad she was on my side. I made a promise to myself to never make another joke about her lack of knowing who Weird Al Yankovic is. I also made a promise to myself to watch my back; Jimmy was becoming more ruthless with every passing moment.

"Good going," I said as cheerily as possible.

"This is the last thing I got," Maria said, and she handed me a signed paper that simply stated:

"This certifies that I witnessed Wijit getting a blowjob," and it was signed by four different people.

"Wow, it doesn't say who the lucky girl was," I mentioned.

"Nope, it doesn't," Maria said, and I dropped the subject. Hell, with this many items, I wasn't going to pry any more than what Maria was willing to tell me.

"At this rate, you might even find TypoMan's spellchecker," I joked.

"Get serious," she snapped. "I can work miracles, but there are limits!"

I laughed, because I knew how to make Maria do the impossible.

"That's true, I mean, you're smart, ambitious and sexy, but it would take a little extra special touch in order to get THAT item," I taunted.

The simmering challenge in her brown eyes were all I needed to know. I was sure Maria would bring me TypoMan's spellchecker by morning. I said my good-byes, and headed to my compartment. The day had been a long one, and to be quite honest, I was dying to get rid of the day's frustrations.

"Damn, it's a shame I didn't get more of Sean Connery's suits," I said as I collapsed into my compartment.

Exhausted from my day-long exercise in sexual futility, I collapsed in my train compartment and slept part of the night. Since I normally work nights, it was an easy matter for me to get up at two in the morning. Wide eyed and awake, I took my time as dressing and cleaning up for the day. The graveyard shift was my element and I was its spectre.

Of course, I was totally wrong. No matter where I went in my search for scavenger hunt items, I invariably found out I was too late. Not only was I late, but my cursed opponent, Jimmy-Hat, was also destroying my chances of matching him. If it wasn't for the fact that I hate all of my opponents, I would have been impressed by his creativity.

>>>> Item #39 Something Blue from Virago Blue

There wasn't a stitch of clothing left on her body, much less something blue. There she was, spread-eagle in her compartment, tied with an imaginative use of leathers and chains. I would have released her, but she had this goofy grin on her sleeping face. It was terrible; I had been robbed of my chance to get an item from her, and it appears she got laid much better than I did that day. I gave her a parting spank on her bare ass when I left, not knowing if it was jealousy or bad sportsmanship that prompted the action.

>>>>Item # 15 Three of Denny's Prize Dictionaries

I'm still not sure it was Denny's compartment I found. I mean, the guy's a freaking editor, you wouldn't expect him to have his room jammed with twenty Greek nymphs. Yet there they were, jammed from wall to wall with togas and bare breasts. Since his body was allegedly somewhere under the tangled mess, my conversation was done without ever seeing his face.

"Hey Denny? Can I borrow some dictionaries?" I yelled.

From under a wriggling nymph, I heard "Sorry, I already gave mine away!"

As I growled and pushed away the advances of a near-sighted nymph, he explained what happened.

"It was the damnedest thing," the voice yelled out. "I had a note on my door that told me that if I left three dictionaries out on the doorstep, and after dinner, I would be inspired enough to write my own stories. I had no idea the note meant I would get to fuck the Greek Muses!"

I frowned. "There's only nine muses!"

"Yeah, but they brought their daughters!" a happy voice screamed as twenty giggles drowned him out.

>>>>Items # A whole mess of Numbers

Gone, already taken, and usually with a smile or an unpleasant blow to the head.

>>>>>Calculating the Score

The morning came, and most of the passengers stopped over at Salem. Don't ask me why. I never understood some of the kinks we have riding this train. Due to the weirdness on board, we stopped in the middle of the night, though it was our morning. I guess someone wanted to watch a witch trial wide awake.

I gathered my items, though I knew they were meager compared to the missing items I looked for last night. Jimmy's compartment was only a short trip away, which gave me little time to dwell on my loss. I didn't bother to knock on his door. The asshole had already knocked on the heads of most of the writers here without announcing himself, why should I be polite?

Instantly, I regretted my mistake. Inside was the unique Janey, sitting at a small table, searching through the books Jimmy had picked up on this journey. A flash of irritation was on her face when I barged in, but it softened slightly when she recognized me. Only slightly. Sheesh, I'm in rare form today.

Of course, this is where my heart skips a beat, my pulse quickens and my right leg does this humiliating shaking thing that is quite noticeable. A couple of friends and some amateur shrinks have suggested that I have the hots for Janey. Nothing could be further from the truth. I have the melting infernos for her, which is something quite different. When I found her stories, I rationed myself one story every other day, just to prolong that terrible moment when I would no longer have any Janey stories left. When I see e-mail from her, a smile rises from my face, no matter how sour I am. When she gives me a piece of advice, it's like the Gospel truth. Now, that is having it bad.

Of course, being a man of some intelligence, I realize the flaws of my crush. All I've seen is the fictional Janey, the one she writes about. That's the girl who's funny, humble, proud, adventurous and extremely endearing. I've never seen the real Janey, the one with annoying personal habits, or the one who frowns at an immature joke. For all I know, the real Janey kicks small dogs and thinks a six-pack of beer is a good way to start the morning. Besides, the real Janey is very married, and that's a good mental cold shower for anyone.

What I do is, I deal with the third Janey. Call her Interface Janey, because this is the halfway point I've managed to work out. This Janey is a little bit of the fictional character, a little bit of the real character and a big dose of zero expectations. The third Janey gives me opinions on my stories and offers condolences when my real life gets complicated, while still maintaining a safe distance from my more fanciful delusions. Janey's third incarnation is the gal I'm friends with, and never shall she meet the other two. When it comes right down to it, I suspect this is the same headache every man has with every woman who is not his wife.

That doesn't explain the shaky leg and the tendency to stutter, does it? Well, for the purpose of a time traveling train, I've rationalized that this was the first Janey I described. That means I was in the same room as the woman who makes erotic grocery lists and lets her friend Beth talk her into exciting orgies. This is the Janey I was competing for, and was pretty sure that I had lost.

"Let's get this over with," Jimmy grumbled, strangely not looking much different from when I last saw him. His eyes were still unfocused and I could swear he was wearing the same shirt. For God's sake, if he was going to steal my dream girl away, he could have at least shaved!

"Whatever you say, Jimmy," I said with clenched teeth. I dropped my bag, and emptied it onto the table.

Janey gasped, and hey, that was almost worth losing.

"Shon, how did you get so much of this?" Janey asked as she almost picked up Maria's bra. She changed her mind and flipped through Uther's photo album instead.

"Oh, here and there," I said, trying not to brag too much.

"Shit, all I have is TypoMan's spellchecker and Maria's bra," Jimmy said, dumping a small toy Troll and a familiar huge bra on the table. "I didn't make it out of my compartment till midnight."

My brow was so furrowed and I could feel the skin on my neck stretching. An annoying blast of laughter gave me my answer, right as a mountain of scavenger hunt items poured on the table.

"Fucking A!" Jimmy yelled, and I agreed. Remembering a trick from Tolkien, I pulled the Scavenger Hunt contract out, and held it up to the window. There it was, illuminated by the moonbeams, a signature written in Fairy.

"Louie!" I snarled as the Leprechaun host of our vacation appeared.

"Aye, it's me!" he laughed, his fat belly poking out from under his green vest. Man, all that gold and he can't get clothes that fit.

"I signed it before Janey did, which means that fair lassie is all mine! Plus, it gave me an excuse to rip GreyBeard's beard, tie up and spank Virago, and a whole bunch of other deeds. Aye, I am a wily one!" he laughed as he danced a little jig on the table.

"Fair lassie?" Janey asked. "You sound like you learned how to talk from a Disney movie." That's my Janey, calm in a crisis if it involves an insult.

This baffled Louie. For some warped reason, I think he thought Janey would be happy to have him win. While Louie's masculinity was perplexed, Jimmy proved he was smarter than all of us by trying to tackle the little man. It would have worked too, but Jimmy slipped on Allison's lacy, blue underwear and crashed right beside the Laughing Wee Bastard. When Louie spun around to mock Jimmy, I snatched up Maria's bra and wrapped it around Louie's head. While he struggled in the vastness that was Maria's cups, I grabbed him by the neck.

"Damn you all!" Louie choked out as I raised him up.

"There's no point in you hurting him," Janey said. When I gave her a confused glance, she explained by saying, "I've got a table leg. You can just hold him, and I can hurt him."

"Sorry Janey, but I'm not hurting Louie," I said with a straight face.

"Why not?" squeaked out Louie.

"Because I caught you," I said, and I waited till his eyes were as wide as quarters. "Since I've caught you, my wish is that I win the Scavenger Hunt!"

The items he had brought disappeared. Louie also disappeared from my grasp, and I knew the little shit really had it in for me now. Jimmy was still on the floor though-- my wish apparently didn't fix spectacular crashes. Oh well, I was already reaching across to Janey, my hand around her waist, pulling her to me.

"Oh my, what is this for?" she asked, knowing full well what this was for.

"If this was a story, this would be the part where the hero kisses the girl," I said.

To my delight, she agreed.