Storiesonline.net
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                                 Kristin
                                by Morgan

© 2002, 2012 by Morgan.  All Rights Reserved


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Description: This book is based on The Wilkerson Institute, using some of the same Institute characters.  It appears with the permission of the author.  And, of course, there are a few characters from other stories of mine that appear.

Codes: MF rom cons
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Acknowledgment

This story draws on The Wilkerson Institute, an excellent story posted at www.storiesonline.net by rlfj and is used with permission of the author. The only exception I can take is that my idea of the perfect woman differs somewhat from his. However, since he has done such a wonderful job of explaining The Wilkerson Institute, there's no sense in my repeating it. So if you want more background on it, read his story. It's very good, indeed. Oh, yeah ... It would be nice if you would score it a 10 at Stories Online.

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Chapter 1



Hi, folks. My name is William Cameron Harris, III, known to my friends as Cam. In fact, I regret to say that my letters are signed W. Cameron Harris, III. Sorry about that. But it comes of having a father who was known as Bill — as was his father — causing endless confusion in his childhood household. My parents solved that problem with me by calling me Cam. Oh, well...

Just to get the vital — or not so vital — statistics out of the way, as this story opens, I was 28 years old, six feet three inches tall plus a skosh, and weighed about 210. In spite of my sedentary occupation I was in remarkably good shape. Although the family has a lot of money — really loaded — my father believed in the kids working. Since I was the only one, there was little I could do to escape his attention. As a result I worked summers in heavy construction beginning in the summer after I graduated from high school and continued each year right through graduate schools. Because my family paid for my education, my savings mounted dramatically.

My savings were assisted by another factor: a family tree shaped like a pyramid standing on its apex. All four of my grandparents were from wealthy families and they each increased their family's wealth. Then the wars our country fought — World War II, Korea, Vietnam — were a major factor in thinning the family tree. I lost great uncles and uncles in substantial numbers. In every case, they were single when they died so what would have been their inheritance ended up in the hands of my parents and me. What we have to show for it is a collection of medals for bravery including a Navy Cross and a Distinguished Service Cross, as well as a collection of lesser hardware. Oh, yeah ... there's quite a collection of Purple Hearts awarded posthumously. Clearly my ancestors were better at bravery than they were at keeping their heads down.

So what does this have to do with anything? Ever hear of something called generation-skipping? To try to minimize the bite of death taxes, my grandparents — all four of them — left their estates to me. This added significantly to the Cam Harris coffers. Then there's the fact that I'm a good investor ... or a good gambler. Although I was in school for much of the time and a minor for part of it, I had Microsoft and Intel in 1983. I was in Cisco, Global Crossing, WorldCom and even Enron. But guess what? I was out of most of those by February, 2001, before the market tanked. There were many others on which I had a good and highly profitable ride before cashing out. The net of all of this was that I had amassed a fortune north of $10 billion by the time I graduated from law school.

Oh, yes ... education: I graduated summa cum laude from Yale, as a Baker Scholar from the Harvard Business School, and first in my class from Yale Law. Yep. You got it. Can you say Nerd? And one more rather vital point: In the presence of a female human below the age of 50, I do my clam imitation. I'm tongue-tied. And you know what else? The more attractive she is, the worse I am. Are you starting to get a picture? Just one last point in this vein: Not only am I tongue-tied, I also become incredibly clumsy. Once I literally tripped over my own feet and went flat on my face. And she wasn't much better than a 6.5 on a scale of 10.

However, where the female of the species is concerned, there are some who have the same nose for money that sharks have for blood in the water. They look at a guy and see a bank balance. How they do it I have no idea, but they do. And yes, there were a number of that subspecies who found me. Perhaps because of my normal behavior and lack of any attraction for girls that I had ever been able to discover, I was sufficiently frightened that I would run, not walk, to the nearest exit.

So here I was at the age of 28, still a virgin. Neat!

At this point who should appear but Jack James. Jack was a lawyer, about 40 years old, who was friendly with my father, also a lawyer. Whether my parents had anything to do with Jack's appearance on the scene, I didn't know, and don't know to this day. All I know is that I received a call from him at my office inviting me to have lunch with him at the Harvard Club in New York. Prior to that call, I'm not sure he and I had ever exchanged a total of 20 words, but I did know he was friendly with my father and he invoked his name prior to extending the invitation. Since I had nothing better to do — watching the stock tape has never been my idea of fun — I agreed and we set the date.

At the appointed time, I appeared at the club on West 44th Street, went in and found him waiting for me, along with another well-dressed gentleman I had never seen before. He was introduced to me as John Wilson with no further identification, and we went into the dining room to eat. No sooner had we been seated than Jack excused himself, pleading the need to make an urgent phone call he had forgotten about. He left the table leaving me alone with Wilson.

"Well, Mr. Harris," Wilson began, speaking with a faint British accent, "that's fortuitous. The real purpose of this lunch was to allow me to meet you—"

"I suspected as much," I interrupted, "and I really would not have agreed to lunch had I known there was an ulterior motive." I paused and added, "You do know that this club frowns — to put it most mildly — on business discussions here."

"Indeed I do," he hastily agreed. "However, this is really personal, not business. Moreover, the only paper that will change hands today is my business card, which I shall give to you when our business is concluded."

By this time a waiter had appeared and we both ordered white wine.

After sipping his wine and nodding his approval, Wilson began, "Let me tell you a little story: There's a young man named Cameron or Cam or something like that. He seemed to be frightened of women — the more attractive the woman, the greater his fright — and at the same time he attracted the type of women who seem to be drawn to the smell of money. Since this young man was truly loaded, the smell of money he exuded was strong enough to attract virtually every member of that subspecies in the Northern Hemisphere. I gather that beating them off became more than a little tiresome."

"So what did this other Cameron do to solve his problem?"

With a warm smile Wilson replied, "He became a patron of The Wilkerson Institute, of course. Then all his problems were over."

"And how did his patronage of this institute solve his problems?"

"Using some of the world's most sophisticated techniques he was matched with a young woman who met his personal specifications exactly!"

"A dating service, you mean," I said wryly. "Not interested."

"Anything but!" Wilson protested. "He hired the young woman on the standard three-year contract."

"Contract?"

"A personal service contract. In his case, she acts as cook and housekeeper, as well as delivering various ... personal services."

"She sleeps with him, you mean?"

"Sometimes," Wilson replied blithely, "but often she returns to her own room. It depends solely on Cam's wishes."

"And when he goes out in the evening?"

"If requested, she can be perfect arm candy or anything more he may wish."

At that point we both saw Jack James returning to the table.

To my surprise, Wilson rose, extended his hand and took his leave, leaving a card in my hand with a dollar amount carefully written on the back. "I regret I must leave you now, Mr. Harris, but if you wish to reach me, I am always available at the phone number on the card. The number is the cost of our one-week orientation and selection session."

The number was not small.

"Did you cover everything?" Jack asked when Wilson was out of sight.

"I don't really know how to answer that, Jack. He certainly seems to know a lot about me, though."

"Cam, are you busy today? Do you have anything on for this evening?"

I laughed bitterly. "If you knew me better, Jack, you would know the answer without asking the question. The short answer is no."

"Okay. In that case, how about joining me for dinner? Why don't you come by the apartment at six? We'll have cocktails there and go out to eat. Sound good?"

"Best offer I've had today."

He gave me his apartment address and phone number. We finished our lunch and separated, me to return to the office. That action was almost totally from force of habit, not that I had anything to do once I got there.

I returned to my place on the upper East Side at four to prepare for dinner. After showering and changing, I appeared at Jack's apartment promptly at six. I was taken aback when the door was opened by a lovely young woman wearing a very conservative maid's uniform.

"Good evening, Mr. Harris," she said cordially. "I'm Teresa, Mr. James' maid. Will you come with me, please?"

She led the way to the living room where Jack was reading the day's New York Post. Quickly putting aside the paper, he rose to greet me.

"Welcome, Cam! I can't tell you how pleased I am that you could make it. What would you like to drink? I have several very fine single-malt scotches. Care for one?"

"Sounds good," I replied with a smile.

I saw Jack glance at the girl. She smiled, nodded her head and disappeared. A few minutes later she reappeared with drinks for the two of us on a small silver tray, along with a much larger tray of canapés that she set on the coffee table. Again she disappeared.

Jack and I chatted and renewed our acquaintance. He explained that he knew some members of my family far better than he knew me. It turned out that his law firm represented my maternal grandmother and then her estate upon her death.

"I know how much you received from that, Cam," he said. "Moreover, I also know that it was the least part of what you've received from your grandparents alone. Then there are the rumors floating around town about a young man who seems to have the Midas touch. It seems, according to the rumor, that he's in every hot stock just before it gets hot and then bails out just before it crests. The rumor has it that there are dozens of very hot traders who would pay dearly to learn of his trades ... after he does them. They're not greedy. They don't even want to know before the fact. Right after he trades is more than good enough. Any comment?"

I was spared the need to respond. Teresa had just returned to the room and her transformation in just a few short minutes was nothing short of astounding. The girl was short — probably about five feet two — with wavy golden-brown hair and incredible gray eyes. I knew her hair was naturally wavy from when she greeted me at the door; now it was piled high on her head. She was wearing a woman's classic "little black dress" that followed her curves perfectly. And was she ever curved! Her boobs were at least a C cup, possibly a D, but because of her short stature, I could be wrong about that. (I wasn't; they were a C+.) Her hips flared over a gorgeous pair of stocking-encased legs as she stood on four-inch spike heels.

Jack had risen from his seat on the sofa, and I rose as well.

"Cam, I would like you to meet my dear friend, Terry Michaels. Terry, this is Cam Harris who I've been telling you about." Then with a smile he asked her, "A glass of white wine, perhaps? I have a marvelous Villages Chablis."

"That would be lovely, Jack," she replied in a very warm soprano. At the same time, she extended her hand to me. "How do you do, Cam," she said warmly. Then with a lovely smile she added, "Jack could talk of nothing else all afternoon."

Jack excused himself and Terry sat beside me on the sofa, leaving plenty of room for Jack to sit on her other side when he returned. "He tells me you're thinking about becoming a patron of The Wilkerson Institute. I so hope you do."

I was puzzled. "Why would you care?"

"Because I'm a Wilkerson girl, of course. Isn't that obvious?"

I was stunned.

By this time Jack had returned with a wine glass in his hand. We chatted, but spoke no more about the Institute. Then I took a bite of a canapé.

I'm sure my eyes widened. I exclaimed, "This is the finest thing I've ever tasted! Where did it come from?"

"From the kitchen," Jack replied with a grin. "Terry made them this afternoon."

"My God! Such incredible beauty and she can cook, too?"

"Compared to some of my friends at the Institute, my cooking would rank as only marginally acceptable," she commented.

"You're joking!" I protested.

"Really, she's not," Jack said.

After a couple of hours and another round of drinks and another platter of hors d'oeuvres, we prepared to go out to dinner. When we rose to our feet, I found myself towering over Terry Michaels, even with her four-inch heels. Since we were standing so close, I looked at her face carefully. There was not a blemish nor any sign of any makeup, even at a range of only a few inches. Nonetheless, I knew she had done something to her eyes because they were highlighted far more than when she had greeted me at the door. But there wasn't a trace of anything showing.

"It's all waterproof and won't run under any circumstances," Terry commented casually, obviously having been aware that I had been studying her.

When we arrived at the restaurant — one of the finest haute cuisine French restaurants in New York — we were immediately greeted by the maître d' by name. "Monsieur James, welcome!" he said. Turning to Terry he added, "And the beauteous Mam'selle Michaels! It's so good to see you again."

"Thank you, André," Terry responded. "It's great to be back." With that she extended her hand and André bent over it, lightly kissing the back of her fingers. I was impressed as the girl accepted his homage with total aplomb. It was as if she was to the manor born. I found myself wondering about this lovely young woman and becoming more interested in The Wilkerson Institute by the minute.

After being seated at one of the very best tables, André presented menus and discussed the day's specials. Again Terry surprised me when she asked about some of the dishes in French. It was schoolgirl French, but it was grammatically correct. The maître d' complimented her on it, but she said, "It's atrocious, André, and we both know it. But thank you just the same." With that she gave him a lovely warm smile that truly lighted up her face and melted André to the floor.

We ordered wine, which was served while we awaited the appearance of our first courses. Again I found myself studying this lovely young woman. Her posture in her chair was perfect. She was fully upright with her shoulders back prominently displaying her very impressive chest. At the same time, everything she did appeared to be completely natural. There was no self-consciousness nor any effort to attract attention to herself. But periodically, she would reach out and lightly stroke Jack's hand that was resting on the table, showing everyone present to whom she belonged.

But her conversation focused on me. I learned that she was close to the end of her three-year contract with Jack, and neither intended that it be renewed. Furthermore, I learned that she was completing her degree in finance at New York University. I realized that this lovely young woman had completed four years of work in only three, and NYU's finance course was very highly regarded on Wall Street. Along with everything else, this girl was no dummy.

After glancing at Jack with a question in her eyes and receiving an affirmative nod she said, "Cam, I'm going to be looking for a job pretty soon. Would you mind if I sent you my resumé? I know from what Jack has told me that your occupation is investor. I've specialized in financial analysis, and think I could be of service to you." With a lovely grin she added, "I'm really great at crunching numbers!"

"She's a lot better than that," Jack added. "She's the only mistress I've ever had who has made far more money than she cost me. This girl has marvelous investment instincts. She's made far more than ten times what I've ever spent on her."

"Well, why don't you marry her, then?" I asked.

"One reason," he replied: "a very expensive ex-wife. Besides, as wonderful as she is, she doesn't love me."

Changing the subject, Terry asked, "Are you interested in the Institute, yet? I certainly hope you are."

At this point Jack interjected, "By the way, Cam, knowing your suspicious nature — suspicions solidly grounded in history, I should add — believe me when I tell you that there's absolutely nothing in this for Terry. She doesn't get five cents if you decide to go, and it won't cost her five cents if you don't."

"That's not strictly true, Jack," Terry responded softly.

Jack looked thoughtful for a moment, and then his face lit up. "You mean ... Kris?"

This time it was Terry's face that lighted up. Leaning toward him, she gave him the warmest, most loving kiss I had ever seen exchanged. Then to me she said, "That's what I love about this lug: We always seem to be on the same page."

She sat up straight in her chair and looked me straight in the eye. Whatever she was about to say was very important to her. Then she swallowed hard. It appeared that whatever was coming was something she was not at ease talking about. We had finished our entrée and were waiting for our coffee. Terry's hands were folded on the table in front of her and she looked down and appeared to study them closely.

Then she looked back into my eyes. I was surprised to see tears appear at the corners of hers. "If you go, Cam — and I really hope you will — please make a point of seeing Kristin Collins. I spoke with her on the phone just a few days ago so I know she's still there." The girl paused and looked down at her folded hands again to collect her thoughts.

"Kris Collins saved my life," she stated bluntly. Now her tears were flowing more freely as she continued, "I wasn't quite 16 years old when I arrived at the Institute. It's in Mexico on the Yucatan Peninsula. In spite of being on the Yucatan, it might as well be in the States.

"Anyway, when I arrived I was an ignorant, uneducated coke whore. I had been living on the streets by selling my body for years. What went before, I really don't know, and Doctor Henson at the Institute thinks I would be a lot happier not knowing and not remembering. Anyway, when I arrived, the greatest thing possible happened: I was assigned to room with Kristin Collins. She is without question the neatest person God, in His infinite wisdom, ever placed on the face of the earth.

"She got me through withdrawal — that was cold turkey — but with her constantly at my side, I made it. I used to see Kris constantly working and studying while I had never worked or studied a day in my life. She convinced me to change..." Her voice trailed off, but then she grinned through her tears and added, "The convincing involved more than a few trips to our dungeon where she beat the shit out of me with whatever came to hand. And if you ever see the dungeon there, you'll learn that there's no end to the things that can come to hand. But then she would cut me down, carry me back to our room in her arms and then treat the cuts all over my body with tender loving care.

"You've heard of TLC? Well, that's Kris."

"But ... beauty... ?" I stammered. "She can't be any better than you are in that department."

Terry giggled. It was the cutest, merriest little sound I had ever heard. "Do you want the truth?" she asked.

I nodded.

"Where looks are concerned, I'm somewhere in the bottom third of the group—"

"You're kidding!" I interrupted.

"She's really not," Jack interjected while Terry just cutely nodded at his remark.

" ... while Kris is at the very top, in a class by herself."

Again Jack agreed. "I met her," he said, "and Terry is telling the truth. Kris's beauty is utterly outrageous. The girl is just perfect. On the famous 1 to 10 scale, she's at least a 12."

"Well, what about... ?" My voice just trailed off as I left the question unfinished.

"There are two things," he responded. "First, since I'm not quite five-ten, she's too tall for me. Kris Collins is five-nine plus." Then he grinned and added, "From looking at Terry, you might get the idea that I'm a boob man, and I am." At his comment, Terry rolled her shoulders back even more raising her luscious tits higher. "Kris is much more streamlined — a beautiful B, I think. Then there's the fact that she's very athletic — I'm not; and very intellectual, too. Again, I'm not."

"Okay," I conceded, "this girl walks on water without getting her feet wet. But what's that have to do with me?"

It was Terry who replied. "Because this is her last shot," she said softly. "Kris is almost 23 and has been on the Yucatan for nearly eight years. She's never been selected. If she's not selected within the next few weeks, she'll either be asked to leave or — even worse — asked to join the permanent staff."

"Why would that be even worse?" I asked, displaying my ignorance.

"Because then she would never get out," was the soft reply. "It's a closed society down there. Kris would have no opportunity ever to meet an eligible man ... Ever! That's where she would end her life."

"The prognosis?" I asked.

"She'll almost certainly be asked to join the permanent staff. As it is, she holds the personal record for just about everything they maintain records on, and that's a pretty extensive list. Moreover, not only is she personally outstanding, she's also an incredibly gifted teacher. I don't think there's been a girl who's gone through there in the last five years who hasn't learned something from Kris. And I mean having been personally taught by her; I don't mean from observation."

Suddenly Terry changed the subject dramatically. "Tell me more about yourself, Cam. You're really fascinating!"

I slowly shook my head and replied, "Terry, already I have achieved a lifetime first this evening: You're the first young woman — let alone the first gorgeous young woman — I've ever been able to talk to without sounding both tongue-tied and like I had a mouthful of marbles." I looked at her closely and added, "Furthermore, I really get the impression that you're interested in what I have to say."

"That's only because I am," she replied with a lovely grin.

While Jack took care of the bill, we chatted about investments and interesting companies to invest in. I quickly learned that, as advertised, she was truly knowledgeable about Wall Street and investment vehicles of all kinds. As we returned to the apartment, we engaged in a brief debate involving the relative merits of selling put options versus selling a stock short. The girl was smart!

As soon as we were back in the apartment, she put on coffee, then disappeared. Jack poured three snifters of very old Armagnac and we returned to our previous places on the sofa.

A few minutes later, Terry reappeared, and I was utterly stunned ... again. She had shed her dress, her hair was loose around her shoulders, and she was wearing the tiniest shorty nightgown that barely covered her crotch, along with a diaphanous silk peignoir. Both garments were a very pale shade of gray, picking up the color of her eyes. They were also so sheer, she might as well have been nude for any covering the garments provided. It was apparent that her nipples were taut and her pussy had been shaved. She was a vision!

Instead of sitting on the sofa, though, she sat on a small armchair facing me. As she was about to relax, she looked at the two of us and rose again and left the room. A few moments later she returned with a cigar humidor, a cutter and a lighter. After opening it, she selected a Corona corona, cut off the end, and lighted it with the greatest care to ensure that it was evenly lit. Determining that it was, she passed it to me, then repeated her actions with a second which she gave to Jack. Finally, she selected a slim panatela which she lighted for herself.

After swishing her Armagnac around in the snifter in her hand she inhaled the vapor and sighed. Then she took a puff on her cigar and announced, "This is about as good as it gets."

I found her behavior to be utterly incredible. Here she was, this utterly beautiful young woman, essentially naked in the presence of a stranger, yet seemingly unaware of her effect on me.

We continued our previous discussion of options and short selling, then shifted to specific companies. I was impressed with the cogency of her analysis, and even more impressed by her specific knowledge of certain companies that I followed closely ... or thought I did.

Finally after a particularly telling comment about a company in which I had a very large long position, I asked suspiciously, "How do you know that? Insider knowledge? Internet scuttlebutt? What?"

"Not hardly!" she responded with a giggle. "Everything I've told you is from company-published sources: annual reports, quarterlies, 10-Ks, proxy statements ... I'm like Alan Abelson of Barron's: strictly public — and published — material."

"I follow that company closely and I've never heard a whisper about what you've just told me. How come?"

Again I heard her lovely giggle. "I read the footnotes, too. And the footnotes to the footnotes. It's really amazing what one finds there sometimes."

I shook my head but did two things. First, I made careful mental notes of what she had told me about the company. Second, I carefully put my business card on the coffee table in front of her and said, "By all means, please do give me a call when you start looking for a job. Terry Michaels, based on what you've just told me, you've already made me far more money than I'll be paying you for a year."

With her eyes dancing she retorted, "I haven't told you how much money I'll be looking for."

"And I haven't told you how much money you've just made for me, either," I replied with a grin.

At that point Jack, who had been listening to our conversation and being very obviously proud of Terry's performance, took a hand. "Teresa," he said sternly, "what do you have to say for yourself? What is your excuse for appearing before a guest virtually naked and embarrassing him so?"

Before I could protest, Terry was off her chairs and on the floor on her knees. She was sitting on her ankles with her knees spread as wide as she could get them. Her shoulders were back and her hands were resting on her thighs, palms up. Her eyes were downcast, focused on Jack's shoes.

"I am truly sorry, Master," she squeaked.

"What is the appropriate punishment?" Jack demanded.

"Thirty strokes, Master?" she replied with a question in her voice.

He appeared thoughtful for a moment, then nodded his head firmly. "Yes, that's appropriate," he said slowly. Then in a command voice he added, "Take your position!"

"Now, Master?" Terry protested. "But your guest is still here."

"And he was the victim of your behavior, Teresa, so it's appropriate that he be here to see you punished. Take your position!" The last sentence was delivered loudly and forcefully.

Gracefully rising to her feet, she lifted the peignoir up and gathered it at her waist. She was now naked from the waist down. With her back to me I could see that she had a perfectly shaped, perfectly conditioned bottom. Then she lay across Jack's lap with her bottom still thrust toward me.

At that point Jack began to truly torment this beautiful young woman. He gently caressed her bottom, then gave her a hard smack. The fact is, though, I'm virtually certain that it sounded much harder than it was. Nonetheless, the shape of his large hand was almost immediately apparent in red on her otherwise creamy bottom.

The punishment continued in this vein until Terry screamed, "No more, Master! Please, no more! Just beat me! Double the number of strokes. I don't care. But I can't take the combination of caresses and spanks any longer!"

"You have nothing to say about it, slut! I control the punishment, not you."

I could clearly see her puffy labia showing between her thighs. Furthermore, I could easily see her vaginal juices leaking out and dripping on the carpet. They had started as drips, then became a trickle, and as I watched became an almost continuous stream. Finally the magic number of 30 was reached.

Gently he lifted her up and then sat her on his thigh. Turning her head toward his, he melted his lips to hers. Her arms flew around his shoulders and she held him tightly as their lips merged and their tongues began their duel.

When they finally eased apart, Terry looked down at the carpet. Seeing the pool of her fluids there, she punched Jack on the arm and exclaimed, "Damn it, Jack James, this is the end! I just got finished shampooing the carpet today and already I have to do it again. Why in hell can't you spank me in the kitchen? There I can wipe up my cunt juice with a sponge." Then in an utterly disgusted tone of voice she added, "Men!"

Jack and I both laughed at that one.

With arms around each other's waist, the two walked me to the door. Again, both seemed oblivious to the incredible display of Terry's undeniable charms. At the door, she looked up at him with a question in her eyes. He grinned and nodded enthusiastically.

Terry reached up for my neck, pulled me down and proceeded to melt her lips to mine. Believe it or not, it was the first real kiss I had ever shared with a woman, and I scarcely knew what to do. Thank God for the erotic stories on the Net! Without them, I would have been utterly lost. I opened my mouth a bit and instantly her tongue probed, searching for mine. When they met, they danced, then linked. Her lips were so soft, lovely and loving. There were no sparks or bells, but it was an incredible kiss.

Finally we separated and Terry said softly, "I hope you go to the Institute and look up Kris. I just know you'll love her. And when you get back, you can be sure I'll be in touch about a job."

Jack and I shook hands and I returned to my apartment.

Although it was almost two, John Wilson had said I could call him at any time. So I did. Not wanting to waste any time, I booked the week starting the following Monday. It was early spring, the sap was rising, and a young man's thoughts turned to what young women were thinking about all year.



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Chapter 2



Instead of flying directly to the Yucatan from New York — an easy hop in the Executive Aviation Gulfstream 5 — I flew from New York to New Orleans early Sunday afternoon. This allowed me to have dinner at Antoine's and breakfast Monday morning at Brennan's. Two utterly magnificent meals were consumed back to back. Since it was only about 700 miles south to the Yucatan, a 9:30 takeoff got me to Mexico by 11:00.

Customs at the terminal would be rated cursory ... at best. In just moments I had cleared customs and immigration along with my luggage and found myself face to face with a lovely young woman wearing a tailored gray uniform. I could see she had a sign which I guessed had my name on it, but it was under her arm, not displayed. Instead she came up to me with her hand outstretched in greeting.

"Mr. Cameron Harris?" she asked in a beautifully throaty contralto. When I smiled and nodded, she continued, "Welcome to the Yucatan and The Wilkerson Institute! I'm Liz." The girl was a green-eyed brunette, about five feet seven with a magnificent figure, wearing four-inch heels. "May I take your luggage out to the car for you?" she asked.

"Here," I said, handing her my attaché case. "You carry this and I'll take the rest."

"But, Mr. Harris... !" she protested.

"Me, man. You, girl. Me carry these. You carry that. Now move!"

"As long as you don't say a word to anyone, okay," she agreed reluctantly. But then Liz giggled and added, "Good grief! You really are different. Some of the patrons act like they want me to carry them to the car, too. And then there are those who would really like to walk to the car on a path of tits..." She looked up at my face as we walked along and added, "But we were warned about you. Terry told us about you and what to expect, and so far she's been dead on the money."

By this time we had reached a dark gray Cadillac limousine at the curb. Liz popped the trunk lid and I deposited my two suitcases in it, taking the attaché case from her to keep with me. Quickly, she had the rear door open, holding it for me.

"Would it bother you a great deal if I rode up front with you?" I asked. "I would like to continue this conversation without having to talk to the back of your head."

That request really took her aback. Her eyes widened for an instant but then she grinned and said, "The patron is always right. So if you insist..."

"I do."

"Then okay," she said warmly. Then in a voice scarcely above a whisper she added, "You really are nice."

I slid my attaché case onto the back seat where it could ride in solitary splendor, and then beat Liz to the passenger-side door.

Again she giggled, but then went around the car to the driver's side. The vehicle was between her and the terminal building as she looked around quickly, saw no one, made a quick movement, opened her door and quickly got in. Only then did I realize that she had taken off her skirt and was only wearing her suit jacket, a gray thong, and her gray thigh-high stockings. Her legs were tanned and utterly magnificent.

In no time we were moving smoothly out of the airport and onto the road to the Institute. I learned that it was more than an hour away. "It's only a bit over 20 miles," Liz explained, "but with the condition of the road, that's about how long it's going to take."

"You are absolutely stunning, Liz," I commented. "You're on the staff here?"

"Oh, no! I'm a student. We rotate in jobs, but there really aren't very many of us who like to drive, so I find myself driving back and forth to the airport quite a bit." She paused and then added, "It's not very often we get a pickup from a private plane, though." A longer pause this time, and then, "How do you like it? It really seems so neat! I saw you land, and that's a pretty big aircraft for just one guy."

"It is large for one guy — it will carry 17 in its max comfort configuration, which is the way it's set up today — but it's got real advantages. It leaves when I want, and it avoids the security hassles that are really getting to be a pain in the butt. These days, unless you're traveling a pretty significant distance, with the early check-in times, security and such, you're spending more time in the airport than in the air. Today, for example, I was down here from New Orleans in less time than I would have spent checking in."

She was driving slowly, carefully steering around the worst of the potholes, and doing her best to ease through the ones she couldn't drive around. She handled the big car with skill and great care.

Changing the subject, I asked, "What did you mean when you said some patrons would like to walk to the car on a path of tits?"

She glanced at me and swallowed hard. "I'm sorry, sir. That comment was totally out of line. And it may not be true, but other girls and I think that it is."

"It might have been out of line, but it was true, though." I paused and then continued, "Look, Liz, let me be very clear about one thing: Anything said in this car, stays in this car as far as I'm concerned. Okay?"

She glanced over at me, appeared to like what she saw then said, "Could you do me a favor, sir?"

"The name is Cameron, Cam to my friends. I hope you will consider yourself my friend, Liz."

"Do me a favor, Cam?" she repeated.

"Sure. What?"

"Would you fondle my thigh? I just adore the feeling."

Well, this was an all-time first. No girl had ever asked me to fondle her hand, let alone her bare thigh. I reached over and began lightly to stroke her inner thigh beginning just above her stocking top. It was warm, smooth as satin, and felt wonderful to the touch. "How's that?" I asked.

"Just lovely!" she sighed. "Can you go a bit higher?"

At that point she stopped the car right where we were in the middle of the road. Realizing that it was more of a track than a road and we hadn't seen another vehicle on it yet, it didn't matter much. After putting the vehicle's transmission into Park, she reached up and slid her thong down her legs, over her shoes, and set it beside her on the seat.

Turning in the seat toward me she spread her thighs as far as the seat permitted and asked, "You like?"

Her pussy had been shaved completely bare. Her labia were engorged, and I could see her clit poking up between them. (Thank God for the Internet! If I had had to rely on personal experience, I wouldn't have had the foggiest idea what it was I was seeing.)

"Simply luscious," I replied. "And it's another first."

"First what?"

"First bare pussy."

"That's not true," Liz protested. "You've seen Terry's."

"How much do you know about me, anyway? And what did Terry do? Broadcast it over the Institute's PA system?"

Liz giggled at my comment. "There are a few old-timers around here," she said, "and I'm one of them. Terry is one of the sweetest, nicest, most considerate people ever to come through here. And, unlike most of the others, she stays in touch."

Liz went back to driving and I went back to exploring her thighs and crotch. By then, vaginal fluids were flowing in a steady stream, but if she knew, she certainly didn't care.

"Path of tits?" I reminded her.

"Boy! You're impossible to distract, aren't you?" Liz took a deep breath and said, "Unfortunately, there are a number of patrons who like to abuse the girls. To them, we're trash." At that point I saw tears appear in the corner of her eyes as she continued, "And you know what? You've heard the adage, 'The truth hurts'? Well, it does, because that's exactly what we are: trash. The guys I'm thinking of would love nothing better than to have girls lie across a walk side by side so they could walk on a path of tits. They'd really love it, and would probably get off on it too."

"Trash? Liz, you're crazy as hell. Aside from your occasional ... eccentric ... behavior, you're a very classy girl."

She giggled at my comment and then said, "By the way, first lesson for you: We're trained that women can appear in only three basic ways, classy, flashy, or trashy. Of course, there are a great many variations on the three basic themes. With our backgrounds, 'trashy' is our natural condition."

"One thing Terry did tell me when I told her I was going to be coming down here was never to ask a girl about her background before the Institute. She did tell me about her own, though. Liz, I won't ask, but I will listen if you care to tell me."

"My story is very similar to hers. Like Terry, Dr. Henson has urged me not to try to remember my early years with my family, if I ever had one. I was on the street for at least four years. Again like Terry, I was just short of 16 when I was found and recruited for the Institute. Everything I am, I owe to it and to Jonathan Wilkerson. All of my formal education has been here. Ninety-nine percent of what I know I learned here." She looked into my eyes and said, "It's my home."

"What did Terry say about me?" I finally asked, curiosity getting the better of discretion.

This time Liz grinned. "She says you may be the first 10 ever to be a patron here. She says you're a real hunk. But far beyond that, she says you're the nicest guy she's ever met. Ever!" Then she giggled merrily and added, "And she said that if I could get you to talk to me, I would be only the second girl you've ever been able to talk to without getting tongue-tied and falling all over your feet." Again she looked at me and said, "That can't be true, though."

"I'm afraid it is, Liz, and you are. Only the second girl I've ever been able to talk to, I mean. Moreover, like Terry, you're stunningly beautiful and my embarrassment varies directly with the beauty of the girl. What I really can't understand is that you are the two most beautiful women I've ever met. I shouldn't be able to utter a single word in your presence, but I can. In fact, I can actually talk to you both. How come?"

"I have no idea. No, that's not right; I have an idea, but I have no clue if there's any merit to it. I think it's who we are and who we were. When you grow up trying to get a suck and a fuck for ten dollars, it's really hard to act snooty. Far too many guys have taken us too many ways ever to be able to pull that one off. In contrast, you probably grew up in an environment where good looking girls were so full of themselves, they acted like their shit didn't smell."

Again she glanced in my direction and then continued, "What I can't understand is why you ever let them get away with that shit! I mean ... Two degrees from Yale and one from Harvard; youth, looks, money, a body any girl would kill for..." She giggled merrily and said, "Oh, yeah ... that reminds me ... Terry also said that you've been pursued by every gold-digging female in the Northern Hemisphere. Cam, do me a favor? Please... ? Pretty please... ?"

"Sure. What?"

"When you get back, gather a bunch of those gold-digging females and tell them to strip, lie down side by side, and tell them you're going to walk on their tits. And then please, please, please let me know what happens." She paused and then exclaimed gleefully, "It will be just so incredibly neat!"

By this time we had reached the Institute and had driven through the gates, up a long drive to a very impressive building. When it came into sight I asked Liz if she wasn't going to stop first and put her clothes back on.

"What for?" she asked insouciantly. "You're going to be seeing students walking around wearing a lot less than I am right now. Some of the patrons seem to get off abasing the students. Little do they know that where nudity is concerned, we either don't give a damn or really like it." She grinned and added, "I'm in the second group."

Just before we came to a stop she added, "Wait till you meet Kris! She's my roommate and the greatest thing on two feet."

Another uniformed girl was waiting at the steps to greet us. As soon as the car stopped, she whisked open the back door ... and did a double-take when all she found there was my attaché case. I opened my door while Liz howled with laughter at the look on the girl's face. She popped the trunk lid, got out my luggage and proceeded to carry it bare-assed up the steps. As she passed me, she gave me a quick wink and stuck out the tip of her lovely pink tongue. Then she suddenly stopped, dropped the bags for a moment and gave me a lovely and loving kiss.

The greeter finally got things sorted out and extended her hand. Although my hand was about four times the size of hers, she had a nice firm grip. "How do you do, Mr. Harris?" she said. "Welcome to The Wilkerson Institute. My name is Tami, and I'm to help you check in and get going. Liz will have your luggage delivered to your suite. Now if you'll come with me... ?"

Tami led the way to a doctor's office. Arriving there, she turned me over to a beautiful nurse named Jenny, then took a seat outside the office.

Jenny hustled me into an examination room and then proceeded to give me a very professional going over. It was complete with temperature, height, weight, blood pressure, and even blood samples.

As she was finishing up, a door behind her opened and a young doctor entered the room. "Good morning, Mr. Harris," he said, extending his hand. "I'm Doctor Henson, and I'm supposed to give you a checkup. My thanks to your personal physician, by the way: He e-mailed your medical records to me late last week, and I've already had the opportunity to review them."

While he was introducing himself, Jenny had completed her work and withdrawn.

I was surprised at what followed. In the first place, as he had just said, he had received my full medical record from my own physician. Moreover, I was quite confident that Jenny's preliminary examination had me well within the normal range. Nonetheless, Henson really gave me a workout. The whole nine yards! EKG, stress tests, x-rays ... everything. But finally he finished running down what had to have been his full list. By this time, Jenny had returned and handed him a report that he scanned, then shook his head sadly and told me I could dress and then meet with him in his office.

By this time I was starting to get concerned. Admittedly, I hadn't seen my own doctor for a while, but I was feeling fine. I wondered what acute problems he had discovered. As he directed, when I finished dressing again I went into his office where I was motioned to a seat in front of his desk.

Sadly, he shook his head. "This is really terrible," he began.

"What's the problem?" I demanded with my fear index starting to soar to stratospheric levels.

"You're the problem, Mr. Harris," he said. "Never in my professional career — or in the medical literature, for that matter — have we encountered as perfect a physical specimen as you." Then he grinned and continued, "For several days now rumors have been buzzing around the Institute that we were about to be visited by a modern-day Adonis. Well, guess what? The rumors proved to be accurate.

"I'll give you only a single illustration: your serum cholesterol. Your level is 27; very good is anything under 100. You're so damned low, you scarcely register. And your good cholesterol is over the top of the scale, for God's sake! Mr. Harris, you, sir, are just plain disgusting."

"You mean I pass the tests? I can associate with the girls here?"

Again he grinned and added, "You know, there's one test we didn't do: your sperm count. But without running the test, I would be willing to bet that it would be over the top, too. And you know something else? If all the girls here weren't on the Pill, I would be willing to bet that there would be a whole bunch of pregnancies in no time flat."

He rose from his seat and came around the desk. I rose to meet him. "Mr. Harris, all I can say to you is have fun! I'm certain the young women around here are certainly going to."

I guess I was still in a bit of a daze as I exited the doctor's office and found Tami waiting patiently for me.

"All set?" she asked. Then with a lovely warm grin she added, "Jenny says you're most incredible male creature ever to visit this place." Her grin turned into a lascivious smile as she added, "I can hardly wait!

"Now let's see what you think of your room."



-------

Chapter 3



Tami led me down the corridors and then up in an elevator to the third floor. As the elevator door opened, I saw yet another beautiful young woman sitting behind a desk in the elevator lobby. Is beauty below a 9 level a disqualifying defect to be a student at the Institute? I wondered.

"This is Lisa," Tami said, introducing the young woman. At the introduction, the girl rose from her chair, came out from behind the desk and curtsied. Honest to God, that's what she did! "Lisa is the floor concièrge," Tami explained. "There's someone on duty here 24 hours a day, every day."

"What for?"

"Well, a guest might want something in the middle of the night."

"Like what?" I asked.

"Like anything! Virtually anything a patron might want, we are prepared to provide at any hour of the day or night."

From there she led the way to a corner suite, Suite 301, commenting, "This is the very best suite in the whole complex, Mr. Harris. You really rate around here."

After knocking on the door, she used the room key to open it. As the door opened, a young woman was moving into position to greet us. When I got a good look at her, I think I may have stopped breathing. She was wearing an ultra-short French maid's uniform in black. Its skirt barely made it past her crotch. Those were just trivial details, though. It was the girl inside who took my breath away. She was a golden-haired blonde with the brightest, warmest blue eyes I've ever seen. And she was tall! Over five feet nine (I learned later), she was wearing what appeared to be the Institute's standard four-inch heels bringing her to better than six feet one. Compared to my six feet three plus, she was perfect. And she had a body any man would kill for, complete with a most perfect pair of legs that went on forever.

"Mr. Harris, this is Kristin, your room steward. She will blah, blah, blah..." God only knows what the girl said following. I don't know and don't care. While she was going on, I was moving closer to this golden vision. My eyes were focused on her face and eyes, and I saw them widen and take on a look of wonder. For her part, she was motionless, seemingly nailed to the floor.

When I was right in front of her, I put my arms around her. As I did, she tipped her head to her right and her lips parted. I pulled her close and my lips met hers. Then there was a brief fight as both of us tried to probe the other's mouth at the same time. Our two tongues met, dueled, and then did a dance of love. At the instant of contact I felt an electrical shock running through both of us. I could feel it in myself, and with my arms around her and her body pressed to mine, I could feel it in her body as well.

The kiss just continued as we moved our bodies together.

Finally, she eased just far enough away to be able to speak. "There's a zipper at my back. Pull it down, please?"

I found it with my fingers and pulled it down past her waist to its end point about at the beginning of the crack of her ass. Although the zipper was all the way down, the tiny dress stayed up. Then I remembered the little hook at the top that seems to be standard with all women's wear. I found it and, incredibly, actually unhooked it all by myself. The moment I did, Kris wriggled slightly and the dress dropped to the floor at her feet. Without another word, she pressed her body to mine again and we returned to our kissing.

Hearing a very loud "Ahem," we finally eased apart. Tami was still there, and she announced, "Kristin seems to have things well in hand, so I'll leave you now. Is there anything you would like before I go?"

To my surprise Kris responded, "I think we should get some lunch, Tami. It's almost one." Turning to me she asked, "Would you like club sandwiches?"

Those were the first words she ever spoke to me in her normal tone of voice. She had a marvelously musical contralto that I could listen to by the hour. I shook my head to try to clear the cobwebs and finally replied, "That sounds good."

"A beer?" she asked. "How about a Sam Adams?"

"Even better!"

"And I'll have milk," she added to my surprise.

Tami just nodded and withdrew.

"I think it's about time for you to get comfortable, too," Kris declared. And with that, she began to rapidly undress me. Astonishingly, I wasn't even embarrassed, although that began to change when she got down to my boxers. If I forgot to mention it, my penis had hardened beginning the first instant I laid eyes on her, and it hadn't abated yet. In fact it had been amusing to watch Kris exercise the greatest care as she eased my trousers off.

Before attacking my boxers, though, she took the rest of my clothing into the bedroom where she hung up my suit and tie while dropping everything else into the laundry hamper.

Returning to the sitting room where I was seated at the end of the sofa, she dropped to her knees before me and began to pull down my shorts. When she got the waistband down to my rigid cock, she stretched it carefully to ease it over. I raised my hips to allow her to pull the shorts down my legs and off. Only then did she see my cock clearly.

She was sitting back on her heels with her back up straight and her shoulders back. She gazed at it and murmured, "Oh ... my ... God! You're huge! And so beautiful..." Almost reverently she reached out to touch it. Her warm hand on my cock was like nothing I could ever even imagine. Leaning forward, she kissed the tip and then took just the tip in her mouth. It was just a kiss and a very light suck.

To my utter amazement, Kris rose to her feet, went to the desk and returned with a dressmaker's tape in her hand. Without saying a word, she held the tape against my erect cock. Measuring from my groin, it was a fraction of an inch longer than the prominently-marked one-foot line. Then she started at the vein under my cock and carefully wrapped the tape around it. She came to almost 9½ inches. Holding it across my circumcised head she came to a bit more than 3 inches across.

Sitting back on her heels again, she murmured, "My God!"

Then she leaned back and again took her position with her back up straight. "I just don't believe this. Terry said you had no experience with women before, but she lied through her teeth—"

"What do you mean?" I interrupted. "It's the God's-honest truth. By the way, we really haven't been introduced. I'm Cam Harris, and I guess you must be the famous Kristin Collins I've heard so much about."

It would have been an incredible scene for someone to witness. Here I am sitting on a sofa bare-assed naked. My knees are spread and kneeling between them is a golden-haired goddess also absolutely bare except for her black thigh-high stockings and heels. (The thong she had been wearing disappeared during her trip to the bedroom.) But that's the way it was.

Extending her hand to me she said, "How do you do, Mr. Harris? I've heard so much about you, and all I can say is that you exceed my expectations."

Gripping her hand in mine I was struck by the smoothness of her skin and the strength of her grip. Although I never measured it, her hand appeared to be almost as long as my own; however, a far higher fraction of its length was in her elegant fingers. At the same time, in terms of width, my hand would have made at least two of hers. But there we were, shaking hands.

Just then, there was a knock on the door. "That's Liz ... Liz Williams, my roommate."

"But she just delivered me here from the airport," I protested. "What's she doing waitressing?"

"Shh... !" Kris responded with a lovely little giggle. "You wouldn't believe how many chits Liz had to call in to make this happen." She was moving toward the door as she spoke.

She opened the door wide and Liz came in pushing a serving cart. The girl was almost as bare as Kris, wearing only gray stockings and four-inch heels. But in addition, she had the tiniest white lace apron at her waist that didn't come close to reaching the top of her slit.

Very expertly, she opened up the cart, carefully set two places and drew up two side chairs so we would be sitting side by side. Then she uncovered the sandwiches, opened the bottle of beer and carefully poured it into a pilsener glass. "Will there be anything else, sir?" she inquired.

"As a matter of fact, yes, there is. Would you two please come over here and stand in front of me?"

The two girls did, and they were utterly gorgeous. The differences were two inches in height as well as the differences in hair and eye color. Both girls' posture was superb, but they seemed subtly embarrassed.

"Okay," I said, "I'll bite. What's the problem?"

The two girls exchanged glances. It was so damned cute! They looked like sixth-grade girls standing in front of the principal. "It's ... It's..." Liz began. Then she blurted, "We're both so damned small on top is the problem!"

I rose and stood behind them. Reaching around I cupped one breast in each hand. As I've indicated, I have large hands, and I found I couldn't fully cup either girl's breast. "You're absolutely perfect!" I declared. "Both of you! Your breasts are perfectly shaped with lovely little nipples aimed slightly upward. Perfect!" Both pairs of nipples were taut to begin with, but as I gently scissored them between my fingers, they became even harder.

Both girls leaned back against me and just softly sighed. Then Liz turned to Kris, took her in her arms and kissed her. And it wasn't just a peck; their lips melted against each other's, their arms went around the other, and their breasts and nipples chafed together. When they eased apart, Liz whispered, "Darling, you've really got a live one here. The very best! And you're going to have to do something really nice for Terry, too. Without her, I doubt if Mr. Harris would be here today."

"Now look, you two, let's get one thing straight right now. To you, the name is Cam, okay?" Then I guess I must have blushed a bit when I added, "And if it's okay with you, I would like to refer to your beauties as tits..."

"Tits? Oh, dear!" Kris exclaimed. "Liz, the next thing you know he'll want to refer to our lovely pure vulvas as ... pussies! Or even..." her voice dropped to a whisper as she said, " ... cunts!"

"Oh, no!" Liz responded. "I know he's a patron and all, but he wouldn't dare... ? Would he?" The girl paused.

Both of them were having fun at my expense. They were maintaining straight faces, but it was clear that it was all they could do to contain their grins.

"I mean..." Liz continued, "if he did that, he might refer to our rectums as ... assholes!" The last word was almost silently breathed; it was barely audible.

Kris brought their playacting to a close. "Cam, we have tits, cunts and assholes. I'm sure you already know that we operate in three behavior patterns: classy, flashy and trashy, and 'trashy' is our natural condition. Okay?" Then with a grin she added, "Let's eat. I haven't had anything to eat all day and I'm starving."

"Why?"

A puzzled look came to Kris's face. "'Why' what?"

"Why haven't you eaten all day?"

"Because you were arriving today," she admitted. "I was so damned nervous, I couldn't eat a thing."

With that Liz excused herself and Kris and I sat down to eat.

When we finished, I asked, "What now?"

"That's strictly up to you. What would you like to do? I'm supposed to stay here in the room, but I cashed a few chits, too..."

"And what's that mean?"

"It means I can do anything with you that you might like me to do." Then she looked at me with her brilliant blue eyes boring into my head and said, "There's one thing I can't understand: How could Terry have been so wrong about your experience?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"She said you've had no experience with women, but that's just plain impossible."

"Why is it impossible?"

"Because you're too damned good is why." Her eyes softened as she continued, "That kiss you gave me was beyond my wildest dreams! No one can kiss that way without practice. Lots and lots of practice!"

"Practice?"

"That's what I said."

"Okay," I said agreeably, "if I need to practice, let's."

"Huh?" she gasped.

"Kristin, dear, I'm afraid you're losing it..."

"Losing what? I don't understand."

"Now look," I continued, pretending to be exasperated, "you just got finished telling me that no one can be a really good kisser without practice. 'Lots and lots of practice' were your exact words."

"And you want to practice kissing ... with me?"

"Since Liz went off to wherever and you're the only one here, I guess you're stuck with the job. Now get rid of the cart and let's get to work."

In an instant, Kris had moved the dishes to allow the table to be folded, then wheeled it out to the corridor and shut the door. I noticed that she also threw the deadbolt preventing the door from being opened except in an emergency. At least that's the way fine hotel hardware usually works.

Returning to the sofa, rather than sitting beside me, she stood in front of me with her hands behind her back. "Mr. Harris," she asked most diffidently, "would you do me a great favor, sir?"

Again Kris looked like a beautiful little girl standing before the school principal.

"If it is a reasonable request, I will grant it, Miss Collins," I replied in the most pompous manner possible.

To my surprise, two tears started to trail down her nose, having fallen from the inner corners of her eyes. "May ... Sir, could I ... May I take off these shoes, sir?"

It was all I could do to keep from howling with laughter. I wasn't completely successful; I chuckled and a broad grin crossed my face. "Want to tell me about it?"

Her words started to tumble out. "It's ... I'm so damned tall, I've never been able to wear four-inch heels, which, as I'm sure you've noticed, are essentially the standard around here. But when I heard how tall you were, and you were coming to visit, I thought, 'Ah, ha! My chance at last.' And it worked. Even wearing them, you're still taller than I am, but I'm at a perfect height for kissing. It's just so incredibly neat!" But then her face fell as she continued, "But, Mr. Harris, they're killing my feet! How the other girls can wear these instruments of sheer torture is beyond me." Then her face brightened and took on the eagerness of a young girl. "So may I, Mr. Harris? May I change shoes?"

"Yes, you may, but return to me immediately as soon as you do."

She scooted from the room toward the bedroom and was back moments later wearing a pair of black pumps with much more common two-inch heels.

"I'm back," she announced as she stood in front of me. "How do they look? And what would you have me do now?"

I rose from the seat, took her in my arms and kissed her again. There was now about a five-inch difference in our heights, but her lips were close enough to mine. I tasted her lips and found they tasted of raspberry. Not only were they beautiful, they tasted so good, too.

When we eased apart — the bells were still ringing in my head and I couldn't take any more — it was time for the rest.

Taking my seat on the sofa, I decided to replay a bit from the evening with Teresa. "Miss Collins," I demanded, "how were you asked to address me?"

"As 'Cam', sir, but—"

"Does 'Mr. Harris' sound like 'Cam' to you, Miss Collins?" I interrupted.

"But you're a patron, sir—"

"So what? Are you not expected to accede to reasonable requests from a patron?"

"Yes, sir," she agreed glumly and then added, "and some not-so-reasonable ones, too, for that matter."

"How many spanks on your bare bottom would be appropriate, Kristin, in view of your disobedience?"

"Ten, sir?" she squeaked.

"Only ten? That's all? For direct disobedience? That sounds pretty light to me."

"But it's not ten, it would be 30. I called you 'Mr. Harris' three times." Now tears really started to flow as she added, "You're right, of course. It should be 20 or 25. But after 60 to 75, I really couldn't stand to be on my back, and ... and ... and that's my most favorite position for making love."

This girl really was — and is — something else again.

Motioning her to my lap, she lay across it with her gorgeous bottom elevated. I then proceeded to do what I had seen Jack James do to Terry. Very gently I stroked her buns and found satin-smooth skin over muscle. There wasn't an ounce of fat. As my fingers moved lightly over her bottom, although she tried to remain still, I could feel her body involuntarily writhing on my lap. Then I spanked her.

The spank evoked a muffled little gasp of pain, but nothing more.

I went back to caressing and spanking. When I was only up to five, she began to cry. Just a couple more was all it took to start her pleading. "Beat me! Double the number! Triple it! But please stop torturing me like this!"

"What's the problem, Kris?" I asked in my most innocent manner. "I thought you liked it. I mean ... I can feel your vaginal juices running down my leg like a river."

"All right for you, Cam Harris," she said in a very determined voice. "I had it all planned to seduce you nice and slowly this afternoon. But you had to go and wreck it! I was planning on taking hours easing your giant cock into my pussy, but no more! Now you're just going to have to ram it in and fuck my brains out! And it's all your fault, too!"

As soon as I finished, she popped off my lap and dragged me into the bedroom. And I mean dragged! She's very strong, particularly when she's as charged up as she was then. Without letting go of my hand, she flopped on her back on the bed, raised her legs up straight, and then did a split with her legs at almost 90 degree angles to her body lying almost flat on the king-size bed.

"Now fuck my brains out, damn it!" she demanded.

Of course, while Kris's vagina was flowing freely, my cock had been in a continuous erection and was now as hard as steel. Looking down at her crotch, I saw a truly beautiful sight. Her lips were bare, and the inner labia were fully engorged and spread wide opening her vagina for me. And her clitoris was out of its hood, fully erect and throbbing.

"Fuck me, damn it!" she repeated. "Fuck my brains out!"

I slid into her sopping sheath. I could see her eyes widen as she felt herself stretched to admit my weapon.

"Stop screwing around and just ram that club in me! Ram it!"

So I did. But as wet as she was, when I was about halfway in I could feel her vaginal walls tightening around me. Incredibly, even though she was flat on her back with her legs stretched out at her sides, she still managed to buck her pelvis upward to assist in her ravishment. As I went still deeper, I could feel myself reaching the end of her tunnel, but still I went on. Her vagina was evidently stretching in length as it tightened in girth. I'm sure you've read dozens of times about girls with a vaginal grip like a velvet-lined vise. Believe me, Kristin, really did — and does. Finally it was all in.

When she felt my pelvic bone against hers, her eyes, which had been closed in concentration, flew open wide. The look on her face was one of the purest joy. "I did it!" she exclaimed. "I took the whole thing!" Then with the loveliest, cutest little grin I've ever seen she added, "And you can kiss me now, too, I guess. And if you're really feeling adventurous, you could even kiss my tits."

I leaned down and kissed her. Then I moved my lips over her face, nibbled on her ears, kissed her throat and anything else that looked interesting. At the same time, although we had not moved since I obtained full penetration, it was as if I could feel every bump and fold in her vagina. Then she started rhythmically to squeeze my cock. Heaven!

Moving down her body, I kissed her chest and then moved to her luscious tits. Her nipples, already erect, became as hard as pebbles as I nibbled and sucked them alternately. From Kris, all I heard was an increasingly loud series of very happy and contented-sounding moans and groans.

"Cam Harris, you lie through your teeth! Where am I in your list of conquests? Did I even make the first hundred? I doubt it very much."

"Darling, you're the very first. I have never been close to a woman before. Honest."

She gazed at me with the most penetrating look I've ever experienced. It was as if she was looking into my very soul. Finally she slowly shook her head from side to side and murmured, "I don't believe it. I just do not fucking believe it! Cam Harris, you are God's gift to women. I cannot imagine a better lover with better equipment alive in the world today. Or ever having lived, for that matter." She just sighed.

I began to move inside her. It wasn't easy, though. That velvet-lined vise, remember? But her vaginal fluids were continuing to flow in a steady stream and their lubricating properties had an effect. I kept lengthening my stroke until I reached the point where my cockhead was barely inside her and then I stroked slowly all the way in again.

After two or three of those she murmured, "It just keeps getting better! My poor pussy is stretched to the breaking point — and maybe beyond — but she doesn't care. She has taken me over, body and soul. I may not live, but she's having the experience of a lifetime and isn't about to give it up for something as trivial as my life.

"Oh, God, Cam! Not in my wildest dreams could I even imagine what I'm experiencing right now!" Then tears came to her eyes, but she was really smiling. "You know what? Maybe my life in hell before being rescued by Jonathan Wilkerson was in preparation for this. You know that song, 'There can't be no heaven if there ain't no hell'? Well, I believe it. I was in hell for years, Cam, but today you've taken me to heaven. Thank you!" With that she lifted her head from the pillow.

I knew what she wanted. Reaching out, I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and pulled her torso toward me. The kiss we shared was one of a kind. Kris's love just poured from her lips to mine. What an incredible woman!

I eased her back on the pillow and went back to my stroking. Already she had had several minor orgasms. But they were increasing in both intensity and frequency. The flush on her tits, chest and face gave evidence that she was close to a monster. For some reason totally unknown to me then or now, I was able to control my ejaculation. But finally the pressure built to an unsustainable level.

"I'm going to cum!" I shouted.

"Cum in me, lover!" Kris cried. "Flood my pussy with your cum! Now!"

I exploded. I don't know how many shots there were that first time, but there were more than ten. And Kris started to cum with my second shot. Her orgasms seemed to feed on mine. Each shot of semen hit just as she was coming off a crest and took her higher. By the sixth or seventh she was screaming uncontrollably while her entire body was in spasm. I think she was unconscious before the last one, but her body still reacted.

I straightened her legs a bit and, with my cock still embedded deep inside her, I rolled off her body on my side, turning her on her side facing me. Both our bodies were slick with sweat, but I noticed that all it did for Kris was to release large quantities of her glorious natural body fragrance.

Her eyes were still closed as I gently stroked the sweat from her face kissing her and stroking her everywhere within reach as I did.

After a period of time — I have no idea how long — her eyelids fluttered and then opened. Her face was only inches away from mine. Gently she wriggled her body close to mine to snuggle as close as she could get. She began to kiss me the way I had been kissing her. But after a few moments as she regained more feeling she became aware that my cock was still hard and still embedded to its full length in her.

As she understood the situation her eyes widened. "I don't believe this," she said softly. "It's fucking impossible! No man could possibly cum a fraction of what you did without becoming as limp as overcooked spaghetti. What are you doing?"

"I have no idea. Very first time, remember?" I grinned and added, "And it seems like the first time is still in progress.

"I feel wonderful, by the way, Kris. But how do you feel?"

"Like I'm in heaven is the way I feel. Cam, you're by far the biggest guy in both dimensions we've ever seen or heard of." She paused, reached down to where we were still attached and then giggled.

"What's so funny?"

"We are, or you are ... I'm not sure which. We're still attached, of course, but beyond that you're so big you've stretched my poor pussy to the limit in both dimensions. Yet somehow an awful lot of cum cream made it by that huge plug and is soaking the bed."

Then she grinned devilishly and added, "Since I'm sure it's mostly yours, anyway, why don't you just lie in it, while I do something to stay dry."

I'm sure I just looked puzzled.

"Lie on your back," she ordered.

With Kris still attached, I rolled onto my back. The movement accomplished something else, too: It got us away from the pool of our mixed fluids.

"This is so wonderful!" she enthused. "Johns would never allow a hooker to be on top. A male-dominance thing, I guess. And it's such a common phenomenon that we scarcely mention the female-superior or cowgirl position here at the Institute." Her face fell as she continued, "I'm sorry, Cam. I never even asked. If this bothers you, we can switch back in a second."

"Do you like it, Kris?"

"I love it!" she exclaimed. Then she rose up on her knees until her legs were straight, then felt my pole beneath her. "This is so incredibly neat! You're so long, I can extend up to the full length of my legs, and you're still solidly inside me." She grinned and added, "Now I can even bounce up and down on your lovely cock without fear of it popping out on me."

She then proceeded to do exactly that. The feeling was incredible because as she moved up and down, her incredibly talented vagina was massaging my cock as it moved up and down.

"Enough of this, wench!" I ordered. "Get those nipples of yours where they belong! In my mouth!"

"Yes, Master!" she giggled. "Right away, Master!" With that she leaned forward and alternated with first one nipple and then the other in my mouth. Clearly, Kris's breasts and nipples were major erogenous zones for her. As she moved her chest back and forth over my mouth, she was making the most fascinating happy sounds I've ever heard. She loved it.

Finally the stimulation got too much for both of us. Again, I began to release in her pussy, and again, her orgasm fired off at my second shot of cum. And my shots again exceeded ten, but I don't know by how many. And again Kris ended unconscious after a body-wrenching orgasm that had her flying in all directions. Because she was on top, she had far greater freedom of movement that time, and God, was she ever moving.

With my cock still plugged deep into her cavern, again I straightened out her legs but this time just hugged her body on top of mine. I think I slept.

When I awakened, it was because Kris had started to move her body a bit on mine. Her face was lying on my chest as she whispered, "Okay, where do I go to apply?"

"Apply for what?" I was puzzled.

"Apply to be your sex slave, silly. What else would I be applying for?" She raised her head from my chest to be able to look into my eyes. "But I guess there's a pretty long waiting list, isn't there? And how do you do it, anyway? Do you have tryouts? What's the next step?"

I laughed softly and said, "Actually, slut, you're doing pretty well in the tryouts. Of course we're not nearly to the end, but you're definitely showing promise."

That got me a sharp punch in the biceps. And you know what? She's really strong. And I don't mean strong for a woman. I mean strong!

Realizing that I was still embedded in her, I rolled over in the other direction and then moved closer to the edge of the bed. Looking back, it was easy to see the pool of our fluids in the center and another on the left side. We were on the only dry portion of the bed still left.

If, in all this time, I had ever softened, I wasn't aware of it.

When I started to move in and out of her flooded pussy, Kris's eyes widened. "You're kidding!" she almost screamed. "No, you're not kidding! My God, Cam, what are you doing to me? And how are you doing it to me?"

I tried to look thoughtful as I replied, "Well, I think I'm losing my virginity. At least that's what I thought I was doing." Then with my eyes wide I asked, "I know I'm not experienced, Kris, but is it a decent first effort? I mean ... With more practice, I'm sure to get better, but for a first effort... ?"

"Oh, my sore cunt..." was all the response I got.

It was basically a repeat of our first time, but I guess it was over sooner. In the first place, Kris's vagina was flooded with our mixed fluids for better lubrication. In addition, I had been inside her long enough by then to stretch it enough for easier movement. I took her up to orgasm, then another, and a third. Each time she would come down a little, then be forced up to an even higher peak.

I guess it must have been funny. She was trying to get me off, while I was trying to contain myself. And that was easier for me, too, because of massive orgasms I had already had. But finally I couldn't hold out any longer and started to cum. Her eyes rolled up in her head and she lost consciousness. In fairness, I guess I blacked out, too.

Awhile later I came to. I found that for the first time all afternoon, my cock was no longer in her. Kris was lying on her side cuddled close with one of her lovely breasts on my chest. I moved only slightly, but it was enough to awaken her.

"Well?" I asked.

"'Well' what?"

"Was it any good?"

"It was ... okay," she replied, slowly nodding her head. Then she nodded decisively and added, "Yep. Definitely okay. For a first effort, of course." She grinned and added, "Cameron Harris, you definitely show promise. If you keep practicing, you could be a pretty good fuck someday."

Slowly, she twisted in my arms and looked at the bed. "Yuck! What a mess!" Then she grinned at me and added, "There really should be a less messy way to fuck."

With that she jumped from the bed and almost collapsed as her legs gave way beneath her. She fell with her torso on the bed and her knees on the floor. "My God!" she exclaimed. "This has never happened before. And I thought I was in pretty good shape, too..."

Kris started to get to her feet again, but then thought better of it. Instead she crawled quickly on her hands and knees toward the desk with its phone. Again, I realized how incredibly beautiful this girl was. For the first time it registered that she had a perfect all-over tan, and moving away from me I could see her perfect little ass and her still-swollen labia between her thighs. Cum was still dripping slowly from her pussy as she moved.

Reaching the desk, she rose to her knees and punched in a number. She was speaking too softly for me to hear what she was saying, but when she concluded, carefully she rose to her feet and stood there at the desk for a few moments checking to see if her knees would support her yet. After making a positive determination, she went to the door and unlocked the deadbolt, then returned to the bed.

"Come on, lazybones. It's time for us to be up and about." Her eyes widened as she continued, "Do you realize it's almost six? We've been in bed all afternoon."

Taking my hands, she pulled me to my feet, then led the way into the bathroom. While I relieved myself, she used the bidet to rinse her vulva. "My lord," she whispered, "you've dumped so much cream into me, I'll be dripping for days!"

We shared a lovely — and loving — shower, then emerged. After drying each other's body, we returned to the bedroom. There we found another gorgeous young woman in the process of changing the bed.

"This is Tina Miller," Kris said, introducing us. "She's another member of The Carriers."

"'The Carriers'?"

"Yeah, that's us." With her eyes bright she looked at me and added, "You do know that aircraft carriers are often referred to as flattops, don't you?"

"So... ?"

"So we're all flattops. That's Liz, Tina and me."

"Let's not start that again," I said, taking a good look at Tina for the first time. Like both Kris and Liz, she was quite tall — about five feet eight. Her wavy hair was a tawny blonde and she was utterly dazzling with her emerald-green eyes. Her figure was a near-duplicate of Liz and Kris, complete with the same perfectly shaped — and for me, perfectly sized — tits. All she was wearing was the same tiny lace apron that Liz had worn, although Tina was wearing a tiny headpiece, too.

"Your dress is in the closet," Tina said casually.

While the girl continued her cleaning, Kris and I both dressed. I put on slacks and a sport shirt while she wore a plain white dress with white pumps. When I saw her putting on a tiny white thong, I teased her about it.

"I already explained that," she said acidly. "I'll be draining for days, and I don't want to leave cum every place we go."

"May I get you something else?" Tina inquired when we were dressed.

"As a matter of fact, yes," Kris replied. "A platter of canapés and a Cardhu on the rocks for Mr. Harris and a glass of white wine for me. And get whatever you want for yourself."

"But—" the girl started to protest.

"But nothing!" Kris interrupted. "I know damn well you did exactly what Liz did earlier: You cashed every chit you've got to be able to take over from Liz as room steward. And since I also know that it's been fixed that this is the only room you service, you can damn well have a drink with us." She paused and then added, "Oh, yeah ... You might order your dinner to be brought up in about an hour. By then, Mr. Harris and I will be dining."

Shaking her head in frustration, the girl went off to take care of Kris's orders.

"As well as being another of the most senior students here, Tina is also the resident computer guru," Kris explained. "You've heard the line, 'When all else fails, read the directions'?"

I just nodded.

"Well, here at the Institute the line is, 'When all else fails, call Tina.' She's really good." Her face fell as she added, "And we share another distinction: She's never been picked for a patron introduction, either."

Tina had returned with the drinks on a small silver tray. As she was serving, there was a knock on the door. She answered the knock and returned moments later with a platter of canapés. Then responding to a glare from Kris, she took a seat on a side chair while Kris and I sat on the sofa.

"So how was it?" Tina finally asked. "Any good?"

"You'll never believe it!" Kris exclaimed. "Mr. Harris was in me steadily for almost five hours! And he came 42 times! Honest! I was counting."

"What about you?"

Kris just shook her head and said, "I can't count that high. But I may have had more orgasms this afternoon than I've had in my entire life." Looking at the girl she added, "And you know me, Tina. When I cum, there's a sort of warm feeling and a little shiver?"

Tina just nodded her understanding.

"Not today! Today I exploded! I was bouncing off the walls, screaming my lungs out and shaking myself to pieces to boot. When Mr. Harris—"

"Enough!" I interrupted. "What am I to be called? Or would you like a reminder?"

Kris shifted her weight to be able to touch her bottom. When she did, she winced and said softly, "I'm sorry, Cam. It won't happen again."

"What was that action all about?" Tina asked.

"That's what wrecked my plans for the afternoon, is what that was," Kris replied. Then she explained about 'Mr. Harris' and how it had resulted in her beating. "I was all set to ease into some nice slow lovemaking, but Cam had to go and ruin it. Instead, I forced him to just take me." Her eyes softened as she continued, "So he took me, and took me, and took me ... God, it was so great!"

"You actually had an orgasm? With a man?"

"Dozens!" Kris agreed.

"Wow!"

We chatted and I got to know Kris even better. I learned that both she and Tina were effectively on staff. While the students split their days, with half serving the patrons while the other half attended classes, Kris, Tina and Liz spent their training time as instructors, teaching the newer students.

"What do you teach here?" I asked.

"Just reading, writing, and arithmetic," Tina replied. "Virtually none of the girls here have had much formal education. They were all out on the streets. Before they're ready to be introduced to a patron, though, the girls have to have at least a GED — a General Education Diploma. Some go further, though."

"And you?"

The beautiful tawny blonde appeared embarrassed. "I have a bit more," she admitted.

"Her master's in computer science," Kris answered, "and she's almost completed her doctorate."

Tina stuck out the tip of her tongue and murmured, "Bitch!" Then she continued, obviously intending to get even. "We weren't going to talk about it, but since you had to go and open your big mouth..."

To me she continued, "Cam, Kris is the Institute's star student. The only difference between Kris and the rest of us at the time she arrived was there was no sign of her ever having had any formal education. Now she has her BA in History, a law degree, and will get her MBA in finance in a month or two. Oh, yeah ... She's got a master's in history, too, and the course work for a Ph.D. in American history, and her dissertation has been accepted. She'll get her doctorate officially in June."

"How long have you been here, anyway?" I asked Kris.

"Within a month or so of eight years."

"My God!" I breathed. "In just eight years, you've obtained almost that many degrees, starting without even a high-school diploma."

"As I said, she's pretty bright," Tina added with a little grin.

I just shook my head as we went down to dinner. Kris was wearing white pumps with two-inch heels. Apparently the four-inch heels were history.

Activities in the dining room were a revelation. Previous mentions of patrons who were rather abusive proved to be true, if understated. While we were being seated, a patron went by us with a naked student in front of him. All she was wearing were white shoes with four-inch heels, and a leather collar around her neck. There was a leash clipped to it with the patron holding the end as he followed behind.

When our waitress came over to take our order, Kris said, "Sue, show the patron your tits. I want him to see what a well-built girl looks like."

With no hesitation, the girl untied the bow that held the laces of her bodice together, then peeled it off, allowing her breasts to spring free. Although the girl was only about five feet three, her tits were at least a C cup, and possibly a D.

Leaning toward me she asked, "Would you like to feel them, Mr. Harris? They're very firm. And if you do, you'll see my nipples really pop out."

I did and they did. Her nipples, arising from large areolae, extended out nearly an inch and were as hard as pebbles.

"Serve us this way, please, Sue," Kris ordered.

"Yes, Mistress. Of course." The girl rearranged her bodice, folding the material that formerly covered her breast under the rest and laced it back up leaving her tits bare.

The dinner was excellent, but the scenery was something else. One waitress, responding to a patron's motion, crawled under the table between his spread legs. After a few minutes, a look of bliss appeared on his face and few moments later the waitress reappeared licking off cum from around her lips. No one else seemed to pay any attention.

After dinner, we went into the nightclub for a drink. Although we intended to dance, we never got around to it. We just spent the whole evening talking about everything under the sun. It was the finest evening for me, ever.

Returning to the room, we found Tina there. "What a mess!" she exclaimed. "I was thinking seriously of having the whole damned bed replaced. It was soaked!" Then to Kris she teased, "Good God, girl! Don't you know that Cam's spend is supposed to be inside you somewhere? He's not supposed to just cum all over the bed!"

"Look, kid," Kris retorted, "if you'd just open your ears you'd hear our mixed syrup sloshing around inside me. I sound like a damned cement mixer down there. As for the cum on the bed, dear," she said blithely, "that's just the leftovers. As big as he is — and he's gigantic! — he pours so much into me that it manages to get by his huge plug." With that she very cutely stuck out the tip of her pink tongue.

Tina joined us for a nightcap and then left us alone. We made love, with me going down on Kris. It was over her violent objections, but I insisted that she instruct me in the fine art of eating pussy. Since I got her to the same mind-blowing orgasms that she had had earlier in the afternoon, I would have to rate my initial try as a success.



-------

Chapter 4



On Tuesday morning, I awakened to a strange sensation in my groin. Looking down, I found Kris with my prick in her mouth. Amazingly, she had stretched her jaw to take the whole thing in, although not nearly to its full length. I guess all it took to get me off was my awakening. I could feel her suction on my cock and I began to explode. I was cuming like a firehose, but Kris managed to take it all in, not missing a drop. While she was continuing her suction and swallowing as fast as she could, she was gently kneading my balls to maximize my cuming.

When I finally ran out, she licked off the head and just sighed. "That was so neat! But I really have to practice more. We've got dildos that are longer than you are, but none that are as big around. It's going to take some work before I'll be able to deep-throat you."

Then she moved up my body and snuggled. When I lifted her head to bring her mouth to mine, she struggled briefly. But when she realized I knew what was happening, she melted her mouth to mine. Running my tongue into her mouth, I could taste my cum that was still there. It really wasn't half bad, and she had swallowed what seemed like pints of it.

"Thank you," she whispered when we eased apart.

"And for what are you thanking me, may I ask?"

"That luscious breakfast, of course," she replied with a grin. "It really hit the spot, too! So warm and fresh, right from the cock. Lovely! And guess what?"

"What?"

"Some scientists have found that a man's semen is good for women. It wards off depression. Honest. So I'm certainly not going to be depressed today."

"And what are we going to do today, might I ask?"

"I thought maybe you might like some outdoor exercise today," she replied. "I know you're quite an athlete."

The result was that, although it was only 6:30, we went out to the tennis courts. Kris was very good, but ultimately I was able to beat her with my more powerful serve. I took the match 6-4, 6-3.

Returning to the room, we again shared a shower, this time washing off the sweat from our match, after Kris had ordered breakfast.

It was Liz who served us this time, and she barely argued when Kris invited her to join us. All she was wearing was the tiny lace apron along with the lace headpiece in her hair. I found that the girls — all three girls — were utter delights to be around. Moreover, it seemed like my freezing up in the presence of beautiful women had become a thing of the past. I seemed to have no trouble talking with any of them.

When we finished, we decided to continue our sports day with a golf match. Going out to the course, I got my clubs — they had been sent to the Institute from the plane, along with my tennis rackets — while Kris used a set owned by the Institute. Going out to the practice tee, I watched her warm up. Her very easy swing powered the ball far and straight, but I sensed something was wrong.

The golf pro was standing in the background just watching. Going over to him, I started talking about Kris and her swing, noting that it seemed much too easy. He agreed. "Do you think the shafts of the clubs she's using are too flexible for her?"

"You know your golf equipment," he responded, "and you're absolutely right. If she used the swing she's capable of — the swing that's natural for her — she'd twist that shaft like a pretzel."

"And the solution, doctor?" I asked with a grin.

"I thought you'd never ask!" he replied with a grin of his own.

With him leading the way, we left Kris on the practice tee while the two of us went to the pro shop. Going into the rear, he came back with two boxes of clubs, one a set of woods and the other a set of irons. "These have titanium shafts," he said. "I've had them here in the shop for her for months, but I can't get her to use them." He shook his head and added, "I really think she's embarrassed by her great strength. But it's a fact of life."

"Charge them to me, please," I said. "And add a putter, golf bag and the rest of the stuff to it, too."

He protested that she was essentially a part of the staff, but I insisted. He shrugged and got the gear together.

Returning to the practice tee, I saw that Kris had moved up to longer irons; she was swinging a #4. Taking the 4-iron from the new set, I waited for her to complete her swing. When she bent over to position a new ball, I took the club from her hand and gave her the new one.

"Use this," I ordered, "but really swing it, would you? I just love to see you move those lovely hips, so really get into it this time."

Her swing was noticeably faster, and the ball went straight and true, but significantly farther than she had been hitting. After the third shot, she was letting out her full power and the ball was really flying.

"Better, huh?"

"What did you do?" she asked.

"I just got you the clubs you should have been using all along," I replied.

Only then did she carefully look over her new club. Then glaring at me she complained, "This is one of those damned gorilla clubs, isn't it? Jack has been trying to get me to use them for months, and now you start..."

"Yep," I said agreeably.

"I hate you," she murmured. "What are the other girls going to think?"

"They'll think you're a really great golfer. And it's true. Now what's the problem?"

She just growled and let it go.

Kris was wearing shorts and a golf shirt along with sneaker-type golf shoes. The weather was absolutely glorious, so when we arrived at the first tee, she decided to play the round bare. There were two caddies waiting for us. They were younger girls — about 16, I guessed — and they looked at Kris in awe as she stripped.

"You, too," she said to me while daring me to object.

In moments we were both bare. The two girls' eyes bugged out when they saw my equipment.

To me Kris said, "Cam, our two caddies are Ann and Little Bit. They're both new; they haven't been here a year yet." Then to the girls she said, "Well?"

"Ma'am?" the girl she called Little Bit responded. She was my caddy.

"What is it you're supposed to be doing now?" Kris asked.

The two girls exchanged looks and then Ann whispered something to her friend.

"Apply sunscreen?" Little Bit replied with the question obvious in her voice.

"At what protection factor?"

The girl replied with a high number and Kris just nodded. Then she said, "Well... ? We're waiting..."

It was curious. Both girls were built on the Kris/Liz/Tina model: tall and slender. Before coming over to us, both girls shed their clothing, including their shoes. All they were left wearing were baseball caps with the Institute's logo embroidered on them.

"You had better do a thorough job," Kris cautioned, "or it will really be your asses. And you can see from my bottom that Mr. Harris really hits hard, and you both know that I do. If you mess up, you're going to get it from both of us."

I really didn't see anything on Kris's beautiful bottom, but what did I know?

Little Bit came to me and began carefully spreading the lotion all over my body. She was about five feet nine, but I had to lean over for her to be able to get it on my forehead and face. Moving down, she applied it carefully, front and back, and then she got to my groin.

Her hands were shaking as she looked up at me. "Do you mind, sir, if I touch you? I mean ... You sure don't want to be burned there!"

I just grinned and nodded.

Her hands were soft and gentle as she began to massage the cream into my prick and balls. And — surprise, surprise — I immediately began to get hard. "Oh, Miss Collins, he's so big! And so perfect! He's better than anything I've ever seen, even in pictures."

"He's even better than that," Kris responded. "Would you believe he fucked me for five hours straight yesterday, cuming more than 40 times? He really did."

"That's just so neat!" the girl sighed.

After doing my legs, the two girls then did each other. I was fascinated to see the way they caressed each other's body. And when they finished, they came together and exchanged loving kisses.

"Roommates!" Kris exclaimed derisively. "For heaven's sake, don't you get enough in your room?"

The two girls just looked at Kris and together replied in the flattest possible tone of voice, "No."

Kris proved to be an outstanding golfer. We played the match without handicaps to a draw for the first nine holes. After the nine, we stopped for lunch. Kris and Ann went off somewhere — the ladies room, maybe — leaving me alone with Little Bit.

"I have to say, you have a strange name."

"I picked it up because I was just skin and bones when I arrived here," she explained.

"What's your real name?"

"That's another problem: All I can ever remember being called before I got here was bitch and slut. I don't know about being a bitch, but I sure was a slut. I would do anything with anybody for whatever I could get out of them." She paused, and I noticed that her eyes were tearing. "I guess I'll have to get a name, though. 'Little Bit' would look a little odd on a driver's license, wouldn't it?" With her eyes wide, but still teary she asked, "Do you have any suggestions, sir?"

"How about Elizabeth?" I suggested. "It probably has more nicknames than any other in the language. Furthermore, 'Little Bit' sort of sounds like it, too. What do you think?"

"I think it sounds just great!" she beamed.

"How do you like it here, Little Bit?" I asked.

"It's the greatest!" she enthused. "Everyone's just so nice, and they take such great care of us, too. And then Ann and I are particularly lucky, because we have The Carriers for our classes. Oops... !" Almost immediately after saying "The Carriers", the girl reddened and swallowed hard.

"What's the problem?"

"Please, sir, don't say a word to Miss Collins! She would kill me on the spot."

"I doubt that very much, Little Bit," I responded. "I assume you mean Kris, Liz and Tina, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," she replied in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Honey, I happen to know that they refer to themselves that way, too." I went back to her original statement. "But you said that you and Ann were particularly lucky because you had them for your classes. What do you mean?"

"Well, you heard Miss Collins: Neither of us have been here a year yet. Yet both of us are very close to getting our GEDs already. And if either of us ever spent a day in school before we got here, neither of us can remember it. Everything we know, those three women taught us. They're just so great!"

"I thought it was just reading, writing, and arithmetic."

The lovely girl just grinned. "That's true, but those three words cover an awful lot of territory. For example, Miss Collins is supposed to be teaching us to read. Well, I guess she did that in just the first few weeks, but she didn't even slow down. Kristin Collins? No way! She just kept going with geography, history ... even economics. There's nothing that woman doesn't know.

"And often all three of them will be together. They really give us a workout. But do you know what? We learn. We honest to God learn. And for many of us, it's the first success we've ever had ... at anything! But there's more," the girl continued. "All three of them work on strict, unbendable standards. No happy faces for a nice try. They expect us to achieve and they won't allow us to fail or to quit." The girl just shook her head slowly and repeated, "They're just so great!"

Ann and Kris returned and we finished our lunch. But before allowing us to go to the 10th tee, Kris insisted that the girls go over us again with sun protection. As Little Bit was working on me, Kris said derisively, "Little Bit, I think you're having entirely too much fun with my patron's equipment."

"But it's so beautiful, Miss Collins," the girl protested. "In orgasm for almost five hours? Wow!"

"Incidentally, Little Bit, you and your sister are really starting to look great. You're going to be exquisite in just a very short time."

The girl just sighed.

When we finished the round, I had won the match 1 Up by dropping a 65-foot eagle putt on the 18th. I finished the round with a 3-under 69 to her 2-under 70. She had played a magnificent round of golf.

As we headed back to the clubhouse, I asked Kris about tipping. I knew that the students were never tipped at the Institute. But, I learned, caddying was different. Wilkerson knew that tipping caddies was de rigeur around the world, so an exception was made at the Institute, too. "So you can tip them if you want, Cam, but you certainly don't have to."

"Sweetie, what would they most like to have?"

"I don't know..." she began, but then she stopped suddenly. "Yes, I do know. Although there are computers in all the dorm rooms, the girls are allowed to have their own if they want."

"Why would they want to?"

"It's a privacy thing: The computers placed in the dorms belong to the Institute, so staff has access to them and to anything on them. But if a girl has her own computer, it's hers, and anything on it is hers, too. And that's an element of privacy that's never violated."

The girls had taken our golf bags back to the caddy shack and were waiting for us. They looked simply adorable just standing there bare-ass naked except for their baseball caps.

"Ann and Little Bit," I began, "I'm a little short of cash right now, so you won't get your tip until tomorrow. But FedEx will deliver your tips to your dorm before 10:30 tomorrow morning."

It had only taken a few minutes on my satellite cell phone to order two of the most powerful personal computers made, along with all the bells, whistles, and relevant software, along with supporting hardware.

To my surprise, Kris pulled my head down and kissed me soundly.

The girls just gasped as they saw the electricity flow between us, and they must have been able to have heard the bells.

"Oh, Miss Collins," Ann breathed, "is he really as good as he looks?"

"He's better," Kris replied. "Much better!"

Then to the girls she said, "Mr. Harris has ordered the most powerful computers made for each of you along with all the software and all the supporting hardware he could think of. Needless to say, it's both too bulky and too heavy for him to carry around with him, so ... But I'm afraid you'll have to wait until tomorrow morning to get it."

"A computer?" Little Bit screamed.

Kris just nodded her head firmly.

With that, both girls flew into my arms. I was surrounded by nubile female flesh and it was lovely!

"Mr. Harris, thank-you-thank-you-thank-you," Ann screamed. "I'll do anything for you, sir! Absolutely anything!"

"Thanks for the kind offer, girls," Kris interjected with acid dripping from her voice, "but I think I'm capable of taking care of him."

The girls started to head back to their dorm when Kris reminded them that they were bare. Ann just looked at Kris, stuck out the pink tip of her tongue and strode off with Little Bit. The two had their shorts and tops just slung over their shoulders, while they carried their shoes and socks.

"Want to cool off a bit?" Kris asked me when the girls were out of sight. "I don't know about you, but I've been sweating like a pig."

I agreed and we headed off to the largest of the Institute's swimming pools. It was Olympic sized, a full 50 meters in length. When we arrived, Kris just slipped off her golf shoes and dove into the water. I followed moments later.

I had swum competitively at Yale and was still pretty good. At least I thought I was until I watched Kris. She moved up and down the pool with all the power and grace of a porpoise. The only other people there at the time were an overweight — badly overweight — patron with a student underwater giving him a blow job. With all due modesty, when she came up for air and I got a look at his cock I realized I was longer in my flaccid state than he was fully erect. Oh, well...

After swimming a number of laps, we got out of the pool. Kris took clean towels from a stack by the side of the pool and spread them on the tile surface. Going to a table, she opened a small drawer and returned with a bottle of sunscreen. She applied it to my body and I applied it to hers. Having her exquisite body under my fingers was reward enough.

I think we both must have napped. The next thing I knew, I was feeling chilly. Opening my eyes, I saw that it was almost six o'clock.

After awakening Kris, we set out for the hotel. When I suggested dressing, all that got me was the tip of her pink tongue. So like Ann and Little Bit before us we returned to the hotel with our scraps of clothing slung over our shoulders.

Back at my suite, it was Tina's turn at being room steward, but her attire hadn't changed. Black heels — only two-inch, not four, for her, too — and the tiny lace apron. She was not wearing the maid's headband that she had worn the previous evening.

"What do you want tonight?" Kris asked. "Classy, flashy or trashy?"

"Dress the way that's most natural for you," I replied.

"That's trashy."

"The hell it is!" I exclaimed. "Kristin Collins, I'm tempted to say you couldn't look trashy if you tried, but knowing you — after only 36 hours — I'm certain you could make yourself look like a world-class slut if you did try. But it's not you, dear heart. You're just naturally born classy.

"Oh, pooh! You're no fun," she responded, pretending to sulk.

"It didn't take him long to get you pegged, did it, Kris?" Tina interjected with a lovely giggle.

"And pooh to you too!"

"I'm just agreeing with the patron, dear. Isn't that what we're supposed to do?" Tina asked with injured innocence.

Kris whispered instructions regarding her attire for the evening and then in a normal tone ordered drinks and canapés.

Tina went off and Kris and I shared a sensuous shower. God, how I love just to run my hands over her body. This girl is unreal. Already, though, I was thinking ahead to my session with Jonathan Wilkerson scheduled for 9:30 the following morning. As far as I was concerned, my search for a companion had ended the instant I laid eyes on Kris, and I was getting similar vibes from her. I really didn't know what I would do if the Institute's matching system produced anyone other than her.

I put on slacks and a sport jacket along with a tie. I figured if Kris was going to be classy for dinner, I didn't think it was fair to do any less. Although the previous evening I said seen a number of patrons doing just that: dressing like slobs while insisting that their girl for the evening was dressed to the nines. But then, as Jack Kennedy famously observed, "Who said the world is fair?"

Kris effectively pushed me out of the room while she finished her makeup. Tina was back and waiting for me with my drink in her hand. That was a Beefeater martini night. When I insisted, she poured a glass of white wine for herself and took a seat on a side chair while I sat on the sofa. I still couldn't get over how elegant she looked, even though she was essentially naked. Her back was straight, her shoulders were back and she held her head proudly high. She was utterly exquisite.

I took advantage of Kris's absence to question Tina about my concern. "What happens if Wilkerson doesn't match me with Kris?"

"I don't know how to answer that," she replied. Then with a lovely smile she added, "After all, it could match you with me. In that case, my answer would be that it's Kris's tough luck. It could match you with Liz in which case both Kris and I would be in tears. But anyone else?" She paused to gather her thoughts and continued, "Honestly, sir, I don't know what to tell you." Then she lowered her voice and added, "I will tell you, though, that Kris loves you more than life itself."

I just sat there mildly stunned while I digested Tina's remark. I say "mildly" because it was clear to me that our passion was truly shared. The electricity and the bells just could not be manufactured.

Kris joined us and she was utterly stunning — as usual. The three of us chatted on a variety of topics and again I was both impressed and amazed at the breadth of the girls' knowledge. There didn't seem to be a subject they were not prepared to talk about, and in depth.

Kris and I went down to dinner. Like the previous evening, I was impressed by the young women and, to a large extent, appalled by the behavior of other patrons. In all too many cases they seemed to want to dominate and denigrate the young women. I wondered if I was the only one in the place who was bothered by it.

As the evening progressed, I could sense Kris becoming increasingly nervous. Instead of going into the lounge after dinner, I suggested returning to the suite for after-dinner drinks and coffee. Kris seemed relieved when I suggested it, so that's what we did.

Tina was still in the suite when we returned. The first thing Kris did was to ask her if she had had dinner yet. When Tina looked embarrassed and said no, Kris immediately called room service for a sirloin steak sandwich, french fries, and a salad. Hanging up, she went to the room refrigerator, took out a bottle of Sam Adams, uncapped it and gave it to her friend.

"No glass?" I teased her.

"For Tina? Hell, no!"

Tina just grinned and raised the bottle to her lips.

Kris prepared coffee and poured cognac for the two of us, then lighted a corona for me and a panatela for herself.

When we were seated side by side on the sofa, in a soft voice, almost as if she were talking to herself, Kris said, "Cam, if the computer doesn't match us, may I come to live with you anyway? I'm an excellent cook and housekeeper, and I could provide some company for your mistress." As she spoke, her eyes were fixed on the cognac snifter she was holding in both hands. It seemed she refused even to look at me.

Only then did I realize that she didn't because she feared rejection. And then I realized that, as beautiful and as talented as she was, she had, indeed, suffered rejection constantly for years at the Institute. I had gathered that she had been fully qualified for almost seven years but had never been matched.

Reaching over, I took her hand. "If it's Tina or Liz, I think we could work something out, honey," I said softly. "If it's anyone else, I'll settle with them financially and live with you. How would that be?"

With a cute, very quirky little grin she said, "If the computer matches you with Tina, it will only be because she rigged it that way." She giggled and added, "That's the way it is around here. Whenever the computer produces Tina's name as the answer to any question — and I mean any question — everyone around here is certain it's because she rigged it. This girl is a witch where computers are concerned. She can make them do anything!"

"You're just jealous," the girl commented blithely as she went to open the door for room service.

Tina ate her dinner while we just watched and continued to chat. There was no further mention of the computer match the next day.

In bed that night, we made love all night long, pausing only when we passed out from orgasm or were overtaken by sheer exhaustion. That night I ate Kris's pussy for the second time — she tasted like strawberries — and even took her in the ass. In spite of my size, she insisted and it really did work, albeit assisted by lots of K-Y lubricant.



-------

Chapter 5



At 9:30 the next morning, I presented myself at Jonathan Wilkerson's office. I was welcomed by his secretary, a brunette with "Becky" on her nameplate. She greeted me and buzzed the office. Wilkerson told her to show me right in, so she rose from behind her desk and led the way. I was used to seeing short skirts on the students, but hers might have been the shortest. It barely covered her crotch. Moreover, she was quite tall, with a gorgeous pair of legs that went on forever.

Jonathan Wilkerson rose to greet me. He was a small man — shorter than his secretary, Becky, I noted — and was impeccably dressed. I was glad that I, too, had dressed for the occasion.

I won't bore you with the details, but after having a very bitter-tasting cup of coffee that Becky supplied, I was seated in a special lounge chair facing a screen. The room was darkened and the show began. I was shown dozens of pictures of girls. Each one showed two, and the two girls were always different or engaged in different activities. In each case, I was to pick the girl or activity I preferred. Finally the session ended.

Again Becky supplied me with a cup of coffee, but this one was wonderful. I thought that she had learned how to make a good cup of coffee rather quickly, but then I learned that the reason the first cup had tasted bitter was that it had been drugged. The fact was I was feeling woozy until I had the second cup; the effects of the drug were being counteracted by the second coffee.

We chatted about various inconsequential things, with Wilkerson being particularly interested in whether or not I was enjoying my stay and was being well cared for. I assured him that I couldn't imagine receiving better care anywhere, and he seemed to be genuinely pleased.

At that point Becky returned to the room with a computer printout. Wilkerson scanned it and his eyes widened. Then he let out a low whistle that sounded odd coming from the lips of such a dapper gentleman.

"Mr. Harris," he began, "you have just broken the bank!"

"What does that mean?"

"That means that you have achieved a match score of 100! That's never happened before in the history of the Institute." Then rather diffidently he qualified his statement. "Actually, the matches are all 99s — that's as high a score as the computer is allowed to produce. After all, as good as we think our software is, there has to be the possibility for some error. Nevertheless, with all top scores, the chances of a mismatch are essentially nil." Then he improbably grinned and added, "Mr. Harris, do we ever have a girl for you!"

It certainly sounded good to me, but he hadn't mentioned a name, nor did it appear that he was going to. Then I learned that the procedure was for me to meet the young lovely at dinner that evening. It would be for the very first time.

"What do I do in the meantime?" I asked.

"Just go about your business and have fun."

I was starting to get scared. What if the computer produced someone other than Kristin? But I guessed I would just have to live with the suspense.

Returning to the room, I was greeted by Tina.

"Where's Kris?"

"She's been matched," the girl replied in a voice scarcely above a whisper. "She's off preparing to meet her new master at dinner tonight."

Oh, shit! I thought. What if she was matched with someone else? This could really screw up the works.

"What are you doing here, Tina?" I asked. "Are you today's duty room steward?"

"No, sir. I'm here to occupy your time." She glanced at the clock and I did too. It was almost noon.

"How about lunch?" I asked. "Have you eaten?"

"No, sir," she admitted.

Again we ordered from room service and chatted. While sitting beside her at the table, I leaned over and kissed her. Her response was immediate. She turned a bit in her chair, put a soft hand behind my head and kissed me passionately. Her kiss was exactly like Liz's: loving, passionate, but with no electricity or bells.

When we slowly eased apart, I could see that she was glassy-eyed. "Cam, that was the finest kiss of my entire life! Kris is going to be so overwhelmingly happy with you! And it's just so great. It really couldn't happen to a finer person."

"Do you know something I don't know?" I asked, remembering Kris's comment on Tina's skill with computers.

"Honestly, I don't, but it's just got to happen. You two are utterly perfect for each other."

We decided to play golf that afternoon.

At the practice tee, it was a repeat of the day before with Kris. Tina was taking very easy swings, too. It turned out that Jack, the pro, was way ahead of me. When I bought the set of clubs for Kris the day before, he had wasted no time in ordering in a new set. They had been delivered by FedEx that morning.

I decided to pursue the question with Tina. She admitted that The Carriers all worked out in the gym together, most particularly including the strength machines. When she told me the weight loadings they used, I whistled softly. Kris moved more than the other two, but not much more.

When we went to the first tee, we were again met by Ann and Little Bit. When the two girls saw me they ran into my arms and almost knocked me down in their enthusiasm. The same truck that had brought Tina's new clubs — oh, yeah, I bought a set for her, too — had delivered the girls' new computers. They had just finished setting them up when they had to leave for caddying duty. The two voices were tumbling over each other as they described their marvelous gifts from Mr. Harris. Tina questioned them about details of their new systems, agreed that they were the most powerful available, and shared in their joy.

Again, it was a gorgeous day, so the two girls didn't even wait for instructions. Ann stripped Tina while Little Bit worked on me. After applying sun screen to us, they stripped and did each other, again ending in a passionate embrace.

Tina proved to be a marvelous golfing companion, too. We laughed and teased and heckled each other, with the two young girls delightedly joining in.

We finished the round with just enough time for a quick swim and then it was back to the hotel.

Tina left me in the lobby to return to her room, while I went up to the suite. Liz was on duty.

At that point things changed. Quickly she undressed — I was still naked from our golf and swimming — and joined me in the shower. After the shower, though, she put me in the bathtub. The water was hot and covered with an oil of some kind. The girl smoothed it over my body and finally helped me out. The episode wasn't over, though. She put me on a massage table and gave me the going over of my life. God, this girl was good!

I suspect I dozed off, because she had to awaken me to dress. It was already 5:30 and I was supposed to be meeting Wilkerson in the dining room at 6:00.

Liz dressed me in black silk shorts followed by my finest dark gray pinstripe summer-weight suit. It was funny to see her fussing to get the tie's knot exactly right. Then she put a soft hand behind my neck to pull my head down for a kiss. There was just the flow of the purest love. My thought was that this girl was going to be an incredible wife for some very lucky guy, but that guy wasn't me.

Arriving at the dining room, I was shown to a corner table. Although Jonathan Wilkerson was already seated, the girl acting as maître d' assured me that he had just arrived. We exchanged greetings and I acted as cordial as my nervousness allowed. I'm certain he was aware of my feelings, but he seemed to be having fun at my expense.

I was sitting facing the dining room entrance. We were talking when I sensed a simultaneous intake of breath on the part of the room's occupants. Looking up, I saw a vision in white. It was Kris, of course, wearing a diaphanous white gown, flowing toward us regally. Again, she was wearing the Institute's standard four-inch heels and had her golden hair piled on her head. Wilkerson and I both stood as she approached the table. Just then I happened to glance at the entrance and saw Liz and Tina, both entranced. In a moment they were gone.

Kris ignored Wilkerson who was in the process of formally introducing us. "Mr. Harris," he said, "this is Kristin Collins, our most accomplished student blah, blah, blah..." What words followed I neither knew nor cared. What I do know is that Kris and I met and shared a kiss with such power it could have powered the nation of Mexico for a year.

Easing just far enough apart to be able to focus our eyes on the other, Kris whispered, "Cam, my darling, I love you so... !"

I seated her at the table and ordered Dom Pérignon. When it was brought over, I insisted on opening it myself, just easing the cork out to minimize the pop. After pouring, we touched our flutes together, toasting each other with our eyes.

What we ate that night, I have no idea. I suppose it was very good; it always was, but it might as well have been library paste for all I knew or cared. I had learned from Tina that the night was supposed to be one of dining, dancing and getting to know one another. But that wasn't what either of us had in mind.

Without exchanging a word on the subject, we arose together and headed back to the suite.

Opening the door, I wasn't very surprised to find both Liz and Tina there waiting for us. This time, there was no pretense of any uniform; both were wearing white thongs and nothing else. It was incredible. Nothing at all was said. Liz just extended her hand to Kris who took it and followed her roommate into the bedroom where Liz carefully closed the door.

Tina came close to me and pulled my head down for a kiss just loaded with pure love. When we eased apart she said softly, "I'm so happy, I can't stand it, Cam. You have the girl who is truly sui generis — one of a kind."

With that she began carefully to undress me, hanging up my suit and tie and piling the rest of my clothes in a neat stack. I was standing in the middle of the sitting room when she eased my black shorts down on my legs. I stepped out of them and she moved closer, taking my prick in her mouth.

The effect was unreal. It was a blowjob, but it wasn't. Instead, she was worshiping my cock. She laved it with her tongue and kissed it up and down its whole length. In the most gentle way she stroked it making me harder and harder. "So incredibly beautiful!" she murmured.

I don't know how long she continued with her labor of love, but finally she rose to her feet, took my hand and led me into the bedroom. She opened the door and gave me a very gentle push into the room.

What I saw was truly breathtaking. There was Kris wearing a very short diaphanous white gown that ended about an inch below her crotch. Her hair that had been piled on her head at dinner was now loose and flowing to her shoulders. She was arranged in the middle of the bed with her head centered on a pillow and her golden hair fanned out on both sides. The room was lighted with an array of fragrant candles that cast their flickering light over everything.

"Welcome, my love!" Kris murmured, extending her arms toward me.

I joined her on the bed and took her into my arms. What followed was our finest lovemaking ever. I kissed her lips, her eyes, her ears, and her neck. Gently, I lifted the gown from her exposing the perfection of her body. Then I began kissing her all over, moving steadily downward.

Kris was hardly idle during all of this, and when I reached her center, she pivoted on the bed and took my cock into her mouth. I began to eat her luscious pussy while she worked on my already rigid cock. Again, she tasted subtly of raspberries. Utterly delicious! She was wet when I entered the room, but now she was flowing freely, gushing, almost. My lips and my tongue were moving all over her pubic region.

But Kris was active, too, although in all honesty I wasn't paying much attention until I heard Liz exclaim, "My God! She's taken it all in!"

And she had. I could feel Kris's nose in my pubic hair and could feel her using the swallowing muscles in her throat to knead my cock. That's all it took for me to explode! I don't know how many spurts I released, but there were lots. As I exploded in her throat I could feel everything going gray. Whether I actually lost consciousness or not, I really don't know.

When I recovered enough to look around, I found Kris sitting up in bed with the proverbial "cat that swallowed the canary" look on her face. "I hope you two turkeys noticed how good I was," she gloated. "I didn't spill a drop! And as for you, Elizabeth Williams, I hope you noticed that the bed is still dry." Then gently rubbing her flat belly she added, "All that luscious cum is right here."

Then she changed direction dramatically. "Tina Miller, what are you doing with my roommate? That's my rug you're eating!"

Tina lifted her fluid-covered face from between Liz's thighs and said blithely, "My roommate, not yours. And it's not a rug, either. Liz is as bare as you and I are. So there!" With that she stuck out the tip of her tongue.

"But—" Kris started to protest.

"'But' nothing," Liz interrupted. "You're outta here, Kristin Collins, so I'm going to be living with the next best thing—"

"And that reminds me," Tina interrupted. "Thanks for doing such a great job training Liz for me. Never have I found a girl better at eating pussy than she is, although she does insist that you're better. But..." With that she dropped her face back into Liz's pussy while Liz enthusiastically returned the favor.

Kris just turned to me, grinned and whispered, "Oh, well ... We have our own fish to fry ... Or something." With that she laid flat and again extended her legs almost straight out on both sides the way she had done it the first day. Only this time the girls were lying beside us so they were unceremoniously dumped on the floor by Kris's flying foot.

Those two girls are really something else! All they did when they found themselves on the floor was to get back on the bed again, but this time lying across it down at the foot below us. Kris just giggled.

What followed was very similar to that first day except with far more love and much less violence. But I still managed to cum in her three separate times again totaling more than 40 shots (Kris was keeping score; I wasn't) over a span of hours. Finally we succumbed to utter exhaustion.

When I awakened the next morning I found myself amidst a jumble of gorgeous nubile bodies, the owners of which were all still sound asleep. It was only then that I realized I had been sharing my bed with possibly the three most beautiful women alive. It was heavenly!



-------

Chapter 6



Later that morning I returned to Wilkerson's office. The purpose this time was to sign contracts. To my surprise, Kris insisted that Tina accompany me as her representative, which she did. Wilkerson's secretary, Becky, appeared surprised, but not very much.

What followed surprised me, but astounded Wilkerson. On Kris's behalf, Tina announced that she did not want a room of her own at my apartment and wanted no allowance or stipend of any kind. Moreover, as far as she was concerned, the duration of her contract was (and this is an exact quote; Tina had it all written out): " ... for my lifetime, or Eternity, whichever shall be longer." Finally, while I was free to terminate the contract at any time for any (or no) reason, Kris did not have an "out" clause at all.

Wilkerson began to protest, but Tina interrupted him. "Those are my client's terms. She is giving herself totally and forever to William Cameron Harris, III. I am not allowed to accept anything less."

Then Wilkerson contacted Kris, only to have her abruptly tell him that Tina was her representative, and Tina had her strict instructions.

Shaking his head, Wilkerson instructed Becky to prepare the contracts accordingly. When she did — a matter of only a few moments — they were executed and witnessed, with Tina producing a notarized power of attorney commissioning her to act in this matter on Kris's behalf. Copies were distributed and Tina withdrew, but I stayed behind to handle my own business with the Institute.

First, I settled my bill, and then I spoke to Jonathan about an endowment. "There are four girls I'm particularly interested in. They are Tina Miller, Liz Williams, plus two new girls, Ann and Little Bit, although I don't know their last names."

"You certainly can pick them, Mr. Harris," Jonathan responded. "Liz and Tina rank right up there with Kris." He grinned and added, "I'm really not supposed to tell you this, but I will anyway. The fact is that Kris only edged Liz and Tina in your matching. Moreover, and even though they're not yet eligible for selection, Ann and Little Bit scored remarkably high, too. I won't tell you their scores with you, but I will tell you that either of them had matching scores higher than 80% of the matches the Institute makes." He paused and then continued, "What form would you like this endowment to take?"

"I really don't know," I replied, "but I want those girls to be well taken care of. Perhaps it might be clothing, books, supplies ... I really don't know. But I guess what I would like to do is donate $10 million to the Institute, with the understanding that $1 million will be allocated for the expenses of each of those women. Finally, upon leaving the Institute, they are to receive the balance from that million in cash."

Wilkerson thought for a few moments and then nodded his head decisively. "It's a deal, Mr. Harris. First, on behalf of the Institute, I want to thank you for your generosity. Second, and on a personal note, I must say that your choice of young women to support is perfect. Frankly, Kris, Liz and Tina are three of the very finest young women we've ever had. Furthermore, working together they are also the finest team of trainers we've ever had. Even though they're still nominally students, the fact is that they're far more effective than any of our professionals on staff. And while Ann and Little Bit are both new, they show all the same attributes the other three have demonstrated. They're going to be real winners, too.

"So, yes, Mr. Harris, we will do exactly what you have proposed. Would you like Becky to draw up a contract to that effect?"

"That won't be necessary," I assured him. "Your word is plenty good enough for me."

With that I returned to the suite. Not surprisingly, I found The Carriers together in a gabfest. Or perhaps, more accurately, it was a two-woman roast, with Kris the one being roasted. My return didn't slow things down a bit.

Liz was saying, "My God, Kris, you should see yourself! A well-fucked look to end them all and a shit-eating grin besides! Sheesh!"

Kris was sitting in a lounge chair. Her eyes were gleaming and she just murmured, "Mmm..." and wriggled her bottom on the chair.

"What was that action?" Tina asked.

"Mmm..." Kris repeated. "I'm just enjoying the feeling of Cam's lovely cum and my syrup still sloshing around my insides." Again she sighed, "It's heavenly!"

I'm almost certain those actions were primarily to annoy the hell out of her friends.

I learned that the two new roommates had arranged to take the rest of the week off, so the four of us went downstairs for an early lunch.

It was shortly after noon when we appeared again at the golf course. This time it was Liz for whom I bought new clubs. After warming up, we went to the first tee and — surprise, surprise — found Ann and Little Bit.

"For God's sake, aren't there any other caddies here?" I asked.

"Sure there are," Little Bit replied. "Here are two more, Judy and Kim. They're really new," she continued. "They just finished in rehab and haven't started the course yet."

"What she means is they've just finished recovering from their previous ordeals," Kris explained, whispering in my ear. "You can see how pale they both are. I wouldn't be surprised if this was their very first day outdoors." And so it proved to be.

We set up a match with Kris and me playing against Liz and Tina. Again, Little Bit was carrying my bag, and Ann had Kris's. Since it was another glorious day — the third in a row — again we elected to play nude.

With no hesitation, Ann and Little Bit began applying sun screen to Kris and me. This time when she got to my equipment, Little Bit didn't even pause. But as she worked she commented to Ann, "Have you ever seen anything like this, roomie? He's so big and so beautiful! And ... and ... he's tanned!" Looking at her friend she said, "Could you imagine anything nicer than to be fucked with a tanned cock as magnificent as this one?"

Ann turned to Judy and Kim and told them to get busy putting sun screen on their patrons.

"But ... But ... they're students, too," one of the two protested.

"Look, turkeys, there are two things you two had better learn in one hell of a hurry: In the first place, any student with a patron is treated as if she's a patron, too. But more importantly, you're caddying for Miss Williams and Miss Miller! Here at the Institute, they rank above the staff! Above everybody but Mr. Wilkerson, himself. Got it?"

The two nodded fearfully.

Ann quickly added, "Now get moving!"

Ann and Little Bit finished and then stripped off their clothes and shoes. The four young girls had been wearing golf shirts, shorts, athletic shoes and the ball caps with the Institute's logo. In an instant, the two older girls were stripped to their ball caps and began to put sun screen on each other.

The younger two had finished applying it on Liz and Tina, but just stood there.

"Get with it!" Little Bit ordered. "We want to complete this round before sundown, for Heaven's sake!"

The younger two exchanged looks and one of them shrugged. Very slowly, they stripped, too. It was really very poignant. Clearly they wanted to cover their breasts and their loins, but knew they couldn't. They just stood there, shaking visibly.

Ann went to one of them — I still wasn't sure which was which — and pulled her hands behind her back. "Sir," she said, "now you can get some idea of what Little Bit and I looked like about a year ago. Notice," she continued, "you can count her ribs. And in spite of being 14 years old, except for her lovely little nipples..." With that she reached around and pulled one of the girl's out as far as she could and let it spring back. It did, but remained turgid, looking like the eraser on the end of a pencil. " ... her chest looks like a boy's. But I'm sure they'll make it," she added, nibbling on the girl's ear. Instantly, the girl shivered with sexual excitement.

"You can almost count all of their major bones individually," Kris added, whispering in my ear. "Now do you see why, regardless of the way patrons may act, all of the girls would far rather be here than wherever it was they came from?"

I resolved to see Jonathan Wilkerson and double my contribution.

After applying sun screen to each other — the highest number made — we went off. While Kris and I were playing the two girls, we were playing with full handicaps. I had a 1, Kris turned out to have a 2, while the other girls had higher handicaps but still in single digits. The result was that Kris and I were giving the other two strokes.

Ultimately, I guess it turned on the new clubs. All three of the girls were playing better than they ever had before, but due to the lags, their newfound ability wasn't reflected in the handicaps yet.

The result was they beat us by a single hole on each side, costing us each $15. (We had been playing a $5 Nassau.) The two roommates were so happy, you would have thought they had just won the Lottery. It was wonderful to see.

I told Ann and Little Bit that I had left a little money for them that they could use to buy whatever they wanted. They were so excited, and it turned out that each had a list of books she wanted to buy at Amazon.com. All eight of us sat at two tables after our round and chatted. Judy and Kim just sat and listened.

I was astonished and the girls were impressed by the titles of the books the girls planned to buy. To the three Carriers I said, "Well? What do you have to say for yourselves? You do know, I hope, that the selection of titles is your responsibility."

"I'm afraid it is," Kris admitted. Then going to her knees between them, she took each of them in her arms and unloaded the most powerful kiss she was capable of. It turned out that the two kisses were powerful enough to put both girls out.

"I don't believe what I just saw!" one of the younger girls said.

"You don't?" Kris responded with her eyes wide. "Well, see what you think..." With that she moved between the two younger girls and repeated it.

Tina and Liz laughed softly and stretched the two girls out flat on the grass. They were out like lights.

When the three had returned to their seats, Little Bit had recovered consciousness and said, "Miss Collins, you're just the greatest! And being matched with Mr. Harris... ! I'm sure you're going to be exquisitely happy, and it couldn't happen to a finer person, either."

Kris looked into her eyes for a sign of teasing, but found none. Finally, she accepted the fact that the girl was being serious. "Thank you, Elizabeth..." She paused and thought for a moment. Then she said, "How about Bitsy? That's a cute nickname for a lovely young woman, and it's one of the myriad names associated with Elizabeth. What do you think?"

"I think I'm Bitsy, is what I think," the girl responded. Then she slowly shook her head and said, "Miss Collins, you're really one of a kind. Only you would spend time thinking about an appropriate nickname for a slutty hoyden."

"Bitsy, we're talking about what you are, not what you were. You're not a slut. You're a lovely young woman still filling out. You're going to be a raving beauty in a year or so. Count on it!"

"See, Ann?" Little Bit exclaimed (It seemed that Bitsy, for her name, was very short-lived). "She's leaving us, but she can't resist helping us." Then she announced, primarily for the benefit of the younger two who had regained consciousness and were sitting up on the grass, "We're the luckiest guys in the Institute! We got The Carriers as our teachers. And they're the greatest!" Suddenly she blushed as she realized what she had said.

The older three howled with laughter.

"It's all right, kids, just this once," Kris said with a little giggle. "You can call it my graduation present to you both. But don't you dare ever use that term again ... where we can hear you." She looked down at her lovely tits and then cradled them in her hands. "And besides ... We're not completely flat. There's a little more here than just a pair of mosquito bites..."

-------

It was Saturday evening. The students had a huge hen party planned for Kris on the occasion of her leaving. Liz was with me, while Tina was going to be spending Kris's last night with her.

Before leaving me, Kris's last words to me were, "Cam, please! Make Liz happy. I beg of you, please? She's such a wonderful person, and I just know she'll be a great fuck. Please? For me?" Tears were flowing down her cheeks at the time, so I was convinced she was serious.

When Kris disappeared in the direction of the student dorm, I learned from Liz that Saturday night was pretty special for all the students. It seems that Saturday night is the weekly student blow-out.

"It's when we get to act like the real us: trashy," Liz reported. Then she asked, "How would you like me to appear?"

I thought for a moment and then had an idea. When I just started to explain the idea to her, she was ecstatic. There was no need for me to go into any detail at all.

Exactly at six o'clock, there was a knock on the door. I was wearing chinos and a golf shirt along with loafers without socks. Furthermore, I wasn't even wearing shorts. I opened the door and could hardly control my laughter. There was Liz with her brown hair in braids, wearing a thin blouse that revealed her luscious tits perfectly, along with a pleated skirt and white socks with — would you believe it? — saddle shoes! (I wondered if she had had to go to an antique shop to find them!)

"Good evening, sir," she announced. "Would you like to buy some Girl Scout cookies?"

"If you're selling Girl Scout cookies," I asked suspiciously, "why aren't you in uniform?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but my uniform has to be cleaned. A lot of that stuff that came from the last gentleman's pee-pee got all over it. I have to have it cleaned before I can wear it again."

"Well ... okay," I conceded. "How much are they?"

She told me the price per box and asked how many I wanted. "It makes a difference," she explained.

"Difference? What difference?"

"Well, sir, the last gentleman only bought a single box. When I told the troop leader, she was really mad. She said I should never again do what I did for him unless the customer was buying at least ten boxes. One box isn't worth more than a blow job. How many should I put you down for?"

"Ten boxes? Hmm ... What do I get for ordering 50 boxes?"

"Anything, sir!" Liz exclaimed. Then with her eyes wide she said, "For 50 boxes, I'm sure the troop leader herself would come over to help out. Would you like me to call her, sir? Or gather the rest of the troop?"

That was the last straw. I began to howl with laughter, and Liz joined in. Dropping the playacting, she joined me for before-dinner drinks and hors d'oeuvres.

When we went down to the dining room, I realized that the girls had not been kidding. All the students were there and letting it all hang out. They were doing "trashy" to a fare thee well.

We had an excellent dinner, and Liz pouted when I took a pass on the evening's entertainment. Instead, I took her back to the room.

"Young lady," I began, "do you really feel it's right to be here selling Girl Scout cookies out of uniform?"

Liz instantly picked up on what I was doing. I had taken a seat on the sofa while she stood before me. It was all I could do to control my laughter as she turned the toes of her saddle shoes inward and had her hands behind her butt. With her pigtails and no makeup, she looked utterly adorable.

"No, sir," she squeaked.

"Do you feel it's appropriate for you to be punished for being out of uniform?"

"Yes, sir," she replied. Remarkably, tears started to stream down her cheeks. This girl was good!

"How many spanks?"

"Twenty, sir?" she gulped.

I nodded. "All right. Now take your position."

She laid down across my knees and pulled up her short skirt. She was wearing plain cotton panties with little bunnies on them.

"Take down your pants, Elizabeth. You know better than to be wearing them when you're being punished!"

Slowly she climbed off my lap. Then standing in front of me she slowly lowered her panties exposing her totally hairless pussy. Her labia were swollen, her clit was protruding from between her lips, and her vagina was dripping with the fluid running down her inner thighs.

Carefully she raised her skirt to her waist and again laid down across my knees. Her butt was perfect. Very tight and totally unblemished with the same golden tan over her entire body. Gently, I stroked her satin skin.

"So good," she moaned as if talking to herself.

I continued to stroke and then gave her a hard smack. Her body jerked and her breathing speeded up. I went back to stroking her perfect skin. On the fourth spank, her body bowed and there was a flood of syrup from her vagina as an orgasm hit her. I went back to stroking her as she came down from her crest, then spanked her again. Each stroke triggered another orgasm with each being more intense than the one before.

When I gave her the twentieth, she was screaming and her whole body was in convulsion. Finally she recovered enough to speak coherently and amazed me. "More, please?"

Instead I lifted her up and sat her on my lap. Both of her cheeks were bright red by then, and she really had to be hurting. Nevertheless, when she was on my lap, all she did was wriggle sinuously. Turning her head, our lips met in a kiss. It was really wonderful, as good as any I had ever had from Kris, but still missing the electricity. But it was loaded with her love and her passion.

I was able to get to my feet while still holding Liz in my arms and carried her into the bedroom. The bed had already been turned down, so I laid her in the middle and proceeded to undress her. For her part, she was content to just lie there only assisting in her disrobing by moving her body appropriately while I removed articles of clothing. By then, all she was wearing was her cute blouse, the skirt and the saddle shoes and socks.

I shed my clothes in no time and joined her on the bed. As soon as I did, she raised her knees and spread her legs wide, almost as wide as Kris did. It opened her center up to my gaze and it was flooded with her syrup. Clearly, this girl required no warmup.

"You are perfect, Cam!" she whispered while her eyes were locked on my rampaging cock. "Please take me!"

I eased my head into her and then gave her a few moments to adjust to my size before going deeper. Then I slid in a few inches.

"So big!" she murmured. "So wonderful! You're stretching me in a way that's never happened before."

I pulled out a bit, then slid in deeper. Liz's eyes were closed, but the look on her face was one of rapture. She was loving it. At the same time, she was working her vaginal muscles to both squeeze my cock and to try to work it even deeper into her body.

Finally, I reached the end. She was stretched to her limit and her vagina was squeezing me tightly. Evidently, in stretching itself in length to accommodate me, it was tightening in girth to allow it to work. Although I wasn't quite all in, there was only an inch or so that didn't make it. I began stroking, taking slow, short strokes, and then longer ones.

"I don't believe it either," she murmured.

"What don't you believe?"

"Kris can't believe that she took your virginity, and I can't, either. No guy could possibly be as good as you are without years of practice ... leaving a trail of broken female bodies in your wake, too."

"I don't think I've made love to a woman even ten times, and they've all been here."

"Ten times?" she exclaimed. "You've had Kris in orgasm hundreds of times and have cum in her hundreds of times yourself! What do you mean, ten times?" She paused and then said slowly, "Holy shit! Would you dare to call those five-hour marathon fucks one time each?"

"Of course I would. I mean ... Hell, I never withdrew, so it has to be only a single time."

She just slowly shook her head. "Cam, do me a favor?"

"Sure. What?"

"When you fuck Kris into her grave — that will probably take a couple of months or so — could I be next? Please?"

"Why? Are you suicidal?"

"No, because when she goes she'll have the most gloriously happy smile you've ever seen on the face of a woman. For her, you will have compressed a lifetime of joy into only a few months. And it's worth it!"

Meanwhile, I had been stroking deep into her, and she was using her muscles in every way possible to increase my enjoyment. She seemed to be able to relax them when I was penetrating her and tightened them when I withdrew as if her cunt was fighting to keep me inside.

She reached a crest, then another and another, each higher than the one before. By now her vagina was flooded with her cum cream and we could both hear the sloppy sounds as I moved within her. The sounds didn't bother either of us a bit.

As she was about to reach her ultimate crest, I started to cum inside her. I gushed. Again, her whole body was in spasm and I was glad I was on top. Like Kris, Liz is very muscular and very strong. If I wasn't as big as I am or as strong, I would have been flung to the floor.

She lost consciousness while I remained inside her. Rolling off her, I was lying on my right side with her on her left while we were still coupled.

Later that night — I don't know how much later — we were just lying together on the bed. My prick wasn't inside her for a change. Her head was on my shoulder while my right hand was cupping her tit, with my fingers toying with her lovely little nipple. Liz was just making very soft happy sounds as she occasionally wriggled a bit in my arms.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Playing with your luscious tit. What did you think I was doing? And by the way," I added, "you are incredibly muscular. All three of you are."

She giggled softly. It was an utterly lovely sound. "Never in history has so much muscle had so little to hold up. We never wear bras. There's no need for one, ever."

"You're perfect, Elizabeth Williams. Just perfect."

"Speaking of perfect, thank you, Cameron Harris. Tonight was the first time in my entire life I've ever made love. I've been fucked more times than I care to think about, but until tonight I had never been loved. And, for that matter, I lost count somewhere north of 40, but those were the first orgasms I've ever had with a man, too." She rubbed her smooth cheek against my already-bristly one and just sighed. "You're just absolutely the greatest."

I rolled over and entered her again.



-------

Chapter 7



Early the following morning I was able to see Jonathan Wilkerson again and gave him another $10 million with instructions to take care of the two new girls. He told me he was thinking of telling them that they had an "allowance" of up to $4,000 a month. He would not tell them where it came from nor anything about the principal sum behind it. Of course, anything not spent would be added back to principal.

As usual, I was wearing a business suit for our meeting. At ten o'clock we went out front and found all the girls standing, waiting. To my surprise — and Kris's utter amazement — Liz drove up in an F-150 Ford 4-wheel-drive pickup.

"No limousine?" Kris asked. She was utterly gorgeous — albeit somewhat tired-looking — in a very classy outfit.

Liz had gotten out of the cab and came around to load our things into the bed. The golf clubs were already there. I laughed while Kris gasped when she got a full look at her former roommate. While she was wearing her gray chauffeur's jacket and cap, she wore nothing else, not even a pair of shoes. Moreover, our accumulated cum was still slowly leaking from her cunt and flowing down her thighs.

She took Kris in her arms, held her tightly and really unloaded with the most powerful kiss she was capable of giving anyone. Kris felt it and returned it with all her power. In the meantime, Tina came to me and unloaded a kiss of her own on me.

When she eased away she said, "Mr. Harris, you're just absolutely the greatest. Mr. Wilkerson just told me about the "allowance" and I don't need to be a genius to guess where the funding for that came from. All I can say, sir, is that anything I have is yours at any time. Just ask." She paused, glanced at Liz and added, "And thanks for what you did last night for Liz. With the exception of Kris, I've never seen a girl look as well-fucked as she does." Then she grinned and added, "Next time, it's my turn!"

"Come on, you turkeys!" Liz demanded. "We've got to get to the airport or you'll miss your plane."

"But why are we taking all my things?" Kris asked. "I thought they were sent out later by UPS."

"Because we've managed to get them on this flight as freight," Liz replied. "But we've got to get there. Now move!"

Kris insisted that I sit in the middle on the bench seat between the two girls.

With tears and cheers we left the Institute.

On the way I was admiring Liz's bare vulva while she concentrated on her driving. (By the way, although it's a pickup, this vehicle was really an SUV: it had everything. And thankfully, because of the Mexican heat, the air conditioning was both powerful and effective.)

"How often do you two shave your pussies?" I asked. "I've never seen you do it, but you always feel as soft as a baby's bottom. There's never a trace of stubble. How do you do it?"

Kriss laughed and said, "It's easy. All three of us had laser treatments to get rid of the hair. There's none there, and there never will be any. So if later a guy wants us with a full bush, he's out of luck ... or we are." Then she asked Liz, "What time is our flight, anyway? And how are we doing on time?"

"We're cutting it awfully tight," she replied. "I just don't know ... But Mr. Harris insisted on seeing Wilkerson, so..."

We approached the airport. Although Kris was not nearly as familiar with it as Liz was, she had been there several times before. So when a sign indicated a turn to reach the Departure area and Liz just continued on past it, she asked, "What's going on? We should have turned back there. Where are you going?"

"Oh, this is a shortcut I found awhile ago. It avoids the traffic hassles at the Departure area." Since it was a small airport, there really never were any traffic problems, but what the hell...

Kris's eyes really bugged, though, when Liz drove through an open gate — the guard on it merely saluted as he held it open for us — and drove out on the apron where our G-5 was waiting. The steps were down and the starboard engine was turning.

"What's this?" Kris exclaimed.

"An airplane, turkey!" Liz responded sarcastically. "What the hell does it look like?" She drove right up to the boarding stairs and shut off the engine. Ignoring the fact that she was totally bare from the waist down and the fact that the sun-heated paving had to be burning the hell out of her feet, she proceeded to unload the back end. Everything was stowed in the aircraft and then there was a tearful farewell between the two girls.

"Kris, all I can say is that last night was the greatest of my life. I know you're going to be ecstatically happy with Cam, and it couldn't happen to a better girl!"

We climbed aboard, and I could see Kris starting to shake. When we had taken seats side by side and fastened the seat belts, she took my hand and held it tightly.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" I asked. "Haven't you flown much before?"

"This may be the very first flight of my life," she replied nervously. "I might have been flown in here when I first arrived, but if I was, I was so out of it I had no awareness of it. In fact, I guess I was down here for weeks before anything registered at all." Then she looked at me and asked, "But what is this, anyway? And what about customs and immigration and all that stuff?"

"Oh! The guy at the gate who saluted was customs, I think. That was our departure inspection handled with typical Mexican thoroughness." I continued, "This is a Gulfstream G-5 set up in its comfort configuration. Let's just say that flying this way avoids all sorts of hassles. And you just might be able to become a member of the Mile High Club, too."

"Which is... ?"

"It's open to girls who've been fucked at an altitude of 5,300 feet or more. And since we'll be cruising at about 38,000..."

Kris just giggled.

By this time, the port engine had spun up and we taxied to the active runway. The pilot released the brakes and we were off. With all its power and its very light load, the plane almost jumped into the air. I wouldn't be surprised if we were above 5,000 feet when we crossed the boundary marker.

"Incidentally, sweetie, I guess I've neglected to discuss our plans with you. Although we'll be living in New York, we're only hopping over to New Orleans today. I thought we could spend the night there, then go up to Atlanta in the morning to get you some things, then drop down to Orlando and spend a week or two at Disney World. Then I thought we could go up to Pinehurst for a few weeks of golf. How does that sound?"

"It sounds great, but..."

"But what?"

"Don't you ... have to be back at work ... or something? I mean ... you've been gone a week already... ?"

"Honey, the short answer is no."

She looked at me with a puzzled expression and said, "Cam, it's not really any of my business, but what do you do for a living?"

"Two things: First, everything I do is your business. Anything you want to know, just ask. Second, my business is investing money ... my money. That's really all I do, and it really doesn't take much time. Furthermore, what little I need to do, I can do anywhere. What I haven't done is spend any time with women. And since I'm new to this, and you're an instructor, I thought you could give me lessons on making love to a woman. At the end of the lessons, Kris, I hope you realize if I'm not any good, it will be your fault."

Kris just rolled her eyes. "Look, lover, I now have a second opinion: Liz agrees with me that you couldn't be nearly as good as you are without lots of experience. Yet you insist — and all the testing seems to support the idea — that you haven't had any prior experience. What that means is that you're a natural-born talent." Then she grinned lasciviously and added, "I think we're going to have fun. Now, about that Mile High Club... ?"

I showed her how the sofa opened to a bed and we had a wonderful time on the way to New Orleans.

When we quickly cleared customs and immigration, a limousine was there to meet us and take us to our hotel. On the way I had a thought and asked, "Sweetie, I just thought of something. If you don't know a thing about your past life, how were you able to get a birth certificate? Where was Kristin Collins born, anyway?"

"In a small town in Tennessee," she replied with a cute grin. "A funny thing happened, though. About 10 years ago, there was a fire or a flood or something. Anyway, all the records were lost." Then with her eyes wide she added, "Cam, you wouldn't believe how many of the girls at the Institute are from that one small town! It's really a remarkable coincidence. But if you check today, you'll find Kristin Collins' birth record."

"You sure?"

"Damn right I'm sure!" she exclaimed. With a grin she added, "I was watching when Tina entered it, so I'm sure it's there. As I said, that girl is really incredible on a computer!"

We had the finest suite in the finest hotel in downtown New Orleans. Kris teased that it was almost as nice as the suites at the Institute, but she wondered where the room steward was. I asked her about it and was told that she really felt like having her pussy eaten. After all, it was loaded — again! — with our mixed fluids from the flight up.

Lacking a steward, I was forced to take care of her needs personally. It was really a lot of fun. Between orgasmic screams she gave me instruction on where to do what. When she finally recovered after losing consciousness, she conceded that in a very short time I would be as good as Liz.

"And Liz," she noted, "is the very best alive!"

High praise, indeed.

At Antoine's that evening, I had another surprise. We were greeted in French by the maître d, to whom Kris replied in machine-gun fashion in perfect Parisian French. The man's eyes widened and he kissed her hand. Truly, he was impressed and so was I.

Although we were handed menus when we were seated, Kris took mine and her own and gave them back to the maître d', accompanying the action with another extended speech in French. The man bowed and left, returning a few moments later with the chef himself. Now all three were going at it. Finally the two left the table with the chef kissing Kris's hand before leaving.

"What was that all about?" I asked.

"I told him that we were new to the city but certainly knew of the restaurant's reputation. I told him that we were both hungry, would eat anything, and..." she blushed and stopped.

"And what?" I prompted.

"And price was not a consideration," she blurted. "God, Cam, did I really screw things up? I mean ... Well, there's a convention in town — there always is — and I could work the streets if it comes to that ... I really wouldn't mind too terribly much ... I've done it before under much worse conditions than this, and I know a lot more now, too."

I leaned over and kissed her. The instant our lips met, her hand came around behind my neck holding me in position. Although I had intended only a quick kiss, it was apparent that quick kisses just were not in our repertoire. It was delicious, complete with electricity and bells.

"Darling," I said softly when I could speak again, "you were right the first time: Price is not a consideration. The only consideration is your happiness."

Her incredible blue eyes were locked on mine. A smile began to spread over her face and she was utterly glowing. "My God!" she whispered, "you're serious, aren't you?" Then she asked, "Cam, how much money do you have?"

"Enough to keep you in food, sweetie," I replied, ducking the question for the moment.

"I can eat an awful lot!"

"And ten billion dollars can buy a lot of food, too."

"Ten... billion?" she gasped.

"Significantly more than that," I conceded, "but if you want a round number, that'll do."

She looked upward and I guessed she was doing some mental arithmetic. "Good grief!" she finally exclaimed. "At only 5 percent, unless I slipped a decimal point somewhere, that's about ten million dollars... a week!"

"If I only made 5% and only had ten billion, that would be about right. But I really earn a lot more than that."

"Oh, dear!" Kris exclaimed with her eyes wide. "I just realized I'm not really holding up my end very well at all..."

"And what's that mean?" I asked with a grin.

"Well, isn't it obvious? I mean ... Well, I'm your mistress, after all, and I'm dedicated to helping you in any way I can. Now it's clear that my primary mission in life is to help you spend your money, and I really haven't been doing a very good job."

I just took her hand in mine and squeezed it gently. She just beamed.

The dinner was utterly magnificent, with the chef himself bringing out the main courses. Again, I was amazed. He stood at the table while Kris sampled each dish and savored it. Clearly, the chef was becoming nervous as he waited for her verdict.

Again she started speaking in machine-gun French. In moments, she and the chef were engaged in a lengthy discussion about something. When he withdrew and we both began to eat, I asked her about it.

"Oh, I was just asking him about specific herbs and spices. I suggested it might be improved with a little of this and a little of that. He said he'd give it a shot."

I rolled my eyes and said, "You're a gourmet chef, aren't you?"

"I can boil water and get it to come out right most of the time," she conceded.

Back at the hotel later that night, we spent a wonderful night making gentle love.

When we were cuddled together after our last mating, Kris murmured, "My darling, that was the very best." She paused for a few moments and continued, "As often as I've spread my legs before, it was only this week with you that I made love for the first time ever. And, dear heart, you just keep getting better. I love you so much!

The following morning, we had breakfast at Brennan's — an experience like nothing Kris had ever had before — and then went out to the airport to fly to Atlanta.

-------

On the flight over, Kris and I just cuddled on the plane's sofa. It felt wonderful just to hold her in my arms and snuggle. Clearly, from the wonderfully warm noises she was making, she was enjoying it, too.

Then I remembered something: The previous night at Antoine's there was such excitement connected with the ordering and the chef personally serving that it had clean slipped my mind. I decided to speak up before I lost the thought again.

"Sweetie, where did you ever learn to speak French the way you do? I've spent time in Paris and I can't recall meeting a Parisian who speaks it as well as you do."

"Like everything else, hon, I learned it at the Institute."

"But I didn't think language training was part of the program."

"It's not, but..." Kris then explained that she started with books and tapes. Then she started to record her own speech and play it back to hear what she sounded like and to improve her pronunciation. Finally, for the last months she had been listening to broadcasts from Paris on the Internet. It enabled her to become used to the Parisian rapid-fire speech and then to emulate it.

"What other languages do you speak? Having spent so many years in Mexico, I'll bet you speak Spanish like a Mexican native!"

She shook her head and replied, "I speak a few words of Spanish. That's all. You know... Buenos días, hasta mañana ... That's about it."

Would you believe it? She lied. At least in part. It turned out that she speaks Spanish fluently, but not as a Mexican. Rather she speaks fluent and pure Madrid Spanish but without the Castilian lisp. Spanish-speaking friends all tell me they could listen to Kris by the hour. Without exception, they all claim it is the purest Spanish they've ever heard in their lives, and far better than their own. And a number of them are native Spaniards!

What a woman!

Arriving at the airport, we were again met by a limo and taken to our hotel in the Buckhead section of town. As usual (yawn), we had the finest suite in the hotel. Wasting no time, I placed a phone call and we returned to the limousine. This time the driver took us to Nordstrom's.

No sooner had we walked into the entrance when a very well-dressed woman came up to us and introduced herself. "I'm Kay Snyder, and from your appearance you have to be Cameron Harris and Kristin Collins. Welcome to Nordstrom's. How may we serve you today?"

I told Kay that we were on our way to Disney World and then to Pinehurst; Kris needed a full assortment of resort wear. Even though it was late for the cruise wear season, Nordstrom being the chain that it is, the date was not a deterrent.

We were ushered into a spacious room that was almost a living room. There was a sofa, comfortable chairs, and, to remind us of where we were, a rolling rack loaded with clothing. The fact was that in my initial speech I was just repeating what I had earlier told them over the phone.

Kris was wearing a shirtwaist dress in light blue along with a matching cashmere sweater. Although she would have preferred white, in deference to the date and the fact that Atlantans thought it was winter, her pumps were black.

Kay presented a lovely looking dress for Kris to try on for size. Ignoring the fact that there were three store assistants present besides Kay and the fact that there was a private dressing room right there, Kris stripped bare in front of me in just seconds.

Well, she wasn't quite bare. She was wearing a white thong that covered most of her slit (but not all) and her shoes.

She straightened up and was about to slip on the dress when Kay stopped her. "May I just look at you, please?"

"Of course."

"Girls," Kay ordered, "come over here. This is something you must see!" Then to Kris she asked, "Would you mind turning around very slowly?"

The three assistants came closer and Kris slowly turned around as she had been asked. The gasps from all four women was audible.

"My God!" one of them said reverently, "this woman is utterly perfect!"

"She sure is!" Kay agreed. Then to Kris she asked, "May I touch you?"

"Touch away," Kris replied with a grin, "assuming your hands are clean, of course."

Kay just giggled at the comment and very lightly ran her fingertips over Kris's body.

I had noted that when she undressed her nipples were hard. Sometime during the first night we had spent together, I remember Kris asking if there was anything about her body I would like her to change. I told her the only thing I could think of was that I loved to see her nipples poking at the fabric of her clothing. From that moment onward, whenever I looked at her, her nipples were taut. In fact, I remembered, they had remained that way throughout the rounds of golf we played. It seems that the only time they ever relaxed was immediately following an intense orgasm, but they were always again taut shortly thereafter.

Kay continued her digital exploration. Finally she said, "You exercise a lot, don't you? And you're very strong."

"I try to get some exercise when I can," Kris responded.

I just rolled my eyes. Kay saw me and giggled.

"I thought so," she murmured and gave me a wink. To Kris she said, "Lady, you are what every woman alive wants to look like. Maybe one in 10 million does."

We found a lot for Kris to buy, but there were some things Kay had to order in from other Nordstrom's units and still other things that were being flown in from their manufacturers. I had planned on leaving early the following morning, but what the hell. So we paid for an extra day at the Disney World suite without being there to use it. I did call them on my cellphone, though, and arranged to be checked into our suite there.

What the hell ... So that night we were paying for suites in Atlanta and Orlando. Big deal.

The funniest part of the afternoon — and the greatest for me — was Kris in swimwear. At least that's what it's called. I really think some of those items would dissolve if they ever got wet. I also learned what Kay assured me was an economic fact of life in swimwear: The skimpier it was, the more expensive it was, too.

This was proven out by the skimpiest bikini... ? Thong... ? I really don't know what it's called. I do know that it managed to cover Kris's nipples and areolae only because hers are so small. Then there was a tiny scrap of material that (mostly) covered her pubic area. In the rear, there were only a couple of strings running down the crack of her ass.

I almost died when I learned that three scraps of material and some string was priced at $495.

When I expressed this thought to Kay she just giggled. "Well," she said, "it has to be carefully engineered. After all, the top is only being held up by Kris's nipples." To my lover she said, "You will be careful to keep your nipples turgid while you're wearing this, won't you?"

As we were wrapping up I realized how late it had gotten. It was after 6:30. As an apology, I invited Kay to join us for dinner. She smiled warmly, but declined, telling us that she had to get home to her family.

"As it is," she said, "I'll probably be strung up by my nipples and whipped by my husband and both kids. And you know what?" she asked with her eyes wide. "It's a real bitch trying to cook a dinner when your nipples are stretched out six inches and being held there in clamps while your blood is dripping all over the food."

"I'll just bet it is!" Kris solemnly agreed. Then she added brightly, "Cam, let's be sure to try that sometime."

In the interest of family harmony and her lovely tits, I extended the dinner invitation to include the entire family. She placed a phone call and then gratefully accepted.

The family was the Snyders. We met at what I was told was the finest restaurant in Buckhead. I was introduced to her husband, John, then their 15-year-old daughter, Samantha (Sam) and their 17-year-old son, John, Junior (Jack). John was a very successful lawyer and it was clear that the two were still deeply in love.

Later, I learned from Kris that their love covered the gamut. They never got into swapping, but they did indulge in S/M frequently, and virtually every other kink known. "Know what, hon?" Kris asked me later. "Kay just might have been hung by her nipples and whipped if we hadn't taken her to dinner. And you know what else? She really would have loved it!"

The dinner was very good but to me the most fascinating thing was the additional insight I got into the wonderful woman who is Kristin Collins. Somehow, she managed to have three conversations running at once. With John, she was discussing the law and some recent very interesting court decisions. With Jack, she talked football, both in terms of the Atlanta Falcons — she seemed to know its roster by heart, along with all relevant player statistics — and high school ball which Jack played. With Sam she talked about boys, dating, and hot music groups. Then they shifted to debate and Kris was up on the year's national high school debate topic. She even gave Sam a few tips about where to go to find some really hard-hitting evidence for both the affirmative and negative cases.

Meanwhile Kay and I just sat there both amazed and amused. Incidentally, Kay has auburn hair, glorious green eyes and a beautiful body. I guessed her age at about 40 but she could easily pass for 25. Her daughter, Sam, was about her mother's height — five feet six or so — but with red hair. Along with it she had a full complement of freckles which bothered her but made her drop-dead gorgeous. Or she will be in a year or so. Both Snyder men were over six feet and in very good physical shape. They were indeed a very handsome family.

As we were having coffee, John's curiosity got the better of him. "Kris," he asked, "what do you do for a living? I only ask because if you're looking for a job, we have one for you as a junior partner in my law firm."

Kris's eyes widened. She was sincerely flattered and said so. "However, John, I have a job I like very much. I'm Cam's mistress and housekeeper. I will do anything for him. Absolutely anything!" Her eyes were wide and piercing as she stressed "anything".

"Golly, Mom!" Jack piped up, "she sounds just like you!"

"Shut up, kid!" Kay muttered, but with her eyes dancing. "Do you have to advertise to the whole damned world that your mother is a slut?"

"It's not being a slut when you only do it with Dad," Sam interjected.

"And besides, Mom," Jack continued, "every guy in school who has ever seen you would love to get in your pants. They all think you're the ultimate stone fox!" He grinned and added, "And I think it's just great! You can't believe how proud I feel when I hear some guy talking about you and then I say, "That's my mother, and she's even better than she looks."

At that comment, Kay extended a hand to each of her children and squeezed. Tears were running slowly down her cheeks as she said, "And I can't tell you how proud you all make me. I have the best damned family on the face of the earth!" Then to John she said, "Come on, darling! Let's blow this dump. I'm as horny as a mink!"

Kris just giggled merrily.

On the way back to our hotel she said, "That was a truly wonderful evening. And now we even have new friends in Atlanta!"



-------

Chapter 8



The next morning we went over to Nordstrom's and saw Kay Snyder again. She was glowing, and I noticed her bottom was more than a bit sore. But did she ever look happy and well-fucked! We picked up all the new things that had been flown in overnight and then took our leave. The only disagreement we had was when I gave Kay ten hundred-dollar bills with instructions to buy something very nice for herself. I stressed it was for her, not for the kids and not for the house.

I finally threatened to call Nordstrom's headquarters and tell the chairman that he had a manager — Kay turned out to be merchandise manager for women's wear — who wouldn't accommodate the simplest request from a customer.

"Bastard!" she whispered as she kissed me full on the lips. Believe me, Kay Snyder knows how to kiss. It was almost as good as one of Kris's.

She took the money.

Before heading out to the airport and Orlando, we made a stop at Tiffany's after leaving Nordstrom's. I figured Kris should have a few odds and ends to finish off her resort-wear wardrobe she had just accumulated. The one item that she insisted upon was the one she wore out of the store: an 18-kt. gold necklace, although she insisted it wasn't a necklace, it was a collar. It was quite heavy being made of a wide band of interlocking gold links, and quite wide, nearly an inch. She insisted on having the large catch at the back engraved with the ornate lettering, CS.

"And what does CS mean?" I asked.

"I'm not really sure, honey," she replied, "it's your choice: either 'Cam's Slut' or 'Cam's Slave'. You choose."

I just shook my head.

As the limo took us out to the airport again, it was sort of funny. When we arrived, I had a small overnight bag, while Kris had only a makeup case. Now the trunk was full of new luggage loaded with Kris's loot. The fine folks at Nordstrom's had even packed for her with Kay Snyder supervising.

That woman was really too much! She actually had a checklist which she carefully ticked off as items were packed. And it was comprehensive! The result was staffers were running all over the store to pick up odds and ends that had been overlooked. But of one thing we could be certain: Kris was going to be the epitome of resort fashion for the next few weeks.

As the luggage was being loaded in the aircraft — her boxes had been taken up to New York in a northbound Executive Aviation jet heading for "the barn": Teterboro Airport in New Jersey — Kris raised an eyebrow.

"I thought this was sort of a potluck operation," she said. "Reading about it on the Net, when a client wants to go somewhere, the nearest available aircraft is dispatched to handle the run."

"That's true," I agreed.

"Well, why is it then that we have the same plane? This is the same one that took us from the Yucatan to New Orleans and then over here."

"Are you sure?"

"Unless they have more than one plane with the same registration number, I'm sure."

"They're all pretty similar, and their numbers are pretty close together sometimes."

"Similar, but not identical. And the numbers aren't close; it's the same one," she insisted.

The pilot was doing his final check, so I asked him. To my surprise, he appeared embarrassed. "Uh ... Err..."

The first officer was nearby and had overheard my question. Coming over to us he said, "The game's over, Guy. You might as well level with Mr. Harris." Then he added with a wink at Kris, "Wouldn't you know it would be a sharp-eyed chick who would tumble to it? I'm sure we could have continued fooling Mr. Harris for years."

At that point the pilot explained that, of course Kris was absolutely correct with respect to Executive Aviation's normal operations. "But, sir, although I guess we're not supposed to know, we do know that you own the whole damned thing. That being the case, this is your personal aircraft, and it's the one that all the seniors most want to fly. First of all, by a very wide margin, you're the most considerate client we ever fly. But beyond that, this is the greatest plane in the whole fleet. It has everything! And it's maintained at a level that makes it even better than brand new. After all, sir," he ended with a grin, "we really do have to keep our owner happy. Not to mention the owner's fiancée."

"The correct term is 'mistress'," Kris said. "I'm Cam's very happy mistress."

"Fiancée," Guy repeated.

Boarding the plane, we were soon airborne. Because it was nearly noon by the time we were in the air, Kris and I were delighted to find that there was a picnic lunch prepared for us. We had cold Southern fried chicken with a salad and a very fine white wine.

It was funny, really. Since it's only a shade over 400 miles from Atlanta to Orlando, Guy had to dawdle and even zig out over the Atlantic to give us time to enjoy our lovely lunch without being rushed. Ain't service wonderful?

Again a limousine was waiting for us at the executive terminal to take us to our hotel at Disney World. For my part, I was getting a great kick out of Kris's enthusiasm and excitement. As we approached the huge park, she was so excited she was almost bouncing on the seat. It had come as no surprise for me to learn earlier that she had never been to an amusement park of any kind in her life.

Arriving at the hotel, an assistant manager ushered us to our room. After showing us its features, he handed me a packet with our park tickets and left. But Kris continued to look around the room everywhere, even under the huge bed.

"Whatever are you doing?" I asked.

"Where is she?"

"Who?"

"Our room steward, silly!" Then Kris's face fell and she appeared to be close to tears. "My gosh! Don't tell me..." Her voice trailed off.

"Tell you what?"

"That I'm supposed to ... entertain you... all by myself? I mean ... Don't I even get a night off sometimes? And you're so big and you stretch me so much..."

"Golly, sweetie," I replied while trying to keep a straight face, "they seem to have overlooked that one." Then I brightened and added, "But I'll bet the concièrge on the floor could arrange for something ... And then you can have your time off!"

"Neato!" she exclaimed. "Of course, I'll have to cut off your cock and balls before I go, to make sure you stay out of trouble. But you wouldn't mind, would you? I mean ... you and your lady of the evening would just want to talk and maybe have a drink or two, right?"

Not being nearly as quick with the repartee — after all, it had been only about a week that I had been able even to speak to a lovely woman — I replied by sticking out the tip of my tongue.

Kris couldn't wait to visit the park. She put on shorts and a golf shirt, while I wore a pair of Bermudas and a golf shirt. We were wearing Nikes designed for heavy-duty walking. Off we went.

That afternoon and evening were the most fun I can ever remember having. Kris's beauty consistently stopped traffic and her joy and ebullience captivated everyone. She was like a 10-year-old girl in the body of a gorgeous woman. What a combination!

She was literally bouncing up and down when the Mickey Mouse character came up to her. Each was captivated by the other. An alert park PR girl, recognizing Kris's overwhelming beauty, called over a professional photographer to take pictures of the couple. Since he was using a professional-quality electronic camera, it was easy for me to see the pictures he was getting. After showing a few of them to the PR girl, she got on her communicator and other Disney characters started showing up.

Kris was simply great! She mugged with them, danced with them, exchanged hugs ... She was having a ball!

Finally the girl, recognizing what she had stumbled into, approached Kris with a model's release permitting the Disney organization to use the pictures in their promotional material. It was then that I was reminded that Kris was a lawyer — among other things — and admitted to practice at the Federal bar. She instantly agreed, but then, seemingly as an afterthought, added, "At regular model fees, of course."

The girl's eyes widened and she got on her communicator again. A few minutes later we were introduced to an older woman, the park's PR director. She took a few minutes to look at some of the pictures already taken and then nodded saying, "Where do I sign?"

"Oh, there's just one more thing," Kris added. "Checks are to be made payable to W. Cameron Harris, III." She gave the woman my address.

There was another benefit of that experience, though: The director detailed her assistant to escort us around the park for the duration of our stay. What this meant was that we never had to wait in line for anything. She would just march to the head of the line, show a very special pass to the operator, and we were next.

I asked her what the card was. She told me it was a special super VIP pass, roughly equivalent to what the President would get, should he ever choose to visit the park. That also explained the raised eyebrows and soft whistles we had been getting from the attraction operators, too.

When we were on a relatively quiet ride, I asked Kris about having her checks made payable to me.

She appeared to be genuinely puzzled by the question. "Darling, I thought you knew that I am yours ... Completely yours. Any money I make is yours, too. If you want me to work the streets, or get a job as a stripper — I'm really good, by the way — any money I earn is yours."

"Kristin Collins, I'm afraid we have a major communications problem between us."

Ignoring what was going on around the ride, she looked at me, concerned. "What do you mean?"

"What's my major financial problem?" I asked.

Slowly she shook her head. "I didn't think you had any," she finally said.

"I certainly do, and you know I do! But it's not making money, it's getting rid of it! So what do you do, you selfish, thoughtless girl? You don't help me with my problem, you aggravate it! I have more than enough money of my own to try to keep track of without you adding to it. So, slave, you damn well had better keep your own damned money!"

Her face was downcast, but her eyes were dancing. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir. It will never happen again, sir!" Now with her eyes wide she added, "I'll change the payment instructions as soon as I can, sir." At that point she could no longer keep a straight face. She giggled and kissed me.

Believe me, that was one of a kind, too. Have you ever passionately kissed a girl while she was giggling? It was really something else!

We spent three days exploring the park, always accompanied by Charlie (Charlene), our neighborhood PR girl. Moreover, there was always a professional photographer close by. I really don't know how many pictures they got, but I'm sure they were all good. Beyond her overwhelming beauty, in every shot Kris was having a ball and it showed. She utterly loved it.

And for three days we mostly lived on junk food. She loved that, too.

Perhaps for me the most wonderful thing was to see Kris with small children. They were attracted by her beauty and then captivated by her charm. In every case the toddlers returned to their parents just glowing with sheer joy. To me the most remarkable thing was to see the myriad different ways she treated the kids. It was anything but a standard formula. Somehow she just knew how best to treat each one, and she never missed.

It was then I determined that Kris was going to be the mother of my children. Lots of children!

Our nights together would most conservatively rate as utterly spectacular. Every night was different, but perfect for the occasion. She ranged from the little girl, à la Liz, to an S/M submissive — she took that one from Kay Snyder — to a college cheerleader. They all ended the same way, though, with her cuddled in my arms as sheer exhaustion overtook us. What a woman!

In the evening of our fourth day, there was a reception for VIPs at our hotel. Since one's VIP status was a function of one's accommodations, we were the top couple since we were staying in the hotel's very best suite.

For the occasion Kris wore a white gown that was strapless and backless along with a white thong and her pumps. I teased her that she really had to keep her nipples taut or the whole thing would fall off. Oh, yes ... It was also slit up to the hip on both sides. With her golden hair an exact match to the gold collar and with her piercing blue eyes, she was a living dream.

I find it hard adequately to describe Kris's behavior. While her beauty attracted every man in the room, she always had a hand on me, although her touch was usually so light I was unaware of it. In the clearest possible terms she communicated to the world, "I belong to him!"

After we had been there for a while, I noticed that a very mannish-looking woman had been watching Kris closely, looking more disgusted all the time. Finally she came over and introduced herself as Ruth something-or-other.

Then she lit into Kris who merely looked at her with subtle amusement. "You are an utter disgrace to women everywhere!" she complained vehemently. "Why just look at you! You can't even stand without leaning on this man for support. Why don't you get an education and get a job?"

"I have a job that I like very much," Kris replied simply.

"And what might that be?" Ruth responded arching an eyebrow.

"I am Cam's mistress and housekeeper."

"No wonder!" the woman nearly screamed. "If you had an education, you could do something instead of serving as a depository for a man's... fluids!"

"An education?" Kris inquired. "And yours?"

"I am a graduate of Smith College," the woman announced proudly, "while you are probably a high-school dropout."

"Not quite," Kris responded. "We haven't really been introduced. I'm Dr. Kristin Collins—"

"Doctor?" the woman interrupted. "Doctor of what?"

"Doctor of philosophy in history, since you asked."

"My God..." Then Ruth looked at Kris skeptically and asked, "How old are you, anyway?"

"I'm almost 24," Kris replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Because it's virtually impossible to achieve a Ph.D. at the age of 24!"

"Oh, dear..." Kris giggled.

"What's that about?"

"If you have a problem with that, I guess my MBA and JD would really complicate matters, wouldn't they?"

It was as if Kris had hit the woman over the head with a two-by-four. She was visibly stunned. "An MBA... ? And a law degree... ?"

"Oh, sure," Kris remarked casually. "And then of course I'm also a member of the Federal bar."

"But you're his mistress!" Ruth really screamed that time. Everyone in the room turned to look.

"Of course I am."

"But ... but why?"

"When did you have your last orgasm?" Kris asked.

The woman's eyes widened, but recognizing the very personal nature of the questions she had been asking, she couldn't very well stand mute. "This afternoon," she whispered.

"And how long did it last?"

The woman appeared to be genuinely puzzled by Kris's question. Slowly she shook her head and said, "I don't know ... A few seconds. A minute, maybe. I really have no idea." Then she glared at Kris and said, "But why do you ask?"

"Because my last one was last night ... or early this morning. I really don't remember what time it was. Cam was really tired last night, so he wasn't up to par. My orgasm didn't even last three hours, and I don't think he came inside me more than about thirty times." Kris looked up as if gathering her thoughts and then continued, "I used to count my individual orgasms, but that got kind of tedious. Now I just measure the total time."

Appearing to change the subject somewhat, Kris asked, "You use a dildo or vibrator, I guess, don't you?"

"Yes," Ruth admitted.

"How big is it?"

Again the woman was puzzled. "I don't know. Eight inches long, I guess and about this big around." She made a circle with her fingers about an inch and a half across. "Why do you ask?"

"Because," Kris responded with a grin, "Cam is more than 12 inches long and three inches across. He really fills me up, whether he's in my pussy, my ass, or down my throat."

The woman's jaw dropped. And I mean dropped! "Twelve inches?"

Kris nodded.

"Three inches across?"

Kris nodded again.

"In orgasm for three hours?" The woman was screaming at that point.

"In light of what I've just told you," Kris said, "would you like to rethink your opinion of my career choice?"

"Do you share?" Ruth almost slobbered.

"No."

"Bitch!"

Ignoring Ruth's comment, Kris continued, "You know, it's really neat. And you know what I never ever have to ask?"

"What's that?" the woman asked, walking right into Kris's line.

"'Are you in yet?' Believe me, I feel every luscious inch all the way in and all the way out."

The woman walked away with tears flowing down her cheeks.



-------

Chapter 9



Although we returned to the park at other times, after three nonstop days, the edge was off. Furthermore, Charlie had given us the super VIP pass so our visits were always very pleasant.

We spent time swimming and soaking up the sun with Kris complaining that, because Disney didn't have a nude beach, she was going to show strap marks. Since her preferred attire was the tiny thong that scarcely covered her nipples, I didn't think that would be a problem. Incidentally, she could even swim in the thing.

To say the very least, the perfection of her body provoked virtually continuous gasps and sighs.

We also went back to playing golf. And that gave rise to a wonderful day.

While on the practice tee warming up, the head pro came over to watch. After seeing us both hitting perfect shots with every club in our bags, he took us aside and invited us to join him in the pro shop.

He poured coffee for the three of us and then sat behind his desk. "Could you folks do me a huge favor?" he asked, finally getting to the point of the meeting.

"Yes, if we can," Kris responded, speaking for both of us. "What is it?"

At that point he started fidgeting; clearly whatever it was was embarrassing. Finally he blurted, "You people are really loaded, aren't you?"

"We're okay," I replied. "But what's that have to do with anything?"

"There are a couple of guys out there waiting for two people to complete a foursome. The problem is they're sand-baggers and sharks. Yesterday, they hit a really nice guy for over $3,000. The guy is down with his family, and I understand they're packing to leave now; they got cleaned out. His wife and kids are heartbroken; they've been looking forward to this trip for years and now it's been ruined.

"Look, my thought is this: I'll pair you with the sharks and you clean them out. I would love nothing better than to throw their asses — beg your pardon, ma'am — out of the park, but they haven't done anything that we could really use to do that. And, of course, the organization is very concerned about being sued.

"They cleaned the other guy out by playing a $500 Nassau. If you were to play them and clean them out, everyone would be very happy." He looked at us hopefully and asked, "Could you do it?"

Kris looked at me and I nodded. "It sounds like fun to me," she said. "Let's do it."

The pro grinned and we shook hands all around. He added that we would be assigned the four most senior caddies who would be tipped off in advance to what was going on. "They'll be delighted to help, too," the pro added. "Aside from everything else, after taking that guy for three grand, they tipped their caddies a dollar each. Can you believe it?"

Before leaving the pro shop I asked the pro to contact the family that was in the process of leaving and tell them that they would be staying. At a minimum, I would cover the $3,000 the guy lost to the sharks the day before. "And, by the way, you might tell the folks at your headquarters that Kristin Collins is involved in this."

He rolled his eyes. "My lord! The staff hasn't been able to talk about anything else for days. From what I hear, you're going to be starring in our PR material for years to come."

He took us over to the first tee where two guys were waiting. Kris and I exchanged looks. We had been on the practice tee for quite a while and hadn't seen them before. That meant that they hadn't bothered to warm up. Better and better.

They were introduced as Chuck and Hank. I could tell by looking at them that they weren't happy to be set up in a foursome with a woman. To their way of thinking it would really crimp the possibility of another big payday. But working on the principle of nothing ventured, nothing gained, Chuck asked if we would play a $500 Nassau. I could tell from the way he asked that he expected an immediate rejection.

Both were amazed when Kris, bubbling with enthusiasm as usual, exclaimed, "Neato!" Turning to me she said, "Could we, Cam? Please? Huh? Please?"

"Oh ... okay," I reluctantly conceded. "But you had better play better than you've been playing," I warned her. "If you don't it's going to be expensive ... for us and for you!"

Gently she rubbed one of her perfect little buns and squeaked, "You mean... ?"

"I mean!"

"But they're still awful sore from the last time," she complained.

"Tough!"

It was all the two men could do to control their laughter.

"How about handicaps?" I asked in a voice that would carry a bit. This was part of what we had discussed with the pro.

Instantly the two were falling all over themselves insisting it was just a friendly match — yeah, sure! — and they weren't necessary. Kris and I allowed ourselves to be persuaded, finally exchanging winks.



[For the benefit of non-golfers who, I suspect, are the large majority of my readers, an explanation of a Nassau is in order. First, it's done in match play which means that one team or the other wins a hole. If tied, the hole is considered "halved." The Nassau is actually three matches in one: the front nine, the back nine, and the 18. In a $500 Nassau, there is potentially $1,500 on the line. Finally, there's the "press". A press is the doubling of the wager; a team can press the side or the match or both. It can only be initiated by the trailing team; the other team has the option to accept or decline each time.]



We halved the first hole and got to the second tee. This hole had a water hazard immediately in front of the tee, extending about 100 yards. When it was Kris's turn to tee off, she proceeded to splash her first two shots. She was lying 4 while still on the tee. Our opponents won that hole easily to go 1-up in the match.

"Can we press, Cam?" Kris asked, bouncing up and down. "Please, please! I'll do better, honest!"

Reluctantly, I agreed and we offered to press the whole thing. Chuck and Hank gleefully accepted. We were then effectively playing a $1,000 Nassau.

The next hole was a par-5 with an out-of-bounds on the right side. On my second shot I sliced two successive balls out of bounds so I was lying 5 while still over 200 yards from the green. We lost that one, too.

Kris just glared at me, while I shrugged.

This time I was the one who offered to again press the whole thing and again it was accepted, but this time only after some consultation between Hank and Chuck. Exchanging looks with Kris, we agreed without words that we had pushed our opponents to their financial limit.

By this time, of course, we were down two holes for the match and for the front nine, with only six holes left to play on the side. We halved the 4th and 5th holes. This amounted to a victory for our opponents because we were still down two holes with only four left to play. The 6th was a long hole that Kris birdied for a win. We halved the 7th and went to the very short 8th. I put my tee shot only a few feet from the pin for an easy birdie and another win. Going to the 9th tee, we were all even. Had the match ended right there, no money would have changed hands.

The 9th hole was a very long par 5. Kris was on the green in 3, about 75 feet from the hole. Moreover, the green was rolling between her ball and the hole. The rest of us were in position to par the hole and halve the side. But she studied the green's contours carefully, then stepped up and stroked her ball sharply. It rolled in a double S curve and dropped neatly in the center of the hole for a birdie 4 and another win.

Our not-so-dear friends were now down $2,000, having lost the side, and were trailing by a hole in the match.

We picked up another hole when I won the 14th. Our opponents were really sweating now; they had already lost the front 9 and were trailing by a hole on the back 9 and by two holes in the match. The 17th was another short par-3. The tee was high above the green, and there was water between. Chuck had proven to be the better of the two, so Kris challenged him. "How about closest to the pin — just the two of us — for another thousand?"

The other two exchanged looks, and both nodded. Chuck had been doing particularly well on the short holes.

"And an ace doubles the bet, of course," Kris added casually.

Again the two shrugged and nodded.

By this time, by the way, we had attracted a gallery of some size. I noted the pro was there as well a family of four that had been watching the match intently.

Chuck hit a very good tee shot, with his ball ending only about six feet from the pin.

"Wow!" Kris commented. "Lovely golf shot!"

She set up her ball very low on the tee, took her stance and hit an utterly perfect golf shot. It soared high in the sky moving on a line straight for the pin. It struck the green immediately to the rear of the flag, but then with its backspin rolled back and dropped neatly into the hole without even touching the pin.

Both of Kris's arms shot up in the air as an expression of victory, while the gallery cheered.

Our opponents were dead. They were now down two holes on the side and three in the match with only a single hole left to play.

But Kris wasn't about to let up. She was really going to rub their noses in it. The 18th was a long hole — about 550 yards. She winked at me before taking her position on the tee. She really ripped the ball! It went off her clubhead like a bullet, and with a slight draw it finally came to rest more than 300 yards out.

Another great cheer from the gallery.

But she wasn't through. For her second shot, she took her 3-wood, stepped up to the ball and really crushed it. It took off from the grass on a low trajectory looking like it had been shot from a cannon. The gallery had gone on ahead and were now surrounding the back side of the green. They had a perfect view, but we could see well enough from where we were. Her ball landed on the forward edge of the green then rolled straight for the flag and dropped.

She had achieved the rarest score in golf: a double-eagle 2 on a par 5 hole.

I could see our opponents shaking as we walked toward the green. No wonder! They had just managed to drop $8,000: $6,000 on the match and another $2,000 on Kris's ace on 17.

With lots of spectators, the sharks were really out of luck. Hank was forced to wait with us at the clubhouse while Chuck went back to get the money to pay us. For some reason, I wasn't going to accept a check. When he returned and paid up — 80 $100-dollar bills make a lovely stack — we turned it all over to the family that the twosome had cleaned out the day before. And instead of leaving early, they were utterly delighted to be able to stay an extra week.

But it wasn't quite over. After settling up, Kris asked the now-morose twosome what their handicaps were. We learned that Chuck was a 7 while Hank had a 9.

"What a stinking shame!" Kris exclaimed with a sad face but with dancing eyes. "I'm a 2 and Cam is only a 1; if we had used handicaps, you would have won!"

Fat chance! If Kris had given them a stroke a hole, she still would have beaten them. When that girl is determined, forget-about-it! You're dead.

We continued to enjoy ourselves. We played tennis, golf and even drove over to the Atlantic coast for some ocean swimming. There we found — I don't know how — a deserted strip of beach where Kris could swim and soak up the sun nude. It took awhile — I'm pretty slow sometimes — but I finally realized that her preferred dress is nothing at all. And with the utter perfection of her body, I guess it's no wonder.

After three weeks in Orlando, we were deeply tanned, rested and ready for Pinehurst.

We spent the next month there. There it was golf, tennis, golf, swimming and golf. We both quickly concluded we hated pot bunkers and refused to play on courses that used them. For the uninitiated, a pot bunker gets its name from its appearance: a pot. They're quite small — only a couple of yards across at the bottom — with steep sides often covered with long grass. And unlike bunkers at the green guarding the approaches, or fairway traps on the edges of the fairway, pot bunkers are often dug right in the middle of a fairway in the primary landing area for shots off the tee. They are truly "gotcha" traps.

Furthermore, if a shot just rolls in, there's a good chance it won't even make it to the bottom; instead it will often be held on the steep side by the long grass. In such an event, the golfer has no choice but to hit his shot back in the direction from which he came; it's impossible for him to advance the ball. The same thing is true if it rolls to the bottom of the trap. The sides are so steep, it's impossible to take a swing in the direction of the green. Backwards, again. Finally, even if the ball ends in the center of the trap and the golfer can shoot toward the green, regardless of how far he may be from the green, he must use a very short iron to get enough loft in the shot to clear the steep side. Grr... !

We attended a golf school at Pinehurst, one of the best in the country. They have a staff of outstanding teaching pros as well as a few who are swing diagnosticians. They consult to top touring pros with respect to any tiny glitches that may appear in their swings.

Kris took the school by storm. First, there was her breathtaking beauty. And I mean that literally. When Kris appears the typical reaction is an audible intake of breath. The Pinehurst pros were no different.

But then she stood before a golf ball and hit it. In addition to watching the swing, it was being taped on high-speed equipment which could slow a swing down so it seemed to take minutes for it to screen. When they studied Kris's swing, they ended up asking if they could make a copy or two. They wanted it as an illustration of a perfect female golf swing, complete with tremendous club speed at the point of contact.

I didn't do too badly, either.

We had a great time, usually playing rounds with one or two off-duty pros. We just had a great time, and the guys were really great. They loved Kris and she loved them. Just neat!

But finally it was time to head up to New York. Kris and I had been together almost two months by that time, but she still hadn't seen our housing.

Off we went.



-------

Chapter 10



The limo drove up to a 44-story building on the east side of Lexington Avenue and the doorman raced to open the door for Kris and me. At the same time the chauffeur got out from behind the wheel after first electrically popping the trunk lid. We only had a few of our things with us; most would be coming over from Teterboro by truck.

"Tom," I said, speaking to the doorman, "I would like you to meet my fiancée, Kristin Collins. Needless to say, I'm sure you will treat her with the same care and courtesy you always extend to me."

Tom Mason, the doorman, saluted Kris, then did a double-take when he realized how overwhelmingly beautiful she was. She grinned and extended her hand, which he took with great delicacy.

"I'm really not breakable, Tom," she commented with a warm grin to avoid hurting his feelings.

"Mr. Harris is the luckiest man in the world, Miss Collins. And I'm sure he'll make you very happy!" To me he said, "Congratulations, sir, on your wonderful good fortune!"

"Thank you, Tom," I replied, "and I certainly intend to do everything in my power to make Kris very happy."

"He already has, Tom," Kris added with another of her very warm smiles. "Very happy indeed!" Then she added, "Brrr ... It's cold, and I only have this light coat..."

Although it was late March and after the first day of spring, the temperature was still in the 40s, and at street level surrounded by tall buildings there was no sunshine to warm things up.

Mason hustled to open the door of the building for us and commented that he would have our luggage brought up immediately.

Kris's eyes widened a bit as we were greeted by both a receptionist seated behind a solid marble desk and an armed security guard. "They don't mess around with security in this building, do they?" she commented.

There were three banks of elevators, two to the right and one to the left of the reception desk as we faced it. But instead of going to any of them, I went to an unmarked elevator door set off by itself to the left. As we approached, the doors smoothly opened.

Entering the rather spacious elevator car, Kris softly whistled. It was sided with highly polished furniture-grade cherry and even had a leather-cushioned bench across the rear along with a lovely mirror on the back wall. The mirror was flanked with two scones that held fresh-cut spring flowers. It really looked nice. There were only three buttons on the control board reading G, L, and P, going from bottom to top. I touched the P button; the doors closed and the car began its very rapid ascent.

It slowed, then came to a very smooth stop and the doors opened silently revealing an entrance hall just a bit larger than the elevator car itself. Like the car, it, too, was paneled in the same cherry wood and there was a mirror and scones duplicating the arrangement in the elevator, although the mirror in the hall was substantially wider. Straight ahead was a door.

Although it appeared to be ordinary, it was anything but. In fact, the same thing was true of the entire entrance hall. Behind the drywall and inside the door itself was a half-inch of the strongest armor known. Anyone trying to blow the door of the apartment would find themselves being blown up instead, since the force of the explosion could only go upward, but just enough to dissipate a blast but not nearly enough to help the blaster.

Ah, yes ... The joys of being rich. One can never take one's own security for granted.

Glancing at Kris, I could see that her eyes were wide with both excitement and amazement at what she had already seen. After first taking the key from my pocket, I lifted her up in my arms, unlocked the door, and carried her across the threshold.

She just snuggled close to my chest and as soon as we were in the apartment, she unleashed all her love and power in a kiss. I had to lean against a wall to keep from falling on my face! Gently putting her back on her feet, I began our tour of the apartment.

The apartment on the top floor of a building is normally known as the penthouse. In our case, that is a particularly apt title. The reason is that while it was at the top of the building, it wasn't really a part of it. We received utility service from the building, of course, but didn't even need to. For electric power, there was a Caterpillar diesel generator sized at more than double the apartment's peak power consumption. Its fuel supply could keep it going for more than a year without the need for refueling. For water, we had an Olympic-sized 50-meter pool with eight full lanes that was seven feet deep. The unchlorinated water was passed through three separate filters at a rate roughly three times the normal swimming-pool filtration rate. It was far purer than any drinking water and could supply the apartment with water for quite some time.

Know what? Fifty meters by eight lanes by seven feet (more than two meters) is a lot of water.

The shape of the penthouse was a U with the open side facing north. There was a giant terrace into which the pool was sunk that made up the inside of the U with the pool running laterally — east-west — across the top. Almost all of the rooms opened directly onto the terrace. From the far right end, there was a kitchen with breakfast area, then the dining room, living room, family room, library and then a series of bedroom suites, followed by the gym, with the master suite at the end of the line.

The fact of the matter was that often I would just cross the terrace to get my coffee in the morning, saving me from having to stumble an interminable distance if I chose to go all the way around the U to reach the kitchen.

I began showing Kris around in our bedroom — she adored it — and made our way around. She oohed and aahed at the library, the decor of the living and dining rooms, and finally we reached the kitchen. There she just gaped saying it was the finest facility she had ever heard of, let alone actually seen, least of all actually being able to use. From there we went out to the terrace. She loved the pool and the sauna, but decided the overall vista was rather bleak.

I was forced to agree with her.

Then as we returned to the kitchen, she saw a little garden growing in a precast concrete bed. She bent over, sniffed and then sighed. "How utterly wonderful! Now I know what my first meal is going to be."

It turned out that, unbeknownst to me, we had a lovely little herb garden growing right outside the kitchen door. We had earlier determined that there were eggs and bacon as well as the usual perishables normally stocked in a refrigerator. I sat at the kitchen counter and just watched her.

Incredibly, everything she needed was right where she expected to find it. "Someone really knows kitchens and cooking," she commented.

In no time things were moving along. At that point she took a break in her preparations and went to the wine "cellar", a windowless area beyond the kitchen. (It also contained a walk-in freezer as well as a walk-in refrigerator for food.) There were two very large walk-in refrigerators, one maintained at 40 degrees for the whites and champagnes, while the other was about 53 degrees for the reds. (While most people are familiar with the idea of serving red wines "at room temperature", actually what is meant is "cellar temperature". And since a chateau's cellar in France normally maintains a temperature in the low 50s, that's what I did, too.)

She looked over the whites, checking labels and vintages and nodding approvingly. "Cam," she asked, "were these all your selections?"

"No, sweetie. This was stocked by my master sommelier. Guys who pay far more attention to these things than I ever did, all tell me that they're good."

"They certainly are," she agreed. Then she took a bottle of white that she said was getting dangerously close to the end of its prime, pointing out that they had a much shorter shelf life than did fine reds.

The lunch she prepared turned out to be an omelette aux fines herbes, using the fresh herbs she had clipped from our garden, along with bacon and pommes soufflé. The potatoes puffed up perfectly like little balloons and the omelette was utterly perfect.

Can life be any better than this? I don't think so, and didn't at the time.

We sat at the bright breakfast table sipping our wine while both of us were looking out through the glass wall to the terrace outside. Clearly, my lover was planning in her mind exactly what she was going to do. It turned out that her ideas were elaborate. She intended to actually grass a large portion of the terrace and use a number of precast concrete containers to hold flower beds and shrubs.

Since it's only money and Kris was doing her best to help me spend it, I agreed, essentially giving her a blank check. Then I called down to the maintenance chief and told him I needed a crew to help my fiancée.

"That's something I wanted to speak to you about," Kris said when I hung up. "You said it to Tom Mason, and now you've said it again. What's up? We both know damned well that I'm your resident slut and that's all I am. Why don't you level with them and tell them I'm your new mistress?"

"Are you supposed to do anything I say?" I asked.

"Of course!"

"Fine. In that case, I'll continue to introduce you as my fiancée, and you, slave, will shut up. Right?"

"Yes, sir," she agreed in the flattest tone of voice I had ever heard coming from her.

Snapping my fingers, I added, "Damn! We'll have to go to Tiffany's first thing tomorrow to buy you a ring. You can't be an authentic-looking fiancée without a nice ring!"

"Yes, sir," she repeated in an even flatter tone of voice.

A few minutes later there was a knock on the front door. I opened it to greet five men wearing the building's maintenance uniform. Kris had managed to locate a warm jacket by this time and led the group out on the terrace to explain what she had in mind.

She was just getting warmed up when one man — the crew chief, I guess — held up his hand and proceeded to speak to the other four in Spanish. At that point, Kris, instantly understanding what was going on, shifted to Spanish, too.

It was funny, really. The looks of utter consternation on the five faces was something to see. The men were hearing the purest Spanish they had ever heard in their lives and their faces reflected this fact. Jaws were literally hanging open. Then the picture changed dramatically. The men smiled. Then they beamed. Then their heads were nodding up and down a mile a minute.

Then one offered a suggestion — Kris was telling them what she had in mind — then another chimed in. At that point Kris led the way to the library and its very powerful computer. I showed her where the house plans were, and she called up the site plan for the entire rooftop area. Then she started spotting her concrete planters.

The men were utterly enthralled. Then I began to hear references to La Señora. They became more frequent and I realized that they were referring to Kris as The Lady. Moreover, the words were spoken almost reverently; clearly she had utterly captivated the crew.

Beginning just a few days later, the whole building became a beehive of activity. A couple of operating engineers appeared to check out the hoists that were permanently affixed at the two northern corners of the building. They had booms long enough to permit one or the other to reach any spot on the roof. There was more activity than at any time since the building itself had been completed.

But there was more. The planters were positioned and the much lower beds for the "lawn" were built. As it developed, special soil was brought up to fill them and then the planting began. Initially, there were bulb flowers planted while in bloom, beginning with lovely little crocuses. They were followed by daffodils — both Kris and I adore bright yellow daffodils — and then a succession of others.

The finest quality lawn sod was put down to make our lawn. It became quite funny to see a naked Kris mowing her lawn with a push mower while studying every square inch to ensure that no weed would dare raise its ugly head.

Did Kris slow down? Hah!

In June we had a party for the crew and their families, and then the fun really began. As I had already come to suspect, Kris is a natural born teacher. And she can't resist. She began to teach reading to small children and then to their mothers. That was funny, too. Not only did she teach the women and children English, she also taught them Spanish. The looks on their faces were incredible as their accents changed from marginally literate rural Puerto Rican Spanish to the most literate form. Both the women and children were utterly delighted.

Was that all? Hah!

More equipment was added to the gym and the women and children began working out. Often I would see the women in tight little gatherings, buzzing like bees. The women, without exception, slimmed down and firmed up. With increasing frequency, I noticed women coming in walking rather bowlegged looking like they had been really well-fucked.

Then there were the older girls. Kris taught them everything.

Perhaps the easiest way to illustrate her effect is to skip forward in time some months. Although it was no longer our primary residence by that time, I returned to the apartment in the early afternoon one Friday in late May. I went out on the terrace and almost walked into two naked 16-year-old girls, Maria and Carmen. They were drying themselves off with towels while I saw Kris just emerging from the pool behind them.

The girls greeted me, seemingly unaware of their nudity. "Mr. Harris," Maria said, "could you help us, please?"

Kris came padding up behind them while drying herself off. She was utterly glorious, as usual, and in her preferred form of dress: nothing at all.

"If I can, I will," I responded to Maria's question.

The two girls lowered their towels and stood up straight with their shoulders back and their small breasts upthrust. Both were gorgeous. And while their breasts had not filled out, both were perfectly shaped with small nipples and small areolae like Kris's. They both had wavy light brown hair and lovely brown eyes.

"Sir, La Señora has a bare pussy and she is utterly gorgeous. Do you think that Carmen and I should shave ours, too?"

Hearing the question, my eyes widened. Kris, standing behind the girls, could scarcely control her giggles that the embarrassed expression on my face provoked.

"I really don't know, girls," I temporized. "Why don't you tell me what you're thinking about?"

"Well," Maria continued, "there's no question that La Señora looks terrific, and she says it's really great when you're eating her. There's no hair to interfere with her enjoyment of your lips and teeth and tongue, and no hair to get in your teeth, either." She frowned and then continued, "But, Mr. Harris, when — and if — a guy ever gets his hand in my pants, don't you think he'll expect to find something? Won't he think it's odd if there's nothing above my slit for him to feel?"

"Why don't I take a closer look?" I suggested.

They thought that was a great idea, so I dropped to me knees and they spread their legs wide to open themselves to my gaze. I immediately realized that while they both had pubic hair, it had been carefully trimmed into heart shapes right above their slits. The hair flanking their slits had also been trimmed so that they appeared very neat.

"I think you're both perfect," I said. "But you might think about shaving around your slits so they're bare while leaving those beautiful patches of hair above. That way you can have it both ways: If a guy ever gets his hand in your pants, there will be something there for him, but if you decide you'd like him to eat you, you're all set."

The two girls squealed in delight. "That's a perfect solution!" Carmen declared, and the two headed for the gym.

Kris informed me that the two were staying for dinner. She wanted me to dress, although she and the girls had other plans. With that she disappeared following after the girls.

Following Kris's instructions, I showered and shaved again, then put on a white dinner jacket. (Hell, I was only a couple of days early; although it wasn't yet Memorial Day, it was close.) I found the girls in the living room. Kris was wearing a white thong with white pumps and a red rose behind her ear. The girls were totally bare and sitting on armed side chairs flanking the coffee table, while Kris was on the sofa.

I said the girls were totally bare. They weren't ... quite. Each had a white rose behind the opposite ear from the one in which Kris had hers. (A rose behind one ear is supposed to indicate virginity, while the other shows experience, but I can never remember which is which. Oh, well... ) Furthermore, it was clear that Kris had been busy with her makeup. The girls eyes were featured and they glowed. Both were maintaining perfect posture in their chairs.

I produced white wine for the girls and Beefeater martinis for Kris and me. She produced a platter of canapés.

Maria was studying her wine. Clearly, there was something on her mind. Finally she declared, "We are the luckiest girls in the world!"

"What's that mean?" I asked.

"That means that through the sheerest luck our fathers came to work for you, Mr. Harris. And since then, everything has changed, and all for the better. And it's all because of La Señora. (Like the men on the first day, there was a note of reverence when she said La Señora.) My mother is now more beautiful than she ever was in her life before. My parents' love-life is great and it keeps getting even better. That's due to La Señora's coaching and teaching, of course.

"Then there's me: Two years ago I was a disaster on two feet. If things had stayed on the course I was following, I'm sure I would be out of school by now. I would have dropped out on my sixteenth birthday. But now? Now I'm in the National Honor Society, on the debate team, and will be taking all AP courses next year.

"Oh, yeah ... I'm nearly certain I would have had my first baby by now, too. Instead I'm still a virgin.

"But there's so much more! Beginning when I was 10 and had my first period, every month was sheer agony. Somehow La Señora found out about it. She took me to a specialist who did an MRI. What he found was my plumbing was totally screwed up.

"A few moments ago, I said I would probably have my first baby by now. That's just not true. With things unchanged, I don't think I could have ever gotten pregnant, and if I did, it might have killed me.

"So what happened? La Señora laid me out naked on your bed. She had me spread my legs wide and knelt between my thighs. Then she just gently placed her fingers on my abdomen and prayed. That went on for a while, and then I felt a movement down below, sort of like my belly rumbling, but it was over a much larger area and just kept going. Finally, it stopped and I felt fine.

"My next monthly? I scarcely knew it had hit. In fact, I really didn't until I felt blood dripping down my leg. Now that was really an all-time first!

"La Señora took me back to the specialist and he did another MRI. What a change! Now," she said proudly, "I'm going to be in medical textbooks. My MRI picture is going to be there to illustrate perfect young female digestive and reproductive organs."

She grinned and added, "But I'm not the only one. Something happened to Carmen here. About three years ago, her left arm just stopped growing for some reason. When we first met La Señora,  her right was more than an inch longer than her left and the situation was getting worse. Now look at her!"

Carmen put her hands out straight in front of her and then brought them together. They matched perfectly, and her hands were beautifully shaped.

Maria continued, "La Señora did something similar for her. She put her fingers on Carmen's left arm and prayed and prayed. Nothing seemed to happen, but the next morning, when she woke up, her left arm matched her right and it has ever since."

By this time we were ready for dinner. I have to say it was really pretty nice to sit at a table while looking at three perfect sets of tits, with the most perfect pair directly opposite me.

"But it's not all great," Carmen said. "For example, if I were to go home some day and tell my mother that La Señora had raped me in both my pussy and my ass, do you know what my mother would say?"

I just shook my head.

"She would ask if La Señora enjoyed it. Was I good enough for her? Did I do everything she wanted me to do? If she wanted me to scream, did I do it loudly enough? Finally she would ask if I had stripped the sheets and washed my blood off them before I left. And do you know why?"

Again I just shook my head.

"Because, she would say, our mission is to serve La Señora in every possible way. That's all there is to it."

Then she looked at me and her face fell. "Sir, I'm afraid my father will be leaving you very soon."

"Oh? I'm sorry to hear that. Why?"

"Because, sir, he has accepted a new position as ... as a software engineer." She was close to tears as she said it.

"I think that's utterly marvelous!" I exclaimed. Looking at Kris I asked Carmen, "Was that... ?"

"Of course it was!" she responded to the unasked question. "Who else cares for people — all people! — the way she does? And now Dad feels so damned great, he's walking on air." Then with a little smile she added, "And from the noises coming from their bedroom — Mom screaming, 'Fill me with your seed! Make me swell again with your baby!' — I expect to have another brother or sister before too long. And Mom? Every morning she comes down and can barely walk. I finally asked her if she needed any help. Her reply? 'No, sweetie, I don't need any help, just a new pussy.'"

Carmen grinned and added, "Boy, was she ever embarrassed when she realized what she had said. I assured her I had heard the word before and knew what it was and what it was for. Mom just lightly ran her fingers up and down her slit and grinned at me. The whole thing is just so neat!"

Then to Kris she said, "I hope I don't have to stop coming over here when Daddy starts his new job... ?"

"You had better not!" Kris exclaimed. "Hell, I've barely gotten started on you and Maria. Next year you both are going to be cheerleaders, then there are your AP courses and some more coaching. Then we have to start looking for the best colleges for you two..."

The lovely girls rose from their seats. Taking turns, they sat across Kris's lap and gave her the most passionate, most loving kisses they were capable of. Then they came to me and did the same thing.

Oh, yes ... One more thing. They insisted that I determine who had the smoother ass and asked me how theirs compared to La Señora's. I guess it took quite awhile — and quite a bit of handling — to try to come to a decision on that one.



-------

Chapter 11



But to get back to the story...

On the day following the initial meeting with the workers regarding the terrace project, I dragged a very reluctant Kris to Tiffany's. There we found a perfect diamond of nearly three carats which made a lovely engagement ring. Kris was pouting the whole time, insisting that her slave collar was all she needed.

Back at the apartment, Kris called Terry Michaels at Jack James' apartment. She heard a recorded message saying that Jack was out of town and wouldn't return for a month. Knowing that Terry's contract was almost up a couple of months earlier, she began to worry. I called Jack's law firm and got his secretary. We hit paydirt. I was astonished to find that Terry was living at the YWCA.

Kris called and left a message for Terry to call her. After a couple of days we still hadn't heard from her, so Kris took matters into her own hands: She went to the Y and just camped out in the lobby.

That evening she almost literally dragged Terry bodily into the apartment. When I went to greet her, she wouldn't even look at me.

"Terry, now spill it!" Kris demanded. "Tell Cam what happened."

The girl still didn't say anything. Instead, she reached blindly into her purse and brought out a well-worn letter. Obviously, she had read it far more than just once. Still without saying a word, she just passed it to me.

The letter was on my own letterhead and was signed by Sylvia Stewart, my manager. It said, in effect, thanks for sending your résumé, but we have no openings for a person with your background at this time.

I passed the letter to Kris. Although she hadn't seen it, she already knew of its contents.

Then Terry brought out a second letter. It was dated only about a week earlier, and had obviously been sent to Terry in response to what I was sure had been a follow-up letter from the girl. Again it was signed by Sylvia.

"Acting on direct instructions from Mr. W. Cameron Harris, III, our firm has no interest in employing you now or at any time in the foreseeable future."

Never had I seen a letter such as that one. A convict getting out on parole after serving time for embezzlement would have received a more cordial response.

"Terry," I began, "the statement in this letter is a flat-out lie! I never gave Sylvia any instructions regarding you, although clearly I was very thoughtless not to. I assumed that you would be working for me if you decided not to extend your contract with Jack James.

"Now, what can I do to make this right? Is there anything you need?"

"Yes, sir, there is," she said tonelessly. "I need a place to stay. I ... I was so counting on working for you that I guess I got a little carried away. Since I was Jack's housekeeper and mistress, those were the only clothes I had. Anyway, I went out and really splurged on an appropriate business wardrobe.

"Then, when I got this first letter, I was dead. A good business wardrobe costs thousands. Furthermore, because so many of the things are tailored, they're not returnable." She looked up at me with tears streaming from her eyes and said, "Could ... could I borrow some money? Right now, I don't have enough for a security deposit on a decent hovel, let alone any nice place to live."

Then I did something I immediately regretted. The poor girl was distraught, and I just added to her distress, albeit very briefly. I began, "I really don't think I can—"

"I'm getting money from Disney," Kris interrupted. "Terry, you can have it all. And it's not a loan, understand?" Then her face fell as she added, "Of course, it's all on the come. I haven't seen a dime yet..."

"My mistress didn't give me a chance to finish, Terry," I picked up. "While I can't loan you money, I can do something a bit better, I think."

I led the way into the study, sat behind my desk and got out my checkbook. Scrawling out a check, I passed it across to her.

Terry looked at the amount and gasped. I was afraid she was going to faint, and she damn near did. The check was for five million dollars.

Terry recovered, then her eyes flared. She was mad! "What in hell is this?" she demanded. "What am I supposed to do for it?"

"Nothing," I replied softly. "It's payment for work you've already done."

"You're kidding!" she exclaimed, becoming angrier.

"Not at all," I insisted. "Do you remember the night we met? The only time we've ever been together, for that matter. Do you?"

"I remember ending with a sore ass and a marvelous fucking, but I don't think that's what you had in mind," she replied with a tiny smile.

"No, it's not. You also told me something about a company in which I had a very big long position. Maybe you don't remember. I do know I never told you that I had any financial interest in the company at all. You just mentioned it as illustrative of some of the things your Alan Abelson-type research uncovers. Do you remember, now?"

She just slowly shook her head.

"Well, I remembered. More to the point, I took action the next day. I shifted from being very long on the stock to being very short. I guess a few other people eventually tumbled to what you had found and the stock tanked." Then I grinned and added, "It's not uncommon for a finder to get 10 percent of a deal. Terry, that check isn't even 2 percent of what I made. You earned it."

The girl looked at me, slowly shaking her head and finally muttered, "My God!"

"And one more thing," I added. "If — and when — my slut slave gets around to showing you the apartment, you'll find that we just rattle around in it. We've got more vacant suites than I care to think about let alone count. So, young lady, you're going to be living here with us."

"Oh, goody!" Kris exclaimed. "Looking at all the flab you have covering you, we're going to have such great fun with you working it all off. Your loafing days are over, kid!"

"But I hate exercise!" Terry exclaimed in protest.

"Of course you do," Kris replied in a gleeful tone, "but as the confirmed masochist that I know you to be, I'm sure you'll come to love it! You'll be hurting in so many different places, too, not just your tits and ass."

Terry just shook her head sadly but in resignation.

She was installed in a suite of her own that she immediately adored. The next morning Kris started her on an exercise regime that she hated but did come to love.

-------

I decided it was time to pay a visit to the office for the first time in months and I asked Kris to accompany me. Her ring was not yet ready — it was taking too damned long — so we decided I would introduce her by name but with no other identification.

At the office, Sylvia seemed very glad to see me. It was obvious she wondered about Kris, but didn't have the nerve to ask about any relationship and I didn't offer. We spent about an hour there. I signed a number of things that had accumulated in my absence, while Kris just wandered apparently aimlessly around the office.

When we returned to the apartment, I asked Kris what she thought. Terry had joined us and we were having coffee in the kitchen.

"What do you really do for a living?" Kris asked.

The question was puzzling. She knew the answer already. But I repeated it. "I just invest my money. You know that."

"Sweetie, what do you need 23 people in your office for? What is there for them to do?

"Know something?"

"What?"

"I think they were doing things that had been saved up just for the occasion of your visit. And it really wasn't enough. While I was watching her, one girl ran out of work in less than 20 minutes." Kris paused and then wondered, "What's your payroll there, anyway?"

I just gave her a blank look. "I have no idea. But we can find out easily enough. Come on."

Going into the library, I powered up my computer and connected to the computer at my office. To make the connection I had to go through a series of security checks, but on my computer in the library — which also served as my office — the validation process had all been automated. It was the only computer set up that way. Even with my laptop I had to manually go through them all, step by step. When connected, I brought up the payroll program to look at the last complete month.

Terry was looking at the pay rates while I concentrated on the total sum. It was substantial. Then I heard Terry whistle through her teeth and run from the room. Moments later she was back with our copy of the morning's New York Times. Quickly, she flipped to the want ads, then to the help-wanted columns.

"Cam," she said, "I've been looking through the ads lately myself, although I hadn't been looking for a clerical position. But look at these pay rates!"

I focused on ads run by major employment agencies which typically featured their highest-paying positions (sometimes exaggerating a bit) in an effort to get more candidates to contact them. I looked at the rates of pay and then back to the computer screen.

"My God!" I exclaimed, "it looks like we're paying more than double the highest advertised rates." Turning to Terry I asked, "What's it look like to you?"

"It looks like you're getting ripped off, is what it looks like to me," she replied.

"But that's not all of it," Kris interjected. "I've been counting, and guess what? Cam, you're paying 35 people. I counted 23 when we were there and all the desks were occupied. Furthermore, the way the desks were packed together, it looked more like an insurance company than an investor's office. Where are the other 12 people? And where could they sit if they ever appeared?"

"Holy shit!" I muttered.

What I was seeing was a problem that sometimes arises with the very rich. When we deal every day in multiple millions of dollars, we tend not even to notice numbers with fewer than seven digits. But obviously Kris did.

Turning to Terry I asked, "What exactly did you say in your letters to the office? Did you say that you knew me?"

"Yes, I'm pretty sure I did. I have hard copies somewhere if you need them, but I'm almost certain that I did." She was speaking slowly as thoughts were obviously flying through her head. She continued, "From what I'm seeing, that probably queered the deal right there. Knowing you, as far as Sylvia is concerned, is a disqualifying defect for possible employment."

"But where did the money go?" Kris asked. "I really can't believe Sylvia paid all those girls more than double the market out of the kindness of her heart."

"Let's see," I murmured. I attempted to go deeper into the pay records but was immediately blocked by a password request. "That's strange. I should be able to access any of the company records..."

"Sweetie," Kris said sarcastically, "when Sylvia's stealing you blind, she's not going to be slowed by the company's password policy."

"Well, what do we do now?" I asked.

The two girls exchanged looks and then spoke in unison: "Get Tina!"

Kris explained, "I know I mentioned it to you before, but Tina Miller is really incredible where it comes to hacking. Honest to God, it almost seems like she wrote every bit of operating software in the world, leaving trapdoors for herself in every installation. Believe me, Cam, if there's a computer involved, whatever Tina wants, Tina gets. And fast!"

"Uh ... Cam?" Terry said softly.

I looked at her expectantly.

"If you're going to bring Tina up here, could you bring Liz, too?" The girl reddened as she added, "If you think I'm good with investments, she's at least twice as good as I am." She paused for a moment and then continued, "I spoke to both of them just after you left the Institute. Without giving away any of their secrets, I'll tell you right now that both of those girls will be on their way north in a heartbeat if you just say the word." She grinned and added, "As far as those two are concerned, Cameron Harris, you walk on water, do not get feet wet. Okay?"

I just returned the grin and called the Institute. In moments I was again speaking with Jonathan Wilkerson. Quickly I explained that I had a problem and wondered if Tina and Liz were available. I really needed them in New York, if it could be arranged.

"What a wonderful coincidence!" Wilkerson exclaimed. "The fact is that the meter has just run out with both those young women, so this morning I invited them both to join the permanent staff. As you know, they're both superb teachers, almost as good as Kristin. They both said they would think about it, but I really must say they would infinitely rather be with you — on absolutely any basis at all — than stay here with me." He paused and then continued, "If you don't mind holding for a few minutes, I'll try to get in touch with them right now."

Of course I agreed. It was all I could do to control my laughter as both girls were standing there with every possible pair of fingers crossed.

A few minutes later, Wilkerson was back on the phone.

"Well," he said, "I have an answer for you from both girls."

"And their answer is... ?" I prompted.

Wilkerson chuckled — a strange sound, coming from him — and said, "They said exactly the same thing: 'When can I leave?' So what should I tell them?"

"Could they be ready by early tomorrow morning?"

"They would be ready in two minutes if that's what you wanted."

"If someone could get them to the airport, there will be a private jet waiting for them at nine o'clock. How's that sound?"

"They'll be there," Wilkerson replied, "along with the balance from their funds. It's slightly larger than it was at the beginning," he added. "I really think the girls will be very pleased. I know they're bouncing up and down with excitement to be seeing you again ... And seeing Kris, too."

As soon as I hung up, I called the Executive Aviation headquarters and asked for the CEO, Fred Hodges. After identifying myself to his secretary, he was instantly on the line. I guess it's considered poor form or something to leave the owner on Hold. We quickly exchanged pleasantries, and since the cat was out of the bag, I told Fred that I wanted my aircraft immediately dispatched to the Yucatan. I explained that they would be picking up Miss Christina Miller and Miss Elizabeth Williams. Moreover, these two women carried in their heads information that was priceless to me. That being the case, I expected that the aircrews would be the same as if I were flying and that the in-flight service must be as good as anything the company had ever provided to anyone. Finally, I said that I would personally pay a $5,000 bonus to each pilot if the girls raved about their trip. Similarly, I would pay directly for any food or beverages served, and price was not a consideration.

Clearly, he got my message loud and clear. Before I even finished my call he informed me that the company's very top aircrew were on their way in to Teterboro and the plane should be airborne and headed south within the hour. He estimated it to be about four hours for the 1,750 mile flight.

When I hung up the girls were rolling their eyes.

"Boss, does service extend to hot and cold running pilots to service our friends?" Terry asked while trying to keep a straight face.

"I can tell we're going to be welcoming two very happy young women," Kris added. "And I think it's just neat!" With that she gave me a marvelous loving kiss and whispered, "Thank you, darling!"

At that point I contacted Kroll Associates, probably the world's finest private security and intelligence service. It seems I had a significant equity interest in that company, too. After speaking with the CEO, he set up a conference call with me and his chief of operations for the New York area. Quickly I explained what we had found and what we were planning to do.

Cal Murphy, Kroll's man in New York, said, "Am I correct in assuming that there's no crashing rush about stopping this? From the sound of it, it's been going on for quite a while, and there doesn't seem to be any reason for Ms. Stewart to believe she's under suspicion, is there?"

"Not that I can see," I replied. "But why do you ask?"

Instead of replying to me, he addressed the Kroll CEO. "Mr. Carpenter, am I correct in assuming that this is a blank-check operation?"

"You assume correctly, Cal," Carpenter instantly replied. "This is an all-stops-out operation, beginning immediately."

"I thought so, sir," Murphy replied. "I already have five teams alerted and starting to move. We're going to be covering that Stewart woman like a blanket. She won't be able to take a piss without our knowing what color it is. They should have her under surveillance within 30 minutes."

I arranged to meet Murphy at the apartment late the following afternoon and hung up.

At dinner that night, Terry was nude. Her body was covered with welts but she appeared totally unconcerned. When I asked her about them she replied casually, "Oh, they're nothing. They just represent some ... encouragement ... Kris applied to be certain I did all the requisite reps on your infernal machines." With her eyes wide she added, "You know what? Kris was right. They really are a lot of fun."

Our dinner that night was marvelous. Terry joined us in our bed later and spent the night critiquing Kris's lovemaking, earning herself a hard spanking in the process which Kris was happy to deliver. And Terry was very happy to receive.



-------

Chapter 12



Kris and I were at Teterboro to meet the arriving flight at one o'clock. Terry was taking advantage of the opportunity to augment her wardrobe but said she would be at the apartment by the time the four of us returned.

We were alerted when my G-5 was on final approach and watched with interest as it flared out and touched down. The pilot was good. He just kissed the runway and rolled out, then turned off on a taxiway. The plane rolled to a stop and the stairs came down. A few minutes later, they were cleared by customs and immigration and the two girls came rushing down to greet us.

They were literally bubbling over with enthusiasm for their very first flight in an aircraft. Like Kris, they had no memory of first arriving at the Institute, and while they might have been flown in they had no memory of it. It turned out that their flight was essentially a nonstop airborne banquet. The service began as soon as they reached cruising altitude and didn't end until they were on final. They absolutely adored it.

For my part, I had two checks made out to Cash for $5,000 each, which I presented to the grinning crew. "I wanted them to really enjoy the flight, and they certainly did. Thank you!"

"Thank you," they both replied.

Then the captain said, "Never have we had the experience of flying two such beautiful young women. And they were so happy, they were just bubbling over. It was really a great flight for us, too."

We gathered up a few of their things and headed back. I was actually driving myself this time, taking my BMW M-5 out for an airing. We pulled into the garage beneath the building and then drove into my private garage inside it. There was parking for 20 vehicles, but only four of the spaces were then in use.

"Good grief!" Tina exclaimed, "what is this?"

"It's a garage, turkey!" Kris replied disdainfully. "What the hell does it look like?"

Neither girl replied. They just looked around with their eyes wide.

We went straight up to the apartment in my private elevator car. Like Kris before them, they were dazzled with the whole thing, and even more dazzled by the apartment when we showed them around. We finished at the suite we put them in and again they oohed and aahed, particularly at the bathroom with its giant shower, sunken tub, two sinks and a bidet. Their sitting room was very comfortable with two computers, a large-screen TV and lots of bookcases. The girls adored it.

We went into the library where Terry was waiting for us. The girls screamed — why do women always do that? — and exchanged hugs and kisses. Clearly this was a wonderful reunion of old friends.

When things quieted down, I served Dom Pérignon to welcome them to New York.

At that point Liz opened her purse and pulled out an envelope. Seeing what her friend had done, Tina did the same thing. Liz said, "Mr. Wilkerson gave us each a letter as we were leaving, but he also gave us strict instructions only to open them here in New York in your presence." Looking at me she asked, "So may we?"

The instant I saw the letters, I knew exactly what Wilkerson had done. And I blessed him for it! He wanted me to have the pleasure of seeing the looks on the girls' faces when they learned that they were now wealthy.

Liz began to read:



My Dear Liz:

First, I want to take this opportunity to thank you for all you've done here at the Institute. The contributions you have made, along with the other Carriers, has been incalculable. (And yes, I am aware of the nickname of your group and its provenance. Personally, I think you are three of the most beautiful women ever to be at the Institute.)

But the fact is that you have impressed others very much, too, most particularly including Mr. W. Cameron Harris, III. Indeed, he was so impressed with you all that he established special bequests for both of you. I told you about your "allowance". What I didn't tell you was its source. You see, Mr. Harris has given you a gift of one million dollars.



She and Tina both just sat there, stunned. Then with her hands shaking so hard she could scarcely unfold the paper, she opened the accompanying check and found it was for more than $1 million. Clearly, Wilkerson had carried out my wishes precisely. The additional money represented its interest earnings, less whatever money she had spent.

"My God!" she gasped. Then she asked Kris, "Did he give you $1 million, too?"

"Tina knows the answer to that one," Kris replied. "She set it up. My agreement is contingent on me being paid nothing."

Then she snapped her fingers as if she had just remembered something. She punched me hard on the arm and said, "But you owe me, Cam Harris! Now pay up!"

"Huh... ?" I so-intelligently replied.

"Your father is a lawyer, and so are you. You know the law: A contract isn't binding unless a consideration is offered and accepted. And you've never paid me!"

"Consideration? What consideration?" I was genuinely baffled.

"Now look here, Mr. Harris, it says right there, plain as day, '$1 and other valuable considerations.' You owe me a buck and you never paid. Now pay up!" she repeated.

God, I love this girl. Then I remembered that I had a pocketful of change, but I went back to our bedroom. There on the top of my dresser I keep a bank into which I dump my pennies. Retrieving my penny bank, I went back to the library and sat at my desk. There I carefully counted out 50 pennies and was able to find six nickels along with a couple of dimes to make up the dollar.

Carefully I counted it again in front of Kris, then pushed it over to her.

"Do you want a receipt?" she asked acidly.

"It's really not necessary, but if you want..."

At that point she lost control and began giggling uncontrollably. When she regained control sufficient to speak again Kris asked, "Why didn't you pay it all in pennies? It's obvious you have far more than a hundred in there."

I raised an eyebrow and said, "I'm a lawyer, but you are, too. Surely you know the answer to that."

Slowly she shook her head, looking chagrined.

I grinned at her, causing her actually to blush, and said, "It's because pennies are legal tender only to 50 cents, and small change only to five dollars or so. I've forgotten the actual limit on that one. But it doesn't apply to silver dollars. They are legal tender for all debts, public and private.

"It's funny, too. Some years ago, as a protest against inflation or some such, a guy went to the Bursar's Office at Princeton to pay his entire tuition bill with silver dollars. They were about to flatly refuse when someone had the good sense to call the university's attorney. They asked him if they had to accept payment in silver dollars. The attorney replied, 'Only if you want to get paid for this year. If you don't accept it — if you refuse it — he attends free of charge. Your student will have offered payment in full in legal tender, and you would have refused his offer.

"'Not smart!'

"They accepted his payment."

By this time Tina had read her letter and it said essentially the same things that Liz's did. Neither girl bothered to read the balance of the letter aloud.

But they both sat there looking at me with tears streaming from their eyes. It was Tina's turn to speak. "Cam, how can we ever thank you? No one in the world does things like this for anyone, least of all two partially reconstructed whores!"

"Golly, Tina," I replied with a grin, "I thought you'd never ask!" With that I gave them my very best Groucho Marx-imitation leer.

"Oh, hell!" Tina responded, "if you want to take it out in trade, that would be delightfully easy to arrange." Then with a leer of her own she added, "Liz has already had her first, so I'm next!"

"It might be easy to arrange with him," Kris interjected, "but not while I'm around. Unless you're really tired of living, that is ... You do know I'm capable of easily beating the shit out of you, and would do it gladly!"

All four girls started howling with laughter at that one.

-------

The next morning we started in on the project for which I had brought the girls to New York. When I explained that I wanted a look at my own company's files that Sylvia had password-protected, I asked Tina if she could do it.

She raised an eyebrow and commented, "Get serious! Can I get in? Is the Pope Catholic?" Then she frowned, looked at Liz and asked, "Don't you think I should feel insulted?"

Liz just giggled.

Tina's fingers began flying over the keyboard while she remarked, "Know something? This is the first legal hacking I've ever done in my life!" Then her face fell and she added, "Oh my gosh! What if my friends ever found out... ? That I hacked a computer legally..."

Turning to me she shook her head and said, "Cam, I really don't think I can do this after all. If word ever got out... ! I would never live it down! There's not a chatroom in the world I could ever show my face in without being laughed out ... Oh, the shame..."

"How about if I told you it was Kris's computer and she refuses you permission to access it?"

"Oh, neato!" Tina exclaimed, barely able to contain her giggles. "Then it would be illegal, so that would be fine."

While the teasing had been going on, Tina had been accessing the company computer. I thought that it took me longer to get mine booted up in the morning than it took her to break through what turned out to be three levels of Sylvia's private security.

"What specifically do you want to see?" she asked.

"I want to see the last payroll run, particularly payroll detail: gross, any deductions and the net."

The other three girls were looking at the monitor over our shoulders.

"My God! Will you look at that?" Terry exclaimed. There's a deduction equal to half the girl's gross pay that's paid directly into the account of ... Sylvia Stewart!" Terry shook her head sadly and added, "That girl is being royally screwed! Because of the graduated nature of income tax rates at all levels — Federal, New York State, and New York City — she's taking home significantly less than if her gross were half as much."

She snapped her fingers and murmured, "That conniving bitch! Know something else? For tax purposes, that money is free and clear to her! Technically, they're making an after-tax gift of the money to Sylvia. Shit!"

Meanwhile, Tina had been pulling up name after name. The ones who really got our attention were 12 names with no payments to Sylvia. Every one was a direct deposit to an account in the same bank Sylvia used.

"Feel like fishing some more?" I asked.

"Like hacking into the bank's computer?" Tina asked.

I just nodded.

"Neato! They're fun! And who knows? We might find some real security."

"What's that mean?" I asked.

"That means it might take a minute or two instead of just walking right in," the girl casually replied.

Damn! It took nearly two full minutes for the girl to get in. The bank's security must have been very tight indeed.

We found that the newest of the twelve accounts had been opened over a year earlier. They had been added at the rate of two new accounts a month over a six-month span of time. Looking further into the account details, we found that the address on every one was the girl's name c/o Sylvia Stewart, with Sylvia's apartment address.

Continuing our search, Tina finally shook her head in amazement. "Can you believe the unmitigated gall of this bitch? She had different post office box numbers for mailing addresses for the first six, then she got lazy. The P.O. box addresses were changed to hers after six months, and with the rest, she didn't even bother. All correspondence went to her beginning on Day One."

"What's it total to?" Kris asked.

Tina began putting the information into a spread sheet. Disregarding the "gifts" from the 23 live staffers, the dozen "phantoms" alone provided her a gross income of $960,000 over the previous 12 months. Every one was grossing $80,000 a year.

"And you know what?" Kris added. "Her net is far larger than if she was paid that gross to herself. She gets the exemptions and deductions for each of the phantoms! My God!"

We totaled it up, and I had been taken for millions! I was not pleased.

It was still early in the afternoon, and Cal Murphy from Kroll wasn't due until later. "I wonder..." Tina muttered.

"Wonder what?" Kris asked.

Turning to me Tina asked, "Cam, do you happen to know if Sylvia has high-speed Internet access?"

"No, I..." Then I stopped suddenly and exclaimed, "Yes, I do! She does. I remember her talking about how great it was a few months ago. But why do you ask?"

Tina's eyes flashed. Clearly she was following through on an idea of hers. "Do you happen to have her home e-mail address?"

I dug it out and gave it to her.

"She's probably still at the office, isn't she?"

I still didn't know what Tina had in mind, but I asked Kris to call the office and ask Sylvia if she had seen me. Kris made the call and learned that Sylvia hadn't seen me that day. Surprise, surprise!

To Tina I said, "Now what?"

"Now I have more fun!" she gleefully replied.

She was relying on the fact that while a computer accessing the Net using dial-up service was assigned a different dynamic IP Address with every call, any computer with high-speed access was connected to the Net whenever it was on, and it retained a permanent static IP Address. First the girl hacked the ISP's computer and tracked Sylvia's e-mail address back to determine its static IP Address.

"Now, we just have to hope that Sylvia left her computer on this morning..." Tina murmured.

She had.

"Wonderful!" the girl exclaimed when she had penetrated Sylvia's computer. "Now we have some fun!"

Tina's idea of fun turned out to be printing out a listing of every site Sylvia had visited in the previous six months. It turns out that any Windows machine maintains this information in a hidden file accessible only to Microsoft ... and to Tina.

The five of us pored over the listing. Among other things, it appeared she had recently obtained a passport. Furthermore, her visits to travel sites were becoming more frequent and her time at each one appeared to be increasing. Sylvia seemed to be planning a trip. Golly! I wondered why?

We had just finished compiling the information when the building receptionist announced Cal Murphy's arrival. As soon as he joined us in the library, we reviewed for him what we had found.

When we concluded, he just shook his head. "My God! This is computerized highway robbery of millions of dollars!" Then he looked at me and asked, "What do you want to do now, Mr. Harris?"

"What do you recommend?"

"Well..." he began slowly, "hanging her by her nipples from the ceiling and whipping her ass is still frowned on in some quarters..." Then he looked at me and suggested, "How about grand larceny in an amount far above one million dollars?"

He then explained that since the computer payroll records showing the phantom employees were my own, he could immediately turn them over to the District Attorney with the request for Sylvia's immediate arrest. Since the bank records showing the mailing addresses of the phantoms had been obtained illegally, we couldn't produce them, but we didn't need to. The fact that the phantoms were on my payroll and the other girls were being shaken down for their "gifts" to Sylvia were more than enough. Moreover, because of the very large sums of money involved, having Sylvia held without bail to prevent her from fleeing the country to avoid prosecution shouldn't be too tough. "And of course, the police could quickly learn from the State Department that a passport had recently been issued in this sweetheart's name."

He looked at me and asked, "So what do you want me to do?"

I looked at the girls. They were all nodding and were holding their fists out with their thumbs down.

"Do it!" I ordered. "Now!"

Murphy grinned. "And guess what? We're even in a position to save the police a lot of time and trouble. I can tell them minute by minute exactly where Sylvia Stewart is."

-------

The episode ended with Sylvia Stewart's arrest and prosecution. Because of the magnitude of the theft coupled with her recently-issued passport, she was held without bail. Sylvia's bank, acting on a subpoena, turned over to the District Attorney the records of her accounts and those of the "phantoms". To my surprise I learned that almost all of the money was still there. Very little had been spent.

Sylvia's reaction was something short of remorse. Her comment? "Cam Harris has so damned much money, I thought he'd never miss it."

And you know what else? She was right.

With Terry, Liz and Tina all now living with us, I realized there was no need to have an office downtown at all. What I did do was to pay back to the 23 live girls all of the money they had been required to "give" to Sylvia. For some of them it was more than two years' gross pay, and since their taxes had already been paid, the money was free and clear to them.

What I did do — or Kris did — was to find a lovely small office only a block away from the penthouse. While the girls actually ran my affairs from the penthouse, Kris thought that there should be a site we could use strictly for business purposes. I suppose the landlord might have wondered why rent was being paid on an office that was essentially unoccupied. And I suppose he might have, except the landlord was I.



-------

Chapter 13



The 4th of July holiday was coming up and I decided to try to enlist my parents in helping me convince Kris to marry me. The fact was that she continued to consider the whole thing to be a big joke. She just dismissed out of hand any idea that I might seriously want to marry her. It was odd, really. She was objective and clear-thinking about absolutely everything ... except about herself. To her, she was an unreconstructed whore and that was all she would ever be. Therefore, the thought of marriage to anyone — least of all, to me — was utterly out of the question.

Since the 4th was on a Thursday that year, particularly in New York, we were looking at a 4-day weekend. And, because I wasn't desperately needed at the office (?) I decided to take a break and head up to my parents' place at noon on Wednesday. The girls — Terry, Liz and Tina — had lined up a number of activities in the city including a couple of rock concerts.

Speaking for all of them, Liz announced with a big grin that it was their first opportunity in New York for them to act natural, i.e., trashy. "You won't mind if you find we've been pierced and ringed, and maybe picked up a few tats, would you Cam?" she asked with her eyes dancing.

The fact was that all three of them were outrageous beauties. Terry, who had started the whole thing, had lost weight and inches at her bust and hip lines. She was now as streamlined as the others, albeit built on a smaller scale. Moreover, she had become as athletic as the others, too, to her great surprise and professed dismay.

Again we headed north in my M-5. What a blunder that was! The BMW M-5 comes with only one transmission: a 6-speed manual. We headed east to the FDR Drive, and as we got close to the first northbound access ramp, the fun began. For those of you not familiar with New York, the FDR is the only road in the world to my knowledge where one can routinely encounter bumper-to-bumper traffic at 3:00 AM. Thank heavens, the BMW's cooling system is very good because we were in stall-and-crawl traffic even before we reached the FDR itself. Six-speed transmission? Hah! I alternated between first and second for miles. It wasn't until we had crossed the Westchester County line that I was able to reach 5th. Oh, well...

My parents live in northern Westchester. I was going to say they have a nice house, but that's really not true. It's an estate with the house sitting on 100 acres or so. Anyway, I released the electric gate — its code was identical to the one that activates the apartment's garage doors — and drove up the winding drive to the front of the house.

When she first saw it, Kris gasped, "It's utterly magnificent!" Then she grinned at me and added, "I guess you and your family really do have a few bucks, don't you?"

That comment wasn't worth a response.

As the car came to a stop, the front doors of the house popped open and my parents came running out to greet us. My dad, Bill, is six feet two and my mother, Martha, is about five feet eight. I guess I come by my size naturally.

At any rate, I ran around the car to open the door for Kris. Controlling her impatience, she actually waited for me to do it, too. I opened the door and handed her out of the car. Because of the nature of the holiday, she was wearing a white dress trimmed with red and blue. Along with her golden hair, incredible blue eyes and her all-over tan, she looked utterly spectacular.

"Mother and Dad," I proudly announced, "I would like you to meet my fiancée, Kristin Collins. Kris, these are my parents, Bill and Marty Harris."

Although Kris had her right hand outstretched, Mom just ignored it. Instead, she took Kris into her arms and kissed her. Dad and I just watched in utter amazement. The kiss was not a peck on the cheek! I could see the two pairs of lips melt together while Kris used some of her strength to hold Mom tight while their lips moved on each other.

When they finally eased apart, I could see Mother's eyes were glassy. She moved back and took Kris's hands in both of her own and just looked at her. Finally, in the softest, most loving voice I could ever remember hearing from her, she murmured, "Hello, daughter! Where have you been hiding all these years?" Then she looked down at Kris's left hand and saw the magnificent diamond on her third finger. "Well, what do you know?" she added. "It appears that Cam's taste in diamonds is as good as his taste in young women." Then looking deep into Kris's eyes she murmured, "Welcome, dear Kris, to the Harris family!"

"Mrs. Harris..." Kris began, finally being able to speak for the first time.

Mother just raised an eyebrow and began to impatiently tap her foot on the paving.

"But..." Kris tried again.

"My name is Martha, young woman!" Mom said with a glare. "But to you I'm Marty, or 'you fat pig" or..." Slowly she shook her head and then continued, "But what I would really love to hear would be for you to call me Mother or Mom!"

Before Kris could even squeeze in a word, Mother looked down at herself. "Frankly, dear, I'm an overweight slob, but that's going to change beginning right now. I look at your body, Kris, and it's my inspiration. Woman, you are just utterly perfect! And your muscles! You work out every day, don't you?"

"Yes, but—"

"Come on, girl! You and I are going to get acquainted."

"Could I say hello to Mr. Harris first?" Kris managed to squeak.

This time it was Dad's turn to raise an eyebrow and tap his foot. He held out his arms and Kris moved into them. Tipping her head, she kissed him. Since she was wearing her two-inch heels, she was just about six feet tall so she and Dad fit together perfectly. Mom and I could see the love flowing between the two.

"She's so utterly perfect, Cam!" Mom breathed. "And so loaded with love it just spills all over every body and every thing. She's perfect!"

Dad eased away finally and I noted that his eyes were glassy, too. When he finally brought them into focus he said, "Kris, I'm going to keep it very simple: To you, I respond to a single name: Dad. Understood?"

"But..." she began to protest.

"Understood!" he thundered.

"Yes, sir," she squeaked, shaking her head in frustration.

Before she could say or do anything else, Mom took her by the hand and marched her into the house. Dad and I just watched as she dragged Kris up the stairs in the direction of the master suite's sitting room.

"Well, son," Dad commented, "it looks like they're gone for the rest of the afternoon." With a grin he added, "Feel like nine holes of golf? It's not too late."

So that's what we did. I brought our luggage in, leaving my golf clubs in the car.

We had a good time that afternoon. Since he neglected to ask for strokes, I took him for ten bucks. His only comment was that my game had certainly improved since the last time we had played together.

Back at the house, we found the women in the kitchen. Mom was sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter watching Kris cook. At a glance I could tell that she was preparing a haute cuisine French dinner and indeed that's what it was.

Dad made drinks for all of us and we sat around the kitchen table nibbling on canapés that Kris had also prepared. For some reason, I felt better than I could ever remember feeling. For possibly the very first time in my life I felt I was really home. Kris's presence, somehow, just seemed to bring the whole family closer together. Furthermore, looking at my parents, I was pretty sure they felt exactly the same way.

"Bill," Mom began, "as you probably guessed, our daughter and I spent the whole afternoon getting acquainted. She insists, by the way, that she's Cam's mistress, not his fiancée. As far as she's concerned, the whole engagement thing is just a sick joke.

"It seems that she's spent the last eight years in a sex school. Before that, she was a prostitute, working the streets, although she's forgotten where those streets were, but she's pretty sure they weren't anywhere in the Northeast.

"Oh, yes ... She seems to be a bit smarter than the average bear, too. While learning how to fuck in more ways than I can count, she seems to have picked up some education. Not much, you understand. From a standing start at age fifteen, she got her GED, but kept on going. Now she has her MBA and in June was awarded her Ph.D. in American History." She grinned, winked at me and continued, "Of course, she didn't bother to tell Cam about her doctorate, nor did she spring for the hundred bucks or so for the cap and gown to receive it at her commencement.

"And oh, yes ... One more thing. She also has her JD and is a member of the Federal bar..."

At that comment, Dad jumped up from the table and disappeared in the direction of his study. Kris and Mom took the interruption to begin bringing dishes out to the dining table. The three of us were standing at the table when he returned with papers in his hand. He and I seated the women and then seated ourselves.

When Mom took the first bite of the appetizer, she closed her eyes and moaned. "Utterly exquisite!" Looking down the table at Dad she added, "Can you believe it, Bill? A brilliant beauty who can cook? Masterfully, too."

I have to admit, Kris really did outdo herself that evening. The dinner was truly magnificent, and Dad had wines that accompanied it perfectly.

We finished dessert and then adjourned to the library for coffee and cognac. Dad and I had Cuban cigars he had brought back from Europe, while Kris took a very light panatela. Mom watched her light it and then lit one, too. When Dad and I both raised eyebrows, all she did was very cutely stick out the tip of her tongue. That was something truly new and different for my mother.

All this time Dad had had a small sheaf of papers in his hand. Finally, he said, "Kris, can I assume that you're the K. Collins who recently took the New York State Bar Exam?"

She was visibly chagrined, but temporized, "How did you know that?"

"Because these are the results," he said. "Hmm ... Not too shabby, either ... It seems that K. Collins tied for the top score statewide. But since you're tied with someone named Bernstein, and the results are listed alphabetically in cases of ties, you're listed second." Then he looked at her with his eyes piercing and asked, "When do you expect to be admitted to practice?"

"I don't because I can't be," she replied. Then she added, "I should apologize for wasting people's time even taking the test. I was really doing it to test my knowledge of New York law. But I can't be admitted to practice."

"And why not?" Dad asked. "On the basis of your score on the bar exam, I would have to rate your knowledge of our laws as ... adequate." The last was said with a broad grin.

"It's out of the question, sir," she replied.

"Why is it out of the question?"

"Because, among other things, to be admitted to practice in the Southern District of New York, I need letters from two people who have known me at every address at which I've ever lived."

"And... ?" he persisted.

"Mr. Harris—"

"What?" Dad thundered.

Tears started to flow from Kris's eyes as she said, "I can't call you Dad! I'm just a whore and a slut. There's no way I could ever have the slightest relationship to you and your family, sir."

"No, my darling," Dad replied softly, "you are the most beautiful, most loving, most lovable creature God has ever placed on this planet. I can see why you might not care to associate with us, but for our part it's no contest at all. Kristin Collins, you're just perfect!

"Now how do you address me?"

"Dad—"

"Much better!" Dad grinned. "Now come here, daughter."

Her eyes widened but she rose from the sofa and went to the lounge chair on which he was sitting. Dad lifted her up and set her across his lap, then hugged her tightly. Turning her head toward him, he tipped it and then kissed her.

I glanced at Mom as he did, and she was positively glowing. Jealous? No way! Mom was ecstatic with happiness as he saw the love flow between the two.

When they finally eased apart, he prompted, "Letters?"

"Dad, I don't even know what city or cities I've lived in. I do know that for years I just lived on the streets. Neighbors who knew me? That's just a sick joke."

They talked about it some more with Kris recounting some of the things she did while on the streets. As usual, she painted as dark a picture as she possibly could. And in fairness to her, the reality was pretty bleak. Finally, Dad effortlessly lifted her up in his arms and deposited her beside me on the leather sofa. Going to his desk, he retrieved an address book, then excused himself.

The three of us chatted with Mom saying how much she was enjoying the very first cigar of her life. When Dad finally returned, the four of us played Bridge and had a fine time.

When we retired for the evening, I found that the upstairs rooms had been completely redone in my absence. Instead of having a room, I had a suite to myself complete with sitting room and private bath nearly as elaborate as the one in the penthouse.

Kris was particularly passionate that night. It was, in fact, a very romantic replay of our first afternoon together, but without the violence. Instead, we made romantic love for almost three hours. Later Kris told me that I had cum in her 43 times that night. She told me that in the middle of the night after awakening me to take her in her rear. I really don't know if we slept at all that night or just lost consciousness from time to time.

What a woman!

The next morning I awakened or regained consciousness — I'm not sure which it was — and found that Kris was no longer beside me. I slipped on a pair of shorts, grabbed a robe and went down to the kitchen. There I found Kris and Mom at the kitchen table having coffee. All Kris was wearing was a terry robe. It was untied and gaping open baring her body.

"Kris—" I began.

"She's open that way because I insisted!" Mom interrupted. "I utterly adore my daughter's perfect body." Looking at me she grinned and said, "She tells me you took very good care of her last night, too." Slowly shaking her head she added, "Fucking her continuously for almost three hours! I can hardly believe it, but from the cum that's still flowing from her pussy, maybe it's true."

"Mother!" I nearly screamed. "Your language!"

"What's the trouble, dear?" she responded blithely. "I'm sure you've heard those words before and probably even know what most of them mean by now."

Kris just giggled and slipped her robe off her shoulders. Now she was completely bare.

Mom just grinned and commented, "Even better!"

When Dad joined us, Mom insisted that Kris stand and turn around slowly so he could get a good look at her. "Isn't she utterly gorgeous, Bill?" she asked. "And would you look at her gorgeous pussy! Of course, she's still leaking Cam's cum all over the floor." Then she astonished me. Stripping off her own robe, she dropped her nightgown to the floor and stood there nude as well. "Know what? I'm going to have my pubic hair removed, too. I never realized how yucky it looks! What an ugly shade of gray!"

I realized that Mom looked like a Rubens' nude. While she was carrying extra weight, it was evenly distributed. At that moment I realized that my mother was truly beautiful. Her features were lovely, and her white hair against her very youthful-looking face was striking.

Dad and I just shook our heads.

After a big breakfast, we all went to the country club. The four of us played golf together and had a marvelous time. The men who usually opened the course had gone off long before our ten o'clock shotgun start. Kris and I won the prize for low gross while Mom and Dad had the low net. And, to Kris's pretended dismay, they won ten dollars from each of us in a five-dollar Nassau we had among ourselves. We halved the front nine, but lost by a hole on the back which also cost us the match.

But it was a lot of fun, and I really felt my parents were having more fun together and with us than I had ever seen in my life. Kris's effect?

Back at the clubhouse, we had a quick bite and then went swimming. Kris was wearing a white bikini — not the string thong she had worn at Disney World — and looked utterly gorgeous.

What amazed Kris — but not me — was the way my parents, and particularly my mother, were taking such great pride in introducing her to all of their friends. And there were many of them at the club that day. Finally it penetrated Kris's mind that Mom was serious. She truly was delighted to welcome her into the family with as much fanfare as she could manage. And for Mom, that was a great deal indeed.

After showering and changing, the four of us met again for cocktails on the terrace. Kris looked utterly gorgeous, as did my mother who held court. All evening long people were streaming over to meet and greet this apparition that had appeared in their midst. For her part, Kris behaved as if she was to the manor born. People were attracted by her beauty and then stunned by her charm. It's fair to say that she took the membership of that club — that very snooty club — by storm.

The club served a steak dinner outside and then there were fireworks. Of course there had been fireworks at Disney World, too, but Kris and I both love them. She was utterly adorable, oohing and aahing as rockets burst in the sky. She really loved it and I did, too.

Mom had the last word of the evening as we drove home. "Daughter, you were utterly marvelous today! And it couldn't have been any better."

She was right, too. It couldn't have been.

That night, Kris wanted to be raped, so I obliged. Her final remark just before we fell asleep? "Sheesh! Some rapist you are! It took you almost three full hours to complete one stinking rape!"

Again she was right. It had.

The next morning — Friday — at breakfast, Dad surprised us. He asked Kris if she could dress for a meeting. She did, not asking why. When she met him in the family room, she was wearing a blue shirtwaist dress that seemed to emphasize the brilliance of her blue eyes.

Dad was sitting around a poker table with six other men. Two of them had been introduced to Kris the day before at the club. They rather pompously preened as she remembered both of them. Vaguely, I remember hearing that both were lawyers. Mom and I were sitting back in the corner of the room behind the chair that was obviously set aside for Kris.

"Your father is chairman of the Bar Association's Admissions Committee," Mom whispered in my ear, "and I think this is the full committee."

Other than being introduced to Kris by name, there was neither any profession nor affiliation given. They began chatting about the law in New York.

It was fascinating to watch. Quickly it became apparent that each man was an expert in a different facet of the law. There was trusts and estates, real estate, tax, corporate law, criminal law and litigation. I knew Dad was the corporate law expert, and from the discussion it soon became clear who was who with respect to their specific legal expertise.

As brilliant as I knew Kris to be, even I was amazed at what followed over the next two hours or so. I soon learned that she seemed to be as expert in each specialty as the relevant attorney. Moreover, each man was the senior partner — or in Dad's case, managing partner — in his law firm, leading his particular practice area.

What brought it all to a head was a question raised by the litigator: "What did you think of the judge's decision in the Benson case?"

Kris's brow furrowed and she looked at him quizzically. "Sir, that case was only decided last Friday. I don't expect a written decision for at least another week." She smiled at him warmly and added, "You were just teasing me, weren't you, Mr. Higgins?" Then she snapped her fingers and exclaimed, "Of course! William Higgins was the lead attorney for the defense ... and you won the case! Congratulations!"

Higgins was utterly stunned. Kris proved to be exactly correct. Then he really put his foot in it. "Obviously, Miss Collins, you follow the law in great detail. What did you think of the trial?"

Kris looked at him steadily and asked, "Do you want my honest opinion, or do you want me to be nice?"

"Your honest opinion, of course."

"Well, okay..." Then with her head up high she continued, "Plaintiff's attorney really blew it. They had an open-and-shut case and blew it totally."

"I beg your pardon?" Higgins stuttered.

Kris than cited two New York Court of Appeals decisions, both decided unanimously, that, she argued, were fully on point with the facts in the Benson case. Higgins was dumbfounded. Clearly, he had never heard of either of them. Dad fired up his computer and located the first case Kris had cited.

She looked up at the ceiling, remembering. "Dad, it's on the left-hand page toward the bottom, three pages into the decision."

Almost immediately he found the relevant passage and read it aloud to his colleagues. To Higgins he said, "She's absolutely right, Bill. And although the decision is over 20 years old, it was unanimous and is still relevant case law."

He went to her second citation and found the same thing. "Bill," Dad said, "you were a very lucky guy. You really should have lost that one." Then to Kris and the others he asked, "There's one thing I don't understand: Plaintiff's lawyers are not dummies, and you're certainly not, either, Bill. Yet it's clear as a bell that none of you were aware of the existence of these cases, but Kris certainly was. How could that be?" Higgins could only shake his head. Then Dad said, "Kris?"

"The problem isn't with the lawyers, it's with the indexing. I've forgotten how those cases appear in the index, but neither would normally show up in any case search for relevant precedents in Benson."

"Well, then, how did you know about them?" Dad pursued.

"I index cases in a different way," she replied with no further explanation. Much, much later I learned that indeed she does. She memorizes their content and her brain does the indexing. Utterly incredible!

"Anything else, guys?" Dad asked the group.

They all just shook their heads in the negative.

"Okay, then. What do you think?"

The first to speak was the trusts and estates attorney. "I don't know nearly enough about your fields to comment, but it was apparent that not only was Miss Collins giving correct answers, often she was giving amazing answers. Witness her exchange with Bill Higgins." Then slowly shaking his head he added, "With respect to T&E, I truly think Miss Collins has forgotten more about it than I'm ever going to know." Then to Kris he said, "Miss Collins, many attorneys find T&E to be very dull. Personally, I disagree, but that's beside the point. What is very much on point, however, is that I'm prepared to offer you an immediate partnership in my firm. You would start off as number two in T&E and would be partner in charge when I retire in just a few years. Interested?"

"But I'm not a member of the bar!" Kris protested, "and I can't be one, either."

"Oh yes you can, and yes you are," the lawyer continued. "Miss Collins, although we never told you, this is the Admissions Committee of the New York State Bar Association ... in full. You have just demonstrated extraordinary competence in the law — confirming your top score on the bar exam, I should add — as well as exemplifying all of the very best qualities we want to see in attorneys and almost never do. Miss Collins, welcome to the Bar for the Southern District of New York State!"

"Hear! Hear!" was the immediate response from the other members.

"To be formal, do I hear a motion?" Dad asked.

The same attorney moved that Kristin Collins be admitted to the bar for the Southern District of New York. Bill Higgins immediately seconded the motion.

"Is there any discussion on the motion on the floor?" Dad looked around and all he saw were heads shaking. "Hearing none, all those in favor of the motion to admit, please signify by saying 'Aye'."

The vote was unanimous with Dad, as chairman, not voting. He made a point of stressing that he did not cast a vote on his daughter's admission to the bar.

Kris was utterly overwhelmed. She just sat there and finally said, "But the forms ... I've never completed them."

"This is more fun than I've ever had on this committee," Dad said. "The forms are just to keep the paid staff happy. It's about time someone awakened those clowns to the realization that there's more to the practice of law than just filling out forms."

Every lawyer present gave Kris his card along with offers of immediate employment. Finally Kris told them that she already had a job she liked very much and wasn't looking for a new one. Both Mom and Dad laughed at that one; they didn't bother to tell the others just what Kris's job was.

Finally, though, it was over. While the men were having sandwiches and beer before heading for home, Kris remembered something. To my father she asked, "By the way, Dad, how did E. Williams do on the bar exam? I don't think I've ever seen the official results."

Dad got out his list and started looking. He didn't have far to look. "Williams sort of blew it," he reported. "Tied with someone named Cohen for third place. But why do you ask?"

"Because that's Liz Williams, my former roommate and closest friend. We took the exam together. But, Dad, she's in exactly the same position I'm in as far as being admitted."

Instead of responding to her, he addressed his colleagues. "Guys, as you know, Kris tied for first on the bar exam. Well, it seems that her best friend tied for third. How about if we meet for lunch at the Yale Club next Thursday? If she's a friend of Kris's, I can guarantee she's another knockout. We can have another interview. But unlike Kris, she doesn't have a job here in New York, yet."

So that's exactly what they did.



-------

Chapter 14



You've heard the adage, "No good deed goes unpunished"? Well, guess what? It's true, and it happened to me.

Back at the penthouse the following Thursday night, we got a call from my father. Liz was with us, of course, but all she had been willing to say about her day was that she had a nice lunch and liked The Yale Club very much. Anyway, Dad reported that Liz had done exactly what Kris had done the previous week, and with the same result. She had been admitted to practice in New York.

You all know what my biggest problem was — and is: It's getting rid of money, not making it. So what happens? Liz Williams happens, is what. Like Kris, she also had her MBA and was now a corporate law specialist. So how did that harm me?

It's easy. Before Liz was admitted to practice, my investing was confined to listed securities. But that came to a screeching halt with her admission to the bar. We started doing private placements and mezzanine-level investing. The last is often second-round financing before a company has its IPO (Initial Public Offering). What it means is that we were getting founders' stock at very low prices but in companies that were actually operating; they were no longer just someone's dream.

Liz quickly emerged as the top corporate lawyer in the city, and that was her specialty. The fact was that lovely brunette was making it coming, going and standing still. When the deal was good, we were in it. When it wasn't so good, all she got was a monster legal fee. The four of them — all four of the girls — were engaged in a vicious plot to bury me under money!

And that's how Terry came to get a husband.

Say what? you respond.

It was in the spring of the following year when Terry told me we had a meeting with an analyst at our "office" a block away. It seemed that she was doing the guy a favor. It was about the fifth meeting that had been scheduled, but we had never met. Terry canceled one and he canceled the rest with increasing embarrassment each time. Our meeting was scheduled for ten o'clock, and it had to happen, Terry said, or it meant his job.

So at ten o'clock we were in the office when a man came in and introduced himself as Tom Allison. He was about five feet ten, weighed probably 165 ... and looked like hell! He was death warmed over. Introductions were performed and he began his presentation. It was awful! Talk about being right out of the can...

Suddenly, he stopped cold and just began to cry. Terry rushed around the table and took him in her arms. When she did, he just came apart.

"What's the matter?" she asked softly.

Allison just slowly shook his head.

"Tell me!" she demanded.

"It's my wife..." he stammered.

"What about your wife?"

"She's dead!" he replied and then completely broke down.

Using her now-great strength she lifted him from the chair and walked him to the sofa and sat him down. Sitting beside him, she put his head on her shoulder and just listened to him cry.

Finally, he recovered enough to explain that his wife, Barbara, had died the night before of bone cancer. She was only 27. Moreover, she left two small children, Tommy, age 5, and Ginny, age 3. A neighbor was staying with them while he came over from New Jersey.

Terry looked at me with her eyes pleading.

"Get a car and take him home right now," I said. Then to him I asked, "Why in hell did you come over anyway?"

"After losing Barbara, I couldn't afford to lose my job, too. And I would have, had I not come."

Terry came back a few minutes later driving a white BMW 745i. I helped Allison into the car and they were off.

Back at the apartment, I told Kris what had happened.

"Two small children?" she asked.

I nodded.

"Oh, God," she murmured, "please make it happen..."

"Make what happen?"

"Cam, there's something you don't know about Terry: Probably as a result of a fallopian-tube infection that developed when she was working the streets, she can never have children of her own. But she adores them! And Tom has a little girl only three years old?"

I just nodded.

The next afternoon the four of us drove over to New Jersey. Tom had a lovely home near Saddle River although we didn't go there. Instead we went to the funeral home for the visiting hours.

When we entered, we found Terry and Tom with two small children. Terry had the little girl in her arms. She was utterly adorable with golden hair and gray eyes exactly like Terry's. Furthermore, as a result of being in the sun so much, Terry's hair was sun bleached to a golden color, too. The little girl, Ginny, was hugging Terry for dear life and kissing her. It was clear that Terry was caressing the child all over, and the little girl loved it.

The girls were able to talk very briefly to Terry. They learned that she had seduced Tom the night before and was found in his bed by the two children that morning. While they were certainly bewildered, Terry explained to them that their mother, Barbara, was so good, God wanted her beside him right away.

The scene was repeated the next day at the cemetery. Terry never even came back for her clothes. The girls packed them up and shipped them to her. She immediately became Tom's housekeeper and mistress and that summer she became his wife.

To get away from the bitter memories, she built a magnificent new home for them in Troy Hills. It was utterly gorgeous! Beyond that, though, she persuaded Tom to resign from his firm. He almost died when he learned how much money of her own his mistress and housekeeper had. By that time, it was pushing ten million and growing fast.

She enlisted Tina's aid to design some investment management software. It tracked the values of all the securities held by Tom's clients. Moreover, working with him, the two became unbeatable money managers. Not only did they tell clients to buy, they also told them to sell, and in no uncertain terms. The result was they built a very large — and immensely profitable — investment business at home. And that's the way Terry loved it. She immediately began home-schooling Tommy and teaching little Ginny to read.

There were frequent breaks during the day, except instead of coffee breaks, they took fucking breaks. The kids soon got used to seeing their parents making love anyplace in or around the house. Terry started off as Mommy to the kids, and that's the way it stayed. The love in that place is truly palpable and as for Terry, it couldn't have happened to a more wonderful woman.

-------

My parents came into the city to celebrate Thanksgiving with us, and all four of us spent Christmas with them at their place. Thanksgiving was pretty hectic, and I was sort of out of it. Christmas was a different story, though.

When I saw my mother at the door when we arrived on December 23rd, I almost passed out. She was utterly gorgeous! From about 150 pounds or so, she had dropped to about 125 and looked utterly spectacular. In spite of her white hair — or possibly because of it — she looked incredibly youthful. There was not a line or a blemish on her skin anywhere.

So then what happened? What do you suppose? The four women disappeared to confer, I later learned from Kris, on techniques of making love. Can you believe it? The Carriers — Kris, Liz and Tina — were giving my mother lessons on the finer points of cocksucking and cunt eating. When I asked Kris why they did that, she replied, "So she can teach your dad how to do it right, of course." To her the answer was self-evident.

There was a Christmas dinner dance at the club and my parents, Kris and I attended. The other girls elected to stay home and goof off. However, Liz and Tina were both very busy preparing Mom and Kris for the dance. Dad and I were in black tie and were waiting for the women in the living room. And waiting ... And waiting...

Finally, they both appeared. I was stunned. And not by Kris, but by my own mother! She was ravishing. The two were wearing identical white gowns with necklines that plunged below their navels and backs that exposed the top of their cracks. The gowns were slit up both sides to their hips revealing their utterly perfect tanned legs when they moved. But the killer was both women had large brilliant-cut jewels in their navels in case someone didn't realize just how low their dresses were cut. Mom was wearing an emerald while Kris wore a ruby.

"Cameron," my mother said acerbically, "how many times have your father and I told you not to stand with your mouth open and your jaw hanging down? I mean ... Some people find it most embarrassing!"

Kris was a great help. She didn't even try to control her giggle.

"Is ... Is that all?" I managed to stammer.

The two women proceeded to look at each other up and down as if to see if something was missing. Then Mom snapped her fingers and pulled the front panel of the skirt to the side revealing her crotch. "Of course not!" she replied. "We're both wearing thongs."

And she was. Moreover, it was clear that her pussy was by then as bare as Kris's. And that was all they were wearing! Just the gowns, their thongs and white pumps.

"Well?" Mother demanded. "What do you think?"

"Mom," I stammered, "it's Christmas ... and it's cold. Aren't you a bit ... exposed?"

With her eyes dancing — and Kris still giggling — she replied, "It's silk, dear, and it's quite warm. Furthermore, your dad gave me a lovely full-length mink for Christmas and it gives me the opportunity to show it off." Then looking down at her chest she added, "Of course my nipples are larger than Kris's and so are my areolae, but they're just as hard as hers. Don't you think they look nice?"

While the dress was opaque, both her nipples and areolae were clearly visible through the material.

Finally I managed to stammer, "Mother, you look ravishing!"

And with the sexiest smile aimed at my father she said, "And I'm really counting on being thoroughly ravished later!"

Dad was quicker than I was ... or maybe he had had advance warning. He went to Mom, took her in his arms and the two kissed. I was astonished. It was exactly like the kisses that Kris and I shared, complete with the electricity and the bells.

When they eased apart, Mom punched Dad in the arm and murmured, "Damn you, Bill Harris! You've made me soak my thong and we haven't even left the house yet!"

Dad didn't seem very repentant.

Then she grinned and added, "Oh, well ... That's the nice thing about thongs: They're so tiny I can carry a few spares in my evening bag."

I drove that night in the big Mercedes with my parents cuddled in the back seat. Because of the spaciousness of the car's interior, there was significant separation between the passengers in the front from those in the rear.

Kris slid toward me wearing one of her Christmas presents from me, a full-length Russian sable coat. Whispering in my ear she asked, "What did you think, Cam? Is your mother pretty enough for you? Am I?"

"You both are outrageously beautiful." Then I shook my head and added, "But what are the other women going to think?"

"They're going to be green with envy," she replied, still in a whisper. "Particularly the women who know Mother." Then she giggled and added, "And at the club, that's just about all of them."

"What about the men?"

"They'll really have a problem."

"A problem?"

"Yes," she said with another lovely giggle, "which one of us to rape first, your mother or me." Then she rubbed my biceps through my coat and added, "It's really great that you and Dad are so big and strong. You'll be able to protect your women from those other cavemen."

The dance lived up to my expectations. When we entered the dining room, there was an audible gasp from the other diners, most of whom were already at their tables when we arrived. Never in my life have I seen my father look as proud as he did that night with Mom on his arm. Her posture was by then identical to Kris's: She stood tall and straight and moved like a queen.

You know what? I think that was the only time in our entire life together that Kris was ever upstaged by another woman. And you know something else? She loved it.

We spent the evening dining, dancing and holding court. Virtually every member came over to our table at least once. And our women hardly noticed. Hah! They always managed to be sitting in such a way as to expose the jewels shining brightly in their navels while seeming to be totally unaware of the effect they were having on our visitors. Of course once in a while — purely by accident, I'm sure — one or the other would allow a breast to slip out from behind the silk.

It happened to Mom first. I'm sure I gaped when I saw her perfect demi-globe exposed with her bright red nipple. I asked Kris about it.

"Oh, it's just makeup," she remarked casually. "It is winter, after all, and without it our nipples might appear too pale. Aren't Mom's tits perfect? She's really been exercising and they're still so firm and perfectly shaped."

So much for modesty in the Harris family.

The dancing was lovely. Kris moved in my arms like a feather, and so did my mother when we exchanged partners. At the same time, it was quickly apparent that our women had less than no interest in any other man present.

My reaction — and Dad's? "Eat your hearts out, guys. They're ours!"

When we finally headed for home, Mom was absolutely bubbling. We had been drinking champagne, but that wasn't it at all. Her comment? "Kris, it was all worthwhile. All that exercise was a royal pain in the butt, but it paid off. Thank you, dear daughter, for all of your help."

Kris just smiled warmly.

At home we found Tina and Liz waiting up for us. They wanted a blow-by-blow account of the evening. While Kris started to tell them about it, Mom, just standing in the living room, reached up and untied the knot holding her dress up. Once freed, the whole thing just dropped to the floor.

Standing there nude except for her thong, she was incredibly beautiful. To Kris she said, "You tell them." Then to Dad with her eyes bright she said, "My ravishment? Remember?" Dragging her dress on the carpet, she moved toward the stairs.

When I got up the next morning, I found myself alone in the bed. Going downstairs I found the women having coffee in the kitchen while Mom was telling them about the previous night. As I walked in she was saying, "But the very best part was what came later. Kristin Harris, your father had me in orgasm for almost 90 minutes! And that was only the first time. There were at least three more episodes after that. Spectacular! And I lost count of how many times Bill came in me, but it was lots."

Then she gently rubbed her pussy and added, "I'm so sore down there, I can't stand even to touch it. And it just feels so great!"



-------

Chapter 15



There were a couple of things I omitted about our life together. The first was pro football. I think I mentioned that the girls could all talk knowledgeably about it, but I didn't realize until the season started how much they really liked it and how closely they followed it. It was really funny. Terry was still with us at the time, and it seemed that each of the four girls had a different favorite team.

Kris adored the Rams, Liz, the Giants; Tina, the Patriots; while Terry loved the Jets. Each girl owned a real professional-quality summer game jersey — Kris's had Kurt Warner's #13 — and a team ball cap. Needless to say, we had a satellite receiver and subscribed to the full NFL game package that permitted us to watch any game being played. Every Sunday the girls would put on their jerseys and ball caps — nothing else, and those summer jerseys are made of a nearly-transparent mesh — and curl up in the library to watch the games.

We had one set with a 36-inch screen and several more with 27s. It all came down to their weekly football pool: Beginning with the preseason games, the girls would pick the winners — taking or giving the Las Vegas points — with overs and unders used in the case of ties. The ultimate tiebreaker was the total points scored in all of Sunday's games by all teams.

At any rate, the week's winner got to see her game the following week on the big screen with the sound on. The others were relegated to the smaller sets and earphones if they wanted to hear the play-by-play. The week's loser, though, couldn't wear her jersey or ball cap and had to serve the others with drinks and munchies all day and didn't get to see her team unless it was playing one of the other three. Kris had an uncanny ability to pick winners. As a result, she never had to serve and quite often got to watch the Rams on the big screen.

Kris quickly found that she could sit with my erect cock buried in her pussy for an entire game. But she wouldn't let me bring her to orgasm while the game clock was running. Mostly, she saved it for halftime and breaks between games. I saw a lot of her beautiful back that fall.

After a few games, they decided that Kris wasn't being fair to the rest of them. So while Kris would sit on my lap with her back to me, the week's winner would sit beside me and we would kiss and I had luscious tits to fondle. As long as my prick was buried deep in her cunt, Kris didn't mind a bit. I quickly learned that I could get any of the girls off just by kissing and pinching their breasts and nipples. But again, it was considered unfair to bring them to orgasm when the ball was in play.

What a life!

Then there was one other thing, and it was Kris's idea. Tina was the first girl to have her birthday while we were all together. And since I had never made love to her — or to Terry — Kris decided that the perfect birthday present would be for me to make love to the birthday girl. (Incidentally, I never did make it with Terry; she was already living with Tom Allison when her birthday rolled around.) As I said, Tina was first.

Beginning mid-afternoon on her birthday, all four girls disappeared. Obviously, they were taking the whole thing very seriously. When Kris finally emerged, I asked her about the evening — would she be there with us?

"No, sweetie," she replied, "it's Tina's night." Then with a grin she added, "The rest of us are going to revert to our natural mode: trashy. And we're going to practice being slutty." With her mouth turned down but with her eyes dancing, she said, "You never give me a chance to be my normal slutty self ... but Liz and Terry do!"

Later, all of us except Tina were sitting in the living room having pre-dinner drinks. Then Tina appeared. She was a vision! Her tawny hair was arranged loosely around her face being held only by a single green ribbon in a shade that exactly matched her eyes. She was wearing a diaphanous peignoir that came only an inch or so below her crotch. It was being held closed by only a single green ribbon around her neck.

Barefoot, she padded over to the sofa where I was sitting alone. Kris gave her a glass of Tico dry cocktail sherry.

I gently clinked my drink glass against hers and said softly, "Happy birthday, Tina. And may you have many more."

Her eyes were glowing with anticipation and the girl shivered with delight.

The girls presented her with their gifts all of which were very lovely, very thoughtful and very expensive. The girl was thrilled.

Kris and the others really outdid themselves on the dinner that night. I really don't think there is a restaurant anywhere in the world that could have done as well. As the guest of honor, Tina was seated at my right at the table and repeatedly reached out just to touch my hand.

We had ice cream and cake and then finished with coffee and cognac. Although cigars were offered — and smoked by the other girls — Tina passed saying that she didn't want her mouth to taste of cigar.

Retiring to the master bedroom, Tina just stood there and I realized the girl's whole body was trembling.

"What's wrong, darling?" I asked.

Suddenly she started to bawl. "I'm going to disappoint you, Cam!" she cried. "I just know I am. Kris is so perfect and I'm so ... yuck!"

Taking her in my arms I kissed her. Her lips were soft, loving and utterly delicious. There was the same love in hers that I always found in Kris's, but there wasn't the electricity or the bells.

In no time she had stripped off my clothing and actually hung it up. I washed up and then at her request, waited for her in bed. When she finished in the bathroom, she came to the side of the bed and just stood there, waiting. Tina was utterly exquisite as she stood there, still wearing the peignoir, but with the ribbon now untied. Instead of covering her body, now it hung like a pair of very sheer curtains framing it.

I held out my hands and with a little gasp, she dove for me on the bed.

I began to really work her over. It was lovemaking as taught to me by Kristin Collins. I began by kissing her lips then moving around her face to nibble on her ears. Tina had slipped out of her gown and was sensuously moving her body all over mine. Clearly, she was from the same school as Kris.

When I moved down to her breasts and took one in my mouth and began to suck on the whole thing while nibbling on her nipple, she had her first orgasm. And it was the first of many. I moved further down her gorgeous tanned body to her navel and then down to her bare pubis. After lifting her legs and positioning her thighs over my shoulders, I really started to work on her.

A few probes with my tongue into her vagina and a few flicks of her clit brought her to her first screaming climax. "Eat me!" Tina screamed. "Eat my filthy whore's cunt! Bite it! Bite it off!"

Soon her whole body was in spasm. Her arms were flying around and her head was jerking around as if it was no longer attached to her body. When I realized she was unable to breathe, I eased off to let her draw a breath or two, then began again.

"No more, Cam!" she finally moaned. "Please, no more! Just fuck me! Please?"

"No."

"No?" she nearly screamed. "Oh, God, please don't say that! I'm so ready I'm going to float away. Why not? Why won't you fuck me? Kris says it's all right."

I leaned down and kissed her. Her lips were soft and sweet. For that matter, her cum cream was almost as sweet as Kris's, and she came nearly as hard, too. Separating a bit I said, "No, Tina, I'm not going to fuck you. But if you ask nicely, I would really like to make love to you tonight."

Her eyes widened as my message registered. Then with the most loving smile I ever saw on her face she said, "Cam, love me! Please love me."

I kissed her again and then spread her thighs. The instant I did that, she moved them so wide they were virtually perpendicular to her body sideways. At the same time she arched her body upward to make it easy for me to enter her now-gaping cunt.

I tried to ease in but it just didn't work. As wet as she was — and her vagina was flooded with her juices and cum — it just didn't work that way. Because of her position, Tina was in no condition to really help so I brought her legs closer together and put them over my shoulders while still leaving her thighs spread wide apart.

"How ... does ... she do it?" Tina gasped. "You're huge!" Reaching downward with the greatest delicacy she began to run her fingers very lightly over the length of my cock although its head was imbedded in her pussy. "So beautiful!" she gasped. "You're so smooth and soft and hard as a rock."

With that she began screwing herself onto my rampaging weapon. It actually got to be funny. In fact, Tina started to giggle as she tried every motion and combination of motions imaginable to get me deeper inside her.

"My Lord!" she giggled, "this is actually fun!" Then she looked into my eyes and said softly, "Cam, can you believe it? This is the very first time I've ever been with a man and had fun. I have great times with Kris, Liz and Terry, and have enjoyed being with a number of men, but this is the first time it's ever been fun." Then she frowned and added, "Of course, let's just forget about all the fucking around I did before I got to the Institute." Tears came to the corners of her eyes as she concluded, "That was fucking for survival: No fuck, no food."

That really made me think of the utterly marvelous young woman I had sharing my bed. With my own background of wealth, it was really hard to imagine a girl having to fuck to get money to eat, but I knew that in the cases of all of the girls it was true. It had really happened.

Finally, though, after a great deal of work — and a lot of fun — I was as deep into her as I was going to get. Her vagina was stretched to its breaking point and the lengthwise stretching had caused it to shrink even tighter in circumference around my invading cock. By that time, there were about two inches or so that didn't make it inside her. But it was enough. More than enough.

Slowly I began to ease out of her gripping sheath and then back in again. Tina was using her muscles to try to hold my cock inside her as I withdrew while doing everything in her power to open herself up to me on the downstroke. Slowly, I was able to pick up speed. As I began to really pound her pussy, Tina had her first orgasm with me inside her. When I released a little cum — somehow I had learned how to control my spendings — she came again.

It was similar to what I experienced with Kris. Each time I shot inside her, Tina would cum. I would let her come down from her peak a bit, then shoot again. That took her to a still higher peak. We continued in that vein for quite a while until her peak was so high she lost consciousness.

I held her in my arms and managed to roll sideways on the bed, while still hard and buried in her vagina. Gently, I caressed her and wiped some of the sweat from her face. Her whole body was glistening with her perspiration. Then when I very gently ran my fingers over her closed eyelids, they opened and she blinked.

"Unbelievable!" she whispered. Then she grinned and added, "We're going to have to redo the textbooks we're using at the Institute. What you do to a girl, Cam, is so far beyond anything in the books, it's utterly ridiculous!"

Then her eyes widened as she became more aware of her own body and realized I was still very hard and still buried deep inside her. "I just don't believe this!" she breathed. "It's what Kris told us you did, but we all put it down to wild exaggeration. All except Liz, that is. But she never said a word." Tina looked into my eyes and exclaimed, "That bitch! She knew the truth all the time, but never said a word..." Then she grinned and continued, "And now I know why, too. She knew damn well we would have raped you months ago if we had known the truth." Slowly she shook her head and said, "No, that's not right, either. We did know the truth. It's exactly what Kris has been saying right along. It's our own fault for not believing her."

With that, I took her again. And again. And again.

After falling asleep, or passing out, or whatever, I finally took her in her ass. Tina greeted that with great anticipation on the basis that she could take anything up her ass all the way, and so she did.

Early the following morning, she somehow managed to take my cock all the way down her throat, although she almost died from oxygen deprivation in the process.

The next morning was funny. (Actually, it was close to noon before we awakened.) Tina found that her legs wouldn't support her, so she crawled on her hands and knees across the room and then across the portion of the terrace separating the two sides of the "U" shaped structure. I followed along behind, shaking my head as I watched my cum leaking from her still-stretched asshole and our mixed fluids from her vagina.

Entering the kitchen, Tina already had a cup of coffee on the floor in front of her.

"Sheesh!" Kris commented disdainfully. "Aren't you even housebroken, yet? Tina Miller, you're leaking fluids all over everything!"

Tina was really upset. Yeah, sure! "Really?" she asked in a bored tone of voice. "Don't worry about it, Kris. They will have mostly all drained out in a day or two."



-------

Chapter 16



Memorial Day weekend was something else. Again we were spending it with my parents, but this time — like the previous 4th of July — the girls elected to stay at the penthouse. Remembering the torture of the drive on the 4th, I was a bit smarter and took the big Mercedes with its automatic transmission. It didn't make the traffic any lighter, but it sure saved a lot of wear and tear on my left knee.

Mom and Dad were at the door to greet us, and I almost died! Mom had looked lovely at Christmas, but nothing like she did that day. She was a truly outstanding beauty and, except for her white hair, might have had some difficulty being served a cocktail. She was utterly outrageous!

And it was funny. For both Kris and me it was like truly coming home. There was none of the "what have you been doing lately" nonsense. For one reason, I knew that Mom and Kris talked on the phone every day, and I would have lunch frequently with Dad. They knew what we had been doing lately at least as well as we did ourselves. It was Friday night, and after cocktails and hors d'oeuvres, Mom served a beautiful dinner. It was French haute cuisine, and was superb. She hastened to inform us that the dinner was due to Kris's coaching.

Finally we were just sitting around the dining table enjoying coffee and cognac when Mom reached out both hands, one to me and the other to Kris. Then looking into Kris's eyes she asked, "When are you and Cam getting married, Daughter?"

Sadly shaking her head, Kris said softly, "We're not, Mother. We can't. I'm a whore, remember?"

"And there's no way a girl with your background would ever be accepted in a family like the Harris's. Right?"

Kris just nodded.

"Young lady..." she said, then turning to me added, "and young sir: Let me tell you a few of the Harris family facts of life:

"First of all, Bill and I might have the last arranged marriage in the United States. You both know that our families are wealthy on both sides. Bill and I aren't proud of it, but it is a fact. Moreover, as I'm sure you both know, our family tree, instead of being shaped like a pyramid, is shaped like a diamond." Looking at me she said, "And you, Cam — by the way, Dad and I apologize for your name; we know you don't like being called Cam and never have — are the point at the south end of the diamond. In a word, you're it!

"But what's this have to do with anything, you wonder? Well, I'll tell you: As I just said, our marriage was arranged. Both of our families were looking at diamond-shaped trees, and Bill and I were at the south end of our respective diamonds. So both families agreed there should be a merger. I was never consulted, and I don't think Bill was either... ?"

She looked down the table at Dad with a question in her eyes. He just shook his head with a wry smile on his face.

"I didn't think so." Then looking back and forth between Kris and me she said, "You know what? This is the very first time your father and I have ever mentioned what I'm telling you right now, particularly to each other. But as we've all just learned for the first time, your father wasn't consulted either.

"But what the hell ... It really didn't make any difference. Bill had his mistress, after all, and I had my lover..." Mom looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully, her blue eyes sparkling, then said, "I think there was only one at that time, but there could have been at least one more. God only knows how many I had, or how many I had at one time. The fact of the matter was I usually had a stable of them. I would send for whichever one would be the best to service me at the time. Did I want to be raped? Beaten? Tied up? I had specialists for all of those things.

"And you know something else? Your father and I almost blew off our honeymoon. I mean ... Why bother? He would have had a much better time with his mistress as I would have had with my stable of lovers ... But there might have been only one. Who knows? Anyway..."

Turning to Kris, she said, "Okay, now let's get it out on the table all the way this time. What is it about your background that keeps you from marrying Cam?"

"The fact — and it is a fact — that I've been a prostitute virtually my whole life. How's that for a reason? I've just finished spending eight years recovering from my past life and then learning how really to please a man in bed. Mother, I'm a whore!" Kris nearly screamed.

"That reminds me..." Mom said thoughtfully. "There's going to be a change around here." With that she rose from the table, left the room and then returned with two very small plastic boxes in her hand. She gave one to Kris and the other to me.

I looked at it and found it contained two small pink things. They looked familiar, but I couldn't quite identify them. I looked at Mom with a question in my eyes.

"They're earplugs, turkey!" she said with a grin. "The fact is I'm a very noisy and foul-mouthed fuck ... And I like it that way! And I'm damned sick and tired of having to eat the damned pillowcase to keep from disturbing our innocent children." She glared at me, then at Kris, and added, "The 'innocent children' are you two, in case you were wondering.

"Anyway, from now on if you don't want to hear me screaming when your father is fucking my brains out, use these. Okay?"

I just shook my head.

"Mom, you're too damned much!" Kris commented with a lovely giggle.

"Anyway, back to my story," Mom continued. "We finally decided we would honeymoon together, anyway. Tradition, and all that, don't you know? So we did."

Then turning to Kris she asked, "Have you ever peddled your ass on the street?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Why?"

Kris slowly shook her head and replied the way I remembered Tina had: "Mostly to eat. No fuck, no food."

Mom slowly nodded her head, but I could see tears at the corners of her eyes. Then she utterly stunned Kris when she said, "I did it for the hell of it."

"You what?" Kris nearly screamed.

"I peddled my ass on the street for the hell of it," Mom repeated. Then she snapped her fingers and continued, "No, that isn't strictly true..."

Kris was just looking at Mom with an expression of shocked amazement on her face.

"Nope, it isn't strictly true," Mom repeated. "You both know we're rich as Crœsus. Notwithstanding, occasionally there were things I wanted that my parents didn't think I should have. And you know what else? They were always right, too. But anyway, whenever it happened I would peddle my ass to get enough money to buy whatever the hell it was I wanted at the time."

"How ... how much did you charge?" Kris managed to stammer.

"Between one hundred and five hundred a trick," Mother replied casually. "Whatever I thought the traffic would bear. I guess I looked pretty good in those olden days."

"As good as you look now?" Kris asked shyly.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Mom replied with a laugh. "Never in my life have I looked as good as I do now. But maybe the guys liked the soft cushiony feeling of fucking me. God only knows I was larded with enough flab to provide a good cushion for any guy." Then she looked at Kris and asked, "How much did you charge?"

"I got twenty-five dollars," she replied softly, "but that was only once. Mostly it was for five or ten." Then with an attempt at a grin on her face she added, "I guess I never worked the right places. And I was mostly skin and bones at the time, too. And since I was under 16 — for most of the time way under — maybe the johns were afraid of the cops, too. Sex with a minor is a tough rap."

I saw tears come to Mother's eyes, listening to Kris. Sadly, she shook her head and continued, "Anyway, I continued my promiscuous ways until Cam was born. When he was, I didn't reform, but I was really fat and sex wasn't fun anymore. That brings me to last summer, Kris, when you appeared. You forced me to shape up. And you know what?"

"What?" Kris asked.

"Sex has never been as good as it's been the last eight months or so." Looking down at Dad at the end of the table, she continued, "I've cum more in that time than I have over the rest of my life combined. And, Cameron and Kristin Harris, have you had a good look at your father lately? Like me, he's now tanned all over — I adore being fucked by a big tanned cock — and is in better shape than he's been in in his entire life."

She grinned and added, "And guess what else? Your dad and I had physicals recently and just got the results a couple of days ago. Your father is in great shape ... for a man of 30. And I'm in great shape ... for a girl of 25! How do you like that?" she asked proudly.

Kris just squealed and jumped from her chair. Going to Mom, she sat across her lap and really unloaded with all her love in her kiss. While I know it would kill most people, Mom just savored it and returned as good as she got. Then Kris staggered down and repeated it with Dad. I was both amused and amazed to see that she was so shaken by the power of my parents' (our parents'?) kisses, she almost passed out.

"Now, young lady," Mom continued when Kris could again focus her eyes, "one more time: Why can't you marry Cam?"

This time Kris just stubbornly shook her head but didn't say a word. But I could tell that what she had just learned had shaken her down to her shoes.

That night, Kris and I both laughed as we heard Mom scream, "Deeper, Bill! Fuck me deeper! Fuck my brains out! Fuck the ass off your slut wife!"

We were both convinced that it was largely for our benefit, so Kris reciprocated by screaming her lungs out, too, as well as using every obscenity she could think of, and creating a few more of her own.

The next morning when we went down to breakfast, the two women just looked at each other and began howling with laughter.

-------

On Sunday afternoon, Kris and I got our comeuppance on the golf course. And from my (our?) own mother yet. There was another member-guest tournament — fortunately, our membership application was still in process, so Kris and I were still guests — and we were playing with the parents. Unfortunately, for us, we also gave Mom and Dad full handicaps.

Dad we could handle, but Mom killed us. Since it was still early in the season, and the parents had been away on Maui for a month, Mom was using her handicap from the previous year. And — purely by accident, I'm sure (yeah, right) — she neglected to post her scores from Kapalua. The result was her handicap was in the high 20s — about 28 if I remember correctly.

But ... First of all, she was far stronger as a result of her daily workouts. Furthermore, she had been practicing all winter on the computerized golf trainer. Finally, playing at Kapalua had allowed her to polish her game and get used to her new, much stronger clubs. They were very similar to the ones Kris used. Enough said?

The result of this was that with Mom's 28 handicap vs. Kris's 2, Kris was giving 26 strokes. That's at least one on every hole and two on stroke holes 1 through 8. It was too much. Much too much. But then I had to go and compound the felony by very stupidly pressing the whole match after we lost the first hole. Since we were playing a $10 Nassau, it had become a $20 Nassau, and we got killed.

I guess it really was funny, though. Of course, Kris and I won the low gross, while Mom and Dad walked away with low net and really challenged us for low gross, too. I peeled off three 20s to pay Dad, while Kris just cried.

"I don't have any money, Mommy!" she wailed. "It's in my contract. Cam doesn't pay me anything!"

"Oh, you poor dear," Mom sympathized while looking like the cat who was about to swallow the canary. "I guess I'll just have to take it out in trade."

And that's exactly what she did, starting as soon as we returned home. Kris and Mom disappeared toward the master bedroom. But it didn't end there.

Just before dinner, I heard Dad yell out, "Marty! What have you done to our bed? It's sopping!"

I was with her in the kitchen at the time and we went up to the bedroom. Kris was already there, having come from our suite.

"What is this?" Dad demanded. "Aren't you two housebroken?"

And he was right. Cum cream was pooled all over the bed.

"Oh, dear," Mom said, scarcely able to control her giggling. "It's really my fault. And it's such a conundrum, too..."

"What's a conundrum?" Dad asked suspiciously.

"Bill, our daughter's pussy is really as sweet as sugar! And her cum cream... ! Delicious!" she exclaimed, drawing out the word. But then she pouted and added, "But there's something else, too. Kris ejaculates." With her eyes wide, Mom continued, "Honest! She really does. Just like a guy. And it's so fascinating to watch it shoot all over the place."

Then her face dropped and she continued, "But that's the trouble. You see, she can't control the direction very well like a guy can, so it goes all over. And I can only catch a bit of it, chasing it with my mouth. And so," she concluded glumly, "that's what you're looking at." With that, Mom put a couple of fingers on the bed and scooped up a glob. After licking it off her fingers she said, "Yum! You two really should try some."

So Dad and I did. And so did Kris, for that matter. And it really was as sweet as sugar.



-------

Chapter 17



It was later in July when Kris came into the library to announce that we were going to Tiffany's. It seemed that there were some women named Dawson over there — whoever the hell they might be [See Jean & Jim at Stories Online] — and she wanted to see them. Not having anything better to do — so what else is new? — I called Jack Thompson, chairman and CEO of Tiffany & Company.

It took a bit of doing to get him to the phone. His secretary apologized up and down, but said that whenever the Dawsons were around a Tiffany store, all hell broke loose. They were around, and it had. But finally a breathless Jack Thompson came to the phone.

When I explained what Kris wanted, his reaction was a heartfelt, "Oh, shit!"

Then he continued, "Cam, you're a major shareholder. Believe me, if you weren't there would just be no way. But since you are..." He then proceeded to give me instructions: We were to go to the employees entrance at 6:15 and he would meet us there. "God willing," he concluded, "the crush of people will have abated by then."

This got me thinking and I asked Tina and Liz to research it for me. What they found was astounding. To say I'm not an avid reader of annual reports is the kindest thing one could say. But the report noted a huge increase in sales at the flagship New York store the preceding Christmas that was attributed to the Dawson advertising and the personal appearance at the store of the Dawson women themselves.

Very interesting, I thought.

For the visit, Kris went all out with her dress. I was surprised. At 6:15, as instructed, we were at the employees entrance, and there was Jack Thompson to greet us. Quite honestly, he looked shot to shit.

"My God! What happened to you?"

"The Dawsons happened to me ... again!" he replied with a tired grin.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Did you notice the crowds out front, by any chance?" he asked.

I nodded. There had been a mob scene. In addition there appeared to be a battalion of New York's Finest trying to maintain some semblance of order and trying to permit some pedestrian traffic to get past the 5th Avenue store.

"That's the Dawsons," Thompson concluded.

"But why in hell do you do it," I asked, "if it always works this way?"

"Look, Cam, let me explain the facts of life: This is midsummer. This is a very slow time of year for a big-city jewelry store. Do you know what kind of business we're doing today?"

I just shook my head.

"Let me put it this way: The biggest selling period for fine jewelry and giftware is at Christmastime. The business we did here today would be great business ... for the busiest full week in the Christmas selling season. In fact," he added, "we haven't come close to totaling it up, but it wouldn't surprise me if it was two weeks' Christmas business! How's that for why?"

"But how... ?" I stammered. Meanwhile, Kris had just been watching the exchange, fascinated.

"The Dawsons is how. Those women are the greatest asset we have! Now why don't you come and meet them?" As he said that, I noticed him giving Kris a very strange look.

We followed him in and then out toward the selling floor. At the doorway, we waited for the last customers to be served. But at the same time, I could see that people were still trying to get in, in spite of the locked doors and the army of police. Unbelievable!

Finally the last of the customers was allowed out, and we could hear an audible sound of relief from the Tiffany staff. But then I noticed that three women standing behind the counters were looking elated.

While I was woolgathering, Kris moved past me toward the eldest of the three. Only then did I realize I was looking at ... Kris!

Going up to her, Kris just put out her arms. The other woman extended hers, too, palms up, while Kris had her palms down. The two clasped forearms and just looked into each other's eyes. But at the same time, it was almost like I was seeing a two-way flow of electricity through their hands.

"Jean?" Kris whispered.

"Kristin?" the woman answered.

At that moment I had the strangest experience. It was as if I was seeing a movie in my mind. There were two small golden-haired girls, holding hands and laughing merrily as they ran through a field of wildflowers. They were utterly adorable. Just as I was about to see something more, it was as if film had snapped. There was a flash of light, and then ... nothing.

Meanwhile the two women just leaned toward each other, separated by the display case. But that didn't stop them for an instant. Two heads cocked and two pairs of lips merged. It was the most beautiful kiss I've ever seen in my life!

Kris released her right hand, but continued to hold the woman with her left as they moved to a gap between the counters. Reaching it, the other woman came out on the selling floor and just wrapped Kris in her arms. Again, their kiss had so much power it would have killed anyone else alive.

Finally, they eased apart and the other woman breathed, "Hi, Baby Sister!"

Kris's eyes flashed and she exclaimed, "Baby Sister! What is this shit! We're identical twins, turkey!"

"But, Kristin dear, you're a full six minutes younger than I am. So you're the baby sister."

"Grr!" Kris responded, but with her arm around her sister, she brought her to me. "Cam, I guess you've already gathered as much, but this is my identical twin sister, Jean. Until a few minutes ago, I didn't think I had a relative or ever had one, for that matter. But when I saw her for the first time..."

"The controls shorted out," Jean continued. Then she extended her hand and said, "How do you do? I'm Jean Dawson, as you may have gathered, and I'm related to your wife..."

She stopped when I slowly shook my head. "I would love her to be, but she won't marry me," I explained. "Now what did you mean about controls shorting out?"

"There are a couple of pieces to it," she began. "In the first place — and this may be news to Kris — we're from someplace else. I have no idea where, but it's not on Earth. In the second place, somehow they — whoever 'they' might be — 'lost' Kris. Heaven only knows when, but it was some time ago. Did you see the electricity flow between us when we gripped each other's arms?"

"Yes, I did," I admitted. "What was it?"

"That was reconnecting Kris to wherever. Oh, yeah ... And it updated her software ... Quite a bit, in fact." Looking at Kris she said, "You're going to have fun with your new powers."

"'New powers'? Like what?"

"Well, I don't exactly know what you had before, but now you have a recording and indexing capability: Anything you see or hear is recorded somehow, and indexed for immediate recall. Then there's conversation tracking: If you can see someone — at any distance — you can hear them and will automatically record whatever they're saying. You can move around and so can they, but the tracking is locked on. As long as they're still in sight, it works. You can also hear both sides of any phone conversation, too."

Kris was stunned.

"Before things go much further, what are your plans?" I asked.

"We're headed back to Chicago in about an hour," Jean said. "Have to get back to hubby."

"Bullshit! Get hubby the hell out here!" I retorted. "There's no way in hell you're leaving today."

"But ... we have no place to stay," Jean insisted. "We just came out for the day, and Jim will hang me from my nipples if I'm not back."

"Garbage!" I announced. Then I asked Thompson for a phone and called Executive Aviation. Speaking to the president, Fred Hodges, I told him I needed a plane right away to bring Jim Dawson from Chicago to New York.

"Jim Dawson? Hell, we just flew the women and the baby in this morning."

"You did?" I exclaimed.

"Oh, sure. Because of tens of millions in business that Jim Dawson has produced for us — and is still producing, by the way — the Dawsons always fly free. Anytime. Anywhere. If you can get Jim to the airport at Glenview fast enough, we'll have him in Teterboro within three hours."

Curiouser and curiouser.

Then I called Mom and told her to get her lovely ass into the city ASAP, and to get Dad up to the penthouse. That was something new, too: Instead of fighting the traffic, we had started using a charter helicopter service. I called the service and they immediately dispatched a chopper to my parents' place.

Meanwhile, while still shaking her head, Jean had called Jim and clued him in. All the wheels were turning.

At that point I turned and saw Kris hugging and kissing two utterly beautiful girls. Finally, they eased apart and Kris brought them over. "Cam, I would like you to meet two of the most charming girls alive, my nieces, Sandra and Susan. Darling, aren't they the most beautiful young women you've ever seen?"

And they were. And they are!

Both were ecstatic, particularly the younger, Susan. She gave me one of the most incredibly loving kisses of my life while I held her in my arms. Then while still in my arms — and up in the air — she turned to her sister and said, "Isn't this incredibly neat, Sandy? Now we have a genuine aunt and uncle! Our very first real living relatives!"

Sandy's kiss was at least as loving but even more powerful than her sister's.

Finally, we prepared to leave Tiffany's and I thanked Jack Thompson for his courtesy and his help.

"Cam," he said, "this has been an incredible ending to what was already an incredible day." Then he looked at me and added, "You're also one of the two luckiest men alive. Jim Dawson is the other. Those two women — Jean and Kristin — have an infinite capacity for creating joy. Buddy, you are truly blessed!"

And you know what? He's right.

Liz was playing chauffeur that day. For the occasion, she brought out the Rolls limo and picked us all up. I noted that Jean had a Port-A-Crib with her, but there was too much commotion to pay any more attention. Fortunately, by the time we got out of the store — again using the employees entrance — traffic — both pedestrian and vehicular — had abated somewhat. At least one could move again.

Liz dropped us off at the front door of the apartment, then continued on over to the East Side heliport to wait for Mother. The rest of us went on up. We were no sooner in the door than Dad appeared, followed only a few minutes later by Mom and Liz.

Even though the Memorial Day experience had shaken Kris, she still refused to marry me. We had just explained it to Jean when she went to the Port-A-Crib, retrieved a small baby, and turned him over to Sandy. A few minutes later the girl was back and returned the infant to his mother.

Kris's eyes widened. "He's so beautiful!" she exclaimed. We had learned that the baby was James Russell Dawson, Jr., known as Jamey.

"Want to hold him for a moment, Sis?" Jean asked. "If you bare a nipple, he'll be happy for a minute or two, anyway."

In an instant, Kris had opened the top of the shirtwaist dress she was wearing and bared one of her luscious tits. Holding the baby with the greatest care, she held it to her left breast. The infant started to suckle and then ... to swallow!

Jean's eyes widened. Getting to her feet, she went to Kris and placed a hand lightly on her abdomen and held it there. She grimaced but didn't say a thing.

Meanwhile, baby Jamey was drinking up a storm. Not only was he satisfied, it seemed that, as far as he was concerned, he was nursing at his mother's breast. Finally, he finished with that breast and Kris moved him to her other. She was really looking embarrassed as she did, and I was certain it was not a question of baring her breast. Everyone present in the apartment had seen Kris naked, and usually far more than once. Finally, it was apparent that the infant had drunk his fill and had fallen asleep. It was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen to see Kris ever so gently stroke his face and head, provoking warm sounds from the baby when she did.

This time it was Susan who took the infant away.

Jean was the first to speak. "Sis, you're not married?"

Kris just shook her head.

"Well, you're going to be ... and very soon!"

"I am like hell!" Kris exclaimed.

"Oh, yes you are!" Jean insisted. "And I'm sure you haven't told anyone you're carrying Cam's baby, have you?"

Kris just shook her head while I was in a state of shock.

"When is the baby due?" Jean asked.

Again Kris just shook her head.

"Don't give me that shit, Baby Sister! You know damned well when it's due, now when?"

Again Kris shook her head, but even though her head was down, I could see tears flowing down her cheeks.

"It's very soon; now when?" Jean insisted.

"A ... a couple of weeks," Kris replied in a voice scarcely above a whisper.

"I figured..." Jean said in an exasperated tone.

"But that can't be!" Mom insisted. "Just look at her! Her belly is as flat as a board!"

"Mrs. Harris—"

Mom just glared at her and started drumming her long fingernails on an adjacent table.

"What can I call you, if I can't call you 'Mrs. Harris'?" Jean protested.

"Well ... Your sister — your identical twin sister — calls me Mom. Now, if I'm the mother of your identical twin, what does that make me to you?"

"My ... my mother?" she asked incredulously.

"Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" Mom asked sarcastically. "And you're not nearly as dumb as your sister, either." At that point Mother smiled warmly and held out her arms.

"Mother?" Jean murmured as, moving like a zombie, she went to her and sat across her lap.

Then I saw something that utterly amazed me. Jean Dawson kissed my mother with at least as much power as she used on Kris. But it seemed to have even less effect on Mom than it did on her twin! I was astonished. And then it came to me: Of course, a daughter couldn't put her own mother out with her kiss. Meanwhile, Mom was caressing Jean all over and hugging her tightly while their lips were still locked together. When they eased apart, Jean was gasping for breath but Mom was fine.

"Welcome home, my darling daughter," Mom said in a voice barely above a whisper. "It's been an awfully long time!"

At that, Jean just hugged Mother tightly and began to bawl. It was as if a huge emotional dam had just broken and all the stored-up hurts and heartaches just came flooding out. For her part, Mom just hugged her and stroked her lovely wavy hair.

When they moved apart this time, Jean's face was wreathed in the warmest, happiest smile I've ever seen on a person's face. "Hi, Mom!" she said brightly, kissing the tip of Mom's nose.

Mom just kissed the tip of Jean's nose and gave her one hard spank. Jean just rubbed the spot and gave her new mother a lovely grin. "Now, daughter Jean, you were about to tell me how daughter Kris can be expecting a baby in just a couple of weeks while still being as flat as a board."

"Mom, we're not human," Jean said softly. "But as you can see, we're close enough for all practical purposes. We have a number of peculiar abilities I'll fill you in on later. But one is pregnancy: Instead of gaining weight during pregnancy, we lose it when we deliver. Depending on the birth weight of the baby, it can be 11 or 12 pounds. After delivery, we're a bit concave down there," she said, rubbing her abdomen. "But the delivery? Forget-about-it! A normal bowel movement is more painful. And that's the truth! You see, we seem to secrete a natural anaesthetic of some sort. Absolutely painless. And as for knowing Kris is very close, that was easy. It was obvious to all of us that Jamey was having his dinner at Kris's tit. Which reminds me..."

Turning to Susie she asked, "Want some?"

"Do I ever!" the girl exclaimed, running to her mother and diving across her lap.

"Young lady, are you properly dressed for nursing?"

"No, Mommy. I'm sorry," the girl said. Then she got off Jean's lap and in an instant had stripped off all her clothes and was back across Jean's lap. Meanwhile, Jean had opened the double-breasted suit jacket she was wearing exposing a beautifully tanned breast that was a duplicate of Kris's. The girl took her mother's nipple in her mouth and began to suckle.

Since she was lying mostly on her left side, her right asscheek was exposed. There, deep in her flesh, was the word SLUT. From its depth, it was apparent that the girl had been branded.

Quickly she emptied Jean's right breast and changed position to empty her left. At the same time it was apparent that Jean was whispering words of endearment to the girl. This was clear from the way Susie wriggled on her mother's lap. Finally, Jean was drained. Susie eased away and Jean gave her a sharp spank on her bare bottom. Whether it hurt or not, I don't know. But what I do know is that all it provoked was Susie melting her lips to her mother's in the most loving kiss I've ever seen.

Then with her eyes bright Susie asked, "I know my bottom's spankable, but is it pinchable, yet?" Jean grinned and gave the girl a sharp pinch. All that did was to elicit the cry, "Neato!" from the girl.

"While the rest fight, Susie, how about if you, Sandy and me go swimming?" Mom suggested.

"But Mrs. Harris—"

Again, Mom started drumming her fingers on the tabletop. "Young lady, unless you want a real spanking, that better be the very last time you ever say that to me!"

"But... !" the young girl protested.

"Now, to keep it simple for young people, Susie: if your mother is my daughter, what does that make you?"

"Your ... your granddaughter?" the girl replied incredulously.

"Now, are you going to give your grandmother a kiss?"

"Oh... ! Oh! Oh-my-gosh! Sandy!" Susie screamed. "Guess what? Not only do we have a real aunt and uncle for the first time ever, we have real, honest-to-gosh grandparents, too!" Then she ran to Mother who folded the girl into her arms and hugged and kissed her. And believe me, those were not Grammy kisses, either! Both my mother and the girl really unloaded with all their power, but the result was the same as it had been with Kris and Jean. Mom just poured out her love, and Susie just soaked it in.

By that time, Sandy had appeared — she had put the baby back to bed — and Mom started in on her, too, with the same results.

Finally, the three eased apart and Mom repeated, "Swimming?"

"But ... Gram, we don't have any suits," Sandy protested.

"Sandy, are you like your sister? Tanned all over?"

The older girl just nodded quickly.

"Well, then, it's pretty clear that you're both used to being naked, so..." With that, Mom proceeded to strip off all of her clothing revealing the utter magnificence of her own body. She waited while the girls did the same thing, and then hand in hand, they went out to the terrace and the pool.

With the girls out of the way, Jean turned her attention back to Kris. "The subject," she began, "is matrimony. Now why can't you marry Cam?"

"Because I'm a whore!" Kris nearly screamed.

"So what?" Jean replied. "I was still a prostitute on the day Jim married me. What about you?"

"I worked the streets!" Kris stated with her head up. "I'm a prostitute!"

"When did you last work the streets?" Jean casually asked.

"Till I was nearly 16!"

"Not nearly good enough," Jean retorted. "As I just said, I was still being paid for sexual services the day I was married."

"And your mother worked the streets, too," Dad interjected. "But she did it for kicks. You did it to eat. Want to try again?"

"Don't waste your time, Dad," Jean interjected. "That's not going to work. Remember, Kris is like me... Exactly like me. Nope. Let's just cut to the chase." Turning to Kristin she said, "Okay, Baby Sister, let's go straight to the conclusion: You're going to marry Cam Harris. Now, dear sister, there's an easy way and a hard way.

"Let's take the easy way first: You agree to marry Cam and we start planning for the wedding which will be in a week or so. Now isn't that easy?"

"Go to hell, Big Sister!" Kris exclaimed. "I'm not marrying Cam now or ever! Okay?"

"Not okay," Jean replied. "That brings us to the hard way: Cam starts beating the shit out of you — assisted by the rest of us, I hasten to add — until you say yes. Then you get married in a week or so.

"The difference between the easy way and the hard way is that with the easy way, you'll be able to sit down and eat at your wedding reception. Going the hard way, you won't be able to sit at all. In fact, going the hard way, your ass will hurt whenever you sit down for the first several months of your marriage. And since your baby will have been born by then, that will be — literally — a big pain in the ass.

"By the way, Baby Sister, I chose the hard way, and that's exactly the way it worked out. The only difference is that Jim didn't have any help in beating the shit out of me, but Cam certainly will. Want to reconsider?

"Oh, yeah ... One more thing," Jean added. "There is an offset to the hard way. With my ass hurting so much I couldn't touch it, but being the masochist I am — and you are, too — every time Jim fucked me in the ass, I went off like a rocket. But still ... I didn't have to nurse Jamey right away, either."

Kris just slowly shook her head. She reminded me of a punch-drunk fighter who had taken too many blows to the head. But she hadn't changed her mind about marriage.

Jean changed tack totally. "Why do you want to wreck a whole bunch of lives, Kris?" she asked.

"What are you saying?"

"Look, kid, let's face facts: We're not similar, we're identical! What does that mean? It means that we didn't come from the same gene pool, we have the same genes. Exactly the same genes. We came from the subdivision of a fertilized egg, not from the fertilization of two eggs from the same mother. So I know you as well as I know myself. And that's what makes this easy and hard at the same time.

"You see, we have what my husband Jim calls a charity gene. We spend so much time worrying about others, we never think of what we're doing to ourselves and, as a result, what our impact might be on others."

Kris was sitting on the sofa and Jean had been standing in front of her. Now she sat down beside her twin and took her in her arms and gently stroked her hair. Then, in a very soft voice, Jean Dawson continued, "Do you realize — yet — that we're one-man women? If you walk away from Cam Harris, your life is effectively over. He's the guy you were meant to meet and marry... the only guy! Clear? What about Mother and Dad? We just discovered them. And let's face it: The kisses we exchange with them would kill almost anyone else alive! But them? Hah! They thrive on it. And Sandy and Susie? Do you realize how ecstatically happy they are truly to have a close relative? A very close relative! And what about your baby? Do you honestly think you're doing him or her any favors by being born and growing up without a father?"

Kris had been crying when Jean sat down beside her and the flow of tears just increased as Jean talked. Finally, Kris lifted her head from her sister's shoulder and cried, "But I'm a whore! I'm filth on two feet!"

"You don't really believe that for two minutes, do you? Now, sister mine, the $64 question. Do you love Cam Harris? Do you believe that he loves you?"

Kris just nodded.

"Not good enough!" Jean exclaimed. "Do you love Cam Harris? Yes or no?"

"Yes!" Kris nearly screamed. "Oh, God, yes! More than life itself." Then she utterly broke up sobbing broken-heartedly. Finally she managed to add, "That's why I'm destroying my life! I'm trying to save his!"

"Great logic!" Jean replied sarcastically. "You're trying to save his life by destroying it. Please explain, Baby Sister, exactly how that's supposed to work?"

"But..."

"How?"

A whole kaleidoscope of emotions passed over Kris's face. Suddenly, for the first time, I could see that Jean's words had actually penetrated. With tears still pouring from her eyes, she couldn't see, but she looked up with hope in her eyes in my direction.

Dropping to the sofa beside her, I took her in my arms then forced her face around toward me. The kiss we shared was like nothing that had ever gone before. I didn't think there was as much love in the whole world as Kris had in her kiss.

Finally we eased apart but continued kissing each other everywhere and anywhere within reach of our lips.

I eased away just enough to speak. "Kristin Collins, will you marry me?"

"Yes!" she nearly screamed. "Yes, I will marry you, William Cameron Harris, III." Then she grinned and added, "Oh, shit ... I'm almost certain that our first baby will be a boy." With her eyebrow raised she continued, "He may be William Cameron Harris, IV, but he's going to be Billy. Okay?"

"Okay," I agreed with — what I hoped was — a warm smile. Then while still cuddling with her in my arms I asked, "What happened, darling? What happened to your pills?"

"They went in the trash months ago," she replied.

"Why?"

"Because I knew I was leaving you, but I desperately wanted something of you to take with me."

"And, like me, she planned on leaving months ago. But she had to have you deep inside her one more time. And then one more time. And one more time," Jean said softly. With a lovely warm smile she added, "That's what comes of having the same genes. I know exactly how she feels and how she thinks. I've already been through it."

The others in the room came over to congratulate Kris and me. When first Liz and then Tina kissed Kris, I saw something very similar to what I had seen between Kris and Jean at Tiffany's. Seeing that Kris's eyes widened, it was clear I wasn't imagining things.

Both girls then kissed Jean and her eyes widened, too.

"What do you think, Big Sister?" Kris asked with no explanation.

"They're like us," she replied softly. "Exactly like us."

At that point the two girls sat on the floor in front of the twins and Liz explained how they had all met at The Wilkerson Institute and became known as The Carriers. After explaining how the matching system worked, Jean just slowly nodded her head.

"How close a match are Kris and Cam?" she asked.

"Perfect," Tina replied. "They're the only 100% match in the Institute's history."

"And how long had you and Liz been there?"

The two girls exchanged looks and Tina replied, "About eight years each."

"And you were never matched, were you?" Jean continued.

The two beautiful heads just shook sadly.

"That's because you haven't met the men you were created to serve yet. But you will. And you'll know it instantly when it happens." Then to Kris she said, "You know, that matching operation at the Institute that you described must really be pretty good. You were made for Cam Harris, and the computer knew it instantly." Jean smiled and looked up at the ceiling. "I would love to go down there sometime with Jim Dawson. I'll bet any money that we'll match at 100% too."

At that point the two girls came into the living room with Mom following behind. All three faces were smeared with vaginal juices, but they all looked ecstatically happy.

"Mommy, guess what?" Susie asked.

"What?"

"Gram's pussy might even be sweeter than yours!" Susie declared. "I was the lucky one. We had the neatest daisy chain and I got to eat out Gram's pussy. It'll be Sandy's turn next time." Then she excitedly added, "Gram's clit ring is the neatest thing, too. It works like the handle on a faucet. I just flick it with my tongue and it's like opening a faucet: Her cum cream just starts pouring out! And she says she's going to have a stud put in her tongue, too! So when it's my turn for her to go down on me, it's going to be unreal!"

Mom had started to blush but then just spread her legs and used her long fingers to spread her vaginal lips. There was a gold ring piercing her clitoral hood. "It's supposed to make it easier for Bill to get me off," she declared casually, "and in view of our advancing years, it's getting so we need all the help we can get."

Jean, Kris and I all just stared at our mother. With her golden tan, brilliant blue eyes and utterly gorgeous figure, she was a vision. Then she added thoughtfully as if she were thinking out loud, "I wonder if a few tats would add anything to the party?"

"Mother!" Kris almost screamed, "Don't you dare mark that utterly perfect body!" Then she sniffed and added, "I mean ... Really! Just imagine how it will look in just a few years when you're 90 and in a nursing home..."

Mom's reaction? "Come on, Bill. I'm still very wet, but from what our daughter says, I only have a few more weeks left, so..."

With that the two headed off in the direction of the suite they used when they stayed with us. But they were stopped by a question from Kris: "Mom, when, in the name of Heaven did you get yourself pierced? We were together just a short time ago, and you weren't then."

"Oh ... It was yesterday," Mom replied blithely.

"Yesterday!" Kris screamed. "That can't be! If it was only yesterday, you couldn't stand to touch it today, let alone have anyone play with it."

"Dear daughters," Mom replied, addressing both of them, "in case you haven't gotten the hot scoop yet, you come by your masochism naturally." Then she grinned and added, "Susie couldn't have been better! Between Susie's tongue and the agony, I was going off like a string of Chinese firecrackers."

Then she hauled Dad off as she murmured, "Heavenly!"



-------

Chapter 18



Jim Dawson arrived and he had Merrilee Adams with him. We learned that Merrilee — or ML — was both Jim's first conquest after Jean but also one of the finest software writers in the world. It was late by the time they arrived, but we knew they hadn't eaten, so we had a late dinner.

Kris and the girls outdid themselves in the kitchen. To my surprise, my mother even contributed a dish. At dinner it really became funny. Over cognac, I became totally lost as a heated conversation about computers and software — debate? — developed among ML, Jean, Tina, Sandy and Susan. Most of the time I didn't have the foggiest idea what they were even talking about. Yet both Mother and Kris listened with great interest — and apparent understanding — while Dad, Liz and I were just utterly lost. At that point the three of us began our own conversation regarding NFL prospects for the coming season.

Mom and Kris? Somehow they managed to keep track of both sets and participate in both, too.

What became abundantly clear to everyone that night was that ML Adams and Tina Miller were kindred spirits. When it was time for bed, there was not even any discussion; Merrilee just followed Tina to her room.

The next morning two things happened: First, Mom immediately started the wheels turning for our wedding. She had decided on the following Saturday. Needless to say, neither Kris nor I were even consulted. The second was her playing croquet with Susan and Sandy.

Now I'm sure you've all played croquet. But few of you have played that croquet — the real game. It's played on a surface as level as the top of a billiard table. On long shots, the wickets are 100 feet apart. Oh, yeah ... The wickets are wrought iron and the clearance through them is the diameter of the croquet ball plus the thickness of a business card. (That's right: thickness. Not the length or the width, the thickness.) To say the very least, it's even more different from lawn croquet than Pop Warner football is from the NFL. It had started when we spent Memorial Day with my parents. They had installed a croquet setup — which Mom and Kris played nude — and Kris was determined to have one of our own. So we do. And like my parents', it's bent grass. Kris even had to buy a special lawnmower used on golf greens to keep it appropriately trimmed.

Anyway, Mom and her granddaughters were playing, nude, of course. She played against the two girls because of her experience and the girls' lack of it. For about two hours, all the rest of us heard was laughter and girlish giggling. It ended rather suddenly with the sound of three splashes in our pool. The day was sunny and very hot.

While the wheels were turning with the wedding preparations — we were to be married in Westchester with the reception at my parents' home — Mom and Dad took their granddaughters under their wing. I really don't think there was a significant sight in New York City that they missed.

And each day ended the same way. The girls were absolutely bubbling and my parents were ecstatic. It seems that it wasn't hard to convince the Dawsons to stay over in New York. We learned that Susan was scheduled to conduct her First Symphony with the New York Philharmonic on Saturday. Strangely believe it, tickets were found for the composer/conductor's relatives and friends.

Since what I know about symphonic conducting would rattle on the head of a pin, I didn't realize there was anything out of the ordinary when Susan spent only a single afternoon rehearsing with the orchestra. But what I did see were lengthy conferences among Susan, ML and Tina. But what did I know?

On Saturday evening, I was informed that the night was very special. White tie and tails, would you believe? Off we went in a couple of limousines. The only thing that really did surprise me was Dad's dress. He was quite casual, wearing Bermuda shorts, high socks and no tie, although he did have an ascot at his neck. Compared with my white tie, I had to wonder.

The program opened with Susan conducting the orchestra in her Symphony #1. I guess it was the first time I had ever heard it, and it was utterly magnificent. Reading the program notes, I learned that the first movement — dark and foreboding in a minor key — was the past, when Susan and Sandy had been held as sex slaves. The second movement sounded great hope, but with overtones of fear. The final movement — entitled "Today" — was glorious! It was in a major key and just loaded with joy. Finally, there was an utterly joyous 4th movement — the chorale — that was as happy as the 4th movement of Beethoven's Ninth is stirring. And her conducting was utterly superb.

After the intermission, Susan Dawson conducted her "Variations on Themes From Childhood". It was the most beguiling work I've ever heard. I still don't know how many children's songs she wove together — eight? ten? I really don't know — but the result was incredible. Even woven together, each maintained its identity, and the overall effect was unreal. At its conclusion, again Susan received a standing ovation.

Then there seemed to be some confusion on stage. The musicians were changing the music on their stands, but they seemed confused. At the same time, a giant projection screen came down behind the orchestra.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Susan announced, "tonight I am premiering my latest work. It's a tone poem entitled, 'My Grandparents'. I hope you will like it."

Only then did I begin to understand what Susan had been conferring with Tina and ML about. Who were they, after all? Only the two finest software writers alive in the world is all. Or maybe the three finest; Susie really knew her way around a computer too. And what had they been doing? Apparently they had been encoding a series of stills and video films to synchronize with a live orchestra. Doing it with recorded music would have been a lead-pipe cinch. But a live orchestra? A very different story. But that's exactly what they had done.

We saw Susan and Sandy with my parents engaged in every conceivable activity. And the music perfectly matched every scene. The common denominator was an overwhelming flood of sheer happiness. And it really worked! The visuals and the music were always in perfect synch.

Finally, it concluded ... to utter silence. That lasted for only a few moments and then the hall exploded! The super-sophisticated New York audience absolutely went wild! And it was all for my niece, the daughter of my wife's identical twin. Good grief! I thought, could I possibly expect a child like this from Kris's loins? Damn right! I sure can!

The pandemonium died down and Susan grinned. "I guess you might like to see the 21st century grandparents." Turning to the wing she motioned and Mom and Dad came out. Mom was wearing the same dress she had worn at Christmas. The only difference was she was a bit slimmer and more deeply tanned. But the diamond sparkled in her navel and her legs, fully exposed as the skirt that was split up to her hips on both sides, seemed to go on forever. And they're truly perfect legs. Believe me! And Dad looked like he was on the sunny side of 30 with prematurely graying temples.

They came up to Susan who was still on the podium and the parents embraced. I'm sure the people could hear the bells in the back row of the balcony. When they slowly separated, each still had his arms around the other's waist.

"Folks," Susan began, "I'm sure you're all familiar with the classic grandmother and grandfather. You know ... Gram knitting something small while Gramps smokes his pipe? Well, I like to think my grandparents are the 21st century model. You'll note that Gram does have white hair, and Gramps has some silver at his temples. Well, I have to confess, they're both a ways away from the nursing home. But on the other hand, I really don't know..."

Susan paused and looked up in the air, apparently thinking. Finally she said, "Maybe it's going to be sooner than I thought. Why ... Would you believe, Gramps only had Gram in orgasm for a little more than two hours last night. Honest! That's all. Of course she said it was because they were both nervous about having to appear here tonight, but that sounded like an excuse to me."

Susan shook her head sadly and added, "And then this morning..." Again she just shook her head. "Swimming at 400 meters, Gram was more than of full second off the American record. Honest! She was." She looked a little disturbed and then added, "Of course it was the men's record ... But that's the only one that really counts, isn't it?"

At that point Mother just grabbed Susan around the waist and lifted her off the podium. Holding her in the air, she just melted her lips to her granddaughter's and let out all the stops. With Susan nearly unconscious, Mom passed her to Dad who put her all the way out. Then he just held her in his arms while gently stroking her hair.

After Susan recovered, Dad gently deposited her back on the podium.

"Folks," Susan said, "now you see why my tone poem sounded so joyful. At least I hope it did. I have the neatest parents and the greatest grandparents who have ever lived. How could I possibly feel any other way?"

As my parents left the stage, the projection screen was retracted back into the ceiling. Susan's demeanor changed dramatically. "Ladies and gentlemen, for our final work of this evening, as a tribute to the thousands of people who lost their lives when our country was viciously attacked on September 11, we would like to play John Philip Sousa's "Stars and Stripes Forever"! Susan really emphasized the last word. As she said it, an American flag unfurled behind the orchestra where the screen had been.

To the surprise of everyone, the entire orchestra stood while they played. Truly, they outdid the Boston Pops on its very best day. When they concluded, the audience stood up an cheered. They didn't applaud, they cheered! There's a message there for someone.

Finally, the full choral group reassembled on stage and Susan conducted the orchestra in the first and fourth stanzas of "The Star Spangled Banner". At its conclusion, the entire audience was on its feet and singing the last lines with the chorus, " ... and the star spangled banner in triumph shall wave / o'er the land of the free and the home of the brave."

Again there were thunderous cheers from the New York crowd. Interesting,  I thought. This is supposed to be the most sophisticated audience on the planet. Nothing interferes with their pursuit of the almighty dollar. But when America is attacked, there's a sea change. Admiral Yamamoto knew it as he planned the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. "Do not awaken the sleeping tiger! He will kill you." He knew that America was, indeed, the sleeping tiger. But no more! As was December 7, 1941, September 11, 2001 will be a date that will live in infamy. And a date that aggressors — and terrorists — will take to their graves.

The evening was truly remarkable. Following the performance, there was a reception to which we were invited. Quite honestly, I didn't know what to do. It was Susan's reception, but ... I found myself getting speculative looks from every female in the room under the age of 80. Why? There were Kris and Jean, the identical — and drop-dead gorgeous — twins. But then there were Merrilee, Tina, and Liz. There was Sandy Dawson, and my parents. I could almost hear it: "Whatever that guy has, I want!" What an incredible change in such a short time.

The fact was that every other woman in the place felt she was totally overmatched. And for some of them, I'm sure that the realization was a lifetime first.



-------

Chapter 19



Kris and I were married less than a week later, and our first child was born less than a week after that. But since, like her sister Jean, Kris hadn't shown her pregnancy at all, William Cameron Harris, IV, came as a bit of a surprise to a lot of people. Kris? All she did was to appear with a sharply concave lower belly after the delivery which was attended by Tina and Liz. Go to the hospital? In Kris's words: "What on earth for?"

We all realized that Tina and Liz, like Kris and Jean, were from "some other place", too. And like them, they seemed to be made for a single guy each.

Liz Williams met her man who turned out to be another financially-oriented attorney. They were at a preliminary conference in anticipation of mezzanine financing. The guy was named George Johnson, and he and Liz started off by fighting like cats and dogs. I was present because it was nut-cutting time and she wanted me there to nod if I liked the deal. George was representing the company while Liz, of course, represented me.

It was truly funny to watch. The fact is that George Johnson is every bit as good a lawyer as Liz, but she had one insurmountable advantage: the girls' incredible information storage and retrieval system. Computers have the storage, but not the indexing and retrieval ability. So there we were sitting at a conference table. Liz only had a writing pad in a leather folder in front of her, but she cited laws, regulations and court cases with happy abandon.

George was really being chewed up. I'm sure he felt he was fully prepared, but the reality is that no one is or can be fully prepared for the girls and their incredible mental capabilities. Finally it was over, and I guess we won. George called his principal and got our deal approved.

At that point, he rose and came around the table with his hand extended toward Liz. I guess I hadn't been paying much attention to him or his appearance before, but then I realized that he was as tall and as big as I was. And I guess he was rather good looking, too.

Liz took his hand, then pulled him close, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. I was stunned. But then I could actually see the electricity between them and hear the bells.

Initially, George was flabbergasted, but recovered. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled Liz closer to him while their kiss continued. When the finally eased apart, I saw Liz groping him and gently squeezing his cock and balls.

"What was that for?" he asked, astonished at the behavior of this incredibly beautiful lawyer.

"That was to just check out the equipment," she replied nonchalantly, "and it's really very nice."

"Do you do this with every guy you meet?"

"Of course not!" she exclaimed, appearing insulted. "Only the guy I'm going to marry."

"Huh?" was his only response.

We left the office with George and repaired to a nearby bar to get better acquainted.

It turned out that George Johnson's personal background — where women were concerned, anyway — was the antithesis of my own. He was sexually active at 13 and increasingly so as the years passed. At that point, he was in his late twenties, and based on his own experience felt he could get any woman he wanted into bed within two hours or less.

It was funny, really. Hearing his recital of female conquests, all Liz did was to smile prettily and comment, "That's nice." But then she stunned him by asking, "How long can you keep going at one time? Cam, here, keeps his wife, Kris, in orgasm for three hours at a time, and frankly I'm jealous."

"Three... hours... !" He was stunned.

"Well, that's not really true," Liz continued. "It's not three hours every time; only a couple of times a week, I guess. And sometimes it's as short as ninety minutes ... the bastards!"

"Huh?"

"Cam and Kris laugh about it behind our backs — that's me and my roommate, Tina Miller. They really do it just to get us green with jealousy ... and it's deliberate, too. It's that bitch of a wife of his, Kristin. She insists that Cam keep the bedroom door open. And sometimes she counts her orgasms out loud. Can you believe it? Here the bitch is with her body spasming in orgasm screaming out, 'Thirty-seven!' And that was only last night, too."

After drinks Liz invited George up to the apartment. He got to meet Tina and Kris, of course, and we had one of Kris's landmark dinners. Tina took care of the baby while the rest of us played Bridge. George turned out to be a Life Master, but could barely hold his own playing with Liz against Kris and me.

It was at the Bridge table that Liz told her story about life at the Institute and before. And it was all over that first night.

George and Liz were married just a month later.

Tina's story was different. She encountered Scott Harrington one Friday night down in Soho when she was in her trashy mode. Tina, following Mom's example, had had her clitoral hood pierced and ringed, then had followed it up by having her nipples and navel pierced and ringed, too. Just how a computer nerd had managed to find an artists and models gathering I have no clue, but that's where she was. Kris said it was to permit her to show off her body piercings, but who knows?

All she was wearing was a fairly short skirt slit up to the waist on both sides along with a length of diaphanous silk that was almost like the shoulder strap of a sam browne belt that went over her right shoulder and over her right breast. Of course, it was virtually transparent, fully revealing the gold ring through her nipple, and her left breast was completely bare. Her navel ring showed, and since she was wearing nothing under the skirt, her clitoral ring showed from time to time, too.

(It should be obvious, dear reader, that neither Kris nor I were present at the festivities, nor at most of the other subsequent events. Her story was pieced together from what she and Scott eventually told us about the events.)

She was sipping a glass of very inferior white wine when Scott introduced himself. "What on earth are you doing in that get-up?" were his first words to her.

"Huh... ?" was Tina's first word to him.

"This event is for artists and models; you are neither. Why are you here, and why are you looking the way you do?"

"Huh... ?" she repeated.

"I'm Scott Harrington," he said, introducing himself. "And who am I insulting?"

"My name is Tina Miller," she said with her green eyes flashing emerald sparks. "And why do you care who I am or why I'm here?"

"Because you're the personification of true class," he explained. "I just wondered why you're slumming, and why you're dressed the way you are?"

"Class?" she exclaimed. "Me? Mr. Harrington, you must be thinking of someone else."

"Look, the wine here is awful. Do you have something to cover yourself with? I would like to take you to a nice place and get acquainted."

"What on earth for?"

"Because I'm going to marry you," he announced, "and I thought it might be nice to get to know you a bit before the ceremony."

And that's the way it began.

It turned out that Scott was truly an artist, and a very good one. Moreover, it also developed that Tina was remarkably knowledgeable about art, and more importantly to both of them, about art marketing. They spent the rest of the evening getting acquainted with Tina spending it wearing a raincoat in the small bar he took her to. And it was all over when he returned her to our apartment and kissed her for the first time. That was immediately followed by Tina taking him to her bed.

Scott was a successful artist, but with Tina's help became far more successful. And she became his favorite model. So if you see a green-eyed tawny-haired golden woman on canvas, it's probably Tina. Furthermore, she was able to have a slightly bulging belly when she was pregnant, too. (My mother managed the same thing; she claimed it was no fun being pregnant if she couldn't show off for her friends at the club.) At any rate, there is a whole series of paintings of Tina: her first pregnancy, nursing her first infant, and then later paintings with the children arranged in stair-step order, all nude but with their genitals hidden by their mother who was inevitably nursing a newborn.

The arrangement worked perfectly. Tina was a stay-at-home mom, but at the same time she built a thriving business as a software writer and computer consultant. A great deal of her work was with Merrilee Adams; the two seemed to almost share a single brain. The fact that they were separated by about 1,000 miles didn't faze either of them a bit. Working together they produced the most powerful and useful software on the market to their mutual profit. Tina claimed her work consisted of nursing her latest infant and endorsing her royalty checks. That got to be a bit of a bother, though, so she ended up using direct deposit. This reduced her work to recording the deposits and giving the money to Liz and Terry to invest for Scott and her.

From the very beginning I thought that both Liz and Tina would be perfect wives, and they were. Hell, they were almost as good as Kristin herself.

This brings me back to the situation we were facing: First of all, Kris and I had built a house on land adjacent to my (our) parents'. It worked out pretty well; there was a total of almost 100 acres and it ended up with our place as well as the Johnsons and the Harringtons in a not-so-little enclave. But all of the women were pregnant — most particularly including my mother — and there was a great deal to be taken care of.

That's when I received a call from Jonathan Wilkerson. Although we had communicated regularly, in every case contact had been initiated by us, and usually by me. But not that time; it was a first.

After initial pleasantries had been exchanged, I asked, "What's the occasion? What can I do for you?"

"Several things," he replied. "First of all, would you please convey my anger to The Carriers — all of them! — for their failure to advise me in advance of their weddings. And, Mr. Harris, that goes particularly for your lovely wife!"

"I will certainly do that," I agreed. "But that's not the only reason, is it?"

"Not hardly!" he continued. "There's also a small matter of your $50-million gift to the Institute. To be completely honest with you, it is making life truly pleasant for me. For the first time, I need no longer be concerned about money for the Institute. To say that I am very grateful understates the case dramatically.

"But there's something else: There are four girls here that I really need to do something about. Their names are Little Bit, Ann, Judy and Kim. Perhaps you may remember them?

"Of course I do!" I exclaimed. "Don't tell me they're in trouble... ?"

"Oh, no, far from it," Jonathan Wilkerson quickly replied, "it's just that..." And he seemed to run out of gas.

"'Just that' what?" I persisted, becoming exasperated.

"Mr. Harris, let me back up for a moment," he continued. "First of all, I've instructed my agents to be particularly on the lookout for tall, skinny girls. Heretofore, they've tended to concentrate on early-developing ... full-chested ones, might I say? First The Carriers — and now the younger girls — have shown us the error of our ways. As your girls before them, Little Bit, Ann, and the other two are truly stars. All four are utterly brilliant and are now flowering into incredible beauties ... on The Carriers' model, I should add.

"There are two problems, however: First, our patrons by and large still prefer big-busted women. But second, these girls are much too good to be mistresses and housekeepers. So ... could I send the four of them up to you?" His last words came out in a rush; it was almost like a single long word.

"Of course you can!" I instantly replied. "We would love it! But what would you like us to do?"

"Would your mother... ?" There was a question mark at the end of his phrase, but the thought was not complete.

"Would my mother what?" I prompted.

"Let me be completely frank with you," Jonathan explained. "There is a rumor around that your mother has taken The Carriers under her wing ... treating them like they are her daughters. Is that true?"

I let his words sink in for a moment before replying. "Yes, it is. And it's the most remarkable thing I've ever seen. It's as if she is their true mother. The love they share is truly wonderful to see." I paused and then added, "Could we have a trial? What I'm thinking about is this: The chemistry between Mom and Kris, Tina, and Liz is truly beautiful. I suspect it will be with the younger girls, too, but I can't be sure, of course. So what I have in mind is to send a plane down to pick the girls up. They'll meet Mother and we'll see how it goes. If it doesn't click, the girls will have the chance to see the sights of New York and should have a great time anyway. Then we'll send them back. Does that sound fair to you?"

"Yes, it does," he quickly agreed. "But frankly, Mr. Harris, as you know I've been matching couples for years. What I can tell you is that all four girls have profiles that are virtually identical to The Carriers'. So I'm morally certain it will work out.

"Now when would you like to do it?"

"What about the girls?" I asked. "They certainly have a say in the matter."

"I haven't broached the subject with any of them, pending this talk with you. But I can tell you that all four are constantly referencing The Carriers. Those three are these girls' idols. I can assure you they will love the opportunity. As for when, it depends entirely on you. They could be ready in ten minutes.

"And of course I'll be giving the girls checks for the balance of the money you gave me for their benefit." Wilkerson paused for a moment and then added, "I'll do the same thing with them that I did with The Carriers with the addition that the envelopes can only be opened with your mother's permission."

"I'll have an aircraft waiting for them at the terminal ready to takeoff at nine o'clock tomorrow morning. Does that work for you?"

"I'm certain it will," he replied, "but to be certain, I'll speak with the girls and confirm in a few minutes."

And that's the way we left it. His confirming phone call came less than 30 minutes later.

The following day I got a call from Executive Aviation with the ETA for the girls' flight from the Yucatan. It was coming into Westchester County Airport rather than Teterboro or LaGuardia. My parents decided to wait at home — after being strongly encouraged in that direction by the girls — while the four of us took two cars to the airport.

The G-5 landed right on time and taxied to a hangar that Executive Aviation maintained at the airport. Because Westchester isn't an international airport, the plane had landed at New Orleans on its way north and the girls had cleared customs and immigration there. With the girls bubbling, we went around to where the cars were waiting.

There Tina, after first checking to see that no one else was in the area, looked at the girls and said, "Well... ?"

"Well, what?" Little Bit asked.

"Good Lord, girl!" Tina replied. "Have you forgotten everything we tried to teach you already? Particularly you and Ann; we never really had the chance to do much work with Judy and Kim."

"But..."

"But what?" Tina exclaimed in an even louder tone of voice. "Strip, damn it! All of you!"

Fortunately, it was a warm afternoon in early April because the girls were far more used to the Yucatan's heat than to Westchester's chill. They stripped and stood at attention in a row. Liz and Tina conducted it while Kris just hugged me as she tried to control her giggles.

The two Carriers looked over each girl carefully, again starting with Little Bit. Tina took the lead. Almost to herself she murmured, "Skin tone ... Okay. Figure ... Posture ... Breasts are small..." Then she pulled on one of the girl's nipples and added, "But nipples are okay..."

While my attention was focused on Tina and Little Bit, Kris had been watching the two younger girls. Clearly, they were upset; tears were starting to streak their cheeks although they were still standing up straight.

Just then Tina goosed Little Bit, and the girl shrieked. "What is wrong with you?" Tina yelled. "You'd think you were an untouched virgin or something!" She continued her digital exploration of the younger girl's body.

"Tina, that's enough!" Kris declared. "These kids are nervous enough about the prospect of meeting Mother and you're just making it worse."

Tina was startled by the comment but let it go and did stop. To Little Bit she said, "You'll do, Little Bit. You're lovely."

"Thank you, Miss Miller."

"What?" Tina shrieked.

Little Bit visibly jumped at that one. "But..."

"It's 'Mrs. Harrington', bitch! And don't you dare forget it. The infant I'm carrying in my belly was conceived in wedlock and will have a mother and a father! Got it?"

"Oh, Tina!" the girl exclaimed. "That's just so neat! And congratulations to you and your husband."

"You can congratulate Mrs. Johnson, also. She's got a bun rising in her oven, too."

All four of the girls hugged and kissed the two Carriers and finally we were able to load up the cars and get out of there.

Little Bit and Ann rode with Kris and me back to our parents' house. The girls were so cute oohing and aahing at the estates we passed on the way. It was only then that I realized how different the surroundings were from the Yucatan or from the cities the girls had grown up in. It was entirely possible they had never seen anything like the area we were driving through in their lives.

As we started up the drive to my parents' house, the girls audibly gasped. Never had they seen anything like it. Kris and I exchanged glances as we drove up to the front door. Both of us expected my parents to be out front to greet the girls but no one was there.

Leaving the luggage in the car, I led the way to the door and opened it. There was Mother waiting for us. She wasn't bare, but all she was wearing was a diaphanous white peignoir that wasn't even closed. It framed her golden beauty and highlighted her rings. When she opened her mouth, we all saw something new: a gold stud piercing her tongue.

Little Bit was in the lead. The girl looked utterly exquisite. Like The Carriers, she was quite tall — five nine and a bit — with golden hair and beautiful blue eyes. (She had grown a couple of inches since I was on the Yucatan.)

"Mother, this is Little Bit—" Kris began.

"Come here, Daughter!" Mother interrupted. "Where have you been all this time?" With that she took the girl into her arms and kissed her.

For Kris, it was a remarkable sight. It was exactly the same as when her twin sister, Jean, had first kissed Mother.

It was immediately repeated with Ann, also five nine, but with tawny hair and green eyes. Mom was holding each girl by the hand and said, "Now strip! Both of you!" The girls immediately did, leaving their dresses on the floor. To us Mother said, "I can only handle two at a time; your father can greet the others while I get to know my lovely daughters."

While they were disappearing in the direction of the master suite leaving a giggling Kris at the entry, Liz and Tina arrived with Judy and Kim. The girls were wide-eyed in wonder at what they had seen and were seeing. Clearly, not only had they never seen a place like my parents', they didn't know such a place even existed.

While they were still gawking, Dad went to Kim and asked, "What's your name, daughter?"

At this, the girl really gaped. "I ... I..."

"Her name is Kim," Liz replied for her. "And that's her whole name. If it's short for something, none of us ever found out." Then she added, "Isn't she a beauty?"

The fact was that Kim was a slightly younger Little Bit, while her roommate, Judy, was an Ann look-alike. The two girls were about 18 months younger than the older pair.

"Hi, Kim," Dad said softly. "Welcome home!" Then he kissed her. It was another replay of the events with the Dawsons. Kris and I could actually see Dad pouring his love into the lovely girl's body. Kim was glassy-eyed as he held her in one arm and gathered in Judy with his other. He kissed her in the same way, then led the girls to his lounge chair. After sitting down, he sat the two on his lap and cuddled.

"You are permitted to kiss your dad, you know."

"You ... want to be ... my father?" Kim whispered.

"No, sweetie. I don't want to be your father ... I am your father! Now could you give your old dad a kiss?" Turning to the other girl had added, "And that goes for you, too, Judy."

The two girls just hugged, kissed and cuddled with Dad while increasingly loud orgasmic noises came from the direction of my parents' rooms. Finally, the sounds crescendoed and then stopped.

A few moments later, Mom called down, "Bill, could you and Cam come here for a moment? And bring the other two girls with you."

I thought I knew what I would find and wasn't disappointed. There were Ann and Little Bit sprawled on the bed with their arms and legs in positions that looked like they were no longer attached to their bodies.

"Sheesh!" Mom exclaimed in a disgusted tone, "They're not making hookers like they used to. Just look at them! A few orgasms and they come apart."

"A few?" I asked with an eyebrow raised.

Mom glanced at a clock and replied, "Shit! It was scarcely an hour." Then to Judy and Kim who were standing there wide-eyed, she said, "I certainly hope you two are in better shape than your sisters!"

I picked up Little Bit while Dad gathered up Ann. If they had appeared to be disjointed lying on the bed, that's exactly the way the girl felt in my arms. I found myself holding up her head to keep it from straining her neck.

After depositing the two girls on the king-size bed in their new room, I again passed Mother's room. She was working on Kim while Judy watched with obvious trepidation.

"Mom, my breasts are so small!" Kim complained.

"They're beautifully formed, sweetie," Mom replied. Then she went back to working on the girl's nipple and areolae with her tongue.

"Oh, God!" Kim exclaimed, writhing on the bed. "That tongue stud is like nothing I've ever felt before. It's driving me crazy!"

"Wait till I get to your clit. You're really going to love that!"

At that point I left them alone and went to the library. There I called Jonathan Wilkerson. He was on the phone only moments later.

"How is it going?" he asked. I could easily hear the note of concern in his voice.

"Let me put it this way," I replied: "My mother is complaining that her four newest daughters can't take it. She asked why is it that at a school that teaches girls all the arts of sex, the girls fold up totally after a few orgasms. And, she says, 'The girls were hardly in orgasm for even an hour!'

"Now, Jonathan Wilkerson, what do you have to say for yourself and your school?"

"For an hour?" he repeated.

"Yes," I agreed, "but to be fair, Mother has a gold ball in her tongue and is really learning how to use it. Maybe it's something you might want to incorporate into your curriculum."

Wilkerson just chuckled, a very odd sound coming from such a dapper gentleman. "Can I assume that the girls won't be returning to these precincts anytime soon?"

"I think that's a very safe assumption," I replied with a chuckle of my own.

While all this was going on, Kris nursed Billy and then prepared dinner. When she was getting ready to serve, the girls and Mother reappeared. All were wearing the same simple white gowns like Mom had worn at Christmas. The only difference was that none of them were even wearing thongs. The girls wore their dresses, white pumps and gold collars around their necks. It turned out that one of the Carriers had talked: The girls, using part of their monthly "allowance", had ordered them from Tiffany's. The only other significant spending any of them had done was to have their pubic hair removed by laser.

Mom looked at Kim's collar and said, "This inscription must be changed."

"Why, Mommy?" Kim asked.

"Because it's engraved 'C S'; you are neither Cam's slut nor his slave. The new inscription is going to be 'M G'. But again you get a choice. It can be either 'Mommy's Girl' or 'Marty's Girl'. The initials are the same either way.

All four of the girls just beamed with joy.

Dinner was utterly spectacular. The girls were particularly impressed with being served wine with the meal, and with the caliber of the wine being served. They mellowed out in no time flat.

There was only the immediate family at dinner that evening. Liz and George Johnson and Tina and Scott Harrington had returned to the city. The four were staying at my apartment while their adjacent homes were still under construction.

At the dinner's conclusion, Mom asked the girls if they had received letters from Mr. Wilkerson.

"Oh yes, Mrs ... Mom!" Little Bit replied, still speaking for the group.

"Well... ? Aren't you going to open them?"

"But we're not supposed to until..." and Little Bit ran down.

"Until you get my permission?" Mother concluded.

Little Bit just nodded her head.

"Okay, you've got it. Now move!"

All four girls jumped from their chairs and retreated back to their rooms where their purses were. In moments all four returned, each with a sealed envelope in her hand.

"You first, Little Bit," Mom ordered.

The girl tore open the envelope, extracted the contents — a letter and a check — quickly read the letter and began to bawl. Rising from her chair she stumbled over to Mother who sat the girl on her lap and cuddled.

"It's nothing to cry about, is it?" Mom asked softly.

"But it's for more than a million dollars!" the girl nearly screamed. Then she added, "No one gives a slut a hundred dollars let alone a million."

"Then it's a good thing you're not a slut, isn't it?"

With that Little Bit got off Mom's lap and came around to kiss me. The pattern was repeated virtually without change for the remaining three girls. Each had received more than a million dollars.

Although Kris and Dad were both attorneys — and very good ones — Mother was the real master at witness questioning. Over the course of the dinner it had emerged that what the girls all really wanted to do was to go to high school. Although they all had their GEDs, they didn't think it was nearly as good as having real diplomas.

When we left the dinner table, Mom called Tina who was back at the apartment by then. The conversation was funny as hell! Although they could come up with some tutoring nonsense to explain the absence of a prior school record, the two agreed that standard records would be more appropriate. (Mother had already told Dad in no uncertain terms that the girls were going to be Elizabeth, Ann, Judy and Kim Harris within a week, or he had better be thinking of some other place to sleep. The relative ages were easy to handle. Mom just said blithely, 'I had two pairs of fraternal twins about 18 months apart. What's the big deal about that?')

So what did those two do? After some discussion, they agreed on a rather large school district as the girls' former "home". Then Tina, wasting no time and with Mom still on the phone, hacked into the district's computer and proceeded not only to plant complete records for the four girls, she even included recent photographs of them so the local school would have no doubt regarding the identities. Was that all? For Tina? Hardly. Not only did she leave computerized instructions to mail the records over to the local school district, she even transferred $80 from her own bank account to the district's so that its books would be in balance. Just to complete this part of the story, a few years later Kim and Judy visited their "old school", and, would you believe, several teachers "remembered them" fondly from their time at the school.

With that matter taken care of, we all went to bed. Little Bit and Ann elected to sleep with Kris and me, while Kim and Judy stayed with my parents.

The girls were so damned cute! Both Little Bit and Ann's eyes were wide as they saw my fully engorged cock for the first time since I had visited the Yucatan. "He's so big!" Little Bit exclaimed.

"He is, isn't he?" Kris agreed. "And it's just as well, too. I ejaculate when I cum — and Mom says you two do, too — but with a plug the size of my husband's it all stays in." She paused and then said thoughtfully, "You know what? That was the first time I can remember using the phrase, 'my husband'." She grinned and added, "And it sounds so neat, too!"

Our lovemaking that night with the girls watching was utterly spectacular. And when we finished, Little Bit cleaned off my penis and balls while Ann sucked our mixed fluids from Kris's vagina. Or she started to, anyway. She asked Little Bit for help when the girl finished with me.

When Kris raised an eyebrow, Ann said, "It's not the cum, it's the volume! Mrs. Harris, I couldn't drink that much if it was just plain water!"

Kris just giggled. Then she said, "Since you've done such a wonderful job of eating me out, I don't think it would be lowering the bars too much for you to call me Kris." Then with her warmest smile she added, "After all, we are sisters, right?"

It was funny, really. Kris's statement took the two girls completely by surprise. "But ... How... ?" Little Bit stammered.

"Because, Little Sister, it's obvious to Cam and me that the four of you are going to be adopted by Bill and Martha Harris as their daughters, is how. And that makes you our sisters." She paused for a moment and then added, "And I, for one, think it's the greatest thing since sliced bread! You two — and your sisters — are loves."

-------

When I awakened the next morning, Kris was beside me with her back resting against the headboard nursing our infant. Billy was the happiest baby I could remember ever seeing. If he ever cried, I never heard it. He was in Heaven, nursing at his mother's nipple while she made soft loving sounds and gently caressed him. For my part, I just watched. I also decided that this garbage about "parenting" is just that. Anyone who thinks that a father and a mother are interchangeable parts is just plain delusional. While there's most surely a rôle for the father, it's very different from the mother's. And Billy certainly knew the difference.

Kris finished, changed Billy and put him back in his basinet. Then we went down to see what was going on. Little Bit and Ann had not been in the bed with us when I awakened.

As we headed downstairs, my parents emerged from their room so the four of us went down together. Kris was in the lead and I almost walked into her when she stopped abruptly and just gasped. Moving up beside her, I immediately saw the cause of her consternation. There in the dining room the four girls had set up a breakfast buffet.

"We don't know what you like to eat for breakfast," Little Bit said, "so we set this up. I think we have some of just about everything." It was becoming clear that she was the leader and spokeswoman for the pack.

And they did. I had kippered herring with scrambled eggs, Kris had bacon and eggs, Dad had a waffle and Mom had corned beef hash with two poached eggs. The food was marvelous.

The girls were waiting on us wearing only long T-shirts. Kim, the Little Bit look-alike, was serving Mother and I became aware that the girl was trembling and tears kept appearing at the corners of her eyes. I nudged Kris to call her attention to it, and she studied the younger girl intently.

Suddenly Kim dropped to her knees by Mother and cried, "Please don't send me back, Mom! Please don't! I'll get breast implants so I can be pretty..."

Mom looked at the girl with a series of emotions flashing across her face. First came shock, then puzzlement, quickly followed by chagrin. Whatever had happened, Mother felt she had caused it. Then she lifted the girl up from the floor and set her across her lap. "Do you think I'm going to send Cam away?" she asked softly.

This startled Kim. She jerked and looked at Mom incredulously. "You can't!" she exclaimed. "He's your son!"

"And I can't send you away either, Kim. You're my daughter. And a more loving or more beautiful daughter no woman ever had!"

"But I'm so flat!" the girl wailed.

Mom was hugging and caressing her gently. "What did you call Kris, Tina and Liz?" she asked softly.

"The ... the Carriers," Kim replied blushing and glancing at Kris.

"And why were they called The Carriers?"

"It was long before I got to the Institute," Kim replied, "but the story is that aircraft carriers were called flattops, and those three were flat on top, so..."

"As flat as you are?" Mom probed gently.

"Much flatter!" Kris responded, injecting herself into the dialogue. Rising from her chair she said, "Now come with me, little sister. We have to have a talk." She signaled me with her eyes to come with them.

Retiring to our sitting room, Kris sat down in lounge chair and sat Kim on her lap. "Sweetie, there are some things you need to know: My problem is I don't really know what's news and what might be old hat.

"Nevertheless, at the risk of boring you, I'll try to start at the beginning. First of all, we're from someplace else..."

She then told the younger girl about their powers — when she told Kim that she was hard-wired to the baby, that was news — and the fact that they were all female, or at least the only ones they knew of were, and were all tall and late-developing. Kris concluded by saying, "There's another oddity: It seems we were all created for a single guy. I found mine: Cam; and Tina and Liz found theirs, too. I'm sure you'll find the guy you were made for."

Then after stripping off Kim's top and baring her own breasts she turned to me and said, "Cam Harris, whose tits do you like better? Mine or Kim's? Hers are so lovely, too! Those lovely tiny nipples..."

"Yours!" I immediately replied.

"You do?" Kris asked, surprised. She was certain I would build Kim's confidence by picking her. "Why?"

"Because you're my wife is why! I have to like yours better." I grinned and added, "But Kim's are awfully nice..."

"Did you hear that, little kid?" Kris asked with a loving smile in my direction. (I guess I actually said the right thing for a change.) "He likes mine better ... because I'm his wife. Now how does that make you feel?"

Instead of replying, Kim turned toward Kris and moved her nipples over Kris's. Then she kissed her with all her passion unleashed. When they finally eased apart, both women were breathing hard. "How does it make me feel?" Kim repeated. "It makes me feel loved; I love my big sister very much. In fact, I adore her!"

The two just snuggled together. Another crisis resolved.

Dad took Mother's threat seriously. The result might have been the setting of an all-time speed record for an adoption, and in this case there were four at once.



-------

Chapter 20



On the following Monday, Mother and Kris took the four girls to enroll in school. I later learned from them that it was the comedy of the century. First of all, Mom was president of the local school board. Beyond that, though, she's a believer in the concept that the best defense is a good offense. That being the case, she was on the attack from the beginning, the reason being that she didn't want any questions raised about why four of her daughters had not been attending the local public schools in the first place.

The principal, Donald Grimes, did, indeed, raise the question. Mother merely kissed him off by saying, "For reasons that are no concern of yours, my daughters have been living with relatives." End of story.

Obviously, there was nothing funny about that exchange, so where did the humor come from? From what followed immediately after as they discussed the four girls' courses of study. It was quite routine until Mom realized that both sets of "twins" would be taking sex education.

"I thought sex education was only offered to seniors as a part of the health curriculum?" she commented.

"No longer!" Monica Cumberland, the dean of students, replied proudly. "Young people are far more sexually active and at younger ages every year, it seems. So we've been lowering the age at which we begin sex education."

"And where does it start now?" Kris asked.

"Why ... in the second grade, of course," the dean replied.

"But they're only... eight years old!" Kris exclaimed.

With her lips pursed in the finest Miss Grundy fashion, Ms. Cumberland responded, "Some girls reach menses earlier than others. It wouldn't be fair to deny them this knowledge of their own bodies."

"Oh..." Mother said, stretching out the word. After a pause she added, "Who teaches the course here in the high school?"

"That's Gwen Merritt," Cumberland replied. "She's very good. She has her master's degree plus 30 credits already and she's not yet 25. A wonderful teacher!"

"Does she have a class this period?" Mom asked.

Principal Grimes quickly checked teacher schedules and found that Ms. Merritt was free that period. His secretary called and invited her to join the group. In the meantime, the four girls had found various items of interest around the room to carefully study: a fly trapped between the window and the screen, an utterly fascinating paint streak, and other such things to keep from bursting out laughing. Although they were new to the Harris family, they could see that Mr. Grimes, Ms. Cumberland and Ms. Merritt were in for a rather long morning. They were not disappointed.

You may wonder how I knew what was said, not having been present. The knowledge came from a blow-by-blow account from the women, all six talking at once, it seemed.

"Mom was unreal!" Little Bit gushed. "The way she ate out Miss Merritt was a sight to see..."

"It all started," Ann picked up, "when Mother started to talk to her about the curriculum. 'After all, ' she pointed out, 'if sex education starts in the second grade, what's left to be covered in high school?'

"The woman just stammered and stuttered. Then Mom raised the question of the school's Gay, Lesbian, and Bisexual Alliance." Turning to Dad, Ann grinned and added, "Honest, Dad, they really do have one."

"And I can't tell you how great it makes me feel to hear you call me Dad," my father responded. "You know what?" he mused. "Just a few short months ago, Marty and I had only a single child. Now we find that we've had six of the most beautiful young women in the world as our daughters." He paused, looked at Kris, and added, "Kristin is a real problem, of course. Marty and I are morally certain she's our natural-born daughter, too, but since she's married to Cam, we're sort of keeping quiet about that one. There are some narrow-minded people who frown on incest, you know."

With that, Kris left her seat and sat across my lap. I then received possibly the warmest, most loving kiss of our relationship. While still in a bit of a daze from the kiss she remarked, "Oh, I don't know ... After all, Dad, vice is nice, but incest is best."

Mother rolled her hips, sighed and added, "Mmm ... Isn't it, though?"

The four younger girls all howled with laughter at that one.

"So what happened with Miss Merritt?" Dad prompted. "You were just getting started when you went off the track."

In her sternest tone, Kris stated, "Father, you simply must speak to Mother in the strongest possible terms!"

"Oh?" Dad inquired calmly. "What did she do this time?"

"She ate out Ms. Merritt right in the principal's office while Monica Cumberland was giving the principal a blowjob!"

"Kristin Harris!" Mom protested, "I was demonstrating cunnilingus, using Gwen Merritt as the subject..."

"But you made me coach Monica!" Kris pretended to wail.

"Golly, Big Sister," Little Bit piped up, "I really thought I knew how to eat pussy until I had you in the course on cunnilingus at The Institute. I really learned something in that course, too."

"And you also subbed for Sister Tina a number of times in her course on fellatio," Ann added with her eyes wide. She paused and then added, "You're even better at it than she is, I think." Feigning a puzzled expression she continued, "I don't understand the problem. But, Mommy, I don't understand. Why didn't you do both? You really did a great job on Ms. Merritt's pussy, demonstrating cunnilingus for her."

"Because, Daughter. And you should know the answer to that question yourself. How many times have I told you not to talk with your mouth full?"

"But I thought you meant food," Ann retorted.

"So how did it go?" Dad interrupted.

"It was just delicious!" Kim exclaimed. "Mom's tongue stud drove Gwen Merritt nuts! When we finally left, the woman was naked on the principal's couch with her arms and legs sprawled all over it. She was almost completely out of it, but she kept mumbling, "More, please..."

"And Principal Grimes was just so cute!" Judy added. "His penis is so small and yet so cute..." She paused and with a fake look of concern on her face she said, "But why did you make Monica shave Mr. Grimes' pubic area?"

"It was for sanitary reasons," Mom sniffed.

"His cock is really so cute," Kim said. "Boy! I wish we could have practiced with something that size at The Institute. It's the perfect size for learning how to deep-throat."

"No, it's not," Mother retorted. "Deep-throat, indeed! It wouldn't have reached the back of your mouth, let alone gone down your throat."

"But it would be all the way in," Kim retorted, "so what difference would it make? And why did you have poor Monica Cumberland shave everyone?"

"Because," Mom said with a pout, "I was afraid I would catch my stud in Gwen's pubic hair." She paused and then added, "She was really a hairy thing, wasn't she? And anyway, once Monica got going..."

"But why Principal Grimes?" Kim persisted.

"Because he has such a pretty little cock, I thought it would be much cuter if it were free of hair. And I really think it improves his groin. And Monica really seemed to like sucking him so much better after she had done it, too."

"But the way you left poor Gwen Merritt..." Judy said, sadly shaking her head.

"And what, exactly, did you do to Gwen Merritt, Mother?" I asked.

"Oh ... Nothing, really..." she replied, letting the words tail off.

"Nothing?" I persisted.

"Well, she really wanted it, and I had some spares with me, so..."

"Wanted what? And what spares?" I asked, growing exasperated. And Dad? It was all he could do to control his laughter.

"She looked so ... bare. It was a real shame. And I had some extras, so..."

"Bare? Extras of what?"

"Her pussy looked so bare after it was shaved. And I had a few extra gold rings ... And they're 18-carat, too, and I didn't even charge her."

"You mean..." I stammered, aghast. "You pierced and ringed her... ?"

"Well, she said she really wanted it done," Mother protested.

"Mo-ther!" Little Bit chided, breaking the word into two pieces. "Gwen Merritt was so out of it, she couldn't agree to anything." Then she grinned and added, "Boy, she really looked funny when we saw her later in the afternoon. She was so beautifully bowlegged and wearing that giant-sized sweatshirt. Her pussy and nips must have been killing her."

"I don't see why they would," Mom sniffed. "After all ... I did leave her two aspirin."

"Mother," I demanded, "what did you do?"

"Well ... Her clit is so tiny, I thought it would be good to have her clitoral hood pierced so a guy could find the right spot. And that applies to Monica Cumberland, too..." Her voice tailed off and then she mused, "I wonder how Monica made out? I gave Gwen all the aspirin I had." Then she stated firmly, "Oh, what the hell ... Monica was only pierced in one place, while Gwen..." Her voice tailed off.

"What about Gwen?" I insisted. "What did you do?"

"Well ... Her clitoral ring looked so good, I was sure she would want her navel and her nipples pierced and ringed, too. So I did."

"But, Mom," Judy protested, "you didn't even use a local anaesthetic! And piercing with a straight pin? I mean ... Really!"

"It worked, didn't it?" Mom retorted. "And as for an anaesthetic, she was so out of it from her cumings she didn't know the difference." She paused and then added, "And she looked so cute when we left her, too. And so much better looking with her bare pussy. Now if she would just lose some weight and work out a bit..." Again she paused and then added, "Maybe I should arrange for her to have a set of my magic machines..."

At that point Little Bit giggled and said, "The funniest thing was Principal Grimes trying to answer your questions about cheerleading tryouts while Ms. Cumberland was trying to get him to cum for the third or fourth time ... Boy! She really took to cocksucking, didn't she? To see her swallow it down, I would swear she had never had nice warm cum straight from a cock!" Turning to Ann, her partner in crime, she added, "And did you notice how she seemed to like it more as it got fresher? And the way she ever so gently kneaded his balls to encourage him to make more for her... ?"

"I thought the best part was when Mom pierced and ringed her clitoral hood with her last ring," Ann replied. "Poor Monica was bent over backward with Mr. Grimes' cock in her mouth..."

Little Bit broke out laughing as she remembered. "Poor Mr. Grimes ... He gave new meaning to Bill Clinton's line, 'I feel your pain.' Boy, he really felt Monica's! I was afraid she was going to bite his prick off." Turning to Mother she added, "Why on earth did you pierce her with Grimes' cock in her mouth, anyway?"

"Well!" Mother exclaimed in a huff. "With Gwen Merritt, it was easy. As you said yourself, she was so out of it from her orgasms — probably the first of her life, by the way — she didn't feel a thing. But Monica was different. I didn't want to disturb the rest of the school, and Grimes' prick perfectly muffled her scream. And doesn't she look darling, though? Although like Gwen, she could stand to lose a few pounds — like 30 or so — and get some exercise..."

"What did you think of our cheerleading tryouts, Mom?" Kim asked, dramatically changing the subject. "Do you think we'll make the squad?"

Mother held out her arms to the four young girls who squealed and each found a way to smother her with kisses. "I just don't know about my girls," Mom responded. "You're not the cheerleading type — any of you; you're too tall, for one thing, and your boobs don't jiggle. That's because you're all so muscular and still sort of small on top..."

The four girls all pouted and stripped off their tops. The older two had tits that were B-/A+, while the younger two were really A's.

"But my nipples are always taut, Mom," Judy protested, "and even if they're small, they stick out so nicely..."

"Sweetie, I don't know how you did it, but all four of you knew the cheers better than the veterans on the squad. And your athleticism is terrific! So you're shoo-ins to be on the squad. You can bet on it!"

Then her expression changed dramatically. "But your coach, Diane Smith ... There's something wrong with that girl besides a broken wrist. She's scared to death ... about something. I was watching her closely. When she was working with the girls she was fine, but whenever she was in repose, she looked utterly terrified."

Kris's eyes widened at Mom's statement. Then she said softly, "I noticed it, too, but I thought I was just seeing things—"

"You weren't," Mom interrupted. "It was all too real." Then shaking her head she added, "But there's more ... Aside from those Coke-bottle glasses she wears, have you ever seen such shapeless clothing on a woman in your life? My God! That girl could weigh between 120 and somewhere north of 200, and no one could tell the difference. I just wonder..."

We were all sitting around in the library following dinner when this conversation took place. It was already after ten o'clock, and I was looking forward to hours of lovemaking with Kris. But then the buzzer sounded, signaling that someone wanted admittance to our compound. Moreover, the sound of the buzzer indicated that the vehicle was one that had never been in our compound before.

Our system is truly remarkable, I guess. Its computer remembers vehicles, so a display will show that it's the UPS truck, or the plumber, or whoever. It's truly vehicle specific, too, as we found out when our regular UPS driver appeared in a different truck; his regular van was in the garage for maintenance, and somehow the computer knew the difference. But the vehicle at the gate was a new one, never on the property before.

Mom responded. She turned to us in surprise and announced that it was Diane Smith. "What does she want at this hour, I wonder?"

The young woman was looking around in awe as she looked over my parents' home. Mom showed her into the library and introduced Dad and me. She and Kris were certainly right about one thing: The girl was utterly terrified.

To the girls, Mom said, "I think you should leave us alone. Besides," she added, rolling her eyes, "I'm sure you're all tired from your day of tryouts."

The two pairs of "twins" looked at each other, licked their lips, and went off to their rooms.

Mother wasted no time. "Miss Smith, you look distraught. What's the trouble? Kris and I noticed the same thing earlier today."

"Mrs. Harris," the girl began, "I should be speaking with the superintendent, but he's away at a conference or workshop, so I came to see you as president of the Board of Education." With a very weak smile she added, "It wasn't easy trying to learn your address and then to find this place. It's utterly magnificent."

"So what's the problem?" Mom prompted.

"I am submitting my resignation as a teacher in this district, effective immediately. I must leave."

"It's related to why you've been looking so upset — so fearful — all day, isn't it?"

Diane Smith looked startled. Then she just broke down and began to bawl.

She was sitting on a leather-covered sofa at the time, while Mother was on a side chair beside her. Mom moved to the sofa and took the sobbing girl in her arms. Then we were all shocked. When mother hugged her, the girl screamed in pain!

Instantly, Mother moved back from the young woman and surprised us again. "Strip!" she ordered. "All your clothing ... Off!"

"But there are men here..." the girl protested, her voice trailing off.

"And other men have seen you bare before, haven't they?"

Amazingly, the girl's tears intensified, but she began to strip. She was wearing a very large sweatshirt, and when it came off, the reason for her scream of pain became obvious: Her breasts were badly bruised, cut and bleeding again; taking off the shirt had pulled scabs off some of the cuts.



-------

Chapter 21



As Diane Smith stripped — there really wasn't much for her to take off — a physical horror was revealed. Not only were her breasts bruised and bleeding, but she had been pierced and ringed in her nipples and her clitoral hood. Moreover, the rings in her nipples appeared to be more than triple the thickness of Mother's and were made of stainless steel rather than gold. They were almost as thick as her small nipples which were stretched laterally almost to the breaking point to hold them.

Then we began to learn the full horror of her story.

It had begun over a year earlier. She had been walking in a park and was jumped from behind. The first thing her assailant did was to remove her glasses. Then he proceeded to rape her. "There was one odd thing," Diane reported. "His voice sounded strange — sort of a Darth Vader sound. And it's been that way ever since. But he's the only one—"

"Only one?" Mother interjected. "There are more?"

"Now there are three of them. Or there were this morning, and for several episodes in the recent past." The girl again broke down in tears and cried, "This is my third teaching job in just over a year. I've been trying to get away, but it's no use. This time they found me just a couple of days after I started teaching here."

Mother and Dad exchanged knowing looks. I don't know what they were thinking of, but my first thought was one of the rapists was someone in the administration of her first school or was connected to one of them. Any subsequent school district would check her references, and the administrators of the first school would immediately learn where she was. Moreover, it might explain the voice disguise, suggesting that she might recognize the attacker's normal speaking voice.

"What happened this morning?" Kris asked softly.

"I got a phone call after midnight ordering to be in front of my place in ten minutes without my glasses on. They came by in a car and took me away."

"Do you know where you went?" Kris probed.

"I have no ... Yes! Yes, I do. I heard one say that we had just crossed the state line into Connecticut."

Kris's eyes widened and she looked at Dad. "The Mann Act — transporting women across state lines for immoral purposes — is still in force, isn't it, Dad?"

"It sure is. And so is the Lindbergh Act," Dad replied. "My, my! Our felons are on their way to very long stays with room and board supplied by the taxpayers."

"Then what happened?" Kris asked gently.

"They took me to some house. There they had a harness suspended from the ceiling they put me in. It enabled one to fuck my cunt while a second fucked my asshole and the third fucked my throat..." She suddenly looked startled and exclaimed, "Oh, my God! My language... !"

"We've heard the words before," Kris said gently. "And I may have used one or two myself."

Again Diane Smith broke down in tears. She huddled in a ball on the sofa crying her eyes out. Mom went to take her in her arms, but then stopped. She stripped off her clothing and then gently took the girl into her arms. Very gently she moved her pierced nipples over the girl's.

Diane's eyes widened. "You're pierced, too!"

"Mmm hmm," Mom murmured. Then she used her tongue stud to very gently lick the tortured girl's nipple.

"That feels heavenly!" Diane cried. "But what is it?"

"It's this," Mom replied sticking out her tongue while still caressing the girl all over, displaying her tongue stud.

"Then what happened?" Kris asked.

"After they had all switched places and I had taken them all three ways, it really got bad. It's been getting worse every time. At first, they just fucked me, but now that's just the appetizer..." She shook her head and interrupted herself. "I should apologize for my language, I suppose, but that's what they make me do. I'll plead, 'Please fuck my dirty asshole! It needs a hard cock.' But that's to avoid something worse...

"Worse?" Mom asked softly.

"Worse," Diane repeated. "This morning I pleaded with them to allow me to break my wrist."

"Why?"

"They were threatening to mutilate me. They were going to cut off my ears and nose ... And that was just for starters."

"My God!" Kris gasped.

"Then what happened?" Mom prodded.

"I put my arm across two pieces of wood and smashed my wrist with one of those hard-rubber hammers."

"And then they took you home?" Kris asked hopefully.

"Hah!" Diane said bitterly without a trace of humor. "Then they made me pull my tits out with the nipple rings while they beat on them with anything they could find. And I had to thank them after every stroke, too!" The girl held up her hands and it was easy to see where they had been struck in the process.

She shook her head sadly and added, "And believe me, it's no fun trying to pull on anything with a broken wrist!"

"This all relates to your eyesight ... Or lack of it," Mom said. "Can't your sight be fixed? They're doing wonderful things with lasers these days."

"As a matter of fact, an ophthalmologist claims my sight could be 20/20, but..."

"But what?" Dad asked.

"My insurance company won't pay for it," the girl replied. "Even though my sight is something worse than 20/500, it's correctable to 20/20 with glasses, so that's the way it is. And there's no way I could pay for a laser treatment myself."

"Cameron?" Mom asked, looking at me very pointedly.

"As soon as it can be scheduled," I promised.

I had noticed that the insides of her thighs seemed smeared with what appeared to be semen. "Is that what I think it is?" I asked her, pointing to her crotch.

"If you think it's cum, you're right," she agreed. "There are two reasons it's there: First, they told me not to wash it off. They said they would know, and given all they know about me, I wouldn't bet they wouldn't. Second, when they finally let me go, I only had time to get to the hospital to have my wrist set and then get to school."

"Have you eaten anything today?" Mother asked, acting motherly.

Diane just shook her head.

Kris jumped up from her chair and raced toward the kitchen.

"Cam," Dad asked, "have the lights been installed on the helipad yet?"

"They were set up a couple of weeks ago," I replied. Having tired of the horrors of the FDR Drive, we had switched from driving to using a chartered helicopter. And since we took in an occasional concert or show, we needed night-operations capability.

"Then whistle up a chopper. We've got to get this girl to Presbyterian Hospital as soon as possible."

"Bill, don't you know the local DA pretty well?" Mom asked.

"Well," Dad replied with a grin, "aside from giving him his first job out of law school and then thousands in campaign contributions, we do have a nodding acquaintance. Yes."

Then Dad asked me, "You're in tight with Kroll Associates, aren't you? Didn't they help you out on that Sylvia Stewart thing?" When I agreed they had, he continued, "Get them on this right now! For starters, have them put a tap on Diane's phone. The events last evening began with a phone call, so they're accustomed to calling her."

Mom, Dad and I joined Diane and Kris in the kitchen and sat around the table while Diane ate.

While she was eating, Mom asked, "When were you pierced?"

"A few weeks ago," the girl replied. "I guess I have a high tolerance for pain ... Or at least I do now." She paused and then continued, "Piercing my nipples with holes large enough for these rings was a real bitch!"

Mother went pale as she heard Diane's words. "You ... you pierced... yourself?"

"It was similar to last night," the girl replied. Then she added thoughtfully, "In fact, I guess that was the beginning of real mental torture: Forcing me to beg to do things to myself to prevent them from doing something even worse to me ... Oh, shit!"

Instantly she jumped up from the table and her eyes darted around the room. In a moment she was at the kitchen sink vomiting up everything she had just eaten. Mom and Kris rushed to stand beside her and hold her gently while her stomach was convulsing. Then she just sagged over and her head was virtually in the sink.

Very gently, Mom and Kris lifted her up. Kris helped her back to her seat while Mom ran the garbage disposer and cleaned out the sink with a hot-water spray.

Finally Diane was able to talk. "I guess I forgot that after whipping my tits, they took turns punching me in the belly and abdomen as hard as they could. I had to stand there, thank them for each punch, and tell them how good it felt to feel a fist hit my backbone from in front!"

Mom held her in her arms gently, and moved a hand over her forehead. To our surprise, her hair moved. Only then did we realize Diane was wearing a wig. Mom removed it and we saw that her hair was in a very short crewcut.

"I had to thank them for letting me shave every speck of hair from my body, too," the girl said.

Just then we heard the sounds of an approaching chopper in its landing approach. Mom and Kris helped Diane back into her sloppy clothes and we were off.

Later, Diane was in a private room in Harkness Pavilion. There were uniformed armed guards from Kroll right outside, and an armed female agent in the room with us. We had just been joined by a forensic pathologist who had just completed his tests.

"First of all," she said, "everything we found exactly corroborates what Miss Smith has told us. For example, the break in the arm is perfectly consistent with what a hammer would do to the left wrist while being wielded by the right hand. And," she added with a small humorless smile, "we have semen samples from three different men. They're being analyzed right now. Their results would provide positive identification of the men involved."

Diane stayed in the hospital recuperating for a couple of days. Then she was given the laser treatment to correct her eyesight. Never will I forget the look of joy on her face when she exclaimed, "I can see!"

Following Kroll's advice and our own inclination, Diane returned to our house in the compound without going near her own place. Since it was close to the end of school for the summer, Mother arranged for a medical leave of absence after privately telling her fellow school-board members what had happened to her.

When Diane first saw baby Billy, she did what every woman alive does: She cooed. When she looked at Kris plaintively, Kris gave her the infant to hold. "What an utterly perfect child!" Diane exclaimed softly as the baby continued to sleep in her arms while she very gently rocked him. (As far as women gooing over babies, I'm still batting 1.000; I've never seen it to fail.)

By the time school was out for the summer, Diane had physically recovered. She was living with us along with Little Bit and Ann, while Judy and Kim lived with my parents. The fact of the matter is that we all sort of moved around and sort of lived in two houses at once.

Initially, Diane had her own room. She kept it, I guess, to store her things, but that was about the only use it did get. Shortly after she moved in with us she was living with the girls. They said it was to be able to keep an eye on their cheerleading coach. Yeah ... Right. Kris and I just heard a steady chorus of giggles and orgasmic noises coming from the girls' room by the hour. Or we would have if Kris wasn't in the midst of a long-lasting and noisy orgasm of her own, which was the case most of the time.

It didn't take Diane any time at all to realize that, with the girls particularly, clothing was optional and they usually opted to leave it off. "It reduces the need to wash so many clothes," Little Bit sniffed. "We're just being environmentally aware."

I guess Diane had been living with us for a couple of weeks when I suddenly realized what an incredible beauty she really was. Definitely in Kris's class. In fact, she was almost Tina's twin. They were about the same height — five feet nine — with the same tawny gold hair and emerald green eyes. Diane's eyes, now out from under her former Coke-bottle lenses, really made her face and her beauty. I guess it was one morning when she came into the kitchen wearing only a terry robe. It was not cinched closed so she was bare from the top of her head on down.

At that point I remembered a comment Kris had made the night we had first heard of her successive rapes. "She's such a perfect young woman," Kris had said, "some twisted guys are determined to bring her down to their degraded level." Perhaps she was right. With the passage of time, the cuts and bruises had healed, and even the cast on her left wrist had been removed the day before.

Breakfast was soon finished and she and the other girls dropped their robes and bounced out in the direction of the swimming pool. It was already a beautiful day, and was getting even better.

Meanwhile, Kroll Associates and the FBI had been busy. Working on a money-is-not-a-factor basis, Kroll particularly was all over the case like a tent. Diane's home was in a garage apartment in an older section of town. Kroll had arranged for the occupants of the main house — Diane's landlords — to go off on an extended cruise leaving the house to them and the FBI. Believe me when I say they spared no expense to make their coverage virtually airtight. They even rented trucks from local businessmen — electricians, plumbers, phone company, electric utility, and so forth — so their people could maintain around-the-clock surveillance of Diane's place.

And it worked. There were a number of increasingly-threatening phone messages recorded. It was always the same voice, the Darth Vader sound-alike. Furthermore, the messages themselves were valuable insofar as they corroborated in bits and pieces the things that Diane had said she had been made to do.

In police work of that nature — most of it, in fact — patience is the paramount virtue. And Kroll was patient. Its agents had been checking the registration of all cars that passed the site. Most of them checked out as neighbors or people living in the same general area. Others were occasional passers-by. But there were three that emerged over time as being very interested in Diane's place without having any obvious reason for being in the neighborhood at all, let alone being there repeatedly.

It was more than a month after our first meeting with Diane that we received a call from the FBI's Special Agent In Charge. He asked for a meeting with Diane, explaining that Bureau technicians had been working on the digital voice recordings of the assailant. We set up the meeting for that afternoon.

The SAIC himself came out to the house along with a senior Kroll agent. They had a small MP3 player that, he explained, provided near-perfect sound reproduction. "Basically," he informed us, "there aren't that many ways to affordably change one's voice. There are ways to do it, but they're highly sophisticated and require a lot of very expensive equipment and a great deal of technical knowledge to use it properly. Frankly, I don't think our apes are nearly in that class. Anyway, our technicians believe they have essentially neutralized the voice-changing gear, restoring the sound to that of the original voice. We would like Miss Smith to listen to these recordings and see if anyone sounds familiar."

Kris and I were present at Diane's request, along with the SAIC and Kroll's guy. The SAIC was holding a clipboard that he and the Kroll agent could see, but we could not. He played the first band, and it obtained no reaction from Diane beyond a shake of her head; the second obtained the same reaction. Then he played the third.

She had heard only a few words when she exclaimed, "That's Bob Pierce! He was the principal at the first school I taught in!"

What we were hearing was one of the recorded messages with the voice-masking removed. The message was utterly appalling, threatening — promising! — all sorts of physical horrors the next time Diane was with them.

The SAIC grinned and turned his clipboard toward us. Although he had not made a mark on it while he was with us, the third entry was circled with a bright red marker and highlighted in Dayglo yellow to boot. "My guys were 99 percent certain that this was the way the guy normally sounded. The first two were recordings made by a couple of my own agents." He smiled grimly and added, "The fact is we have enough physical evidence to get an immediate indictment and almost certainly a conviction. And that would be without any testimony from Miss Smith. I would bet my last dime that with those three bozos we would get perfect DNA matches with the samples removed from her body. But..."

"But what?" Diane asked fearfully.

"But ... We would like to take them down when they try to do it again," the SAIC admitted. "A moment ago I said I could get an immediate indictment and almost certainly a conviction." He paused for a moment and then continued, "But, Miss Smith, the Bureau doesn't really like 'almost'; we want to be as close to certainty as possible." Again he paused and then added, "We have reason to believe that your playmates have broadened their horizons. You see, we have more than this recording. We have identified three men — Pierce is one of them, by the way — who have been seen repeatedly around your home. Based on that information, we obtained court orders and have tapped the phones of those three and now have reason to believe that they're working their wonders — or are about to — on other young women. We want to put them away for a very long time!"

"What would you like me to do?" Diane asked simply.

The instructions were simple: Based on their past practice, they would pick Diane up in front of her house late at night. The whole area would be covered like a blanket; they even had made tentative arrangements for the FBI's Hostage Rescue Unit to be involved. For her part, all she had to do was to listen for the word, "Drop!" and then drop to the ground like a stone. "But for the rest," the SAIC added, "just do the same things you've always done, and do them in the same way."

In the event, that's where the problem arose. The expected phone call came, and all preparations were in place. Diane even had fake Coke-bottle glasses in her purse as she had been told to do. But, in fact, she now had perfect eyesight.

The car came up to the curb and a three men got out while Diane just stood still as she had been ordered. One of them then came into the light from a streetlight on a utility pole and she inadvertently exclaimed, "Mr. Pierce!"

"You bitch!" he screamed, pulling a gun from his jacket pocket. A second man also drew a weapon while the third apparently reached for one.

"Drop!" came an amplified voice, instantly followed by the order, "Drop 'em!"

Diane followed her instructions perfectly. She just went limp, dropping straight to the ground as there was a hail of gunfire from a semicircle of FBI agents in the area. In just an instant all three were very dead, having been shot to rags by heavy-caliber bullets.

Diane just remained crumpled into a ball on the ground with parts of two former assailants on top of her. In a moment, FBI agents lifted off the bodies and a female agent very gently helped Diane to her feet. At that, she began to weep.

"It's all right," the FBI woman whispered. "It's all over."

"I know," Diane cried, "and I guess that's why I'm crying. It is all over."

It finally ended with the FBI making a few very discreet calls on young women who had been contacted by the rapists. They were told there was no further danger. Searches of the three men's homes revealed a cache of incriminating materials along with the address of the house in Connecticut to which Diane had been taken.

The SAIC said, "You know, this has really been one for the books. By that I mean every single element of Miss Smith's story — even the most trivial-appearing details — checked out exactly. That woman is something else!"

Mother had a private talk with our superintendent of schools who, in turn, communicated with his opposite number in Mr. Pierce's district. He advised him and his people not to get too carried away in eulogizing Mr. Pierce's sudden passing without providing any details. None were required. Although nothing appeared in the papers people do talk, and apparently word filtered out from the funeral home that Pierce's body had been riddled with bullets. And since there was no search for any killer...



-------

Chapter 22



"Dad!" Kris almost screamed, "you have to speak very firmly to Mother. Why ... why..."

"Stop sputtering, Kris, and get it out," I said.

Dad and I had been relaxing in his library late one Wednesday afternoon while Mom was off for her regular Bridge game at the club. Kris had been filling in for a missing player.

"It was awful!" Kris added without significantly enlightening either of us with respect to what was awful.

"We'll be asked to leave the club!"

"I don't think so, dear," Mother commented as she entered the room. "And you really do have a perfect pair of tits, Kristin."

"Would you believe it?" Kris sputtered. "Not only did she have me bare my breasts — in public, yet! — but she has the gall to ask me for some of my milk for her tea!"

"But you do it for Cam all the time," Mom commented calmly, "and it's so nice and sweet I don't even have to add any sugar."

"That's ... that's different. Besides ... It's at home, and—"

"Last week at that restaurant in New York?" Mother interrupted.

"That was after several glasses of wine," Kris grumped. "And most of the women there were half-dressed — at best — anyway. There were tits spilling out of tops all over the room ... And there were at least two girls dressed the way Tina was when she met Scott Harrington: One breast was completely bare."

"Your tits are so much nicer than theirs, too," Mom added. "And besides ... How many women have breasts that are so firm and self-supporting that they don't even need a bra when they're nursing? I ask you."

"But that wasn't all!" Kris complained. "Dad, Mom bared her breasts for everyone. We'll be asked to leave the club!" she repeated.

"I really don't think we will," Mom replied quietly but firmly.

"Oh? Why not?"

"Because it would be ... unwise."

"And why would that be?" Kris persisted.

"Kristin, you're an attorney. How much do you know about the business side of the country club?"

"About as much as would rattle on the head of a pin," my wife replied. "I guess there's a share of stock involved that all regular members have to own, but that's about all. Oh, yeah ... There are the annual dues, too."

"How about the property?" Mom asked.

Kris just slowly shook her head.

Mom just grinned. "You're correct as far as you went," she said, "but you're missing something. You see, the club doesn't own the property it sits on; we do."

"Huh?" Kris gasped, utterly amazed.

"It's really funny, I guess," Mom continued; "but not very funny to some. You see, our families have owned that property forever. Way back when — about 90 years ago — some people thought that one of those then-new golf clubs sounded like a good idea. They felt they could raise the money for a clubhouse and stuff, but they needed a lot of land. I guess it was your father's great-granddad or some such who stepped forward. He owned a ton of land up here. Since the club organizers didn't have the money to buy the land, he gave them a land lease at a very nominal annual rental. And it's been that way ever since."

"But what's that have to do with asking us to leave?" Kris persisted.

"The land lease expired about 25 years ago..." Mom said with a grin, "and it's never been renewed."

"But the club's still there," Kris said, looking very puzzled.

"Yes, it is," Mom responded, "but they've been month-to-month ever since. Way back when, they wanted to renew the lease for 99 years. The family just dragged their feet and just asked for the continuation of the quite nominal monthly rent. And that's exactly the way it still is. So anyway, asking us to resign could mean the immediate eviction of the club and our take-back of our land ... with all leasehold improvements thereto."

"You mean... ?"

"I mean!" Mom replied, underscoring her words.

Kris started to giggle. "How many people know about the land-lease thing?" she asked.

"Everyone who has ever served on the Board of Governors knows it." With her eyes dancing Mom added, "Dad and I always make sure that they do."

Then she mused, "You know ... Someday I'm going to have your dad fuck me on the table at a nice formal dinner dance. It would be such fun!" Then she nodded firmly and added, "Yep. That's exactly what we'll do. And I think I'll be in my really noisy mode, too, counting my orgasms in as loud a voice as I can manage."

"But why did you show your tits?" Kris asked.

"To drum up more business, of course."

"More business?"

"Oh, dear ... I guess I never told you, did I? Well, you're always referring to my Magic Machines. You do, don't you?"

"I guess so," Kris admitted.

"Well, that's why I bared my tits," Mom said, as if the relationship between her tits and her machines was self-evident.

"It's not at all clear to me," I said. "Please explain."

"Well, it's simple ... Sort of. I guess I'm getting a little tired of ordering dozens of machines ... for no money! So ... I decided to go into business. Kris and the girls are helping me with the advertising."

"We are?" Kris exclaimed, amazed. "And just how are we doing that?"

"By being who you are," Mom replied. "That's all." Then she smiled warmly and continued, "Can I help it if I mother the most beautiful, the best-conditioned women on the planet? And you are, you know. All of you.

"Anyway, now I'm the distributor for Westchester County for Female Fitness, Inc." She grinned and added, "And sales are really booming, too."

And they were. And they did. That conversation was in late August. By December, Mother was the distributor for upstate New York (excluding the City) and for all of New England. She and the girls were by then moving the exercise machines by the truckload.

But it was early in October when Mom and Dad appeared unannounced at our place. Little Bit and Ann were at cheerleading practice along with Diane Smith and we were alone.

I took one look at Mother and saw something was very wrong. At least she looked very concerned about something, and since I knew she was expecting a baby after the first of the year, I was concerned, too.

I managed to control my curiosity, though, and made drinks for everyone. By then, I had known for some time about the rather peculiar pregnancies the girls had, and the fact that the pregnancy characteristic was transferrable, as was the hair control.

Finally we were seated with Mom and Dad sitting together on the leather sofa in the library while Kris and I sat on flanking side chairs.

"What's the trouble, Mom?" I asked. "Looking at you and Dad, it's apparent that something is."

"It's not trouble, exactly..." Dad began. "In fact, I guess it's pretty good. But it's weird."

"What's weird?" Kris asked.

"Do you remember Susan Dawson's comments at the Lincoln Center concert about us?" Mom asked.

Kris and I exchanged looks and both nodded.

"Well, she said Dad had me in orgasm for only two hours the night before."

"Okay. And... ?" I prompted.

"Last night it was almost four," she replied, blushing. "And ... and ... we pulled an all-nighter, too. My God!" she moaned, "My poor pussy will never be the same! And no sleep..."

"Now look here, Martha Harris, I was sleeping soundly when I was rudely awakened ... by you! Now what do you have to say about that?"

"That wasn't my fault," Mom retorted. "I couldn't help it if I had an itch I couldn't scratch. But your cock is so much longer ... I mean ... Hell, I would have had to shove my whole hand up my twat ... Disgusting!"

"And Susie teased her about being a full second off the American men's record swimming 400 meters?" Dad reminded us.

Again we both nodded.

"Yesterday she took a full five seconds off the world record," he said softly. Then looking at us both he continued, "And then we got the results of our recent physicals. Mom wanted to see how the baby is doing. Well ... We found out."

"And... ?"

"Marty Harris is in perfect shape ... for a 19-year-old," Dad declared.

"And you, Dad?" Kris asked.

"I'm in top shape ... for a guy of 21."

"It's happened!" Kris nearly screamed. Jumping from her seat she knelt in front of Mother and extended her hands, palms up.

Seeing it, I realized it was an exact repeat of the way she had greeted her twin sister, Jean, months earlier. Seemingly without any thought, Mother extended her arms, palms down and the two women grasped each other's forearms. I could actually see electricity flowing between them.

Still without saying a word, she did the same thing with Dad, who fortunately was wearing a golf shirt. The same thing happened. Then she came to me. I slipped off my jacket, rolled up my shirt sleeves and grasped her forearms. When the electric sensation was repeated, Kris looked utterly joyous. "It's happened! Oh, God, it's happened!" she exclaimed.

"What happened, Daughter?" Mom asked. "You seem to know."

"Mom and Dad, you are our Mom and Dad. Really! It just happened the way it happened to Jim Dawson."

"What's that mean?" Dad asked.

"It means that you've all been adopted — or something — by the folks back home. It means you now have all of the same powers that we have. But you have some more, too."

"Like what?" Mom asked.

Kris briefly explained some of the powers: the computer-like memory and indexing, long-range hearing, and the ability to lock on any conversation when a speaker was in sight. "But I'm pretty sure there's more. For example, what are Kim and Judy talking about?"

"They're just yakking about a couple of ... My God!" Mom yelped. "They're in Kim's car and they're miles away... !"

"That's a part of the Mommy Filter," Kris explained with a grin. "You just automatically track whatever your children are doing. It just registers and records, essentially in background. But if anything happens — or if anything is said — that you need to know, you'll know it at once."

"But you and Cam... ?" Mom asked.

"I'm not sure, Mom, but I think it shuts down when the kids get married." She smiled warmly and added, "You'll also be able to communicate with Dad mentally. And you'll be hard-wired to your baby. She moves and you'll know it instantly." Then with her eyes still dancing she frowned and added, "Oh, dear..."

"Oh dear, what?" Dad asked.

"Remember you were teasing me about marrying my brother? Well, guess what? That's exactly what I did. And DNA testing would prove it, too." Then she grinned and added, "But as I said at the time, 'vice is nice, but incest is best'."

"What about ... Diane?" Mother asked softly.

"I don't know for sure," Kris replied, "But I would be willing to bet that she reacts the same way."

And so she did.

And it didn't take long to find out, either. A short time later, Diane came in with smoke coming out of both ears. "I'll kill him!" she growled. "By God, I'm going to kill him!"

Mom reached out to Diane in the same way Kris had reached out to her. And Diane responded in the same manner, extending her arms with her palms down. As they gripped forearms, we all could see the electricity as well as a shocked look on Diane's face. "My God!" she exclaimed. "What was that?"

"Welcome to the Harris family ... my darling daughter," Mom said softly. Then she took the girl into her arms and kissed her.

It was utterly unreal. We could see accumulated stress and even residual terror from her raping pour from her body as the two were locked together in a very passionate embrace. Finally, Mom let go, but only to take Diane over to Dad who repeated the same thing.

"What happened?" Diane finally stammered.

"As of right now, Diane Smith Harris, you are physically perfect. Furthermore, you now have a whole series of new powers your brand-new sisters will be delighted to tell you all about. But in the meantime, you had smoke coming out of both ears and were threatening murder. Who are you going to kill, and why?"

"That utterly insufferable Steven Chamberlain is who!"

For some reason, neither Mom or Dad seemed the slightest bit upset. Later, I learned from Kris why: "Because, turkey, Sister Diane is madly in love with the guy, but won't even admit it to herself. Especially not to herself."

"Steve Chamberlain... ?" I murmured.

"That's the name," Kris agreed.

"Oh, dear! This is going to be very funny ... I think." I thought for a few moments, reviewing what I knew and what I had heard about Steve Chamberlain. Then it all came into sharp focus: that mental computer and indexing power at work.

"Honey," I began, "Steve Chamberlain has almost as much money as I do. Furthermore, he was a Rhodes Scholar and has his doctorate in history from Oxford, but he's teaching locally ... on the basis of only having his BA." Then I grinned and added, "Oh, yeah ... He coaches football, too. I'll bet..."

"I don't believe this!" Kris squealed. "I'll bet he made some crack to Diane about her cheerleaders..." She giggled and added, "And I'll bet I know what he said, too."

"What's that?" I asked.

"He probably said something about needing more tits and ass on the squad. Diane has those girls in top physical condition — all of them — and they have beautifully tight buns and very firm tits..."

"Like my bride?" I asked

"Cam, I'm trying!" Kris wailed. "I thought ... I thought that when I gave birth to Billy, I would finally have a nice pair of tits, but they're the same as they always were—"

"—utterly gorgeous!" I completed. "Kristin Harris, you are utter female perfection on two lovely feet ... Even if you can't wear 4-inch heels."

"But I will, darling!" Kris quickly said. "I don't care if I have to cut off my feet, I'll wear them."

"You will like hell!" I insisted. "Besides..." I sniffed, "I like you barefoot and pregnant ... and I particularly like you bare-assed naked!"

"Nipple rings?" Kris asked diffidently. "A ring through my clitoral hood? A few tats, maybe?"

"Female perfection on two lovely feet," I repeated. "You, wench, will leave perfection alone! Clear?"

"Yes, Master," she said, trying to control her giggle. "You were very clear."

Diane and Steve Chamberlain? Oh, yeah ... Kris's explanation turned out to be exactly what he had said to her. And then he pinched her ass, to which she retaliated by groping his cock and balls ... and getting a big surprise when she found how big he seemed to be.

The warfare between Diane and Steve escalated throughout the fall. To add to her aggravation, not only did they have adjacent classrooms, they adjoined. There was a folding door that separated the two rooms, and it was Mr. Grimes, the principal's, idea that they team-teach a couple of sections.

Diane hated it, Steve claimed to, too, but the students utterly loved it. Furthermore, the test results achieved by the classes blew through the top of the scale. And the results were particularly amazing since they included students who had shown no previous interest in any academic subject from as far back as anyone could remember. Diane was getting her Ph.D. in American history, but thought that Steve was an uneducated bumpkin. Furthermore, he was from South Carolina and a truly gifted mimic. He could — and did — adopt perfect good ol' boy Southern speech that drove Diane nuts, particularly as they discussed events before the Civil War and then the war itself.

Meanwhile, mother's sales of the Female Fitness line continued to soar. When she formally requested that she be given the New York City territory, it provoked a reaction from Female Fitness's California headquarters. The fact of the matter was that Mom was getting more sales from Westchester County alone than the company was getting from New York City, even though the county's sales potential was only a very small fraction of the city's.

The result was the president of Female Fitness was coming East to meet Mom and talk about giving her additional territory. Mom was more excited than I had ever seen her in the past. "The president herself!" she exclaimed. Then to me she said, "Cameron, call your friends at Executive Aviation. Have them send their finest aircraft out to the Coast to bring the president out here. They can go into John Wayne International; the company is headquartered in Huntington Beach, so I would guess she lives near there. And they can bring her in to Westchester, too. That should save time at both ends."

Finally she ran down, but than added, "I want a repeat of the airborne banquet you put on when Liz and Tina came up, too."

So that's the way it played. Mom didn't want to come to the airport to meet the plane — she claimed to have more room to pace the floor at home — so Kris and I went over.

Mom had said something about the president bringing her children out with her, so I wasn't very surprised when the door opened and the first person out was a very tall young man. He extended a hand backward and handed down a young woman who followed.

Then I did a double-take and my eyes widened. Glancing over at Kris, I could see that her reaction was the same as mine. To my utter amazement, the woman was Kimberly Kramer, who had won at least three Oscars for Best Actress. But who could the young man be? Kimberly looked to be barely 19! But then ... I remembered that her first Oscar had been for Kelly, and that had been released ... years earlier. I couldn't remember how many years. [See Kimberly, at Stories Online.]

The two were followed down the steps by a young woman who appeared to be Kim's younger sister. I suspect my jaw dropped when I first saw the woman, but it was back to normal when she greeted us. "Hi!" she said in a very breezy but friendly tone, "I'm Kimberly Kramer, and you are... ?"

"I'm Cam Harris," I managed to say, "and this is my wife, Kris." I shook my head and added, "I apologize. We didn't expect to be meeting such a celebrity."

"What is it Andy Warhol said? Each of us will be famous for five minutes?" With a lovely grin she added, "I guess I've overstayed my welcome by a bit." Then turning to the young people she added, "This is my son, Tony — actually, the poor guy is William Bradley Kramer, III, if you can imagine — and my daughter, Susan."

"But you can't be old enough..." Kris began. Then she said, "They're adopted, aren't they?"

"Not really," Kim replied with a cute giggle. "They're souvenirs."

"Souvenirs... ?" Kris responded, puzzled.

"Tony's our souvenir of our first film, Kelly. He was conceived on camera during our very first lovemaking on film." She grinned and added, "There aren't many kids who have a DVD showing the moment of their conception, but both of these kids do."

"As do most of our siblings," the girl, Susan, added with a little grin. "Personal modesty has never been Mom's strongest suit."

By this time we were in the Rolls driving toward my parents' home.

"What about you, Susan?" Kris asked.

"Oh, I was conceived on a tropic island in the Hawaiian chain," the girl replied breezily. "But I don't know which of Mom's fuckings it was..."

"The first, dear," Kim injected. "It was the first time your dad took me on the beach." Then she shook her head and said, "But something is really wrong with me..." Her voice tailed off.

"What could possibly be wrong with you?" Kris asked. "You look utterly perfect to me."

"It's just not fair!" Kim grumped. "I mean ... After children and all ... Why does Brad still have to enter me like he's putting on a very tight-fitting glove? Don't you think my pussy should have loosened up a bit by now?"

"Honest?" Kris nearly screamed. "I thought I was the only one. Liz and Tina haven't delivered yet, but I have, and Cam still stretches my insides every damned time!"

"Mrs. Harris—" Susan Kramer began.

"Sue," Kris interrupted, "I'm really not that much older than you are. Couldn't you please bring yourself to call me Kris?"

The girl glanced at her mother who subtly nodded.

"Kris," the girl began again, "you're a lawyer, aren't you? I mean ... Aunt Carol is, too, but I can't really trust her on something as important as this."

"And what might that be?" Kris asked.

"What's the legal definition of justifiable homicide? I mean ... I have a brat sister..."

"How many children do you have?" Kris asked Kim.

The woman held up nine fingers.

"Mother!" Susan exclaimed, "You mean nine and eight-ninths! You're about ready to deliver again."

"How do you know that?" Kim grumped. "I've never said a word."

"Mother... !" the girl repeated. "It's ridiculously easy. First, I can see you're having to suck in your belly when you fasten the waistband of your Levi's. That's a sure sign. And then there's the calendar..."

"What's that mean?"

Susan grinned and replied, "Mother dear, there's almost exactly two years between children. And since Andy is just about two, it means ... Oh, yeah ... And it will be another girl."

"Mom is funny as hell," Tony interjected. "What Sue is saying is that the little kids are neat; it's the middle ones who get to be royal pains in the butt..."

"That's for sure!" Susan agreed. Then to Kris she repeated, "Justifiable homicide?"

Kimberly Kramer was sitting by the window barely able to control her giggles. "Is it genetic? It's got to be hardwired, somehow ... How else can younger sisters always know where every button is located and exactly what sequence to push them in to achieve the greatest effect." Then to her daughter she asked, "And what did Sandy do this time?"

Tears were coming to the young woman's eyes. "She says I'm flat as a board and wondered why I don't wear falsies or something. Then the little bitch proudly points out that she has tits as big as mine — we both have mosquito bites — and she's only twelve!"

Kim calmly undid the buttons of her blouse and let it hang open. In the rearview mirror I could see her perfect breasts with their tiny nipples. "Now let's see yours," she said.

"But mother! There are people here..."

"And there are people around at home, too. So what? Susan Kramer, I never noticed that personal modesty was ever very high on your list of attributes..."

"Yeah, Sis," Tony commented. "They may not be very big, but you have the most perfectly tanned pair of tits in the whole school."

"That's because I don't have any!" the girl cried. "Some of the girls go through endless gyrations to try to tan the bottoms of their breasts. But I don't have any bottoms! I don't have any tits!"

"Let's see," Kim repeated.

The 16-year-old girl unfastened her blouse, looking very embarrassed as she did. "Just look!"

Kim gently caressed her daughter's tits. The girl's nipples, already taut, elongated still further. The girl sighed and wriggled on the seat as her mother continued her fondling. "Well, they're sensitive enough..." Then she kissed the girl and asked, "Now what's your problem? Look at yours and look at mine. And remember, I've had nine children and have been nursing constantly for over 18 years."

Kimberly Kramer's breasts were perfect with very small nipples and areolae; remarkably, the nipples were still pink.

"But the guys want big tits!" Susan complained. "They never even look at me!"

"The hell they don't!" Tony exclaimed. "Why ... I've had to tell more than a few of my teammates where to head in. They think you're the hottest thing on two feet!"

"They do? But I've never even had a date!" the girl wailed.

"That's because they want to keep on living," Tony said smugly. "I told them that if they mess with you, they would be taking a grave risk with their lives!"

Susan was aghast. "Why you... !" she sputtered, at a loss for words.

"It seems the family has a certain reputation ... Mom and Dad, for example..."

Hearing his words, something clicked in my head. "Wait a second," I said. "Didn't I read something in the paper a short time ago? Something in ... Nevada ... I think?"

"It's possible," Tony agreed. "The law enforcement agencies called in a bunch of chits and got the news organizations to downplay the story, but they couldn't kill it completely."

"What did happen?" I asked.

"Oh ... a few Arabic-looking types decided to commit suicide," Tony replied casually.

"Huh... ?" I so-cleverly responded.

"Mom and Dad had stopped at a real out-of-the-way little general store in Nevada," Susan said, picking up the thread. "I guess they bought some gas and were getting some drinks when these thugs appeared."

"They grabbed a young woman and had a gun to her head," her brother continued.

"A very bad move," Susan said, "considering they also had the typical Muslim attitude about women: They're worthless."

"You know," Tony mused, "I really think Mom enjoyed it. She's been firing possibles on the terrorist shooting course for years, and here this yo-yo decides he's going to act it out in real life."

"The guys — I guess there were eight of them crowded into this little store — were focused on Dad and the owner; they weren't paying any attention to Mom. Big mistake!" she concluded with a grin.

Tony laughed and continued, "We got the customary nasty e-mail from Aunt Kelly. She said, 'Why do you have to keep wasting bullets like that? One bullet in the brain is as effective as two.'" He shook his head and continued, "Of course, there was a single entry hole, and I guess a single exit hole, too. Of course the exit hole took out the back of his head. Mom now has a thing about firing 9mm hollow-points. They expand on contact and really make a hell of a mess sometimes. But the entry hole was exactly centered between his eyes."

"Then all hell broke loose," Susan continued. "Dad drew and started firing, and the storekeeper pulled out an old Colt .45 revolver from under the counter. But that wasn't all! The girl who had been a hostage grabbed a Winchester, went to the door and opened up on two more in the van the bunch had arrived in. She took out the last two." Susan grinned and shook her head, "So much for gun control. And because of what happened, it looks like a part of a large terrorist group was eliminated. Police and FBI found the cabin where they were staying out in the desert. They found leads to three other groups in other parts of the country.

"That's one reason they tried to keep the press coverage down. They didn't want to tip the other cells."

Kimberly Kramer had been looking more embarrassed as her children told the story. Finally she declared, "You're trying to make your father and me look bloodthirsty! Stop it!"

"It happens every couple of years or so," Tony continued, ignoring his mother's admonition. "The time before that was a couple of years ago. Mom and Dad had been out somewhere and were returning to the car when they were jumped by a group of four. Another very bad idea. In that one, no guns were used, just bare hands. In seconds all four assailants were dead.

"My mother is strong!" he continued. "And I don't mean strong for a woman; I mean strong! When she gives a spanking, you know you've been spanked."

"And then Aunt Jenny comes in to pick up the pieces," Susan interjected. "It's the same every time: She tells us that Mommy still loves us and it's for our own good." She shook her head and said, "When your bottom is hurting like hell — and we'll feel it for days — that can be a bit hard to believe. But she's perfect: Hate the sin; love the sinner. That's Aunt Jenny."

"And that's why we have to get home quickly," Tony added. "She's with Dad and the younger kids. When we get home, Jenny won't be able to even walk; Mom's the only one alive who can take Dad as a steady diet. He's so big, he would kill any other woman, and he almost kills Aunt Jenny. But she insists on taking him anyway. She says that if she goes, she'll have the happiest smile on her face anyone has ever seen."

We then learned that Jenny Clark had sold body parts — her ovaries, one lung, a kidney — to get money to live after winning a huge court judgment all of which ended up in the hands of her lawyer and the lawyer's backers.

"But you know what?" Susan added. "When they removed a lung, her heart grew to fill the space. I'm sure of it. She is the most wonderful person alive! To know her is to love her," she added, "and that's regardless of who you are. To the little kids, she's the personification of the Fairy Godmother."

"To that, I can only say amen," Kimberly added.

By that time we had reached my parents' home. Mom was out front waiting for us.



-------

Chapter 23



To say that Mom and Kimberley Kramer hit it off would be the understatement of the century! When they first saw one another in front of our home, each moved toward the other like a zombie. They came together, embraced and then kissed. And it wasn't a sisterly kiss, either. Then they moved away just far enough to be able to focus on the other and proceeded to stare into each other's eyes.

"Okay," Kim finally murmured, "you're now our distributor for Metropolitan New York. Now is there anything else?"

"You're Kimberly Kramer, aren't you?" Mom said softly. "I can't tell you how honored we are to have you here." Then she looked puzzled and added, "But you can't be. You're her daughter, maybe?"

"Un, oh!" Tony Kramer murmured, but loudly enough for his voice to carry. "You had to remind her..."

"What's that all about?" Mom asked as she went to him and introduced herself.

"I'm Tony Kramer," the young man said, "and this is my little sister, Susan."

"The 'uh, oh'?" Mom reminded him.

"That was when Tony thought his life was going to come to a rather abrupt end," Susan answered. Then she giggled and added, "But it really was pretty funny."

"I didn't think it was funny at all," Kimberly grumped.

"But we did, Mom," Susan replied.

"Could someone please tell us what was so funny ... or not so funny?" Mom persisted.

"It happened a few weeks ago," Susan began. "The three of us were out shopping at an out-of-the-way mall. It's the only kind of place Mom will allow us to be seen with her: afraid for her image and all that."

"It's really funny," Tony picked up. "Mom will do those TV interviews, and it plays the same way every time. She goes with our two youngest siblings, whoever they may be at the time. It works best when they're about 1½ and 3½," he confided. "In all honesty, the little kids are utterly adorable — and they know it! They play it for all they're worth. None of the TV people ever seem to notice that sometimes the older one is a girl and other times, a boy. Anyway, with a couple of very young children, looking like she's in her early 20s seems quite natural."

"The mall?" Mom reminded him to bring him back to the subject.

"Well, when Mom really dresses up — the way she is for the interviews — she can easily pass for an adult. But when she's wearing her Levi's and a ratty shirt tied under her tits, she looks to be about 17. Or maybe 16. You know? One of those girls who's developed hips but is still waiting for something to appear on top? Anyway, that's Mom.

"It was hot as hell that day, and the mall was close to the desert so it was even worse. The mall's air conditioning was running full blast, but I suspect the temperature in there was in the 80s, anyway. We had been shopping and Mom was getting thirstier by the minute. Finally we broke for lunch. For most of the previous hour she had been talking about how great a nice cold beer was going to taste. We ordered and Mom ordered her beer.

"The waitress was skeptical, and she even laughed when Mom produced her ID. 'This is absurd!' the waitress declared. 'If it said you were 21, I wouldn't have believed it but I would have served you. But 47? Get real!' And, in all honesty, I guess I didn't help things too much..." Tony's voice tailed off.

"And what did you do?" Mom persisted.

"Oh ... nothing, really," Tony replied vaguely.

"Bullshit!" Kim interjected. "You bastard! You had to say, 'I told you it wouldn't work, Sis. I know you look a lot like Mom, but still... ' And that wasn't all!" the woman seethed, "He had the nerve to order a beer for himself! The waitress didn't even ask him for ID! And when she brought it, the bastard wouldn't even give me a sip!"

"I am not a bastard!" Tony sniffed. "I was conceived after you and Dad had been married for months."

"But that wasn't the end of it," Susan said. "When we got back to the car, smoke was still coming out from Mom's ears. She just glared at Tony and said, 'You drive, big brother!' All the way home, she just sat in the passenger seat glaring at him. And, as people know, Mom has been known to get a little violent at times. I think her personal body count is around 20 by now." The girl grinned and continued, "Even though we were close to the desert, I'm pretty sure that we didn't need the air conditioning running in the car. The look in Mom's eyes would have quick-frozen anything! I really think Tony was scared."

"Then what happened?" Mom asked. "He's still here, and he looks pretty healthy to me."

"Something that amazed both of us. We got home and Mom stormed into the house and found Aunt Jenny. She proceeded to tell her what had happened, but..."

"But what?" Mom asked excitedly.

" ... But she broke down laughing. She was laughing so hard, she couldn't even stand up anymore. She ended up lying on the floor, still howling with laughter. Then you know what she did?"

We just shook our heads.

"She sat across Tony's lap and gave him the most passionate kiss of his whole life. I think Mom actually put him out for a moment. Then she said softly, 'Thank you, my darling son! That was the finest birthday present you could possibly have given me.' Mom had struck again! Tony and I both wanted to disappear into a crack in the floor. Neither of us had remembered it was Mom's birthday. But then..."

"Then what?" Mom prompted eagerly.

"Then Aunt Jenny said, 'You two are really getting forgetful in your advancing years. I found these in your rooms this morning, and since they're labeled for your mother... ' Would you believe it? There were two wrapped packages. The one nominally from Tony was wrapped in his typically sloppy fashion, while mine was better, but still pretty amateurish. Jenny's? Every gift we get from her looks like it's been professionally wrapped. But she's so damned good, she could imitate Tony's inimitable wrapping style perfectly ... and she had!

"They were two of the most perfect gifts you could imagine. Mom was so happy, she was in tears. Then she kissed us both with all of her passion unleashed and told us we were the best children on the face of the earth. Then Jenny trouped in the rest of the kids, and it was a repeat." To her mother, Susan said, "You really shouldn't hear this, Mom."

By this time we were all in the house seated in the library. "What shouldn't I hear? That Jenny bought the gifts for all of you? I knew it the instant I saw them, turkey!"

The two kids looked utterly crushed. "But how could you?" Tony asked.

"Because there's something that's used in National Security called — I think — a Pigeon Trap. In very highly-classified documents, there will be tiny changes in wording from copy to copy. So if there's a spy or someone leaking classified information, by checking the exact wording they can tell who did it by the exact words. Well," Kim said proudly, "I did the same thing. There were a couple of things I really wanted, but Jenny was the only person I told. Both of them were in the group of gifts." Then she just shook her head and added, "That woman is something else. Sue, I think you're absolutely correct, too: I think her heart did expand to fill her chest cavity. There's no one alive who is as considerate or as loving as she is."

Kimberly paused and then added, "I hope your father appreciates what he has sharing his bed while we're gone. That woman has the sweetest pussy..."

Then to her children she said, "But I still meant every word that I said. I have the finest family with the greatest kids on the face of the earth!"

"Which ones?" Susan asked blandly.

"Huh?"

"Which ones? Yours or Aunt Carol's?"

"What's that mean?" Kim asked.

Susan giggled and replied, "Mom, we all laugh about it. We really sort of have one very big family split in two houses with the Christians. It's an absolute riot! Every day or so you'll call Aunt Carol or she'll call you. 'I have two of yours over here. Do you have three of mine, by any chance?'"

"Golly, Mom, I'll bet Julie Christian has more things in Susan's room than she has in her own," Tony Kramer commented.

Susan's giggle turned into full-blown laughter. "She really does," she said. "A week or so ago Julie and I actually took inventory. She does have more stuff in my room than in her own." Then to Tony she said, "And when are you going to notice Julie, anyway?"

Notice her?" he nearly screamed. "How can I not? When the two of you come into my room bare-assed naked and ask me to check to see if you left any stray hairs after shaving your pussies? Good grief, girl!"

This time it was Kimberly Kramer who giggled. "What he's really saying, I regret to say, is that in the combined Kramer-Christian households, dress can most usually be described as 'clothing optional'. And starting when they're barely out of diapers, they usually opt not to wear any." She slowly shook her head and added, "And living on the edge of the desert, it's fair to say we have the smoothest all-over tans you're going to see outside of a nudist camp."

"Or inside, for that matter," Susan interjected. "And, Mother dear, we don't notice you or Aunt Carol going out of your way to dress..."

"Your dad likes me to have a tanned pussy," Kim protested. "Can I help that?"

"And Uncle Bill?"

"God, what I wouldn't give to have Carol Christian's body!" Kim exclaimed.

"That's funny, Mom," Tony said. "She says exactly the same thing about yours."

To Mother, Susan said, "Carol Christian is the ultimate California blonde. She's tanned, athletic, blue-eyed ... Simply gorgeous! And with an utterly perfect body after nine kids, too!"

"But it isn't all beer and skittles," Tony picked up. "Mom, Dad and the Christians go to every single football game—"

"Tony's the quarterback," Susan interjected, "and his best friend, Paul Christian, is the H-back. Sometimes he runs and other times he's a receiver."

"They sit up high in the stands. I always see them. There's Mom sitting there in her Levi's and our high school sweatshirt with Aunt Carol, dressed the same way, just watching. She always cheers herself hoarse, but then, after the game..." His voice tailed off.

"What happens after the game?" Kris asked.

"We'll get something to eat, and then it starts..."

"What starts?" Kris insisted.

"They dissect the game. Every stinking play! 'Tony, when you had third and two from their 32, you had Homer all alone on the right sideline. Why didn't you throw to him?' Mom will ask. And so it goes." He laughed and then continued, "It's funny, really. Paul and I always have a bet on how many errors the coaches will pick up on. The best the coaches have done is fewer than half of what Mom and Dad found."

"And don't forget the Christians," Susan reminded him.

"How could I?" Tony said. "I guess I didn't mention that the easy way to find them is to look for Aunt Carol's golden hair. She and Uncle Bill are always right beside my parents doing the same thing."

Just then Diane burst into the room. "I'm going to kill him! By God, I'm going to kill him!" She paused and thought for a moment. "No, that would be too easy. I'll cut off his huge cock and balls ... I'll..."

"What happened today?" Mom asked quietly.

"The same damned thing, only worse!" Diane cried.

"Worse?"

"He was standing beside me while my girls were going through their routine. And his hand was squeezing my bun the whole damned time!"

"Oh?" Mom inquired softly. "Is that why the crotch of your Levi's is soaked?"

"I can't help it!" Diane wailed. "He knows just where to squeeze and does it just right..."

"And... ?"

"And then he has the nerve to tell me I have a perfect ass! And those were his exact words, too! Could he have said I have nice buns? A lovely bottom? Steve Chamberlain? Hah! 'A perfect ass!' Now how would you like that?"

"I can think of worse things for him to have said," Mom replied calmly.

At that point Little Bit and Ann entered the room and things changed dramatically. Tony Kramer had risen when Diane entered the room and was still standing. When Little Bit saw him, her eyes widened. Then moving as if in a daze, she went to him, put her arms around his neck and melted her lips to his.

We could all hear the bells and feel the electricity being generated by their kiss. Finally they eased apart. Little Bit gently felt his crotch and just sighed. "Wonderful!" she murmured. "Come on. We're going to my room to get better acquainted." She paused and then added, "Oh, yeah ... I'm Little Bit Harris." She extended her hand to shake.

"I ... Uh..." Tony stammered.

"He's Tony Kramer," Susan said. "He has a bit of a speech impediment this afternoon. I think it might have been that kiss."

"Hi, Tony!" Little Bit exclaimed. "Now let's go."

"Go where... ? Why... ?" he stammered.

"To get better acquainted," Little Bit explained, exasperated. "We should know one another at least a bit before we're married."

"Huh... ?"

"Married. You know ... Two people — usually a guy and a gal — before the first child comes?"

"But ... But..." he sputtered.

"What's the prob?" she asked. "You're the guy I was made for. Now I found you, so we should get acquainted before the wedding." She thought for a moment and then added, "Neato! I can deliver our first in July, and then we're still all set for college in September. And we have a full nine months to prepare for the wedding, too."

Little Bit grabbed Tony by the crotch and hauled him off in the direction of her room.

"Wow!" Kimberly Kramer said. "What was that?"

"That was one of my darling daughters," Mom replied. "And this is her twin sister, Ann." Then she snapped her fingers and added, "I told you about our sales force. Here are two of them." To Ann and Diane she said, "Strip!" To Diane she added, "Your crotch is so wet, you'll be better off, anyway. You're so wet, you'll get all chafed and raw if you don't."

The two quickly stripped, but Diane kept muttering, "That bastard!"

"What is it this time?" Mom asked.

"That idiot found my clit ring!" she replied. "I don't know if he even knew it or knows it now, but he did." Now bare, Diane dropped to her knees in front of Mom and cried, "Mom, what can I do? This damned ring is working like a faucet handle! Steve just touches it — and that's through my Levi's, too — and I gush! It's ... it's awful!"

"You'll be okay, dear," Mom reassured her. "Now stand up so Mrs. Kramer can see what you look like."

She did and went to stand before Kimberly. The woman reached up, utterly fascinated by Diane's piercings. She stroked the girl's gold nipple rings and then the ring through her clitoral hood. (Mom had replaced her stainless-steel rings with gold ones, and the nipple rings no longer stretched her nips to the breaking point.) Diane's head went back and she gasped as her fluid gushed from her vagina. Kim had her hand there to catch it and then licked it.

"Mmm... ! So sweet!" she murmured. "What an utterly exquisite young woman!" she added. With her tawny hair, brilliant green eyes and all-over tan, Diane was truly gorgeous.

Meanwhile, Ann had stripped, too, but was just watching. Looking over to her, Kim held out her arms and said, "This is a game more than two can play. Let me see you, young lady."

While this was going on, noises were wafting down the stairway. It was Little Bit, her voice rising in volume, screaming, "Yes! Right there! Yes... !"

"That's just my twin getting her brains fucked out," Ann casually remarked by way of explanation. Then she just stood in front of Kimberly with her shoulders back and her back straight. "I know I'm much too flat on top, Mrs. Kramer, but there's nothing I can do. I use your machines every day, but..." She shook her head sadly and continued, "You can see the results — or lack thereof — yourself."

The fact was that Ann's breasts were perfectly shaped although only an A+/B- in cup size.

To the surprise of everyone, Kim lifted Ann off the floor and set her down across her lap. Then she kissed the girl with all of her considerable power unleashed. To her surprise, her kiss had no noticeable effect on Ann. Instead the girl unleashed her own power as the two continued their kiss. At the same time, Kim was lightly running her fingers over Ann's perfect body. That did have an effect. The girl was writhing on Kim's lap while their lips were still locked together.

Finally they eased apart.

"I don't believe it!" Kim exclaimed softly. "I just do not believe it... !"

"Why don't you believe it, Mom?" Susan Kramer asked innocently. "That Ann Harris has the same love and at the same volume that Aunt Jenny has? Why wouldn't you believe it? You're feeling it, after all."

"So young ... But yet so utterly perfect..." Kim muttered.

Ann moved to get off Kim's lap, but the woman held her in place. "Where are you going?" she asked.

"Mrs. Kramer—"

"Enough!" Kim interrupted. "You make me feel like an old woman! And heaven knows I feel old enough as it is—"

"You do, huh?" Susan interjected. "Even though you're about to give birth to your tenth child... ? You... ? Feel old? Hah!"

Ignoring Susan's comment, Kim asked Ann, "Could you bring yourself to call me Kim? Or at least Kimberly? I really do much prefer it."

"You and Mom are two of a kind, aren't you?" Ann asked. She was running her fingertips over Kim's face, feeling the youthfulness of her skin. "You are so utterly perfect!" But then after sitting up straight she added, "You have Diane and me naked, Kimberly. But what's wrong with you? Or with Mom, for that matter." She rose from Kim's lap to give her a chance to undress.

Kim's eyes widened, but she did, as did Mom. When the two older women were bare, they just gazed at each other. Kim's eyes widened as she realized Mom was pierced in the same places Diane was, but with the addition of her gold tongue stud.

Ann just lightly ran her fingers over Kim's body and then over her mother's. "Simply perfect..." she murmured.

And you know what? They were — and they are. Both of them.

At that point Little Bit came bouncing back into the room. She was wearing a terry robe. Or at least she had it on although it wasn't tied. "It worked, Annie!" she almost screamed. "It really worked!"

"No shit? Honest?" Ann replied.

"Perfectly!" Little Bit gloated. "The poor dumb lug..."

"He's... ?"

"On his back," Little Bit replied. "And even though he's unconscious, he's moaning and trying to hold his poor empty balls."

"Uh ... Twin Sister, I think it's easy to see why he's empty and where it all went. You're about to flood out the damned room!" Indeed, cum mixed with her syrup was starting to flow like a river down her legs.

"Oh, shit!" she muttered. Then Little Bit pulled the bottom of her robe between her legs and used it as a makeshift diaper.

"Do you mean to say that my son left you like that?" Kim demanded. "He didn't clean you out?"

"Uh..." Little Bit stammered, "he wasn't ... he couldn't ... He's unconscious!" she finally blurted.

"You put him out?" Kim asked.

Little Bit just nodded.

"How?"

Little Bit just shook her head, but Annie answered. "It's something one of our big sisters, Tina, taught us. There's a way of using vaginal muscles that can act like a pump and really suck the cum out of a guy's balls. I guess this was Little Bit's first chance to actually try it, but as you heard, I guess it really does work." Then with her eyes gleaming she added, "I can't wait to find some sucker to try it on."

To Little Bit, Kim said, "Come with me, young lady. This is my big chance..."

"Big chance?" the girl repeated. "Big chance for what?"

"To find out what another Kramer man's semen tastes like, of course," she replied as if the answer should have been obvious to anyone.

Mom led the way to the suite Kimberly was going to be using. On the way they passed Little Bit's room. There, sprawled on the bed, was Tony Kramer.

Kim stopped and stared. "My poor baby!" she murmured. Then to Little Bit she asked, "Did you kill him?"

I have to admit that Tony was a hunk as the girls would say. He was about six feet three, with sandy hair and blue eyes, although the eyes were closed at the time. He was heavily muscled and weighed about 200 pounds. Although his hand was over his balls, it was clear that his prick was large.

"Oh, no," Little Bit replied blithely to Kim's question. "He should be good to go in a couple of hours ... by bedtime, for sure." The lovely girl licked her lips as she uttered the last words.

"Little Bit, I'm surprised at you!" Kim said, but with her eyes gleaming. "Have you no mercy?"

"No," she replied blandly.

"The poor guy," Kristin murmured. "I know what the problem is, too..."

"What's the problem?" Kim asked.

"He's not big enough," Kris replied.

"Huh... ? He's ... he's over 200 pounds and six feet three!" Kim exclaimed. "What do you mean he's not big enough?"

"Thanks largely to you and your magic machines," Kris replied, "the women around here are in pretty good shape. Very good shape, as a matter of fact. Mom and my sisters and I have talked about it. To be able to hold his own with us, the guy really needs to have us by 100 pounds, at least. And since my beautiful kid sister weighs about 125..."

Kim just giggled as we left poor Tony in peace and went to her room. "By the way, where's Tony sleeping tonight?"

"Right where he is now," Little Bit replied blandly. "And if it's okay with you, Susan will be sleeping with the younger girls, Kim and Judy." At that point we heard orgasmic sounds coming from the younger girls' room and she added, "It sounds like they're getting better acquainted right now."

"Speaking of getting better acquainted, young lady, march! We don't have all day," Kim declared.

In Kim's bedroom, Mom pulled off the bedspread and Little Bit sprawled on her back, making sure her terry robe was still under her bottom to catch her leakage. Only by then it wasn't leaking, it was flowing like a river.

Kim was still bare, or nearly so. By that time all she was wearing was a white thong. That came off in an instant revealing — or more fully revealing — her hairless crotch. The woman is utterly incredible. Even naked — particularly when naked — no one would believe she had delivered nine children, was close to delivering a tenth, and was almost 50 years old. With her dainty — and very famous — breasts, she looked like a nubile 17-year-old.

She wasted no time. Kneeling on the bed between Little Bit's spread legs, she lifted the girl's legs to her shoulders and started in. In no time flat, Little Bit was in orgasm again with her pelvis shaking violently. And if the girls were strong, it was apparent that Kimberly was stronger. She made a feast out of the girl's — my sister's — pussy.

"Delicious!" Kim pronounced when she raised her face to get some air. Then she exclaimed, "Oh my God!"

"What's that all about?" Mom asked.

"I just remembered something," Kim replied. "Tony's cock has been in just about every female in Southern California! Certainly all of the ones under 50 years old..."

"Oh, that's okay," Little Bit commented. "We seem to have an immunity to STDs. If we didn't, most of us would be dead by now." At that point she moved her legs from Kim's shoulders and knelt on the bed with her feet under her. "By the way, Mrs. Kramer, there will be no wedding—"

"What!" Kim exclaimed. "After what you just did with Tony, you don't intend to marry him?"

"Of course not," Little Bit explained. "I can't."

"And why can't you?"

"Because ... Because I'm a prostitute," she said softly.

"Oh?"

Little Bit then explained her background, what she had done, and the fact that she had no idea where she had even been for most of her life. "Mrs. Kramer, I peddled my ass for five and ten dollars a shot. In fact, I sold my body for whatever I could get. Once I did it for a Big Mac. There's no way a woman like you would care for a slut like me, let alone as a member of your family."

"Oh? Well let me tell you something, young lady..." Kimberly Kramer then told the story of Lisa Douglas, the girl Brad and Ken Carlson had saved in Saigon. "She sold her ass, too ... to survive. And that's exactly what you did, too." She smiled warmly and added, "She's the only woman besides Jenny Clark and myself who has ever had Brad Kramer. She used to stop by from time to time before she got married. Her husband is a really neat guy — she has three children of her own now — but he knows that in Lisa's eyes he's second choice. She's still madly in love with Brad and doesn't care who knows it.

"And you know what else? I love her, too. Every time I see her, I say a little prayer of thanksgiving for what Brad and Ken did for her."

Then Kim changed the subject. "By the way, what about pregnancy? If you sleep with Tony, aren't you afraid of... ? Or are you on the pill or something?"

"He can't make me pregnant now," Little Bit said with a little smile.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because he already did is how I can be so sure," the girl replied.

"Oh, shit!" Kris murmured. "You felt it, sweetie?"

"I sure did!" Little Bit replied. "And, sister Kristin, it was exactly the way you described it to Ann and me. Such an incredible feeling, and I felt it even though I was in the midst of a violent orgasm at the time, too."

"You're expecting Tony's baby?" Kim asked softly.

Little Bit just nodded her head.

"Well, then you have to get married... !"

"What for?" Little Bit asked. "I'm planning on being Tony's mistress and concubine until he finds the right girl to marry."

"But you can't!" Kim protested.

"Why can't I?"

"Think of the poor child!" Kim exclaimed. "How will you support it? Go back to the streets?"

"I have money of my own," Little Bit replied softly.

"What? A couple of bucks? That will last a week or so, but then what?"

"No. A few million," Little Bit continued, still speaking very softly. "My parents and my brother, Cam, are incredibly generous. Then my sisters, Liz, and Terry Allison are both incredible money managers. They have a competition, using my money, Ann's ... Heck, they invest for all of us. It just piles up."

That ended the discussion for the moment.



-------

Chapter 24



Tony Kramer came stumbling downstairs later, but the tone for the visit had been set. He did spend all his time with Little Bit while Susan spent her time with Kim and Judy and we got to know Kimberly Kramer better. By the time they were ready to leave two days later, Kim and Mother were best friends, with Mom ranking right up there with Jenny Clark and Carol Christian in Kim's estimation.

For her part, Mom was little short of astonished that a truly world-class movie star was now a dear friend.

As they were getting ready to leave, Tony stuttered and stammered and finally managed to ask Little Bit if she could come out to California the following weekend.

"What for?" she asked.

"Uh ... Er ... A football game," he blurted.

We were into late November and the local football season had already closed down. The cheerleaders were taking a bit of a break at the time before preparing for the upcoming basketball season.

"Football?" she asked. "Isn't it a little late in the year to still be playing?"

"We're in the state championships," he said, "and the final game is next Saturday. Would you like to come out?"

"It could be a good game," Kim admitted, "but Tony's team is overmatched, I'm afraid." She went on to explain that they were in the Division 1 championships, but his school was the second smallest in the group, and they were playing against the school that was the second largest. The enrollment at the opponent school was almost double that of Tony's.

"Real underdogs... ?" Little Bit murmured.

"I'm afraid so," Tony admitted.

At that point Little Bit looked at me with a question obvious in her eyes.

"No sweat, Sis," I replied to her unasked question. "I'll whistle up a G-5 and you can go out and back over the weekend. You should be back in plenty of time for school on Monday."

She asked Ann to come out with her, but her twin had other plans so she went by herself. Just Little Bit and her laptop. And that proved to be funny.

Little Bit really received a warm welcome in California. The only one who was a bit miffed was Julie Christian who realized that her dreams of a life with Tony were over. Everyone knew that Little Bit was going to marry him ... except Little Bit herself. She kept insisting she was going to be his mistress.

Kim told us that the neatest thing to see was Little Bit with the small Kramer and Christian children. They utterly adored her. Moreover, it was a replay of Kris at Disney World: Even though she was meeting the children for the first time, she just seemed instinctively to know how best to treat each one.

"It was incredibly neat Saturday morning," Kim reported. "We could follow Little Bit around just by sound. There was constant laughter and giggling of the little children ... And oh, by the way, Jenny Clark thinks that your sister walks on water without getting her feet wet. And believe me! Jenny has unerring judgment where people are concerned. As far as anyone knows, she hasn't been wrong yet."

But back to the game. Because of the great difference in the sizes of the two competing schools, the opponents received about two-thirds of the tickets. Tony's school's seats were not the best, either. The Kramers and Christians found themselves seated on the 20-yard line.

The opponents jumped out to a quick 7-0 lead. At that point, Tony's coach put Tony and Paul Christian in the game as cornerbacks on defense. They were playing both ways because both were both big and fast and better suited to cover the opponent's two very fast wide receivers who had been chewing them up. Although they were fast, Tony and Paul were, too. Moreover, at six feet three each, they had about eight inches of height and correspondingly longer arms than the five-foot-seven receivers.

The move worked, but as they started the fourth quarter they were still down by the same seven points. Tony and Paul could move the ball and did, but time after time they were stopped by fumbles, by a blitz taking down the ball carrier in the backfield or by something.

Finally, midway in the fourth quarter, Tony's team punted and the opponents had the ball on their own 25-yard line. As it happened, it was at the end of the field where the Kramers and Christians — and Little Bit — were sitting. On their first play from scrimmage, the quarterback passed in the flat to his running back, but the pass went through his hands. The play was coming to Tony's side of the field.

The running back was disgusted with himself as he threw up his hands and started back toward the huddle. But Little Bit had seen something: When the quarterback released the ball, he was upfield from the 20-yard line. But the running back was behind the line.

Little Bit jumped to her feet and screamed at the top of her lungs, "Lateral!"

Remarkably, Tony heard her. The ball was still lying on the field. An official was nearby, but was making no move to pick up the ball. Tony dashed in, scooped up the ball, and jogged into the end zone. When he crossed the goal line, the official's arms came up signaling a touchdown. The extra point was good and the score was tied at 7 with only a few minutes left in the game.

Because it was the championship game, it couldn't end in a tie. If the score was still tied at the end of regulation, there would be a sudden-death overtime period.

Tony's touchdown really fired up his team. After kicking off, the fired-up defense dropped ball carriers for successive losses, driving them back to their own 5-yard line. At that point, Paul Christian came knifing in on a corner blitz and dropped the quarterback in the end zone for a safety. They were then up by two points, but ... The other team had an excellent field-goal kicker, and a field goal would be three points and a win.

The opponents set up for a free kick from their 20-yard line. Being afraid of the speed they had seen with both Tony and Paul, the kick was intentionally short so that plenty of cover men could get upield and prevent a long return. At that point things changed suddenly. The short kick came to Tony who waved his arm in the air signaling a fair catch. Although it's almost never done, a team can fair catch a kickoff or, in this case, a free kick following a safety.

Tony happened to be aware of one of the most obscure rules in football: Following a fair catch, the receiving team has the option of taking a free kick from the point at which the ball was caught. Moreover, the ball is not snapped in such a circumstance. It's placed on the ground for kicking at that point, and the defending team must be back 10 yards from it.

That's exactly what Tony did. His fair catch was on the opponent's 40-yard line. With the goal posts set at the back of the end zone, it would be a 50-yard kick. Particularly in high-school football, a 50-yard kick is not a gimme. Tony immediately called a timeout — their last of the game — to talk it over with his coach. After quickly explaining what he had done, the coach just crossed his fingers and told Tony to take the shot.

He did, and just made it. The ball bounced on the crossbar but then fell over for the score.

That was the crusher. The other team was totally disheartened by the series of events beginning with the recovered lateral, then the safety, and finally the field goal that was made after invoking a rule almost no one in the stands was even aware of. The final score was 12-7. Tony and Paul's team were the California state champions!

I don't have to tell you that the Kramers and Christians went utterly wild, beginning when Little Bit first screamed out, "Lateral!"

"Okay, Little Bit," Kimberly declared. "It's all over."

"What's all over?" the girl asked.

"You are marrying Tony Kramer!" Kim declared. Her tone of voice brooked no dissent.

Little Bit's eyes just widened. "But—" she began.

"'But' nothing!" Kim stated. "The subject is now closed. You will have your choice of dates in June, but that's the end of it! Hear?"

"But—"

"Hear?" Kim almost screamed.

"Yes, ma'am," Little Bit replied dejectedly. The issue had been settled.

There was a celebratory barbecue at the Kramer/Christian compound late that afternoon. This time both the senior Kramers and senior Christians along with Jenny Clark just watched Little Bit in increasing amazement as she played with, teased, and fed the little ones.

"That girl is absolutely wonderful!" Jenny declared, settling any issue once and for all. "Never in my life have I seen a woman who is as good with children as she is."

"I have," Kim replied softly. "You. You, Jenny Clark, are a living saint." Then with a grin she asked, "And how's your pussy now, by the way?"

"You couldn't leave it alone, could you, you evil woman?" Jenny replied. With a sniff she continued, "You can see for yourself that I can walk again, and I'm only a little bit bowlegged, too. It's not nearly as bad as the last time." Then with her eyes wide she asked, "Do you think my cunt is finally stretching to fit?"

Kim just shook her head and looked at Brad. "You, sir, have it all! Not only do you have a loving wife to care for you, you have an even more loving stand-in when she's gone."

To this Brad Kramer just murmured contentedly.

By the way, it should be obvious that neither Kris nor I were present for any of this. It was pieced together later with input from all the participants. And it should go without saying that Mother fell in love with Jenny Clark the first instant she laid eyes on the woman. Like Mom and Kim, Jenny was pushing 50 — and might have been on the shady side — but she looked like a fully-ripe 21-year-old. The first time she came out to visit, she and Mom spent almost the entire first 24 hours in bed together ... getting acquainted. Yeah, sure...

One thing about Little Bit: The girl is truly perceptive. She could see that Tony and Paul were getting restive, and it seemed that Paul wanted to talk to her about something, but away from the families.

"Tony, is there anyplace around here for a pizza?" she asked. "I've got a real yen..."

Instantly both young men brightened. Paul responded enthusiastically, and they were off. At the pizza palace, Little Bit looked at Paul and said, "Out with it. What's bugging you?"

Paul almost jumped at Little Bit's words, but then he smiled. "Pretty obvious, isn't it?"

Little Bit just nodded.

"Uh ... I mean ... Little Bit, could... ?"

"The answer is yes," she prompted. "Now what's the question that it's the answer to?"

"Uh ... it's ... it's ... the Christmas prom." His last words came out in a rush.

"And?"

"And I need a date!" he wailed.

"You? Need a date? I don't believe it." Then she shook her head and added, "I retract my answer. Susan is counting on going with you. She was telling me about the dresses she's been looking at, as a matter of fact."

"I can't take her," Paul said sorrowfully.

"Why, on earth, not?"

"Because I'd have to leave home if I did," he explained. "Julie would absolutely kill me. I'm sure you felt the temperature drop about 40 degrees when you were introduced to Julie, didn't you?"

"She seems okay with it now," Little Bit replied hopefully.

"I guess she is," Paul admitted. Then he grinned and added, "Little Bit Harris, you're a very tough girl to dislike. You have absolutely everything!"

"Yeah," she responded sardonically. "Principally a background as a street whore!"

"Okay," Paul admitted, "but look at yourself now. Little Bit, you are all class. Would you believe what Susan and Julie are doing?"

"What are they doing?"

"They're trying to figure out how to ask you to help them act more like ladies." He chuckled and added, "And Mom, Aunt Kim and Aunt Jenny are all for it, too. You astonish people. You really do."

"What's that mean?"

"It means you just reek with class is what it means. And everyone sees it. The remarkable thing is that you seem to be completely unaware of it." Then Paul paused to collect his thoughts. "Look," he began again, "there are a lot of girls who act like ladies. But the verb is act! They are acting in a manner that's not natural to them. But that's not the way with you. Do you know what Aunt Jenny said?"

Little Bit just shook her head.

"She said, 'That girl doesn't have a clumsy bone in her body! She's a real lady, and all class!' At the time you were rolling around on the grass with the little kids, but you were ladylike anyway."

"Yeah, sure!" Little Bit retorted, rolling her eyes. "Ladylike? Bare-assed naked is what you mean."

"Your body is golden perfection!" Paul insisted. "And the way you are with the little kids ... Tony noticed it, and I did, too. And neither of us are particularly noted for our perception about these things, either.

"You treat every one of them differently, but perfectly for their age, personality and temperament. In just about 24 hours every one of those kids loves you. And I mean loves! And the middle ones? If you didn't marry Tony, they would be coming after you with shotguns! It's supposed to be the father of the bride with the shotgun, but in this case, it's the siblings of the groom — and the groom's best friend — who would be coming after the bride!"

Paul shook his head and changed the subject. "But the subject was a date ... for me."

"Guys, can't you do something for Susan and Julie? They are such gorgeous girls — they have absolutely everything — and they want to go to that dance so badly..."

"It's a problem," Tony admitted. "In fact, it's two problems..."

"Yeah," Little Bit said with a grimace, "like driving off Susan's potential dates with a club!"

"That's one of them," Tony agreed, "but it's the other that's a real problem..."

"And it is... ?" Little Bit prompted.

"Where we live and the way we live," Tony said. "First of all, no one can ever find the place. And you know what? We really like it that way, too. Then there's the fact that the place is always crawling with gorgeous naked women ... of all ages. And they like it that way, too."

Little Bit slowly nodded. "But what about you guys?"

"That's really the problem," Paul said. "Dating doesn't work the way it used to, I guess. If you're interested in a girl, you start hanging out around her place, or where she works after school, or wherever. You start teasing, then talking, then having a pizza together ... And then you have a girl."

"But the guys can't hang out around Susan and Julie, because they don't even know where you live for openers."

"You got it," Paul and Tony both sadly agreed.

"We'll have to work..." Little Bit began. Then she brightened and almost screamed, "I've got it!"

"Huh... ?" the two boys said in unison.

"Susan and Julie are both 16 and living in California. That means they both have their drivers licenses, right?"

Both boys nodded.

"Well?" she asked, "if the boys can't hang out at their place, why not hang out at the boys'?"

"But..." Paul began. Then he stopped, grinned and said, "Why not?" Then to Tony he said, "You better get the word out that you've put your gun away, or the poor guys, seeing Susan, will hide under their beds hoping she'll go away before you learn she's been there."

Tony just grinned sheepishly and nodded.

"A date?" Paul asked.

"How about my sister, Ann?" Little Bit asked. With a smile she added, "We're twins, but we're not identical. Although we are pretty close..."

"Yeah," Tony agreed. "'Pretty close' ... Like co-valedictorians. Like co-captains of every female sport." Of course, Ann doesn't have Little Bit's beauty ... She's the same height, same weight, same figure, but her hair is a tawny blonde and she has the most incredible green eyes you've ever seen."

It was not a tough sale to get Paul to agree to take Ann to the dance, assuming she would be willing to come out for it. Little Bit assured him that she would.

"Where are we going to school next year?" she asked Tony.

He just shook his head. "I was planning on going to Stanford, but ... You're not really a California girl, are you?"

"And I was planning on going to Yale," she replied with a grin, "But you're not the Ivy League type, are you?"

Tony just shook his head.

"I was talking to Mother about it at the game..."

"Mother? Your mother is in New York!"

"That's Mom!" Little Bit retorted with a note of disgust. "'Mother' is out here and named Kimberly Kramer."

"She loves you, you know," Tony interjected. "But what were you talking about?"

"Believe it or not, we were talking about machine tools. Mother is such a witch! There's absolutely nothing that woman can't do, and do brilliantly. Anyway, she wants me to go into mechanical engineering ... and I guess I want to, too."

"You want to go to ... an engineering school?" Tony asked, aghast.

"No, silly. It's your mother's idea, too. She pointed out that people going into medicine major in all sorts of things as undergraduates. They just make sure they have the appropriate courses in chemistry and biology, but then major in anything." Little Bit paused and then continued, "I would like to go to Hillsdale College in Michigan and major in history. Then I'll go to graduate school for engineering, in the same way a guy goes to medical school for medicine."

At that, Tony began to laugh. His laughter grew stronger, and Little Bit was hurt. Her lover was laughing at her.

Seeing the look on her face, Tony was unable to stop laughing but did manage slowly to shake his head trying to communicate that he wasn't laughing at her or her plans. Finally he regained control and asked, "Does Dad know?"

Little Bit slowly shook her head but looked puzzled.

"It's a family joke that virtually no one else knows," Tony explained. "In fact, it only happened in June a couple of years ago. To the astonishment of everyone, Dad insisted that everyone — and I mean all the little tykes, too — had to get dressed up. This was one he didn't even tell your father, by the way," he explained to Paul.

"Anyway, off we went in the big van ... to USC! It was commencement, and guess what? There was Dad in his gown with its doctoral hood receiving his Ph.D ... in history! Mom was utterly stunned! Then she was so excited! That's the night my youngest brother was conceived. Mom didn't let Dad out of bed for almost 36 hours! When it was over, Dad was a wreck, but the happiest wreck you're ever going to see. 'Your mother was... fantastic!' was all he could say. Mom? Even in her great physical condition, she was walking bowlegged for the next few days.

"Anyway, it was really funny. Dad's dissertation was entitled, "Vietnam: What Went Wrong ... And What Went Right." The darned thing was commercially published and was on top of The New York Times non-fiction best-seller list for weeks. The funniest thing was that no one ever made the connection. The author is shown as William B. Kramer, Jr ... and that's Dad's name. But since he's so universally known as Brad Kramer, no one made the connection."

He grinned at Little Bit and added, "I'm sure Dad will be utterly delighted to have you major in history. But what about this Hillsdale College? Tell me about it?"

Little Bit did, and it sounded great to Tony. It sounded good to Paul, too.

-------

Little Bit's flight home was something else. This I got from the president of Executive Aviation and from the pilots involved.

It seems that they had a 10:00 PM departure from John Wayne International. With the time difference, that's 1:00 AM, New York time. It's normally a five-hour flight, but in order for Little Bit to get some sleep, the pilot filed a slow flight plan to allow a seven-hour flight, arriving a little before 8:00 AM, in time for Little Bit to get to school.

When they were still more than an hour out, Little Bit entered the cockpit and asked if the guys would like some breakfast. The pilot, Guy Barnes, said he would, but quite honestly, he didn't like the airborne cardboard they served for breakfast.

"I can do much better than that," Little Bit told him. "How about a nice omelette with crisp bacon?"

"It sounds great!" Barnes told her, "But where is it going to come from? Do you want me to try to fly this thing through some take-out window?"

"From the galley, silly!" Little Bit declared in a huff. Then she disappeared.

A short time later she reappeared with an omelette aux fines herbes, along with pecan-smoked bacon. Bill Jones, the copilot, took the controls while Barnes ate.

"This is the best omelette I've ever had!" Barnes pronounced. "But how in hell did you ever make it?"

Little Bit just giggled, left the cockpit, and returned awhile later with the same meal for Jones.

"Where?" Barnes insisted. "And how?"

"It was on the way out," the girl admitted. "I checked your galley equipment and then went on line to get the instruction manuals for the things from their manufacturers. And guess what? It seems that this galley was recently rebuilt and the equipment updated. Your people wanted certain specific features, all of which are included. But, it turns out, the models they bought have far more advanced features than they asked for. They're there, but no one knew they were, so they've never been used. But voilà! An omelette! And a pretty good one, if I do say so myself."

Bill Jones agreed with his captain: "The best omelette I've ever eaten." Then he looked at Little Bit and asked, "How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"My God! My girlfriend, Trudy, is almost 27 and she can barely boil water. You're 17 and can cook like a dream. How come?"

"Because I was a hooker on the streets for years until I was rescued a few years ago," she replied. "We know we're real sluts, but we hope that if we can cook we might find some sucker who will overlook what we were ... and mostly still are." Taking advantage of the size of the G-5, Little Bit stood up straight and continued, "At the Institute where I was trained, we're taught that there are three basic ways a woman can appear: classy, flashy or trashy. Needless to say, our native mode is trashy. We all are ... plain trash."

The two crewmen just slowly shook their heads. "No, Elizabeth," Guy Barnes said, "you are not trashy! You are one of the classiest women I've ever had the good fortune to meet. And now I guess you're the fourth ... No! The fifth. There's Kristin Harris, Tina Miller, Liz Williams ... and your sister, Ann." He slowly shook his head and then added, "You five have it all! Beauty, brains, personality ... But most of all, you have an extraordinary consideration for others." He gazed deeply into her brilliant blue eyes and said with great feeling, "You're the very best alive! The world's finest women!"

Little Bit disagreed with him vehemently. But as far as I'm concerned, Guy Barnes hit it right on the nose: the very best alive.



-------

Chapter 25



"Mom, you really started something last spring," Diane declared as she marched into the kitchen.

"Oh?" Mother replied blandly, "what did I do this time?"

"It's Principal Grimes, and Monica, and Gwen..."

"What about them?"

"Well, when you left school that day, you had pierced and ringed Gwen Merritt in her nipples, navel and clit hood, and pierced and ringed Monica Cumberland in her clitoral hood, too." She giggled and added, "Almost costing poor Donald Grimes his prick in the process." With her eyes dancing she added, "Couldn't you have found something else to muffle poor Monica's screams besides his prick? I mean ... Really!"

"I really started something, you said?" Mom reminded her.

"You should see them now!" Diane continued. "I think you said that both Monica and Gwen could lose about 30 pounds... ?"

Mother nodded.

"Well, they did." Then arching an eyebrow, Diane asked, "Did you give those two sets of magic machines?"

Mom looked a little sheepish but just nodded once.

"I thought so," Diane continued. "Anyway, they've each lost at least 30 pounds ... And they look great!"

"But... ?" Mom prompted.

"I'll take Gwen Merritt first," Diane continued. "First of all, when you left her, she was pierced in four places. Now she has a tongue stud, too. But that's not all. The Matthews twins — Tim and Dan — turned 18 a couple of months ago. And now they're living with Gwen." She paused and shook her head. "You know? I guess it's pretty good, really. Those two — they're identical twins, by the way — were the super losers in the school. They would have won a vote as most likely to be the first to go to prison, in a walk.

"But you should see them now! From real sleazes, they've blossomed. They dress well now, and they're real hunks. They're both six feet two, about 200 pounds, and now they're in shape, possibly for the first time ever. Your magic machines again, I think. And whenever you see them these days, they're with Gwen

"I actually asked her about it. She says they take her every way it's possible for a woman to have sex, and I wouldn't be surprised if they've invented a couple of new ones."

Diane paused for a moment and then continued, "I suppose I should be shocked. After all, Tim and Dan are students in the school, even though they're now legally adults..."

"But... ?" Mom prompted.

"But I'm not!" Diane announced defiantly, as if she expected someone to argue the point.

"You're not? Why not?" Mom asked quietly.

"Because..." Then she just shook her head and said, "Oh, hell! Everyone knows the story except parents, I guess. Certainly the entire staff does."

"Knows what?"

"That their father is a drunk and their mother is a slut," Diane replied softly. "The father used to beat the shit out of the two boys for nothing at all ... or so I've heard from some of the teachers who've been around for a while. Of course, that stopped awhile ago when the boys got to be about twice his size." She shook her head slowly and wondered aloud, "I wonder if he's really their father? I kind of doubt it. And with a mother who'll fuck anything..."

"What's the story now?" I asked.

Again she shook her head, but with a smile this time. "The transformation in those two guys is little short of miraculous. Now it even looks like they'll both be going to college ... while assisting Gwen in her teaching, of course." She grinned at Mother and said, "It's all your fault, too. Gwen really took to heart your comment about having new things to learn in the upper grades. So she's thinking of adding material — with a demonstration — on the best way to fuck a woman ... or a man, as the case may be."

"Oh, shit! Wonderful!" Mom said sarcastically while shaking her head in dismay. "But what about Donald Grimes?"

"Oh! This is from the horse's mouth," Diane said gleefully. "Monica Cumberland has been telling me all about it. And she's a remarkable beauty now, too." To Mom she said, "In addition to the extra weight, do you remember her granny glasses? They were just like mine: real Coke bottles."

Mom slowly nodded.

"Well, they're gone, as are Chris Grimes', Don's wife. Those two women are real beauties now, too. It seems that Grimes has some money, so he paid for both operations. Those two women are now virtually twins. They have the loveliest soft brown hair and hazel eyes..." She grinned and continued, "Anyway, Monica is now living with the Grimes. And at least once a week she and Chris will shave Don all over! And I mean all over. They only leave the hair on his head.

"But that's not all: Maybe some of those penis enlargers really work. At least Monica insists they do. After shaving him, he takes both women, and then they do each other while he watches. It must be one helluva show..."

"Enough of that," Mom interjected. "Now tell us why you're as nervous as a cat? What happened? Or what is going to happen?"

Suddenly Diane sagged like a punctured balloon. Furthermore, she began to cry. "It's Steve Chamberlain!" she cried. "He's going to fuck my brains out all weekend." Slowly she shook her head and added, "And that's the language, too. That's part of the deal. I have to say, 'Steve, please fuck my brains out, ' or 'Steve, please fuck my asshole raw.' And it's got to be here, in my room... with the door open! Anyone who wants to watch my humiliation is welcome! Can you believe it? The bastard!"

She was seething with rage when I felt Kris's hand on my sleeve, tugging. Like a sheep, I followed her back to our place which was just a few yards away from my parents'.

Entering the house, Kris breathed, "Whew! That poor thing!"

"Steve?"

"Hah! Don't be ridiculous!" Kris exclaimed. "I mean Diane, of course."

"What's poor about Diane?"

"She's madly head-over-heels in love with Steve Chamberlain ... but won't admit it, even to herself... Particularly to herself!"

"But..." I protested, "Look at what she said ... The way she acted..."

"Men!" she exclaimed scathingly. (This is something I've never understood, nor been able to emulate: The particular note of disgust women — all women — seem to be able to obtain with that single word.)

"But..." I repeated.

"Darling, you just don't get it. She's not upset about fucking Steve Chamberlain. She's upset because she's afraid she won't be any good with him in bed."

Suddenly Kris's attitude changed. She sat me down on the leather sofa in the library and just held me tight. With her lips close to my ear she whispered, "Darling, there's a lot about Diane you just don't know. For example, before she was raped, she was a virgin; those three rapists are the only men she's ever been with."

I could feel her head slowly shaking as she continued, "Would you believe it? She's never even had a date? It's true." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "Oh, dear..." she mused, "that's something I hadn't thought of. Beyond spending the weekend in bed with Steve — and what she's really scared of is that he'll walk out in disgust — there's the fact that Friday night will be the very first date of her life!" She paused and then mused, "Boy! It looks like Liz, Tina and I will have to do some heavy-duty coaching on how to behave on a date..." Her speech had become slower and slower until she just stopped.

"Good grief!" she softly exclaimed. "That's going to be the blind leading the blind..."

"Huh?"

"Cameron, darling, let me give you the hot scoop: The first dates Liz and Tina ever had were with their husbands!" Then she lightly punched me in the arm and added, "And for that matter, I've never ever had a date!"

"Huh?" I repeated. (My dialog was really scintillating that day!)

"William Cameron Harris, III, you were fucking my brains out within minutes of meeting me for the first time. When have we ever had a date? Did you ever, ever call to ask me out?"

She was correct, of course. I had never asked Kris Collins for a date ... and now she was my wife and the mother of our child.

Changing the subject, I asked, "What happened to cause this? Do you know?"

"I'm not certain, but I'm pretty sure," she replied. "The dummy made some bad football bets with Steve. And then she had to stack feminine intuition against odds." She grinned and added, "And guess what? The odds win every time!"

"What's that mean?"

"It means that when she heard about the first bet, Tina offered to help. She was going to write a computer program to pick winners against the Las Vegas spread."

"And... ?"

"And, my brilliant sister didn't need that. She just knew who was going to beat the spread. Guess what? She didn't." Then she giggled and added, "But the funny thing is that Tina had become interested in the concept and wrote the software anyway. No one paid her for the software, but it paid for itself."

"What's that mean?"

"It means that the NFL season is only a bit past the halfway mark, and she's already won more than $100,000!"

"Wow! How does it work?" I asked.

"I don't know the programming," Kris replied, "but I do know the concept. Basically, what the computer does is look for mismatches between the power rankings of the respective teams and the point spread. People think that the spread reflects the rankings, but that's only partially true. The reality is that the spread exists — and moves during the week — based on betting action.

"Law-enforcement agencies typically characterize bookies as gamblers. But they're not. Their customers gamble; bookies don't. They work to balance their books: having as much money on one team as on its opponent. I'll give you an illustration from college ball. A couple of years ago, Texas Christian University played University of Hawaii at Hawaii and was favored by something like 58 points. Hawaii won by 18! That was a gap of 76 points on the spread. How did it happen? I certainly don't know for sure, but I could make a pretty good guess: First, it was scarcely a big game that weekend. Top-20 teams they're not. So the betting action wouldn't have been very heavy to start with.

"But second, Texans are noted as big gamblers, particularly on football. Texas Christian attracted some big Texas money, I guess, and the bookies had to widen the spread to try to balance their book.

"Anyway," Kris concluded, "that's an extreme illustration of how Tina's software works. It looks for anomalies on the spread."

"But what about Diane?" I asked. "What happened to her?"

"Again, I'm not sure, sweetie, but I would be willing to bet that after losing a couple of times, she started to go double or nothing on her prior bets and kept on losing. And now it's time to pay up."

Then, surprisingly, Kris started to giggle.

"What's so funny now?" I asked.

"It's just possible we're seeing a massive Freudian slip," she managed to say between her giggles.

"And what's that mean?"

"That means that she tries to tell herself that she hates Steve Chamberlain, but her subconscious knows better. What better way to get Steve into her bed than to be forced to do it as a result of lost wagers?"

"So she has a date with Steve for Friday night?" I confirmed.

Kris just nodded, then added, "And for the rest of the weekend in bed."

Her earlier statement had given me an idea. "Miss Collins," I asked with my eyes wide, "might you be free Friday night? I would love to take you out to dinner and dancing."

Kris's eyes were sparkling. Instantly, she picked up on what I was doing. "Dinner and dancing, you said?"

I nodded.

"Hmm ... Well ... I did accept another date, but it was only for dinner..." She shook her head and continued as if she was just thinking out loud, "And knowing the guy it wouldn't be a very good place, either." Then she brightened and said, "Why thank you, Mr. Harris! I would love to have dinner with you on Friday night." Then again, as if she were thinking out loud, "It won't be too hard to dump that other guy."

"If it's okay, I'll pick you up at seven," I said.

"That would be great!" she enthused. But then her face fell and she added, "But you had better call and confirm around four o'clock Friday."

"Confirm? What for?"

"Well ... I seldom get more than four invitations to go out on Friday evening," she replied. "Of course, with Saturday night, it's usually ten or more ... And I've had five invitations for Friday already — you're the sixth, by the way — so I really doubt if I'll get any better offers before then."

With that, I took her in my arms and kissed her. And you know what? It was one of our best kisses ever, too.

When finally we eased apart, Kris made a sound from deep in her body and whispered, "Never mind calling. We have a date. None of the other guys kiss me like that!' Then she just wriggled her body to get more comfortable on my lap and just fell asleep.

What a woman!

-------

Friday afternoon was really funny. First of all, Kris disappeared about three o'clock in the afternoon toward my parents' house. That's where I was supposed to call for her for our date. From the way the girls were all assembled — Liz Johnson and Tina Harrington were there along with the four younger girls — it was going to be an all-hands evolution.

And so it turned out to be. Mother and Liz supervised preparations for Diane, while Tina took charge of Kris. The younger girls split up. Two women could not possibly have had more work done on them in four hours than those two did.

Promptly at seven, I appeared at my parents' house, and Dad opened the door. I was driving the BMW, while there was a nondescript Chevrolet parked in the drive. It appeared that Steve Chamberlain had beaten me there. Dad introduced me to Steve, and then offered us drinks. I settled for Perrier with a twist and Steve had the same.

It was an opportunity to get to know the guy my sister was going to marry, even if she wouldn't admit it to herself yet. I confirmed that indeed, my information was accurate: He did have his Ph.D. in history from Oxford. It turned out that he had studied under Paul Johnson, one of the outstanding historians of our time. He asked Dad and me to please maintain his secret, and we swore that we would.

Then the conversation turned to investments, and it turned out that he had also studied a lot of economics and was very knowledgeable about the subject and about investing. While not conclusive, it did support the story that his net worth rivaled my own.

Very interesting, I thought.

Finally, at 7:30 the two women appeared. And they were utterly magnificent! Kris was wearing white, while Diane was wearing a green dress that complemented her eyes. Both dresses were cut down to the navel revealing Diane's stud. She wore an emerald choker while Kris wore diamonds. The two looked like a million bucks ... at least.

But Steve didn't compliment Diane on her beauty. Instead he asked, "Why are you late? Our date was for seven and it's 7:30 already."

That question took both girls by surprise. I could see Diane's lip tremble; she was close to tears. But she stammered, "Be ... Because. That's what it says to do in the book."

Her response surprised Steve. "Says in the book? What book?"

Diane looked at Kris who very shyly brought a trade paperback from behind her back. Its title was Dating for Dummies.

I almost cracked up, and from the corner of my eye, I could see that Steve was fighting it, too.

"What in hell is that for?" he asked.

The two gorgeous women exchanged looks ... and looked like 10-year-olds when they did. It was obvious that each wanted the other to answer. Finally Diane stammered, "It's ... It's because we've never been out on a date before ... So we bought this book."

"Never?" Steve asked incredulously.

The two girls just shook their heads and looked so incredibly cute! (Can two of the world's most beautiful women be cute? They were.)

"Are preparations all set for ... later?" Steve asked.

"Yes, they are," Diane quickly replied.

Steve just looked at her with his eyebrow raised. Clearly she was reviewing what she had just said that might have caused the reaction. Then she said, "Yes, they are, sir."

"That's better," Steve replied, mollified. "Tell the others what the preparations are for, Diane."

The girl blushed red as a beet, but she was seething at the same time. "The preparations are for you to fuck my brains out," she managed to say through gritted teeth.

"And what happens after that?" Steve persisted.

Diane rolled her eyes but stood up as straight as she could. "Then I ask you how you would next like to fuck my slut's body."

"And for how long will this continue?"

"Until seven o'clock Monday morning," she replied.

Again his eyebrow was raised.

"Until seven o'clock Monday morning, sir."

"Better," he conceded. "Now come here, bitch. Let me try your lips for size and flavor."

Diane moved into his arms, their lips met, and it was all over. We could all hear the bells and see the electricity. For an instant, Diane tried to flail her arms, but only for an instant. She wrapped them around Steve's neck and began to work her mouth on his. We could see the movement of her face as her tongue probed his mouth. More bells and more electricity. While they were together, Diane began to writhe her body against his to get as close to him as she could.

Slowly they eased apart and I could see that Steve's eyes were glassy. My guess is that he expected something like what had happened, but was overwhelmed by its intensity. For her part, Diane just rested her face on Steve's shoulder and sighed.

"That was a very nice kiss, slut," Steve finally managed to say. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, sir," Diane managed to say.

With that, Steve helped Diane with her coat and the pair were off.

"Wow!" Dad said softly. "Well ... Scratch another one. Diane is toast ... and Steve is, too."

At that point Kris came into my arms, put her arms around my neck and kissed me. Trying to be as objective as possible, it was even better than the one Steve and Diane had just exchanged.

When we finally separated and I could breathe again I asked, "What was that for?"

"That was for two reasons: First, watching those two made me as horny as a mink. But second, I wanted to see if your kisses are as good as I remembered."

"And... ?"

"They are!" Kris exclaimed. "Oh, indeed they are!"

Only then did I realize that Mom had been standing on the stairs, along with Tina and Liz. She came down the stairs, went to Dad and said, "Come, William."

"Come where?"

"Up to bed for a preprandial fucking," she replied. "But if you don't move it, you'll have to do it right here in the entrance hall." She paused and then added, "Not that I really care, of course..."

At that point, Tina and Liz pushed past us and were headed out the door.

"Where are you two going?" Kris called after them.

"Where the hell do you think we're going?" Tina replied on her way out the door. Then she added, "Sheesh! Another blonde airhead! As if she would have to ask. We're going to get our brains fucked out!" With that the door slammed behind them.

Kris grinned at me and said, "Come on, darling. Let's get out of this madhouse before something big falls on our heads."

I have to tell you that our evening together was really something special. It began something that continued whenever we could get away by ourselves. Leaving Billy at home was no problem, not with four aunts watching over him like a pack of tigresses. It was really great.

First of all, when we arrived at the restaurant, the car jocks almost started a fistfight to see who would get to park the M-5. But then they saw Kris and the looks on their faces were as if an angel had come down from Heaven. But as I said before, she was utterly exquisite. They handed her out of the car as if they were handling the finest bone china.

Then, of course, the one-hundred dollar bill I slipped to the maître d' assured us of the finest table in the house, along with the finest service. As we sat there, I thought of Jonathan Wilkerson's Institute and Terry Michaels Allison. Kris was the personification of pure class and was the target of every pair of eyes in the place. And she's all mine!

The dinner was superb, and then we went to another place for dancing. Only then did I realize that Kris and I had almost never danced together. On the Yucatan, we were always in a rush to get back to the suite and back into bed. At Disney World, there were too many other things to do, and there wasn't any dancing at Pinehurst. Our only dancing had been at the country club at Christmas, but with all the people flocking around...

At one time, I guess, I had been pretty good, but I hadn't really danced in years. That was no problem with Kris. Whatever I did, she followed perfectly. The dance band emulated the Big Band sound, and they were really very good. When they moved into a fast number, I tried jitterbugging for the first time in years, and it was fun. Kris utterly loved it! And with her grace and athleticism, she was superb! Before we knew it, we were the only ones on the floor dancing. Everyone else had formed a semicircle focused on the band — to the disgust of the patrons still in their seats who couldn't see over their backs — and just watched. Kris fed on the band, and they fed on us. It was really great!

When the dance concluded, not only did we get cheers and applause from the crowd, we got it from the band members, too.

And so it went, all night long. When they finally closed down, believe it or not, they didn't want to present a bill. As far as the owner was concerned, we had put on a free floorshow, and his patrons loved it. He came to our table to tell us it was the best Friday night in the establishment's history.

When we went out to the car, Kris's eyes were glowing. "My darling," she whispered, "that was the finest night of my life." Then she giggled and added, "No wonder so many girls are anxious about getting dates." Ignoring the car jock holding her door open, she came into my arms and we kissed. Boy, did we ever kiss!

The young man helped Kris into the passenger seat and closed the door. To me he whispered, "Sir, you're really going to score tonight! And with a girl like that, you'll really light up the scoreboard."

I just couldn't resist. "You're right. And she's even better in bed than she looks, if you can believe that. Oh, yeah ... She's my wife."

Then I was surprised. He gripped my hand and said, "You, sir, are the luckiest man in the world!"

Since he was so perceptive, that comment was worth fifty bucks.



-------

Chapter 26



After night-long lovemaking, it wasn't until ten when we awakened on Saturday morning. Kris just stretched while her pelvis was still in the final throes of her last orgasm and said, "My darling, without a doubt that was the finest night of my entire life. And it was all due to the love of my lord and master."

She grinned and added, "Now let's go see what's been happening to Diane!"

So off we went. Since it was late fall, we did wear bathrobes going across to the parents' house. There we found Diane sprawled face down on the breakfast table with her legs spread wide. Mom was gently putting something on her ravaged cunt.

"You poor thing!" Kris exclaimed. "What happened? How are you and Steve making out?"

Diane just raised her head from the table just enough to glare at Kris.

"Oops! Sorry about that," Kris gulped. "Poor choice of words. But what happened?"

Poor Diane could scarcely talk. "Somebody blabbed," she said hoarsely. "Did either of you tell Steve that Cam kept you in orgasm for five hours that first time on the Yucatan?"

"I certainly didn't," I reported.

"Nor did I," Kris echoed.

"Well, somebody did!" Diane grumped. "So it was six fucking hours! Or six hours being fucked," she added with a weak grin. "He never got soft! Can you believe it? And he's so big! My God, he's bigger than all three of those other guys combined." She paused and then added, "He kept me cuming and cuming and cuming..."

"And your sister kept screaming, 'Fuck me harder! Harder!'" Mom commented. Then with a grin toward Kris she added, "She's a real Harris, though! Good Lord, is she ever a loud, foul-mouthed fuck!" Mom shook her head sadly and added, "Dad and I scarcely got a wink of sleep all night long."

"Since you couldn't sleep, what did you do?" Kris asked.

"Oh ... Nothing..." Mom replied blithely. "Your dad just fucked my brains out so my screams would drown out your sister's." Then she lightly patted her slightly convex abdomen and said, "This poor little thing is wondering what the hell is going on. I mean ... The damage is already done, so what is his father wasting all that yummy cum for?" Then to Diane she asked, "How does that feel?"

"Much better, thank you, Mommy," the girl groaned.

Then we heard Steve's voice floating down the stairs. "Come here, slut! It's time to fuck your ass off. This morning, I'm starting on your asshole."

"She'll be there in a few minutes, Steve," Mom called out. Then to Diane she said, "Come on, sweetie. Let's get you ready." She helped her daughter up off the tabletop. As soon as Diane was semi-upright, Kris and I could see the mixed cum and syrup start to seep from her cunt and drip down the inside of her thighs.

Mom helped her into the powder room. And like most of the rest of the house, it was oversized, too. I guess it was designed with the realization that women go to the powder room in pairs. As a result, it was easily large enough for the four of us. She got an enema bag and filled it with a warm-water solution of something or other, then had Diane bend over the countertop.

"Good grief!" she tiredly exclaimed. "Do you two really have to watch my degradation, too?"

"Mmm..." Kris replied noncommittally.

I didn't say a word.

Mother spread her daughter's very tight buns and found her amber hole with the enema's tip. She slipped it in easily and then, while holding the bag as high as she could reach, she released the flow of fluid. Quickly, the bag emptied, but instead of putting it aside, Mom refilled it and repeated the process. (I guess it holds about a quart, but I really don't know.) Then she did it for a third time.

By this time, Diane's abdomen was distended. After the third time, when Mother extracted the nozzle, she replaced it with a Bardex plug. This is one that flattens out on the inside past the sphincter. It prevents leakage, and the more full the colon is, the better it works. Increasing pressure from the inside only serves to tighten the seal.

Slowly, Diane stood up. Looking down, she lightly ran her fingers over her distended abdomen and said, "Well, I guess this is a preview of things to come."

"Oh?" Mom said with an eyebrow raised.

"I guess so," Diane replied. Then with a small grin she added, "It was funny. About the third time Steve was taking me, he asked if I might become pregnant. I assured him that it couldn't happen."

"How could you be so sure?" Kris asked.

"Because, silly, he impregnated me the first time. I can't get pregnant if I already am, can I?"

At that, the other two women took Diane in their arms and hugged and kissed her.

About the same time, Steve called down again, and Mom assured him that Diane would be up soon.

"What's this for, anyway?" Diane asked, referring to the nearly a gallon of fluid sloshing around inside her. (I could actually hear it sloshing whenever she moved.)

"It's for two things," Mom replied. "First of all, it cleans you out inside. Second, by doing that, it makes more room for Steve's giant cock. It should be much more comfortable taking him after this." She paused and then asked, "Have you ever taken a man in your ass before?"

Diane just shook her head. "That was one thing those bastards hadn't gotten around to yet.

"How much longer?" Diane groaned. "This is awful!"

"Wait until I do it with a gallon and a half," Mom said with a grin. "The way Steve's going, you'll probably be there by tomorrow."

Diane just rolled her eyes.

Finally, it was over. Mom sat her down on the toilet seat and removed the plug. The fluid, now mixed with fecal matter came out in a brown stream. Diane looked up at me with tears at the corners of her eyes. "Are you enjoying your sister's degradation, Cam?"

I dropped to my knees and held her in my arms. The instant I did, Diane began to cry. "He'll hate me, Cam! I don't think I'm very good in bed at all!"

"In orgasm for six hours, I think you said?"

She just nodded.

"Darling," I continued, "that's about five hours and fifty-nine minutes longer than almost all other women. Di, you're great!"

That stopped her tears and she looked at me with hope in her eyes. "Honest?"

"Honest!" I assured her.

By this time the process was complete. Mom cleaned her off and then led her stumbling back to the kitchen. Again she was sprawled over the kitchen table while Mother worked on her asshole stretching it with her fingers and spreading K-Y ointment all over the inside and outside. By the time she finished, she had four fingers inside my sister and Di was moaning with a mixture of pleasure and pain. Finally, Mom helped her off the table and with a smack on her bottom sent her staggering toward the stairs and her impalement.

-------

It was some weekend! Steve would not allow Diane to eat any food. Instead, she subsisted on his cum. And while she was going down on him, he was using her back as a table for his own meal. Later, she said the worst thing was having to go down on him while still keeping her back flat and horizontal so as not to spill any of Steve's food.

Late Sunday afternoon, we were back again. Mom just grinned and said softly, "Come and see. I think it's ending in a draw."

We went up the stairs, entered Diane's suite, and then went on to the bedroom. "Just look," Mom whispered.

There was Diane sprawled out on the bed, asleep or unconscious, I'm not sure which. Steve was beside her in the same condition. As I watched though, a shudder went through Diane's pelvis and she muttered, "No more ... Please, Steve ... I can't take any more..."

Mom just slowly shook her head and then gathered the covers from where they were scattered on the floor and covered the two. But it wasn't quite over. When she was covered, Diane, who had been on her back, rolled over on her side to face Steve, put her arm over his body and rested her head on his shoulder. Then with a deep sigh, she went off into a deep sleep.

-------

What followed was truly funny, I guess. Monday morning, Diane could scarcely move. She was going to call in sick, but Mom wouldn't allow it. Fortunately, Steve wasn't much better. While the two ate breakfast — Diane had a huge one, not having eaten since Friday night — she mumbled that Steve would be moving in with her. Which was fine with the rest of us.

The relationship between the two of them was outrageous! First of all, even though the pair were living together and fucking whenever possible, they dated. And I mean Steve would ask Diane for a date on Friday night. If he wanted to go out with her on Saturday, that was another call. And I mean call, as in phone call. If you can imagine, Steve kept his old apartment. (It was a one-room efficiency; no wonder he had so much money! He never spent any.) Moreover, he kept his old phone number and got an unlisted number at my parents' home, then set the old phone to call-forward to his new one. He and Diane had desks that faced each other, and each had a phone, an answering machine and a very powerful computer. (Steve's was a new one that Mom bought him; his old computer, still at his apartment, was a piece of junk.)

Would you believe it? Steve really did phone Diane for dates. Furthermore, if she wasn't there — and often he would call when she wasn't — he would leave a message on her machine for her to call him back. And she did! There the two would sit, not three feet away from one another, chatting on the phone.

When they went out on a date, they would share a shower and Steve would dress while Diane was fussing with her hair. He would go down to the garage, get his car, drive around to the front of the house and ring the doorbell. Mom and Dad would entertain him — it was all they could do to keep straight faces — and finally Diane would appear. And off they would go on their date.

Kris really thought it was awfully cute. They did all the things young couples would do: dining, movies, bowling, even hanging out at popular singles bars. At the end of the evening, they might even go someplace to park. More often than not, Diane would slap Steve's face (very lightly) for getting "too fresh." When she announced that she had a curfew, Steve would drive her home, take her to the door, (usually) get a goodnight kiss, and then drive around to the garage to park his car. Coming in the back door, he would go to their suite to find Diane writhing naked on the bed.

"My date tonight got me so horny, I can't stand it!" she would declare. "Please fuck me, darling?"

And so it went.

The younger sisters — Little Bit, Ann, Judy and Kim — often would come into their bedroom in the morning and just watch while Diane got her good-morning fucking. (The business of keeping the door to their suite and then to their bedroom open had continued.) The girls would then complain to Steve about what that awful football coach (Steve!) had been saying about their bodies: They were too flat-chested. Steve would hug them, kiss them, caress them all over, and reassure them that tall girls were often late to develop on top.

"Look at your sister," he said. "Her tits are utterly perfect!"

"But she's not very big on top, either," Little Bit noted.

"The French say anything more than the size of a champagne glass is a waste," Steve pointed out. "Now look at your sister. She overflows my hand, and I have large hands, too." As he said it, he caressed her tits and used her rings to tease her engorged nipples.

"Please, Steve!" Diane pleaded. "Fuck me... ! Right now!"

"Your wish is my command, Miss Harris," he said as he started to put her cunt on his cock.

The younger girls just sighed. "It's so beautiful," Ann declared.

The funniest thing, though, was that the civil war between Diane and Steve in their classroom never slowed down. If anything, it intensified. And that had its funny element, to be sure.

One evening in early December, Kris and I were visiting in their suite. I guess I was watching Monday Night Football while Kris was employing her Ph.D. in history to read the kids' end-of-term history exams. She had been grading work for a while by then, and was in tune with Steve and Diane's grading standards. Curiously, as much as they fought — or claimed to — there were no disagreements over grades. If a kid flunked, he flunked: no smiley faces or points for a good try.

At any rate, Kris was just finishing reading one girl's exam paper. But when she got to the bottom, she just started to giggle. Since she was sitting beside me on the sofa, I looked over at her with an eyebrow raised. With another giggle, she passed the paper to me. As she did so, she said to the other two, "There's an answer here I really don't know how to grade. Want to take a look?"

Meanwhile, I was looking at the paper. At the bottom of the page, there was a horizontal line with a squiggle in the middle indicating that the statement was separate from what had been written above. Below the line the girl had written, "Miss Smith, when are you and Mr. Chamberlain going to get married? The love you two share is beyond belief!"

By this time Diane had come over and Kris passed the paper to her, indicating where her question was. Diane looked at it, read it ... and exploded! "Why... ! I never... ! The nerve!" Then to Kris she said, "Her exam grade is an 'F'!"

"Gee, Sis, I thought she did a pretty fair job on the test," Kris protested mildly. "And all she did was to ask, after all ... And very politely, too."

By this time Steve had come over, too. Since Diane had given the paper back to Kris, Kris passed it to him, again indicating where her question was. Steve looked at it, read it, and, although his eyes flared for an instant, said nothing. Then he just shook his head and said, "It seems like a reasonable comment to me. Kris, just give her the grade on the test that her other answers would produce."

"Steven... !" Diane exclaimed in her most-irritated tone of voice.

"On your knees, woman," Steve ordered.

"But..."

"On your knees!" he repeated.

Diane dropped to her knees, unzipped his fly and extracted his large cock. As big as he was, I was amazed to see that Diane took him to his full length with apparent ease.

When I looked at Kris with a question in my eyes, she whispered, "Tina has been coaching her. And," she added, "Tina is the very best there is at cocksucking."

Diane was good, no question about it. Not only was she taking the entire length into her mouth, but she was savoring it, running her tongue over its length, and even flicking her tongue out when she had him in all the way to lick his balls. It was truly a labor of love for Diane; she loved everything about it.

With his cock now buried in her throat he asked, "Now what's your problem with this girl's test? It seems pretty simple to me."

"Mmf..." Diane replied.

"Sweetie, you'll have to do better than that," Steve commented. Then to Kris he asked, "Aside from that, how did she do?"

"It's a solid 'A'," Kris replied. "This girl has really been doing the work and paying close attention in class. She didn't miss much. As a matter of fact, she didn't miss anything at all."

"If that's the case, you better make it an 'A+'" Steve said. "And I'll take your word that it is that good." Then to Diane he asked, "Agreed, sweetie?"

"Mmf..." Diane repeated.

Steve ran his hands through her lovely hair just as he exploded. When he was finally able to speak he stammered, "I ... knew ... you'd ... see ... it my way."

Diane was too busy swallowing his cum and licking her lips to say anything. When she was finally able to speak all she said was, "Here or in there?"

"Huh?" Steve replied. (See? I'm not the only one.)

"Where do you want to fuck me? On the floor right here, or on the nice bed in there?" As she was speaking, she was stripping off her clothes.

Steve looked back and forth and then pointed to the bedroom.

"Neato!" Diane exclaimed as she scampered toward the bed.

Kris and I were entertained by the fucking sounds coming from the other room for a while. Then Kris stripped, took off my trousers and impaled herself on my cock. I caressed her tits — her back was to me — while we both watched the game. Following our established procedure, I only brought her to climax when play was stopped on the field.

What a great game that was!



-------

Chapter 27



Finally it was time for Little Bit and Ann to go out to the Coast for the big dance. Since their school was out for the Christmas Holidays (now Winter Holidays; let's not offend the ACLU, after all), although the dance was Saturday night, they went out on Thursday morning. Moreover, because they were not planning on returning until Tuesday, Little Bit had had a brainstorm.

The result was that I had called Fred Hodges, the CEO of Executive Aviation. He was out of the office, so I spoke with his executive secretary, Mary Beth McBride. It was funny, really. I had never met the woman, but I had had prior dealings with her over the phone. In every case, she was amazingly knowledgeable about all facets of Executive Aviation's business and capable of making things happen in a hurry.

Passing on Little Bit's message, I requested that the aircrew for their flight out be Guy Barnes and Bill Jones. Furthermore, Guy was invited to bring his wife, and Bill was invited to bring his girlfriend, Trudy.

"Oh, Mr. Harris!" Mary Beth exclaimed, "that's the nicest thing anyone has ever done. I just know that Brandi — that's Guy Barnes' wife — will adore it, and I'm certain Trudy Elliott will, too." She paused and then added, "I only wish that girl would get her act together and marry Bill. He needs her and she needs him." She paused and then said, "I really shouldn't be telling you this, but Guy and Brandi will be celebrating their first anniversary on Friday. Brandi will be so utterly thrilled... !"

I was astounded. "Ms. McBride—" I began.

"Please, Mr. Harris, could you call me Mary Beth? Everybody does. But if you feel it necessary to be more formal, it's Miss McBride." She paused and then added, "Quite honestly, I abhor the title, Ms."

"You're amazingly current on the marital status of your flight crews," I commented. "How come?"

"Because it's part of my job," she replied. "After all, our crews are the primary contact point between our clients and ourselves. If they don't do a good job — if they're not friendly because they're preoccupied with a personal problem — it shows, and it reflects poorly on us as a company."

I thought about what she had just said for a few moments and then asked, "What about you, Mary Beth? How long have you been with Fred?"

"Forever!" she replied with a little sigh. "Since just before his wife died, as a matter of fact."

"Has he noticed that you're more than the office furniture, yet?" I asked. That was quite a question coming from me. I normally avoid personal questions like the plague.

"No, because I'm not."

"And what's that mean?"

"It means that I'm ... I'm just a piece of office furniture, is what it means."

"Tell me a little about yourself," I pursued. "To me, you're a very lovely voice on the telephone, but that's all."

"I'm five feet eight, brown hair, brown eyes ... And I weigh about 155 and wear Coke-bottle glasses."

"Would you do me a favor?" I asked.

"Of course!" she instantly replied. "What do you need?"

"Two things," I replied. "First, I would like you to see an ophthalmologist I've used. He does remarkable things with his magic laser; a sister of mine went from 20/500 to 20/20 in a few moments. Oh, yeah..." I added, "it's all paid for. Second, if I sent over an exercise machine for you, would you use it? It's a brand-new model from Female Fitness that's not even on the market yet, but the women who've used it absolutely love it." Again I paused and then asked, "Are you a virgin by any chance?"

That last question really took her aback. There was a noticeable pause as she collected her thoughts. Finally she asked, "What does me possibly being a virgin have to do with anything?"

"It relates to the machine's action," I replied. "Without going into any detail, all I can say is that if you are, you won't be after you use it for the first time."



A note about Mom's latest magic machine: It's computer-controlled and sets itself initially for the user's physical condition. Over time, it keeps advancing its settings until the preestablished target level is reached. With female users, two spring-loaded cylinders extend upward with one entering the vagina and the other entering the rectum. They are angled so that when they're at their operating level, the two are almost touching. As the user exercises, the two cylinders transmit electrical impulses: very pleasant ones when the user meets the machine's standards, and increasingly unpleasant ones if the user falls behind. At the end, the rider is encouraged to work harder, and, if successful, is rewarded with a beautiful orgasm.



Again there was a pause. "I would be delighted to see your ophthalmologist friend, and I promise to use your machine. How's that?"

"That's great!" I enthused. I then gave her the doctor's name and phone number and got her shipping address.

[What follows was gleaned from Little Bit and Ann after their trip. Obviously, I wasn't there, but the two girls (and me, now) have phonographic memories. Not only can they play back conversations with perfect accuracy, they even do it with appropriate voice inflection, too.]

There was a bit of scrambling around in the Harris' manses with deliveries coming from the strangest sources. One I recognized was a delivery from a famous Manhattan specialty food shop noted for being able to provide the world's most exotic foods at the world's most outrageous prices. I asked Kris about that one.

"What's my primary duty in this household?" she asked in reply.

"Huh... ?"

"It's to help my lord and master with his money problems," she said in answer to her own question.

"And... ?" I prompted.

"And that's exactly what I'm doing. I'm working very hard to help you get rid of some of it."

At any rate, Kris and I drove the girls to Westchester County Airport where we found my G-5 waiting for us with its starboard engine slowly turning over. Trudy Elliott and Brandi Barnes were already aboard; they had come over with the aircraft when it was ferried from its base at Teterboro.

The girls got aboard and off they went.

Brandi's appearance was quite similar to Little Bit's. Like my sister, she had golden blonde hair and blue eyes along with a gorgeous figure. She was a bit shorter than Little Bit at five feet eight.

Trudy Elliott was very interesting. Like Brandi, she was five-eight, but appeared to weigh about 160; in short, she was too heavy. Her hair was brown and her eyes were a beautiful shade of gray.

By the time the plane had reached its cruising altitude and headed west, it was shortly before noon. Little Bit and Ann went into action. They set up a table at two seats and announced that lunch was being served to Guy and Brandi Barnes. And, it turned out, that's what Kris had meant when she said they were helping to spend my money.

First, they served canapés along with Harvey's Tico, a very dry cocktail sherry. Their two guests' eyes widened as they looked at the small plate with the canapés, each of which was a miniature work of art. That was followed by smoked trout served with a horseradish sauce along with a lovely Chardonnay. (They only served a half bottle to Brandi; Guy, the pilot, had to make do with Perrier.) According to the girls, the smoked trout was the world's finest.

That was followed by a roast fillet of beef, Wellington, that the girls had roasted on board. Ann did the honors, slicing the beef at the table and serving it on a Périgord sauce that Brandi pronounced to be the finest meal she had ever eaten in her life. That was followed by a salad and then a dessert of crème caramel. Oh, yeah ... The entrée was served with a half-bottle of Chateau Mouton Rothschild from a 20 year. Although Guy didn't get any at dinner (lunch?), he was given half-bottles of both the Chardonnay and the Bordeaux to take with him.

Having completed the service to them, Guy returned to the cockpit and relieved Bill Jones who came back for his turn at dining. Brandi Barnes went to the rear of the plane, opened a sofa out to a bed and proceeded to take a nap to sleep off the meal.

Bill and Trudy ate the same meal previously served to the Barnes. When they finished, Bill returned to the cockpit while Trudy just stretched.

"That meal was unbelievably good," she said, "and it took care of my weight problem, for a while, at least."

"What weight problem?" Little Bit asked. She was taken aback by the comment, because she thought that if Trudy had a problem with weight it was that she was carrying too much.

Trudy shook her head and replied, "It's my dumb job."

That comment made no sense to Little Bit. "I don't understand."

"I work for a feminist magazine," Trudy replied, "and, believe it or not, my present weight is as light as I can afford to be. If I lose any more, they're all over me like a tent: I'm appealing to the male stereotype!"

"What?" Ann squawked. "What's that mean?"

"It means the editors and staff were long ago carried away by what Christina Hoff Somers calls 'gender feminism' as distinct from 'equity feminism.' The latter is equal rights, equal pay for the same work, and so forth. The former has become largely male bashing and lesbianism."

"If you don't like it, why do you stay?" Ann asked reasonably.

"Because it beats starvation is why," Trudy pointed out. "And it's my own fault, too. I majored in Women's Studies in college." She paused and shook her head sadly. "What an incredible waste of time and money that was! But it's even worse: Any girl who majors in Women's Studies is looked upon — correctly, I might add — as a sexual harassment suit waiting to happen. Heck, even the notoriously liberal mainstream media aren't that dumb. Or the Suits they employ aren't, anyway. So I'm stuck."

She paused and then continued, "The fact is that they would utterly freak if they knew I was living with ... a guy! As it is, Bill and I have separate phone lines and His and Her answering machines. Boy, what I wouldn't give to be able to write for a magazine that featured women with families."

"Why don't you?" Ann asked reasonably.

"Because there aren't any. At least, there aren't any of the kind my friends and I have been talking about."

"And what are you talking about?" Little Bit asked.

"Well ... it's sort of a People,  but for married women."

"You sound like you've talked about it a lot," Ann commented.

"Oh, we sure have!" Trudy enthusiastically agreed. "We've even put dummies together for a couple of issues. But then we really need..." And she ran down without completing her thought.

"What do you really need?" Ann coaxed.

"A really well-known cover subject for the premier issue is what we need," Trudy replied morosely.

"You mean a woman who's married with children, but who is well known, and ideally, a sex symbol?" Little Bit filled in.

"You got it!"

"How about my soon-to-be mother-in-law?"

"Huh... ?"

"I'm sort of unofficially engaged to Tony Kramer. He's the eldest son of Brad and Kimberly Kramer," Little Bit explained.

"Brad Kramer is going to be your father-in-law?" Brandi Barnes asked. She had awakened from her nap and was listening to the conversation, although she was still lying on the bed.

Little Bit just nodded, but she was puzzled by the intensity of Brandi's voice. "Why do you ask?"

"Because Brad Kramer and Carlson's Rangers saved my father's life," the woman said. "He was flying an Intruder over Vietnam and was shot down. Brad Kramer rescued him from deep behind the North Vietnamese lines." She paused and added, "I've seen all their movies, and have always wanted to meet him."

"That's easy to fix," Little Bit replied. Then to Trudy she said, "You didn't comment on the Kimberly Kramer idea."

Trudy just shook her head. "Look, Miss Harris, not that anything is ever going to happen, but if it ever did, we don't have ten years to wait. And that's about how long it would take to be able to do a feature on Kimberly Kramer. She's been the outstanding motion-picture talent for years!" When she said the last words, Trudy looked puzzled and slowly shook her head.

"What's that head-shaking mean?" Little Bit asked.

Instead of directly responding, Trudy's eyes widened and she said, "Did you say you're engaged ... to Kim Kramer's son?"

Little Bit just nodded.

"But you can't be! Unless you're robbing ... the ... cradle..." Trudy's voice slowed like an unwound manual record player. "But wait," she said. Obviously, the girl was reviewing things in her mind. Then she said softly, "My God! She got her first Oscar for... 'Kelly'. And that was years ago, wasn't it?"

"Trudy, dear, I'll give you the hot scoop: Kimberly Kramer is pushing 50 ... Hard! Understand?" Little Bit grinned and added, "And that's despite the fact that if she's wearing Levi's, she can't even get served a drink!"

"Good heavens! What a woman!" Trudy breathed.

"You don't know the half of it," Little Bit continued. "Are you familiar with the Female Fitness line of exercise machines?"

Trudy just nodded.

"That's her, too," Little Bit said. "Not only is she the design engineer of every piece of gear they sell, she's president of the company."

Trudy's jaw dropped.

"Then, of course, she's also Executive Vice President–Operations of Aerospace Technologies, the world's leader in machine tools. She designs all of those, too."

Trudy was truly stunned.

"And then, of course, Cal Tech — among others — has been after her for years to accept a full professorship in mechanical engineering. Cal Tech is where she earned her Ph.D. in engineering." Little Bit grinned and continued, "Of course Mother insists those are just pastimes. Her real job, she insists, is mothering her ten children and being Brad Kramer's mistress. That last is the most important, by the way."

"T ... ten children?" Trudy stammered.

"Oh, yeah. The tenth was born only a few weeks ago. It seems that every two years she hatches another one."

"I never knew..." Trudy mused.

"No one does," Little Bit replied, "and Mother likes it that way. But what about having her on the cover of your first issue? Would that work?" She thought for a moment and then added, "Wasn't Marilyn Monroe on the cover of the first Playboy? I know she was the first centerfold, and that was about 50 years ago."

"But she would never do it," Trudy concluded.

Instead of arguing, Little Bit took the phone from the armrest of her seat and called Kim. She quickly reached her and explained what Trudy had in mind. She concluded by saying quietly, "Since you're about to become a grandmother, isn't it about time you admitted you're older than 19?"

Kim just laughed at that. "Okay," she said, "I'll do it." But then she told Little Bit that she was very glad she had called; she had been about to call her. She wanted to change the arrangements and have them go into LAX rather than John Wayne. "I'll have a limo there to meet you. You have an appointment with Henry Hall to have your hair done and so does your twin." Then she added, "Tony and Paul will be driving up. They'll meet you at Henry's and then you four can have dinner and get acquainted. It should work a lot better than meeting at our zoo."

Little Bit hung up and then talked to Guy Barnes. He, in turn, contacted air traffic control to change their flight plan, going first to LAX, then dropping down to Orange County. Then the girl turned to Trudy and said, "Okay, now you have your first cover. But what about the magazine?"

Trudy was stunned. What had been almost a joke among her colleagues and herself seemed to be becoming a reality. Then her face fell as reality set in. "Well, we have a cover girl," she said. "Now all we need is a magazine to put the cover on."

"How much will it take to get started?" Little Bit asked. Then she changed tack. "I'll tell you what: This will require a lot of work and planning. I doubt if you and your friends ever really went into the details of launching a new magazine." As she was talking, Little Bit was reaching for her purse and retrieving her checkbook. "I'll put up a little money that you and your friends can use for your living expenses and stuff while you plan the magazine. Do you have a title for it, by the way?"

Trudy was just shaking her head. "Yeah. We thought we would call it Mrs. Original, huh?" Then she asked, "By the way, how much is 'a little money'?"

"A million dollars."

Trudy just gasped, but before she could say anything, Ann interjected, "Wait a stinking minute, sister. We'll go halves." With that Ann took out her own checkbook and wrote a check for $500,000.

Little Bit tore up the check she had just written and wrote a matching check of her own, payable to Trudy Elliott. She passed it to the dumbfounded girl, as did Ann. Then Little Bit said, "Why don't you use the phone, Trudy, to tell the folks at your magazine that you won't be back? And for that matter, why don't you talk to your cohorts and tell them they've got a new employer?"

By this time the change in her fortune had started to register. Trudy began to slowly shake her head back and forth. "I can't take your money," she said. "We would just blow it. I mean ... Good grief! Do you know what's involved? We have to get advertisers..."

"Do you have someone in mind for advertising director?" Ann asked.

"Oh, sure, and she's just great, but how can she sell what doesn't even exist? And the cost of getting a magazine underway ... I mean ... It's a money pit!"

"What are you thinking about to get going?" Little Bit asked. "I mean when you really start to roll."

"Good heavens! I don't know, but I do know that $1 million will be just a drop in the bucket."

"Fifty mil?" Ann asked. "A hundred? What?"

"To really do it right, it would be in that ballpark," Trudy replied. "Now do you see what I mean? You're just throwing money away. And where are the advertisers going to come from?"

"Well, I think Executive Aviation will buy a page," Little Bit said thoughtfully. "Then there's Mother with Female Fitness, Alliance Studios, Aerospace Technologies, and a lot more."

"Why on earth would Executive Aviation buy a page?"

"Trudy, dear," Brandi said, reentering the discussion, "do you and Bill do anything other than just fuck?"

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Trudy asked truculently.

"Did you ever wonder how two young women — our only passengers — prepared and served a sumptuous meal on board an Executive Aviation aircraft?"

The woman just slowly shook her head.

"Did it come as any surprise to you that they knew what they were doing? Do you know your way around the galley? Do you know which units do what?" Brandi persisted.

Again Trudy just shook her head.

"Dear Trudy, the reason they know their way around, and the reason they were allowed to do the cooking ... is because this is their brother's plane!" She grinned and added, "Oh, yeah ... He owns Executive Aviation, too." Then she giggled and added, "If he called Fred Hodges, the CEO, and told him to advertise in Mrs.,  Fred's only question would be, 'How much space should we buy, sir?' Cameron Harris owns the whole damned thing, and, as I said, this is his private aircraft. Nobody flies in it except Cam Harris and his family. Understand?"

"He has a lot of money?" Trudy said slowly.

"Let me put it this way," Brandi responded, "he could fill your first issue to capacity with advertising from just the companies he owns outright. Okay? Now why don't you and Bill talk once in a while instead of just fucking?"

"Because there's not nearly enough time for our fucking as it is," Trudy replied, sticking out the tip of her tongue. "With his flying schedule and my late nights closing the magazine, I practically live like a nun!" Then a new thought hit her. "My God!" she exclaimed, "I don't have to be a tub of lard anymore! Hallelujah!"

"The phone calls?" Ann reminded her.

"Oh, yeah... !" Trudy replied.

She called her employer and resigned on the spot. Then she began calling her colleagues — the Fifth Column in the publication, she called it — and gave them the news. Little Bit and Ann could both easily hear the screams of excitement from the other end of the phone conversations without the need for their special hearing.

-------

What happened was really funny. A total of 14 young women resigned that same day ... and their former employing publication proceeded to go straight into the tank. It turned out that Trudy really did know her people. The ones who resigned were, in fact, the only ones really keeping the publication afloat. The others — the seniors — were essentially full time at feminist conferences and gatherings of all kinds. They were above it all. They thought.

-------

When she finally hung up from the last call, Trudy was glowing. Then her face dropped. "Oh, my God! What have I done?" she exclaimed. "I got all the kids to resign, but where are we going to get the money to launch?"

"That really is going to be a problem," Little Bit conceded.

Trudy began to cry.

"But not the problem you're thinking of," Little Bit continued. "The problem is going to be deciding who to allow in, and for how much. Let me explain: My brother, Cam, would put up all the money ... but so would Mom. And I'm sure that Mother — that's Kimberly Kramer — would want to, too, and so will Ali Clifford. Trudy, the problem won't be getting the money — that's a lead-pipe cinch — the problem will be trying to prevent open warfare among potential investors."

By the time Little Bit finished, Trudy's jaw had dropped. Finally she said, "You're really serious, aren't you?"

"I sure-as-hell am!"

"Then we don't really have to cut corners?"

"You better not!" Little Bit exclaimed. "Assuming you want to keep your head attached to the rest of your body, of course."

Trudy just slumped down in her seat and sighed. "Poor Bill," she finally murmured.

"And what's 'poor Bill' mean?" Brandi asked.

"It means I may fuck the poor guy to death over then next few days is what 'poor Bill' means."

Brandi just giggled.



-------

Chapter 28



The plane landed at LAX and, as promised, the girls were met with a limousine. The other four just waved goodbye — the starboard engine had never been shut down — and promised to meet at the Kramer/Christian compound on Sunday. Off Ann and Little Bit went to Alliance Studios and Henry Hall. All they knew was that Henry Hall had so many Academy Awards for hair styling that at least one of his Oscars was used as a doorstop. Then Little Bit started to wonder: If William Bradley Kramer, III, her fiancé, was named for the awards his parents had won the night he was born, why wasn't he named Oscar? Then she answered her own question: What a shitty name that would be to hang on a poor little baby! And what the hell ... Tony is the name given to theatrical awards, so it's close.

The driver was apparently known because they were waved right through the gate at Alliance Studios. Furthermore, the driver knew where he was going in the sprawling maze of buildings, and moments later pulled up at an unmarked door. The girls alighted and went in to be immediately greeted by Henry Hall himself.

He worked on Little Bit first. And he nearly freaked out when she told him about the way her hair held in any position in which it was set. He was skeptical, so she had him tousle her hair and then restored it to its former position with a hard shake of her head. When he learned that Little Bit's power was transferable, Henry was utterly thrilled, claiming she had just solved a problem that had been plaguing him for years with Ali and all the girls at Clifford & Jamison.

When he finished with her, she went next door to see the makeup director, Penny Watts, while Henry began working on Ann. After being invited in, Little Bit found herself face to face with a beautiful woman.

"Hi, I'm Little Bit Harris. Mr. Hall said you wanted to see me." Then she added with a very warm smile, "You're one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen." She paused and then continued, "But with your job, I guess you have to be, don't you?"

Penny had begun to slowly shake her head when Little Bit began her compliments. When she concluded, Penny merely asked, "Where have you been buying that controlled substance that you've obviously been smoking? Because I'll have to get some, too." She shook her head firmly and said, "Young lady, you're blind!"

"Oh?" Little Bit asked with an eyebrow raised. "Have you looked in a mirror lately? And I mean really looked?"

Penny was taken aback. She was standing in back of a makeup chair which was positioned in front of a large mirror that occupied most of the wall. Slowly she turned, looked, and her jaw slowly dropped. "My God!" she breathed. "That stuff really seems to work."

"What stuff is that?"

"Well, I had my eyesight fixed just a week or so ago. One of those laser treatments?"

Little Bit just nodded. She had become very familiar with them.

"And ... and..." Penny just stopped.

"And what?" Little Bit prompted.

"And I've been using that magic machine that Kim Kramer sent me several months ago." At that point she stood up straight, put her shoulders back and then turned 90 degrees. After looking at herself in the mirror from that side, she turned around and examined her other profile.

When she twisted around to try to get a look at her back, Little Bit noticed a pier glass standing on the floor. She moved it around so Penny could use the two mirrors together to see her rear view.

"I just don't believe it!" the older woman murmured. "That can't be me!" Then to Little Bit she asked, "Do you think a man would even think of looking at me?"

"I really don't know..." the girl replied, feigning thoughtfulness.

Penny's face fell. "Why don't you know?"

"Because I really think he would be more occupied with the prospect of fucking your brains out than looking at you is why." Then with a big smile, Little Bit added, "You're outrageously beautiful!"

When Little Bit had mentioned fucking, Penny's face fell and again she began slowly to shake her head. "That would really tear it," she finally said.

"What would?"

"Fucking me," Penny said sadly. "The guy would do better with a piece of meat."

Instead of responding, the girl asked, "Aren't I supposed to be here for some purpose?"

"Would you mind ... stripping?" Penny asked diffidently.

Little Bit almost cheered. Penny's question played right into the girl's thinking. Quickly she stripped bare and just stood there. This time it was Penny's turn to look her over very carefully. But unlike Little Bit, Penny was a professional. She looked at her from all angles, even having her sit on the sofa and elevate her legs. When she did this, Little Bit spread her thighs wide to open herself up for a complete inspection.

"I've seen enough," Penny finally admitted.

"And... ?" the girl prompted.

"And what?" Penny replied, feigning ignorance.

"What do you think?" the girl finally asked, barely keeping the concern from her voice.

"You're perfect," Penny replied flatly. "Just perfect." Then she added, "I apologize for asking you to strip. That was uncalled for and unprofessional." Then she raised an eyebrow and asked, "How old are you anyway, Elizabeth?"

"I'm seventeen."

"And it was probably illegal, too," Penny added. Then she thought for a moment and added, "Good Lord! I must be losing it! Asking a young girl to strip bare in front of a stranger..."

"It's not nearly as bad as fucking for a Big Mac," Little Bit said softly.

"What?" Penny squawked.

"Fucking for a Big Mac," the girl repeated. Then she grinned and continued, "Miss Watts, there's something you don't know about Ann and me: Both of us were street hookers until just a very short time ago. Think of the worst things you can think of a girl doing, and we've done them. In fact, we've begged johns to allow us to do them. Okay?"

Penny just slowly shook her head, then flopped down on the sofa beside Little Bit.

"Oh, no you don't," the girl protested. "If you're going to sit here, you're going to be as bare as I am."

Penny started to protest, but then realized she couldn't. Slowly she stripped off her clothing and then just sat on the edge of the seat, shivering.

Gently, Little Bit took the woman in her arms and pulled her close. With her lips close to Penny's ear she said softly, "You said a man would enjoy a piece of meat more than fucking you. Why?"

"Because I've only been with a man once in my life," Penny confessed, "and it was awful." After a long pause she added, "I was raped."

Little Bit didn't say anything. Instead she just held the woman close and gently stroked anything within reach.

After a few minutes Penny continued, "How old do you think I am?"

The girl thought for a moment and then replied, "I really have no idea. To look at you — even naked — you appear to be about 21. But on the other hand, I know you have a room-full of Oscars and have been around Hollywood for years." Shaking her head she repeated, "I really have no idea."

"I'm 36," Penny finally whispered. "I've been in this business since I was 16 ... I was raped when I was 15."

"And... ?" the girl prompted.

"I ran into a very senior makeup director here who was a lesbian. She taught me to go down on her, and I got to be pretty good, I guess. At any rate, that's what I still do." With a weak grin she added, "I guess it's pretty obvious that I lied about my age back then, huh?"

"A piece of meat... ?" Little Bit reminded her.

"I guess I could spread my legs and let the guy play, but honestly, I think a warm piece of meat would give him more of a thrill. There would be no response."

"Are you sure?"

Penny just looked at her, puzzled.

Then Little Bit got off the sofa and dropped to her knees. Before Penny knew what was happening, Little Bit had the older woman's legs over her shoulders and brought her hairless pussy to her lips. She really began to give the woman a workout, one that she had never dreamed of, let alone experienced.

Elizabeth feasted on her pussy, then moved up to her breasts and then to her face. She kissed the woman passionately and that seemed to awaken her. Penny began to return the kisses with increasing enthusiasm.

By the time Little Bit moved back to Penny's cunt, Ann had finished with Henry and had come into Penny's studio. Seeing her twin working on the woman's pussy, Ann stripped off her own clothes, sat down on the sofa beside Penny and began working on her lips, ears and torso. In no time, the woman was gasping for breath. Little Bit brought her right to the edge of orgasm but was just holding her there.

"Please... please... ! For God's sake, let me cum!" she pleaded.

Little Bit sat back on her heels and cocked her head to the side. She was like a painter admiring her partially-completed work. "No ... Not yet. You're not quite where you need to be—"

"Not there!" Penny screamed. "What do you mean, 'Not there'? I'm dying!"

Ignoring the woman's screams, Little Bit said thoughtfully, "Nope. Not there yet." Then she explained, "It would be different if I were a man working on you with my cock. But I'm not, so we have to improvise." Then to her sister she said, "Better hold her tight, Annie. Miss Watts acts like she doesn't believe me."

Penny was desperately trying to move forward on the sofa so she could reach Little Bit's hands or anything at all she could use to get herself off.

Ignoring the woman's struggles, Little Bit returned to her "work". Again she brought Penny to the edge — she had slipped back in the meantime — and held her ... and held her ... and held her.

As strong as Ann was, she was beginning to have trouble holding Penny down. "Better hustle, Sis," she said softly. "She's been working out a lot, and she's really strong. Particularly when she's trying to save her own life. And, dear sister, the way she's acting, I really think that's how she feels right now."

"Oh ... All right!" Little Bit pouted. Then, seemingly to herself, she added, "Why does everybody have to always be in such a big fucking rush?"

But she took Penny over and the older woman screamed out her release. Then Little Bit just continued in the same vein. While before she had maintained Penny right on the edge of orgasm, now she worked to maintain her in that state. And she did. Penny's screams had died down, and then shifted to words — "More! More!" — and then to inchoate sounds. While all the now-well-toned muscles in her body had been in spasm, it appeared that they had reached the point of exhaustion, too. But her pelvis was still shaking, albeit with diminishing violence, while continuing to pour out her cum cream.

Now that she was more relaxed, Little Bit substituted her tongue for her fingers and began to lick up the woman's syrup. She found that it was now as sweet as sugar. Although she had long since lost track of time, the girl finally decided that Penny had had enough. She nibbled on the woman's clit with her teeth, and with an eerie scream, she lost consciousness.

At that point, the two sisters collapsed on the sofa on each side of the now-unconscious older woman. Then, without a conscious thought, the girls sat up, leaned across Penny's unconscious body and kissed. Their only contact was their lips initially, but the lips were joined by their tongues that dueled and fought and then linked. Finally they eased apart, breathless.

"I love you, Ann," Little Bit murmured.

"I love you, Elizabeth," Ann replied.

The two just looked at each other with their eyes glowing, then both fell back against the sofa.

Finally, Penny stirred. Her eyes blinked, then opened. Her mouth moved, but initially no sounds came out. The two girls looked at her and had a hard time controlling their laughter. Penny looked like a person learning how to form words with her mouth.

Eventually, though, sounds did emerge, then syllables, and finally, whole words. "Unbelievable" was her first understandable word.

"That was the most incredible sexual experience of my lifetime," she said, more talking to herself than to her two companions. "Nothing could possibly ever be better!"

At that both girls laughed.

Ann said, "Little Bit worked on you because she got to you first, and besides, she's better with women than I am." She paused while slowly shaking her head, "But as good as she is, she's just a weak imitation of what it's like with a man you love."

There was silence in the room for a few minutes while Penny Watts digested what Ann had said. Then slowly she began to shake her head. "That's impossible!" she finally murmured.

"Ann's absolutely right," Little Bit insisted. "A guy is so much better, there's just no comparison." Then she turned to look at Penny and asked, "Why don't you get yourself one?"

That remark was greeted with bitter laughter. "Get myself one? Hah! With what? And how?"

Ann asked Penny to put her feet up on the coffee table sitting before them. The woman looked puzzled, but did what Ann had asked. The two girls then extended their legs and put them beside Penny's. The only difference was that the girls were far more tanned than Penny was, but the woman's legs were not pale.

"Great pair of legs," Little Bit commented. "For an older woman, I mean..."

That got her a punch in the arm from Penny.

"Annie, her chest is nicer than ours. Aren't her tits utterly perfect?"

Instead of replying, Ann rose from the sofa and retrieved a pencil from the desk. Returning, she asked Penny to stand and then held up the woman's right breast, put the pencil horizontally below it where the breast met the chest, and released the tit. Instantly, the pencil dropped to the floor while the woman reeled; she could barely stand.

"My God!" Ann breathed, "whoever would have believed that an old woman like this could pass the pencil test? And with real tits, too." While still focused on Penny's breasts, she teased the right nipple into an erection. Like the girls, Penny had small nipples and areolae only slightly larger in diameter than her nipples themselves. "Cute nipples, too," Ann remarked.

"No particularly noticeable flab..." Little Bit commented, as if to herself. Then to Ann she said, "Come on! Let's lug this body next door and see what Henry thinks."

Putting an arm over each of their shoulders, the girls started to walk the woman toward the connecting door. As they moved — Penny wasn't yet able to move under her own power — Little Bit asked, "Why is your pussy shaved? I thought you said that no one ever went down on you."

"It's not shaved, it's lasered," Penny mumbled. "My lover liked to see me dripping."

Opening the connecting door, they found Henry bent over his desk with his back to them doing some paperwork.

"Henry, we need your opinion," Ann said quietly so as not to startle him.

Standing up straight, Henry turned, saw the three women, and his jaw dropped. "Good grief!" he exclaimed. "What have you done to Penny?"

"Oh ... Nothing," Little Bit replied airily. "But we need your opinion," she repeated. "Would you mind kissing Penny and then telling us what you think?" At that point, Penny's head was still lolling; she was still unable to hold it continually upright.

"B ... but..." he stammered.

"Just kiss her," Ann chimed in. "Since you were married, I'm sure you know how that's done."

Moving like a zombie, he came close then gently lifted Penny's head. His lips met hers, and everything changed instantly. To Penny, it was like a shot of adrenaline or a jolt of electricity. While an instant earlier, the girls flanking her had been supporting most of her weight, now she stood up straight, moved her arms from around the girls' necks and put them around Henry's. Then she started to work her lips on his in an even more loving way than Little Bit had used her lips on her pussy.

The two girls could hear the bells chime and see the electricity flowing between them. Finally, breathless, they eased apart.

Then Henry moved farther back to be able better to see the woman in front of him. "Penny Watts," he finally murmured, "you are utterly outrageous!"

Tears came to Penny's eyes. "It's pretty awful, isn't it? But it wasn't my idea—"

"Awful!" Henry nearly screamed, interrupting her. "You are outrageously beautiful!" Slowly he shook his head and added, "You look like a 21-year-old ... Fully mature, and fully ripe for the very first time." Then he cocked his head and added thoughtfully, "But your hair needs work." To Ann he said, "Did you say something about that hair trick of yours being transferrable?"

"Oh, sure," Ann replied with a grin. Then after glancing at Penny beside her she added, "She's all set."

The scene was really quite funny. Here were three girls, all nude, in the presence of a fully-dressed man, but no one seemed either to notice or to care.

Almost fearfully, Penny moved toward Henry's hairdressing chair. As she was sitting down in it, Little Bit asked casually, "Are you busy tonight, Henry?"

"Me?" he asked incredulously. "You have to be thinking of two other guys. I haven't been busy for nearly 10 years."

"It's been that long since Shirley died?" Penny asked quietly.

Henry just sadly nodded his head.

"How about you?" Little Bit asked Penny.

"How about me, what?"

"Are you busy tonight? I mean ... It's only Thursday night, after all."

Penny laughed bitterly and replied, "I've never been busy."

"Neato!" Little Bit exclaimed, with no further explanation.

Then, while Henry began to work on Penny, the girl went to the phone, looked up a number in the studio directory, and called the Costuming Department. Fortunately, the phone was far enough away from where Henry was working on Penny's hair that no one else could hear her. When the phone was answered, she told the woman that she needed a cocktail dress with all the accessories and needed it at once. After giving the woman Penny's measurements but not her name, she added, "This is a Special for Ali. And she said to be sure it's done right!"

"For ... for Mrs. Clifford?" the woman stammered.

"She's not wearing it, but it's for a very close personal friend. All I can say is that if it's not perfect, heads will roll!"

The woman got the message loud and clear.

Then the girl took out her satellite cellphone and called Kim Kramer. After a very warm exchange of greetings, she told Kim what had happened. "Mother," she concluded, "I really stuck my neck out: I told the Costuming Department that it was a special order at Ali's request. Will she shoot me, do you think?"

Kim just giggled. After getting Little Bit's cell phone number, she hung up.

About five minutes later, when Henry was finishing up with Penny, the cell phone rang. Little Bit was scared to death to learn it was Ali Clifford herself calling. When Ali picked up the phone, her first words were, "And what do you think you're doing, young lady?"

All Little Bit could do was to stammer.

"I just got off the phone with Costuming. Good God! What nitwits we have over there ... This is for Penny Watts who has a dinner date tonight with Henry Hall?"

Little Bit could only mumble an affirmative.

"Utterly priceless!" Ali chortled. "Here they've had adjoining studios for eons, and two young girls, just off the plane from New York of all places, get them together." She paused and then continued, "Would you believe what those idiots were going to do?" she asked. Answering her own rhetorical question she continued, "They were going to use paste jewels! Can you believe it? If they have an ounce of sense, they have people at Tiffany's, Cartier's and Harry Winston in Beverly Hills getting an assortment of real things." Again she paused and then continued, "What you and your sister have done is of enormous value to me! I can't thank you enough.

"And, by the way, Fred Clark will be by later with the Rolls to take the couple to dinner. And that's covered, too, and all arrangements have been made."

Again Ali paused. Changing the subject she asked, "Did you have Costuming work on the dresses you're wearing this evening? It's your big date with your fiancé, Kim tells me, and your sister is meeting the eldest son of my ex-partner, Carol Christian. Those dresses have to be utterly perfect. Well, did you?"

"Did I what?" Little Bit replied in confusion.

"Have Costuming work on the dresses to ensure they're perfect," Ali replied, exasperated.

"N ... no," the girl stammered. "They're brand new. They've never been worn."

"But they were scrunched into garment bags for the flight out, I'll bet," Ali continued. "And you know women's wear ... or should. Even in dresses costing thousands, it's not uncommon to find un-sewn seams." Then she concluded, "Oh, well, someone will be over in a few moments to pick up the dresses. They will go over every stinking inch with a magnifying glass. They will be flawless! Understand?"

"Y ... yes, ma'am," Little Bit stammered.

"And there will be no check presented for your group, either. I've spoken to André Malraux, the owner of Maxim's. He is ensuring that you will be seated far enough away from Henry and Penny that you won't get in each other's way." She paused and then with a change of voice to one of great sincerity she added, "Little Bit, your mother tells me you are an incredible young woman. All I can say is, you certainly are. I cannot thank you enough for what you are doing!"

Little Bit just looked at the now-dead instrument.

Just as Henry finished with Penny's hair, a small army appeared from Costuming. Henry was ordered to go home to change.

"Change for what?" Henry asked, utterly baffled.

"You're having dinner with Penny tonight at Maxim's. Fred Clark, Ali Clifford's chauffeur, will be by later with the Clifford's Rolls to do the driving." With a grin she added, "Now get out of here!"

The women from Costuming began to work on the three naked women.

"Such perfect bodies!" one of them exclaimed.

"You can say that again!" another agreed.

Although Ann and Little Bit's dresses had each cost thousands, as far as the Costuming women were concerned, they might as well have come off the rack at Wal-Mart. The women were busy with tailor's chalk and pins, essentially remaking the dresses. One of them was aghast to find out that the back of Little Bit's dress was almost a full quarter-of-an-inch lower than the front! Finally, off they went.

The three women just collapsed side by side on Henry's sofa. Only then did Ann and Little Bit have a chance to look at Penny's new hairdo. The woman's hair was light brown and she had beautiful hazel eyes. Now her hair just flowed in lovely waves to her shoulders. She was utterly gorgeous!

They leaned back in the sofa and in just moments all three were sound asleep.

The returning army of costumers awakened them. The three dresses were utterly magnificent. The strapless dress Penny was to wear was a very pale gray that went perfectly with her eyes. The jewels — from Tiffany & Company — were diamonds: a necklace, bracelet and ear studs. The girls' dresses felt like they had been sewn on their bodies, and in view of the reworking that had just been completed, they almost were.

At that point Penny led the way back to her own studio. There she took off her new dress and was wearing only her thong, her gray stockings and heels, and her jewels.

"Why don't you go that way, Penny?" Little Bit asked blandly. "You look ... ravishing!"

"Do you think he will?" Penny asked.

"Will what?"

"Ravish me tonight?" the woman asked with her eyes wide.

"Do you want him to?" Ann asked.

"Yes," Penny replied softly. "Good heavens, I love him so! We've been working next door to each other for years, and it never occurred to me..." She sadly shook her head and added, "Henry was so utterly destroyed when his wife, Shirley, died of cancer." She paused and while seeming to think out loud added, "Shirley couldn't have children, but I can ... I think." Looking upward she breathed, "Oh, God! Please?"

With a shake of her head, she came back to earth. Ann was first in the makeup chair, followed by Little Bit. When she finished with them, Penny began to work on herself. Finally, she turned away from the mirror and asked, "Well? What do you two think?"

The two girls were stunned. Penny Watts was now a ravishing beauty. Whatever she had done with her eyes — and there was not a visible trace of any makeup — they now seemed to be about twice as big as they were before. They told her she looked great.

Then with a grin Penny said, "Thank God there aren't many women like you two. If there were, I would be out of a job. You two are utterly perfect!"

The three returned to Henry's and slipped on their dresses. Penny then made microscopic adjustments to their hair and makeup and then did the same to herself.

A short time later, Henry appeared wearing a dinner jacket. Penny rose when he arrived, and the girls could see she couldn't completely control her trembling. She stood there, just looking at him.

"Young lady, what film are you starring in?" he asked. Then he slowly shook his head and added, "Penny, you are more beautiful tonight than any star you've ever worked with." Again he shook his head and asked, "Are you certain you want to be seen in public with me?"

Instead of answering immediately, Penny moved close to him and just raised her lips to his. With only their lips in contact, the two girls could again hear the bells and feel the electricity. The woman stood up straight and said softly, "Henry Hall, I love you desperately!"

With that, he held a wrap for her and they left the studio. Fred Clark had the door open waiting for them.

When they were gone, the girls sat down to wait for their dates. It was only then that Ann realized that the afternoon spent with Henry and Penny had taken her mind off the prospect of meeting Paul Christian for the first time.

It's only a date,  she said to herself. Why am I acting like we're going to become engaged? Answering her own question, she thought, Because not only are you going to become engaged tonight, turkey, you're going to end up pregnant, too! And you know it, don't you?

I guess I really do,  she admitted to herself.



-------

Chapter 29



A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door and Tony Kramer came into the studio followed closely by Paul Christian. The two girls rose when the guys entered and just stood there.

"Hi, Tony," Little Bit said softly. Only then did she realize that this was only the third time she had seen him ... and she was already carrying his child (although he didn't know it).

Instead of replying, Tony came to her and took her in his arms. When they kissed, Little Bit realized that it had been the perfect response. It was only as they kissed that she realized how nervous she had become about the meeting. And their kiss was perfect.

Finally easing away, Tony turned to Paul and said, "Ann Harris, may I introduce Paul Christian to you. I can give him my unqualified recommendation. After all, we've been together practically every minute since we were about three months old and rolling around in the playpen together."

Ann just looked at Paul. He lived up to Little Bit's billing. He was so handsome! Ignoring his outstretched hand, she just moved close and did what Little Bit had done with Tony. She tipped his head down and kissed him ... and kissed him ... and kissed him. At the very first instant she could feel the electricity and began to hear the wonderful bells.

Although initially taken aback, Paul quickly recovered. Wrapping his arm around Ann's waist he pulled her to him closely and then crushed her body to his. All that did was to cause her to writhe against him trying to maximize their points of contact. And the kiss he was receiving was far beyond anything he could have imagined. Although it was exactly like Tony's description of kissing Little Bit, he realized that English vocabulary was inadequate for this purpose. Finally breathless, they eased apart.

"I love you, Ann," Paul murmured.

"I adore you, Paul," she whispered in response.

Then both of them giggled as they realized that those were the first words they had ever spoken to their mates. And both realized that it was a foregone conclusion that they would be married. In fact, it was a foregone conclusion that they would be sharing a bed later that night.

"Finished yet?" Little Bit asked caustically. "There are some of us who are getting hungry. Do we have to stand here watching you neck all night?"

"No," Ann sighed. "Paul and I wouldn't mind a bit if you and Tony neck, too." Then she kissed him again using her tongue to chase his and then dueling with it in his mouth. When the tongues engaged, it was more of the same.

But finally they were off. Waiting outside was Tony's mother's car, a BMW 745Li. The girls smiled warmly at the guys who were standing there holding the doors for them. Both girls were wearing medium-length mink coats their mother, Marty, had given them.

When they were on their way, Tony took the opportunity to tease. "Golly, Little Bit, since you already have your mink, I guess there's nothing left for me to get for you..."

Little Bit instantly picked up on his teasing. "Tony, darling, do you think I would do a thing like that to you? Of course there are things for you to buy me: something nice in chinchilla, perhaps ... and then there's Russian sable ... And that's before we even start on the jewels. No, sweetie," she continued with her brightest smile, "there are lots of things left for you to buy me."

Tony just shook his head as again he was reminded how brilliant and quick Little Bit's mind really was. He concentrated on his driving.

But Little Bit wasn't finished. "Darling," she asked, "if you and Paul have never been separated, what was he doing while you were fucking every cunt in Southern California? At least," she added blithely, "that's what Mother says you did."

"What was Paul doing?" Tony repeated. "Mostly he was telling me what an utter idiot I was being. And you know what? He was right, too."

"Why didn't Paul... ?" Little Bit asked, with her voice tailing off.

"Because he's waiting — was waiting — for the girl of his dreams." Tony paused to gather his thoughts, then continued, "The very first day we met, you said that you're a one-man woman, and you decided that I'm the one man. Well, Paul feels the same way. He's certain that he's a one-woman man ... and clearly, Ann is that woman." Again he paused and then added, "Good grief, are they ever in love!"

"Mmm..." Little Bit sighed. "Just like us."

When they pulled up at Maxim's, Little Bit and Ann were astonished to be greeted by the doorman by name. "Good evening, Misses Harris," he said graciously, "and welcome to Maxim's." When Tony came around to give him his keys, the man said, "And good evening to you, Mr. Kramer, and welcome." Then he added that the car would be taken care of and delivered back to the Kramer home.

"How's that going to happen, and why?" Paul asked.

"It's a service of the house, sir," the man replied. "We'll have a limo waiting for you and your party, as well as a professional driver for your car. The driver will follow the limo to your home, deliver the car, and ride back in the limo. It's quite simple, really."

Tony wondered how the doorman knew their names but then realized there weren't that many BMW 745Lis, even in Hollywood. And getting its license number from his mother would have been no big deal. "But why do it?" Tony asked. "After all, we live to hell and gone in Orange County."

"Maxim's is very proud of its wine list," the man replied, "and we don't want to present a client with the choice of watching his friends drink without him or driving after more wine than is good for him."

A sensible answer,  Tony thought. But then he realized, That means wine will be served to us tonight. How neat!

Entering the restaurant, Little Bit's heart dropped. The entrance lobby was jammed with customers waiting for tables. Only then did she realize that they were dining at the most popular dinner hour. We're going to be waiting for hours! she thought with dismay.

But that was not the way it worked out. Seeing them enter, the maître d' came rushing over. "Misses Harris, Mr. Kramer and Mr. Christian! Welcome to Maxim's! Your table is waiting." Then he looked more closely at Little Bit and Ann and slowly shook his head. "Had I not seen it with my own eyes, I would not have believed it! Such fabulous beauty!"

Little Bit acknowledged the compliment in perfect Parisian French. At that point the maître d' extended his hand and said, "André Malraux at your service, mademoiselle." Then he slowly shook his head and added, "I am a native of Paris, but your French is better than mine." Then he raised an eyebrow and asked, "Do you two also play golf? I've already heard about your prowess in the kitchen."

The two girls just nodded their heads a single time.

"And your handicaps?" Malraux persisted.

Little Bit held up a single finger while Ann put up two. When André raised an eyebrow in Ann's direction she grimaced and said, "Can I help it if I'm always getting the yips when I'm putting? Particularly on short putts?"

André chuckled. "The yips? I can hardly believe it," he said with his eyes dancing. "Why I think scarcely 95 percent of all golfers get the yips when they're putting. I'm shocked ... shocked, I say ... that you should be included in such a small number."

Ann just giggled. Then, using her mental filing system, she brought up information on André Malraux. "How did Molly do today?" she asked.

Malraux was amazed, but he had been warned about the girls' astonishing minds. "She did okay," he replied.

His response was received with a raised eyebrow from Ann.

"She's leading by two strokes," he admitted. "But it's only after one round, though."

"Is Molly doing her calendar again this year?" Little Bit asked.

To that question André laughed. "She is," he admitted, "but with a couple of differences. First of all, she is announcing that it's the last Molly Adams calendar. From now on they'll be Molly Malraux calendars. Although," he said, "we're still talking about that. Molly insists on Malraux, but wants it to be Madeleine. But I think she should stick with Molly. After all, she's been known for years — and has won the US Women's Open twice — as Molly Adams. No one has ever heard of Madeleine Malraux. And then there's the second reason..." he added, and then stopped.

"Which is... ?" Ann prompted.

"In this year's calendar — all she wears is a thong — she's displaying a lovely abdominal bulge ... and her breasts are noticeably larger."

"How utterly wonderful!" Little Bit exclaimed. Then she added, "I've seen a tape of your wedding in Paris." Slowly she shook her head and continued, "Absolutely unreal! The sunlight shining through Notre Dame's Rose Window ... even though it was a cloudy day." This time when she shook her head, it was in disgust. "What a bunch of hopeless idiots the folks in the mainstream media are! It never occurred to any of them to wonder how there could be sunlight streaming through a window on an overcast day. And beyond that, the colors were so utterly perfect. It was as if the window had just been installed that day rather than hundreds of years before."

The entire conversation was taking place in machine-gun French. The patrons waiting for tables were becoming restive — to say the least — but André couldn't care less. Rather, he continued the conversation with the two girls. "Do your fiancés play golf, too?" he asked.

The girls quickly confirmed what they already suspected: The guys played at about the same skill level as the girls. When they reported this, Malraux grinned and said, "I'll make a deal with you: You four will be Molly and my guests for golf ... But..."

"But what?" Ann asked with an eyebrow raised.

"But you two will have to cook the dinner afterward. Okay?"

They shook on it. By this time they had finally reached their reserved table. After being seated, Malraux introduced the captain for the section. "Mademoiselles et Monsieurs,  this is Jean-Claude who will be in charge of your service this evening." To the captain he said, "Jean-Claude, these young people are the personal guests of Molly and me. There will be no bill presented. Am I making myself clear?"

To Jean-Claude, what he was hearing was virtually without precedent. While the Malraux did entertain at the restaurant, they always used the private room upstairs. This was the very first time to his knowledge that personal guests of the owners were seated in the main dining room. "Oui, monsieur," he replied. "You are very clear indeed." Then very softly he asked André, "The very best, sir?"

"The very best!" was André's reply.

Finally, the young people were alone. "Wow!" Paul breathed. "This is really something." Then to Ann he said, "I realize this isn't much, but is it okay for a first date?"

The girl reached out and lightly rested her hand on his. "It's utterly perfect!" she breathed.

At that point, Tony noticed a waiter bringing over a champagne cooler with another following with a bottle. Seeing that, he decided that the time was right. "Elizabeth," he said softly, "I utterly adore you! Will you marry me? Will you be my wife?"

Little Bit gasped. "Oh, yes! Good grief, yes! Oh, Tony, I've loved you literally from the very first moment I saw you. Please let me be your wife!"

Reaching into his jacket pocket, Tony took out a ring. Taking Little Bit's left hand, he slipped the ring on her third finger. It was a ring of nearly three carats flanked with baguettes.

Little Bit began to cry. "Oh, Tony," she managed to say between the sobs, "it's utterly gorgeous!" Still crying, she added, "My darling, you know my background ... what I've been. This is more than I could even dream about!" With that she reached out, pulled him close and kissed him. It was the finest kiss the two had ever exchanged.

Meanwhile, Ann and Paul had been watching the proceedings. When Tony slipped the ring on Little Bit's finger, Paul swallowed hard and reached into his own jacket pocket. "Ann Harris," he said softly, "I love you. You are the girl I was made for. I just know it! Will you marry me? Will you become Ann Christian?"

Ann was utterly stunned. But at the same time, she knew it was right. "Paul Christian," she replied, "you are the man I was born to serve. You have just made me the happiest woman on the planet! Yes, Paul, I will marry you. I will love, honor and obey you till death us do part!"

Then Paul took Ann's left hand and slipped a ring on her third finger that was a duplicate of Little Bit's.

When she saw it, Ann just began to bawl. She couldn't control herself. Blindly, she reached out in Paul's direction. He took her in his arms and just held her tightly while she cried her eyes out.

Finally she ran down and Paul whispered, "Why, Ann?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you cry like that? I thought..."

"Because I'm so happy, I had to bawl!" Ann replied as if the juxtaposition of tears and happiness was the most obvious thing in the world.

Shaking his head in wonder, Paul murmured, "Women... ! Never will I understand them."

With her eyes wide Ann commented softly, "But you're not supposed to, darling. That's just the way the world works."

The guys were both amused at the conversation that ensued among Ann, Little Bit, and the captain, Jean-Claude. Of course it was in French which the boys mostly understood but didn't dare try to speak knowing their own accents were atrocious. (This was always greeted with utter disgust by Kimberly Kramer who spoke Parisian French perfectly.) But the conversation regarding the menu continued, and then to the guys' surprise, Jean-Claude disappeared toward the kitchen. Moments later he was back with the senior chef who joined the conversation. Clearly, it was regarding what was to be served and precisely how it was to be prepared. Finally, there was a meeting of the minds.

As he left the table, the chef commented, "I will be certain to tell Molly, our maitresse de cuisine as soon as she returns."

The girls looked happy if a bit too smug for the guys' taste.

At that point, unbeknownst to either Tony or Paul, both girls locked in on the conversation going on across the room between Penny Watts and Henry Hall. Curiously, it was a power that both girls had, but neither had previously used. Basically, it was a hearing lock-on function: Any time a person was in sight — and that could be at a great distance — they could hear what was being said. Moreover, the people being overheard could move around and the girls could, too, but the conversation continued to be tracked.

When Little Bit commented to Ann, "Isn't that just marvelous?" the guys had no idea what she was talking about.

Both girls had just heard Penny whisper to Henry again that she would love to carry his children.

"But don't I have to marry you for that?" Henry asked.

"Don't be silly!" Penny replied. "This is the 21st century, after all."

The two were sitting side by side at a banquette table. Henry turned and kissed her with increasing passion. Finally they parted and he said, "It may be old-fashioned, but I like it that way. Will you marry me, Penny?"

"Oh, Henry!" she nearly screamed. "Of course I'll marry you! You've just made me the happiest woman in the world." Then with a lovely little giggle she added, "Whoops!"

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Henry asked.

"That means I said yes ... without even a test drive." Then she grinned and added, "On the other hand, you haven't had one either."

Little Bit and Ann both cheered the news. And their cheering again caused consternation on the parts of Tony and Paul. At that point the girls began to explain their unique powers to the guys. When they concluded, Little Bit said, "You know, guys, both your mothers have picked up our childbirth process. I don't know where or from whom, but I'm certain that they got it from one of our people."

"What's that mean?" Tony asked.

Little Bit grinned and replied, "Tony Kramer, you are too damned much! Haven't you ever given a thought to your mother's pregnancies? Have you, Paul?" she asked.

Both of the guys just slowly shook their heads.

"Ann, dear, maybe we should reconsider," Little Bit said thoughtfully. Then she just nodded her head forcefully and exclaimed, "That's it!"

"What's 'it'?" Ann asked.

"What the guys are going to do."

"And what is that, might I ask?" Ann persisted.

"They're going to be orthopedic surgeons!" Little Bit replied with delight. "I have it on the authority of an orthopedic surgeon who's a professor at Harvard Medical School that an orthopod is 'smarter than a rock, dumber than a tree.' And they certainly qualify!" To the guys she said, "You two must have been unconscious! Good grief! Both of your mothers have spent most of your lifetimes pregnant, and you never noticed that they never bulged? They've never spread out? I mean ... Good grief! Both of them look like they're about 19 years old when viewed from the rear ... or from the front, for that matter."

The two young men just slowly shook their heads.

"Guys," Ann said, "have you ever seen a pregnant woman other than your mothers?"

Tony and Paul just nodded, still puzzled.

"How did you know they were pregnant?" Ann persisted.

Tony made a motion with his hands indicating a ballooning lower belly.

"And is that the way your mothers look?"

This time the two male heads shook slowly.

"Haven't you ever wondered why?"

Paul cut to the chase. "Is that the way you two are going to be?" he asked.

"Afraid so," the girls admitted in unison.

Then Little Bit added, "But it gets worse. Just ask your mothers."

"Worse? How?" Paul asked.

"Because you get no time off at all is why it's worse," she replied. "In fact, one of these days one of us will deliver right after having been fucked. The guy's cock will come out, closely followed by the infant's head. It will just be so incredibly neat!" she enthused.

The dinner and the entire evening were utterly marvelous. Finally, as the restaurant prepared to close, they left. As promised, a limo was waiting for them outside. Off they went to the Kramer/Christian compound.

To their delight, they found that the limousine was a modified stretch model. It was normal in all respects except for having a full seat in the middle facing backward with far more than the usual leg room between the two seats. The setup was perfect for necking which is what the four did all the way home.

Finally, as they got close, Tony had to ease away from Little Bit just far enough to tell the driver when to turn. He was holding something in his hand, but Little Bit couldn't make it out. After they made the turn onto their private road, all four repaired their attire. The limo swung by the Christian house first and Ann and Paul alighted, then it continued to the Kramer manse. Tony tipped both drivers lavishly — it was the only money he had spent all evening — and then he and Little Bit drove his mother's car down the ramp into the garage below the house.



-------

Chapter 30



It was almost eight o'clock the following morning and Ann's legs were spread wide with her toes pointing to the ceiling. She couldn't remember how many times Paul had taken her the night before, but, she realized, it was far more fucking than she had ever done in a single night in her life, even when she had been working the streets. Moreover, like Little Bit's description of Tony, Paul was huge. And, also like Tony, Paul could — and did — maintain her in orgasm for endless periods of time, although she hadn't yet bothered actually to time one.

When Carol Christian entered the bedroom, Ann was in the middle of an orgasm. She was astonished to see an utterly gorgeous blue-eyed blonde, also stark naked, just standing beside the bed, watching.

"Good ... morning ... Mrs ... Christian..." Ann gasped between orgasmic convulsions. "I'm ... Ann ... Harris," she finally managed to get out.

Ignoring the fact that Ann's toes were pointed to the ceiling and her body was convulsing in multiple orgasms, Carol extended her hand and gripped Ann's which was extended out to her. "Hello, Ann Harris," Carol greeted her. "I'm truly delighted to meet you. Has my son been taking good care of you?"

"Oh... Yes!" she nearly screamed as yet another orgasm shook her body.

"Let me get in there," Carol said softly, climbing onto the bed. She moved to the headboard, knelt with her thighs together, then lifted Ann's shoulders and then rested her head on her lap. "Mmm..." she murmured. "He's big, isn't he?" She was watching her son's cock driving to the root into Ann's vagina while he was taking very long strokes.

"He's the very biggest I've ever had," Ann replied. "And it feels so great, too!"

Carol leaned down and kissed the girl's lips while she lightly pinched her nipples. The kiss they exchanged was one of the finest Carol could remember. "I love you, my beautiful daughter!" she whispered.

Ann just smiled warmly and shivered.

"I'm cuming, Annie!" Paul interrupted. "Cum with me, sweetie!"

"What in hell do you think I've been doing for the last 30 minutes?" Ann retorted. But she wrapped her powerful legs around Paul's hips to pull him as deep inside her as he could go. She decided that it had really been the very best. On the other hand, she realized, every time with Paul had been the very best. Maybe Paul's getting better every time,  she thought.

Finally it was over. Paul had emptied his balls — again — deep inside her. Then he withdrew and just flopped on his back, sound asleep.

"Just like his father," Carol commented with a wry grin. "Come on, sweetie. Let's get something to eat. I can tell you right now that Paul's gone for at least a couple more hours. And there are other members of the family for you to meet, too."

Ann eased her aching body out of the bed and watched in amusement as what seemed to be quarts of their mixed cum began to leak from her pussy.

"Are you on the Pill, sweetie?" Carol asked softly, helping Ann to stand.

"No, ma'am, I'm not."

"And I could see Paul was wearing no protection. Are you... ?"

"Pregnant? Almost certainly," Ann replied. Then she held up her finger with her beautiful ring and added, "But we are engaged, after all."

"And I'm about to become a grandmother?" Carol asked, rolling her eyes.

"I'm afraid so."

"Ann Harris, I hope you realize that I only delivered our tenth a couple of months ago, and now..." This time Carol just sadly shook her head, but her eyes were dancing with excitement. "Does this mean I have to stop?"

"What on earth for?" Ann replied. "From what I've seen, you're on a winning streak. Why stop now?" Then she thought for a moment and said, "You're sort of pushing 50, aren't you ... Mother?"

The two were headed toward the kitchen. Carol stopped dead, pulled Ann close and melted her lips to the girl's. "Mmm..." she murmured.

"What was that all about?" Ann asked. "Not that I'm complaining, you understand," she hurried to add.

"Ann Harris, if I had to write a specification for the girl I would like Paul to marry, it wouldn't be nearly as good as you are already. Girl, you are divine!"

Entering the kitchen, Ann was embarrassed to find the younger children — a mixture of Christians and Kramers — eating the cereal Bill Christian had served them. Ann was introduced, and she was grateful for her memory and its indexing and retrieval capabilities. With a bunch of children ages 10 and under, all of whom appeared at a glance to be blue-eyed blondes, she needed it.

"Bill, darling, I want you to meet our brand-new daughter-in-law-to-be, Ann Harris. All I can say is that son Paul really hit the jackpot with her!"

Ann started to extend her hand toward Bill who had risen to welcome her, but instead she kept going until she was standing in front of him with her bare body almost touching his almost-bare one. (He was wearing a pair of tennis shorts.) Then she kissed him and really unloaded with all of her power.

Remarkably, Bill Christian took it all and gave back as good as he got. In an instant their tongues were dancing and then they met. Both could feel the electricity flowing between them.

For Ann, it was a remarkable experience. She began to cry while her lips were still married to his.

Bill felt her tears on his cheek and eased away to be able to look at her. He saw her tears and asked with his concern audible in his voice, "What's wrong, sweetie? Did I hurt you somehow?"

She couldn't speak, but Ann was able to shake her head. Then she just dove back into his arms and clung to him.

Bill was baffled. He looked at Carol with a question obvious in his eyes.

"She's just so happy, she has to cry," Carol explained, although it was not an explanation Bill could understand.

Finally, Ann's tears slowed and finally stopped. Carol was standing beside her with a Kleenex in her hand. The girl wiped her eyes and then blew her nose. Finally, she looked up at Bill and just beamed.

"Why, sweetie?" Bill asked.

Slowly Ann shook her head. Then she said softly, but loudly enough for both senior Christians to hear her, "Just a few short years ago, I was living on the streets, fucking for food. Then I was found on the street and wound up on the Yucatan at The Wilkerson Institute." At that, she giggled.

"What's so funny about that?" Carol asked.

"Jonathan Wilkerson is going to be beside himself, if he isn't already," she replied cryptically.

Although she had no idea who Jonathan Wilkerson was, Carol made the connection between the Institute's name and his own. "And why is he going to be beside himself?" she asked.

Ann giggled and replied, "Because he's being buried under money, is why." Then she grinned and continued, "My brother Cam gave the Institute $50 million shortly after Little Bit and I arrived in New York. Well, I happen to know that Mom just sent down another $50 million from her personal foundation." Then she shrugged and added, "Oh, well ... We learned just a couple of days ago that he finally married Becky. She's been his secretary and mistress for years. And she's expecting twins! Isn't that just the greatest? And she's such a gorgeous woman, too, and she loves Jonathan so much!" She paused and slowly shook her head. "The gals tell me that Becky is an utter riot! She's always worn super-short miniskirts, and she still is. But now with her belly bulging — she has a real beach-ball belly I hear — her pussy shows most of the time. Her swelling raises the skirt up that high. But you know what? She couldn't care less."

She smiled and picked up the thread of her story. "Anyway, he sent Little Bit and me, along with two younger girls, Kim and Judy, up to New York. If any of us ever had any close relatives, none of us knew it. Anyhow, we met Mom and Dad. Then Mom threatened Dad with having to sleep on the floor unless he made sure our adoption went through fast! I doubt if she would have gone through with it — she needs sex probably even more than Dad does — but he wasn't too sure. Anyway, we were adopted within a week. We have real parents — a father and a mother — just like most kids.

"But now? Just look! Now I've got two full sets! And look who I'm getting ... A new mother who just might be the most beautiful woman in the world, and is certainly the greatest mother. And a new father who is one of America's greatest living military heros! And to be welcomed into the family the way you two have done... ? Unbelievable!"

Carol prepared a big breakfast, and before they finished, Little Bit came wandering in. She reported that, like Paul, Tony was still dead to the world. Since Susan Kramer and Julie Christian had come over with her — Julie being greeted by her mother, "Hi, stranger!" — the four girls decided they would play croquet.

The Kramers and Christians had just finished the installation of a professional croquet layout on their joint property. And although Susan had visited the Harris compound in Westchester, she hadn't seen the croquet layout there, let alone the one at Cam's apartment in the city. Thinking they were experts at the game — Susan and Julie had played it twice — they challenged the Harris girls.

"For what stakes?" Little Bit inquired innocently.

Susan and Julie just looked at each other and shrugged. They had no idea.

"How about for spanks?" Ann suggested. "The winners get to spank the losers the number of times equal to the score. How about that?"

"We get to spank you two?" Susan asked gleefully.

"Could be," Little Bit agreed with her face bland. But the fact was that the two Harris girls were true experts at the game, and Little Bit had noticed that, like the layout at home, the new croquet course in California was in perfect condition.

Susan Kramer and Julie Christian were utterly demolished. The score is determined by the number of wickets the losers still have to pass through when the winners had both tapped out. Since on several occasions during the game Little Bit or Ann had been able to knock the girls' balls off the playing surface, it wasn't even close. The result was 12 spanks for each girl. Furthermore, to enhance the girls' embarrassment, it had to be done in the presence of their parents and Jenny Clark who were all soaking up the December sun on lounge chairs by the principal swimming pool.

"Okay, girls," Little Bit prompted, "you know what you have to do."

Susan and Julie went over to the parents and Susan took the lead. "Our egos got the best of us, parents," she began. "You've all heard the adage, 'pride goeth before the fall'? Well, guess what? Julie and I thought we could demolish Ann and Little Bit on our new croquet layout and then get to pound on their pregnant buns. But that's not what happened. Instead, they get to beat on our worthless bodies." Turning to Little Bit she said, "Elizabeth, would you please give me my spanking now?"

As she said it, she cringed. While they had been playing, both she and Julie had noticed how muscular Ann and Little Bit really were. Their only hope was that they knew the girls' hands were like their own: very slender with small palms and long fingers. But even as Susan thought that, she realized that a large palm had the effect of compressing air when it came down on a bun in a spank. It was like the difference between a riding crop and a ping pong paddle. And a small hand could, as a result, strike even harder than a large one.

Little Bit got down on one knee and Susan folded her body over Little Bit's thigh with her butt the highest point of her body. From her position with her head and shoulders on the ground she said, "I'm ready, mistress."

What followed was sheer torture for the two girls. Both Ann and Little Bit alternated spanks with caresses on the girls' blazing buns. Furthermore, the girls not only had to count the spanks out loud, they had to thank the girl for each one, too. When it finally ended, both girls' tanned bodies sported blazing red asscheeks.

The parents just watched the proceedings with barely concealed amusement. They realized that the New York girls were really very strong and they were really swatting their daughters. Notwithstanding, when it was over, Little Bit and Ann helped their victims to their feet and kissed them. And the kisses were truly lovely.

That afternoon, Carol surprised everyone by announcing that she had an appointment with her gynecologist and Kim and the girls were coming with her. So off they went in Carol's BMW.

On the way they learned that the ostensible reason for the visit was a postpartum checkup following the birth of her youngest. When they reached the office of Emily Chadwick, MD, they were ushered right into an examining room by a nurse and instructed to strip. Although Dr. Chadwick was Carol's physician, the order applied to all four women. And since, as the girls had known for months, at the compound clothing was optional, none of them felt the least bit embarrassed being naked.

Emily Chadwick was 29 years old with brown hair, brown eyes, and a lovely figure. She was also noticeably pregnant, even wearing her white lab coat. When she entered the room, she motioned Carol to get up on the examining table, and she did. She located the stirrups and positioned herself to open up her vulva. The doctor conducted her very thorough examination, and then motioned Kim up on the table. She was followed by Little Bit and then by Ann. Remarkably, even after having fully examined all four women, Dr. Chadwick still hadn't said a word.

At that point, to the women's great surprise, the doctor stripped off her own clothing and got up on the table herself. Unlike them — all of whom had bare pubic areas — Emily had wiry brown pubic hair, although it had been carefully trimmed. Finally, she said, "Notice any difference between me and you four?"

"Yes," Little Bit offered. "You're quite pregnant and show it."

"And you're quite pregnant, too, but you don't show it," Emily Chadwick retorted. "You're — what? — about one month? Two, maybe?"

"About a month," Little Bit conceded.

"Well, believe it or not, I'm only in my third month, and just look!" the woman nearly screamed. Then with tears at the corners of her eyes she added, "I hate you all!"

Turning to Carol she said, "What was that? Your tenth?"

Carol just shrugged but asked, "Why do you hate us, Emily?"

"Because, Carol Christian and Kimberly Kramer, your examinations show conclusively that not only have you never been pregnant, you've never even had sex! Or if you have, it's at a frequency of once a year or less. If your hymens were intact, you would be perfect unpenetrated virgins, for heaven's sake!"

Then wheeling on Ann and Little Bit she continued, "And you two! Good grief! Your examinations reveal that both of you are replaying the Virgin Birth! You're both pregnant, but there is no physical sign of your ever having had sex." She paused and then asked, "When did you last have sex, anyway?"

"Last night," the girls replied in unison.

"For how long? Two minutes?"

The two girls blushed deeply. "All night," they squeaked.

"Orgasm?"

"About three hours each," Ann admitted, responding for both of them.

Emily just shook her head. Then turning back to Kim and Carol she said accusingly, "But you two just about take the cake! Do you know what your tests show? Aside from being unpenetrated virgins, that is?"

Carol and Kim just slowly shook their heads.

"They prove conclusively that you're both almost fully mature. A year — or two at the most — and you'll be there. Every stinking test shows that you're about 18 years old, give or take a year. Moreover, your physical condition puts you in the most highly-conditioned fraction of the top 1%! I hate you both!" she repeated.

Both Carol and Kim just shook their heads in utter bewilderment.

Then Carol asked, "The purpose of this visit was to get your clearance to have sex with Bill..." She let her voice run down because, particularly after Emily's reaction, she didn't think it would be the greatest idea in the world to tell the woman that she had been fucked for hours on the morning she delivered, and then for hours more in celebration that night.

By this time Emily had climbed off the examining table. Ignoring Carol's question, she went to a cabinet and took out a large magnifying glass. She used it to carefully study Carol's elbows while her arms were hanging at her sides, and then repeated the process with Kim and the girls.

"I hate you all!" Emily repeated for the third time. "You might have wondered what I was doing with the glass. Well, I'll tell you: One of the very first signs of aging is wrinkling at the elbows. A lot of women visit plastic surgeons to have wrinkles removed from their faces, but I've never known one to try to be treated for wrinkled elbows. Frankly, I'm not sure it could even be done; they do have to bend, after all." She paused for a moment and then continued, "But you two! All the glass did was to confirm what I said earlier: You're both about 18. And I hate you!"

Then she finally answered Carol's question. "And as for you, you can go right home and have Bill fuck your brains out... again!"

Little Bit and Ann exchanged looks and then Little Bit said, "Dr. Hardwick, would you like to be pregnant the way we are?"

"What's that mean?"

"Well, you know that Mother and Aunt Carol each have ten children, but there are no abdominal stretch marks, are there?"

"That's a laugh and a half!" the doctor retorted. "As I said before, they both check out as unpenetrated virgins. So of course there's no sign of a pregnancy." Then she looked at the two older women and said, "There's one thing I've never understood, though: I know you both nurse your children, so why aren't your breasts heavy with milk?"

Carol and Kim exchanged looks and both just shrugged.

"I really don't have the first foggy clue," Kim admitted, "but there's always enough for the baby." Then she stood up straight and added, "But my nipples are larger than they used to be."

"Oh? They are?" Dr. Hardwick commented acidly. "Larger? By what? A fraction of a millimeter?"

Kim tried to glare but instead started to giggle.

Little Bit then repeated her offer to the doctor. When she enthusiastically accepted, the girls transferred their power. "Since you're already both pregnant and showing, I don't know what's going to happen with this one. My guess is that your swelling will just stop about where it is right now, but I really don't know."

"Thank you," the doctor said. Then to Carol she added, "I think I'll be closing down this office in a few months. You may or may not know that my husband, Chuck, is a neurosurgeon and a very good one." With a tiny grin she continued, "I think I'm going to do what you two have been doing: I'm going to become a baby factory and stay home with the rug rats."

Kisses were exchanged and all the women got dressed. As they headed home, Little Bit and Ann were delighted to know that they had been judged to be in great physical condition for childbirth. Carol and Kim just pondered what they had learned about themselves. But one thing they had decided for certain: Just because they were about to become grandmothers, there was no need to stop their personal production.



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Chapter 31



That Friday evening, the girls did their good deed for their California stay ... or one of them, anyway. They decided to go out to the local pizza place that had become the local high-school hangout. Furthermore, they had worn out the younger children in both families playing with them in both the morning and afternoon. While doing that, Ann demonstrated the same ability Little Bit had on her first visit: She could instantly assess each child and treat him or her in the most appropriate way. And, again like Little Bit, it was easy to locate the small children by their laughter and giggling as they followed the girls everywhere. But once the younger ones were in bed it was time for something else, so off they went taking Susan and Julie with them.

The six young people commandeered a large table at the local pizza palace and ordered. Little Bit and Ann wasted no time to start looking around. Their eyes were immediately taken by a group of four girls sitting in the corner. One of the girls in particular caught Little Bit's eye. She was a pretty girl, but for some reason, Little Bit didn't think she really fit in with the other three.

She nudged Tony, pointed out the girl, and asked, "Is she one of your many conquests?"

Tony blushed but reluctantly nodded his head.

"How was she in bed?" Little Bit persisted.

This time Tony just shook his head. Turning his head away from the girls at the other table so they couldn't see him speaking he said, "It's like everything else about Tami Baker: One plus one always seems to add to three!"

"What in hell does that mean?"

Tony just shook his head. "I don't know what it means, either, but that's just the way she seems. She's always hanging out with the most popular girls, but she never seems to quite fit in." He paused and then added, "I think that's what you're seeing right now, isn't it?"

Little Bit was about to reply when Tami rose from the table and headed back toward the ladies room. Like the kitchen, the restrooms were in the rear. On her way, she passed a young man sitting alone at the very last table in the back. Since it was only a few feet away from the heat of the kitchen, it was by far the most unpopular table in the place. Notwithstanding a number of open tables elsewhere, that's where he sat just reading a book.

Tami stopped by his table, and Little Bit engaged her conversation-tracking ability. What she heard amazed her: The girl asked about a problem in AP Physics! Before the young man could respond, though, a waitress appeared. In addition to his book, there was just a glass on the table containing what appeared to be Coke. Again, Little Bit was amazed: In response to the waitress's query, the boy just shook his head but gave her a $20 bill! Apparently, it was just to pay for continuing to occupy the table.

The waitress just shook her head in bewilderment, but left.

"Who's that sitting way in the back talking to Tami?" she asked Tony.

"Oh! That's Chad Palmer," Tony replied with an exasperated shake of his head.

"And what's that mean?" she persisted.

"It means that he is the gold-plated loser at school. Basically, he's the ultimate nerd, but beyond that, his appearance and behavior turn people off like a switch."

"Appearance?" Little Bit asked. "He looks okay to me. At least he would if he would shave that beard. Never in my life have I seen one quite so scraggly."

"That's because I guess he has his hair tied back like Tom Jefferson or George Washington tonight. Usually it's loose and all around his face ... And then with that god-awful beard... ! He sort of looks like Jesus Christ on a bad hair day ... A very bad hair day!" Knowing of Little Bit's hearing ability, and suspecting she was monitoring the conversation he asked, "What are they talking about, anyway?"

"AP Physics, as a matter of fact," Little Bit replied with a grin.

"AP Physics?" Tony almost screamed. "I don't ... believe ... it..." His sentence came to a very slow stop. "My gosh! Could that be it?" he wondered aloud.

"Could that be what?" Little Bit asked.

"I said that with Tami, it always seems that one plus one adds to three. Just maybe..." Now he looked at Little Bit closely and asked, "Let me try something on you: Let's say there's this girl who desperately wants to be popular, but her interests are very different from most kids'. What if ... she sort of studied..."

Little Bit looked at Tony perplexed. Slowly, she just shook her head. She didn't understand where he was going or what he was trying to communicate. And the fact that she was unable to follow her mate's line of thought really disturbed her.

"Look, the young people are really hot for Britney Spears and J-Lo. What if this girl didn't know either of them, nor did she care two hoots about them, but felt she had to act like she was thrilled by them, too. Might her behavior seem to be ... a bit ... off-key?"

Little Bit slowly nodded. "I don't know if it's true, love, but your reasoning makes sense. By the way, was Tami any good in bed?"

Again Tony shook his head slowly. "That's another thing. If you can believe it, it was as if she was following a mental script."

Little Bit's eyes widened. "Sort of a script from Joy of Sex, you mean?"

Tony nodded eagerly. "That's exactly what I mean! She was painting by the numbers, if you follow..."

"You mean the way I am in bed with you?" Little Bit asked with her eyes dancing.

"Of course not!" Tony protested. "You're the basic married woman ... You spread your thighs and let the guy play between them, trying your best not to fall asleep in the middle of his orgasm."

Little Bit lightly punched him in the arm. "Thanks a lot, Tony," she seethed, "I'll try to say something nice about your technique in bed sometime, too. I mean ... You enter..." She stopped and changed tack. "Have you ever heard of the Polish marriage manual?"

Knowing he was being teased, Tony just shook his head.

"It says: (1) Insert; (2) Withdraw; (3) Repeat, if necessary." She grinned and added, "That's you! A few repeats and you're all done."

Tony managed to squelch his laughter and was able to stick out the tip of his tongue. Little Bit responded in kind. Then they both laughed and then kissed.

When they eased apart, now breathless, Little Bit murmured, "I hate you, Tony Kramer."

"And I hate you, too, Elizabeth Harris," he replied. Then he added, "By the way, if I've never told you before, I simply adore your nickname. You're my Little Bit, aren't you?"

"I'm afraid I'm stuck with you," Little Bit admitted dejectedly. "It's what happens when you're a one-man woman." But then she brightened and added, "But I'm getting a really great father and mother out of the deal, along with some of the nicest little siblings our good Lord ever saw fit to put on this earth." Slowly she shook her head and added, "If I have to take you to get the rest, I guess it's just a price I'll have to pay."

Tony again took her in his arms and kissed her with all of his passion unleashed. When they finally eased apart he saw that Little Bit's eyes were glassy. "I love you, my darling," he breathed.

"And I'm afraid I'm madly in love with you too ... Damn it!" Little Bit replied with a giggle.

"Tell me about Chad Palmer," Little Bit asked. "He appears ... odd. He's dressed like a bum, but he very casually gave that waitress a twenty just to get her to go away."

"That's funny, too," Tony responded. "Chad is an only child, and his parents have more money than the mint!"

"More than yours, you mean?" Little Bit's eyes were dancing.

"Probably," Tony conceded. "His father seems to hold about half of all the basic patents on solid-state electronics. No matter what you might be doing, you're likely to be paying a royalty to Mr. Palmer."

"Interesting," Little Bit said. "What about Tami's?"

Tony thought for a moment. This was a subject that had never come up. Then he snapped his fingers and murmured, "Of course!"

"Of course, what?"

"They're both full professors at Cal Tech in Pasadena. Her mother is in engineering and her father is at the cutting edge in physics." Then he looked at Little Bit and said, "Sweetie, if two parents are extraordinarily brilliant, what are their offspring likely to be?"

Little Bit grinned and replied, "Somewhat above average in intelligence. But what about Chad? Does he date Tami?"

"No, never," Tony quickly replied. "But he's always around her. She's ... She's really got problems. I guess one of the things she read somewhere said that guys like a girl who displays her body. Well, on more than one occasion, she's been at a party and will start to strip for the guys. In every case I know of, at that point Chad appeared, wrapped her in anything that was handy, and carried her off."

"To do with her as he would?" Little Bit asked with a small grin.

"Absolutely not!" Tony instantly responded. "On at least two occasions, I saw the two of them later. Chad had her in an all-night diner and was pouring coffee into her to sober her up. And you know what?"

"What?"

"Both times they were in a booth ... sitting across from each other. And Chad was giving her forty kinds of hell!"

"Wow!" Little Bit exclaimed. "What do you know?" Slowly she shook her head and continued, "I've heard of it, but I've never actually seen it: I think we have a guy who's madly in love with a girl, but doesn't think he's nearly good enough for her. So even though it's tearing his heart out, he watches her ruining herself, but he's always there to try to pick up the pieces and prevent her from hurting herself too badly." With her eyes wide she asked Tony, "Does that make any sense?"

He was slowly nodding while Little Bit was speaking. "It makes perfect sense, albeit in a rather screwed-up fashion. But that's the way she is: screwed up!"

At that point, the girls at the table where Tami was sitting rose to leave. As they were passing the table, Little Bit reached out her hand and caught Tami going by. "Are you in a rush to be somewhere?"

The girl was startled. Little Bit looked at her and noticed that her appearance was odd. Her coloring wasn't right. She had blonde hair, but it apparently came out of a bottle. Her eyes were strange. They were blue, but they didn't seem to go with the rest of her. Her tits were bulging and showing a lot of cleavage, but clearly there was a brassiere at work.

When the girls started to leave, Chad Palmer had closed his book and rose to leave, too. And he stopped when Tami was stopped.

Tami looked like a deer caught in the headlights: She was frozen to the spot and scared. Little Bit noticed that Chad had come up behind her to provide support, but he didn't even touch her.

"Will you two join us for a few minutes?" Little Bit asked. "I'm Elizabeth Harris, although everyone calls me Little Bit. And this is my sister, Ann. I guess you probably know our fiancés, Tony Kramer and Paul Christian, as well as our sisters-in-law-to-be, Susan Kramer and Julie Christian."

While the two were just standing there, Tony and Paul had each grabbed a chair and brought it up to their large table. There was easily room for eight. With the chairs in position, Tami and Chad really had no choice but to sit down.

After some initial get-acquainted chitchat, Little Bit, who found herself sitting beside Tami Baker, swung the conversation around to music. As she expected, Tami professed to adore at least eight of the current week's Top 10. Little Bit, who couldn't stand the stuff, began to probe. Again, her remarkable memory came into play. Even though she couldn't abide most of what passed as popular music, its ubiquity was such that it could not be totally avoided. As a result, Little Bit knew the lyrics in spite of herself. She began to question Tami about the songs and, as she had suspected, the girl just didn't know.

Finally Little Bit asked, "Who do you really like? Johann Sebastian Bach?"

The girl sitting beside her was startled. Softly, she replied, "He's technically perfect." Then she grinned and added, "As you may know, there's a deep-space probe looking for signs of life in outer space. It's set to broadcast and receive any responses. There was quite a debate regarding what the probe should broadcast. Anyway, one of the world's leading astrophysicists was asked his opinion. Instantly he replied, 'The collected works of Johann Sebastian Bach.' But then he thought for a few moments and added, 'But that would be boasting.'" Tami grinned and shook her head. "Actually, I love the Romantics: Schumann, Tchaikovsky, Brahms ... They're sort of schmaltzy, but I love them!"

"Have you ever heard Dawson's First Symphony?" Little Bit asked softly.

"Dawson's First?" Tami exclaimed. "I simply adore it! And just think! She's an American and she's only eight years old! Can you believe it?"

At that point Little Bit realized the girl was truly beautiful, although her beauty had been well hidden. Softly she said, "She's my niece."

Tami's jaw literally dropped open. "Your ... your... niece?"

"She's my sister's daughter," Little Bit explained.

Tami bubbled over. "For Christmas I'm getting the DVD of her concert at Lincoln Center! And it has the whole thing with her grandparents..."

"That's Mom and Dad," Little Bit noted with a warm grin.

Tami was so excited, she was literally bouncing on her chair. Turning to her companion, she clutched at his shirt and said, "Guess what, Chad? These girls are Susan Dawson's aunts! Can you believe it? And Susan's grandparents are these girls' parents!"

Changing the subject before Chad Palmer could respond, Little Bit asked, "Are you two going to the dance tomorrow night?"

"I'm certainly not," Chad quickly replied. Then he looked a bit puzzled and said, "What about you, Tami? Are you going?"

Slowly the girl shook her head. "I have two tickets, but..."

"Why don't you go with Chad?" Little Bit asked. To Chad she said, "Get a haircut and a shave, and you'll be fine. Oh ... And you might want to take a shower, too."

The boy laughed bitterly. "Get a haircut? Yeah, sure ... My hair has a mind of its own ... and it's always engaged in a civil war up there. No two hairs can ever agree to lie in the same direction."

"Oh?" Little Bit remarked. After conveying their hair-control power — with her fingers crossed, hoping it would work on a male — she added, "Not any more." Then she paused and continued, "We have some very good friends visiting us tomorrow. Between the two of them, they may have ten Oscars for hair styling and makeup. Why don't you two come over? They're coming to work on Susan and Julie, but I'm sure they'll have the time ... And I can assure you, they're the very finest in the world at what they do."

"I ... I can't," the young man said.

"Because you're not nearly good enough for Tami Baker? Is that it?"

Chad didn't reply. But the fact that he hung his head was answer enough.

"But you're always there for her, aren't you? You love this girl deeply, but I'm not sure you even admit it to yourself. Tami is constantly hurting herself, but you're always there to pick up the pieces, aren't you?"

The boy didn't move or respond, but Little Bit could see that he was gripping his hands so tightly his fingers had turned white. For her part, Tami initially looked startled, but then her eyes widened with understanding and she slowly nodded.

"How about noon tomorrow?" she asked, assuming an affirmative answer to her invitation.

At that point Tony said he would meet them at noon at a C-store about a mile down the road from their compound. Reluctantly, the two agreed.

"Why are you meeting them?" Little Bit asked. "Why not just give them directions to the house?"

"Because I can't," Tony admitted. Then he swallowed hard and said, "The fact is, there are no directions to our house."

"What's that mean?"

"It means that every car we have has a tiny receiver in it. I'll show it to you when we head home. It sits down under the dash; only a tiny LED is visible. When an equipped car gets within about a mile of our turn, an orange LED comes on and starts slowly flashing. As we get closer, its flashing rate increases. Then, when we're almost at the turn, it stops flashing and goes solid orange. We're almost at the turn. Then it turns green and we turn on the spot. All we have to know is whether we need to turn left or right, and that's not too hard to figure out."

Little Bit thought for a moment and said, "But what about tire tracks in the dirt? You have a lot of cars, after all."

Tony chuckled and said, "There's another of Mom's little inventions at work. Have you ever seen the automatic vacuum cleaner? All it appears to be is a little tank. It comes out of its house and starts cleaning up a storm, guiding itself around chairs, tables, and whatever. When it's finished doing its thing, it goes back home, empties itself, and plugs into a recharger to get ready for the next time."

Little Bit nodded. She had heard of such a unit although she had never seen one.

"Well," Tony continued, "Mom rigged up a similar unit at the turn. But it doesn't pick anything up, it just very lightly sweeps. It goes down to where the paving starts on the drive and sweeps out any tire tracks." He grinned and added, "It's really pretty neat, too. If the ground is soft — after a heavy rain, for example — and vehicles leave ruts, it manages to fill them all level."

"But what about deliveries?"

"There are none," Tony replied with a grin. "Everything we get — mail, UPS, whatever — is delivered to the C-store where I'm meeting Tami and Chad tomorrow. They have the families' powers of attorney to sign for absolutely anything. The folks pay them something like $1,000 a month for the service. And they love it!"

Little Bit just shook her head. Then she said, "Wait a stinking minute! What about the limo that brought us home last night? It doesn't have one of those homing gizmos."

Tony reached into his pocket and brought out a small device not much larger than a key-chain fob. "I used this," he said. "It's a pocket version of what's in the cars."

Again, Little Bit slowly shook her head.



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Chapter 32

Paul Christian searched frantically for his missing covers when he was rudely awakened by his mother, Carol, "at the crack of dawn" — his term — but 0930 by the military-time digital clock by his bed. His awakening took the form of Carol yanking the covers off him and dropping them completely out of his reach on the floor. The reason for his rude awakening was the need for him to drive to the C-store and meet Henry Hall and Penny Watts who were due to be at the store at 10:00.

Paul stumbled off in the direction of his bathroom while Carol, completely oblivious to her eldest child's grumbling, returned to the kitchen.

"How is he?" Ann asked with her eyes gleaming.

"You should ask!" Carol replied. She was trying to look stern but could scarcely control her giggles. "What did you do to my poor son last night?" Then she thought for a moment and said, "Perhaps I should ask how many times you drained him dry last night?" With her eyes wide she continued, "You do know, in spite of carrying his baby, you're not even married yet. And ... and ... I seldom do that to Bill more than once or twice a week. Do I hon?"

Bill Christian just rolled his eyes, groaned, and returned to his perfect Western omelette.

"That means yes," Carol translated brightly.

Ann just giggled.

Paul came stumbling down and just kept going down the stairs from the kitchen to the basement garage. He was still so out of it he even forgot to kiss Annie on the way by. Carol just shook her head sadly.

By the time they finished breakfast, it was time for Carol's youngest, Amy, to have her breakfast. Or maybe it was snack time? Or... ? What the hell ... the infant wanted Mommy's nipple and that's exactly what she got.

Ann received an education in motherhood and "quality time." She had read an endless series of articles aimed at professional women professing that it didn't matter if the woman worked outside the home. After all, the articles said, she could substitute the quality of the time she spent with the infant for mere quantity. But what Ann learned was that "quality time" was being there for the infant on the infant's timetable, not the mother's.

Carol was nursing the infant at her breast and cooing at it when they heard the car drive up in front. With the baby still firmly attached to her nipple, she went out the front door to welcome her guests.

Paul was awake by this time. He rushed back to the following car and opened the door for Penny Watts. The woman gave him a warm smile, alighted from the car ... and gasped. There were Carol and Ann standing there at the door, both stark naked. The only member of the group "dressed" was baby Amy; she was wearing a diaper and Carol had her wrapped in a receiving blanket.

Hurrying to the car, Carol extended her hand and said, "Welcome, Penny Watts! Although I've certainly come to know Henry, I've never had the opportunity to meet you before." Then she looked down and realized the source of Penny's gasp. "Oops! I should apologize, I guess. But since we're stuck out here on the western edge of nowhere, clothing has been optional for about 20 years. And if you look around, you'll see that, with the exception of infants in diapers like Amy here, they usually opt not to wear any."

While she was welcoming her guests, Christian and Kramer children had been rushing over from all directions to greet them. And all of the kids were naked.

Penny came close to Carol to get a better look at the baby. (I've said this before: What is it about women that causes them to have to goo at any available infant? I've concluded they must be hard-wired that way.)

Carol smiled warmly and said, "I would give Amy to you to hold, Penny, but not right now. If I tried, she would take my nipple with her, and I might need it again sometime."

Penny folded back the receiving blanket to get a better look at the infant. "Carol, she is utterly exquisite!" Then with the gentlest touch, she stroked the infant's tiny cheek. "No wonder..." she murmured softly.

"'No wonder' what?" Carol asked.

Penny was slowly shaking her head. "Carol, women spend hundreds of millions every year on every concoction imaginable to try to get baby-soft skin. What a stinking waste! Nothing could ever get a woman's skin as soft and smooth as this infant's." Looking into Carol's eyes she said, "She is utterly perfect, isn't she?"

Carol blushed and said, "Bill and I like her. We've decided we won't even put her out for adoption."

At that point, Ann and Paul began introducing Henry Hall and Penny Watts to the siblings. Before the introductions had been completed, Kimberly Kramer and Little Bit had come over from the Kramer's along with an additional supply of children.

With introductions complete, Amy had finished her meal and after one of the older Christian girls had changed her, had gone to sleep. At that point, Carol gave her to Penny to hold.

Carrying the infant in her arms, she followed Kim, Carol, and the Harris twins on a tour of the property. One thing that caught her eye was the row of tall trees along the southern boundary of the combined properties. In a land that was near-desert, trees — let alone tall deciduous ones — were a rarity, and yet they appeared to be thriving.

Kim explained that Carol and Bill had planted them when they built their house 20 years before. In addition to deep-root fertilization, there were pipes set deep underground to water them. "It forces the trees to put their roots down deep to get the water," Kim explained.

"But they're so healthy-looking, too!"

Kim giggled. "That's a result of two things: First, I think all our kids are at least part monkey. They love to climb. As a result, the older ones spend a lot of time pruning, trimming and thinning. They've done a great job shaping the trees, too."

"Insects?" Penny asked.

Again Kim giggled. "That's funny, too. We use systemic pesticides that are really neat. They're taken into the tree and circulated with the sap. And it's a marvelous system the trees have. What it amounts to is: 'You leave us alone, and we'll leave you alone.' As a result, if you look carefully, you'll see a number of birds' nests in them. And the birds are happy as hell. But if an insect starts to chomp on the tree or any part of it — even a leaf — it's poisoned by the systemic pesticide. And it's wonderful. No over-spray, no contamination of anything ... Just dead bugs from time to time."

Penny just slowly shook her head.

Almost an hour had passed and it was getting close to the time to meet Chad and Tami. While the women had been sightseeing, Henry had been setting up. He started to give haircuts, beginning with the youngest, the Kramer and Christian 2-year-old boys. He was amazed at how perfectly behaved the two little boys were sitting in the chair. No fuss, no muss, and particularly, no tears.

Following the two little boys were two 4-year-old girls, Kristin Kramer and Karen Christian. The two came bounding up hand in hand when Carol called out for them. "Hi, Mommy!" the two chorused in unison.

"These are our identical twins," Carol explained.

Penny Watts raised an eyebrow at that one.

"Oh, Kim and I did it a little differently," Carol explained blithely. "We each carried one." She paused and cocked her head, apparently in thought. "Yeah," she continued, "and we flipped a coin to see who would deliver first. I won, so Kim had to hold Kris in while I delivered Karen. You should have heard her! It was an utter riot. 'For God's sake, Carol, would you please hustle? You've been delivering for almost a full minute now, and only the head is out. I'm dying... !' When it was Kim's turn, she barely got her thighs spread when the baby came out." She shook her head and added, "I had to really jump to keep Kris's head from bouncing on the floor!"

"The ... floor... ?" Penny asked, aghast. "Where ... where did you deliver?"

"The usual place," Carol replied: "the kitchen floor. It's the easiest place to clean if any of the gunk gets off the polyethylene drop cloth."

Penny just rolled her eyes.

The two little girls were utterly gorgeous. Moreover, they behaved like identical twins. In fact, more often than not the two would jointly utter a single sentence. At times it was in unison, at other times one would start, the other would pick up in the middle, and the first would finish it. And since their voices were identical, too, if one wasn't looking at them, one would think a single little girl was speaking. Both were golden-haired, blue-eyed blondes with perfect overall tans fully revealed by their nudity. While Henry worked on Kris, Karen sat on the counter facing her twin and critiqued the work.

The one essential element was that they had to have the same styling.

"Sweetie, just look at this girl," Henry said to Penny. "Have you ever seen such a perfect little girl? Or, I should say, girls."

"Oh, my!" Penny exclaimed. "You're right, darling. They are utterly perfect." Then turning to Carol Christian she said, "I guess it's easy to see why you and Kim keep producing children. They're simply perfect."

By this time it was Karen's turn. While he was working on her hair, Henry asked, "What did you ask Santa to bring you this year?" He expected to hear a very long list.

Instead the little girl named a particular doll. And stopped.

"Is that all?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

"Mommy says that Santa travels in a sleigh down from the North Pole. And since he has to take care of so many little boys and girls, if he brought Kris and me lots of toys, some other little kids would have to go without. And that wouldn't be fair, would it, Mr. Hall?"

Henry could feel the moisture in his eyes. "What do you do with these children, Carol? If all the children in the world were like these two, there would really be a population explosion!"

"Oh ... Well, I guess they're the reason I resigned from Clifford & Jamison."

"Oh... ?"

"Yeah. The commute was getting to me, and it really wasn't fair to the kids. So anyway, I've been a housewife for over 17 years now. There are a couple of things I do on the side, though, to stay active."

"Like what?" Penny asked, knowing as she spoke that she was walking right into something.

"Well, I guess I'm vice president & general counsel of Aerospace Technologies. And Female Fitness, Inc., too, I guess. And I'm corporate secretary of both. And I still do a little trial work on the side to keep my hand in. Then there's school..."

"The kids' schools, you mean?" Penny asked.

"Uh ... No. Kim and I home-school them through the 8th grade. But I had to do something to keep from developing an inferiority complex around here."

"What's that mean?"

"You know that Kim has her doctorate in engineering and Brad has his in history. Well, I thought I should have one, too."

"And... ?"

"I have a Ph.D. in English literature," Carol confessed. "And I'll get another this June, I guess."

"In what?"

"The history of science," Carol said, blushing.

Penny just rolled her eyes. "How about Bill?" she asked.

"Oh, he has a Ph.D. in economics and is getting one in military strategy. Then Jenny Clark has a couple, too."

"Good grief!" Penny exclaimed. "There are — what? — about ten doctorates among the five of you?"

Carol just nodded once.

"Sheesh, Henry, can you imagine? Talk about the blind leading the blind! Can you believe the nerve of these people? Trying to home-school their children when they're only marginally literate themselves? I mean ... Only ten earned doctorates among them? Give me a break!"

By that time Henry had finished with Karen. The little girl looked at herself in the mirror and smiled. Turning on Henry with her brightest smile she said, "Thank you, Mr. Hall, for making us so pretty!"

Kristin Kramer was saying the same thing at the same time.

Henry just slowly shook his head. "No, sweeties, don't thank me, thank God who created you as two of the most beautiful little girls alive!"

With that the two little angels went running off in the direction of the swimming pools.

"They're really pretty neat," Carol admitted. "But it gets funny sometimes."

"How so?" Henry asked.

"It causes some confusion with other children," Carol said. "They're the only little girls with two mommies and two daddies." She grinned and added, "And believe me, Kim and I are interchangeable. It's funny, particularly at Christmas. First of all, the girls' handwriting is essentially identical—"

"Handwriting?" Penny gasped. "You're teasing, aren't you? They're only four years old!"

"Handwriting," Carol repeated. Then she shrugged and added, "I guess our kids are a little brighter than average."

Penny just rolled her eyes. "But you were saying something about Christmas?"

"Oh, yeah ... Under the tree will be four packages addressed to 'Mommy' and four for 'Daddy.' It causes a little confusion sometime."

"What do you do?"

"We each get two," Carol replied with a shrug. "It's no biggie. And if it happens that we got two of the same thing, we just trade off. But the kids the girls play with get terribly confused. Either Kim or I will appear to pick them up, and the two little girls both scream, 'Mommy!" and run up for a kiss and a hug. Then with both talking at once, they can't wait to tell us what they did that day. But the other children have to wonder. After all, while the girls are identical, Kim and I sure aren't. Oh, well..."

At that point two cars came down the drive. The first was Tony's SUV — it was his turn to meet the guests — and the second was a silver Mercedes AMG-55 with Chad Palmer driving. The young man jumped out of the car and ran around to open the passenger-side door for Tami Baker.

Both Carol and Kim were there to greet them. After giving Chad a warm smile, Tami saw the two women and gasped.

"Oops!" Kim exclaimed. "We keep forgetting about our private nudist colony. It disturbs some people."

The girl just pulled herself up straight, smiled, and extended her hand. "Actually," she said, "as Little Bit and Ann learned last night, I'm a bit of an exhibitionist myself. Am I correct in assuming that around here clothing is optional?"

The two women grinned, nodded, and said in unison, "You sure got that right!"

With that, Tami swallowed hard and began to strip.

"You shaved!" Little Bit commented, taking a good look at Chad Palmer for the first time that day. "And it looks pretty neat. Now, with a haircut..."

Chad, too, stripped. When he was bare, the two Harris girls were surprised. First, he turned out to have very well-defined muscles. But beyond that, he was tanned all over. When Little Bit asked him about it, he grinned and said, "That's what's left of Cancun from Labor Day."

Hearing his words, Tami looked shocked. "Were ... were you staying at ... the Hyatt Regency Caribe?"

Then it was Chad's turn to look surprised. He just nodded his head.

"And ... and is your father, Charley? And your mother, Bonnie?"

Again the affirmative nod.

"I do not believe this!" Tami exclaimed. "I was there, too."

"And your parents? Ken and Connie?"

This time it was Tami's turn to nod.

Suddenly both began to laugh uncontrollably. The others just looked on in amazement.

"Bridge?" Tami asked.

Again the two cracked up with laughter as Chad just nodded his head.

"Would you two kindly let us in on the joke?" Little Bit asked with the irritation showing in her voice.

"You or me?" Chad asked.

Tami nodded toward him and grinned.

"Well, I'll fill you in from the Palmer point of view. Tami can add whatever she wants. At any rate, my parents are pretty good Bridge players. Very good, in fact. What they really love is Rubber Bridge, but they could never find any other couples to play with. So anyway, they played Duplicate. But since they're both Life Masters, they were forced into ever more high-powered competition. The competition didn't bother them, but all the garbage associated with high-powered tournaments — the bidding screens, the card bids — sure as hell did. So they quit a few years ago.

"Then about a year ago, my mother bought one of those Female Fitness exercise things. It's the computer-controlled model and she adores it. She used it to lose about 30 pounds and really build up her muscles. She has dark hair, green eyes, and the body of a teenager. She's drop-dead gorgeous, if I do say so myself. Anyway, she decided she wanted to show herself off on the nude beach at Cancun. Dad had been working out, too, and he's a real hunk. About my size, but with about twice my muscles."

"What about you?" Tami asked with a grin.

He laughed and replied, "They allowed me to go down with them on the condition that they didn't have to acknowledge that they even knew me. But that was funny as hell, too."

"Why?" Ann asked.

"Because the two of them would go down to the nude beach and I would go with them ... sort of. By that I mean I never laid out my towel closer to them than about 30 feet. Anyway, one time Dad went off for something — to get drinks, maybe — when a couple of college guys from the States started to come on to Mom. She ate it up! But just when they thought they were going to score, Dad returned. Mom said, 'Oh, by the way, this is my boyfriend.' Turning to Dad she said, 'Darling, you haven't punched out a guy for me in weeks! And these two have been hitting on me!' Her eyes were as big as saucers when she said that, too.

"Dad was about as big as the two guys combined. He just flexed his muscles a bit, and those guys ran for their lives! Mom just howled with laughter, and then insisted that Dad take her right there on the beach in front of everyone. And he did! Later she said it was the greatest lovemaking of their lives.

"And it worked in reverse, too. Two chicks started to come on strong to Dad. Although it's called a nude beach, it's really like this place: clothing optional. Both of the girls were wearing string bikinis. Just then Mom returned from wherever. 'Hi, sweetie, ' she greeted Dad. 'Do these young things want to take my place?' Then she looked them over — both of them were as red as beets by that time — and started to critique the merchandise. The first thing she did was to strip both of them. Then she started to compare her tits, her ass, her cunt ... everything! with theirs. And you know what? It was no contest. The girls grabbed their suits and ran like hell.

"But that's how we got to Cancun. Somehow, though, they met the Bakers. For the rest of our stay, all I heard were 'Ken and Connie'."

To Tami he said, "I guess your parents are in the same class as mine: They're really great Bridge players. But it was funny as hell! I think that by the time we left, they were playing for 25-cents a point. And since a rubber can be easily won by a couple of thousand points, there can be real money on the line. My parents ended up thinking about playing for a dollar a point. The two couples are so evenly matched that I don't think as much as ten bucks ever changed hands. But my parents are ... in ... hog ... heaven..." Chad had run down and then he added, "Holy shit!"

"What's that mean?" Tami asked.

"That means that Ken and Connie are coming over to our house tonight for dinner and Bridge." Then he shook his head, laughed and added, "And the parents are planning on them staying overnight, too."

Then he looked at Tami and said, "You're really beautiful! Did you know that?" He looked at her chest with her lovely B-cup breasts. "But something looks different ... and I don't mean just because you're bare, either."

Tami swallowed hard and said, "That's because I'm not wearing my usual Wonder Bra." She shook her head and added, "I really can't stand the damned thing. It absolutely kills my tits!"

"Why wear it then?"

"Be-Because ... It's supposed to accent the cleavage and guys like that."

"I don't particularly," Chad said. "I do know that you're exquisite."

"And you're pretty good yourself," Tami responded with a warm smile.

By this time Henry Hall had finished with the younger children. The only ones left were Susan Kramer and Julie Christian, both of whom had dates for the dance that evening, as well as Chad and Tami.

He decided to take Chad first. After shampooing his hair, the first thing that Henry noted was that, contrary to what Chad had said, his hair was behaving perfectly. Since Little Bit and Ann along with Tami were there watching, Henry looked at Little Bit and said accusingly, "Elizabeth, why didn't you tell me?"

"I ... I didn't know if it would work on a guy's hair," she said. "I guess it does, huh?"

Barely able to control his grin, Henry said, "It does."

The result was that Chad ended up with very short hair. In spite of its apparent stringiness when it was long, at the scalp it proved to be very dense. After his finishing touches, Henry turned the chair so that Chad was facing Tami.

"What so you think, Tami?" Chad asked.

"Wow! is what I think," she replied. "Chad Palmer, you look great!"

Then it was her turn in the chair. Henry looked over her hair and scalp very carefully. Finally, while slowly shaking his head, he said, "I just don't know..."

"What's that mean?" Tami asked. Henry's tone of voice frightened her.

"You've been teasing your hair a lot, haven't you?" Henry observed. "You've also been dyeing it. And for an extended period of time, too."

"How did you know that?" she asked.

"Because you virtually destroyed your hair is how I know."

"Oh, shit," Tami murmured. Fearfully she asked, "What now?"

"Tami, I have no choice. I have to cut almost all of it off. In fact, if I was doing this right, that's exactly what I would do: Cut it all off."

"A ... a wig?" she stammered.

"No," Henry responded with a smile, "just a very short haircut. But, young lady, in a couple of months, you'll have to come and see me and I will cut off the rest of the old stuff. Okay?" He paused for a moment and then continued, "And, by the way, there will be no dyeing! Clear?"

"Yes, sir," Tami agreed glumly. "You mean I have to live with this yucky nothing-brown."

"Young lady, let me give you some facts of life." Kim Kramer was standing nearby watching, so Henry used her. "Look at Kimberly Kramer's hair and tell me what you see."

"It's ... it's incredible!" the girl replied. "It has more colors than I could possibly count!"

"But it's basically brown," Henry retorted. "One of my other clients, Kathy Carlson, has the most fascinating hair I've ever worked on, and I've worked on Kathy for over 20 years, too. Every single time I see her, the color streaks in her hair are different, and I have to come up with a new style. And all Kathy has ever done with her hair has been to wash it. The color streaks are all the result of time in the sun. The common denominator, though, is that she is always outrageously beautiful!"

Kim's hair, too, had color streaks through her urchin cut in every color from dark brown through the spectrum to almost platinum blonde.

"You mean I might someday look like Mrs. Kramer?" Tami asked.

"Within six months, the answer is yes," Henry replied.

"Well, I guess you better do it then," Tami said with tears in her eyes.

When Henry finished with her, her hair was only slightly longer than Chad's, but it came to a duck's ass in the back. At her request, Henry had turned the chair away from the mirror. So it was with a shaky voice she asked Chad, "How does it look?" But before he could answer, she continued, "We're not really going to the dance tonight, are we? Because I have to look like the Wrath of God!"

"Yes, we're going," Chad replied, "and no, you certainly don't." To Henry he said, "Why don't you turn her around so she can see for herself."

Henry did, but Tami had her eyes tightly closed as the chair was turned. "You can open your eyes now," Henry said, barely able to control his grin.

She did and gasped. "My God!" she exclaimed softly, "who is that?"

"That's just you," Penny replied. "And now it's my turn." With that she began to work on the girl's eyebrows to shape them and then finished with lipstick. "You're all set until later when I get you ready for the dance. Now beat it!"

"What do you think, Chad?" Tami asked him.

"I think you look beautiful!" he instantly responded. Then he extended his hand and the two wandered off to look over the compound. At the same time, both Little Bit and Ann locked-in their hearing facility on the couple.

"By the way," Tami said, "it was really neat of your father to let you use his car. That's the top of the line Mercedes sports car, isn't it?"

"I guess so," Chad replied casually, "but it's not his."

"Good grief!" Tami exclaimed, "he got a car like that for ... your mother!"

"Uh ... no."

"I don't understand. If it's not your father's or your mother's, whose is it? I can't believe a family friend would let a kid drive a car like that! I mean ... Good grief! It costs somewhere north of $120,000!"

"It's mine."

Tami's eyes really bugged at that one. "Yours? That's impossible! You drive that clapped-out Toyota." Then she giggled and added, "It's such a piece of junk, I don't think a respectable junk yard would even take it!"

Chad laughed at that one. "You know what? You're right. For the hell of it, I took it to a couple..."

"And what happened?"

"They would only take it if I paid them."

"But what about... ?" Tami asked, motioning toward the Mercedes roadster sitting in the drive.

"Well, that's sort of funny, too," Chad conceded. "The fact is, that's my second. I just got it a couple of weeks ago. The trade-in was funny."

"Why?"

"Because there were fewer than 500 miles on it is why ... and it was almost three years old. The dealer was certain the odometer had been rolled back. But then their chief mechanic really went over it. He found that the brake pads weren't even fully worn in, and he checked with Stuttgart and learned that, indeed, they were the factory-installed units. Finally, they believed." He chuckled and then added, "The damned thing spent almost its entire life up on jack stands and covered with a tarp."

Tami shook her head in utter bewilderment. "But ... why would you have a car like that if you never drive it? What a waste of a beautiful machine."

"I had it as my contribution to the family's well-being. Dad kept insisting that I wasn't pulling my weight in the household at all."

At that, Tami just shook her head more. What Chad had been saying made no sense at all.

"Tami, it's pretty simple: First of all, like you, I'm an only child. Beyond that, though, we're not stinking rich, we're filthy rich. And Dad doesn't feel I'm spending anything close to my share of the money. He feels I have a responsibility to help him get rid of some. So..."

"And the Toyota?"

"That's more in keeping with my image at school, don't you agree?" Chad replied with a grin.

"I'm afraid you're right; it is," Tami agreed. "But ... but what about tonight? I mean ... What are you going to wear?"

"It's formal, isn't it?"

She just nodded.

"So I'll wear a dinner jacket," Chad replied with a shrug. "That will be a first, too." Then he chuckled and added, "It's at least the sixth one I've owned, but it will be the first one to ever leave my closet." Then he muttered, "Damn!"

"What's that mean?" Tami asked.

"That means I'm driving the wrong damned car is what 'damn' means. It's a roadster and girls hate 'em when they're dressed."

"Oh? Why do you suppose that is?"

Chad just shook his head. He had no idea; he just knew it to be true.

"That's because their hair would blow and they would look like hell. There are two reasons that doesn't apply to me: First, Little Bit did that thing with the hair to me. Now I can fix it by just shaking my head hard. But beyond that, if you haven't noticed, my hair is now about the same length as yours. Chad, are you afraid of your hair blowing?"

Chad just shook his head.

Tami sniffed and added, "And if you think I'm going to ride in a $120,000 sports car with its top up, you've got another think coming. It's going to be just so great... !"

But then she changed tack. "Chad, you don't really want to go to the dance with me, do you? I mean ... I try, but I really am sort of ugly." She paused and then slowly, "Just look at me! I'm not nearly big enough on top, I've got too many muscles ... And I'm too damned smart."

"Oh?" Chad asked. "Who are the most beautiful girls in our school?"

Tami cocked her head and looked at him strangely.

"Who?" he insisted.

"Most beautiful? It would be a toss-up between Susan Kramer and Julie Christian."

"And they're really noted for their double-D chests, aren't they?"

"What?" Tami nearly screamed. "Are you nuts? They're both solid B's ... maybe B+..."

"But I thought you said they were the most beautiful girls in the school? They don't have big tits. But I think you're probably bigger than they are, aren't you?"

"I'm sort of a B+/C-," Tami admitted.

"And then ... Let's see ... Too many muscles ... I guess that's right, too. Susan and Julie are really sort of weak and flabby, aren't they... ?"

"Those two? My God, Chad, what have you been smoking? I'll admit that nothing shows, but I've seen them naked in the showers a number of times. There's nothing there but muscle under the smoothest skin you can imagine. There's not an ounce of fat!"

"Oh, I see..." Chad said slowly. "You're far more muscular than they are. Right?"

"Are you nuts?" Tami exclaimed. "Either one of them could break me in two without breaking a sweat!"

"Gee, Tami, I don't understand. You just said that Susan and Julie are the two most beautiful girls in the school. But before that you said that you were ugly: not big enough on top with too many muscles." With his eyes wide he just slowly shook his head. "I don't understand."

For her part, Tami thought about what Chad had just said and she was stunned. She couldn't disagree with a single thing he had said.

"Do you happen to know how well Susan and Julie do with their grades?" Chad asked casually.

Tami giggled. "Let me put it this way: The only courses those two take are honors courses. I happen to know that there are a bunch of teachers who are really pissed because there's no grade higher than an A+ ... And that's what they always get. Smart? Good grief!" The girl chuckled and slowly shook her head. "You know what? I think the real reason they're there is to monitor the performance of the teachers. Without an exception I can think of, they know more about the subject area than the teacher does."

"I guess that means they can't get dates," Chad commented sadly.

"Have you utterly lost it?" Tami nearly screamed. "Can't get dates? Those two? That's the funniest thing I've ever heard!"

"Gee, Tami, but you just go finished telling me that you're too flat, too muscular and too smart to have guys interested in you. But now you've just said that Susan and Julie are not as full as you are, are more muscular, smarter, but the guys are standing in line to ask them out. I don't understand."

Suddenly it all came together for Tami. She just sank down on the grass and began to cry. "You're saying I've been totally wrong about myself, aren't you?" she cried.

"I've said nothing of the kind."

"But you're right. I have been."

Chad sat on the lush grass beside her, took her in his arms and kissed her. And kissed her. And kissed her. There was electricity and bells while their lips were locked together. Finally they eased apart.

"I love you, Chad," Tami breathed.

He shook his head like a fighter trying to recover from a punch. "No ... No... ! You can't!"

Suddenly everything from their past together came into sharp focus to Tami. "You've always been there for me, haven't you, Chad? When I was trying to destroy myself, you were always there to pick up the pieces. You've loved me for a very long time, haven't you?" When she saw him shaking his head, she grabbed his shoulders and started to shake him. "Admit it! You've loved me!"

"But I'm not nearly good enough for you," he protested.

"Oh? Did you look at yourself in the mirror? Chad Palmer, you are a hunk!" Then she grinned through her drying tears and added, "Are you really going to take me to the dance tonight? I so hope that you will."

That moment was an epiphany for Chad Palmer. Suddenly things came together. My God! he thought, Tami loves me back! With the warmest smile Tami had ever seen he replied, "I sure am!" But then he looked at her and added, "Sweetie, I brought my dinner jacket and stuff with me. But what about you?"

Suddenly her face crumbled and she was in tears. "I don't have anything to wear!" she wailed.

"That's easy enough to fix," he said. "Come on. Let's go!"

Hand in hand, the two young people ran back toward Chad's car.

Little Bit and Ann looked at each other, grinned, and shook hands. They were ecstatic!



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Chapter 33



Back at Chad's Mercedes, Tami was about to get into the roadster when he said, "Wouldn't you feel better with some clothes on? I mean ... I really like you the way you look now, and I know you're an exhibitionist, but still..."

Tami's reaction was to giggle, but she found her clothing and started dressing again.

While Chad was dressing, Little Bit came over with one of the pocket units that worked with the driveway locator. "You'll probably need this to find your way back," she said with a wink. After explaining to him how the device worked, she ran off in Ann's direction.

He started up the 5.5 liter engine and it idled down beautifully. At the same time, he picked up the telephone and placed a call. Tami couldn't hear what he was saying. But Chad made some notes and off they went.

"What was that all about?" Tami asked.

"Oh ... That was the concièrge service that comes with the car," he replied. "I asked for directions to the nearest Nordstrom's, and here they are." He waved his pad in front of her.

"Nordstrom's?" she asked. "Why there?"

"Because, dear Tami, you need a gown for this evening, and Nordstrom's has some lovely gowns."

So off they went. Although Chad had never had a girl in his car before, he had heard enough about girls and roadsters to know that they really didn't like them. At least, they didn't like them if the vehicles were moving much faster than 30 mph. But not Tami. She had fastened her seat belt and reclined her seat. When they got out on the main road, Chad was really holding back, deferring to Tami — he thought.

"Mr. Palmer," Tami said softly, "this vehicle has Z-rated tires, right?"

Chad agreed. It did.

"Hmm ... Let's see ... This is sitting on 18-inch wheels with 40 profile tires, or less, right?"

Again Chad agreed.

"And it's capable of speeds well north of 140 mph... ?"

Slowly, he nodded his head.

"Well, will you get this thing moving!" she almost shouted. "You can go faster than this in that clapped-out Toyota, for God's sake!"

So Chad really hit the gas. All Tami did was to purr. He was impressed.

The directions were accurate. When Chad pulled up in front of the designated Nordstrom's, there was valet parking. The car jocks almost killed each other trying to get to the car.

While they were on their way, Chad had used the car phone to call the store. He asked for their personal shoppers and made arrangements to be met at the door. The young woman was there to greet them.

"How may I help you today?" Ann Collins was a little skeptical about this assignment. On the other hand, she was the most junior personal shopper in the unit. And he did drive up in a custom Mercedes.

"My friend needs a gown for a formal dance this evening," Chad replied, "along with all the trimmings."

Off they went.

Ann's eyebrows went up when she learned that price was not a factor. Moreover, she decided that Chad was being honest when, after being shown a gown priced at more than $1,000, his reaction was, "Do you have something better?"

The result was the purchase of a cocktail-length gown in Christmas green. Beyond that, though, was underwear — although that was only a thong — along with shoes to match. But then there was a small matter of jewels to go with it. Since it quickly became apparent that Nordstrom's had nothing suitable, Ann sent one of her people over to Tiffany's, which had a branch in the same mall. The result was the purchase of a necklace, ear studs and a bracelet, all with emeralds that matched the color of the dress. Finally, Chad decided that Tami needed something to wear over her gown. The result was a full-length ranch mink coat in a shade that went perfectly with Tami's hair. And, although Tami didn't know it at the time, Chad had her monogram stitched into it. However, the monogram was TBP.

When Tami glanced at it, the monogram didn't register at first. But when it did, she exclaimed, "Hey! Wait a stinking minute! This isn't my monogram."

"Oh?" Chad asked mildly. "What is your monogram?"

"It's TAB," she replied.

"TAB? What's the "A" for?"

"Ann," Tami replied. "Tabitha Ann Baker." Then she grimaced and added, "It was almost reversed: Ann Tabitha Baker." With a little grin she continued, "Now isn't Ann Baker a really zingy name?" But then she frowned again and said, "But this is TBP! What the hell is that for?"

"Tabitha Baker Palmer," Chad replied blandly. "What else would it be?"

"It's what?" she squawked.

"Tabitha Baker Palmer," Chad repeated. Tami's mouth was open and about to retort when he continued, "The way they embroider the monogram, it really chews hell out of the lining if you try to cut it out and change it. And since you're going to be Tabitha Baker Palmer pretty soon anyway, I just jumped the gun a bit."

Tami was speechless.

Ann Collin's eyebrows really rose when the sale was totaled out to more than $50,000. Not only was it the largest sale of her career, it was the largest single sale in the history of that branch. Chad merely glanced at the total, nodded, and gave her a platinum AMEX card. The charge was instantly approved.

At that point everything was wrapped with the greatest care, and Ann called down to have Chad's car brought around. Enlisting the aid of some salesgirls, they trooped down to the waiting car. There Chad activated the car's Easy-Pack feature. The hard top came up partially from its "nest" behind the seats to provide easy access to the storage area in the rear. Both the dress and the coat were carefully laid in place and they closed it up, taking the remaining parcels — shoes, jewels, and so forth — into the car with them.

As they headed back toward the compound, Tami said softly, "Why, Chad?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you buy me so much? And spend so much?"

"Two reasons," he replied with a grin. "First, you're a beautiful girl and you should wear beautiful things. But second, to get on Dad's good side. This way I won't get any more flak about not doing my share where spending money is concerned. At least, there won't be any with this month's bill."

Tami just giggled.

It was close to six o'clock when they returned to the Christian's. There they found Susan Kramer and Julie Christian getting ready to leave to meet their dates, while Penny Watts was putting the last finishing touches on the girls. When she finished, she stepped back and asked Chad what he thought.

He looked at the two girls and softly whistled, producing a punch on his arm from Tami. Ignoring it he said, "Girls, you are ravishing! By the way, who are the lucky guys?"

It turned out that they were dating two other juniors. (Both Tami and Chad were juniors, too.) One was the second-team quarterback who would be replacing Tony Kramer as starting quarterback the following season, while the other was the president of the junior class and editor-designate of the school paper for the following year. Tami and Chad looked at each other and then nodded. They agreed that the girls' escorts were "adequate." (Tami's words.)

After changing, the two met in the library and found the other young people waiting for them. Tony was grinning and said, "I'm sorry, Chad, but you really started something."

"What did I start?"

"Well, Dad and Uncle Bill saw your AMG..."

"And... ?"

"Well," Paul picked up, "they insisted we had to hold up the families' honor..."

"And... ?" Chad asked again.

Tony just sadly shook his head. "We really didn't want to do it, but they insisted. In fact, Paul and I pointed out that the girls' hair would really be blown, but that didn't work too well."

"Why didn't it work?" Chad asked. "Unlike Tami's near-crewcut, the girls' hair is almost shoulder length."

"I'll have to show you," Paul replied. Although Ann glared at him, he mussed her perfectly arranged hair.

"Grr!" she growled. But then she gave her head a single hard shake and every hair was back in its previous perfectly-coifed condition.

"Wow!" Tami exclaimed, "that's really neat!"

"You probably haven't had a chance to try it with your short hair and all, Tami, but that's the way our peculiar ability works. And, as you know, you have it now, too," Ann said. "Not that you need it right now, but you will. A shake of your head will restore it to its last setting, almost regardless of how long it might have been since it was set last."

"Okay," Chad said, "so blowing hair doesn't work. But doesn't work for what?"

Paul and Tony exchanged looks. Then Tony said, "We were each ordered to drive our fathers' cars."

"Which are... ?"

"BMW Alpina V-8s," Paul said. "Both of them are silver."

"And the little urchins have spent most of the afternoon polishing them like there's no tomorrow," Tony added.

Chad just grinned, while the three girls all giggled.

Exchanging looks, the three agreed that collectively they were about to make a grand entrance at the school that evening.

At that point, Sandy Kramer announced dinner. The three couples went into the beautifully-set dining room where they found six places set. Sandy and Samantha Christian were serving, while Jenny Clark supervised and took care of things in the kitchen.

"Where's everybody else?" Chad inquired.

"Oh, they're over at our place," Tony replied vaguely.

The dinner was magnificent. Because they were driving, only a single glass of wine was served. By the time they finished, there was just time for the girls to repair their makeup and then get to the dance.

When they arrived at the dance — although they were in three cars, they arrived together — they really caused consternation on the part of the other young people attending. And this was most particularly true of Chad and Tami. The girls tell me it was a real laugh. Tami's transformation was mind-blowing, but no one even recognized Chad. For Tami it was an utterly priceless experience.

First of all, while no one knew how much her gown had cost, there were a number of girls present who had a good eye for style. They recognized her dress as an original, although they would have guessed the price at one-third or less of its actual price. Quickly they passed the word. Then the word began to spread that her date was ... Chad Palmer! Moreover, by that time the word of his wheels had also started to spread, and the kids were stunned.

While this was going on, though, Tony Kramer and Paul Christian were surprised, too. The reason for their surprise was that both sets of parents were present. Moreover, it was apparent from their animated chatting with the principal of the school, John Baxter, and his wife, Tricia, that they were helping to chaperon.

Both Ann and Little Bit had locked on the conversation. Little Bit said softly to Tony, "Our mother is awesome! And that's spelled with a capital A!"

"What's she doing now?" Tony asked.

Little Bit slowly shook her head. "She's making Tricia — that's Mrs. Baxter — feel comfortable. Mr. Baxter has just finished his recital of all the academic degrees the two families have, but our mother is just dismissing them as pieces of paper. And she's telling Tricia how utterly gorgeous she looks." Turning to Tony she added, "And you know what? She's right. That woman is unreal!"

"But ... but she's black," Tony stammered.

"And what does that have to do with anything?" Little Bit asked acerbically. "She's a simply gorgeous woman! Just look at her figure and her bearing! Outstanding!"

"Hey!" Tony responded with a note of discovery in his voice. "She really is, isn't she?"

At that point, Little Bit giggled.

"What was that all about?" he asked.

"Mother just told John — Mr. Baxter — how lucky he is. And he's thrilled, but so is Tricia. She's just so cute!"

"Cute?" Tony exclaimed. "She's almost six feet tall! She can't be cute."

"The hell she can't!" Little Bit responded. "Just look at her blush!" She paused and then said, "Oh, neat! John's taking her in his arms and kissing her. And it looks just like us, too. Notice?"

"He's a very lucky guy," Tony conceded.

"And he knows he is, too!"

The band began to play and they began to dance. For both Little Bit and Ann, it was wonderful to be held in the arms of the men they loved. Both girls kept an eye out for Tami and Chad and were reassured to see that they were not only dancing, they looked great together.

After a while, the band swung into a fast number. Kimberly and Brad Kramer and Carol and Bill Christian started to jitterbug. It was a dance that none of the young people had ever seen, let alone done. In no time, the floor was cleared leaving only the two couples. But then John and Tricia Baxter joined them, and they were really good. There got to be an impromptu competition that the three couples loved, as did the band. There were moves that no one had ever seen before, but all three couples were great.

"Tony, please ask Julie to dance," Little Bit suggested. "And get Paul to dance with Susan, too."

"But she's my sister!" Tony protested.

"Julie Christian sure as hell is not your sister!" Little Bit exclaimed. "Now do it!"

After shoves from the two girls, the guys went over to where their sisters were watching with their dates. Both girls were overjoyed at the invitations and off they went. And they were their mothers' daughters: They were very good, as were Paul and Tony. Little Bit and Ann just watched from the sidelines with warm smiles.

When the dance was over, the boys took the girls back to their dates, but then the girls brought their dates over to where Little Bit and Ann were standing. Introductions were made, and then Julie took Ann out of earshot of the others and thanked her. "That was the nicest thing I could imagine," the girl said. "I know damned well that you and your sister can do that dance far better than Susan or I can, but you ordered the guys to dance with us. Why?"

Ann tried to temporize, but Julie wouldn't let her. "Why?" the girl repeated.

"Because I stole your guy," Ann replied in a whisper. "You've been in love with Tony Kramer from the day you were born, and then a partially-reconstructed whore takes him away from you."

"I won't comment on what you were," Julie said, "but I will comment on what you are ... and what your sister is. You are all class! You are the ultimate in ladylike behavior, and Susan and I have been paying close attention to try to pick up pointers. Ann Harris, you don't act like a lady; you are a lady!" With tears in her eyes she concluded, "And Tony and Paul are the luckiest guys in the world to get you, too!"

"And you, Julie Christian, are one of the nicest people alive in the world!" Ann responded. "There are no words to tell you how proud I am to have you as a sister! You're just great!" Then she paused and asked, "How's your date?"

"Not too bad," Julie admitted. Then with a grin she added, "On the other hand, now that Susan and I are playing the field, it's really sort of fun..."

Both girls giggled at that one.

At that point, the band took a break, and the principal, Mr. Baxter, went to the microphone. "Could I have your attention for a few moments," he began. "As you all know, our nation is very close to war. It would not be surprising for it to begin within the next 60 days. You're all aware of the short action in Afghanistan. We're facing a far more serious situation with Iraq. Our troops are going into harm's way.

"That being the case, I want you to meet two men who've been there, done that. They are the fathers of two of our graduating seniors as well as two girls who are the stars of the sophomore class. I'm referring to Bradley Kramer and William Christian. Both of these men hold the Medal of Honor, the highest award for military valor our nation can award. Beyond that, though, both have a number of other medals: the Distinguished Service Cross, the Silver Star, the Bronze Star, and since both were wounded in action, the Purple Heart.

"Nowadays, a lot of publicity has been given to push-button warfare: aircraft standing off from their targets and dropping ordnance that can find its way through an open window. But ultimately it comes down to boots on the ground. And that's where men like Brad Kramer and Bill Christian come in. Both are Rangers, and they still are. Both hold reserve commissions as colonels in the Army Reserve.

"I'm sure you all recognize Brad Kramer. Aside from everything else, he's a movie star with several Oscars to his credit. His wife, Kimberly, who's also up here with us, also has Oscars. Moreover, while Brad and Bill wear the tan beret — formerly the black beret — of Army Rangers, Kim wears the green beret of Army Special Forces. She, too, has a reserve commission as a lieutenant colonel."

Baxter paused and grinned. "Oh, yes ... One more thing, since they're also here to chaperon tonight: I should warn you that the Kramers are armed. You see, aside from everything else, they are also special U.S. Marshals. So behave yourselves! I have to warn you, both of them have been known to become ... somewhat violent. After one of their actions, the police have it easy. If the bad guys have two bullets in the heart, they were shot by Brad Kramer; if it's two in the brain, they got in the way of Kimberly. It makes it nice and neat."

Turning to the Kramers and Christians who were standing behind him he asked, "Would you like to say a few words?"

Kim gave Brad a little shove and he went to the mike. "First, I would like to thank Principal Baxter for his warm remarks. And I would particularly like to thank him for his comments regarding our men and women who are going into harm's way.

"Bill and I served in the same outfit in Vietnam. The worst thing that happened to us was to lose the support of too many of our fellow Americans here at home. Please believe me when I say that those men and women really appreciate expressions of support from home. It's nice to know that your countrymen believe you're doing the right thing.

"So thank you for your support, and have a good time tonight!"

Later as the dance was winding down, Little Bit and Tony found themselves with Tami and Chad. "What are you two doing after?" Little Bit asked.

"Going home and going to bed," Chad replied with a grin.

"Oh?" Little Bit replied with a grin of her own. "Whose?"

"Mine," Chad replied blandly. "After all, that's where both sets of parents are, and we wouldn't want them to worry."

"You mean you and Tami are going to... ? In your own home... ? With both sets of parents there... ?"

"It's going to be something new for me," Tami said. "I'm going to see how it goes without having to refer to The Joy of Sex for the script."



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Chapter 34



The next morning, Little Bit stumbled out of Tony's room, leaving him, as usual, sound asleep after their morning love-making. In the kitchen she found Penny and Henry Hall along with Jenny Clark. She learned that the previous night Jenny had taken care of the little children while Penny and Henry had looked after the older ones, ably assisted by Sandy Kramer and Samantha Christian.

After eating, she went back to Tony's room to haul him out of bed. It was his turn to drive out to the C-store, this time to meet the Executive Aviation flight crew that was driving up from Disneyland.

When the group arrived, they, like everyone else, were startled by the lack of clothing, but Trudy Elliott and Brandi Barnes lost no time in joining the crowd. The first thing Trudy did was to ask about the Female Fitness machines. Little Bit led her to the Kramer's gym and she climbed on the computer-controlled unit. To Little Bit's surprise, Trudy had already lost significant weight, even though it had only been a few days since she had started to reduce.

"It's not really hard," Trudy explained. "As I may have intimated on the plane coming out, I've been fighting for years to put weight on. My body doesn't like it at all; it keeps trying to get down to about 120 or so."

So off she went.

After lunch, they were surprised to see Tami and Chad again. Chad had driven over to return the driveway locator but was told to keep it. Tony explained that there was an interesting element to it. When he had first been given it, Little Bit had ensured that Chad made a thumb print on it. After that, he became the only person who could use it. If he were to lose it, even if the finder knew what it was and where it was supposed to work, it wouldn't work for him or her.

Tami had another reason for coming. She located Kim and had a proposition for her. "Mrs. Kramer," she began, "I know you're the designer of all the Female Fitness units, and..." She slowly stopped.

"And what?" Kim prompted.

"Uh ... Well ... It's the saddle on the computer-controlled unit," Tami said softly.

"What about the saddle?"

"The unit has ultraviolet lights positioned all around it, so the user can tan while using it..."

"And... ?"

"And the white mark on the user's bottom is really tacky!" Tami blurted.

"That's for sure," Kim admitted. "But she has to sit on something."

At that point Tami opened a plastic shopping bag she had with her and took out a saddle with its mounting rod. Both were clear and apparently made of plastic, as were the internal cylinders. "How about using this?" the girl asked. "It's ... it's something I've been fooling around with. You can see that it's clear, but what you can't see is that the whole unit is transparent to ultraviolet light, even..." she blushed, "the cylinders that go inside the woman."

Kim's eyes widened. "You mean a girl can sit on this and her bottom would tan anyway?"

Having gotten this far without an explosion from Kim, Tami continued with a grin, "It's really sort of neat. The fact is that since the saddle sort of spreads a girl's asscheeks, even her crack gets tanned." Then she mused, "I wonder if it will tan inside the vagina, too?"

Kim examined the unit carefully. She found that it felt really solid in her hand; it's construction was anything but cheap. Moreover, the saddle, although crystal-clear, felt like the finest leather, while the supporting post had the feel of steel. "Strength?" she asked.

"Stronger than the saddle and post you're using now," Tami replied. "The plastic has a strength about 50 percent greater than steel for the same thickness. But since it's plastic, it's far lighter."

Then there was the $64 question: "Price?"

Tami quoted a price, but added that it was only for the initial quantities. If there was a significant production run, the price should drop dramatically.

Kim whistled softly. "Young lady, the initial price you quoted is about one-third less than we're paying for the saddle now, and we're buying in quantity. Are you sure?"

Not only was Tami sure, but she pulled out a paper with all the cost calculations on it, and at the same time produced the engineering drawings for the saddle's production.

Then Kim changed the subject dramatically. "How was your night last night? After the dance, I mean."

"It couldn't have been better!" Tami exclaimed. She was slowly rubbing her crotch as she said it.

"You spent it at Chad's, didn't you?"

The girl just nodded and grinned.

"What happened this morning? Do his parents know you spent the night with him? Do yours?"

"That's part of what was so funny," Tami replied. "Chad was deep inside me this morning ... I was on my back and his back was to the door when his mother, Bonnie, came barging in. It seems that she and Mr. Palmer took my parents for $12 at Bridge last night — an all-time record for their little group, by the way — and she couldn't wait to tell Chad about it.

"Anyway, between orgasms I managed to gasp, 'Good morning, Mrs. Palmer. I'm Tami Baker.' I was afraid she was going to have a fit, but that's not what happened at all. Instead, she went scampering down the hall and hauled my parents and Charley Palmer in to see what we were doing.

"Then, you won't believe what they did next! The four of them were critiquing our fucking! Can you believe it? And the two men were admiring my body, while the mothers were admiring Chad's. It was unreal!"

"What was their conclusion?" Kim asked with a little grin.

"They decided that, although we needed a lot more practice, we showed real promise. And can you believe it? Do you know what my mother had the nerve to say? And she's a professor of engineering, for Heaven's sake!"

While maintaining her little grin, Kim slowly shook her head.

"She said, 'When your cunt loosens up a little, you're going to be a great little fuck, sweetie.' Can you believe it? That's really what she said. "Oh, yeah," Tami added with a grin, "It was so much better than trying to follow some dumb script from The Joy of Sex!"

Then she smiled at Kim warmly and said, "By the way, my mother, Connie, asked me to thank you."

Kimberly was puzzled. "Thank me? For what could she possibly be thanking me?"

"She's thanking you for her position as a tenured professor of engineering at Cal Tech," the girl replied. "It seems that the school really got hot for the idea of having you on the faculty. When they finally decided that it wasn't going to happen, they had become so charged up with the idea of having a female professor of engineering, they hired Mom as a consolation prize. So thank you!"

"I guess your mother and father did the saddle, didn't they?" Kim said.

Tami blushed. "Uh ... No. I did."

Kim was astonished. "You did it? Good grief, girl, how? For example, what kind of plastic is this? Where did it come from? I've never heard of a plastic that's completely transparent to UV!"

"I did a little work on the Internet," Tami replied, "and I put a few things together." She paused and said, "I guess you kind of like the saddle, huh?"

"Like it? Good grief, girl, it's outstanding!" Kim thought for a moment and then said, "I'll tell you what I propose to do and you can see if you like it. First of all, although you made this one, I'm assuming you don't have a production facility. Am I right?"

Tami just nodded her head dejectedly.

"You did a helluva job on the cost figures. Assuming they're correct — and they look right to me — Female Fitness proposes to manufacture the saddle, paying you a royalty equivalent to one-third of the price we're now paying for the complete saddle assembly. How's that sound?"

The girl just whistled softly. "It sounds like it's much too much to me."

With her eyes sparkling Kim replied, "I'm sorry, Tami, but it's the best we can do. I can't go any lower than that. I'm sorry. So take it or leave it."

Tami extended her hand and said, "Done! I'll take it." Then she added, "Mrs. Kramer, no wonder everyone loves you, loves Aerospace Technologies, and loves Female Fitness! You people are just too damned much!"

With that the two rejoined the others at the pool. A short time later, Trudy Elliott appeared, having finished her exercise regimen on the Female Fitness machine. At that point the fun really began.

Kim started by raising the question of the new magazine, Mrs. Trudy reacted by getting a notebook and began to ask Kim questions. With every answer, Trudy's eyes widened further. At the same time, Trudy took out a little electronic camera and began to take pictures. This joined the mini recorder that she already had in action.

But Kim, after looking at the camera, sent Tony back to their house to get a better one for her. "If there's ever a chance you'll want to use any of these pictures," Kim said, "you had better use a better camera than that one to take them. Its resolution isn't nearly good enough for publication purposes."

The interview continued all afternoon. Late in the afternoon, Chad and Tami left for Tami's house. She was going to change and the two were going to have dinner together. Both Ann and Little Bit agreed that the two were an utterly charming couple.

By dinner time, Henry Hall and Penny Watts had also departed, leaving the Kramers, the Christians, and the flight crew. Poor Trudy rubbed her belly and complained that she was about to put back all the weight she had worked so hard to lose during the day, and probably even more.

The next day, Monday, the women decided to do some shopping. Brandi Barnes elected to stay at the compound and work on her tan, but Kim, Carol Christian, Ann, Little Bit, and Trudy all set out for the mall.

After shopping for most of the morning, they decided to change venues for the afternoon's "work". (They had cleaned out all the stores in that mall with respect to anything they might have cared to buy.)

On the way to the next stop, Kim, driving the Kramers' van, elected to stop for lunch at Mickey D's. They got their orders and took a couple of tables close to the door. While they were eating, four men came into the restaurant.

"Uh, oh," Kim murmured, "I don't like the looks of this."

The men got her attention in two ways: First, although the temperature was close to 80, all four were wearing long coats. Moreover, they all had a distinctly Arabic appearance. Little Bit watched as Kim's hand moved toward her purse. Her eyes widened when she realized that she was not opening it in the normal way. Rather, she was opening its back.

At that moment, one of the men opened his coat and raised an AK-47 assault rifle into position and declared, "This is a holdup! Don't anybody move!"

One of the counter girls was both shocked and scared. When she jumped in fright, the gunman just shot her.

Instantly it was clear to Little Bit what Kim had been doing. As fast as a striking cobra, her hand emerged from her purse but this time she held a Smith & Wesson 9mm. automatic. B-Bam! The gunman dropped to the floor with blood pouring from his head. While the entrance wound was small, the hollow-point bullets almost removed the far side of his skull.

At the sound of the shots, the other three raised their own assault weapons. There were two problems with this, though. First, Kim was sitting behind them and to the side — their seven o'clock. Second, an assault rifle isn't nearly as maneuverable as a pistol.

B-Bam, B-Bam, B-Bam

The remaining three were on the ground.

But while they were still falling, both Ann and Little Bit jumped from their seats. Grabbing two of the falling assault weapons as their former owners collapsed to the floor, the two ran from the restaurant. It came as no surprise to see a minivan sitting by the door with its motor running. There were two men inside.

When the men saw the girls with the assault weapons run from the restaurant, they decided to bail out in a hurry. As the van started to accelerate out of the lot, both girls opened fire, each aiming at one of the rear tires. And when a blown-out tire wrapped itself around the rear axle, the vehicle came to a skidding stop.

Holding her weapon in her right hand, Little Bit used her left to yank open the driver's side door. As soon as it opened, the passenger started to raise a pistol while turning toward the open door. The instant Ann saw this, she fired two shots both of which took him in the head. At least one of the rounds continued on through, shattering the side window by the passenger.

Using her strength, Little Bit grabbed the driver by his arm, yanked him from the vehicle, and dropped him face down on the pavement. "Don't move a fucking inch!" she screamed. Then she put the muzzle of her weapon to the man's head and growled, "Where are you staying? Where's your headquarters?"

The man's eyes widened in fear but he told her the address.

Kim was out of her seat by that time, herding the staff and patrons back to the rear corner of the McDonald's. Glancing up at the signboard over the cash registers, she noted the name of the town on the board and murmured, "Oh, shit! Here we go again."

Grabbing the cell phone from her purse, she activated it, hit the "O" button, and when an operator responded, said, "Get me the FBI! This is an emergency!"

She was quickly connected and then she asked to speak to the Special Agent in Charge. He was out of the office, but his deputy took the call. "This is Kimberly Kramer," Kim began, "and I'm a special U.S. Marshall." She then explained what had happened and where she was. She concluded by saying, "This is the same dumb town where Brad and I had a shoot-out in the bank. Clearly, the idiots here haven't changed their gun laws yet, so the bad guys know easy targets when they see them. Get your closest people down here as fast as possible. We're going to have a problem with the local gendarmes!"

And they did.

Moments later, police cars started streaming into the parking lot with their red and blue lights flashing and sirens screaming. Little Bit and Ann were tossed on the ground and handcuffed with their hands behind their backs.

At the same time, two other things were happening: Kim got on the phone to Carol, told her what was happening, and asked her to immediately alert Ali Clifford. While all of this was going on, Trudy Elliott revealed that she was a natural reporter. The camera that Kim had given her came out from her purse along with her miniature recorder.

Three police officers had entered the restaurant and were about to pick up the two weapons lying on the floor.

"Don't touch them!" Kim exclaimed with her gun still in her hand. "Leave them right where they are until the crime lab people get here."

She was as busy as a one-armed paperhanger because at that moment she saw an ambulance outside about to load the surviving holdup man into the back. Dashing out she shouted, "What are you doing?"

"We're getting this poor man to the hospital to be examined," the police sergeant in charge explained. "These women may have seriously injured him."

"He stays!" Kim stated flatly showing the officer her federal shield and ID.

At that point an unmarked car with a flasher hung on its roof appeared. It was the closest FBI unit responding to the emergency call from headquarters. While Little Bit and Ann were being hauled into a patrol car to be taken to the station and booked, Little Bit managed to tell the first FBI agent on the scene the address the survivor had given her.

Meanwhile, Trudy's recorder and camera both kept working.

When the FBI started to take the survivor into custody, the local sergeant complained, "You can't take him! He's a protected minority."

"What in hell is that supposed to mean?" the agent replied. "He's part of a gang that shot up this restaurant!" Then the agent's eyes widened as he realized that only then had the ambulance crew, deprived of their intended patient, gone into the McDonald's to take care of the wounded counter girl.

The agent shook his head in disgust. "Did I just see what I thought I saw? You were going to use the only ambulance on the scene to transport an uninjured man to the hospital while a girl lies bleeding from a gunshot wound in there." He shook his head and said, "I don't believe it."

"But she's white," the sergeant protested. "She doesn't count."

-------

Late that afternoon, the courthouse was the scene of near-chaotic events. It started what ultimately became a real three-ring circus. In the interest of closure, I'll just relate the results, although the bricks didn't stop falling for months afterward.

First, the hearing demonstrated the power of money when its full power is unleashed. In this case, the money was my own and my parents, but we were joined by the Cliffords, the Bradleys, and the Taylors. Combined, this totaled to the hundreds of billions of dollars.

The result was that when the court hearing began, the U.S. Attorney for the area was present in person, as was a California Assistant Attorney General. Furthermore, just hours after the event, legislation was already in process in Sacramento to revoke the city's charter and place the city in state receivership.

The charges against Little Bit and Ann were summarily dismissed. In a confidential statement to the court, the U.S. Attorney reported that, due to Little Bit's quick work, the FBI had already raided the location the survivor had named as their headquarters. There they found two more men, but more importantly, the locations of fifteen other Al Qaeda cells in other American cities and towns. While the government is often slow-acting, this was not one of those times. In just a couple of hours, all fifteen sites had been raided.

Because of the very fast work, news of the raids had gotten out to neither the public nor to the other cells. From the fifteen, the FBI obtained addresses for even more, including two more in Greater Los Angeles that were unknown to the group that had first been raided. The final tally was 26 cells across the nation. While no one would say that all the terrorist cells had been eliminated, the Federal agents had certainly put a dent in their numbers.

An interesting sidelight on the initial raid was that none of the survivors — the van driver and the two captured at headquarters — had the foggiest idea why their colleagues were attempting to rob a fast-food place at all. The three turned out to be the three most junior at the site. All claimed that the raid had been planned by the three most senior and the others had just gone along. The only explanation that seemed to fit was that the terrorists were getting bored and were searching for a little excitement.

Trudy Elliott's recordings and pictures also played an important rôle. The judge was shocked when she learned that the ambulance was going to take an uninjured man to the hospital, leaving a wounded girl untreated at the restaurant. Moreover, Trudy had recorded the sergeant in charge's remarks about the Arab being a protected minority, while the wounded white girl "didn't count."

At that point in the proceedings, the judge took an active rôle in the questioning. Both the sergeant and his men testified that they were following the instructions given them by diversity consultants hired by the city. One of the officers, in fact, had a copy of the handout given to the participants at the course on the Civil Rights Act and diversity — all city employees had been required to take it.

When the testimony was complete, the judge just murmured, "My lord! It's true!"

As a result, the city ended up on the hook for massive damages for false arrest of the two girls, and reckless endangerment with respect to the untreated counter girl. This set the stage for a state-appointed receiver to take over the city government and try to work out a way to pay the resulting huge damage awards.

In another hearing, city officials were questioned regarding its very strict gun laws. The testifying official proudly noted that the city's position had been upheld by the U.S. Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals. The presiding judge at the hearing noted acidly that the Ninth Circuit held the all-time track record for reversals by the U.S. Supreme Court. "In fact," he noted, "a short time ago, they had a truly remarkable achievement: The Court was reversed three times in a single day, including two summary reversals."

He pointed out that a summary reversal requires unanimity among the nine Supreme Court justices and was saying, in effect, that the Circuit Court's ruling was totally wrong. Finally, he noted that in the case cited by the city, the Circuit Court's ruling relied extensively on the contents of a history of firearms in America that had won the Bancroft Prize for History. However, he further noted, because of manifest discrepancies in the book, the author had been required to resign his tenured professorship at Emory University, and the Bancroft Prize had been withdrawn by Columbia University.

The final note on the subject came months later. The state-appointed receiver found that the mayor and city council members had been systematically looting the city's treasury for years in amounts totaling millions of dollars. It turned out that the people had been politically very astute. They figured — correctly, as it turned out — that if they took the lead in every Politically Correct position that came along, the media would never bother to look closely at the way the city was being run. And their estimate proved to be precisely correct, explaining the city's gun laws, its diversity training, and so forth. All of the senior members of the city's government ended up in jail serving long terms for theft in various forms.



-------

Chapter 35



With the girls finally back home, things got back to normal. Or as normal as things ever were at the Harris compound. Mother delivered her baby, an adorable little girl that she and Dad named Karen. After nearly thirty years, I finally had a sibling, and she was utterly adorable. Of course, my parents were so proud, you would have thought they invented the little things! Tina gave birth to a boy, as did Liz. The younger girls were utterly ecstatic! Now there were four babies for them to goo over and take care of. It was funny, I guess. You hear that a woman's work is never done, particularly if there are infants around. But not at our compound! It seemed to work the way it did for Jean Dawson: One of the younger girls would fetch the baby, change it, bathe it, and then bring it to its mother — or any convenient milk-laden tit if the mother was otherwise occupied — wait while it was fed and then burp it and return it to its bassinet. The mother's rôle? Very tough. She — or her stand-in — had to bare a nipple all by herself, although the young girls helped with that occasionally, too.

In the meantime, the situation with Diane and Steve remained unchanged, to the continuing amusement of the rest of us. Steve continued to phone Diane for dates, they continued to chat on the phone at a distance apart of about four feet, and they continued to sleep together. We did learn, though, that Steve had become increasingly creative with ways to get Diane as horny as a mink. For her part, she tried desperately to try to keep him from doing it. That was a competition that Diane regularly lost, though.

Then, in late March, Mother took Diane aside. There was a whispered conversation that resulted in Diane taking a couple of personal days off from school. As it happened, Steve took off the same days. Diane knew he was doing it, but he didn't know she was doing it, too.

-------

Oops! Forgot something: Trudy Elliott's Mrs. magazine. Before going forward with this tale, let me fill you in on that enterprise. First of all, Little Bit was correct when she said funding would not be a problem. She was correct in the sense that there was plenty of money. She was also correct, though, in claiming that controlling who could invest how much would be a problem. It was, and remains one. The funding offers from the extended families alone were a very large multiple of the magazine's need for capital.

Then there was the organization and its initial operation. Because of her interest in it and her help in getting it started, Little Bit was named the publisher and Trudy, the editor in chief. Normally, the publisher, representing the business side, and the editor, representing the creative side, are constantly at war. Mrs. was no different. But the positions were the reverse of the usual condition.

Normally, the editor has all sorts of grandiose schemes for the publication, while the publisher strives to restrain the schemes in the interest of the bottom line. At Mrs.? Naah. There, representing the wishes of the owners, Little Bit was constantly pushing for ever-more-elaborate layouts and exquisitely expensive story ideas. Trudy, on the other hand, insisted that they had to walk before they tried to run and insisted on keeping projects manageable. The funniest things of all, though, were the meetings between the business and editorial sides. Without exception, they ended with everyone howling with laughter at the rôle reversals, and Trudy and Little Bit ended up hugging and kissing each other.

There were other changes. First of all, Trudy lost no time in hauling Bill Jones to the altar. Immediately thereafter, she became Trudy E. Jones, Editor in Chief, and wherever possible she referred to herself as Mrs. William T. Jones. Moreover, by the time of their wedding, Trudy was a stunning beauty, as were her key staff members brought over from her former employer.

For the staff, the ground rules changed dramatically: From having to be heavy and mannish, they were encouraged to be slender and girlish. Furthermore, it seemed that all of the other girls had men on the side that they had kept hidden even from each other. In a very short time, they were all married, too, and, like Trudy, were pregnant. Beyond that, though — and using the services of New York's top public-relations firm — the girls were featured in the gossip columns, the about-town columns, and even the society pages. Suddenly, being married and pregnant was in!

This was reinforced by the appearance of the first issue. Kimberly Kramer took up virtually the entire issue. Beyond that, though, the whole publication was elegant and was perceived that way. Trudy and Little Bit were guests on countless TV shows and they just reinforced the image. And you know what? In spite of spending money like it was water, the publication was in the black with the very first issue! Beyond that, though, Trudy's very lovely — and very pregnant — advertising director was reduced to rationing advertising among prestigious advertisers waiting in line to buy space.

Just to quiet the questions, Little Bit had to state publically that she was engaged to be married in June. (She figured if she and Tony were married for a month before their baby was born it would be good enough.)

And that's what happened to Mrs.

-------

But back to Diane. I have to say, she did it beautifully. When Steve told her he would be away for a couple of days, she was properly — but not excessively — curious. She allowed him to talk his way around it without actually telling her why he was going away. Furthermore, she carefully scheduled her own trip so that she would leave after he did, but return before him. Finally, she acquired the best electronic camera available, insisting that it had to have a very powerful zoom telephoto lens. She wanted no electronic zooming if it could be avoided.

The purpose of the trip was interesting. Mother had learned — how she learned, I never did find out — that Steve was scheduled to appear at Fort Meade to receive the Medal of Honor for action in the Balkans. The specific citation was also classified for reasons I never found out, either. But that's what it was all about, and that's where Diane was going.

Although little publicity was given to the award ceremony, it was open to the public, and Diane was a "public". She attended. The ceremony was very impressive, and she had positioned herself perfectly. The camera worked to perfection with the result that she came away with a perfect picture of Steve with the Medal of Honor around his neck, saluting the President immediately following the medal's presentation.

That one photo — actually there were lots of them — was the sole purpose for her trip. On her return in advance of Steve, she showed us the pictures and we all agreed on the best one. At that point, Diane took the photo and rewrote the Department of Defense press release announcing the award, adding that Steve was a history teacher at the local high school. Then she took her selected picture along with the press release to the office of the local weekly newspaper.

The editor looked at the picture and then read the release. She was impressed. The result was that the photo and the story dominated the paper's front page in its next issue.

And then the shit hit the fan.

When Steve first saw it, he was astonished. "How did the paper ever get this?" he asked no one in particular. "DOD promised that they would restrict circulation of the press release, and particularly try to keep it out of any paper circulating around here." It never occurred to him that Diane might have been responsible.

The next thing that happened was that Mother received an irate phone call from Abigail Wilcox. Now who, you may wonder, is Abigail Wilcox? I'll make a comment before answering directly. There seems to be an interesting fact regarding suburban women, particularly in the New York Metropolitan area: As a group, they are politically at least 45 degrees to the left of their husbands. They are all for the poor and the downtrodden — people with whom they never, ever, have any personal contact. As a result, they're fully capable of dealing with such people in a highly stylized, sanitized version of the reality. Moreover, they happily drive their gas-guzzling SUVs to meetings of local environmental groups to protest what hydrocarbon emissions are doing to the atmosphere. Oh, well...

Abigail Wilcox was also president of the local chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution. Mother thought this was rather hysterical because, first, Abigail was not her original name — she had had a name change — and her family had arrived in the States after World War II as Displaced Persons from eastern Europe. Her membership in the DAR was by virtue of her husband's family, not her own. Mother didn't think this was quite kosher, but what the hell. And while Charles Wilcox was a very quiet New York banker, Abigail was a member and leader of most of the very loud, left-leaning groups in town.

But back to Abigail's phone call to Mom: She was calling to demand that Steve Chamberlain resign his position in the school forthwith or be fired by the Board. When Mother, as Board President, demurred, Mrs. Wilcox threatened to raise forty kinds of hell at the next Board meeting, scheduled for the following Monday night at 7:00. Mother just told her that that was her privilege and ended the call.

To say that word of the Wilcox phone call upset Kristin is to understate the reality by orders of magnitude. Smoke was coming from both her ears. She was furious! And with her doctorate in American history, she was historically incensed, as well. She did two things: First, she assured Steve of her unqualified support as did the rest of us. But second, she had Diane put the word out to the cheerleaders and through them to the rest of the school that Steve Chamberlain was under personal attack, and the more students who could attend Monday night's meeting, the better.

On Monday night, Mother opened the meeting. After accepting the minutes of the previous meeting, she asked if there were any citizen communications. At that point, Abigail Wilcox rose to her feet — she was in the midst of a group of her leftist supporters — and demanded Steve's resignation.

"On what grounds?" Mom asked mildly.

"On these grounds!" Wilcox nearly shouted. "He's a man of violence! He's killed people! We cannot allow our children to be exposed to such people. Why ... why ... he's as bad as a child molester!"

At that point, Kris rose to speak. First, she introduced herself as having a doctorate in American history. Then to Wilcox she said, "Do I understand what you're saying correctly? You are saying that one of our Nation's greatest heroes, Steven Chamberlain, is unfit to teach. Is that correct?"

"He's a murderer!" Wilcox replied.

"He is an heroic member of the United States Armed Forces," Kris retorted.

"He's a militarist!"

"Oh! I see," Kris said thoughtfully. "And I suppose you oppose any military action in Iraq?"

"Of course! We have no business there. We're not involved!"

"Gee ... Let's see ... You're president of the local chapter of the DAR. What was the French interest in our Revolutionary War? Should they have been involved."

"They were hardly involved at all!" Wilcox declared.

"Oh..." Kris said thoughtfully. Then she glared at Wilcox and asked, "Have you ever heard of the Battle of Yorktown?"

"I beg your pardon!" Abigail responded haughtily. "Of course I have!"

"Golly," Kris replied with her eyes wide, "you just finished saying that the French were hardly involved at all. Are you sure?"

Suddenly, Abigail Wilcox started to look a bit scared. Clearly, she was in over her head trying to debate anything with Kris, least of all American history. She didn't reply.

"You see, Mrs. Wilcox, it is said that the American Revolution was fought on land but decided at sea. And it was! Perhaps it was Divine Providence, but you must remember that from the time of the defeat of the Spanish Armada in 1588 until at least the end of World War I, the Royal Navy was the world's preeminent naval power." She smiled and then continued, "Except for a tiny window of time that included 1781, the year the Battle of Yorktown was fought. For a very few years there, the French were more powerful at sea.

"The Battle of Yorktown was not decided on land. It was decided off the Chesapeake Capes when a British fleet under Admirals Graves and Hood encountered a French fleet commanded by Admirals de Grasse and d'Estaing. In a tactical sense, it was indecisive — losses were about equal on both sides — but in a strategic sense it cost Great Britain the war. You see, the British fleet carried supplies and reinforcements for Cornwallis. Moreover, they had been instructed to evacuate Cornwallis's forces if their situation at Yorktown had become untenable. It had.

"But because the French managed to drive the British away, Cornwallis was neither reinforced nor evacuated. He was forced to surrender.

"We won the war, thanks to the French. Now I ask you again: Were the French immediately involved with our quarrel with the English?"

Again Wilcox stood mute.

"Mrs Wilcox, you are an utter disgrace!" Kris declared disdainfully.

"It was the soldier, not the reporter, who gave us freedom of the press. It was the soldier, not the minister, who gave us freedom of religion. It was the soldier, not the politician, who gave us freedom of speech!" Then with tears beginning to run down her cheeks she continued, "It was the soldier who fought under the flag and whose coffin is draped with the flag, who give people like you the right to burn the flag! Mrs. Wilcox, we are a nation of citizen soldiers. All I can say is, thank God they're there!"

The Board meeting was being held in the school's new auditorium. It was shaped like a large wedge of pie with the sides angled in toward the stage and with the rear wall semicircular. Beyond the first few rows, the seats rose steeply. I had been sitting with Dad and the younger girls in the front section, but at that point I turned and looked back. What I saw was the auditorium was nearly filled with people, all standing silently in support of Kris's statements.

Abigail Wilcox was also seated in the front. Kris said to her, "Mrs. Wilcox, I suggest you turn around and look behind you. It seems there are some people here tonight who disagree with your position regarding Mr. Chamberlain."

Wilcox did turn around, and she gasped. At the same time, one of the spectators began quietly to applaud. In an instant, it was picked up by the rest of the people. There was no cheering, just quiet and sustained applause.

When the applause died down, Mother looked at Donald Grimes, the principal. "Mr. Grimes, as the principal of this high school, would you care to comment on Mr. Chamberlain's teaching?"

"Thank you, Mrs. Harris," Grimes replied. "As a matter of fact, I would..."

Before he could say more, though, Wilcox was on her feet again, this time demanding that Steve be fired for lack of qualifications. "He's not licensed!" she exclaimed. "He only has a temporary certificate. And he's barely educated to boot!"

By the time she had finished her short diatribe, Grimes was grinning. Wilcox had unknowingly put her foot in it. "That's a very interesting comment, Mrs. Wilcox," Grimes began. "It fits right in with what I was about to say. You contend that Steven Chamberlain is barely educated."

He paused and looked up at the ceiling. "How interesting," he continued. "Although I must tell you that there are people who consider an individual with a doctorate from Oxford University in England to be more than barely educated." Again he paused for effect and then added, "As it happens, I received a most cordial letter just this week from Professor Paul Johnson of Oxford. Professor Johnson may be the foremost historian active in the world today. He claims that Steve Chamberlain is the finest student he has ever had."

It was all I could do to control my laughter. Looking at Diane, there was an expression of stunned amazement on her face. It was really funny.

Grimes continued, "You know, it's fortuitous that we're meeting tonight in this auditorium. You see, it fits in perfectly with some thoughts we've had." Now his voice changed timbre; it became very forceful. "Steven Chamberlain and Diane Smith are the two finest teachers we have. What we've been trying to do — 'we', by the way, is our Dean of Students, Monica Cumberland, and myself — is to figure out a way to increase our utilization of the incredible resource we have in these two.

"What we came up with is something we intend to inaugurate next year: We're going to use this auditorium as a lecture hall..." Instantly there were groans from many of the students present, but Grimes continued, " ... for two periods per week in the subject. In the remaining two periods, there will be small-class discussions on the subject matter of the lectures. In this way, we can more fully capitalize on the unique talents of these people ... And others." He grinned and added, "Isn't it fortunate that we had these auditorium seats equipped with fold-away writing arms?"

Turning to Kris he said, "Mrs. Harris, it is my understanding that you not only have your doctorate in history, but you will receive another this June in political science. Is that correct?"

Kris blushed, but nodded, while I freaked out. Can you believe it? Here's my very own wife about to earn another doctorate, and I hear about it for the first time at a dumb school board meeting! Good grief!

"But is she licensed to teach?" Wilcox demanded. I have to give that woman credit for perseverance if not for brains.

"No, she's not," Grimes replied in a far more polite tone than I could have managed, "but Mrs. Harris has lectured extensively on both history and political science at Columbia and other major colleges and universities in the area."

My God! Kris has been doing what?

"I should add," Grimes continued, "that Mrs. Harris — Doctor Harris — is paid for those appearances." Again looking at Kris he added, "My understanding is that your usual fee for such a lecture starts at $10,000 plus expenses, and goes up from there. Is that correct?"

This time Kris not only blushed when she nodded, but she looked genuinely embarrassed. Turning to me, she looked adorable, like the little girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar. While still looking at me, she raised her right hand and drew a circle in the air over her head — a little halo. I had to laugh at that one, and my laughter joined my mother's giggles. She thought the whole thing was funny as hell. From my position, that was just what I needed: more money! Yuck!

"Dr. Harris," Grimes continued, "what would your fee be to teach our students?"

"Nothing at all, Mr. Grimes," Kris replied, "I would be happy to do it. The fact is, I like teaching young people."

"That's settled then," Grimes continued. Then turning to me he said, "Mr. Harris, along with your MBA and your JD, it has come to my attention that you're receiving your Ph.D. in Economics from Columbia this year. Is that true?"

I was stunned. No one knew that ... I thought. Then I realized that my mother's intelligence sources put the CIA to shame. It had to be her ... and it was.

I confessed that it was true.

"Great!" Grimes continued. "Now let's see ... We have four people with five earned doctoral degrees among them." Turning to Abigail Wilcox he said, feigning sadness, "Although only one of the four is a licensed teacher, all of them can and have taught teachers in the subject matter the teacher is supposed to teach. Now who do you suppose better knows the subject? The teacher or the pupil?"

Wilcox was silent.

"Well, we're all set, I guess."

And so it went.



-------

Chapter 36



The day after the Monday school board meeting, Steve was greeted by everyone in school, most particularly including the students, as the hero he truly was. He claimed to be embarrassed, and threatened all kinds of mayhem if he ever found out how the paper had ever received the story of his award and the picture. Whenever he did it, which, fortunately, came with diminishing frequency, Diane would just carefully straighten the halo over her head. A picture of greater innocence you will never see.

On the other hand, the relationship between Diane and Steve was the strangest I had ever seen. At school, toward Steve she was disdainful — although not nearly as much as before learning of his Oxford doctorate. In the evenings, they dated, going out to dinner, the movies ... almost anything. And every night they would make passionate love!

When I mentioned this to Kris, all she said was, "Darling, you just wouldn't understand. It's a girl thing."

Then, seeing my blood pressure rising, she would dip a finger into her pussy and suck it, then say, "I'm very sweet today, honey. Wouldn't you like a taste?"

And then I go back to being a quivering blob of jelly.

Whoops! My chronology just got out of whack! Now I have to go back to Christmas vacation.

It was the day after Christmas and we were recovering from the celebration of the day before. It was in our kitchen, and Little Bit and Ann, our two pregnant sisters, were laboring over their college application. Kris had just finished cleaning up after our breakfast when she realized what the girls were doing. "What are you doing that for?" she asked.

"To try to get into Hillsdale College!" Little Bit replied acerbically. It's fair to say that neither she nor Ann found the application at all amusing.

"Gee," Kris commented blandly, "there's a much easier way."

Both girls had Hillsdale catalogs on the table with them. Kris picked one up, flipped through it, and found the telephone number of the main switchboard. Moving the phone into position, she punched in a number. When the phone was answered, she said, "President Arnn, please."

Obviously, the call was picked up by the president's secretary. Kris identified herself and said, "I'm calling about a large gift to the school, and would like to speak to Dr. Arnn personally."

She waited on the phone for a few moments, and then we could hear a man pick up. It was the first occasion for me to use my new ability to hear both sides of a phone conversation, and it was an ability that both Little Bit and Ann had, too. "This is Larry Arnn," he said.

"Good morning, Dr. Arnn!" Kris said in her most enthusiastic tone of voice. "I'm so happy I was able to reach you. And it gives me an opportunity to beat a very good friend to the punch."

"My secretary tells me you wanted to speak to me about a large gift... ?"

"That's correct," Kris replied. "It would be an immediate all-cash gift of five-hundred million dollars, and I hope you will accept it."

We all heard choking sounds on the other end of the call. Gee,  I thought, I hope he didn't have a heart attack.

Then in a gasping voice Arnn said, "Did I hear you correctly? Five-hundred million dollars?"

"Yes, that's the amount," Kris confirmed. Then she said casually, "I don't know where the college does its principal banking, so it's on deposit at Morgan in New York. They're sending out all the appropriate material — corporate resolution forms, and all that other good stuff — that they need to activate the account. Is that okay?" Then she snapped her fingers and said, "Would you like me to have a senior officer at the bank call you to confirm?"

"That won't be necessary," the president gasped. Obviously, he's a very smart guy. Then he added, "What do we have to do for this money?"

"Nothing, really," Kris assured him. "It's already in an account in the College's name. But I do have a favor to ask..."

"Which is... ?"

"I have younger twin sisters who are sweating over Hillsdale applications right now. I'm wondering if we could short-circuit the normal admissions procedure a bit." She paused and then added diffidently, "And there are their two fiancés, too..."

Clearly, Arnn was on the horns of a small dilemma. The gift was a multiple of the school's existing endowment, but having to take four losers to get it... "Could you tell me a bit about your sisters?" he temporized.

"Certainly!" Kris replied enthusiastically. Then she named the girls' high school and said, "The girls are Ann and Elizabeth Harris, although Elizabeth is universally known as Little Bit. They both scored 1600 on the SATs (the highest score possible at that time), and top scores on their advanced placement tests." She passed on the list of courses for which they had taken the tests. "Beyond that," Kris continued, "Ann is president of the student council and Little Bit is president of the senior class. They're co-captains of the cheerleading squad and have varsity letters in soccer, swimming and softball. Oh, yeah ... They're also going to be co-valedictorians at graduation. Do you think you would be interested in their candidacy?"

"Mrs. Harris," Arnn replied, "your sisters are probably the two top college admissions candidates in the United States today! Brains, athletic ability, and demonstrated leadership. And, since they're both engaged, would I be correct in assuming they're physically ... attractive?"

"I can hardly be objective about them," Kris replied, "but I believe them to be two of the most beautiful young women alive." She paused and added, "Incidentally, that opinion is shared by Henry Hall who has a bunch of Oscars for hairstyling, and his wife, Penny Watts Hall, who has a bunch for makeup. (Henry and Penny wasted no time getting married, as you can see.) And it's also shared by the mother of Little Bit's fiancé." She paused and then added, "The mother is Kimberly Kramer, of whom you've probably heard."

"The actress?" Arnn replied in awe.

"Yes. The young man is William Bradley Kramer, III, known to all as Tony. He's the eldest son of Kim and Brad Kramer."

"My God!" Arnn murmured. "His father won the Medal of Honor, as well as three Oscars. And, I happen to know, he also has a Ph.D. in history, and with it, the top-selling non-fiction of the year when his dissertation was commercially published." He paused and then continued, "But tell me a bit about Tony."

"Let me take both young men together. They're best friends — twin brothers, really — having grown up together literally since birth. The other young man, Ann's fiancé, is Paul Christian. His father also has a Medal of Honor. Both boys have 1600s on their SATs, too, and are likely to be first and second in their graduating class. I don't know who will be first, but does that matter a whole lot, Dr. Arnn?" Kris asked innocently.

Arnn just laughed and replied, "Not a bit."

"Beyond that, though," Kris continued, "One is president of his senior class and the other is president of the student council, although, again, I can't remember which is which. They also play football. Tony was team captain and quarterback, while Paul was the H-back, although in the California Division 1 championship game, both boys also played cornerback on defense. They won that game and Tony was voted the game's MVP. Any interest?"

There was silence on the line for a few moments and then Arnn spoke. "What you're telling me is that, in return for accepting a gift of half a billion dollars, the college is being required to accept for admission the four finest young people in this year's high-school graduating class. Is that about it?"

"Sir, I also have a doctorate in history and am getting another in June in political science. Notwithstanding, I'm in no position to claim these four as the very best in the nation, but I can assure you that they're very good. I'm confident they won't disgrace their families or the college."

"Wow!" Arnn breathed softly. "Is there anything else?"

"As a matter of fact, there are a couple of more things," Kris added. "First," she said gleefully, "I'm about to steal Ali Clifford's thunder. You see, sir, I just beat her to it, and I suspect by no more than a few hours. You are about to receive another 500 million from the William Harrison Clifford Foundation. It, too, will be unrestricted money, and will be added to your brand-new Morgan account." Kris paused for a moment and added, "I really don't think you'll want to dawdle too much over the forms, though. You might have a use for some of that money."

"You mean to say that the college is receiving two gifts today totaling ... one... billion...  dollars... !"

"You can use it, can't you?" Kris asked. "I mean ... for scholarships, and all... ?"

"That, my dear lady, is the understatement of the century!" Then he added, "But you said 'a couple of more things.' They are... ?"

"Housing for the kids," Kris replied briskly. "You see, they're getting married in June, and the families want them to have a nice place to live. So, if the college could make an appropriate piece of land available, we will build married students' housing on it. Could you do that? Of course," Kris added, "we're paying for the structure, furnishings, and so forth."

"We own a large piece of land directly across the street from the college's main building," Arnn replied. "You can have it."

"Neat!" Kris exclaimed. "How soon could it be available?" she asked. "You see, PHA Construction will be doing the work. They could have a very large crew on site tomorrow morning to start excavating."

"You can have it this afternoon."

"Great! The crew will start work tomorrow!" Kris exclaimed. Then she added, "This brings me to the final element: As you may know, PHA is concentrated on both coasts; they've done little work in Middle America. And since they're going to have a very large crew out there, and the foundation work doesn't employ that many men, are there any other things they could do while they're waiting? Like renovating dormitories and classrooms, building labs, adding to the library ... Things like that?"

"You're not kidding, are you?" Arnn asked softly. "You're prepared to do all that?"

"Actually, what I guess we would really like would be a Harris something-or-other, and a Kramer something-or-other. (Ali Clifford wanted the Kramer name commemorated as a token of her thanks for all the money the Kramers had made for Alliance Studios and thus for her.) I guess both families just love the idea of having the family names immortalized by being on big buildings on a top campus such as yours."

"So, aside from everything else, you're offering to build two new buildings — of our choice — on campus?"

"That's correct."

"The answer to that question isn't 'yes', it's hell yes!"

"There's only one more thing..." Kris added.

"Which is... ?"

"Do you think your admissions office could live without having the guys and gals filling out all their damned forms? You'll have their transcripts, of course, but do you think... ?"

"Mrs. Harris!" Arnn exclaimed. "What are you trying to do? In return for accepting a billion dollars, two new buildings, renovation of most of the others, and the admission of the four most highly qualified students in the nation, you're asking us to ... live ... without our forms?" He paused and then said, "Well, the trauma in our admissions office is on your head, but we'll make an exception. The kids don't have to fill out the forms."

After an additional exchange of pleasantries and a discussion of which new buildings might carry the Harris and Kramer names, Arnn even offered to add the Harrises, the Kramers and the Christians to the subscription list of Imprimus, the college's publication sent free to over one million subscribers. "And just think!" Arnn gleefully exclaimed. "You get it at no additional charge! Now aren't we just the neatest people around? And isn't our gratitude overwhelming?"

With a warm giggle, Kris acknowledged that it was.

Finally hanging up the phone, Kris turned to the girls and said, "See? That wasn't very hard at all. Now what do you say to me for liberating you from those forms?"

"Thank you, dear sister!" Little Bit said with her eyes dancing. "And it was so easy, too. It only cost a billion dollars, three new buildings, massive renovation of everything else ... Yep. You're right, Kris. That was a cinch. Anybody could have done it."

The final word on that subject came some weeks later. We received a special issue of Imprimus devoted entirely to the gifts and the new students. The feature story was on a special all-college convocation called by President Arnn on the afternoon of the students' first day back to school after the Christmas holidays. At the gathering, he ecstatically announced the gift to the school of a billion dollars. He told of the new buildings, while apologizing for the inevitable disruptions the people would experience for the rest of the school year as the massive construction and renovation that had already started, went on. Finally, he described the new students they were matriculating in September.

"Just think!" he exclaimed. "We're getting possibly the very top quarterback graduating from high school this year, along with one of the fastest, most powerful running backs. (He had also checked with California sportswriters.) Who knows? We might even become a football power in the GLIAC! (Great Lakes Independent Athletic Conference). We won't be the doormats any more. And with two of the most beautiful cheerleaders in the country, to boot."

The paper also included photos of the four young people, and they really looked good.

-------

It was late in March when Diane came dancing into my parents' house. "I won!" she screamed. "It was just so neat!"

Kris and I were in the kitchen with Mom and Dad when she appeared. "What did you win?" Kris asked.

"Come out to the family room," Diane gleefully announced, "and I'll have my new slave tell you all about it." Steve Chamberlain had come slinking into the room behind her and from the look on his face it was easy to see who the slave was.

She sank down on the sectional in front of the TV and said, "While you're telling the family what happened, you may massage my feet." So saying, she stretched out her long legs in front of her.

Steve went to his knees but that wasn't nearly good enough for Diane. "Slave!" she declared peremptorily, "are you properly dressed to wait on your mistress?"

"No, ma'am," Steve replied, blushing. After again rising to his feet, he stripped off his clothes.

When he was bare, Diane declared, "Isn't he cute?"

"Cute" was not a word I would normally apply to Steve Chamberlain. He was my size and heavily muscled. In fact, he would easily meet any woman's criteria for being a hunk.

As he started to drop to his knees, again Diane interrupted the process. "Get an easel pad, slave," she ordered. "You're going to need it to show my family what happened today."

Steve padded out of the room and returned a few moments later with an easel pad and stand he had taken from Dad's home office. After setting it up in front of the TV, he again dropped to his knees. This time, he actually began to massage Diane's feet, beginning with her left foot.

"Now tell the people what happened in class today, slave. Tell them how wrong you were about the Battle of Gettysburg." She giggled and added, "Tch, tch. And a Ph.D. from Oxford in American History, specializing in the Civil War period, too..."

Having her own doctorate in American History, this comment really got Kris's attention. "I'm all ears," she declared. "So tell us."

Diane was sitting on the sectional with her long legs stretched out in front of her. Still dressed for school, she was wearing a gray skirt, a man-tailored blue-striped shirt, and a black string tie. The blazer she had been wearing was lying over an armchair. The first thing Steve had done was to remove her thigh-high stockings, leaving her tanned legs bare. Since she was not wearing a full skirt, Diane had to pull up her skirt which exposed the thong she was wearing.

Steve had massaged her left foot and then her calf. When he moved up to her thigh, she allowed him to go above her knee, but then called a halt, although it was easy to see that her thong was already soaked with her fluids. He moved to her right foot.

"Now, slave," Diane ordered, "go to the easel and lay out the Union and Confederate battle lines at Gettysburg. And be sure to show a compass rose."

Looking like a man going to his own execution, Steve did what he was told. Using a blue marker, he sketched in the Union lines, anchored on the east at Little Round Top and running approximately northwest from there.

Actually, he did a fine job of sketching. He even added light topographical lines, indicating that the Union forces occupied the high ground. We could clearly see the wheatfield over which Pickett's infantry later charged. Then using a gray marker (I didn't know they even made them in that color), he showed the Confederate lines, also running southeast-northwest, to the south of the Union positions.

"Now, slave," Diane exclaimed triumphantly, "indicate the direction to Washington, DC."

"Mistress," Steve began, even more embarrassed than before, "Washington, D.C., lies almost due south of Gettysburg, about 80 miles." He made a mark and an arrow on his chart showing the capital.

"Now, Doctor Chamberlain, what were the standing orders given to the general commanding the Union Army of the Potomac?" Diane asked, scarcely able to control her glee.

"The first order was that, regardless of any other conditions, the Army of the Potomac was to be positioned between Lee's Army of Northern Virginia and the capital," Steve replied sadly.

"Well, slave, was Meade's Army of the Potomac between Lee and Washington?" Diane asked pointedly.

"No, mistress."

"In fact, wasn't Lee between Meade and Washington?"

"Pretty much," Steve reluctantly agreed.

"That's enough with the map," Diane said. "You may now work on my right foot and leg." Again the naked Steve Chamberlain dropped to his knees and started his massage.

While he was working on her, Diane asked, "And what should Lee have done? What did he forget?"

"He forgot what he was there for," Steve admitted. Very reluctantly he added, "Lee probably should have broken off, turned south through Taneytown and Frederick toward Washington."

"What would that have achieved?" Diane asked.

"Warfare in the mid-19th century favored the defense somewhat, due to the importance of artillery. So instead of Pickett charging uphill into emplaced artillery, it would have been Meade's forces chasing Lee and attacking into Lee's guns at a place of Lee's choosing. It would have been very difficult, if not impossible, for Meade to have maneuvered to again be between Lee and the capital. Moreover, if a battle had been fought, it would have been on ground of Lee's choosing, rather than Meade's."

"What was defending the capital, with Meade out of position?" Diane innocently inquired.

"The Union Army of the Capitol," Chamberlain replied, "such as it was. In spite of having a number of forts surrounding the city and a large body of troops, the Army of the Capitol was manned almost entirely with troops who had sufficient political connections to stay out of combat."

"Had they ever fought?" Diane asked.

Steve just shook his head in the negative.

"You're a fighting man, Steven Chamberlain," Diane said softly. "What is your prognosis of the result if the Union forces based in DC were to have taken on Lee's veterans?"

Steve just sadly shook his head. "Their chances would not have been good, even with their forts."

"In other words," Diane continued, "the Battle of Gettysburg should never have been fought. Lee allowed himself to forget what he was there for, in the same way that Meade forgot his most basic orders. Meade's troops took and held the high ground, which is tactically sound, but in doing so, he took his forces out of position. Right?"

"I'm afraid so, Mistress," Steve conceded.

Rising from her seat, Diane said softly, "Come, slave. It's time for you to take your massage higher, but I think a modicum of privacy is called for."

With that they left the room. Shortly after, we could hear Diane's cries of passion all over the damned house!



-------

Chapter 37



With spring break coming up, the calendars meshed perfectly. It turned out that both the California boys and the New York girls' high schools had their breaks at the same time, while Hillsdale College was still in session. As a result, the kids decided that a trip out to Hillsdale was in order. Executive Aviation came through for us again (surprise, surprise).

The two EA aircraft arrived at the Hillsdale Municipal Airport within minutes of each other, causing mild consternation. It was a small strip, unused to jets landing, and yet two came in within minutes of each other, coming from opposite coasts.

Their visit to the school was interesting to say the very least. First, the football team was in the midst of its spring practice. Tony and Paul wasted no time in borrowing football shoes and going out to throw the ball around. At the time, the team was practicing plays without wearing equipment other than their cleats and helmets.

After watching Tony and Paul throw the ball around for a while, the Hillsdale quarterback just handed the ball to Tony. "That kid is already ten times the quarterback I'll ever be," he told his coach. Tony seemed to effortlessly throw the ball 65 yards in the air while catching Paul in full stride every time.

As the boys were working out, they noticed a young giant standing on the sidelines with a gorgeous dark-haired girl. Both had PHA hardhats in their hands, but they appeared to be too young to be a part of the construction crew. At that point there was a break in the practice and Tony and Paul went over to the sidelines.

The girl came up to them with her hand outstretched. "You must be Tony Kramer and Paul Christian," the girl said. Then with the warmest smile she added, "I'm Caitie Fitzpatrick, and this is my uncle and fiancé, John Taylor."

"What brings you out here?" Paul asked. "Are you with PHA?"

"Not really," John replied, "although I've been working for them during the summers."

Tony just raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Uh..." Caitie admitted, "John's parents sort of own it."

"Caitlin!" John chided. "They're my parents but they're your grandparents. Don't try to get out from under."

"You look like a football player to me," Tony said. "Why aren't you out there?"

"Uh ... I don't go here," John replied. "Actually, I'm still in high school."

"And he's supposed to start at Notre Dame this fall," Caitie interjected. Her face fell when she said it.

"What's wrong with Notre Dame?" Paul asked. "It's a great school."

"Nothing's wrong with it," Caitie replied woefully, "except it's not in New York City."

Both Paul and Tony looked baffled.

"It's just ... it's just that John and I have been together for a while," Caitie explained.

"'A while'? What does that mean?"

"We've been together just about every day and every night since I was about three years old," Caitie replied.

The two California boys were stunned.

"By the way," Tony asked, "how did you know who we are? We don't go to school here yet, either."

"Oh ... President Arnn described you when we met with him earlier. He said you were out visiting, and since the girls are from New York..." She looked around and asked, "Where are your fiancées, anyway?"

The fact was that when the guys went in to put on football cleats, Little Bit and Ann had drifted off to the corner of the field where they had seen the cheerleaders working out, too. They were being coached by a tall and slender black woman. When she saw the girls she came over to them.

"Hi," she said, "I'm Jane Smith, and I guess I'm the cheerleading coach." She looked over the two and the girls could see a flash of recognition. "Wait a minute!" she exclaimed. "You're the Harris twins, aren't you? You have to be," she concluded with finality.

"Why do we have to be?" Little Bit asked with a little grin.

"Because there couldn't be two other girls as gorgeous as you two in the eastern United States, is why you have to be." Then with a grin she added, "And besides, I've seen the pictures on your applications ... when you finally sent them in." She continued, "Furthermore, it says that you two were co-captains of your cheerleading squad, and your squad was a national award winner in cheering competition." With a grin, she added, "Now get your tight little buns over to the locker room, get some sneakers and come on back for practice." She detached one of the younger cheerleaders to show them the way and to get them fixed up.

They quickly learned that neither Jane Smith nor the other cheerleaders knew very much about cheers or cheering. Without a word being said, the two girls took over the practice, introduced a couple of new cheers, and worked with the other girls both as a group and individually.

About midway through their practice, Jane took three black girls on the squad over to the side. Although the little group was well out of normal ear-shot, since they were easily in sight, the girls could — and did — lock in on the conversation. Except it wasn't a conversation. Rather, the girls were being ripped up one side and down the other by their coach.

"If you gals think that you're going to get any special treatment because you're black and I am, too, you have another think coming! On this squad, you perform or you're off. Understand? You three weren't practicing! You were going through the motions ... at best!" She continued on in that vein, and the girls were suitably chastised.

When they finally headed back to rejoin the squad, one of the black girls saw Little Bit watching. She grimaced and shook her right hand as if it had been burned. When she was closer the girl just rolled her eyes and mouthed the word, "Wow!"

Later in the practice, Ann called a five-minute rest break and the girls just collapsed to the ground. One of the others commented, "Wow! This is really hard work! How come?"

"It's pretty simple, really," Little Bit explained. "It's thought to be a fact — whether it has ever been proven or not, I don't know — that a team performs better if it feels the fans are behind them. We want the Hillsdale Chargers to win! But Ann and I can't make an awful lot of noise by ourselves, so that's why we're cheerleaders. It's our job to whip up fan enthusiasm. Then the fans multiply our noise. But," she added, "we have to really get into it ourselves. If we're just going through the motions — and I'm sure you know what I mean — the fans will, too. And that's no help to the team at all. Okay?"

She paused and then added, "It's also important to understand the game at which you're cheering, too. For example, we don't want to make a lot of noise when our guys are running plays. It can prevent them from hearing the signals. By the same token, we should be making as much noise as we can when the opponents are running plays — particularly key plays — for the same reason: to disrupt their signal-calling."

When she spoke, Little Bit saw Jane Smith's eyes widen. Clearly she had heard something that came as news to her.

At that point, Jane looked at her watch, grimaced, and said, "Well, I have to leave you now. I've got a meeting with a knuckle-dragging Neanderthal in a few minutes."

"What's that mean?" Ann inquired.

"My day job is Associate Chief Librarian," she replied, "and — thanks largely to you girls — the library is undergoing a total renovation and a major expansion. So I have to meet with the construction manager, or some such," she concluded, again making a face.

"Why did you say that?" Little Bit asked. "Why did you refer to the construction superintendent as a 'knuckle-dragging Neanderthal'? Have you met him?"

Jane Smith recoiled as if Little Bit had slapped her across the face.

Her eyes widened, but she said nothing. She just slowly shook her head.

"Ms. Smith—"

"It's 'Miss'," Jane interrupted, "I abhor the title, Ms. Little Bit, I'm a never-married woman, so I'm Miss."

Little Bit and Ann had both come to the realization that Jane Smith was a beautiful woman. She was as tall as they were — five feet nine or more — with a beautifully slender figure. Moreover, clearly she was in great physical condition.

"Miss Smith," Little Bit began again, "as a black woman, you, more than many others, should be alert to the problems of categorizing people by their group membership. Is there something wrong, in your estimation, with a guy working with his hands?"

Jane Smith was truly chagrined. She just shook her head.

"You may have heard, Miss Smith, what John Gardner said in a speech one time: 'A nation that revers philosophy and denigrates plumbing will soon be in the position where neither its philosophy nor its plumbing will hold water.' It's something to think about," Little Bit concluded.

Then she added, "Dr. Martin Luther King said we should judge a man by the content of his character, not by the color of his skin. He was speaking of racial characteristics, of course, but don't you think he would include occupation, as well? Is there anything wrong with being in heavy construction?"

"Little Bit, you're right and I was wrong. I apologize to all of you." Then with a quirky smile she added, "I'm off to see the wizard of construction." Then to Little Bit and Ann she added, "Could you two keep the practice going for about another hour? You're doing all the coaching, anyway."

Meanwhile, Tony and Paul were about to return to the practice field. But, because John had said he was going to be going to Notre Dame, Tony said, "Hey, look ... You sure look like a football player. You are, aren't you?"

"He's one of the best in New York, anyway," Caitie said before John could reply. "Notre Dame offered him a football scholarship, but he didn't take it."

The two California boys softly whistled. Since Notre Dame was a perennial football powerhouse and recruited nationally, if he had been offered a football scholarship he had to be good.

"Why don't you get a pair of cleats and run around with us?" Paul asked. "They have a really neat bunch of guys out here."

Tony told John where to go to get football shoes and he trotted off. A few minutes later he was back wearing shorts and cleats. The team was practicing again, but the regular quarterback was working with them. When John reappeared and warmed up, Tony began throwing him the ball.

The first thing Tony realized was how fast John Taylor really was. His first few passes were well short. John was about to slow down, but Tony told him not to. Now that he had a better idea of his speed, he found the range. For John, it was a remarkable afternoon, too. As he later told the kids, the quarterback on his high-school team had so little arm strength he could only reach the tight end about two times out of three. With Tony throwing, it was different. He could go flat out, but remarkably Tony's passes were right in his hands without his having to adjust his speed at all.

Then the coach asked Tony, Paul and John to go into the backfield. That was fun, too. On the first play, Tony handed off to John going wide to the right. The left defensive end was in position to make the play, but John just gave him a shoulder fake inside and ran by him to the outside. The left cornerback was slow getting over — he thought the end would make the play — and John just put on a burst of speed and ran right by him. When the safety came over, instead of trying to get past him to the outside, John turned in, got very low and put his shoulder right in the safety's gut, sending him flying. Unfortunately, the safety, although fast, only weighed about 175. John, with his nearly 250 pounds, put him on his back. Because neither were wearing pads, John had been careful with the way he hit him.

The practice continued in that vein. When the guys saw the cheerleaders heading for the lockers, Tony thought they were finished, but one of the other Hillsdale Chargers told him that they always let the cheerleaders use the showers first.

Tony didn't understand the comment. Surely we don't use the same shower room,  he thought. But they continued their practice.

As the girls arrived in their locker room, one of the other girls told Little Bit, "I have to warn you about something: We have to take navy showers."

"Navy showers?" Little Bit asked. "What's a navy shower?"

The girl grinned and replied, "You get wet, shut off the water, soap up, turn the water back on, rinse off ... and get the hell out!"

When Little Bit still looked puzzled the girl explained, "It's the dumb hot-water heater. It's only got a 30-gallon tank or something like that. As it is, it's a rush to be the first in the shower room. If you're the last," the girl said with a grin, "you had better not mind a cold shower." Then she rolled her eyes and added, "And since it's still March, these days it would be a very cold shower!"

Little Bit and Ann did as they had been told. After dressing, they went out, met Caitie Fitzpatrick, and waited for the guys to join them. By that time, the men were back in their locker room, too.

The guys finally came out, and the six made their way back to the administration building and Dr. Arnn's office. There they met a blue-eyed blonde who appeared to be about 21 years old. The two girls were utterly stunned when she was introduced as Andy Taylor, John's mother ... and Caitie's grandmother!

After introductions had been made, John said, "Mom, I have an emergency project for the plumbing crew. With any luck, they can handle it tonight." Then he explained the problem with the very small hot-water heater.

President Arnn looked mildly embarrassed and just shook his head.

"Under the circumstances," Andy Taylor said, "this looks like an appropriate time..." With that she reached into her purse, pulled out a check and passed it to the college president.

Arnn looked at it and his eyes bugged. The check, from the Taylor Foundation, was in the amount of half a billion dollars. "My God!" he breathed. He paused to collect his wits and then added, "What's this for?"

With a little grin Andy said, "Well, you can think of it as a thank-you from PHA. After all, the work here at Hillsdale is the first important work the company has done in the Midwest. So, President Arnn, the check is an indication of the degree to which we appreciate your business."

Arnn just slowly shook his head.

As they were getting ready to leave, Caitie surprised everyone by asking if she could speak to the president alone for a few minutes. They all agreed, but were puzzled, with the Taylors — mother and son — being the most surprised. They went out to wait in the reception room.

Forty minutes later Caitie appeared and she looked quite happy, although she didn't tell anyone at the time what had transpired. By that time it was after six o'clock and John asked his mother if they could stay over.

"Well," his mother replied, "your baby brother, Jimmy, has just had his dinner, so that's the only thing on my agenda." While they had been waiting for Caitie, Little Bit and Ann had both been playing with the infant — less than three months old — after Andy had nursed him.

The closest hotel was a Days Inn where my sisters and their fiancés were already staying. In fact, both girls were quite embarrassed because they had the best suite in the place. Fortunately, there was another suite with two bedrooms, which Andy booked. She told the room clerk that they had an infant, along with her son and granddaughter. Undoubtedly, the clerk thought the two women would share a king-size bed while the son would have a bedroom to himself. Surprise, surprise! That wasn't what either the Taylors or Caitie Fitzpatrick had in mind at all. She and John had one bedroom while Andy and the baby shared the other.

After checking in, Andy found it was quite easy to arrange for a babysitter for Jimmy while they went out to eat. Before leaving the room, though, she made a couple of phone calls.

The group had a good dinner at an Italian restaurant. Just when their entrées appeared, Ann noticed Jane Smith entering the restaurant on the arm of a very big and very tall black man. "Wow!" she murmured, "I wonder who he is?"

Caitie, John and Andy were sitting with their backs toward the new couple. Caitie turned, grinned and murmured, "Well I'll be damned! That's Sam Johnson. He's the construction manager on all the Hillsdale work." With that she turned back to her dinner.

But Little Bit and Ann locked on their hearing. What they heard caused them to exchange knowing looks. To their amazement, Jane was teasing Sam about the great British lexicographer, Samuel Johnson, the man who defined a lexicographer as "a harmless drudge." Johnson defended his namesake, insisting that Boswell didn't get it right in his Life of Samuel Johnson.

The two then talked about other British authors, and then the conversation became more personal. Much! "What would your wife think of your taking another woman out to dinner?" Jane asked.

Sam just sadly shook his head.

"What's that mean?" the woman asked.

"It means she wouldn't think anything," the man replied. "She died over five years ago."

Jane recoiled from her gaffe. "I'm so sorry!" she murmured.

Then, to her surprise, Sam smiled and said, "I take back what I just said. She's probably smiling ... and joyous."

Jane looked at him with her incredulity showing.

"Her dying wish for me was not to mope, but to get out and find some beautiful, highly-educated black woman and marry her." Looking at Jane he added with a blush, "Someone exactly like you." Then he added, "But what about you? What would your husband think? And I, at least, have an excuse: I'm based in New York, but you're a native of this place."

"No husband and I'm not a native. Not nearly!" Jane responded with no further elaboration. Then she asked, "Tell me about your wife."

"Judy wasn't like you at all," he said slowly. "You're tall; she was short. You're highly educated; she barely finished high school." Then he shook his head sadly and added, "But she was a marvelous wife and mother."

"Mother?" Jane asked. "You have children?"

Sam nodded his head. "I sure do. A son, Tim."

"Where is he now? With you out here?" she asked.

"He's over in South Bend at Notre Dame," Sam replied. "He'll be starting there in the fall."

"That's marvelous!" Jane enthused. "It's a really fine school. But why Notre Dame?"

"Because it's where John Taylor will be going."

Jane looked puzzled. "I don't understand. What does that have to do with anything?"

"I guess I owe you an explanation. You see, the Taylors control PHA Construction and manage its eastern operations. On her deathbed, my wife, Judy, made Tim promise that he would take care of John Taylor ... at any cost. She made him swear that he would."

"But why?"

"Maybe the best illustration of 'why' is what happened over the last three months of Judy's life and the two months following. It was obvious she was dying, so I stayed home with her. I didn't work at all. But do you know what Andy Taylor did? I got my full salary for the entire time. But that wasn't all. As a construction manager, I have a lot of overtime hours. Well, not only did Andy pay me, but I was paid for the average overtime hours I had logged for the preceding six months. And that continued for the whole five months I was out."

He paused and then continued, "But was that all? For Andy Taylor? Hell, no! When Judy finally died, I guess I was sort of a basket case. She and her family made all the arrangements for the funeral, a burial plot ... even a granite headstone. I ... I think Judy probably liked that."

"Tell me more about your son, Tim," Jane said softly.

With a very small grin Sam replied, "He's universally known as Tiny Tim. Guess where that came from? Anyway, Tim is six feet five and weighs about 275. He plays left guard in front of John Taylor. He's one of five guys."

"Huh?"

"There are five of them," the man explained. "They're all sons of PHA workers, and they form the offensive line ... and most of the defense, too, for that matter — mostly they play both ways. There are two blacks, two whites and an Indian."

"You mean Native American, don't you?" Jane corrected.

"No. I mean Indian. And you damned well better never let John Running Deer or his girlfriend, Donna Morning Star, ever hear you say Native American. They will quickly point out that you and I are every bit as native-American as they are. Their people were here before ours, but they point out that in the lore of virtually all the tribes, but particularly among the western ones, there are stories of The People Who Came Before. Whoever or whatever they might have been, they were wiped out — apparently — by the Indians after they came across the Bering Strait from Asia.

"John is funny. He plays next to Tim as left tackle on offense and left outside linebacker on defense. He's not quite as big as Tim — maybe an inch or so shorter and maybe 10 or 15 pounds lighter — but he is extremely fast and very quick. His dad runs PHA's ironworkers. They're the high-steel men, and they're all Mohawk Indians. It's funny, really. His father, Paul, is chief of the Mohawks and they make up virtually all of the high-steel men in New York. But Paul only allows the very best to work for PHA, and the whole tribe decides. If a guy's not a top ironworker, he doesn't get to work for PHA. We get only the very best. Anyway, I guess that makes John a prince or something similar.

"Fascinating!" Jane exclaimed. "Tell me about Donna Morning Star."

"She is an utter riot!" Sam replied with a grin. "She's tall, but John would make about three of her. But she really tells him where to head in. And a beauty? Like you would not believe! With her copper skin and emerald green eyes she's an utter knockout. All the top agencies want to have her as a model, but so far she's not been at all interested. Her interest is her studies ... and John's! Let me tell you, if John ever got less than an A in anything she would cut him off flat for at least a month. And he knows it!"

Sam paused and then continued, "Donna is a Seneca, and the daughter of the tribal chief. So I guess that makes her a princess, doesn't it? Can you believe it? Those are two of the largest tribes in the Iroquois Nation. And I don't think that's shabby."

"Where is she going to school?" Jane asked.

"She'll be coming out to Notre Dame, too, I imagine," Sam said. Then he slowly shook his head.

"What's that mean?"

"That means that I really don't think the kids like it very much. You see, Tim, John and the rest are going to an all-boys prep school in New York. Compared to Notre Dame, it's tiny. Donna and the other girls go to an all-girls school that's small, too."

"Other girls?"

"The other four guys all have girl friends," Sam replied. "All except Tim. And they're all going to Notre Dame."

"Wow! Six football players all going to the same school." Jane paused and very diffidently asked, "How are their grades?"

"All A's," Sam replied.

"SAT scores?"

"I don't know all of them, but I do know the lowest was above 1550."

"You're kidding!" Jane said in amazement. "You're telling me that there are six guys — all outstanding football players — who have all A's and score better than 1550 on the SATs?"

Sam just nodded.

"My God!" she breathed. "No wonder they're all getting football scholarships!"

She was stunned when Sam just shook his head. "What's that mean?"

"Not only are they not getting school scholarships, they're paying full boat. PHA is paying for all of them."

Jane just shook her head in utter amazement. Then she asked, "Do those grades and scores apply to the girls, too?"

"At least!" Sam replied with a grin. "Who do you think coaches and drives the guys?"

Jane just rolled her eyes. Then while looking down at something fascinating on the tablecloth she asked, "Sam, could you do me a big favor?"

"Sure. What?"

"Would you be willing to take the virginity of a middle-aged librarian?"

"What?" he almost screamed.

"Take my virginity," she repeated in a very soft voice while still looking at the tabletop.

"What are you saying?"

"I guess it's time for me to climb out of the hole I've buried myself in."

"And what's that mean?"

Her response seemed to change the subject. "Where are you from originally? New York?"

"Hah!" Sam exclaimed happy to be off that subject. "I'm from North Carolina. You mean you can't tell? Where are you from? Around here?"

"Hah!" she retorted, almost in imitation of him. Again looking down at the tabletop she said, "I'm from Bedford-Stuyvesant. You mean you can't tell?" She looked up at the same time with a gleam in her eye.

"You're kidding! You can't be!"

"The hell I am, and the hell I can't!" she retorted quietly, but with vehemence. Then Jane continued, "My mother was a coke whore. She would fuck anything with a cock — and I mean anything! — that would pay her enough for more junk. I'm pretty light-skinned, so I think my father was probably white." She paused and shook her head. "Where she would have ever met a white man, I have no clue ... Maybe she met him and fucked him on the subway. If she did, it wouldn't have been the only time. And she wouldn't give a damn if the car was full of people, either.

"Because I'm light-skinned, she was after me to peddle my ass. She thought that for sure she could make a big score. When I refused, she decided she would peddle it for me. That's when I bailed out. I was 14 then. I lived on the streets for a while, while still managing to stay in school."

She paused to collect her thoughts and then plunged on. "I guess I was so frightened of what my mother was, I vowed I would never be like her. Perhaps that's why I became a librarian; it's about as far away from that as you can get."

"And then you came here," Sam said. "Why? Was it your only offer?"

"That's a laugh!" she said bitterly. "The fact is it was the lowest offer I received. I had one for more than double this money." With a grimace she added, "After all, these days in academia, black is the color to be."

"Why did you come here, then?" he asked, although by then he was almost certain he knew the reason.

"Because it's about as far from Bed-Stuy as I could get, particularly in a figurative sense. It's country, not city; the people are nice and straightforward, no con jobs ... I guess I just like it."

"No Affirmative Action for you, I guess."

"That's not true, either," she said with a little grin. "Why ... I had an Affirmative Action incident at cheerleading practice this afternoon."

"Oh?"

"Yes," she said. "I took three of my black cheerleaders off to the side and told them that the cheerleading squad was an Affirmative-Action organization. I told them I would affirmatively kick their tight black asses off the squad if they didn't shape up and act like they cared." Jane paused and then added, "You know what?"

"What?"

"They believed me. I think they're really going to shape up, too." Then she looked in Sam's eyes and said, "There's a question on the floor you haven't answered: Will you take my virginity tonight? Please?"

He reached for her hand across the table. When she took it in her own he said, "To coin a phrase, your place or mine?"

"Mine!" she declared with a grin. "It's almost certainly cleaner than yours."

Both of them giggled like school children and left with most of their two meals still uneaten.



-------

Chapter 38



Throughout the dinner, John Taylor seemed very quiet, and Caitie had never said a word about her talk with President Arnn. While they were waiting for their coffee, John was sitting at the table with his hands folded, just looking down at the tablecloth. Finally he said, "Mom, do I have to go to Notre Dame?"

"What's that mean?" Andy asked.

"It means it's certainly a great school," John replied, "but it's ... awfully big." At that point his words started to come faster; he was really unloading. "And ... and ... it's a national football powerhouse! Hell, for Notre Dame fans — and they are legion — any finish out of the Top 10 in the national rankings is a disaster." He paused for a moment and then continued, "We — the guys and me — are used to a small boys' school.

"And then there's academics. You know how important an education is to the guys. In that way, Notre Dame really is different from most of the top NCAA Division 1A schools: Most of its athletes actually graduate. But still..."

"'The guys'?" Little Bit asked. "Who are 'the guys'?"

"Little Bit," Andy replied, "you know that John is a running back. Well — surprise, surprise — a running back won't make it out of the backfield if he's not behind a good offensive line. John's is good! All of the boys — the front five, from tackle to tackle — are all sons of PHA men. And they're dedicated to opening holes for John to run through." With a grin she added, "Caitie, your grandmother could gain at least 100 yards a game running behind those giants!"

With a grin on her face, Caitie replied, "You are my grandmother, and I've seen you run. No one could ever catch you. Want to try again?"

Andy just giggled. "Poor choice of words, but you get my meaning." Then to John she said, "Okay, Notre Dame is a very large high-powered football school. So what?"

Again John was intently studying something on the tabletop in front of him. "I want to go to Hillsdale!" he blurted. Then looking up at his mother he added, "It would be much better for the guys, too. And ... and ... Tony Kramer is the best quarterback I've ever seen. And Paul Christian is even faster than I am..." At that point John just ran down and stopped.

"John, dear," Andy asked with a wry grin, "why in hell do you think I just gave half a billion dollars to Hillsdale? In the vernacular, it's known as buying you in."

"But what for?" John asked. "Notre Dame wanted to give us all scholarships, and I'm sure my grades are good enough..."

"Grades? What are grades?" Andy mused. Then she brightened and said, "Oh, I know! Those report-card thingies." Then she proudly announced, "I always got F's and I's."

"Mother, you're kidding!" John protested.

"What do you mean, kidding? What did you get?"

"All A's," John replied with his face reddening with embarrassment.

"Hah!" Andy announced triumphantly. "I did much better than you do. After all... 'A' is the first letter of the alphabet, while 'F' is the sixth ... and 'I' is the ninth! Hah!" she repeated, "You never got past the first letter!"

"Gram," Caitie interjected while barely able to control her giggles, "'A' is the best grade possible. And, dear Grandmother, I really hate to say this, but 'F' is for 'failure' and 'I' is for 'incomplete.'" With her eyes wide she added, "Dear Grandmother, I hate to point this out, but you were an academic bust!"

Then Caitie's attitude changed dramatically. "Gram, could you do me a big favor?"

Andy raised an eyebrow and replied, "I probably could, but whether I will or not depends on the favor."

Then it was Caitie's turn to study the tablecloth. "Mom really loves you, doesn't she?" the girl began. "In fact, she loves you more than life itself. I know she has a standing offer to donate her beating heart if it would ever save your life..."

Tears came to the corners of Andy's eyes, but all she did was nod once.

"Well, isn't it reasonable to suppose that if she's willing — No! Eager! — to sacrifice her life to save yours, that she would be willing to do anything less?"

By then the tears were streaming down Andy's cheeks, but she took no notice of them. Instead her eyes were impassively locked on Caitie's. Again she nodded once.

"Well..." Then Caitie's words came out in a rush. "Would you cash in your chit on Mom's life? In return for allowing me to marry John in June? I mean ... it will be painful for her, of course, but it's not as bad as having her beating heart cut out of her body, is it?"

"No, I guess it's not," Andy conceded. "And what are you going to be doing in the fall when John is going to Hillsdale? Staying home and keeping house?"

"I'll ... I'll be a freshman, too," Caitie mumbled.

"Your conversation with President Arnn?" Andy asked.

That time it was Caitie's turn to just nod once.

Andy then caused consternation at the table when she began to howl with laughter. "You two are too much!" she declared. "You never said a word to John, did you?" Then answering her own question she said, "No, you couldn't have. We've been together ever since you left Arnn's office. And John never said a word to you about coming here instead of Notre Dame, did he?"

Caitie just shook her head. Then she asked, "But how did you know?"

"You two — you and John — are something else!" Andy exclaimed with a lovely little giggle. "You've heard of two peas in a pod? Well, I've got news for you: You two aren't two peas in a pod, you're two halves of one pea! You didn't have to talk to John about his coming here to school any more than you would have to talk to yourself about something you want. Stop! I take that back. You would be more likely to talk to yourself about what you want than you would be to have to talk to John about what he wants. You just know. Right?"

Caitie grimaced and nodded.

"So tell us how the conversation with President Arnn went," Andy said, changing the subject somewhat.

"I told him I had taken the SAT for practice..."

"And?" Andy prompted.

"And I got a 1600, although I'm only in the 10th grade."

"Grades?"

"I've really completed high school," Caitie reported. "I'm scheduled for nothing but AP courses next year." Then with a grin she added, "And President Arnn wants me to try out for the cheerleading squad." Sticking her tongue out at Little Bit, she continued, "He said the squad has more than enough blondes. What it needs is a dark-haired Irish street urchin from New York. And that's certainly me!"

Then with her eyes wide, she brought the conversation back to her earlier question. "But what about it, Gram? Will you cash in your chit with Mom?" Then she glanced upward and added, "You know that He's getting a little impatient. And as some have noted, He's not particularly noted for His patience."

"I guess He's not," Andy agreed. "Okay. It's a deal."

Then Ann said, "The four of us are being married in June. Want to make it a triple?" To Andy she said, "I know Mother would just love it. And, Mrs. Taylor, I know she will just love you!"

The kids were amazed at what came next. "I don't think that would work out well at all," Andy said.

"What do you mean?" Little Bit exclaimed.

"Bunny Matthews and Drea Pierce go way back together," Andy said. "Together, we were kicked out from more schools than anyone would care to count, and almost always for the same things. Of course, we were usually able to take a few young faculty members with us..."

Tears came to her eyes. "God, we were awful! And we fed on each other. We were the biggest hedonists around ... as well as being the biggest sluts!" She paused and then continued in a voice scarcely above a whisper, "And it continued. I married Fletch Taylor and Bunny married Bill Harris. Not that being married slowed us down at all. In fact, I'm not sure either of us were even aware of the fact that we were married. In addition to being a slut, I became a slob, and so did Bunny. Then Bill built a place on family land in Westchester and that sort of ended it.

"Finally, I turned myself over to Kathy Carlson as her slave, and, as they say, the rest is history." Then to Little Bit and Ann she said, "Thank you for your offer, but I think you can see now that it would never work."

Little Bit began, "Mrs. Taylor—"

"Little Bit, please!" Andy interrupted. "Please call me Andy. Absolutely everyone does. And since I regularly walk around on steel girders stark naked, I don't think you would be letting down the bars too much."

"Andy," Little Bit began again, "your epiphany occurred when you were enslaved to Kathy Carlson." She paused for a moment and then continued, "Mom's occurred when she first met our sister, Kristin. I don't know what happened or why, but she's changed. You two look so much alike, too. Did you happen to see the Dawson concert at Lincoln Center?"

At that moment, Andy Taylor looked like she had been struck over the head by a two-by-four. "I was there," she replied in a whisper. "My God! I never would have recognized ... That was Bunny Harris, wasn't it?"

"I don't know if the name change had anything to do with it," Ann picked up, "but you used to be Drea and now you're Andy. I guess Mom might have been Bunny, but Little Bit and I have always known her as Marty." Then she continued, "It's funny, really. You have a little boy, Jimmy. Mom has an infant girl, Karen. They're about the same age to the month, I think. Oh, yeah ... You both look like you're about 21 or so." Then she giggled and added, "There's one major difference, though..."

"Which is... ?" Andy prompted.

"Mom is pierced and ringed," Little Bit replied, picking up from her twin. "Her nips, her navel, her clit hood, and even a couple in each of her labia. But the neatest is the stud in her tongue! And, good grief, has she ever learned how to use it!"

"Pierced and ringed... ?" Andy commented thoughtfully.

"Gram! Don't you dare!" Caitie exclaimed. "Don't even think of mutilating that perfect body of yours!"

"Does she cum if someone handles her clit ring?" Andy asked.

"It's like a faucet!" Little Bit replied with a giggle. "Just a little twist and she starts flowing in a steady stream."

"Jack would utterly adore it!" Andy commented with her eyes bright.

"Mother!" John nearly screamed.

"Gram!" Caitie exclaimed. "Don't even think of it!"

"It looks like I'm going to have to meet with Marty Harris to plan a big wedding. And other things..." Andy conceded with a grin.

Ann and Little Bit both giggled while Caitie and John just rolled their eyes.



-------

Chapter 39



The girls got up early the next morning, Tuesday, and teased their men about their staying in bed. Both Tony and Paul complained about their dry sacs and aching balls and hid under the covers. The girls called down to room service to bring up their breakfasts. By 8:30, though, both boys were alive and moving. They met John and Caitie and hustled over to the Municipal Airport and were there at nine o'clock to meet yet another inbound Executive Aviation jet, this one arriving from South Bend. This was one instance, Little Bit realized, when a private aircraft was really a time-saver. First of all, the straight-line distance between Hillsdale and South Bend is only about 85 miles. While South Bend has some scheduled air service, Hillsdale does not. In fact, it would have been a pretty long drive from a commercial airport to Hillsdale. But beyond that, though, there was airport security, early check-in, and so forth, none of which applied to private aircraft. The fact was that the plane left South Bend only a few minutes before they left Days Inn.

After the door opened and the boarding ladder unfolded, five young men got off the aircraft. John Taylor greeted them and brought them over to meet his new friends. Little Bit and Ann were particularly impressed with John Running Deer and Tim Johnson. The guys were followed off the plane by four utterly beautiful girls who were still chattering away.

Since their group by then numbered 15, they needed another van to hold everyone. Ann took care of that problem, although it required some help from me. It seems that car-rental companies are not too happy about renting a vehicle to anyone under 25. When the girl at the counter objected, Ann called me on her cell phone and I called the chairman of the company. And since I owned the damned thing...

The group went off to the Coffee Cup Diner for breakfast. Little Bit and Ann couldn't decide whether to have another breakfast or just coffee, so they compromised by ordering a breakfast and splitting it.

John Taylor was expecting a problem with his friends regarding going to Hillsdale rather than Notre Dame, but there was none. In fact, they seemed to be relieved. Donna Morning Star summarized the group's feelings when she sighed, "Thank God!" Then she added, "Now what?"

"Now I guess we take you all to the President's office and see about getting us accepted at this place," John replied.

During the short drive over, Donna was sitting beside Ann who was driving. All she could think of was that the Indian girl certainly lived up to everything Sam Johnson had said about her. She was utterly gorgeous.

When they all arrived, the girls were teased by President Arnn. "Good grief," he grumbled, "you people are really causing me trouble. Don't you realize the problems you've already caused? You do know that a college president's principal function is fund raising. And because of you kids, do you know what's happened?"

Little Bit, Ann, and Caitie all slowly shook their heads while valiantly trying to look suitably sympathetic. That was hard to do, and even my talented little sisters couldn't pull it off too well.

Arnn continued, "I had this whole series of really nifty, effective fund-raising letters all set to go out." His face fell as he continued, "But they all said essentially the same thing: 'The very survival of Hillsdale College depends on your generosity.'" He shook his head sadly and said, "In light of $1.5 billion in new gifts, we decided that 'survival' would be too strong a word; it now lacks a certain ... credibility ... might I say? So now we have to rewrite all of them! And it's all your fault, too!"

"Gosh, we're so sorry," Caitie said. Then with a cheerier look she added, "Do you want to give the money back? Then you can use those letters that are all set to be mailed."

Larry Arnn tried valiantly to look thoughtful. Finally he said, "No ... We're all really a bunch of masochists. We'll just suffer." Then with the joking over he asked, "Now what can I do for you?"

John introduced his friends, explained the situation at Notre Dame, and concluded by saying that all nine of them would now rather go to Hillsdale if it were possible. Because they had been discussing courses of study at Notre Dame, all of them had their high-school transcripts with them.

Arnn quickly read through the transcripts and finally let out a soft whistle. "Golly, John," he finally said, "you're really leaning on me pretty hard, aren't you? I mean ... We do have standards, you know. And these transcripts... ! How incredibly dull! There's nothing on them but A's" He grinned at them, winked at Donna Morning Star, and said, "For you football players, an A is one of those tepees with a line through it."

The guys all chuckled at his quip.

"Then there are the SATs," Arnn continued. "Dull, dull, dull! Not a single score as low as 1550 combined." Then he looked up at them and asked, "How much financial aid will you need to come here?"

"Nothing, sir," John Deer replied. "Actually, we'll be saving money. Hillsdale is significantly less expensive than Notre Dame, and we'll be paying full freight."

"You're a Mohawk Indian, John. Is that right?"

John just nodded and replied, "Yes, sir."

"And, Donna, you're a Seneca?"

"Yes, sir."

"And your fathers are both tribal chiefs, right?"

Again the two nodded.

Arnn's teasing came to a sudden stop. "I can't tell you how utterly delighted I am to welcome two American Indians to our school. As you may know, the school was founded in the 1840s. Notwithstanding that slavery was still legal at the time, we had a Negro in our very first graduating class. Unfortunately, we've had few Indians." Then to John he said, "John Taylor tells me you're an outstanding football player. Are you fast?"

"He would never tell you, sir," Tim Johnson interjected, "but he does the 40 in 4.2 seconds. That's about as fast or faster than anyone does it."

"How neat!" Arnn commented. "I can see it now. There will be an ad with John sitting on the seat of a tractor with the caption, 'John Deer on his John Deere.' And after all, for years they've been saying, 'Nothing runs like a Deere.' John, you're going to give new meaning to that line.

Everyone laughed and Donna kissed John gently on his lips.

They were about to leave Arnn's office when the door opened and a beautiful young woman of about 23 came storming in, followed by Arnn's futilely protesting secretary. "What's a lady have to do to dump some money on this school?" she complained.

Arnn just looked at her, utterly nonplused. "And you are... ?" he finally stammered.

"I'm Vangie Bradley," the girl declared. She was angry! The kids could almost see smoke coming out from both ears. "Sisters!" she nearly screamed. "I should just kill them all and be done with it! They just have to monopolize everything." Looking at Arnn she said, "I'll bet all the neat new buildings are already spoken for, aren't they? But do you have anything left? A new gym, maybe? A new stadium? A golf course? Isn't there something I can build?" she wailed.

"Damn them all to hell and back!" she continued, barely pausing even to take a breath. "If it wasn't for having to wait for FedEx to deliver the dumb cashier's check, I could have maybe at least beaten Andy. But no ... That's what comes of living out in the sticks!" She fished in her purse and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. Almost crumpling it into a ball, she dumped it on Arnn's desk.

Having heard her mention a cashier's check, he carefully picked it up, smoothed it out and found that it was a cashier's check drawn on Morgan for another half a billion dollars. In just a couple of months the school had received two billion dollars from only four donors, as well as a number of new buildings.

"Can you use it?" Vangie asked with her eyes wide. "I hope I'm not too late."

"Well," President Arnn began with a warm smile, "I'll be able to tell the kids that their financial aid will be renewed for next year, in full." Then he added, "As you may know, Hillsdale rejects all Federal aid, regardless of its form. We refuse to subject ourselves to Federal control of any kind, and since the courts have held that even accepting Federally-guaranteed student loans would bring us under those controls, our kids don't get them, either. It's been a struggle, but we've managed to cover their requirements from our own resources. Your very generous gift ensures that it will continue to happen."

Then he again changed the subject and asked, "May I ask the reason for your gift? Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, of course..."

"For years I've been very impressed with your school. And ... and ... I have some young children who will be looking for colleges before too long. So maybe there will be a place that will look over their applications with some care."

Arnn just shook his head. Then he changed the subject. "Mrs. Bradley, you referred to your sisters. Who are they?"

"Ali Clifford and Andy Taylor are two of them," Vangie replied. "Although I guess you haven't met Ali yet."

"I don't mean to be too personal, Mrs. Bradley, but how old are you, anyway?" Arnn said. "You're Ali Clifford and Andy Taylor's sister, but..." Then he shook his head and said, "The fact of the matter is that I don't understand any of you. Andy Taylor, for example, is Caitlin's grandmother, and yet Andy appears to be about 23."

"Without really answering your question," Vangie said, "I will tell you that I am a real honest-to-God grandmother. I actually gave birth to my daughter, Cathy — which is more than Andy can say about Kelly — and Cathy's eldest is significantly older than my own."

Turning, for the first time Vangie looked around at the young people. Seeing Caitie Fitzpatrick, she squealed, "Caitie! It's been such a long time!"

Caitie moved out of the crowd and went into Vangie's outstretched arms. The others, including Larry Arnn, were amazed at the power of the kiss the two exchanged.

Easing apart, Vangie looked around, found John Taylor, and the scene was repeated.

Then Vangie asked, "Are the Harris twins here?"

Caitie handled the introductions, telling the girls that Vangie was her aunt and lived in Deerfield, Illinois. When my sisters each gave Vangie kisses back to back, the woman was light-headed. She just murmured, "Wow!"

Then Vangie said, "I got a message from Kathy Carlson. She said there would be a shipment at the Municipal Airport arriving at noon today. She strongly urged you four to be there to pick it up." She snapped her fingers and added, "And by the way ... You had better bring two vans with lots of room in them. From what Kathy tells me, you'll need it."

The result was that my sisters and their fiancés along with John Taylor and Caitie Fitzpatrick went back out to Municipal Airport in the two vans they then had. Just as they arrived, yet another EA jet flared out and touched down. They watched as it taxied over to where they were standing next to the two vans.

Again the door opened and the ladder unfolded. But then things changed. A stewardess came down the steps followed by a giant tiger. My sisters watched in increasing amazement as a total of four tigers came down the steps followed by a second flight attendant. My sisters were frightened at first, but then relaxed when they glanced over at Caitie and found she was watching the scene with delight.

To the girls' amazement, the four tigers came over to them and sat down in a row. They noted that two tigers who appeared to be slightly smaller than the others stayed slightly behind and to the side. The truly surprising thing was that the giant carnivores appeared ... scared! And, although neither girl knew much about tigers, both had the distinct impression that they feared absolutely nothing alive.

"Okay," Caitie said, "now who is who? And relax, would you? I'm Caitie Fitzpatrick, and your families know me ... or know of me, anyway. Why the fearfulness?"

My sisters were then stunned when they heard the largest of the tigers reply, although, they realized, the communication was mental. "Divine One, we are used to kings and queens, and even emperors and empresses, but to meet someone ranking above the angels... ! It's just too much."

"Well," Caitie replied, "it's clear that you've been well trained. You're sitting there so perfectly!" The giant felines were sitting in a row in a classic house-cat pose, back on their haunches while sitting up straight. Remarkably, they even had their tails carefully wrapped around their forepaws.

"Now who is who?" Caitie asked. "As I said, I'm Caitie Fitzpatrick, and this is my fiancé, John Taylor." Then indicating the others she said, "The blue-eyed blonde is Little Bit Harris, while the tawny-haired green-eyed girl is her twin sister, Ann. The two guys are Tony Kramer and Paul Christian. Now who are you?"

Clearly, the girl's introductions had helped. The tiger who had been acting as the spokesman for the little group communicated, "My name is Augustus, Divine One, although, I regret to say, I am known as Gus. Beside me is my mate, Sheba." He paused and then said, "We are supposed to serve the Harris twins.

"My colleague is Siegfried and his mate is Brunhilde." The animal slowly shook his head and added, "My poor friend's nickname is even worse than my own. Everyone knows him as Ziggy, and his mate is called Hilde or Hildy." Amazingly, he actually rolled his eyes and then added, "It's really an awful nickname, but that's the way it goes sometimes. "Ziggy and Hildy are to serve you and Mr. Taylor."

Before they could move to board the vans, the tigers turned back to see the flight crew. By that time, the engines had been shut down and the pilots had disembarked, too. It turned out that the four-person flight crew was composed of two husband-and-wife teams.

Gus announced that they really had to say goodbye to the crew. He pointed out that their flight out from the Coast could not have been better. To the tigers' joy and amazement, they found that the plane carried two giant pizzas from Domino's for each of them, and they even got the tigers' preferences right, too.

One of the stewardesses said, "I'm Marty Campbell, and the pilot is my husband, Gordon. This has been possibly the very best flight of our lives!" She then told how she and her partner had laid on the tigers' bellies while their mates had used their tongues to remove every excess hair. "But that wasn't all!" she enthused. "When Sheba finished with me, Gordon came back from the cockpit and took me while I was still laying on Gus's belly." She grinned and added, "And would you believe it? Sheila, here, had the nerve to critique our lovemaking!"

She sighed and continued, "It was absolutely the greatest ever! And after the most monumental orgasm of my life, Gordon and I napped on Gus while he just held us in his forepaws." Again she sighed.

"Then after our nap, Gordy went back to the cockpit, and Sean took Sheila the same way, lying on Ziggy. And then it was my turn to criticize," she added with a grin.

Only then did the young people realize that the women were wearing only their jackets and skirts. In spite of it being March, they were even barefooted. The two women unbuttoned their jackets and then went into the arms of each of the four tigers, rubbing their nipples against the tigers' fur when they did. It was with the greatest reluctance that the flight crew re-boarded their aircraft.

At that point the kids decided that they should take a little time to get to know their new protectors. Since it was about time for football practice, Tony and Paul rode back to the campus with John Taylor and Caitie Fitzpatrick while my sisters went off in a different direction with Gus and Sheba.

I guess it must have been the years the two girl had spent on the street fucking for food, because the first thing they asked the tigers was if they had eaten. It came as no surprise to them to learn that the giant cats had each had two large pizzas, but that was scarcely enough to hold them. They also learned that Gus was truly a giant among tigers, weighing nearly 650, while Sheba enjoyed the same position among tigresses, weighing a svelte 585. And yet there did not appear to be an ounce of fat on either one.

At any rate, they located a wholesale butcher and purchased enough meat to hold their new friends. In addition, they made arrangements for regular delivery to the hotel in quantities sufficient for all four tigers. (The tigers had come supplied with their own "food dishes", each the size of a wash basin.)

Having noticed a small park running along a river bank, Little Bit drove there and let the tigers out. After feeding them, the tigers went off into the woods to answer nature's call. While they were away, a car drove up with four guys in their 20s in it. Seeing my sisters' beauty, they wanted to get intimately acquainted. Even though it was only shortly after noon, at least a couple of them seemed to be working on their nth beer of the day. Unfortunately — for the guys — they didn't discourage easily.

It was at that point that the pair of tigers reappeared. Little Bit and Ann realized only then the extent to which the tigers' stripes served as camouflage; although they were still in sight at the edge of the woods, they had almost disappeared against the vegetation. Hearing the girls trying to discourage the guys, the two animals trotted over. Just then, one of the guys made a grab for Ann.

The next thing the poor guy knew, he was flat on his back with one of Gus's forepaws planted in the center of his chest. The animal was emitting a sound that was a cross between a snarl and a growl. Whatever it was, it was fearsome. Moreover, his normally friendly eyes had taken on the coldness of ice.

"Guys," Ann said casually, "Gus is trying to suggest in his most polite manner that trying to grab one of us isn't really the smartest thing in the world to do." She then explained that the pair were Royal Bengal tigers, and were giants of the species. "Furthermore, they are our protectors, and I think you'll all agree that they are capable of protecting us."

When she told Gus to let the man up, he did, and the four fled, peeling rubber as they left the scene.

Loading the animals back in the van — "loading" consisted of opening the door and telling them to get in — my sisters drove back to the Hillsdale campus, and back to Dr. Arnn's office.

By that time, Larry Arnn was used to being interrupted by my sisters. However, when they appeared with two Bengal tigers, even his eyes widened. The girls were so proud of their protectors, though. The two sat perfectly still in front of Arnn's desk in their house-cat pose. When introduced, Gus even gave a little bow before extending his right paw to shake.

Arnn was standing in front of his desk when he was introduced. When Ann introduced Sheba, she actually made a tiger's curtsy and then extended her paw. Arnn very gracefully lifted it, bowed, and kissed the back of it.

Sheba actually blushed! Then she communicated, "Oh, sir! You are so continental ... So gallant!"

Arnn heard her and his eyes widened. "Good Lord! They can talk! Or communicate, anyway."

"They're really very bright," Little Bit admitted.

Then she raised the reason for their visit. "You know, sir, the Chargers is an okay name for Hillsdale's teams, but wouldn't Hillsdale Tigers be better? And for the next four years anyway there will be four of these Bengal tigers on campus. Wouldn't that really be a hoot? Can you imagine four of these giants leading the football team out on the field? Can you imagine what it will be like to have all four of them up on their hind legs, pawing the sky and roaring after a score? And, with all due respect, sir, the word 'Chargers' is not really calculated to strike fear into the heart of anyone. But 'tiger'... ? A very different story." With a grin she asked, "What do you think?"

With a grin Arnn replied, "And I suppose you're going to pay to change over all the insignias and stuff, aren't you?"

Little Bit already had her checkbook out. "Of course, sir! How much will it be?"

Arnn just shook his head. "Golly ... I just don't know." Then with a warm grin he added, "I'll tell you what: Just to show you what neat people we are, the college is prepared to make the supreme sacrifice and spend its own money on the changeover. Now how about that?"

Then he asked the girls, "Can I hug them? Would they mind?"

"Good heavens, no!" Ann exclaimed. "They would adore it." Then with a wink she added, "After all, they're just overgrown house cats. Right guys?" she asked the tigers.

The two huge animals just rapidly nodded their heads.

When Arnn moved close to Sheba, the tiger sat up straight while still sitting on her haunches. She spread her forepaws wide, and he moved close. She hugged him tightly and actually kissed him on the cheek. For his part, Arnn reached as far around her neck as he could and kissed her back.

After he was released he commented, "What an utterly marvelous animal! And she's such a beauty, too."

Again Sheba blushed.

Having engineered the teams' name change, the girls realized they were late for cheerleading practice. This problem was solved when Gus suggested that the girls get on the tigers' backs. They did, and were whisked away toward the gym at close to 30 mph.

After changing into shorts and sneakers, the girls again rode the tigers out to the practice field. Moments later, Caitie appeared standing on the backs of the other pair of tigers with one foot on each one. Furthermore, she had a twirler's baton and was doing all sorts of stunts with it as she rode out.

"Damn!" Ann commented. "Trust Caitie! She just had to upstage us with her grand entrance!" And it was a grand entrance, too. The other cheerleaders cheered her arrival, and then my sisters introduced her to their new friends.

"Damn!" Caitie grumbled. "If I had had one of yours, too, I could have done my entrance right."

"And what does that mean?" Little Bit asked, walking right into it.

"Oh ... It's just that with a third, she could have been on the backs of the other two, and I could have been doing my twirling from her back." With her eyes wide she added, "That would have been really dramatic."

Little Bit raised her hand, pointed a finger at Caitie and said in her flattest tone of voice, "Bang! You're dead."

"Golly, Little Bit, why would you want to do a thing like that?" Caitie asked with her eyes wide with innocence.

Then all three of them broke down in laughter.

The girls never did learn what she had been doing in the meantime. John was already out on the practice field with the other guys.

"You just had to show off, didn't you, Caitie?" Little Bit jibed.

"But of course," Caitie replied airily. Then she introduced the four tigers to the rest of the cheerleaders. Initially, the girls were fearful, but they soon learned that indeed they could play with the four tigers as if they really were giant house cats. Only then did the girls notice that Jane Smith wasn't with them.

Jane appeared about 30 minutes later, moving rather stiffly. My sisters noticed it; whether the other girls did or not, there were no comments.

At the conclusion of the practice, Jane asked Little Bit and Ann to stay for a moment. When the others were out of earshot, she said softly, "I've heard some things about you two..."

"Like what?" Ann asked.

"Is it true..."

"Is what true?" Ann coaxed. "Just spit it out."

"That you two were hookers when you were very young," the woman blurted. Her words came tumbling out of her mouth as almost a single, very long word.

"If you're asking if we've ever fucked for Big Macs, the answer is yes," Little Bit replied with her face impassive.

"Thank God!" Jane breathed.

The girls looked at her as if she had lost her marbles. "What's that mean?" Little Bit demanded.

"I need some experienced counseling," the woman replied. Then she moaned and added, "Good grief, am I ever sore! Is there anything I can do about it?"

"Just practice," Ann replied with a grin. "It will go away eventually."

Jane gently rubbed her groin and said, "Well, I learned a couple of things last night..."

The girls just looked at her expectantly, waiting for more.

"I learned that I really am my mother's daughter. And I guess it's a good thing I remained a virgin as long as I did, too."

"Why is that?" Little Bit asked.

"Because if I had lost it when my mother wanted me to, I would be a confirmed hooker by now. If I were even still alive..." Then Jane's face brightened as she added, "I loved it! And I think I'm a pretty good fuck for a first-timer, too."

"'My mother wanted me to... ?' What's that mean?" Ann asked, realizing that the woman couldn't have known the girls had overheard her confession to Sam Johnson at the restaurant.

Jane told them about her mother, the coke whore, and the girls were suitably sympathetic.

Then Jane's eyes widened and she said, "You won't believe what I did last night! At least twice I woke Sam up to fuck me again. And ... and ... I even managed to work on him with my mouth — fortunately he was sleeping on his back — and got him hard. Then I climbed on and fucked myself!" she declared proudly. "He didn't even wake up, either."

"That just reflects your inexperience," Ann commented airily. "With Little Bit and me, we don't need it nearly so often. Two or three times a day is plenty. But you... ! You're just trying to make up for lost time." With a grin she added, "I guess you liked it, though."

"Liked it?" Jane exclaimed. "I loved it!"

The three made their way back to the locker room and found that the other girls had already left. When they got into the shower, Little Bit and Ann got their first look at a bare Jane Smith, and she was exquisite.

Furthermore, the shower room had plenty of hot water for the first time ever.

Ann, after looking over Jane very carefully, said, "If you really want to get in shape for fucking, though, you should use one of the Female Fitness machines. They're really great. We both use them, and Kimberly Kramer does, too. As you probably know, she's Tony's mother. And you've probably seen her in those infomercials they made for the units."

"Oh, nonsense!" Jane retorted. "She just says that because she's paid to. I know the way those commercials work!"

"Not that one," Little Bit replied with a grin. "She really does use the machine every day. It's a near-religion for her. And she really means what she says. She ought to..."

"What's that mean?"

"That means that she ought to like it; she designed the damned thing."

When Jane's eyes widened, Little Bit explained that her future mother-in-law had her doctorate in mechanical engineering and that her primary position was as chief machine-tool designer for Aerospace Technologies. Jane was suitably impressed.

Then, with a grin, Ann promised to have one shipped out to Jane. "After all," she commented, "both Little Bit and I are sales reps for the company."

Jane just grinned.



-------

Chapter 40



That night the kids let the tigers out so they could have their fun without scaring the other guests half to death with the sounds of their lovemaking, and without risk to the suites' furnishings. So, the next morning, leaving the guys in bed sleeping, Little Bit, Ann, and Caitie went out looking for the tigers. It was only a bit before 6:30; why they were up and about so early none of the girls knew.

Initially, they were a bit surprised. They had expected the four tigers to be waiting for them near the hotel's door, but such was not the case. At that point, Ann saw a flash of color across the street, further down the block. It was a large lot then being used as a storage area for construction materials and tools for the Hillsdale College work.

Walking over to the site, they were surprised to find the four tigers pacing around eight men who were lying face down in the dirt. Lying near the men were eight heavy canvas carryalls with some of their contents spilled out on the ground. All of the men were wearing black clothing.

While still out of earshot of the men, Caitie Fitzpatrick, who had experienced an attempted murder and attempted rape in New York City's Central Park, said, "Guess what? It looks like the tigers have stopped a bunch of saboteurs." Then she snapped her fingers and added, "Of course... !"

"'Of course' what?" Little Bit asked.

"PHA has its own union that's organized on an industrial model, while most of the building trades are organized on a craft basis," the girl replied. "Because we're working out of our home territory, the local building trades have been trying to organize our guys." She shook her head and continued, "I take that back. It's not the local building trades, it's another alleged union that's reputed to be dominated by Organized Crime. What we were seeing, really, was nothing more than attempted extortion. They don't give a damn about the workers; all they care about is the dues money. I wonder... ?"

Then she said, "Hey, kids, want to have some fun?" Then she told my sisters some of the things the tigers had done in the past. "The common denominator," she concluded, "is that they just love to act. Want to try?"

Before the girls could reply, Caitie started to giggle.

"What's so funny?" Ann asked.

"I was just thinking about my great-aunt, Maria, and my great-grandmother."

"Good grief!" Little Bit exclaimed. "Where are they? In a nursing home somewhere?"

"Not hardly," Caitie responded. "Maria is on the sunny side of 30 — and looks to be 19 — while Great-grandmother Marion is in her mid-30s and looks to be about 22 or 23. Nursing home? Hah! Both of them have infants less than a year old."

Little Bit and Ann just slowly shook their heads, utterly baffled. Then Ann said, "You said you were thinking about them. What about them?"

"It happened a couple of years back," Caitie reported. "Maria was saying that the tigers were wasting their time with educational software on their computers. Gram just softly ran her fingers over Maria's arms, legs and buns.

"'What are you doing?' Maria asked.

"'Oh ... Nothing... ' Gram replied vaguely. Then she added, 'But, Maria, do me a favor, will you?'

"'What's that?'

"'You will give me plenty of notice before you tell them they're not human and can't learn, won't you?'

"'What for?'

"'Well ... I'll need time to get out of range of your screams.' Shaking her head, Gram continued, 'And the reason I was running my fingers over your extremities was that I want to remember what you were like when you still had them.' Then, with her eyes wide she added, 'But you're absolutely right, daughter. Tigers can't learn the way humans can. But don't forget to warn me before you tell them, okay?'" Caitie was giggling by that time.

"Well?" she asked the girls. "What do you think? Want to try?"

They agreed and off they went, agreeing that Caitie, with her experience, would take the lead.

Walking up to the group, Caitie casually asked Sheba, "What have you got? Some new toys?" As she asked, she casually kicked one of the men in the side with the toe of her sneaker. The man started to groan, but was instantly quiet when Gus let out a very soft and low-pitched but terrifying growl.

"You are so good!" Caitie enthused. "It's still early in the morning, so I'm glad you're keeping your playthings quiet. But what are you going to do with them?"

Sheba moved close to the man Caitie had kicked, extended her huge claws and made a cutting motion where his left arm met his shoulder.

"Oh, no you don't!" Caitie protested. "That would be just awful! It would spoil your appetite, for one thing." She shook her head and continued, "And aside from the dirt, that arm is probably loaded with fat, and you know darned well what the vet told you about too much fat!"

Sheba was down in a crouch. Moving her paw down to the man's elbow, she looked at Caitie plaintively.

"No, not even the lower arm!" Then with a determined look on her face, Caitie continued, "Sheba, if you insist, there will be no pizza for you... for a full week! Now how do you like them apples? Huh? Huh?" Then she added, "And there's a Domino's just down the street, and I know how you just adore their special pizza with extra cheese..."

Sheba licked her lips and looked at Caitie with her eyes wide and pleading. Two tears began to run down her furry cheeks.

"I know!" Caitie exclaimed. "You can use them as balls and play catch!" For some reason there was a heavy leather medicine ball lying exposed just inside a PHA toolshed. The girl decided to have some fun. Getting the ball, she called over Ziggy and Gus.

Taking the heavy medicine ball, she had the huge cats lying on their backs about ten feet apart. She flipped the heavy ball to Gus who caught it with his clawed forepaws and tossed it to Ziggy. The two were having a fine time.

After about ten tosses each, Caitie took the now-battered medicine ball and looked it over. In spite of being made of very heavy leather, the tigers' huge claws had already ripped gaping slashes in it and its innards were starting to spill out. The two huge males got to their feet and came close to Caitie to inspect their work. While padding over, Ziggy stepped on the forearm of one of the men on the ground. The girls quietly shuddered when they heard a sound similar to a snapping twig as the tiger broke at least one bone in the man's arm.

"I'm afraid it just won't work," Caitie admitted to the huge animals. "Just look at this ball! It's covering is far tougher than their skin, and you've already ripped it to shreds." Shaking her head in dismay, she added, "We'll have to think of something else."

Gus went over to the man whose arm had just been broken. Using his great claws, he sliced the air right at both shoulders and then where the man's femur joined his hips. He looked at Caitie with a pleading expression on his face.

"I just don't know," Caitie said. "Yes, I know they're wearing heavy clothing, but still ... I just don't think it will work." Then she shook her head firmly and added, "No! Absolutely not! After all, who's going to clean up the mess? There will be pieces of them all over this lot, and, unlike King in Los Angeles, they can't even get a street sweeper on this lot to clean it up. So it's no."

While this exchange had been going on, my sisters had been looking around. Then Little Bit asked, "Caitie, how did these guys get here? And how are they going to get away? I don't see a vehicle around anywhere."

Caitie's eyes widened as she realized the significance of the question. So she asked the man with the broken arm.

"Pick up," he gasped. "Pick up at seven."

It was then 6:55.

At that point the girls conferred. Already, my sisters had determined that the canvas carryalls were loaded with destructive material, including thermite grenades that would have torched the entire area.

"I just wonder..." Little Bit murmured. "If you really wanted to do a number, and didn't care about loss of life — and from some of the material we've found, that includes these guys, in spades — wouldn't it make sense to have one bunch plant the bombs, and then have another group take out the first? Messy, but effective." Then she added, "The pickup is scheduled for less than five minutes from now."

The girls quickly formulated a plan and put it into action. The two tigresses stayed with their prisoners who by that time were thoroughly cowed, while the males split and moved to positions flanking the site. Like the day before at the park, the tigers found some vegetation and remained motionless using their natural camouflage to blend in to their surroundings.

Promptly at 7:00, a van pulled up. It had darkened side windows so the girls couldn't see inside. Before it arrived, the girls had taken cover behind a shed, while the tigresses took up positions where the men on the ground could see them, but where they were hidden from the street.

Three men, all wearing long coats, alighted from the van. "What the hell are you guys doing on the ground?" one of them called out. "Get up, for God's sake!"

Fearfully, the men started to get up. As they began to move, it became apparent to the girls that more than one had a broken limb. But the men from the van weren't paying attention. Instead, two of them raised submachine guns that had been hidden under their coats, while the third drew an automatic.

That was what the two male tigers had been watching for. My sisters were astonished at how quick and how fast those two tigers really were. Before the weapons could even be fully raised into firing position, the tigers had launched themselves at the two, hitting them from the side and behind. The impact of the two giants, probably moving at close to 50 mph, was dramatic. Fortunately for the men, the tigers had kept their claws sheathed, but with their great weight and momentum it didn't matter much. Both were driven into the ground and almost buried.

The third man turned toward Ziggy who had come from the left and raised his weapon. That was not the greatest idea he had ever had. Before he could squeeze off a round, Gus struck his gun wrist with his giant paw, only this time his claws were bared. The automatic dropped to the ground with the man's hand still attached to it.

Whether it was a reflex in the detached hand or the impact of the weapon hitting the ground, it didn't matter which: the gun fired.

The report of the weapon was all that was needed. Apparently a neighbor called the police, because moments later the first patrol car raced up the street with its siren screaming and blue lights flashing.

Meanwhile, Little Bit had raced to the man whose hand had been detached, ripped off the sleeve of his shirt and made it into a tourniquet that she applied to his arm to keep him from bleeding to death.

Moments later, a second and then a third patrol car appeared. Apparently the call to 911 had mentioned that a shot had been fired. The responding officers were taking no chances; they had riot guns in their hands when they got out of their cars.

I really have to hand it to Caitie Fitzpatrick. That girl is cool! Seeing that Little Bit had taken care of the wounded gunman, she picked up a submachine gun and opened up the van's side door. There, cowering in the back, was a fourth man; his eyes looked like those of a deer caught in a car's headlights. Although the girls had been unable to see in, the man had been able to see out, and clearly he was terrified by what he had just witnessed. Three of his confederates, all armed, had been taken down in moments.

Sister Ann told the first officers what had happened, and they called for backup. A call also went out to the FBI — where had the thermite grenades come from? — and to ATF [U.S. Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco & Firearms for my overseas readers] because of the submachine guns.

In minutes the site was crawling with law enforcement officers as well as a couple of ambulances.

To make a long story short, it turned out — no surprise — that the van's remaining occupant was the president of the "union" that had been attempting to organize the PHA workers ... or get their dues. The gunman with the detached hand turned out to be one of the top capos of the local Organized Crime family that was allegedly backing the union. The thermite grenades proved to be part of the loot from a burglary of a National Guard armory as were the submachine guns.

It became clear that the intent was for the eight men to do their dirty work and then be eliminated by the three in the van.

The senior FBI agent on the scene, Clyde Dixon, looked over the tigers and then commented to one of the gangsters still on the ground, "Boy, were you guys ever lucky!"

"Lucky?" the man retorted. "What do you mean, 'lucky'? That damned thing broke my arm!"

"Lucky," Dixon repeated. "First of all, it should be obvious, even to you nitwits, that your friends who had just arrived were about to take down you and your buddies with machine-gun fire." Then he grinned mirthlessly and added, "And besides..."

He began to reminisce. "My first assignment out of the FBI Academy was to our Los Angeles field office..." Then turning to the tigers he asked, "Do any of you guys know a tiger named King?"

"He's my grandfather," Gus replied proudly.

Dixon scratched Gus below his ear causing the tiger to emit a deep rumbling noise, his purr. While still stroking the tiger, the agent continued with the man still on the ground, "Anyway, shortly after I arrived out there, a gang of hoodlums grabbed and raped a girl in the middle of the street one night. There were about ten of them, I think. Anyway, a tiger named King — this tiger's grandfather, by the way — came on the scene." Dixon shook his head and muttered, "God, what a mess!"

"What do you mean by that?" the man asked.

"What I mean is that the only way the police could determine how many men had been involved in the rape was by literally counting heads. They had rolled to the gutter. For the rest, there were only pieces, and not very big ones, either." With another mirthless smile Dixon added, "When you get to the Big House, you might put the word out that rape has just become a very unhealthy activity here in Michigan." He slowly shook his head and continued, "The tiger, King, saw the rape in progress, and I guess he just went berserk. And you know what? You don't ever want to see these cats when they're really angry.

"The lion is called 'King of the Jungle'. Well, I've got news: One of these guys could put away any lion without breaking a sweat. They're the most efficient hunters and predators in the world. And don't ever piss one off! I can almost guarantee you that it will be the last thing you ever do.

"Oh, yeah ... Los Angeles..." Dixon again shook his head, remembering. "The LAPD finally called the Highway Department. That's how they finally cleaned up the place: They got a street sweeper to sweep up the mess."

The gangster looked sick, and then vomited up the contents of his stomach.

"But as I said," Dixon concluded, "you and your buddies were very lucky."

By the time the girls had finished with the law enforcement agents, it was after eight. Little Bit said casually, "Damn! We're late for breakfast, too."



-------

Chapter 41



Once again they all went over to the practice field for football and cheering practice. But then things began to change quickly. First, Vangie Bradley appeared with a young man who appeared prematurely gray at the temples. Then a handsome young couple appeared who greeted the Bradleys warmly.

Both of my sisters locked in their hearing on the conversation. They learned that the man with Vangie was her husband, Ed. Furthermore, the young couple were Ken and Cathy Bradley. My sisters exchanged stunned looks when they learned that Ken and Cathy were the son and daughter of Ed and Vangie.

"My God!" Little Bit whispered to her sister, "they're brother and sister! That's incest!"

"Shut up, Little Bit," Ann commanded. "Let's listen." With a grin she added, "Who knows? You might even learn something."

The girls did.

They learned that the marriage of Ed and Vangie was the second for both of them. Ken was Ed's son by his first wife, while Cathy was Vangie's daughter by her first husband. Then, to complicate matters, each parent had legally adopted the other's child.

"For God's sake, Cathy," Vangie protested, "would you kindly slow down? You always have a bun rising in your oven!"

"So do you, Mom," Cathy retorted. "What's the problem?"

"How can I ever catch up?" Vangie grumped. "Good grief, daughter, you don't have to personally populate the whole world!"

"Catch up? You're more than caught up. What's your problem?" Cathy repeated.

"What do you mean?" Vangie persisted. "I count seven of yours and only four of mine. How does that make me more than caught up?"

"Mother dear, you're forgetting something," Cathy responded tartly. "Don't I count? I came from your belly, too, you know. And then there's Ken ... Isn't he a bit ... large ... for you to overlook? There's Barbara Conroy. And then there's Kris..."

Vangie blushed at her comment. So she changed the subject. "Have you heard from your sister lately?"

"Not since Sunday," Cathy replied. "Why? Has anything changed?"

"She's doing a new film," Vangie said. "Dad and I only learned about it last night. And guess what?"

"What?"

"Your gorgeous little niece, Susan, is starring in it, too!"

"You're kidding!" Cathy nearly screamed. "What's it about?"

"It's really autobiographical," Vangie replied. "It's about a man and his daughter and what happens when the wife and mother dies of cancer. Believe it or not, Bill Warren is actually going to star in his own film! That's a first. And, of course, your sister appears to pick up the pieces." Then Vangie added, "The bitch!"

"What did sister Kris do this time?" Cathy asked innocently.

"Well ... She's going to get me the beating of my life from your father—"

"And you'll love it, too, won't you?" Cathy interrupted.

"That's beside the point," Vangie sniffed. "Most women don't like to be spanked. It's ... it's spousal abuse!"

"True," Cathy conceded. "You're right about 'most women.' But you're not 'most women', Mom. You love it!" Then with a giggle she continued, "So what happened?"

"Well, you know we bought that studio that owned Bill Warren's contract, then merged it into Alliance..."

"Yeah, so... ?"

"It's that damned Bill Warren, is so!" Vangie bleated.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"My God! In spite of his name, he must be a Scot!"

"Oh... ? Why is that?"

"Because he's incapable of spending any money, is why that is," Vangie retorted. "And that's not the worst of it, either. You know that the idiot producers in Hollywood would obviously rather receive awards than make money..."

"And... ?" Cathy prompted.

"Well, it's pretty simple. There's research past counting that shows that the films that make the most money are G-rated family films."

"So... ?"

"So, just look at the marquee at any multiplex. If it's got ten screens, at least eight of them will have R-rated films, or worse ... Or whatever the R-rating is called now." It appeared that poor Vangie was close to tears as she continued, "So what does that evil son-in-law of mine do? He makes G-rated films ... for no money! And then they just mint it. And that's not even the worst of it, either," Vangie continued to wail.

"There's more?" Cathy queried.

"You better believe there's more! And it's your damned sister, this time."

"What did my favorite imp do this time?" Cathy asked. Then she grinned and added, "Mom, you must admit that Ken and I gave you and Dad a unique bridal shower gift. I mean ... How many couples are given an already-housebroken teenage daughter for a shower present?"

Vangie stuck out the tip of her tongue and then continued, "Wait till you hear what she did! Did you know that Bill Warren teaches a film course at USC?"

Cathy just shook her head.

"Well, he does. And then your lame-brained sister has a brainstorm! It seems that just because Bill has won a few Oscars, there might be quite a demand to enroll in his course. The first time it was offered, the class was filled within ten minutes of the start of registration. So anyway, Kris comes up with the idea of selective admission to the course." In an aside she noted, "Very few people even know your sister is married, and in view of their desire for privacy they're happy to leave it that way."

Getting back to her story, Vangie continued, "Anyway, you should have seen the mob scene when the word got out that the course admission interviews would be conducted by Bill Warren and Kris Bradley. The fact that your baby sister has a couple of Oscars of her own along with a bunch of Grammies didn't hurt too much, I guess. So they picked the next class that way.

"Then Kris had another of her oh-so-bright ideas. She decided that they should produce a film using the students in the class. She even went to USC and, for 5 percent of the net, they got the use of the university's facilities and equipment." Vangie shook her head in disgust. "Of course, to your sister, it was such a little thing, she didn't even think to mention it to Ali or anyone else at the studio. It was just a little spare-time venture.

"But she was thinking of your father and me... she says! So what does she do? Normally, film distributors produce show prints and the related stuff involved in a film's release. But not this one. Instead, Kris worked with the distributors — both here and overseas — on a fee basis. She and Bill paid out of pocket for all the distribution expenses, but,  in return, 100 cents on the distribution dollar is theirs. She says that she expected distribution costs would put a real dent in her walking-around money. Hah!

"Do you know what happened?"

Again Cathy just shook her head.

"First, let's review the bidding: The only money they laid out was for the distribution I told you about, plus USC's 5 percent. With almost no advertising, just word of mouth, the damned thing booked $50 million the first weekend and kept climbing from there! The first order for DVDs was for 10 million of them, and it was sold out before the first one was even shipped! Then, of course, the film gets an Oscar, Bill Warren gets another for directing, and the male lead gets an Oscar for Best Actor! And he's not even in the Guild, yet! He's still a college student!

"All the cast members are hotter than two-dollar pistols in Hollywood right now. And Bill and your sister own the whole damned thing, lock, stock and barrel! Can you believe it?"

"From Imp?" Cathy asked. Then answering her own rhetorical question, with her head nodding rapidly she exclaimed, "I sure can!"

Then she added, "But what are she and Bill doing now?"

Shaking her head in feigned sadness, Vangie replied, "The same as always: They're always at their home in Malibu. As you know, it was a house Bill planned with his late wife, Mary, but she never lived to see it finished. Your sister has almost made it Mary's monument. They must be the only people in their whole area who don't use gardeners. And Kris does most of the work around the house herself, with help from Susan.

"Incidentally, that girl is so cute! She's going to the Clifford & Jamison school, of course, and her two best friends are Kris Clifford and Bobbie Johnson. Those three are so damned cute!

"About all they do, aside from caring for their gorgeous house, is to eat occasionally at Maxim's. André and Molly Malraux treat them — particularly Susan — as their most honored guests. And it's funny, really, I guess. Susan is such a beautiful little girl, she captures all the attention. Kris and Bill just fade into the background, and they just love it that way!

"Then they play golf with the Malraux, and they see Henry and Penny Hall. To Penny, Susan is always complaining that her eyes — an incredibly deep blue, I should add — aren't nearly as nice as her mother's purple ones.

"And make no mistake... ! Kris isn't Susan's stepmother, she's her mommy! And that says it all. Those two have been madly in love with each other from the very first day ... And it's so great!

"So anyway, now I can't even unload any money on them. You know how anal-retentive your sister is. She insists that she has more than enough money of her own to handle, thank-you-very-much. The bitch!"

Then focusing on Cathy she said, "How about you and Ken?"

Cathy grinned and shook her head. "I'm taking a leaf from sister Barbara: When the bank statement comes in, if the balance is greater than $50 million, I just throw it away. And it works just fine, too." Then she added blithely, "So if you were to drop a few bucks into our account, we probably wouldn't even notice."

"But Cathy!" Vangie wailed. "You're a banker! You can't be so casual with your money!"

"Oh, no?" Cathy replied with a grin. "Want to watch?"

"Grr... !" was Vangie's reply. Then she said, "Look, dear daughter, the reason for your being here today was to coach. So coach!"

"I guess you'll have to feed Cammy, then..."

"Sheesh! This is too damned much! It's one thing for grandparents to babysit for their grandchildren, but having to nurse... ? My own granddaughter... ? Cathy... !" Vangie wailed.

"You just love it, so shut up," Cathy said casually as she ran out on the field to find Paul Christian.

-------

While this conversation between the two generations of Bradleys had been going on, people kept arriving at the practice field, coming from coast to coast. The first to arrive was Becky Richmond, one of the girls that Jim Dawson had fucked nearly to death. Although now living in suburban Chicago, she was from Mississippi and her father was a hunter. After superlative gymnastics training, she had finally been dropped when her breasts developed too much in the opinion of her coaches. And since she wasn't about to have a breast reduction on B-cup breasts...

Becky went over and joined the cheerleaders. After introducing herself as the proprietor of one of the nation's top cheerleading camps, she was greeted by the girls with open arms. Jane Smith hadn't yet arrived.

From New York came David Wilson, a part-time executive with PHA, and a full-time All-Pro running back with the New York Giants. With him was his guard, Jim Burt, a Pro-Bowler.

The largest contingent came from Chicago. There were Mike Cassidy, the quarterback for the Bears, Ken Bradley, a wide receiver; Kevin Cavanaugh, a tight end; and Ron Jackson, a cornerback. In addition, there was John Smith, a Hall-of-Fame defensive end with the Green Bay Packers. From the West Coast came Bill Carson, the free safety from the AFC-Champion Oakland Raiders.

One after the other, the football players introduced themselves to the Hillsdale College head football coach who was both stunned and delighted to have some of the top football players of all time as volunteer coaches. Every one had a virtual lock on his position in Pro Bowl voting.

The men scattered to work with the players who played similar positions.

Cathy Bradley found Paul Christian, and it was funny. (My sisters used their lock-in function to record that conversation while enthusiastically participating in the cheerleading practice. Becky Richmond really impressed them both. The girl introduced a whole series of new cheers and new moves for the girls.)

"I really don't know why I'm here," Cathy told Paul. "I used to be able to kick pretty well, but now..." She just sadly shook her head. "After seven kids—"

"You're kidding!" Paul interrupted. But then he remembered his own mother and Kim Kramer. He grinned and said, "I'll bet they even serve you a drink when you get dressed up, don't they?"

"Usually I get a dirty look, but I usually get a drink, too," Cathy admitted. "It's the other times that really piss me off, though."

Paul grinned and again thought of his own mother. "You're fine as long as they don't ask for ID, right?"

Cathy just ruefully nodded her head.

"You look like you're about 19, but how old are you? Mid 30s?"

Again Cathy nodded. "And you're right about the ID, too: I show my driver's license and all the wait staff does is laugh! One gal had the nerve to call over a bunch of her buddies to show off my license. Would you believe it? They thought it was one of the best fakes they had seen. Not the best, mind you, but pretty good. But that wasn't all..."

"Oh... ?" Paul commented in a neutral tone.

"No! I even had my passport with me that day. And you know what those bitches said? One of them had the nerve to tell me never to do that again; forging a passport is a Federal offense." Then she shook her head and added, "And it just gets worse!"

"How's that?" Paul asked.

"Just last week I went through the same damned thing. My two oldest, Ken, junior, and Krista were with me. When I got turned down — again! — after showing my license, Ken, who's 14, said, 'I told you it wouldn't work, Sis.' I could have killed him!"

"And... ?"

"He's only 14, but he's already bigger than I."

"I'm much bigger than my mother, too," Paul responded, "but that didn't stop her from cracking one of my ribs with her elbow when I did that to her a few months ago." Then he added, "That 'you'll never get away with it, Sis, ' trick has been going around the families for quite a while now."

Cathy just laughed. Then she started to work with Paul on his punting and place kicking. He was astonished as he realized that somehow Cathy seemed to be able to actually flex her leg bones almost like an archery bow and then release at the instant of ball contact. She told him it was a question of trying to relax the leg to let it happen. He worked with her and soon was reliably putting his kicks through the uprights at 50 yards.

Ann was so delighted when she realized what Paul was doing, she was literally jumping up and down.

What turned out to be so funny was that all during the practice Paul had no idea who Cathy Bradley was. It was only after Susan Cassidy came over and made some comment — Susan had been coaching Tony Kramer, while her husband, Mike, just watched — that Paul realized who she was.

"Good Heavens!" he exclaimed, "you're the woman who played with the pros, aren't you? And ... and ... you were the MVP in a Pro Bowl game, too, right?"

Cathy punched him in the arm and exclaimed, "Shut up, will you! You're making me feel really old. That was ancient history, going back almost as far as playing football without helmets!"

Ignoring her, Paul continued, "And you came within a yard of tying the all-time NFL record for the longest field goal, too, didn't you?"

"Ancient history!" Cathy repeated vehemently. "Now kick the damned ball!"

Meanwhile, on the sidelines, there was now quite a collection of women and young children. My sisters found it funny as they heard the women renewing friendships made when their husbands were out in Hawaii every year for Pro Bowl games. It amounted to a reunion of NFL all-stars.

Once again, Jane Smith was late for the practice. When she finally appeared, she didn't appear to be sore, but rather she was very pensive.

"What's the trouble?" Little Bit asked.

Jane shook her head. "No trouble," she replied softly.

"Well, something is sure bothering you," Little Bit continued. "What is it?"

"It's ... I just had a short meeting with President Arnn," Jane said.

"And... ?"

"And he asked me to be the new chief librarian," Jane blurted. "Woody Wheelwright has just resigned to become chief librarian at Yale. He'll be running that monster Sterling Memorial Library as well as the Beineke."

"That's wonderful!" Ann exclaimed. "Congratulations! But why aren't you excited?"

"Don't you think Sam Johnson will mind?" she asked softly.

"Mind? I sure don't think so," Ann said. "But let's ask Caitie. She knows him far better than we do. We only met him a couple of days ago for the first time."

They asked the girl and Caitie instantly replied, "He'll be ecstatic!" Then she added somewhat mysteriously, "Jane Smith, you're going to learn that Sam Johnson is a very different kind of construction manager."



-------

Chapter 42



At that point an utterly beautiful black woman came closer and introduced herself. "How do you do?" she said to Jane. "I'm Mary Smith, and you might be just the person for me to be talking to."

Jane giggled and replied, "I guess we should be better acquainted. My name is Jane Smith, and the two of us must have the most ordinary names in the country."

"I guess that's probably true," Mary replied with a warm smile. Then she added, "That's my husband out there." She indicated the giant, John Smith.

Jane's eyes widened. "But ... but, he's in the Hall of Fame, isn't he?"

"He used to be a pretty good football player, I guess," Mary admitted. "But lately, he's been more occupied with indoor sports." As she said it, she gently rubbed her crotch and moaned.

Jane rubbed her own and responded, "You, too?"

Mary just grinned and nodded her head. "But it's so good..."

Jane quickly changed the subject to get away from such a sensitive issue. "You said that I might be the one you should talk to. What did you mean by that?"

"Could we talk about it after practice?" Mary replied. "Perhaps over a drink?"

"I ... sort of have a date," Jane admitted, blushing.

"With Samuel Johnson?" Mary asked.

"Why, yes. But how did you know?"

"Because there's a small group that includes the Bradleys, the Taylors, the Cliffords, the Stewarts ... We sort of live in each other's pockets, and," she confided, "gossip incessantly!"

"Are you sure it would be all right?" Jane asked.

"I'm certain!" Mary replied emphatically.

Meanwhile, out on the practice field, the players were taking a break and the NFL "coaches" were having an informal conference.

John Smith asked Jim Burt, the Giant's guard: "What do you think of John Taylor? Is he any good? And what about Tim Johnson?"

Instead of responding, Burt glared at David Wilson and said, "A helluva friend you are! Johnny Taylor is your brother-in-law, for God's sake! Why didn't you warn me?"

David was embarrassed. "I didn't think he was very good," he admitted sheepishly. "In fact, to get it all out on the table, I tried to discourage John from even applying to Notre Dame. And when I learned he was coming here to Hillsdale, I was utterly delighted. I thought this would be more his speed."

"That's a laugh and a half!" Burt exclaimed. "Wilson, let me give it to you in words of one syllable: He's faster, quicker, and stronger than you are, right now! But he's not good enough to play for Notre Dame? Is that what you were saying?"

"He and his friends have only played for a small boy's prep school. I thought Notre Dame would be way out of his league."

"Well, let me give you the hot scoop!" Burt retorted. "He could go a few miles east and be starting for the Detroit Lions on opening day this year!"

"Honest?" Wilson asked. "You're not kidding?"

"No, I'm not kidding! That kid is good." Burt paused and then said, "David, let me put it this way: He's better than you were on your very best day. Is that clear enough?"

"Good Lord!" David murmured. "Honest?"

"Honest!"

Wilson slowly shook his head. "The fact of the matter is that I've never seen John play. When he's playing, so are we. So..."

David Wilson thought for a moment and then said, "I just realized ... John doesn't have a lead blocker when he hits the line."

"He can't," Jim Burt responded. "He's too fast and too quick. A lead blocker would just get in his way. As it is, if he's going between guard and tackle, they don't even bother to block the tackle and end across from them; John's passing them on the outside while they're passing the defensive linemen on the inside. Then the guys hit the linebackers and John is gone! The kid's incredible!"

"What about Tim Johnson?" John Smith asked.

"He's unreal!" Burt replied. "And for that matter, so is John Running Deer." He shook his head and added, "If those two guys were in the NFL right now, I would be looking for another line of work. And smart? Good grief! There are moves I've been using on guys in our division at least twice a year, every year, since I came into the league, and they still haven't caught on.

"But those guys? They're unreal! I used that move once. Just once! The second time, they recognized it instantly and used the only perfect counter. I got killed."

"How about those California boys?" Smith asked.

Mike Cassidy replied, "I'll tell you what my wife said. And she's possibly the best passer alive. She said simply, Tony Kramer is far better than I'll ever be right now! And she's serious." With a grin he added, "Hell, he's not that good, though. I'll bet there aren't more than 25 NFL teams he could start for at quarterback this season!"

David Wilson just laughed. "You know what? I was talking to John Running Deer. He's delighted to be coming to school here. He says he likes playing football, but really didn't think they had a chance of making the team down in South Bend. It's what I mentioned earlier: They're from a very small prep school. And Notre Dame is one of those schools that uses very few walk-ons. If you're not recruited and there on an athletic scholarship, they're really not too interested."

"But what about the California boys?" Smith asked.

"They would be a very different story," Wilson admitted. "Tony and Paul took their team to the California Division I title. And given the size of the state, that means something. I really don't know how seriously Notre Dame might have recruited them, though. They might have conceded them to Stanford or USC without a fight."

Then Ron Jackson spoke up. "I'm really going to get it from my son, Ron, tonight. I can hear him now: 'Gee, Dad, are you sure they pay you to play football?'" He shook his head and added wryly, "And, quite honestly, I can see why he might say that, too. Paul Christian is good! And I mean the very best!"

Looking at Ken Bradley and Kevin Cavanaugh, he asked, "You guys are paid to catch passes. What do you two think?"

"Well," Ken replied with a grin, "I'm not planning on giving up my day job as a senior vice president of Chicago Trust, and I don't think Kevin will stop serving as senior vice president–manufacturing of Chicago Steel, either." To his best friend he asked, "Am I right, Kevin?"

"I really think you're being unfair," Kevin retorted. "I mean ... Just because he's twice as fast as we are, bigger, and with surer hands ... I mean ... He's not nearly in our class. After all, we've fathered seven kids apiece. And Kelly still loves me and Cathy still loves you. That counts for something, doesn't it?"

"It does to me and it does to you," Ken admitted, "but unfortunately it doesn't cut much ice with the NFL."

Then Bill Carson spoke up for the first time. "We were planning on just staying a couple of days," he said, "but you know what? On Saturday, Hillsdale is having an end-of-spring-practice scrimmage with the University of Michigan Wolverines." He grinned evilly and added, "And you know what? I think this little school with only 1,100 kids is really going to whup their asses! And I really want to be here to see it, and I'm sure my wife, Gloria, will want to see it, too. What do you guys think?"

"I think it's going to be a lot of fun, is what I think!" John Smith exclaimed. "You know what? I think those boys are going to be crawling back to Ann Arbor! It will be great!"

-------

At the conclusion of the practices, Ann and Little Bit were surprised to find themselves invited to join the meeting between Mary and John Smith, Jane Smith, as well as Sam Johnson. They were to meet at a lounge in town, so the girls went back to their hotel to change.

They were the first to arrive, and it wasn't yet five o'clock. As a result, the place was nearly empty although the staff was preparing for the after-work crowd. To their delight, they found an available seating area in a corner near the fireplace set up with comfortable lounge chairs. They deemed it perfect for the occasion.

You may remember that at the Wilkerson Institute, there were three major forms of appearance: classy, flashy, and trashy. That evening Little Bit and Ann were doing "classy" to a fare-thee-well. Both were wearing their magnificent engagement diamonds — they had left them at the hotel while working with the cheerleaders — as well as diamond chokers. The two were wearing their minks when they arrived, and were accompanied by Gus and Sheba, both of whose coats were glistening. The great cats were present because Caitie had assured them that they were very handy to ensure that other patrons didn't get too inquisitive. It was Caitie and the guys who had worked on the tigers with their brushes to ensure that their coats gleamed. And they certainly did!

To say the girls made a grand entrance would be to understate the case by orders of magnitude. The presence of the tigers along with their classy bearing, their furs and their diamonds served another purpose: The staff completely forgot to check the girls' ID. So when Little Bit quietly inquired about available white wines, the manager himself brought over the wine list.

He was smart enough to realize in an instant that the girls knew far more about wines than he did. The fact was that the list included some wines that were surprisingly good. Little Bit and Ann debated the relative merits of several of the establishment's best and finally settled on one, but only after the manager had retreated to check their supply. Ann felt it would be terminally tacky to have to change wines after only one bottle because the lounge had only a single bottle in stock. To the manager's great relief, he had several, so that's what the girls ordered.

With an exchange of winks, they ordered brie with crackers and fruit, and finally they asked for bowls of Snapple lemonade for the tigers. Both Gus and Sheba really sat up straight when they heard that they were going to be taken care of, too. Little Bit reached into her purse and took out five hundred-dollar bills "as a down payment on the evening."

Mary and John Smith were the next to arrive. Mary was carrying a very fat leather-bound loose-leaf binder. Both stroked the great cats and explained that they had gotten to know them while staying with the Williams in Vermont. "They have two of their own now," John explained, "George and Martha. And now, we learned, Martha gave birth to cubs, and the Williams children just adore them. Bobbie sent us a video, and it's darling. You should see the kids rolling around on the floor with the cubs! They're all loving it. And Bobbie did a painting of the scene, too."

At that point Jane Smith and Sam Johnson arrived. I suspect that the group really caused some consternation in the lounge. From the outset, both Little Bit and Ann appeared to be dripping with money, and her advance payment did nothing to counter that image. Then they were joined by four black people, the two women looking like queens, while both men were huge. And then, of course, there were the two tigers. By that time — it was after five — although the lounge was starting to fill, the newly-arriving patrons gave the tigers as much open space as they possibly could.

"Hey! This is pretty cool," Ann commented. "It appears we can have a nice quiet conversation in this corner in spite of the crowd."

Little Bit poured the wine, and Jane raised an eyebrow. "Do you have a problem?" Little Bit asked while suppressing a grin.

"You're drinking!" Jane replied.

"You're right. I find that the body needs a certain fluid intake each day for health. Don't you agree?" She pouted and added, "Besides ... I'm practically a married woman," she added, displaying her diamond.

My sisters could see that Jane was nervous. Finally, she blurted out that she had been asked by President Arnn to be the new chief librarian. She was looking at Sam Johnson fearfully when she made her announcement.

Sam quickly allayed her fears. He took her into his arms and kissed her soundly. "That's the greatest news, ever!" he exclaimed.

Jane, still reeling from the power of his kiss, decided that he was being sincere. For her, the worst of the evening was already over. Then she turned to Mary who was smiling warmly after witnessing their kiss. "You wanted to talk to me about something, Mrs. Smith," Jane said. Then she added, "I hope you don't mind my having invited the girls to join us?"

"Don't be silly!" Mary exclaimed. "From what I've heard, it was a phone call from their older sister, Kristin, that started it all. So, no; I don't mind a bit."

Mary paused and studied the glass of wine in her hand. Both my sisters felt that they were in the presence of a queen. Mary Smith was truly majestic as she sat there. Finally, she began, "Miss Smith, I am the richest woman in Chicago. I say this not to brag, but because it bears on what I would like to do."

Then she explained how, through her daughter April, she had first met Emily Amelia Hardwick and had become her heir. She told of Emily and Mike Casey and the Battle of Midway. "Emily never married," Mary continued sadly. "She remained a virgin, waiting for her lover." With tears in her eyes, she described Emily's death. "'He's come for me, Mary!' Emily said just before she died. And when she died, she had the happiest smile on her face I have ever seen. I'm certain that she's in Mike Casey's arms right now. In fact," she said with a smile trying to break through her tears, "I'm not sure if Mike has stopped fucking her yet, even though she died more than ten years ago.

"Anyway, the reason I'm the heir is that Emily wanted something good to be done with the Hardwick fortune. And, the fact is, it's far larger today than it was when she died. I am the largest single shareholder in Chicago Steel and beyond that made a great deal of money in the dot-com bubble. Fortunately," she said with a grin, "I cashed out before the bubble burst.

"At any rate, this is where Hillsdale College comes in. If you, President Arnn, and the trustees are agreeable, I would like to donate a Hardwick wing for the library. I envision a very warm, paneled area with a fireplace and with comfortable seating for the students. I would like the wing to be the Hardwick Wing of American History." She paused and then opened a subject she thought might encounter resistance. "Further, if it's possible, I would like Emily's portrait hung over the mantel of the fireplace. I'm certain she would like to be watching over the students as they study." Then she opened the leather binder in front of her and displayed an 8-by-10 photo encased in acetate.

Jane glanced at it and then looked at it more closely. Her eyes widened and she murmured, "My God! Is ... is this ... a Vance?"

"Yes, it is," Mary replied. "Do ... do you like it? Would you be willing to hang it over the fireplace?"

Jane just laughed. "Would I be willing? Lady, you jest! That's like asking me if I would be willing to accept a Rembrandt! Good grief, of course we will! That painting alone, ignoring the subject, is worth hundreds of thousands!"

She shook her head and continued, "He's only the finest living portrait painter in the world! Moreover, he's quite selective with respect to whose portrait he'll do. I understand that the subject must undergo an interview with Mr. Vance and, I guess ... with his wife?" There was a definite question-mark at the end of her statement.

Mary smiled warmly. "Indeed, Kerry Vance is his wife. Those two share a common brain. And they see it all! If they don't like what they see in the person, no portrait." Indicating Emily Amelia's portrait, she pointed out the matchbook lying on the table and explained what it was. "It carries the logo of the Pump Room at the Ambassador Hotel... from 1942. It was in the initial sketch Jim did, even though there was nothing on the table. Moreover, Jim Vance had no idea what the Pump Room's logo was, either then or now. But there it is. Similarly," Mary Smith pointed out, "you see the shadow box on the wall with a navy officer's cap device along with gold pilot's wings. Then there's the Navy Cross, the Air Medal, and the Purple Heart for his action at the Battle of Midway. Needless to say, they weren't present when the sketch was done, nor had anything been said to Jim Vance about their existence. But he and Kerry just knew."

By then feeling better since it seemed that the college would accept her gift and its conditions, she added, "There are two other portraits I hope you might have room for."

Mary then displayed the photo of a different portrait: Bill and Kathy Cartwright. "This is also a Vance," she said softly.

Jane studied the picture and breathed, "My God! The agony those two went through before they were married..." Looking up at Mary she said, "It's all true, too, isn't it? It all really happened?"

"Bill Cartwright was imprisoned for 14 years and tortured constantly," Mary replied. "And that's his Medal of Honor you see in the shadow box."

"Will we accept it?" Jane asked. "That's your question, isn't it?"

Mary just nodded.

"Perhaps Hillsdale is a bit different from many other colleges and universities today. We honor our nation's heroes." Sitting up straight in her chair she added, "The college would be delighted and very proud to display this portrait of a hero and heroine!"

Mary beamed. "There's one more," she said. "This one." With that she turned the page and displayed a photo of Bobbie Williams' portrait of Ken and Kathy Carlson."

"I don't believe this!" Jane exclaimed. "That's ... that's a Barbara Cumings, isn't it?"

"Her five children might get a little upset to hear you say that," Mary replied with a grin. "She's Barbara Williams now, and has been for years." With a warm smile she added, "But yes, she was Barbara Cumings, and this is an original of hers." then Mary added, "But why the surprise?"

Jane Smith was still slowly shaking her head. "Because the head of our art department is named Alec Richardson. His proudest boast is that Barbara Cumings was a student of his." She paused, gathered her thoughts and then continued, "I guess he's out here with us because of her, too. Alec is an abstract artist, and like almost all of them, had no use for representational art. As far as he was concerned, it went out with George Eastman's camera. But Bobbie changed his mind." Then she snapped her fingers and added, "My Lord! The picture that changed his mind about Barbara and about representational art was of ... the Taylors!" Looking at Mary she added, "It was, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was," Mary replied. Then she asked, "But how do you know so much about Mr. Richardson?"

"Because I audited his course," Jane admitted. "I have absolutely no talent, but I like to fool around with paint and canvas. But Bobbie Williams... ! My Lord!"

Mary exchanged looks with John Smith. The giant nodded and Mary continued, "If you really like Bobbie Williams' paintings, perhaps you could help us..."

"Help you? How?" Jane replied.

Looking slightly embarrassed, Mary said, "Well ... You know how some women bake cookies and stuff and send them out to friends and relatives at Christmas... ?"

Jane just nodded.

"Well," Mary continued with a grin, "Bobbie claims that she can't bake cookies to save her life. In fact, she says, 'If it weren't for Nabisco, my poor kids wouldn't know what a cookie tastes like!' Anyway, since she can't bake cookies, Bobbie sends out paintings." Again looking embarrassed she added, "The fact of the matter is that, as big as our apartment is, we've run out of wall space to hang them. So ... Would the college be willing to take some off our hands? For the art department, maybe, or the administration building... ? Or something... ?"

"I can't believe my ears!" Jane exclaimed. "Will we accept some Barbara Cumings Williams originals? You've got to be kidding! They're worth a fortune."

Again going back to her binder, Mary flipped through some pages and found the one she had been looking for. "This is one I particularly like," she said. "I think it's really sort of cute. What do you think, Jane?"

The picture showed a tigress with her two cubs. The male was lying on his side asleep while his sister had her forepaws on his body and was peering over the top. The painting — even the photo of it — perfectly depicted the mother's love for her cubs and the inquisitiveness of the tiny female.

"It's perfect!" Jane exclaimed. "How about in the main lobby of the biology building?"

Mary then showed her others, each of which evoked a similar response.

"Okay, that's taken care of," Mary said. "There's just one more thing..."

"Which is... ?" Jane prompted. Already she had accepted priceless gifts for the college. She was ecstatic.

"This is more from Emily Amelia's personal collection," Mary said. Then she explained, "About 40 years ago, Emily was in New York. She was shopping along Fifth Avenue when she happened upon a shop that had just opened on East 52nd Street, just off Fifth. It was the shop of Charles Hamilton, Autographs.

"Emily stopped in and began talking to the owner, Mr. Hamilton. It was a case of a hobby growing into a business. He was — and is — a collector of autographs. She learned that an autograph is more than a signature ... a lot more. Usually it's a hand-written letter. The value is a function of three things: First, who the writer was; second, who the recipient was; and third, the subject matter of the item."

Mary again flipped through her binder and found what she was looking for. "This is Emily's favorite," she said as she displayed a picture of a hand-written document with an illustration of Union soldiers advancing under fire through an orchard from a lithograph made in the 1860s. "It's a letter from Abraham Lincoln to Ulysses S. Grant, written in 1862, following the Battle of Shiloh. There, Grant had lost about 10,000 men and was so despondent he was thinking of resigning his commission and going home. In this letter Lincoln is begging him to reconsider." Looking at Jane she added, "Any interest?"

"My God!" the woman breathed. "'Any interest?' Lady, have you utterly lost it? That document is truly priceless." She shook her head and added, "The only problem we will have with it is finding the most appropriate place for its display. Good heavens! If it were typed, it would be priceless for its content. But in the handwriting of Abraham Lincoln himself... ? How utterly marvelous!" With her eyes wide, she asked, "Are ... are there more?"

Again flipping the acetate pages of her binder, Mary came to another. "This is one I particularly like," she said. The picture was of a burning city. "In this case, neither the writer nor the addressee were well known, but the subject matter is fascinating, as is the letter itself," Mary said. "It's a letter from a woman in Atlanta to her husband who was an officer in the Confederate army. In it, she describes the sacking of Atlanta by Sherman's troops. Of course, it's an eye-witness account. But beyond that, look at the letter carefully. Although it's substantially reduced in this picture, you can still see what the woman did.

"She wrote across the sheet, then tipped it 45 degrees left, writing across the earlier words, then tipped it 90 degrees right and did the same thing. The effect is six pages of writing on a single sheet of paper. Needless to say, it requires exquisite handwriting — which that woman certainly had — to be able to do what she did."

When Mary looked up, she was surprised to see Jane slowly shaking her head from side to side while tears streamed down her cheeks. "What's wrong, Jane? Does this cause a problem? You certainly don't have to accept any of this if you don't want it."

"Don't want it?" Jane nearly screamed. "Mary, I'm a librarian. But we're sort of in the museum business, too, I guess. It's our job to try to preserve valuable historical documents. You're offering this small college some of the finest materials in existence. I can tell you right now that the Widener Library at Harvard or the Sterling Memorial Library at Yale would grab these items in an instant. They're priceless!" She tried to smile and added, "The reason I'm crying is I'm so damned happy, I can't stand it!"

There were more, including a letter from Horatio, Lord Nelson, to the First Lord of the Admiralty explaining his behavior at the Battle of Copenhagen. Again, Jane was ecstatic.

While the group had been reviewing the material, Ann and Little Bit had been refilling glasses and serving the brie, while the pair of tigers daintily sipped on their Snapple while lying on the carpet facing outward from the table. And you know what? For some inexplicable reason, the other patrons kept as much room as possible between themselves and the animals. I guess it's fair to say that the group truly had a private conversation. At any rate, my two sisters exchanged giggles as they did "the white wine and brie bit." But the cheese was quite good, they assured me, as was the wine.

Sam Johnson and John Smith entered into the discussion when they got around to talking about the physical arrangements. The women were all giggling when Sam responded to Mary's question about how much the project was likely to cost.

"You'll want it fully furnished, I suppose?" he mused.

Mary and Jane both nodded their heads.

"With all-leather seating, a fireplace, paneling... ?"

Again they nodded.

"Golly, I just don't know. But it's going to be expensive..."

"How much?" Mary persisted.

"Hell, the structure alone could cost $1,000, easy. And then the furnishings..." Shaking his head sadly he told Mary, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Smith, but I really don't think you'll be able to get out for much less than $1,500. Of course," he added hastily, "that's only a planning number. When we sharpen our pencils, it could be less, but I don't think it will be a great deal less."

"Mr. Johnson... !" Mary said accusingly.

"Honest, Mrs. Smith, we like to think that we're pretty good at PHA." With a firm nod he added, "I'll tell you one thing: No other contractor will do it for less."

At that point, both Mary and Jane could no longer control themselves. They howled with laughter.



-------

Chapter 43



Late on Friday, an announcement was made that there would be a special convocation for the entire school on Saturday morning at nine o'clock. Attendance was mandatory. There was just a little more than the usual bitching about having to get up at the crack of dawn on a weekend yet, but the students and faculty all appeared.

Entering the auditorium, they found a rostrum on stage with a few chairs flanking it. Promptly at nine, President Arnn appeared and began the meeting. Jane Smith was seated in one of the chairs, but she was the only other person on stage.

"Good morning," he began, "and please accept my apologies for hauling you out of bed at such an ungodly hour on a Saturday. But it's essential, as I hope you will all agree. First, it gives me great pleasure to announce the appointment of Jane Smith as the new librarian of the college. Woody Wheelwright has resigned to take the position of chief librarian at Sterling Memorial Library at Yale University." Arnn paused for a moment and then added, "But you know what? When he learns what happened Thursday evening, I think he might regret his decision.

"You see, there is more to my announcements this morning.

"First, through the incredible generosity of Mary Smith of Chicago, we are the recipients of some priceless bits of Americana." At that point, Arnn reached under the podium, brought out a framed picture and placed it in front of the podium. Returning to his position, he continued, "What you see in front of me is only one. It arrived late yesterday. Because of your distance from the stage, most of you can't see what this is, so I'll describe it. First, there is a picture taken from a 19th century magazine showing troops attacking through the peach orchard at Pittsburgh Landing, Tennessee in 1862. A great battle was fought there when Albert Sydney Johnston caught Ulysses S. Grant unprepared. In two days of fighting, over 20,000 men were lost, about 10,000 on each side. The Union called it the battle of Shiloh.

"Because of the carnage, Grant was considering resigning as commander of the Union Army of the Tennessee. Below the picture is a letter, and it is the original. It is a handwritten letter from Abraham Lincoln to Grant pleading with him not to resign.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this document is truly priceless, and it is now ours.

"It will be housed in a new Emily Amelia Hardwick wing of the library, and is part of Mrs. Smith's gift to us." He then described the new wing and its features. When he mentioned comfortable chairs, there were quiet cheers from the students.

Then he brought out the portrait of Emily Amelia. "This is a portrait of Emily Amelia Hardwick in whose name the library is being built. When you study it, you will see an incredible lady. She never married because the love of her life was killed at the Battle of Midway almost 60 years ago. You'll see in the portrait the Navy Cross and other medals for valor he won that day." Arnn paused for a moment and then continued, "Beyond that, though, the portrait is an original Vance, and virtually priceless in its own right. This portrait will hang proudly over the fireplace in the new library.

"But there's more," Arnn continued. He took the portrait back and replaced it with another letter. The picture showed a city in flames. "The picture here is the burning of Atlanta by Sherman's troops. The accompanying letter is truly remarkable. It is a letter from a woman in Atlanta to her husband, an officer in the Confederate Army. In it she describes the sacking of Atlanta. But the remarkable thing about the letter is the way it is written." He went on to describe how the woman was able to get six pages on a single sheet of paper.

Then he described a number of other similar documents that had been donated to the school. "And all of these items are now in the custody of our library, and our new chief librarian, Jane Smith."

He smiled and then continued, "But that's not all: There is more to the Smith gift. She has endowed the Hardwick Chair in American Literature. It gives me great pleasure to introduce to you our first Hardwick Professor of American Literature." At this point Arnn digressed and shook his head sadly. "I just don't know..." he said. "This chair has been endowed with a $5-million gift. This will produce an income to the professor of at least $200,000 per year. And that's more than I make!"

He grinned and continued, "But I digressed. It is with great pride that I would like to introduce the first Hardwick professor, Dr. Samuel Johnson!"

Jane's jaw dropped as Sam appeared from the wing of the stage. Arnn continued, "Some of you may recognize Dr. Johnson, although not the way he's dressed this morning. More commonly, you would see him wearing a yellow hardhat with the PHA Construction logo on it. You see, he is — and will continue to be — construction manager on all the construction now in progress on campus."

Arnn grinned and continued, "It's a good thing, too. Since he will be joining our permanent faculty as soon as the construction is complete, it's now certainly in his own best interest that things be done right. After all, he'll be around for a long time to listen to any complaints regarding things left undone or done poorly."

The president then cited Johnson's academic accomplishments, including his Ph.D. from Columbia University and the publication of his dissertation which had become a best seller.

"Finally," Arnn said, "I can't tell you how pleased I am to announce the engagement of Dr. Johnson to Miss Jane Smith! They're going to be married in June!"

Hearing those words, Jane's jaw really dropped. But before she could do or say anything, Sam had taken her into his arms and kissed her. Just as their lips met, Jane was starting to sputter, so it created a very odd feeling in their kiss. When they eased apart, she was speechless.

Reaching into his pocket, Sam took out a beautiful engagement ring. Taking her nerveless left hand, he slipped the ring on her third finger, then kissed her again. This time she wrapped her arms around his neck and really unloaded with all of her love.

Easing apart again, Sam whispered, "Jane, I love you. Will you marry me?"

"Of course," she replied, "but you have to know I hate you. Just imagine! A girl learns that she's engaged to be married ... when the president of her school announces it to the whole world. So I hate you, Samuel Johnson. And you never told me about your academic accomplishments, either—"

Her speech was truncated by another kiss.

At that point, Arnn changed tack. Looking around the auditorium, he asked, "Are the Harris twins here this morning?"

Indeed, my sisters were present, but they were taken aback by being singled out. Nevertheless, both stood up.

"Ah, great!" Arnn said when he saw them. "Please come up here, girls. You have a part in this morning's little play."

They made their way forward, went up on stage and stood beside the president.

"Ah, yes. Here are the troublemakers," Arnn continued with his eyes twinkling. "Folks, standing here are the Harris twins, Ann and Elizabeth ... although Elizabeth is better known as Little Bit. She's the blue-eyed golden-haired blonde, while her sister, Ann, is the green-eyed, tawny-haired blonde." He looked closely at Ann and then remarked, "You know what? Ann's coloring is the same as that of their tigers. I didn't realize that before."

Getting back on track he said, "But why are these two up here? The answer to that is pretty simple: They're the troublemakers who've caused us to receive two billion dollars! It all started late last December when I received a call from their older sister, Kristin. The sister was calling to complain about our interminable admissions process, and particularly the length of our application. 'Couldn't we short-circuit the process?' she asked, 'for maybe half a billion dollars?'

"Well! I mean ... Really! I'm certain that she wasn't aware of the fact that our admissions package represents 150 years of accumulated achievement on the part of generations of admissions officers. Each one had to make his or her own contribution to posterity in the form of some addition to the material, after all. But then I thought of 500-million reasons why we ought to rethink the process.

"Anyway, here they are. And honest, we didn't let down the bars too much. After all, they are co-valedictorians. They did score 1600 combined on their SATs. The only grades showing on their transcripts are A's and A+'s. They're co-captains of their cheerleading squad that's a national award winner. But in spite of all of that, we admitted them anyway.

"And what happened? Well, I'll tell you what happened. It's said that 'no good deed goes unpunished.' Well, guess what? These two are living proof of the validity of that statement. Just because we accepted half a billion dollars on their behalf, now we're stuck with four times that amount, along with a few new buildings and the library addition I mentioned earlier.

"I have them up here so you'll all know whom to blame. And it isn't me!"

He grinned and ended by saying, "There's one more thing: Our football team has a scrimmage against University of Michigan this afternoon. I have it from knowledgeable sources — all NFL Pro Bowl players — that the results today are going to be significantly different from what many expect. I hope that as many of you as possible will be able to attend. Admission is free, by the way.

"And thank you all for coming!"

-------

The football team and cheerleading squad had practiced again on Friday, and on Saturday there was the game against the Wolverines of University of Michigan. Hillsdale had been scrimmaging the Wolverines off and on for years, usually, as this year, at the end of spring practice. For the Hillsdale players, the scrimmages had come to be greeted with all the enthusiasm generated by a toothache. But this year was different ... very different.

In the first place, there were the eight incoming freshmen. While the Hillsdale players would have been the first to admit they were not experts on the game, at the same time, they had just had two full days working out with some of the very finest men ever to play the game. And the pros had assured them that the new men were very good indeed.

For their part, the Michigan team members looked forward to the trip. Hillsdale had a lovely campus in a lovely part of the state. Moreover, since its enrollment was only 1,100, its football stadium was correspondingly small, in stark contrast to Michigan's 100,000-plus seat behemoth. Although there was little interest in the scrimmage at Michigan, since the school was roughly 50 times larger than Hillsdale, they were able to comfortably fill the stands on their side of the field. To the players, it reminded them of playing in high school when it was still fun.

The fun didn't last very long, though.

Things began to change when the Hillsdale team came bounding out on the field in their brand-new uniforms. (Sorry about that. Yes, I have a piece of a major sporting goods company, and, because a football uniform's components come from different suppliers, they're used to working together. So when the controlling shareholder — me — needs something in a hurry, it becomes available. Also in a hurry.) The players thought they really looked good in their new blue and white uniforms, too. But that wasn't the change. The Hillsdale cheerleaders were lined up flanking the team's entrance on the field. But the team was led through the alley by four giant Bengal tigers.

For the fullest effect, the Michigan team was already on the field preparing for the start of the scrimmage when the tigers appeared. The tigers formed a row and sped out onto the field, stopping at the 40-yard line. There the four stood up on their hind legs, clawed the sky and let out frightening screams of rage. The Wolverines were shocked at the new Hillsdale Tigers, but the Hillsdale fans went wild! They loved it!

Then do you know what those hams did? Gus and Ziggy bowed to the Hillsdale stands while their mates, Sheba and Hilde, curtsied. This time the Hillsdale fans howled with laughter. Not only was it new in their experience, what they were seeing had never happened before in history.

The format of the game was similar to a normal game with the exception that there were no kickoffs. It was felt — with some justification — that there were just too many injuries when armored behemoths collided at full speed going in opposite directions. As a result, rather than kicking off, the receiving team put the ball in play at its own 35-yard line.

Indeed, on the very first play — Michigan had the ball — things changed dramatically from what had been expected. John Running Deer was lined up as a nose tackle opposite the Michigan center. He was playing off the man's right shoulder. But during the pre-game warmups, John had been paying more attention to the Michigan team than to his own. And what he had seen was that the Michigan center had developed a very bad habit. While most people think that the teams are free to move only when the center snaps the ball, the reality is that they can move when he first moves the ball after the line takes its set position. And John had seen that the center had developed a habit of adjusting the position of the ball before centering it after he had taken his down stance. But the "adjustment" was movement, and that's all it takes.

John was watching the Michigan center like a hawk as he prepared to snap the ball on Michigan's first play. And sure enough, the center made his habitual adjustment. John was off his mark like a shot and into the Michigan backfield, just as the quarterback made a half-turn to hand off to his running back running straight ahead.

But John was there first. He took the ball, leveled the running back with a crushing shoulder block, and then sped down the field for a touchdown. Paul Christian split the uprights with his extra-point try, and Hillsdale was up by seven after playing about five seconds!

The instant John crossed the goal line, the tigers were on their hind legs, again clawing the sky while roaring in triumph. (Both Little Bit and Ann assured me that the tigers have a whole catalog of roars: triumph, challenge, rage ... It goes on and on.) The tigers didn't need anyone to tell them when to roar. They knew the game at least as well as most of the cheerleaders.

The Michigan coach protested the referee's call on that play, but the official explained that the center had indeed moved the ball after being set, and that was all that was required to release the defense.

On their next series, the center was more careful, but his bad habit reasserted itself several more times during the scrimmage, and John Deer made him pay every time. A meaningful learning experience for him, I guess. At any rate, on the first play of the next series, the Michigan quarterback completed the handoff to his running back. The back had been the terror of the conference for the previous two seasons with his power running. He was six feet three and weighed about 225. Taking the ball from the quarterback, he hit his hole cleanly. And met Tiny Tim Johnson, playing inside linebacker, going in the opposite direction.

Little Bit winced at the sound of the collision, but then the back was going backward until he was just pancaked by Tim. The boy had to be carried off the field, although, fortunately, he had only had the wind knocked out.

With second and long, the Michigan quarterback went back to pass and was dropped by another of John's linemen for a 12-yard loss. They were by then back to their 20. Another attempted pass resulted in another sack and a 10-yard loss. With 4th and 35 on their own 10, a punt was a foregone conclusion. Except Paul Christian came blazing in from the corner and blocked the punt. It caromed off his arms and went backward over the Michigan end line for a Hillsdale safety and two more points.

Following Michigan's free kick from their 20, Hillsdale put the ball in play on their own 45. And, like Michigan, Hillsdale's first play from scrimmage was a handoff to the running back, John Taylor, coming through the middle. But that's where the similarity ended. As Jim Burt had commented a couple of days earlier, Tiny Tim and John Running Deer went right by the defensive tackle and end with John already passing between them. They then leveled the middle and outside linebackers and, except for the free safety, John was home free. John himself leveled the safety with a block and sped down the field for Hillsdale's first offensive score.

On their next offensive series, Tony used a play-action pass for his first play. Faking a handoff to John, it brought up both safeties to stop the run. But it left Paul Christian with single coverage from a cornerback going down the right sideline. In single coverage, the poor Michigan corner had no chance. With virtually the entire Michigan team biting on his fake, Tony had all the time in the world to get his pass away. He caught Paul in full stride, and the boy just ran away from the defender.

This time the tigresses jumped up on the backs of their mates, stood on their hind legs and again clawed the sky with roars of triumph. And again the Hillsdale stands went absolutely wild.

At halftime, although there was not supposed to be any entertainment, virtually the entire Hillsdale marching band was present. During the first half, they disappeared and reappeared in full uniform. They weren't about to miss the chance to perform at the halftime of Hillsdale's first-ever victory against Division 1-A University of Michigan. Surprisingly, there were a large number of Michigan's band members at the game, too. And since at times it seemed as if the Michigan marching band numbered as many members as Hillsdale had total students, even a fraction of the total represented more band members than Hillsdale had. So Michigan put on a halftime show, too, albeit they reversed the usual order of appearance with Michigan performing last.

Without beating a dead horse, suffice it to say that Hillsdale destroyed Michigan that day, a whole bunch to nothing. In fact, even though there were no official statistics kept, it came as no surprise to anyone to learn that Michigan's total offense for the day was in negative numbers.

At the conclusion of the game, the Hillsdale head coach went over to speak to his Michigan opposite number. With him he brought his NFL "assistant coaches". He made the introductions to the coach and his team members, many of whom, dreaming of a career in the NFL, knew of all of them. The Michigan players scrambled for any scrap of paper that they could use to obtain the signatures of their heroes. Moreover, since the NFL players covered the gamut of football positions, every guy was able to see and talk to his personal hero.

When the crush of Michigan players eased with the guys going back to their locker room, their coach turned to the NFL players who were still gathered around. "You know, one problem with this game is that when one team gets trounced — and we sure did! — one can't be sure whether the winners were very good or the losers were very bad. I would really like the opinion of you guys: Are those young Hillsdale players as good as they appeared to be?"

David Wilson was the first to respond. Rather sheepishly he said, "They're really that good." He grinned and continued, "The reason I look a bit sheepish is that's the way I feel. The reason for that, in turn, is that John Taylor, the running back, is my brother-in-law, but I had no idea he was as good as he is or as fast." Then with a real grin he continued, "What did you think of his first carry? When he went through the middle and took out the safety himself?"

"I just about dropped my teeth is the short answer. Where in hell did that move come from?"

"That's John's own," David replied. "As you noticed, he's very big and he's very fast. He's also very strong. It seems he figured out awhile ago that when he has about six inches in height and about 75 pounds in weight on the safety, it's easier to go through him than it is to try to get by him. So that's what he does."

Then one after the other, the other NFL players commented in a similar vein regarding the players they were most familiar with.

"And they play both ways, for heaven's sake. Where did that come from?"

John Smith answered that one. "They go to a little school," he said, "and there aren't many players. And they're superbly-conditioned athletes, I have to say."

"Where on earth do they come from?" the Michigan coach asked. When told they were mostly from New York, he said, "I didn't know you recruited there. We do, but I've never heard of any of them. Where did they go to school?"

"The linemen and the running back all went to the same small private boys' prep school," the Hillsdale coach explained.

"But how did you find them?"

"I didn't; they found me." He then explained that they had originally been heading for Notre Dame, but then changed their minds. "They didn't think they could even make the team down there, being walk-ons and all."

"My God!" the coach exclaimed. "Do you mean to tell me that you got these kids for just the cost of a few scholarships?"

"Not quite," Hillsdale explained. "They're paying full freight ... And their family and friends have just given the college two billion dollars."

Michigan choked. "Two ... two ... two... billion?"

"It is a nice round number, don't you think?"

Michigan just shook his head. "What about the quarterback and H-back? Where did they come from?"

"They're from California," Hillsdale explained. "The quarterback was the MVP of the California Division 1 championship game."

"My Lord! How in hell did you ever get them away from USC, Stanford, Cal, and the rest? How much did they cost you?"

"Uh ... They're walk-ons, too, I guess," Hillsdale admitted. "They came with 500 million of the two billion."

"Grades?" Michigan asked. "But on the other hand, I think I would be happier not knowing."

"We're really pretty proud of these boys," Hillsdale admitted. "The California boys are first and second in their graduating class. One is class president, and the other is president of the student council. Their grades are straight A's, and their SATs are both 1600."

Michigan went pale. "And the New York boys?" he gasped.

"All A's, and the lowest SAT score is well above 1550 combined. How does that sound? Think they can make the grade?"

Michigan just slowly shook his head. "What about that boy who stole the ball on the first play? He looks ... different."

"That's John Running Deer," Hillsdale replied with a grin. "He's pure Mohawk Indian. His father is chief of the tribe. And his girlfriend — she's one of the cheerleaders — is pure Seneca. Her father is chief of his tribe, too. We're really pretty proud to have those kids. They're just great!"

Michigan extended his hand and said, "Congratulations! Hillsdale College has the eight top football prospects in the nation. And they're all brains, too." He slowly shook his head and then grinned. "Could you do me a favor, though?"

"What's that?"

"Could you contact the coach at East Lansing and see if you could scrimmage the Spartans sometime during the season next fall? He and I play golf together, and I think it would be great!" He paused and then added, "But not too close to a game, okay? It's going to take those Michigan State lads a few days to get over the beating."

And that was Little Bit and Ann's springtime visit to Hillsdale College.



-------

Chapter 44



When the girls returned home, things got a bit amusing. First of all, we all agreed — that's Mom and Dad, Kris and me, Liz, Tina, and even their younger sisters, Kim and Judy — that it would have been better if the girls had gone out to the Coast or the guys had come East. As it was, Little Bit and Ann seemed perpetually to have satellite phones in their ears. And with the usage charges at our end alone, it would have been cheaper if I had bought the dumb satellite! They were yakking with their guys constantly, day and night, regardless of where they might be. Oh, well...

The other new thing at the Harris compound was the presence of four tigers. Tony and Paul agreed that if they had taken either pair back to California with them they would never get them back. Their younger siblings would have appropriated them permanently. Anyway, all four were living with us because John Taylor and Caitie Fitzpatrick agreed that their pair — Ziggy and Hilde — would be far happier roaming our Westchester estate than they would be housed in an apartment in New York City.

That was funny, too. When Tony and Paul returned home and told their families about the tigers, the result was that two newly-mated pairs were shipped down to Orange County. Although the edge of the desert wasn't very close to being a jungle, it was warm at least. And — no surprise — the tigers loved it. And they loved the small children, who, in turn, thought the tigers were the neatest things on four feet.

And the tigresses wasted no time in becoming pregnant. Little Bit told us of the Bobbie Williams painting of the two tiger cubs with their mother, assuring us that the babies would make ideal playmates for ours.

And then there were the tigresses — and their mates — with our baby, Billy, and my baby sister, Karen. It took a good deal of coaxing on the parts of Little Bit and Ann to persuade Kris that Billy would be safe with Sheba. Safe? You should have seen it! There's Sheba lying on her back when Kris, with great trepidation, put our infant on Sheba's chest. The little guy just cooed, while Sheba began that very low-pitched rumbling, her purr. Billy loved it! He grabbed handfuls of her very soft white chest fur and then put his head down. With exquisite care, Sheba very lightly covered him with her forepaws. Meanwhile, Gus was in his house-cat pose sitting beside his mate while looking around the area. Clearly, he was prepared to guard our baby with his life.

Mom had been watching the proceedings with great interest, too. When she saw what had happened, having just finished nursing baby Karen and then changing her, she put the baby on Brunhilde's chest. It was the loveliest thing. In minutes, the two tigresses were asleep with the infants on their chests while their mates stood guard.

Protection? The only greater protection would have been from an armored division, but the babies wouldn't have slept nearly so well.

Security? Ah, yes ... As I've said, for years my parents lived in isolated splendor, but then after Kris came, things changed. We built our house, and then there were new homes for Tina and Liz, too. We had quite a little compound, and it seemed that the new construction was seen as being attractive targets to our neighborhood professional burglars. Fortunately for us, the new interest of the burglars coincided with the arrival of the four tigers. In all honesty, though, while it was fortunate for us, it was significantly less so for the burglars.

The arrival of the great cats caused some modifications to be made in our houses. Special electrically-operated doors were built that were activated by tiny radio transmitters the great cats wore on their collars. They just approached one of the doors from either direction and it would open for them. The result was that they had easy access in both directions without having to bother anyone to open a door.

From our perspective, it was pretty good, too. It's fair to say that the tigers lovemaking became somewhat ... violent ... at times. Far better outside than inside. Finally, being the very intelligent creatures that they are, it took only a few minutes for us to show them the boundaries of our combined properties. The entire property was posted with No Trespassing signs.

But this didn't discourage our neighborhood burglars. Or it didn't at first.

The first one was ... interesting. I guess I was the one who found the guy. I had gone to the front door to retrieve that morning's New York Times, when I found him. It is fair to say, I suppose, that he was scared speechless. First of all, he was naked. His clothing — what was left of it — was in pieces all over the front yard. You've heard by now about the tigers and their depilatory skills. It seems that after stripping off the poor man's clothing, the tigers had removed every speck of hair from his body. I must say, he wasn't in very good physical condition for a burglar. He was definitely carrying too much weight. Moreover, from the whiteness of his skin, it was clear he didn't get much sun either.

Anyway, it appeared that the tigers had been using him as their "board" for tic-tac-toe games. And the tigers deserve high marks for neatness, too. In order to maximize the number of games, they very carefully drew small matrices on the burglar's body. When I emerged, they had rolled him on his side and had begun a game high on the inside of his left thigh. And careful? You would hardly believe it. The X's and O's were drawn so neatly! And really, there was very little blood flowing. The tigers figured — correctly, in my humble opinion — that if their claws went too deep, the blood flow might obscure their marks.

Having determined what had happened, I said, "That's okay, guys. Don't let me interfere with your game. But if it's okay with you, I guess I should call the police to haul away your game board when you're finished."

The four tigers cocked their heads and appeared to think about the prospect for a few moments. Then they nodded in unison and went back to their game.

I called the police on their regular phone number. After all, 911 is for emergency calls and this certainly was no emergency. The tigers had matters well in hand. A patrol car appeared and the officers found a canvas carryall loaded with burglar tools. I introduced the tigers to them, and they behaved like the true ladies and gentlemen that they are. The tigers shook hands, while the tigresses curtsied and then extended their right paws. And you know what? They had all been very careful to lick the blood off their paws before offering them to the officers, too.

A brief look around convinced the policemen that it would be a futile exercise to try to get the felon dressed. Initially, they thought they would just take him back to the station in their cruiser but found that the man was catatonic. He was literally frozen in position. That resulted in their calling for an ambulance to carry the burglar away.

And since their "game board" was going to be with them awhile longer, the tigers went back to their tic-tac-toe, to the great interest of the officers. "They're really smart, aren't they?" one commented.

I just shook my head. "They're going to have to get a new game. If you look over the boards, all you'll see is a large collection of tie games."

"Maybe 'Hangman' the next time?" the other officer suggested.

I quickly explained Hangman to the great cats and the tigers let out happy, but very quiet roars. It was still pretty early in the morning, and they didn't want to disturb any late sleepers.

Anyway, Sheba and Hilde decided to play a game. Although they could communicate mentally, we didn't think it was wise to advertise that ability. I went in and made a chart with the alphabet on it. The tigresses were delighted. Hilde was the challenger, and she would point to a letter. Sheba would either carefully draw the letter or she would draw a body part for a wrong answer. Sheba won. When Hilde challenged, Sheba filled in the missing letter. And you know what? Throughout the whole game their "board" didn't move a muscle. Of course, later we were told that movement on his part had become physically impossible. Oh, well...

The second burglary was attempted by a black man. That had its humorous element as well. It seems that the tigresses wouldn't give their mates a turn at Hangman. There were two reasons for this: First of all, the females pointed out, they had to clean off the playing surface all by themselves with no help from their mates. Besides, they added, they were both pregnant with their mates' cubs, and they needed something to "distract them from the discomfort of their pregnancies."

Yeah, right... ! They were just as uncomfortable as Little Bit and Ann were. And those two were totally unaware of being pregnant at least 99% of the time. But that's what they said.

I must say the two females were very neat. I was particularly impressed with the almost-complete stick figure in a noose right in the center of the perpetrator's scalp. Much later, we learned that the man had had dread locks of which he had been very proud. Indeed, a good deal of his income went to support their maintenance. We only learned this when we saw a photograph of the man taken after an earlier arrest.

He, too, had to be carried off in an ambulance. On that occasion, apparently he had arrived on the scene earlier than the first burglar had. As a result, when I went out for the morning paper on that day, the two tigresses were studying the man, trying to figure out where on his mangled body they could find another playing surface. Failing that, of course, there was the question they were hotly debating of how they might erase the surface and start over.

You know what? I'm really certain that the erstwhile burglar was a lot happier not knowing what the tigresses had been discussing.

But that wasn't the end of it. The aftermath and the trials were something else again! With respect to the first felon, I'm sure the presiding judge didn't believe his ears. The man's court-appointed counsel was protesting that his client had been threatened by the police ... with probation! Honest. It seems that the man was a lot happier to have stout stone walls between him and the tigers for at least the next 30 years. And to ensure his housing for that period, he confessed to an array of burglaries in the area going back years.

When the police pretended to dismiss his statements as bragging, the poor guy ended up ratting out his fence. Although the interrogating officers tried to appear blasé, they had a tough time controlling their elation. Nailing one receiver of stolen property was worth a couple of dozen burglary arrests because, while burglars are a dime a dozen, fences are not. Since the problem for a prosecutor is to establish that the receiver knew the property was stolen, our talkative tic-tac-toe board even volunteered to be wired for a meeting with the fence. It proved not to be necessary because he tipped the police to the location of the fence's "back room" where he kept items that were widely known to be hot, either because of owner's identification on a piece, or, in the cases of a few very high-value pieces of jewelry, the descriptions of the stolen property had been widely disseminated to the public.

The Hangman "board" was another story. He, too, offered to rat out his fence, but it turned out to be the same one, so no deal. So the poor guy was reduced to ratting out a gang of holdup men who had been hitting banks, fast-food establishments and C-stores for months.

There were a couple of things that happened later that I didn't fully understand. Perhaps, if you do, you could clue me in. First, both men utterly freaked when the officers told them that the tigers wanted to visit them in jail to say hello. For some reason, one of them had to be hospitalized and treated for a complete nervous collapse. Second, when the first guy was finally imprisoned, he was there for less than a day when he was sent to solitary confinement for the attempted murder of his cellmate. It seems that, since it was a quiet afternoon, the new cellmate had suggested a game of tic-tac-toe to kill time and ended up being almost killed himself. How strange.

-------

Then there was the attempted kidnaping. Not a good idea as it turned out. This happened in early April. The day was bright, sunny and unseasonably warm and it was early in the afternoon. As a result, the infants — all four of them — were in a playpen together in the front yard. They had only just become aware of things other than their own fingers and toes and their mothers' nipples. The babies were adorable in their inquisitiveness! Anyway, there they all were in a playpen in the front yard where they were shielded from the wind and where there was light shade to keep their tender skin from being burned. Sheba was watching them while the other three relieved themselves in the trees. Just as they finished, a van drove up and four Arabic-looking men got out. When they moved toward the playpen, Sheba dropped to a crouch and growled.

Then the lads made their fatal mistake. Reaching under their coats, they brought out assault rifles and started to bring them up to firing position. It wasn't the brightest idea they ever had, but it did prove to be their last. With a roar of rage, Sheba launched herself at the two closest men.

Hearing her roar, the other three tigers came at them from their left side. I was inside at the time, and heard the tigress's roar, too. I got to the door just in time to witness the carnage. Frankly, that was one occasion when I should have taken my time.

To say that Gus was furious understates the reality by orders of magnitude. First, the four infants he and his friends had been charged to protect were being threatened. But then the idiots were threatening to shoot Sheba, the love of his life and the mother of his future children.

You've read about King and the Los Angeles rapists? Well, that was sort of what I saw that afternoon, with one major exception: In Los Angeles, it was King against a gang of ten or fifteen hoodlums. That afternoon, it was four against four. One might say the odds had been evened up. That's if you consider 650 pounds of tiger versus one man to be equal. It proved not to be. The four erstwhile kidnappers were literally ripped to shreds. The other similarity came when the police arrived and were only able to determine the number of assailants by literally counting heads, which had mostly stopped rolling on the ground by the time they arrived. Aside from that, the only things in sight were small pieces of body parts.

Folks, as a public service, I really feel I should point out to you, my readers, that if you should happen to encounter a tiger taking care of a baby or small child, you really don't want to get very close to goo at him or her. Believe me, you'll be far happier — and healthier — if you keep a distance away. Half a mile is safe, but probably not entirely necessary. You will probably survive if the separation is less than that. But not a whole lot less.

As I said earlier, the infants utterly adored the tigers. You've probably seen an infant trying to reach his mother's nipple. Well, let me tell you — to the great dismay of their mothers — if a tiger was in sight, after satisfying his or her appetite, the infant would be pulling at his mother in the direction of the tiger. Going to sleep with the sound of a tiger's purr became a way of life.

And it just got better when Sheba and Hilde each gave birth to a pair of cubs. Then we had four infants and four newborn cubs. Don't ask me how their mothers did it, but the cubs would roll around with the infants happily almost from the very first days of their lives. And if you really want to see something cute, you should see an infant sandwiched between two tiny cubs all on the mother's chest, and all sleeping with the mother's forepaws covering them.

This resulted in one of Bobbie Williams' neatest paintings. You see, Kristin learned of the portraits the other women in the extended Ali Clifford clan had, and she was determined to have one, too. Ours is like the Carlson's: She did a pair, one with Kris and me nude and another with us clothed. The nude painting now hangs over our bed and the other is over the mantel.

Anyway, when, at great personal sacrifice — as she constantly told us — Bobbie came all the way down from Vermont to do the portraits, she saw our baby with the tiger cubs. Incidentally, I pointed out that there was no sacrifice on her part at all. It's well known that Vermont has three notable seasons: summer, with the fishing and lake activities; autumn with its foliage; and winter, with snow sports. But then there's the season no one speaks of. In much of the nation, it's called spring. In Vermont, though, it's called Mud Season and is better off forgotten. I pointed out that missing some of the Mud Season would hardly qualify as hardship.

You won't believe it! Barbara Williams had the nerve to stick out the tip of her tongue at me!

At any rate, Bobbie did a series of sketches of the infants and the cubs. They resulted in some of her most famous paintings, two of which we have. The others — and there were a total of six — sold for a minimum of $75,000 each. There was a humorous sidelight to this, too. Initially, people thought that the paintings were cute, but an exercise in the artist's imagination. When word of this reached Bobbie, at the initial public showing each painting was accompanied by an enlarged photo, roughly the same size as the finished painting, of the identical scene. The combination really knocked the socks off the gallery attendees. What Bobbie saw and captured on canvas was the shared love between the cubs and the infants; it was this love that the camera's lens couldn't handle.

The same element was present in the portraits of Kris and me that she did. And Kris was funny. When Barbara unveiled our two portraits, Kris stood there and cocked her head to the right and then to the left. Finally, she just slowly shook her head and murmured, "It's not right."

"What's not right?" Bobbie asked, alarmed.

"Cam doesn't love me nearly that much!" she giggled. Then she stripped and came into my arms. After a kiss that would have powered the State of New York for at least a week, she murmured, "Well, maybe..."

This required a second kiss.

"Oh, shit," she murmured, "I give up. Maybe he does love me that much after all."



-------

Chapter 45



While all of this was going on, preparations were underway for the June wedding. When the girls returned home from Hillsdale, they couldn't wait to tell Mother about meeting Andy Taylor and the discussion regarding a triple wedding. Mom was utterly delighted with the prospect ... until Ann mentioned Andy's name.

Then mother just rolled her eyes and murmured, "Drea Pierce Taylor ... I just don't believe it!" Then she slowly shook her head and said, "No, kids. No way. It's just not going to happen."

The girls were crushed, or at least they pretended to be. The fact was they at least half expected their mother's reaction based on what Andy had told them while in Hillsdale. But they didn't let on. Instead, Little Bit asked, "What's wrong with the idea?"

"Sweetie," Mother began, "I guess it's time to tell you a little more of my background." Then she looked thoughtful as she reminisced. "You know, there's an interesting question: Which of us was worse? Drea or me? God, we were awful. I told your brother and sister about some of the things I did. One of them was working as a prostitute. What I never told anyone, though, was that Drea and I would do it together. We once even had a competition to see who could make more money fucking — or anything else — in one night."

Again she paused, gathering her thoughts. To me she said, "I'm sorry, Cam, that I never told you or Kris about this before. And I guess I may have lied to you, too. I remember telling you that I would fuck for up to $500 a trick. But not the night of our competition."

Then to the group she said, "I won that one. That night I agreed to let a couple of guys beat the shit out of me for $5,000. The next day was a school day ... and I actually attended. Well ... I went to school that morning, anyway, even if I didn't actually go to any classes. It was just so neat ... I guess we spent the whole morning in the girls' room. Drea was certain she had won; she had turned four $500-tricks that night. And her pussy was sore! She was still leaking cum down her legs.

"When I counted out my money, she was in a state of shock. I stripped and proudly showed her the still-bleeding welts all over my body, and I can still remember standing there with my legs spread wide while she had to eat out all the cum still in my pussy. Between beatings, the guys got to fuck me to their hearts' content, too. Of course, being a school day, girls were constantly coming in and out, but there we were — me standing there stark naked with Drea on her knees in front of me — having sex. I remember having some screaming orgasms while ignoring the girls wanting to use the facilities.

"I guess we both got tossed out of that school that day, too." Then she paused and appeared to be thinking. Finally she snapped her fingers and murmured, "Damn!"

"What's that mean?" I asked.

"I just realized something," Mom replied. "That might have been the only school that ever tossed us out in which we didn't take at least one innocent faculty member with us." Again she paused and then added, "I guess I was still so excited about my five grand, and Drea was okay with her two thousand, so we just clean forgot."

Mom slowly shook her head and then continued, "It even continued after we both were married. I guess it finally stopped when Dad built this house and we moved out of New York City. And that's the way things were left until you and Kris came to see us and I actually tried to clean up my act. But getting together with Drea again?" She just slowly shook her head.

"Mom," Little Bit countered, "you've changed, but so has she. With you, you claim it was Kristin's appearance that triggered the change. With Andy — and she's Andy, now; Drea is dead and buried — it was being enslaved to Kathy Carlson." The girl smiled warmly and continued, "But that's not all. Her granddaughter, Caitlin, is marrying her son, John. Isn't that a hoot? And now she's got an infant, too, named Jimmy. He's almost exactly the same age as Karen." She paused and then continued, "But what really piqued Andy's interest was when I told her about your piercings. She's now dying to see you and them. And I'll bet any money, she'll want a referral to the studio that did the work on your body, too."

Clearly, Mother's resistance to seeing Andy again was starting to dissipate. "What ... what does she look like now?" Mom asked hesitantly.

"Sort of like you, I guess," Ann reported. "Except your hair is white while hers is golden blonde. Both of you have magnificent blue eyes and bodies that are virtual duplicates. Oh, one other thing..." Ann added with a grin. "Not counting her adopted daughters, she has seven kids of her own. John is 18 and the eldest, while Jimmy is a few months old and the youngest. Please, Mom?" she concluded.

Mom finally nodded her head slowly in agreement.

-------

It was a Friday when the helicopter bringing Andy Taylor and friends arrived. Dad was in the city, and Kim and Judy, the Little Bit and Ann look-alikes, were in school, as were Little Bit and Ann. Of course, both Diane and Steve were in school, too, teaching, so there was just Mother, Kris, me, and the four tigers waiting for the chopper's rotors to stop spinning.

When the door opened and Andy came down, I glanced to the side and saw my mother acting more nervous than I had ever seen her. When she got a good look at Andy, though, she moved hesitantly toward her and murmured, "Drea?" (In her nervousness, she had forgotten that "Drea" was dead.)

Andy Taylor's eyes widened and she said, "Bunny?"

The two women rushed into each other's arms and began bawling while at the same time trying to kiss each other. Finally they coordinated enough for their lips to meet, and it was all over. Kris just sighed as we all heard the crackle of electricity when their lips finally joined.

Since the two of them were at the base of the steps of the helicopter, no one could get past. Behind Andy, still on the steps, was a gorgeous dark-haired blue eyed girl who, from my sisters' description, could only be Caitlin Fitzpatrick. She just stood on the steps watching the scene before her with subtle amusement.

By this time it was mid-April, and the weather was unseasonably warm. Both Mom and Andy Taylor were wearing white dresses and each was exploring the other's body with her hands. Andy unbuttoned the top of Mom's dress. She couldn't wait to see what her ringed nipples looked like. While she was doing that, Mother was unbuttoning Andy's dress, too and first caressed, and then squeezed her very firm tits. Both women were moaning at the sensation each was feeling in her fingers and in her breasts.

"Could you move it a bit, Mom?" the girl on the steps said with a lovely giggle. "The crew might have something else to do with their chopper today."

Still exploring each other's body, the two did move aside far enough for others to disembark.

The girl on the steps came down and was followed by ... her twin! And the twin was carrying an infant. She was followed by a dark-haired boy who looked to be about 10, who was also carrying a baby. He was followed by an adorable girl of about 7 who was holding the hand of another boy about 4 years old.

When the second girl alighted from the steps, two tigers, Siegfried and Brunhilde, came over to her. Clearly, they were excited, but seeing the girl with an infant, they didn't know what to do, so they took their house-cat poses as close to her as they could get.

By this time, we were sufficiently clear of the aircraft for it to be able to take off again, which it did. With it out of sight, the two older women wasted no time in unbuttoning each other's dress all the way down. The two really looked like twins. Their figures were perfect, and both were wearing only white thongs which were soaked by that time.

The second girl went to Andy, gave her the infant and said, "Gram, this is yours."

"What a handsome baby!" Mom cooed. To Andy she asked, "May I?"

Andy smiled warmly and passed her youngest into Mom's waiting arms. She could see the rings piercing Mother's nipples and wanted to see what would happen next.

Mom took the infant and brought him to her breast. The child took a nipple and began to drink, but moments later his free hand came out from the receiving blanket and began to play with Mom's nipple ring. He loved it!

Just then Mom murmured, "Uh, oh!" To Kris she said, "Your sister, Karen, is waking up ... and she's hungry. Could you... ?"

Kris grimaced, stuck out the tip of her tongue, but then ran back to the house. The rest of us followed at a more sedate pace with the baby still nursing at Mother's breast. When we went into the library, Mom sat in an easy chair and had a much easier time with Jimmy's nursing.

A few minutes later, Kris reappeared with my baby sister in her arms. She looked at Mom with an eyebrow raised in a question.

"Well ... your tits are still loaded, sweetie, so..." But then she turned to Andy who had been watching things closely. "Unless you would rather, Andy... ?"

"Sheesh, Marty!" Andy exclaimed softly so as not to disturb the infants. "What do I look like? A cow?"

"Gee, Mom," Kelly Fitzpatrick piped up, "since you asked..."

Kris gave Karen to Andy who wasted no time in bringing the baby to her perfect tit.

It was really lovely, I guess. Both infants were in loving arms as they nursed. While Jimmy continued to play with Mother's nipple ring, Andy could see that Karen was feeling around Andy's nipple for something that wasn't there.

When the two women finished nursing, the infants were both asleep. Mom took baby Jimmy and softly called to Sheba. The great cat lay on her back with her forepaws spread wide. Very gently, Mother put the baby on Sheba's huge chest. The great cat brought her forepaws around to cover the baby and began very softly to purr. The sleeping baby just wriggled on her body and went deeper into sleep.

Andy had been watching what was happening to her baby with some trepidation, but when she realized how happy her infant son was, she looked at Mom with a question in her eyes.

Mom called Hilde over, and Andy repeated with Karen what Mom and done with Jimmy, and achieved the same result.

At that point the two older women rose from their chairs and went into each other's arms. "Oh, God, Andy," Mom murmured, "it's been such a long time!"

With her eyes glistening, Andy replied, "Could we go somewhere and renew our friendship?"

"We sure can!" Mom replied enthusiastically. "But I have a call to make first." To Caitie she said, "What brings you out here, by the way? Why aren't you in school? Our girls are."

Caitie grimaced and replied, "Since I'm leaving school this year, and since I'm really sort of a troublemaker, they're delighted for me to stay home. Anyway," she added, "my brother Kevin is representing the family at school today."

Mom picked up the phone and called the school, asking for Principal Grimes' office. When the phone was answered, she learned that the principal was away from his office; the call was taken by the dean, Monica Cumberland.

Again I had the chance to listen to both ends of the conversation, and a glance at my beautiful wife showed me that she was doing the same thing.

"Mrs. Harris!" Monica exclaimed, "it's so good to talk to you!" The woman paused for a moment and then added, "You really changed my life, and all for the better, I should add."

"Oh?" Mother replied. "How did I do that?"

"In three ways," the woman replied. "First of all, you pierced my clitoral hood." Then she giggled and added, "But did you really have to use poor Don's prick as a gag?" Again she paused and then continued, "Of course, that had it's good points, too. No one knows why, but it seemed to cause it to grow, to my great enjoyment, and Chris's too, I should add."

"Chris? Isn't that Donald's wife?"

"It sure is! Now she's my lover, as is Don. Anyway, those are the first two things you did for us. The third was sending over one of those magic machines. Both Chris and I use it religiously. We've each lost over 30 pounds and have very attractive figures now, if I do say so myself. And we're both pierced and ringed the same as Gwen Merritt, by the way. It's really just so neat! Chris and I took turns piercing each other ... but we didn't even use poor Don's cock as a gag, either. We both just screamed. But that's not all," she continued.

It was sounding like True Confessions,  but what the hell...

"I take care of Don during the day, and then when we get home — I'm living with them now, you know — Don and I both take care of Chris at the same time. And it's the neatest thing, too. There are two incomes, so we'll have no problem supporting our larger family—"

"'Larger family'?" Mom interrupted.

"Oh, dear, you mean you didn't know?"

"Didn't know what?"

"Chris and I are both expecting!" Monica announced happily. "And we're almost certain that we conceived the same night. Neither of us is showing yet — that's your magic machine, I'm sure — but we both feel so wonderful. And our tits are getting larger, too, but with our new muscles, we're still not wearing bras. Anyway," she continued, "we have it all worked out: Chris is going to take care of the babies during the day while I work, and then I'll nurse them both at night."

She paused and then said in a somewhat abashed tone of voice, "But you called, and here I am running off at the mouth. Can I help you with something?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, you can," Mom replied, "but first, please accept our congratulations." She paused and then added, "I really shouldn't say this, but you and Don are the talk of our Board. Everyone comments on what they perceive to be far greater effectiveness on both of your parts." After a pause she continued, "But to the reason for my call: Could you contact our four urchins and send them home immediately? Something has come up, and we need them here at home." There was no mention of what the "something" was. Monica immediately agreed and Mom hung up the phone.

Before anyone could comment, Mom took Andy's hand and almost dragged the woman off in the direction of her suite. Moments later we heard the first sounds of ecstasy drifting down the stairwell.

Only then did we finally get around to actually meeting our guests. When Kris and I did, we were stunned. We had seen Kim Kramer, but she was a film star, so in spite of what Little Bit and Ann had said, she was different. But now we were looking at Kelly and Caitie Fitzpatrick. And we about dropped our teeth. From the girls we knew that Caitie was only 16, although she looked more mature than that. But then there was her mother, Kelly. The two women were close to being identical twins, and in a couple of years, they would be.

Both had dark hair worn in an urchin cut, brilliant blue eyes, medium complexions, and utterly perfect figures, although Caitie's hadn't completely filled out on top yet. Then Kelly proceeded to introduce her other children. First, she repeated what Caitie had said earlier: Her eldest brother, Kevin, 13, was in school. But because Kelly home-schooled her children through the 8th grade, all the others were present. There was Sean, 10; Sheila, 7; Brian, 4; and baby Maureen, toddling at age 1. The children were identical in appearance, varying only in age.

From the corner of my eye, I could see Kelly beaming as Caitie introduced her siblings one after the other. No wonder the woman was beaming! She had to be so very proud of her family! They were perfectly behaved. When Sheila was introduced to Kris, my wife couldn't resist. She lifted the girl up, brought her close and kissed her solidly on her lips. Instantly the girl had her arms around Kris's neck and hugged her while returning the kiss with all her power. When they finally eased apart, Kris just stared into the girl's eyes and almost drowned.

Turning to me she said, "Darling, this is something you must see! Do what I did, please?" With that she passed the little girl to me.

I repeated what Kris had done. First I kissed her. And that kiss was truly one of a kind. Never had I experienced such love, joy and pure Divine grace in a kiss before. Ignoring her youth, I probed her mouth with my tongue. All the little girl did was to hug me even tighter and begin a dance with her tongue and mine. When the tongues met, there was a flow of electricity that both of us could feel. Finally we eased apart.

Then I looked into her eyes as Kris had done. The sensation was incredible. It was as if I was seeing beyond the Gates of Paradise. There was nothing in her eyes but the purest joy and grace. Then I just held her tight and listened to her sigh with pleasure. Only then did I realize that little Sheila was holding a small stuffed teddy bear in her arms. She had never let it go.

"What's that, sweetie?" I asked softly.

"It's my teddy bear," she replied in a lovely voice. "Do you like it?"

"It's lovely. Where did you get it?"

"I got it last night," she said softly. "Caitie has told us how to talk to God, and we all do. I tell him what I did during the day, ask him questions, and ask him to bless my family. Then I get into bed. He tucks me in, gives me a good-night kiss, and sometimes gives me a teddy bear like he did last night. It's really so neat, too." Then she looked at me with her eyes wide and said, "Don't you think it's all right to feel snug and safe when God is watching over me?"

I couldn't keep the tears from my eyes. "Sweetie, of course it's all right. There could be no greater protection possible in this world or any other than the direct protection of Almighty God. Did you sleep soundly?"

"Oh, yes! And I have the neatest, happiest dreams, too." Then she changed the subject. "Actually, I'm the luckiest girl in the world. My mommy and daddy love me, and they're the greatest parents in the whole world." With her eyes wide she said, "Guess what?"

"What?"

"Last night, for the very first time, I got to help Mom and Dad with their lovemaking. It was just so neat! And Caitie was there to show me what to do, too." She paused and then continued, "She's the greatest big sister in the whole world. And Kevin and Sean are the neatest brothers, too. They're always taking me places and doing things with me. And then there's Brian. He's just so nice! And baby Maureen! She's such a love." Looking at me with her eyes wide she concluded, "I'm the luckiest girl in the whole world!"

"And the very best one, too," Kris said softly.

Sheila went to her mother, sat on her lap and cuddled. Very softly she asked, "Mommy, was last night the first time you and Daddy ever made love?"

Kelly rolled her eyes and it was all Kris and I could do to keep from laughing. Fortunately, because she was snuggled tight, Sheila couldn't see it. "No, sweetie," Kelly replied, "it wasn't the first time. You see, that's how babies are made."

"Did you make another one last night?" the little girl asked.

"Perhaps," Kelly replied, "but I really don't know."

The little girl had been counting on her fingers. "Well ... There's Caitie, and Kevin, and Sean, and me, and Brian, and Maureen..." Looking up at her mother she continued, "That's six. So I guess you and Daddy have made love six times. Is that right?"

Again Kelly rolled her eyes. "It's been a few more times than that, sweetie. But why did you ask?"

"Well, it couldn't have been many more times than that."

"Why not?"

"Because you're so tight," the little girl replied. "I mean ... If Daddy did it more often, wouldn't you be looser down there?"

Kelly just hugged her daughter tightly. "I can see why you said that, but it hasn't happened. And you're right, sweetie. Daddy does have to work to get inside me, even after six beautiful children." She paused and shivered from the memory. "I can feel every lovely millimeter of Daddy's cock as it enters me. And the feeling is so great!" Then she giggled and added, "Sweetie, there's one great thing about it: I never have to ask your daddy if he's in yet. And, as you saw yourself, every time Daddy does it, he creates the greatest joy inside me. It's really the greatest feeling in the world."

"Caitie says that that gives you your power, Mommy. Is that right? She says that Daddy powers you and you control the whole family. And you're the best mommy in the whole world!"

Kelly just hugged her daughter tightly but didn't respond.

At that point, Kris took the two babies from the tigresses and put them in their bassinets. Strangely believe it, with four infants of our own, bassinets were not in short supply.

The day was utterly perfect. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and although it was not yet 11:00, the temperature had already risen past 80. A perfect day for swimming, Kris decided. When she broached the subject, the younger children were ecstatic. Kelly liked the idea, too, but wondered about watching them.

"That's no problem," Kris responded. "The tigers will take care of them."

"But how?" Kelly asked. "The kids will be in the water, and tigers can't swim."

"Oh yes, they can," Kris replied. "You're right that they don't particularly like the water, but they're really very powerful swimmers."

"But what if a child starts to drown?" Kelly persisted. "What are they going to do? Pull the kid out with their teeth?"

"It's amazing, really," Kris said. "The tiger dives below the child and brings it up on its back. It's truly remarkable to see. But believe me, your children would be safer than in your arms."

"Suits?" Sean asked. "We ... we really weren't planning on swimming."

Kris raised an eyebrow but her eyes were dancing. "Sean, it seems to me that I don't see any suit marks on you or any of your brothers or sisters. It looks to me like you're used to being outside naked."

The boy just blushed but nodded.

The fact was that Mother by then had three swimming pools. Kris was certain it was because we had an Olympic pool at the apartment, but didn't have room on the roof to put in two more. Mother did, and she did. As a result, not only was there an Olympic pool on the property, 50 meters long, there was a 25-meter teaching pool — about four feet deep — and a baby pool with the water less than a foot in depth. So off the three Fitzpatrick children went after shedding their clothing in the library and impressing Kris and me with the way they neatly folded everything up. This left us with Caitie, although she went out with the others to get them settled in the pool, and the baby, Maureen.

While they were undressing, Sean started to tease Caitie about being a bride, but she didn't react. All she did was to smile warmly and give her younger brother a very warm kiss. When the kids — and the tigers — left the room, Kris asked about the teasing and Caitie's lack of any reaction.

Kelly just grinned and shook her head. "You know, I think — quite by accident — Caitie has figured out how to stop teasing from younger siblings."

"Oh?" Kris responded. "How's that?"

"When they start to tease her, she reacts as you just saw: She hugs and kisses them."

Then she explained that it went back to when Caitie was afflicted with something when she was nine years old. "She was in constant and agonizing pain for weeks," Kelly explained. "Then one day Kevin came to me, holding Sean's little hand. Kevin was six and Sean was three." Tears began to flow from her eyes as she continued, "Speaking for both of them, he asked me to cut out their hearts the way Abraham prepared to sacrifice his son, Isaac. They wanted to trade their lives to save Caitie's. Since Caitie was nine, he was six and Sean was three, that would be trading nine for nine..." At that point, Kelly just broke down and bawled.

Kris went to her and just held her tightly as she cried.

Finally regaining control, Kelly said, "Caitie knows what her brothers did and has never forgotten it. To her, they can do no wrong." Finally brightening a bit, she added, "You'll never believe what Caitie did recently..."

"What's that?" Kris asked.

"She showed the boys how to make love to a girl. You're right, of course; around our place clothing is optional which means they usually don't bother. So, of course, the boys are used to seeing Caitie naked. But it's not the same as Caitie showing the boys her clit, her labia, her vagina ... and letting them explore. She showed them how to kiss a girl's tits and nibble on her nipples. She let them practice on her. Then she finished by showing them how to kiss." Kelly grinned and added, "And those weren't sisterly kisses, either! She finished by giving them both blow jobs. Can you believe it?"

"Wow!" Kris responded. "And they got to learn and practice on one of the most beautiful young women in the world."

"She says that she and John have their reputations to protect," Kelly responded. "She claims they would be mortified if Kevin and Sean weren't decent lovers."

Then Kris just shook her head sadly.

"What's that all about?" Kelly asked.

"I was just thinking what a come-down it's going to be for the boys when they have to make love to ordinary-type girls..." Then she giggled, and Kelly did, too.

It had become apparent to me that Kris and Kelly were already best friends. There had been an immediate affinity between the two that was palpable. The two were the same height — although I guess Kris might be an inch or so taller — with brilliant blue eyes. Their skin was utterly flawless. The only difference was Kris's golden hair contrasted to Kelly's dark urchin cut. Moreover, they both appeared to be about the same age, 19, although Kelly had to be pushing 40.

With orgasmic sounds still floating down from Mother's room, we decided to go out and see how the Munchkins were making out. We found the tigresses and one of the tigers, Ziggy, carefully watching the children while Gus stood watch against any outsider.

Then Kelly made a mistake. While fully dressed, she moved to the edge of the pool to speak to her 10-year-old son, Sean. That's all it took. Caitie went up behind her mother and hip-checked her right into the pool. My wife wasted no time in retaliating against the unprovoked assault on her new friend.

Frankly, I was amazed. Kris grabbed Caitie, threw her bodily straight up in the air, caught her with both hands and then hurled her into the pool. All I can say is it's a good thing the pool is as big as it is. With her arms and legs flying in all directions, Caitie splashed almost exactly in the center of the pool.

While this was going on, I glanced over at the tigers. What I saw was funny as hell. With their eyes wide, the four great heads moved upward as Kris threw Caitie up in the air and then turned as she flew out across the pool and downward as she splashed. Kelly was howling with laughter as her daughter's head came out of the water. Caitie was sputtering.

Looking over at the tigers, she called out, "Well... ?"

With her eyes wide and bright, Hilde replied, "Well what, Mistress?"

"Damn it, Hilde, I've just been viciously attacked! Aren't you and Ziggy going to defend me?"

The two tigers exchanged looks and then appeared to be having a discussion. Meanwhile, Caitie just paddled in the water while shedding her clothing. Finally the two tigers looked at her and very politely replied, "No." It was perfect! I guess by that time I had become more attuned to the tigers' mental speech because by then I could even hear their vocal inflection. And let me tell you, that was the flattest "no" you're ever going to hear.

"No?" Caitie nearly screamed. "What do you mean, no?"

With his eyes wide, Ziggy replied, "That's the generic negative, Mistress. In this specific instance it means that, no, Hilde and I are not going to defend you."

"Well why in hell not?" Caitie demanded. "I mean ... Who feeds you, for Heaven's sake?"

"Mistress Marty and Mistress Kristin," Hilde replied proudly. "And they're so good to us, too." Now her huge green eyes were gleaming with amusement as she added, "You'll never guess what Mistress Marty prepared for us last night."

By this time Caitie had stripped, as had Kelly. It was really quite funny to see their clothing floating gently toward the pool gutters. Needless to say, both of their bodies were female perfection and virtual duplicates of each other.

"No, I guess I'm not going to guess," Caitie replied. Then while trying to appear as bored as possible she continued, "So what did you have for dinner last night?"

"It was so incredibly wonderful!" Hilde sighed. "We had roast filet of beef, sauce Périgord. And we each had one." Again the giant cat sighed.

"You're kidding!" Caitie exclaimed. "You can't be serious!"

"And Mistress Marty even sliced the filets for us, too," Ziggy added.

Since Mother was still otherwise occupied, Caitie turned to Kris. "What did you and your mother do?" she nearly screamed. "And why?"

Kris was having a ball. Still fully dressed, she was standing beside the pool just waiting for someone to give her a shove. I accommodated her. She had just started to reply to Caitie's question when she hit the water head first. Kris then proceeded to do what the two Fitzpatrick women had done. She shed her clothing in the pool and added to the collection of garments floating toward the gutters.

"Why, you asked?" Kris replied, utterly ignoring the fact that she had been shoved into the pool. "It's very simple, really. Mom and I talked about it and we agreed that the best way to ensure that only the very best tigers will be assigned to live with us would be to make certain that the pack knows how well we're caring for yours while they're living here."

"And just how do you accomplish that?" Caitie pursued.

"E-mail, silly! How else would they do it?"

Caitie just shook her head. "What are the tigers having tonight?" she asked, although it was clear that she really didn't want to hear the answer.

"Oh, we're killing two birds with one stone tonight," Kris replied. "Since we'll be having a barbecue for you people, Mom and I wanted to save some work, so we're serving the tigers steamship roasts. Each is the thigh of a steer, and they're so large we can't cook them here at home. Since they have to be prepared off-site anyway, tonight seemed like a good time. And the cats end up with a nice big bone to chew on when they're done."

Caitie just rolled her eyes.

By this time, the girls had returned home from school. Caitie and Kelly were introduced to the younger Harris twins, Judy and Kim, and renewed acquaintance with Ann and Little Bit, although Kelly was meeting them all for the first time.

The day developed to be sunny and very warm, perfect for the pool and other outdoor sports. Finally, Diane and Steve appeared. After making the introductions, Steve went off to change and Diane just disappeared.

About thirty minutes later, Diane reappeared — naked, as usual — accompanied by Mother and Andy Taylor. Andy had been pierced in exactly the same places as Mom, complete with the two pair of rings in each of her labia. The only thing she was missing was the tongue stud.

"Mother!" Kelly screamed, "what have you done?"

"Nothing at all," Andy replied blithely. "Diane did it, and she's really good."

"But..." Kelly sputtered, "what about Jimmy?"

"What about him?"

"Who's going to nurse him?"

"I am, of course," Andy replied. "Besides," she sniffed, "we've already established that he loves to play with a nipple ring while he's nursing."

"But Mother!" Kelly protested. "You've just had your nipples pierced... !"

"My darling daughter," Andy replied, "haven't you noticed that we're all just the least little bit masochistic? Having Jimmy on my pierced nipple will be such delicious agony..."

That ended that discussion.



-------

Chapter 46



Later in the spring, I got a call from Mary Beth McBride, Fred Hodges's executive secretary at Executive Aviation. It seemed like it was time for the company's annual spring bash, and we were all invited to attend.

While I had her on the phone, I asked about the laser treatment on her eyes and about the Female Fitness machine.

"The eye thing worked perfectly," she said. Then her voice dropped to a confidential tone as she added, "I see what you meant when you asked about my virtue. That machine is ... something else! And it really works."

"Which means... ?"

"Which means that the picnic is going to be the great unveiling of Mary Beth McBride ... In more ways than one."

"And what does that mean?"

"That means a couple of things: I'm still five feet eight, of course, but now I weigh 123. And even though my eyes have been fixed, I got a new set of clear lenses for my old glasses and I'm still wearing them." She paused and added, "You sent me the very latest and greatest unit Female Fitness makes, didn't you?"

"Well, my mother is the regional distributor for them, and I certainly didn't want you to have an old model. But why do you ask?"

"Because my model is apparently so new it doesn't even have the correct instructions for it." Then she giggled — what a merry little sound that was! — and added, "My instructions have a whole section about what to do about the white mark on your bottom from exercising with the UV lights on while sitting on the saddle. But my saddle is apparently transparent to UV. I'm as tanned there as everywhere else." Another giggle. "I just wonder how far up the tanning goes?

"Oh! One more thing: Have the sales of those machines taken off like a big-assed bird over the last couple of weeks?"

I didn't know the answer to that one, and said so. "What brought up that question?"

"The first issue of Mrs. hit the newsstands is why I asked. Aside from being almost totally devoted to Kimberly Kramer, to say the very least it prominently features the Female Fitness machines. I don't know how many pages of advertising they have in it, but it's a bunch.

"And the juxtaposition of Kim and her incredible body along with ten children ... Unbelievable! And she designed all the machines herself."

Hmm ... Very interesting.

I told her we would all plan to attend and then checked with Mom. When I asked her about the machines, she just laughed. Just the day before, she had received a call from Kim grumbling about all of the overtime required to get the damned things out the door. Furthermore, we learned, Kimberly had extended the use of Tami Baker's marvelous plastic and was then fabricating the machines substituting her plastic for steel. It was then I learned that over time, what had originally been four machines had been combined into a single unit.

"Yes," Mother replied, "sales have really taken off. And, my dear son, so has the stock of Aerospace Technologies. Since the company and individuals own all the stock of Female Fitness, the only way one can get a piece of it is to buy AT. And heaven knows, there's very little of that traded either.

"And those new materials... ? Incredible!"

Anyway, it was quite a crowd that ended up going over to the state park in New Jersey where Executive Aviation was having its gathering. There were Kris and me along with Billy, as well as Little Bit and Ann. I wasn't sure, but as things turned out, they were representing Female Fitness.

When we reached the area where Executive Aviation people were gathered, I was surprised to see a woman in a rather strange get-up. Aside from a scarf over her head, she was wearing what appeared to be a garment from the earliest days of the automobile called a duster. It came well below her knees. Furthermore, it was a very warm late-spring day, so she must have been hot as hell. But we went over to her when I realized she was talking to Fred Hodges, the CEO.

We came up to him and he first noticed Kris. (That was no surprise.) "Jean Dawson! What brings you out here? But welcome! I'm so glad you could come. But where's Jim?"

Kris just grinned and replied, "I'm Kristin, Jean's baby sister." She grimaced and added, "Yeah, sure ... I'm six stinking minutes younger than she is, but she never lets me forget it."

Before anything more could be said, a pair of hands circled around Kris's face and a female voice whispered, "Boo!"

"Speak of the devil!" Kris exclaimed. "With those dishpan hands on my face, it could only be my sister, Jeannie."

And it was.

For a few minutes, it was really old home week. Jean was there along with Jim and baby Jamey. The girls, Sandy and Susan, were staying at home with the Callaways. We learned that Roy Neill, the vice-president-sales, had sent a plane out to pick up Bill and Janice Page, the couple who had piloted Jean, Jim and the girls on their selling trip for Tiffany's, along with their infant son, Billy. And since they were being flown back to Chicago the next day, they invited the Dawsons to come out with them.

At that point, someone blew a whistle and announced the beginning of the athletic events. While attention was focused on the new arrivals, I was standing beside Mary Beth McBride. She whispered to me, "I mentioned that today was the great unveiling? Well, here goes!"

With that she whipped off her scarf, dropped the duster and the Coke-bottle glasses and ran off toward the gathering contestants. She was incredible! Earlier I had asked why the duster and she said it was because of her Irish heritage; she claimed to have very fair skin and burned easily. But that was not the case at all! Rather, she was deeply tanned all over, and since she was only wearing Levi's short shorts and a shirt with the sleeves torn off and with the tails tied under her tits, there was a vast amount of beautiful body exposed. And her figure was perfect: really in Kris's class. Furthermore, her brown hair was sun-streaked, too. It almost duplicated Kimberly Kane's since, like hers, it was in an urchin cut.

I guess Mary Beth's running off attracted Fred's attention. "Good grief! Who was that?" he asked.

As casually as I could, I replied, "Oh ... That's your secretary, Mary Beth McBride. Good grief, man! Don't tell me you don't even recognize your own executive secretary!"

At that point, Kris was behind him. She grinned at me, winked, and made a thumbs-up sign. Then she and her sister, Jean, went off in the direction of the athletic competitions.

Surprise, surprise! My nursing wife took everything in sight. The surprise, though, was the intense competition between Mary Beth McBride and Jean Dawson. In spite of being Kris's sister and an outstanding swimmer — the Dawsons shared a 50-meter pool with the Callaways — she didn't have the varied athletic experience her twin did.

I mostly sat, watched and heckled.

When the competitions ended, the three came back and joined us. All three were sweat-soaked, but all three were utterly beautiful. Fred Hodges couldn't take his eyes off Mary Beth; the woman was a knock-out. And with her sopping-wet shirt — or what passed for one — it was clear that she wasn't wearing a bra. Notwithstanding, her tits were up-thrusting and self-supporting.

I asked her about her athletic ability.

Mary Beth laughed and said, "When you grow up as the youngest in a family of five, and the older four are all boys, if you want to live, you become athletic." She giggled and added, "You know, I guess I was almost ten before my brothers realized that I was different from them. I was just one of the guys."

"So you have four older brothers?"

"Only three, now," she said sadly as tears came to her eyes. "My youngest brother, Tommy, was a captain in the New York Fire Department. He was in the World Trade Center when it came down."

I couldn't think of a single thing to say. Finally, I asked, "Your other brothers?"

"They're all overseas. Two are in the Army and one in the Navy."

I filed that information away in my newly-developed mental information retrieval system.

Then it was time for the Miss Executive Aviation contest. To this day, I don't really understand how the damned thing was run. I do know it was restricted to single female employees of the company. (Mary Beth very cutely stuck out the tip of her tongue when she told Kris and Jeannie that they weren't eligible to compete, nor were Little Bit and Ann.) At any rate, somehow or other, there had been an elimination so only eight girls were on the elevated stage for the final judging.

At that point, I really got a shock. I had previously confirmed what I had suspected: Mary Beth was a very private person. But then I saw her conferring with the other seven contestants and used my new long-range hearing ability. She was asking the others if they would be willing to be topless for the judging ... if the spectators could raise $5,000. She told the others that she would like to contribute it to a Fireman's Relief fund to benefit the widows and orphans of firefighters killed on September 11.

It was fascinating to observe and monitor. Several of the girls enthusiastically agreed — the ones with an exhibitionist streak, I supposed — while a couple were obviously scared.

"Do you really think these cheapies will come up with five grand?" one of the enthusiastic ones asked. "No money, no stripping. What do you say?"

The holdouts agreed.

Mary Beth went to the microphone. "Folks," she began, "if you really want to see what we've got, you can. But it will cost you." She went on to announce that all the contestants would compete topless ... if $5,000 could be immediately raised. She added that the money would be going to the families of firefighters who had been killed in the World Trade Center.

I had been a bit skeptical, but then I realized that we had scores of aircrews, and they're not low paid. I don't know if it was the prospect of seeing some young lovelies topless, the prospect of aiding deserving families, or both, but the money was quickly raised. People were literally standing in line with money in their hands.

As soon as all the money had been counted, the girls took off their tops. A couple of the girls — the shy ones, I think — were wearing bras, but Mary Beth told them that when they were supposed to take off their tops, it meant everything on top.

But that wasn't the end of the surprises. With all of the girls topless, they took turns walking along the front of the platform and posing for the spectators. When that was finished, one of the shy girls went to Mary Beth and whispered.

You know something? That hearing function is really something else! I could hear the girl as clearly as if she had been whispering in my ear. And what she was whispering came as a real shock. "How about if we go all the way? Maybe for $10,000? It could be equally divided among the Army, Navy, Air Force and Marine Relief funds." Then she continued, "They're really great, too. They have no administrative or fund-raising expenses; 100 cents out of every dollar goes to needy families. What do you think, Mary Beth?"

"I think it sounds great, Jan. But where did the idea come from?"

The girl paused and then said softly, "My brother is over in Kuwait right now. And I thought..."

Mary Beth McBride kissed the girl and told her, "I have three brothers in the general vicinity, too." Then she moved away from the girl and said, "But are you sure you could stand being completely bare?" She paused and then continued, "Honestly, just a few months ago I just flat out could not have done it. But I've been working out naked for months now and have become accustomed to it. But what about you?"

"I ... I ... I'm pretty sure I can do it," Jan replied. "After all, what am I risking? It's not cold or anything. My life isn't going to be on the line like those guys are, so..."

Mary Beth went to the front of the platform and made an announcement after first having talked with all of the other contestants. The fact that Jan had suggested being naked had eliminated any dissent.

"Folks, a few years ago on TV there were shows called T&As. For those benighted souls who may not be aware, T&A stands for tits and ass," Mary Beth began. "Well, you all have gotten a good look at our tits, but what about our asses? And other private parts? If you folks can come up with another $10,000, we'll compete in the beauty contest stark naked! Any interest?"

You know what? That might have been the fastest fund-raising in history. I was prepared to cover any shortfall, but there was none. Rather, with a great deal of currency still on the table uncounted, they had soared over $15,000.

At that point the girls on the platform withdrew "backstage," i.e., they went down the steps on the back of it and conferred. While they were doing that, I took the opportunity to use my satellite cellphone to make a couple of calls. What I was doing was arranging for Henry and Penny Watts Hall to fly out to New York on Tuesday and stay for the balance of the week. And after checking with Penny, I called a spa in New York that was so damned exclusive it didn't even have a listed telephone number.

That was sort of funny, too, I guess. It seems that just being able to call them — knowing their telephone number — was a sufficient recommendation. But when I mentioned Penny's name, that put the icing on the cake. And with charges for their deluxe treatment running about $5,000 per person for a day, they were delighted to schedule for Tuesday.

Kristin had been with her sister, Jean, all that time. But when I disconnected, she held up her hand and formed a circle with her thumb and forefinger signifying agreement with what I had done. Only later did I learn that we had apparently received a "software upgrade" from wherever. What we had picked up was something similar to the "mommy filter" only it worked between husband and wife. Each knew exactly what the other was doing all the time. Hmm...

By then, though, the girls had started to come back on the platform, one at a time. It was on the platform that the girls took off the rest of their clothing and then paraded back and forth in front of the group to provide them with the best possible look. I was intrigued to see the girl, Jan, who earlier had been so concerned, proudly take off her clothes and really strut her stuff. She was a real beauty, too. At the end of each girl's appearance, there was applause that was measured by a borrowed applause meter. What was fascinating was that's all there was, just applause. There were no screams, catcalls, nor — particularly — any obscene remarks.

Fred Hodges was standing beside me, and as the fifth girl appeared — the first four had formed a line at the back of the platform — something finally registered. "Fred," I asked, "it's pretty warm today — as forecast — and there's a beauty contest. How come none of the girls is wearing a bathing suit?"

He just shook his head. "I guess the simple answer is that the beauty contest today is an all-time first. We never had one before. I can only conclude that it's something Mary Beth just dreamed up today."

"Mary Beth?" I asked. "Does she have the authority to do a thing like that?"

Fred just laughed. "Cam, that's really funny. (Believe it or not, I had finally browbeaten Fred into calling me by my first name!) Mary Beth McBride, without any doubt, is the most powerful person in the company. What she says, goes! And that's the end of it."

Finally, it was Mary Beth's turn. She was the last of the eight to appear. Moving to the front of the platform, she slipped out of her Levi short shorts gracefully. Although I'll be damned if I could figure out then or at any time thereafter how a woman could gracefully take off the things. But she did. When fully stripped it was apparent that she was tanned all over. There was nothing close to a strap mark anywhere. And her pubic area was bare.

I didn't know how old Mary Beth was, but I estimated her to be at least 30. But that's not the way she looked. She looked like a fully-developed 19-year-old, with all of the firmness of youth. Her breasts sat high on her chest with her nipples hard and up-thrusting. Her legs were to die for.

Like the other girls before her, she pranced back and forth at the front of the platform, turning slowly as she did to give everyone a good look at her. Finally she got to the center and thrust her arms up and out, a signal that her time was up. This time, the applause was like thunder. I could see the meter and its needle just went to its stop and stayed there. What really surprised me, though, was the fact that the applause was being led by the other girls on the platform with her, and young Jan was even coaxing the audience to applaud even louder.

"My God!" Fred breathed. "She's utterly exquisite!"

"Gee, Fred," I teased, "I thought you considered her to be a piece of your office furniture."

"But why?" he asked, utterly bewildered. "Why is she doing this? I happen to know that Mary Beth McBride is the most modest and most private person in the company!"

"Did it ever occur to you that it might be for your benefit? Could you possibly ever be interested in her as a woman?" Glancing over, again I saw Kris with her thumb and forefinger forming a circle. Good grief! Did I actually do more than a couple of things right that day?

Fred was just shaking his head. "Get serious, Cam! She's an utter knockout, but she couldn't possibly have any interest in an old codger like me. My God! I must have her by over 20 years!"

"How old are you?"

"I'm ... I'm 38," he replied, obviously a bit embarrassed.

"And how old do you think Mary Beth is?"

"Look at her! She's 19 ... Maybe!"

"Oh, really? You mean she started working as your secretary at the age of nine?"

Fred was stunned. He looked like he had been hit over the head with a two-by-four. "But ... but ... she can't be ... Just look at her!"

"She's utterly gorgeous," I agreed, "but I doubt if you're even 10 years older than she."

He just stood there, stunned.

Meanwhile, Roy Neill, the vice president-sales, had gone on the platform to act as MC. As soon as he appeared, Mary Beth went back and began to hug and kiss the other contestants, while they congratulated her on her victory.

Roy announced her as the winner, and Mary Beth went forward to receive his congratulations.

While all of that had been going on, I had been filling in Fred Hodges on the results of my phone calls. His eyes widened, and he slowly shook his head, but orders were orders. He went to the front of the platform, called Roy over, and whispered in his ear. I laughed to myself as I saw Neill's eyes widen.

Hodges returned to me while Neill returned to the mike, still shaking his head. "Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, "as most of you know, today's competition was a company first. Because of that, and because of the haste with which it was put together, there's no trophy nor any prizes ... we thought.

"Well, it turns out that there are prizes. With us today is a man many of you know, Cam Harris. What only a few of you know, though, is that he owns the company outright. Sure, we're a corporation, but you won't find our stock traded anywhere. Why not? Because Cam Harris owns it all! Every single share ... except for two." He grinned and added, "His beautiful wife, Kristin, owns one and his mother owns another. It seems there have to be at least three shareholders for a corporation to be legal, so...

"But anyway ... Now there is a prize structure. On Tuesday, all of these young ladies will be guests at the most exclusive spa in the city — or anywhere else, for that matter — for the most complete going-over it's possible for a woman to get. Then on Wednesday, they will receive hairstyling by Henry Hall, the Academy-award-winning stylist, and makeup by Penny Watts Hall, Henry's wife and also the winner of a bunch of Oscars for her own work."

Neill just sadly shook his head. "But is that all? Hardly! First of all, for you eight girls, Tuesday and Wednesday are working days. Your time is on the clock. But even that isn't all. It seems that the way the spa works — given its clientèle — is that it doesn't open until one o'clock. You won't be finished until after eight. And you're all going to be paid overtime!" Neill wailed. "And supper money ... at New York's highest prices."

The girls, standing in a row behind him, were ecstatic! And that was funny, too. Again led by Mary Beth, the girls had dressed ... sort of. They had put on their shirts and buttoned them but not their pants. Mary Beth was wearing hers, but didn't button anything. As a result, her pussy and most of her tits showed in the gap. Lovely! Then she excused the other girls but remained on the platform as Neill changed the subject.

In his most disgusted tone of voice, he announced the company's Salesman of the Year. "This year," he said, "the Salesman of the Year is ... a woman. Would Janice Page please come up on the platform?"

This was the woman with whom Jean and Jim Dawson had flown out to California. And she went up on the stage holding an infant less than a year old.

When Neill saw this, he shook his head in feigned sorrow. "I'm sure some of you people are familiar with play groups? You know ... a few young mothers in a neighborhood take turns with each other's curtain climbers for a morning? Well, guess what? Janice Page is in a play group, too. The only problem is the other child — a little girl — is on the West Coast. Does this cause a problem? Of course not! Jan just whistles up one of our birds and takes Billy out to play with his girlfriend, Susie Madison.

"Now who, you might wonder, is Susie Madison? Well, she's the infant daughter of Gwen and Tim Madison ... who owns Casco Corporation. And would you believe it? Just about every damned time Janice goes out there, she sells the plane she flew out in — yeah, she's a pilot, too — to the Madisons.

"Take last week, for example: Did they have some nice play time in the Bay Area? Hah! The Pages picked up the Madisons at SFO ... and flew on down to Cancun! It seems that Gwen Madison wanted to find out if she had fully recovered from her delivery. And how did she intend to do that? Spend time on the nude beach, of course ... along with a naked Janice Page, I hasten to add.

"After the fifth or sixth pair of college guys tried to hit on them, they decided that maybe they didn't look too matronly after all.

"Was that all?" Neill asked rhetorically. "Hell, no! Since they had sold yet another aircraft to Casco, we had to send another bird out to pick them up." Neill rolled his eyes and added in a falsetto voice trying to mimic Janice, "'Billy gets so cranky at big airports!' Sheesh!"

At that point Mary Beth McBride came forward and took over the mike. "Would Brandi Barnes and Trudy Elliott Jones please join us up here?"

Brandi and Trudy exchanged looks, shrugged, and went up on the platform.

Then with an evil grin, Mary Beth said, "Neither of you two are noted for your modesty. So I want you both to take off your tops."

After satisfying themselves that Mary Beth was serious, they both did. Both women were expecting — Brandi a few months before Trudy — but both pairs of tits stood up proudly and unsupported. Then Mary Beth asked Janice Page, who was still nursing, to join them. When she did, Mary Beth commented that, since she had just returned from the nude beach at Cancun, being topless shouldn't bother her.

And it didn't. Looking puzzled, Janice Page stood beside the others. "There's a reason these three women are up here," Mary Beth commented. "Two of them, Brandi Barnes and Trudy Jones, are pregnant. They don't look it, but honest, they really are. And Janice recently delivered and is nursing. So why are they topless? I'll show you."

With that Mary Beth took a pencil, lifted Janice's tit, placed the pencil beneath where the tit met her chest and released the pencil. It instantly dropped to the floor. Then she repeated it with the same result with the other two.

"What I just did may not have meant anything to the men here," Mary Beth said, "but it did to the women. That's the famous — or infamous — pencil test that's occasionally popular on college campuses in sororities and women's dorms ... if there are any women's dorms left.

"Quite honestly, there aren't many women who can pass that test past the age of about 12. And the only ones who can usually have chests like boys." She looked out at the group, giggled and said, "Can you say ... flat? As in flat-chested? As in no tits? Those are the only girls who can pass. But here with me are three women who aren't completely flat..."

Janice, Brandi and Trudy all stood up even straighter than before and proudly thrust out their tits. And they were lovely! Janice's were even bigger than Kristin's. Then the three stuck out their tongues in Mary Beth's direction.

"Now how did they manage?" Mary Beth asked rhetorically. "Well, I'll tell you how. They've been working out — as has Gwen Madison — on the magic machines from Female Fitness."

At that point, Brandi Barnes interrupted Mary Beth and did the test on her. And, as I had suspected, she passed in exactly the same way the other three did. Loudly, Brandi commented, "And she's so much older than the three of us are, too." That last comment was accompanied by sticking out her tongue again.

Mary Beth laughed the loudest but then admitted to the group that it was true. Then you know what she did? Remember the line, "no good deed goes unpunished"? Well, she just had to get even with us for the spa and the make-over. "There's a brand-new model just out. It's all plastic, yet it's stronger than steel. And, although it might not mean anything to you now, you'll find that the plastic frame is invisible to ultraviolet light. In other words, you can tan — as I did — while working out."

Then she grinned, licked her lips and added, "And believe me when I tell you those workouts are very ... rewarding!" She paused and then added, "Anyone interested? I happen to know that we can get the distributor price on them, too. It's impossible to buy them any cheaper." Then indicating Little Bit and Ann she added, "And guess what? With us today are two saleswomen for the area distributor to take your orders, if any of you are interested."

Well, you know what? In no time flat, we had sold three truckloads of the damned things. And you know what else? With the size of that order, we also got the end price from Female Fitness which was substantially lower than our normal distributor cost. In other words, we came out making a ton of money. Sheesh!

But things weren't over on the platform just yet. Roy Neill called the three girls over and announced loudly — and amplified over the PA system — "Brandi and Trudy, I have very bad news for you ... And since it's all Janice Page's fault, it's a good thing she's up here, too. The fact is, girls, that next January — while the rest of us are enjoying the Super Bowl and the joys of winter weather — you..." — and at that point Roy was doing his very best Snidely Whiplash imitation — "will be suffocating in the heat of Tahiti! Now how do you like them apples?

"And I repeat, it's all Janice's fault." He paused and shook his head, then continued, "It seems that little Susie Madison loves to play on the beach. Now the fact is the beaches in Northern California aren't the greatest to begin with and that water is cold! So her mother, Gwen, decided that the playgroup will meet in Tahiti next January.

"And there's another element, too." Neill snapped his fingers and exclaimed, "Damn! I knew I forgot something. When Gwen and Janice were on the beach at Cancun, Janice was selling her — and Tim Madison — a Gulfstream G-550, noted for, among other things, its extremely long range. So anyway, the Madisons are insisting on a test flight ... nonstop from SFO to Tahiti. But since the flying time requires a flight crew of four, Guy Barnes and Bill Jones will be along for the ride. And you two will be cooking."

Then his face fell. "Unfortunately, the meter will be running for the two weeks you're going to be down there. But the bright side is it's on Casco's meter." Then he glared at the three and said, "But just think! You'll even miss the Super Bowl!"

With her eyes wide, Janice Page was just slowly shaking her head. Then she put her hands together over her head to simulate a large circle.

"You mean... ?" Neill asked with his eyes wide.

"Direct TV?" Janice responded. Then trying her best to simulate anger she continued, "Roy Neill, do you think for one moment I would sell an aircraft that was less than fully equipped? I mean ... Really!"

Trying to recover, Neill said, "Brandi and Trudy, you had better learn how to use the galley on that plane. The two of you will be the flight attendants onboard."

"But what about Mrs.?" Trudy inquired.

"That's your problem," Neill sniffed.

"I'm certain they can manage without me," Trudy mused. "Besides, I'll be recovering from the agony of childbirth anyway, so..."

Neill just shook his head. To the crowd he said, "Now you see why it is that Janice Page earns more than Fred Hodges and I, combined! And I know that she and Bill have a very large house under construction in Deerfield, Illinois ... and they're planning on filling it as soon as possible." Again he shook his head and concluded, "Janice Page is living, breathing evidence of how tough it is to make a living in sales. I hope you all have noticed how rundown the poor girl looks."

The fact was — and is — that Janice Page is a vibrant beauty queen. And a really great mother, too.

That concluded events on the platform, so Mary Beth came over to join us, still only wearing her unbuttoned shirt.

"Mary Beth, you look utterly gorgeous!" Fred breathed. "Would ... could ... maybe..."

"Of course, Fred," she interrupted quietly, "I would love to have dinner with you tonight."

"You would?" Fred asked incredulously. "Honest?"

"Honest." Then moving closer to him, Mary Beth tipped his head down and kissed him. Oh, boy! It was utterly beautiful.

And I could actually hear Kristin saying in my ear, "Isn't that just the greatest? Congratulations, my darling! You really did it well. And I'll thank you more appropriately later."

Mmm ... And she sure did!



-------

Chapter 47



I don't know what happened that Saturday night between Mary Beth McBride and Fred Hodges. But what I do know is that by the time she and the other seven girls appeared at our apartment in New York on Tuesday night, she was engaged and flashing a gorgeous ring.

Kristin, along with Little Bit and Ann, were utterly ecstatic. They were able to really go to town with a dinner for 12. Moreover, Kris sniffed that since we were back in the city, she again had access to some of the finest and most exotic foods on earth ... with extortionate prices to match. And she really made use of them!

When I raised a question, Kris just stuck her nose in the air and announced that she was saving Executive Aviation money; her dinners were much less expensive than New York's finest restaurants. And in order to save wear and tear on themselves and my little sisters, Kris had even arranged for the two high-school girls, Maria and Carmen, to come over and serve. And they were so cute when they pouted at the idea of having to wear uniforms. They so wanted to be able to serve nude. I guess they were somewhat mollified when they learned that all the guests that night would be female and I had seen their bare bodies often enough.

The eight girls arrived, and I noticed that Mary Beth was paying extra attention to the shy girl from Saturday, Jan. I learned that the girl was Janice Murphy, and Mary Beth had selected her to be her replacement as Fred's executive secretary when she left to have her first baby. She decided that nine or ten months should be adequate to get Jan up to speed. "And besides," she announced, "she's agreed to wear a chastity belt, and it takes awhile to get one properly fitted."

Jan yelped while the others howled with laughter.

Oh, yeah ... I also presented each of the eight with checks refunding the money they had paid for the new super machines. They were Mom's gift to the finest young women at Executive Aviation.

The dinner was a smashing success, and Maria and Carmen were perfect with their service. One of the girls, thinking the two worked for a caterer, asked how much they were making that evening. It seemed she was about to announce her engagement and was already thinking about the reception.

The two girls howled with laughter while slowly shaking their heads from side to side. Then Maria explained how La Señora had almost literally saved her life as well as making her family's fortune. If she even thought of being paid, she would be unable ever to return home. (Maria and Carmen weren't paid, but Kris arranged for fully-paid scholarships covering any and all higher education the two girls might choose to pursue.) But then Maria said that if the girl was interested, perhaps they might talk later.

That night, seven of the girls were in four of the apartment's suites, while Mary Beth was sharing the room with my little sisters, Little Bit and Ann.

The next morning, Kris and I were up before anyone else. We were in the kitchen drinking coffee after she had made all the preparations for breakfast. Then Mary Beth came staggering in wearing only a terry robe.

To Kris she said, "I really don't believe your sisters! I ... I came ... and came ... and came! I thought I was shaking myself to pieces! And, good grief! I thought I was in good shape! Your sisters are the most magnificent females I've ever encountered!"

"And they're both pregnant," Kris commented. "They're both due in July ... I think."

Mary Beth was stunned. She counted on her fingers and then just shook her head. "Utterly impossible!" she declared. "That would put them in the sixth month and they're both flat as boards."

"Did you feel either of their abdomens?" Kris asked. "I happen to know that both infants are kicking up a storm."

Mary Beth just slowly shook her head. "I guess not," she confessed. "I was ... occupied ... with other parts of their anatomy." Then she added, "Last night was an all-time first for me. Never did I think I could ever be attracted to a woman, but your sisters are just so beautiful and so loving! And when they weren't working on me, they were working on each other. It was just so great!"

At that point, four of the remaining seven girls staggered into the kitchen to join us. Janice Murphy was one of them.

"What did you guys run into?" Mary Beth asked with a little giggle. "It looks like you've been run over by a truck."

"We decided we'd try out the machines that we're getting," Jan gasped. "And ... Good grief!"

In the apartment's exercise room, we had four of the newest machines sitting side by side.

"So how were they?" Mary Beth asked innocently.

"Far better than I expected," Jan replied. "And they move so easily, too. I really didn't feel I was exercising at all ... until the end!" With that, she just rolled her eyes.

"Have a good cum?"

Again the girl just rolled her eyes, but then rapidly nodded her head.

"Hmm ... Easy, you said?" Mary Beth queried with her eyes bright. "Did you happen to check the dials on them? There are two: One in front for the operator to use and a larger one on the side."

"I guess so," the girl replied, "but so what?"

"It's part of the computer control setup," Mary Beth explained. "The machine determines your fitness at the beginning and then automatically sets itself for the appropriate resistance. I'll bet the needle wasn't far from its zero point, was it?"

The girl just shook her head.

"I happen to know that when Kris gets on, she just keeps the needle on its right-hand stop."

"Gee, thanks, Mary Beth," Kris responded acerbically. "Now I'm muscle-bound!"

"Well, let's see," Mary Beth retorted. "Why don't you strip?"

Kris slipped off the terry robe, which was all she was wearing, and just stood there.

Mary Beth moved her closer to the other girls and lightly ran her fingers over Kris's body. "Feel!"

The other girls did.

"Good grief!" Jan Murphy exclaimed. "Kris has the softest skin over the most amazing muscles I've ever heard of!" Then she looked upward at Kris's face and asked, "When is Mrs. going to do a feature on you?"

It was funny. Using my new powers, I could actually feel the shock that Kris felt when she heard the question.

"But ... but..." she stammered, "it's for famous women ... Women who do something!"

"Golly, let's see," I mused. "All you have is a BA, an MA, a Ph.D. with another coming in a month or so, an MBA and a JD, as well as being a member of the bar." With my eyes wide I added, "Golly, sweetie, you're right. You never have done anything ... other than giving birth to the most handsome little boy in creation, and expecting your second."

"You're kidding!" Mary Beth gasped.

"Just feel," I replied. "Put your fingers lightly on her abdomen."

Kris just rolled her eyes as Mary Beth did just that. "She really is!" she gasped.

With a big grin on her face, Jan repeated, "When are you going to be featured in Mrs.?"

At that point, Mary Beth left for her own workout, while the others sat down to a magnificent breakfast.

A few minutes after that, Henry and Penny Hall arrived. Penny was absolutely glowing. She was expecting their first child, but, because they had been flown in by Executive Aviation, she had also become a member of the Mile High Club. With an infectious grin she announced, "You know something? That's a red-eye flight I could really get to like."

And then Little Bit and Ann put in an appearance.

"There they are!" Penny exclaimed. Then with an eyebrow cocked she continued, "I hope you two are satisfied! There I was, minding my own business in my nice little brown shell. But could you let me alone? You two? Hah! Oh, no! You had to turn my life upside down!"

Then her attitude changed dramatically as she took both girls into her arms at once. "Because of you two, I've experienced a level of happiness I never knew existed! I'm about to become a mother. I have the love of the man I've adored for years! And it's all your fault!"

"Golly, Mrs. Hall," Little Bit responded, "if we had known how upsetting it would be ... Gee ... maybe we could reverse it somehow."

"I beg your pardon?" Penny exclaimed. "After eating out my pussy until I was unconscious from the orgasms, would it be too much to expect for you two to call me ... Penny?"

"Oh, dear!" Ann responded. "I just don't know ... I mean ... It's letting down the bars and..." She slowly shook her head and continued, "It's such a big step ... We'll have to check with Mother first."

That ended the teasing. The three just exchanged loving kisses that were far from being pecks.

The other girls sitting around the kitchen had just been watching the exchange with increasing amazement. Then it was their turn.

First, we sent them back to their rooms to change, asking them only to wear the terry robes provided in each room. We learned they received a bit of a surprise when some of them found Maria and Carmen, both naked, cleaning their rooms and changing their beds. (It was spring vacation at their school so they were helping us out.)

When they returned — some of them were looking sheepish only wearing short robes — they began with Henry doing their hair and then going to Penny who worked on their faces and their makeup. It went quite fast, and Penny was about to start on a class for them when Mother appeared.

She really caused some consternation. They couldn't believe a woman could look as beautiful as she really did while being old enough to be my mother. Jan Murphy had the ultimate comment, though. "Mother? Good grief, woman! You're not old enough to be his wife!"

That earned her one of Mom's most passionate kisses.

"What brings you down from the hills?" Kris inquired.

"Clothes."

"Clothes? Whose clothes?"

"Didn't I get the impression that these young women are beauty-contest winners? And am I wrong, or is Mary Beth McBride planning on getting married sometime soon?"

When we agreed that was correct, she said, "Well? I hope she plans on wearing something to her wedding besides that robe! I mean ... It is white, but still..."

"So what are we supposed to do now?" Kris asked. The other women had just been gaping at the exchange.

"I'm so glad you asked," Mom replied acidly. "Those limo drivers downstairs might be getting a little bored just playing cards all day."

That did it. All of us, except for Henry and Penny, went to dress. Maria and Carmen assured us that they were fully competent to feed and entertain the Halls while we were gone. (And while they were doing that, the two girls both got full beauty treatments from the experts. They were utterly gorgeous!) So off we went. Frankly, I thought there was a bit of overkill. After all, there were only thirteen of us, and there were five limousines lined up at the curb. Needless to say, the young women were impressed.

Off we went to Bergdorf Goodman. Kris and I rode in the car with Mother. On the way, we learned that the trip had been set up by Andy Taylor. "Her daughter is going to help us out," she said cryptically.

We were in the lead car and were the first to arrive at the store. And New York being what it is, traffic had caused the five vehicles to become separated. No problem. The drivers all knew where we were going, and certainly knew where Bergdorf's was. When the doorman opened the door, Mother was the first out. "Mrs. Johnson, please," she told him. "She's expecting us." Then she told him that four more cars were coming and the people were to join us.

We were whisked up to the executive floor to an office marked Executive Vice President. Wow! We were ushered into a corner office that was both very large and very lavishly furnished. The secretary quietly closed the door as she left, and we found ourselves more than a bit puzzled. At least Kris and I were; Mother seemed quite unconcerned.

The reason for our puzzlement was that there were only two very young women in the office, one about 19 and the other 16 or 17. Their appearance was similar enough, they could have almost been twins. Then I realized that in just a couple of years, they would be.

Then I almost dropped my teeth! The older one came toward us with her hand outstretched. "Hi! I'm Nita Johnson, and this is my daughter, Karen. Welcome, Mrs. Harris. Mom hasn't stopped talking about you for days. She says you're her oldest and dearest friend." Then she pretended to glare at Mom as she added, "And she claims you're the one responsible for her body ornaments!"

Mom just giggled. "Did you try her clit ring?"

Nita tried to keep a straight face but failed miserably. "It's so neat!" she exclaimed. "It works like a tiny faucet." After a pause she added, "And now Karen wants one, too, for Heaven's sake!"

"It's only fair, Mom," Karen Johnson sniffed. "After all, Caitie is getting married in June and I have to do something!"

"The poor thing!" Nita commented with a notable lack of sympathy. "Here she's already 16 and not even married. In fact, she's not even engaged! What a pity." Then to Kris she said, "You had been married at least once by the time you were 16, hadn't you?"

By that time we had taken seats in comfortable seating in the corner of the room. And Kris proceeded to tell the Johnson women about her background. When she concluded, there were tears in both pairs of eyes. "No, I wasn't married at 16. I was fucking for Big Macs."

"Mommy, I take it all back," Karen said softly. "I have the greatest family in the world. Why should I be in such a big fucking rush to leave the nest?"

Nita gave her eldest child a searing kiss that was returned with equal enthusiasm.

At that point the rest of the women joined us. Again, Mary Beth appeared to be the leader of the band, although Little Bit and Ann hung back and moved closer to Kris, Mom and me. Introductions were made, and I saw Little Bit's eyes widen as she realized that the woman she thought was her own age turned out to be the mother of a girl nearly as old as she was. Moreover, I could sense her publisher's brain spinning. Here was Anita Lucas Taylor Johnson, known under her professional name, Nita Lucas, as perhaps the world's foremost authority on women's fashions, and also the mother of six! Clearly, this woman was made for Mrs.

By that time, things had settled down, with the Executive Aviation women waiting expectantly for whatever might come next. Nita made a call, and things started to move. A side door in the office opened, a woman wearing a short bridal gown appeared ... and I might have audibly gasped. The woman was wearing two-inch heels, but she appeared to be about six feet tall without them. Furthermore, although I didn't know her name, to say the very least, her face was familiar. It seemed to me that she appeared on the covers of at least two of the top fashion magazines every month.

"Well, what do you know?" Nita giggled, "They actually put you to work! All you've been doing for weeks has been cadging free lunches at our dining room." Then to us she said, "This is Adrienne Cameron. Before her marriage, she used to do a little modeling."

Mary Beth gasped, "But ... but... she's Adrienne!"

"That's right," Nita agreed, "but so what?"

"But she's famous!" Mary Beth insisted.

"And you know what Andy Warhol said," Nita retorted. "Everyone will be famous for about five minutes." Then in her most-disgusted tone of voice added, "Adrienne has had her five minutes, and then some."

Adrienne just stuck out her tongue. God, she was cute!

After seeing a number of other short wedding dresses, Mom reminded us that the idea was to dress the other seven young women as well. So Adrienne led the women out the way she had come in to look at other clothing. Ann went along with them to ensure that the outfits were good enough.

When they were gone, Mother noticed that Karen Johnson had been looking at her closely while Mom was talking. I guess I'm a little slow. She was studying Mom's tongue stud.

Mom is not a dummy. She had noticed it, too, and finally asked, "Would you like to see what it's like?"

Karen was embarrassed. She started to hem and haw, but Mom interrupted it by saying thoughtfully, "Hmm ... Your grandmother tells me you're a little short on grandparents. And since Bill and I are pretty well practiced in the roles—"

"My Grandparents!" Karen almost screamed. "That incredible tone poem by Susan Dawson! You're her grandparents, aren't you?"

"As I said, we're practiced," Mother repeated. "So ... since you're now my newest granddaughter, how about if we get better acquainted? And I'll even show you how my stud works."

Nita was slowly shaking her head. "But this can't be ... I mean ... What would Mom and Dad say?"

"I have no idea what Andy would say," Mom replied, "but I do know she's my oldest and dearest friend, so..."

With that she left the office followed by Karen Johnson, on their way to a vacant office next door that had a nice big sofa in it. And a door that locked.

When they were gone, Kris asked about Adrienne. "She's one of the very top models, isn't she?"

"Possibly the very top," Nita replied. "She's certainly in the thousand-dollar-an-hour set." Then she snapped her fingers and said, "Maybe you could help me ... And help her."

Then she explained that word of Adrienne's pregnancy had spread and one of the major women's magazines was interested in doing a running story, following the course of her pregnancy and delivery.

"What's wrong with that?" Kris asked.

"Nothing, really, except..."

"Except what?"

Nita slowly shook her head. "You need a little background: Not too many months ago, Adrienne was about 15 pounds lighter than she is now. She claimed that she was so damned thin a breeze would blow her down the street, and she looked like an escapee from an anorexia clinic." She grinned and commented, "And that wasn't far from the truth, either."

"But... ?" Kris prompted.

"She was introduced to Scott Cameron, one of the world's top neurosurgeons, and a six-foot-four hunk. Adrienne was also a confirmed lesbian and an unpenetrated virgin. But that didn't last very long. She and Scott were married only a few weeks later."

"So... ?"

Nita Johnson slowly shook her head. "The 'so' is the women who run those mainstream magazines. You see, Adrienne majored in Women's Studies, and she blames the lesbian focus in the department for almost destroying her life. I've known her for years, and believe me when I say she has never been happier in her entire life than she is right now. She's loved, she's married, and she's expecting her first child. She's utterly ecstatic.

"The problem is that she's becoming convinced that the editors of the magazine won't allow her story to come out; she believes they would put a totally different slant on it, one that would be contrary to the facts. It would go against too many of their deeply-held beliefs."

"That's easy to fix," Little Bit interjected. "Get a new publication."

"Like what?"

"Like Mrs. I'm sure they would love to do the story. And about half the editors over there are pregnant, too. They would love it!"

"Are you sure?"

"She's sure," Kris giggled. "She's the publisher."

"Who represents her?" Little Bit asked. "Who do we talk to?"

"That's a bit of a problem, too," Nita replied. "Her former agent was and is a bull dyke and won't even speak to Adrienne any more. And as far as Ad is concerned, good riddance. But the fact is that she hasn't been modeling much. Basically, she consults with me."

"On what?" Little Bit asked, fascinated by the idea.

"She's got incredible fashion sense," Nita replied. "And I guess we work pretty well as a team. What Ad does is tell me what not to buy. And she's never been wrong." She grinned and continued, "Last year a particular color was in: an incredibly awful shade of puce; everyone had dozens of outfits in that one shade. Adrienne told me not to touch it, and I didn't." Then she giggled and concluded, "If you're interested, you can get lots of dust rags in horrid puce right now.

"And I'm really not kidding. It was funny later, but pretty hairy at the time. Our merchandising people were going nuts! Every single major store had zillions of pieces in that color, and we had none. Even the chairman was getting antsy. But Ad's comment on the color was, 'Not even I can wear that horror!' It sounds egotistical, but it's a fact: Adrienne Cameron can wear anything ... but not that.

"All the fashion people in town were laughing at us ... but not for long. The things just sat there. It was so bad that most stores couldn't even move the damned things out on clearance. So when I said you can get puce rags, I really wasn't kidding. Tons of that stuff went out the back door to rag merchants and trash haulers."

"Representation?" Little Bit repeated.

Nita just shook her head.

"If she's interested, I have a sister who's really one of the top lawyers in the state—"

"You mean Liz?" Kris interrupted.

"No, Sister Kristin, I mean you!"

Again, I could feel the shock Kris felt when she heard the words.

To Nita, Little Bit continued, "When she met with the Admissions Committee of the Bar Association, it was composed of the top lawyers in their specialties in New York. Kris knew more about each of their specialties than they did, and they said so. Mom told me all about it one day." Then looking at Kris she said, "Well, Sis, what about it?"

Before Kris could reply — she was about to say yes — Mother reappeared with Karen slung over her shoulder like a sack of flour. Glaring at Nita she said, "Good grief, daughter, your daughter can't take it!"

"Can't take what?" Nita replied. Then going behind Mom, she lifted Karen's head that was just hanging limply against Mom's back and said, "Good grief! What have you done to my beautiful baby girl?"

"Good Heavens! My granddaughter just can't take it. My God! You'd think she was a virgin or something the way she just came apart!"

"Granddaughter?" Nita replied. "You mean ... you're... my mother?"

"Of course not! Andy Taylor is your mother." Then Mom grinned evilly and added, "I happen to know that your husband, Bill, is an orphan. That being the case, from now on he's my son ... And I'm your mother-in-law! And what have you been doing to my son, anyhow? My granddaughter told me — when she could still talk — that poor Bill comes dragging out for breakfast in the morning looking like something no self-respecting cat would drag in! And it's all your fault, you greedy little girl!"

To say the very least, Nita Johnson looked stunned. Slowly she just shook her head and finally changed the subject. "But Karen... ? What did you do to her?"

"Good heavens! That girl just can't take it. I mean ... She wasn't in orgasm for even 30 minutes when she just totally came apart." Then really glaring at Nita she added, "Has she been spending enough time on my magic machine?"

"But ... but she's still a virgin!" Nita protested.

"So what?" Mom retorted. "All her husband will miss is the dubious pleasure of cleaning up the blood from the sheets." She paused and then added, "There will be enough liquids on the bed by then without adding her virginal blood to the mix. Besides ... she'll know what a real orgasm feels like, too."

At that point Karen began to regain consciousness. She blinked, blinked again and then looked at her mother. "What am I going to do, Mama? Gram's tongue stud drove me absolutely nuts! And now Grandma Taylor has one, too! I'll never be able to see her again! She'll kill me!"

"Sweetie, self-preservation being the first law of nature, I guess you're just going to have to start working out on the magic machine."

"And if she doesn't have the needle bending on its right-hand stop within three months... !" Mom threatened.

Nita just grinned while poor Karen looked both embarrassed and scared. Then Karen left to see what the other women were doing. I noticed that she didn't bother getting dressed.

Kris asked Nita about that. We learned that the Johnsons were like us and the Kramers and Christians: Clothing was optional, and mostly they opted not to wear any. Then Kris asked about Adrienne Cameron.

Nita smiled warmly and replied, "She's my closest and dearest friend." Then pretending to be upset she continued, "But do you know what that bitch did? She's set up Scott's operating schedule to maximize the time they can spend at our place in Vermont. I mean ... Good grief! She and Scott are there at least twice as often as Bill and I. And it's ours!" she wailed.

That ended the play-acting, though. Nita continued, "The fact is that Adrienne Cameron is the best-organized woman I've ever met ... and possibly the smartest. I guess that comes of being a thousand-dollar-an-hour model. With her, not only is time literally money, it's big money!

"Anyway, aside from everything else, she saves Scott countless hours every month by going through all the medical literature — and I mean all of it — and picks out the articles that are specifically relevant to Scott's practice. But at the same time, whenever they go out together, she's perfect arm candy.

"You know," Nita continued, "I guess that's part of the reason why Adrienne never dated. First of all, her height scares a lot of men. She's six feet even in her bare feet. But beyond that, they can't get used to the idea of a woman as beautiful as she is being as smart as she is.

"But at the same time, she's going to be an utterly incredible mother! Barbara Williams' children worship the ground she walks on. Beyond that, though, Barb's oldest are now dating age, and in spite of the fact that the kids all know that their mother was a former street hooker, there are questions about sex they would much rather ask Adrienne. And that's despite the fact that Ad always tells them that their mother knows far more about the subject than she does.

"That's not all. You should see her with the tigers, George and Martha, and the little kids. She does everything with them." Nita just shook her head. "Beyond that, though, she also models for Barb, who claims she's the very best model alive." She grinned and added, "But there's something Ad doesn't know: Barb is planning a show that she's going to title, 'Adrienne.' It will be a whole show of Adrienne, nude. I've seen a couple of the paintings and they are out of this world!"

Then she changed the subject. "But what about the photo series of her pregnancy? Are you sure Mrs. will do it?"

"As I said," Kris replied, "Little Bit is the publisher, so yes, I'm very sure!"

At that point Adrienne joined us, and Nita told her about doing the pregnancy series for Mrs.

"But ... but that's for famous women!" Adrienne protested.

Both Kris and Little Bit cracked up at that comment. Little Bit spoke first, "Get real, would you, please? You might be the best-known model alive! And you're married to a top surgeon and expecting your first baby." Then she smiled warmly and added, "And frankly, I don't think you've ever looked so beautiful in your life! You utterly glow!"

While Little Bit had been speaking, Adrienne had been studying her, and then moved slowly toward her. Gently, the woman reached down and began lightly to run her fingers over Little Bit's abdomen. Then she grinned and commented, "And I doubt if you've ever looked so beautiful in your life, either. You're carrying so beautifully! When?"

"Early July, I think," Little Bit replied softly.

At that, Adrienne grinned and said, "It looks like there's going to be a miniature population explosion around here. I'm expecting in October."

The women hugged and then kissed. When they eased apart, Adrienne was visibly reeling. "Damn it, girl! Where the hell were you when I was a practicing lesbian? I've had dozens of women in my life, but none are close to you! You are out of this world."

"If you must know," Little Bit replied softly, "I was fucking for Big Macs." Then she quickly told the model of her life and experience.

At that point Nita pointed out that Little Bit was also the publisher of Mrs,  and they wanted to do a running story following the course of Adrienne's pregnancy.

Kris quietly pointed out that she would be happy to represent the model in her negotiations acting as her agent. The girl was utterly stunned when Kris added that she wouldn't be working on a percentage, but rather an hourly rate. At Adrienne's rates, almost any percentage would produce very large dollars which were far too much, in Kris's opinion, for the modest amount of work involved.

No one bothered to tell the girl that our extended family essentially owned the magazine outright.

What followed over the subsequent days was one of the funniest negotiations in history. It brought to mind the story Kimberly Kramer had told us of being represented by Ali Clifford in negotiations with Alliance Studios, a studio that Ali herself owned. Kris, indeed, followed in Ali's footsteps. And Mrs magazine folded like a puppy lying on its back waiting to have its tummy rubbed. Adrienne got absolutely everything, including her choice of photographers and full approval rights on all the copy.

To be fair — and my sister, Little Bit, was more than fair — the resulting series was far better with Adrienne's input than it would have been without it. The woman certainly lived up to Nita's billing as being an utterly brilliant young woman. Over the course of its run, the Adrienne series tripled Mrs circulation. And it was an artistic triumph as well.

But back to the story. The Executive Aviation girls left Bergdorf's with enough clothing that it was a good thing we had five limousines. Otherwise, we would have had to have hired a van to transport it all.

On Thursday, the girls were taken back to the EA offices, again in limos. It was utterly spectacular.

And within twelve months, all of the young women were married and absolutely gorgeous.

Mary Beth? The wedding was magnificent, and she wasted no time in conceiving the first of the Hodges children. Fred was ecstatic — albeit rather tired every day — and the company really thrived.



-------

Chapter 48

A few weeks had passed, and we were recovering from the McBride-Hodges wedding when the phone rang. I was surprised to find that it was Jonathan Wilkerson calling. Although we had spoken on the phone a number of times, with the single exception of Little Bit and company, we had been the ones initiating the calls. But not that time.

"Cam," he began, "I have a favor to ask." He wasted no time with small talk, but rather moved immediately to the reason for his call.

A favor for Jon Wilkerson? The only "favor" we had ever done for him was to accept our four utterly darling sisters. Some favor!

"Of course!" I replied. "What is it?"

Very diffidently — and very much out of character for him — he asked, "Could ... could you, Kristin, and your mother come down here to the Yucatan? It's quite important."

I thought for just a moment. "I'm sure we can, but in return, could you do a favor for us?"

"Of course!" he replied, echoing my reply to him. "What is it?"

"My mother has been utterly fascinated by your system for matching people. Recognizing the risk, she still would like to come down with my father and be run through your system. Could you do that?"

There was silence on the line for a moment. Then he replied, "Of course we can, but are you sure she — and your father — understand the risks?"

"Yes, they do. And for that matter, I think Kris and I would like to do it again, too."

"What for?"

I chuckled. "I could give you a line, but the truth is that Kris is certain that if we did it again, it would blow out your hardware."

"What's that mean?"

"Jon, I'm sure you remember that when we did it the first time, the computer produced 99 percent matches. Well, you also know that Tina Miller Harrington is now a sister of mine. And you also know that she knows a fair amount about computers. Although she doesn't know all the ins and outs of your software, she's pretty sure that identical matches would blow your unit. So anyway..."

"I'll take the chance," he laughed.

"One more thing," I added. "Could we bring down a pair of tigers with us? I'm sure they would like the weather down there better than what we have up here."

"Did you say... tigers?"

You may remember some of the meals Mom and Kris served to our four resident tigers. And the reason was to try to ensure that when we got a pair of our own, they would be good ones. Well, we did, and they were the very best young tigers in the pack. They had been mated by the pack just before coming out from Los Angeles, and they were Tom Jefferson and his mate, Martha.

The funniest thing was when Martha met my mother for the first time. Not only was she in awe of Mom's beauty, but she was astonished at the number of her "children" and the fact that she had a grandson older than her youngest daughter. With her eyes as big as giant green saucers, she asked Mom, "Mistress, I have been mated for only a few days, while you must be the most experienced mate in the world! Could ... would ... you be willing to give me pointers on being a better mate for my beloved Tom?"

And I'll really give Mom credit. She didn't laugh, realizing that the poor thing would have been crushed had she done so. (Thinking about it, the idea of a 550-pound tigress being crushed by my mother really is funny.) Instead, she replied, "Martha Jefferson, I would be delighted to help you in any way I can!" Then she hugged the tigress around her neck and kissed her. It was truly love at first sight in both directions.

Anyway, after explaining to Jon about the tigers, he agreed enthusiastically.

"There's one more thing..." he began, but then stopped.

"One more thing... ?"

He blurted, "Do you happen to know a physician who would like to join our staff?"

"What happened to Doctor ... Henson, wasn't it?"

"He's leaving to go home to Indianapolis." There was another pause, and then he asked, "Is that magic pregnancy power that The Carriers have transferrable ... over the phone?"

That question really took me aback. Then I looked up and found that Kris had locked in on my conversation. She held up her hand with two fingers crossed and mouthed, "Ask him!"

"I don't know," I replied, "but why do you ask?"

"Because! Jenny Blake, Jeff Henson's nurse, went up to Indianapolis with him and they returned just a week ago."

"So... ?"

"They were gone for four weeks, and when they came back, they were married... and she had a baby with her!" he wailed. "And ... and ... Becky is really on my case. She's expecting again, and it's twins again ... at least. And to quote her, 'I'm sick and tired of my belly getting to a door before I can even reach the doorknob!' So she wants that power, too."

While he had been talking, I had been watching Kris. When we learned about Jenny, Kris made a motion as if wiping sweat from her face, then rapidly nodded her head, and silently asked me to let her speak to Becky Wilkerson. I nodded. That mental communication we share is really great sometimes.

"Jon, Kris would like to speak to Becky. Is she there?"

She was and Kris took the phone. "Hi, sweetie!" she greeted her friend, "How far along are you?"

"What difference does that make?" Becky replied. (At that point, I was the one monitoring both sides of the call.)

"Just curious," Kris blithely replied. "How far?"

"Only about the second month. I don't look like a beachball... yet!"

"Well, you now have the power. What's going to happen is you're going to stop right where you are ... Unless, of course, you want to swell. Both Mom and Tina did, and they found they could control exactly how much bulging there would be. Mom did it so she could show off to her friends at the club. Tina did it because Scott wanted to do a series of paintings of her pregnancy. The day she delivered, she had the loveliest swelling, and she even allowed her tits to grow, too.

"But anyway, what about you?"

"I think I'll stop right here," Becky replied.

"There's one thing I should point out, though," Kris added. "Doing it our way, when you deliver you'll lose the weight of the infants plus the birth material. With twins, that could leave you looking pretty hollow. As a suggestion, you might let yourself swell a bit."

That idea made sense to Becky who said she would probably do it.

Anyway, just three days later we were off to the Yucatan. As usual, our pilots were Guy Barnes and Bill Jones, but they were flying a brand-new plane, a Gulfstream G-550. That's the extended-range bird that can fly point to point between almost any two places on the globe, nonstop.

In the event, we had quite a crowd. Mom, Dad and Karen were aboard along with Kris, me and Billy. Liz Johnson and Tina Harrington came with their babies, but they would be only staying for a few days and would be returning with Dad while the rest of us stayed longer. And then there were the tigers, Tom and Martha Jefferson.

The flight down was interesting. There was a small bar on the starboard side, aft, and Mother wasted no time. As soon as the seatbelt sign went off, she was out of her seat and standing behind the bar, but with her body bent over it. In an instant, her slacks and shoes were on the floor and Dad was behind her. For her part, Tina wasted no time. She knelt on the floor beside Mom and began playing with her tits and clit ring while Dad plowed her.

Talk about being multi-orgasmic! Mom was out of sight. She was cuming nonstop for a very long time. For that matter, I think Dad came in her at least twice, and maybe more than that.

When it was all over, Kris asked Tina what she had been doing.

"Well, in view of Mom's advancing years, she needs all the help she can get," Tina blithely responded.

That earned her a solid smack on her arm when Mom had recovered her breath. "The nerve of some people's children... !" she griped.

With her eyes wide, Tina replied, "But I'm yours, Mom, so..." She ignored the punch on the arm, but later we saw that it was really bruised. Mom can really hit hard.

When we landed at the terminal — the airport was so small a single building served all functions — we were met by a small army of uniformed young women. There were limousines and even a Ford Expedition with its rear seats removed to carry about 1,200 pounds of tiger.

I guess it was funny, really, particularly the way the young women acted with respect to Kris, Tina and Liz. When they realized that each of them had their babies, it was Katy Bar the Door! I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Are all women hard-wired to goo at babies? From personal observation, they must be. You may remember that in my first visit Liz commented that some of the guests acted like they wanted to walk to the car on a path of tits. Well, guess what? The attitude of the young women toward The Carriers was such that I'm certain they would have considered it an honor to be walked on! It was the return of the goddesses, and the goddesses had babies! Oh, well.

We got in the limos and moved out in a not-so-little caravan. At that point, I received another surprise: Although the airport was only a bit more than 20 miles from the Institute, it had been about an hour's drive over one of the worst roads I had ever had the misfortune to travel on. But no more. While it was no Interstate, the road was then well paved and well marked. That trip only took about 20 minutes. Later I learned from Wilkerson that a small portion of the money we had given the Institute had gone to the provincial governor and a few other highly-placed officials. The result was the road had been paved for the first time ever. However, he pointed out, the amount of money he had "invested" was far less than the cost of paving. Foreign Corrupt Practices Act, anyone?

Waiting for us at the main entrance were Jonathan Wilkerson and his wife, Becky. As we drove up, I commented to our driver that there were no patrons in sight. I then learned that all reservations for the period had been canceled. There were no patrons, only staff and students. Wow!

Jon greeted us warmly and ushered us into his private office. Immediately, Becky took us one by one out to her desk where a Polaroid ID camera had been set up. That only took a few minutes, and then a few minutes later she returned with ID cards, another new development at the Institute. Dad's and mine were mounted with pocket clips while the women's were all on gold chains. Furthermore, there was a colored band around the perimeter of the card, and all of ours were gold. Becky then filled us in on the color-coding. The students had one color, staff had another, and so forth. But there were only a tiny handful of gold cards like ours. Gold cards allowed the bearer full access to any place at any time.

Pretending to be shocked, Kris gasped, "You mean that Dad and Cam could have access to the girls' dorm rooms? At night? When they're sleeping?"

"Of course, Kris. Why wouldn't they?"

Then Kris blew it totally. She giggled.

We learned that the students were on an accelerated class schedule that day since there were no patrons present. When Liz and Tina heard that, they asked if they could attend classes. But then Liz's face fell. "But what about our babies?"

Becky laughed out loud at that one. "Believe me, Liz, that's the least of your problems!" Immediately, she got on the PA system and we could hear a number of girls being paged. When she put the phone down she explained, "The fact of the matter is you're doing me a huge favor. My poor little twins! About the only time I see them is when they're in search of a working nipple." She grinned and added, "If it's just a nipple to suck on, any of the girls are more than willing to provide one." Back to her explanation, she said, "The fact is, the girls are literally standing in line to babysit. In fact, each babysitter has an assistant working as a gofer. And once in a great while — the babysitter might need to go to the bathroom — the assistant might actually get to hold a baby!"

There was a diffident knock on the door, and four girls entered, two of whom were carrying babies: Jon and Becky's twins. The infants were sleeping soundly in the girls' arms and appeared very contented. It was the Harris women's turn to goo and ga, which, of course, they did immediately.

When the girls left to return the babies to their cribs, Becky explained, "There's a theory that babies develop better if there's someone to play with them, talk to them, and so forth. If there's any merit to that theory, I'm certain that our kids are going to be the brightest kids on the planet! The poor things are besieged with loving 'aunts'. But they love it!"

At that point four new girls appeared, with four others standing behind them. What followed was astonishing, to me at least. All of the girls were wearing white shorts with white cotton tops that barely made it to the bottom of their tits. The tops were closed with only two large buttons in front.

Becky proceeded to really give them a going over. She checked for any sign of makeup or perfume — a no-no: some babies don't like it — and to ensure that the girls were spotlessly clean (they were). Then she had the four bare their breasts. One girl received a raised eyebrow because her nipples weren't fully erect. "Babies like something to chew on sometimes," she explained. The inspection then continued with the second rank of girls, the assistants. Finally, she informed us that, before being able to babysit, every girl had to complete a comprehensive course in baby and child care. When the girls left, cooing at their new charges, Becky admitted, "They're all really far better at it than I am ... although I would never admit it to them!"

We were about to get down to our discussion when I realized there was an 800-pound gorilla in the corner. Or more accurately, about 1,200 pounds of tiger. When I mentioned that, both Kristin and Becky grinned. Apparently, they were way ahead of me, and they were. Again, Becky used the phone for a page and a few minutes later two very athletic-appearing girls appeared. They were wearing white shorts, white tank tops, and running shoes. The girls were beside themselves when they were introduced to the tigers, and Tom kissed their hands, while Martha curtsied.

"They're so darling!" one of the girls exclaimed. "Could I ... could we ... hug them?"

Both girls — Brenda and Abby — were stunned when they heard the tigers respond simultaneously, "Of course!" At that, both animals sat up straight on their haunches and spread their forepaws wide. The two girls moved closer and were wrapped close to the tigers' bodies. Both of them just moved sinuously against the soft fur.

"Unbelievable!" one of the girls gasped. "They're so soft and loveable!" With that she gave Martha a kiss on her furry cheek and received one in return.

Heard of love at first sight? That was it!

When they went off, I was shaking my head. First, the animals were to be fed. Each was to be given a steamship roast — the thigh on the hind leg of a steer. They would even have a huge bone to gnaw on after eating. Then Kris passed on a tip: The tigers would just love it if the girls rode on them, stood on their backs, or whatever. The additional weight added to the animals' exercise, and after being cooped up during the long flight down ... The girls practically ran out the door.

It turned out that the tigers were an even bigger hit than were the babies. There were almost fistfights over getting to "care for" the tigers.

By that time, we were down to Jon and Becky, Mom, Dad, Kris, and me. I was waiting for someone to speak when Kris glared at me — or tried to; she's not very good at glaring — and mentally told me, "You ask!"

Okay. I had been told. "So tell me, Jon, what exactly has happened with Dr. Henson and Jenny?"

He looked at his wife for support, but she nonverbally communicated that it was all his. "It all began about eight months ago," he said. "I was outside doing something or other when I doubled over in pain. I fell to the ground and just lay there in a fetal position. Fortunately, there were people in the area who had seen it, and Doc Henson was called. He had me rushed to the infirmary where he examined me and found that my appendix was close to rupturing. There wasn't time to do anything other than perform an emergency operation on the spot.

"He told me that he could operate, but he needed someone to administer anesthesia. At that point, Jenny said that she could handle it. When he tried to argue — not very hard, I must say — she just forcefully repeated that she could handle it.

"For my part, quite frankly I was scared to death. I knew Jeff was a competent physician, but we were talking surgery. But there wasn't a choice. The two of them scrubbed and a couple of girls Jenny had been training in nursing came in to help. She gave me something, and that was the end of it as far as I was concerned. The next thing I knew, I was in a bed with Becky beside me.

"At that point I learned that things had started going wrong in the operation almost from the very beginning. But Jeff handled the problems and Jenny did an incredible job with the anesthesia and the patient monitoring. Anyway, everything turned out all right.

"But as I was recuperating, one day Becky brought in one of the girls who had been assisting in the operation, and she spilled the beans: It turned out that when they were finishing and closing up, Jenny insisted on doing the sutures. 'As a seamstress, you're a pretty fair surgeon, ' she told Jeff.

"'And where in hell did you ever learn to suture like that?' Jeff demanded.

"'Probably the same place you learned to operate like that!' she replied.

"Then slowly the story came out. First of all, Jenny Blake isn't a nurse at all; she's an anesthesiologist! She's an MD in her own right. And Jeff isn't a physician, he's a surgeon. In fact, he's one of the world's best neurosurgeons, if you can believe it!

"It was at this point that my child bride came into the act." He grinned and interjected, "She claims to be an ignorant slut, but if that's true, she's the smartest 'ignorant slut' in North America. Anyway, she wormed out the truth ... from both of them.

"I'll take Jeff first. It seems that he was a neurosurgeon in practice in Indiana, and a truly great one at that. And that was the problem: Although very young, he was overshadowing the chairman of the neurosurgery unit at Indiana University Medical Center. Since that could not be allowed to happen, the powers decided to run Jeff out ... and did.

"Their tactic was to go after Jeff's mortality rate: patients who died after surgery. And the fact was that his was far higher than the chairman's, primarily because the chairman refused to operate in any case that wasn't a slam-dunk. The fact was that Jeff took on a number of cases in which the chairman had deemed the problem inoperable and saved the patient. Of course, some others did die — they were too far gone. But the fact remains that a substantial number of people are alive today who otherwise would be dead. Absent surgery, they had no chance of survival.

"Anyway, Jeff was so disgusted that he 'ran away' to my institute where he could close himself off from the world.

"And that brings me to Jenny. First, let me say that she is the most successful medical officer with respect to dealing with the girls I could possibly imagine. In fact, that's the way it works and has been working for quite some time, although neither Jeff nor I knew the full extent of it. Her care of the young women here has been utterly outstanding.

"The reason for this? (And we learned this only a few weeks ago.) Jenny Blake put herself through college and medical school ... while working as a prostitute. She had to have money and didn't want to end up with a medical degree along with hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of student loans. And since a medical education is very demanding, there wasn't much time available for part-time work. After thinking about it, she concluded that prostitution paid the highest hourly rates, so she became a whore. And, apparently, a very good one."

Jon chuckled — a very rare occurrence for him — and continued, "Again, the girls knew something the rest of us did not. I'm certain you've heard from your sisters..." Then to Mom and Dad, he amended, " ... your daughters ... about fucking for Big Macs? Well, Jenny was held in awe by the girls because she commanded $1,000 a night! She was really big time in their culture.

"I gather it must have been funny. Jenny would seldom take a thousand-dollar assignment because she couldn't spare a whole night from her studies. Far more commonly, she would fuck some john, pick up four- or five-hundred, and then go back to her medical books."

"Then what happened?" Mom asked.

With a broad smile, Jon replied, "Then they went to Indianapolis for a vacation in late March. At the time, Jeff knew of Jenny's ability with anesthesia, but still didn't know she was an MD." He slowly shook his head and added, "That was another thing ... that you two were largely responsible for!" He was looking at Mom and me.

"What did I do?" the two of us responded in unison.

"It was all the money you two have given us," he replied with a grin. His grin broadened as he added, "Of course, Jeff was fooled, too."

"Fooled about what?" Kris asked.

"Medical supplies are handled by requisitions signed by the department head. In their case, of course, it was the medical department and Jeff signed. But Jenny prepared the requisitions, and he just signed them without bothering to look to see what was being ordered. And since there were always adequate supplies of whatever was needed, that's the way it went.

"But no one ever noticed the fact that the amount being spent on medical supplies kept going up and up, far faster than the population of our community. Among other things, Jenny was spending money on radiological equipment as well as an array of equipment for the best administration of anesthetics."

"You said things changed over the vacation in Indiana," Mom reminded him. "What happened?"

"A bunch of things ... Whoops! I nearly forgot an important element. Jenny had been Jeff's mistress for over two years by then. In fact, Jeff had even mentioned marriage more than a few times, but Jenny always laughed it off—"

"See?" Kris interrupted with a sniff. "I'm not the only one!" But her eyes were dancing when she said it. I smiled when I received a mental message from her, "The best thing that ever happened to me was allowing you — and sister Jean — to browbeat me into marrying you."

"Anyway," Jon continued, "off to Indianapolis they went. As far as Jeff's parents were concerned, when they first met Jenny it was love at first sight. They just adored her ... and still do, but even more so now that she's made them grandparents. She played golf with Jeff's father and tennis with his mother, as well as being her partner at Bridge at the country club.

"Something else happened, though. We now all know that Jenny was pregnant at the time, and of course, she did too. What none of us knew, though, was that she had timed things so that she would deliver in the United States. She didn't want her child born in Mexico.

"One morning she announced that she had an appointment without saying where or with whom. The fact was she was in labor and was heading off — by herself — to the medical center to deliver. Then the first of the incidents occurred. In the birthing unit she found another young woman about her own age in labor. And the woman's obstetrician was scared to death. It seemed that the woman was giving birth to her third child, but her prior labor had lasted days and she was hospitalized for quite a while after the delivery to recover. The obstetrician had warned her that another delivery would be lethal, but the girl, Trish Hobbs, was adamant.

"But she wasn't a fool. She knew exactly what was involved. Before leaving for the hospital, she even said goodbye to her two young children and told them that before long they would have a new brother or sister — she hoped — but not a mother. Because the children were so distraught, her husband felt he had to stay with them rather than be with Trish at the hospital.

"There was another thing," Jon continued, "there was no anesthesia that Trish could handle that would in any way ameliorate her pain. A delivery would be brutal.

"Well, Jenny moved into action. She introduced herself, not as a pregnant woman, but as an anesthesiologist, and asked to stay with Trish. There was a birthing room with two birthing beds, and Trish was put in one of them. Jenny arranged for certain equipment to be installed and it was.

"Don't ask me what she did, because I have no idea. I now know that, in addition to knowing the very latest in modern anesthesiology, Jenny is expert in acupuncture and a whole bunch of other Eastern methods for dealing with pain. From being in agonizing pain, in no time Trish was relaxed.

"At that point, things must have gotten funny as hell! Jenny asked Trish if she could do her a favor: Deliver her baby. She explained that all Trish had to do was to catch the infant when Jenny expelled her. Can you believe it? That's exactly what happened. Then Jenny buzzed for a nurse, handed her her infant with instructions to clean her up and put her in the nursery. 'And she's Baby Girl Blake, ' Jenny told her. 'She's not Trish's child ... yet.'

"You'll never guess what happened next!" Jon exclaimed with a grin.

The three of us just slowly shook our heads while Becky Wilkerson just grinned. Obviously, she knew the whole story.

"There's Jenny, expelling the afterbirth ... while she and Trish are playing Gin Rummy! And that was funny, too. You see, Trish had asked Jenny what her fee was and Jenny had replied, 'Nothing!' Well, it turns out that Trish's family is very wealthy and influential, but Jenny wouldn't be dissuaded. Another factor is that Trish is a super Gin player. What she proceeded to do was to lose over $2,000 to Jenny playing Gin while in labor herself.

"It ended when Jenny noticed that Trish's infant's head was almost out. She told Trish to push, and delivered the infant. Again, the nurse was called and went off with the infant.

"But that wasn't all: Believe it or not, Jenny helped Trish into the shower — the fact that she had just delivered herself didn't even register — and washed her and washed her hair. Then she styled it in a new way and even applied makeup. Trish was dazzled, claiming she had never looked so good in her life. Only then did she allow Trish to call her husband, and then Jenny called Jeff's house and told them she had been delayed, but would be back in a couple of hours.

"When Trish's husband and two children were allowed in, it was apparent to Jenny that the kids must have been crying for hours. While they had expected their mother to die, they found her looking more beautiful than ever! And then the nurse brought the two infants in for their mothers to nurse. It must have been a beautiful sight!

"And while she was nursing her infant, she told her children, 'This is your new Aunt Jenny. She just saved your mother's life!' The kids just looked at Jenny as if she were a combination of God and Santa Claus. 'She's so beautiful!' her six-year old girl said. 'We're so lucky!' As soon as she finished nursing her own infant, Jenny just kissed and cuddled the Hobbs children. They arrived in tears, but left elated."

At that point Jon looked at the clock and said, "Whoops! I'll have to break off the story for now. We'll pick it up at dinner, and the Hensons will be joining us."

Kris and I talked about what we had just learned, while Mom had some words with Jon and Becky. We could have listened, but we were engrossed in our own conversation. A few moments later, Jon and Becky's heads were nodding in agreement and off we went to our suite.



-------

Chapter 49



No sooner were we back in the suite when we heard a knock at the door. Kris just nodded toward me and grinned, saying mentally, "Your turn." I opened the door and was surprised. Tom and Martha were sitting there patiently, but that wasn't the surprise. The surprise was their appearance. Never before or since have I ever seen two more beautiful tigers. Obviously, they had been brushed and groomed till their coats truly glistened.

Stepping back, I motioned for them to come in; their human companions, who had undoubtedly knocked on the door, were already out of sight. "Sweetie, come and look at these two!"

The two huge cats sat side by side in their classic house-cat pose with their tails neatly wrapped around their forepaws. They looked at the two of us and just beamed. When they did, their teeth were exposed, and they both could have modeled for a toothpaste ad.

"Kids, you are utterly gorgeous!" Kris exclaimed.

With her eyes wide, Martha reported, "Would you believe it, Mistress? Those lovely girls even sharpened our claws!" With that, she reached out with a forepaw and extended her claws.

She was absolutely right: They gleamed and were razor-sharp!

"So what did you two do all day?" I asked.

Tom slowly shook his head, valiantly trying — but failing miserably — to look sad. "It ... it was terrible!" he said sadly. "Would you believe it? They made me mate with my poor abused bride for over an hour!"

"Sheesh!" Kris exclaimed. "The first time my lord and master took me, he had me in orgasm for five fucking hours!" Then she cocked her head and rhetorically asked, "Or was it five hours fucking?"

"But mistress," Martha plaintively declared, "I was an unpenetrated virgin until a very short time ago, while you were experienced. And now you're a mother, so I'm sure our master can easily slip his tool of love into your—"

"Don't I wish!" Kris interrupted. "In spite of making love for nearly three years, and in spite of having a baby, he still puts me on his cock like a very tight glove!" Then she thought for a moment and added, "But you're right in a sense. I mean ... Last night, for example, Cam had me in orgasm for scarcely 90 minutes!"

"We had to get up before dawn for our flight down," I responded in the flattest tone of voice I could manage.

Kris's response? She hit me! Honest, she did. And she hit me hard right on my biceps. And it hurt. Sort of. "Damn males, anyway! They always have to be so damned technical!"

And you know what Martha did? She had the nerve to nod her head rapidly up and down! And I pay for her food, too!

"So tell us about your day," Kris asked.

The two great cats both started talking at once. "It was the greatest! There are miles of open space for us to run on, and the girls rode on our backs and did every kind of acrobatics imaginable. They're really nice."

Then Tom took over. "Martha told you they had us mate. When they did, there were other young women around. Three of them were hugging and kissing Martha while we were mating, and three others were hugging and kissing me at the same time!

"But they were very good to us. Following our lovemaking, the girls had pizza for us. And they even had our preference right, too. They were magnificent three-meat pizzas with extra cheese." The giant animal paused for a moment and then added, "The girls took bites from each of them, too. They claimed they were just ensuring that the pizzas were good enough." Looking at me he asked, "Master, do you think that was true? Or were they just stealing some of our pizza?"

An idea occurred to me. "Out of curiosity, Tom, how many pizzas were there?"

With his eyes wide he replied, "Very few, sir. There were only three."

"Three?" I asked skeptically.

"Apiece," he admitted.

"Mistress," Martha interjected, "the girls kept telling Tom to stick his huge cock into my pussy. Now does that sound right to you? Doesn't it sound a little silly for a tigress to have a pussy?"

"A vagina?" Kris offered.

Believe it or not, Martha made a disgusted-looking face. "I hate clinical terms!" she declared.

"A cunt?"

Martha cocked her head, thinking. Then she nodded firmly, turned to Tom and declared, "Mate, from this day forward I have a cunt!"

Tom valiantly tried to control his grin — can you seriously imagine a grinning tiger? — but managed to say, "All right, mate. From now on you have a cunt. And it's a very luscious cunt, too, if I may say so."

We had learned that there was a formal dinner party set for that night. Previously, we hadn't figured out what to do with the tigers. But the answer had become clear, because, aside from everything else, Tom had a huge black ribbon tied under his neck like a formal bow, while Martha had the same thing in white. The two looked utterly gorgeous, so they were to accompany us to dinner.

No sooner had Kris and I headed toward the bedroom to change when there was another knock on the door. Kris rolled her eyes but went to answer it. Standing there were two of the girls who had been babysitting. One — the senior — had her top unbuttoned while Billy was asleep but still suckling her distended nipple. The beautiful young woman grinned and asked, "Did you forget something?"

To say the least, Kris was embarrassed because, in fact, she had. We both had.

Behind the girls were two others, similarly attired. The girl holding Billy introduced the two as the evening replacements. As soon as they were introduced, both girls bared their breasts for Kris's inspection.

I looked at the two and could see they were trying to control their shaking. I really didn't understand what I was seeing as they held their shirts opened wide.

I couldn't take it anymore. "What's wrong, girls?"

The senior looked at me with her eyes wide. "We're being allowed to take care of... Kristin Collins' baby! And, sir, you're the only 10 ever to be a client here at the Institute. Never has a girl been so honored as I, being able to care for your infant!"

I just softly whistled and slowly shook my head.

Meanwhile, Kris completed her inspection. Both girls were perfect.

Then the girl holding our baby said softly, "I think Billy might like something besides a dry tit."

Kris eased the baby away from the girl's nipple, sat down on the sofa and began to nurse. The two girls who had been with Billy all afternoon excused themselves while the two new girls knelt on the floor beside Kris and just watched her nurse, utterly enthralled. When the baby was full, the senior of the two took him from Kris and ran into the second bedroom of our suite to burp him, change him and get him ready for bed. Kris followed and watched for a few moments, but that was long enough for her to reassure herself that the girl certainly did know what she was doing.

With that we both changed and went down for dinner, accompanied by our two very proud and beautiful tigers.

Know something? If you ever really want to make a grand entrance, go in with a pair of tigers. It must have really been a sight to see. The two marched in with their heads high to the gasps from the onlookers. Since everyone knew by then that the tigers were present and were with us, I really don't think it was the tigers so much as it was their regal bearing. And I guess Kris and I were dressed to match. She followed Tom wearing her "little black dress" that fit her like a second skin, while I followed Martha with her huge white bow wearing a black dinner jacket. Thinking about it, the only colors were the tigers' tawny coats, Kris's golden hair, our tans and blue eyes.

And you know what else? I guess it was successful because the others were all present at our table and rose to applaud as we approached. Believe it or not, even Mom and Dad applauded while grinning broadly.

As we made our way to our table, I took the opportunity to look around and initially was surprised. Clearly, all of the young women were in their "classy" mode and doing it beautifully. A great many were wearing what Kris — and most other women — termed her "little black dress." They looked lovely. Arriving at the table, though, I received a bit of a surprise. While all the other servers were wearing neat — and modest — uniforms, standing by our table were four girls who were stark naked except for four-inch heels — the ones that Kris, Liz, and Tina abhorred — and a tiny server's headpiece on their heads.

Since we were the last to arrive, our places were obvious. After being seated, we again introduced ourselves to the Hensons. Looking at Jenny Henson, I was surprised. Although it had been years since I had seen her last, I was almost certain that she had been much more voluptuous before. I guess I must have said something to her in that regard. Similarly, Jeff Henson appeared to be far more muscular than I remembered.

At any rate, Jenny responded, "I haven't lost any weight. But it's been rearranged quite a bit." Then waving a hand in Mother's direction, she added, "And it's all her fault, too."

"What did I do?" Mom asked, her eyes wide with innocence.

"It's your dumb machine!" Jenny replied. "It's cost me a full cup size in my bra, too ... if I ever wore one."

"What about you, Jeff?" I asked. "I don't remember you being as muscular as you apparently are now."

"That's her," he replied, motioning with his thumb at Jenny. "She's so damned strong now, I had to bulk up to keep from being thrown to the floor!"

Jon Wilkerson took that opportunity to mention that the Institute needed at least 50 more of Female Fitness's magic machines. "Frankly, they've become even more popular than computers. We've got ten units now, and believe it or not, they're literally in use 24 hours a day! But that's not all: A number of senior girls have used their own money to buy them." He slowly shook his head and added, "I know they're industrial quality, but still ... I mean ... Twenty-four hours a day?"

That was all Mother needed to hear. After checking her watch and adjusting for the time-zone difference, she called Kimberly Kramer in California. While she was waiting for the call to go through, she was looking at me pointedly.

"Okay!" I conceded, "I'll have a plane at John Wayne International to bring them down tonight."

Mother spoke to Kim Kramer and arrangements were made for immediate shipment. So much for that problem. Both Jon and Becky Wilkerson were delighted, although Jon said that the first 50 were likely to disappear faster than snowflakes in July.

At that point, the senior server at our table asked for our drink orders. When she did, I realized two things. First, she was one of the girls who had exercised the tigers. Second, her pubic area was bare, and her skin there was noticeably lighter than anywhere else. The rest of her body was a golden tan.

Then I noticed something else: Her hands were trembling. "What's the trouble? I didn't think being naked bothered you girls."

"It's not that, sir," she stammered. "It's ... it's ... your gold IDs. Until today, there were only two: Mr. and Mrs. Wilkerson. Those IDs give you access to anything. Furthermore, we're required to tell you anything, and answer any question in full!"

Then, using an instinct I had never been known to have, I added, "But that's not all, is it?"

"No, sir," the girl admitted. "It's ... it's The Carriers! They were all still here when I arrived, and ... and ... I even had them for classes!" she proudly concluded.

"I guess they're the record-holders around here, aren't they?"

"They sure are, but that's not the reason. It's because they've achieved something none of the rest of us ever will: They're in love, they're married, and they're mothers! What perfect lives!"

"Why won't any of you do the same thing?"

"Because we're sluts!" she exclaimed. "What decent man would ever have anything to do with a slut? Other than walk over her as if she's a piece of dog shit."

Then I remembered something. "Your name is Abby, isn't it?"

The girl just nodded.

"And you assist the Hensons, too, don't you?"

Again, she nodded.

"Why don't you join them in Indiana, then? You could help Jenny with the baby and go to college, too."

Abby just shook her head slowly. "It could never work. Frankly, I'm amazed that Mrs. Henson would even let one of us touch her gorgeous baby! If it were me, I'd worry that the baby would be contaminated."

"You're a sinful slut?" I asked.

Again, she nodded.

Shaking my head I declared, "I really don't think you are." Then to Tom and Martha Jefferson I asked, "What do you two think?"

"You're right, of course, sir," Tom replied, speaking for both of them.

The girl was flabbergasted. "He's nuts!"

"Abby, there's something that I doubt if you know. Aside from everything else, these tigers are also the agents of the Holy Spirit. And I knew from the beginning that you were not what you claim to be. You see, only a person whose soul is pure can hear them. And you obviously can."

To Tom I said, "Do you or Martha want to add anything?"

"Yes, sir, I do. These two girls, Abby and Brenda, have backgrounds similar to so many of the other girls. They sold their bodies in order to eat. That's survival, not sin."

"Seeing that Abby's pussy is bare but not as tanned as the rest of her, can I safely assume that you and Martha worked on them?"

"Indeed, sir, you can! And we must say that both of them are so sweet and pure! Yum!" Then he slowly shook his great head from side to side and added, "But I just don't know..."

"What's that mean?" I asked, suspecting — correctly as it turned out — that he was about to tease the girl.

"When they get married, it's likely to be days before the marriage is consummated. It will undoubtedly take that long to get their husbands' tongues out of their pussies in order to get their cocks in."

The two girls blushed while the rest of us howled. Tom? He looked around with his eyes wide as if to wonder what the laughter was all about.

"Well, I guess it's all settled, then," I remarked.

"It is like hell!" Jenny Henson exclaimed. "Of course they're pure, but I sure as hell am not! Why on earth would lovely girls like these care to live with a slut like me? They fucked for food. I fucked as an easy way of making a buck! I'm the one who's truly filthy!"

"Tom?" I asked.

"Well..." he communicated softly, "let's review the bidding. First, what most of you don't know is that ever since she's been here on the Yucatan she's been the doctor to the girls. Furthermore, because she received as much as $1,000 a night, she's held in awe by the girls. Isn't that correct, Abby?"

"Yes ... But it's a secret. No one is supposed to know!"

"Who blabbed?" Jenny demanded.

"'If a bird falls from a tree, He knows it, '" Tom quoted. "And then there's the help you gave the girls on the street who became pregnant. You persuaded them to carry their babies to term and put them out for adoption. The next time you communicate with them — and you still do — please tell them that those five children are all in beautiful homes and bringing great joy into the lives of five otherwise-childless families."

It was obvious that Jenny Henson was utterly stunned.

"And then there's the microsurgery you perform!" Tom continued. "You have repaired damage to organs on any number of the girls here, as well as restoring fertility to a number of them. Mrs. Henson, all of those things count. You are beloved by God!"

At that Jenny broke down and started to cry. "You mean..." she stammered, "God has forgiven me?"

At that point, Martha nudged Tom, but he communicated for her to speak. "What about Carla and Diane?" Martha asked. "Why don't you bring them up, too? After all, with the new baby arriving in a few more months, you'll need the help."

"New baby?" Jeff Henson nearly screamed. "What new baby? What happened to birth control?"

Jenny rolled her eyes with tears still streaming down her face. But she was utterly beautiful. "I'm using a new kind."

"What new kind?"

Jenny just pointed her thumb straight up and said, "That kind."

"What's that mean?"

"That means that I will carry as many babies as God sees fit to give me," she replied. "After all, I'm getting up there in years—"

"Up there!" Jeff exclaimed. "You're not even 30 years old."

"But I'm not 18, either. And there are only so many years, and I've wasted a whole bunch of them." Then she continued, "Honey, it would be really neat, but where could four girls stay?"

By this time I realized that the four girls serving us were the team that Jenny Henson had trained. Abby and Brenda appeared to be about 18, while the other two, Carla and Diane, appeared to be about 16, and were assisting the older two.

"We could sleep on the floor in the nursery," Carla said softly. "It's not as nice as our room here, but much better than other places we've all slept in."

The discussion went on briefly, while the two senior girls went to fetch the drinks.

When we were served, along with a platter of canapés, Jon Wilkerson changed the subject somewhat. "But what are we going to do for a medical officer?"

"Maybe I can help," Jenny said softly. "But I guess I need to give you some background first. As in, why am I here? The answer is that where I came from, the prostitution and call-girl thing had gotten a bit out of hand. Virtually every major politician in town along with almost all of the cops were on the pad. At that point, somehow a U.S. Attorney got interested, and I decided it was time to get out of Dodge. I looked around, somehow learned that you were looking for a nurse, and applied.

"As a doctor, I figured I could handle nursing, too. And I guess it worked out. But I have a friend, Mimi Benson. She's younger than I am, and she learned how I was paying for my medical education. She thought the same thing I did: Prostitution pays more for less work than anything else around. But when I bailed out, she didn't.

Anyway, when the balloon went up, Mimi's name made the papers. She wasn't charged with anything, but being named was enough. All of a sudden, offers of employment were withdrawn. I happen to know that she may be the best-qualified physician and surgeon — she's now both — in the country. But, because she was a prostitute, no one will take her on, and she doesn't want to spend a fortune trying to open a practice on her own.

"Furthermore, like me, she commanded $1,000 a night. She's a real beauty, too, and I'm certain she would fit right in. And again like me, she can relate to the girls here. She's been there, done that, even if she doesn't have the T-shirt." Then Jenny grinned and added, "On the other hand, knowing Mimi, she'll probably arrive wearing a T-shirt silk-screened, '$1,000 a night. Want it?'

"How does she sound, Jon?"

I noticed that Jon didn't even look at Becky. He didn't need to. "She's hired!" was all he said.

"There's more to the Hensons' story," Kris said, "and I, for one, would like to hear it. We've learned about the appendectomy you two performed on Jon, and we've heard about Jenny delivering Trish Hobbs' baby. But there's more. Jon was about to tell us when we had to break for dinner. So what happened?"

Jenny and Jeff exchanged looks and then Jeff replied, "Libby Carson happened."

"And what's that mean?" Kris asked.

"Trish Hobbs and Libby Carson are sisters ... twins, in fact, although not identical. Anyway, when Libby heard what Jenny had done for her sister, she also learned that I was in town, too, and was a neurosurgeon. Libby had a brain tumor, but no one would operate. She had gone to the chief of neurosurgery at the medical center and he told her the tumor was inoperable. Frankly, she didn't believe him, so she went for a second opinion, and then a third and a fourth. All of the surgeons said the same thing. But she felt at least a couple of them really didn't believe it, but since the first opinion was that of the chief of service, they weren't about to take him on. It could have cost them their careers.

"So through Trish, Libby contacted us. She came over to my parents' house along with a series of brain scans..."

"And... ?" Kris prompted.

"It was awful!" he conceded. "The pictures were dated, of course, and taken together, it was a very grim picture. Surgery should have been performed months earlier. The rate of growth of the tumor was very rapid, and it's a situation where the longer one waits, the worse it is. She asked me what she should do, and I told her that her only chance was an immediate operation ... And I meant the next day! But I also told her that the chances of success were very poor. However, absent surgery, she had no chance at all.

"I remember it vividly: She looked at me, and she's a beautiful woman ... or was; the tumor had obviously been affecting her very badly. Then she said, 'The choice is surgery and a very slim chance I'll make it, versus no surgery and certain death. Is that about right?' I had to agree that it was. Then she grinned and said, 'Well, it's a good thing that the esteemed chief of neurosurgery is on vacation, isn't it? There's no one there to object ... when you operate tomorrow morning.' And that was that.

"Obviously, she had very good connections because she made a couple of phone calls and the surgery was scheduled for the following morning. She was going to go home, say goodbye to her two children and her husband, then have herself admitted to the hospital later that day.

"The next morning we operated. The chief of anesthesiology was there, but only for a very short time. Jenny had scrubbed, too, and when she saw what he was doing, she nearly screamed, 'Are you trying to kill this woman?' and literally threw him out bodily. She took over the patient monitoring and anesthesia.

"I was doing something different in that surgery," Jeff continued. Because of the size of the tumor, there was going to be a sizeable hole in Libby's skull. Anyway, instead of a steel plate, I had fabricated a plastic one that's stronger than steel but actually lighter than the bone it replaced.

"I'll tell you, I was scared. After excising the tumor — and I'm virtually certain I got it all — we had to wait with Libby's skull opened up for the pathology report on the tumor. And thanks be to God, it was benign ... not that there's anything very benign about a huge tumor of any kind on the brain. But we closed up—"

"And I didn't even get a chance to practice my needlepoint!" Jenny interrupted. "This jerk didn't let me have any fun. He closed up the skin flap with Super Glue!"

"Super Glue?" Kris exclaimed.

"Yeah, it's really neat," Jeff responded. "Done right, it closes the incisions while leaving only a negligible scar. And there are no sutures to be removed, either. The stuff just dissolves over time and disappears."

He grinned and stuck out the tip of his tongue toward his wife. "But Jenny wasn't finished. After calling Libby's husband, George, and telling him that Libby was going to be fine and he could see her the next morning, we went home. Then bright and early the next morning, Jenny disappeared. Visiting hours didn't start at the hospital until nine, so I was there at eight-thirty. I really cracked up laughing when I entered Libby's private room. Jenny was in there putting the finishing touches on her appearance. Because her skull had been shaved before surgery, of course she was bald. But Jenny found — somewhere — a harlequin's cap. It was red, purple, blue, green, and yellow, with about four of those spiky things with little bells on their ends.

"Beyond that, she was wearing a beautiful bed jacket and Jenny had really worked on her makeup. Quite honestly, she looked far better than she had two days before when we met her for the first time. Anyway, just then George and the kids entered the room. When they did, Libby was so funny! She crossed her eyes, stuck her tongue out from the corner of her mouth and shook her head causing the bells to ring. The little kids, whose eyes had been full of fear when they came in, started to howl with laughter.

"Then their mother told them, 'Well, since I don't have a brain left in my head, how the hell did you think I would look?' Then she held out her arms to her two children. The kids clambered up on the bed and hugged and kissed her. It was just so great! After smothering her kids with kisses and giving her husband, George, a really passionate kiss, she introduced us as their new Aunt Jenny and Uncle Jeff. Then she explained to the children that we had saved her sister's life and then saved her own. The kids looked at us like we were gods or something.

"But then the shit really hit the fan!"

"What happened?" I asked.

"There had just been a massive pile-up on the Interstate," Jeff responded, taking over. "The victims were being brought in to our emergency room, and the staff there were just being overwhelmed. But to make it even worse, many of the doctors and nurses who were called couldn't get in because the highway was still closed. So Jenny and I pitched in." At that point, he leaned over and kissed Jenny with the same passion that Kris kissed me. "That's when I really learned what a skilled surgeon I loved. I don't know how many operations we performed — with Jenny doing double duty as both a surgeon and an anesthesiologist — but it was a whole bunch. I guess it must have been after ten that night when we finished up."

"But that wasn't the end of it!" Jenny grumped. "That's when Mom just had to get even. We had talked about marriage, but I was unimpressed and had flat refused. But when we got home, there was a priest there. And then I did something really dumb!" With her eyes wide, she added, "But I had a good excuse!"

"What happened?" Kris asked.

"It was the priest," Jenny explained. "I thought he asked me if I wanted to go to bed, and I said, 'I sure do.' But that's not the question he had asked." Looking at Kris she asked with her eyes wide, "When you're really tired, don't you think that 'wed' and 'bed' sound alike?"

Kris just giggled.

"Anyway, the next morning — late the next morning — I woke up with this on my finger and it was all over." Of course, she had held up her ring finger with the gold band around it.

And then it was time to eat.



-------

Chapter 50



When we finished dinner, Jon Wilkerson went to a rostrum set up beside a large screen at the front of the dining room. It took only a light ping on a glass to silence everyone present.

"Good evening, ladies," he began. Then he smiled in our direction and added, "There are a couple of gentlemen here tonight, but too few to matter, so ... Again, good evening, ladies! The reason for this gathering is to welcome back some of our distinguished former students. But more importantly, it is to announce a major change in the governance of this Institute. Until now, it's been all me. But no longer!

"Effective immediately, The Wilkerson Institute will be under the control of a brand-new Board of Trustees. Chairing the Board will be the woman sitting with me at the head table, Martha Harris!"

I looked over and Mom was stunned! Good grief! Jon had accomplished the impossible: He had surprised my mother.

Jon continued, "Mrs. Harris never attended this institute. But,  notwithstanding, she has donated well over $100 million to us ... and she's the mother of seven of our former students. She adopted all of them.

"Which brings me to the next point: the composition of the Board. Serving with Mrs. Harris on the Board will be Kristin Collins Harris, Elizabeth Williams Harris Johnson, Christina Miller Harris Harrington — the three Carriers. Also serving will be Elizabeth Harris, Ann Harris, and their two younger sisters, Judy and Kim Harris. Also serving will be the Doctors Henson, and — I guess — me.

"I want to stress one thing: The Board's membership will be dominated by young women all of whom have gone through our program. They know first hand what your life is like. And that means a change in focus for the Institute: Instead of focusing on our patrons, we're going to focus on you! And we have the trustee membership to ensure that we do!

"Now what do you think about that?"

The immediate reaction of the gathering amazed me. There was none. Then a girl in the back rose to her feet and began to applaud. In an instant, it was like a tidal wave moving away from her as everyone rose to her feet and applauded. Then one girl shouted, "Three cheers for The Carriers! Hip, hip..."

And the room exploded with the sound of "Hooray!" washing over us. The cheers did not abate; they just grew louder. Then Tina diffidently got to her feet, followed by Liz and then Kris. The cheering just doubled in intensity, but finally the room quieted down.

"Well," Jon said while still at the rostrum, "I guess that tells you girls what our students think of the prospect."

Then he changed the subject dramatically. "I would like to now introduce you to the new chairman of our Board of Trustees, Marty Harris." He grinned and added, "She's Mrs. William C. Harris, Jr., and was christened Martha. However, if you ever call her anything other than Marty, I can't be responsible for your safety. She has a presentation she wants to make. Marty?"

Mom rose to her feet and took over at the rostrum. "I have a magnificent group of daughters," she began, "but I also have a number of beautiful grandchildren, too. I would like you to meet two of them, Sandra and Susan Dawson. First, I want you to meet Susan, the younger. She was only nine years old when..."

The room darkened and a picture came on the screen. The title said, "Susan Dawson conducting the New York Philharmonic Orchestra at Lincoln Center in the New York premier of Dawson's First Symphony." I have to say the room's sound system was outstanding. The music sounded even better than when we heard it at Symphony Hall. When it ended, the girls all stood to applaud.

Then mother segued into Susan's "Variations on Themes from Childhood." The girls — almost all of whom were afficionados of what passes as popular music — were captivated. Again, there was a standing ovation.

When the applause died down, Mom signaled for the lights to come up. "That was my granddaughter, Susan," she repeated. "Now I would like to introduce you to my other Dawson granddaughter, Sandy..." Again the lights dimmed and the screen brightened. What we saw was something I didn't even know existed: It was an infomercial produced for Tiffany & Company to introduce A Dawson Design. It showed Sandy working on her jewelry designs as well as designs for tableware. But, to show that she was still a young girl, the film closed with a shot of Sandy with her fellow cheerleaders. Sandy did a leap and her skirt came up revealing her blue bikini with her golden pubic hair peeking over the top.

The film ended and the girls cheered.

"Now I'll show you some home movies. First, here are Sandy and Susan in their normal at-home clothing..." On the screen were Sandy and Susan, both naked, and locked in a passionate embrace. Then the camera zoomed in on the girls' flanks, and their brands stood out. Both read, "SLUT."

"What you're seeing isn't a normal sisterly exchange of affection. If those two look like they passionately love each other, it's only because they do," Mom explained. "You see, each literally saved the other's life. Sandy saved Susan when the younger was only seven years old. They were held captive by a group of sadists and were being brutally tortured.

When those animals were going to sell Susan's virginity, Sandy volunteered to be branded and to take on all comers. She didn't think Susan could survive. At the time, Sandy was only twelve, but she did. She was branded on both flanks and her sister, Susan, was required to whip Sandy's pussy 25 times, each time drawing blood. And the girl took it!

"Later, when Sandy was near death, Susan branded herself to draw attention away from her sister and give her a chance to recover. And for her efforts, Susan was later savagely beaten. She had cost the sadists some business by taking so much time branding herself."

Again the lights came up and Mom said, "I don't want you to think I'm doing this because I'm proud of my granddaughters..." Her voice ran down and she cocked her head to one side, apparently thinking. Then she continued, "Bullshit! It is because I am proud of them, damn it! They are two of the most loving, most lovable creatures God, in His infinite wisdom, ever put on this earth!"

She paused and then continued, "But that's not all of it. I know that most of you come from backgrounds you would probably rather forget. But I doubt if any of you lived through what my two darlings did. And they will carry those brands on their bodies for the rest of their lives. Notwithstanding, you have seen and heard the incredible achievements they have made, starting from a position of slavery and torture.

"Now there's a bit more to the home movie..."

The next scene showed the two girls along with their mother, Jean, and baby brother, Jamey. Sandy was sitting back-to-back with Jean while both were sitting on the grass. Jean was nursing Jamey while Susan was teasing Jean's unoccupied nipple. Jean was wearing big dark sunglasses and a floppy straw hat. The two combined to effectively mask her face. In the background was their 50-meter swimming pool.

When Jamey finished nursing, mother and sister played with him and teased him. The little guy just giggled and laughed, having a wonderful time. At that point, Jim Dawson appeared in the corner of the picture. Quickly, Jean passed Jamey to Susan, jumped to her feet and ran to her lover. As she did, her straw hat came off and she took off her glasses. The camera then zoomed in to catch the passionate kiss Jean and Jim shared. Honest to God, I would swear the bells were audible, and we could feel the electricity flowing between them.

At the same time, there was a sound like the collective intake of breath on the part of more than 100 young women. Then I heard one shout, "It's Kristin!"

The picture on the screen faded and again the lights came up. Mom was laughing to beat the band! "Fooled you!" she gleefully announced. "That's Jean Dawson, Kristin's identical twin! She's the mother of those two lovely girls.

"I've got one more bit of film to show you..."

Again the lights dimmed, the screen brightened, and there were Little Bit and Ann wearing their softball uniforms. "A number of you young women may remember these two. These are my daughters Elizabeth — Little Bit — and Ann. And as you can see, they're starring on their high-school softball team."

In the first scene, the two waved at the camera, greeting their friends at the Institute. Then it cut to Little Bit pitching — she was unhittable, mostly — and Ann batting. She caught one flush and sent the ball rocketing to left center field, far over the heads of the closest outfielders.

The girls in the room really cheered that one.

Again the screen darkened and the room lights came up. Mom continued, "Have any of you seen the premier issue of Mrs.?" To my surprise, a lot of hands were raised. She added, "In that case, you've seen Little Bit's new mother-to-be. You see, she's marrying Kimberly Kramer's eldest son, Tony, in June. And at the same time, Ann will be marrying Tony's best friend, Paul Christian. If I recall, Paul's mother, Carol, was prominently mentioned in the story on Kim."

She paused and then continued, "Oh, yeah ... In July, the two girls will be delivering their first babies, and in September will be starting as freshmen at Hillsdale College."

A girl in the back yelled out, "You mean, in the ball game we saw, Little Bit and Ann were... pregnant? I don't believe it!"

"Believe it," Mom said, scarcely able to control her grin. "They were both about six months gone."

Then she moved a bit away from the rostrum and cocked her head. Then with a decisive nod she continued, "You know, I learned something today. I learned that Jenny Henson is held in awe by many of you kids because she made $1,000 for a single night of fucking...

"Well, I have news for you!" With that, Mom stuck out the tip of her tongue in Jenny's direction, then proudly announced, "I got $5,000 for a single night! Of course," she admitted, "to get that I had to allow a group of guys to do anything they wanted to me for the whole night. And what they wanted was to beat the shit out of me with anything and everything while fucking me everywhere as hard as they could for as long as they could. But still ... Five-thousand dollars!

"And, by the way, Jenny's not even in second place. That honor(?) goes to my best friend. We had a competition that night to see who could get the most money from fucking in a single night. She did pretty well, too. She turned four $500 tricks ... but it wasn't enough. So the next day at school she had to spend the entire morning eating me, and I was really loaded with cum. She claims to have ended up stuffed from all the cum she sucked from my body, but I really think she was exaggerating."

Mom paused and said, "I know many of you fucked for food. I know that Sandy Dawson fucked to survive. Jenny Henson fucked to pay for her medical education. Me? I fucked for the hell of it. So when you're down on yourselves, just think of me."

Again she paused, but then held her head high. "But in spite of everything I've done, God, in His infinite mercy, has forgiven me. So don't ever give up on yourself. It's never too late." Then she grinned and added, "Incidentally, I'm using the same birth control that Jenny Henson is, although I did it first." As Jenny had done earlier, Mom pointed her thumb in the air and said, "I will carry as many infants in my belly as Our Lord sees fit to give me. And there's another bun rising in my oven right now!"

I was surprised, Dad was astonished, the girls at the table were joyous, and the other girls in the room just cheered. Mom? She felt just great!

Then she continued, "Now I'm going to close with the balance of Susan Dawson's program at Lincoln Center. And, I'm delighted to say that I, and the love of my life, Bill Harris, play a rôle. I hope you like it.

"Whoops! One more thing before the tape rolls. What you're about to see had never been done before. Using the finest software talent in the world — Tina Harrington, Merrilee Adams and ... Susan Dawson — they managed to synchronize pictures with live music. I understand that they programmed the computer to recognize the music being played — Tina was in the control room in case some instrumentalist screwed up a part and thus screwed up the computer — and change the pictures appropriately.

Here it is, and it's entitled, 'My Grandparents.' And that's us!" she concluded proudly.

The tone poem was utterly joyous. I really think I enjoyed it more that evening than when I had heard it live. The girls were utterly enthralled.

When it concluded, the program continued with "Star & Stripes Forever" and then the National Anthem. When the chorus got to the last stanza, girls started to rise to their feet and sing, too. In moments, they all were, and their singing was both beautiful and powerful. It concluded, and the lights came up.

But then the girls continued singing a capella,  "God Bless America" and "America, The Beautiful." Marvelous!

I looked at Mom standing proudly at the rostrum with tears pouring from her eyes. When the singing ended, Mom said, "Over the years, we've given a great deal of money to a great many institutions and causes. But I have to say that no money has ever been better spent than the money we have given to the Institute.

"And I want to add one thing: You heard Jonathan Wilkerson say that from now on, you — not the patrons — come first! Well, I'm going to make you a promise: We will fund the higher education of any girl here for as far as she cares to go. You're all wonderful young women and I love you!

"God bless you all!"

-------

There was a very unexpected result of Mother's announcement. Over the following days and weeks, more names were given to Jon and Becky of young women who met the Institute's standards. It seemed that a number of the girls knew others from whence they came who were dying for the chance to improve their lives, but they didn't think training in sex would be an improvement. But with the opportunity for an education and to remake their lives, there was a great deal of interest.

And we were all delighted!

The next day, we went through the testing, with Kris and me going first. And it happened exactly the way Tina had predicted it would: The computer blew out ... and Tina was ecstatic! And she had a fix already loaded on a CD which she fed into the computer after she got it up again.

The second time the data were run, the computer screen displayed, "Perfect match. Validate inputs and rerun." Again the data were entered, and this time the computer was happy.

And, of course, so were Kris and I. Of course, after the initial blow-out, we just borrowed a bed and I fucked her brains out. And was reminded that she was expecting another little Harris. But hell ... I don't think I kept her in orgasm for even two hours. But it wasn't our fault! We had to go to lunch, and Kris had to feed Billy.

Mom and Dad, to their utter delight, did exactly the same thing. And he was going to fuck her brains out, too, but it had to wait for lunch and for her to feed baby Karen.

That evening, Dad, Liz, Tina and their babies flew back to the States.

The rest of us had dinner — well, Jon and Becky couldn't join us, either, so it was the three of us, the Hensons and the two tigers. Again, we were served by Abby and Brenda, with Carla and Diane assisting. When I commented to Abby that her pussy was then about as tanned as the rest of her, the girl just beamed. She admitted that she had received one of the new exercise machines that morning and had spent almost the whole day on it. She proudly announced that she had the indicator more than halfway to the right-hand stop. I have to admit that the girl was simply gorgeous!

When our drinks arrived, Jeff said that he and Jenny had developed what might be a foolproof way of determining if a new girl might be one of the ones we were looking for — one like Kristin and her sisters.

Kris's eyes really widened at the news. "How does it work?"

Jenny studied her glass for a few moments before answering. "I guess it's fair to say that the theory got its acid test today..."

"What's that mean?" Kris pursued.

"Today we received two girls who've been worked over the way you describe Susan and Sandy Dawson," she replied. "They've really been worked over ... for months, and by experts."

"And... ?"

Jenny Henson appeared to be changing the subject. "You learned yesterday — as did hubby — that I've been doing some microsurgery on the side. As you probably gathered, the reason for almost all of it was to try to repair the physical damage resulting from years on the street. The fact is that, virtually without exception, the kids are loaded with STDs of every conceivable kind when they get here. But there are exceptions," she stated, looking directly at Kris.

"You ... you mean ... Us?" Kris stammered.

"I mean you! All of you. I know most of you had far worse experiences than many of the other girls, but regardless, you're all clean ... and incredibly healthy." Again she paused and then continued, "The two new girls aren't healthy — not by a long shot — but they are clean. And from what I can see happened to them, they should be rotting shells."

"How are they now?" Mom asked.

"They're sleeping," Jeff replied. "And in their present condition, that's the best thing they can do."

It was obvious that both Kris and Mother were very anxious to see them, but since they were sleeping and we hadn't yet eaten, we waited. Sort of.

"Do you know where they came from?" I asked.

"As a matter of fact, we do," Jon replied. Then he shook his head sadly. "I guess we were lucky as hell to get them out at all. It seems that the folks running that horror show had given up on training them to be good whores, so they used them — torturing them constantly — in the presence of the other girls. Sort of an object lesson in behavior: If you don't shape up, this could happen to you, too." When he told me where the place was, I just nodded.

While waiting for dinner, though, I used my sat-phone to make a few calls. As I've said before, one of the things that money can buy is access. And I had more than a few private phone numbers. The result of my calls was the ultra-quiet dispatch of Delta Force, enhanced by a unit of the British SAS, and a similar Aussie unit. While we think that governments are slow-moving it is not always so, and it certainly wasn't that time. Apparently, news of this "establishment" had attracted attention, coupled with the kidnaping of some daughters of prominent men in Europe. It seems that my call was very timely. Preparations had already been made; they were only awaiting determination of the location, and I had provided that. Since it was in the Near East, interestingly the location was given as GPS coordinates. But that was a far more precise location than a street address might have been.

To finish this part of the story, a matter of only hours later the establishment was overwhelmed. As the tale was told to me, the raiders found a two-storey castle in the desert. Of particular interest was the attitude of the girls held captive. While they had been made to watch the torture of the two girls who were with us, they were eager to watch the punishment inflicted on their captors.

Their genitalia were amputated and stuffed into their mouths, then they were beheaded. (I don't know if there's any truth to it, but I've heard that it is the belief of a certain religion that if genital organs are cut off, the individual can never have sex in the afterlife.) The heads were then stuck on poles and left in a row in front of the castle's remains. Evidently, great care and skill was exercised in dynamiting the castle. When the troops arrived, it had been two stories with a full basement housing the dungeons. When they left, the structure appeared to be still intact. But it was only about half a storey in height, with all of the rest filling the formerly open spaces inside. Must have been quite a fancy demolition job.

Oh, yeah ... One more thing. Somehow photos of the heads came into the hands of various Arab press units and got on the Internet. (How careless of someone!) But at any rate, apparently the idea was forcefully communicated that kidnaping and torture of women was not to be considered a healthy activity.

Much later, we learned that the most impressive element of the raid wasn't the beheading of the captors — that was too common in the region for comment — but rather the demolition of the castle. Apparently it became something of a local attraction with people going out into the desert to see it. Its flat roof with battlements was essentially intact while everything inside had been filled with the debris of the lower floors. What it communicated in the most dramatic way possible was that whoever had done it were highly trained and skilled; it was a demolition far beyond the capabilities of any terrorist. And the message was received loud and clear: Kidnaping young women for prostitution was definitely not a very healthy activity.

But back to the dinner.

We finished, and by that time Mom and Kris were so anxious to see the girls, they couldn't even pretend to sit still. Off we went to the infirmary which, as a result of Jenny's acquisitions, had actually become a fully-equipped hospital.

When we entered the room and saw the girls, I almost vomited up my wonderful dinner! Talk about man's inhumanity to man, the two girls were living — or almost living — demonstrations of it. They had been burned, whipped, disfigured and raped to the degree that both their vulvas and assholes had almost become one. Although the girls were still asleep, they were both moaning softly. Obviously, they were still in great pain.

Mother took one look and went to the closest one. When she started to move, she looked very pointedly at Kris who moved to the side of the other. Then both Harris women reached out their hands and took the arms of the girls on the two beds.

Jenny Henson audibly gasped and then exclaimed, "My God! I don't believe what I'm seeing!"

First, the two girls' eyes opened, although one was missing an eye. But an eye seemed to regenerate itself in the socket! Before our very eyes, cuts began to close, scars disappeared, and their vulvas and anuses repaired themselves. Meanwhile, Mother and Kris just stood there holding the girls' arms. By this time, though, the girls were awake and grasping Mother and Kris's arms, too.

"Aside from replacing the missing eye," Jenny whispered, "we're seeing healing at the rate of about a day's worth every second or so. Utterly unbelievable!"

And she was exactly correct. That's precisely what we saw.

After a period of time — I have no idea how long — healing appeared to be complete, but the two girls, fully restored, appeared to be exhausted. But Mom said softly, "I'm Marty Harris, and you're my two newest daughters. But who are you?"

"I'm Maureen," the one Mom was holding replied in a beautiful voice.

"And I'm Seana (Shaw-na)" the other one said.

Maureen's brow wrinkled and she asked, "But how can we be your daughters? You've never even seen us before."

Mom didn't reply. Instead, she took out her own sat phone and called Dad who was back home by that time. Quickly she explained what she had found and asked him to arrange for the immediate adoption of Maureen and Seana Harris. He agreed and said it would be done by the end of the next day. And it was. Since Mom had told him about the girls' torture, he suggested that they probably needed to sleep to recover from the recovery, so we should get the hell out.

They did, so we did.

The next morning, we again met with Jon and Becky Wilkerson who already knew what had happened to the two rescued girls.

"Although we're not sure," Jon said, "we think Maureen and Seana are both about fifteen." He grinned and shook his head saying, "Do they always come in pairs? And are they only available in two colors? I mean ... Maureen will be a carbon copy of you, Kris, and your baby sisters, Little Bit and Kim, while Seana has the same coloring as Tina, Ann, and Judy. Sheesh!"

He paused and looked a bit sheepish as he continued, "Uh, Marty ... Could I interest you in two more?"

"What's that mean?" Mom replied.

"We have two more, but they're even younger — fourteen, we think. They're both not much more than skin and bones right now, but applying the Henson test, we're pretty confident that they're yours, too. Any interest? They're younger than the others, of course."

And that's how we met Debbie and Enid. Debbie was another Little Bit look-alike, while Enid was a younger copy of Tina, Ann, etc. Oh, well...

Adding Debbie and Enid to the mix extended our stay. And, while Maureen and Seana had recovered from their torture, both of them, along with Debbie and Enid, weren't much more than skin and bones. We elected to stay a bit longer while they built up their strength. And we had to have Tina produce birth certificates and then passports for all of them, as well.

There was another benefit from our waiting: We were still at the Institute when Jon received a letter from Libby Carson, the woman on whom Jeff Henson had operated to remove a tumor during his stay in Indianapolis. The odd thing about the letter was, although it was addressed to "Mr. Wilkerson, Director, The Wilkerson Institute", it was actually meant for Jeff and Jenny Henson. I learned something else at the same time. Although I hadn't known it, the Institute did not use a Mexican mailing address. Rather, it used a U.S.-based mail service that forwarded all mail using DHL. I hadn't realized it at the time, but I had never had occasion to mail anything to Jon.

The letter was fascinating. Jeff and Jenny joined us in Jon's office for its reading.



Director

The Wilkerson Institute

P. O. Box xxx

Miami, FL

Dear Sir:

My name is Elizabeth Carson, but everyone calls me Libby. I am writing this letter in regard to Dr. Jeffrey Henson and his new wife, Jennifer. As you may know, Dr. Henson operated on me when he was in Indianapolis a few months ago, saving my life in the process.

The fact that he saved my life started me thinking. Why had he ever left Indianapolis in the first place? The fact is that my father was a long-time member of the Board of Trustees at Indiana University Medical Center. When my mother died, quite candidly, he lost interest. Subsequently, I replaced him on the Board.

One element of my new position was access to the Center's records. Using this access, I examined the records regarding Dr. Henson's departure. I was utterly appalled. It seems that the primary reason was a post-operative mortality far higher than that of the department head. So I dug further. I was utterly stunned when I learned that the most damning case turned out to be that of my own mother!

Like me, she was suffering — and I mean suffering agonizing pain — from a brain tumor. The chief of neurosurgery insisted that it was inoperable. Although additional medical opinions were sought, they only confirmed his position. To say the very least, it was very traumatic for our whole family. In my mother's own words at the time, "When I'm doped up, I'm not in pain, but I don't even know my own name. When I'm not doped up, I'm in such agony that I don't even recognize my own children."

Then Dad heard about Dr. Henson. He brought him the whole series of brain scans that had been done on my mother. In Dr. Henson's opinion, the tumor was easily operable at the time of the first scan, but in its then-current condition, the probability of success was very low, particularly in light of Mom's weakened condition.

Mother was in no position to make a decision, but Dad did what I later did myself: He authorized the surgery on the basis that if she had the operation, there was some chance, albeit very small, that it would succeed. Without it, there was no chance at all.

Dr. Henson operated successfully! For a few days, Mom was out of pain. It was clear, though, that she was slipping due to her general condition. Notwithstanding, she was able to talk to my sister, Trish, and to me. She saw her grandchildren. And most importantly, she was able to spend time meaningfully with the love of her life, my dad. Her last days of life were very peaceful, and we were all exceedingly grateful for Dr. Henson's intercession. She did die shortly thereafter, and the matter of the chief of neurosurgery slipped from Dad's mind.

But in light of my own more recent experience, I was willing to neither forgive nor forget. What I did was to gather up an array of brain scans, all of which the chief had claimed were inoperable and sent them to the relevant chiefs of service at Harvard, Yale and Stanford without indicating either the identity of the patients nor any prior diagnosis. Included in the group were my mother's and my own. In every case, the tumors were considered operable!

All of these patients were subsequently operated on by Dr. Henson. In a second mailing, I sent the same surgeons the brain scans immediately prior to Dr. Henson's surgery. In all but a single case (and a single surgeon) the patient's condition was such that surgery was impossible. Both Mother and I were in that group.

Finally, I sent off post-operative scans and correctly grouped each series by patient. In all but one case — my mother's — the patient had survived. To say the very least, the surgeons with whom I had consulted were astonished.

It was only at this point that I took the materials to my father. When he learned that my mother's case was the one used to drive Dr. Henson away, he utterly freaked. Without bragging, I should say that our family is not without influence here in Indiana. After contacting his friends, the chief of neurosurgery was forced to resign.

At that point, my twin sister, Trish — younger twin sister, I hasten to add — came into the story. She told how Dr. Jenny Henson had saved her life. And that reminded me that she had thrown the chief of anesthesiology out of the OR when I was under the knife. His resignation was also sought and received. At this point, I must insert a personal note: Mom claimed that Trish and I started to fight about four months into her pregnancy — fighting for room in her crowded belly, I assume — and have been fighting ever since. And you know what? She was right. We did. But now we've stopped.

However, there was an unforeseen problem that resulted from my exchanges with the East and West Coast medical centers: All of them want Dr. Henson to join their staff as a professor of surgery. And this was really a problem. While we like to think we're pretty good out here, realistically, we can't compete with those names. So...



The Henson's had been listening to Jon's reading with increasing amazement. "Good grief!" Jenny exclaimed, "they want you at Harvard, darling!"

"Sounds like it," Jeff agreed, "but let's hear the rest of it."

Jon resumed his reading:



As I said, we are not without connections in the state. As a result, Jeffrey Henson has been named the first Eli Lilly Professor of Surgery and Jennifer Henson is the first Eli Lilly Professor of Anesthesiology. Each chair is endowed at a level to produce an annual income of at least $500,000. This is, of course, in addition to the remuneration due to each as a result of being full professors at the University (with tenure, of course) as well as the usual stipends for serving as chairmen of the relevant academic departments.

That isn't quite all. It seems that some of the lives they saved following that massive highway pile-up were quite prominent and influential, too. When the word got around that both Hensons would be joining the University's faculty, there was a free-for-all. I won't bore you with a blow-by-blow, but rather just cut to the chase.

First, it's a good thing that they won't be returning to Indiana immediately. It's going to take awhile to have their home ready. It backs up on the country club (club memberships are included) and will sit between my new home and Trish's. (Our children are ecstatic about living next door to Aunt Jenny and Uncle Jeff!) However, it's not all roses.

The 50-meter swimming pool will be in their backyard. (Indiana University has for years been noted for its swimming.) The 25-meter teaching pool will be behind my house, while Trish will have the baby pool. But since it's small, she will also have the two tennis courts. Of course, all of us will share the pools and the courts.

The Henson house will be colonial in style and will have ten bedroom suites. It should be pretty nice. And finally, there's one thing we need from each of them: their choice of cars. Mercedes, BMW, Jaguar, Lexus? And, sir, you had better tell them to pick quickly, or I'll buy something for them I want and they'll be stuck with them.

At any rate, we're all looking forward to seeing the Hensons here in the fall. Everything should be ready by that time.

Warmest regards,

/s/ Libby

Mrs. George T. Carson)



"Can you believe it?" Jeff asked rhetorically. Then he laughed and added, "Well, it looks like the girls won't have to sleep on the floor."

Jenny didn't say anything. She was so stunned by the contents of the letter, she couldn't say a thing.

That evening we had dinner with the Hensons and their girls. It was really funny! The girls decided that Abby and Brenda would have the suite next to the master suite, along with the Henson's youngest. Carla and Diane would have the next one, sharing it with the Henson's next youngest. The girls figured that by age three the kids would be old enough to have a suite of his or her own. As more children appeared, the kids would just move down one.

"Good grief!" Jenny Henson exclaimed. "How many children do you think I'm going to have, anyway?"

"Well, given the birth control you're using..." Abby mused.

Jenny just giggled.

The girls were wildly enthusiastic about the prospect of a pool the same size as the Institute's. And they vowed to be really good swimmers before they went north.



-------

Chapter 51



When we returned home, it was time to enroll my new little sisters in school. The fact is that since it was already late May, we were really pre-enrolling them all for the following fall. Debbie and Enid were to be in the 9th grade while Maureen and Seana were to be in the 10th. And — surprise, surprise — I went over to the school along with Mom, Kris, and my four new sisters.

Our reception from Donald Grimes, the principal, and Monica Cumberland, the dean, came as a wonderful surprise. First, we learned that sister Diane had been free with her gifts, principally the hair and pregnancy attributes. Chris Grimes and Monica were two of the recipients, as was Gwen Merritt. All three were pregnant, although we learned Gwen wasn't showing at all, while Monica and Chris were enjoying slightly bulging abdomens.

"Don loves us this way," Monica reported, "and frankly, we like it, too. We're allowing our tits to get bigger as well. What do you all think?"

We all agreed that she looked simply lovely. Then Mother asked who the father of Gwen's baby was.

"It will be a Matthews baby," Monica replied with a giggle. "After all, Dan and Tim are identical twins, so it doesn't make a damned bit of difference. The DNA would match perfectly either way."

Then Don changed the subject. With a smile he asked, "But what brings you folks here today? I doubt if it was to talk about pregnancies, but who knows with women?"

That evoked grins and laughter all around.

Mother introduced the girls, gave their ages and the grades in which they would be enrolled. What followed amazed us all: Don Grimes and Monica Cumberland exchanged looks, grinned and shook hands.

"Thank you all!" Don exclaimed. "You've just solved a problem that I doubt you even knew existed." He went on to say that there had been a number of resignations among the faculty teaching the 10th and 12th grades, and even a few from the 11th. But the 9th-grade teachers, who, by and large, only teach 9th-grade students, thought they were clear of Harris girls.

"But what's that mean?" Kris asked. "I don't understand."

Monica smiled warmly and replied, "The fact is that there's been a rumor circulating around the school — that Don and I have done absolutely nothing to dispel — that your girls are here, not to learn, but to assess the quality of the teaching. The fact is that, without a single exception, they know more about the subject matter than the teacher does." Then she snapped her fingers and corrected herself. "I misspoke. They do learn from Diane and Steve Chamberlain, but..." She giggled while shaking her head, "But that's not fair, either. It's sort of a four-cornered debate with the rest of the class looking on in amazement. But that's a very special circumstance.

"But anyway, I'll bet more than a couple of 9th-grade teachers will try to wriggle out of their contracts, even though they've already been signed for next year. And you know something else? If they're the ones I'm thinking of, we're not going to try very hard to hold them, either."

Don then took over. "But there's more: And it's Diane and Steve again. Those two are always professionally attired ... and I think it's great! While a year ago many of the faculty wore Levi's and T-shirts in class — and a few still do — more and more of our faculty are dressing for their roles."

He paused, cocked his head and then continued, "And you know what? Their students are better-behaved and actually seem to be paying more attention in class. Interesting, isn't it?"

He then chatted with each of the four girls and even I could tell he was impressed. Then he chuckled and said, "But it's not going to be all roses. I can hear it now: We're going to be getting screams from a bunch of girls — and not a few mothers — that Harris girls are monopolizing all the cheerleading positions." Then he grinned and added, "And you know something else? I really couldn't give a damn! You girls — without exception — are the most beautiful, most talented, and most exemplary students this school or any other could possibly have." Then he rose, went around his desk and extended his hand beginning with Maureen. He repeated it with each of the others.

With the enrollment out of the way, Kris changed the subject. She told Grimes and Cumberland about the upcoming wedding which would be in New York at St. Patrick's Cathedral. And since Diane and Steve would be married in the same ceremony, and since they were quite popular, arrangements had been made with Amtrak to send down a special train from Croton-Harmon to Grand Central. The entire train would consist of parlor cars and club cars. Furthermore, there would be limousines to pick up people and bring them to the train and return them to their homes that night. Don and Monica, along with Chris Grimes, were invited to come along to chaperone. And any other faculty members who cared to come would be welcome, also.

Well what do you know? My child bride was really starting to get into the swing of spending money. There might be hope for us yet.

When we left, Seana asked, "Was Mr. Grimes serious? He couldn't be that happy to have us in his school, could he?"

Mother proudly related what Little Bit and Ann had achieved and assured her that, indeed, Grimes was very serious. "You have quite a standard to live up to," she added.

"Good grief!" Maureen interjected. "Why did they have to be such stars? We're not going to have a chance."

"Sure you are! And besides, you all have the advantage of having Kim and Judy ahead of you. Frankly, I think it's going to be neat to have six of you in three grades."

And that was the end of that.

The next problem surfaced as soon as we returned home. It had turned into a very warm day, so we all gathered by the big pool with the great cats watching our little ones. As usual, we were all naked and Mom was flat on her back soaking up the sun. With her eyes closed she muttered, "Damn!"

Kris was lying beside her, more than half asleep already. "What was that 'damn' for, Mother?"

It was really funny, I guess. There were the two of them, lying side by side, trying to hold a conversation while still sort of sleeping.

"It's the wedding," Mom murmured. "There are just too damned many of our daughters being married all at once. And it would be terminally tacky for Diane, Little Bit and Ann to be grouped around your father. Furthermore, it wouldn't be fair to them, either. A bride going up the aisle should have all the attention on her." She paused and then wailed, "What are we going to do?"

Kris and I had the same idea, but she beat me to it. "I think the answer is pretty simple. Dad escorts Diane, while the other two fathers escort Little Bit and Ann."

"Other two?" Mom asked. "What other two?"

"Look, Mom, you know damn well that Little Bit and Ann have been taken in as daughters by the Kramers and the Christians. How about asking if Brad Kramer and Bill Christian would like to escort their newest daughters?"

Before Mother could even say a word, I grabbed my cell phone and called the Kramers. I had it in mind to set up a conference call with the two men, but I had to ensure they were both available first. As it happened, Brad Kramer was home and Bill Christian was there with him. So there was no conference call; Bill just picked up an extension.

Quickly I explained the wedding situation to them, and they were both ecstatic at the prospect. Moreover, Brad lost no time in telling me that first, Kimberly and Carol, then Jenny Clark, and finally all the little urchins around were jumping up and down.

I could hear Kim and Carol congratulating each other. Not only were each going to be mother of the groom, each would be a mother of the bride, too!

And you know what else? Mother was ecstatic!

Problem solved.

Oh, dear! I nearly forgot: the wedding gifts. All the girls were registered at Tiffany & Company. I happened to be talking with Jack Thompson, Tiffany's CEO, and teased that it might be easier if they just packed up the whole New York store and shipped the contents up to Westchester.

Jack didn't laugh. Instead, he said, "Thanks for mentioning that. Could you do me a favor?" Of course I agreed, and he continued, "Would you please ask your sisters and Caitie Fitzpatrick to come in as soon as possible? Everything — and I mean everything — on their respective lists has already been purchased. And it's not just here at our flagship store, either. You can't imagine how embarrassing it is to have to tell a customer, 'Yes, madam, the girls are registered with us, but ... there's nothing left to buy.' So if you could get them to come in... ?"

That wasn't all. You'll never believe what Sandy Dawson did for her aunts! She designed a brand-new line of tableware, crystal and silver, which she called "Carrier." (Kris and the girls howled over the name!) The most incredible element was its versatility. Its design was such that it would work both every day and for formal occasions. Perhaps the most amusing element was that all of the girls picked it — no surprise — and since three of them would be together at Hillsdale in the fall, among them they had enough to handle even the biggest parties.

Tch, tch ... My poor sisters had to trudge (helicopter) into the city quickly to see what they could add to their registries.

There was one other event worthy of note: One afternoon, a messenger from the British Embassy at the United Nations appeared at the Fitzpatrick's penthouse with a gift for Caitie from the Queen herself. Enclosed was a hand-written card addressed to Princess Caitlin signed by Elizabeth II, Regina. That was one gift that was proudly displayed.

It turned out that the logistics for the wedding were involved. In the first place, two of the grooms were from the West Coast, while the wedding was to be in New York. In the second place, both grooms' immediate families were very large. Finally, since Caitie Fitzpatrick was one of the brides, this brought in the whole extended Clifford family, including Caitie's great-grandparents, the Duke and Duchess of Northumbria, as well as her aunts, the Queen of Bohemia and her sisters, Princesses Anna and Maria.

Furthermore, because of the involvement of the Taylors and ourselves, coupled with the notables — including reigning royalty — the wedding had become a very major Social Event. Yes, that's social event with capital letters!

So we virtually took over the Waldorf-Astoria for the two weeks on both sides of the wedding. And the Waldorf was selected for another reason, one that is virtually unknown: Park Avenue from Grand Central Station north is built up on what was New York Central Railroad right-of-way. To this day, trains roll under the avenue. When the Waldorf-Astoria was built in the 1930s, it had a rather unique feature: a rail siding and a railroad entrance to the hotel. I believe it was used once, about 60 years ago, but never again.

Until the day of the wedding, that is.

Earlier, I mentioned that Kris had made arrangements to run a private train composed of parlor cars and club cars from Croton-Harmon to Grand Central. On the back of that train, a private car was added, and this was used by the Westchester contingent of the wedding party. And it actually worked!

Furthermore, since three of the four brides were coming with us, Henry and Penny Hall rode down with us, using the time to make three of the brides as beautiful as it was possible for them to look.

The timing worked perfectly. We boarded our private car which was hooked to the back of the private train, and off we went to New York. As soon as the train reached Grand Central, coming in on one of the tracks that looped around under the station, our car was detached and was hauled by a switch engine to the Waldorf's siding.

It was wild.

And there was still time for Henry and Penny to work their magic on Caitie Fitzpatrick, which they proceeded to do.

The wedding party was something else.

Kris was Diane's matron of honor. We were all utterly delighted when Little Bit asked Susan Kramer to be her maid of honor, while Ann invited Julie Christian. The California girls were so thrilled, they were in tears. Susan, speaking for both said that not only were they honored, they were gaining big sisters, not losing big brothers. Both Little Bit and Ann were in tears at that.

The composition of the wedding party took on aspects of an infantry platoon. After all, there were four brides and four grooms. Steve Chamberlain asked me to be his best man, and I was honored. Caitie asked her cousin, Karen Johnson, to be her maid of honor and that was great. The best men for Paul and Tony were problems, though, since each was the other's best friend. That was solved by a call the guys received from John Taylor. He reminded them that since football backs couldn't do anything without a line in front of them, he had Tiny Tim Johnson as his best man while Tony invited John Running Deer. Paul asked a young man who had been his lead blocker in high school.

Bridesmaids included Donna Morning Star as well as two of the other girls who would be joining them at Hillsdale. We were utterly delighted that Jean Dawson's girls, Sandy and Susan, also served. Although they were older than usual for the roles, Kevin and Sean Fitzpatrick were ring bearers. (Caitie was ecstatic over that!) And finally, Kristin Kramer and Karen Christian, the four-year-old Kramer/Christian "twins" were flower girls. (And you know what? In spite of the incredible beauty on display, those two little beauties utterly stole the show. And you know what else? No one minded the least little bit, either. Little Bit and Ann insisted they were beautiful little dolls, and when I saw them for the first time I thought my younger sisters had not done the two justice. They're utterly gorgeous!)

There was one other surprise in the wedding party. Don't ask me how it happened, I don't know, and no one I've spoken to knows, either. Or at least they all claimed not to know. But anyway, we had as groomsmen, two senior master sergeants from the First Ranger Battalion at Fort Benning, Georgia. Both of them had served in Vietnam with Carlson's Rangers. They appeared in their dress blues with medals, and they both had a bunch. Beyond the wedding and the reception, I don't think either one was able to pay for a drink the entire time they were in New York. A delightful and very pleasant change from the way so many veterans were treated when they had come home from Vietnam so many years earlier.

A fleet of limousines was waiting to take us from the Waldorf to Saint Patrick's. the instant I arrived, I knew that something very different was going on. From a block away we began hearing the most magnificent orchestral music ... only there was no orchestra. The music seemed to originate at Saint Patrick's, but there was no orchestra there, either. While I knew — and know — nothing of orchestral music, Susan Dawson certainly did and she claimed that the orchestra probably numbered in the thousands! But where were they?



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Chapter 52



As we approached the cathedral — it's only a few very short blocks away from the Waldorf-Astoria — we encountered a veritable army of police directing traffic and keeping order. The music we had been hearing wasn't helping a whole lot; it was attracting passers-by by the hundreds. As we reached the church, two more busloads of police were arriving to assist.

All I could think of was it was a very good thing that both the Taylors and ourselves enjoyed such good relations with New York's Finest. We certainly drew down our store of good will that day.

I accompanied Steve Chamberlain to the front of the cathedral, along with the other grooms and best men. The remainder of the wedding party — the not-so-small army — continued on to the main entrance on Fifth Avenue.

And the magnificent orchestra continued playing incidental music, but of course there was no orchestra in sight. The clergy, led by the Cardinal Archbishop of New York himself, came out on the altar. It was time for the service to begin.

There was a symphonic fanfare announcing the wedding procession. Looking back into the great church, my only thought was that it was a good thing Saint Patrick's is as large as it is. Initially, Mom and Andy Taylor had been thinking of using a small chapel so the guests wouldn't be lost, but when they reviewed their combined invitation lists, they decided that the full cathedral might not be too large. In the event, it was barely large enough.

The bridesmaids, and maids (and matrons) of honor came down the main aisle. It was utterly magnificent if I do say so myself. Then came the two Fitzpatrick boys carrying the rings on small pillows, followed at a suitable distance by Kristin Kramer and Karen Christian, the four-year-old "twins." The two little girls drew audible gasps from the guests with their joy and incredible beauty. Needless to say, I had heard all about them from Little Bit and Ann, and they far more than lived up to their advance billing.

Finally, the brides appeared. First came Caitie Fitzpatrick on her father's arm. Then Little Bit with Brad Kramer, followed by Ann with Bill Christian. Finally, it was sister Diane accompanied by Dad. Never have I seen a girl look as gorgeous as Diane did that day. In light of the torture she had undergone it was only right.

The Cardinal began the celebration of the Nuptial Mass. It proceeded in a more or less normal fashion — normal that is, except for the invisible choir — until the Alleluia. Instead of the normal verse, we heard the most magnificent rendition ever heard of The Alleluia Chorus from Handel's "Messiah". (Later we learned that the chorus was under the personal direction of the arranger of the most popular version, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart himself.) The cathedral rocked, and I later learned that it could be heard almost a mile away.

The Mass proceeded until it was time for the marriages themselves. Then things changed ... dramatically! Rather than the Cardinal going to the couples, he took a seat on the side. I had no idea what was going on.

At that point, a golden cylinder almost seven feet tall appeared before us. A Voice, easily heard without amplification throughout the great church began, "Greetings and welcome! We are gathered here today to join in wedlock four loving couples. And I am here because one of the women being wed is The Littlest Angel, Caitlin Fitzpatrick.

"Frankly, this is an event I have been looking forward to for some time.

"However, before proceeding, there is one thing I must do that's not a part of this ceremony. Would Jennifer Clark please rise?"

I was stunned. And looking around, I was far from the only one. Everyone else present was, too.

Jenny was sitting just a few rows back surrounded by Kramer and Christian children. They all looked on her lovingly as she rose to her feet.

The Voice continued, "It is only right and just that Jennifer be seated among her family. All of the children you see around her — and four of the young people being married here today — call her Aunt Jenny. You see, this woman was forced to sell body parts, including her left lung in order to live. And there's a story circulating that's widely believed: That story is that when Jenny Clark lost her lung, her heart grew in size to fill the void.

"That isn't true, of course, but the love in this woman is virtually limitless. While she could have been embittered by her loss, instead she has lavished her love over everyone with whom she has had contact. To 20 children — now 22, in fact — she's Aunt Jenny. But to hundreds of others she has turned their lives around. Because of this, Jenny Clark, you are now restored to physical perfection to match the perfection of your soul." The Voice paused and then continued, "Jenny, please take a deep breath ... but be careful!"

She did, and she almost fainted.

"Whoops!" the Voice exclaimed. "That was the result of taking in double the amount of oxygen you're used to getting. But I'm certain you will learn to live with it.

"Now, to the affairs of the day."

One after the other, He went through the marriage ceremony with each of the couples. Finally, he concluded, "What I have joined together, let no man put asunder! I pronounce you men and wives!"

Wow! That was about as married as it's possible ever to be.

After exchanging kisses that could have ignited asbestos, the four couples raced down the aisle to the most joyous wedding music ever heard.

And then it was back to the Grand Ballroom of the Waldorf-Astoria for the reception.

Frankly, it could not have been better. But it had its amusing moments.

It seems that Kevin Fitzpatrick, Caitie's 13-year-old brother, met Sandra Kramer, Tony's 12-year-old sister. And it was so damned cute! Sandy had learned that when he was only six years old, Kevin had offered his life to save the life of his sister, Caitie. Sandy thought it was the bravest thing she had ever heard of. For his part, Kevin thought that Sandy was the most beautiful female on two feet — a gorgeous blue-eyed golden blonde from California. Moreover, she was the daughter of two multiple Academy-Award winners, one of whom was a Medal of Honor winner.

Kevin took Sandy by the hand to meet his parents and to ask them if he could continue to see Sandy. Kelly and her husband were ecstatic. Kelly's words? "Kevin, if you could pick any girl alive in the world today, you couldn't possibly do better than Sandy Kramer." She gave him a hug and whispered in his ear, "Just don't let her get away!"

Brad and Kim Kramer were as pleased when Sandy asked them the same thing regarding Kevin.

Needless to say, I was using that wonderful conversation-locking function extensively that day.

Oh, yes ... The honeymoons.

At the head table, John Taylor told the others that he and Caitie were leaving for two months on a Hawaiian island. They would be naked and would only have a few fishhooks and a couple of sharp knives. It was a honeymoon trip that a number of other couples had taken, and each had found that if they managed to survive — all did — they would be together forever.

Tony, Paul and Steve all exchanged glances, collectively nodded, and said that was the way to go. Steve was a bit crestfallen, though, because he had made arrangements for Diane and him to go on an extended cruise.

Then it was the girls' turn to exchange looks.

Sister Diane asked softly, "Darling, could you get a refund on our cruise tickets? I really don't think a cruise right now would be such a great idea."

"Why not?" Steve responded, obviously somewhat dismayed.

"Uh ... Well, it's the baby..." Diane began and just stopped.

"What baby?" Steve demanded, visibly upset.

"The baby I'm going to deliver in a couple of weeks," she responded softly.

"But ... but..." Steve sputtered, "I remember asking you and you said you couldn't get pregnant!"

"You're right, sweetie, I did." Diane's eyes were dancing as she continued, "I remember it very well. You asked me when you were fucking me for the third time. But you had already caught me the first time. So when I told you I couldn't get pregnant, it was because I already was."

"We're going to have a baby?" Steve mused.

Diane just rapidly nodded her head.

Finally Steve grinned broadly, lifted Diane up from her chair, sat her across his lap and proceeded to really kiss her. And she returned his kiss with at least as much power. When they finally eased apart, she asked softly, "You're not too mad?"

"Mad?" he exclaimed. "How could I possibly be mad? All I have to do is look at your mother and sisters to know that your children are going to be world class. And I can't wait!"

Tony and Paul exchanged looks and then looked accusingly at their brides. Little Bit and Ann carefully adjusted the halos over their heads and tried to look as innocent as possible.

Finally Tony said, "You, too?"

"A couple of weeks," Little Bit gulped.

"And you?" Paul asked Ann.

She didn't reply. She just pointed a thumb at her sister and nodded.

"We're going to be fathers?" Paul asked.

Both girls just rapidly nodded.

"Good grief!" Tony exclaimed. "We've got to tell our parents! They're about to become grandparents. They're going to be thrilled!"

"They know, sweetie," Little Bit told him softly. "They've known for months."

"And our siblings?" Paul asked.

Again their two wives nodded.

"You mean..." Tony mused, "everybody has known it but us?"

The girls rolled their eyes and shrugged.

Kris and I? We just went home and went back to manufacturing babies. And you know what? That's an awful lot of fun.


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The End
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Posted:  2002-09-04
Last Modified: 2012-12-05 / 08:48:20 pm
Version: 1.20
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