Gynophagia Chronicles: Samantha
Friday, September 18, 2218, 7:30 am.
Franklin High School, San Ramon, CA
From Samantha Marie Wells’ Memoirs
Thank God it had been a normal week. Well, mostly normal. Being thrown up on in the pool was certainly not normal. Beth's personal swim coach was Gracie, who was getting a lot of extra credit for it and had taken to it like... well, a fish to water.
Anyway, not wanting to be a product of nepotism, I told Lee Anne Vicker's about Eric's cradle and the contract Tucker Engineering had signed with him and Jimmy. They were well on their way to being wealthy by the time they were in their early twenties. Bully for them! Lee Anne spent both Wednesday and Thursday evening with them going over details.
And on Thursday, Miki wore her newly constructed school uniform, the one the entire school was to vote on and modeled it for the student body and the school staff and the school board. The student body voted on it and nude swimming that afternoon. Both won. Both were vetoed by the school board within minutes.
So, Miss Andrea Yates, this very morning, called a session of the school council before school started and the council approved her proposal to send petitions home with each student. Two per student, one for each parent. My parents would be signing nine times... (Eric didn't count, of course, but Jimmy did).
For my part, I did a little research and found out that of all the schools in Northern California, only one allowed optional nude swimming for the girls, and that was Murrietta High in Los Gatos. The uniforms were another story. Bare midriff uniforms were quite literally the norm in most of the Bay Area. I published my findings in the Herald which did not sit well with Andrea. She would have liked for me to omit the bit about nude swimming, not mentioning it at all. She had a very intense conversation with me after reading the paper right after swim class, and I resolved to call Murrietta high and get details on that policy. It was only fair.
Ashima was, of course, on her honeymoon. I'd barely spoke to her at the wedding, so it was sort of a mini vacation for me in that department. A vacation in which I got thrown up upon by a complete stranger. Did I mention that?
Lunches were with Reba, Danielle, Mark and April, as were my habit. I would sit quietly trying to focus while the other four gossiped and Reba gushed about Johnny DeSilva. But other than April's doe eyes for Mark, there was not much in the way of bothersome drama, thank goodness. But Danielle was a little annoying in her quest to be the most stylish Franklin High alum there ever was. She had taken to teaching Mara and Celine about Makeup while practicing on Jenna and Gracie. Miki and Patty wouldn't let Danielle touch their faces. Who said cheerleaders were dumb?
There was one thing that did bother me on Wednesday. It was when I found Miss Bauer crying her eyes out. She'd got into it with the kitchen staff each day at lunch, but that as her habit. She did not approve at all of them, and made that very clear. I only found her because at the end of the day, I went down to my locker to collect my dirty underwear and there she was. Gracie would not have hesitated. I did, a bit. But I sat with her and held her for quite a while as she sobbed in my arms. She clung to me as a child might.
For probably fifteen minutes we just sat there together as she cried and I petted her hair. Then she stood up, leaned over, kissed my cheek and walked off, quite composed, as if nothing had happened. I would be clueless as to why for some time.
We had just done our whole 7:30 routine, and as we wetly arrived at the pool, Miss Bauer sauntered in followed Miss Braniff, the new swimming instructor and by a lithe figure many of us knew well. Karen Potts had not only competed in the last Olympic and two world championships, she had three bronze and two silver medals to show for them in the Uneven Bars, Balance Beam and the Vault events. Now she was here, at our school. Many of us gasped when we saw her.
Miss Braniff ran us through the swim drills and my section went twice before Miss Bauer caught me.
“You're with me, Samantha,” Miss Bauer said. “Sloan! With me!”
“What's wrong?” Sloan said as she arrived next to us.
“Follow me!”
This could not be good. We followed her up the stairs back to the locker room. In the middle of the room we arrived at a plastic box.
“Out of your suits,” Miss Bauer said, and she waved a clip board, two yellow tags on it. “Culling orders.”
I froze. Sloan began to sob.
“Come on, we haven't got much time. Let's get into the showers and enjoy them while we do. Now, out of those suits... I said NOW!”
I pealed off my suit weeping, as Sloan sobbed. Miss Bauer pealed off her gym shorts, kicked and sports bra, all she'd worn, to reveal her stocky nakedness. Her breasts were not large, but they did have weight, and her bottom was solid and round as she turned from us. Her broad back gave her waist a slender look from behind when she was naked that was not visible clothed.
In the shower, Miss Bauer went to a shower head and began bathing.
“Ladies, let's go!” Miss Bauer hollared at us.
I slid under a shower head myself and let the cold water wash over me, goose pimples forming on my skin. I kept my eyes closed, trying to enjoy the sensation of the water, cold as it was while Sloan whimpered under her own. I simply accepted it. I resigned. I was going to the kitchen in the nude to be dismembered and served to the jocks. As I began soaping up, a pair of hands lighted upon my back and began soaping me. I looked over my shoulder expecting to see Sloan, but, saw Miss Bauer instead. She was weeping as she caressed me. The warmth of her hands luxurious on my skin I forced a smile and let her. If she wanted to enjoy touching me, I was fine with that. Who was I to say no? And her hands felt so good.
They made their way under my breasts and I raised my arms to let her cup them. I had never had my breasts cupped before, and to this day, it's one of my favourite things to have done to me. But I was frozen as well. I was unable to move as she caressed my small boobs and teased my nipples. I was experiencing fear as I never had before and it was completely erotic to me.
Miss Bauer's hands went to my belly and I managed to glance over at wide eyed Sloan, who had stopped making any noise at all and simply stood under the freezing water gazing at us. The only sign that she was not a statue made of olive skinned flesh was the heaving of her breast. She gasped as she saw and I felt Miss Bauer's hands reach my nethers, and her fingers explore between my folds. I had a small climax instantly at her touch, then a larger one, as if my body had been storing it up for days.
Miss Bauer turned me around and drew me into her arms and her mouth attacked mine with a ravenous hunger. I never resisted, I simply accepted. Her desire for me was something of a comfort. Her mouth kissed down my body, tasting various parts, stopping at my nipples and belly till she made her way down between my legs. Her tongue flicked on my clitoris and her fingers plunged inside my wetness.
I orgasmed over and over again as she did so, my back finally against the tiled wall. Before I collapsed she brought her mouth to mine again, fingers still inside me and kissed me again, tenderly this time. My hands came to her small, heavy breasts and cupped them, her hard little nipples poking my palms.
She took one of my hands with the one not inside me, and brought it down between her legs. I caressed her as she gazed into my eyes, feeling the shape of her extraordinarily big clitoris. It was the size of a marble between my fingers and her body convulsed and seized mine even as her hand clutched mine to her own nethers. I could feel her orgasm at my touch by the spasms wracking her.
Finally, we were both on the floor, still under the cold water, holding each other. She covered my face in kisses and looked into my eyes.
“Thank you, Samantha,” she said.
Miss Bauer and I helped each other up.
“Go get dressed,” she told me.
“Huh?” I asked stupidly.
“Go put your cloths on,” she said. “Go now.”
I turned to see Sloan, weeping and hugging her naked self, as Miss Bauer moved toward her. I returned then to my locker and picked up the clip board. On the two yellow tags were the names were Sloan Harding's name and that of Patricia Bauer. My jaw dropped. It was never me! My god, it was never ME!
Okay, so I do do silly things when I'm confused. I had just been made love to by one of my teachers, and the afterglow combined with the sadness of it. Tears were streaming down my face as I dressed. I fumbled with my bra, but couldn't get it on so I threw it down and sat and cried for a few seconds. Then threw on my blouse, pulled on my skirt and packed my clothes in the locker. I didn't even bother putting panties on. I grabbed my pack and the phone fell out. I stood there staring at it for a moment, then clipped it to my blouse pocket and turned on the video camera. I wanted something to remember this by... I wasn't even sure what... but I wanted to remember my first sexual encounter. Miss Bauer was my first.
When I returned to the shower, Sloan and Miss Bauer were engaged in the most amorous embrace, liplocked and surrendered to the ecstasy of one another's bodies. I watched them, my own body tingling again with desire even as the video camera, which I was now completely oblivious to, recorded the whole thing. They were so beautiful together. Miss Bauer had a sensuality I could have barely imagined, and Sloan was her little sexual victim, completely under Miss Bauer's spell. Her dark nipples were puffy and erect over her heaving breast. Her lips quivered with each touch she received.
They were finally quiet and holding each other in utter exhaustion. I shut off the cold water and retrieved towels for them which I laid them over their backs. After only a moment they began to dry themselves off. Miss Bauer kissed my lips gingerly and caressed my cheek.
Sloan threw her arms around my neck.
“I'm so sorry! I'm soo sorry!” she wept, and covered my face in kisses. Sloan, I have to say, was a very good kisser. I wished I'd known that sooner, I'd much rather have been kissing her than listening to her gossip. “I'm so sorry,” she repeated.
“Samantha,” Miss Bauer said. “I'd like you to escort us to the kitchen. Will you, please?” I nodded to her. “Sloan, put your hands behind your back, please.”
Sloan sobbed once and did, her towel falling off of her and Miss Bauer cuffed her. Then Miss Bauer handed me a pair of cuffs and turned with her hands behind her back and I cuffed her.
“Don't forget the clip board,” Miss Bauer told me.
I put the towels in the bin, grabbed my pack and we made our way down the empty hallways. We passed no one through the corridors that seemed ominously cavernous like never before. The two naked women looking pathetic and helpless to me. When we finally arrived at the cafeteria, Miss Bauer told me to put the tags in the red box hanging by the door. I did so, and a buzzer rang as the rollers inside the slot ate the first one, and again for the second.
The door flew open as the second buzzer was ringing, and suddenly the air was filled with the sound of yelling in Spanish, Tagalog and Vietnamese and a diminutive Vietnamese woman with a sour face and a scowl emerged.
“You late!” she barked at me. “We have no time! You make us late!”
Then she saw Miss Bauer, and her scowl turned into a grimace. She called back in Vietnamese and two of her companions ran out. They grabbed Miss Bauer and forced her through the door brusquely as Miss Bauer cried in terror. The three women forced Miss Bauer over a large wood topped cutting table inside, bending her over it, and a massive cleaver, the blade easily as long as my forearm, was raised over her. It was only a single chop and Miss Bauer's head rolled off and fell to the floor, eyes blinking but wide, mouth agape and her jaw moving as if she was in shock.
Sloan screamed, and the three women were instantly on her, dragging her with flailing legs into the room and onto the same table. I could hear her sobs till the cleaver dropped again, and they instantly stopped.
“Noooo!” I wailed.
“You want same?” The sour faced woman pointed her cleaver at me. “Get out!”
I did. I stumbled and fell back as the door slammed shut. My phone fell off my pocket and I sat there weeping and sobbing as I stared at it, barely able to see it through my tears.
Everything seemed surreal and ugly and terrifying now. The pit in my stomach hurt and made me want to die. The rest of the school day was a complete haze for me. I was in my own world, going through the motions. I couldn't talk about it. At lunch I simply sat there, vaguely aware that the jocks were being served my friends. I don't think I ate anything at all. I remember several people asking me what was wrong. I couldn't tell you who. I walked home alone, not waiting for Grace or Jenna.
When I arrived in our living room, I found Mom by herself at the dining table doing the family books. It was something she had a head for, and Daddy appreciated that she kept the family solvent. It would be something he'd miss when she was gone.
“Hi, Honey,” she said, smiling that serene smile of hers. “Whatever happened to that check Ashima gave you?”
“Huh?”
“Ashima called and said the check she gave you is unchashed. They need you to deposit it.”
“Oh... okay.”
Mom gave me a quizzical look.
“What's wrong?”
“Nothing,” I lied.
“Don't lie to me, Samantha Marie Wells. Tell me what's going on right now!”
I broke. I started to sob and weep and blubber completely without coherence. Mom enveloped me and held me till the spell was over and I was somewhat able to communicate again. I Sat down with her, noticing ridiculously that my tears had stained that silly gray maids dress Mom always wore and explained what happened.
“Sam, I'm so sorry. People get culled all the time... I'm very, sorry...”
“I know,” I said. Then I remembered the phone. “But it was so mean...” I pulled out the phone, fast forwarded it to the part where we arrived at the school kitchen and, on the little screen, Mom watched.
“Oh my God!” Her expression betrayed her horror. “Oh my God!” she repeated, her hand over her mouth.
I couldn't hold it. I suddenly had the whole contents of my stomach in my throat, I had my hand on my mouth and I ran bathroom. I barely made it to the toilet and lost perhaps five pounds of whatever doe shakes turn into when in my stomach.
Mom helped me clean up and held me after.
“It's wrong! My God, it's so wrong!” She said as she rocked me back and forth.
“I know.”
“No, Sam, this is not right! Nobody should be treated this way! It's horrible! They were so cruel!” I simply nodded to that. “It can't be legal for them to do that! They can't do that!”
“But they did.”
She looked at me, straight into my eyes, her Sapphire eyes filled with conviction.
“Come!” She took my hand, and led me upstairs. I our little family office which sat between my room and the boy's room, it was basically a closet, she sat at the workstation, got on Google and began searching. “Humane Culling Law California” brought the results she wanted.
“Humane Culling,” she read. “Is the law in all states of the union with the noted exception of convicted criminals. In all cases, with the noted exception of special license, culling shall be performed in a humane and respectful way. The butcher shall do his or her utmost to make the doe comfortable and termination to be as painless as possible...” she continued to read. “The butcher shall not intimidate or terrorize a culled doe, but shall give reasonable comfort to the doe in the act of rendering.” She looked at me. “There's nothing reasonable here!”
She scrolled down. “California State Code: Title 60... that's where all this is. Sam!” She grabbed my forearm. “I am so proud of you already! But you have to write about this! This is horrible, and you can't let this go!”
The conviction in her eyes gave me everything I needed to make it better. I put my palms on her cheeks and brushed her lips with mine. Downstairs, I ignored my cackling and clucking sisters who seemed to know instinctively that something was different, found a reasonably private corner, and went to work.
I made several screen caps of the two beheadings and wrote a two thousand word account of the events. Of course, I mentioned nothing about Sloan and Miss Bauer's sexual encounter. That was also on the video in full glory. I sent the resulting article directly to the Amador Herald and Miss Bauer. I wasn't supposed to do that, but I wouldn't see Miss Bauer till Monday and something told me this couldn't wait. Part of me felt like I was avenging my first lover... maybe I was...
Saturday, September 17, 2218, 10am
Catnip Park, San Ramon
I thought I saw Micheal walking down the street, but it couldn't have been him. All I know is my heart lept for just an instant and helped to alleviate yesterday's trauma. I was a little numb over it, and my sisters seemed to understand that I needed to be left alone. Mom sat with me, as quiet as I was, listening as she often did to the exchanges between my siblings. My father was, of course, well aware of the circumstances, and had held me in his arms in a private moment before we made our way to the park. He said nothing, but he did not need to.
Brunch in the park is something we don't do every Saturday, but often enough. We had not done it since school started.
When the Mr. and Mrs. Garcia joined us, Mom and Dad engaged them, and my siblings gave them their respectful attention, allowing me to blend in a bit more.
Roberto Garcia was from Spain. He was specifically from Galicia, something he was very proud of, and made it clear it had a history all its own, and was very Celtic. They even played bagpipes there. Anna Maria, his young wife, was from Buenos Aires, Argentina. She was just nineteen with a Latin way about her that was an interesting contrast to her very Germanic features. She was only two months pregnant with their second litter. The three toddlers walked around and claimed laps to sit in, trying each one of us in turn as if they were playing musical chairs.
Jenna and Jimmy engaged her about Recipes while Eric and Daddy enjoyed talking airplanes with Roberto. The rest of the girls played with the babies, and Mom stroked my hair.
And then chatty Mrs. Ortiz arrived with Rae and Rae's five younger sisters. Mr. Ortiz joined Roberto, Daddy and Eric with his big thermos of gourmet coffee while Mrs. Ortiz plopped down next to Anna Maria and began her non-stop motor mouth.
“Juar dress ees so pretty!” Anna Maria told Danielle, interrupting Mrs. Ortiz.
“Miki made it,” Danielle said.
“Ju make dat? Is berry goot werk! In Arhentina girls haff leetle cloths. I haff no cloths till I was... uhm... Roberto, Doce?”
“Twelve,” Mrs. Ortiz translated.
“Jes. I was twelf. Then I get one dress.”
“Why?” Mom asked.
“Too espensive,” Anna Maria said. “Girls, dey get... ah, cut?”
“Culled,” said Mrs. Ortiz.
“Jes, Culled at once...?”
“Eleven. I haff four sisters all go at eleven. Ju are very lucky.”
“What's it like in Spain?” I asked.
“Ju must ask Roberto. I never go.”
My phone rang, and Mom gave me a dirty look. That was one thing Mom insisted on with Daddy. No phones when we're in the park. I looked at the caller ID. It was Ashima.
“Where are you? Your house is empty!” Ashima asked. I told her and she said she would find the park. In seconds I saw a white limo roll up, and a squat, plump man that looked even more like a garden gnome from a distance than he did close up popped out.
“Hey, Honey,” Daddy said. “Bernie's here! Excuse me a minute...” he told the other men as he set down his mug and stood.
Looking back at the Limo I could see Ashima and Mr. Foss walking with a very pregnant blonde woman with big hair. Daddy met them and they spoke for a few moments before Daddy wheeled and called: “Sam!”
Oh dear... I excused myself and timidly made my way toward the group.
“Samantha!” Mr. Foss said. “Meet Miss Belinda Hawthorn. She's our senior Editorial Editor at Playpen's New York office.”
“So good to finally meet you!” Smiled Miss Hawthorn. She had strong, sharp features that matched her imposing presence. “Can we sit? My ankles are killing me.”
“How is your mother?” I asked Ashima as we followed Daddy and Mr. Foss to a picnic table.
“She is very well,” Ashima replied. “She called me from Rome and misses your mother terribly.”
“So does Mom. Is she coming back soon?”
“I do not know. They are needed in Kolkata. But I hope soon. I believe she is not happy with what people say about her at home in India. She thinks it will be very bad for her.”
Miss Hawthorn lowered herself onto the picnic table bench and sighed.
“That's better,” she said.
“So,” Mr. Foss said. “First things first.” He produced an envelope and handed it to me. Inside, I found a check for 2500€. “Make sure you deposit that! And why haven't you cashed the first one?”
“Uhm... I don't have an account yet.”
“We'll fix that,” Daddy said.
“Good. Belinda?”
Miss Hawthorn turned to face me. “We're running your profile on Jakin Golguli in the October issue of Playpen. It'll be out in a week. We've also moved up the Playpen India announcement date up and Ashima will, of course, be Miss November. The big announcement will be made in that issue. I'll need another socio-politico piece for Playpen for November and December... preferably from you. I'll send Ashima a list of topics we'd find interesting and she'll forward them on to you. We're trying to get an interview with President Naoroji-Rao. It cannot be over the phone, so we'll have to fly you to wherever he is. It'll take two weeks to get you a passport in case we can't catch him in D.C.”
“Wait,” Daddy said. “She's fifteen. Can we even get her a passport?”
“It's not impossible for anyone,” said Foss. “Difficult, yes. But I'll get you the papers today for you to fill out and you can overnight them to me.”
“That's fine,” Daddy said. “But who will she be traveling with? I don't want her traveling alone!”
“We'll arrange for someone to go with her,” replied Foss, somewhat dismissive.
“But isn't it a little unconventional for a fifteen year old girl to interview a president?”
“Yes, it is. But I'll get to that,” Foss said. “Anyway, here's what's happened. Jakim Golguli somehow got the notion in his head that there is going to be an Indian edition of Playpen. I wonder how...”
Under Mr. Foss' accusatory gaze I lowered my eyes and said: “I may have mentioned it...”
“Yes... well. The consequence is that he's out spreading rumours about it. That's the primary reason we're moving up the schedule. Fortunately, it suits the board of directors very well. The buzz is good for us and our sales in India have jumped a noticeably. We've been in contact with President Naoroji-Rao's office, and he's agreed to schedule an interview on the condition that he gets the same person who did the Golguli interview. We had to pony up the raw material for him to see in the first place to get him to even consider it. So, it's Samantha or nobody. That's the condition. The board isn't happy about that part, but they'll take what they can get.”
“Don't forget the name change,” said Ashima.
“Oh, yes. Fatima Khan actually came up with it. We'll be calling it Zenana, which loosely translates into 'Harem' from Hindi. The name change is to throw everyone a bit and put more buzz out there when we announce in the November issue...”
“In any event,” Miss Hawthorn interjected. “I've now become well aquainted with your work, Samantha. You're not half bad as an editor with your own stuff, and you're a very good writer. I'd like you to join my staff at PEG Wire. Working remotely, of course.”
“You've already got her working quite a bit,” Daddy said. “I don't want her school work suffering.”
“There will be a lot of crossover,” said Miss Hawthorn. “Much of what she does will also work for Zenana.”
“You don't understand,” Daddy said. “If her schoolwork suffers, she moves up on the lottery...”
“Oh, that's going to be solved by Monday. All we need is your signature and we'll open the negotiation for compensation with the school. It won't be a problem.” He opened his briefcase and produced a folder with a pen, and slid it across the picnic table to Daddy. “The passport application is in there as well.”
Daddy grimaced, but began filling it out.
“Anyway,” Mr. Foss said. “Belinda has this pet project she's been trying to get off the ground for a couple of years. Playpen Entertainment Group Newswire. We call it PEG Wire for short. So far it's been basically a blog for playmates...”
“It could be so much more,” said Miss Hawthorn. “But for that I need material, and to get material I need reporters. I have neither. I'm hoping you'll be able to help out there. We're connected enough. The New York Times, Washington Post, Los Angeles Examiner and San Jose Mercury News all subscribe. They just don't publish anything we produce... because, well, it's crap.”
“Have you thought about tapping into an high school journalism programs?” I asked it as it occurred to me, remembering my little office visit with Principal Farmer.
“Now that's an idea...” Foss shot a glance at Miss Hawthorn.
“I don't know... maybe..,” Miss Hawthorn said dubiously. “Samantha, are you working on anything that might be interesting?”
“I submitted a story to the Amador Herald last night. It wasn't published this morning.”
“May see?”
I produced my PDA, called up the story and handed it over. Miss Hawthorn started reading.
“What's this?” Daddy held up a sheet.
“Permission for a Playmate test,” said Mr. Foss causing my whole body to suffer a jolt. “Oh, come now, Matt. Every girl who works for PEG gets a Playmate test. It's a condition of the job. Matt, you knew that was coming!”
“Not this soon...”
“It's time, and you know it. We've got a very nice photographer who we'll send her to in San Jose. She's been working with us for a while.” He handed Daddy a card. Daddy looked, then handed it to me. It said “Image by Shariah” on it and had a San Jose area code for the phone number, but no address.
“Bernie!” Miss Hawthorn said emphatically. “You have to read this! Samantha, this is all accurate?” I nodded. “Bernie you have to see this!”
“What?”
“Just fucking read it!”
Foss put on a pair of reading glasses and focused on my PDA.
“You have to come to work for me now!” Miss Hawthorn said.
“And she will be protected?” Daddy asked.
“This is going national!” Hawthorn indicated my PDA. “It'll put us on the map! The fallout will be astonishing. I could get this in on the wire in a couple of hours! But... damn, it would be nice if we could get it up Monday Morning. Did you turn it in already?”
“I did,” I said. “I sent it to the Amador Herald.”
“Why?” Miss Hawthorn asked. “Don't we have first rights of refusal on what Samantha writes?”
“We do indeed,” Mr. Foss said. “You had no business doing that, Samantha.”
I told them then about the conversation I had with Miss Farmer eight days ago, and Mr. Foss shook his head.
“That's really not our problem,” said Mr. Foss.
“Hmm...” Miss Hawthorn said. “Even so, I'll have to get on the phone with this little paper. I'll negotiate a free subscription or something...”
“Whatever,” Bernie said. “Just do it. You're right, this is gold.”
“There we go,” Daddy said. “Sam, you now belong to Playpen Entertainment Group... that means they can do whatever they want with you...”
“Don't put it like that,” Mr. Foss said. “We treat our girls very well... Belinda, make sure that you edit out the sex in the video. We don't want that getting out at all... okay?”
“Yes, sir,” said Miss Hawthorn.
“What sex?”
I'd forgot about that part. The sexual encounter between Miss Bauer and Sloan Harding was on that video.
“It's not important,” Mr. Foss said. “Sam just recorded a very amorous encounter between her teacher and a student. She wasn't involved.”
Daddy looked at me. “We'll talk about this later.”
“In any event, one of the policies of PEG is that we do not interfere with family dynamics, Matthew. She may be our property, but you're still her father, and we respect your control over her till she turns sixteen.”
“Good to know.”
“Alright,” Mr. Foss said. “You'll take care of that newspaper?” He said to Miss Hawthorn, and she nodded. “Very good. We need to catch a flight to Los Angeles. Mr. Ashima is meeting us there, right? Good. Thank you, Matthew. I promise you this: you will not regret this.”
“I'll remind you of that when one the peril videos come out,” Daddy said cryptically.
“Well, yes, there is that. Ladies, we do not want to miss that flight.”
We watched them leave, Daddy and I.
“I can't believe that just happened,” he said. “Now, what's this about a sex video?”