Author: Thinking Horndog
Title: Strange Relationships
Part: 46
Universe: Second Best
Summary: A full-length novel that follows several young couples from Second
Best and their families.
Keywords: m+m rape MF

Keywords for full story:  rom, mf, MF, mmf, MFF, M+F, mm, F-solo, ir, D/s,
bdsm, mdom, spank, oral, anal, 1st, reluc, nc, voy

Strange Relationships

Copyright © Thinking Horndog, 2006 im_a_thinker@yahoo.com

Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyrighted with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. Reproduction for profit
is forbidden.  Any distribution must include this note and the author's
email address. Don’t be caught attempting to make a buck off me!

Warnings and disclaimers:

This is adult entertainment!  Be warned!  If you’re not into graphic
depictions of sex, this is the wrong story for you!  If you’re too young to
be legally reading this, move along!

This is a work of fiction.  It is not intended to reflect any particular
person or persons, and the incidents portrayed exist in their current form
solely in the writer’s imagination.  You get the idea.

Chapter 46
Plans, Confrontations, and Bad Memories


	Precisely at noon, the phone rang at the McGrath home.  Caitlin
picked it up, as the bedside phone was at hand while she got ready for work.
"Hello?"

	"Hello."  There was a pause.  "Is Erin there?"

	"Um, yeah.  I'll get her."  Caitlin carried the phone to Erin's
room, where she was draped across her bed watching TV.  "It's for you."

	"Who is it?" Erin asked suspiciously.  She didn't feel like dealing
with Mary or Louise -- especially if Toby wasn't going to call...

	"Well, I THINK it's that boy..."

	"Gimme that!"  Erin snatched the phone from her mother's hand.
"Hello?"

	"Erin?"

	"Yeah."

	"Hey, so, what's up?"

	"Nothing."  Erin frowned and waved her mother away, but Caitlin
stood there grinning.  "You?"

	"Nothing much.  Just goofing off."  Actually, Toby had spent the
past hour anxiously watching the clock.  "Wanna do something?"

	"Sure.  Whatcha got in mind?"

	Shit!  Think, quick!  We did a movie last night, so...  "Ummmm,
nothing much.  We could go hang out at the mall or...  I dunno...  go
skating..."  Not that his current finances could handle much in the way of
high living.

	Erin frowned; those options were 'way too public...  "I dunno.
Maybe we could just hang out here and watch the tube..."

	Huh!  That was a LOT better -- and not just because it wouldn't cost
anything!  Best to play it cool...  "Sure.  What about your mom?"

	"She has to be at work in an hour."  Erin grimaced; that wasn't the
smartest thing to say with Mom standing right there...

	"After last night, I'd probably better stay out of her sight," Toby
agreed, unaware that the word was already out.  "When should I come?"

	"Oh, any time..." Erin replied, eyeing her mother.

	"Okay.  Twenty minutes?"

	"Yeah.  See ya then!"  Erin hung up.

	Caitlin stood there, arms folded.  "You two need to keep it..."
Erin just looked at her.  "Oh, never mind!"  Flustered, she stomped out.
She'd be closing the barn door after the horse left anyway, and besides, in
theory, at least, Erin was doing better...

	Toby dropped the phone in its cradle and headed for the hall closet
to get a jacket.  His mother looked up from the cooking show she was
watching, "So, you're off, then?"  Toby had been wearing a groove in the
floor...

	"Yeah, I'm going to see my g--..."  Toby stopped dead.  How to
finish this?

	Too late.  Mom was on full alert.  "Toby?"

	Head on, then.  "I'm going to see a girl."

	"To do what?  Help her with her algebra?"  Mild amusement painted
Mom's features.

	Toby passed on the temptation to lie.  "We're just gonna hang out
for a while.  Watch TV or something."

	"Really?"  Was he pulling her leg, trying to prop up his ego, or had
lightning struck?  Penny Brillstein's eyes narrowed.  "Be home for
dinner..."  Time to give Jean Braithewaite a call...  She'd know, if
anything was up -- or she'd pry it out of Randall.  Toby nodded and was
gone, leaving an aura of relief.

	Erin didn't get ten feet before the phone rang.  This time, it was
Louise Bryant.  "Oh, hi Louise," Erin mumbled, rolling her eyes, "What's
up?"

	"Uhh, what do you think of Dwayne Hansen?" Louise blurted.

	Louise had salivated over some boy from a distance every few days
FOREVER!  Erin sighed, "He's okay, I guess.  Why?"

	"Hey, I'm serious!" Louise complained.  "I need to know!"

	"Why?  You gotta date?" Erin returned sarcastically.

	"Yes."  Louise's monosyllable was smug.

	"What?"  The shoe was on the other foot now!  "Tell me!"

	"Well, I went to the basketball game, and got to talking with Mary
Eikenberry -- she's nice, did you know that?  Anyway, she said I wasn't
advertising properly and dragged me down to the girl's lockers for a
makeover."  Louise giggled.  "IF you consider gym clothes a makeover!
Anyway, she called Rob and the next thing I knew Dwayne was standing there
with his eyes bugging out!"

	"No way!"

	"Way!  Dwayne took me home -- well, we hung out at the park for a
little bit, getting to know one another -- and I have a date tonight!"

	"Way cool!"  Erin was shocked!  Louise mostly hid in the corner and
dreamed...

	"So, about Dwayne..."

	"Well," Erin got serious about it, "he's a jock, which isn't always
a good thing, I've learned.  And wasn't he in on that thing with Ted Phipps
and Darla Jean?"

	"Well, yeah," Louise admitted, "but I have it on good authority that
Ted lies a lot, and Dwayne was a boy scout by comparison."

	"Really?"  Erin had heard the same thing, but...

	"Really."

	"So why did you suddenly get interested in Dwayne?"

	Erin didn't have to see Louise to know that she was blushing.
"Well, it was the Darla Jean thing.  No matter who you listen to, he's...
experienced.  And my sources say he's pretty nice, too."

	Erin's sources said the same thing, actually -- probably because
they were basically the same sources.  "Okay, so why do you need my
opinion?"

	"I'm scared."

	"Well DON'T CHICKEN OUT!  When's this date?"

	"Tonight.  We're going to the movies.  What should I do?  What
should I wear?  What movie should I pick?"

	Erin rolled her eyes.  Louise was SUCH a dishrag!  "You'll think of
something.  Say, what were you wearing that caused Dwayne's eyes to bug
out?"

	Louise laughed.  "I was braless under one of Mary's low-cut tops!
That and my gym shorts -- without undies.  And flip-flops.  Doesn't sound
like much, but Dwayne noticed!"

	"No, that'd do it," Erin mused.  Louise had a lot more up top than
Erin did, even though she hid it under high-necked stuff and squashed it in
bras that were too small.  "You got pretty brave, then!"

	"Well, it was Mary's idea."

	"She was right.  So, how far did he go?"

	"In the car?"  Louise giggled nervously.  "Well, he got a good feel
of my titties.  And he brushed a finger over my fur patch once.  I pretty
much invited that -- I was showing wispies."

	"So did you have to fight him off?"

	"No.  He was pretty cool about it.  He's a good kisser, too!"

	Erin chuckled.  "You should try Toby!"

	"Brillstein?"

	"Uh huh.  We had a date last night."  Now it was Erin's turn to be
smug.

	"Did you..."  Louise was well aware that Erin was, well, loose...

	"No.  But we necked something torrid!  I spent thirty minutes with
Buzz, afterward!"  'Buzz' was Erin's pink vibrator...

	Louise laughed.  "So when do you see him again?"

	"In about ten minutes, I figure.  I just got off the phone with
him!"

	"Wow!  We'd better hurry then!  What about Dwayne?"

	"Ummm, well, it doesn't sound like he's rolling right over you.  Try
to hold onto your cookies until next time, if you can.  But it's your call
-- do what seems right.  Don't let him run everything, though, like you
usually do with people..."

	"Well, we talked about it.  I think he understands." Louise murmured
diffidently.

	Erin rolled her eyes.  Why didn't Louise just spread herself on the
car hood, for Pete's sake?  She handed the boy all of the keys...  "Well,
tonight will probably tell you what you need to know.  Honey, some people
don't like to run other people's lives -- it's too much responsibility.  You
need to, like, dress yourself, and breathe on your own every once in a
while..."

	"Oh, God!  What am I gonna wear?" Louise wailed.

	"Clothes."  Erin knew Louise's problem.  "A blouse that buttons up
the front -- that you can unbutton.  And a skirt with a stretch waistband
that you can roll up?"

	"Okay.  Shoes?" Louise asked.

	"Don't worry about it.  Anything.  His attention should be above
your feet.  Oh, get out of that bra as soon as you can!"

	"Dwayne's already mentioned that," Louise related.

	"How?"  Erin was suspicious.

	"He can't understand why I hurt myself like that..."

	Erin frowned.  That could be really cute, or really sneaky...  "What
about panties?"

	"He said that was too much of a temptation, and that I should wear
them."

	"Well, wear nice ones!"

	"You KNOW I don't have any!"

	There was a knock at Erin's door.  "Toby's here!  Good luck!"

	"But--"  Erin hung up, ending the conversation.

                         --------------------

	Peter Braithewaite looked up as his son came through the door, "So,
how was Astronomy Club?"

	"Uhhh, good."  Randall's demeanor said that there was more to it
than that.

	"What did you do?"

	"Well, we looked at observation data from last week and some stuff
from JPL."

	"Doesn't sound like an all-nighter."

	"We kind of hung out after that, fooling around in Jimmy's pool..."

	Peter was pretty sure that the cat STILL hadn't gotten out of the
bag.  Given how things tended to be, he suspected that the boys had probably
been watching blue movies and jerking off or something.  It was a situation
he felt that he had to tolerate, given Randall's limited social
opportunities, but it bothered him some.  In particular, it worried him that
things might go beyond that -- so his son's next question made him seriously
uneasy...

	"Dad, were you ever, um, raped?"

	Peter went white.  There was a dead silence that went on for some
time.  "I... don't want to talk about it.  Why?"

	"It's, um, how you react to certain things, like gays, and jocks..."

	Peter got a grip on himself.  This could be serious.  "There was
an... incident.  We don't speak of it."  Concern flooded his features.
"Why?  You haven't -- you aren't...?"

	Randall smiled easily.  "Not that you'd notice.  Astronomy Club has
gone co-ed.  I...  have a girlfriend..."

	Peter breathed a sigh of relief while he took in his son's demeanor.
There was more to it than that; Randall was displaying a certain confidence.
Apparently, not only did he HAVE a girlfriend, he was sleeping with her!
THAT was the reason for the all-nighter!  "Anyone I know?"

	"Darla Jean."

	"She's a little wispy, isn't she?"  Peter remembered a narrow,
freckled tomboy with pigtails pinned down in rings on her head.

	"She's, uh, blossomed some." Randall replied.

	"Well, that's good, I guess.  I can remember you guys laughing about
how you put her out on her ear the last time she tried to get into the
club..."

	Randall scratched his head absently.  "Well, like I said, things
have changed.  The guys have mostly collected girlfriends, so the all-male
thing became a problem, rather than a goal.  Besides, Darla Jean is smart
enough to contribute in her own right."

	Peter nodded sagely.  He didn't really see Randall maintaining a
relationship with some air-head girl.  This kind of explained some strange
behavior on Randall's part over the last week or so, too.  "You're taking
the proper precautions?"

	"Yes."  Randall was surprised; they hadn't discussed THAT!

	"It's all over your face," Peter managed a grin.  "Don't get in too
deep; boys seldom settle down with their first, you know."

	"We're... both aware of that," Randall replied guardedly.

	"Good."  Randall got out of there, leaving Peter sorting through his
emotions.  Jean would have to be told, diplomatically, so she didn't get
overly excited.  Thank God the boy wasn't...  Memory set in...

	Peter's high school career had been an academic triumph and a social
disaster.  Girls...  He just couldn't bring himself to interact with such
angelic creatures!  He was horny one hundred percent of the time, which made
for problems here and there, like the time he got caught beating off in the
boy's room by one of the teachers.  He was terribly shy, and feared that the
other boys would call him a freak due to the size of his cock (it was around
the size of Randall's), so the showers were a problem for him -- one he
didn't handle well, attracting unwanted attention.  Add to that his GPA and
the fact that he shared last period gym with the jocks, and you have all of
the makings of a major disaster...

	Peter was trying to closet himself in the corner shower when someone
shoved underwear over his head and brawny arms held his from behind.  "Gimme
that tape," a voice murmured, and Peter's eyes were further blinded by
sticky wrappings and his hands were similarly bound behind him while a hand
over his mouth muffled his pleas for help.  Moments later he was thrown
across a bench in the locker room and the torture began.

	"Well, Little Peter, we figure it's time to check out the problem
with your queer-bait ass!" a voice rumbled.

	"No!  Please!  Don't--" Peter began, but the hand was back, first
slapping him, then covering his mouth.

	"Shaddap!  Fuckin' do what you're told, queer-bait, an' you might
leave here in one piece!  If ya don't, Coach is gonna wonder why you're
havin' sex with broom handles!"

	"Oh, God! Noooo--"  Slap!  Peter saw stars.  (Later, Peter would
remember his whining and crying with humiliation, but for now there was only
fear and pain.)

	"Open your fucking mouth and stick out your tongue!"  Peter refused,
more out of fear than bluster, and got pummeled.  Finally he acquiesced,
wondering, 'Okay, so, what are they going to stick in my mouth? Soap?'

	It wasn't.  Peter knew immediately EXACTLY what it was when the
meatsicle settled on his tongue!  He squalled and retracted his tongue, but
the nasty thing was already between his teeth, leaving the musk of its
lubricant on his tongue.  Strong hands held his head rigid; he had nowhere
to go.  The abortive attempt to close his mouth got him another slap and a
growled, "You bite me and I'll jam a broom ALL the way up your ass,
fuckhead!  Now, suck!"

	So the ordeal began.  Initially, they held him rigid and fucked his
face, but soon the fight went out of him and they could nod his head over
their erections.  He was never certain how many there were, how many cocks
got jammed in his mouth, how many horrid blasts of semen he choked on.

	One reason was the distraction introduced during the second blowjob;
suddenly, a hard, oblong object was being forced aganst his asshole!  Peter
screamed and fought, bringing on a momentary hiatus while his tormentors
reorganized things...

	"Shit!  This thing's too big!  Wrong shape, too!"

	"Okay, so it's a bar of soap.  What do you expect?"

	"I gotta reshape the fucker, or I can't use it!  Chop it in half
lengthwise, maybe..."

	"What the fuck you gonna use to do that?"

	"Hey!  Gimme your pocket knife!"

	"What you gonna do with it?"

	"Don't worry..."  Various noises met Peter's ears, but he was
otherwise engaged.  Only later did he recognize the sounds of the knife
working a bar of soap.  "There!  That's better.  Got one for the other
queer-bait, too!"  Only then did Peter realize that he wasn't the only
victim -- that the thrashing noises and grunts across the room represented
another attack.

	But he didn't have much time to think about it; the wet bar of soap,
now trimmed down and rounded, was again being forced against his protesting
anus -- this time, successfully!  Peter grunted and thrashed, but the soap
was wet and slick and it got past his sphincter.  Peter forced it out, and
one of his assailants gleefully chased it across the floor, wet it, and re-
inserted it.  This happened three or four times before somebody grunted,
"Okay, he's slick enough," and Peter suddenly realized that he'd been
helping them!  Oh, God!  But it was too late -- the blunt head of a cock
began pressing where the soap had paved the way and Peter howled in agony as
it tore through, causing the soap to burn his rectum.  Peter forgot all
about the cock sliding in and out of his mouth -- the REAL horror was the
one now tearing into his ass!

	This went on for -- minutes?  Centuries?  Peter wasn't sure...
There was more than one visitor, though, at each of his portals.  But the
final humiliation was yet to come!

	"He likes it!  Jeezus!  Lookit that boner!"  Peter realized that
they were talking about HIM!  How could he be aroused by all this?  The
horror intensified.

	"Whoa!  Guess you ain't Little Peter after all, queer-bait!  Get
that other queer-bait over here to suck him off!"  Moments later, soft lips
wrapped themselves around his erection and Peter came, copiously, almost
immediately, his iron-hard member gouting into the anonymous mouth.  Peter's
shame and humiliation knew no bounds!

	Moments later, it was apparently over.  They rolled him onto the
floor and taped him to the other victim, leaving them there until apparently
the last of them was dressed and ready to leave, then cut part way through
their bindings and left.  By the time the pair broke loose, their assailants
were long gone, and they were left with their embarrassment, pain, and
humiliation.

	The remainder of Peter's senior year was one long wait for the
episode to repeat itself, punctuated by the nightmares.  Worst of all was
the fact that he'd enjoyed parts of it, physically!  Was he queer?  God!
The other victim, Germaine Brown, a slight black boy, DID become a
homosexual -- or maybe he just was, originally -- even to the point of
accosting Peter once for a re-match!  Peter actually threatened him with
violence -- something unheard-of in Peter -- and the boy left him alone.

	The only positive thing to come from the experience was the fact
that the taunts of 'Little Peter' went away -- but Peter wondered just how
many people knew why.  He couldn't face his schoolmates; the uncertainty
made his life a living Hell until he got out of high school.  In fact, he
was almost completely without a social life for his first two years of
college!  Finally, Jean had rescued him...

	Peter fixed himself a scotch.  Those memories always left him
stressed out -- and Jean was going to get a serious riding tonight while he
engaged in a bout of self-affirmation!  Peter grinned without humor;
recognizing what he was doing didn't keep it from happening...

                         --------------------

	"Hi, Mama."  Nate strode through the door, followed by Nora, Draper,
and Tenisha -- all of whom were working towels over their bodies.

	"Boy," Tabitha favored her offspring with a nod.  "How you doin'?"
She punctuated this with a glance around their surroundings.

	"Fine."  Nate's face closed.  "Takin' the day off.  Gotta work
tomorrow...  What 'bout you?"

	"I'm rediscoverin' sex!" Tabitha replied, with a glance at Paul.
Paul's expression said he'd suddenly rather be elsewhere.

	"Huh?" Draper grunted.  "I, uh, thought you, uh, knew quite a bit
'bout that..."

	"What I do for work ain't sex, Honey.  Least for me it ain't.
Mostly it's about lettin' somebody beat off in me."  Tabitha grunted.  "Last
night was the first time in a LOOONG time that I went lookin' fer mine --
an' I found it, jus' fine!  Sex is, well, between the ears, I guess.  You
gotta have some interest in what you're doin' an' who you're doin' it
with..."  Belatedly, she looked around at the girls present.  "Sorry, gals."

	Nora shrugged.  "I've learned that for Daddy, the 'regular' part of
sex isn't as important as what else is going on -- and I'm beginning to
think that might apply to Mom, too."

	"What might apply to me?" Sharon asked, re-entering the room.

	Tabitha moved in smoothly.  "She was jus' sayin' that you probly
understood that sex is between the ears more than between the legs better'n
most."

	"Oh."  Sharon examined this comment for negative content, but left
it when results turned out to be inconclusive.  "Okay."

	Armand's rumbling chuckle sounded behind her.  "Such wisdom..."  He
eyed Tabitha and nodded toward Nate.  "I'll give you a moment or two with
your son, then I'd appreciate it if you joined us in my study."

	"No problem," Tabitha replied.  "We ain't got that much ta say to
one another, anyways, bein' we're both doin' okay.  Right, Boy?"

	"Yeh."

	She stepped up and gave him a peck on the cheek and he offered a
hug.  When she stepped back, she took in Leticia, who had recovered her
bikini top, since everyone else had -- but was still sans bottoms and
sporting a tail.  "Well, THAT's interestin'!  You run 'round like that alla
time?"

	"Um, no," Leticia returned hesitantly.  With Armand in the room, she
didn't dare be unresponsive.

	"Le's see the back," Tabitha directed.  Freshly mortified, Leticia
granted her the view.  "Looks better on you than it would on me, I bet,"
Tabitha commented.  "So howcum?"

	"I insulted your son and his friends.  Mr. Wilson is punishing me
for it."

	"Uh... huh..."  Tabitha eyed Armand.  Yeah, the rumors were true.
This shit could still come down around her ears...  "Well, least it looks
good.  Could be worse."  Turning to Nate, she said, "I'll see y'all later."
Nate nodded, and she followed Sharon out of the room.  Paul brought up the
rear.

	"We probably oughta go," Tenisha announced.  Draper nodded.  Nora
got the pair organized, getting them back to their room to change and
ordering Draper's car brought around.

	On the way out, Draper pulled Nate aside.  "Hey, 'bout jobs, Man..."

	Nate nodded.  "I'll ask."

	"Cool."

                         --------------------

	The group that gathered in Armand's study consisted of Armand,
Jason, Sharon, Scott, Paul, and Tabitha, with Witherspoon on the phone.
Armand kicked things off as they settled in various couches and chairs, "How
is your health?"

	"I'm comin' up," Tabitha replied.  "Better'n expected, after that
run-in I had.  Thanks."

	"Unfortunately, Mr. Pinkham continues to be a slow learner," Armand
announced, resuming control of things.  "We're gathered here to discuss what
can be done about it."  Turning to Paul, he said, "Why don't you brief us on
this latest incident?"

	Paul nodded.  "We went out to get Tabitha some fresh air and to get
her seen in her old haunts -- largely to ascertain Rodday's reaction.  One
of his hired help detected us almost immediately, and set up an ambush in
the parking lot.  From what we got later, the intent was to penetrate
Tabitha's protection and give her a more visible and lasting reminder of who
was in charge -- a broken bone, perhaps.  We detected it, and our personnel
on the scene proved superior to theirs.  Rodday's people retired with a
couple of broken bones, instead of Tabitha."

	"I see," Armand murmured.  "Then what happened?"

	Paul looked distinctly uncomfortable.  "I took Tabitha to my
apartment."

	"Why?"

	" 'Cause I wheedled him inta it," Tabitha supplied.  "I needed ta
see if my money-maker was workin'.  Paul was a project -- he wasn't gonna
jus' fall in the sack wit' me, which made it more of a challenge, like."

	"Okay, I see your end, but was taking her to your apartment
sensible?  Was she covered?" Armand pressed.

	"Thoroughly," Scott replied, again deflecting Armand's attack.
"Rodday's people had no idea where Paul lives, and we had a full team on
site across the street, constantly.  The surveillance equipment at the safe
house was an issue with Tabitha; at Mr. Matheson's place, they had a bit
more privacy, but good coverage, including personal trackers."

	Armand nodded, but again shifted his attention to Paul.  "Okay, so,
it was safe.  Was it professional?"

      "Absolutely not," Paul replied, "but..."

      "I wasn't takin' 'no' fer an answer!" Tabitha insisted.

      "It's true!" Scott piped up.  "I was there for some of it!  You'd have
to be dead not to be interested..."

      "Okay, okay!"  Paul waved him off.  "It wasn't right.  And I knew
that, going in."

      "Goddam it!  I TOLD ya, he fought the whole thing!  I coulda had
Scott, here, probly on the first pass, but Paul argued, and hid out, and
ducked and dodged...  I didn't LET him say no!  I bet I could get YOU ta
fuck me quicker'n HE did!" Tabitha ranted.  Scott nodded solemnly.  Paul
just sat there, waiting.

      Armand sat there for a moment, watching Paul.  If he'd blustered,
Armand would have had him hammered; instead, since he was obviously awaiting
a reprimand, it was just as obvious that one was not required.  "All right.
Are you two at all romantically involved, at this point?  Or was it just
sex?"

      Paul's eyes shifted to Tabitha's.  To be fair, it was a bit early, a
couple of bouts in the sack notwithstanding; besides, Tabitha was a
professional...  If pressed, his answer was a clear 'no'.

      But it was Tabitha who answered, and surprised him with, "Yeah.  The
big lug makes my pussy itch.  I'm chasin' him."

      "All right," Armand replied blandly.  "In that case, Mr. Matheson is
going to be hampered somewhat in your protection.  Scott, you're in charge,
although Matheson continues to be the close-in coverage.  This is a decision
arrived at for professional reasons that I'm sure Mr. Matheson realizes;
I've been adequately convinced that he has been acting in good faith and no
stigma or reproach is implied.  Witherspoon, do you understand?"

      "Yes, Sir."

      "Let's move on, then."  Armand tented his fingers.  "To recap, we've
visited Rodday and discussed his tactics with him after the initial
incident, and we've reproached his minions on two occasions now, one of
which followed an attempt to abduct or injure Nate and Nora.  I'm thinking
that it is time the gloves came off."

	"Well, mebbe," Tabitha argued, "But I gotta live wit' him around
afterwards.  He's already pissed..."

	"And he'll just keep trying to get control of the situation until it
is impressed upon him that the losses that he will incur are unacceptable,"
Armand replied.  "Things have already escalated to the point that he has
lost face.  The problem that we have here is the amount of resources that it
will take to discourage him permanently.  If Rodday wishes to play the fool,
nothing short of his termination will dissuade him.  We need to try to find
something short of that that is adequately discouraging.  Failing that, we
need to find a way to defray the expense of your ongoing protection."

	"Huh." Tabitha grunted.  This could suck...  "I figgered Rodday for
smarter than the average pimp.  Not sure whether that's good or bad, now..."

	"It's both, I think," Armand replied.  "In the near term, he may be
convinced -- but he may bide his time, which could be a long-term problem."

	"So it'd be cheaper ta kill him," Tabitha summarized.

	"Well, yes, but it's not within my normal operating parameters.  I
try to keep things generally legal.  A little mayhem here and there is one
thing -- gang wars are another.  For one thing, I'd not engage in anything
like this with local assets -- better to bring in someone from the outside,
if it comes to that."

	"Armand, I don't like where this is headed," Sharon announced.

	"The intent is to keep it from going there," Armand replied
smoothly.  "Let's look at what we'd LIKE to do to punish him.  Tabitha?"

	"I'd LIKE to kick the bastard in the nuts -- HARD!  But it might be
better to jus' keep him from makin' money as the Pimp King..."

	Armand tapped tented fingers together.  "To do that, we have to
compete.  I'm not sure I want to start supporting streetwalkers, wholesale.
And once we got going, we'd have to protect the girls from Rodday --
something that would take considerable manpower on the street...  I want to
see you on your own two feet -- something you can't be if you have to pay
for bodyguards."

	"Um, so, I need a pimp..."  Tabitha cackled.

	"Sounds like 'Night Shift'," Sharon burst out.  Armand gave her a
quizzical glance.  "It's an old Henry Winkler movie.  Guy meets a hooker
whose pimp beats her up, and ends up taking her and several other girls on,
running an outcall service out of the city morgue.  He was giving them
401Ks, health insurance, better lawyers...  Naturally, there were problems
with the criminals, and it fell apart..."

	Tabitha looked thoughtful.  "Still, you gotta idea.  If we set up a
cathouse, everbody's in one place -- an' easier ta protect.  And everbody
can help pay for it..."

	Armand frowned.  "One static location makes you a target for the
police."

	"More'n usual?" Tabitha countered.  "Sniffin' out vice cops is part
o' the job...  'Sides, I know whose palm ta grease, if I got money ta do it
with, Honey."

	"Perhaps they could all rotate between safe houses," Witherspoon
suggested over the phone.

	"Big problem with hookin' is gettin' found by johns," Tabitha
grunted.  "An' if ya put yourself out so a john can find ya, so can a cop.
Ya can pay off cops, but the same ones who'll take your money are the ones
that wanta be in politics -- so they'll fry ya if it means a promotion or a
shot at bein' elected dogcatcher."

	"So you need to filter your clientele before they get an address,"
Armand mused.  "Even then, you're not safe from arrest."

	"Somebody wit' a good nose for trouble an' who knows the ropes could
keep shit to a minimum..." Tabitha mused.

	"Like you?" Armand pointed out.

	"I couldn't work, then."  Tabitha flashed a glance at Paul.  "Much,
anyway."

	"You'd just have a different job description," Armand replied.
"Madam, perhaps."

	Tabitha cackled.  "An old whore's dream!"

	"Well, during the initial phase, you'd probably have to pull in
traffic off the street, examine prospects, and forward them to the house,"
Armand replied.  "The only difference would be that you wouldn't be actually
doing the servicing.  The inside girls would have to support you."

	"Um, yeah.  But better girls, a better place -- that kinda shit
means ya can charge more.  I like the movin' around thing..."

	"My people know a few tricks for confusing people," Witherspoon
added.  "In urban areas, sometimes you can cut through a door into the next
building that clients would pass through without realizing it.  You can
close it off in times of trouble -- not to mention the fact that police with
a search warrant would have the wrong address..."

	"I like THAT!" Tabitha cackled.

	"Simple things can confuse things," Witherspoon continued.  "In
developments where every home is alike, you can change the house number, for
instance.  Many of these are two lots to the house, so that house numbers
jump by four, such as 1910 to 1914.  On working days, you change the house
number on a simple plaque to 1912..."

	"...Which don't exist!" Tabitha nodded.  "Shit, great idea!"

	"We do similar with safe houses on occasion."

	"One problem wit' a cathouse is neighbors," Tabitha mused.

	"Agreed," Witherspoon murmured.  "Sometimes it isn't enough to have
one house -- you need for the surrounding properties to be controlled by you
or people beholden to you."

	"Do you have anything available in the vicinity of existing safe
houses, where this is all taken care of?" Armand asked.

	"Mmmm, actually, I can think of at least three sites," Witherspoon
replied.  "We might have to expand our sphere of influence a bit, but having
three sides covered is better than having none...  If we, uh, got into bed
together, we might be able to set up mutual escape routes between our safe
houses and your, uh, businesses..."

	Tabitha chuckled.  "We might hafta barter 'til we got off the
ground..."  Scott looked thoughtful.

	"Mmmm, yes.  Undoubtedly, some of my people are already in your
customer base," Witherspoon replied.  "Private detection and security make
for a poor family lifestyle."

	"I hate to say it, but our old place meets the cookie-cutter
development criterion pretty exactly," Sharon chuckled.

	"It's also thoroughly covered from a surveillance point of view,"
Scott pointed out, then shut up abruptly.

	"Yeah, I know."  Sharon glared briefly at Armand.

	Armand ignored that component of her glance.  "You wouldn't have an
issue with turning your old place into a gathering place for hookers, then?"

	Sharon made a face.  "It wouldn't be my first choice -- but I can't
go back there."

	"Actually, the installed surveillance equipment could help secure
the safety of Ms. Adams' staff," Witherspoon pointed out.  "I believe that
whorehouses in Nevada have in-room surveillance to ensure the safety of the
employees and that customers are not fleeced in some manner."

	"Hmph.  Yeh, good idea -- on both ends!" Tabitha grunted.

	"Why don't you start there, then?" Armand suggested.  "Witherspoon,
any issues?"

	"No.  I've pretty much already agreed in principle," Witherspoon
chuckled.  "We'll need to ink some kind of agreement..."

	"That might be hard, since I cain't go downtown an' register a
hookin' business.  Too bad, though, that 401K thing'd be pretty neat.  Not
to mention health insurance.  Doctors rip you off if you ain't got
insurance."

	"Well, maybe not 'rip off', but they charge full rate, because you
can't bring the same pressure to bear an insurance company can," Armand
agreed.  "Still, I imagine that we might discover work-arounds.  Jason?"

	Jason nodded.  "We have some template plans for our employees who
remain unacknowledged in the official table of organization.  I'm sure some
of them are adaptable.  It might still be wise to register a corporate
entity for certain purposes, like home purchases."

	"Then there'd be taxes an' shit," Tabitha grunted, leery.  "If I got
income, no welfare..."

	"If you're successful, you won't need it," Armand assured her.

	"Lotta money, here..." Tabitha mused.  " 'Bout a ton if it goin'
out..."

	"If the business is even adequately run, the flow will turn around
rapidly," Armand assured her.  "I'll front you for 90 days for the physical
plant -- Witherspoon, three locations, including Sharon's old place -- and
we'll see where we are at that point."

	"If it sinks..." Tabitha ventured.

	"I'll own YOU!" Armand replied.

	"Fuck, you do, anyway..."

	"All right, let's discuss the mechanics of our visit to break the
news to Rodday..." Armand moved the conversation forward to the tactical
plan for their 'visit' to Rodday's club.

                         --------------------

	"So," Pete murmured, squatting on the end of a lounge chair and
drying his hair, "Think they're done?"

	"For a while, anyway," Bianca agreed.  Toweling her own hair was
leaving it a mess -- but she hated bathing caps...  Pete had helped her back
into her top after the group exited the pool, and he'd been a perfect
gentleman about it -- but she wished he hadn't.  Their excuse to be together
out here was gone, but neither was in any hurry to leave; the tone of Pete's
question had made THAT clear.  "Maybe we should hang out for a while, just
in case..."

	"Maybe.  Got a brush?  I'll help you with that."  Bianca's hair was
thick, luxuriant, and fell to her shoulder blades -- when not wadded and
kinked from chlorine and rough usage by a towel.  Pete's offer was an
interesting one, on more than one level.

	"In my room -- which is some distance from here."  Bianca started
combing through her hair with her fingers.

	"Well, I have fingers, too..." Pete stepped around behind her and
started working lower down, toward the tips, while Bianca pushed things down
and back from her face.  Pete tried to concentrate on hair, but a cleavage
shot was just over her shoulder, there -- and he was enough taller that it
wasn't work.  The things were like melons, round, fat...  The bikini top
pressed them back toward her chest, creating this odd tunnel where they were
pressed together over her breastbone.  Pete jerked his eyes away; he was
pulling another boner...

	"It's too wild," Bianca announced after a moment.  "I'll go dunk it
again..."  She slipped free and dove into the water.

	Pete stopped himself from following, contenting himself with the
observation, "Now you're wet again," when she surfaced.

	Bianca tilted her head back to allow her hair to float free again,
"Well, it was out of control.  It needs conditioner to keep it from tangling
-- especially if I'm going to work it over with a towel!  We'll just wrap it
when I come out this time..."  The effort, however, surfaced another issue
-- apparently, Pete had missed something when he'd helped Bianca back into
her bikini top!  Pete's eyes popped as Bianca's roll backward surfaced a
pair of taut brown nipples; apparently, the dive had stripped her top from
her breasts and left it floating around her waist.

	Bianca discovered the whole thing when she rose back up; a
combination of Pete's expression and the feel of loose fabric drifting
around under her breasts led her to look down at her exposed chest.  While
her first reaction was an effort at embarrassed cover-up, she was swimming
in deep water; the moment's reflection compensating for that gave her an
opportunity to remember that she WANTED Pete to see them!  "Oh, well," she
smiled into his eyes, "you've seen, them, anyway..."

	"Well, um, I'm sorry," Pete replied.  "I must've missed something,
buttoning you up..."

	"It's okay; I should have checked it.  Bring me a towel?"  Bianca
started swimming toward the ladder.

	"Uh, sure."  Pete took two.

      Bianca climbed out and completely ignored the displaced bikini top
while she tucked her hair in a towel -- granting Pete an eyeful of her orbs
hanging pendulous as she bent over -- then proceeded to remove it entirely.
"That's one less set of tan lines I have to worry about, " Bianca remarked.

      Why anyone would worry about tanning such honey-gold skin was beyond
Pete.  Pete had long since determined that he had a thing for Hispanic girls
-- and Bianca had it all!  Jet black hair -- the soft down on her arms was
black, too, and Pete had heard some of his contemporaries describe it as a
shortcoming, but he thought it was cute -- after all, it wasn't coarse, like
the hair on HIS arms...  Undoubtedly, at some point, Bianca's shape would
shift toward her mother's -- not that Pete considered THAT to be any too
objectionable in an older woman -- but right now, at this moment, Bianca was
undoubtedly at her peak -- and she was incredible!  Pete couldn't take his
eyes off her -- and that brought on other problems...

      Pete's swim trunks did an exceedingly poor job of covering his
erection, plastered as they were against his wet legs.  The thing was HUGE,
nearly erupting from the waistband of his trunks, and Bianca needed no other
indication that she had his attention.  In fact, she was so busy scoping it
out that she missed the fact that he was staring.  "Maybe I'll sunbathe a
bit," she mused, then inspiration struck:  "Maybe you could oil my back?"

      Pete's brain was screaming that he was over the line, but his brain
wasn't running things.  Bianca was bending over again, digging in her beach
bag for suntan oil, and Pete just couldn't look away!  When Bianca
straightened up and waved the bottle, locking eyes with him, he just took
it.  He was seriously busted in any case, since Bianca locked eyes with him.

      'This is fun!' flashed through Bianca's mind, accompanied by a serious
rush.  That she had Pete's attention was more than clear; how far could she
push this?  How far did she want to?  Pretty far -- the red tone to her skin
as she toweled off wasn't because of the towel!  Bianca was in full heat!
What could she get away with, reasonably?  Consequences were now
irrelevant...  Skinny-dipping had come up a number of times that morning,
and Leticia had been running around buck-naked -- with a tail, for God's
sake!  Maybe...  Bianca rearranged a lounger, making it flat so that she
could lie on it face down, then stepped out of her bikini bottoms, croaking,
"While I'm getting rid of tan lines..."  She couldn't face Pete --the look
on her face would give her away totally -- so she just stretched out on the
towel-covered lounger.

      This was 'WAY too much for Pete -- but he wasn't able to work up the
will power to back off -- not after watching that sweet, round ass pop out
of those bottoms!  Girls came easily to Pete, normally, and he'd seen quite
a few since his first conquest at age fourteen -- but this...  This whole
thing had a forbidden aura to it that brought on a full, teenage-level case
of rut!  That she wanted the attention was clear -- that it was insane was
irrelevant!  Pete mechanically poured a dollop of suntan oil on his palm and
went to work on Bianca's shoulders, bending low over the lounger.  When her
shoulders and neck were done, he picked up her limp left arm and went to
work on it, enjoying the feel of her skin.

      He was curiously detached; part of him was savoring every opportunity,
while the rest sat back and analyzed the whole thing without interfering.
The suntan oil thing was a total cliché; Bianca might as well have said,
"Grope me," and gotten it over with.  And therein lay the issue:  His little
head demanded a full vote, and he had Bianca's vote -- Hell, even the big
head had a hard time under those circumstances coming out with a 'nay'!  The
only downside was what others might think of the whole thing -- and that
might go really badly, or it might be a total non-issue!  Ultimately, it
seemed safest to play the silly game and pretend that he was innocently
applying oil...

      These ruminations got him through oiling both arms; now it was time to
work her back, which wouldn't go well from the side.  Gingerly, he straddled
the lounger and settled himself just below those pert, round cheeks...

      "You're dripping on me!" Bianca complained.  For Bianca, the cold
drips had been the first discordant note in several minutes' bliss, while
strong hands worked her arms, neck and shoulders.

      "I suppose you want me to take MY swimsuit off?" Pete popped off.
Bianca let out a strangled gasp.  Would he?

      Her gasp brought Pete up short.  No, that was DEFINITELY too much!  "I
don't think that would be a good idea," he mumbled distantly.  Bianca made
another noise -- but there was a distinct note of disappointment to it.

      'Damn!' Bianca thought.  If he'd done that, they'd have done it, for
sure!  It would have been so easy; all she'd have had to do would have been
raise her ass a bit...  Oh, well...

      Pete started working oil into Bianca's back, starting in the middle
and spreading it around to her sides.  Since she continued to allow him full
access, he took advantage of the fact to the point of working the outsides
of her breasts, something Bianca not only allowed, but raised her arms to
get more of!  He worked his way down to the small of her back and dawdled
while he tried to decide whether she REALLY wanted his hands on her ass...

      Bianca clarified things.  "There, too," she husked.  "That needs oil
more than anything else back there!"  Pete scooted back, and Bianca spread
her legs to let him settle between them.

      That left both of them breathless.  Would he take the invitation?
Bianca waited with bated breath.  Pete stopped dead while he took in the
view -- a bright pink opening framed by soft black curls.  After a moment,
he shook himself and began the thoroughly enjoyable task of applying oil to
her firm ass.  It didn't REALLY need the kneading that Pete gave it, but
Bianca was thrilled to death at the attention, so it didn't matter.

      Finally, Pete decided that any reasonable person would accuse him of
loitering, so he moved on, hopping up and working on Bianca's right leg,
starting at the foot and moving slowly upward, bracing himself on a knee
that continued to be wedged between Bianca's.  Bianca became more and more
excited as he worked his way up her thigh -- would he touch her, there?  The
tension was unbearable...

      He didn't.  Instead, Pete began working her left leg, with the same
attention to detail that he'd applied to her right.  Or, at least, his hands
were providing that attention -- his eyes were fixed on that pink
exclamation point of soft, wet flesh, the dot at the base of which was
Bianca's pea-sized erect clit!  It was... juicy -- in fact, as he watched, a
clear drop extended itself from the inside of her inner lips and dripped
slowly onto the towel beneath her.  It was... fascinating...  Pete extended
a forefinger at the top of a slow sweep up Bianca's left thigh to gently
touch a soft petal of the open flower.

      Bianca was so hot her insides were quaking.  She wanted Pete to do
something -- anything -- that would allow her to surrender to him!  Those
hands on her back, and sides, making her breasts tingle, then rubbing her
ass...  Heaven!  Now, after a respite that merely added to her tension, his
hands were working her thighs -- and the flesh of her inner thighs welcomed
the feel of those firm fingers as they got closer and closer...

      Pete's extended finger touched her left inner lip and Bianca let out a
gasp of lust.  Her whole pussy pulsed, the lips closing together for a
moment before springing back open -- but the effect on the mesmerized Pete
was totally unexpected!  Suddenly, his rock hard cock gave a mighty pulse,
and semen went everywhere!  A splash blasted across the back of Bianca's
sensitive left thigh, Pete's cock having actually pushed open the elastic
waistband of his trunks enough to fire it's payload into the open!

      Pete lurched up, shocked, took a swipe at the back of Bianca's thigh
to recover the evidence, and ran to jump into the pool in a panicked attempt
to avoid detection of the hideously embarrassing explosion of his cock in
his trunks!

      Bianca, just as surprised, surged up from the lounger.  What on Earth
got into Pete?  Everything was going so well...  "Pete!  What are you
doing?" she screeched, rolling over to expose herself frontally while she
challenged him.  "Why did you do that?"

      Pete, the cold water having returned some measure of sanity, whined,
"I'm TRYING to be GOOD!"

      Bianca sputtered, "But I don't WANT you to be good!  I want you to
be... GOOD!"

      "Bianca..."

      "NO!  Why do we have to pretend and play silly games?" Bianca stormed.
"I want you -- there, I've said it!  I want you to... do me!  Is that clear
enough?"

       Pete sighed and hauled himself out of the pool, surreptitiously
checking to ensure that he wasn't leaving white streaks anywhere.  "Yes,
Sweetie, it's VERY clear -- and I'd LOVE to do it -- but there are laws.
You're not old enough to give consent, legally, to me to have sex with you.
I could get arrested!"

      Bianca threw herself to her feet and stomped one of them.  "That's
silly!  In Mama's village, girls get MARRIED at my age!"

      "That's Mexico.  They have different laws.  Your Mama would NOT
approve of me having sex with you -- and she could have me thrown in jail as
a result!  It's just not a good idea!  Besides, I'm..."  Pete couldn't call
himself 'old'...  "A lot older than you."

      "So?  That's a GOOD thing!  Do you think I want anything from boys my
age?  They're all... idiots!  What do they know about what a woman wants?"
She snatched up her top and began putting it on, then flashed him a glance.
"What if Mama approves?  Is it still illegal?"

      "What?"  Pete gasped in shock.  "I, uh, I don't know, actually..."

      "I'll go ask her, then," Bianca announced, stepping into her panties.
"Come on."

      "B-but..." Pete started thrashing his way out of the pool.

      "But what?"  Bianca, hands on hips, was waiting by the door.  "Don't
tell me you don't want to..."

      "No, it's not that..."  Jeezus!  What was he saying, exactly?  Wasn't
he admitting to wanting to be some kind of child molester?  How old was she?
Sixteen?  "Well, she's gonna say no, and then life's gonna be pretty
embarrassing, for a while..."  '...at least...' he added in his head.

      "We'll see."  She was off, head high, stalking.  Pete got it in gear,
snatching a towel and trying to get some semblance of dry while basically
running after the charged-up teen.

      Having made up her mind to force a confrontation, Bianca lost no time,
racing from room to room in search of her mother.  Pete followed along
behind, wondering just how he was going to escape the ensuing bloodbath.
The look of resolution on Bianca's face told him that stopping her wasn't an
option, short of a gag and a length of rope; the best he could do would be
to be present and hopefully keep them both from paying too high a price for
this exercise in insanity.

      Mama wasn't in the kitchen.  "Have you seen Mama?" Bianca asked Velma.

      "No, Honey.  Mebbe she's wit' Mistah J?"  Velma caught the look on
Pete's face, "Whatchew doin' Hon..."  It was too late -- Bianca was gone.
Velma fixed an eye on Pete, "Yo' done sumpthin'?"

      "No -- well, maybe.  I gotta go..."  Pete ran to catch up to Bianca,
whose ass was jiggling and swaying enticingly to her determined stride.

      Jason's office.  Mister Jason was seated at his desk, but apparently
not doing a lot.  Bianca burst in, drawing a frown, but she was beyond
noticing.  "Have you seen Mama?  I need to talk to her.  Do you know where
she is?"

      "Well, yes," Jason replied, dropping his right hand into his lap,
apparently.  "Is this something I can help with?"  Pete was hanging there in
the doorway, and the look on his face said he wasn't prepared to enjoy
whatever encounter Bianca and her mother had.

      "Well, Mama's my parent, so I think she has to do this -- no
offense..."  Faced with her mother's scary boyfriend/master, Bianca began to
wind down.  "But you know legal stuff, and Mama won't, so maybe I should ask
you before I ask her -- if I want to be with Pete, is it okay if Mama gives
permission?"

      There was a choking sound and a struggle; Jason reluctantly released
the hand he'd used to hold Inez to her work vacuuming his erection when this
conversation started and Inez thrashed her way up from behind the desk.

	"What?!!"  Inez switched languages and started spitting Spanish at a
machinegun rate.

	Jason was unable to follow it, but he detected a couple of curses
and could guess the rest.  Nonetheless, Pete should obviously be party to
the conversation, and he obviously had no Spanish...  Besides, the whole
thing was impolite!  "Silence!" he roared, slapping Inez on the ass for
emphasis!

	"No!"  Inez whirled on him.  "This is a... parent... thing!  I
MUST--"

	"You MUST speak ENGLISH!" Jason roared.  "There are two people in
this room who are party to this conversation who cannot carry it on in
Spanish!  You will speak English, or you will say NOTHING!"  For emphasis,
he pounded her ass again, HARD!

	"Master, I... have not the words!" Inez complained.

	"Bianca does.  Translate that harangue for us, please," Jason turned
his attention to Bianca.

	"Mama asked why I insisted on acting like a common..." Bianca
trailed off.

	"Whore," Jason supplied.  "I got that part."

	"Uhn huh.  And why did I want to sleep with a gringo who was twice
my age, and did I not understand that only a slut does not go to her
marriage bed unsullied..." Bianca supplied.

	"Ummm.  Pretty tall talk for a woman in her situation, huh?" Jason
grunted.

	"Yes, Sir." Bianca gave her mother the fish eye.

	"I do not want her to make the mistakes that I did!" Inez burst out.

	"Gee, I wonder what YOUR first mistake was?" Jason replied
sarcastically.  "Maybe tying yourself to that fool Raoul?"  He nodded
apology to Bianca, "Sorry."  Turning back to Inez, he continued, "No doubt
you were a virgin to YOUR marriage bed -- how EXACTLY did that improve your
life?"

	"Ah..." Inez's eyes bulged.  Only temperament carried her forward.
"It kept all of the women in the village from calling me a puta!" she
rasped.

	Jason nodded, suddenly an arbiter, rather than a prosecutor.  "But
that was in your village.  You're not there, any more.  In fact, you are
unlikely to return.  Bianca is growing up in other circumstances.  For that
matter, YOUR circumstances have changed, too!  Perhaps you should adjust to
reality..."

	"The rules of my village..." Inez began hotly.

	"Do not play here," Jason cut her off.  "And you, of all people, are
fortunate that they do not!  Come here!  It appears that you need to be
reminded of your station!  What do you think that these two think you were
doing under my desk, slut?  Picking up staples?  Vacuuming the rug?"  He
snatched her wrist and dragged her before him, facing the others.  "Tell
them what you were doing!"

	Inez stood there with her mouth open.  Jason raised her skirt from
behind and walloped her ass again.  "Tell them!"

	"I... was... sucking..." Inez's features reddened deeply.

	"And that makes you not a slut -- how?" Jason challenged.

	"What?" Inez shook her head.  "I do not..."

	"He is asking you if this is different than what a slut does, Mama,"
Bianca supplied.

	"Oh."  Inez hung her head.  "No."

	"Good."  Jason was all business.  "Now that that is settled, back up
here and resume your duties."  Jason slid the chair he was sitting in back
further from his desk, then pulled the unresisting Inez to a position before
him.  For the next few moments, his activities were shielded by Inez's
voluminous skirts, but neither Bianca nor Pete had any illusions as to what
he was doing.  Inez settled onto his lap with that look that said she was
feeling more than seeing -- and she was.  She was feeling Jason's erection
penetrate her, right here in front of Bianca -- and, more embarrassing,
Pete!  "Move a bit, here," Jason growled.  "Keep me happy."  Inez started
slowly raising and lowering herself, blushing fiercely.  "Continue your
conversation," Jason waved magnanimously.

	Inez attempted to concentrate upon her daughter and the outrageous
request she was making.  "This is wrong, my flower -- you should wait until
you find a boy..."

	"But I don't WANT a boy!" Bianca burst out, "I want a MAN!  Boys --
what do THEY know?"

	"She HAS a point," Jason murmured.

	"Shhh, Master!"  Inez was so thoroughly distracted that she didn't
even realize what she said!  Jason let it go -- fine-tuning her conduct
could wait until she'd finished dealing with her offspring.  Gathering
herself, Inez continued, "This is love, then?"

	Bianca blinked.  "Ah, I don't know..."

	"And you?" Inez challenged Pete.  "Is it love for you?  Why are you
here?"

	"I, ah, think it's early to call it love," Pete temporized.  "It's a
mutual attraction.  But there are a lot of obstacles...  I wouldn't be here,
despite the attraction, if Bianca wasn't pressing the issue."

	"Yes," Inez's eyes were hooded.  "How old are you?"

	"I'm twenty-seven."

	"Almost twice her age!" Inez emphasized, then turned to Bianca.
"What do you know about love at fourteen?"

	"Fourteen!" Pete burst out.  He'd thought she was sixteen, anyway.
How could a girl with a figure so lush be fourteen?

	"Si," Inez smiled, knowing she'd made another point.

	"Mama, girls get married at fourteen in the old country!" Bianca
burst forth.  "What do THEY know of love?"

	"Nothing, usually," her mother supplied.  "We arrange marriages in
the old country, many times.  Love is expected to happen afterward."  She
smiled, bitterly.  "But we are not talking about marriage, here, are we?"

	Pete was just standing there, bewildered.  Things were moving 'WAY
too fast!  Bianca was the one to respond, "No, Mama.  This isn't about
marriage."

	"What is it about?" Inez asked.

	Jason took this moment to deliver another swat on Inez's ass.  "Keep
it moving!"

	Against this moment of distraction, Bianca replied, grinning, "It's
about sex, I guess."

	"Sex?  Just sex?" Inez asked.

	"Is it ever 'just sex'?" Jason asked rhetorically.  "Go ahead,
Bianca, explain."

	"Pete is hot, and I KNOW that he's a good lover!" Bianca erupted.
"I don't want my first time to be with some high school guy who's done it
about twice -- I want it to be good!"

	"Master, this is your fault!  Yours and Lord Armand's!" Inez berated
Jason over her shoulder.  "Making Bianca follow the puta around has ruined
her!"

	Jason grunted.  "I disagree.  This thing between you and Pete isn't
new, is it, Bianca?"

	"No, Sir," Bianca agreed.  "It's been growing for a while.  Neither
of us could make the whole leap, though.  There were some breakthroughs over
the last couple of weeks..."

	"See?" Inez pressed.

	Bianca undercut her, though, immediately, with, "The thing between
Mama and Papa and her coming out into the open with you, Mister Jason --
those were big..."

	Inez stopped in mid stroke, aghast, but Jason wasn't having any.  He
hauled her down onto him, then started directing her with his hands on her
hips.  "Pick it up!  I want YOU to remember what it is we're discussing
here, slut!  What do YOU think of sex?"

	Inez tried to gather her dignity.  "It is something I do for my..."

	"If you lie, I will beat you!" Jason warned.  Inez was going to get
a beating anyway, over this episode -- but she apparently didn't know that
yet.

	"Okay!  I like it!" Inez admitted.

	"The why do you seek to deny your daughter?" Jason pressed.

	"She's too young!" Inez wailed.  Faster motion, humiliation, and the
direction things were headed were taking their toll on her, spurring arousal
where she had been able to stave things off.

	"She doesn't think so," Jason murmured.

	"He's too old!" Inez whined.

	"In your village, they marry young girls off to old men all the
time, just because they are rich!" Bianca argued hotly.  "Pete is MUCH
younger than any of THEM!"

	"But this isn't marriage!" Inez argued.  "It's sex -- and that makes
you a puta!"

	"Marrying young girls to old men isn't sex?" Bianca argued.
"Actually, it's something worse!  In this country, they have a word for old
men who chase young girls -- pedophile!"

	"Is that what he is, then?" Inez wanted to know, waving at Pete.

	"By the letter of the law, maybe," Jason interjected.  "But he's
really too young, and Bianca is really too old -- especially between the
ears -- for it to be true.  From what I can see, this isn't a case of him
taking advantage of Bianca as much as it is Bianca wanting to take advantage
of their mutual attraction to get a fulfilling sexual experience.  Speaking
of which..."  Jason started lunging up into Inez from below.  Inez, forced
to react, began to lose the thread of things -- what was going on between
her legs was too distracting.  Bianca shut up, biding her time; she and Pete
watched while the sex act between her mother and Mister Jason became more
and more intense.  With the end of the conversational challenge, Inez's
attention went solely to her Master and his efforts -- and her own.  Bianca
had seen them have sex before, and Pete, well, Inez forgot about Pete
totally!  The waves of pleasure began to rise in her and she began to put
more and more effort into pleasing her Master -- and, by extension, herself.

	Bianca waited until her mother was obviously close to orgasm, her
gaze turned blankly inward and her movements manic, before challenging her
again:  "If sex is so terrible, why do you enjoy it so much?"

	"It isn't..." Inez gasped out.

      "Then why do you go to such great lengths to deny it to me?" Bianca
railed.

	The challenge was perfectly timed; even if Inez WANTED to stop to
argue with her daughter, she couldn't -- experience told her that her master
was approaching his completion even as she approached hers!  "Go!" she
gasped, waving, "Do what you must!"  Jason began swatting her on the ass,
and she sensed the rising of the tidal wave before her.

	Bianca turned, pleased with herself, and collected Pete's hand --
but Pete only let her haul him out of sight before he planted himself and
brought them both to a stop.  "This isn't the time," he announced.

	"It isn't?" Bianca blinked, surprised.

	"No.  Think about it; do you have the feelings you had when we
started out?  Is the urge REALLY still there?"

	"Ummm, I guess not," Bianca admitted.  The argument with her mother
had bled away their animal desire, replacing it with fear and aggression.

	"Let's wait," Pete counseled.  "Doing it now, just to be able to say
we did, defeats the purpose of what we were trying to do.  You don't want to
remember that the first time you did it mostly to spite your mother."  In
the background, an unearthly moan of completion poured into the hallway from
Jason's office.  "Besides, we might have to talk to her again when she's
not... indisposed..."

	"Oh, all right!"  Bianca didn't REALLY want to run the risk of her
mother changing her mind, but Pete was right.  Besides, Mama caved once --
she'd cave again.  "When do you want to...?"

	"Umm, let's not rush it," Pete murmured.  "It'll happen when we're
ready."  The reality was that Pete was doing serious soul-searching since
discovering that Bianca was so young.  While he knew that it would be unwise
to let on, his ardor had cooled quite a bit.  "We can go swimming again
tomorrow, or whatever."

	"Okay, I'll see you then."  Bianca reluctantly let him go.  There
was still some question in her mind whether the golden opportunity had been
allowed to slip away or not -- but that had really happened in Mister
Jason's office, not out here in the hallway.  Sighing, she headed back
toward her rooms.