Keywords: M/F anal, oral, lite BDSM
Author: W R Jenkins
Title: Sam 11: Amy the Sneak

  Disclaimer:(standard) Do not screw up. Do not do anything illegal.
 This includes specifically (but not limited to) reading on if you are 
under 18- 21 in some localities  If you are underage you must leave 
now. If you're young and curious, this is not the place to get the 
straight story. You act like this and people will look at you strange 
and give you a wide berth. Also, don't try this at home. Some of this 
stuff is just plain wrong, most of it is unsafe in the present viral 
climate and some of it doesn't work in this universe. They are stories. 
They deal with ideas, fantasies and thoughts that might not even be 
pleasant in real life. Thoughts are like that. Fantasies are there so
we can toy with the sensations without feeling or inflicting the pain, 
despair or humiliation. End Sermon.

	Sam 11: Amy the Sneak - (Sam11.txt) - A decalogue is enough for 
the same old idiom. And haven't you noticed? Sam has attracted some
high power attention (finally). It's time for a bit of a change. No
more noble warrior struggling in the pits. Now Sam's a fish out of
water. M/F, oral, anal, lite BDSM



				Amy the Sneak

	For once Sam knew he was right and Staci was wrong- dead wrong,
not to be trusted. They did not need an atrium. The gilt rococo molding
was cheap yellow paint, even if they were charging like it was real
gold.
	Staci was just a bit too bright-eyed as they looked for office
space. He admitted to himself that he might be a little unrealistic
about the rents in this part of town, but he knew they did not need
the palace of Versailles.
	Pool privileges, parking garages, they were frills that they
didn't need. A parking garage at the old office would make sense, but
vandalism wasn't a big problem in the pricey part of town.
	Staci loved the out-thrust belly of bay windows in one place,
but Sam didn't see the point. They wouldn't even see their clients
most of the time. They were looking for an address Carlyle, Simpson &
Dillon could list without shame.
	The next place was a huge old barn. Sam tried to see it with
furniture, but he wasn't good with abstraction. It did have a central
room with two doors leading in to other offices. Straight on was
another barn- big enough for square dancing- with paneled walls.
	The other door led to a hall with two offices and a small
bathroom. The large bathroom was off the paneled room. It had a vanity
the size of a commercial restroom and a small shower. It even had
closets.
	Sam winced when he heard the lease terms, but he should have 
been used to them by now. It wasn't that bad. The building was older
but still respectable, and it was as simple a place as they had seen.
	Staci had the place laid out already. Sam signed the lease.
	-----
	He had begun the maudlin moping about the move a month ago. He
was in practiced form as he wandered around the old office. Mrs.
Teagarden sat there and lied through her fat face. Mrs. Magpie made
an ugly offer over there.
	The cot he had discovered Staci and Gumby on was already packed 
away. And the darkroom... He was the lap-dog of ambulance chasers now.
He'd probably never see a crime scene again.
	"You know, if the light cords weren't 80 years old, you could
probably hang yourself over your desk," Staci told him. "It must be
horrible to leave this land of petty criminals and hand-to-mouth
existence for the doom of a retainer and some real money."
	She was touchy because she brought Sam the deal. She was being
a woman about it because Sam had been less than eager from the start.
	"But famous isn't good," he protested. "How can you tail someone 
when everyone recognizes you?"
	She pointed out that he was famous, like it or not. She shamed
him along, step at a time, until he agreed to talk to the lawyers. She
held back the suspicion that his fame was behind the job offer.
	He came back from the interview smoking. Without a word of 
warning, he grabbed Staci by the hair and yanked her out of her chair.
He was as rough as he'd ever been taking her. He had his pants down
and her butt bare before her tits had stopped swinging with the impact
of hitting the floor.
	She was unprepared and unexcited when he shoved his cock in her
and it hurt. He had rammed his cock into her before he started spanking
her.
	"Smart-mouth, superior, little cocksucker!" he growled as he
slapped her ass in time with his diatribe. "Patronizing, fuck-faced,
wimp-ass, fucker!"
	Staci's bit of relief was that Sam was not yelling at her. She 
did warm to the abuse, but too late for it to be good for her. She was
just beginning to jerk expectantly with the crack of his hand when he
jammed forward hard enough to unbalance her and came. She was still 
panting as Sam pulled away after taking revenge on the interviewer.
	"I'd say sorry, but you sent me to see that asshole," Sam said
a bit breathlessly when he had finished zipping up his pants.
	The man, Brice Milter, was 'eagerly awaiting a respectable
address' to send Sam's 'stipends'. He had, on his own authority, opened
a huge ledger and issued Sam a check for 'more suitable attire'.
	Staci pictured Sam gripping the arms of his chair and glowering
at the attorney behind his desk. It had to be high comedy, but Staci
knew better than to smile. Sam's pride had been hurt. She knew her ass
stung with a faint echo of that pain. She should be grateful that he 
waited to take it out on her and didn't punch Milter in the face.
	-----
	It eased Sam's sticker shock to find that the slate-gray wool
suit Staci settled on came with three shirts and a half dozen ties,
along with the second pair of pants. It still shot his wardrobe advance
from CS&D all to hell. He had about enough left to buy a hanky to put 
in the suit coat pocket.
	It was a moment of triumph to see the scowl on the salesman's
face turn to surprise when they gave him the new office address as the
delivery address. Sam knew Penney's was the competition, but he didn't
see why they had to treat him like dirt because he preferred nice
clothes at a decent price to ostentatious 'look at this tag' overpriced
crap.
	The office furniture was another headache. Yes, they needed
chairs. The old straight-backed wooden ones he had were classics, but
they wouldn't sell in the new place. But desks and crap?
	Staci was maddeningly logical. Sam hated when she did that. She
pointed out that they would need a staff since CS&D were counting on 
him to take multiple cases at once. Staff needed desks.
	And the barn that they had decided on for his office needed
bookcases. There was less logic for that, but Staci insisted. Sam did
have some books that weren't paperback and contain two dirty novels in
one. Staci had her author's honorarium of her first six books.
	Three bookcases, three desks, Staci decreed. That was hard enough
to swallow, but the desk she picked for Sam's was a nightmare.
	"How can I beat off under this?" Sam asked about the glass-topped
monstrosity she chose.
	"With your left hand- the same way you always do," Staci said. 
"Now you have a private office."
	Sam had a private office before. A private office, bedroom,
shower, kitchen and living room all in one. He still liked the idea
of being behind opaque desks.
	"But then I have to wear pants," Sam protested.
	He was being silly now.
	"You'll see," Staci stopped sparring with him. "If you hate it
that much after a couple of weeks, we'll exchange it."
	Even when she said it, Sam knew it was a lie.
	-----
	Sam's suit had been left at security. They picked it up on their
way to the empty office. Sam was going to have a look around.
	It was better in the creeping twilight. The dying light made
slanting shadows around the windows and gave the place a film-noir air.
The first office down the hall was bigger than the second. A part of
the other one was taken up by the wall of the bathroom next door.
	The bathroom also took a chunk out of the far corner of the entry
room, giving it six walls instead of four. Sam's door was in the far
wall, fully paneled, unlike the half glass doors in the rest of the
office. He would have that much privacy.
	Sam hung his suit in the closet in the 'executive' bathroom. It
was big enough for his entire wardrobe, past and present. That was
what it was for. There was a smaller cupboard for linens (which
Staci explained, meant towels) next to the closet.
	Sam examined the shower and then called to Staci. She left her
virtual furniture arranging to come see.
	"I want to see if we'll fit," Sam said.
	"Come on," he urged a recalcitrant Staci, "This might be a fun
place."
	Sam had become a bit too- 'reliable' in the past weeks. In his
funk over the changes, he had lapsed into unimaginative straight sex
when he was interested at all. Staci didn't feel like cramming into the 
tiny stall, but she hoped it would spark something in Sam.
	It certainly was comfy. They fit- barely, with Sam pressing
against Staci's chest in the tight confines. There was hardly room to
move.
	"Let's see how it works," Sam said, trying to undo buttons that
were pressed into his chest.
	"No, Sam, now isn't the time for play," Staci said, hoping Sam
would overrule her.
	It didn't seem like it could be comfortable to fuck in such a
confined space, but Staci was eager for any spark of novelty. To her
disappointment, Sam yielded at her first rebuff.
	"Then let's, damn, how do you work this thing?" Sam asked as he
struggled with the catch on the door.
	Staci's heart jumped a little. It was just like Sam to play this
like some accident. They were trapped. They'd have to fuck. They'd
have to be naked and sweaty to escape for some reason.
	Her spirits and her body were quickly quenched of that hope. In
his struggles, Sam apparently hit the faucet and they were both quickly
drenched in cold water.
	"Well, I got it now," Sam said after they were sopping.
	"At least I've got something to change into," Sam said happily.
	"What about me?" Staci howled. "What am I going to do?"
	"I guess I could ask the super to turn up the heat so you'll be
warm," Sam said as he stripped out of his wet clothes.
	Staci was having second thoughts. Maybe Sam wasn't made for this
life. He was bread and butter, not croissants and yogurt. Maybe she
was pushing him too hard.
	"You'll be warmer naked than in those wet clothes," Sam pointed
out as he lay out some towels for her.
	That was true. But what then? It would take hours for her dress
to dry. Maybe Sam could go home and bring her back something to wear.
	She was jealous as she stood there naked while Sam dressed. All
the same, she had to admit that he cleaned up good. She was re-thinking
how Sam might fit into this job as he pulled on the suit coat.
	-----
	The problem was the shoes. Sam didn't have socks either, but they
would have been ruined in the wet, dye-bleeding shoes. He sloshed
across the lobby, hoping not to draw attention to the black-tinged
puddles he was leaving.
	He crept back into the office with his package. Staci would be
expecting him to take half an hour. He was going to see what she was
doing.
	She was sitting on the toilet (top down), with her chin on her
fists, sighing. It wasn't much to look at, so Sam didn't dawdle. He
swept into the room and pulled open the closet.
	He started taking off the suit.
	"What are you doing?" Staci said.
	"I though it would be romantic if we just sat here naked waiting
for your dress to dry," Sam said.
	This did not fall in the category of imaginative sex. This fell
in the category of really stupid. Sam let her get revved up to tell him
so and then gave her the package.
	"What's this?" she asked.
	"Open it," Sam said.
	Sam had done some shopping on his own. Normally that was a
disaster, but somehow he had got it right. It wasn't the most beautiful
dress in the world, but it meant as much to Staci. She was better in
shades of yellow and green and this was blue, but it was beautiful.
	"Sam..." Staci started and burst into tears.
	She didn't put the dress on right away. They made love on the
bathroom floor on damp towels. For once, it was just what Staci wanted
For once, plain old regular sex felt just right. For once loving Sam
and having him inside her was better than kicks.
	-----
	"We have our first staff," Staci announced as she bounced into
the old office.
	Sam was giving the moving men unwanted final instructions to be
careful with his desk. It was coming to the last hurrah for the old
place.
	"I thought I was doing the hiring," Sam said.
	"You hire the detectives," Staci said. "I just hired a
receptionist."
	It was old news that they were going to need another 'girl'.
Staci was his own personal, private secretary. She didn't need a herd
of detectives drooling over her.
	Really, Staci was going to be too busy helping Sam run the place.
And she had books to write. Eventually there should be a butt in 
every chair and there were five chairs. They could use someone to 
answer the phone and direct visitors.
	"It isn't Darla, is it?" Sam had a feeling.
	Staci laughed at that guess.
	"It would be nice to work with a 'friend', but we can't pay Darla
enough to get her out of the whorehouse," Staci said. "But you do know
this girl."
	It hadn't been a hiring so much as an act of mercy- and guilt.
	The new status came with perks. For one, Staci was now a paid-up
client of the spa. Unfortunately for everyone involved, so was Betty
Muffins. Betty was not amused to see Staci's all too generous
proportions bouncing around the halls. She tried to pull rank.
	Muffins evoked her status, her husband's status and Staci's low-
life parentage. Staci didn't back down. She didn't have to do much
beyond thrusting out her imposing chest to bring things to a crisis.
They were separated short of fisticuffs, but in the row poor little Amy
took the wrong side.
	Humiliated by the scene, Betty wanted some revenge and Amy was
the victim. Staci felt sorry for her and had to do something. She
offered her a job.
	They could even, Staci found out, afford to offer her a couple of
bucks more a week. As if she needed that to bask in the glow of her
greatest hero. That was the thing that worried Staci. She didn't know
how Sam would react to having her following him around every day.
	"You know, she'll be perfect," Sam said with an unbiased
appraisal, "You did good."
	The receptionist set the tone. She was the face the public saw.
Staci stuffed her dresses with her own charm and no one, man or woman,
could get past those huge knockers to form any sort of opinion. Staci
was a stunner- like a sledgehammer.
	Amy was a different case. She was perfect in a more traditional
sense. She had a smile that gave off light and had her picture in the
dictionary as the definition of 'perky'. Besides, Sam thought she was
cute in every sense, particularly her devotion to him.
	"You sure she won't wear on you?" Staci asked.
	"Not Amy," Sam said. "I mean, she might, but I'd have to forgive
her. She's just so darn cute!"
	Staci scowled at him.
	"Come on, babe," Sam razzed her, "It's the old story. Poppa steps
up in the world and he trades in the old model on a younger, faster
one. You can't fight it."
	As if that was the reason for the scowl. Staci had cringed at Sam
being so kissy-face over Amy. He was acting like an old fool.
	"Why fight it?" Staci asked. "The old model ends up in the
capable hands of a younger driver that appreciates comfort and not
speed."
	They descended into sparring. Amy was hired and they both were
satisfied. They were beginning to move forward. Even Sam was getting
beyond the mourning period for his past.
	-----
	The desk sucked. That was all there was to it. Staci could put
a planner on it to conceal his legs, but it was still some faggy
mistake by some faggy designer. It had curves instead of corners for
Christ's sake!
	All in all, that was the worst thing. Staci had taken his old
desk and refused to trade. You opened the door and saw the boss, not
the secretary, she said. Her (his) desk was off to the side.
	Amy had Staci's old desk and the other new ones (very nice
plain blond wood desks) were in the offices down the hall. It was a
professional looking set-up. But the other desks were still empty.
Sam had yet to hire another investigator.
	"Look, I'll fill in if you can't find anyone," Staci threatened.
	Sam knew it was the deepest desire of her heart to be an
'operative', but he also knew she was only saying it to get him off his
ass and hire someone. But this was a big step.
	He knew he wasn't going to find perfect for an entry position.
He wasn't big enough to attract established investigators and he 
couldn't pay enough. He had to guess which one of the greenhorns had it
in him. And he had to find one he could stand to work with.
	He liked the Latino kid, Juan something. He was working with a 
skip tracer and seemed to have some skills, but he had a felony 
conviction in his past. It would be a trick to get that past the 
lawyers.
	An old deputy sheriff was just that- old. Sam figured he'd die
in two months and make him do this all over again. There were snotty
youths that came on like they knew it all and reminded him of Gumby.
There were guys hoping to change careers. There was a lot of chaff.
	Already behind on getting statements in a divorce case, Sam
was thinking about sending Staci to take the exam. Then 'he' walked
in.
	He was licensed. He was an ex-deputy. He was a smart-ass, but
he might do. His name was Stan Harrow and Sam said he'd call him.
	First he called Sheriff Medina. The sheriff called to a deputy
and then hmmm-ed a few times.
	"Don't remember him rightly, was only here for a few months, but
there's nothing in his file," Medina said. "He wasn't a fuck-up."
	Sam needed the help. He hadn't found any reason not to hire
Harrow. He called and offered the job. Now there were four.
	-----
	"I thought attorneys took the depositions," Harrow said.
	"They do," Sam answered, a bit put off being questioned, "But we
take statements. So they have a guide to what questions to ask when
they depose the witness."
	Sam was italicizing the technical terms in his pique. This
fresh-faced cheek wasn't the only problem with Stan. He was a ladies'
man and trying to simultaneously seduce Amy and Staci.
	It wasn't so much the effort, though watching that was irritating
too, as it was the energy he spent on these fruitless attempts. At
least they were fruitless with Staci. Staci didn't like his manner.
Sam was slightly amused to hear her responses. She sounded like she
was neutral, but Sam knew all the private jokes in her refusals.
	With Amy it was more of a question. He was far too aggressive
with her, but she didn't despise him like Staci did. Sam hoped she
had more sense, but it wasn't his place to interfere.
	-----
	They had resolved that issue before Harrow was hired. Sam had
invited Amy in to sit on his lap at his new desk.
	"You don't mind this, do you, Amy?" Sam asked with real concern.
	"No, of course not... Mind what?" Amy asked.
	"I mean, the boss can't make people sit on his lap," Sam said,
"It isn't right."
	He was confusing her.
	"When can I sit on your lap then?" Amy asked.
	"You can sit on my lap. You don't have to," Sam said. 
	"Oh I know that," Amy said. "You're so nice. I don't think you're
trying to take advantage of me. You can't anyway."
	Amy snuggled close and whispered in his ear, "I've got this huge
crush on you and you can do anything you want to me."
	Then she sat up.
	"But I know Staci is your girl and I don't want to intrude on
that," she said. "I'm not a homewrecker."
	Miraculously, that made sense to Sam. 
	"Then you are perfect," Sam said and hugged her against him.
"You know, I've got a crush on you, too."
	"Hmm?" Amy inquired with a suspicious look.
	"You remember the first time we kissed?" Sam asked.
	"Ye-ah!" Amy articulated. "I remember everything else too."
	"Well, it was all great, but the kiss- I'd never been kissed like
that before," Sam said. "Not Staci, not no one. I felt it all over. It
was like you loved me."
	"Ye-ah," Amy said. "You're the greatest and I was so happy to
be with you."
	"Well, I don't get that much," Sam said. "Hard to believe, huh?
But you made me wish I was maybe another person and I had my life to
do over and maybe you or someone just like you loved me like that
a long time ago."
	"That is so deep," Amy said. "Like we could be boyfriend and
girlfriend, only you'd be my age."
	"I guess so," Sam said, unsure what she was getting from his
babble. "Anyway, I do have a crush on you."
	He decided not to kiss her lest it cloud his thinking.
	"And I think it should be the same for both of us," Sam went on.
"I'll be here for you, but go find that guy I wish I was and I won't
be a homewrecker either. The important thing is that you're as happy as
I am with people like you and Staci to... umm, have crushes on me."
	"You can say it, Mr. Hill," Amy said. "I love you. I just didn't
want it to seem needy or something."
	He kissed her then, only it wasn't the same. It was good. She was
a great kisser. But Sam felt- old.
	"So, you want me to fuck you up the butt?" Sam asked suddenly.
	"Well, if you don't mind..." Amy stared at her legs, "I don't
think I like that much. Because you're so big... and..."
	She slowly brought her eyes up and saw he was smiling, or rather,
grinning.
	"Lord knows I am," Sam agreed. "And I'm sure Staci will make an
appropriate testament to your dedication to your task in spite of 
overwhelming dimensions. I'll make sure it's the longest ending ever."
	Amy giggled. 
	"It was a pretty wide 'ending' too from where I was," she laughed.
	She was just so damn cute!
	-----
	"They want to see you," Staci informed Sam.
	There was only one 'they' in this new world- Cock Sucker and
Dick- Sam's pet name for Carlyle, Simpson & Dillon. He was their dog.
And now it sounded like he was being called on the carpet.
	"What? We caught up with their damn cases," Sam said irritably,
"What's wrong now?"
	"Amy took the message, I don't know," Staci said. "You go."
	He didn't have to talk to Milter. A slightly bemused woman in
huge-framed glasses directed Sam to see Avery Gordon. He was a-
*partner*, although not big enough to have his name on the door.
	"Well, this seems in order," Gordon said obtusely as Sam came in
the door.
	He wasn't talking to anyone or looking over papers. He was
looking at Sam. Sam had been admitted by his secretary or aide or
whatever. Sam had no idea what he was talking about.
	"I see a small lag in your cases is corrected. I am given to
understand that you have increased the staff. Sit, Mr. Hill, this is
not a chastisement," Gordon said. "You seem to have gotten on rather
better than we expected, in fact. There were those that thought you
would share the short comings of our last investigators."
	Sam hadn't heard a question. He remained silent.
	"All right, then," Gordon pushed onward. "We asked you to come in
because this is a matter of some delicacy we thought would better be
delivered in person than in a courier package."
	Gordon had a funny way of talking even for a lawyer, particularly
for a lawyer. He spoke plain and still didn't make sense.
	"I'll do my best to handle it delicately, then," Sam said.
	"The case itself isn't delicate," Gordon contradicted himself,
"But our suspicions are."
	Sam figured the pause was to let that weighty information sink
in. Sam was still waiting for the information.
	"We represent J. Fargo Willingham Thurmer, III," Gordon said,
needing a breath after that mouthful. "It seems his uncle, George
Lucas Willingham Thurmer, no numeral, passed away, testate, and the
bequests were somewhat suspicious. Our Mr. Thurmer is contesting the
will, asserting that certain assurances were made within days of his
uncle's passing that are not seen in the will offered by Mr. Joseph
Sallings, Esq."
	"And it's a lot of money," Sam tried to shorten the speech. "I
imagine the delicate part is calling this Sallings a liar."
	"Blunt, but accurate," Gordon said. "While we feel quite safe in
impugning Mr. Sallings on past history, we feel such accusation without
proof will make our case appear weak. It is a lot of money and we 
don't want to lose... If, indeed there is any discrepancy."
	The last sounded like covering his ass. Sam figured it was a 
reflex. He couldn't imagine being so paranoid. Like Sam gave a shit.
He worked for them. As long as he didn't have to rob and kill, the rest
was on them. At least as long as he didn't have to kill anyone decent.
	"I'll get some background on the interested parties?" Sam asked.
	"Oh certainly," Gordon brightened. "Francine has a dossier with
all the pertinent points. You can pick it up on your way out."
	"And you need answers by when?" Sam asked.
	"Yesterday," Gordon was shocking lucid on that. "We are in trial.
That is to say, with continuances- which Mr. Sallings seems eager to
grant- the final gavel will fall somewhere in the next two to six 
months."
	That was some gap. Gordon still seemed anxious to know as soon
as possible.
	"Put it on the front burner, Mr. Hill," Gordon said and Sam 
thought he detected a quiver of pride at that figure of speech. "Prefer
it to other matters we send you. Find out what you can as soon as you 
can. We will still need time to work your findings into our strategy."
	-----
	He wasn't the greasiest lawyer Sam had ever met. On that scale
Gordon was a great guy. Sam did feel a bit better about working for
the firm. They were certainly efficient.
	That filtered right down to the be-spectacled Francine who had
the dossier sitting on the edge of her desk. She smiled pleasantly as
Sam picked up the folder. Her smile got a bit warmer as Sam paused to
look her over. There was a babe behind the windows. She was happy 
about that, but not so flattered by his attention that he felt any
reciprocation. She had lawyers. What did she need with detectives?  
	The dossier he got had everything. He had a list of Sallings' 
suspicious dealings, though that didn't apply to his investigation. He
also had the claims of client Thurmer and the probated will of dead
Thurmer. Everything was in there.
	"You want to read some fascinating fiction?" Sam asked and
dropped the folder on Staci's desk.
	"What's this?" Staci asked and nudged the folder with her pencil.
	"The reason I got to go see our bosses," Sam said. "Important
project. And I think this is the big one. They're done testing to see
if I can handle things without tripping over my dick."
	"They say that?" Staci asked.
	"How the hell do I know?" Sam asked. "It wasn't like they talk
English. It's what I gathered. Now read the will and tell me what you
think."
	An hour later Staci was still reading. Rather, she was reading
again, trying to unravel the legalese. Sam looked over her shoulder.
She was making pencil marks- diagramming sentences to make sense of
them.	
	"The best one was paragraph 24," she said finally. "It's one
sentence with the noun four words in and the verb phrase 300 words 
later at the end. It's like it exploded in the middle."
	"Thanks for the English lesson. What did you think?" Sam asked.
	"You kidding? You need me to tell you? It's so obvious I thought
you were amusing me with exquisite torture perpetrated on the language
by the goofball that wrote this," Staci said.
	"And...?" Sam insisted.
	"Sallings is a crook," she said flatly. "The estate goes to 
Adventure Forward! which he conveniently controls as administrator and
has the onerous task to do good for deserving people."
	"Which he is left to select and award at his discretion," Sam
finished for her. "Why is this a hard case for them to win?"
	"Because it's legal to be stupid," Staci said. "And if the 
document is genuine, there's no reason the dead guy can't leave 
hundreds of millions for his lawyer to fritter away."
	"And lawyers want to be careful who they call liars before 
everyone finds out they all are," Sam added.
	"I wouldn't say that to Carlyle, Simpson & Dillon," Staci
advised.
	-----
	Now Sam had to work his findings into a strategy. And he had to
do it quickly. Something else Gordon had said bore on this. Sallings 
was happy to delay the proceedings. To Sam's mind it meant he was
hiding money away where it would never be found- outcome of the trial
be damned.
	He sent Harrow to put a bug up Sallings's ass. He told him to 
ask about drawing up the will, but keep slipping in questions about 
this Adventure Forward! and its rules.
	He went to see client Thurmer.
	"Ashecroft said you might stop by," J. Fargo Willingham Thurmer,
III greeted Sam in the biggest room Sam had ever seen.
	Client Thurmer wasn't doing too badly himself. There was room
for a tennis court on what was effectively a deck for a huge pool that
only occupied about a third of the room. Naked women were frisking
about, but Sam took his cue from Thurmer and pretended that was normal.
	"I need to know about your relationship with your uncle," Sam
started.
	Thurmer drew a breath to start and Sam interrupted him.
	"Short answers. I don't like to write," Sam said. "Your
relationship, what you thought was in the will and when you found out
it was different."
	"I was the favorite nephew, the only nephew," Thurmer said. 
"George L. had his differences with my father, but he liked me. I
thought the estate was being distributed to myself and my cousins along
with a catalogue of worthy causes..."
	"Cousins? You said you were the only nephew," Sam said.
	"And six nieces," Thurmer said smoothly. "Very good. You are 
paying attention."
	"I didn't mean it to sound like an accusation," Sam said. "I
just need to have it straight."
	"No offense taken," Thurmer said. "And I meant I was glad you're
paying attention. No one else seems to be listening to me."
	"And you found out about the contents of the alleged will when?"
Sam asked.
	"When it went to probate," Thurmer said. "I talked to George L.
only three days before he... passed on and he didn't mention any
intention to change his will."
	Sam flipped his notebook closed and looked at Thurmer. He wasn't
sure what to say, but he found the words waiting.
	"As far as I'm concerned this is as transparent as air," Sam
said, "But I'm just an average guy and not schooled in smoke and
mirrors like attorneys. I don't know what I can do, but I'm giving 
my best shot."
	"I'm being a rude host," Thurmer said. "Would you like to come 
in for a dip in the pool? I've got a closet fill of suits if you're
shy. I'm sure someone will take an interest in a famous detective."
	It was a hard invitation to turn down. Mostly because he felt
it was genuine. Off-hand maybe, but not some crust thrown to the 
hired help. But he had work to do. Liking the guy made that even more
important.
	-----
	Sam heard a discordant note at the office. Harrow was back from
his interview and had a different take.
	"The old man was tired of the sleaze-ball son and he wanted to 
see how he got on working for a living," Harrow said.
	"It's a nephew," Sam corrected.
	"Whatever." Harrow launched back into Sallings's side of the 
story. "The old man trusted Sallings. That's why there aren't many
rules. He was dying. It was hard enough to get down what he got 
down, but he knows what Mr. Thurmer intended."
	Sam was studying Harrow. This was a load of bull flop. It didn't
even rate bullshit. He was trying to see if Harrow was simply
repeating Sallings's story or if he was advocating it.
	"What about this Adventure Forward!?" Sam asked.
	"He can't get to- can't take control of the money until the
will is settled," Harrow said. "He hasn't explored it yet."
	Maybe Harrow was young and foolish. In any case, he had done the
job. Sallings knew someone was watching and after talking to Harrow he
might think they were so stupid that he'd slip up. It's an ill wind
(or an ex-wife) that blows nobody good.
	-----
	Now Sam needed more help. The whole 'can't get to' slip in 
Harrow's story relit his supicions about Sallings. He called Cock Sucker
and Dick. He asked for Gordon and then whomever (whomever?) was handling
the Thurmer matter. With some relief of his own paranoia, he was talking
to Francine a few moments later.
	"Can you guys, I mean I don't know court procedure, but I think
this Sallings guy is trying to play with dead Thurmer's money. If you
can stop it, I think that would be good," Sam finished lamely.
	"Dead Thurmer?" Francine asked. "And how do you refer to our
client?"
	"Client Thurmer," Sam said.
	Francine had a light, musical laugh.
	"Client Thurmer and dead Thurmer, that is quite refreshing," she
said. "I will pass along your concerns, but I'm sure all that can be
is being done. This is quite a good firm and we do have brilliant
attorneys."
	His conscience was clear. He warned them. And he'd amused a
secretary. His day was complete.
	-----
	He felt stupider about his next call with less reason. Yes, they
had appealed to a handwriting expert. He agreed that Thumer's signature
appeared to be made with a slow, careful hand, consistent with forgery,
but also agreed that fit with him being deathly ill. Since the will was
signed in the presence of witnesses, it didn't have much weight. No, 
they had done no further testing. Yes, it was possible to submit the 
will to a lab for testing.
	Sam didn't know what to ask the lab to look for, but he thought
it was a defeatist attitude not to try. He was glad he did it.
	Lab guys were like real people. Sam could talk to them in English
and they understood. The guy looking at the will encouraged Sam to 
watch as he examined the paper. Two heads were better than one, he
said. Sam understood that kind of talk.
	"Well, look at that," the tech said suddenly.
	That was impossible. The tech had his eyes at the eyepieces
of some fancy microscope and all Sam could see was the back of his
head.
	"I'm afraid you'll have to tell me," Sam said. "I left my 
microscopic vision glasses at the office."
	"Either you've got a man with two names, or the same one 
signed two signatures," He said.
	BINGO! We have a winner. It was too easy. Sam was inclined to
doubt.
	"Are you sure? I mean, how can you tell?" Sam asked. "Will it
stand up in court?"
	"That's what you're here for," the man looked up and gave
Sam a sour look, "That's why you chose us."
	Sam chose them because they had a similar relationship with
CS&D as he did. But he didn't mean to piss the guy off. If it was true,
it was great.
	"I'm just shocked it was that easy," Sam said, "No offense, I
didn't know how good you guys were."
	It seemed to calm the tech.
	"Now what are you talking about?" Sam asked.
	"Microgrooves," the man said. "There is an unbroken line from 
this signature- he pointed to Thurmer's- and this one- he indicated
Sallings'. The two signatures are in effect a closed loop or a
single entity."
	Sam got it. They fancy stuff didn't count. The pen never left 
the page from the dead guys signature to Sallings's. One of them
did both. Sam didn't see how fancy lawyer talk could get around that.
	Simple as toast. Big money, less work. Sam was riding high on
this one. Easy, done and bad guy bagged. It was better than drugs.
	-----
	Even the best was tinged with disappointment. Staci had been out
all morning and she hadn't even thought of him.
	Sam was sulking.
	"For Christ's sake, Sam, have some of mine," Staci grimaced
as she watched him pout.
	"No- no, you got that for yourself... and didn't think of me,"
Sam was playing it for more than it was worth.
	"But won't it be romantic to share?" Staci waved the styrofoam
cup under his nose, "Our two mouths, together, drinking from the same
cup?"
	"Go ahead- try to make it up to me, but you forgot," Sam said.
	Staci moved the coffee away and leaned over to kiss him. Okay,
he was making a big deal out of nothing, but look what it was getting
him- a hard-on.
	"Now look what you made me do," Sam pouted, but there was no
force to it.
	"Then mommy will fix," Staci said.
	It was new. It went with the offices. And there was not a damn
thing wrong with it.
	Staci had made a slight shift from victim to submissive very
nicely. Sam found it nice that she was self-activating without him 
having to work up a rage now. He had always liked the way she sucked
cock.
	Sam still felt pressure to ride her hard and force her to submit,
Staci hadn't given up that part, but now she was likely to reciprocate.
Like going to her knees and sucking his cock when the opportunity-
and a hard-on- presented itself.
	"Mr. Hill- Oh! I..." Amy stumbled as she walked in the office and
saw them.
	To her credit, she didn't turn and run. She just stopped talking
and stared.
	"It's all right, Amy," Sam said. "I know you can't see anything
through a desk, so I'm going to carry on normally."
	Sam felt teeth graze his cock at his volley in the continued
war against the glass monstrosity. Amy tore her eyes away and looked at
him.
	"A Mrs. Periwinkle is on the phone for you," she said.
	Then Amy acted normally and left. She was cute. She was the
perfect addition to their little family.
	"Mrs. Periwinkle?" Sam answered the phone.
	Staci was doing her best to disrupt him. She was sucking hard and
made Sam groan. Mrs. Periwinkle wondered what the matter was.
	"My personal secretary is giving me a personal blow-job," Sam
told her bluntly.
	Staci stood up when Mrs. Periwinkle had rung off- saying she 
would call later. She grabbed Sam by the lapels and pulled.
	"If you can't be serious, I'll give you serious," she said.
	-----
	It was good to have rules. Otherwise the vanity would be a
wasteland of bottles and jars of beauty and hair-care products. With
rules it was an empty space just right for Staci's big butt.
	Staci put her butt in the empty space and opened her legs. Sam
wasn't a big fan of his own face, but he did find it interesting to
see everything from both sides at once. And he wasn't looking at
himself. He was noticing how much tit you could see from the back
when he made Staci bounce on the sink.
	It was a small part of a whole that included hearing Staci's
mewing moans and feeling the wet welcome between her legs, but it was
a new part and an interesting part. It was just as new to be fucked on
a sink for Staci.
	Spontaneity was a more common thing with Staci contributing. It
did owe allegiance to their changes in attitude, but Staci thought a
good part of it was they were in the same room. Neither of them could
resist riding the other and they didn't have (or want) any other mode
of resolving the razzing.
	They were teasing each other into fucking with enough regularity
to make Staci gladder of the move. Sometimes she didn't mind vanilla so
much. And she considered rushing into the john to screw vanilla with
sprinkles.
	Sam was glad she forgot his coffee. The compensation was worth
it. He was beginning to think that it wasn't such a bad life.	
	-----
	Sam's life was hanging by a thread. There was no place for him to
fall. He couldn't go back now. Who'd want to hire a proven fuck-up?
He'd only been a probably fuck-up before.
	From the highest high to the lowest low, Sam had dropped from the
sky into the pit. The will had disappeared. An official court document
was missing. And it was in his link of the chain of control when it
dropped out of sight.
	CS&D had been very happy (as far as Sam could tell) when he
cracked the case. He was thinking he would be better able to interpret
their wrath when he told them the will was missing.
	He looked around again. It was pointless. He knew where he put
it. He had to move his revolver to lay it flat in the drawer. He
remembered touching the gun.
	The gun was there. The will was gone. It had disappeared. It was
over. It was all over.
	One day removed from his triumph he had met his doom. He felt
like strangling someone- God perhaps. And how exactly did he tell CS&D
it was gone? A memo was not something Sam was comfortable with and it
felt cowardly. He might as well watch them turn colors as they ripped
his life to shreds.
	"What's the matter? Lose something?" Staci asked as she walked
in.
	Sam hadn't wanted to strangle Staci, but if this was her idea of
a joke, she deserved it. She could humiliate him all she wanted but 
this was different. This was important.
	"Ha-ha, great joke," Sam was breathing fire, "Now give it back
before I do strangle you."
	It was extremely irritating for her to tease him and then plead
ignorance, but that was the look she gave him at his reply. She was
upset that he was mad at her.
	"What have you lost now?" she asked.
	"Don't play games," Sam snapped. "What did you do with the will?"
	Her eyes got round.
	"The will?" she asked, the horror evident on her face as she 
processed the same dread Sam had been feeling. "Who could have taken
it? Sam this is serious."
	Taken. Yes, that was obvious now Staci pointed it out. Sam had
been in such a state over its loss that he hadn't considered that. Of
course it was taken. He hadn't been waving it about, carting it around
like a trophy. He had put it away- carefully. 
	"Only if we were planning on having a future," Sam said.
	"No, I mean we don't know who took it," Staci said and started
again, "I mean, in the old days, we'd know someone broke in and stole
it, but now..."
	She let it hang. Sam was back to speed. He got her meaning. Now
there were other people in the office. But Amy? Harrow? Why would they
sabotage their job? What would they want with the will?
	Only a million reasons, Sam realized. Sallings was on the verge 
of hi-jacking vast wealth. What would he pay someone to keep that 
dream alive? Sam admitted it could be a temptation.
	And it didn't rule out an outsider. It just made more suspects
now. In a way, an in-house thief would be easier to trace, but Sam 
didn't want to find out he'd been nursing an adder in his bosom.
	He looked at his desk like a crime scene. Of course, there was
something, right there. He hadn't had coffee at his desk for the last
two days. There was a circle where someone set a cup down. It didn't
help identify the thief, but it was a trace one had been there.
	"So what can we do now?" Sam asked Staci.
	"You tell the big boys?" she asked.
	"I was on my way when you came in," Sam said.
	"Stall," Staci advised. "If our thief isn't stupid enough to 
turn the will over to Stallings, then we might create some trouble in
paradise. Honor among thieves and all that."
	"But they have to tell the court it's missing," Sam said.
	"Yes, they do. That's why you can't tell them," Staci said.
"They are not obligated to disclose something they don't know. We're
screwed in any case if we don't work this out. Take the heat. Stall
until we can think of some way out of this."
	-----
	Sam was having more trouble with the thought Amy or Harrow was
involved. It wasn't widely published that he had taken the will for
testing. He had been pretty happy about cracking the case, so both
Amy and Harrow knew that, but the location of the will was limited to
a very few.
	Sam even ran Staci through the process for symmetry. She was
going to take the millions and finally live the life she wanted and Sam
could never give her. Nah. Staci was too stupid. She loved him.
	She was smart enough to arrange it without him knowing, but she
had demonstrated her contempt of wealth and love of Sam when she split
royalties he didn't know about and didn't deserve with him. It didn't
fit and Sam knew that.
	Amy or Harrow were different. He didn't know them. Just because
Amy was weak-kneed for the combination of real man and fictional hero
she saw as Sam didn't mean awesome wealth couldn't distract her. And
Harrow? Harrow was just the type.
	He had the same problem CS&D were having. Figuring it out wasn't
enough. There had to be proof.
	Sam called up client Thurmer and made another visit.
	"Can we be more specific about the list of charities?" Sam asked.
	This time the naked girls were harder to ignore. One of them was
sitting on Thurmer's naked lap. Sam was in his shorts and hat. An
overeager bunny had splashed pool water and it had gotten on his suit.
Thurmer insisted that 'his man' 'press it off' before it stained. Sam
had bowed to his superior knowledge of the fabrics in the world he was
trespassing in for the moment.
	Sam didn't have any specific direction. He was hoping something
Thurmer said would give him an idea. He knew Stallings was a crook
with certainty, and he needed some other way to show that.
	"I'm seeing a pattern here," Sam said as Thurmer listed some of
the bequests. "There seems to be a concentration in one area."
	"George L.'s home away from home," Thurmer said. "Kind of like
Tiberius in Capri. He felt free to express himself there."
	The historical reference was over Sam's head. He'd run it by
Staci. But it gave him a place to look. He was glad to have his hat.
A water fight broke out in the pool and he stuffed his pad under his
hat to protect it.
	"Now girls, Mr. Hill is trying to take notes," Thurmer scolded
them.
	The girls noticed Sam, as if for the first time, and got out
to apologize. They were perfect and couldn't be told apart without
looking at their faces. Sam was stuck staring at the parity between
four matched breasts and two close-cropped wisps of pubic hair that
seemed to be cut with the same template.
	The one with auburn hair had nipples that were slightly more 
toward orange than the blonde. Other than that, size, curve, even
shape and size of their areola were exact copies. It seemed to hold,
more or less for all the cuties romping by the pool. 
	Sam was still taking this in when he noticed the girls wanted to
apologize physically. One of them was stroking his face. The other was
feeling around in his shorts.
	"Now girls, it's okay, no harm done," Sam said, pulling away.
	They seemed puzzled but not offended as he got up and backed
away.
	"I'm going to see how my suit is coming and then I've got work
to do," Sam told Thurmer.
	"Drop in when you can play," Thurmer invited. "The girls like
you."
	It wasn't creepy or anything, but Sam felt that way. It didn't 
have the right rhythm, the right feel. Now he was mad at himself for
running out on the chance. The girls were hot. There was just something
spooky about the way they all looked so much alike.
	He stopped the back and forth with himself as he turned out of
the long, winding driveway. He had to focus on the case now. There was
more hanging over his head than turning down pussy.
	He was on a fast-moving clock. He had to get something to show
CS&D when the shit hit the fan. And that could happen at any minute.
He had to drive and think. He had to do both as fast as he could.
	Free to express himself? Sam realized he'd been too busy puzzling
about the Tiberius thing to ask for an address after he'd been on the
road a while. What kind of address was that? Sam wasn't going to turn
around to ask Thurmer. He decided to pretend he was a detective and
find out for himself. It would make a convenient entry into his
questions.
	-----
	It turned out any address was a good address. George L. was 
well-known and if not much loved then certainly much in demand. He
had lots of houses in the area. George L. came for fun and he didn't
want to get bored, the man told Sam with a mysterious wink.
	After a while, even Sam figured out the wink.
	The door of the first house was opened by a caramel-hued beauty
with waist-length black hair. Her name was Roberta.
	Yes, it had been George L.'s house, but he was dead. And that was
a shame because she loved him. No, she'd never heard of anyone named
Sallings. No one named Sallings had been poking around getting
assessments or looking up the property.
	Roberta looked all friendly and warm except for her eyes. Her 
smile covered her face except for eyes that were coldly regarding Sam
as he asked his questions. There was a tough broad inside the fluffy
exterior.
	The second house was occupied by a fugitive from Wisconsin. She
was pale, blonde and blue-eyed. Her name was Donna.
	Yes, it had been George L.'s house, but he was dead now. She
would really miss him because he was a sweetie. No, she hadn't seen
anyone assessing the place or heard of anyone named Sallings hanging
around. As far as she knew, George L. used Brian Cummins for legal 
things around here.
	When the third good-looking woman answered the door of the third
house, Sam got the idea. George L. never got bored because he had a
whole bevy squirreled away, each in a separate house. Maybe client
Thurmer didn't fall so far from the tree.
	This one- Diana- gave him the same yes and no as the others. Then
she asked why Sam wanted to know.
	That was a tough question. The estate wasn't really his business.
He was trying to find something and he didn't know what it was. He 
wanted Sallings but he didn't know how to connect him and what good it
would do if he could.
	"I'm fishing," Sam admitted and gave her the short version of
Sallings trying to steal George L.'s fortune.
	She got pale. Sam would have thought she lost the bogus will from
the expression on her face.
	"Goddamn lawyers!" she swore. "You can count on them fucking 
everything up!"
	Her anger carried over into the physical. With a scowl she 
stepped back and slammed the door in Sam's face.
	Sam went to the local diner to have a piece of pie and some
coffee. It didn't make sense to run in circles. He was going to try and
figure out what he hoped to find.
	Now he knew Sallings hadn't been snooping around here. That got
him nothing. If Sallings was snooping around it wouldn't amount to
much. There had to be some other way... But Sam was damned if he 
could think of it.
	Mostly he could worry. That damn will was gone. At least he was
far enough away that he couldn't keep searching wildly for it. He 
wasn't going to pull open a drawer and rescue his career. He had to
give up that hope. He had to find some other way.
	A mind churning madly with no facts to feed it is an ugly thing.
Fears, laughing faces, Annabella, Milter, Sallings, all spun through 
Sam's mind as he tried to concentrate on the nothing he had. It was
only making him too nervous.
	"You want more coffee or are you jumpy enough already?" the
waitress jarred him from the pointless gloom.
	"It's not the coffee. I got things on my mind," Sam said as he
pushed the cup toward her.
	"Well, I think you need a break," she said. "You were growling
a minute ago."
	She was cute. Five, six, seven years ago she was a button-nosed,
gum-cracking teenager. The nose had gotten thicker but it still tilted
up and now she could chew her gum with the same open-mouthed gusto 
without making noise. Sam guessed her chest had filled out a bit as
well. 
	Sam recognized her pose and attitude. She wasn't making polite
conversation. She had that look in her eye.
	"You get off soon?" Sam asked.
	She wanted him to ask. He could tell. He wasn't sure what else
she wanted, but it had to be as productive as trying to think. And
if he got lucky, maybe it would clear his head so there'd be room for
an idea.
	"Soon as I put this coffeepot down," she smiled at him.
	"You want to take a break with me?" Sam asked.
	"You want to go somewhere and get some coffee?" she laughed.
	Sam wasn't sure what he got himself into. Logically, she'd say
something about a back rub and take him to her place and fuck his
socks off. But nothing was going logically. She'd probably want him to
help her carry her groceries.
	"So, what do you want to do?" she asked first.
	"Normally, I'd tell you, but nothing has been normal today," Sam
said. "You tell me."
	"I was hoping to borrow some of that excess energy you have," she
said. "Preferably in the horizontal. Your place if you have one, mine
if you don't."
	Sam hadn't had any and already his mind was working better. If
there was something to uncover, he was there. There were certainly
things about George L. to find out here. He would need a place.
	-----
	"Get your mind out of the gutter," Sam told Staci. "Just because
I call you from a motel room doesn't mean the waitress from the diner
is swinging her shoe from her toe impatiently waiting for me to fuck
her ears off."
	"Are you going to fuck my ears off?" Alice, the waitress, asked.
	"Maybe just raise 'em a little bit," Sam said.
	"And what did she say when you told her that?" Alice wanted to
know. 
	"That I was losing my touch if you weren't here," Sam said. "She
was concerned I was experiencing erectile dysfunction."
	"You screw her too, don't you," Alice said. "So why doesn't she
care if you run around on her?"
	Sam laughed. He had been working on that one for years. He had 
finally accepted it as true on a preponderance of evidence. He still
didn't know why.
	"She says that's who I am," Sam said. "She says she loves me the
way I am."
	"Well, I'm not going to defend her honor if she won't," Alice 
declared. "If she doesn't care, I don't either."
	Sam assumed her conscience was clear since she had heard him 
admit what he was doing. For the rest, he was like Alice. If she didn't
care, he didn't either.
	It felt strange to watch Alice skin out of her uniform. Sam
realized he had become not only Mr. Homebody, but Mr. Domesticated as
well. It had been a long time since he had fucked anyone but Staci.
It had been longer since he had been alone in a room with a woman,
not Staci, and getting naked for something more than a quick fuck.
	Then he was whipping off his clothes with a vengeance. It was
about fucking time. That was a part of his old life that he didn't 
want to let go. Maybe he hadn't been among his people. Maybe the hot-
shots he dealt with now were throwing him.
	Maybe he should stop thinking about it and do something to Alice.
She was everything he'd thought- turned-up nose cheerleader type with 
a coltish length to her- with one addition. Her chest had more than 
filled out, it had been pumped full. Her breasts stood out too far and
were too round.
	It wasn't bothering his cock. It was a nice effect. She was 
skinny except for the enhanced rack. It gave Sam something to focus on.
	"Are you just going to drool or are you going to give me some of
that nice cock?" Alice asked.
	Sam didn't know how sensitive she was about the boob job. He 
didn't make a retort. Maybe she thought men didn't notice.
	"I thought drooling was foreplay," Sam said. "What do you want?
Am I supposed to touch you or something?"
	It was a rhetorical question. Sam got on the bed and Alice took
care of the touching. She wanted to touch his 'nice cock' and put
it between her legs and rub her pussy all over it. Sam contented
himself with the too firm mounds of tit.
	It had been a long time, but it wasn't like it had changed. Sam
felt a question wiggling in his brain. Alice sure seemed eager to make
him happy. She didn't come on like a pleaser, but she was acting like
that now. Sam suspected her motives.
	Fortunately he had a great excuse. He had to make her think it
was working to find out what she was after. He rolled on top of her
when she opened her legs and put his cock in the pussy that had been
greasing his cock.
	"Damn, it feels nice too," Alice said with a bit of a grunt.
	Sam fucked her. She fucked back. She knew how to move her narrow
ass to keep a man interested.	She was working hard to keep him going.
	She put her hands on Sam's chest and looked up at him.
	"You want to try this from the back?" she asked.
	It was showy, too staged. Sam wondered if they were taping it
for blackmail. Good luck finding someone who cares, he thought as he
let Alice up to get on her hands and knees.
	"This is my favorite position," Alice said over her shoulder
looking back at Sam. "Don't be afraid to give it to me good."
	Sam wondered how he could give it to her bad as he slid his cock
into her again. He had been mistaken on first glance. Perhaps her
boobs had skewed his judgment, but her hips weren't that slim. They
were skinny, but Sam wouldn't confuse them with a boy's. It was a butt 
he could do damage to and he intended to try.
	"There you go!" Alice commended him as he drove into her hard,
"I like it when I can feel there's a man back there."
	For all the difference, this was the same. Sam knew how to drive
his cock into a cunt. He had long practice slamming hard and fast into
a woman's rear. He gave Alice the benefit of that.
	He gave Alice too much benefit of that. He could feel her flinch
away from the spanking slap of his belly after a while. She didn't seem
to like it for that long.
	"Damn, you're good at that," Alice said. "A forceful guy like
you probably likes other stuff too, huh?"
	She wanted to change. Sam was convinced this was for show now.
She was trying too many things for it to be just for the sex. Alice
confirmed all his suspicions.
	"Would you like to grease up my asshole and fuck me there?" she
asked, intent dripping from her voice. "I bet you like that, don't you?"
	Oh yes, he was going to enjoy it. It would make being played
worth it. He was pretty sure this was not an honest offer. He didn't
think it was Alice's favorite thing. He was pretty sure she was making
a bad bargain, trading the moment of respite from his hard fucking for
getting fucked in the ass after the brief pause.
	It could only be about one thing. Given something to work on,
Sam's mind was grinding out the leads. There was only one thing in
this town that applied to him. Alice was mixed up with George L. in
some way. Sam was going to get fucked AND put closer to some 
information.
	He stuck a finger up Alice's ass first.
	"Most girls don't like this. Why do you?" he asked.
	"I told you. I like it hard," Alice said through gritted teeth.
	And I like a nice, solid kick in the balls, Sam thought. Still,
it felt like she knew how to relax her sphincter. She'd had a cock
in her ass before. He still didn't think she liked it.
	"Here you go," Sam said and pushed his cock against her anus.
	Her butt came up to help like it was trained. Sam pushed the head
of his cock into her ass and paused. Staci liked it over with, damn the
pain. Sam wanted to feel each inch go in. If Alice was hoping to get
something from, him, she'd take it how he gave it to her.
	"Your cock is so big in my ass!" Alice announced. "I love your
cock in my ass!"
	Sam wondered if her secret included where she learned to say
those things while she got ass-fucked. She was repeating the part about
his cock being in her ass with a rote repetition. It was cute. Sam
could feel where his cock was. It felt like it was in her ass. It felt
good in her ass.
	With Alice's anatomical geography comments as a soundtrack, Sam
pushed in until he pushed against her skinny butt. If she was ever good
at it, she was out of practice. Her asshole wasn't getting used to his 
cock cramming it open. It tried, but kept failing. It was a quiver that
made Sam moan. 
	It was worth more than being played. It was the best ass he'd
fucked since Amy's and without the guilt for causing pain. He pulled
back and fucked. Alice let out a long "unnnhhhh" as his cock jammed
back into her.
	She wanted something pretty bad to put up with this, Sam though
as he jammed his cock in her asshole. He'd help her with that, as long
as she wasn't working with Sallings. It made him feel better about
Alice's grunts. It freed him to slam into her ass like he wanted.
	"Well, you sure aren't shy, Mr..." Alice said ruefully.
	"Hill," Sam said. "And you said you liked it. I could tell you 
didn't, but who am I to figure out the mysteries of women?"
	"Sam Hill?" Alice asked. "The detective?"
	Sam nodded. He was on the good side here. He didn't think anyone
would side with a lawyer. People here seemed to like George L. and Sam
was defending his post-mortem honor.
	"Why would you help a lawyer take things away from poor people?"
Alice accused Sam.
	"Where did you hear that?" Sam asked.
	Ah, yes, the penetrating Hill interrogation. It seemed that way 
in the way Alice gave him a panicked look. It was an unguarded 
utterance. Alice hadn't thought what she might be revealing. She 
thought she was the interrogator. She was trying to make Sam defend
himself.
	"They've got it all twisted up," Sam went on when it was evident
Alice wasn't going to answer. "I'm not here helping anyone take things
away."
	Sam remembered the slammed door. That was the only one he had
told anything about his mission. Never one to underestimate the speed
of gossip, Sam reached the conclusion Alice had heard it from her.
	That one, Diana, Sam thought, must have added him to the list of
evildoers.
	"Diana didn't bother to find out what I meant," Sam took a stab.
"She slammed the door in my face."
	He could see from Alice's expression that he had hit the target.
Her face showed a mix of fear and wonder. Sam guessed it wasn't all bad
to have a reputation.
	"She said the lawyers were going to take everything back," Alice
said.
	"That doesn't mean the local guy- Kumquat or whatever," Sam said.
"And I'm here to stop the other guy. Do you want to tell me what this
all means?"
	Alice thought for a moment.
	"I guess I'm the best one," she said. "You can't take away what
George L. gave me."
	Sam didn't see her look, but there had to be some indicator. For
some reason, he knew what George L. gave her. The realization popped
into his head an instant before it came out his mouth.
	"You mean the boob job?" he asked.
	Alice wasn't awed. Sam's guess only seemed to confirm an opinion
she was forming that Sam was clairvoyant. She might as well tell him.
He was able to find out things as if by magic.
	"George L. was a great guy," Alice said. "It's a shame somebody
has to try to undo all the good he did."
	Sam was ready to put down the scepter of omniscience. Alice 
sounded like a fountain of knowledge ready to spill. He had his own
neck to save here.
	"So far this is all in code," Sam said. "Are you going to put it
in English for me? What do you think people are trying to take away?"
	"Everything George L. gave us," Alice was obstinate in her
opacity.
	That was her opinion of Sam's abilities working against him. But
if she assumed he knew everything, at least she gave him a direction to
go to make it true.
	"The sad thing is he knew it would happen," Alice said. "He did 
everything he could to stop it. He had Mr. Cummins filing all sorts of
paperwork all the time."
	Even a lawyer would be better at explaining than Alice. Sam knew
where his next stop would be.
	"Where's Cummins' office?" Sam asked.
	Alice directed Sam to an office next to the golf shop in the
strip mall. Jokes about strip mall lawyers aside, Sam felt that this
was one time an attorney for the downtrodden, read not so successful,
would be just the man to see.
	"You going to stick around?" Sam asked Alice. "I'll bring back
food."
	Alice gave him a sour look.
	"You said you liked it," Sam reminded her. "If you tell me you 
like something else, we can do that instead."
	-----
	Brian Cummins, Esq. was a kid Gumby's age. Sam's first impression
was that his secretary was there to baby sit. Sam tried to keep his
doubts out of the conversation.
	At first Cummins professed a practiced ignorance. He wasn't sure
what Sam wanted. He didn't think he could help. Certainly a private
detective understood confidentiality issues.
	Sam appealed to his sense of community. He told Cummins that the
women thought he was trying to take back what George L. gave them. That
had the desired affect. Obviously hotties had quite a bit of pull.
	"That's just ludicrous," Cummins said. "That just can't happen.
They own the homes outright now."
	It gave Sam an opening to pry into Cummins' business.
	Cummins had a re-reading of his confidentiality issues. Mostly
it was no longer in effect because George L. was dead. Certainly
the ownership issues were settled.
	There were five houses. George L. had purchased them and been
listed as property owner for taxation and legal purposes, but the 
deeds had a right of survivorship. Each occupant was now the proud 
owner and tax payer for her own house. There was a codicil covering
all George L. gifts, even Alice's boobs. Even without the will, the
houses went to the women the day George L. died. They weren't part
of his estate.
	Sam got the gist. None of the houses were mansions, but five of
them added up to more than pocket change. George L. might pull out
a wad and peel off enough for Alice's boob job or to help her with the
mortgage on the diner and her trailer, but the houses were something
else.
	You'd think there'd be some mention of them in the new will.
Not that Sam needed convincing, but it was a clincher as far as he was
concerned. He hoped CS&D would feel the same way.
	With happy news to bring, Sam got better answers from the girls.
In gratitude, he suggested that each of them visit Cummins to see
about any paperwork. Sam got the feeling that Cummins might come into
some gratitude from the girls that he'd appreciate.
	Roberta didn't have much to add. George L. liked her cooking.
She wouldn't admit to any more of a relationship. George L. said she
made the best Cherizo. Donna was more rational. Of course she had a
'relationship' with George L. What man wouldn't want a relationship
with her? (Sam had to agree.) But it wasn't some smarmy thing like
being a prostitute. He was a nice old man and she felt good making 
him feel good. 
	Dianna was just a fiery the second time. Not a prostitute? George
L. had found them all in brothels. Donna liked her fantasy. Dianna 
thought it was great George L. understood and gave them places to work
out of. All that only after Sam had assured her she had gotten the
wrong impression and had slammed the door before he could explain.
	Stella and Lilly had the same story. Lilly took a shine to Sam.
Asian? Hispanic? She was some exotic breed, or half breed. Sam let her
massage his feet while he pondered her motives.
	He couldn't make himself believe - as they say: me so horny. It
had to be some defense that perhaps even Lilly no longer recognized.
Sam wondered what was happening to him. Ninety percent of the women 
that fucked him had ulterior motives. This was the second time he had
turned down pussy in the same number of days.
	Of course there was Alice. He hadn't turned her down. She had
even waited for him and he thought he made her first rough ride up to
her. Either that or the dinner had made her pretty happy.
	Sam guessed he wasn't a eunuch yet. He was just picky. He knew
it was a total lie, but it made him feel good. In any case he was
still thinking straight. Alice had sent him off with a quick blow-job
in her office in the diner after breakfast. 
	-----
	Sam didn't feel he had nailed it. He found some interesting facts
about the deceased, but he didn't know what CS&D would make of them.
His feeling of doom increased as he neared the office.
	Maybe he was psychic. He returned to chaos. There might as well
be barbed wire and land mines. Two days away had turned the office 
into a war zone.
	First off, it was all down the tubes. CS&D wanted the will. They
were on the hook for it. Harrow had told them it was missing; he 
couldn't find it anywhere. Staci was on the verge of murdering him for
his running his big mouth.
	She had taken the phone and put them off, saying Sam was out of 
town and certainly had put the will away for safekeeping. It was 24 
hours amnesty.
	Staci was mad at Amy for being generally unhelpful and meekly
inclined to side with Harrow during all the shouting. And Amy was
generally sulking by herself, showing no allegience to either of 
the others.
	Nobody would re-cap what was said, but Sam knew he had missed
one great snarling fight. Amy was sullen at her desk when Sam
came in.
	That was the fight he picked. If he couldn't cheer up Amy, he
might as well jump out the window.
	"You- out," he snapped at Staci as he led Amy into the office.
	If he couldn't patch that up with Staci, then he might as well
jump out the window. Anyway, it looked like he was jumping anyway. He'd
jump for crimes of commission rather than omission.
	"Now. What's with you?" Sam asked Amy as she stood by his desk 
like a girl in the principal's office.
	"Nothing, Mr. Hill. I'm having a bad day," Amy said.
	Sam knew better. Amy would be in better spirits if her mother
chased her cat on the roof and they both fell off. And her attitude
toward him wouldn't have anything to do with her tiff with Staci.
	"C'mon, come sit on my lap," Sam invited.
	"You said you couldn't make me do that," Amy said defiantly.
	There was something wrong. Sam's world was turning upside down.
Maybe a long fall and a quick stop was the best that could happen to
him. He was losing it. No one was reacting to him like he was Sam Hill.
	"No, I guess not," Sam said, letting his disappointment show,
"But you used to like it. You used to like me."
	Amy started crying. It was a silent waterworks as she snuffled
and the tears started rolling down her cheeks. She came over to Sam.
She didn't crawl on his lap. She bent over the chair and hugged him.
	"He was so mean to me," found its way out through her gurgling.
	"Who? Should I kill him?" Sam asked.
	Amy wasn't ready to lighten up. His humor went by without
comment.
	"He.. He said I was stupid. And a bimbo," Amy's crying was 
stabilizing into sobbing gasps and growing ire. "And a dirty sneak."
	"Who are we talking about?" Sam kept asking.
	"Stan!" she squeaked.
	Sam relaxed a little. He thought he knew the problem. He thought
about his next question. It might seem trivial to him, but it obviously
was very important to Amy.
	"You guys went out and you found out he only wanted one thing,"
Sam suggested.
	Amy nodded against his dampened lapel. At least there was
something good about being washed up. Sam stifled several cracks about
how obvious it was. Staci had explained what women expected enough
times he remembered it- just take my side.
	"That bastard," Sam said.
	"I'm... I'm sorry about being like this, but he was so mean,"
Amy tried to stop the tears.
	Sam was going to have to have a long talk with her. Amy had
finally given in to a pouting plea from Harrow. He told her it was
ruining his life wondering what was wrong with him that she wouldn't
even go out with him. He made her sound cruel.
	Stan was moderately pleasant on the date, but Amy hadn't wanted
to invite him in. He came in anyway. Amy tried to make the best of it, 
made coffee, was going to sit with him a few minutes and then get him
out. 
	Stan didn't go. He tried to kiss her. He held her down and 
kissed her. She told him to leave. He said he'd go, but only fondled
her instead. Long story short, she didn't fight him off and they had
sex. It was date rape even if Amy felt responsible.
	That wasn't why she was upset. Harrow told her he only did it
as a mercy fuck. He didn't want to, but she needed it. She wasn't good
enough for him and she was lucky he pitied her.
	Sam couldn't kill Harrow right then. Staci was next in line and
she was prickling about being thrown out of the office so Sam could
talk to Amy.
	"Do you think Amy has anything to do with the missing will?"
Sam asked his spluttering secretary.
	Staci saw he was serious. She was still miffed, but she got 
control.
	"No," she said after consideration.
	"How about Harrow?" Sam asked.
	Staci's brow knitted. She was applying her particular genius to
the facts Sam had been mulling.
	"He'd be the one," Staci said. "But that's a feeling. He hasn't
really done anything suspicious."
	"Not even telling the will is gone?" Sam asked.
	It had sat at the back of his mind while comforting Amy. It was
missing? That was a pretty definitive answer. It didn't mean guilty
knowledge but it did activate several of Sam's misgivings.
	"Not necessarily," Staci said. "Just because he's immune to your
bubblehead's charms doesn't make him guilty."
	Sam started a moment and then relaxed. It was Staci. This was not
her long-denied jealousy being revealed. She was pissed at Amy for her
own reasons and, as far as anyone would admit, they included Amy's lack
of loyalty to him.
	"Amy's got cause," Sam said and explained.
	Won't take no for an answer. Uses just enough force to overcome
resistance. Takes advantage of a woman's uncertainly. The story 
tickled several uncomfortable memories for Staci. She understood a girl
thinking she deserved it.
	"So what do we do?" a calmer, more determined Staci asked.
	"We fight for our lives," Sam said.
	-----
	Maybe Gino Macaroni was right. Maybe Sam did have balls. He
certainly cowed several lawyers in his rampage through Carlyle, Simpson
& Dillon. A nervous looking aide finally ushered him into the office
of Ashecroft Simpson himself. 
	Simpson wasn't flustered. He was perturbed.
	"I know I should be fired," Sam told him, "But what does that
solve? At least give me a chance to work this out. This Sallings isn't
very bright. Have you read the will? There has to be other mistakes
beyond dragging a pen from the forged signature to his own."
	Simpson wasn't answering. Instead he keyed the intercom. Sam
thought he was being tossed out, but Simpson wanted a copy of the
contested will. He made Sam sit in silence while he read it in its
entirety. Sam got nothing from the occasional 'hmmm's and 'ahh's.
	"Unfortunately it isn't a crime to be a poor lawyer," Simpson
said finally, "Or we'd have less competition. I don't see any glaring
errors however. It is transparent, ill conceived, but legal."
	"What about George L. giving his girlfriends houses?" Sam asked.
	Simpson was patient as Sam explained his findings. Then he dashed
Sam's hopes.
	"From what I hear, Mr. Thurmer's other attorney is correct," 
Simpson said. "The properties revert to the prior agreement on Mr.
Thurmer's death and are not part of the estate."
	"But wouldn't they be mentioned?" Sam almost begged.
	"There our Mr. Salling's incompetence helps him," Simpson said.
"One could just as easily conclude he neglected them. And since it 
is a matter of due diligence and not a matter of law, it does nothing
for our contest."
	There was only one bit of good news in the interview.
	"You have convinced me of one thing, however," Simpson said.
"Your termination does nothing to solve the problem. I can think of no 
one with more motivation to win this case. Because if it fails, your
termination will follow."
	Sam left feeling well disposed towards Simpson. Not because he
was give a few more days of life, but because the man seemed to keep
his mind on business no matter what. 
	Sam's problem was too much business. He had too many things that
needed immediate attention. He didn't have enough mind to do them all
at once.
	-----
	"After Harrow steals the will, then what?" Sam bounced the
assumption off Staci. 
	"If he's got the sense God gave a duck, he holds onto it,"
Staci said. "It's a handy point of leverage in case Sallings tries
to go back on whatever he promised him."
	"And where does he keep it?" Sam asked.
	Staci thought a moment. She was thinking where she would hide it.
	"That's good question," Staci said. "It would have to be safe
from everybody. Safe deposit? Limited access and too easy to get a
court order to search without him having a chance to retrieve it. His
place? Maybe, but he can't trust his accomplice. I'd say he'd want it
near him as much as possible so he could guard its concealment."
	"His car or his office, then?" Sam asked.
	"Unless he's got a secret Aunt Edna that would hide it," Staci
said.
	"And when does he burn it?" Sam asked.
	"Why would he burn it?" Staci asked.
	"When it's more dangerous than it's worth. Say, against all odds,
we find something else," Sam hypothecated. "Then Sallings has nothing
and the will is evidence of a crime."
	"If you knew, why did you ask?" Staci asked.
	"To see if I was wrong," Sam said. "Can you think of any other
reason the will would be destroyed?"
	"Harrow's an idiot?" Staci ventured, "And he does what he's
told. So you've settled on Harrow?"
	"Harrow or you- Amy doesn't have the constitution for it," Sam
said.
	"Harrow or ME!?" Staci wasn't amused, or perhaps she was 
waiting for the opportunity.
	Sam hadn't addressed the whole- get out, I want to talk to Amy
thing. It had fallen off his list in view of the other issues. It
seemed Staci was still waiting. It seemed Staci was spoiling for a
fight.
	"Yes, you." Sam said.
	It was time he had some fun to relieve the tension. 
	"You're just the kind of money-hungry bitch to grab the first
lousy million-dollar bribe that came along," Sam said. "Now I'm going
to search you. Take off your blouse."
	Staci turned a little red. She felt part silly for trying to
pick this fight. Sam was accusing her. She might have reason to be
piqued, but it was a dumb battle to pick. Sam was being dumb too, but
maybe she deserved it. Maybe they both deserved something to take
their minds off their troubles.
	"Now the skirt," Sam said when she had complied, "And turn
around."
	Sam was sexy when he took charge. Staci felt a definite tingle 
as she turned around for him.
	"Who told you you could wear pantyhose?" Sam demanded, ignoring
that he watched her put them on every morning.
	"I didn't know there was a dress code... sir," Staci entered 
into the spirit.
	"Take off the bra," Sam said.
	He felt his cock stirring in his pants. No matter how much he
had stared at Staci's tits, they were still something to see. Of
course, ordering her to strip for him had its charm as well.
	"Shake your shoulders," Sam said.
	There was a hint of a smile on Staci's lips as she shook. She
felt very dirty. And the look in Sam's eye was no less than gratifying.
He still found her more than attractive. She thought she could see the
bulge of his cock visibly swelling in his pants.
	She held her breasts up on command with the growing conviction
that they were going to fuck. It was a happy thought.
	Then Harrow walked in.
	"Stay where you are," Sam snapped to Staci and then wheeled on
Harrow. "Don't you knock?"
	"I... ah... sorry... ummm..." Harrow stuttered, staring at Staci.
	"Go out," Sam said. "Go out and don't knock. I'll see you when 
I'm done here."
	Now he had to fuck her. For all the discomfort she felt exposing
herself to Harrow of all people, Sam knew Staci was swampy wet now.
	"Just bend over the desk," Sam said, approaching as he pulled
down his zipper. "I'm doing a cavity search."
	"Stan said you wanted to see... oh gosh!" Amy squeaked when she
saw Sam about to penetrate Staci.
	"Shut the door and come in," Sam said and pushed his cock into
Staci.
	"You don't have to watch if you don't want, but let Harrow
wonder why I don't yell at you," Sam said.
	Even Staci approved. Hearing Amy's story had changed her attitude
and their feud was settled. Let Harrow's mean trick backfire. Let him 
wonder what was going on with the boss and both the women.
	Amy went and sat at Sam's desk. She was out of the picture. 
Whether she watched or not wasn't important. It didn't make it hotter
for either Sam or Staci. Sam promptly forgot her. Staci obviously
needed some soothing and he wanted her happy.
	Amy lingered in Staci's mind. There were several complicated
emotions wrapped up in her watching. Bent over the desk with her
pantyhose and underwear just below her butt was an arousing reminder
of the good old days, but it didn't hurt to have wide eyes watching.
Staci knew Amy deferred to her in regard to Sam, but it didn't hurt for
Amy to see what Staci had that earned her the primary position.
	It was a mix of the old and new Sam. His thrusts were quite
stern, but he wasn't pounding like a jackhammer. He wanted to abuse 
Staci enough, but he wanted to make sure she had time to cum. Right
now, of all times, her pleasure was most important.
	Sam was going soft- except where it counted. Staci was a gushing
orgasmic fountain before he was halfway there. He didn't need to baby
this babe. Sam went at her hard and fast. Staci got quite loud before
Sam clutched her and pumped her full of jizm.
	"Don't say anything to Harrow," were the first words Sam spoke.
	He said them with his back to Amy, zipping up. He didn't know
if she would take that as a good thing or a bad thing, but his instinct
told him she had been exposed to enough exposure.
	"He knows his mean trick didn't work. Let him wonder why," Sam
told Amy.
	"Okay, Mr. Hill," Amy said. "I'm glad you're not mad."
	"When have I ever been... oh," Sam started and then realized Amy
was looking at Staci. "I understand you two had a fight. If she is
mean to you again, you tell me and I'll spank her."
	Sam let that sink in two seconds and added, "And if you're mean
to her, I'll spank you."
	There was a hint of a smile. It was less than Sam hoped for, but
it was the right direction.
	"You like her a lot, don't you Sam?" Staci asked when Amy had
left.
	It didn't sound like jealousy, but it wasn't free of concern. Sam
considered his answer.
	"I think she's the kid we never had," Sam said. "So what kind of
a pervert does that make me?"
	It wasn't an answer. The real answer was too complex. Staci knew
it wasn't the real answer, but she hadn't asked the real question. She
was comforted by the care Sam took answering, more than his words.
	-----
	Fun was fun. There was business to attend to. Still, the big barn
in the tall building was a lot quieter since Sam had come back. It was
a new talent he didn't know he had, leadership.
	He was surprised himself that he felt comfortable standing in
the center with the staff gathered 'round. They were paying attention.
It made it easier for him to deploy his ploy.
	"We have a missing will," Sam announced, hoping he could make 
it seem like news.
	"Staci told me you couldn't find it, Stan," he said to Harrow,
"I just got done looking and it's missing. I don't have to tell you
how important this is."
	"I've been thinking since then," Harrow said, "And I think I saw
Amy with a paper that looked like the will."
	This was a damn quick development. Sam thought the plot would
simmer at least a few minutes. He expected Harrow to concoct his story
and then come in his office. Obviously, Harrow had the story prepared.
	He was trapped. There was no way to tip off Amy while Harrow
watched. He felt terrible.
	"Amy?" he turned to her.
	He saw shock and anger and watched it morph into remorse and fear.
	"I don't know what he's talking about. I never saw the will.
I didn't touch it. You know that," she was pleading.
	"She was clutching it to what passes for a chest," Harrow went
on, attacking his helpless prey, "That's why I remember it. She looked
like a sneak."
	"Mr. Hill, he's lying," Amy had her crying face on.
	"Me?" Harrow snorted. "You're the liar. And a sneak."
	Sam believed Amy about the date with Harrow. That didn't mean
there wasn't more unsaid. It sounded like there was more friction
between them than had been revealed.
	"I am not!" Amy said dangerously.
 	Stan grinned evilly. Amy looked concerned. The scene left Sam
uneasy. What didn't he know that hadn't figured in his calculations?
	"You sneak around covering your incompetence," Stan accused. "How
many pink message slips are hidden away in your drawers because you
forgot? A liar, a sneak and then a small step to thief. How much
did Sallings offer you to steal the will? I bet it was $5."
	The smooth way Harrow slid from incompetence to accessory
bothered Sam. So did the idea of being paid to steal the will. He
didn't think it was his exclusive conclusion, but it caught his ear 
coming from Stan that way.
	Still, in a much gloomier way than an excuse to fuck a woman,
Sam had to act like he was falling for Stan's line. He couldn't tip
his hand to anyone while doubt remained. 
	"I don't know what to believe," Sam said, unable to shield Amy.
"I guess we better search your desk."
	"Would she be stupid enough to... well, maybe she would. We 
better look," Harrow agreed.
	Sam couldn't meet Amy's eyes as he went through her desk. It was
an awful betrayal. He felt like a rat.
	Mrs. Periwinkle, a few others, there were message slips caught
on the drawer compartment behind Amy's middle drawer. So Harrow did
have something on her. But there was no will. 
	"Well, it isn't here," Sam said after he had destroyed Amy's 
trust and a bit of his own searching her desk.
	Harrow was smug. Amy looked like a hunted convict, trapped and
dangerous. Staci was stunned. Sam felt like a big rat.
	Amy fled the office after the meeting. Neither he nor Staci had
a chance to explain. She looked for all the world like the guilty one.
Harrow was calm, so amused with himself Sam wanted to punch him on
general principles.
	It hadn't gone well. It hadn't gone the way he expected and now
Sam wondered if he hadn't been proceeding on bad assumptions. It left
him with a lot to think about.
	-----
	Amy was too... he could say innocent, but he'd mean scatter-
brained- to pull it off. Still, she might be convinced it was helping
and too scared to admit anything when she found out she'd been tricked.
There were those undelivered messages testifying that she was capable
of concealing her mistakes.
	Sam didn't want to think it, but he'd had an eerie feeling when
she fled the office, like he wasn't the only one that betrayed her. 
Just because Harrow fit the role didn't make him guilty or in it alone.
That's why people held out for proof.
	Sam wasn't sure what he wanted. He wanted the will back. If Amy
took it, he wanted to know why, but he didn't want to know Amy took it.
It didn't sound like this big a mess when they had concocted the
scheme.
	Sam and Staci had left to come back up the service elevator. If
something was going to happen, they wanted to be there when it did.
They were going to wait, all night if necessary, and see who showed.
	When Harrow quietly opened the door to the hall and slipped in
Sam felt relief. It just made more sense all around.
	"Looking for something?" Sam asked.
	"Come to put something back?" Staci echoed.
	"What the hell are you talking about? I left some papers on my
desk," Harrow said.
	"Should I send Staci to get them or are they too sensitive for
her eyes?" Sam asked.
	"Are you accusing me of something?" Harrow asked. "Is this about
that will? I told you I saw that little bimbo with the will. If you 
weren't blinded by your dick, you'd see it all fits."
	Sam pushed Harrow against the wall. The door was opening. It
was the little bimbo in question. She jumped when she saw them.
	"Amy? What are you doing here?" Staci asked.
	"I.. ahh... uhh.. ummm.. I.." Amy stuttered in circles.
	"There, you want your thief? Look at the little sneak," Harrow
crowed.
	Amy was dressed from head to toe in black. She looked like a
little burglar.
	"Obviously, her ill-gotten booty got a little hot for her and
she's trying to sneak it back here," Harrow said. "I'd search her."
	Amy's lower lip seemed to fill her face. She wasn't going to
cry. She wasn't pouting. Sam thought it was the first time he saw her
mad.
	"I didn't take anything and I'm not hiding anything," Amy said
defiantly and pulled up her black sweatshirt.
	It was like watching a car crash in slow motion. Sam wanted to
jump forward and stop her, but he seemed stuck in slow-moving time.
Amy pushed down her black sweatpants. It was obvious she wasn't hiding
anything. Her underwear was too skimpy.
	That didn't stop her. Off with the bra, down with the panties,
she put her hands on her hips and stared in Harrow's eyes. Sam was
relieved she wasn't staring at him. Her stare looked dangerous.
	They were a tableau for some time, a naked little woman and
three clothed people staring at her. Sam didn't feel aroused, but he
wished he did. It was that kind of scene, only the emotion wasn't
right. Staci broke the deadlock.
	"Okay, Stan, what about you?" she asked.
	"You want to search me? Search me. I've got nothing to hide, but
I'm not putting on a show like this little bimbo," he said.
	Amy remained defiantly naked. Sam changed his mind. The tension
was a big part of the way he felt. Getting her to do it again wouldn't
have the same spark. Unfortunately, the tension was also keeping him
from appreciating the erotic potential.
	The phone rang. Amy looked at Staci. Staci answered.
	"Hill and Associates... Yes, I'm a person," Staci said. "Well,
then you're in luck. Come right over... We'll make sure of that."
	Sam looked questioningly.
	"They thought I was an answering machine," Staci said. "Last 
minute delivery."
	The plot thickened. Sam knew she was hiding something. 
	"Don't you think you've made your point?" Staci asked Amy. "You
could put some clothes on."
	"Why?" Amy asked, still pissed. "I don't have anything to hide
either. I'm a little bimbo and I'm just proving it."
	Her anger seemed to be all directed at Harrow. Sam felt lucky,
but he felt he deserved some himself. He'd make it up to her, if he
could. He felt like a big, fat rat.
	"I don't have to search you, Stan," Sam said. "I don't think you
have anything incriminating on you. I think you should leave and we'll
see that you get your important papers in the morning."
	"And now I blurt out a confession?" Harrow scoffed. "This isn't
a dime novel, famous- looks good on the firm's letterhead- Sam Hill. I
didn't get this job because my bimbo girlfriend writes crap that old
fat women read. The real world isn't like that. You can't grab the 
nearest person, accuse them and poof! they're guilty."
	Harrow was burning bridges, but a moment later it didn't matter.
Amy shrieked and dived behind her desk. The door flew open and a cop,
covered by his partner, stepped in.
	"Stanley Harrow?" he asked.
	Sam stepped away and indicated Harrow.
	"What's this about?" Harrow asked.
	He looked angry, but not as brash as before. Sam didn't know 
what was happening, but it looked like a good thing.
	"We have a warrant for your arrest. Put your hands on your head
and turn around," the cop said.
	"On what charge?" Harrow asked.
	"Just do as he says, we'll discuss that later," the second cop said.
	His gun was held loosely at his side, but he wasn't comfortable.
He looked around and saw Amy peering out from behind the desk.
	"Would you like to come out, m'am," the cop ordered politely.
	"No," Amy said in a tiny voice.
	"She isn't dressed," Staci put in.
	"Then let me see your hands," the cop said.
	Sam laughed. Amy's awed face peeping over the desk with her hands
in the air was only half of it. Harrow was in cuffs. It was all good.
	"Your buddy talked," the cop informed Harrow. "Joe Sallings is
cooling his heels for attempted bunko and he told us how helpful
you've been."
	"He's lying, can't you see that?" Harrow tried.
	"Tell the judge," the second cop said.
	"You got nothing," Harrow sneered. "I didn't do anything."
	-----
	"I'd turn around, but I'm afraid I'd see your reflection in the
office door," Sam snickered as Amy snuck out to grab her discarded
clothes.
	"I don't think this is the time to be a prick," Staci warned
him. "You felt pretty bad an hour ago."
	Just like the voice of his conscience to ruin his fun. But he
knew Staci was right. He hung his head.
	"I'm sorry about today," Sam said, looking pointedly at his
feet so Amy could dress in privacy. "I didn't have any way to warn
you and I couldn't tip off Harrow."
	He looked up to see what effect his apology had. Amy hadn't
dressed. In fact, she dropped the clothes she had picked up when he 
looked at her.
	"That's all right," she said. "I mean, I'm glad it was just an
act. Boy, I couldn't tell."
	"Aren't you going to get dressed?" Sam asked.
	"Why? Don't you like to look at me naked?" Amy asked back.
	"Sure, but..." then Sam couldn't think of a but. "You know, I do
like to look at you naked."
	"Pervert," Staci chided.
	-----
	"I figured it out when Harrow offered to be searched," Sam said.
"He wasn't bringing anything back. He was picking it up."	
	The will had been behind a service panel in the employee's
bathroom. Since Amy and Staci used Sam's, that meant it was Harrow's
bathroom. Too many people might search his apartment for the document.
Harrow didn't think Sam suspected him. Sam didn't think Harrow was 
that stupid.
	It was a pretty good hiding place. It didn't make any difference.
That puzzled Sam. The cops took Harrow away before Sam found the
evidence.
	Baker was no help.
	"I hear you're starting over with a new generation," the police
lieutenant was teasing Sam, "The guys said they thought they should
have carded her."
	Sam was glad Baker was amused. It suited the punch-in-the-arm
relationship between them to have the lieutenant know he was still Sam
Hill, the chick magnet. It was the only positive. Baker didn't have any
information. They got a warrant straight from the judge. They were just
the errand boys on this one.
	"So you and Staci on the outs?" Baker asked hopefully.
	"The girl's name is Amy. She's like the daughter we never had-
and you shitcan the comments about incest. Staci's used them all," Sam
said.
	"I don't know what that woman sees in you," Baker shook his head.
	"What can you expect from a big-titted cooze?" Sam asked Baker.
	-----
	Sam had one more stop at the station. He went down to the lock-
ups to see Harrow. He had a present for him.
	"So you luck out no matter how stupid you are," Harrow greeted
Sam. "I can't believe you stumbled on one fact, let alone two."
	"It seems your new buddy isn't even as smart as I am," Sam
responded. "Look at which side of the bars he is and think about
that." 
	"So what you want?" Harrow asked, "You think I owe you an
explanation?"
	"You're not that hard to figure out, even for a stupid guy like 
me," Sam said. "You believed a liar. You went all 'what if' and didn't
figure the odds. You fucked up."
	"So you came down here to taunt me?" Harrow sneered.
	"No, Amy and I wanted to give you something," Sam said and pushed
a new copy of "A Pair of Bad Breaks" between the bars.
	"Now you expect me to read that fat bitch's crap?" Harrow
scowled.
	"Just the last page," Sam smiled. "You'll find our best wishes
for your future on the last page."
	-----
	Sam had to deliver the document before he got answers.
	"I'm surprised you don't know," said Gordon. "You're given credit
for destroying Sallings's defense."
	Sam was back to the original lawyer in this maze of attorneys.
He wasn't any clearer this time.
	"And how did I do that?" Sam asked, interested in the feat.
	"Didn't you uncover a Brian Cummins?" Gordon asked.
	"He told me stuff about the houses going to the women and not
being a part of the estate," Sam said. "Mr. Simpson said that wasn't
enough."
	"Oh, I see now," Gordon said, but didn't tell Sam.
	"See what?" Sam asked.
	"Excuse me, I forget you're not a lawyer," Gordon said. "It 
wasn't the deeds. It was the codicil. George did note all his gifts
in a codicil. It was really a technicality. The codicil was signed
and dated in April of this year. In his will, Mr. Sallings said his
will superceded the will of three years ago. Technically, it left the
codicil valid, but more importantly it questioned if Sallings ever
knew about it."
	"So that made everybody see he hadn't really talked to George
L.?" Sam asked.
	"Actually better," Gordon said with some relish. "It made the
nurse, who was the other witness to the signing, break down and confess
her part."
	Obviously, the nurse's guilty conscience couldn't withstand
lawyerese gobbedly-gook, but Sam favored another explanation. In
effect, it was Alice's boobs that had cracked the case. While
they obviously couldn't be included in the estate, they were the only
things not covered by a deed. The gift tits made the codicil more than
an after thought. Sam found humor in that.
	His mood only got better when he saw Ashecroft Simpson.
	"Mr. Hill, I have a message for you from James," Simpson said.
	Sam drew a blank. It showed on his face.
	"Mr. Thurmer, III," Simpson said. "He said to tell you that you
should come up to see him. Several of his friends were horrified when
they found out who they were splashing on your last visit."
	There was an un-gentlemanly leer on Simpson's face. He obviously
understood the real content of the message.
	"And of course, he's grateful that you brought this Sallings
character to justice," Simpson added.
	"If you see him before I do, thank him for the invitation," Sam
said, genuinely touched. "For a rich guy I thought he was real nice."
	-----
	Not that Sam was ever going, but it was nice to know he was
welcome. There was something spooky about those girls. If one of them
had been Alice, or Lilly, he might have been more tempted.
	He was down a detective, but had salvaged a receptionist. He
liked the receptionist. He'd never liked Harrow. That part was to the
good. Still he had to find someone.
	His reverie was interrupted by Amy knocking on his door like a 
little mouse. He nearly didn't look up, but the sound repeated. 
	"What is it, cutie?" Sam asked, being especially nice to her
right now.
	"I think... I know... I've got to talk to you," she said timidly.
	"You can tell me anything," Sam said. "I don't feel I'm in any
position to be mean to you after what happened."
	"Maybe I deserve you to be mean to me," Amy said in her tiny
voice.
	"You want to sit on my lap and tell me?" Sam invited.
	"Not right now if that's okay," Amy said.
	"Sure, you know the rules, only when you want to," Sam said.
	He was being jovial and light, but it was wearing. He wanted
Amy to get on with it. He wasn't trivializing her concern, he just
wanted to know what the hell it was.
	"I did a bad thing," Amy said.
	Sam really wanted to know what the hell it was. Amy wasn't 
confessing to some silly prank. She was very scared and very sorry.
	"Sometimes I got so scared," Amy said, obviously screwing up her
courage. "I'd forget a message and I was afraid you'd fire me. I was
really scared because I can get another job and all, but it wouldn't be
with you and I couldn't stand not working for you when I had been but
I wasn't anymore."
	"I tried to call back and tell them, most of them," she got
agitated, "But I should have told you and taken my medicine."
	Sam felt a flood of relief. In the scope of things, it was a
very small concern. It made him feel better for his own sins and it
touched that place of mysterious affection for Amy.
	"And Harrow caught you at it?" Sam asked.
	Amy nodded. Sam grimaced at himself for stopping her momentum.
Now he had to wait while she gathered herself again.
	"Then he said he owned me," she said. "That he had the evidence
and I had to do what he said or you'd fire me when he gave it to you."
	Sam suffered the pause in silence. He wasn't going to interrupt
again.
	"I didn't want you to fire me. I didn't mean to do anything bad
but I knew I was. I'm sorry," Amy went on in a burst.
	"You know what Stan wanted," Sam said after a pause. "He was 
just trying to blackmail you to have sex with you."
	"But he was awful, like I said," Amy added hurriedly, "I just
wasn't saying no like I told you. I had to and I knew I had to."
	"So you told me how you felt and left out a few incriminating
details," Sam summed up her confession of concocted fantasy.
	Amy nodded, near tears.
	"And he was mad when I came out after he knew you were... with
Staci in the office," Amy said. "But I didn't tell him anything- 
like you said, and he said he'd get me. He said he knew I was in on it.
That I'd told you lies. Then you came out and then... all that stuff 
happened."
	It took a few deep breaths for Amy to go on.
	"I was going to find the will," Amy said. "I knew Stan had to be
the one. That's why I came back."
	"Stan stole the will before any of this, Amy," Sam said. "He
was trying to set you up."
	"Oh I know that, but I shouldn't have listened to him," Amy said,
suddenly in Amy mode through the tear-stained face. "I knew it was
wrong."
	"Then I guess you need a spanking," Sam said with a hint of a
smile.
	Amy's eyes got wide and then narrowed as she smiled back.
	"I get it," she said. "You're not mad. You want to play."
	"Staci, could you come in here," Sam called out.
	Staci stepped out of the bathroom looking like a bedraggled mop.
	"What? I was washing my hair," she said.
	"Then this will do double-duty," Sam said, suppressing his smile.
	He crooked his finger at Amy. She came over beside him.
	"What you did was very wrong, young lady," Sam told her. "I'm not
going to fire you because that wouldn't teach you a lesson. I want you
to bend over my lap."
	It wasn't just sick. It was confusing too. Sam had an office to 
run. Cock Sucker & Dick were not types to be amused by a receptionist
that fed her fantasies about the heroic dick at the expense of their
concerns. Amy had to get over that, but he couldn't bring himself to
hold her to a normal responsibility. 
	He did love her like a daughter- that was the sick part. He felt
that she needed to grow up and like any sick fuck he was going to show
her that be treating her like a child. The confusing part was that it
made sense- Amy sense.
	And now even Amy sense took on a new meaning. She had been pitch
perfect in her tale of date rape. The part about being a mercy fuck had
the perfect poignance to seal his reaction. Sam was uneasy with this
revelation. It argued a depth he had never granted the little girl. 
	Then he turned to Staci.
	"And business hours aren't for personal business, Miss
Secretary," he said. "I'm letting you off with a warning this time and
the warning is watching what will happen next time."
	It was 6:15. She was off the clock. Sam wasn't being serious
anyway. He wanted some kind of witness. Staci watched with amusement.
	"Now what should it be?" Sam asked as he rubbed his hand over
Amy's butt. "Like this or on the bare bottom? Hmmmm, we're
establishing a precedent." 
	-----
	It was sick right down to the core. Amy wasn't as amused by being
spanked as she thought. Sam spanked hard and it hurt. She wasn't trying
to get away, but Sam's firm hand on her back was a welcome reminder
that she better stay put. She tried to take it, because she deserved
it, but she couldn't stop her feet from kicking as Sam's hand landed
sharply on her ass. She was shedding genuine tears before something
else set in.
	This wasn't a game and she didn't like it. Sam was coldly 
efficient and not joking at all. He meant she had to shape up. He meant
that he wasn't blinded by his assumptions any more. Being treated so
roughly made her get it. Like Sam had glimpsed, it made Amy sense. 
	All in all, it was better than being fucked in the ass and there
were better rewards. Sam made her sprawl over his desk and cooled the
heat in her naked rear with his lips.
	Somehow that, even a little tickle with his tongue into the
cleft between her thighs, didn't feel too incestuous. Staci on the
level below, under the desk, sucking his cock made it hard to judge.
	Sam came to the crossroad with no direction. All he knew was 
that both his girls deserved to be fucked. He was trying to think
how he could pile them to accomplish that when Staci pushed him at
Amy.
	Amy was finding the glass top of Sam's desk coolly soothing on her
hot little butt (and leaving an interesting buttprint). She was relieved
that he wasn't mad. Being in Sam's arms was dreamlike. Feeling his cock
enter her was more earthy. It was definitely better than the last time.
	Amy sensed the difference as she was kissed, but she responded
naturally. It was Staci that felt the top of her head loosen as Amy
shared her tongue with her. Staci understood.
	The ending was hectic. Staci's breasts were more than a presence
but at the core it was Sam's cock and Amy's pussy that ignited the
final rush. Sam had one woman in each arm, but his body was locked
in Amy's legs. His cock was lost in her depth and even Staci's
huge left tit resting on Amy's shoulder did little to impose on the
connection of Amy's chest with his.
	Sam was left with a lot to think about. Sure, he fucked Darla
while Staci was there, but that was Darla. This was different. Amy
was... Amy was special, but obviously he didn't have it nailed down.
	He wasn't going to worry about it. Staci approved, she gave a
two-breasted blessing. It felt right. Sam supposed that was the key.
As long as it came naturally, it was all right. The niggle came between
the story he had told Staci about Amy and Stan and the truth.
	"Why did you do that?" he asked Staci.
	"I don't know why, but I'm glad," Staci said.
	"What does that mean?" Sam asked.
	"You've kissed her. Don't act dumb," Staci said. "And she has 
been so nice to me in regards to you."
	That was an interesting twist. Sam smiled to himself. It was sick
right down to the core. Vive la mal!
	-----
	"Now, Sam, I've been thinking," Staci said as she backed away
from him. "This is a new era."
	"Umm-hmm," Sam nodded and kept advancing slowly.
	"Just like you said to Amy..." Staci's legs hit the bed, "We've
broken form already."
	"Yes, go on," Sam closed in on her.
	"We're in a new place, we can start a new tradition," Staci
suggested plaintively.
	"Well, ye-ah," Sam borrowed Amy's inflection. "I think the guy
and his best girl can just show how much they're in love."
	"Oh Sam, that's wonderful," Staci said.
	It was a bit ordinary, Staci thought, as they lay naked and 
wrestling like normal people. Sam looked at her.
	"You should get up on your knees," Sam said.
	"Okay Sam, but this isn't some trick, is it?" Staci asked.
	She felt prickles of danger lift her hair as she stuck her ass
in the air.
	"Oh no," Sam assured her. "Would I be that sneaky?"
	Oh yes. Staci wasn't shocked by the deception, but she was
unprepared. Sam's cock felt like a fist as he rammed it up her ass.
	"You SNEAK!" she screamed.
	###