Keywords: M/F anal, oral lite BDSM
Author: W R Jenkins
Title: Sam 12: The Upper 50's

  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 12 - The Upper 50's (Sam12.txt) - Sam has a new assistant.
The new assistant has a problem. They work together to solve this
problem along with the problem of office relations. If you'd read the
first 11, you'd see this coming. M/F, anal oral, lite BDSM.



			The Upper 50's

	He was just coming around when the cops arrived. The other guy
was never going to wake up. The black bag with the body was on a
guerny on its way to the morgue and Gumby was still shaking.
	"Ease up kid," the cop said. "We got nothing on you. You were
clean and he was laying on a gun. Even if you had shot him it looked
like self-defense from where I'm standing."
	"But I had a gun- two guns. And now they're gone," Gumby said.
	The cop's next question was interrupted by a new arrival.
	"Gumby Hill! What are you doing in town?" Baker asked.
	"You know this guy, lieutenant?" the cop asked. "He just said
he was carrying a gun."
	"And if you ask him, he's carrying a license for them," Baker
said. "This is Sam Hill's nephew. He's a P.I. just like his uncle Sam."

	Just like his uncle Sam. Only he didn't remember Sam's story
about being robbed in an alley and waking up next to a dead man. When
Sam asked him to join the agency, Gumby was the proudest man on the
planet. 
	One plane ride and a day later he didn't think he was worthy of
his uncle's trust. Sam had told him he was being stupid, but that was
just like uncle Sam.
	Gumby rode back to Sam's apartment glumly. For once he had no
jokes about Sam's junker. Sam stopped trying to draw him into
conversation. He let the kid stew.
	"I would if it would help, but I don't think fucking Gumby is
the answer to his problem," Staci was commiserating with Sam.
	"I told him it could happen to me, but he doesn't believe me,"
Sam moaned. "Put me on a pedastal, he has."
	-----
	After the fiasco with Stan Harrow, Sam came to his senses. 
Whatever Gumby provided in aggravation, he more than made up for in
loyalty and trustworthyness. Sam had to admit that he had skills in
investigation too.
	There was no question on Gumby's end. Working with Sam was 
worth the 20 percent pay cut.  The cost of living was less, he didn't
need the extra and he was gaining a promotion in the move. He was the
second investigator rather than low man- or next to low man on the
pole.
	He didn't even know about the perks.
	"Howard, this is Amy," Sam introduced them. "Amy..."
	Sam didn't bother. She'd find out he was Sam's nephew. It was
usually the first thing out of Gumby's mouth. She'd find out he liked
being called Gumby. For the present he saw their stunned stares and
knew neither of them was listening.
	In a way it was fate. Sam remembered what he had told Amy about
her deserving a younger version of himself. Gumby was a better younger
version of himself. Sam didn't get along with his brother, but at least
he had raised Gumby better than Sam was raised. Sam at Gumby's age 
had already gone through a hard-scrabble childhood and had just been
sucker-punched by his first divorce. He already had hard edges.
	Sam raised his eyebrows at a grinning Staci and cocked his head
toward his office. But as they started to move away Gumby woke up.
	"Oh! Coming uncle Sam," he said.
	"You can go talk to her," Sam encouraged when Gumby had followed
him into his office.
	"Plenty of time for that when I'm settled," Gumby said.
	Staci was still grinning. Sam could only imagine the naughty 
thoughts running through her head. Truth be told, he wanted to grin
himself. It was cute.
	The idea of Amy as a daughter had grown on him. What other father
could have the feelings he had for Amy and not be a beast? It was
perfect for Gumby. Amy was perfect for Gumby. It fit.
	"What's to settle?" Sam asked. "We work for lawyers. They send
us cases and we investigate. You've done that before. There's a 
couple of empty offices. Take your pick. Now you're settled. Go talk
to Amy."
	"What's up with her uncle Sam?" Gumby asked. "What's the story?"
	"She's bright, perky and damn cute, but I figured you saw that,"
Sam said. "She admits to a crush on me, but that doesn't change 
anything. We're just friends."
	"If I didn't know how... umm... progressive aunt, I mean, Staci
is, I'd think you were covering something up," Gumby grinned. "But if
you say you're just friends..."
	"I met her the usual way, but be a gentleman and don't bring it
up," Sam said. "We're just good friends now."
	"So you've had her? Why do I ask? You're Sam Hill!" Gumby was
getting frisky like a puppy that has seen the leash.
	"I said be a gentleman," Sam said. "Past is past and it's grown
into something more... fatherly."
	"Gee, that would make her like a cousin," Gumby said. 
	"Stop being sappy," Sam scolded. "She's the receptionist. If you
like her, ask her out. But there is one thing to remember."
	"What's that?" Gumby asked.
	"I feel protective of my little girl. Don't go breaking her
heart," Sam got off his own joke.
	"Gumby, Sam's playing with you," Staci spoke up as they each 
took their child's side. "We saw how you two looked at each other.
She's a nice girl, but she's not very... world wise. You could do
worse, but be nice to her."
	"How we looked?" Gumby ruffled, "I was just saying hello."
	Sam and Staci exchanged knowing looks. Kids never change.
	-----
	Amy was more subtle. She waited for a quiet moment alone. 
She disguised it as a trip to use Sam's bathroom. 
	"Can I talk to you? I mean am I interrupting anything?" Amy
asked as she stood at the end of his desk.
	"Sure, Amy, what's up?" Sam asked and pushed away from the
desk in case she wanted to crawl up on his lap.
	He liked her sitting in his lap too. That and seeing her naked
he could take. Hugging too, but kissing, while not really out of 
bounds, tended to leave an ache in his stomach- the lost chances of
youth haunting him.
	He had been straight with Gumby. He got all of it out before the kid thought he was hiding something. They were just friends. That was
was only a bit more maudlin than he had indicated. Sam wanted her like
sunny days and carefree youth, but he knew he was indulging in the
same kind of rosy-eyed vision that cast him as a hero to Amy.
	Trying to live in that fantasy world wouldn't be fair to either
of them. More importantly, the fantasy wouldn't bear their weight. Amy
made him giddy, not completed. His affection for her was geniune and he
felt that hers for him was real, but it wasn't like what he had with
Staci. It didn't come down to the grit and grind. She needed more than
he had to offer and he needed someone tougher than Amy.
	He could hand her over willingly to his nephew. So long as she
was in good hands. 
	"Why do you call him Gumby?" she asked.
	"There was a time when he'd believe anything you told him," Sam
said. "You could tie him up like a Gumby doll. It stuck."
	Amy scowled at that.
	"That doesn't sound nice," she said.
	"No, it wasn't," Sam said. "But that's where he got the
nickname."
	"I'm only going to call him Howard," Amy said.
	She walked out like something was settled. Sam shook his head.
	-----
	Baker needed to talk to Howard. He called him Gumby because he
wasn't attracted to him. Gumby was interviewing a soon-to-be-divorcee.
Sam asked if he could help. Baker needed serial numbers of Gumby's
Magnums. Sam had copies of the licenses.
	After he read them off and Baker read them back, Sam tried to pry
into what happened in the alley.
	"So what's up with this?" Sam asked after the business was out
of the way.
	"We don't know," Baker said and Sam sensed he wasn't
stonewalling, "Just got an I.D. on the corpse and he's a hood from up
North. That's kind of strange."
	Sam didn't pretend to know about Gino Macaroni. Sam didn't want
to know about Gino, that kind of knowledge got you killed, but he
wasn't the type to import talent.
	Gino liked them home grown and ran a closed shop. As a practical
matter, it made it easier to find uncle Leo when someone needed an
incentive. He had the town buttoned up and under his thumb. Strange
hoods didn't fit the picture.
	"You thinking gang war?" Sam asked.
	"I'm thinking dead thugs are thugs that don't kill grandma,"
Baker said. "I'm not sure a crime was committed."
	"Until someone kills grandma with one of Gumby's magnums," Sam
said shortly.
	"Oh yeah- sorry," Baker said. "But we've got the numbers and
we'll let him know if they turn up. You tell him, okay?"
	Sam wasn't sure why he had reacted to Baker's callous attitude.
Maybe it was his own feeling about guns. Baker held a point of view
shared by many lawmen. Bad guys killing bad guys totalled up to a
better town for good guys.
	To a point Sam agreed. Only he still held out for the impossible
dream of bad guys intercepted before being bad. He wasn't on the front
line. He supposed Baker had reasons based on his own reality.
	-----
	Gumby came in a bit frazzled. Sam mentioned Baker had called.
	"Good. I need to talk to you," Gumby said.
	It was a strange feeling, a nice feeling, but strange to sit
down in a straight chair by Gumby's desk. Gumby's desk, Gumby's office,
all in Sam's agency, it was still a kick in the head.
	"Ummm, Mrs. Velledino..." Gumby started.
	"Okay, Mrs. Velledino," Sam echoed, "What is it?"
	"I'm not you, uncle Sam," Gumby went the long way around, "I'm
not a beacon of animal attraction."
	Sam kept a straight face. It was hard not to break in a grin as
Gumby described the interview.
	Gumby was asking the usual: did he cheat? did he hit you? did he
drink, use drugs, gamble? Mrs. Velledino kept shifting around like a
cat on a hot tin roof. Every move brought a little more cleavage, a
little more thigh into view.
	Unlike Sam, who would have been amused at the obvious wind-up,
Gumby just got nervous. He could see it coming too, but to him it
wasn't a welcome thought. Gumby was hoping it would go away instead
of preparing a response.
	When Gumby got to their sex life, she jumped off the roof. She
hadn't had a good fuck (Gumby was surprised she used that word) in
years. She needed a man, a real man. She wanted a real man right now.
	Sam saw through Gumby's self-protective editing. She had grabbed
Gumby and kissed him. He tried to be polite and that gave her the 
opportunity to wrestle him out of his clothes, at least his pants.
	(She kept feinting to make Gumby move his hands while she 
concentrated on his fly and getting his cock out. While Gumby was 
serious, she thought it was a game. Or maybe she was a woman that
liked to have it her own way.)
	Then she was pushing his face between her tits and trying to 
pull his cock into her with her thighs. Gumby was too embarrassed or
scared to either co-operate or fight her off. She caught him off guard
with her begging.
	(She was stronger than he thought, so strong that he would have
to get violent to dislodge her. She was a client. He didn't want to hit
a woman. Then she gave him an excuse to stop struggling.)
	She needed it so bad- please, please, please. The distraction
allowed her to get him on his back and then he was hers. She held him
down and rode his cock. She fucked him. There wasn't anything he could
do. She took advantage of him.
	(The momentary pause in his defense let her throw him to the
floor and then he was in the same predicament as before only she had
succeeded in getting his cock inside herself. Shock and confusion kept
him only weakly resisting and then nature took over. He was going to
cum. He couldn't imagine, didn't know what to think about that. She
got him off, open-mouthed and gasping before leaving him a disheveled
mess on the floor- like a poor woman ravished and shamed.)
	"Occupational hazard," Sam said with a forced straight face,
"Women have come on to you before, haven't they?"
	"Not like that," Gumby said. "And not now."
	"Not now?" Sam was puzzled. "What's that supposed to mean?"
	Gumby blushed. Sam stopped himself after one snort. It all fell
into place. Sam pretended to change the subject. He changed it into 
the one that was causing Gumby's consternation.
	"You ask Amy out yet?" he asked.
	"No, uncle Sam, I don't want to be pushy," Gumby said.
	"Then what's the problem?" Sam asked. "Amy's not a virgin, you
know. That make any difference to you?"
	"No, of course not," Gumby said. "She's a grown woman. She's
lived."
	"Then why should you feel bad about something that happens before
you even ask her out?" Sam asked. "Aren't you allowed to live too?"
	"But what if it doesn't stop happening?" Gumby said. "I didn't
ask for it. I didn't even want to do it. What if it happens after we're
seeing each other?"
	"So he asks her why she's crying," Sam launched into his story,
"See that ax in the rafter? What if we have a son and we send him to
the basement to draw beer and the ax falls on his head and kills him?"
	Gumby started at him dumbly.
	"Worry about it when it makes a difference, and by the way, good
work today," Sam said.
	He was chuckling when he got back to his office.
	"Good joke?" Staci asked.
	He told her Gumby's dilemma. Staci wasn't as amused.
	"You know, Sam Hill, not every woman is like me," she started.
	Sam sensed danger coming.
	"No woman is like you, babe," he said, "You're the original
and wrapped in a package lesser women can only envy."
	"Thank you, but I wasn't fishing for a compliment," Staci said.
"I'm talking about Gumby and I don't think you understand how it is for
him. You're not a good role model for him because you're... unique,
just like me. I don't think he can handle being like you."
	Sam wasn't sure if it was a compliment or an insult. 
	"Don't pout," Staci scolded Sam, "It's just that it takes a
certain amount of- I don't know, my best guess is concentration- to
float through days of women throwing themselves at you and not have
it affect you."
	"So what's the answer?" Sam asked.
	"That's what I mean," Staci said. "You ignore things that other
people stumble over."
	"Are we having a fight?" Sam asked.
	"No, Sam, your unique idiom is one of the things I love about
you," Staci said. "But Gumby likes Amy. He's dreaming about them being
together forever and his dreams are normal and innocent."
	"But he hasn't asked her out. I asked that," Sam said.
	"You saw how they looked at each other," Staci said. "He knows
it's special. He doesn't want to make a mistake."
	"Okay, yeah, I see that too," Sam said. "They're perfect for each
other. They'll be quite the pair."
	"That's what I mean," Staci sighed, "And, by the way, I agree.
But normal folks don't jump to the conclusion. They take the long way
through sweaty palms and nervous tics. Some would say that's the fun."
 	Sam believed her, he just didn't understand. And she wasn't
giving him an answer.
	"The answer is we let them have the fun and struggle through it
themselves," Staci answered his perplexed look. "They can make their 
own life."
	------
	Gumby wasn't at a total loss. He could talk about the food and
what he had seen of the city. He had no trouble complimenting Amy on
her frilly blouse and smart slacks. She did look good.
	He was only having trouble connecting on any deeper level. Every
time he had a thought, he saw how it would lead to his work. How was
his day? That was trouble right there. What did he think about working
for Sam? That was about his job and he didn't want to get into that.
	Staci stories weren't good. His last visits had that same little
problem he was trying to avoid. Every time he got near his uncle he 
was getting laid like crazy. That was great fodder talking to Baker,
but Gumby felt something different about Amy.
	"Sam said you were instrumental in hunting down that Chester
character," Amy said. "That must have felt good."
	Amy was only at a loss on how to get Howard out of his shell. It
wasn't like he was ignoring her, he just seemed scared of her. She
wasn't used to that reaction. She was small and generally obliging.
Most people liked her and at most she was ignored.
	"If you call sitting in a car with hoods instrumental," Gumby
said. "It was the lady with the made-up name that really did it."
	"Jaz Hardly," Amy said. "Staci said she saved her too. But you
guys found where he was hiding. No one else could do that."
	Gumby had never thought of it that way. Amy sure was swell.
	That only made him more nervous.
	-----
	"So I'm an inconsiderate lout?" Sam demanded.
	"I said nothing of the like," Staci squealed.
	Her uncomfortable pose was only one of her worries. Her old bed
was straining and groaning with the intent of dropping her on her head
and Sam was looming over her unprotected rear brandishing a belt.
	This would not long serve. Staci was turning an unhealthy red
as she hung upside down from her wrists with her legs thrown over in 
an attempt at a human @ sign.
	Sam gave up and jerked loose the knot. Staci fell on her head 
with accompanying curses and groans.
	"How about now?" Sam asked.
	"You're getting there," Staci grunted from her shoulders.
	The fall was perhaps four inches and into the pillow beneath.
Staci was more incapacitated by her difficulty breathing, a difficulty
that had lessened only little with her release. The weight of her 
bottom and her legs no longer crushed her into a ball but she was
still rolled up with her back on the headboard.
	Sam saw no reason to abandon the experiment entirely. Before she
could recover enough to move, he grabbed the trailing ends of the rope
that had suspended her and tied them to her knees.
	"Sam! You mean bastard! What the fuck is this?" Staci asked loudly.
	"I'd have to say tricycle," Sam said as he tipped her more
upright.
	"I can't fucking breathe," Staci protested.
	Her face was buried in pillows. Sam considered pulling her up on
her knees and jamming his cock in her face, but gave it up as a bad
idea.
	"You could think things through a little more before you try to
smother me," Staci was ranting as he peeled the rope out of the grooves
it had made in her wrists.
	"And I thought I was a guy that came to the answer without that,"
Sam bantered.
	Staci was simmering and Sam needed to intercept	her before she 
got to a boil. It certainly wasn't the mistreatment. She was revved up
and the frustration was busting through. He put her mouth on his and 
pushed her flat to the bed with the kiss. Ordinary now, but their path
to the point had been anything but.
	"What do you think?" he asked as he moved against her, reviving
his flagging hard-on. "You think across town the kids are discovering
each other's naked bodies?"
	"You think Gumby, at this moment, is poised at the entrance," Sam
said as he poised, "Taking that first plunge into heaven."
	"That's cute Sam," Staci said as she raised her knees to surround
him. "Now let's just pretend we're watching them and you show me what
Gumby is doing to your cute little girl."
	Sam didn't dare be so lame. He assumed (correctly) that Gumby 
didn't have it in him to fuck the way Staci liked. He heaved into her
with gusto. She liked to feel a man in control. He strained to fuck her
hard enough to make her tits bounce.
	"Oh my god! Gumby! Don't stop! Make me cum!" Staci gasped out as
Sam drove her to the brink.
	Sam's mouth turned up into as much of a grin as his gasping mouth
could manage. Staci was a great broad. He wasn't thinking of Amy. It
was cute of her to do... whatever she was doing.
	Then he wasn't thinking about anything. His hips took over the
fervid plunging and he joined Staci in orgasm.
	"That Gumby stuff... That was because you were pretending it was
him fucking you," Sam asked. "You weren't trying to make it nice for
me, were you?"
	Staci just grinned without answering.
	-----
	Amy was at Sam's desk the next morning.
	"He kissed me- no tongue- and said good night," Amy pouted, "Do
you know anything about this?"
	Staci got Amy's drift.
	"Sam didn't tell Gumby to lay off you," she said. "He thinks...
we think you two could be great together."
	"Well, it's going to take more than a peck on the lips to be
together," Amy snorted. "He didn't even step inside my apartment and
give me the chance to jump him."
	"Gumby's only recently gotten over being shy," Sam tried, "You
seem to bring it out in him."
	"What did I do?" Amy asked in a pained wail.
	"What Sam means is Gumby is nervous because you're a big deal
to him," Staci translated. "He doesn't want to screw it up."
	"Did he say that?" Amy asked, suddenly alert.
	"Sam- go for a walk," Staci said. "Amy and I have to talk and
you're going to have loyalty issues about what I'm going to say."
	It was the best offer Sam'd had all day. He got out and let the
hens have their party.
	"Uncle Sam?" Gumby cornered Sam, "Where's Amy?"
	"You keeping track of her?" Sam asked.
	Gumby gave him a strange look.
	"I've got my report and I can't find the courier envelopes,"
Gumby said.
	"Second drawer of the filing cabinet," Sam said.
	Well, if Staci was holding a strategy meeting, then Gumby better
be prepared, Sam thought. He couldn't have his nephew clueless and he
knew just where to go.
	-----
	"That old heap finally break down?" Gumby asked Sam.
	"No, it's still miraculously running, wiseass," Sam said. "But
it's for special occasions now. Cock, Sucker and Dick don't like me to
be seen in it."
	It wasn't the only reason Sam took the Red Ball. This was a
situation that called for tact and he was looking for someone devoid 
of it. Gumby could tone it down in his own mind. Sam wanted to be sure
Gumby heard what must be said.
	"Junior here just had a hot date. He got a goodnight kiss- no 
tongue," Sam told the driver.
	"You barf on her shoes?" Giselle asked Gumby.
	"No- his idea. He likes this girl," Sam answered for Gumby.
	"I don't want her to get the wrong idea," Gumby cut in. "I didn't
want her to think I only wanted one thing."
	"You mean that she's desirable? That wrong idea?" Giselle asked,
"'Cause you did that. Now she feels you think she's 15 or ugly or in
some other way unfit to fuck."
	"Now you listen, because Giselle is a broad," Sam said. "But she
knows how to talk so you can understand."
	"You mean I speak Man?" Giselle asked sweetly and then went back
to normal to add, "It's easy. I take out the big words."
	"Okay, what should I have done?" Gumby asked adversarialy, but 
was secretly hanging on her words.
	"Shown some interest," Giselle said. "You don't have to come on like gangbusters. Just let her know you're willing to follow her lead. Hold long enough to see if she wants some tongue. If she's pulling you
toward something while you're kissing, go. She'll let you know how far
she wants to go."
	Then Giselle turned her head to the other side to talk to Sam.
	"He's been with a woman before, hasn't he?" she asked.
	"He was screwing the bride while I was in the hospital," Sam said.
	"Uncle Sam!" Gumby yelped. "Don't tell everyone that!"
	"So, you giving the wedding presents back?" Giselle asked.
	"I can come by and drop it off personally," Sam offered.
	"It's nice you two are having so much fun at my expense, but I
don't want to hear it!" Gumby protested loudly.
	"You serious?" Giselle ignored Gumby.
	"I could send the bride by if you'd rather," Sam said. "I did 
give it to her like I promised."
	"What are you talking about?" Gumby was still trying to be heard.
	"Eighth street," Giselle announced. "And you have my number."
	"Now I have no doubt you've been with that woman, but were you
setting up a date?" Gumby asked after they left the cab.
	"We were kidding around," Sam said. "Giselle's all right. And she
told you what to do."
	"What? Let Amy fuck me?" Gumby asked.
	"Let her decide," Sam corrected. "Don't make up her mind for her.
Don't guess what she's thinking because you'll be wrong. You're always
wrong."
	"Is that because I'm stupid?" Gumby was getting upset.
	"I didn't mean it personal. I was using the general, includes all
men, you," Sam said. "I was thinking about me. You know how Staci is? 
Well, it took a long time before I believed her when she said she
didn't care about all the broads. Got in my face over it as a matter 
of fact."
	Finally Gumby saw a connection. Staci didn't let guys get away
with assigning her opinions. Gumby knew that first hand. In a way, he
could see he had assigned Amy the role of untouchable icon.
	But in his heart he knew he had been scared. He didn't want to
move too fast. That was true. He wanted Amy to know he thought she was 
special. And he wanted to be good for her. He was feeling the pressure
as they got to her door.
	He didn't feel confident. There were still issues he hadn't resolved to feel worth her. He wasn't sure he could perform. He got
the hell out before he blew his wad in two seconds and blew his
chances.
	"Okay, uncle Sam, but why are we here?" Gumby asked.
	-----
	If he hadn't needed some private time with his nephew, Sam would
have sent him with Staci. It was woman's work and he felt like he was
holding Gumby's purse. Like he had any opinion what looked elegant or
distinguished.
	He didn't have to be skeptical of the salesman's recommendations
any more. At least sticker shock was the least of his worries. It
didn't help that the man seemed much more solicitous toward Gumby than
he had been when Sam walked in wearing his old suit.
	A man of taste- Gumby. The kid looked all right. Sam knew that.
He didn't see the big difference but the tailor seemed to. And Gumby
was too familiar with fabrics for Sam's comfort.
	Sam was beginning to wonder if that had anything to do with
Gumby's problems getting laid. But then he thought that Staci would
have probably noticed and she would have said something.
	"You know I wanted to, uncle Sam," Gumby toyed with reading Sam's
mind. "I was just real nervous."
	"That passes," Sam advised. "Somehow a hard cock focuses you 
beyond the foolishness."
	That drew a scowl from the man measuring Gumby. Gumby wasn't
exactly pleased either.
	"I'm not foolish. I just care," Gumby huffed.
	"And it's foolish not to demonstrate that because you're afraid,"
Sam clarified. "Look at it from her point of view. You peck her and
tear out of there. I suppose she might guess you got scared off, but
she's got to wonder."
	"Okay," Gumby said, having already figured that out, "But I want
it to be perfect."
	"Then make it perfect. Don't wait for it to be," Sam said.
	Sam relieved the tailor's grim tolerance of their unseemly conversation when Gumby was trying to decide between blue and gray.
	"He'll take them both," Sam laid down his card. "And you can send
them the same place you sent mine."
	Whether or not he had given Gumby a leg up in the romance department, at least he would be dressed nice. 
	-----
	There was no Amy in his office bitching at him. In fact, the 
place was as quiet as a church. He and Staci both were listening for
clues about the big night.
	Amy was buzzing around like a busy bee, getting to a lot of
things she had been putting off regarding arranging supplies and 
generally putting files in order. Gumby seemed glued to his office.
He wasn't coming out and no one heard a peep out of him.
	Sam and Staci weren't sure what to make of it. Curiosity being
an occupational hazard for them, it was driving them nuts. It would
wound their occupational pride to ask, but they were fast approaching
that point.
	"I tell you something went wrong," Staci voiced her opinion.
	"But what? And why isn't one of them in here complaining about
it?" Sam voiced the counterpoints.
	"Maybe it wasn't all wrong- just disappointing," Staci amended.
	"Is Gumby..." Sam hesitiated at asking the delicate question and
then plowed on, "Is he any good in the sack?"
	Staci absorbed Sam's line of thinking before answering.
	"He's not bad enough to explain this," Staci said, "I mean, he's
okay. I'm sure Amy has had worse. For all I know. At least Gumby was
getting better..."
	"You don't have to worry about tarnishing the kid in my eyes,"
Sam said. "It was out of line to ask anyway. But it would fit the facts."
	"Except it doesn't," Staci said, hot on the mystery again, "Two
years ago, maybe, but not anymore. This has to be some sort of 
personality clash or something."
	Their pastime was interrupted when Amy opened the door. She
seemed to be in good spirits for someone who had just survived a
disaster.
	"I've got everything pretty much up to date out there," she
announced, "Want to see where everything is now?"
	"No," Sam said and absorbed Amy's double-take, "I've got a girl
who does that for me. If I need something I'll ask her."
	Staci let her smile at Sam's attempt at wit for a moment before 
making her subtle attempt to draw Amy out.
	"Does Gumby know where everything is?" she asked. "He's more
likely to be rooting around in your drawers."
	Sam couldn't restrain his laughter at the double entendres in
Staci's question. Amy was puzzled.
	"I'll show him when he asks," Amy said to Staci and then turned
to Sam, "And what's so funny?"
	Subtle was no friend of Sam's. In his work, being subtle was a
lot like lying. And he didn't see the point. What happened happened and
talking about it wouldn't make it better or worse. Besides, Amy was
only making it harder to stop laughing. 
	"She asked if Gumby knew where everything was and then said he'd
be the one getting in your drawers," Sam pointed out. "I think that's
pretty dirty. How do you feel about Gumby getting in your drawers? Are
you going to show him where it is when he asks?"
	Amy was shocked. On her it looked like surprise, except she
didn't break into a smile and her eyes didn't smile along. Her eyebrows
remained up over her wide eyes.
	"Mr. Hill! That is a crude question to ask about Howard," she
scolded Sam.
	"It's just that you two have been acting strange all morning and
Sam's curious how everything went last night," Staci said.
	She got two looks. Amy's was puzzled. Sam's was a frown.
	"All right," Staci amended, "We both wonder how everything went."
	"Ohhhhh..." Amy said slowly while she did whatever process passed
for thinking, "You couldn't tell how it went. Good."
	"Good?" Sam snorted, "What is this? Twenty questions or I've got
a secret?"
	"Oh, not like that, silly," Amy was smiling again, "Good because
that's how we decided we wanted it."
	"Wanted what?" Sam asked, "What's the way you wanted it?"
	"Howard said it could be disruptive to office morale if we acted
like we were lovebirds or something," Amy said, partially by rote. "We
decided to pretend there's nothing between us at work."
	"So there is something between you?" Staci jumped on that admission.
	"Well, ye-ah," Amy said. "Otherwise we wouldn't have to pretend."
	Sam was ready to contend that there wasn't anything between them
last night, but he held back. Amy wasn't in the mood for his earthy
sense of humor. He deferred to Staci to worm the details out of Amy.
	"So I take it Gumby, er, Howard actually made it inside your 
apartment this time?" Staci prodded.
	Amy just beamed. Even Sam could tell she was bursting to tell
everything that happened in glowing detail. But she just nodded.
	"And it would be highly inappropriate to ask any more questions
about that," Staci said with a stern look at Sam before he asked what
else Gumby made it inside of.
	"Well, I guess," Amy said. "It was pretty private, but it was
pretty good too."
	"That solves the mystery of the missing Gumby then," Sam said.
	-----
	Gumby was fully dressed and working on a report when Sam wandered
in his office. Sam figured he must have gotten the busy beaver gene
from his mother. Not that he really thought he'd catch Gumby whacking
off at his desk. His work was too sacred. He'd go to the john.
	"Rough night last night?" Sam asked.
	For a moment he thought Amy had done something to Gumby. He
looked up at Sam with the same smile Sam was used to seeing on Amy. It
made Gumby look giddy.
	"Oh golly, uncle Sam, I wish I could tell you all about it, but
I don't think that would be nice," Gumby gushed.
	"I'm not here for details," Sam said, "I just wanted to see that
you'd rescued the family honor after that first date."
	"Oh uncle Sam," Gumby snickered, aware for once that he was being
kidded, "I did everything that taxi lady said. I let Amy tell me what
she wanted."
	"With Amy I guess that's safe, but if you run into that 'taxi 
lady' I'd apply some common sense before doing everything she wants,"
Sam said.
	"See," Gumby said, eager to share his mood, "That's why it's
such a good thing. I'm not savvy like Sam Hill. A good gal like Amy
is what a guy like me needs."
	"Just so you're happy," Sam said. "And I think she's a good kid
too."
	Maybe he didn't want to know what happened. It was liable to be
disappointing. Amy was a good fuck, but maybe Gumby wasn't the rider
to bring out the blue ribbon performance. In any case, his imagination
was bound to be better than it really had been. Sam was willing to 
leave it at that.
	-----
	It would have been all hearts and flowers except the dead people
began turning up. Specifically, one dead mug who had died clutching one
of Gumby's guns. Baker called and wanted Gumby to come and identify it.
	Sam went along to pump Baker for all the information he could
get out of the sour old lieutenant. That and to show off his new status
in front of his pal.
	Unfortunately, Catalano still lived. His ugly pug face was the
first plain-clothes man they encountered. He gave Sam a leer and went
straight for Gumby.
	"Now Hill's a pretty common name, so I didn't get it until now,"
Catalano started, "But now it makes sense. Howard Hill, Sam Hill's pup.
How do you like the big city, Howard?"
	Sam was ready to deck the abrasive detective, but Gumby showed he
could handle it himself.
	"I like the big city and I like this one too," Gumby said with
his brand of wide-eyed simplicity, "Except the cops aren't as smart
here as in Miami."
	"I don't see any of them coming in to I.D. the gun that was taken
off them," Catalano shot back.
	"And you don't see anyone dragging in the guys that did it,
either," Gumby held his ground. "But I guess I can see why. You all
hang around the station in case some perp wants to turn himself in."
	Catalano scowled. Sam knew that meant he'd used up all the
insults stored in his tiny brain.
	"Just like your no-account dad," Catalano snorted and turned away.
	"I didn't know he knew your father," Sam said when Catalano was
gone. "But I think no-account is a bit harsh."
	The levity didn't last long when they met Baker. He pulled out a
magnum in a baggie and showed it to Gumby.
	"That one of yours?" Baker asked.
	Gumby picked it up and turned the butt up. He looked it over and
set it down.
	"That's mine," he said. "The other one has "HH" on the butt too."
	Baker nodded. Then he put the gun in a drawer and pulled out a
folder.
	"And before you whine and pout, here's all we've got," Baker
said, opening the file and pushing it across his desk to Sam.
	It didn't mean anything to Sam. Another stiff found in a
dumpster. Another name he didn't recognize. Another victim of dealings
Sam wanted no part of. But it was nice of Baker to show him.
	"More bad guys killing bad guys and making the world safe for
grandma?" Sam asked.
	"As far as we know," Baker said. "If you want to know, you should
ask Gino. I know he's sweet on you."
	-----
	"Does Lt. Baker think that Macaroni character has something to do
with this?" Gumby asked on the ride back to the office.
	"They're hoods and that automatically makes him think of
Macaroni," Sam explained, "But they're not Gino's. Is he involved? Who
can tell? And I for one don't want to know."
	"I'm surprised at you, uncle Sam," Gumby admonished Sam. "I
thought you'd be after whoever did this."
	"You're safe. That's my first concern. I want to keep you that
way," Sam said. "It would be nice to get your other gun away from the 
bad guys, but there are better ways than chasing after Gino Macaroni."
	Gumby sat silent for a while. He didn't speak again until Sam was
driving up the ramp in the parking garage.
	"Do you like Macaroni?" Gumby asked.
	"Gino is a stone killer," Sam said. "He's bad as bad gets, but
he's always been all right with me. What I am is scared of him. But I
guess I have to count it a blessing that he hasn't had me killed- yet."
	"Well, he did guard you when you'd been shot, and he didn't want
his thugs to hurt us," Gumby recalled. "That does make it hard to
figure, but I can't help thinking he's involved."
	"Oh, Gino is involved. Gino is involved with everybody from the
blind newsy on up in this town. I just don't think he's involved on the
level of your guns," Sam said.
	-----
	It was just like Gumby. Sam had been content to let Gumby's guns
surface like rotting corpses in a lake. There was something going on
that Sam, like Baker, was content to let run its course. Only, unlike
Baker, Sam's motive was not to let the thugs kill each other off, it
was to keep those he cared about out of the line of fire.
	Now that Gumby had a lead, Sam knew it would eat at him until he
did something. Sam had to do something first. Sam had to head his
inquisitive nephew off before he shared the curious cat's fate.
	"What in heaven's name are you doing?" Staci asked as she caught
Sam dressing in the bathroom.
	He had parted his hair on the wrong side and slicked it down into
a rumpled haystack. His old Penneys suit was hanging on the door of the 
closet and Sam was knotting a horrific tie. There were still a couple
of what Staci called 'costumes' in with the suits that cost a month's
pay.
	"Going to place an ad on the street," Sam said.
	There was something so Sam in that picture. Staci felt a shiver
of memory from the old days when Sam walked the streets and scrabbled
his living by his wits. It still affected her the same way.
	Sam's warning was Staci's reflection in the mirror. There was a
devilish glee on her face.
	"Going looking for a good time?" she asked.
	Sam was in his shorts. Staci pressed against his back and reached
down to rub his cock.
	"Just keep tying your tie," Staci said in a husky voice.
	Sam wasn't in the mood, but his dick didn't share his reluctance.
Then, as it came erect, Sam gave in to the feeling.
	"Move closer," Staci said as she nudged Sam against the sink.
	Their eyes locked in the mirror. Sam wasn't looking where his
cock protruded from the fly of his underwear. He was looking into
Staci's intense gaze. He wasn't watching her hand move up and down his
length.
	Staci twitched involuntarily. Sam's involvement showed in his
eyes. They seemed to grow lighter, brighter as her hand quickened on
his cock. She was feeling his lust flood through her own body. She was
feeling his excitement between her own legs.
	Sam's eyes drifted closed as if he had passed into a dream. Staci
felt his back stiffen. He groaned. Staci abandoned her plan to take him
in her mouth. There was something fragile here she dare not disturb.
She jacked him faster. Sam exploded into the sink and over her fingers
as she jacked his cock faster.
	"What was that about?" Sam asked after a span of silence.
	"I don't know," Staci said, immersing herself in cleaning Sam's
cock. "I had plans, but then..."
	"I'm not going out looking for hookers," Sam said.
	"I knew that, Sam," Staci said.
	-----
	Sam hadn't been jerked off since he started wearing long pants.
At least it seemed that long. The moment and Staci's confusion about it
stayed with him as he made his way back to the old neighborhood. At
least there was one place where he could drive his car without hearing
a bunch of crap.
	The whole thing was simple enough. Guys liked guns, but
everything had a price. All he needed was cash and some noise to get 
the word out. The kind of noise didn't matter, but Sam instinctively
stayed away from the truth.
	"This looks like a rough place," he sidled up to the barman.
	He got a dirty look for his trouble. 
	"What'llyahave?" he asked in one word.
	"Well, I suppose... Bourbon, straight up," Sam played the geek.
	He sipped the whiskey. He wanted to arouse curiosity, not
interest. He was the sucker here. 
	"What brings you down here?" the barman asked as if the words 
were being dragged out of him.
	"Actually, I'm looking for a special item," Sam leaned in to
confide.
	"Broads? Drugs? Muscle? What?" the barman pretended indifference.
	"A gun," Sam said quietly. "A very particular gun that has gone
missing. I'd be willing to reward anyone who returned it."
	"Someone break into your collection?" he asked.
	Sam looked left and right. The closest patrons were doing a bad
job of pretending to ignore him. Sam had his audience.
	"Oh no, it's not that kind of gun," Sam said. "It isn't really
special except that its owner might..."
	As if he was about to reveal too much Sam stopped and looked left
and right again.
	"Let's just say it only has value if you know certain facts about
its history," Sam finished.
	That seemed to be the right balance of stupid and thinking you're
pretty smart. The patron to his right was doing a worse job of hiding
the calculations he was making in his head.
	Sam didn't stay to flesh out the story. He wanted the right
people in attendance, not some crows that would give it out second-
hand. He'd come back in a day or two. The interested parties should be
gathered by then.
	-----
	"I don't know anything about these people," Amy said. "I was
still only a fan. You're the one that's seen Gino and had dealings
with him."
	Howard had a habit, a strange habit it seemed to Amy, of pacing
to think. At the moment it was cuter than normal since Howard was stark
naked and every stop and turn made his cock swing with a cute wiggle.
	"But I bet he knows something," Gumby said. "If he knew what we
were looking for, I bet he could set us right."
	"But didn't Sam tell you to stay away from him?" Amy asked.
	Gumby's dick swung angrily.
	"That's only because he's over-protective," Gumby snapped. "He's
afraid I'll do something stupid like try to arrest the guy or
something."
	Amy looked up from his dick to the scowl on Howard's face. Howard
was devoted to Sam. She was puzzled by his reaction.
	"Don't you think Sam knows best?" Amy asked.
	"Do you know what he did the first time we worked together?" 
Gumby was defiant.
	Amy shook her head.
	"He tried to take on a whole gang all by himself. Luckily the
sheriff got there in time to back him up, but he didn't know they were
coming," Gumby said.
	Amy's eyes opened wide. It was a story about Sam she had never 
heard. She knew he was brave and ready to face death calmly, but to 
take on overwhelming odds? It was just like a guy like Sam to be that
kind of hero and never say a word about it.
	"Don't get mushy about it," Gumby snapped when he saw her look,
"The point is he does it, but he doesn't want me to."
	Amy looked away. Howard was a nice guy, but he wasn't Sam Hill.
No one would ever be Sam Hill for her but Sam, but it wasn't her Sam-
worship that made her see Sam's point. Howard was an ordinary mortal
and Sam was, well, Sam Hill.
	"I don't want you to either, Howard. I don't want anything to
happen to you," Amy said plaintively.
	"So you agree with him," Gumby accused her, "I thought you'd have
faith in me."
	"I have faith in both of you," Amy responded, picking her words,
"But don't you think Sam knows this Gino better than you? He didn't say
Gino would know where your guns were, did he?"
	"He doesn't know. It sounds like he doesn't want to know,"
Gumby said. "It sounds like he doesn't want to ask."
	"Maybe he doesn't want to use up a favor," Amy said sagely. 
"Maybe this Gino guy expects favors in return."
	Gumby had seen 'The Godfather'. He was even willing to grant that
Gino might operate the same way, but that did him no good. His guns
were out there- at least the one. They were in the hands of thugs. He
wanted to do something.
	It was a plan that was no plan. Gumby went past his feeling of
injury and saw that. Gino Macaroni was no more likely to know where 
his remaning gun was than Sam was. He might be better able to find out,
but why would he want to?
	But Gumby wasn't ready to concede. This was about more than
making sense. This was about taking charge and getting something done.
It was about a man taking a man's place. This was about a guy's girl 
sticking no matter what. It was about whether Amy was his girl or his
uncle's.
	"He said Gino knows everything that goes on in this town," Gumby
answered defiantly, but heard the petulant child in his own voice, "And
I don't want to talk about it anymore."
	"Fine," Amy snorted. "You rant all by yourself. If you ever calm
down, I'll be right here."
	With that she turned over. Gumby's glare had no effect on her
naked back.	Her back, particularly the cute, round bottom at the end
of it, did have an effect on Gumby. For a moment it was anger.
	Damn women! They had the answer to everything. But his mood
softened as his cock got hard. You couldn't fight it. And it wasn't Amy
he was mad at. She wasn't naked with his uncle. She was with him. She
was so damn cute.
	His tirade came after they had spent their first afternoon in
bed. Amy had not let him lead. This time she had pulled him down on the
bed and clambered over him. While Gumby was still marvelling at the way
she applied her 80 pounds to put him on his back, she was demonstrating
the power in her shapely little legs.
	They seemed almost prehensile as she was at first shoving his
chest down with a knee and then trapping his arms to his sides. Gumby
didn't fight. Her purpose became clear as she took her reversed
position and he didn't feel the need to escape.
	Her tongue skittered over the head of his cock like an insect.
Gumby giggled. His cock had a lustier reaction and danced with Amy's
tongue. Gumby squirmed.
	Her mouth came down and Gumby almost threw her off. He couldn't
take that and lie limp. He pulled his arms out of the grip of her legs
and grabbed her ass. Not just cute, Amy's ass was perfect buttocks 
lightly meeting at the middle. Gumby gripped the firm globes and hung
on. Amy did something incredible with her tongue around the head of
his cock.
	He squeezed, left cheek, right cheek, left cheek, right cheek, as
she moved down farther and pulled back. His thumbs crawled toward her
cleft as he kneaded her ass and she bobbed her mouth experimentally on
his cock.
	His thumbs found the swollen bulges between her cheeks and Amy
pulled back to stab a snake-like tongue around his cock's head as he
massaged her lips while he kneaded her rear. She started to purr.
	She pulled away from him and crawled away. She went as far as his
groin. Gumby watched her pose her cute little butt over his cock and
slowly sink down. It was a new experience.
	He felt bottom for the first time with Amy. He pushed against
a limit as her sheath closed around him. She was different from this
angle. And, yes, better. But that had less to do with her internals
than Gumby's view of her sweet little butt riding on his cock.
	"God, that looks so good," Gumby sighed.
	"Feels pretty nice too," Amy purred back.
	It was better than good, or nice, or even terrific. Amy braced 
herself with her hands on his knees at the end and pounded her butt
down on his cock. Gumby felt like some kind of sacrifice being drained
of his life force.
	Amy's cunt demanded his seed. The pounding had stopped. She was
sitting on him, her hips vibrating back and forth on his cock as her
sheath sucked his cum up from his balls. Gumby only vaguely realized 
she was cumming as he was overwhelmed by the spasming jets of his
climax squirting into her.
	Gumby felt used, but at the same time felt like he had used her.
With her down there, facing away, it was like she only needed his cock.
She was taking what she wanted from him. Or she was servicing him as he
lay back and enjoyed. It was an ironic and satisfying twist that she
had to give him what he wanted to get it for herself.
	He saw what he wanted again as Amy lay with her back facing him.
She was one hot tamale in that tiny package. Gumby hadn't bargained on
this innocent looking little girl being so knowing- or so active in 
the sack.
	He liked her before he knew. The crisp innocence of her wrapper
was enough to draw him to her. Now that he understood what was under
the paper of that cute package, he loved her.
	"I think I'm pretty calm now," Gumby breathed as he rolled up
behind her.
	In her present position she fit perfectly between his dick and
his chin. His chin rested on the top of her head and his dick, getting
firmer by the second, nestled between her firm little buttocks. The
rest of her kissed every inch of his front with her back.
	"No more Gino then?" she asked him.
	Only a rat would say anything to get his dick in a woman. Gumby
reminded himself of that when his first instinct was to agree
automatically. This was an important point.
	"Let's talk later, okay?" he asked.
	A rat would say anything, a snake would agree and then deny and
a dog would try to get some without saying anything. It was all the
same. Amy didn't feel he was taking her seriously. She couldn't work
up the feeling of mis-use, because she knew Howard wasn't like that,
but he was trying to pull something.
	"No, no, have you given up the idea of bothering Gino?" Amy
insisted, wanting him to declare his species.
	Gumby was better than a rat, dog or snake. He wanted her, but he
wanted everything to stay clear bewtween them. And right now the clear
thing was pissing him off.
	It was clear she wanted to rule his life. She wasn't that good
in bed. Or maybe she was, but this went deeper. Gumby felt the presence
of his uncle between them. He didn't blame either of them for the past,
but he thought Amy should have chosen sides by now. It was clear where
her loyalties really lay.
	"I feel awful tired," Gumby lied. "Maybe we should take a nap."
	They both stewed. Amy had no idea how stubborn Sam was. She was
never in a position to find out. She knew she didn't like the trait
in Howard. He had as much as said he was going to ignore all wise
council and screw up. She cared about him. She hated him for being so
stupid.
	-----
	"Howard is going to try and find this Ravioli character," Amy
tattled at her first opportunity.
	"Macaroni," Sam corrected her idly, "But there's no need. I'm
going to put the word out today and we'll have his other gun by the
end of the week."
	Amy was not surprised. She didn't need an explanation. He was
Sam Hill. Of course he could do it when not occupied making the sun 
travel across the sky and the moon rise.
	"Well, you better tell him, because he's determined," Amy said.
	"Can't you tell him?" Staci asked.
	"I'm not speaking to him," Amy huffed.
	If eyebrows were a crop, Staci and Sam would have a crop from the
ones that were raised at that. It seemed kids did have to do it the
hard way.
	"Well, she is feistier than she first appears," Staci said,
remembering her defiant strip for Stan Harrow. "I guess they're flint
and steel and strike sparks."
	"Then you tell Gumby," Sam said. "I don't want to get this nice 
suit singed."
	Staci wasn't sure if it would be better or worse coming from her.
She didn't think it would be nice.
	"Gumby," she started hesitatingly, "Sam's going to get your other
gun back. He's getting it all set up."
	Gumby didn't know what to attack first. Obviously, Amy told. And
Sam was cutting him out of it again. And Staci- who did she think she 
was coddling by not telling him to stay out of it. It was what she
wanted. Why didn't she just say it like everyone else?
	"And how is he going to do that?" Gumby sounded remarkably calm.
	It was his gift.
	"He's going to buy it back," Staci said.
	"Buy it? From a guy that tried to kill me and stole it?" Gumby
was no longer calm. "He should be in jail- not richer."
	Technically, no one tried to kill him. He was unconscious and 
they had his guns. It wouldn't have taken so much as a try to kill him.
But rewarding them wasn't right either. 
	It was a deal Sam was willing to make to keep everyone safe.
Gumby balked at the deal. He didn't need coddling. He was a big boy and
he could take care of himself. That included Amy. He could watch out
for himself, thank you.
	"I lost the guns. I can get them back," Gumby said. "Tell my
uncle that I don't need his help."
	Staci frowned. Gumby had never been this critical of Sam before.
	"It's already started. He put out the offer two days ago," Staci
said reasonably. "Just let it play out. It'll be the easiest."
	"Easy?" Gumby was in no mood to let it go. "When did we start
picking easy over right? The man's a criminal."
	Staci walked away. There was no reasoning with him. He was 
spending all his energy twisting it into some conspiracy against him
personally. If he wanted to follow her shouting, she would lead him to
Sam. Gumby stayed at his desk and watched her leave.
	"Criminal?" Sam asked as Staci related her encounter. "Well, 
there's a good chance of that since anyone that touches it is a 
receiver of stolen goods, but that doesn't mean it's the same guy that
sapped Gumby. It'll probably be someone who bought it for less or 
stole it from that guy."
	"Then you tell him," Staci snapped. "I'm tired of him being an
asshole. He reminds me too much of you."
	-----
	It was a relief to leave the office. It was a bit frosty there.
The old neighborhood welcomed him with the warmth of streetwalkers and
addicts littering the sidewalks. They were easier to pick out than the
vipers out of a bunch of guys in identical suits.
	"I got a message for you," the barman greeted Sam. "Collectibles
are too valuable for a guy in a Penney's suit. People want to see
cash."
	"I may be a trifle out of place here, but I'm not coming with a
wad of cash," Sam said. "Arrangements will be made once I'm satisfied
someone has what I want. I don't think I even told you what I want."
	"Like I give a shit," snarled the barman. "I'm delivering a
message."
	"I want a specific 7-inch .357 magnum, chrome-plated with HH on 
the butt," Sam said. "Deliver that message back."
	There was a moment Sam thought he had gone too far. He didn't 
want to be trading punches with the bartender. He was trying to act
harmless. He had to turn down the guff.
	"I'm offering $500 for it," Sam tried to be meeker.
	"You can't get a new one for $500," the barman said.
	"From what I understand it will be all profit," Sam said. "And
that's the offer."
	No one miraculously stepped out of the crowd with Gumby's gun.
Sam stayed for a drink in case someone wanted a few whispered words,
but no one approached him.
	He hadn't thought the crowd would bring every available gun to 
see if it was the one Sam wanted. He just wanted to put the details
directly into the ears of likely interested parties. He stuck around
for effect and in the vain and selfish hope that he'd be able to calm
Gumby down on his return.	
	-----
	She was bucking like an electro-shock patient as he fucked her.
Her breasts made bouncy arcs on her ribs with every thrust. He was 
heaving so hard that she was being pushed away.
	He reached down and grabbed her under the arms. She wrapped her
legs around him and threw her arms around his neck. He understood.
He straightened up with her. She hung half off him as he continued to
drive his cock up into her. Now her tits were like shaken pudding cups
as they bounced with the impacts. 
	The view in the window was evocative. It not only answered all
questions about the man's fitness, it stirred Gumby's desire for
revenge. If a poor man with a spinal cord injury could pick up a woman
and fuck her like that, then Gumby could pick one up in another sense.
	They'd never got to the part about being together, let alone
exclusive. It wasn't exactly scoffing at her feelings, but Gumby knew
it would stand as a symbol, at least to himself. He thanked the 
fradulent injury victim as he took pictures of him lifting the girl
off the bed and fucking her.
	Damn right! Gumby thought to himself. Call me Howard, act like
you see me different than the rest, then treat me like a kid the way
my uncle treats me. You're just his little whore on loan to keep the
kid too fucked to notice.
	For a moment he could almost believe it was true. Sam was quick
enough to give him Staci to get him laid. Amy was like a spare for 
guests and nephews. Perversely, Gumby could see how it would be a 
relief for Sam to pawn her off on him. Let the kid keep her busy her
for a while, he could hear Sam saying.
	While the concept rang true, Gumby knew it wasn't like that. Sam
wasn't fucking Amy, hadn't in some time. And she wasn't a whore. Even
his anger couldn't make him think that. If Sam wanted her to get laid,
it was for Amy and not to save himself. It didn't excuse her treating
him like a child. He'd show her how grown up he was.
	Only in fiction would Giselle be driving the cab that picked 
Gumby up. Even in fiction, Gumby felt the coincidence was another jab
at his manhood. It was like his uncle had the whole city watching
out for him.
	"I'm looking for some action," he told Giselle.
	"I hope you don't mean me," she snorted. "I'm not a whore on
wheels. I don't care who your uncle is."
	"Damn convenient you're the one that picked me up then, isn't
it?" Gumby muttered under his breath.
	"What?"  Giselle asked.
	"Nothing," Gumby said. "Now take me where I can find a girl."
	She had given the kid some advice that was worth every instant 
of the second or so of thought she gave it. Beyond that, she gave a
shit. She looked at him in the mirror.
	"How much you got to spend?" she asked.
	"How is that your business?" Gumby asked.
	"It tells me where to drop you. No sense having you leer at the
$100 a pop cuties when you've got $20 and change." she said sensibly.
	"I want the cheapest whore in town," Gumby stormed.
	Giselle didn't laugh. She was a good card player. She had the
poker face. They passed within a block of Sam going home as she took
Gumby to his destination.
	"You want me to wait, or is this going to take a while?" Giselle
asked.
	"You go on, I'll find my way home," Gumby grumbled.
	Even cabbies were laughing at him. What had seemed like the
great adventure was turning into shit. Gumby tried to focus on his rage
at Amy, but he was losing resolve. His desire had left him when he
stepped out on the sidewalk. 
	The women he saw were scrawny and dirty. He could pick out the
hypes and knew they'd blow him for pocket change, but the reality was
much more depressing without his anger glamorizing it. He wanted to do
something to declare his independance, but this wasn't it.
	He started walking. It seemed to clear his head. He knew,
generally, where he was. It was only a few blocks to Sam's old office.
With no purpose, he walked that direction. He wondered what he would
change if he had the power.
	Amy wouldn't be mad at him for one thing. He liked her better
happy. And she'd be on his side, rooting him on, kind of like his own
Staci.
	Only... Only he was stupid. He was acting like the child he said
he wasn't. He was dreaming instead of making it so. He could have asked
to talk it over, but she was right. He could have said it wasn't in his
plans, but he refused to rule it out... That might have worked.
	But he didn't. He was walking in the crappy part of town with no
destination and no purpose. He was acting like a spoiled child crying
he didn't get his way. He didn't want to take it out on Amy. He was
being an idiot.
	Two men flattened behind a corner that hid them from sight of the
end of the alley. They only heard Gumby walk by. 
	-----
	Behind the dumpster, Lefty was getting what for. He was all that
was left of his squad.
	"How many of theirs went down in return?" he was asked.
	"Look, I called Jonesy an asshole for having to take a leak,"
Lefty whined, "That tipped them off. We were lucky to get out alive
ourselves."
	"You mean you and Ira," he was asked.
	"Jonesy was exposed, you know what I mean, they picked him off
before he could get his hand off his dick," Lefty said.
	"So you left, firing wildly. What happened to Ira?"
	Lefty didn't want to answer this one. Offing Ira was no big 
thing, but he didn't want to get into the reason. It was a nice gun.
He wished he'd been able to get the other one off Jonesy. He didn't
want to have to shoot anyone else because they wanted the showy cannon.
	He didn't have to worry. Hurley had his automatic in Lefty's
mouth after the first two lies. 
	"The gung.. He wanhed the gung," Lefty garbled around the barrel,
pulling back his coat to show Hurley.
	Hurley jerked the trigger as he looked down. Lefty was going to
get it anyway. Half the squad- now three quarters had been killed by
their own side, only one by the other guys. That wasn't efficient.
	Hurley took the magnum out of the holster. He didn't like 
revolvers. Too much fucking around to reload. But it was a nice piece,
he might get something for it.
	-----
	"Hey, little lady, hows about a kiss?" Sam asked Staci.
	"Go away, you drunken bum. I'm too high class for your type now,"
Staci said and put her hand in his face to push him back.
	"It went swimmingly, thanks for asking," Sam straightened and
stopped the growling slur he'd used. "How's it been around here?"
	"Quiet," Staci said.
	Sam wasn't interested in girl talk. He wouldn't care about her
talk with Amy about how pig-headed men could be. It was enough that
there were no loud disturbances.
	Sam went in the bathroom to change. He was glad for the quiet,
but he wondered where Gumby was. He was about to step into his good
pants when Staci came in.
	"So you want that kiss now, huh?" Sam assumed.
	"Well, you are looking prosperous enough for me to consider,"
Staci led him on and then said, "But I want to talk about Gumby."
	"Gumby, huh? You see your last chance slipping away, do you?"
Sam asked.
	"How gallant of you to suppose that's what I meant," Staci said.
"As if I'd even bring it up. Why would I need your permission?"
	Sam hoped she was making fun of him. She had the dangerous- you
can't tell what I'm thinking- look on her face. He stowed the crack
about taking Amy out of her way so she could jump Gumby. He felt an 
urge to protect his nose.
	"So what about Gumby?" Sam asked.
	"Do you trust him?" Staci asked.
	"What is this about?" Sam had his own question. "This personal
feelings for the boy or something Amy said or what? Do I trust Gumby
to do what?"
	"Okay, I'll just say it," Staci promised. "Gumby's seeing the
flip side of being the famous detective's nephew right now. He thinks
you're taking things away from him and fixing them rather than let him
do it himself, his own way."
	"Kids are like that," Sam grinned. "But they wise up and see they 
can learn from the things you show them, eventually."
	"I think he has a point," Staci wiped the smile off Sam's face.
"You do treat him like a kid and he's not anymore. And you can't just
ram it down his throat."
	Sam looked at Staci like she had turned into a giraffe.
	"Should he go after Gino? Of course not, but you've got to
explain it to him so he gets it, no matter how long that takes. You
can't jump right to the conclusion because he can't follow that yet.
You can't just forbid him either. That doesn't even work with kids,"
Staci said. "And right now that's more important because he needs to
feel like a man to feel he deserves Amy."
	Now Sam was upset. Anyone else he could tell they were screwed
up and laugh it off. This was Staci. He'd tell her the same thing, but
they were on her ground. She was always right about this stuff and it
was the crap he never got. He had to believe her and it pissed him off.
	"So what can I do," Sam asked still wishing he could yell.
	Now it was Staci's turn to stutter. She hadn't meant to be so
blunt. She hadn't anticipated Sam giving up without a fight. And she
didn't have a solution. She hadn't thought it out that far.
	"Be warned," she said weakly. "Try to treat him more like a man
than a kid. Oh, I don't know. Just don't talk down to him."
	Sam processed the information. He didn't treat Gumby like a kid
except when Gumby acted like one. But it seemed all Gumby's dreams of
being big time featured some pointlessly dangerous gesture at the
crux. What he had to do was shake the romantic notions.
	"You don't know either, do you," he accused Staci.
	She shook her head, looking grim.
	"I just have to tell him all this hoop-la about me being a big
shot came from fucking up," Sam said. "Done right, I'd have gotten the 
same results quietly."
	"You're right, but it won't work," Staci said to a questioning 
look. "He needs the drama. He wants to test himself against the danger.
He needs to know for himself."
	"Stupid kids," Sam sighed.
	-----
	The 'job well done' only made Gumby more sullen. It was kid's
stuff to act on a hooker's tip and snap some pictures. Working smarter
and not harder didn't appease him either. He could smell Sam 
patronizing him.
	He had more than enough burning inside him to counter any lame
compliments. He couldn't even pay a hooker to suck his dick. And to
make it worse, he stopped into the cafe near Sam's old office and Judy
recognized him.
	Sam Hill's nephew, sure looked like Sam, did he share all the
family traits, she wondered. Gumby could have had her. He knew what she
was saying. It would have taken about an ounce of charm to get her in
the back and let her compare a Gumby fucking to a Sam fucking.
	It made him feel like a kid instead. He wasn't in the mood. He'd
already rejected avenging his stupidity by doing something stupider. He
didn't need the comparisons. He didn't want to live the rest of his
life in Sam's hand-me-downs.
	Objectively, there wasn't much to do. Miami might take him back
or they might have filled his position. He was a good detective, great
with the covert stuff because he didn't look like a detective.
	As soon as he pondered it, the other feeling set in. What would
that look like? He'd be running away, no matter how he spun it. He 
came here to learn from the best. Amy was sure to be impressed by a
quitter. Was he going to give up?
	It was uncomfortable to have his icon and his nemesis in the same
body. It was confusing to have his ideal be the force that held him 
back.
	He glowered at Amy. He didn't mean it. What did he expect? Just
like Judy at the cafe, she wanted to compare. He was glad he hadn't
accepted Judy's invitation. That was one less woman to compare and find
him wanting.
	What did he expect? Amy knew the difference between a winner and
a loser. He'd never measure up. Even if she settled for second best, 
she'd always remember. He needed a woman that had never heard of Sam
Hill.
	He didn't have that perspective when Sam walked out of his office
in gutter sheik. Staci didn't have to lay out the plan. Gumby knew
enough to figure how Sam was going to buy his gun back. He wanted to
go along.
	"I can't bring muscle with me, that's not who I am," Sam said.
"I'm not a wise guy. I'm a harmless guy who thinks he's pretty smart.
You might scare our friend away."
	"I'll stay in the back," Gumby protested. "You can't do this
alone. It's insane. You can't protect me forever, not by risking your
own neck this way."
	"It's my neck," Sam was chafing at the not entirely erroneous
observation, "And I think it's safer without a young hothead sitting
in the crowd. You stay put."
	Gumby threw up his hands and walked off. Sam allowed himself to
think he'd won. Anyway, it should give him time to shake Gumby off his
tail.
	He loved the old clunker. It was perfectly invisible to most
observers. It was just some old car putting along. His affection
obscured the fact that each putt blew out the blue smoke of oil
burning. Gumby was like the children of Israel following the plume of
smoke through the desert.
	----- 
	The barman looked left. There was a big mug nursing a beer. Sam
got the picture. He was minutes from the big score. He wondered if he
wasn't being too careful hiding the money. It would be quicker to
slide the gun and the envelope back and forth below the bar.
	"Are you here in response to my offer?" Sam asked quietly as he
slid onto the stool next to the man.
	The man surveyed him with bloodshot eyes. Sam thought he was 
looking too carefully at him. He looked away to order a bourbon.
	"My mistake," Sam said. "Sorry to bother you."
	"You mean this?" the man opened his coat just far enough Sam
could see HH on the butt of a pistol.
	"As far as I can tell, but perhaps we can go where it's less
crowded to confirm the rest," Sam suggested.
	The guy was too happy to be alone with Sam. It sent up danger
flags. Sam was glad he didn't have the cash on him.
	"I need to see more of it to make sure," Sam said outside,
repressing the feeling of danger.
	The man showed him the wrong gun. It was an automatic and it was
aimed at Sam.
	"It's the right one," the man said as he turned out Sam's
pockets. "I'm just interested in why you want this gun."
	"Purely business," Sam didn't have to feign nervousness, "I know
a collector that will buy it."
	"You said you'd pay $500. You got nothing like that on you," he
said.
	"I was afraid some unscrupulous person might try to hold me up
if I carried the cash," Sam said with some satisfaction. "It is in a
safe place which I'll reveal when you give me the gun."
	"You don't get it do you?" the guy asked. "We're not doing this
your way. We're doing it mine." 
 	Uh-oh. Killer time. Sam saw it in the fixed but disinterested
stare. He wasn't nervous or even excited. Dead people meant nothing to 
him. He'd kill Sam when he got the money and there was nothing Sam
could do about it.
	He was superstitious about carrying a gun since not carrying one
had saved him from Benny Morton. He didn't have one now because the guy
he was playing wouldn't carry a gun. So much for method acting.
	"Well, I suppose I take you to the money," Sam stayed in
character.
	"I suppose you better," Hurley said.
	The guy was good, never sparing too much time from watching Sam,
but still staying aware of his surroundings. He slipped the hand 
holding the automatic into his pocket like he had done it every day of
his adult life. Sam knew this guy aimed from habit without looking.
	The money was in a call box near the trash cans where he'd found
the cocaine with Bits. He turned the other way. This guy was probably
going to shoot him, but he wasn't getting the cash. It was a small
rebellion, but it was the best Sam could do.

	Gumby was glad he'd disobeyed. This was exactly the place for a
young hothead to be. He'd figured Sam's scam. There was a door off the
alleyway and he was sure it was open. A back door for a quick escape if 
necessary.
	He didn't idolize Sam just because they were related. Sam did
have the tricks up his sleeve. Gumby had his own tricks. They wouldn't
need an escape route with him covering the guy.
	He'd even let him go. That was the deal. He wouldn't infringe on
Sam's set-up except as a safety net. But Sam wasn't coming.

	Maybe he'd meet someone he knew, Sam was thinking desperately.
Sure, there had always been the chance that the guy would try to rob
him and keep the gun. That was one thing, but this guy was a killer.
Sam had counted on the guy being a thief. Thieves tended to be shy
about murder.
	Maybe he'd think up something bright to say before the guy got
bored and killed him. It was hard to think with no ideas. Maybe he 
should make a break and just try to escape.
	"Where the fuck does this go?" Hurley asked as they turned into
an alley.
	"To my office, the one I rented as a front so I wouldn't have the
cash on me," Sam babbled. "Or you would have shot me right away."
	The guy wasn't bright, only dangerous. It was stupid to rent an
office for a $500 deal. And the guy was lost. Everybody knew this
alley. It was three blocks around on the sidewalk. Everybody cut
through here. It gave Sam no plan, but it gave him hope. He had an
advantage.
	"I still don't see what you hope to prove with that gun," Sam 
rattled on as he tried to think. "As you see, I am quite willing to
give you the money for that gun. That was my intention from the start."
	Hurley laughed. It was a nasty sound, like breaking wood.
	"And I don't find it interesting that you want this particular
gun?" he asked. "When you stop this cross-country crap, I think we're
going to find out what your interest is."
	Now Sam was getting too much information. It sounded like the
thug was expecting a trap. If he was expecting it, then it was unlikely
he was alone. Running was out. Talking his way out wasn't going to 
work. All he could do was walk and wait.

	A call box? Gumby was trying to work out the angles on that.
A crook wouldn't want Sam near a call box. Even in the days of cell
phones and 911, the quickest way to get a pissed-off cop breathing
down your neck was to fuck with a call box.
	Gumby decided it was the distraction. The opportunity to jump
through the door and bolt it. Gumby carefully took out the envelope
and settled in the back of the alley. There was a deserted box for
concealment.

	There was no office. Madame Zsa-zsa? Would she sense the danger
with the help of her surveillance camera? Sam didn't need to get her 
killed on that slim chance. Anyway, the office was a long way away.
	He was coming up on the other entrance to the alley with the
cash. Mr. Killer had no idea they walked in a circle. Sam was thinking
about the door. If he'd known this guy was from out of town, it would
have been smarter to go right to it.
	Then he might be able to bolt through the door and bolt it closed
and be lost in the strange city. Only his present path took him right
by the door of Nate's Pawn and Loan, where he'd emerge. That might
still work if this guy wasn't being tailed. If he was, Sam would be
running right into the pursuit.
	He didn't have any other plan.
	"The alley's on the left," Sam said.
	
	Gumby started out of his crouch when he saw Sam. He was only 
half-way up when he saw the man following. He wasn't sure what he was
doing. It all just happened like he was a spectator too.
	"Hey, buttface, remember me?" Gumby called out.
	Sam flattened to the wall to present a narrow target. Hurley was
frustrated by his rage to kill them both. He hesitated pulling the
trigger aiming at Sam when he caught the gleam of gunsteel in Gumby's 
hand. He swung to eliminate the threat.
	Before he could turn, Sam's .38 barked in Gumby's hand. Hurley
was hit. Sam used the impact to pull open Hurley's coat and grab
Gumby's gun. He brought it straight up under Hurley's chin. Hurley went
down.
	"I think he's being followed," Sam told Gumby.
	Gumby looked startled. Why did his uncle want to shoot him? Sam 
pointed the magnum in the direction of Gumby's eyes. A man jumped back
behind the corner.
	"The door," Gumby yelled.
	"No, your car," Sam corrected.
	They ran. They ducked around a protruding corner in the crooked
alley as one and kept running. No shots followed but they didn't slow
down.
	"They can keep the goddamn money," Sam gasped under his breath
as Gumby started the car.
	"You mean this?" Gumby asked and dropped the envelope on the seat
as he pulled away from the curb.
	-----
	Hurley wasn't there when the cops got there, but there were
bloodstains. Sam and Gumby were lined up in front of Baker's desk
giving their statements.
	"He turned and pointed the gun, 9mm I think, at me and I fired in
self-defense," Gumby was explaining.
	"Did he fire?" Baker asked.
	"He was distracted by Uncle Sam knocking him unconscious," Gumby
said proudly.
	"How about you? Any shots fired?" a bemused Baker asked Sam.
	"No, you smug prick," Sam said. "Look at the gun. It wasn't much
good for shooting."
	Hurley had unloaded the pistol as a precaution. Not that it made
any difference. Sam was only going to use it as a threat anyway. It was
a threat that may have made a difference.
	Sam might have fired. He thought it over. If he'd had a target,
Twyler wouldn't have been in his mind. It was what guns were for. Only,
he tried to get those thoughts out of his head. The magnum might have
kicked right out of his hand, he tried to joke to himself.
	"Then thanks for the information. I guess it'll help us with some
investigation," Baker said.
	Gumby looked ready to squwak.
	"What?" Baked headed him off, "We got no one complaining you
shot them. We got nothing but some blood. Maybe somebody got a bloody
nose. But I'd like to test fire that .38 in case some thug shows up
with a bullet in him."
	Gumby opened the cylinder and handed Sam's revolver to Baker
butt first. He still wasn't happy.
	"Cheer up," Baker smiled. "I won't leave you naked."
	He pushed the magnum toward Gumby.
	"We don't need this. And..." Baker reached into his drawer,
"We're done with this one too. Happy now?"
	Gumby picked up his guns with a smile of reunion on his face.
	"Case solved," Sam said and then added with a grin. "But I don't
feel right taking the credit. Maybe you should take over the tradition.
You're mostly responsible. Staci doesn't like it anyway. I'm sure it
won't make any difference to her."
	"Get out of here," Baker roared, more than little jealous. "I
don't want to hear this shit."
	It was nice of uncle Sam to say that in front of Baker. Gumby 
didn't think he'd feel the same if it was Amy. He had done something.
He didn't think Staci's ass should be the reward, but he had done
something good.
	"Fuck the money," Sam said in the car. "That was good, but no
more than I expected from you. You saved my ass. That was a welcome
surprise."
	"Surprise?" Gumby was prepared to feel hurt and unloved.
	"I had no options. I had no plan. I thought I was a goner. It was
a surprise I was going to live," Sam said.
	"You sure got my gun out quick and clocked him with it," Gumby
said.
	"I didn't say I was worthless," Sam replied. "But I needed some
help."
	It was the best thing Sam had ever said to him. Even without the
nice, homey feel of the magnums bulging the suit under his arms Gumby
knew he would feel content.
	-----
	"You told him what?!" Staci screeched.
	Gumby hadn't thought Sam was serious. He thought it was man talk
for Baker. He was mortified that Sam was telling Staci. He felt
definitely childish again as he saw Staci's reaction. But he had never
thought she'd do it.
	"No offense Gumby," Staci soothed too late, "But what about Amy?
I think you want to consider her feelings."
	"It wasn't my idea," Gumby back-pedaled like a crab.
	At least she hadn't told him he was stupid. He was. He'd been mad
at Amy because it helped him feel sorry for himself. Now he felt like
a bad child.
	"Shut up, Sam," she intercepted his mouth opening. "You can
apologize to me later. Right now Gumby has someone else to apologize to."
	-----
	"Uhh... Amy?" Gumby started gingerly.
	She looked up without a word. That was what 'not speaking to him'
meant to her.
	"I'm sorry," and the apology tumbled over itself coming out. "I
knew I was being stupid and it wasn't you I was mad at and you were
right and I'm sorry. Can you forgive me?"
	"Okay," Amy said.
	Gumby waited, but that was it.
	"That's it?" Gumby asked. "Don't you want to yell at me or
something? Make me promise to make it up to you?"
	"You'll do that," Amy smiled wisely. "You're like that. I just
wish you'd believe I'm on your side. I am you know."
	"I guess you saved your ass with that one," Sam cracked.
	"Sam you big dope!" Staci snorted. "You big lovable dope. You 
don't even know what you did, do you?"
	"Something good?" Sam asked tentatively.
	"You made Gumby feel like a man, you dope," Staci informed him.
"Just what he needed."
	"Hey- I didn't get myself in a fix so he could save my ass," Sam
protested. "If he feels good about something, he did it himself."
	"Gumby doesn't know how to feel about anything until you tell
him," Staci said. "He wants you to respect him."
	"Hey, I say that all the time," Sam protested.
	"But now he believes it," Staci said. "On the other hand, I
didn't know my ass is your possession to give to whoever you choose."
	"I only said you didn't like it and wouldn't care who made you
not like it- or something like that," Sam tried to defend himself.
	"You're just lucky I'm in a good mood watching the lovebirds,"
Staci said. "Or maybe no one would make me not like anything."
	-----
	Aunt, er, Staci's ass. It was a hard little circle in the midst
of soft, bouncy flesh. Gumby remembered everything about the
experience. His cock throbbed as he looked down on the tiny little ass
in front of him.
	Staci like it rough, but even gentle might seem rough to such
a tiny girl with such a tight little ass. He had cracked a case. And
his uncle always sealed the deal with anal sex. He'd read about it.
	Amy had more than read about it, although she hadn't mentioned 
that to him. She had admitted to reading about it though, along with a
little joke about case solved. She was waiting in a struggle between 
fear and anticipation, very exposed and nervous. She was willing for 
Howard to take the hint, but her eagerness was rapidly waning.
	"Do I have to go up on my toes? Can't you reach?" Amy inquired
about the delay.
	He was in no position, Amy-wise, to push his luck. He owed her.
She had been clear about the tradition and sounded like she was
offering an invitation. Still... He lowered his aim and pressed his
cock into the velvet folds of her cunt. It felt like her backbone rode
along the upper side of his cock.
	He wouldn't start that stuff yet. He'd let her off like she'd let
him off. He certainly wasn't tired of the eager welcome of her pussy.
	"Oh, Howard! That feels so good!" Amy enthused, not questioning
the parole.
	"It can't feel as good to you as it does to me," Gumby said.
	-----
	"Well, Gumby isn't here and you solved nothing," Staci was
taunting Sam. "I think you're going without."
	"What about being a lovable dope?" Sam asked. "Can't a dope get
any lovin'?"
	"Well..." Staci weakened, "I guess you did manage to make things
come out all right."
	"Yeah- even a dope sometimes stumbles over the right thing to
say," Sam said.
	"Well, you know, when have I ever refused you?" Staci was
suspicious and also aroused.
	It wasn't like Sam to give up this easily. She knew she wasn't
putting her ass in the air, just in case.
	"That's all I mean," Sam said. "I just want a little lovin'."
	"Then come here you big dope and suck momma's tittie," Staci
opened her arms.
	Nipples were new. Sam's tongue still aroused her too much to 
stand, but she was getting used to the uncontrollable feeling. He
calmed her when his cock slid into her.
	She was almost regretting Sam's surrender. A case didn't feel 
finished until she felt the jarring discomfort of his cock ramming
rudely up her ass. Perhaps, she called back to Sam's strange fantasy,
just across town Amy was getting that rude thrust at that very moment.
Then one long stroke emptied her and she felt the jab, the penetration
and the stab of his cock jamming up her ass from beneath.
	"Oooops! Missed," Sam snickered.
	"You DOPE!" Staci screeched.
	###