Keywords: M/F anal, oral, lite BDSM
Author: W R Jenkins
Title: Sam 13: Someone's got to Die

  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 13: Someone's got to Die - (Sam13.txt) - Thirteen is an
unlucky number. Bad things happen in 13. Sam has come a long way from
the early days, full circle you might say. A new generation is settling
in and to shake up the creeping complacency we need to delete a
character to keep the others on their toes. But who? Who? M/F oral,
anal, lite BDSM.

				Someone's got to Die

	Life is a pisser. Nothing ever seems to fall into place when and
where you need it. Once upon a time an extra room would have made a
world of difference. Now it didn't make much sense.
	Sam and Staci's farce of wedding could have been much different
if Gumby had his own room to sleep in. Sam and Staci's relationship
may have evolved in a different way if there were two beds in her
apartment.
	That was the past. Things always could have gone another way.
There's a whole theory about alternate universes where alternate people
went that way and those people probably have it just bad, only
different. More to the point, Sam was comfortable in the cramped 
quarters that had become his home with Staci. There was no reason for
them to need more room, now of all times.
	Staci's complaints about the stairs and the neighborhood held no
water either. If it seemed so strange for them to drive all the way
uptown from their modest beginnings, why was Howard taking over the 
lease? 
	Sam admitted he was the boss, but he knew Staci was making an
argument to cover her true intention when she said they needed a
classier place. That sounded like Cock Sucker & Dick, his pet name for
his employers, Carlyle Simpson & Dillon, talking. He knew he didn't
feel the need to posture for anyone and Staci didn't either. Her
elitist tirade was covering some other motive.
	The only one it made sense for was Gumby. Staci's cramped little
efficiency was perfect for him. For Gumby it was huge. The single room had space for bed, sofa and chair. He could sleep and sit and had need
of little more. There was closet space to spare. The tiny stove was
more than enough for Gumby's cooking skills, which barely exceeded 
Staci's.
	Sam was growing used to change. He didn't like it any better, but
he was getting used to it. He smiled dumbly as Staci led him on a
search for their new apartment. Mostly he didn't care. For the rest,
he'd make his point when they were alone.
	"So- are we starting our own shelter, or orphanage, or a whore
house?" Sam asked after they had viewed a three bedroom flat.
	Two and a half baths, living room, dining room, den; it was big 
enough to house everyone in the agency. It was sheer excess.
	"You know we can't afford whores," Staci sparred with him.
	"Not if we have to pay them, but if we take our cut of their
take like every other whorehouse it would work," Sam pointed out.
	Staci was only trying to maneuver Sam. She would be quite
comfortable in one bedroom if the apartment had more than three rooms
total. She was dragging him to the big ones so he'd be happier with her
real choice.
	Staci was manvuering herself. Sam knew she had more sense than
to rent a barn they'd never use. He figured she liked to shop for
apartments like she liked to shop for clothes. She wanted to see the
extravagant before taking the sensible for some reason buried deep in
her female genes.
	-----
	"Please, Amy, just come over and see the place," Gumby was
pleading.
	They were on the outs again. This time it was a secretary that
had set off her ire. Gumby swore there was nothing between them. There
wasn't even a flirtation- at least not on his end. He felt unjustly
accused.
	In her heart Amy knew it was true. She was punishing Howard for
something the secretary had done. Was it so easy to know her feelings
simply listening to her voice? Or had Howard told her about Amy?
	In any case, the bitch had made her feelings clear and told Amy
that Howard returned her affection. She was trying to upset Amy and 
it worked. It was easy for a secretary to upset Amy at the moment. She
knew everything between Howard and Staci was long past, Staci said so
and she believed Staci, but the fact activated her self-doubt.
	Ever since Howard had tried to explain things before she read 
them in Staci's new book "Ship of the Desert", she had been thinking.
She believed him that the first time had been a mistake and that he
wasn't eager for the second time. It was like him. He probably did need
the experience. But he'd been with Staci. There would always be that
comparison.
	She was no Staci. She didn't have the tits, or the attitude. 
She wasn't all that sexy and she just knew she couldn't be as good 
in bed. Howard would always compare, even if he didn't mean to, and
she'd be on the short end.
	She didn't hear a syllable of Howard saying it was the same for
him. She didn't hear him say she was more like Staci than he was like
Sam. She knew mere humans didn't compare to Sam. She would never hold
him to that impossible standard. She only heard that she wasn't Staci.
	There was only one way to stop the pain of waiting for Howard to
realize that. And she had to do it before she got in so deep it hurt
even more. She had to get over Howard. She owed him that much.
	She wasn't Staci. She'd never be this jazzed up sex engine. If 
that was what Howard wanted, no matter how hard he denied it, then
he'd have to look somewhere else. She had made up her mind. She had to
get over Howard.
	"I've seen it," Amy said simply.
	Gumby was undeterred. Success or failure had no part in this. He
had to try. Amy was the one. He had no option. He had to keep trying.
There was no other way.
	"I'll sit on the other side of the room. You don't have to be
near me. It's not like that," Gumby whined. "I just would like you
there."
	"What am I now? Some sort of decoration? What is the point?"
Amy sneered.
	There was a point. Gumby hesitated to bring it up. He didn't want
it to sound like he didn't want her there because he loved her. But he
was running out of options.
	"I want you there because I love you," Gumby said, "But you can
help me out too. You see, the landlady has this daughter..."
	Well, those were the words a girl wanted to hear. Next to: I
love you, it was: come chase away this bitch that wants to fuck me.
	-----
	Amy didn't want to consider why she had come. This wasn't getting
over Howard. This was giving him- both of them- hope for an impossible
conclusion. She didn't want to consider the twinge of jealousy she felt
as Howard described what had gone on with Anita in the past.
	Maybe it was better if Howard renewed his acquaintance. He didn't
want to because of her. He should get over her. She wasn't the kind of
hyperactive sex kitten that drooled over Howard. She'd never be the 
kind of woman to keep his attention. She didn't want to leave him with
nothing... But she didn't want him with this Anita either.
	"Yes?" Amy said as she answered the door.
	"Oh, I was looking for Howard Hill, you know, Gumby," Anita said.
	"He's hiding in the closet. He doesn't want to see you," Amy
said.
	"Don't you fool yourself, honey. He just wants to see me at a
more convenient time," Anita looked down at Amy, but she left.
	"Why did you have to tell her that?" Gumby asked when Anita left.
	"Where were you?" Amy asked back.
	"I wasn't hiding," Gumby tried to defend himself.
	"And I didn't want you to get any ideas because I helped you
out," Amy said.
	"Amy, I never said I wanted Staci more than you," Gumby started
over. "You said that and you're wrong."
	"And I don't want to talk about it, Howard. In fact, I don't want
to be here." Amy said and stormed out.
	-----
	Gordie woke up and wanted to cry. He didn't know what woke him,
but he knew why he was sad. Mommy and Daddy were fighting. Daddy
sometimes was bad and hurt Mommy and Mommy wanted him to go away.
	They were getting a divorce, which meant Daddy would have to go
live far away. Gordie was sometimes afraid of Daddy, but he didn't want
him to go. He loved his Mommy, but he didn't want her to send Daddy
away.
	Gordie pulled his pillow closer and lay down. He was a big boy.
He wasn't going to cry.
	"That's right, don't make it worse for Gordie," Lyon was
gloating. "Be quiet and don't wake him up."
	Lydia gagged. If she sucked his cock, he might not hurt her.
He was only mildly tormenting her by pulling on her hair as he stuffed
his cock in her mouth. He'd hurt her worse if she struggled.
	He wasn't supposed to be there. He laughed when she told him.
	"Oooops!" he said. "I guess I forgot our agreeement. I guess it
doesn't matter since it was only words."
	Then he threw her down and told her to suck his dick. She didn't
want to wake Gordie, did she? She better suck his dick or Gordie
would have to watch him beat her again.
	He didn't let her finish him. He pulled away and tugged on her
hair. He didn't let her get up. He wanted her to crawl after him or
be dragged by the hair.
	"You can't keep your mouth shut. I know you. We better take this
downstairs," Lyon whispered.	 
	Lydia only knew he wanted to hurt her. It would amuse him to make
her try to stay quiet while he made her want to scream. She was sure
her body bumping down the stairs would wake Gordie. She was terrified
that he would come down and see what Lyon was doing to her.
	"You know what I want," Lyon told her.
	She did. She saw it in his eyes.
	"Please," she whispered. "Not that. I can make it good for you.
You know I can make it good for you. Let me do that. I can make you
feel so good, you know I can."
	Lyon was amused by her pleas. It would be amusing to have her
pretend. He could laugh at her act as she tried to play the willing
and eager wife. But he wanted revenge. He wanted to hurt her.
	"Shut up and bend over," he rasped, just above a whisper.
	Lydia had to bite down on her hand to stop the scream. Lyon's
thrust knocked her off her feet and she felt a second agony as his
cock came out of her rectum as she went to the floor.
	"That's better anyway," Lyon said as he followed her to the
floor. 
	Lydia tried to sob quietly as the burning post drove into her
ass. Her fear distracted her a little from the pain and the tearing
as he rammed into her mercilessly. She prayed that he would leave
when he was done. She was afraid he might kill her.
	Lyon was never done. He only stopped. Lydia knew he hadn't
ejaculated in her. He hadn't even wanted to get satisfaction. He
was punishing her. Sex had nothing to do with the way he used her.
	He was punishing her. He was terrorizing her. He was showing
her that she would never be rid of him. He was showing her she couldn't
get away. He was showing her that it would never be over.
	-----
	Sam wasn't treating Gumby like a child. Gumby came to him for
advice. He didn't know what the problem was until Gumby told him. It
wasn't even his idea how to solve it.
	He was helping Gumby. He wasn't taking the situation out of
Gumby's hands and he certainly wasn't being a hypocrite about letting
them work it out themselves. Gumby just needed his help to work it out
his own way.
	And if Staci made anything of it, he would accuse her of being
jealous. He knew she wasn't. He was ashamed to admit that if he did, he
wouldn't do it. He was past all that once and for all.
	"Gumby, I don't want to break your heart, but I don't think she
really wanted to fuck you. I think she was fucking with you as much as
she intended," Sam said to Gumby's repeated question if he was really
going to fuck this girl.
	"Then I should have said yes and shut her up?" Gumby asked.
	"Hell no!" Sam said. "She was bound to call Amy anyway. You want
to try to explain you said yes because you knew she wouldn't? You want
to try to lie to Amy? And I might be wrong. She might have fucked you
so she'd really have you by the balls."
	"You mean you can't win?" Gumby asked.
	"Not the way you mean," Sam said. "You can't make everyone nice
or even good. That's why there's the saying: damned if you do, damned
if you don't. You just got to weigh the alternatives and take the
best."
	"Well, I didn't want to fuck her," Gumby said.
	"See, you did that," Sam encouraged.
	"But it didn't help. Amy was still upset," Gumby whined.
	"Don't try to figure it out. She'll explain when she wants you to
know," Sam advised. "It probably has something to do with something
you don't even know about."
	"It's like being stuck on a roller coaster." Gumby complained.
	"The ride will be over soon enough. Neither one of you can keep
this up forever," Sam smiled.
	Gumby looked horrified.
	"You think she's going to dump me?" he asked.
	"No, Gumby," Sam said patiently, "You'll settle down. You'll
learn to trust each other and it will take more to shake you up."
	Gumby was soothed.
	"I mean, she might dump you, but if she doesn't, you guys will
come to an understanding," Sam said.
	Gumby got the feeling he was being needled. Sam was proud he
caught on so quick. If his name wasn't Howard, Sam would have been
tempted to stop calling him Gumby. He wasn't so much of a Gumby any
more.
	The detectives put on their game faces as they went up the
elevator. Miss Bryan's desk was in the hall just outside. They had to
be ready from the time the doors opened.
	She looked up with a smile closely related to a smirk as she saw
Gumby. Sam had explained her motive, but Gumby was having a hard time
believing she operated on nothing more than meanness.
	What was the point? It wasn't like he would be hers if she messed
it up for him and Amy. He didn't understand, but he reluctantly agreed
that she deserved something for upsetting Amy.
	"You bring your daddy to protect you from the big, bad
secretary?" she asked.
	"Actually," Sam said when Gumby wouldn't defend himself, "I'm
here to be your daddy. I'm the private dick that pokes public holes."
	"You know," she looked Sam up and down, "If you weren't doing
this to be a smart ass, I might take you up on that."
	"I'm not being a smart ass," Sam said. "I'm ready to go. And if 
you want to give me a review, it's the same number and ask for Staci."
	"No, really," she ignored Sam. "What's this about? You mad I
popped off to that pathetic little girl at your office?"
	"Amy's not pathetic. You are," Gumby was finally roused.
	"Don't you have an interview?" Sam reminded Gumby. "You go and 
I'll entertain..."
	Her name was Miss Bryan. He already knew that, but he glanced at
her nameplate as if it was too insignificant a detail to remember.
	"Miss Bryan here," he finished.
	"Do you always have to hold his hand?" she asked when Gumby was 
gone.
	"I'm not here to hold his hand. He said you were hot and needy,
so I'm here to help you out," Sam said. "I'm not getting as much tail
as I used to and I don't want to miss a chance."
	"You expect me to get up on the desk and fuck you?" she asked,
obviously preparing her response as she spoke.
	"On the desk, the floor, in the rest room, hell, I'll even come
to your place later. I'm not picky. I've done it all," Sam said.
	She was prepared to be amused. Sam was setting himself up for a
withering put-down.
	"But you're not cute like the other guy," she said. "And my boss
only pays me enough to fuck him. So, sorry, but no way."
	"I see. I guess I understand," Sam said. "You find me as attractive as Gumby, who, by the way, is my nephew, not my son, finds
you."
	-----
	That was the set-up. Sam knew it wasn't Gumby or even Miss Bryan
he had to convince. The real target was Amy. He knew Staci well enough
to know Amy would be included.
	Staci put it on the speakerphone. She pressed to talk like she
was a radio operator. She was very amused at the call.
	"On the desk or the floor or the rest room?" Staci was saying,
"And which one did you choose?"
	"Choose?" Miss Bryan squwaked, "Why would I want to fuck that
old goat?"
	"For some it's fame or to get to fuck a celebrity, but for me,
it's because he has a big dick," Staci said. "Now tell me, did you 
make faces when you said no?"
	"Celebrity? Who the fuck's he?" Miss Bryan asked.
	"Sam Hill, the detective in the popular series of novels," Staci
said. "I'm his stenographer, could you please describe what you're
wearing... and yourself."
	"What the...?" Miss Bryan stammered and then snorted, "Are you
writing this down?"
	"Of course, it goes in the next book," Staci said.
	She and Amy agreed it was: fuck you! that was cut off by Miss
Bryan slamming dsown the phone.
	"See?" Staci asked Amy, "That's what she does for fun. Howard's
innocent."
	Amy kept her council. Of course Harold was innocent- this time.
She had never thought it was true. It was the one out there that he
wouldn't turn down. And being as honorable as he was, he'd leave her.
	She saw it coming. She didn't need the pain. And she certainly
couldn't talk to Staci about being exactly the kind of temptress that
could lure her Howard away.
	-----
	It was way too nice for what they were asking. Even a tightwad 
like Sam could see that. The woodwork itself was like an art exhibit.
They didn't take the time to create such detail any more and for that
they were getting a discount. 
	Sam thought it was a great deal. Older and better was still
better. There was no logic to prefer newer and less. He was impressed
with Staci's discovery. He was glad the search was over.
	"Of course we'll need furniture," Staci reminded Sam.
	For once, change was good. Sam could put up the with broken down
couch and he would actually miss the way the chair had adapted to his
rear end, but, memories or not, the old bed was beginning to sway just
the wrong way for his back. The sensible solution was a new mattress,
but Sam didn't mind being a little extravagant. 
	He hadn't changed. At least he hadn't changed for a long time.
Now his gloomy outlook was looking sillier and sillier. Maintaining his
dirt-poor habits had brought another problem. The money was piling up
and up in his bank account. He was positively well off. And that was
sparing himself.
	In the old days, he'd have had several snide names for a guy like
himself. Idiot and miser would have been the nice ones. Caution and
thrift were still great ideas, but he was now at the point where it was
an affectation to play poor. When it came down to it, living far below
your means was as phoney as living above them.
	He wanted a brass bed- not any brass bed, but one with spokes
radiating out to a round rail. He hadn't thought it out exactly, but he
knew such a bed would be full of possibilities.	He knew he could throw
rocks at Staci and not chase her away, but that was no excuse to ignore
her or not bring some excitement to her life.
	For the rest he only had to monitor Staci so she didn't go on
some bizarre modern kick. Sam liked furniture that looked like furniture, not chairs that looked like hands or sofas that looked like
cocktail glasses or desks with glass tops. 
	Staci didn't need much watching.
	It was positively heart-warming to see her pick the normal couch
with ottoman and reclinder. She wanted the dinette with four chairs.
She bought the roll-top desk with her own money and Sam kicked in for 
the executive chair.
	A couple more chairs for the living room, end table, coffee table
and a kick-ass TV and they were on to pick out the bedroom suite. They
had lots of closets. Sam reminded Staci of that as he looked for the
bed.
	"Now what are you thinking, Sam Hill?" Staci asked sternly when
he found the bed he pictured.
	"I saw a French fuck-film once that had one of these," Sam said,
"They did some artful stuff shooting through that circle in the
footboard. I liked that."
	"So nothing about all those rods and convenient securing points?"
Staci asked, growing petulant.
	"You know me, I like a simple life," Sam said obtusely. "I have
no idea what you might mean. I just think we should get it."
	Staci hugged his arm againt her. She knew he had been thinking
of her when he pictured the bed he wanted. And miserly as he could be,
he didn't flinch at the premium brass cost. This was her Sam. He was
an even better Sam than the one she fell in love with.
	-----
	"So, when are we inviting the kids over?" Staci asked as soon as
she had arranged delivery of the new stuff.
	"I thought we'd like some privacy while we try out the 
possibilites of the new bed," Sam said, hoping to delay the certain
argument.
	Staci was right. He was the first to admit it, but that didn't 
mean he approved her methods. All this fighting and making up between
Gumby and Amy was just for show. They were a bit over-dramatic working
out their domains. Underneath, the attraction never wavered. They were
kids. They thought things were earth-shattering that in a few years
would be a joke.
	Sam figured they'd find that out when they were old enough to 
understand. Staci wanted to jump them over the rough spots. Sam figured
they needed the experience to get tougher. Staci didn't believe in the
superiority of hard knocks.
	Sam wanted to mind his own business and stay out of it. Staci 
wanted to set up signposts and then lead them by the hand down the
right path. 
	"I'm sure we have enough time to do both," Staci said. "You're
too old to fuck all night and all day."
	That was a slander. Sam might be slowing down, but he could still
fuck all day and all night. He just didn't cum as many times doing it.
The first two were still the same. The third and fourth and maybe fifth
just had to stand for the third through eighth of the old days. And
they did. It took him ages to get off once he got past the first
couple.
	"You know how I feel," Sam said. "We can't make them love each
other."
	"And you know we don't have to," Staci said. "They love each
other it's just... but let's not ruin today arguing."
	Sam was grateful but suspicious. Staci didn't give in that
easily. It was too much of a fantasy to think she was really going to 
drop it. Even if she did, it would be because she had done something he
didn't know about and she was covering her tracks.
	It wasn't hard for Sam to not worry about those things. It was
his natural instinct. He wasn't going to stop Staci in any case and
at the moment she was providing a great distraction.
	It was never his kink to have Staci helpless. He had learned how
to use it for his own satisfaction while satisfying her, but at the
moment he felt like more the devotee than student. Staci was stretched
out on the bed with her hands thrown back over her head gripping the
spokes of the headboard.
	Her legs lay open and she looked down at him between the glorious
hills of her breasts. Staci was always hot, but her pose struck Sam
with the totality of her allure. He had never praised her pussy, but
there it was, waiting for him like a magenta maw.
	Suddenly it had charisma that rivalled the huge marshmallow
drifts of her breasts and even the evil fascination of her seductive
stare. Sam wanted to have a personal and physical relationship with
Staci's cunt. His cock urged him to take it close enough to invade the
weeping slit.
	Sam felt the urge to gloat eye to eye with Staci as his cock
ravaged her while she lay submissive beneath him. The fiction of her
helplessness did not disturb the image. For all intents of his lust he
knew it was real. She was surrendered to him as surely as if she was
bound tightly.
	He drove his cock inside her and her eyes tightened until they
drew down lines on her brow. It was good for both of them. Her eyes
opened and flashed defiance. Sam thrust with a smug grin on his face.
	He felt the victory of her defeat. He thrilled to her real
helplessness as she showed him her disgust as she melted into passion.
She couldn't help it feeling good. Her shame morphed into a face of
near pain as Sam forced her to climax.
	Her hips almost struggled as Sam pounded her over the crest.
The intent no longer mattered. She was alive beneath him and Sam was
too close to his own explosion to care. He thrust until he felt himself
fill Staci with cum.
	"You and this damn bed!" Staci spat ironically, "You're just the
devil!"
	"And if you hadn't been such a bad girl, you wouldn't have been
sent down to me," Sam returned.
	It wasn't that much better than any time they fucked. They were
just a bit more single in purpose. It only felt a little more like the
old days.
	-----
	'The kids' showed up in the evening, separately. Sam was
philosophical. This was not the battle to choose. He might stunt
Staci's interference, but only by doing more harm than good.
	His real objection was that they were wasting everyone's time.
It was for Amy and Gumby to resolve. Interference would have little
affect- for good or ill- on that.
	"It's so pretty," Amy gushed over the grape vines and other
carvings, "This is a great place."
	"That's why Sam agreed," Staci admitted. "He said it was like
an art exhibit. He was quite gushy, actually."
	Sam ignored Staci's slander. Amy's approving look and smile made
it a moot point. He was quite pleased that Amy noticed the woodwork
first off and appreciated it like he did.
	"How did you get her to come?" Gumby hissed when Staci took Amy
off for the tour.
	"Ask Staci," Sam said. "I'd guess she didn't mention you'd be
here. As to why, she wants you two to stop acting like idiots and get
back together."
	"Don't look at me, uncle Sam," Gumby protested, "I'm trying."
	"Don't tell me, tell Staci," Sam said. "I'm quite happy to let
you two squabble as long as you want before you give in to the
inevitable."
	"Do you think it's inevitable?" Gumby leaned forward.
	Sam laughed. Gumby always thought of him as the oracle, but this
was a stretch. Like Sam knew anything about women.
	"Except in a Greek tragedy," Sam said. "It was obvious from the
first time you saw each other."
	"Only it does seem like a tragedy," Gumby said gloomily. "When
she wants me I'm being an idiot and when I want her, she is."
	In the bedroom, Staci was ignoring the possibilities of the new
bed for a hardline approach.
	"You know how much he wants you," she was scolding Amy, "And you
can't deny how you feel about him either. You're the one that's being
pig-headed now."
	Amy was the one that was hog-tied and it wasn't on the bed. She
couldn't tell Staci the reason because Staci was the reason. It wasn't
Staci's fault and Staci wouldn't listen to her. That was the worst
part. Staci was a great guide, but in this she couldn't ask for her
help. She had to muddle through on her own.
	"He might want me now, but I'm not enough woman for him," Amy
protested. "He's a Hill. I'd only be setting myself up for a bigger
loss when he came to his senses and realized that."
	Staci rolled her eyes. This was Gumby they were talking about.
Amy might be too much woman for him. Her problem was that, while feisty
enough to wrap Gumby around her finger, she didn't have the confidence
or the desire to try.
	"Not enough woman?" Staci huffed. "What's Sam? Chopped liver?
Do you have any idea how much he wants to be Gumby? You didn't hear how
positively cow-eyed he was about you when I told him I'd hired you."
	It was a truth that cost Staci something. She was not exactly
afraid of Amy at first, but it had taken some concentration to restrain
her jealousy. She didn't like to admit that even to herself.
	"Sam?..." Amy let that sink in.
	Staci took a deep breath. Amy better get with Gumby. It would be
bad enough to share this with family, let alone anyone else.
	"I take it as a declaration of devotion to me that Sam stopped
fucking you," Staci said heavily. "But it's also a testament to how
much he feels for you. You see, I think he knew how easily he could
fall hopelessly in love with you and he made himself stop."
	"He said we weren't right for each other," Amy said. "He said
maybe if he was someone else like him..."
	Staci rolled her eyes again. It was more to gather herself than
to admonish Amy.
	"Yes. Exactly," Staci said. "It wouldn't be fair for you to be
stuck with him. You deserve a better match and he doesn't want to be
in the way. That's him talking. He loves you too much to take 
advantage of your... well, hero-worship. And I hope part of it was for
me too."
	"You're his girl, Staci," Amy quickly responded. "I always knew
that. He tried to get rid of me after that Chester case. He was looking
forward to being with you. You're so much a part of him he doesn't even
think of you as separate. He'd never leave you."
	"He's used to me," Staci said with a note of sadness. "It's more
like I've always been there. I was there when he didn't notice- at
least no more than my chest. It's more like I chased him so hard he
finally gave in and let me have him."
	"Now you're being silly," Amy said. "Just like your silly books."
	Staci bristled at the editorial criticism and was caught off-
guard when Amy continued.
	"You're as much Shelly as I am you," Amy said. "Shelly is drab.
She's a cipher that connects the dots in the story. She's a little fuck
puppet who fills in between Sam getting laid on the job. That's what
you're doing here- feeling sorry for yourself. Poor little Staci with
the huge rack that no man could love no matter that he'd go through
hell barefoot for her."
	It was a punch in the gut, not in the least because it was Amy telling her, but not enough to knock Staci off the trail.
	"Like you and Gumby," Staci said.
	Amy was not as resilient as Staci. Staci's words knocked her out
of the park. 'Staci and Sam' was like one word. Amy was as sure of that
as anything, yet Staci had doubts. Of all things, Staci thought she,
little Amy, could be a threat. The revelation opened like an empty,
dark hole that she was convinced of the same thing and her fears might
be as silly as Staci's.
	"Oh my God..." Amy breathed.
	"And if you're right, the boys are out there saying that they
don't deserve us either," Staci said.
	"Don't try to figure them out," Sam was advising Gumby. "They'll
tell you what to think when they think you're ready for it."
	"It's all up to them?" Gumby questioned.
	"It always has been from the beginning," Sam said.
	-----
	"Why did you stop fucking Amy?" Staci asked with rare bravery
while Sam was brushing his teeth.
	"You didn't think I'd get jealous did you?" she took advantage 
of his inability to answer to ask a second question.
	"I thought you'd make my life hell," Sam said.
	The answer froze her heart. Sam was still looking in the mirror
and continued without noticing her reaction.
	"You'd be merciless. What are you thinking, you old goat? She
got the fountain of youth between those legs? Isn't that cute, the
girl and her pedophile," Sam said in a self-mocking voice.
	He finally noticed Staci's shocked expression.
	"What's wrong with you? You would have been right," Sam said.
"Amy's a kid. She's a cute kid, but while I wish I was the Sam Hill
she's in love with, I know that guy is fictious. I'm better off with
the ninny that inflated me into that guy."
	Now Sam was really confused. Staci grabbed him and started
bawling her eyes out while she hugged him.
	Gumby and Amy were more prickly at first.
	"It's a pretty nice place," Amy said hesitantly in the hall.
	"I knew you'd appreciate uncle Sam's taste," Gumby said without
thinking how it sounded.
	She deserved that, Amy thought. She was in the mood to be
punished.
	"Your place isn't so bad either," Amy said, knowing exactly how
it sounded.
	Gumby sensed the change. He didn't want to jinx it.
	"You're welcome any time," he said. "You don't have to call
first."
	"Can I go with you now?" Amy asked in a tiny voice.
	She didn't have to ask. She never had to ask. Gumby wanted her
always, at least at the present. He was floating all the way home.
	-----
	Staci noticed that Amy was wearing the same clothes. She smiled
to herself and went back in Sam's office.
	"I think our lovebirds are together again," Staci said.
	Sam leaned back with his hands behind his head and let his eyes
close.
	"Good for them," he said dreamily.
	Staci was right. He wasn't the man he used to be. But that meant
he appreciated it more. He didn't have the energy to do more than
fondly remember last night.
	Staci didn't explain her tears. She slipped down his body still
crying and sucked his dick. Sam had never gotten a blow-job from a
crying woman before, let alone a blow-job from a crying woman while
holding a toothbrush. It was interesting.
	It was more normal when Staci had him change her mood by folding
her in half and fucking her hard. As Sam fought the squirming legs, he
thought of one use for the brass spokes.
	He was afraid Staci had though of another use for those spokes
when she sat on him and held him down until his cock was hard again.
Then she sat on his cock and made him please her.
	It was very much like old times. Staci slapped him about the 
face and neck with her breasts as she rode him. Sam tried to take it
out on her ass with his hands. It sounded like a slap fight in a room
full of octopi. They were loud, active and positively youthful again.
	She managed to cum hard before Sam. She teased him a good while
by letting his cock languish in the heat of her cunt while she dragged
her tits over him. Then she slid down and sucked his cock- without 
crying this time.
	Sam thought she'd vomit when he jammed his cock down her throat
and came. It was another reminder of old times as Staci held back
nothing in her self-punishing blow-job. She impaled her throat like
Sam had done so many times before. She was studiously not good at it.
He appreciated that. It felt wonderful.
	Then they'd cuddled like Sam had read women liked. Only it seemed
Staci was still groping for another hard-on. She was disappointed
until morning, but Sam felt they had christened the bed in good style.
	"You know, Amy didn't think she was good enough for Gumby,"
Staci said conversationally.
	"Women!" Sam sighed.
	"What's that supposed to mean?" Staci asked.
	"Nothing," Sam sat up trying to think clearly.
	There was something still brewing here. He didn't want to get in
trouble.
	"You meant something, Sam," Staci said. "What did you mean?"
	"That guys can't figure women out," Sam said. "I've said it
before. That's why I ask you what's going on. You know you're the
secret to my success."
	He knew he wasn't fooling her. It was more like a plea for more
information. He did it so much they had to both know it by now.
	"So why did you stop fucking Amy?" Staci asked.
	"You're not going to cry again, are you?" Sam asked.
	"I felt vulnerable last night," Staci said. "Today I'm much more
inclined to yell."
	A light went on in Sam's head.
	"This isn't the chink in your 'who cares who you fuck' armor, is
it?" Sam asked. "Staci isn't jealous of Amy, is she?"
	Staci made a face. She was grudgingly willing to admit it, but
it rankled her that Sam figured it out on his own.
	"Not jealous, scared," Staci said. "And I don't care who you
fuck. I'm just a little nervous if you love them."
	"Then I've got good news and bad news," Sam said. "What do you
want first?"
	Staci just stared at him, scowling. She should expect this. It
was the way they talked, but it was a bit close to the bone right now.
	"Okay, the bad news. I love Amy. There, I said it," Sam said.
"The good news is I love you too - I've even said that out loud in
front of witnesses. And while Amy really makes me think of bright
spring days and grassy fields and waterfalls, I know that's a load of
crap and my place is with you. You and I are two of a kind. Amy is a
fantasy- on both sides. I stopped fucking her because I was only making
it worse. I was acting like an old fool and I was taking advantage of
her unearned devotion."
	"But if you didn't like her so much, you'd still be fucking her,"
Staci said.
	"Shit yeah!" Sam agreed. "She's so cute. She makes these
faces..."
	Sam saw Staci wasn't taking it well.
	"But I'd stop when Gumby got interested," Sam said. "No biggie.
The kid deserves someone like her. They're made for each other."
	Staci drew up for a withering reply and then let it go.
	"I guess I knew it was something like that," she said honestly,
"But, damn it Sam Hill, I'm in love with you and that's scary."
	"I'd say stupid," Sam said cheerily.
	"That too," Staci agreed. "But from the time I stopped
worshipping from afar and committed myself, I've been scared of someone
like Amy coming along. Someone cute and pure and so untouched that
I wouldn't have a chance."
	"Face it babe, I wouldn't have a chance either," Sam said. "Even
Amy wouldn't feel the way she does if she didn't see me through your
eyes."
	It was perhaps the most insightful thing Sam would ever say.
 Whether he knew how profound it was wasn't a question. It didn't even
bother Staci that she knew he was wrong. Amy might not have fallen for
him at first look, but she only chronicled Sam. The tough guy stuff
might be enhanced, but the real stuff that made you love him was all
real Sam. Amy had found that out for herself in the time she had known
Sam.
	It was enough to know how Sam felt. He didn't- or couldn't- fake
his feelings. She was reassured. And she was relieved. She liked Amy
too.
	-----
	Amy leaned her face on her hands, her elbows on the desk. She was
dreaming. She hardly acknowledged the courier from Carlyle, Simpson &
Dillon.
	She should be working, but she couldn't bring herself to stop
the fantasies. Howard was quite the man. He had just punched out the
bad man and she was kissing his bruised kuckles while he traded tough
guy patter with the cops and everyone cheered.
	That was her Howard. Sam Hill was, well, Sam Hill, but that left
plenty of room on top of the rest for Howard. He was swell.
	She shifted uneasily in her chair. That was her Howard too. She
smiled as she remembered.
	"You don't mind coming in?" Gumby asked, confused by the about-
face.
	"No, Howard, let me in and I'll explain," Amy said nervously.
	Maybe her experience with Sam had been a guide. She knew she had
no plan when she walked into that apartment. Maybe it was Howard being
so Sam-like, as in awkward.
	"I've been really stupid," she told him.
	"Awww, you don't have a monopoly on that," Howard tried to excuse
her.
	"Howard! Let me talk!" she demanded. "I've been stupid. I thought
you'd get bored with me and leave me..."
	She had to silence Howard again with a dangerous look.
	"That's stupid because I should be glad for every second I have
you," she went on. "Maybe you'll leave me, but I'm a fool if I don't 
take everything I can get while I can get it."
	There was an awkward silence as Howard wasn't sure he was allowed
to speak. Finally he got the hint.
	"I won't leave you," he promised. "We're so right. I'm the stupid
one. It's just that I get so scared because I don't deserve you. You're
the one that can do better than me."
	The words didn't matter. It was how cute he was trying to make
her feel better. She loved him too much. That was the scary part.
	"I want you to teach me a lesson," Amy said.
	She didn't want to be excused. She wanted Howard to tell her how
much it hurt him to be rejected. She wanted to suffer for her faults.
Howard wasn't going to yell at her. That left her one option.
	She slipped out of her slacks and then pulled off her underwear.
Howard watched wide-eyed.
	"Sit down," she pointed to the couch. "You're going to spank me."
	Howard felt uncomfortable. It wasn't just the hard-on trapped in
his pants. He was totally perplexed by her declaration.
	She lay across his knees. Howard knew his hard-on was never going 
to go away while her cute little butt was naked on his lap. He
goggled at her.
	"Spank me," Amy demanded. "Do it right. I want to remember how
stupid I've been."
	Howard wanted nothing to do with this. He wanted to hold her and
kiss her and thank her for coming back to him. He patted her ass.
	"If you don't do it right, I'll demonstrate on you," Amy
threatened. "And then you'll spank me anyway."
	She was serious. Howard didn't, thankfully, spend any time
considering if he'd like being spanked. He felt the need to make her
happy, as confusing as it was. He slapped his hand down.
	"Harder!" Amy demanded.
	Another about the same.
	"Howard, please, take this seriously," Amy begged. "I need this.
I need you to do it right."
	SPLAT!
	It made the corners of her eyes burn with tears. It was more than
she wanted but less than she deserved.
	"Harder!" she said.
	They were both panting when Amy said: enough. Her ass burned more
than when Sam had given her her last spanking. Contrarily, she was
even hotter for Howard.
	She slid sideways off his lap and tore at his pants. His erection
popped up when she freed it. Oral was never her thing, but there was
no other thought in her head than to take Howard's cock in her mouth
and please him.
	"Oh Jesus, Amy!" Howard exclaimed. "You're the best!" 
	His hands flopped like lost herring trying to find the sea as her
head bobbed on his cock. He wanted to touch her, but he didn't want to
grab her head and interfere. He had never been sucked like this before.
Amy was crazed with a need to suck out his cum. She sucked hard as she
moved up and down on his prick. She was obsessive in her need to feel
his cum fill her mouth.
	'The best' may have changed to 'very different' in Howard's mind
as she continued the pre-emptive and somewhat painful attack on his
cock. It was certain he had never felt anything like it. But when he 
finally gave in to her need, the relief only made his spurting shake
him harder.
	It was a goopy and odd as Amy had thought, but she felt
vindication. It was nothing as long as it was Howard choking her with
his jizm. It was a priviledge. And the privilege wasn't over.
	"Now I want you to spank me in the normal way," she grinned up
at him.
	"Now?" Howard looked down at his wilting cock.
	It was everything she could have dreamed and more. She felt like
a real bitch with her rear in the air and Howard fucking her. It felt
wonderful. She wanted to be his bitch. She wanted him to put her on a
leash so they'd aalways be connected. She wanted him to find every
pleasure there was with her. She wanted him to have it all- to take it
all, to make her prove herself by her sacrifice.
	"Harder! Give it all to me! Give it to me good!" Amy demanded,
living out her masochistic fantasy in the added sting from Gumby
slapping against her red, spanked ass.
	It was so good that falling asleep in his arms, her highest
romantic goal of days gone by, seemed so ordinary.
	-----
	"This came while I was... a bit ago," Amy blushed.
	Staci took the envelope and opened it. There were two leaves
inside.
	The cover letter read: to your attention blah blah blah, the
enclosed matter will involve cooperation with the police. We are sure
your high ethical standards and scrupulous attention to legalities
will distinguish this association with the authorities.
	"It means don't play fast and loose with this one," Staci said
as she handed Sam the enclosure.
	"When have I ever..." Sam started.
	"Never- they say that too, but they're reminding you this time
for sure," Staci said.
	Sam looked over the fact sheet. Lyon Wangler, 34, (6-1, 215) was 
harrassing his soon-to-be ex-wife over the allegations of the divorce 
and custody of their child, Gordon. The ex Mrs. Wangler alleged that
he threatened to "fuck her up good" and take custody and Gordon into
his own hands.
	Wangler had a history of violence (a handful of drunk and 
disordery and one 18-month term for assault) and the judge had granted
an Order for Protection against him. Sam's job was to assist the police
in finding Wangler and serving him the notice.
	It was noted that Mrs. Wangler had sought restraining orders in
the past and Lyon knew he had to be served. It was likely he would be
evading service of the order. 
	"Perfect for Gumby to cut his teeth," Sam said.
	Staci gave him a questioning look.
	"I never heard of this Wangler. I don't think anyone I know has
heard of him. I'd be starting as cold as Gumby," Sam said. "And no
matter what he thought, I always thought he had skills."
	Staci searched Sam's face for clues he was hiding something. He
looked serious. She wasn't ready to believe Sam changed his mind that
quickly.
	"Okay, give," Staci said irritably, "Is this really Sam turning
over a new leaf or is there something I'm not getting. Is this some
softball you're serving up to pacify Gumby?"
	"Softball?" Sam acted offended. "This is a violent man with a
felony conviction. He doesn't just beat up women. He's beat up men too."
	Gumby was less suspicious, but puzzled.
	"Mr. Simpson signed the letter," he observed. "I bet he thought 
the famous Sam Hill would handle this."
	"Sam Hill is handling it," Sam left out the 'famous', "He's
giving it to a trusted operative. Believe me, you can do this as easy 
as I can. I've got no inside here. It's just basic detective work."
	"Thanks, uncle Sam," Gumby said with genuine appreciation.
"I'm... I'm glad... Well, I'll get right on it."
	"So, how dangerous is it?" Staci asked when Sam came back to his
desk.
	"Dangerous enough," Sam said. "But Gumby's a grown man. You were 
right that I can't do his job for him. I wasn't in Miami and he seemed
to survive."
	Staci was of the mind that Sam could have started him slower. She
didn't know how physical Gumby could get. She didn't think he was mean
enough.
	Amy was of the opposite opinion.
	"Mr. Hill, you're... You're great," Amy said and pranced over to
hug Sam around the neck and kiss his cheek. "Howard was so proud of
his assignment. This is just the kind of thing he needs."
	"I guess you two have made up," Sam observed.
	Amy giggled.
	"I taught him how Sam Hill handles things," she said with a
snicker.
	-----
	Across town, a woman named Karin was learning how Lyon handled
things. She had suggested that his wife wasn't worth the grief. After
all, Lyon had her- and she was better, wasn't she?
	"You're a stupid cow!" Lyon responded with an unsuspected violence
that shattered what had been a sleepy talk after sex.
	He started up on one elbow so suddenly Karin put up her hand to
protect herself. It set him off.
	"You think I'm going to hit you? You want me to hit you? You think
you can stop me if I want to hit you?" Lyon snarled rapid-fire. "You're
just a cunt."
	Lyon was always fiery. Karin liked to think it made him more manly
than the soft, sensitive type. Even the epithet had little impact. He
could think what he wanted. If he didn't know that she was using him for
that sexual fire, so much the better.
	"Lydia is mine!" he thundered. "The bitch is not going to get
away. I'll kill her first. And I'll let the kid watch. Bring him up
right!"
	"Yeah, sure," Karin tried to shrug it off. "You're just
overwrought. She's not worth it."
	He was quicker than she could imagine. She had barely got the
words out when his fist crashed into the side of her head. She threw up
her hands, but he was over her, fist crashing into the other side of her
face.
	He grabbed her hands and pulled them away. His knee slammed
against her thigh, forcing her legs open. It had been five, at most ten
minutes since they fucked, still she felt him hard and prodding
violently in her crotch.
	"Here's what you're for!" Lyon snarled as he found her and drove
his cock into her like the stab of a knife.
	"Shut up and take it!" he threatened as she squeaked in terror,
"It's what you're for. It's what you want- isn't it?"
	He released her hand to slap her. She didn't dare do anything to
infuriate him further.
	"You like it, don't you?" Lyon asked again.
	"Yes, fuck me!" Karin capitulated in sobs. "Do whatever you want."
	It was as if the scene changed entirely. As soon as she stopped
struggling, his thrusts lost their force. In a few moments they stopped
entirely and he rolled off her, his hard-on fading immediately.
	"Just don't fuck with things you don't understand," he said, but
his words had lost their force as well. "This doesn't concern you."
	It concerned her more than she dare show. Somewhere in the
violence of his reaction, Lyon had convinced her that his threat was not
just the raving of anger. She believed he would kill his wife.
	The thought chilled her more than she could let herself feel. It
felt very important to remain calm. For the first time she was convinced
there was a killer in her bed. She was sure her survival depended on 
keeping calm- and never being near Lyon ever again.
	-----
	It was custom made for Gumby, or it felt that way. No one that
knew Lyon suspected Gumby was anything but the slightly dopey kid he
pretended to be. They seemed amused to put him on the trail of a guy
Gumby said owed him money. Gumby knew they took sadistic pleasure in
the thought of Lyon beating the shit out of him.
	Gumby walked into bars with a wide-eyed innocence and an awkward
grace that made the patrons laugh. He took their teasing and not one
of them suspected Gumby had 12 doses of death and permanent
disfigurement hanging heavily under his arms.
	Sam had been right about Gumby's skills. He had been remembering
his irritation when his nephew showed up flaunting his high-tech
approach and modern techniques on his first visit. It was not those
things but Gumby's own approach that made this job tailor-made. If
there was one skill Gumby had, it was not looking imposing. Coupled
with the wit to deflect any ridicule with his wide-eyed facade, he was
made to order for undercover work.
	But Wangler had abandoned his usual haunts. He wasn't even going
near the girlfriend that denied she knew him. He wasn't going to be
served this time. They weren't going to find him. He was going to find
her.
	It made no sense to duck the order, but it pleased him. The
penalties for violating the order were nothing compared to what he
was planning. He was only doing it to let the stupid cops know who they
were dealing with and watch them chase their tails.
	The bitch thought she'd walk out on him- take his boy? She was
going to learn a painful lesson and it would be the last lesson she
ever learned. He was watching her. He had it all planned. He'd grab
Gordie at the front door when he came home from school. Then the kid
wouldn't have to see the bloody lump that was all that was left of his
mother.
	-----
	"Any luck?" Sam asked when Gumby returned.
	"Lots of it, all bad," Gumby said. "People are talking, they just
don't know where he is. He knows we're after him."
	"That's the part I don't get," Sam said. "What does it get him?
He evades an order to keep his distance. Big whoop. What is that? One
free shot at the little lady?"
	"Maybe one is all he wants," Staci said darkly.
	"That's what I mean," Sam said. "If he means to- what was it?
Fuck her up, then what does a restraining order mean?"
	"I'm just glad you don't understand men that beat up women,"
Staci said.
	"It's not that," Sam said contrarily, "I don't understand why
evading the order means so much to him."
	"Terror," Gumby said.
	Sam had forgotten Gumby was still standing there. It was almost
as much a surprise as his understanding. Gumby went on as if he hadn't
noticed Sam's surprised look.
	"She knows we're looking for him. She knows we haven't found him.
That means he's out there. That means she's in danger. She's jumping
at shadows and he knows it. It amuses him," Gumby said.
	Staci shivered.
	"You do a lot of domestics in Miami?" Sam asked.
	"No. It just makes sense, in a twisted perp kind of way," Gumby
said.
	Sam was left to ponder how his nephew came by this insight. He'd
ask Staci to explain it to him. But one thing was getting clearer.
This was a two-man job.
	He wasn't going to insult Gumby by following up the same leads.
He wasn't even going to look for Lyon. He was going to visit the ex
Mrs. Wangler and see if he couldn't make her feel safer.
	-----
	"Hey! I thought you didn't care how many women I fucked," Sam
panted as Staci grabbed his still twitching cock and stroked it hard.
	"You know I don't," Staci said, "But you should also know I'm not
going to let an excuse to make you fuck me bow-legged slip by either."
	Staci thought it was great idea, both leaving Gumby to his
investigation and easing the woman's panic. She was in a good mood,
not hampered one bit by the past night's escapades.
	It wasn't that sex had waned- well, yes it was, but the new place
and the new bed signaled a promising start. And Staci was still flushed
with gratitude for Sam's attention to detail in the choice of beds. She
intended to ride that hard for as long as she could.
	She was trying to prove that he couldn't fuck all day and all 
night anymore. That was what Sam thought. It was about time to stop
thinking about possibilities and put a few into practice.
	"I think you've forgotten something here," Sam said sternly and
pushed her hand off his cock. "I think you assume to much."
	Staci wasn't worried when he got up, but she did have a moment
of doubt. She wasn't sure what was going on. Sam was quick when he
needed to be, quicker than Staci remembered.
	"I think you need to be reminded who signed the lease- and why we
picked this bed," Sam said as he lay on her, holding her down.
	The ties were good enough for wrists. Staci wouldn't struggle
enough to tear them. And when he got her legs pulled back and her
ankles secure to the rail with the belts, she really wouldn't be able
to pull that hard with her wrists.
	Staci had only just decided to fight and she found herself 
rolled up into an apostrophe and tied to the bed. She looked around 
wildly. She was helpless and accessible in an open presentation.
	Sam hadn't been so skilled when her vulnerability jabbed her with
more sharpness. Still, she was wet with anticipation. Sam could do
anything he wanted to her- anything.
	She grimaced when he stepped on her hair climbing between her
legs. She had no idea what he was doing when he squatted.
	"Here you go," Sam said, slapping his limp cock on her face, 
"This is what you wanted, isn't it? Never say I don't give you what
you want."
	Staci forgave him for getting with the program too late. This
was perfect at any point. If her need to feel forced and be punished
for her evil had diminished, then her new-found assurance was getting,
well, a slap in the face. And, as always, there was nothing she could
do about it.
	"Sam! That's gross!" she tried to conquer with talk.
	"Then how 'bout I move up and shove your nose up my ass?" Sam
taunted her.
	He could too. Her nose in his ass didn't turn her on, but the
possibility made her shiver. It also gave her an idea. She lifted
her head and stuck out her tongue. Sam's balls were just within reach.
He moaned.
	"Well, if you want to lick my balls..." Sam grunted, "I guess I
can let you do that."
	It seemed awful servile for a victory, but Staci had to rank
servility. Certainly actively licking Sam's balls was more assertive
that laying there with her nose up his asshole.
	The whole thing was working quite nicely. Staci's tongue was
putting the finishing touches on his scene. Sam felt his cock swinging
up as Staci lapped.
	It seemed to Sam that it took forver to extricate himself and get
into position. To Staci, his cock was rubbing around her lips almost
immediately after he took his balls away. She held her breath. It was
just like Sam to tease her by lipping the honeypot and then ramming 
his cock up her ass.
	She wasn't sure if it was relief or disappointment when he 
pushed his cock into her cunt. She didn't wonder long. Sam was holding
her legs for support and pounding down into her. She felt distinctly
like an jack hammer in his hands. He felt like he was fucking her so 
deep he was tit-fucking her from the inside. She was too busy getting
fucked to wonder.
	She would have been crushed if her legs weren't tied to the bed. 
She felt the strain as pressure to climax. Sam made her scream.
	"Tired?" Sam asked.
	"My back is aching," Staci complained. "It's not used to 
supporting us both."
	"Then let me be kind," Sam smirked.
	Staci felt a growing sense of... something. Sam's cock was
still hard, glistening as it wobbled in front of him. He still had
some nasty idea. She should be apprehensive, but as he let her legs
down the suspicion felt like arousal.
	"You know, I don't think I tell you how nice your tits are
enough," Sam said as he sat just below them.
	He put his cock between them and pushed them together. He started
to fuck them.
	"You got one great set," he said as he thrust. "Pretty big ones
too."
	Staci was almost amused. Having huge hooters still made her feel
ambivalent, but they weren't the forbidden topic of old. She was 
interested that Sam was taking advantage of that. She wondered how long
he had wanted to fuck her tits, but denied himself to spare her
feelings.
	Again, her wonder dissolved in a wail of torment. She was tied 
down. She couldn't stop him and Sam was taking advantage of her no
longer off-limits nipples to drive her crazy. Her feet kicked. That
only made her breasts wobble more as Sam fucked them and flicked her
nipples to make her kick the harder.
	"Sam! It's not nice to make me cum like this!" Staci shouted.
	Sam didn't wonder about her nonsensical outburst. He was busy
feeling warm Staci tits wrapped around his cock. He hadn't been sure
it would get him off. He had done it for Staci's reaction, but it was
good. Staci's tits were even better in action than on display.
	He had thought her tits were bigger than his cock, too, but he
had figured without adding in the hydraulic pressure in his balls.
The head of his cock barely emerged from the huge mounds, but it was
enough for his cum to jet up and splatter under Staci's chin. One
spurt launched high enough to land on her cheek. He felt Staci shiver
again.
	Cum might be a strong word- at least in comparison- to what Staci
felt. She felt all the frustration, the itch, the want and desire
leading up to orgasm while Sam played with her nipples. She wanted to 
cum, but it more like a moment of Zen when Sam's cum splattered against
her face.
	All circuits were on hold. She wasn't sure what was happening.
It might not be orgasm, but it was something. She felt every bit as
wiped out when Sam released her breasts and grinned at her.
	"I wouldn't untie my hands if I were you," Staci threatened. "I
might claw you eyes out."
	"Don't worry," Sam kept grinning. "I intend to leave you like 
that so I can admire that nice pearl necklace I gave you."
	-----
	Mrs. Wangler was as jumpy as Gumby predicted. She wanted to see
Sam's license and the letter from Carlyle, Simpson & Dillon. Then she
eyed him suspiciously.
	"I'm sorry if I make you nervous, but I'm here to help," Sam
told her.
	She seemed glad, but not comforted that Gumby was still on the
trail of Lyon. She did relax a little after a while when Sam had made
no threatening moves, but she didn't calm down.
	"It's Gordie I'm afraid for," she said. "Lyon wants Gordie. I'm
sure he wants to hurt me, but he wants Gordie more. He has this thing
about things belonging to him."
	"I've seen that before," Sam said. "Would you prefer I tailed
Gordie home from school? He wouldn't have to know I was there."
	Sam was shocked by her reaction.
	"Can you kill him? Lyon, I mean. Can you shoot him down if he
goes near my son?" she asked.
	"Not just like that," Sam recovered himself to say. "I can keep
him away from Gordie and protect him and myself if it comes to it."
	She took a deep breath and then collapsed in a chair.
	"You must think I'm terrible, but you don't know Lyon," she said.
"He takes advantage of things like that. He'll use it to make some
pointless and stupid gesture before you can stop him. I know he will.
And I don't think he'd stop at hurting Gordie. I think he'd rather
have both of us dead than let us get away from him."
	She was making Sam nervous. He was wondering if Gumby's insight
warned him how dangerous Lyon could be. It was the old dilemma. Gumby
was just good enough to find Lyon. Sam still wasn't sure Gumby could 
handle him.
	Sam could have calmed down. Gumby had wandered farther afield
on the second day than he had the first. It wasn't his fault. Lyon had
laid a trail leading anyone that followed him the wrong way.
	He knew how this shit worked. No bunch of goody-goodies was
going to stop him. He was going to have what was his and give that
bitch what was coming to her.
	Gumby felt the trail grow cold. He didn't re-trace his steps.
He had been careful with every lead. He knew he had to start fresh
in the morning. Maybe the new day would bring a flash of inspiration.
	-----
	"What makes her stay?" Sam was asking Staci. "Why do women put up
with crap like that?"
	"I think you're confused," Staci answered.
	It wasn't the happiest of subjects for her, but she felt she had
a valid perspective. She knew the pain of victim's guilt, yet she
didn't think it fit Lydia, at least not very well.
	"It's not like she's inviting him back to beat her up again.
She's trying to get rid of him and he won't go," Staci said. "She's not
putting up with it. She just can't stop him."
	"She did ask if I could kill him," Sam reported. "But why doesn't
she hide? Why doesn't she go away until something can be done about
him?"
	Lydia's bloody nature was chilling. Not that Staci presumed to
judge her, but it showed how dire the situation seemed. Lyle's campaign
of fear had done its job too well. Wanting to kill him spoke of a dread
Staci could only imagine.
	"The kid," she said, pushing her own feelings aside by
concentrating on the subject, "She's trying to keep it from fucking him
up too. He's probably scared enough without her disrupting his whole
life."
	"How much will it fuck up his life if Lyle gets to her?" Sam
snorted.
	"For that she's trusting the wise men that rule the world," Staci
retorted. "He shouldn't be allowed to harm her. She's hoping people
like you will make sure he doesn't."
	Sobered by the responsibility Staci threw at him, Sam retreated.
He didn't like nuance. He didn't like the idea of shooting Lyle down
like a mad dog, but waiting helpless for him to do something insane
wasn't more comforting. And none of it did anything to soothe his
concern about Gumby confronting this mad dog.

	"Uncle Sam says he couldn't do any better, but I don't know,"
Gumby told the ceiling as he lay beside Amy.
	She curled up against his side and threw an arm across his chest.
She wasn't sure either, but it was her place to support Howard.
	"You're good at that stuff. Sam says so," she offered. "It makes
sense he wouldn't tell everyone where he was going to hide."
	"But there has to be something. He has to eat. He has to get
around. Someone has to have seen him," Gumby went over it all again.
	"And you'll figure it out," Amy said. "Maybe you need something
to take your mind off it. You'll think better with a clear head."
	Her hand was moving down his body from his chest. It stopped on
his cock and Gumby turned his head to look into her eyes.
	"Again?" Gumby smiled, "How many times will it take before my
head isn't just clear, it's empty?"
	"I don't think your head starts emptying before we empty these,"
Amy snickered as she fondled his balls.
	Gumby was glad he'd sprung for a new mattress. The old bed still
carried echoes, but they were muffled without the familiar cavity worn
by Sam and Staci and, in a strangely incestuous collision, Staci and
himself. The new mattress made the bed less a hand-me-down and more
like a heritage, like the name Hill.
	The mattress was a new slate to add to the heritage and to etch
a furrow of his own with Amy. It had seemed a pointless purchase when
Amy was rejecting him, but now that Amy was with him they had made a good start on putting that personalized dent on the new slate.
	Since her redemptive spanking, Amy had become almost a fixture
on that mattress, naked and inviting at all hours and all times they
were in his apartment. She had adopted the spread open pose as a
trademark of her delight in his affection. Even at his most resistant,
Gumby couldn't look at her, receptive and waiting, and not feel the
pull.
	It was different from what he considered usual. Their history had
been shy Gumby being bush whacked by a tiny sex demon. Perhaps that
was for her place. In his place, she incited him to take action.
	For her part, it was something of a craving for Amy. She dearly
loved Howard and sincerely attacked him, but she wanted to see him 
show the same kind of passion. She didn't want to feel he let her fuck
him. She wanted to know he wanted to fuck her.
	Not that she wouldn't chase him to the sofa or into the kitchen,
but waiting on her back with her legs spread had proven a most
effective lure to hook Gumby and reel him into the damp gap she was
advertising with her position.
	He had given up trying to be normal. Now he lay there and waited
to revive, knowing it was pointless to attempt to resist. Except at
present when he was rolling into position over his petite love to let
the revival take place at her entry while they kissed their passion to
a peak along with his hard-on.
	Yes, it was a heritage. Sam had found his one and only on another
mattress on this very bed. Now Gumby was starting a new discovery,
making a new dent with his own match. And for once, though Gumby didn't
know it, he was surpassing his uncle. Sam and Staci had not started
with anything like the fervor or frequency with which he and Amy were
christening the new mattress.
	"Howard! Again?" Amy mocked him as his prick pressed stiffly
against her vulva.
	Three was a good number. He'd think four was better in another
hour, but for the present three was lucky. It felt like he barely moved
and Amy was around him, hugging his cock with her humid grip. It was
always that easy. Amy had a way of taking him, pulling him in that was
a happy mystery.
	He didn't care about solving that mystery. He heaved and Amy's
hips tilted to take him fully. He wanted her again. The fatigue was
lost in the fury of pounding blood and it was as if he took up where
he had left off with the desperate strokes of orgasm the last time.
	There was more to their love than fucking. Gumby was confident
of that. It was just that fucking was so good and fucking Amy was the
best. He did love her. He loved to fuck her. It really didn't matter.
Thrusting mattered. Hearing her soft cry of pleasure as he filled her
mattered. It was so... good.
	-----
	It wasn't so much inspiration as extra-sensory perception or
maybe intuition. Sam asked the questions and Gumby free-associated.
	Where did Lyon go that his buddies didn't go? What did Lyon do
that his buddies didn't do? Where was a control freak going to go to
hide close enough to strike?
	Lyon liked trains. Lyon wanted to be a survivalist when he
grew up. The train yards were across town. The desert was farther away.
Gumby threw all that up in the air. He was concentrating on their
brainstorming and that gave the ferment in the back of his brain free
rein to mature.
	"He's in a parking garage, or near one," Gumby said.
	No one had spotted his car. It had been nagging at Gumby for
days. It hadn't been found abandoned, it hadn't been sighted. It had 
been driven outside the search or stowed. Given Lyon's need to stay close for his revenge, it had been stowed.
	It all made sense once Gumby brought out the main fact.
	It was a matter of spiraling out from Wangler's house. Some 30,
40, 50, 60 parking garages and they'd have him. It was time for careful
elimiation of his hiding places. With Sam watching the ex Mrs. Wangler,
Lydia, care and not speed was of the essence.
	Gumby had high hopes that he would flush Lyon from the first
place he looked. He wasn't just dreaming. Lyon was the type of guy to
want be as close as he could get so he could smell Lydia's fear.
	-----
	It didn't turn out to be much more fucked up than any other
plan. There was just a higher price for the mistakes.
	Gumby found the car, but he didn't find Lyon. He got very 
observant very quickly. Lyon didn't necessarily guard his car, but he
couldn't go very far away either. He was only four blocks away from
his neighborhood. People there knew him. It was the easiest place for
him to be spotted.
	Gumby looked around carefully. Lyon was a pretty big guy and
probably had some sort of weapon. He wasn't going to try and jump this
guy. He opened his coat just to ease access.
	Lyon watched from outside a corner pillar. Somebody was going
over his car. He might have to deal with him. For sure, it was time
for action. He had to get the car out now. He better get to his
business.
	Gumby knew he saw something by the pillar. It wasn't a figment
of his imagination. He didn't have an imagination when he was being
observant. He circled around to his right. If he couldn't see them,
they couldn't see him.
	He closed in and crouched by the pillar. He took out a magnum
and let it hang by his side. He leaned around to look.
	There was no one. Gumby got up and looked down over the edge of
the concrete wall. The grass was freshly bleeding. Someone had trampled
it recently. If it was Wangler, he'd have to come back for the car.
Gumby found an observation point.
	Some thirty yards over the little rise on that side of the
parking garage Lyon was hugging the ground, growing wroth. It was just
routine; it had to be. There was no connection between him and this
place- none. He was too smart for that.
	It looked like a snot-nosed kid. Probably some sissy fuck-up
trying to prove he belonged. He'd deal with him. He wasn't going to let
some shave-tail cop ruin his plan. He'd take him out. What was one more
body more or less to him? 
	-----
	Sam had a feeling about the day. Instead of snapping his gun to
his belt as automatically as possible, he drew out the revolver and
swung out the cylinder.
	Mumbled thoughts rumbled in his head as he snapped the cylinder
closed and holstered his pistol. He buttoned the hammer strap only
vaguely aware of thinking anything at all.
	He didn't think following the kid was a bad idea. It was too
easy to use the kid to get Lydia to open the door. Lydia didn't have
to open the door for anyone now. Sam made her say it. Don't open the
door and call 9-1-1. The cops were trying to serve Wangler, too. Sam
made sure they'd recognize the name and not fuck around.
	He was watching Gordie in the school yard. It was stupid to let
him walk home because you didn't want to scare him, but the whole thing
was stupid. He wouldn't be guarding a son from his father if it wasn't
stupid. Only Lyon wasn't stupid. He was deranged. Sam didn't think
Lydia was exaggerating. 
	He thought she was giving him the benefit of the doubt. If she
thought he might hurt Gordie, it meant she really thought he would but
was still hoping he wasn't the monster she knew he was.
	Sam was considering ways of snatching Gordie. If he saw Lyon, he
was going to grab the kid before Lyon could get him. Here his clunker
was a plus. Sam was willing to ram Lyon to keep him away. The heavy
old boat would crumple any new tin can and keep running.
	If Lyon wanted to chase, then Sam could serve him outside the
house he was no longer allowed to approach. Knowing the facts, Sam
could make a citizen's arrest if Lyon didn't turn tail. It was quite
the romantic fiction. It didn't turn out as nice as all that.
	-----
	Wangler didn't give cops much credit. Sure, they could find you
eventually- when some little pussy whined and cried and tattled on you
for attacking them. But what had they done so far? Three weeks and one
of them found his car. He'd been in and out of the house, served notice
on the stupid cunt and they still didn't have a clue.
	By now they were playing some cop game, chowing doughnuts and
congratulating themselves that they found a clue. They'd get around to
impounding his car, but by then it would be too late. The car would be
gone and he'd have taken care of business.
	Wangler scoped the site from the hill by the wall. The cop was
gone. They left him a window right where he needed one. Gordie was 
waiting for the final bell and daddy was going to be waiting for him 
when he left school. His plan was intact. The cops had fucked up
another one.
	Gumby's only line of sight was the car. Caressed by concrete to 
the right and rear, he crouched behind a pillar by the ramp to the 
second level. He looked through the gap between pillar and wall at
Wangler's car. It was a matter of time. Wangler wasn't the lovesick
murder-suicide type. He'd want to get away. He'd need the car.
	Caution gave way to swagger as Wangler crawled over the wall and
approached his car. They were gone. They were gone for sure. No
challenge, no cop popping out of concealment, he was home free like he
knew he would be.
	"Lyon Wangler!" echoed in the cement cave as Gumby saw Lyon 
approach the car.
	Wangler didn't look for the sound. He was two steps from the car.
He jerked open the door and got in. The engine fired into life at first
crank. He spun out of the parking spot and turned toward the exit.
	Gumby had just enough time to sprint to the gap to freedom. His
magnum was out and he held it up for Wangler to see.
	"Stop the car and get out!" he ordered.
	Wangler gunned it.
	Gumby's first shot went through the grill. A cloud of coolant 
sprayed in the air, settling in an obscuring mess on the windshield.
Wangler swerved. Gumby stood his ground and squeezed off one more, this
time low, at the tire.
	The poured wall of the exit saved Gumby. Wangler's car careened
wildly from the jerk of the exploded tire and Gumby was barely over the
saving barrier when it crashed. Wangler had much the same reaction. He
was already trying to escape when the impact sent him sprawling from
the wreck. Both men rolled and then got to their feet. Wangler ran off
with Gumby in pursuit.
	-----
	Sam was a block from the Wangler house when he saw two men
scuffling on the lawn. He floored his car out of turn at the stop sign
and skidded to a halt in front of the house. 
	One man was using a key to open the front door of the Wangler
house. The other was laying in a pool of blood on the lawn. The body
was on its face with a pool of blood like an exploded watermelon 
around the head. 
	There was nothing recognizable about the body. Sam saw the crime
scene shots later and didn't know how he could tell. But he could.
	He didn't see the bum's rush- one hand on the collar, one on the
seat of the pants- trying to throw Wangler off the property. He
didn't see Wangler pull the 9-inch survival knife from his waistband
and stab back.
	Wangler fell down, like you do when you stop trotting and are
thrown off balance, but he was up before there was any recovery. He
grabbed the arm going for the gun and stabbed up once. Just under the
ribs, up through pericardium into the heart, the blood exploded.
	Poor Baker. He didn't deserve that, Sam thought. He wasn't
callous. There was too much to do. Baker was obviously dead.
Lydia would join him if Sam didn't stop Lyon.
	He charged up the stairs. The door was still open. As he ran 
through he wondered how long he had until Gordie got there. He didn't
think what to do. He'd figure it out when he got to Lyon.
	Lyon made the decision easy. He was holding Lydia's wrist as she
was kneeling on the floor pleading with him. 
	"Lyon Wangler, I'm here to serve you!" Sam shouted.		
	Lyon turned, the bloodstained survival knife in his hand and
spoke as if in the middle of a conversation.
	"...well, I guess I'll gut you first."
	-----
	Sam set down the empty jigger. The bourbon had done little to
quiet the shaking when he drew breath. Staci was watching him with
trepidation.
	"No, doll," Sam said and swallowed hard, "Just a drink. I'm not
going to crawl into a bottle."
	Staci's mouth opened and closed. She didn't know what to say to
Sam.
	Sam didn't know what to say to himself. It wasn't like that
Twyler thing. Not one bit, and it should be worse. Bang! Twyler was 
dead. He was alive and then he was dead- quick- easy.
	Lyon had died hard. He was still telling Sam what he couldn't do
when the third slug put him on his ass. You can't shoot me- bang! You
can't hurt me- bang! You can't stop me- Bang!
	Sam hadn't waited for Lyon to think of something else he couldn't
do. The three red splotches formed a triangle. Perversely, Sam's only
thought as he pulled the trigger the fourth time was he was going to 
make it a square.
	They said Lyon lived another half minute before he bled out from
the severed aorta. Sam was oddly unaffected by the news. Bizarrely, he
was remembering that he had a fantasy of shooting the knife out of
Lyon's hand with the first shot.
	After the fourth shot he had mechanically put his pistol back in
its holster and braced himself when Lydia threw herself on him. He held
her while she alternately thanked him and told him how scared she was.
When Gumby and Gordie arrived she pulled away and ran to the door to 
drag a protesting Gordie away from the scene before he could look in 
the other room.
	Dead Lyon hadn't made an impact. Killing Lyon was like some
uninteresting show he wasn't paying attention to. Sam felt nothing 
about it.
	Maybe it hadn't hit him because he hadn't been really there. It
was a trick of the light. He remembered seeing Baker- lying there. He
remembered taking the stairs two at a time.
	He didn't remember pulling his gun. It was there in his hand for
him to shoot at the knife and hit Lyon in the gut. He didn't know if 
Lydia screamed.
	Sam looked up. Staci was giving him a worried look.
	"Maybe it was a trick of the light," he said.
	He felt Staci unclipping his revolver from his belt. She was
holding him. It was gone somewhere. Sam didn't care. He didn't know why
he was sobbing. He didn't like Baker that much anyway. Staci just held
him until he stopped shaking in her arms.
	Sam imagined that happened sometime after he fell asleep.
	-----
	It was a rag-tag crew gathered at the graveside. The bagpipers 
and the police contingent had marched off leaving six ill-matched
figures staring at the ground.
	Sam was returning the favor. He held Staci as she cried politely
into her handkerchief. The other eyes were sullen, but dry. Sam was 
done. Baker would have razzed him something awful if he was crying.
	"He was okay, for a cop," Darla Dare spoke for herself and 
Madame Louise, who was the second most affected there.
	"He was a good cop," Gumby said as if Darla's sentiment needed
some addition.
	"He was a cantakerous old cuss. A loner, a grouch and fucked up
in ways I can only guess," Sam clarified. "But he didn't go out of 
his way to fuck with anybody and he didn't deserve to go this way." 
	"He was a friend," Staci sniffled.
	"Yeah, I guess," Sam said.
	They all stood a moment with their thoughts. They looked at each
as if if seeking cues and then slowly walked away.
	Lt. Arthur Baker. Rest in Peace.	
	-----
	"Come on, Sam, you knew Baker, solve this one or no heine for
you," Staci pouted.
	"No one knows," Sam said mournfully. "It's one of those haunting
questions. Why was he there? And, no offense, I'm not in the mood."
	She was at her wits end. Comfort quieted him, but made him more
maudlin. She was grateful he hadn't taken up drinking, but he seemed
deader this way. Nagging hadn't helped. Humor was her last hope.
	"But everyone will sit there watching us until we do," Staci
prodded, "It isn't over until you put it in my ass."
	"Then let them watch Gumby," Sam growled.

	Amy was smiling wickedly. Wicked was a good description because
she felt guilty as sin. She was trying to convince herself that it was
only to find out for sure. She would get to it eventually, it might as
well be now.
	"So what does the hot detective want for solving the case?" she
teased Howard.
	"I didn't solve anything," Gumby said, a bit tender about his
role in Baker's demise. "I got fooled, sidetracked and was too late."
	"You got Gordie and you know he was that maniac's first target,"
Amy protested. "Just because you couldn't save everyone doesn't mean
you didn't do good."
	There was that. Sam had praised him. So Wangler lost him. Without
seeing so much as a picture of Gordie, Gumby had picked him out of a
crowd. Not only that, but he had been able to convince a skittish child
that he was his friend. Certainly with Wangler watching in a fit of rage.
	But what was that? Gumby didn't think Wangler wanted to hurt
Gordie- willing to, but not wanted to. He may have saved Gordie from 
possible injury, probable trauma. In the process he pissed Lyon off and
was too far from his own car to get to Lydia- and Baker, in time.
	"But I didn't do good enough," Gumby replied.
	"You can't save the world," she said reasonably. "You did your
part. Sam did his part. Some things just happen. That man was a vicious
animal. It's his fault."
	Amy was just talking. Putting all the players in place just
happened. Making Gumby realize that he couldn't blame himself without
blaming Sam was a ghost of the subconscious. It wasn't clear that he
was accepting it on a conscious level either. It just put a different
look on his face.
	There was the opening and a reason. It suited her agenda and it
fit- oh, she hoped it fit- with cheering Howard. She wiggled out of her
bottoms and wiggled her bottom at Gumby.
	"Now come here and be good for me," Amy invited. "You solved
your part. Now come here and give my part the stamp of case solved."
	Not only had that hot sex babe Staci screwed Howard- twice. She 
had let him put it in her ass. And with, like, his third or fourth fuck
ever. Gumby might be awkward about sex, but it didn't mean he hadn't 
been exposed to some wild stuff.
	She knew that because "Ship of the Desert" was out. She knew her
own coda (in the coda) was fast coming due. She didn't want Gumby to
read that and think she was holding out on him.
	Gumby was more circumspect. Staci seemed used to that sort of
thing. And whether she liked it to hurt or not, it did. He thought Amy
was making another needless apology.
	Still, she was making it impossible to refuse and her cute little
ass had to be so tight...
	"Now you've got to grease it really good, because you're sooo
big," Amy was cajoling him.
	He was big enough. Amy hoped it would be more pleasant and just
as satisfying with Howard. He was as special as Sam in a different way
and there was a chance he wouldn't hurt her as badly.
	"All right, but I'll stop if you say so," Gumby poised his cock
at her anus.
	"Just push! Jesus! Just push!" Amy screeched after long moments
of straining.
	She wasn't sure it hurt any less. Howard's cock felt mammoth.
And then he stopped.
	"Do you want me to stop?" he asked.
	"NO!" she shouted. "Not there- push!"
	He was in. Her rectum stretched just as much, but she felt less
panic now the head had passed inside her.
	"I thought I hurt you," Gumby said.
	"Yes," Amy growled, "It hurt. But don't stop right where it's
hurting. I think it will get better."
	-----
	"Think, you ninny," Staci was on Sam again. "Did you call him?"
	Sam wanted to get mad, but he didn't trust himself. Raging, he
might shout out the things that scared him. He knew Staci wasn't 
tormenting him for fun, but he didn't see the point.
	"Was there a 9-1-1 call to respond to?" Staci kept on. "Sam, if
you put it together then we can put it away. You need to go there one
more time."
	"I gave Baker a heads-up," Sam said. "Told him the facts. Asked
him to make sure the call got quick response."
	"So why was he there, Sam?" Staci asked again.
	"To back me UP!" Sam wailed. "Satisfied?"
	"In a minute, I hope," Staci said. "He was there because he
didn't like guys like Wangler. But keep that rage going. He was there
because he wanted to protect Lydia just like you. He was there because
you're the good guys and you stop the bad guys. So the only guilty one
is the guy you shot. But you're welcome to take out your frustration 
on my ass."
	Sam knew she was right in every sense. Deep down the part about
Baker clicked. It was who the old curmudgeon was. It was the thing that
clicked between them. It was the thing that made it hurt like part of him had been amputated, because it had. Part of the spark of being the
good guys had gone out.
	It had nothing to do with his manner or his history or their
history. It wasn't the fucked up things that made him the way he was.
It was the loss of a comrade of the mission.
	More physically, he was sitting on a powder keg of anger at it
all, every stinking thing. He had to explode. He had to rail against the injustice of it all. He had to let it out in some brutal gesture to let it go. And there was Staci's ass.

	"Finally!" she gasped as he plowed into her butt.

	"Oh Jesus, Amy, Jesus!" Gumby prayed as his cock fucked into the
cramped confines of her hot ass.
	"It's not FAIR!" Sam howled as he rammed Staci's behind.
	Staci was willing to absorb his pain. She hoped she was easing 
as much as she was getting.
	Amy squeezed her eyes tight and gritted her teeth. It was going
in and out easier, but there was so much when he drove in. She wondered
if she'd ever get used to it.
	###