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. ###