Keywords: M/F anal, oral Author: W R Jenkins Title: Sam14: Where have all the Rabbits Gone? 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 14: Where have all the Rabbits Gone? - (Sam14.txt) - A mysterious stranger, a perplexing puzzle, Sam falls down a rabbit hole in more ways than one. In a Wonderland where the eerily familiar is also strangely warped, Sam faces choices that will have more impact on his own life than the case he is working. M/F oral, anal, lite BDSM. Where have all the Rabbits Gone? He looked for all the world like the sea captain that delivers the Maltese Falcon to Sam Spade's office. The identification was made all the stronger by the way he moved stiffly, as if he had been shot. His name was Mikos and the fires burning in his eyes were more explicit than his halting English. His babies were gone. Where had his babies gone? Staci gave Sam a questioning look. Should we humor him and try to get him out of here? Sam narrowed his eyes in refusal. He was looking into the glowing coals. There was more to Mikos' story than he had the words to say. He felt it in his bones. More than a fox or a coyote had brought this farmer into town seeking Sam's aid. He had gone to feed them. Hutch upon hutch, row upon row, he had said goodnight. The next morning they were gone. Doors left open, not a rabbit in sight. Foxes didn't open cages. Mikos wanted Sam to find out why his rabbits were gone. The sheriff had better things to do. It was a few dozen rabbits. They filed a report so the old man could collect insurance- if he had any, but there was nothing to investigate. Someone let the rabbits out. It wasn't a big deal in a world of robbery, rape and murder. "Are you that bored or are you going soft?" Staci asked when Mikos left. "It sounds like someone doesn't want Mikos to raise rabbits." "You mean an evil shrew of a woman that found out her immigrant husband wasn't so easy to manipulate after all?" Sam asked. He wasn't Staci, but he had learned to follow her thinking. The obvious was usually true. Even he had sensed discord between Mikos and his wife. But he said it to mock her. Particularly the shrew part. He also sensed something more than outrage in Mikos. There was a horror that couldn't be explained if the farmer suspected his wife. "Or a neighbor who doesn't think livestock belongs in an exclusive neighborhood," Staci conjectured. "I think you're bored if you want to spend a day unraveling this. It's hardly your kind of case." "Okay, give," Sam said suddenly. "What's your real problem with the rabbit mystery? Why are you trying to talk me out of it?" It was Staci's turn to look away. She should know better. He was, after all, Sam Hill, detective. She should know she couldn't lead him. "It's weird," she said finally, "I just get a bad feeling. I don't think you should bother with it." They were of a kind. Sam had felt it too. Sam had a feeling he was looking into eyes that had seen the fires of hell when he looked in Mikos' eyes. There was more here than appeared on the surface. Mikos knew, or sensed, more than he was able to express. And Sam felt the horror call to him. There was some connection. Sam felt that in his bones too. It was important that he be the one to find where the rabbits had gone. "I know what you mean, doll," Sam called Staci 'doll' for the first time in a long time. "But creepy feelings or not, I feel that Mikos didn't happen into my office by accident." ----- Gumby was getting used to the rich and famous. He knocked on Mitzy Manning's door without even checking his tie. He was no longer adopting the deference of a servant. He straddled the worlds in an interesting way. On the level of an interviewer he was still an errand boy, but on the level of a human being he was, if not equal, then measured with a different scale. "Hola?" said the maid who opened the door. "Senorita Manning, por favor," Gumby headed off any attempt by the maid to feign misunderstanding. "Una momento," she replied. "You come this way," she said when she returned. When he saw her, Gumby wished he was his uncle Sam. Mitzy Manning was the definitive argument for mixing business and pleasure. She was every bit as beautiful as her on-screen appearance and if she seemed a bit softer, it only made her look warmer and more inviting. But it would be even more wrong for him because of it. He knew what she was and what she represented. It would be a conscious choice to turn a promise into a lie. It was going pretty good at the moment. All was forgiven and he and Amy had been like lovebirds for weeks. He loved Amy. It wasn't such a temptation after all. "Miss Manning, Howard Hill," Gumby introduced himself, "I'm the investigator from Carlyle, Simpson & Dillon." "Are you the one they call Gumby?" she asked. His uncle pretended it was normal, or perhaps he didn't notice. For Gumby the notoriety was jarring. Staci had made him sound earnest and gallant, but there were things that no amount of gallant could make less embarrassing. "I'm surprised you would know that," Gumby said. "It's research for a script," Mitzy said. "I'm considering the part of the dead doll in the film of the same name." Gumby stared at her. "It's a much bigger part in the movie," she said. "You actually get to see her wheeling and dealing before she gets shot." "And entertaining too..." Mitzy said in a husky drawl as she let her dressing gown slip off a generous expanse of thigh. Notoriety had sharpened Gumby's temper as well. His first thought was that she might pass for Marilyn Chester, but she was no Staci. That thought insulated him from her charm. "I'd like to see it, I know the author," Gumby said. "Does she still work for your uncle?" Mitzy asked and then answered herself. "I suppose she must. The stories are still coming out, aren't they?" "The ninth one's due any time," Gumby said brightly. For a moment her eyes glazed over and Gumby knew she was thinking about all those sequels. She got control quickly and returned to her breathy and increasingly irritating self. "So I suppose you're here to ask questions about Stanley?" she shifted to a business-like tone, although her demeanor remained seductive. ----- Fantasy is too strong a word and makes Gumby too silly. It was more than a mistaken impression but fueled by paranoia. Mitzy Manning was not interested in him. She was interested in him being interested in her. It was her job. She was good at her job. In any case it tweaked Gumby where he was the most vulnerable. It might not be Mitzy Manning, but there were women out there who meant the invitation. There were P.I. groupies. Worse, as he had just had thrust in his face, he was connected to a famous one. What could he do? Even when he was resolute, remembering Mrs. Velledino, sometimes saying 'no' wasn't enough. He didn't need the pressure. Amy wasn't Staci. She had said and proved that. He didn't want to fuck it up. "So how was she? Cool I bet," Amy enthused as he walked in. Gumby shivered at her first words, feeling the accusation that wasn't there. He had to say something. "She's just as good-looking in person," Gumby admitted. No thunderclap. Amy wasn't concerned if he found a beautiful woman beautiful. Gumby's tension came down a notch. "Well, gosh, she'd have to be to tempt Evan Bright to betray his country," Amy said. "I mean so you'd believe it. I'm not a dope that thinks it's real or anything." "She has less luck in real life," Gumby allowed. "According to the interview, her husband of the moment was as tempted by ugly fat women as by her." "All other women are ugly and fat," Amy said wisely, "They're always nasty little homewreckers to the wife. But I never saw what she saw in that snake anyway." Test passed. Gumby sought the refuge of his office to prepare his report and to escape his own guilty feelings. Sam's entrance was like the intervention of a loving god sending him succor in his need. "How do you deal with being so famous?" Gumby asked. "I let people think what they want and get on with it," Sam said. "Why? The movie star hot for you?" Sam was kidding. Gumby took it as another proof that his uncle was omniscient. Sam knew women like Mitzy Manning were out of his league- unless they were guilty or really on the rocks. With a 50 mil opening week-end of her last film, Mitzy wasn't on the rocks. "I think she was coming on to me," Gumby confessed. Sam choked down derision at that. There was something serious here, and Sam accurately assessed it as Gumby's fear of seduction. He understood a certain guilt after fucking them, but Gumby's guilt at being asked mystified him. Still, he didn't want to hurt his feelings. "You can't help being attractive- you're my nephew," Sam joked. "That's part of it," Gumby said, taking him seriously. "You're the famous Sam Hill and I'm caught in your reflected glory. I don't know what to do." Sam didn't know what he should do either. Sam fucked them. It was his idiom. He imagined there were other ways to handle it, but he had never given them much thought. He tried to think back. Nope. His lack of an alternate plan had led to the break-up of two of his three marriages. He fucked them. "Well, I'm not going to be much help. I never found my way around that one," Sam said. "Why don't you talk to Amy about it?" Gumby looked like the guilty party faced with damning evidence. Ask Amy? Honey, girls come onto me- what should I do? It seemed to him like whacking the bear with a stick before climbing into its cage. Sam rolled his eyes. This was chick stuff. It made him feel funny. It made him roll his eyes. He couldn't see how Amy could object to Gumby's desire to be faithful. He imagined she'd welcome the chance of participation and be glad of the impulse. He also knew it would take a woman to explain it. ----- "Mikos Nickloff, immigrated after the wall came down. Married the former Sonja Grimulkin three years ago," Staci was reading off the report. "Until recently raised rabbits," Sam interrupted her. "He got a job?" "Old country: stevedore, presently drives a delivery truck," Staci found the information on her sheet. "And can afford a high-priced guy like Sam Hill because?" Sam was self-mocking. "Thrifty?" Staci ventured. "It just says he's in good standing, no debts of any consequence and a good credit rating." "So- Next stop Sonja Nickloff. See if she's wearing a rabbit- skin," Sam said. There were storm clouds in Staci's eyes, but Sam didn't feel the lightning coming at him. Something about the case had her in a dark mood. "Be careful, Sam," she said. "I..." "I know, you've got a bad feeling," Sam cut her off. "I've got a feeling too, but I think it's better to head it off than wait for it to come get us." He hadn't meant to match her gloom. The exchange hung for a moment before Sam dispelled it by going to the door. "Oh- tell Gumby that wanting to be faithful is a good thing in most women's eyes when you get a chance," Sam said as an exit line. ----- Nothing had materially changed. Gumby could excuse Amy for being in awe of his uncle. He knew this stuff and it had happened well before he or Amy knew the other existed. "What are you doing wasting time with trash like that?" Gumby's head snapped up at the loud snarl. The interruption of his reverie prevented him from identifying Staci's voice. He looked up from the copy of "The Two Faces of Greed" and saw she was smiling. "Geez, don't you know better than to bust in here like that? A guy could have a hard-on or somthin'," Gumby parried. "Are you saying my book is pornographic?" Staci asked. "Well, this one is," Gumby said. "The dick and the spa girl, huh?" Staci nodding knowingly. "I can see how that would seem real to you." She got her first hint of Gumby's turmoil from the dog eyes he made at her comment. At least she had personal experience in this arena. The Amy-Sam relationship had its spiky edges for her too. "That was a long time ago. Amy is your girl now," she tried to soothe. "Oh, I know that. We didn't even know each other existed," Gumby said quickly. "It isn't that. It's just that them getting together was so cool, so exciting, so..." "So Sam," Staci finished for him. "But I don't see Amy casting side-long glances. As far as I can tell, she's only got eyes for you." Gumby didn't need re-assuring. Staci didn't understand and he didn't know how to explain it. He wasn't even sure what he wanted. He really- really, didn't want to have women dropping their pants for him left and right. He wasn't interested in the adventure or conquest. He just wanted... a past. That was it, a past where those things happened and now he could give them up happily for the ONE WOMAN that was the ONLY woman for him. Staci saw the conflict without a clue. That is to say she saw so many possibles that she couldn't sort them out. She decided to get back to her purpose for the visit. "Sam told me to tell you that women like men that want to be faithful," she said. "I don't know what the hell he meant, but I can attest that it's generally true." "Oh," Gumby said, finding ground that was familiar, "He told me I should ask Amy what to do when women come on to me." It struck her as Gumby-speak. Sam had said something beyond Gumby's experience in Sam's usual skip-the-detail delivery and it came back garbled. "You mean like a polite no thank you or a firm no?" Staci asked. "He said we should talk about it," Gumby said. "Oh, I see, honesty and openness. What could he be thinking?" Staci jabbed him. "But I don't want to upset her. Things are going good right now and... and I don't want to ruin it," Gumby stumbled. Kids, Staci thought. ----- Sonja Nickloff was a shock. Sam expected a somewhat solid blond with a big ass. What he got was a slender brunette that looked as if she had been dipped in diamonds and rolled in gold dust. As she was his personal chief suspect, he expected her to feign little English and bring forth, painfully, some heavily accented bad English. She spoke with an east-coast accent- Sam couldn't pin it down, and was very clear. "I don't know anything about Mickey's damn rabbits," she said. No- she didn't like them. It was embarrassing to have her husband acting like a poor immigrant. There was no money in rabbits and they didn't need money anyway. They were dirty, smelled and it looked bad to have a barn full of livestock in the city. Mickey? Yes- she liked him. He was a good provider and a gentle man. Sure, the stink of the Old world still stuck to him, but that was only him. He didn't insist that she be an old babushka and when you got him next to a bottle of Wodka- well, then that married stuff was right damn fine. Sam was not impressed with her sincerity. Her leer as she rushed to tell him how fine their bedroom maneuvers were seemed calculated. If he had been polite, it might have shocked him into pulling back. And it didn't fit. As heroic as Mikos might be satisfying his wife, which Sam did not need to question, there was still the question of their different worlds. Sonja was American down to her appliqued fingernails. Mikos looked fresh from a Russian trawler. Sam didn't think a few rounds of hide the pickle was enough to bridge that gap. Still, that was some distance from ripping the poor guy's heart out. She was his wife. She had to know what the rabbits meant to him. Even Annabella, well, Annabella might, but no human woman would casually torment him that way. At least not without him knowing exactly who was to blame. ----- Somewhere in the mix it was different. It just was. Staci knew who Sam was and took the whole package. The package included his adoring fans. And the occasional secretary. And women who were using wiles to mislead him... Amy popped out of her chair and began to stalk as that reasoning broke down. The good part was worth the bad? No, it wasn't bad to Staci. She had a real sense of humor about the women Sam laid. Amy could not get to that place. Maybe Staci was confident that Sam would never find a better. Staci might be able to afford that gamble, but Amy wasn't that sure of herself. She had no reason for her quandary- hence, quandary. She couldn't very well explain to Howard that she couldn't figure out why she wanted him to herself when his dearest intention was to be true. It just wasn't that way for her. Even if it was just sex, it was Howard choosing someone else for sex. She wasn't strong enough for that. It was scary. Howard had been so cute telling her his problem. In so many ways he was every inch the anti-Sam. For all her worship of the great man Amy found the differences all the more compelling. He was, as Sam had conjured up way back when, the Sam that should have been- at least the Sam that was made for her. She only had to reassure Howard that he was over-reacting. He was smart. He could handle those situations even if he didn't have a clue what to do before they came up. She was glad it was important to him and because it was important to him he'd find a way. She had carefully avoided giving him a safety net. She hadn't said how she felt about it at all. She talked about him, not herself. She could have soothed his fear with a hint of forgiveness, but she didn't. She couldn't. She felt she should. She thought she should. But she let it play without saying anything. She didn't underline the necessity. She let it hang as a given. When he left, calmer, but with no answer, she began to wonder why she couldn't have reassured him better. We'll always be there for each other. Whatever it is, we can work it out. Those were the things real lovers said. They did not include a license for failing, but she was unable to go even that far. She stood facing the wall at the end of one of her pacings. The problems were always so large. It was so hard to figure out where you were when you were dealing with things imagined. ----- Sam's next stop was the sheriff's office. Nickloff's land was in county jurisdiction. That's where the report would be filed. "Why, Sam Hill!" Sheriff Medina greeted him, "Don't you keep turning up like a bad penny." Sam wasn't amused. The last time he talked to Medina, the sheriff had vouched for Stan Harrow, who turned out to be as straight as a dog's hind leg. But that wasn't the reason and Sam knew it. Medina hadn't given Harrow a glowing reference. It wasn't his fault Harrow turned out to be a rat. Sam was insulating himself. He didn't want a new best buddy in law enforcement. The pain of losing the last one was still too fresh. "Can't help it," Sam softened a little- after all, he still had to pump this guy for details, "I've got a case that's lost somewhere in your files." "Any sense asking you what you're working on?" Medina asked, and then answered himself, "Oh no, you guys can't tell us that." Sam gave him a pitying look. "We want it all and we never give anything back. We take, take take and never give," Sam said in a treble tremolo, "You sound like a woman. I want to know what you've got on Mikos Nickloff and his rabbits." "I thought you guys never gave up your clients," Medina said, amused. "Pretty damn hard to ask for a report without you figuring it out," Sam said. "Anyway, I'm not trying to keep anything from you. Mikos figured you're not going to do anything. That's why I'm on this." "Mikos is pretty smart for a guy 'don't speak much English'," Medina replied. "We figure he knows who did it. We just can't figure why he wanted to bring it to our attention. Your involvement makes that even curiouser." Sam could hear Staci warning him of doom. It was an echo of the chill that went down his own spine. It was that feeling again. "So- who did it?" Sam asked trying to sound tougher than he felt. "Come on," Medina pleaded, "Tell me you didn't notice. Fresh off the boat- okay, three years, but covered in those tattoos? Someone was getting a warning." "He was wearing a suit," Sam said, but he got it. Russian. Tattoos. Worked loading ships. Even now delivered things. Not eager to embrace the ways of his new country. Almost like he was on a foreign assignment which he could not refuse. "Okay, so why does he report it?" Sam asked. "Who knows how these guys think?" Medina snorted. "Maybe he's used to reporting everything. Maybe he thought there was a law he had to. Yeah, it's weird, but I'm not breaking a sweat to chase down rabbits for some gangster." ----- Sam didn't think any of those excuses held water. From what he knew about gangsters, he didn't think any warning would be so friendly. And Mikos wasn't likely to go to the cops no matter how many laws there were if he knew it was a message. NKVD, KGB, they were likely to be even less friendly than Medina about stuff like this- as least those that hadn't joined the mob when the climate changed. No, it wasn't that simple- or it was simpler. Then Sam spotted the long black car in the rear view mirror. Just when it seemed so clear, it all got muddy again. For all he knew they had been following him for days, but that was over now. This wasn't a screw-up. He was meant to see them. He didn't think it through. That might have resulted in some un-manly shuddering and an attempt to talk himself out it. He pulled to the shoulder and got out. Like clockwork, the black car slid in behind his sedan. Sam made sure his hands were out in the open so no one got jumpy. He got a look at the driver and the sudden memory of breathing garlic. He felt himself relax a hair. "I know I was supposed to see you because you guys aren't that sloppy," Sam said approaching the car. "Why was I supposed to see you?" "Someone wants you to know he's interested in you being interested," the old acquaintance from a friendly hi-jack said. "Do I tell you or do I tell- him?" Sam paused as he noticeably left out Gino's name. The driver shrugged. "You want to come, come. ...He likes you," the man threw the omission right back at Sam. "I drive or is someone bringing me back?" Sam asked. The guy broke into gales of laughter. "Gino's right. You got balls," he chortled, dropping the pretense. He didn't. Sam just felt better facing the threat than letting it slip up behind him. He wasn't assuming Gino would let him live. He just knew that they wouldn't leave his abandoned car by the road like a sign if he was about to disappear. They might have the mistaken impression Sam was smart enough to leave an incriminating note in a pre-arranged hiding place in the car. Sam didn't drive. The other man got out and took his keys. Sam got in with garlic breath and rode. "Sam Hill! How did I know you'd come to face me down." It wasn't a question from Gino. It was his way of saying Sam had these balls he was always talking about. "Well, Gino, we've always had pretty cordial relations and I thought it'd be rude to ignore your invitation," Sam said. "Aww, I just didn't want you to get in trouble," Gino smiled. "Then we've both got the same idea," Sam said. "I don't want trouble. I'm no more curious than I ever was and I don't intend to get curious." Gino looked at him as if expecting more. "Look, can we play pretend?" Sam asked, "Just hypothetically talk about stuff that I don't know and will never find out?" "Hypothetically. That's a lawyer word," Gino said. "You're no lawyer. Spill." Sam was mildly surprised that Gino grasped the concept. It didn't give him much comfort as he began to admit things Gino wouldn't admit. "This Mikos guy hired me to find his rabbits. I didn't see tats. I just found out this possible connection. I'm not going there. I don't want to go there. I don't want to know anything," Sam spilled. "Nothing to do with me," Gino blandly lied. "I wouldn't work with those guys no matter what cut I got." So Sam knew the Russians and Gino had a deal. It didn't mean a thing to him. This was far too penny-ante for either mob. "Never thought you would," Sam lied back. "Rabbits? No way." There was almost a connection between them as they uttered the bald-faced lies to each other. Obviously, entering into this admission by denial touched Gino. Or it was just his quirky appreciation of Sam. "The interesting thing is the Missus' first husband in Jersey," Gino said out of the blue. "I think that's the way you want to go." Sam didn't have time to shake until he was back on the highway and then he didn't feel the need. By then he knew Gino hadn't had him killed and he was working on the nugget Gino threw him. He kept sticking on why Gino wanted him in Jersey- and reminding himself he didn't want to know. Could it be legitimate? The reason Gino might throw him a clue was something he knew he didn't want to know. ----- "The Russian Mob? Like in the movies?" Gumby was more impressed by that than Sam's visit to Gino. "That's the gist of what everyone wasn't saying," Sam said. "I know Gino likes you and all, but why give you this tip about New Jersey?" Staci wanted to know. "Strictly speaking, you guys are on opposite sides." "Strictly speaking, I'm not even a spectator," Sam responded. "It's Gino and the Russians that are on opposite sides." It was a confab of three. The door was open, but Amy had not left her desk to join in. Sam looked at the door and then at Staci. Staci shook her head. "So this case is about a gang war?" Gumby asked excitedly. "But you said you got the idea the Russians were sub-contracting or at least paying for operating on Gino's turf," Staci said to cover the confidence that she had passed to Sam. "So I suppose that's why it has to come from the outside," Sam said. "What do you think?" Sam had been waiting to throw it over to Staci. He wanted to be the one that asked her why Gino was tipping him off, but she beat him to the question. He found he had made his pitch one toss too late. "I think Sam Hill stays in town- in case this is an attempt by Gino to get you out of the way," Staci said. He was about to ask if she was sure it was a blind lead when she hit him with her plan. "I'll go check it out," she said. "I should be the one to go," Gumby protested. "I'm next in line- aren't I?" Gumby was right. In this case he was right and timely. Sam saw Staci's angle and figured Gumby was the perfect one to cut it off. Staci was ahead of the curve. "Yes, and we've got bosses that still have work for us while your uncle is chasing phantoms," Staci said. "I'm sure they'd be happier with Howard Hill on the case than me." Sam needed a new hire. It was pointless, he knew. Staci would find some way to always find the extra thread to pull. Still, of all the times she threatened, and, yes, the disastrous time she did go in the field, this was the least worrisome. Perhaps it was better this way. Staci was a civilian and a woman. There'd be less reason to panic or get tough. And he knew he trusted Staci's cool assessment over Gumby's over-anxious need to solve it all and bring in bad guys. "But what will I do without you?" Sam tried an appeal from left field. "I've gotten used to having you around all the time." "Then I expect you'll be double appreciative when I get back. In fact, I'll count on it," Staci said with the smug expression of victory. ----- The stinking bitch was right downstairs. But at the moment Amy had more sympathy for her than for the rat bastard upstairs. He'd called her in to do his dirty work. He was a squirming rat bastard. There wasn't much in "Wedding, Bloody Wedding" to shock her. She was remotely perturbed Howard was playing the ignorant dork when it was clear he knew more tricks than he was willing to show her. She didn't care about Passion or Darla. Even nights of fun with Anita and friend(s) were water under a bridge she hadn't crossed at that time. She could be irritated that Howard was treating her like a baby with routine and vanilla when he knew better, but it was the stinking bitch downstairs that burned her. All the rest was past, over and gone. Anita Emery was the handy spare waiting at a minute's notice in the present. And maybe being treated like a child- or at least someone too delicate to lead into the darker corners of passion- was its own reason, gnawing at her discontent as she thought about the woman downstairs- the emergency plan, the easy choice, the respite in a storm or, probably, a light wind. Just when things seemed so fine. Howard, of course, had no answers. All he could do was gulp and squawk at her observations. Maybe he hadn't been paying attention. Maybe the things he had done were a mystery and he hadn't retained them. She could believe that. But the bitch downstairs didn't have an answer. She had chased her away herself. She had heard Anita leave the open invitation. Yes, Howard wanted to be true- now. But what about when he felt as scorned as she did at that moment? Amy took a deep breath and blew it out. She flounced onto the bed and crossed her arms sternly across her chest. Yes, it would pass. He was still Howard. He hadn't cheated on her. And though she would never confess it to him, even if he had, he was still Howard. They both would unbend until they found the perfect matching contour. But she needed to hang onto her anger, her terror. The big changes, the changes for the better mostly, came at the end of large emotions. She'd do something for herself. She'd feel better and then they could approach the whole thing again. ----- Staci didn't need to go to New Jersey. They had found out all about Morris Denelbach from records on the web. He and Sonja had divorced a few months before Mikos made country. He had been her sponsor, and after three years of marriage Sonja had become a citizen. Then he dumped her. He was shocked- shocked to find out she was a prostitute. "So, you see the reason Gino was hinting at in that?" Staci was asking. Sam had to admit he didn't. She had married a citizen to get into the country. She played the game and got what she wanted. Sam didn't see what interest that held for him or Gino. "So I have to interview him and see what I can pick out of his story," Staci maintained. All in all, Sam was putting up a fight for show. He didn't want Staci to get the idea it was easy. There was nothing in criminal files on Denelbach and it seemed to him this trail led away from danger. Who knew? Staci might come up with something important. And if anyone was going to pick the meat out of the gristle, Sam trusted Staci most. It was most strange coming home from the airport. Sam knew he would miss her, but he had not figured that it would affect him physically. It was like a missing limb. He was vibrantly aware of the absence, preying on him from the back of his mind that something was wrong. That was on top of the things he anticipated- forgetting she was away and calling out a question. Looking for her in the apartment when he forgot she was off. And when he remembered she was off having her adventure the apartment was a lonely place. He couldn't remember how he passed the time before when he slept in the office and not Staci's bed. Amy changed his focus. Her face when he opened the door gave him a chill. Who was dead, hurt, maimed? "Can I come in?" she asked unnecessarily. "Howard and I are taking a break," she said gloomily and Sam relaxed. Strictly, it was Staci's place to counsel Amy, but Sam felt glad of the distraction and qualified to dispense an 'oh poor baby'. If it was nothing more than the off again of off again-on again, it hardly qualified as a crisis. "Is this about the temptations of women and private investigators?" Sam asked sagely. "No." she said fiercely. "It's about Amy having something Amy wants for once." "And what does Amy want?" It was the natural response and brought the most unnatural of revelations. "I want you, Sam Hill," she said. Her look was more suited for a women with a gun pointed at his heart. She was fierce, daring him to brush her off with a jest. "You've had me, Amy," Sam pointed out. "And this kind of thing always turns out for the worst." "Don't give me fatherly wisdom. I don't want a father. I want cock- your cock," Amy said forcefully. She wasn't his little girl any more. She wasn't anyone's little girl. There was an intensity he had only glimpsed once- in hatred toward Stan Harrow- and now it was turned full force on him. It was as startling when fueling desire as it had been fueling anger. Hatred might have been easier to take. Her gaze was burning with intent and touched Sam where he was most vulnerable. He could see the truth of her lust and it left him with no place to hide. He might shrug off hate as a momentary glitch. This left him frightened at what she meant and with few defenses. "Don't you think we should talk about this?" Sam asked with the delay defense. "Sam Hill! You are the one man that has no excuse," Amy deflected his offer, "You're the one with a free pass. Staci isn't here and doesn't care whose pants you get in. Now I want you to fuck me and I'm not going to be distracted." "But what about Howard? He cares. I know he cares," Sam asked. "Fuck Gumby!" Amy said with uncharacteristic venom, and the uncharacteristic use of Howard's nickname. "I want you, Sam Hill, and you're going to fuck me." From three feet away it was comical. Amy's attempt to get in Sam's face brought her upturned face to about his breastbone. From Sam's point of view it was startling. She brought the force of her will to near the level of a physical threat. Sam was responding that way, nerves tingling, heart pounding. She was right in a way. With Staci he had a free ride. Even with Amy, the most dangerous of liaisons, it was an unfounded fear that Sam's loyalty would ever fade. He already proved that Staci was as much a part of him as an arm. Sam lay in the cradling warm of the sheets re-assuring himself he was in the clear. As to Gumby... Sam closed his eyes and let memory rub out that thought. Amy had pushed him on the bed and straddled him. He lay back like a helpless child as she undressed him. He was caught between the marvel of Amy turned hellcat and his own loss for an alternative. Her own clothes were the work of a moment, thrown hither and thither in her haste to join him. Then she was familiar and yet so new. Her mouth fastened to his chest as her hand found his cock, tiny fingers struggling to wrap around the shaft. She came up to kiss him when his cock had begun its rise. "Please, Sam. Fuck me," she said as his eyes met hers. "Be the real man and the idol for me. Let me have this. Please?" He gave up his mock cowardice at her determination. Sam felt her plea as a tug in his chest. He heard her pain and felt compelled to soothe it. He rolled over onto her and pushed himself up high so he could look down at her as his cock moved into her. Yes, welcome with no bottom, Sam had passed the point of worry. Now she was a live, squirming channel, warm and eager for him to enter and possess. "Fuck me, Sam. Really fuck me," Amy implored him as he thrust into her. "Take me like some woman, any woman, every woman." Sam didn't sort out the need her in her words. He responded by trying to find the bottom of her bottomless vault with hard, ever accelerating thrusts. She moaned and twisted as an accessory as they reached the level of non-verbal, letting the slaps and moans of their frenzied coupling be the soundtrack for their fuck. When he thrust hard in cumming, she wrapped him in her legs and arched up as if to follow him and he thrust forward, pumping out a most satisfying orgasm into her still writhing body. Then she had pulled him down, forcing him to cover her tiny body so completely with his own. Now she was there again, her head rubbing at the corner of his arm as the hand thrown carelessly across his chest found a nipple to tweak. For a second Sam thought it was a reflex and Amy still asleep, then she raised her head and smiled. "This time I want to be on top," she said softly. It was much more satisfying to be covered, however inadequately, by Amy's little body than to smother hers under his own. There was the somewhat disturbing echo of a child laying on daddy's chest as she crawled on top of him. Still slightly lethargic, she rocked a little as she pressed her body to his before sitting up on him. She moved back and reached back so she could lift his cock and rest it against the crack of her ass. She held it there and rocked to move him between the sweet little roundnesses of her ass. "It would be my perfect fantasy for you to fuck me up the butt this time," Amy revealed as Sam began to warm to the treatment, "But I'm not perfect enough to do it. You're just too big and I'll just have to pretend." Sam despaired very little at this pronouncement. He was too big. She was too small and he remembered the guilt he felt fucking her in the ass the first time. It wasn't necessary. Looking at her sitting on him, almost as if she was perched on his dick was fine. He reached up to hold her, marveling at the way his fingers could wrap around her sides to her back and still be able to toy with the nubs of her nipples with his thumbs. "Oh God yes!" Amy agreed, "Make love to me back. It's... Ahhh." Whatever it was, it was making her happy. Sam could feel the moisture matting his pubic hair as she rode her ass against his firm and rapidly becoming stiff cock. She was ready and he was ready enough. Sam decided he had missed a treat when he hadn't looked down sliding into Amy. She came up full onto her knees to position herself over his cock and it was an erotic sight to watch this tiny fairy-woman lower herself down his pole. That she opened for him with relative ease did nothing to dispel the charge of seeing his cock spread her lips and disappear that estimable distance inside her as she slowly let herself down on him. "Yes! I've got Sam Hill right up to my belly button," Amy enthused as she settled down on him. It spoiled nothing that she was so good. Sam had no need for her to be virginal or an innocent. It was, rather, a pleasant surprise that Amy was better versed in the bending of her spine and the wriggle of her ass than he expected. She built on his impression that his cock was thrust through her to the core by giving it a stroking going in and out and while clasped in the meaty grip of her sheath. "Help me, Sam," she begged and he slid his hands to her waist to lift and drop her to the rhythm her hips implied. Her hands went to his chest between his helping arms as she pumped her cute little butt furiously on his cock. Her mouth was pulled back in rictus, her eyes squeezed so tight she looked Asian as she struggled to accelerate even at her top speed. Then she broke. "Oh God I can't! Please! Oh please!" she garbled as weight fell heavily on Sam's hands and she seemed to lose all control. He could feel the turmoil inside her as he took over as best he could. Her breath came out in a whining cry like a dying animal as he tried to co-ordinate lifting and dropping her with heroic lunges into her from beneath. Her hands were hard on his chest as her hips began to jerk. "Down now... Don't stop" she gasped. It was easy enough even for an old man. He dropped her to her side and kicked one leg away so he could awkwardly drive into her on an angle with her top leg draped over his hip and flopping with the force of his thrusts. Amy stiffened and in a moment was moving with him again. It wasn't even an idea. The crisis past, Sam opted for a better path for his stroke. He rolled toward her, moving her obstructing leg over and out of his way. He didn't find the spot until his knees spread to the widest base, straddling one leg with the other again around his waist, only from the other side. He held her at the joint of the thigh as he surged into her sideways. One perfect round cheek bumped at him from the side as he drove deep into Amy and found bottom. "Get off, Sam," Amy encouraged. "Fuck me like Sam Hill. Do it for yourself." Her words had minimal impact. Sam had been on or near the verge since he settled into the straight path to her deepest regions. They only freed his mind to wander as he fucked her hard and deep. When he came, Amy reacted in concert. Her spine stiffened like his own. He felt her thigh quiver as if she too was convulsing out streams of cum. There was even a shudder running through her as the spasms quivered to a stop. Amy was furtively quiet in the morning. Sam took her lead and waited for her to go first. She finally realized that he wasn't going to take the burden himself and burst out. "I wanted something for myself, Mr. Hill," she started. "I was Sam Hill last night. What happened?" Sam asked. "Well, that was it," Amy gathered herself to spill. "You know how you always kid me about worshipping you. And it's true- but, gosh, a girl has to have something, doesn't she? And you, the real you, isn't so bad in a real way, so what the heck? So I decided that's what I wanted. I wanted something for me and you Sam Hills were the thing I wanted," Amy reverted to her Amy-speak in her nervousness. "I could have the dream guy and the real guy and they're both great and there's really just the one of you so I could have both in just the one package," Amy wound down. "You see?" Sam always wondered, but her snarl of emotion and skelter words were always completely intelligible to him. He nodded, but he had a different question. "What made you feel the need for something for Amy? That's the real question," Sam said. He was aware of the Gumby problem again. Evidently, it had been eating at his mind while he slept the sleep of the well-fucked. In one sense, he had dibs- he had been there first. But he couldn't make himself swallow that one whole. It was up to Amy was only slightly better and didn't make him feel much better. Amy finally stopped her prowling and sat down. Sam got up and turned out the burner under the eggs she had been flitting over, pretending to tend. When he turned back she was looking at him with caution. "I know you think we're great and I know you like me and all, but Howard is your nephew," she started. "Can I tell you stuff that you can't tell him and not put you in a bad position?" Sam looked down at his dick. He looked at Amy. "I'd say 'bad position' is a done deal," he said. "But I don't think loyalty to one or the other of you is the issue here. You tell me what you've got to say and I'll tell you what I think." This time Sam got lost. Her scrambled narrative still translated, but he couldn't make sense of the translation. If she was Staci things would be jake, but she wasn't. Howard didn't want to fuck her like a hot babe, just some kind of prude and there was a woman waiting in the wings so Amy would always be nervous and it wasn't fair. Sam got the wasn't fair part. Nothing was fair. He had it damn good and that wasn't fair because he didn't deserve it. "So you think Gumby is banging the landlady?" Sam asked. "No..." Amy said quietly, "But he could." "Dismissing for the moment the argument that bumping groins isn't love, do you think Gum... Howard loves you?" Sam asked. "He's never said that," Amy answered. But Sam had hit the mark. He was Howard. He was the face she saw when she saw forever. He was sometimes like a puppy and never an untarnished knight, but he was good and kind and gentle and solid and every other adjective that meant those things. She remembered he was too good for her, that she wasn't enough woman for him. "I think you've got things out of order," Sam said gently. "You can always think up disasters. Why not wait for one before you react?" Sam saw that hit home. Amy began to fidget. "So which part don't I tell Gumby?" he said to break her mood. Amy was staring into the void, but her heart was still working. She couldn't feel bad about last night. She shut off the reasons as they came too close to sleeping with Daddy. Only she didn't think Howard would feel the same way. "Did I do a bad thing with you last night?" she asked. "Well, I don't think Gumby would understand- or, worse, he'd understand the wrong thing, but no. I'd call it a poor series of judgments on both our parts," Sam said. Amy looked dismayed. "Look," Sam said as damage control, "I'm the old guy here. I should know better, but I like you too much and that clouds my thinking. We probably should have had this talk before. On the other hand, I have no regrets." Amy wasn't convinced. "I thought with my dick," Sam tried the direct approach. He was better with the direct approach. "I always do. Lucky there's a Staci that can accept that. With the feelings I have for you, you think I can turn you down? You know I wish I was Gumby and not this cynical old bastard, but that's too bad for me. You know it was a whim, perhaps a sprinkling of revenge. I still say it isn't the end of the world because people fuck up. You gotta expect that and you gotta go on living," Sam nearly snarled. Amy jumped up and kissed him. It wasn't the 'I'm the only woman in the world' kiss. It was that something deeper than thank you that takes a kiss to say. Somehow it made Sam's head spin just as much. "You think good with your dick," Amy said. "And you know? I wish I was Staci, but there's Howard so it's not bad for me." ----- Gumby got it. He didn't understand, but he was in too good a mood to ask hard questions. When Amy appeared, slicked down from a fresh cry, he didn't expect to be bull-rushed to bed and ravished. She had taken the lead before, but never quite so violently. When her pleas for forgiveness and apologies came on the crest of her orgasm, he felt inclined to grant and accept them without knowing what she was talking about. "I just can't help being jumpy," Amy said and Gumby saw how tense she held herself even in the aftermath of climax. "You make me so nervous." Gumby was still in the state of ignorance in which Amy found him. He felt like the bystander to a whirlwind. He hadn't understood her anger at him in the first place, excepting her concern about Anita. He didn't understand the reconciliation any better. "But you believe I only want you?" Gumby asked. "Oh, I never thought you were lying," Amy said. "But how do you know how you'll feel later? What if I get irritating and someone better comes along? I just don't see what you see in me, Howard." Fishing was near the bottom of the list of Amy's intentions. She was sharing her fears, but Gumby heard another request. "Amy, didn't you know when we first saw each other?" Gumby asked, "Don't you feel like it was meant to be? I always have. I'm only trying to be good enough for you." His words felt mocking to her, fresh from his uncle's bed, and still demanding a higher standard from him. But wrong or evil, it was the way she felt. She couldn't stand the thought of it another way. That was a fact like her deepest wish that Howard would stay forever. "You're too good for me, Howard," Amy said. The words came too easily even being true. It was a simple response to a complicated concept. It was an evasion of the truth all the more for being true while holding back essential facts. Amy felt distant even as Howard moved to kiss her. Their perfect joining was tarnished by her deceit. The distance melted as he touched her. She was there with him. Her Howard was desirous and eager to be with her. She felt his sincerity poke persistently into her thigh. She would have him and for those moments no doubt or fear would apply. "Now come over here," Gumby interrupted her thoughts. He backed off the bed and pulled her to the edge. His estimation was off by several inches and his hard cock jutted uselessly high above its target. Amy saw his cock as a promise presented as proof of his intention. She tried to catch Howard with her legs to make good on the promise. It was a simple thing and what she wanted. Howard grabbed her ankles with both purpose and calculation. If she wanted tricks, perhaps this would qualify. He lifted her and stabbed forward. Amy curved up to him with a rubber grace that seemed foreign to human anatomy. She felt light as a feather with part of her weight on her shoulders, arching to accommodate the angle of Howard's thrusts. Gumby held her feet in the air effortlessly as he drove into her. This was fucking, plain fucking. She was receptacle to satisfy his urge and a damn eager one at that. Perversely, Amy was reminded of Sam pulling her off a table and fucking her in mid-air. That too was pure sex, a coupling to gratify the most selfish wants of pleasure. That she and Howard had reached that level of purity, even of selfishness, brought new energy to her participation. "Was that one of your tricks?" Amy asked while they lolled in aftermath. "I hope so," Gumby answered. "I mean, I never meant to make you think I was treating you... some way that was bad. I didn't know." Amy had understood that Howard wasn't conscious of his choices. She had even been dimly aware that he didn't understand them and was only confused when she tried to explain. Now she settled into the haven of his arms understanding that there were things like that about her. Her pursuit of Sam had nothing to do with Sam and only dealt with her having Sam. And it had been great. There was complete disconnection even in his arms. She was pursuing her craving and wasn't interested in what Sam received. Only this time, this most recent time, even as the stage had been set and she had demanded that fictional character be his legend, they had reached another place. She tried to take what she wanted for herself, and took plenty, but there was collusion between them that came of familiarity. She understood what Sam pulled back to avoid, before and that morning. It was different when it meant something. Not different enough to shake the supports of the world, but still somehow wrong and leading to no good end if it went anywhere at all. She was still no nearer to obtaining that clarity in regards to Howard. ----- Sam was going over his facts, looking for another angle and trying avoid his dilemma. On the 'ins' or on the 'outs', he was still a vulture picking off the wounded regarding Gumby. Sam had no debate over that. She was, or had been, Gumby's girl and he shouldn't be in line for her at all, much less first. The debate was over telling Gumby. 'Fessing up was the straightforward act. He owed it to Gumby to face him and allow him his rage. Yet who would that serve? Betty Jean did not appreciate his honesty. His first wife, in response to his confession and his contrition, packed and moved out. There was no chance to pay his penance. There was not, as he supposed in choosing her, no other option for the shy, pudgy girl. In other ways, it had been going as well as could be expected between the mis-matched pair. He was dutiful and she allowed him his rights as husband to no great effect, but no detriment either. They were quiet in their own parts and it was a working, if not blessed, partnership. Where it might have gone, what might have passed, was forever unknown after his transgression. Sam wondered that the quiet boredom might have come to pass for content and spared them both pain. Perhaps it would have been better, on the whole. He would never know. But again, there was no good in deception. Secrets always came to light, for Sam most certainly. At some point Gumby would know and then see that secret withheld. Sam groped for the answer. ----- "What a fucking disgusting excuse for an excuse," Staci was fuming. Sam was taken aback by her vehemence. "She wanted to be my wife, so I took advantage of the opportunities," Staci quoted Denelbach. Strictly, Sam supposed, it didn't qualify as a fraudulent marriage. They had lived under the letter if not the spirit of the law for the required time. The intent, as obvious as it seemed, would be hard to prove in light of the three years Denelbach kept Sonja in his house and for his use. "He was happy how innocent she seemed," Staci reported. "Not unused, but in no way ready for the use he put her to." "You didn't kill him or anything, did you?" Sam over-estimated her reaction, hoping it was exaggeration in light of Staci's mood. "I acted like it was just fucking normal," Staci raged. Sam sympathized with Staci's self-recrimination. He understood how hard it must have been for her to feign complicity while raging to, at least, kick Denelbach in the balls. She had assigned herself a task that didn't give her the freedom he exercised with Raylene. It was as if those types never progressed, never branched out. Sonja's treatment echoed so exactly the abuse of Raylene in those days so long past. Humiliation, subjection and when that became ordinary, branching into spreading the degradation to a larger audience. "What's your problem, shit stick?" Sam had been asked. "She's a cunt and she deserves it. You want a turn or not?" There were echoes that had nothing to do with Sam identifying with the down-trodden, semen-spattered girl's fate. It was the lie of promises. It was the falsehood of hope. Thoughts that the outcast might be allowed one pace toward the inner circle were cruel jests at Sam's expense. He could be grateful that he was invited to participate and swallow his feelings. Women, and girls, were cunts. Sam subscribed to the characterization after ridicule and rejection. That he was being offered, not full membership, but a one-time pass based on his endowment wasn't the point. The point, brought to despairing sharpness, was that he was doomed to be the outsider, the butt of all jokes, forever. He knew and could not suppress, even for personal gain, it was a line he could not cross. To be with them he was required to become them, become the tormentor of those like himself. Acceptance hinged on cruelty. Setting yourself above was simply pushing others down. And there was nothing he could do without pushing himself farther into the darkness. There were not so much familiar echoes as screams when Sam punched him. The violence he unleashed, frightening and scattering the assembled gang-fuckers, was pure Father. It was a line he flinched in crossing, but it burst out of him without control. He found he had rightly suppressed the rage inside himself. It was indiscriminate and explosive when released. He took no joy at all in proving formidable and superior to those that thought themselves invincible. He felt sick at becoming what he hated. "You didn't have to do that for me," Raylene said. "It isn't going to help. I don't see I can expect anything different." Sam couldn't explain he hadn't done it for her. As little as he wanted to be her tormentor, he had less interest in being her protector. Her case was sad, but Sam had little room for any but self- pity. He shook off her offers of sex without thought of his aching desire. Yes, he wanted her, yes, oh god, but he felt a contradictory revulsion to her pitiable state. Though he couldn't put words to it then, he knew it was not an offer of passion, or even gratitude, but despair. He did not wish to be her tormentor even if she did not understand it as such or even though it would make no difference to her sad state. She felt it as a rejection and Sam was blessed with crushing more spirit from the spiritless girl even as he tried to do the right thing. "You're a sorry piece of shit!" Raylene cursed him in the most familiar 'tendernesses' of his father and Sam was left to brood over a world in which nothing made a difference and there was no winning. "Well, if you want to kick someone in the balls, I fucked Amy while you were gone," Sam said. Staci moved quickly past stunned on her way from raging to concerned. "What about Gumby?" she asked. "Since my balls seem unkicked, I think that's the question," Sam granted. "And I don't know the answer." "Well, for Christ's sake, don't tell him," Staci said immediately. "You haven't, have you?" "No. But you know how these things come out," Sam said, "He's going to find out if he doesn't read about it first." "I understand the need and get why it was you," Staci said after Sam had explained and answered her questions. "I have no idea why in general. Amy doesn't always move in a straight line and I've never had more than a general grasp of her thinking." "And when Gumby finds out- not just the trash, but the keeping it from him?" Sam asked. "Then he'll find out the reasoning why," Staci said. "He knows you too well to think it was cowardice and he'll understand you had the best intentions." "You know, doll, I did miss you real bad," Sam finally got to the mushy stuff. "Then I hope you changed the sheets after consoling yourself in my absence because I'm holding you to that double dose of appreciation." Staci countered. ----- For a moment, Sam thought he was going to find out the strange pleasure of being cuffed to the bed. So far Staci had done everything but tie him down and fuck him. "Is this what you missed while you were fucking your girlfriend?" Staci hurled at him as she rode him. Sam could hardly answer. He was being buffeted rather roughly and very effectively by Staci's flying tits as she drove on his prick. As much as he knew Staci would have kicked him in the nuts if she was really upset at his adventure, her constant reminders still tweaked him with a sense of danger and sin. He didn't think the reversal was complete enough for him to find excitement in degradation and helplessness, but he had to admit he was in no position to protest if Staci was going to test him. It was the second time in as many nights that he had been ravished by unlikely partners and that, he found, did have a charm. In fairness, Amy's aggressive dominance did bring a naughty thrill of reversal, but Staci, for so many reasons and in so many ways, was riding the twist with a true virtuosity. She was so different from the handcuffed butt of his abuse that it brought new appreciation along with awakening his old desire that she be more of a participant. Maybe she was woman, roaring. Sam understood the need to re-claim manhood after feigning the opposite. He could understand if Staci wanted to wash away the filth of her encounter with Denelbach by proving she was no victim. And she was wet, sopping, Staci slapping his face with her tits. It would have to be very strange to make that anything other than a good thing. His dick didn't seem to care. He was ready to shoot off again, knowing that happy torture was going to continue. Staci had assured him most firmly on that point. "Now do what she wouldn't," Staci said after she had rolled off and regained her breath. "Get it up and stick it in my ass." She accompanied her demand with a poking prod to his dick. Sam winced as the prod felt too serious. He was developing an explanation. So far they had re-created his bouts with Amy, but with Staci's firmer control. "You don't have to prove anything to me," Sam said. "And you know how great proving something to yourself works out." Staci looked up at him with an appraising eye. "It sounds to me like a man without any pop in his pecker talking," she said. "So we can talk until the pop comes back," Sam pursued. "I want to know that I haven't worried you in some way." Staci responded by grabbing his cock and shoving it into her mouth. Since the conversation was closed, Sam lay back and let her suck his cock. He would let her play it out if that was what she wanted. He referred back to not being kicked in the nuts as a comfort. Once relaxed, Sam needed no more distraction than Staci was giving with her head lolling in his lap. It was pointless and a trifle irritating for her to send twinges and flashes through him as she played his cock with her tongue. It was still going to be a while before Sam responded, but Staci gave him no peace as she teased and prodded all those places she knew made Sam jump. "All right," Staci bobbed up after her pestering had begun the desired effect, "I'll just tell you that I'm not upset since you can't stand the fucking suspense. I missed you, all right? I thought a little drama might spark up the welcome back." Oooops. What a pussy. Sam considered how much of a wuss he sounded like with appropriate distaste, but he had no regret for his concern for Staci's mood. "So you like to get buttfucked?" Sam asked brightly. "You know it's mostly whores and the like that get buttfucked." "I only buttfuck guys with little dicks," Staci returned, "So get ready." He was her Sam. Not that she doubted that. It was only a case of the jitters and it was only the choice of straight talk over banter that had changed. His concern was sweet and she felt safe in it. The jitters were composed less of unlikely fears about Sam than memories of the glee with which Denelbach told her about: "fucked her mouth, fucked her pussy and didn't she squeal when I rolled her over and fucked her ass". She was glad Sam had perked up enough to play along. At a distance she was sympathetic to the terrorized woman, but this was in the private world of lust and it was a much more exciting role to play than to live for real. Sam knew it wasn't her favorite, but he knew that wasn't always important. With his number of hard edges, he had no room to question an angle or two for Staci. And it was fucking tight. His cock was doing a slow motion impression of rising as he reached across Staci for the lube. On an impulse, Sam pushed his middle finger right up Staci's ass as he greased the rubbery ring. Staci grunted and seemingly instinctively bent a bit to open the way for his finger. Bending forward was yes; clamping down was no. That was universal sexual body language. Sam expanded his impulse to slide a second finger in with the first. Staci grunted each time the fingers went in her. At the same time her ass tipped up almost imperceptibly. Sam gave her ass the two-finger version of a stern ass-fucking. She kept grunting and moving to take his fingers. Sam was warm and far too sweaty to be explained by the motion of his arm. His cock was up. The sexual part- the connection of two bodies had been going on even before the sex parts came into intersection. He slapped Staci on the ass to move to the sex parts stage. "Haul that big butt up here. I'm going to give it the real thing now," Sam drawled. Staci rolled from her side onto her knees and waited. This was going to be the topper. Sam had fulfilled her identification with Sonja's ordeal with his fingers. Now she was going to go the extra measure and burst through all imaginings with a reality that would overwhelm her and, as she thought, send her to lofty heights. "Please, don't be rough with a poor girl her first time," Staci mewed to tweak Sam as she felt his cock press her sphincter. It was an illusion caused by her own imaginings or the recoil of restrained emotions released, but Staci felt a surge, both good and bad, like she never recalled as Sam caught the precise moment his cock began to slide into her ass and shoved it rudely into her. The entry broke something loose as it contrarily pinned her, split her, fixed her and stuffed her. The latter gave voice to a loud yowl. "Just the way you women like it," Sam growled, considering for the unknown-th time whether it was the irony or the uniqueness that made Staci prefer the showy thrust. Ass always very tight, Staci always cursing while her ass danced a different tune, Sam stuck to his business and didn't question the process. It was tight and never quite adjusted. He didn't have to feel guilty enjoying it because, for whatever reason, it was his purpose. Here was one thing that gave them both perverse thrills without one accommodating the other. Staci took it and didn't like it. Took it, demanded it, needed not to like it. Sam needed her to take it and the rigidity of her asshole assured his every rough thrust that it was unwilling and yet not retreating. "Tiny little pecker... Can't you get it in?" Staci gasped out as Sam drilled her ass hard and deep. "No- but I will soon!" Sam grunted back as his thighs made loud smacks against Staci's haunches. There was something primitive, animal, primal driving Sam's ass forward to stab his cock in vicious thrusts into Staci's. It was pure phallus penetrator and orifice acceptor. Motive, human reason had no place. Sam fucked ass with no thought, only energy and the drive to follow his urges however they led him. "Fucking animal!" Staci spat out, followed by whines scaling up the register. Sam was oblivious except to the tight grip and hot reception and his need to jam his cock faster into it. Good. Fuck more. Good. When he came, Sam showed a strength he rarely displayed as he lifted Staci by the hips to jam her more tightly onto his cock. She was not light, but for some seconds Sam had her knees lifted from the bed and her bottom portion hung from his tight grip as he pressed his cock to its limit in her ass and pumped out his cum. "For his next act, Mr. Strongman is going to fuck a woman while carrying her around the room," Staci jibed as they recovered. She could not be truly miffed because she had given into her excitement too soon. Putting off cumming with a dick in your ass was a recipe for not cumming, certainly for Staci. In fact, Sam's jungle finish had been an addition like an encore that sent echoing shivers up her spine as he skewered her. But if she had known... "So that's it for tonight, folks," Sam announced in the same tone. "Go home. No one but her can sleep here." "So you two didn't sleep?" Staci returned to the present with a jarring abruptness. "Yes, my dear, like a sick father and child," Sam said, slowly taking out the carnival barker to return to his normal voice. "We fucked, we slept, we fucked some more." "You know I don't care," Staci said turning and looking at Sam. "I mean, I trust you. I don't care, but I'm interested. I mean, you know Amy brings me as close as I get to worry, but it's something else, some- like you said, perversity, that gives me a curiosity, even excitement about envisioning every detail." "I can't quite put my finger on what a sick fuck I am, either," Sam made a bewildered face, "But somehow it doesn't feel wrong, just complicated and hard to figure." "Yeah-" Staci agreed and rolled her head onto Sam's chest, "So I'm not getting my piggy ride, am I?" ----- As far as Sam was concerned, Staci's visit to Denelbach was like a visit in the new era of Sam Hill Investigations; she had asked the questions to use deposing the witness. He had more than suspicions and was looking for more than reactions talking to Sonja. "I'll understand if you're uncomfortable with some of my questions," Sam prefaced. "About Morris?" Sonja scoffed. "What would make me uncomfortable about that greasy fuck?" Again the hard edge and again Sam sensed sham. Sonja Grimulkin Denelbach Nickloff was a study. She'd earned the right to weary cynicism on the road that lead to her ever-lengthening string of surnames, yet she seemed too fragile to support that attitude. Sam reluctantly decided to bring down her house of cards. "His attitude was that you were fresh meat and he was going to take a bite whenever and wherever he wanted," Sam said flatly. "Oh dear! Did he fuck me? Being his wife and all, that is simply shocking," Sonja snorted. "Fucked her mouth, fucked her pussy and didn't she squeal when I rolled her over and fucked her ass," Sam quoted from his pad. Sonja was unperturbed. She gave Sam a tired look. "That was six years ago. Now tell me, do I look 19?" Sonja asked. She looked about 30, give or take. Sam shook his head. "Well, I'd have to be to be like Morris thought," she said. "I was 13 the first time someone rolled me over and fucked my ass. I didn't squeal then; I cried. If I squealed with Morrie, it was because the rude bastard didn't know what a lubricant was and certainly didn't have the equipment or skill to get me wet so there was some substitute." Thirty- give her the benefit, 28, minus the six was 22. Even if she was 26 it meant seven years of experience before she got to 'Morrie'. Her fragility- at least regarding the case- didn't come from that abuse. "Denelbach divorced you claiming adultery by alleged prostitution," Sam switched gears. "Only he had no evidence because you don't have a record. Why didn't you fight back?" "If you're looking for a confession, I'd suggest a hard chair and a bright light in my eyes," Sonja stiffened. "Otherwise my answer is that I don't want to stay with a man that doesn't want me." There was a nerve. Sam was willing to see where it lead. "This isn't about a fake marriage to get into this country," Sam said bluntly. "You played the game according to every rule as far as I can see and I don't care. But there's something you aren't saying and I think it has to do with Mikos and maybe his rabbits." "Those damn rabbits!" Sonja exploded. "I don't want to hear about those damn rabbits. I'm glad they're gone! Oh no! The detective made me say it. So what do you know now?" Sam knew it wasn't the rabbits that were on the nerve. But they were something and what Sam knew was that he was exactly in the same place he had been forming his suspicions at the first sit-down with Mikos. "I know you're tired of me missing the point and I think you half wish I'd stumble onto the truth," Sam said. "Only you're afraid your tattooed friends night fuck you in the ass in a fatal way if you gave me a clue." Sonja took refuge in tears. At least that was what Sam thought. She looked up at him from behind her hanky and then launched herself onto him. "Okay, okay, tough usually works," she bawled, "But I'm a woman. Morrie was an asshole, so what, but how much can you bounce around? It gets to you." It was too sudden and fake. Yet Sam sensed he was closer to the truth at that moment than he had been. It wasn't Sonja becoming soft and vulnerable. That was as staged as her impulse to lock her lips on his and kiss him. It was the emotion that seemed to flow naturally. "Now wait! Hold it," Sam broke away to protest. "I get the poor, lost damsel stuff, but I'm not going to fold because you fuck me." It was a break with tradition and it was not. She was hot enough and from what he had just learned, well experienced. But she was trying to distract him because he was onto her, not to keep him from suspecting her. Sonja had her own spin. "What man does?" she asked. "Can't you fuck me anyway? I want to. I think I'd like it." Sam could partly believe that. As to liking, he couldn't say, but he believed she'd feel safer and did want him to fuck her. Maybe she thought he would fold. It was a toss-up. There could be an angle he hadn't discovered, but what better way to uncover it? Danger aside, it might clear his head after the confusing incestuous fucking that had engulfed him recently. First, he'd have to get her off him. He wrapped an arm around her as he stood up and then lay her on the couch. Sonja looked up cautiously as he unbuckled his belt. Satisfied he was going to fuck her and not beat her, Sonja reached under her robe, hooked her thumbs in her panties and yanked them off without ceremony. She got the gist. Sam was going to fuck her and there wasn't going to be a ceremony. If she was a whore, she'd be used to it. Sam saw no sign she wasn't used to it. He dropped his pants around his ankles and she reached for his cock. She grabbed his cock as he got over her and began yanking, not too hard, yet with purpose. "I'll squeal when you roll me over if you want that," she said, levelly looking in his eyes. "Maybe," Sam said. "If I've got the equipment to get you wet, maybe I'll do that." Her eyes were hard again and it was a genuine hard. They were on her playing field and she felt at home. Sam was hard in the other place that counted. She guided him and he pushed his cock into her. "This might get me wet," she granted as the two nearly dressed people coupled. Sam humped her dutifully. Like their bodies, which were covered except at the point of insertion, he was non-committal except where his cock plunged into cunt. It was unemotional urge being loosed to satisfy the animal desire. "Roll over," Sam said. She was wet enough. Sam didn't think she was any more affected by emotion than he was, but her twat had responded to his cock. He found evidence of his feeling in the bland way she turned under him. "Oof!" was all that came from her as Sam pressed his cock into her ass. If he was taking some pleasure, wasn't that the point? He loved Staci, but sometimes he wished she'd suffer the hard invasion in stages. The maleness of conquering was suited by both approaches, but, as he had had a steady diet of the single thrust, he jabbed into Sonja's ass in two-inch increments. She took it with low growls, never flinching when Sam heaved more cock in her ass. It was pleasurable. It was pleasurable to the point of interrupting his intentions. Sam never hit bottom before his urge broke into enthusiastic, but not particularly deep thrusts. He fucked Sonja's ass with delight, but at the call of his prick. He was never disappointed giving in to his cock in its area of expertise. He wondered how it would ruin the experience for Staci to submit to a different suffering as he pulled his cock out of Sonja. But then, he reasoned, it wouldn't be so new and that was probably the thrill. ----- "Took it like no one else, even you, even if you relaxed," Sam said in response to Staci's query. "So Denelbach is full of shit," Staci assessed. "Maybe just compensating," Sam countered, "He's told himself the lie so many times he believes it himself." "But she wasn't a scared virgin," Staci said, thinking more of a wasted trip and the drama it allowed. "No- she only plays one on TV," Sam quipped. "And I still don't see where any of it fits." "You mean Gino?" Staci asked. "I mean my case, but yes, why Gino wanted us to have that bit of information," Sam agreed. "You don't think Gino's amusement terrorizing you extends to giving you tips, do you," Staci shot Sam a pitying look. "I think Gino hasn't had me killed. That's as far as I think about Gino," Sam said. "Don't get me wrong. I'm happy he hasn't, but I don't want any other involvement." "Sam..." Staci kept pitying him. "Don't question my cowardice," he warned, "I want to know why Gino will continue his not killing me if I don't get the hint." "And- regarding this cowardice- you're not about to ask," Staci finished for him. "Only you," Sam said, "I think I can take you." Sam wasn't about to seek out Russians to get their side either. He didn't think any of them had even an amused interest in watching him sweat. They were too likely to be amused by watching him die. ----- Sam had been spinning his wheels for six weeks. Now he had too many threads, but threads that all seemed to lead the wrong direction. He had to boil it down to what he knew about the major players- Mikos, Sonja and the rabbits. Denelbach was a monster. He kept Sonja for the required time and then cut her loose. By that time she was used to being raped, sodomized and paraded for profit, possibly the only change being the American venue. She was lucky not to have a rap sheet. From there, in a matter of months, she found herself married to a man from the old world that couldn't be more her opposite. It explained only her brazen disclosure of her sex life. She was jaded and perhaps used to using graphic frankness to repel questions she didn't want to answer. Sam still didn't see the mob connection, the Gino connection or what any of it had to do with rabbits. It looked like Staci had gone on a wild goose chase. "So- rabbits," Sam began conversationally, "If we drop our misgivings and don't trivialize our client's concern, what do we know about rabbits?" Everyone was invited to the confab. They were four with Amy back on the 'ins' with Gumby. No one wanted to start. "People eat 'em. Fur for clothes. Feet for a novelty," Sam gave them a start. "Pets," Staci added, knowing Sam's initial caveat was directed at her. "People shove diamonds up their ass to smuggle them? Hop across borders with contraband tied to their tails?" Sam phrased as questions. Heads shook. They all seemed to be trying and Sam had to admit he was asking stumpers- particularly to this crowd. They had a client who knew. Sam saw they had not asked all the questions they needed in talking to Mikos. "They're- like a joke," Gumby burst out. "Rabbit died- like a code for getting a girl pregnant." Sam saw Amy cringe. "It's all right, little girl," he said soothingly, "They don't have to kill the fluffy little critters anymore. They don't even use frogs, which replaced them." Amy stuck her tongue out at him. It struck an unusual note for a child's gesture. It was Sam's turn to shrink as it gave him a funny feeling in his stomach. He was a sick bastard, he thought to himself. They were getting nowhere. Mikos was the expert here. Sam would talk to him once he had a clue what to ask. ----- There was a hurried straightening of sleeves when Mikos saw Sam approach. The opening of Mikos's collar gave only a hint of ink, not a clue to the design. Sam wondered if he'd noticed if he didn't know. "I find I don't know enough about rabbits," Sam started. "Since I've been hitting dead ends on everything else, I've decided that there's something about rabbits I'm missing." "Rabbits?" Mikos parroted. "Yes," Sam spoke slower, "What are rabbits for?" "Rabbits. My babies," Mikos said. "Why do you raise rabbits?" Sam asked, restraining himself from adding sign language. Mikos collapsed. He slumped first and then backed a step to a crate in the warehouse and dropped down. He looked up with sad eyes. The ghosts in them were no longer visions of hell, but of pain. "My son. I have son," Mikos said. "He die in Afghanistan. We have rabbits. My babies. My son." Mikos was too tough to cry. Perhaps Mikos was too beaten or had come to think such was his lot. He eyes were red-rimmed nevertheless. Sam knew it wasn't something to do with rabbits. There was no use or secret in the critters themselves. Mikos had not shown any acting talent. His defeat was too genuine and rang too true. "That sucks- bad. That is bad," Sam went as simple as he knew how, "I am sorry. Maybe someone wants to hurt Mikos?" Mikos shook his head. The gesture struck Sam. It recalled a bear deciding to attack. He'd always thought the bear seemed weary and annoyed to be bothered in that gesture. He thought it applied to Mikos, however wishful it might be as regarded the bear. So Mikos was in the mob, plodding forward, looking neither left nor right, with a hard luck story like all hard luck stories. It wasn't a warning for many reasons, most important to Sam being that any such action would get him and Mikos both killed. And Mikos was bellering out in pain such as Sam could sympathize. Conversely, it strengthened his first instinct. Mikos didn't believe Sonja could do something to hurt him like that, but Sam saw no better candidate. It was, he had felt and now knew for sure, an attack on Mikos's heart and that was a woman's territory. But that was silly. Mikos, tiger in bed as he was billed, didn't fit as an abusive wife-beater. Her sexual use, if Sonja could be believed, was the high point of the marriage and if she was lying, there was the evidence pointing to sex as merely another inevitability for her. He saw no grounds for the kind of passion it would take to coldly rip out the poor man's heart. So, one suspect with no motive, Sam was proving to be the great detective indeed. ----- He had missed the clue. Amy clung to that like hope. It wasn't possible for Sam Hill to miss it, but it was so important that he did. She needed the time. She was fooling herself, she thought as she grumpily moved to the kitchen and sat down. Tea might calm her stomach. She had rammed against the alternatives like a mad person bouncing off padded walls. Time wasn't going to bring her answers. Time only put off making up her mind. And time was running out, deserting her with an inevitable passing, marching as if to doom. Staci was already throwing her questioning looks. It was hard to be perky with this weight. It might be impossible to cover her secret in the fear of falling or her mood. With the added weight of guilt, it was plainly impossible. Howard was her one haven, as fucked up as that was. He was oblivious, which seemed like kindness, but only twisted the knife in her guts. Still, his doting and concern gave her comfort and brief respite from her concerns. Ever since she had seen the cross appear on the test, she had flailed against the alternatives. No reasoning would tell her what her body knew. She could not pick out over one night's time the more likely source of the sperm that had found its mark. She hadn't been thinking. She hadn't been prepared. It was more productive to scourge herself over that. It didn't solve problems or answer questions, but at least it was something to the point and, if past and too late, a tangible truth in the mush of alternatives left to her. But she had done enough of that. The time was past for lamenting things that couldn't be changed. It was coming, all too quickly, up to the last moment of deciding. A few more weeks and Staci couldn't avoid knowing. A few weeks after that she would show enough even a man might get the hint. ----- "Staci?" It was a cry like an injured child and Staci could hear the sob. "Hold your water," Staci said unkindly as she struggled with a description. Amy burst into loud tears. Staci, who had at first assumed it was Howard being oblivious, snapped around and went soft with compassion. "I'm sorry, I didn't know it was serious," Staci said without editing. "What is it?" Amy didn't need to bend far to fall on Staci's neck. She held on like an injured child and made Staci's estimable bosom shake with her sobs. Staci felt danger and pity struggle with impatience as she patted the sobbing girl on the back. She couldn't help while Amy blubbered, but she sensed it was too dire for her to demand Amy be tough. She held the small woman, trying to slow the advance of boredom and the tingle of curiosity. "I don't know what to do!" Amy finally howled. "Don't know what to do about what?" Staci asked carefully, seeing that this was not a crisis to guess. "I'm pregnant!" Pregnant pause. Pregnant idea. Brown winter tangle bursting with the green pregnancy of spring. It took a spin of denial before Staci could bring herself to what she knew was Amy's dilemma. "There, there," Staci patted Amy some more, "But that's not the problem is it?" Of her boredom, pity and danger, it was danger that set the cold seed of fear in Staci's heart. Her mind clicked on in desperation. Even if the little airhead would be satisfied with no less than legitimacy and marriage, they could make it work. She was a child with childish expectations. Sam could only love her as a child, she hoped as desperately as she thought. "What do I say?" Amy blubbered. "I'm pregnant covered it for me," Staci said. "Who are you worried about telling?" "But I don't know!" Amy wailed. That changed things. Staci understood her meaning and thereby her desperation. Resolving to be as fair as she could muster, Staci stepped into the breach. "Sam told me about that night," Staci said, feeling Amy tremble a little in her grasp, "No one told Gumby." Without sure knowledge, Staci was sure Amy hadn't. Amy wasn't stupid in that way. Still breathing in racked sobs, Amy looked up. "Don't I have to?" she asked. "You don't have to, do you?" Staci said with unbidden spite that she hoped Amy didn't hear. "Isn't that what makes it so hard? You've been asking that of yourself since you knew, haven't you? Haven't figured out the answer, have you?" Amy the supplicant looked up pleadingly. "Sam might suspect, but he can keep his mouth shut for the same reasons he didn't confess before," Staci said. "I'm sorry. I can't help you. You're the only one that can decide if you have to tell Gumby or not." "But the child-" Amy gulped. "Has no particular stake in any of this," Staci was firm. "We're not old Jews with some fanaticism about parentage. The only concern for the child is that it is raised safe and with love. Do you intend to do that?" Amy hadn't thought that far. Her immediate deadline was before someone else knew. The child was far beyond that future. For her part, Staci was probing a question that had not seemed to occur to Amy. "Yes," Amy said with the most firmness of any statement, "My child. You're right. I love both of them. What does that matter? And it isn't the baby's fault." She weakened then and her eyes clouded up. "But what if it matters to Howard?" she threatened to cry. Staci felt the darkness recede a bit. Howard was the obvious choice, the proper partner and not just because Staci wished it so. She had feared Amy might not see so clearly. And she knew, too, that there was no question of Amy carrying the child. She was glad she had not been the one to mention the alternative. "I can't comfort you with saying he'd never know, can I?" Staci asked. "That must have occurred to you already. I don't even know what I'd do, so I can't tell you. I only know that he loves you and if he lets something so stupid ruin that, he's losing something worth so much more than stinking pride." It was more confirmation of her dilemma than an answer. Her heart ached at the thought of maintaining a deception. She was eased only that Staci didn't have an obvious answer and that she wasn't being little stupid Amy all over. Staci was surprised by the ferocity with which she spoke. It was something bubbling up from inside her, certainly disturbed by her panic over Sam slipping away. She stood by it. In a strange way it was relieving to have it pulled out and put in words. It was true. It was why, even when Sam was too stupid to notice, that she hung on waiting for the one that was worth everything they had to go through. ----- "Staci?" It was a much more comfortable, even joyous thing to hear that from Sam. "What the fuck do you want?" Staci snapped. "Am I ever going to make any progress?" "Why does a woman tear a man's heart out?" Sam asked. Staci looked up suspiciously. She was jumping at shadows. If Sam was mad at her or anything she'd done, he'd be attacking her directly. Guile was not in his nature. She tried to figure what he meant. "Because men are assholes," she said to prompt another clue. "Granted," Sam said easily, "So what kind of asshole is our client?" "The lawyers?" Staci was intentionally dense. "Mikos," Sam said. "What about him would make a wife want to wound him as deeply as she could?" "You're holding out to see if I can guess," Staci said. "Tell me what leads you to this leap of imagination." Sam spooled out the sad story. No sudden light came into Staci's eyes. "So we've got sentimental rabbits and no one with a motive to harm them but the wife, who has no motive," Sam finished. "No motive you've discovered," Staci corrected. "You're right. Congratulations on joining the sensitive, caring masses. This isn't business or revenge, except in the emotional sense. Unless you scare out another lover, it's the woman." She waited just a beat. "By the way, you knocked up Amy," she said. "In the bathroom," she pointed sternly. So far Sam had gone wide eyed and increasingly pale. Staci knew that volume might be next on the list of reactions. She had always intended to tell him, but now she was questioning her timing. "What the fuck? What the fuck? What the fuck!" Sam was repeating. Staci thought he was cute when confused. "It might not be you," Staci held up a warning finger to still him. "She left you to fuck Gumby in the same state of unpreparedness." Sam was cuter more confused. "She doesn't know who. You don't know who. We do know there's a bun in the oven and Amy is frantic," Staci ran down. "You will not indicate by word, deed or mistake that you're aware until Amy tells everybody." "What the fuck!" Sam said once more. "You're a maybe daddy. Congratulations. And I am not mad at you, only really concerned that Amy doesn't get more upset." Staci said. "Then why tell a fuck-up like me?" Sam asked. "Shut up, Sam Hill!" Staci thundered, reaching anger now. "This is no time to take refuge in your demons. You play the game; you take the risks. No one needs you feeling sorry for yourself. This is important beyond either of us and you're going to straighten up or I'll... I'll..." "Break my nose?" Sam offered. Staci's fury seemed to have a calming effect. It wasn't about him. He could put that aside for future ruminations. He could focus on what Staci thought should be done. "Well, that's better," Staci said as she saw Sam focus again. "I don't think I helped much, but Amy and I had a talk." "And what do I do?" Sam asked. "Keep it to yourself and act surprised when Amy announces whatever she announces," Staci said. "Surely, it's a baby," Sam said. "Human, I'm supposing." Staci took a perturbed breath and snorted. "Not the time for levity, either," she said. "Amy is deciding whether she will tell Gumby it's his or admit her uncertainty. We await that decision." Sam saw a can of, not worms but pythons, or perhaps tarantulas opening. It didn't matter what Amy said. Everyone knew everybody's business in this world- eventually. Deception was a slippery slope. At the same time, he was glad he kept Staci's counsel not to confess at the time. Somehow he knew it would make the present situation even more messy. "But he'll find out. You'll write it in a fucking book," Sam pointed out a bit briskly. "Which doesn't occur to Amy yet, but then..." Staci let that hang before saying, "We're all shaped by our decisions as much as we shape them. Good comes out of bad. Bad comes out of good. What happens is the truth and that's just truth and neither good nor bad." "And what the fuck does that mean, Miss Philosopher?" Sam asked. "Miss Goodbody after nine stories and still today," Staci corrected. "It means Amy will do the right thing, even if I have no clue what that is, and it will be all right." "That Miss Goodbody crack mean the right thing is a double wedding and for real this time?" Sam asked. "Fuck you, Sam," Staci snarled. "Not marry you, Sam. Fuck you and fight and love and be frustrated by you. What more could a girl want?" "Just so we're on the same page," Sam retreated grumpily. "And no clue what Amy might do?" "Oh, lots of them," Staci said. "Only it's her choice and, you know, for all the queasiness I have over her, I think she'll pick the right one- the right one for her and Gumby and you and me. Whatever the fuck that is." ----- Always the last to know. Husbands- and fathers- were always the last to know. It took ten minutes to sweat the truth out of Sonja now Sam knew where to attack. He felt like a paid assassin breaking her. The rabbits were the least of the victims. In that regard, Sam identified with the rabbits. Sam had come on her packing. She put up a front. Dumb old country assholes were so dumb. They were so stupid because they were stupid. She hadn't been this obvious a liar in any other interview, even pretending she was hot for Sam. She was torn up. Her time was up. For the rest she was down lower than some thing that is really, really far down. Sam didn't think it was love tearing her, but he could admit she might think it was. She didn't have to draw him a diagram. Certain symmetries clicked into place as she made up story after story about why she had decided to move on. In some of them Mikos was throwing her out. "He sleeps late enough," Sonja said in the meat of the story, "I just chucked them. I watched the truck haul them away. I showed him." The thought made Sam sick. It wasn't naked Sonja inexorably and with cold efficiency taking rabbit after rabbit and slitting their throats, tossing them in bags to be hauled to the curb. It was the cool exercise of that rage. It wasn't particularly the fearful vengeance she wrought on Mikos. It was a calm surrounding the horrendous acts. It was draining out the bloodstained water from her bath even as Mikos came in to shave. No hint. No clue. No warning. She could have been bright and pleasant and then walked upstairs to blow her brains out in the tub. Like Sam's mother. No clue. No warning. Sam was too numb to worry about shaking as he wrapped up the interview. His hell wasn't Mikos's but he was sure his eyes showed the same reflection. "So, you'll tell Mikos so he can slit my throat like those damn rabbits?" Sonja asked. "Is that what you hope?" Sam was merciless. "You want the easy way out so you can see the pain while he ends yours?" Sonja wasn't too numb to tremble. Sam knew the urge to grab her was so near his surface. Cold-hearted bitches should come out with it. There should be some response if only to bare your throat to their fury. There should be some warning- something. "He threw me out!" she erupted. "No second thought. I tried. I did. He wouldn't even say a word." "Well, you ripped his heart out," Sam said. "Feel even? Either of you get back what you lost?" He relented only because he knew he was shouting at his mother. He was doing the same thing to Sonja. What was he helping? Her lot was sad and he had no cause to judge her. It was bad enough. Bullying her was to no one's good. "I'll tell him later," Sam said. "When will you be gone?" "Today. 3 o'clock," she said. "No winners," Sam said. "Pain is the gift that keeps on giving. I'm sorry for us all." He left still livid, so many emotions rushing through his system like an injection of amphetamines. He hadn't thought about her in years. Yet she had been there, still tender, close to the surface. He was tired of it. It made no more sense than Sonja's spiteful revenge for a doom she knew was coming. But more than that, he saw in examining it again that he had mistaken his place. He was a battered victim to be sure; his life testified to that. But he was the rabbits. However he felt, however he was damaged, he was not the lead. He was a walk-on, an extra- the rabbits. His menial part did not soothe him. But it brought perspective to the burden he had carried. He was perhaps more upset by this truth but being the truth it might someday rest. ----- "Mikos took it like a man," Sam reported. "You mean he shrugged and put it on his back like every other burden he can't bear to let go?" Staci asked. "That's why you're my doll," Sam said and leaned over to kiss her. Staci stared at Sam after the uncharacteristic peck. Subdued, she'd call it, but with warmth looking back at her. She'd fuck it out of him. She was owed a piggy ride. "And Gino?" she asked. "Gino who?" Sam asked and went on after Staci's scowl. "He gave me a self-serving tip that was nothing more than motive in my case. I told him I was keeping my nose out of it. I'm keeping my word." Staci gave him a sterner look. "Who do I tell? Call up Immigration and say: due to a feature of your law the Ruskies are rolling over citizens every three years in a never-ending and ever-expanding tree of new citizens marrying imports?" Sam asked. "Then what? Find out who Sonja's off to marry and keep tabs on Mikos for a new wife? What's it to me? And what does Gino think that will do to help him? It sounds like making the Russians mad and they don't know about the balls I've got." "Makes sense," Staci was suddenly nodding. "Maybe he was helping. He does have a sense of honor, you know. He said something to me once about Chester that made me realize. He doesn't have laws to keep him in line. All he has is his word." "And murder," Sam added. "I didn't say he was a nice guy," Staci spluttered, "Only that it's possible he meant well." "And he knew enough to tip me, but not tell me?" Sam argued. "Maybe the tip was that there are new players in town," Staci said. Sam thought about that. "And if you're going to pick one, I'd say watch Sonja," Staci said. "So she can throw me some strange and take the onerous duty off you?" Sam asked. "Because she's the one with hopes. Hopes that some miracle will bring her true love and a nasty temper when reality interferes," Staci said, "Though you do get perky when you get some strange." "Speaking of perky, any news on the Amy front?" Sam asked. "What about Amy's front?" Gumby interrupted. Sam tried to swallow his tongue. "Oh I know Sam Hill was there way before me," Gumby said jovially, but in no sense lessening Sam's dread, "But I'm not allowed to say it before the official announcement. I'm going nuts waiting. It'll be a big surprise, I'm betting." Gumby winked. Sam moved back to let him confer with Staci and try to fade into the scenery. Even with Gumby's blessing he didn't want to be the father. Father was a bad word for him. It made no fucking sense. Adoration, affection, even love was fine from both of them, if you were going to make him say it, but it didn't fit. It did not fit. He and Staci fit. Amy and Gumby fit. "You told, didn't you?" Amy wandered in, trying to play cool. "No, dear," Gumby said like he was already house-trained. "I said I wasn't allowed to say." "Then I better hurry before you burst," she wrinkled her nose at him. "Howard and I are going to be parents." For the most insipid of shockers, it caused quite a stir. News to no one, it set off chatter and congratulations from everyone but Sam. His attempt at faux merriment had been staggered when Gumby nudged him in the ribs and confided: she says it's really yours. The dumbstruck look of confusion served just as well. He slowly recovered his delight, and his breath, as he saw Gumby took that as a great joke. He was left to ponder how devious even the most open and guiless woman could be. Men never had a chance. He was blessed to have Staci to explain such things to him. ---- "Did you see them together? Didn't they look so perfect?" Staci was still gushing as Sam closed the door behind them and hung up his hat. "Doll, we've known that from the first time they looked at each other," Sam tried to enter the spirit. "But?" Staci asked. "But what?" Sam wondered. "You've been nursing a but from the moment of the announcement," Staci said. "But?" "Not a but," Sam said, smacking Staci on hers, "More of a 'what the fuck' or 'where the fuck'." He had reached the moment and, as Staci observed, had plenty of time to organize his concept. "Where the fuck does Amy come up with telling Gumby the truth so he won't believe her- at least until it's too late," Sam asked. "A trick worthy of Sam Hill, I agree," Staci answered, "But who knows if it is the truth? Maybe Sam Hill shoots blanks. Ooo- ooo! I know- a test to prove it! Maybe I should suggest that." Sam wrestled her to the floor. ----- It hadn't gone quite like that. Amy had been quite serious. This was too important for her to screw up. Giggling miscues were all right in her own life. Some even turned out for the better. Even the ones that were downright disasters only harmed her. There was life inside her. She was caretaker and she couldn't screw this up. The only way to face it was honestly because that was the only way. "Howard. I'm pregnant." Those were tough enough words to say. She waited expectantly for the reaction. It was pretending to be a fish. Gumby opened and closed his mouth innumerable times looking wall-eyed. His response made her cry. "Will you marry me?" It was as hard as anything Amy had ever done to control her tears and not just let it rest. This is where she wanted it to stop- with a happy ever after as a tagline. She panted trying to draw the breath that would expel the truth. "It could be Sam's" Gumby looked up from his one-kneed stance and slowly smiled. "Amy, you are the bestest girl any guy could have. I love you so much. Won't you marry me?" he asked. "It could be," she sobbed. "It's mine," he said with firmness. "I love you so much. I want us to be together forever," Gumby switched back to his fawning gibbering. "Yes, Howard. Yes, I'll marry you," Amy sobbed. Gumby held her so tight and she only wished to be squeezed tighter. He knew that she knew that he knew didn't matter. Nothing really mattered but that Howard loved her and wanted her child. Perhaps he still thought she was joking and was tired of the joke. Maybe he heard and wanted to ignore it. Amy didn't question or waste thought. Howard was the fit. It need never enter their minds again. Howard would marry her. She was going to be a mother. She loved Sam. She loved Sam enough to have his child and raise it with him. She would be happy. But Sam had said it himself. He was damaged. Howard was the Sam unscarred. She was sure even Sam would wish them to be together. She heard him say it. And she would never be what Staci was for Sam. "Let me tell them," Amy gasped in Howard's embrace, certain that she had just told the last one that didn't know. "I want to see their faces." ----- "Now wait!" Staci shrilled. "What about my piggy ride? You owe me a piggy ride, you old childfucker!" "You're hog-tied. Isn't that enough for you?" Sam snickered. Actually, it was more calf-tied with Staci's wrists and ankles in a bound bunch. They both knew her vulnerability and where it was going, But Staci had to keep trying. "I'd think an old fart that knocks up kids might be more loving to the woman who has every right to cut off his dick in the night," Staci threatened. "Knocked-up. That's right. We don't want that now do we?" Sam teased her. "I've found out a startling new fact," Sam continued as he pulled down Staci's underwear. "They've finally discovered how women get pregnant." "That's so lame, Sam Hill," Staci shouted. "Okay, new one," Sam gave up too easily. "No gags. We're going to do it differently this time." "You think I'll fall for another lie?" Staci asked. "Not lying," Sam said. "Serious now. Traditionally, you pretend I'm horrible and I laugh while I am." "So I'm supposed to laugh?" Staci bellowed. "You jam that horse pecker in my butt and I laugh?" "No, dear, sweetie pumpkin, honey lumps," Sam said as he kept on preparing her. "This time I might well be horrible, but I won't laugh." "This is a damn funny time to come up with crap like that," Staci protested. "It's only because I love you so much that I'm giving you this chance never to do it again," Sam said. "Seriously. I'm going to and you'll have to take it and if it is horrible I'm sorry. But I'm going to see and you'll see right along with me." "Sam you're scaring me," Staci said. "You're not going to shit on me or something, are you?" "Mmmmm. And I had Mexican for lunch," Sam stopped the serious. Her ass was greased, Sam's cock was twanging hard in anticipation. He hauled her onto the sofa so her head could hang over and not bear her weight in her trussed position and got behind her. "Tell me when you like it," he said as he pressed his cock to her sphincter. "No! No! No! NO! NO!" Staci screeched as Sam drove his cock inch by inch up her ass. ###