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 Dee Does HS 13 By peregrinf

   "I'm not going to ask Missy to be the bait," I stated flatly.

   What followed was me against all of them.  Well, almost all of them. 
Mom was brooding, and the lady from CPS was caught on the horns of a
dilemma -- me or Missy -- an impossible choice for her.

   I've always wondered, what does a dilemma look like?  Like some sort of
a cow or bull, with long twisty horns?  It certainly must be uncomfortable
to be on the horns of, judging by her expression.

   Anyway, in the end, outnumbered and worn down, I went to the phone and
called Missy.  After apologizing for it being so late, I asked her to come
over and to bring her parents.  Amazingly, she somehow got her mom to the
phone, and my mom convinced her mom it was really important without telling
her why.

   "I am not going to ask Missy to be the bait," I repeated flatly to the
others around the table while we waited.  "She is my friend.  I know her.
It is not a good idea, and I will not ask her."

   At the same time I was comforting myself with the thought that her
parents, especially her mom, would never agree to it anyway.  If my mom was
a bear protecting her cub, Missy's mom was a Bengal tiger.  After Missy's
near rape in middle school -- granted it was her own fault -- Mrs.  Wilson
was more protective than ever.

   "Let's table that for a minute," the Assistant DA suggested calmly. 
"How are we going to gather the evidence we need?  We can't exactly put a
wire on a naked teenage girl."

   "Bug the little shit's office," the top cop suggested.

   The Assistant DA shook her head.  "Not without a warrant, and without a
name behind a credible complaint, no judge in town will issue one.  Not
enough probable cause."

   She looked at me, and I knew she wanted me to put a name to my source,
and I met her look with one of my own.  She could see that wasn't going to
happen and looked away.  Mrs.  Devers and Mom knew, I'd had to tell them,
but I'd sworn them to silence.  It hadn't been hard.  They'd agreed Peggy
had to be kept out of it.

   "How about the intercom," Mrs.  Devers suggested.  Jeez her eyes were
cold -- icicles would be warmer!

   That got everyone's attention.

   "What intercom?" the ADA asked.

   "The school's.  Every office and classroom is connected.  From the
office we can use it to hear what's going on in any classroom.  It's part
of the security system.  As a rule we don't eavesdrop, but if there's an
emergency or some kind of disruption we can."

   "I'd say this qualifies as an emergency," the younger cop observed
wryly.

   I liked her.  She was petite but muscular, a compact, busty Hispanic. 
Her black hair was in a pixie cut that framed her face nicely and revealed
very tasty looking ears decorated with piercings, a tiny diamond glittering
on one nostril.  She looked real good in her undercover outfit -- short
skirt, tight top -- more "young and available" than "hooker at work,"
though I bet she could pull off that just as easily.  I couldn't help
wondering how she'd look in her uniform -- and out of it.  She kept looking
at me in a way that made me tingle in spite of the circumstances.

   God, sometimes I think I'm a total slut.  But at this point I welcomed
the distraction.  I felt like the little Dutch girl with her finger in the
dike -- or should that be dyke?

   Don't I wish!

   "Sounds like it might work," the ADA answered.  "I presume all faculty
and staff are aware of the function...."

   "They know we can turn it on to listen at our end if we have any reason
to suspect a problem, or simply to avoid an awkward interruption if we need
to contact them while class is in session," Mrs.  Devers explained.

   "So there's no expectation of privacy," the ADA said thoughtfully.  "Can
you record what you're hearing?"

   Mrs.  Devers nodded.  "If I'd known what that ...  had been up to I
would have already used it and we wouldn't be going through this
nightmare."

   I gave her a sympathetic look, feeling the same way.  On Friday, when I
should have been protecting Peggy, I'd been frolicking with Greg and Kathy
in the art studio.  If just one student victim had said something....

   Shit.

   The doorbell rang and I ran to get it.  Missy looked nervous, her
parents worried.  "You guys introduce yourselves," I told Missy's parents,
pointing them to the dining room.  "I need to talk to Missy."

   "What's going on?  What's happening?  Who're all those people?" Missy
asked as I hauled her up to my room and shut the door, ignoring the same
questions from her parents.  Let Mom handle them, I thought.

   "Two of them are cops, one's an Assistant DA and one is from Child
Protective Services.  It's a war council.  We're getting ready to take
Worthington down."

   I was as keyed up as I could get, wishing Missy were anywhere but here.

   "What?  'Take him down?' What does that mean?  Does this have something
to do with Peggy?  I heard you were going to see her.  Is she okay?"

   I shushed her.  "Don't even mention her name!  I can't tell you why, but
if the cops down there...."

   "Cops?" She squeaked.

   "I told you, two of the people in my dining room are plainclothes cops,
the big guy and the sexy looking girl.  The other two women -- the ones in
suits -- one of them is an Assistant District Attorney and the other is
from Child Protective Services.  Worthington is a pedophile.  Why do you
think I told you not to go to him alone?"

   I may give the impression that Missy isn't the brightest bulb in the
chandelier, but that's not the case.  She's just still sweet and naive, in
spite of all the trouble she got into in middle school.  It's what got her
in trouble there in the first place and she really hasn't changed.  I still
have to explain dirty jokes to her.

   Her sweet mouth went O, and she turned pale when she realized what she
might have walked into.  "And Peggy...?"

   "Was his victim last Friday.  You don't want to know the details.  I
wish I didn't," I added sadly.  "This is all under a
double-triple-cross-my-heart promise of silence, everything I'm telling
you. Don't breathe a word of this to anybody, ever!  Promise?"

   She looked stoned, but crossed her heart three times, nodding.  "I
triple-cross-my-heart promise."

   "The thing is, if the cops or the ADA get her name they'll want her to
file a complaint, and that would wreck her.  The cops want to know where I
got my information and I won't tell them, and you must NOT let her name
slip out, not even her first name.  As far as you know nothing happened and
Peggy was out sick because of a stomach bug.  Clear?"

   "Ooookay.  But why are we here?"

   Shit, I wished I had more time!  "They want to set up a 'sting' and trap
Worthington, and they're thinking you should be the bait, since he's
targeting young naked-in-school participants and you're in The Program this
week."

   I thought she was going to faint.  Deer in the headlights didn't begin
to cover it.

   "I've told them it's a bad idea, and I won't go along with it," I went
on, talking fast as I heard Mom calling us.  "Devers agrees with me.  I'm
hoping your mom won't let them use you that way.  I've told them I'm
willing to be the goat.  Hell, I want to do it!  I want to personally hang
that bastard.  Now come on.  The less you say the better.  In fact, the
only thing you have to remember is the word 'no.' Repeat it after me."

   "No?" she said cautiously.

   "That is the only word in your vocabulary until you leave this house."

   Mom banged on my door.  "Dee, we need you and Missy.  Now!"

   "Got that?" I asked Missy as I opened the door.  She nodded numbly, and
all I could do was cross my fingers.  The thought of her in Worthington's
clutches made me want to throw up.

   "What were you doing up there?" Mom asked suspiciously.

   "Bringing Missy up to speed," I answered truthfully as we trailed her
down the stairs.

   You would have thought it was the entrance of the Queen of England or
something when we showed up in the doorway.  All eyes fastened on me and
Missy as Mom went to her chair.  Three chairs had been brought in, making
nine seats around a table that barely holds six.  Missy and I were
relegated to the cheap seats at diagonally opposite corners.  I figured the
arrangement wasn't by accident and I didn't like it.  I wanted to be next
to Missy to provide support.  Taking matters into my own hands I rounded
the table and whispered in the ear of the young cop -- excuse me, the
police lady -- at Missy's right.

   I liked the lady's scent.  If it was perfume it was very subtle.  If it
was just her -- yum!

   Miss Tits kindly yielded her seat to me and moved down by Mom so I could
be on one side of Missy, her mom on the other.  My mom pursed her lips and
frowned, as did the ADA and the senior cop.  CPS barely cocked her head. 
Mrs.  Devers showed just a hint of a smile that said I'd scored one for the
good guys.  My hand found Missy's under the table.

   The ADA cleared her throat and started to speak, but I interrupted. 
"I'm sorry, I was upstairs taking time to clue Missy into the basic
situation regarding Mr.  Worthington, so she wasn't here for introductions.
Missy, the lady in the blue suit about to speak is Martha Graham from the
District Attorney's office.  The nice lady in gray is from Child Protective
Services, Georgia Swain.  Is that right, Ms.  Swain?"

   She nodded.

   "The big guy at the head of the table, trying to look like a civilian,
is Police Detective Sergeant Michael Kelly -- I hope I'm getting this right
-- while the young woman next to my mom is Detective Maria Sanchez.  I
believe you know the rest of us.

   "Now, you were about to say, Ms.  Graham?"

   Martha G.  frowned, totally thrown off her stride.

   Gosh, I thought, how did that happen?

   "We've -- uh -- got a problem with -- uhm -- The Program Coordinator,
Mr. Worthington, as you presumably already know," she stammered.  "We're
hoping you'll be able to help us out."

   Missy's mom looked like she'd taken a bite out of a sour apple and found
half a worm.  Her dad looked like an overcast sky about to stick out a
funnel cloud to suck Kansas dry.  That was good to see.  He's pretty easy
going, a conciliator, but I'd figured he'd be on my side, too, rather than
see his daughter endangered.

   I wondered why the ADA wanted to proceed with this farce.  Maybe she
needed to save face, or at least try to lure Missy in.

   "We need to catch Mr.  Worthington in the act," Ms.  Graham plowed on, a
farmer trying to get the crop in before Mr.  Wilson blew off the topsoil,
or his wife unlimbered the flame thrower and left the ADA with nothing but
scorched earth, to mangle a metaphor.

   Missy's parents were the only two who really mattered.  Missy was a
minor.  No way could she be sucked into this without her parents' approval.
With them united against it the door was nailed shut and it was all over
but the shouting.  There might be a lot of that, but I hoped not.

   Missy proceeded to try to crush my hand under the table, but I didn't
dare risk a look at her expression.

   "He's preying on young ladies in The Program, but he hasn't approached
you yet, Miss Wilson.  We think you're the right person to get the goods on
him.  You'll be in no danger...."

   "No!" Missy's mom interrupted the ADA.  "That's not true, and you know
it.  I won't let you use my daughter as bait.  After the horrible situation
she went through last year I'm not about to let you pimp her out like some
whore to catch that beast.  Let Dee do it.  She's got lots of experience as
a slut!  She was the one running around the park like a bitch in heat last
Sunday."

   Ouch!

   I thought Mom was going to jump down the table and throttle Mrs. 
Wilson, but cooler heads prevailed and Missy's mom reluctantly apologized.

   Missy gave my hand a sympathetic squeeze.  I squeezed my thanks back and
held my tongue.  My relationship with Missy's mom over the past year or two
had been up and down like an elevator, but I knew where she was coming from
on this one -- not that it didn't hurt.

   Besides, she was right about me.  I'd been brought up in a rather
liberated, single-mom household, with an older brother who I'd watched go
through The Program.  More than once I'd watched him bang the shit out of
his girlfriend.  I'd learned a lot about love and sex from them both. 
Besides, she was right, that had been me in the park making an ass -- or
rather a bitch -- of myself.

   While Missy wasn't a virgin, she certainly did not have the wide
experience I did in matters erotic.

   Still angry, Mom was obviously seeing the handwriting on the wall.  I
felt terrible for her -- here I was, striking terror into her heart yet
again.

   In the end, after more useless verbal sparring, Missy was off the hook
and I was on it, to be dangled in front of Worthington.  I'd do whatever it
took to make sure he took the bait so he'd be yanked out of his slimy swamp
to be gutted, cleaned, filleted and thrown into the frying pan.

   Interestingly, the point that finally penetrated to Ms.  Graham was the
fact that Missy was fourteen years old while I was still only thirteen --
much to the amazement of those not already in the know.  Apparently the law
offered more severe penalties for sexually violating a thirteen year old
than a girl of Missy's advanced years.  That gave Ms.  Graham a lifeline to
grab onto, I guess.

   Never mind that I felt about a century older than Missy.

   As the Wilsons left I whispered to Missy that I'd welcome her in my bed
that night or any night, but she politely declined, as I'd expected.  Her
mom would never have allowed it anyway.

   With them gone I moved back down to sit with Mom and we got down to the
nitty-gritty of making a detailed plan.  Stumbling block number one was
coming up with a plausible reason for me to be shoe-horned into The Program
on short notice.

   "How about I'm being punished," I suggested.  "Something like when
Catholics sin, they have to do something -- what is it called?"

   "Do penance," Mom suggested distractedly.

   "You could be doing penance for bringing disrepute on The Program with
your frolic in the park," Mrs.  Devers picked up deftly.  "For that I could
assign you to The Program for the rest of this week and all of next week.
We can claim 'disciplinary reasons' to explain why you're naked in school
again."

   Everyone but Mom looked satisfied with that solution.  Mrs.  Swain was
resigned, I guess.

   Me?  Was I looking forward to being back in my good old briar patch
again?  You betcha!  Worthington might think he's dragging me into his
parlor, but in this case I'll be the spider.  Once I got my fangs in him
he'd be my lunch.

   ADA Graham tried to regain control of the proceedings.  "Dee, you'll
have to carry this off as if it is SOP."

   "SOP?" I asked.

   "Standard Operating Procedure," she explained patiently, treading
carefully around me.  I'd thrown her for a loop at the opening of the
meeting and she wasn't going to underestimate me again.  That was fine with
me.  I respected her, especially for her legal expertise, but wasn't about
to let her forget that it was literally my ass that was going to be on the
line.

   "You don't deviate from the normal routine," Mrs.  Devers agreed,
"except for the fact that you'll be called to the office and stripped first
thing tomorrow morning.  From there everything proceeds as usual.  Just go
through your normal day, until...."

   She didn't need to finish the sentence.

   "I'm supposed to pose for Kathy after school," I pointed out.

   "And you will, unless Worthington summons you," Devers agreed.

   Right from the start Georgia Swain, from Child Protective Services,
hadn't liked the idea of putting me or Missy at risk but had finally agreed
we had no choice.  She also had been paying attention.  "From what's been
said, it sounds like he's plucking his chickens on Friday afternoon.  He'll
be caught off-guard by the announcement you're suddenly in The Program."

   "I hope," I heard her mutter under her breath.

   "Based on our experience, sexual predators tend to adhere to a routine
that works," Sergeant Kelly observed, making notes on a spiral bound tablet
in front of him.  "My guess is he'll bide his time until Friday, sniffing
around to make sure this is legit."

   "Even though he's been hiding in his cave he probably has someone
feeding him information," Mrs.  Devers mused.  "When he gets word you're
traipsing around nude I wouldn't be surprised if he called some other
program participant to his office, just to pump them for information,
rather than victimize them."

   "We hope," Mrs.  Swain muttered.  But then, she's paid to be a
professional worry-wart.

   I tried to calm her nerves.  "I warned Missy earlier not to go alone to
Worthington's office if she got a Program Violation notice from him.  She's
probably already spread the word to the rest of the participants.  If
anyone is called down, chances are they'll show up with their partner in
tow.  I hope that doesn't alert him to trouble."

   They thought this over for a minute before Mrs.  Devers responded.  "I
don't think it will.  If he's just looking for information he might even
prefer it.  He certainly won't try anything, especially if it is program
partners showing up together.  They're supposed to support each other."

   "I wish I could be your partner," Maria Sanchez confessed.

   So do I, I said to myself, shooting her a smile, for several reasons,
not the least of which being that she was one really spicy taco, no offense
intended.

   "It's better that Dee doesn't have a partner," Mrs.  Devers pointed out.
"If he knows she's flying solo, being a last-minute addition to The Program
for disciplinary reasons, he'll be more confident."

   I still didn't see the sense of using The Program as discipline, but
that was not on my agenda here.  I was saving that one for the committee.

   During all this Mom was looking more and more unhappy, and I wished
there was something I could do to reassure her.

   "I've got the committee's meet'n'greet Thursday after school," I
reminded them, which triggered a brief explanation of what was going on
with that.

   "Worthington's been invited to it," Mrs.  Devers pointed out.  "Whether
he'll be there or not is a mystery."

   "If he does, you'll have to play it cool," Sergeant Kelly cautioned. 
"Don't let anything slip."

   "Yes sir," I agreed.  "I've tangled with him before."

   "Can you at least manage to be civil to him?" Mrs.  Devers asked with
that secret smile of hers.

   "I will be little miss suck-up," I assured her.  "Yes, Mr.  Worthington,
I'm very pleased to see you're going to help us iron out some of the issues
in The Program.  For example, did you know, sir, that it is a matter of
courtesy and hygiene that participants really should be issued a towel on
which to sit, sir?"

   "Don't' overdo it," Maria Sanchez warned with a broad smile.

   "Maria, you'll be in the office, working as a temp starting tomorrow,"
Sergeant Kelly informed her.  "We can staff up on short notice if anything
looks suspicious before Friday.  Dress conservatively," he added with a
smile.

   "Yes sir," she agreed, a blush tinting her cheeks, her dark eyes
sparkling.

   "If it happens sooner than we hope I can be there on short notice," Ms.
Graham announced.  "I'll clear my schedule on Friday afternoon and be there
from lunch on so I'm available when we expect it to go down."

   "You let us know the minute you get called down, Dee, and we'll be
ready. Remember, we'll be listening and be in there in an instant if
there's any danger," Mrs.  Devers assured me.

   I was somewhat comforted by that, but worried they might jump the gun.
"Give me a chance to get the goods on this creep.  I'll play along, let him
-- ah -- have his way with me, making sure you know exactly what we're up
to with a little play-by-play -- 'please, Mr.  Worthington, don't make me
suck your cock, slurp slurp' -- so we're certain we have what we need to
put him away."

   Ms.  Swain and Ms.  Graham blanched at my graphic description.  My
mother leaned her face into her hands.

   "It would be better if I walked out of there on my own with him none the
wiser," I went on quickly, "rather than have a SWAT team drag me out of his
grasp.  The less fuss when you bust him the better, I assume.  You can
pounce after I've left."

   "Who knows what you might have to do!" Mrs.  Swain gasped.

   "As Mrs.  Wilson so aptly put it, I've got a lot of experience as a
slut...."

   "Dee!" That got a reaction out of Mom, I tell you!

   "Sorry, Mom, you know what I mean.  I have developed a certain
reputation, after all."

   She looked gloomy.  I hoped she knew I was going to need her more than
ever over the next few days.

   "That's fine, Dee, but we've got to be very careful to avoid a charge of
entrapment," Ms.  Graham warned.

   I gave the ADA my full attention.

   "He has to initiate everything," she emphasized.  "The only words out of
your mouth should be something starting with 'No' or 'please don't' or
'stop!' Is that clear?"

   "Yes'm." I nodded.  I asked another question that concerned me.  "How
much do I -- uh -- need to do to get him nailed?  I assume you'd prefer
more than a simple fondle.  Oral?  Intercourse?  Anal?"

   Mom flinched with every act I mentioned.  I thought Ms.  Swain was going
to puke.

   "I can't answer that without getting myself in a heap of trouble.  It is
up to you."

   I nodded.  The thought of doing anything with him roiled my stomach, but
to get him jailed almost anything would be worth it.  I figured it had to
involve more than a little fondling.

   "Okay," Sergeant Kelly said after a brief silence, "let's review
everything, see if there are any holes.  Dee goes into The Program tomorrow
morning.  There's no public announcement, but you'll spread the rumor that
she's being disciplined for bringing dishonor on The Program."

   Mrs.  Devers nodded.

   "We stand ready, beginning tomorrow morning, but don't go on high alert
until Friday," Kelly went on.  "Detective Sanchez will be undercover in the
office.  I want you there when Miss Walker arrives in the morning until
after she leaves in the afternoon.  Devers, you'll have to cobble up some
excuse for her to be there."

   Devers nodded.  "She looks young enough.  I'll say she's an intern from
the local college, majoring in school administration, and wants to hang out
there to get a feel for the work.  Tonight I'll warn the Principal what's
going on on his turf.  After I get him calmed down he can take care of
filling in the District Superintendent.  I think we all agree, the fewer
who know what's going on the better."

   She took a deep breath.  "Once this thing goes down there's going to be
hell to pay.  I want to know how that pedophile wound up in our school! 
Someone should hang for this, probably several somebodies."

   There was nothing but nods around the table about that.

   "Dee, the moment Worthington calls you down to his office, you get word
to Mrs.  Devers or Detective Sanchez," Kelly went on.

   I nodded.  "If it's during lunch, I'll send a friend to the office,
probably Missy since she knows what's going on.  If it comes during a class
and I have to go right away I'll ask the teacher to notify the office."

   "But you can't tip them off to what we're doing," Kelly pointed out. 
"That being the case, will they do it right away if it's not an emergency?"


   I shrugged.  "It depends on the teacher.  Most might wait until the end
of the period."

   "That's no good.  Maybe we should alert your teachers in advance to
what's going on," Ms.  Swain suggested.

   Mrs.  Devers shook her head.  "The fewer who know the better.  All we'd
need is some chatter in the teachers' lounge to somehow get back to him. 
We're talking a three day window here, and with something this big it would
be topic 'A' over coffee and donuts."

   "Use your cell phone to text Detective Sanchez," Kelly suggested.

   "I don't have a cell phone," I admitted.

   Mom looked mortified.  "Anytime she needs one she uses a friend's."

   Kelly sighed.

   Maria spoke up, sliding a card to me.  "Here's my cell number.  Have a
friend text me, just two words.  'It's on.' I'll know what it means."

   I nodded.

   I turned to Mrs.  Devers.  "You said there's a panic button in every
room."

   "In my office it's a button under the edge of my desk, an inch in
diameter, set under a clear sliding cover so it can't be tripped
accidentally.  I can't be sure where his is."

   "Now," I went on, thinking of my recent experience as a sub, "I want a
safe word, something for me to yell if I need help."

   "'OH SHIT!' sounds good to me," Ms.  Swain muttered wryly.

   "I'm too likely to use it by accident."

   We settled on "Sweet Jesus," which was not something I was likely to say
by accident.

   It was late and we were all tired, and I was scheduled to become chum on
the water when school opened.  "Well, here's hoping I don't need it before
Friday, if at all.  If he sticks to his usual pattern he'll send me a note
at lunch time asking me to report to him, either then or at the end of the
day.  Either way I'll get word to Detective Sanchez or Mrs.  Devers and the
game will be on."

   "It is NOT a GAME!" Mom snapped.

   "I know it," I assured her softly, hugging her arm and resting my head
against her shoulder.  I was shaking inside, and I wanted nothing more than
for her to hold me close and tell me everything will be okay.  "Believe me,
I know it.  But we cannot let him get away with it.  You didn't see ..." I
almost let the name slip "...her, but I did.  I will do whatever I have to
to nail his hide to the wall."

   With that the meeting broke up.  I shook hands with Sergeant Kelly, Mrs.
Graham and Mrs.  Swain, and got tired of hearing how brave I was, but from
Detective Sanchez I got a warm hug.  I was actually taller than she was by
a little bit, and she was definitely well muscled.

   "If you need anything, if I can ever do anything for you, you've got my
number.  Don't lose it," she whispered.  Her kiss on my cheek was brief,
but wet and ripe with invitation.

   Upstairs in my room I looked at my backpack and shook my head.  SOP is
all well and good, but I'd just have to take my lumps for missed homework
for a change.  After brushing my teeth I stripped, ready to crawl under the
covers, but couldn't bring myself to do it.  Instead I padded down the hall
to Mom's room and tapped on the partly open door.  Her light was still on.

   "Yes?" Obviously she was far from sleeping.  There was a book in her
hand, but I don't think she was reading.

   "Can I sleep in here?" I asked softly.

   "Oh darling, of course you can," she agreed, setting her book aside and
flipping the covers back.

   Like me she slept in the nude.  I crawled gratefully in beside her and
she swung the covers back over both of us, sheltering us from a dangerous
world.  She drew me close against her, skin to skin, and it felt so good I
felt like crying, so I did, softly, letting the tears flow as I snuggled
even closer to her.

   I snuffled.  "I'm sorry."

   Her arm tightened around me.  "For what?  Doing what has to be done?"

   "Keeping you awake?"

   Her chuckle was warm and reassuring and I felt her pressing a tissue to
my cheek so I could wipe my tears.  The light went out.  "You think I'm
going to sleep until this thing is over?"

   "No.  Me neither," I agreed.  "I'm sorry."

   Her embrace grew warmer, more loving, if that was possible -- I know,
according to language arts that should be "were possible," condition
contrary to fact -- but whattaya want?  I'm only thirteen.

   "For getting into this mess," I explained.

   I felt her lips brush my head.  "You're only doing what needs to be
done. Don't apologize for that."

   "I'm s...."

   "Shush now," she said tenderly.

   We were quiet for a while.

   "You know what scares me most?"

   I shook my head, knowing she could feel it.

   "You're growing up so fast!  You'll be going off to college...."

   "Not for four years," I argued.

   "Believe me, that's not very long," she said kindly, stroking my head.
"But you've already done so much, things I've never done in my whole life."


   I couldn't think what to say, so I was quiet for a change.

   "You know," she went on a minute later, "I think you can do anything you
put your mind to, I really do.  It's a good thing you're a good person."

   "I guess I was brought up right," I murmured as I wormed my way closer
into her embrace, wishing that I could just be wrapped up in her.  Maybe it
was some urge to return to the womb or something.  I tried to make myself
as small as possible, curling up my long legs, and she opened hers to let
my knee slip through as I scrunched myself down, my head below her chin.

   She wriggled even closer to me somehow, her legs tangling with mine. 
She combed her fingers through my hair, cuddling my head to her as we
squirmed against each other.  I was remembering another time, not so long
ago, when we'd shared a bed.  My fingers were snuggled against the warm
softness of her breast, and without really thinking about it I toyed with
her nipple, feeling its rubbery stiffness.

   "Ahh me," she sighed.

   Afraid, I stopped, curled my hand into a fist, my thumb near my mouth,
then in my mouth.

   "No, it's alright," she assured me.

   "I need you," I whispered, and I wasn't even sure myself what I meant.

   "I need you, too," she murmured, shifting.  "I need you, too, punkin."

   She hadn't called me that for years.  Somehow I felt even smaller, the
soft, comforting mass of her breast on my jaw, my cheek.  I squirmed my
face against the pillow softness, and my mouth sought the tit that had
nursed me so long ago, and I heard her sigh as she shifted so my lips could
close around it.

   "It's all right," she assured me when I hesitated, cupping my head
against her, and then I was suckling on a dry tit, feeling warm and safe.

   "Yesss, baby, yesss." Her fingers tangled in my hair, and I felt her
hips move, pressing her crotch against my bony thigh.  I pressed back,
feeling the hot dampness of her sex, and she pushed her thigh against my
own pussy.

   We squirmed together, snuggled, as I sucked and sucked on her
life-nourishing breast.  There was no milk there, of course, but there was
safety and security and unrestricted all-encompassing love, and I knew
everything would be okay between us, and together we rode in tandem to --
something.  It wasn't sexual.  It was a slow, surging feeling of warmth and
fullness and completion, a gentle sharing of a love that reached deep
inside, secure and comforting, not carnal or vulgar, a love cradling us
both so we could sleep.