Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Dee STP 20 by Peregrinf

   Oh jeez!  I was SO horny!  Shoving Greg back on my bed I attacked his
belt, hoping the hell The Stick didn't butt in and try to talk me out of
this -- not that she'd ever intruded on my sex life before.  We'd never
discussed it but I suspected she enjoyed it as much as I did.

   Greg's brain might still have been on the front porch where I'd found
him waiting but as I'd dropped my clothes on the way upstairs his sex
organs had sure gotten the message, thereby depriving his brain of the
blood flow necessary for him to ask me questions I wasn't ready to answer.

   Now, with his legs dangling off the edge of my bed and his pants and
undies hobbling his ankles, all I cared was that Mr.  Happy was liberated
and drooling in anticipation of what was to come -- or perhaps that should
be "who was to come."

   But I suppose the answer to that was obvious -- both of us, of course.

   Foreplay?  As Maria would put in her own self-mocking way, "We don' need
no steenkin' foreplay!" He was as hot to trot, ready to ride, bumped to
hump as I was.  My excuse was my painfully vivid trip down memory lane on
the archery range, which had gotten me hornier than ever.  Being a guy I
guess he didn't need an excuse.

   Straddling Greg's muscular legs, aiming that lovely hard dick at my hole
I saddled up, driving my cunt down on it with a happy moan of relief.  As
if reading my mind Greg took possession of my modest boobs -- one of the
finer benefits of female superior position -- and massaged them most
marvelously as I wriggled to work every last inch of him into my ravenous
twat.

   Oh FUCK!  I had such an itch!  FUCK!  FUCK!  FUCK!  I bounced and
bounced and bounced, his cock stretching and stroking deep inside me,
making gooey squishy sounds as I scratched that itch.  The warm musky scent
of lust rising up from our steaming groins made my head swim.  I fingered
my stretched twat, teasing my kitty's nose, and ohgodohgodohgod it felt
sooo GOOD!  His fingers dug into my breasts, then he pinched my titties and
I was melting, melting, melting, my first orgasm blazing through me,
leaving me shuddering and squirming on his spurting hard rod.  As I came
down from my orgasmic high so did he, and by some miracle he showed no
signs of wilting.

   Satisfied for the moment I stretched forward to lie atop him, my hips
resuming their lewd motion at a more leisurely pace to keep him aroused and
re-stoke my fires.  His arms now around me he stroked down my naked back
until his hands cupped my working butt, kneading my flexing glutes, fingers
teasing me back there while I squirmed against him like an eel.

   "Are you alright?" His breath was warm on my ear.

   "I am now.  Just hold me.  Oh God!  I am so glad you are here." Shit!  I
was crying again!

   He shushed me and soothed me with touches and kisses until I'd calmed
down and was able to ask him, "Were you waiting long?  I called Missy
before I left 'cause I knew she'd be frantic once she'd read the paper."

   "She wasn't the only frantic one...."

   "I'd'a called you but there was no time.  I asked her to pass the
word...."

   "Sshhh.  It's all right!  She did.  I was on my way over right after I
read the paper.  I wanted to be here for you, but you weren't around.  I
must've just missed you, and Missy called me at that point.  She didn't
know much, just that you were off doing something with the police and not
to worry.  After she talked to you she'd started calling the gang so they
wouldn't be so worried.  I was already here and wanted to be here whenever
you got back, no matter how long it took.  I even had Drindy bring me a
sandwich for lunch so I wouldn't miss you.  She wanted to stay, too, but I
sent her home.  I wanted you all to myself."

   "Thank you.  I'm sorry.  I didn't know it'd be in the paper." My butt
still working, stirring my cunt on his cock, Greg and I shared nibbled
kisses.  I purred, slowing down, savoring the wonderful sensation of having
him in me, of being so close to him.  We'd both been so busy the last few
weeks -- busy, yeah, that's one way to describe it I guess -- we hadn't had
much time for fun and frolic.

   "We should call Missy and update her," he suggested.  There was motion
behind me and I realized he was kicking himself free of his shoes, the
tangle of his pants and underpants, leaving him in just his socks down
there.

   I fucked him harder, still clutching him with my arms and legs, a randy
monkey humping a fallen log.  "It'll have a wait.  I'm not done yet and
neither are you." When I rucked his tee shirt up he squirmed and lifted his
arms over his head so I could get it off as well.  Then we were skin to
skin, at least from the from the ankles up, which was all that mattered,
his arms warmly embracing me while I clutched at him, reassured by his
strength and vitality.  Oh he felt so good in me, under me, around me!  I
squirmed and wriggled, his cock squishing around inside me, my body
grinding on his, a puddle of our gooze gluing us together where we were
joined.

   He grunted.  "My cell phone's in my pants.  Can you reach?  If we don't
call her soon she'll be beating down your door."

   Damn his multi-tasking!  I thought only women could do that during sex!
With a groan I fumbled and found his jeans and handed them to him without
dismounting.  "Don't you dare abandon me!"

   "Wouldn't think of it," he assured me, panting, his hips working against
mine as he called Missy.

   "Voice mail," he grunted, redialing without missing a beat until he got
through.  Oh I loved him so much!

   "She's home," he told her.  "She's okay, but not receiving visitors at
the moment...  Because we're busy! ...  Don't be nosy. ...  Give us a few
minutes, would ya? ...  Yeah, I promise she'll call you back soon as we're
done here!" He clicked off his phone and tossed it on the bed.  "I think
she's jealous.  So what were you doing this morning, anyway?"

   "I was at the archery range, walking through what went on yesterday for
the crime lab people."

   Enjoying the pelvic dance we were doing I was glad he wasn't anxious to
get his rocks off again.  His fingers traced a tantalizing line up and down
the crevice of my ass.

   "Shit!  If it was anything like what the newspaper described that can't
have been fun."

   Just the mention of it was enough to make me tremble.  "The paper got it
pretty much right.  It wasn't fun.  I was so scared!"

   "Ssshhhhh," he soothed me, stroking me gently.  "You're safe now.  But
what's going on?"

   I felt better.  "I don't know much myself, but Maria told me a bunch of
police raids were planned, probably going on now.  I don't know who they're
raiding or why or what I have to do with anything, or why someone would
want to kill me.  She told me to watch the evening news on TV, only I gotta
find a TV.  Maybe I can find someone who has one?" I asked hopefully.

   Greg shook his head.  "After I get done here -- not that I'm in any
hurry, you understand -- I got to get home, before Drindy wrecks the joint,
and we'd get no peace there."

   "Shit!  Well, Maybe Missy.  Anyway, all I know is that getting in that
fight yesterday made me horny.  Thank God after it was over Maria stayed
with me to help me scratch that itch.  And then this morning I had to
relive it all over again, which is one reason I'm so glad you're here, but
not the only one."

   "So danger makes you horny?"

   "Yeah, but enjoy it while you can.  I do NOT plan to make a habit of
near-death encounters!" I began pressing the carnal issue more urgently. 
"I do not need that as an excuse to make love with you.  And I want you to
know that I appreciate you in non-orgasmic ways too, of course, but as long
as we're here we might as well enjoy it, don't you think?"

   With a chuckle he began to move against me, harder.  Knowing just how to
stimulate me he worked his fingers deeper between my butt cheeks.  Reaching
the bud of my anus he stroked it delicately.  With his finger wet with my
overflowing cunt juices it felt like he was licking me back there -- and
yeah, we've done that, too.  As his finger began invading that tight pucker
everything else was driven from my mind.

   I purred encouragement, my hips working harder as he slowly worked one
digit into my butt -- I hoped it was his longest finger, of course.  Ahhhh,
that was so good!  There was that stretchy stingy scratchy feeling as my
bung reflexively resisted.  A gentle pooping pressure on my part relaxed my
sphincter and his finger slipped deep into my greasy depths and I felt him
wiggling it around in there.  At the same time he pushed up with his hips,
his cock thrusting deeper, grinding my clitty between us.  We'd already had
a quick come, but since we'd been at it long enough I knew we wouldn't last
much longer.  I felt him worming a second finger up my ass, stretching my
sphincter while squeezing his cock tighter in my cunt while I picked up my
pace, pistoning on his prick.  I felt him tensing up, battling the urge to
erupt within me so I worked to catch up.

   With a soft gasping grunt, he began to come, unloading hot spurts of his
semen deep inside me.  Grinding myself even harder against him sent another
blazing orgasm, this one swelling and rushing through me like a flood tide.
For a time we strained, milking it for every gooey drop we could before
slumping wearily, holding on to each other, our lips locked, tongues
dancing, breathing each other's air.  Finally, sated for the moment, and
sticky with sweat and semen, his shriveling dick still in me, he withdrew
his fingers from my ass.

   I think I fell asleep on top of him for a few minutes before The Stick
prodded me awake.  "Missy!  Gotta call Missy!  Where's your phone?"

   He fumbled it into my hand without our separating.  His limp dick still
nestled inside me I hit redial.

   "Greg?" she answered.  Obviously her caller-id was working.  "How's
Dee?"

   "It's not Greg, it's me!  I'm using Greg's phone!"

   "Me?" Missy asked sarcastically.  "Who's 'me?' It sounds like someone I
used to know, but as far as I know she's still out on the archery range
with an arrow through her."

   "I'm sorry," I snuffled.  "It's me, Dee."

   "Dee?  I don't know anyone named Dee," she retorted.  "The only 'Dee' I
know is a ghost.  Go away, whoever you are, I'm planning a funeral!"

   "MISSY!  Don't you DARE hang up on me!  I'm SORRY!  I've had a couple 'a
bad days!  All right?  Don't give me such a hard time!  Someone tried to
kill me for chrissakes!"

   "Oh Dee," she sighed.  "Are you okay?"

   "I'm better.  I'm sorry I worried you so."

   "So?  Are you calling to invite me to your heroic parade down Main
Street?"

   Was I ever going to live that one down?  "What time is it?"

   "Your parade?  How would I know!"

   "I mean what time is it now?"

   Of course I got the answer in stereo since Missy and Greg both heard the
question.

   "Why?" Missy asked.

   "I need a TV!  Maria told me to watch the evening news!"

   "Oh, so now the great hero needs a favor and finally deigns to call?"

   "Missy!  It's not like that!" I sighed.  "If you must know, I've been
boffing my boyfriend because life or death struggles leave me horny!"

   "As if I didn't know from his panting -- at least HE had the courtesy to
call.  Wait a minute.  I'll add death-defying battles to the list of things
that make you horny.  Oops, I need another piece of paper, this one's
full."

   I went all sultry on her.  "Well, if it's a chronological list then your
name must be right at the top of it," I reminded her.

   "Now you know since then I have matured -- which you obviously haven't
-- that I'm not like that!" she retorted primly.

   "Give me five minutes alone with you and I'll prove you wrong," I
teased. "Now come on, I need a TV."

   "What's wrong with Greg's?"

   I looked at him but he shook his head.  I knew the reason.  His sister
-- much as I like the little imp -- would pester us mercilessly.

   "Well, having been thoroughly dicked I'd rather spend some time with
you," I suggested suggestively.

   "Oh, come on over," she relented at last.  "But I am not available to
you, so bring your boyfriend if you must seek relief."

   "Can't.  He's gotta go home.  Will your mom let me in the house?" I was
never sure what my status was with Missy's mom.

   "She's not home."

   "What if she comes home and finds me there?"

   "The brave lone survivor of an arrow attack is afraid of my mother?"

   "You forget.  I know your mother!"

   "I think it's safe.  She said she'd be late -- long story, I'll tell you
when you get here.  Hurry up or you'll miss the news."

   "Give us time for a quick shower," I pleaded.

   "I will, but I'm not sure Channel 4 will.  Oh, and wear some clothes for
a change?"

   "What makes you think I'm naked?"

   "You're always naked ...  'specially when you're boffing one of your
many lovers.  See you soon.  Love you."

   "Love you, too," I added tenderly, but she'd already hung up.

   After a fast shower Greg and I thundered downstairs.  "Greg's gotta go
home.  I'm going over to Missy's to watch the news," I told Mom as we
stampeded past -- and yes, we were dressed!

   "Not without me!" Mom retorted.  "I have as much right to know what's
going on as you do!"

   "But...." Then I shut up, since she was right.  And besides, she'd
already followed us out the door, and she had the car keys.  I sometimes
forgot that since we moved Missy wasn't practically next door.  At least
Greg lived only a block away.

   At Missy's I was plunged into a brief cyclone of kisses and hugs and
questions from my sweet, sweet BFF and I managed to deflect the hero
worship and fill Missy in on what had gone on, glossing over the lurid
details.

   "Greg couldn't make it.  I hope it's okay I brought my mom, though," I
asked when I'd satisfied her curiosity to the extent I could.

   "Of course it is!  Hi Mrs.  Walker."

   "Hi to you, too, Missy," she responded during their hug.

   "So what's with your mom?" I asked Missy as she led the way down to the
family room.

   "Oh there's some big crisis at church."

   "Church?  Since when did your family start going to church?  What
church?"

   "Oh, she's ..." she mumbled something.

   "What church?  It sounded like you said something like 'RTHRREOTC' or
something.  Wait a minute!" I sorted through the letters.  Gads, it was
worse than SACNISP!  "You don't mean 'the Restored Temple of the Holy
Redeemer Reformed Evangelical One True Church' do you?"

   As the three of us sat on the sectional sofa facing the big screen Missy
was suddenly really interested in seeing how many ways she could tangle her
fingers.

   "Yeah," she admitted reluctantly.

   "You're kidding!"

   She shook her head.

   "Why didn't you tell me?  How long's this been going on?"

   "It sounds like you're accusing me of being a traitor!  It's not
something I'm proud of.  I know how you feel about that bunch.  I was
afraid you'd hate me.  "

   I took a deep breath and swatted The Stick down before she made me say
something I'd regret.  "Oh Missy, I could never hate you, you know that. 
I'm just ...  surprised!  You know what their attitude is toward The
Program, and Horace was one of Pastor Paul's acolytes or whatever they're
called.  Not only did he try to rape you he practically admitted he stomped
Bessie on Pastor Paul's orders!"

   "It wasn't my idea, 'specially when I found out about Horace.  And I
didn't really take to it.  I only went a couple of times with mom but she's
still going.  Wouldn't you know it?  She fits right in there.  I think
she's impressed to be associating with all those important people -- she
talked daddy into contributing enough to get her on the Board of Elders or
whatever it is that sorta runs it -- and then, too, you know how she feels
about The Program."

   "She let you do it," I pointed out.

   She sighed.  "Let me?  No.  The only reason I got to was because by the
time she found out I was already naked and in it.  You know she blames you
for that."

   "I didn't have anything to do with it!"

   "I know that, and I've told her, but she still blames you.  She even
tried to get me out of it, but Mrs.  Devers said it would set a bad
precedent or something.  Mom was furious."

   Missy was so upset I had to hug her again -- which I of course enjoyed
since she's such a nice warm, soft armful.  Her hair smelled of jasmine,
and it was hard to let go.  "So why'd you stop going?  To church I mean? 
You must have come to your senses.  And how'd you escape your mom's claws?
- Sorry, I didn't mean that to sound the way it did."

   Missy sighed.  "That's a good way to put it though.  You know my mom
almost as well as I do.  Anyway, Pastor Paul is amazing when he's preaching
-- really inspirational -- but when I stopped to think about what he was
saying the magic kinda wore off, 'specially all the stuff he said about The
Program and homosexuality and stuff like that.  And about The Program he
twists the facts, like they tried to do to you on GabFest.  But the main
thing was some of the people teaching Sunday school gave me the creeps and
when I told daddy I didn't want to go anymore he put his foot down.  What
could mom do when I reminded her that one of the church's teachings is that
the man is the boss of the household.  It's like something out of the stone
age.

   "It would be."

   "It's stupid, too.  Mom can usually twist him around her little finger."


   "You know you can, too," I teased.

   "Yeah, and this time it worked for me," she admitted bashfully.

   "We're going to miss the news," Mom pointed out.

   "You want refreshments or anything?" Missy asked, grabbing the remote to
zap the TV on just in time.

   Mom and I just shook our heads as the screen lit up.

   "In our top story tonight, acting on a number of sealed warrants a
series of local police raids have disrupted what may be the largest child
pornography and pedophile ring ever uncovered.  Owing to the national scope
of this conspiracy, Federal authorities, working in conjunction with local
law enforcement agencies, are making arrests in at least fourteen cities
nationwide, while international authorities are investigating links in at
least seven foreign countries.  Meanwhile the grand jury issuing the arrest
warrants has also drawn up a number of subpoenas seeking further
testimony."

   All I could think was "holy shit!"

   "Reporter Frank Carmichael is on the scene live at police headquarters
with the latest information on this still developing story.  Frank, what's
going on right now, Live on Four?"

   They cut to a shot showing a bushy-haired guy standing in front of
police headquarters.

   "Steve, we don't know too many details at this point, but I can tell you
that among those served with subpoenas to appear before a special grand
jury are a number of prominent community figures, including a bank vice
president, a senior partner in a major construction firm, and at least one
educator.  Meanwhile others are already being arrested outright, based on
information presented to the grand jury in the last few weeks.  Because of
the on-going nature of the raids police are withholding the names of those
involved.

   "However, sources high in the police department, speaking anonymously,
have said that while the investigation has been pursued for some time, the
raids were the result of information uncovered during the investigation of
a bizarre incident at Eddie's archery range, located in the Forbes Fun Park
over the weekend."

   Oh shit!

   We're famous!  The Stick crowed.

   Oh stuff it!

   "During that incident a paid assassin using a bow and arrows allegedly
attempted to kill a local teen.  The teenager, a student active in Central
High's Naked in School program and a skilled archer herself, reportedly
fought off and disabled her attacker using her own armament.  After his
wound was treated he was called before the grand jury this morning. 
Apparently his testimony, along with other evidence gathered at the scene
of the attack, accelerated the execution of the jury's warrants and the
serving of the subpoenas.

   "Among the charges being brought against those already in custody are
promoting and possession of a sexual performance by children under the age
of sixteen, endangering the welfare of a child, and interstate trafficking
in child pornography.  The latter explains the participation of federal
authorities in the raids.  Further charges are pending, and no one is
commenting on the reason for the subpoenas.

   "The alleged perpetrators are being kept out of sight as they are being
brought in, and witnesses tell us that large amounts of evidence, including
personal computers, have been taken into custody.  As I said, the apparent
trigger of this action was the incident at the archery range over the
weekend.  It is reported that the victim of that attack has been
cooperating with the police investigation, though in what capacity is
unclear, and her name still has not been released because of her age."

   I wanted to crawl under the rug, but the wall-to-wall carpeting blocked
that avenue of retreat.  At least it was only Missy, Mom and me.  If the
whole gang had been there I'd'a jumped out of the window or something -- a
good trick since the Wilson's family room is in the basement.

   "The district attorney's office has scheduled a press conference for
later this evening.  Of course I'll be there, covering it live.  Reporting
from police headquarters this is Frank Carmichael for Channel 4 Live News."


   "Thank you Frank.  We're looking forward to your report on this breaking
story at Eleven Alive."

   Whatever more was to come was interrupted by the sound of the front door
upstairs and Missy's mom calling for her.  Missy cut off the TV and I felt
a panic attack coming on, but Missy tried to head her off at the pass. 
"I'm downstairs watching the news.  I'll be right up."

   "Don't bother, I'm coming down.  I want to hear what those vultures have
to say.  Just let me get a drink.  It's been a hard afternoon.  Do you want
anything?"

   "No, thanks mom." From the bottom of the stairs Missy looked back at me
and cringed.  All I could do was shrug.  I could sense Mom summoning her
resources.  Given Mrs.  Wilson's attitude toward same-sex couples their
relationship had been more than a little strained ever since Elaine had
moved in.  Something told me this encounter wasn't going to improve it
much.

   We heard feet on the stairs first, then saw Mrs.  Wilson's fashionable
pumps as she descended.  From what we could see she was, as usual,
meticulously turned out, fashionable skirt, stockings and all.

   "I tell you darling, I have just witnessed the most outrageous
miscarriage of justice ever to strike this town!" she went on as she came
into view.  "Why, they've been scooping up some of the most respected and
respectable...What are YOU doing here?!"

   Ice rattled in an expensive looking glass of amber liquid she carried.
Obviously she'd caught sight of me.  Not that I'd tried to hide.  I'd come
to my feet, prepared to greet her politely, as Mom had taught me to do when
one of my elders enters the room -- as in, "Good evening, Mrs.  Wilson. 
Missy was kind enough to let us come over to see the evening news.  As you
know, we don't have a television."

   "Good to see you again, Ethel," Mom greeted her warily.

   "Katherine!  What brings you to our humble neighborhood?" our hostess
responded in guarded tones.  Missy's mom had greeted our move away with
mixed emotions.  Seemingly oblivious to the contradiction, on the one hand
she was glad to see the last of Mom and Elaine and their relationship,
which she felt was dragging down property values.  On the other she behaved
as if Mom as putting on airs, given our relocation to a more upscale
neighborhood.

   She probably even saw Mom as being -- what's it called?  -- a
gold-digger by hooking up with Doctor Elaine Smathers, Board Certified
OB/GYN.  It was obvious the woman aspired to a higher station in life
herself.  According to Missy she pushed her husband to join the country
club, even though he's not wild about golf, and I heard rumors of someone
accusing her of -- and I quote -- "social climbing through the Red Cross"
when she invaded our new neighborhood for donations.

   "As Dee said, we don't have a television, and we heard there was some
breaking news we might be interested in," Mom responded.  "It was Dee that
set this up.  Missy has been most hospitable, and it's been so long since
she and Dee had a chance to get together outside of school.  But you missed
it.  I'm afraid you'll have to wait for the late news to get caught up on
things."

   Ethel Wilson ignored the jibe.  "Still the hippy Luddite I see."

   I could practically hear Missy's eyes roll in reaction to that crack.

   "Not really," I countered, "it's more that there's so little worth
watching.  I, for one, prefer a good book to what passes for entertainment
on television these days."

   That's a rather snarky remark!  The Stick scolded.

   At least I didn't call it "the boob tube," I pointed out, though I'd
only done that out of consideration for Missy's feelings.  I knew she
followed some of the latest drivel.  We respect each other's tastes in most
things.

   Unfazed, Missy's mom resumed the tirade she'd begun on the way
downstairs.  "Well, I'm sure you must have come to see the way our local
Gestapo is rounding up the good citizens of the town on some more trumped
up charges, like that poor Mr.  Worthington...."

   "I wouldn't say the charges against Mr.  Worthington were trumped up,"
Missy retorted.  "He molested my friends!  Raped them!!  Are you forgetting
one of them is right in this room, Mother!"

   That last word dripped off Missy's tongue like acid, but the woman
seemed oblivious to it.  Once that whole mess died down Mrs.  Wilson had
dismissed the Worm as a momentary aberration, choosing to ignore how close
Missy had come to being the bait to bring him down instead of me.  I swear,
as the Queen of Denial she makes Cleopatra look like a piker.

   Not for the first time she spouted her stock response that "The man was
obviously unfit for the post he'd been nominated to.  What more could you
expect out of those idiots in Washington who set up that ridiculous,
obscene program in the first place, and good riddance to him.  Maybe some
of our more intelligent representatives will fasten on his example as a
reason to rescind the whole ugly thing."

   Yada, yada, yada, I thought.  It's always someone else's fault.

   "But this current roundup is completely unwarranted.  Pedophiles indeed!
It's outrageous!" she concluded, taking a swallow of her drink.  I could
smell the fumes from where I stood.

   "How so?" Mom challenged.  "From the little we've heard so far it seems
the grand jury felt there were good grounds for issuing the subpoenas and
warrants they have."

   "Election year grandstanding on the part of our District Attorney,"
Missy's mom countered, the ice in her glass of whatever-it-was rattling as
she waved it around.  "You mark my words, in the end those charges will be
shown to be groundless.  Why, I know many of these people!  They are good
church-going Christians!  This -- this whole charade -- is just part of
this godless administration we've been saddled with.  It's an attack on the
church!  Many of the ones being subpoenaed are generous supporters of
Pastor Paul's efforts at bringing the Holy Word of Our Lord Jesus Christ as
God has revealed it to him to those who need it the most.  I'd trust my
life with them.  "

   I guess her life isn't worth much!

   SHUSH!  A little respect here!  I told The Stick.

   A little is all she'll get from me!

   Suddenly Missy chimed in with a boldness I'd rarely seen in her.  "And
after what I told you you still trust them with my life -- well, the
sanctity of my body at least?"

   "I told you that was all in your imagination!" her mother countered.

   "Brother Edward's hands were on my ass, not in my imagination."

   Oh my!  This was the first I'd heard of this!

   Well, it wasn't her life, after all!  Just her body, and we know how
yummy that is, now don't we?

   Will you shut up!

   What for?  This is fun!

   Please!  It's not fun for Missy!

   "He was just giving you a good Christian hug, darling!" Mrs.  Wilson
argued.

   "Yeah, right," she grumbled.  "I guess I should consider my ass blessed.
And was that a cross in his pocket, or was he just glad to feel me?"

   "Melissa Wilson!"

   Apparently that had gotten to the woman, but she reined herself in.  "I
do wish you'd give Pastor Paul another chance, darling.  Why, he is
divinely inspiring.  He's a prophet in his own time!"

   In his own mind, you mean.

   I suppressed a snicker.

   "At any rate, I've been at church ever since this ridiculous roundup
began this afternoon.  Such a strain!" She preened herself and soothed her
mental wounds with more fermented spirits.  "As I'm sure you know I was
recently appointed to the Board of Elders -- though I do wish they'd chosen
a different name for us.  It makes me feel -- well -- old.

   "It seems some of the church's most generous supporters have been
dragged into this farce.  Apparently until this is all sorted out we may
face some serious financial challenges.  By 'we' I mean The Church, of
course."

   "Oh really?" Mom mused.  "I'm not sure what the connection is, but I was
wondering how the good pastor had managed to afford that church and all the
renovations.  That old relic was in pretty poor shape, which could explain
why it went so cheaply at auction."

   I could see her thinking as Missy's mom sniffed.

   "Still the neighborhood real estate agent, I see, peddling your pitiful
tract homes." Missy's mom said it as if the profession ranked somewhere
below used-car salesman or politician and Mom was floor sweepings.  "You're
just disappointed you missed out on the bargain.  Why I've heard that since
the church has been renovated the whole neighborhood is in for some major
redevelopment by some very far-sighted people, the same people who have
been eager to advance Pastor Paul's efforts to bring the Word of the Lord
to our town.

   "Why, I could tell you some names...  but of course I mustn't.  They
wish to preserve their anonymity.  Why sometimes there are even envelopes
of hundred dollar bills in the collection plate, with no indication as to
who they are from!  I'm sure they know they could just write a check and
claim a charitable deduction, but they don't even want to do that!"

   "Restoring that old church must have required a substantial amount of
money." I recognized Mom's way of fishing for information.

   "Pastor Paul has told me, in confidence of course, that the owners of
the company doing the renovations are church members and donated the labor
and some of the materials.  They have been most generous in other ways as
well.

   "It is all the product of his charismatic leadership!  Everyone that
hears Pastor Paul is inspired by his vision and message.  Why even I've --
I mean we, as a family -- have been able to make some modest
contributions."

   "There went my college fund," Missy muttered sourly.  "I'll never see
that again."

   Which explains how this woman got to be a Church Elder, The Stick
suggested snidely.

   Poor Missy, was all I could think.

   "Oh don't be silly, darling.  Remember Ecclesiastes Chapter 11, first
verse!  'Cast your bread upon the waters....  It shall be returned!'"

   "By who?" Missy asked bitterly.

   "By 'whom,' dear," Mrs.  Wilson corrected her.  "And I told you, Pastor
Paul is establishing a scholarship fund, and he's promised me you'll be
eligible!  In the church our word is our bond, and the membership has been
most generous and is happy to do business on a handshake instead of getting
involved in all the bureaucratic red tape of contracts and promissory notes
and whatnot."

   I saw Mom cock an eyebrow at that comment.

   "And it is all in a good cause.  You must be aware of how much interest
Pastor Paul has taken in the disadvantaged youth in the area.  His
disciples are intimately involved in the youth center and the church's
summer camp."

   Intimately involved?  That doesn't sound good The Stick snorted.

   Thinking of Missy's "hug" from Brother Edward I barely avoided choking
on that myself.

   "Why, he has even taken under his wing some of the poor misguided youth
who have found themselves in trouble with the law!"

   "Including getting the twerp that tried to rape me on the middle school
front lawn out of jail!" Missy pointed out acidly.  "What a mistake that
was!  I understand Horace is back behind bars...."

   "Now I'm sure that was just an innocent prank," Mrs.  Wilson countered.

   "What?  The attempted rape?  Just a prank?" Missy asked.

   "No, no, no.  Not your humiliating encounter, of course not.  Pastor
Paul explained that unfortunate incident to me as probably just the result
of a hormonal imbalance."

   On whose part?  Horace's or Missy's?

   While I didn't disagree I didn't like to be reminded of Missy's antics
leading up to that "unfortunate incident," as Missy's mom described it. 
Hormonal imbalance my ass!  Okay, my BFF surfed the estrogen imbalance but
it was Horace who took it to a testosterone tidal wave.  .  I was so busy
savoring that mad metaphor I almost missed Mrs.  Wilson's next faux pas.

   "No, I was referring to the bicycle incident," Mrs.  Wilson went on. 
"That was just youthful hijinks, a prank that got out of hand!"

   Some incident!  I thought.  Didn't she know Pastor Paul had told Horace
to do it?

   Some prank!  The Stick agreed, before reminding me I owed the woman a
debt of thanks.

   Dammit!  Must you always be right?  I'd never properly thanked her for
getting the parts for Bessie.

   "Whatever you call it, Mrs.  Wilson, I don't know how I can ever thank
you enough.  If you hadn't found the parts I don't know that I'd ever have
gotten Bessie back, and then Missy got everyone to do it!  Seeing Bessie
back whole and strong was the most wonderful thing ever."

   I almost went so far as to offer her a hug but something about the way
she looked at me shot down that impulse.  "I'll always be grateful to you
for that!" I finished awkwardly.

   "Well of course!  Think nothing of it.  It was the Christian thing to
do! And I'm sure Pastor Paul will redeem the poor boy and return him to the
fold, once he's paid his debt to society and truly repented."

   Horace repent?  When pigs fly The Stick snorted.

   Mom seemed to be mulling something over, but if she had a question she
decided not to ask it.  "I think it's time we headed for home, Dee.  Elaine
does appreciate a warm welcome and a good supper.  Thank you very much
Missy, and you too Ethel, for letting us see the news."

   "Perhaps, to avoid the inconvenience of having to come all the way over
here, you could invest in a small TV of your own for such occasions," Mrs.
Wilson suggested snidely.  "Or make a friend in your new neighborhood, if
they'll have you."

   "The need hardly comes up often enough to make it worth our while to
clutter up our life with a TV, and seeing Missy is always a joy.  We miss
her," Mom countered.  "Let's go, Dee."

   I gave Missy a hug and a "see you at school" whisper, wishing I could
kiss her the way I really wanted to.  She was so tense I hated leaving her
there, but at least our leaving would remove a major source of stress.

   We got out to the car and Mom sat behind the wheel for a minute,
thinking.  "That's it?" she asked at last.

   "What?"

   "All that fuss over a bunch of pedophiles?"

   I was surprised.  "A bunch of child molesters, you mean!"

   "Oh, I'm sorry, Dee." She started the car.  "I didn't mean that the way
it sounded.  But I was expecting something more.  Someone tried to kill
you, after all.  I can't see those perverts hiring a hitman."

   I thought this over.  I sort of saw her point.  Beyond that, the whole
thing had been kind of a letdown, really.  They hadn't shown any faces --
no good perp walk.  They hadn't even mentioned names, or even numbers.

   "There seems to be a lot of money moving around," Mom mused thoughtfully
on the ride home.

   "So?" I prompted her, at the same time giving our old home a wistful
wave.  Nice as our new house was it didn't yet have the warm memories of
the old one.

   "Anytime there are large amounts of money moving, especially in the real
estate business, it makes me curious," she explained.  "This church deal
has always puzzled me."

   "Such as?"

   "Well, first of all, the so-called auction was a sham.  Then it was
unloaded to Pastor Paul for a pittance, at least on paper, and where did he
get even that money?  And there's no way 'donated labor' accounts for the
renovations.  Money has to have changed hands, but with no records that we
know of."

   "Uh huh."

   "The second is where is the money going?"

   "To Pastor Paul."

   "But he seems to be spending it rather freely.  What is he spending it
on...."

   "His church?" I asked.

   She nodded.  "But who is he spending it with on the church?  Then
there's his summer camp.  That lake of his didn't just appear out of thin
air.  And what about those hundred dollar bills in the collection plates,
and the handshake deals Ethel mentioned?  Just who has he shaken hands
with?

   "Maybe I'm just being cynical, but big donors and lenders expect
something in return.  People who give large amounts of money rarely do it
out of the goodness of their hearts, and if they're loaning it they expect
to be paid back, with interest, if not in cash dollars then in favors."

   "He's pastor of a church.  What could the church offer?"

   "There's always prayers, I suppose," she mused.  "In the Middle Ages the
church got rich by selling what they called indulgences, a guaranteed place
in heaven.  It was a way of buying forgiveness for your sins.  Some of
those kings and princes had a lot of sins on their conscience."

   She gave a wry laugh.  "How would anyone know if it worked?  I don't
suppose the church ever had any dissatisfied customers coming back all
singed and smelling of brimstone asking for a refund.  It took a few
hundred years and a lot of ugly conflict but eventually it was decided you
can't buy your way into heaven, so I don't think that's it.

   "Or maybe not, human nature being what it is," she mused.

   "Do you think Pastor Paul is crooked?"

   She shot me a look.  "While I don't agree with his preachings I've never
gotten that feeling.  I don't know.  He could be crooked, bitten by greed,
or just incredibly naive -- criminally naive, you might say.  He does wear
expensive suits, a big gold watch, and a fancy haircut, but that's not
enough to account for the amounts of money involved.

   "Anonymous envelopes of hundreds in the collection plate?  How anonymous
are they really?  And who does the counting?  When truck loads of cash are
moved around I suppose a few bills are bound to blow off the load and no
one would notice." Her brow furrowed in the way it did when she was
thinking hard.

   "Call Elaine," she ordered, turning so suddenly I was thrown around. 
"Tell her to meet us at my office."

   "We're not going home?  I'm hungry!" I had my cell out and hit the speed
dial.

   "Ethel said something I want to check out.  I need my office computer.
If what I think is happening is happening, this thing goes way beyond
pedophiles, and something you know or did put the fox in the hen-house."

   When I got Elaine on the line I told her where to meet us, and added
that she should get some take-out on the way.  From the way Mom was driving
this was more important than my homework, and it was certain to be a lot
more exciting.