Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in 
BUSH LEAGUE

Epilogue

	I hiked up the steep cliffside.  My legs were not what theyÕd once been.  The road was gone.  My lungs hurt in my chest.  The gulls, sweeping over the cliffside, monitored our progress.  Maria, stalwart as ever, but looking much older now, walked ahead of me.  I could hear the coins IÕd paid her jingling in her purse that was strapped round her waist.  She wore even more clothes now than when IÕd known her in my youth.  I wore a simple dress, plus heavy socks and shoes for hiking.  The wind made my dress flap round my legs.  I pushed at the crumbling dirt with the stick in my hand.
	Maria said nothing, leaving me to my memories.  I looked up over the top of the cliff as we rose to its summit.  There were no vine-covered spires.  Another few steps and I saw there was nothing but an arid, wind-swept plain, with a small jumble of rocks lying where the castle with the unspeakable name had once been.
	ÒWhat happened to it?Ó I asked.  But she did not have to tell me.  It was the reason weÕd come by boat.  Gold had been found, by one of the laborers, out in the field one day, as he sweated under the hot sun.  The government had nationalized the property.  In the distance I could hear the chain gangs working in the open pit mine, prison labor.  Already they had gouged out the earth right down to the sea, splitting the place where the castle had been away from the mainland.  A small channel of water cut between it and the open pit mine now, leaving it all alone, though destroyed by the 30 years of blasting that had trembled across this place.  
	There was a rumble.  I looked up.  In the distance, a plume of brown dirt rose up.  More blasting.  They were having trouble finding gold these days and the government was apparently getting more desperate.  Engineers predicted that diamonds might be found if the government blasted down deep enough.  They dug new holes and deeper holes, all part of an octopus of expanding interrconnected open-pit mines.  The sea, though, kept flooding into their pit, bubbling up from below somehow so that it had to be pumped out by pumps that belched up oil-coated smoke.
	Over the years, before the sea finally cut a path between the peninsula and the mainland, flooding in where the blasting had gone down too deep, forcing the mine to swing back away from the castle, the laborers had come and stolen stones from the demolished castle.  It had crumbled slowly at first, I learned.  IÕd asked of it in the bars in the mining town.  One day, I was told, a particularly vicious blast, set off by too much dynamite, that killed 30 workers, had brought the whole antique structure down.  
	The people in the town had kept me up late last night.  TheyÕd told me of the castleÕs fate.  IÕd arrived fresh from America and passed through the streets, buying drinks until dawn for anyone who might tell me of it.  At dawn IÕd met Maria.  IÕd found her washing dishes in the back of one of the bars.  SheÕd remembered me reluctantly.  I think she wished to have nothing more to do with me, but money talked.  Or, at least, it talked to the man who appeared to be her husband.  HeÕd agreed that sheÕd give up her dayÕs sleep to row me out here and show me the ruin of tumbled rocks.
	RoseÕs title to the property had been defective.  At least, that was what the courts ruled.  It made it easier for the government to nationalize the property if they didnÕt have to pay anyone.  Even the workers digging out the gold worked at no expense to the government.  Arrests had gone up in the town the year after the gold was discovered.  The government had imported other prisoners from far away.  They were all brought to the mine, given long sentences, hard labor, time off when you die.
	I walked up to the pile of old stones and kicked one.  It wobbled.  A stone on top of it fell to the ground, nearly hitting my foot.  We walked round the pile of stones and found the pool out back.  It was empty, cracked, with rainwater in the bottom of it.  The diving board was gone.  Only the stand for it remained.  In the distance, where the laborerÕs shacks should have been, there was nothing but weeds.  A mile on and the top of the land suddenly disappered.  The gorge.  Man-made, filled by the sea after the mine dug down and depleted the gold in between.
	ÒI want to eat lunch here,Ó I said to Maria.  I walked back toward the pile of rocks.  
	ÒBefore dark...we must leave before dark,Ó she told me.  I took off my knapsack and knelt and unzipped it.  Such a superstitious lady.  Standing, I unfurled my white tablecloth.
	ÒWhy?Ó I asked.  Something made me want to stay the night.  There was nothing here, just the wind, the gulls, but I felt a desire to stay just one night, and leave in the morning.  Or at least to spend the afternoon eating and enjoying the sea and the play of the light upon it.  And perhaps taking a nap.  We could leave at sunset, couldnÕt we?  I was too sleepy from my night on the town to just hop back into the boat after lunch.  The climb down would be hard.  My lunch would make me want to nap.
	Maria watched me put my tablecloth down on the grass.  She said nothing.  She went and sat down on some rocks that had once been the castle and watched me eat.  I offered her a sandwhich.  She declined it.  I was glad because I was hungry and I ate it myself.  She took out a canteen and drank from it.  I wondered if it was liquor.  She should not drink if she was going to row me back across the water.  But I said nothing.  She was a large woman.  A whole tub of liquor would probably have gone down with her and not made her the least bit tipsy.
	When I was done eating I let myself lie back on my tablecloth and, despite MariaÕs protests, I let myself fall asleep.  I put my knapsack under my head, just in case.  I didnÕt intend to tip her until we arrived safely back on the mainland.
	I awoke at sunset.  I did not see Maria.  I looked about, called her name, but she was gone.  My knapsack was untouched, but she was nowhere to be seen herself, and when I ran to the cliffside and looked down I saw our boat was not there.  Had she finally exacted some jealous revenge on me?
	I glanced back at the rubble of the castle, feeling quite alone suddenly.  I could not escape the island tonight.  I could shout, but the miners would not be able to hear me.  I got out my compact and tried flashing it at them, but the sun was sinking fast.  I could not get the proper light.
	Slowly the stars came out.  I could hear the roar of the waves all around me, dashing the rocks below and sluicing in and out of the channel at the islandÕs rear.  I sat down amidst the rubble and consoled myself with my fate.  Perhaps Maria would return tommorrow.  I would scold her.  She would simply nod, saying nothing, and not listening, either, I suspected, enjoying her little peasantÕs joke on the rich girl turned woman visiting from America.  I returned to my tablecloth at last and lay down on it.  I pulled a small blanket from my knapsack and drew it around me to protect myself from the wind.  It was woolen, not too warm, but warm enough, I felt, as the wind seemed to die where I lay though, in the distance, it still whipped at the long grass and the weeds.
	When the stars had almost completely wheeled about and dipped their evening places into the sea I heard footsteps.  I woke, looked up.  There, in the distance, where nothing should have been, I swear I saw him.  Lord Shaftsbury, uncloaked, for there was nothing but starlight here.  Barbi stood in her bikini beside him, gold rings through her nipples, wearing just her panties.  They seemed to shimmer in the starlight and I saw Lord Shaftsbury looking at me, his chest bare, his hair flying back in the wind I could not feel.  And then, lying in the grass at their feet, I thought I saw myself.  Barbi knelt and drew down the back of my panties from my bottom, which stuck up with the impudence of youth for I was just 13 again and my bottom was white in the starlight and I was lying on my belly.  Lord Shaftsbury revealed himself and drew me up just enough, and knelt between my legs and took me.  Barbi helped him, then went and knelt by my face to urge me to let him take me, right in my bottom, with his shaft gleaming and finally pumping in and out of me as I moaned into her hands and she untied her panties to let me lick at her cunt.
	I awoke with a start.  Sunlight blazed in my face.  The wind had picked up again but my blanket kept me warm in the rising sun.  Instinctively I twisted my head round, to where IÕd seen myself.  There was nobody there.  And then I saw them.  A childÕs panties, swim panties, lying on the ground.  They were printed with my favorite color.  Had they been swept up here by the wind?  And then-- beside them, I saw the panties that a slighly older girl might wear, untied, fluttering loosely in the breeze.  A sudden gust caught them and they blew away over the cliff.  
	I leapt up.  I ran to catch them but I was too late, and I stopped instead where my own panties lay, or ones just like mine, and I bent and picked them up before they too were swept away by the wind.
	Looking out toward the horizon, I wondered if Maria would come.  If she did not I could signal the miners with my compact when the sun was higher.  I turned and looked at the old castle, clutching the panties that must have been mine yet could not be mine but somehow I knew were mine, blown in from the beach from years ago, where IÕd left them and my childhood behind.  The castle was just a pile of old rubble, but the panties I clutched in my hands were brand new, just like when IÕd left them on the beach at Montevideo all those years ago.  I looked down at them.  Had some pervert found them, and kept them in his collection all these years, so that they did not age as I had?  Had they been kept carefully bagged in plastic, with just a touch of my youthful essence imbuing them where my cunny had rubbed softly against them?  I fingered the soft fabric.  I would keep these always, no matter how old I got.  And someday, someday IÕd give them to another girl, a girl of 13, a frisky girl who wanted to grow up too fast and couldnÕt wait any longer.  And, thinking, imagining, I knew who would come if these panties were worn by just the right girl, a well-brought up blonde girl, with a pair of young breasts and long legs that still were too skinny but werenÕt quite skinny enough anymore to keep Him at bay, or other men either.  Men who liked to see a girl walking along the shore in the breeze of early morning, that clear clean salt air breeze that made everything pure and made young spoilt girls want to lie in the sand sometimes, all alone, and wait for whomever might come by.

THE END

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