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From: Andrew Roller <roller39@IDT.NET>
Subject: Labors of Love part 8 of 10 (NND)
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_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Andrew Roller Presents
NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
in
LABORS OF LOVE
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
Chapter Eight
She felt safe and protected in his arms. Even though she
shouldn’t have, she supposed, since she was kidnapped, according to the
tabloids, and he was the man who had taken her. They embraced behind
the bait and tackle shop. He was leaning back against the driver’s side
of the car and she was standing on tip-toe, kissing him. The trees of
the forest stood all around them. A big river was nearby and they’d
crossed over it. She could hear the roar of it in the distance.
He ran his fingers through her hair. It was soft and lovely
again, after he’d cum in it and she’d washed it, and now he felt himself
harden in his trousers and he wanted to cum all over her pretty little
head again.
But even kissing, they had to be watchful. In the bait and
tackle shop there had been a pile of newspapers and one had her photo in
it. “Girl Disappears--Stranger Abduction Suspected!” the headline
blared. She stared out from the photo. It was her 6th grade photo and
she looked especially young, not the budding (if petite) woman he now
held in her arms.
“Why did you have to miss your seventh grade class photo?” he
asked her. He hugged her and ran his hands along the curve of her
waist. He knew the satin skin that lay underneath her sweater and he
longed to lift her sweater, to tear it off her, and to suckle her young
tits and kiss her belly and to pump her full with his seed. Only the
fact they were in public prevented it. She kissed his nose.
“I was mad, although I told my mom I was sick,” she confided.
“But now it looks like I’ve taken some little girl,” he
protested.
“Well, I didn’t know you at the time, dear,” she replied.
“Anyways, if it was my 7th grade photo it would be easier for people to
identify me.”
“Oh yeah,” he said. He kissed her lips. He eased her down off
him.
“What do you say, Fritos Corn Chips for breakfast. Not bad,
eh?”
“It’s a start,” she replied. She seemed supremely happy
despite being in the newspaper and having only Fritos and a Coke for
breakfast.
“I don’t want you to break out with acne, though, you’re going
to actually need more than sugar and junk food if you’re going to have
nice big tits to nourish my children with.”
“They’re growing pretty big as it is,” she said, looking down
frankly at her chest. “I didn’t have any a year ago!”
He pulled a pair of sunglasses from the bag of stuff they’d
bought in the bait shop. He slid them onto her face. They were rather
large for her face but they’d been the smallest he could find. She
looked like a little sun-glassed Angel. He wondered if he were the
Devil.
“Wear these, okay? You should be less noticed in these.” Then
he pulled out a ball cap and put it on her head. “Al’s Bait,” the hat
said, in big red letters across the front. Except the Al’s was stitched
in cursive, while the word “Bait” was in big capital letters. He fitted
the cap to her and then she reached up and turned the hat around, so
that the bill stuck out behind her.
“I feel like a wanted woman,” she purred. She kissed him on
his chest. He was wearing a checked shirt that belonged to the man who
owned the cabin they were staying in. He would have worn the man’s
jeans also but the seat was way too large for him. She wore a pink
sweater owned by the man’s blonde 12-year-old daughter. And she wore a
dress that had belonged to the girl, a nice short one that showed off
Ginger’s lean coltish legs.
“God, you’re beautiful,” Chip said. He ran his fingers through
her long hair. She’d left it free for him, which was helpful, since she
definitely looked underage when she put it in pigtails.
“Now I don’t recall a brother and sister ever kissing like
that!” a voice said.
Ginger froze. Chip felt a chill run down his spine. He turned
his head and saw the man who owned the Bait shop, Al himself, standing
in the doorway. The man was fat and bald and had looked so sleepily
engaged in a book on trains that neither of them had considered him much
of a worry. Of course, Chip reminded himself, he’d promised himself
that he and Ginger wouldn’t kiss in public, but it had just been one
quick kiss, a kind of congratulatory kiss between them that they’d
gotten in and out of the shop okay, and then it had turned to
spontaneous kissing, without either of them even realizing it until he
finally eased her off him.
“We... uh... haven’t seen each other in a long time,” Chip
said. And then he realized it was quite useless to try to explain
anything anymore, because the man was eyeing Ginger with a suspicious
look on his face.
Chip considered his surroundings. He was in the woods, with
only a small diner nearby, and a few homes up the road. He’d seen two
cars parked down by the river and he’d seen some men sitting near them,
casting their lines into the river. He’d been taught in the Army how to
kill, and they’d instructed him how to do it behind enemy lines, and it
had been a ‘no questions asked’ kind of thing.
“If you’re seen, kill them!” the instructor had boomed at him.
The man had been in ‘Nam and he’d boasted of killing men, women, and
children.
Chip moved swiftly. He didn’t even think. He grabbed the man
and he jerked his head hard and the next thing he knew the man was lying
dead on the ground with a broken neck.
“Chip!” Ginger gasped.
“Sorry,” Chip said to her. He gazed down at the man. He felt
an anger within himself dissipating. He turned to Ginger. “I never did
that before, honest!” he told her. Ginger was gasping. Her knees were
bent and she had both her hands clapped to her face over her mouth. He
was glad she’d turned the ball cap around, otherwise “Al’s Bait” would
have stared out from above her gasping face, the letters big and bright
and red.
“We have a slight problem,” Chip mused, looking again at Al,
worthless in life but now worth something in death, at least when it
came to getting Chip a free ride on a gurney into a lethal injection
chamber. He half expected Ginger to say, “What do you mean we, White
Man?” but instead his little Tonto crept slowly over to him and finally
grabbed his thigh and wrapped both her arms around it.
“Shit! Someone’s coming!” Chip suddenly said. There was the
sound of a car approaching. He considered his options at the lightning
speed that only a 21-year-old’s mind possesses, and then only if it’s
honed in the United States Army. Leaning down, he placed Al’s hands
over his stomach. He adjusted the man’s head so he looked,
semi-plausibly, like he might be sleeping. The ground was bare earth
and it was unlikely a man would simply lie down at mid-day, but Chip had
no extra time to drag the body away or give it any accessories, like a
pillow or blanket.
“Quick! Inside!” Chip said. Ginger seemed to want to run to
the car but she was only 12 years old, not a soldier like he was. He
grabbed her and pulled her inside the small side doorway that Al had
used to make his final exit from the store.
“Afternoon!” a man said brightly, coming into the store. “Got
any bait?”
“Jail or fish bait?” Chip asked swauvely, sitting idly behind
the counter, a book about trains in his hands.
“Ha! Some joker. Hear about that girl who got kidnapped this
morning?” the man said. He browsed around, looking at the rack of
Fritos, the soda fountain.
“Damn if I haven’t,” Chip replied. “Been reading about
trains. Perty interesting, though I’d not read anything about them
before,” he added hastily. Last thing he needed was to appear a fan of
trains, and have the visitor be some train spotting fanatic.
“Damn perverts! Can’t control themselves, that’s what it is!”
the customer declared. “How’s Al doing today?”
Chip felt a deep ice-cold fear freeze his bowels.
“Al’s, uh, out today,” Chip said. “Goin’ fishin’?”
“Well, I only get up here once a year, so give him my regards,
eh? Got anything for Bass?” the man said.
Chip had never fished in his life and had no fucking idea what
Bass needed, or Trout, unless it was the little trout he’d told to keep
out of sight in the back of the store.
“Well now what kind of Bass would you be wanting to fry?” he
asked.
“I don’t know, but I am hungry,” the man said.
Chip looked at the book on trains in his hands. An idea,
that. If he could learn to fish maybe he and Ginger could live in the
woods forever, and never visit any damn fucking stores again with old
men who sat around in them all day waiting to ask nosy questions.
“Well, Al just told me watch the place,” Chip replied. “Pick
out what you want from the flies and stuff and I’ll ring it up for you.
Ten percent off today.”
“Really?” the man asked. His eyes brightened.
“Nah,” Chip said. He realized he’d made a mistake there.
“Just hoping you’ll hurry. This book’s damn interesting.”
“Hey, I sure don’t want to bother you,” the customer agreed.
He picked up the newspaper that had Ginger’s photograph in it. “I’ll
just take a paper, some Fritos, get me some soda and these lures look
good here. Fish are down in the river, as they say.”
The man placed some things on the counter and then went and
filled up a large cup of soda and then sipped it down some and then
added more soda and put on the plastic top.
“Let’s see,” Chip mused over the items the man had selected.
He had no idea what they were actually supposed to cost. There were no
prices on any of them and nothing was posted in the store. “Um, 65
cents I’d say for the Fritos, and the paper, well, lemmee see, okay it
says 50 cents for that, and I guess the soda is a dollar,” Chip said.
Then he realized he had no idea how to ring up the cash register. He
looked at the keys, guessed, hit them in order, making the soda 75
cents, because he’d forgotten he said 65, but the man didn’t notice or
didn’t mind and Chip hit the Total key on the register.
“You forgot the lures,” the man said.
“Oh yeah those,” Chip said. Now he was really in over his
head. How the fuck much were lures supposed to cost? $1.99? $5.99?
He decided to err on the side of cheapness and punched in $1.99 for all
of them. This was getting difficult, he realized.
“$10.49?!” the customer blurted.
“Well, uh,” Chip said.
“You were kidding about ten percent off, eh? These two lures
here are more like 50 percent off!”
“I felt I was rude asking you to hurry,” Chip said with as
serious a look on his face as he could possibly muster. “I’m sorry, and
I wanted to do right by you by halving the price.”
“Well, thanks!” the customer replied. He gave Chip the money
and Chip took it and put it in the register and bagged the man’s lures
for him, and his paper and fritos.
“You be rude to me more often, hear?” the man asked, heading
for the door, taking the paper from the bag and stuffing it under his
arm.
“Sure thing,” Chip smiled. And he felt very glad it had all
worked, for if it hadn’t, he wouldn’t have had to be rude to the man.
He would have had to kill him.
Chip listened as the car drove away.
Ginger crept out from her hiding place.
“Is he gone?” she asked.
“Yeah, but we’re goners, I’m afraid,” Chip answered. He looked
at her. “I have no idea what to do now,” he said.
“Let’s play store,” she said brightly. And she was quite
serious, he saw. “We could live in the cabin and come down here every
day and make money selling people stuff.”
“And what about Al?” Chip asked.
“Oh yeah,” Ginger said. Her eyes widened. “Well, Al can be on
a vacation!”
“Just like that?” Chip asked.
“Yes, he went down the river,” Ginger said brightly. “And a
fish ate him.”
“You’ll make a marvelous Miss Marple someday,” Chip told her.
She stared at him with her pink sweater and her pert breasts swelling
up, her hair free and her cheeks rosy. For a moment some devil deep
within him, some devil he didn’t even know existed, perhaps some devil
that had only been awakened when he killed Al, told him to kill her and
to run like Hell and to never look back and to kill anyone he ever
encountered. He could be a killing machine, like the Army had briefly
trained him to be, until they thought better of it and transferred him
to Supply, when the unit he was in was downsized. And then, after that,
the Army being what it was, they’d transferred him to Morale and
Welfare. He’d joined the Army to drive a tank but he’d found himself
racking up cue balls for sergeants in the Rec hall instead.
“Okay, look, we’ve got a problem,” Chip said. He led her out
back to Al’s body and he stared at the body. She didn’t like looking at
it but he made her look at it because he felt it was partly her fault
that Al was lying there, even though none of the feminists, or probably
anyone else, for that matter, would have agreed with him on that
particular point. If indeed anyone was agreeing with him at all
anymore.
“Al, YOU are a problem,” Chip finally said, and pointed at
him. He hoped his levity would impress Ginger but it didn’t. On the
other hand, she was still with him, and he’d killed off the devil, at
least for now, who’d told him to do in her and everyone else he met in
the world.
They sailed along under the trees. The leaves overhead were
green and their shadows passed over the windshield of his Camaro. The
forest was growing dark. They’d put Al in a plastic bag and they’d
dumped him into the river from the middle of the bridge, hoping no one
was looking. Chip had raked away his tire tracks from the dirt and
gravel of the parking lot and then he’d put his plan to work to blow up
the bait shop. He’d hoped to find some gasoline in the bait shop but
then he’d found an old electrical generator too, and it occurred to him
that someone like Al might just accidentally let the generator and the
gasoline get too close, and a spark from the generator might blow the
gasoline.
But Chip couldn’t find a way to make the whole thing an
accident and finally, after being at the bait shop an hour, and scared
to death he’d be seen by another customer, he put a “Closed” sign on the
outside of the shop and did his best to wipe down anything and
everything inside the shop he could have possibly touched. Then he and
Ginger had walked from the shop, she going first, he going after,
stepping in her footprints to make them bigger and to erase any sign of
her presence. He’d already done his best to get her footprints out of
the parking lot and he hoped they were free of the place forever. Hair
samples might be found, but that would only happen if people asked
questions and someone showed up who wanted to call Al’s disappearance a
murder and go looking for hair samples at that level of detail.
“Now watch Al bobs up in the river tomorrow,” Chip said.
“We put rocks in the bag. And he’s fat, anyways,” Ginger
chirped. Her head was between his legs. She was nibbling on his
penis. He was painfully erect again, despite all they’d been through.
She nuzzled his crotch and he felt guilty, stealing her from her home,
fucking her brains out, then killing a man and now driving who knew
where with her, the two of them speculating on the morbid possiblities
of a body dumped in the river, Mafia style. At least the man had been
dead when they put him into the drink.
“Ow!” Chip groaned. Ginger was chewing his penis now. Perhaps
their conversation was worrying her. Gently he reached down and eased
his fingers around her neck. He lifted her face up.
“My penis is not a toy for your amusement,” he told her. “I do
actually use it for other things.”
“I know, peeing on me,” she said. She giggled and stroked his
cock.
Chip wondered if he’d ever peed on her. The thought excited
him.
“Just for that I’m going to, tonight, when we get someplace we
can stay,” he said.
“Oooh, yuck,” Ginger replied. But she kept playing with his
dick, using her fingers to stroke and pet him, lying across the front
seat of his Camaro, not minding the stick shift that butted up against
her belly.
“I’m serious!” Chip said. He was delighted to have Al slipping
momentarily from his mind. “I’m going to pee on you tonight. I’m going
to wet all over you.” Ginger laughed and looked a little disturbed at
the prospect, but she kept teasing his cock with her fingers. They were
lovers. They might have all the world against them, they might have
killed an old fart who ran a bait and tackle shop, but they still loved
each other and it was their Time, their moment on the earth together.
Nothing could take that from them, not now, not yet.
The motel was better than Chip had expected. He had, after
all, some money now, thanks to dear old Al. He hoped when someone
eventually inquired into why Al had closed up his shop during the
fishing season they would check the register and declare it a robbery,
not a murder. But Chip knew eventually they’d declare it a murder, but
it would take more time after that for them to actually check under the
middle of the bridge, where they’d dumped Al, and Chip had put lots of
little holes in Al’s bag to invite fish in to see him while he lay in
his watery grave.
Al, killer of fish, now fed them at the bottom of the river.
The bait Al now provided had no hooks in it. Just a needle for Chip if
he were ever connected to Al.
Chip had been seen, of course, and that was an extreme problem,
but he hoped somehow the man who’d seen him wouldn’t get caught up in
the thing. Chip stood in front of a mirror carefully shaving off his
several days’ growth of beard. He was wearing his own shirt again, and
his own pants. They’d returned everything to the cabin where they’d
stayed and spent an hour there trying to erase all sign of their visit.
The sheets had been stained from their lovemaking and they’d changed
them and taken the used sheets with them, hoping their loss wasn’t
missed, replacing the used sheets with new ones from a linen closet.
They’d put the bottle of KY back in the bathroom cabinet and hoped the
fact that it contained less wasn’t noticed. Of course, when the
bathroom and sink taps were turned on, the water would be suspiciously
pure and clear and clean when it first spilled out. But maybe the
daughter or son would turn them on, while the parents were busy
unpacking their car, and not take note of the fact that someone had
cleared the taps.
With luck, it all just might work, but Chip prayed he didn’t
have to kill anyone else. He vowed to get a haircut first thing in the
morning. A buzz cut, like he’d had in the Army. Then the stranger
who’d been in Al’s store would be a long-haired, unshaven suspect, while
Chip himself was a cleanshaven, crew cut, God-fearing man, with, albeit,
a 12-year-old girlfriend. Well, the customer hadn’t seen her. Only Al
had. And now Al was fish bait.
“Give me your pants. I need to take them down the hall and
wash them,” Ginger told him. She was dressed in her schoolgirl’s skirt
and blouse. She had no other clothes. Chip turned from the mirror and
looked at her. A man didn’t like giving up his pants.
“What, are you going to take your clothes off too?” he asked.
“No, silly.” She put out her hand expectantly. “You’re going
to strip and I’m going to wash your clothes, and then I’m going to strip
and you’re going to wash my clothes!” She smiled at him. A Pumpkin
smile, like Al Bundy’s daughter gave her husband, bright, unknowing.
Except in this case, although Chip didn’t like doing laundry and he
hated taking off his only pair of pants, her plan seemed to make some
sense.
“Can’t we just wear our same clothes ‘til tommorrow?” he asked.
“We’re not going around in dirty clothes,” Ginger said. “I can
wash yours and you can wash mine. Simple.” She smiled again and
waited, hand outstretched.
“I’m still going to pee on you later tonight,” he warned her.
“Boys will be boys,” she replied equanimitously. “Your pants,
darling.”
“I feel like I’m fucking married!” Chip said angrily. He
unzipped himself and yanked down his trousers.
“Maybe you are,” Ginger said with sparkling, mischievous eyes.
“Except I can’t legally marry a 12-year-old, and so, naturally,
I can’t divorce you either!” Chip said sourly.
“Tut! Tut! You should have thought of that before you picked
me up at school,” Ginger replied. He handed her his pants. “Underwear
too,” she said. “And your shirt.”
Chip lay on their bed buck naked. He looked at his dick
standing up like a fencepost between his legs. He’d wanted to fuck her
the minute they’d arrived, like a teenager, but she, perhaps growing up
too fast now, like a decorous wife, had insisted on other things, like
laundry. He felt cold. He wanted to get under the covers but she’d
told him he had to shower first if he did that. He was beginning to
feel like her prisoner. Here he was, in some motel room, naked, while
she was down the hall primly doing their laundry. He prayed to God no
one took much notice of the fact that she was wearing her schoolgirl
clothes at 9 o’clock at night. And of course the motel manager wasn’t
aware of her, so that was a problem too, for Chip had checked in asking
for a single. God knows he would have loved to pay the man for a
double, since the bedroom did have two beds in it, but then there would
have been questions. The ‘sister’ thing hadn’t worked too well before.
Chip didn’t need any more dead Als on his hands.
“I’m back,” Ginger said. She slipped inside. He gazed at
her. They’d only use one bed tonight, of that he was sure. “Don’t
worry, nobody saw me,” she said. “Anyways they’d probably think I
belonged in someone else’s family.”
“Let’s hope so,” Chip replied.
“That’s what I’d say, you know,” she said. “I’m with the
family down the hall.” She pointed, vaguely. She seemed to enjoy the
conspiracy of it all. “Not with the killer in room 109.”
“Thanks,” Chip said. “I needed that.”
She stepped over to the bed. “Your penis looks like it needs
to go to the bathroom,” she said.
“No, it just needs to fuck you,” Chip told her.
“Well, it’ll just have to wait. I’m doing laundry right now,”
she said. She sat down on the edge of the bed and gently stroked him.
His erection looked huge against her small little fingers. The
fingernail polish was still half on, half-flaked. He wished she’d rub
it off somehow or repaint her nails. He felt like he was being handled
by a little girl in elementary school. But she was in 7th grade now, he
reminded himself. Yes!
“Why does it get so big and stiff all the time?” she asked.
“Because you keep playing with it,” he scolded. Damn girl. He
was feeling hot in his balls now.
“But it was hard when I came in!” she told him.
“Yeah, well, it just stands up, that’s all,” he replied. He
looked at himself. “I have no idea why.”
“Did it ever occur to you that when you leave tomorrow, and the
manager finds a wet spot in the bed, he’ll think you spent the night
jacking off?” she asked.
“Thanks,” Chip said. “First you call me a killer, now a
masturbator.” He grabbed her and rolled her on top of him. She
shrieked and then, quickly, she put her hand over her mouth and he put
his hand over her mouth. They laughed quietly together.
“You’re a big bad killer on the loose,” she told him.
“Don’t provoke me,” he answered.
“Now how will people buy bait?” she asked him.
“Maybe they’ll find it in some motel room,” he said. “Did you
get rid of that ball cap like I told you to?”
“Yes, I threw it in the woods when you let me out to pee back
there, in the forest,” she said.
“Good,” he answered. “Now let’s learn to pray, okay? God
bless us and may I never have to kill anyone ever again, including the
operator of this motel and everyone staying here tonight.”
“A big job, since you’ve got no gun,” she answered.
“Yeah,” he said. And he lay there, on the bed, unarmed, with a
little 12-year-old girl in his arms, still in her school girl’s uniform,
and himself quite naked, with an annoying erection sticking up between
her bare legs.
She knelt dutifully in the shower. She was small and soft and
he’d scrubbed her clean, and she’d washed him, and their clean clothes
were neatly folded on a chair by the bed. Her hair was brown and she’d
tied it up into twin pigtails with pink bows. She’d put on some of her
Cotton Candy Lipsmacker lipstick that she kept in her purse. Her ears
had never been pierced and he realized, as he stood over her, that one
of his responsiblities would be to hold her hand someday soon while she
got them pierced, for she was getting taller and more bosomy and she
needed to have her ears pierced if she was going to wear earrings.
He stood over her. His cock throbbed. Although they’d played
and scrubbed each other in the shower together they’d refrained from
‘doing it,’ and now she knelt under him waiting for him to pee.
“You’re nasty,” she told him. She looked at him with serious
wide brown eyes, her eyes deep pools of pure innocence.
“I know,” he answred.
“But I’m all ready for BED!” she protested.
“You can rinse off afterward,” he told her. “I won’t mind if
there’s a still a little pee on you when you climb into bed with me.”
“I will!” she declared.
“Don’t scream too loudly when I piss on you,” he said.
“Then don’t do it,” she replied. The tub had been wiped dry
with a towel. He wanted everything perfect. She knelt with her hands
drawn back, playing with her toes as she sat on her heels.
“If you think you’re going to scream I’m going to have to gag
you,” he told her.
“Then do it, because I’ll scream otherwise,” she told him
frankly.
“I wish we had a dungeon like before,” he said, turning away,
and then suddenly he whirled about again and they both looked at each
other.
“YES!” they said in unison.
“I’ll have to fuck her,” he told Ginger.
“That’s okay,” she replied, twisting her mouth a little,
showing she didn’t really like the thought of it but was willing to live
with it. “Just wear a condom,” she added.
“Yeah,” he said. He was heady with the thought of their
freedom.
“Let’s go now,” he said. “I feel up to it, don’t you?”
“Yes!” she darted from the tub.
They drove all night. He decided it had been a good idea, for
it would keep them out of sight during the day. Next morning he checked
into another motel and they were so exhausted that they simply slept.
When they awoke he peed in the toilet and then she peed, and then they
returned to bed and they fucked. This time they did it a novel way,
both facing each other, with her sitting up and him sitting up, but both
of them leaning back, supporting their weight on their hands as they
faced each other. Only their genitals touched, except for the brushing
and occasional clamping of their knees and legs against each other’s
hips. They stared at each other and communicated through their loins.
Chip wished they were outdoors and could look up at the sky once in a
while, but they weren’t, so they simply stared at each other, or tossed
their heads back and stared at the yellow-painted ceiling above them.
When at last he ejaculated in her they got up and went to the shower.
He made her kneel and he gave her a golden shower of pee. Then he sat
down on the porcelain and she crouched over him and spread her lips and
she peed on the penis he’d used to wet her. Then they both rose, and
turned on the water, and washed each other.
At sunset they pulled up in front of the bordello. He’d
whipped her here, mercilessly, and now they were back again. But it was
different now, because they were on their own. And, more importantly,
they were seeking refuge.
Chip knocked. Kimber appeared at the door. He could hear a
party going on inside.
“Oh! I wasn’t expecting you,” Kimber said to Chip. She looked
at Ginger. “...two.” She added. Then she looked at Chip again. Her
hair was close, too close to her face, and she would have normally
tossed it back from her eyes but she didn’t.
“You stole her, didn’t you?” Kimber asked Chip.
“No, she came of her own will,” Chip said.
“I mean, according to the law, you stole her,” Kimber said.
She looked briefly at Ginger and then back at Chip.
“It’s okay, I’ll fuck you,” Chip said. He felt a sense of
desperation growing within him.
Kimber smiled. It was a tired smile, the smile of a woman who
was much older than himself or Ginger, in experience if not in years.
“Come in,” she said.
They stepped inside the bordello. Ginger, being 12, turned
toward the room where the party was. Kimber reached out and stopped
her.
“No darling. They’re policemen,” she told the girl.
A whoop went up.
“God Damn!” a man’s voice yelled. Chip heard a woman shriek,
as if her clothes were being pulled off. “And God Bless the State of
Neeevada!” the man hollared.
“Even if they weren’t policemen, she’s probably the best known
face in America right now,” Kimber said to Chip. She led them further
down the hall and into a bedroom and closed the door.
“It’s that bad?” Chip asked.
“It’s not Polly Klaas,” Kimber said. She looked at the floor,
figeted with her fingers. Ginger clasped Chip’s hand, squeezed it.
Chip heard himself swallow.
“So, like, what’s happened?” Chip asked.
“Her parents haven’t said too much,” Kimber said. She looked
accusingly at Ginger. “I think maybe your mom and dad had a hunch you
weren’t just stolen outright from your bedroom,” she said. Ginger
looked innocently up at Kimber.
“Maybe Annette said something to them,” Chip said
half-hopefully. Of course, how much could she say? She couldn’t just
come out and say, ‘Hi! Don’t worry! Your daughter lost her cherry to
him and now I think he’s the one who stole your daughter. But don’t
worry, he’s an okay guy, he’s just into kinky sex like me and my husband
are.’ No, that wasn’t possible. Ginger’s mom and dad didn’t even know
Annette and Dave did the kinky sex thing.
“How about me? Am I on the news?” Chip asked.
“No,” Kimber said. “But there’s a very good description of
you. Apparently you weren’t unknown to this Little Miss’s friends.”
“Oh yeah,” Chip replied.
Kimber bent down and looked Ginger straight in the eye. “I
need to know something, woman to woman,” Kimber said. “I may as well
call you a woman, since you are, dear, whether you like it or not, with
your cherry popped and all.” She looked at Ginger hard. “Did you ever
tell any of my friends about my bordello? Because if you did, you can’t
stay here. They’ll come looking here, and they’ll find you if you are
here, because they’ll turn the place upside down.”
Ginger gulped. There was silence in the room.
“A little,” she finally said.
“Shit!” Kimber leapt to her feet and swore. “Little bitch!”
she hissed under her breath at Ginger.
“I didn’t... say it was a bordello...” Ginger said. “I just
said we kissed...” she let her voice trail off.
“That’s all?” Kimber asked.
“Yes,” Ginger said.
Kimber slowly let out her breath. She turned to Chip. “When I
let you in before, I didn’t ask any questions. I like being like that,
free with myself and with other people. But now she’s hot as a little
red tomato, and as you can hear the local police are right down the
hall, enjoying themselves. And it’s not a greased-palm thing, either.
Visiting a brothel’s legal in Nevada.”
“I know,” Chip said.
“Alright well you can stay,” Kimber said to them both. She
looked again at Ginger. “But don’t lie to me, Little Miss, because this
place isn’t safe for you to have fun and eat your lollipops if you did
tell anyone about it. Least of all for your boyfriend, here, with his
marvelous prick. They’ll hang him high by it and you’ll never see him
again if they come here looking for you.”
Ginger squeezed Chip’s hand. “I know,” she said. “I’ll be
quiet.”
Kimber looked at Chip. “I could get a lot of money for her,”
she told him.
“No way,” Chip answered. “You get me. That’s it.”
“For both me and my customers,” Kimber said.
“What?!” Chip said. He almost yelled the word, but managed,
hearing the policemen down the hall give another whoop, to somehow
restrain himself. He felt like hitting her.
“Yep.” Kimber said. “You hide out with this hot little
Tamale, and eat my food -- don’t even think about going into town for
groceries, Mr. Most Wanted -- you WORK for your keep. I’m going to do a
thriving business on that glorious big cock of yours and this little
lady can have it when I’m not using it. Okay, Miss?” she turned to
Ginger. Her face was hot and angry. Ginger stared up at her,
mouse-like.
“Don’t break it,” Ginger said. “It’s a nice penis, even if he
does use it to pee on me.”
“It won’t get broken,” Kimber said.
Ginger looked at Chip. “Well at least now you have a job,” she
said to him.
“Yeah,” Chip sneered. But the funny thing was, if you’d told
him, when he was in the Army, that he’d be employed to fuck women at a
bordello, he would have whooped with joy. He tried to remember that
fact and keep it in his mind as he contemplated his future.
“And if you ever want to wiggle that darling little ass of
yours around, let me know,” Kimber said to Ginger. “But in the
meantime, she’s hot,” she said, turning again to Chip. “And I couldn’t
afford to use her even if I wanted to.” Kimber poked Chip in his hard,
flat stomach with her polished finger. The nail didn’t have any flake
marks on it like Ginger’s did. “You’ve got to wear a mask,” she said.
“You’re going to be Zorro, and don’t let any of the women pull your mask
off, no matter what.”
“Right,” Chip said.
“During the day I want you to work out. There’s a weight bench
downstairs and some weights. And eat. You’ll need it to keep up your
strength during the night. And, when I can manage it, you’ll lie out
back, and keep your tan up, wearing just the skimpiest male bathing suit
I can find for you.” She turned to Ginger. “And you’re going to work
too, little lady,” she said. “He’ll need to be massaged every morning
when he’s done. Just like a horse. You’ll want to oil all of his
muscles and rub them down, and that especially includes his cock.”
“Yes,’m,” Ginger said.
“And he might be too tired to eat, so you be ready to sit on
the bed with him and spoon feed him if he needs it. And then keep your
little mitts off him until nightfall, so he can go back to work again.”
Kimber ran a hand through Ginger’s hair. “Don’t worry. He’s only 21.
He’ll have something for you too with that perpetually hard cock of his,
I assure you.”
And so the long days of summer passed, a summer where Ginger
should have been in school, for she went to a year-round school, but
instead she was a stable girl, and her horse was Chip, the Italian
Stallion as he was called at Kimber’s bordello, though he spoke not a
word of Italian. Ginger spent her days keeping in him top shape for his
duties. She fed him and watered him and sometimes peeked in on him as
he entertained the women. Chip was forced to fuck all kinds of women,
all who came, all who paid. Mostly Ginger thought it was all rather
silly, except when the women were very beautiful, but in the morning
Chip always returned to her, and was Hers alone, though women would have
eagerly paid him to come home with them.
Chip devoted himself to weightlifting and he grew stronger.
His shoulders broadened and his chest deepened and it was thought too
that his penis was strengthened by all his labor. Certainly his
self-control grew and Ginger’s rides on him grew ever more wonderful and
arduous as he was able to hold himself back for longer and longer
periods.
Ginger herself also grew and blossomed. There was absolutely
nothing for the two lovers to do except care for each other and each
other’s bodies. Food was provided by Kimber, and drink, and even
lollipops, and they had their own T.V. downstairs that they could watch
in their hours together. At night Chip went to work and in the morning
he returned. They tanned together in the bordello’s backyard, in a
private place KImber provided for them, Chip in a ball-hugger swimsuit
and Ginger in a little bikini.
“You’re beautiful,” Chip said to Ginger, staring at her in the
hot August sun, in Nevada, where it was sunny year round.
“So are you,” Ginger replied. She gazed at him sleepily. She
was wearing a white swimsuit, quite tiny, and he had on a light yellow
pair of swim briefs.
“We are the beautiful people,” Chip said to her.
“I think so,” Ginger replied.
Chip had a glass of lemonade by his chaise-lounge and he
reached down and plucked an ice cube out of it. He leaned over his love
and pulled open her swimsuit. He dropped the ice cube onto her venus
mound.
“Oook!” Ginger cried. She leapt up. Chip lay back and grinned
at her.
Without taking out the ice cube, Ginger leaned over and picked
a cube out of her own glass. She leaned over him and opened his
swimsuit. Chip felt a breath of warm air enter where his loins were
coiled and he felt his sun-warmed cock stiffen. Ginger deposited her
cube on his loins and let go of his suit. It snapped shut.
“Thanks. I needed that,” Chip said to her.
“I know you did,” she replied. And she lay back and, together,
they both felt their ice cubes melt inside their swimsuits and wet their
privates.
30
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