Message-ID: <59937asstr$1266635402@assm.asstr.org>
From: Sam Grume <uncagrumbles@gmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Ghosts: Introduction {Uncle Grumbles} (Mff, teen, nosex) [1]
Lines: 994
Date: Fri, 19 Feb 2010 22:10:02 -0500
Path: assm.asstr.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


[Story note: a little over a year ago, I released "Tam and Claire", a mostly
sweet and loving coming of age story.

[This is not Tam and Claire. While there is honest affection developing
here, some of the play is shaping up to be kinda rough. I'll be using very
general story codes, because most of the stories I've read labeled with the
detailed codes I might use aren't quite like this. Hint: my characters talk
a lot.

[I only have the first two chapters so far, with perhaps another two or
three cooking.

[This first chapter is mostly introductions and setup. Next chapter starts
the good squishy, or, well, the squishy, any way. I leave it to my readers
to determine good or not.

[As always, I desperately desire your feedback. A kind word is as good as
gold here, and even criticism can help me get better. This is by way of an
early draft; it will be tweaked as I add successive chapters.

[And a one and a two and Away We Go.]

===

Ghosts: Introduction, part 1 of several.

In every city worthy of the name, there is at least one neighborhood which
is a virtual smorgasbord of children who will do almost anything you want
for a peanut butter sandwich. The trick, of course, is getting to them when
they're hungry enough to overcome their very hard-earned mistrust, but not
so jaded as to simply kill you for your loaf and jar.

By necessity, I often find myself in those areas, or near them, and have run
across kids of both kinds more than I'd like. It's been happening more and
more over the last few years; and more and more, I'm finding outright ferals
-- impossible to think of them as kids.

I survey abandoned industrial districts for a living -- I started out
looking for architectural artifacts, such as friezes, doors, gates,
staircases, and the like. Then I read up on architecture, civil engineering,
property law, stuff like that. I take lots of pictures, work with GPS and
theodolite, do some simple soil and water testing, that sort of thing.

Kids on the run love old factories and warehouses, think they're romantic or
some shit (but who am I to argue with that, eh?), so I've gotten pretty good
at judging them, just as a matter of my own survival. I occasionally recruit
stringers, lookouts, and the occasional agile monkey who can shimmy up a
shaky catwalk to take a pic I can't reach. I hand out sandwiches, sodas,
candy bars, small change, comics and magazines,aspirin, soap, shampoo,
pocket knives, tampons, condoms, antibiotics, bed rolls; whatever a young
traveler needs.

I've bought bus tickets for strays, and even driven up to a few front doors,
and witnessed the reunions, both stiffly suspicious and tearfully joyous.
All for an hour or an afternoon of more or less honest work, something that
kids who are not totally lost crave: a chance to prove that they can manage
on their own. Knowing they have that safety net is sometimes enough to give
them the courage they need to go back home. Other times it spurs them to
find other opportunities. Most times, it's just enough for some hot meals,
maybe a change of clothes, maybe a fix. I never, ever, take anybody home.
You've heard of crazy cat ladies? I seriously don't want to end up the crazy
kid guy.

I keep a grungy office in an all but abandoned business park with a couch,
fridge, and shower, so I have a base easily to hand (my home is more than an
hour's drive away, way out of the city). If I absolutely have to get some
kid off the street tonight, I don't have to take her home, she can doss on
the couch.

There are a few predators working my precincts as well, some of whom are in
prison now because of my anonymous leads, one on death row because of my
testimony and photos, and one who...well. I carry, let it go at that. As far
as I can tell, he was never missed.

I get stopped now and again, but I know what to say (not much), when to
consent to a search (never) and who to call (usually, but not always, my
lawyer). Anyway, I work in areas where the cops rarely go and social workers
wouldn't go if their pensions depended on it. I keep my nose clean. Wherever
possible I carry legitimate letters of authorization from clients and
property owners, I do favors, I'm cautious, I work out at my dojo, I keep
current on advanced first aid, and I'm always, unfailingly, polite and
respectful to everybody I meet, until they try to kill me.

In a thin but treasured album, I keep birthday cards, graduation pictures,
wedding pictures, baby pictures...and the occasional obituary. Sometimes the
magic doesn't work.

Sometimes it does, though.

It was a shit assignment, in an ugly, thoroughly picked over ruin. My
clients were lawyers (one of several cards in my wallet that produced most
gratifying results at a stop), for whom I was documenting the condition of
the place for some lawsuit or another, rent-seeking of the lowest kind, but
it paid well.

I picked up my ghost after three cold and rainy days in late spring,
stumbling across its nest in one of the few dry spaces. I moved out the
obvious signs of current occupation, took my pictures, then put everything
back as best I could, leaving a couple of food bars and chemical handwarmers
as a small token of apology.

The next day, there was an occasional flicker at the edge of my vision, a
faint rustle or two far behind me. When I ate lunch, I left a couple of
sandwiches, a sports drink, and more handwarmers behind. It was an hour or
so before my ghost came back after that.

[BTW, I'm not remotely going to explain how I made these decisions. Trade
secrets, sort of, for some of them, certain things I found in the
hidey-hole, certain behavioural details -- but frankly, I don't know why or
how for many of them. For the first time in a long time, I just...did stuff,
shit that broke hard and fast policies I'd paid for with physical scars.
This time, though, I had my mojo on, and... well. That's the story, isn't
it?]

The next day I left for lunch early, then came back with a real feast which
I set out in a large room with two doors: fried chicken, biscuits, macaroni
and cheese, cole slaw, iced soda, pie. A plethora of wetnaps and a roll of
paper towels. I settled down, back against a wall as far away from both
doors as I could get, and began to eat my own lunch.

The Colonel's fried chicken sends out a perfume with a powerful effect on
ghosts. It's damn near the perfect bait.

After five or ten minutes, I announced, "I could use an assistant.
Seven-fifty an hour, six hours a day, plus meals, for the next five days at
least. You might as well come in and talk about it over lunch."

The seven-fifty's hard to calculate in your head on a public education. Most
ghosts round it off to "a lot". This one came back in less than ten seconds,
from somewhere outside the room.

"Two hundred twenty five bucks? For five days?"

"Over lunch, I said. I like to see who I'm talking to."

"I have a knife!"

"You'd be a fool not to, out here."

Silence.

Then, "Don't you move!"

"I'm very comfortable right here."

My ghost, a girl, going by her voice, slipped around the door. She was
bundled against the cold, in completely anonymous random bits and pieces.
Hiking boots, jeans, hoodie, jersey gloves, at least on the outside; she
clearly had the layering idea down. All filthy, all worn and torn, which
happens if you've been living and sleeping in the same change of clothes for
a couple of weeks. About five-two. Slight, but no real figure discernible
under the clothing. Hair up under the hood. Narrow face, pinched and
red-nosed with the cold. Dirty. Scared.

She did indeed have a knife, a Marine K-Bar, in an ice-pick grip.

"You're alone?"

"Have I ever had anyone with me the last few days you've been watching? Yes,
I'm alone. Except for you."

The smell of the chicken nearly had her on her toes. The balance tipped, and
she came forward, cautiously sat on the chair, and began to dig into the
meal laid out on the crate before her.

"Slow down," I said. "You can't afford to get sick, throw it all up again. "

She slowed. We ate in silence, if not exactly companionably. She carefully
set aside a little less than half of everything, although it was clearly
very hard to do so.

"Ill give you my slice of pie, if we seal the deal." She finished hers with
obvious gratitude, not realizing that she'd signaled her intent right there.

When she was done, she wiped her hands and face with the wetnaps, fastidious
as a cat, likely the cleanest she'd been in weeks. She stuffed all her trash
into the bag, keeping the leftovers in the covered takeout plate. Good.

"Cash? End of each day?"

"Cash. End of each day. Bonus at the end if the work is good."

That usually sparked, "Bonus? How much?" Not her.

"When can I start?"

"This afternoon, if you want. Right now."

A cautious look.

"I have...have another job I need to finish."

Lame, and she knew it, but...she was being cautious, not wanting to seem
over-eager, wanting to make sure that she had some leverage. Canny, this
one. Never take a deal that won't wait.

"As you wish. Tomorrow morning, then. Early, as you know."

A nod.

"Do you want coffee with breakfast?"

"Coffee...." The longing look of the long deprived. "Oh, yes, please. Cream
and sugar."

"I believe we have a deal. Here's your pie."

I waved it at her, but did not get up.

It was agony for her, coming within striking distance. She reached out
slowly, knowing I could drop the pie and grab her wrist. Her knife was out
of the scabbard.

She managed a polite hand-off, not a snatch. She nodded.

"Thank you very much."

"You are very welcome. I'm going to sit here and digest for a bit," and let
you slip away in peace, "then go back to work. I'll see you in the morning."

"Good bye." A formal nod, almost a bow, and she was gone.

I did not see or hear her for the rest of the day.

===

Next morning, I pulled up in my crappy-looking car, and began setting out
kit and breakfast.

"You're on the clock, starting now. I have stuff I need you to carry," I
announced to the air.

It must have been crazy hard for her to come out in the open. When she
slipped around the door, she had her hand on her knife at her belt.

I affected not to notice.

"Let's get the stuff in out of the rain, and then eat breakfast."

She nodded, silent and wary.

I gave her a shoulder bag and a tripod. The bag held mostly junk lenses that
didn't even fit my camera; I'd had a few new hires rabbit off first thing.
But the most crucial tool of the conman is not getting your mark to trust
you; it's showing that you trust her.

She led me to a table she'd put together out of a door on two boxes, with
two untrustworthy looking folding chairs.

"Ritzy, and I approve your initiative. I can use a work table."

She beamed.

"But, you know, you might as well bring your friend out right now and set a
place for him, too. I brought more than enough."

She almost ran. Almost, but...dammit, there was coffee, its perfume even
more powerful than The Original Recipe.

"Oh, come on. Clearly things for two in your bedroom. You were obviously
saving second helpings of everything. Besides, it's two against one. I'm the
one at disadvantage. And I'd really appreciate it if you'd stop pulling that
knife."

She blinked, then blushed. The knife went into its scabbard.

"Sorry. I've just...it's been...."

"You can't be too careful. I know, and I approve your caution. But come on,
let's all get to know each other over breakfast."

A moment's more indecision, then:

"Alex! Alex, come on out. It's alright."

We waited.

"Alex is shy. I'll go...."

"I understand."

She disappeared.

About five minutes later, she came back with another, even more nondescript
kid. Alex was about three inches shorter than my ghost was, with a face
almost completely hidden in an over-sized hoodie. Alex was indeed very shy,
only nodding, ever so slightly, at my greeting.

Ghost-girl also rolled up a cable spool, on which Alex perched. Diana
carefully doled out small portions of breakfast to Alex, who wolfed them
down until all the food was gone.

"So, I know Alex's name. Mine's Ed, by the way. Ed Crisp. What's yours?"

I handed her my card. She read it, thoroughly, nodded, and put it in a
pocket.

"Diana."

"Goddess of the wise hunt. Good name. Glad to meet you, Diana."

I reached out my hand, and she took it across the table, light boned, but
firm, businesslike.

I glanced at Alex, whose hands were carefully under the table.

"Well. Shall we get started, then?"

"Alex. Go back to our room and stay put, OK?"

The hood nodded, and Alex slipped off the spool-chair.

"Alex," I said.

The hood turned towards me.

"Why don't you take the trash out. No need to attract scavengers."

Alex glanced at Diana, who glared at me a moment, then nodded.

"Kay." Gruff, short. Alex picked up the trash, and, in the manner of these
two, disappeared as if in a puff of smoke.

I broke out rain slickers for Diana and myself, and began setting up.

===

Many of my assistants are more hindrance than help; mostly wanting to do
well, but with minds so blunted by their parents, teachers, or life itself
that everything had to be said or demonstrated two or three times. There was
often a smoldering resistance to authority to overcome, as well.

Diana lived up to her name, learned quickly, worked hard, was eager to
please. She knew the large, complex property intimately, and was invaluable
for finding spaces that would not be too unpleasant to work in with the
rain.

Alex appeared for lunch, then disappeared again, without having said a word.

Diana showed me their midden, a concrete storage bunker with a steel lid,
suitable for keeping out four-legged pests. There was even a toilet hole,
with a scavenged seat nailed to a crate.

"Excellent practice," I said. "You must be campers."

"Yeah, Mom and Dad used to...." She trailed off. I didn't push.

We had to break a little early; the clouds brought on a premature dark. I
paid her full wages anyway; she had certainly earned them. I'd actually got
more work done with her than I had without, unheard of on the first day.

The sun was out the next morning, but the clear skies had brought bitter
cold. I put a propane heater in our rally room, and told Alex it was alright
to spend the day there. But it was not to be; Alex followed Diana and I
around all day, silent, for the most part, and carefull to stay out from
underfoot, but evidently unwilling to be too long away from Diana.

I didn't leave the heater, but I did give the pair a big flannel sleeping
bag.

I loaned Diana my backup camera, a cheap digital snap, showed her how to
zoom and click the shutter, then had her take a few shots I couldn't reach.
We did some fairly complex stuff that would have been almost impossible by
myself, setting up lights and reflectors and the whole nine yards. It was
excellent work, more rewarding than I had expected. Once she understood what
the lawyers wanted, she pointed out places better preserved than most, and
more decayed. She also showed me some hidden treasures, completely
spontaneously, views that she had come to love herself.

Four days later, I had to give her the bad news, along with her final pay
envelope.

"I'm sorry, Diana. You worked too hard. We're done."

Her anguish was heartbreaking, but familiar, right down to the plaintive,
"But...you said...."

"I'm paying you for all five days, don't worry. We've actually done more
work than I planned for, in a day less time than I planned for."

"But...the meals..." Oh, how quickly we fall into the lap of luxury.

"I'm sorry, Diana. I really am. You've been wonderful to work with, and I'm
going to miss you. But remember I said there'd be a bonus?"

She nodded, wary again.

"You've earned a big one, more than earned it. How about you, Alex, and I
all go out for dinner and a movie?"

"A movie?" It was Alex; the usual gruff voice almost a squeak.

"A movie, anything you like."

"But...." Diana was looking for an excuse not to be rude, but not wanting to
offend a generous benefactor. "Our clothes...we can't...we're..."

"You're filthy, and you stink. Can't be seen in public. Yes, I know. But I
have a proposal. However, Diana, you're going to have to trust me, big
time."

"What."

Flat. Hard. Far beyond wary. She'd been eating cheese all week, and now the
trap was springing, and the trigger word was "trust". Always a dangerous
word, that.

"Well, first, I have a change of clothes in the car for both you and your
sister."

"I AM NOT A GIRL!" Alex was panicked, huge eyed, high pitched voice
proclaiming the lie. She hid behind her big sister, every fiber quivering to
be off.

"If you hurt her, I will kill you." The knife was out again.

"Alex. You've hidden it very well, but...well, the pink panties I found in
the bedroll the first day are too small for Diana. And there's only a sit
down toilet, no urine on the walls, except for mine. You're busted."

"I'm not a girl. I'm not. My name is Alex. I'm a boy. I'm a boy." She was
crying, rocking back and forth.

"I'll kill you!"

"Diana. I know this is hard. I know why you've tried to hide it. I
understand completely. You both did very well. And I don't want to hurt
either of you, far to the contrary. But I had to let you know I knew the
truth if we're going to continue to work together."

"I am not a girl!"

"We have a lot to talk about, Diana. But, please, let's get in out of the
cold and dark, get cleaned up, eat, relax."

"I've heard of jerks like you. You cozen up to girls on the street, and
kidnap them, and do awful things, and nobody ever sees them again. Leave
Alex alone, please, I'm begging you. I'll kill you if hurt her, kill you,
kill you...."

She was weeping in fear.

"I've never 'cozened' up to anybody in my life, except dangerous people like
policemen, social workers, and lawyers. Diana, I want to..."

Couldn't say "help". I don't know why, but telling someone who's scared of
you that you want to help them very seriously does not work. I tried to find
the key to Diana's trapped mind.

"...Work with you. I'd like to make you my assistant full time. But we
cannot do it from here, and I can't bring a filthy little urchin like you to
meet clients. Please, Diana, please. Just...have dinner, listen to the
deal."

"Not a girl. I hate pink."

"Diana, look. I'm going to show you something you don't want to see,
something that's really scary. But it will be alright, I swear, and I want
to get all my cards on the table."

I started unbuttening my coat. Diana's eyes bulged. Both girls' attention
was riveted on my crotch. God knew what they expected to spring out of my
zipper.

"Please, please don't hurt her. She hasn't done anything. I'll do what ever
you want only --" There was a long pause. "Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit."

Dirty as they were, I could see the wet stain growing down Alex's much faded
jeans.

Seeing a gun in a tense situation does that to some people. I held my jacket
full open, hands very carefully away from the holster, giving them a good,
long look.

"I've had it all along, Diana. If I'd wanted to do you, or your sister, any
harm, I wouldn't have waited this long, wouldn't have given you the  money,
all that other stuff. I'd've tied you up, stashed you in your little
hideaway, worked all day, played all night. The job would've taken two
weeks, not four days, but hell, the lawyers gave me a month. Don't let your
knife droop."

She glanced at it, startled. It came back up again, ready to, I don't know,
cut my shoulder or something. There's really not much you can do holding a
knife like that, unless your victim is prone.

"Look, if you want, I'll go to the car, get the clothes...."

"I don't want your fucking clothes!"

There were tears of hopeless fury runneling down her filthy cheeks.

"Then I'll get in the car and drive away, and throw them out the window.
They're of no use to me. But, please, Diana! Please! You're the best
assistant I've ever had! I need your help!"

The key turned.

"You...need...?"

"I need you, Diana. You've got talent, girl, raw, but it's there. I want to
hire you full time, you little idiot, train you up right, BUT NOT IF YOU
DON'T STOP WAVING THAT DAMN KNIFE AT ME!"

I finished in a roar, dropped my coat, and turned away in disgust.

"god damn it! try to do some good, see where it gets you...."

I trailed off muttering as I went to my car.

And suddenly I had two scared adolescents tackling me, begging me not leave
them behind in the dark, cold and hungry and no prospects at all.

The door had opened...and the trap had indeed shut, on what turned out to be
two very happy mice.

===

There was a towel for Alex -- 'scuse me, Alice -- to sit on in the back
seat, immediately behind me. She hugged her new clothes to her chest. She
couldn't wait to put on the pink top, silk screened with the same cutesy
equine embroidered on her panties.

Diana rode next to her, over the hump, so that I couldn't make a grab for
her without turning around. The doors stayed unlocked. I did not insist on
seatbelts.

There was a tattered shopping bag with their pitifully few belongings next
to Alice, ready to grab in the event of a quick getaway.

I had refused any more dealings before dinner. We were going to my office to
shower and change. That scared Diana more than a little, going into my
territory, as it should have, but I was adamant. She had to trust me if we
were going to work together. So, shower, change, dinner and a movie. Then
we'd talk.

Dingy the office may have been, but it was palatial compared to the site. I
quickly rinsed off in the shower, then let the girls run out the hot water
while I changed into a backup suit and reviewed the day's pictures on my
laptop.

Dirt, bad light, fear, cold, hunger, all can radically change appearances.
So can their opposites.

The girls had been eating reasonably well all week, and the prospect of more
food, even civilized entertainment, was before them. They were clean and
brushed. They were in fresh clothes. They were, bless them, happy.

They were gorgeous.

I had thought them thin, pinched, wan. Instead they were elfin, light of
skin (but not without color), light of bone (but well-knit), hazel of eye,
and light of step, showing a natural grace that poor circumstances, bulky
clothes, and whatever had forced them onto the street had hidden, but failed
to crush.

Diana was sixteen or seventeen, delightfully if lightly curved, dark red
hair in a thick ponytail that came down between her shoulder blades.

Sister Alice was fourteen, at most, curves just coming in. Her hair was a
shoulder length strawberry blonde nimbus.

It was all I could do keep from whistling, stamping my feet, clapping my
hands, and howling at the moon, but I didn't want to frighten them.

"That'll do. Shall we go?"

Dinner was a high-end build-your-own burger joint. It was a struggle, but
both girls managed to get outside third-pound burgers slathered with pretty
much anything that had ever been put on a burger. Plus fries and rings, plus
malts.

Diana groaned at Alice's "childish" movie choice, but seemed to enjoy it
every bit as much.

"So, ladies, back to your castle?" This query brought a sharp halt to lobby
chatter.

Clearly, after a brief sojourn in civilization, the site had all the appeal
of a spoiled pumpkin patch. Alice teared up at the thought.

I found I didn't want them making this decision in dawn's cold clear light.
I wanted it now, while they were groggy with food, a hard day's work, the
late hour, and possibly even gratitude. So we sat in the car, in the
cinaplex parking lot, and had ourselves a cozy little meeting.

The chair brought us to order with a beep-beep of the horn. The agenda was
reiterated. The floor was opened to alternatives.

The chair reiterated his position that the office was good for only a night
or two. They'd still be faced with the same problem in the morning. Plus,
the chair was opposed to sleeping on the floor, if they took the couch. No
go.

A spirited discussion with the treasurer revealed that a nice hotel room
would suck up half their earnings in one night. An affordable room wasn't
that much cheaper, and not at all nice.

There was some sleepy whining, but no substantive discussion.

Perhaps, the chair proposed cautiously, perhaps the chair's residence might
suffice, until more suitable arrangements can be made?

Diana clearly had reservations, but was just to damned tired to come up with
them. The "what next" objection that had been raised to the office was
somehow overlooked.

All in favor? Two ayes and an out of order motion to pee. All opposed?
Anybody? Going once, going twice.... The motion to pee was resubmitted, this
time with a co-sponsor. Both motions carried. We adjourned to a nearby gas
station, and then were on our way home.

By the time we pulled onto the highway out to my house, they were already
sound asleep, Alice lying with her head in Diana's lap.

They didn't even rouse when I parked in the garage.

"OK, ladies, we're here."

Diana woke up enough to stumble into the house. I carried Alice, head on my
shoulder, legs around my waist, arms around my neck.

Diana expressed guarded approval of the bedroom: Neutral color scheme, four
poster bed with a canopy, a nice dresser, Maxfield Parrish prints framed on
the wall. A lock on the inside of the door, which security measure received
a wise nod.

I pointed out my room across the hall and the bath at the end of the hall,
told her I planned to sleep late the next morning, and left her to put her
sister and herself to bed. The door locked behind me.

===

I awoke to the smell of coffee and the sound of the TV. Kids are nothing if
not resilient.

We had a leisurely breakfast, and a leisurely day. The girls loved the house
and the (if I must say so myself) pleasant setting, complete with a wooded
hillside, just beginning to go green, slanting down to a stream. We made a
quick run into a nearby town for food and girl-stuff, including toiletries
and a change of clothes.

We spent the next two days getting to know each other.

Alice still didn't have much to say, but was beginning to open up. It was
clear that she was not as bright as her sister, but perhaps brighter than
her sister allowed her to be.

Diana sorted through the shoot with me, crowing over this or that image,
pointing out things we'd missed, and helping me put together the map of
where each shot was taken.

Time and time again, I had found myself all but slack jawed, just looking at
the two of them. What the hell had they been doing on the streets? Why were
they not at home?

Diana and I went out to the site for some makeup shots, leaving Alice alone
-- she absolutely refused to return there, even for a day. We came back
home, washed up, had dinner, and while Alice watched TV in the living room,
Diana and I talked in the office.

It did not go as I planned, and my plan was way, way out of my normal habit
with strays.

I was planning to offer room and board, plus minimum wage for Diana. She
really was an asset. We'd work out something for school, particularly for
Alice.

Instead, somewhat to my horror, I found myself saying, "I'll pay you minimum
wage. You can find an apartment in town. Probably won't be much, if you want
to eat, but it'll be a lot better than where I found you."

She nodded. Any thing would be better. We sketched out a budget, then went
apartment hunting online.

The available options were, as I knew all to well, dismal. Single rooms, in
bad buildings in worse neighborhoods. You could smell the piss in the
stairwells and hear the neighbors argue just looking at the pictures. They
were better than the factory floor, but not by much more than the small
graces of a tight roof, central heating, and running water in the shared
bath at the end of the hall.

You fiend, I thought. They'll have to go back to being nondescript. They can
never show themselves with that lot, they won't last a week. You cad. You
jerk. You know what you should do.

What actually came out of my mouth was, "Well, there's always the Oldest
Bargain."

"What old bargain?"

She took on a hunted look. It made me sick to see it, but I couldn't help
myself. The oldest excuse.

"The Oldest Bargain, the one that's been between men and women for as long
as we've been men and women, instead of just male and female."

Light dawned, and a hopelessness began to rise behind her eyes. Not just
hunted, but trapped.

"It's all been a lie, hasn't it? That's all you ever wanted."

"I've never lied to you, Diana. Never. I do want you for my assistant. You
are good. And...wait! wait! I'ts not like I'm kidnapping you; you can walk
out the door anytime you want. You've seen my album, you know I've helped
other kids. I've never touched them. You are, I swear, the first I've ever
trusted enough to bring here, the first I've ever offered even temporary
residence to. On any terms."

She was ready to stand up, collect her sister, and walk back to town,
possibly to turn me in to the police.

"What are your options? You can't afford a decent place. I can barely afford
to bring in the two of you, I'll be making serious sacrifices, and I deserve
something back." Which was absolutely true. I outlined  my budget to her,
and found I was actually in worse shape than I thought. I'd have to dip into
savings to get us completely set up, take extra jobs to keep us going.

"Honestly, I don't know what else to do."

Just give them a place to live, you damn lecher! screamed my much besieged
conscience. Crazy cat lady syndrome, I responded. Hordes of starving
children descending on me. Shit, I could turn into a damn social worker.
There's got to be a price, and I really am giving them a great deal.

Sex, said my gonads, and that settled it.

"What about your home? Isn't there any way you can...OK, no. Nevermind."

She almost despaired at the mention of home, but then hardened as she came
back to the remaining alternative.

"You shit."

"It's the Oldest Bargain. By the standards of some cultures, you come late
to the deal, and I'm offering far more than the street, even by today's
standards. You get a safe home and hearth, I get...."

"Sex." Flat as an adder's hiss.

"Sex, yes. But you get that too. No, listen: I don't want you as my sex toy.
I want you to enjoy it as much as I do. I'll...."

"If you touch Alice, I'll kill you."

That again. I wondered if she realized it was basically surrender.

"I'm only talking about the Bargain with you. Alice stays, but you earn her
keep too, absolutely agreed on that. And she does stay, Diana. She does get
taken care of. School, doctor, whatever. Room and board for both of you. I'm
offering far more than minimum wage."

It was a long, slow fight. I won't bother to recount the whole thing. But
that, essentially, was how I won: in exchange for sex with Diana, I'd give
Alice a safe home.

"If I say yes, when do you start fucking me?"

I felt like a complete and total shit, and I was. I was turning her flat out
into a prostitute. She was a desperate, starving child with a starving kid
sister to take care of. I was a dick. It was just this side of rape.

"Diana, swear to God. I will never just fuck you. I will do everything in my
power to see to your pleasure as well. I will make your pleasure more
important than my own. I will...."

"How soon, God damn you?"

I sighed.

"Whenever you're ready. A few days, a week or so. Whenever you're ready. I
won't push. I assume you'll have to explain things to Alice...."

"Yes, Alice will have to adjust. She doesn't like to share me, and she
doesn't like to sleep alone."

I was an e. coli bacterium, I lived in shit, and now I wanted Diana to live
in shit, and abandon Alice.

I hardened my heart, but played a soft pitch.

"It won't be every night. You can come to me however often you think you can
stand it."

She blinked.

"But at least once a week. Look, Diana: you'll have options. Save your
money. When you think you can move out, go. I'll help. If you decide to just
go back to the road, you'll have money, clean clothes, good kit, and a plan.
Plane ticket home, if you need one."

Again, that flicker of deep despair. Talking about home wasn't a comfort, it
was a whip. She'd do anything, anything at all, before going back home.

I took a big chance then: I reached across the desk and took her hand. She
jerked away, but I held tight.

"But you are, no lie, the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in my life. I
want my hands on you so badly I will do what ever it takes to make it
happen, short of brute force. In exchange, I will feed you, house you,
clothe you, train you, protect you, die for you. And the same for Alice. You
will always have a choice, though. I will also, at least once a week, expect
you to come to my bed, by yourself, and fuck my brains out. And when you do,
I will, I swear, do my level best to make you enjoy it at least as much as I
do."

She colored, and ducked her head. I could have sworn I saw a twisted smile.
Then her face hardened again, and she pulled her hand away, and drilled me
straight in the eyes.

"If you hit me, or hurt Alice, I'll kill you."

"I rule this house. You and Alice will both do as you're told, in household
affairs, in school, in work, in the name of safety and harmony, and if you
disobey, you will be punished."

"How? Beat the shit out of us?"

"I will turn you over my knee and warm your bottoms. And I'll enjoy it, make
no mistake. But I will not hurt you just because I enjoy hurting girls and
kicking puppies. Although if that knife keeps popping up, I'm willing to
lower the threshold a bit."

"What if I...."

"I've been fixed. You can't get pregnant, at least by me."

"If I let you fuck me," and she came down hard on the word, determined to
keep it as slimey and dirty as possible, "what would I have to do?"

But I'd settled my mind, and had heard the implied surrender.

"When we fuck, your body is mine, and I will do whatever I please with it."

"Does that include...."

"It includes things you probably don't know about, and things even I haven't
thought of yet. You probably won't like some of them, at least at first,
maybe not ever. We'll have to see."

Eyes popped wide again, then narrowed.

"I thought I wasn't going to be your sex toy."

"I changed my mind. You seem dead set on not being my lover, so I'll settle
for what I can get."

That seemed to set her back a bit. Sugar coating, I noted, did not work for
this girl. Whatever the truth was, she wanted it full-contact.

"And you'll teach me how to take pictures."

Gotcha. I set the hook.

"And how to defend yourself, how to run a household, and regular school
work, and whatever else I know that you want or I think you need to become
independent."

"What you think...?"

I stood up, and took her chin in my hand, and made her look up to me.

"This. Is. My. House. And you will be my girls, both of you, under my care.
I will do my level best to make you able to get out of my bed, out of my
house, and into your own life as quickly as possible. Until then, you will
do what I say, and I guarantee you won't like a lot of it. Math," I said,
quickly forestalling whatever was on her indrawn breath. "You will learn
math, for instance."

I let go. She frowned.

"I hate math."

"Too bad. You'll also learn cunnilingus. You'll probably like that a lot
better."

"What?"

"Don't worry about it. Do we have a deal?"

She thought about it. Thought for oh, far too long. I started wondering
about where I would go to avoid prison.

Finally, she held her arms out to me.

"Kiss me. I wanna see how you kiss."

I stooped, put my arms around her, lifted her up, and kissed her. She
wrapped her arms and legs around me, kept her mouth soft, and when my tongue
took no liberties, even opened to me, and held the kiss until she broke away
to breath. We were both a bit breathless at that point.

"Just for the record, my dear, when I gave you that chicken you were just
another bundle of dirty rags; I had no designs on you. But I swear, you
cleaned up better than anyone I've ever found."

I kissed her again, gently, on the forehead.

"And I am so happy I found you. You are a treasure."

She squirmed.

"You can put me down now." All business. She sat down and blew her cheeks
out.

"Shit. I thought I was going to get fucked by somebody sooner or later, but
I admit, I thought I'd end up on the garbage heap. You're an asshole, but
you're a nice asshole. If I'm going to get fucked by anybody, I guess it
might as well be you. Fine then, fine. Mr. Crisp, you child molesting
asshole, we have a deal."

She stuck out her hand, and we shook. Light-boned, as I've said, but solid.
She meant it. Every word.

And then she surprised me. She swept in, and hugged me, hard.

She slipped her arm around my waist, and I put mine across her shoulder.

"Alice! Come here, please! Ed and I have something to tell you!"

Alice teleported into the office, took one glance at us, and drew the
obvious conclusion.

"Are we all getting married now?"

It took awhile to sort that out. But in the end, there were more hugs, more
kisses, laughter, happy tears.

And whenever Alice wasn't looking, long searching stares from Diana.
Wondering what she had gotten herself, and her sister, into. Promising slow
painful death for betrayal.

No surprise, I slept alone that night.

===

There was a lot of settling in. Clothes to be bought, even a few toys and
books. Rules to be laid down, and chores to be assigned, which got a lot of
rolling eyes and groans.

Sororal quarrels erupted. One particularly fierce one spilled over into my
office when I'd specifically demanded solitude. It seemed that Alice had
lost her hairbrush, and had borrowed Diana's without permission. Judgment
was demanded. Sentence delivered: Four swats for carelessness and thieving,
five for not knowing better than to let one's kid sister under one's skin.

There were cries of dismay. No fair! We'll be good! We'll find the brush!
We're sorry!

Too late. Alice, lap, now!. Miss Bottom, meet Mr. Hand. She struggled, but
not overly much, particularly when told she'd lose the privilege of
witnessing her sister's sentence carried out else. When I was done, she
stood there, angry but somehow triumphant, while Diana draped herself over
my knee. Diana started weeping, silently, about the third whack. When I was
done, Alice was gone in a flash, but Diana stayed, kneeling with her head on
my lap, for a minute or two while I rubbed her shoulders and she collected
herself. When she got up, she hugged me.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "Thank you for...thank you for taking care of
Alice."

Then she too was gone. The next day, she was sitting in the living room,
brushing Alice's hair with Alice's brush.

===

Diana and I worked on the report, made another trip to the site in response
to an emailed preliminary draft.

She slowly progressed from keeping her distance, to holding my hand when we
walked together in the woods, to nestling herself under my arm watching TV
on the couch. Each time steeling herself. Each time deciding, hm, not so
bad.

Alice had no such hesitations. I was in constant danger of ambushes, some
rowdy, some affectionate. I think Diana actually got a bit jealous now and
again.

Life was good, but I slept alone every night. That was fine. Give her time.

===

Disclaimer: If you think you can get away with this in the real world,
hahaha!
<1st attachment begin>

<HTML removed pursuant to http://assm.asstr.org/erotica/assm/faq.html#policy>
<1st attachment end>

----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------
Notice: This post has been modified from its original
format.  The post was sent as an email attachment and
has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software.
----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <story-submit@asstr.org>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-admin@asstr.org> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+