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From: Thinking Horndog <im_a_thinker@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} The Pact:  Episode 5 -- The Clubhouse 03/57 {Thinking Horndog} (nosex mc)
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Date: Sun, 24 Oct 2010 10:10:06 -0400
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Chapter 3



      

<1st attachment, "The_Pact_5.3.txt" begin>

Author: Thinking Horndog
Title: The Pact:  Episode 5 -- The Clubhouse
Part: 3 of 57
Universe: The Pact
Summary: With Amy providing a feminine conscience, the boys clean up their
act somewhat and employ new recruiting methods -- at a new place.
Content: nosex mc

Chapter 3

	Donna sucked in enough air to lower the oxygen level in the Thornton
home as she snapped erect, so Harmon thought it politic to cover her mouth to
prevent a scream that would have emptied the police station.  "Shhhh!  In the
first place, you're in no danger -- and in the second, this is MY house --
not yours -- so questions about which of us is the intruder and which isn't
could turn up embarrassing answers!"  Donna started fighting the hand, so he
added, "I'll let go as soon as you stop trying to make loud noises!  I'm not
trying to hurt you!"

	Donna slowly subsided; as she relaxed, Harmon said, "There, now,
Darlin' -- there's no reason to be scared of me -- I'm Mac's daddy..."  He
very carefully removed his hand from her mouth; the other hand had remained
on her hip the entire time -- which wasn't a secure grip -- more or less
deliberately.

	"You scared me!"  Donna clutched her clothing to her chest and
stepped away.

	"There didn't seem to be any way not to, Darlin'," Harmon chuckled.

	"How long have you been here?"

	"Oh, plenty long enough.  You're a hot little number!" Harmon
complimented her.  "Mac's doin' real well for himself!"

	"Well, I, um..."  Donna stood there dumbfounded as Harmon plucked her
blouse and shorts out of her hands, one by one.

	"Yeah, it's way too late to get all modest -- not after that
exhibition you put on a little bit ago!" Harmon murmured.  "You know,
frankly, I'd have never guessed..."  Donna covered her face in embarrassment.
"Now, now -- you shouldn't be embarrassed," Harmon chided, "I've seen a woman
or two in my time and you can pretty much hold your head up high when it
comes to pleasin' a man..."

	Covering her face hadn't been smart, she realized; she hadn't seen
him coming.  He had his hands on her again; one slid around her waist and
squeezed an ass cheek and the other slid just under her breasts.  Harmon gave
a little tug and Donna found herself on his knee, Harmon having settled on
the couch arm.  She reached for his hand and he moved it, caressing her
midsection.  "You can make my hands happy," he chided, "It'll be all right."

	Donna wasn't sure about that -- and she was thoroughly flustered.
"Mr. Thornton..."

	"Call me Harmon," Harmon replied breezily.  "So, where did you meet
Mac?"

	"Well, we're both in school..." Donna muttered, her hand chasing his
here and there.  To an outsider it would have looked like she was just
holding it; when she got a grip on one, the other would start up...

	Harmon squeezed her ass again and grunted, "Huh..."  He liked asses
-- he'd just normally stuck to smaller bubble butts...  "You don't do what
you were doing here on this couch at school, Darlin'.  How experienced were
you when you and Mac did THAT the first time?"

	"I, uh, wasn't." 'Not the breast...'

	"Mac took your cherry?  Looks like he got you off on the right
foot..."

	"Actually, he took me by surprise..."  Tugging a hand holding your
nipple was the same as tugging your nipple, Donna discovered.  And the hand
on her ass was moving around front...  "H--Harmon..."

	"You were telling me about how you and Mac got together," Harmon
prompted.

	Donna gave up on her nipple so she could wedge a hand between her
legs -- one of hers, that is.  "We were at a party."

	"Must've been one helluva party..."

	"It was a victory party -- after a game."

	"So he got you drunk?"

	"No..."

	"Stoned?"

	"Uh uh."

	"So what happened?"

	"I was... looking.  So was he."  Donna realized that Harmon was good
with nipples -- just enough and not too much...  "Harmon..."

	"Shhhh.  You ain't hurtin'."  He was caressing her back.  "I do a LOT
of lookin' -- and I wouldn't have seen you.  Well, I would've, but..."

	Donna REALLY didn't want to go into this...  "I, uh, put myself out
there, sort of."

	The hand on her back circled to cup her right breast while the
fingers of the other one released her nipple and cupped her left.  "Stuck
these under his nose, did you?"

	"S--something like that."  Now he had BOTH nipples...

	"Brave, then, are ya?"

	Donna took a shot at trying to free both nipples simultaneously --
and Harmon let her win on the right side -- so he could slide his fingers
through her pubes.  "N--not really...  N--not there..."  Both hands on his
wrist didn't keep his fingers from rubbing her nubbin -- and he STILL had a
nipple...

	"Shhhh..."  Lips on her neck gave her chills.  "You put it out there
once, though, didn't you?  How come?"

	"Desperate..."  'Oh, Gawd, did I SAY that?'  There were too many
distractions; Harmon seemed to have tentacles!

	"You weren't alone, were you?"

	"N--no...  H--Harmon, Mac's not going to..."

	"Darlin', do you think you were Mac's first?  Or even his eighth or
tenth?  We share -- he's had a BUNCH of ladies that I've brought home.
Frankly, he's a little behind..."

	Donna froze, shocked.  "He never..."

	"Well, I don't generally start my pickups with, 'Hey, I've got an
eighteen year old boy who would probably like to poke you when I get
done...'" Harmon chuckled.  He ducked his head and lips and teeth clamped on
a nipple, replacing his fingers.  The hand he'd been using to play with
Donna's clit rose to capture her other nipple -- and when her hands chased
it, the hand that had been mauling her left nipple settled between her legs
to replace the other.  Donna moved her hands here and there, ineffectually.

	"I--I..."

	Harmon chuckled.  "I know -- he's the love of your young life, and
you don't want him to come home to find you bouncing on my pogo stick.  Well,
you just relax, 'cause my zipper's gonna stay up.  But I'm gonna play, and
you're gonna get your cookies off -- it's kind of a matter of honor..."  He
rocked her back about forty-five degrees; her legs were spread by the couch
arm and she had no way to close them.

	"Oh, nooo..."  He was winning...

	"Dammit, Pop!" Mac's voice grated.

	"Oh, good -- you're back.  Little Donna and I were just gettin' to
know one another."

	"How long have you been home?" Mac queried, disgusted.

	"I was here when you left, actually," Harmon admitted.

	"Donna isn't one of your one-nighters, Pop.  Give her back!"

	"You're quite a bit behind, Son -- when do you plan to catch up?"

	"I don't with this one.  I don't ever remember just wandering in on
one of your women and telling her she owed me a fuck," Mac growled.

	"Weren't you even goin' to air the subject?"

	"Tough to say.  She's a sweet girl, but I have different plans for
her than you generally do for yours.  If I didn't, it wouldn't be a problem,
but since I do..."

	"Oh, all RIGHT!"  Harmon sat Donna back up -- but refused to let go
of her right breast.  "Tell me about your momma, Darlin'.  Is she anything
like you?"

                       ----------------------------------

	Ten minutes later, they were alone in Mac's room.  "I'm sorry!" Donna
blurted.

	"You didn't do anything.  Pop steamrollers women for fun -- older,
experienced women.  You weren't safe.  As hot-blooded as you are, if he'd
been fucking you when I got back it STILL wouldn't have been your fault!" Mac
replied.

	"H--he was right there...  And I couldn't get away..."

	"It's okay, Darlin'!  Relax!"

	"Is he always like that?"

	"Well, he's been out drinking -- and he didn't bring anything
home..."

	"He watched us."

	"You're lucky, then."

	"H--he seemed impressed..."

	"He knows the good stuff when he sees it."  Mac sat on the bed and
pulled her onto his lap.

	"What do I do?"

	"Well, what about your mom?  She's divorced, right?"

	"Well, never married, actually," Donna said quietly, embarrassed.  "I
was, um, an accident."

	"She likes guys, though, right?  And she looks like you?"

	"Well, I think so.  She DOES look like me -- or maybe I look like her
-- but I don't have any idea how good she is...."  Donna's mother didn't seem
to do sex, period -- well, except for masturbation.   But Donna wasn't going
to discuss THAT with Mac...  "What if that doesn't work?"

	Mac grimaced and scratched his ear.  "Then you probably ought to not
make much of a fuss.  Pop generally doesn't do a woman over five or six
times..."

	"What?" Donna turned a look of amazement on Mac.  "I should just roll
over and...?"

	"Darlin', you can make a fuss if you want, but what would you have
been doing if I'd been ten minutes later?  If you were smart, you might have
talked him into just a blowjob..."  '... but you're not that smart,' Mac
added to himself.  "If you fight him, he'll just consider you a challenge --
and you won't be safe, ever.  After five or six times, the new will wear off
and he won't hassle you any more."

	"What if it doesn't go that way?" Donna worried.

	"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Mac replied, toying
with one of Donna's nipples.  'Then you're gonna get a lot of dick...'  Mac
wasn't giving Donna to Pop, period -- he could borrow her, if it came to
that, but that would be all...

	Besides, it wasn't as if Donna didn't like dick; ten minutes later,
her knees were pressed back on either side of her breasts and she was rocking
her pelvis up to meet Mac enthusiastically while he power-stroked her.
Collapsed across her twenty minutes later, Mac reflected that if her mom was
anything close to her in sexual response, Pop would be plenty busy...

                       ----------------------------------

	Sunday morning, Candace managed a serious gathering of the older
generation females -- even Jiang Yi was there.  It turned out that Phyllis
knew a budding realtor -- who was suffering, since amateurs who entered the
housing market during the boom were being destroyed by the bust.  Such was
her enthusiasm at finding a new sucker that she joined the meeting at ten-
thirty with a stack of MLS listings -- and Candace and Louise and Jiang Yi
(who was VERY pleased at being included in something important) spent four
hours touring listings with the realtor, whose name was Joy something...

	Candace stood in the yard of an imposing place on the edge of town
with a phone against her ear.  "Toby?  Candace.  What's my budget?"

	"Well...  What do you think you need?"

	"Something fancy in move-in condition would probably break us,"
Candace replied, "but there is a glut of fixer-uppers.  We're out on the edge
of town looking at an old bed and breakfast.  It's busted up some, but it is
zoned commercial and it has a lot of the facilities we're looking for,
including an airy -- if rustic -- basement and a couple of interesting
outbuildings."

	"How much?"

	"Joy says a hundred -- but Jiang Yi says the guy who owns her
restaurant has his ear to the ground and a cash offer -- and it would have to
be cash, because it really can't be occupied in its current condition --
would probably get it for eighty.  Of course, it might need that again in
repairs..."

	Toby winced.  "Do we have that?  Yes.  Do I want to wave that much
cash around as an acquaintance of Marta's?  No.  Look, if we can come up with
the cash for the purchase, can you talk somebody into getting a loan for the
repairs?  We'll pay the payments -- and close it out in a few months -- but
we can't look TOO solvent..."

	"I think we can probably swing that."  In an extremity, Candace could
-- but if she could shift it to one of the others, so much the better...

	"I don't have to tell you to haggle, do I?" Toby asked.

	"No, Honey -- you're just a kid where THAT is concerned!" Candace
grinned.  "Talk to you later..."

	In the end, Candace offered seventy thousand, knowing full well that
there would be a counter offer.  Joy went away pleased; there would be a
negotiation, but unless the out of state owners were idiots, there would be a
sale...

                       ----------------------------------

	Jiang Yi went home to Frank, after...  "Did ya have a good time with
the girlfriends?" Frank rumbled from his seat in front of the TV.

	"Yes."

	Frank eyed her.  "Ya got something on your mind.  Bring me a beer so
I can wet the brain cells."  Jiang Yi went off obediently and returned with
an open bottle; Frank waved her stocky ass onto his lap.  "What's up?  Better
not be jewelry -- you got eight, ten years before I get senile."

	"It's about the club.  What do you know about...?"  It turned out
that Frank needed an extensive briefing; the Fernando situation, in
particular, had escaped his notice.  Jiang Yi finished up with, "I have a
little money and good credit -- I can probably get the loan -- but I wanted
to ask you first.  I will want to redo the kitchen..."  The house had a
restaurant-class kitchen, but it had been vandalized.

	Frank eyed her.  "You plan to run a restaurant outta there?"

	"Uh, probably not..."  The idea HAD been kicking around in the back
of her mind -- but hadn't surfaced until Frank whipped it on her.  "Catering,
maybe.  Parties."

	"Enough to make a business of it?" Frank eyed her.

	"A hobby, maybe."

	"I got better lines of credit than you -- I'll hook it up.  Don't
Cadillac it and don't set yourself up to be comin' home late and wasted -- I
expect to be fed and fucked regular," Frank declared.  Jiang Yi kissed him on
the cheek.

                       ----------------------------------

	Louise came home to find Fred similarly in front of the TV.  The boys
were out -- presumably with their girlfriends -- so she decided to brace him.
"So, how goes the grand experiment?  Are you gonna move over to the other
side?"

	Fred frowned and glanced around, but there wasn't anyone else in
sight.  This wasn't on his list of things to mess around with today...  After
glaring at his wife for a moment, he grunted, "No, I don't think so.  I've
met some that like it over there and I ain't them.  Why?"

	"I was wondering when you're gonna pay up."

	Fred grimaced.  "That shit in the peep booths wasn't enough?"

	"Nope, sorry."  Louise didn't SOUND sorry.  "I couldn't back down now
if I wanted to -- and I don't.  You've been good, and I'm almost tempted --
but I can't let it go.  In the first place, you'd know you got away with
something -- and you'd probably backslide."

	"I can get my shit on the outside..."

	"You can," Louise agreed, "And you can walk -- but it'll cost you.
On the other hand, you can play both sides -- safely -- if you're not
blackballed."

	Fred realized that Louise had just sweetened the pot.  "What's up?
Is there a rush or something?"

	"The boys have another project coming.  They'd like for you to be...
free... to work on it."

	Fred cocked his head.  "Another freebie?"

	"I'm hearing that this would be a paid project -- with benefits."
Louise's face reflected her opinion of THAT...

	"You hate my guts, don't ya?" Fred grunted.

	"I just don't like it when you get over," Louise replied.  "There's
too much crap floating in the water.  I'm not getting what I want from all
this -- and it rankles."

	Fred eyed her.  "And if I give you this little party you want to
throw?"

	"I'll back off.  Frankly, I don't know where it will leave us --
we'll have to talk about it afterwards.  But I'll withdraw my objections to
you being a member of the club, at a minimum."

	Fred eyed her for over a minute.  Finally, when she thought he was
just going to stare at her forever, he looked away.  "Hook it up.  Tuesday
night, maybe.  Blowjobs are fine and ass is okay, but pussy is where the
damned thing is meant to go..."  Louse stood there for a moment, realized
that she'd been more or less dismissed, and walked out.

                       ----------------------------------

	Terence and Damian and Bonita and Alyssa and Clint were at the
school, at a track meet -- and Brenda was competing.  Randy had come along --
more out of boredom than anything else -- and gotten a surprise; Brenda's
wasn't the only familiar face on the field.  When the 440 relay team lined
up, Bernice Higgins was there on the field...  "Huh!  Bernice runs?" Randy
grunted.

	"Well..."  Bonita shrugged.  "Yes, but not well.  She's always
dropping the baton..."  Bonita wasn't inclined to give Bernice a break, since
she was nowhere near as committed as Brenda was to the sport.

	But on THIS day, Bernice held her own against the competition on her
leg of the race -- and she did NOT drop the baton -- and given the blistering
leg Brenda ran, the team won the 440 relay handily.  "Looks like Bernice did
okay," Randy opined as the home crowd settled down after.

	"Yes," Bonita sniffed, "But Brenda won the race!"

	"It's a team thing," Damian grunted.  "If any of them had fucked it
up, nothing Brenda could have done would have fixed it."

	"That is true," Bonita admitted, "But..."

	"Sweaty tore up the track," Clint finished for her.  "Everybody knows
that.  Sweaty is gonna be All-State -- but she still has to have help from
other girls.  If Bernice had dragged ass down there, they'd have lost."
Terence chuckled and hugged Bonita to him; she was Brenda's cheering section
-- and always had been -- period.

                       ----------------------------------

	Brenda climbed the stands, panting, to sit for a moment with her
cheering section.  "Good race, Sweaty!" Clint congratulated.

	"Thanks, Stinky."  Brenda plopped down beside him after a quick kiss
from Bonita.  "I had help.  Bernice held off that Jenkins chick and gave me a
good handoff.  I thought Monica was gonna lose it for us."

	"You're always complaining about Bernice..." Bonita muttered.

	"She puts out at a meet," Brenda replied, "She just doesn't take
practice seriously.  It's a pain, but then she knows she's not going to the
Olympics or anything."  She leaned up, "Hey, Bernice!"  Bernice looked up and
Brenda gave her the thumbs up.  Clint waved -- and so, after a second or two,
did Randy.

	Bernice had been down on the track wondering why she bothered; nobody
gave two shits that she was there.  It was just another thing...  Coach
congratulated them all -- but Coach was SUPPOSED to...  Then Brenda yelled
and waved, and...  Was that Randy?  Brenda waved her up; Bernice threaded
herself through the guard rail at the bottom of the bleachers and climbed up
to the row below the group to sit sideways on the seat.  "Hey," she puffed.

	"Nice leg," Brenda complimented her.  "I thought Monica was gonna
give it away.  If you hadn't held off that Jenkins chick, I don't know if I
could have made it all up."

	"Thanks!"  Bernice basked in the approval of her teammate and Clint
-- and flicked a glance at Randy, who was nodding.  After a moment, she
climbed up beside him.  "Miriam called me," she said quietly.

	"What?  Scoot down."  He moved the pair of them a few feet away.
"What did she want?"

	"She said something was wrong.  I told her it wasn't me," Bernice
replied.

	"Did she believe you?"

	"Yes.  But she wanted to know if I knew anything."

	"You didn't tell her anything...?"

	Bernice looked at her hands.  "I did, actually..."

	"Aw SHIT!"  Randy rubbed his face.  "Like what?"

	"What you told me.  That she was serious about things and you weren't
-- that you couldn't push her buttons.  That you weren't mad any more."  She
hung her head.  "Maybe you are now."

	"What did she say?"

	"She seemed... resigned.  She asked me if I could do what you want."

	Randy eyed her.  "What does she think I want?"

	Bernice frowned at the bench in front of her.  "Someone who won't
argue with you a lot and get in your face -- someone who will let you... be
the man."

	"What did you tell her?"

	"Randy, I don't want to..."

	Randy walked over her objection, rasping, "What did you tell her?"

	"Yes."

	"So you two are planning my love life?" Randy grated.

	"I...  She..."  Bernice covered her face.  "It wasn't my idea."

	"It was your idea to tell her there was trouble..."

	"She KNEW there was trouble -- she just wanted to know why!" Bernice
erupted.  "I think she knew that, too -- she just wanted confirmation."

	"So it's over," Randy sighed.  He wasn't happy, but he was relieved.

	"I'm not sure.  Maybe she's going to want to try to change..."
Bernice whispered.  "I told her I didn't want to be the one; she said if she
was going to lose you, it wouldn't be because of me -- but I might as well,
um, inherit.  I don't know, though, if she's going to just do it on her own,
you know?"

	"What a mess."  Randy rubbed his face again.  There had been a time
when under this kind of stress he would have started talking to himself and
acting odd -- but he was past that game.  "I ought to spank you!"

	"I was trying to help!"

	"Who?" Randy snapped, "Who were you trying to help?"

	"You!  Her!"

	"Who else?"

	"Not me.  Nobody wants me."  Bernice looked away.  "Not for anything
decent, anyway.  Fuck holes, maybe."

	Randy cocked his head.  "Nah, that's bullshit.  You'll hook up -- you
ain't that bad."

	Bernice just nodded; the implied, "But not with me," was right
there...

	"Time to go back down," Brenda announced, gathering Bernice with her
eyes.  The two of them headed off down the bleachers.

	"What was that?" Damian asked.

	"Trouble," Randy sighed.  "I can't run a chick like you do -- and
Miriam likes it.  It's been sliding downhill for a week or so.  I complained
to Bernice -- and I fucked her Friday night and didn't fuck Miriam, so Miriam
called her -- and Bernice ran those big lips of hers..."

	"You and Miriam are splitting up?"

	"Yeah, probably," Randy sighed.  "It's one thing to be the boss --
and another to have to prove it all the time.  You do it, but I just want to
be able to say 'Shut up!' and have it be over with, you know?"

	"It wouldn't be, with Miriam?" Damian asked.

	"Well, it would and it wouldn't," Randy grunted.  "She would shut up
-- but she would want me to gag her and beat her ass for acting up.  I'm just
not up for that."

	"So you put Frank on her Friday night."

	"Yeah."

	"I see the problem; maybe Frank is the solution," Damian opined.
"He's not easy on chicks..."

	"Maybe."

	"Bernice is a silly bitch, but she's game and she DOES do as she's
told..." Damian murmured -- and left it at that.

                       ----------------------------------

	Frank spent considerable time over the weekend thinking about Miriam
-- or 'Rain Man's Silly Bitch' as he thought of her, since he didn't know her
name.  She'd been wearing a mask at the party, but rumors going around said
her name was Miriam, or something -- and that Rain Man had fucked her in
front of a bunch of witnesses over some kind of dare.  Frank couldn't fathom
Rain Man's attitude; if a bitch was gonna knuckle under and behave herself,
why the fuck wouldn't you want to keep her?  Rain Man's explanation only sort
of made sense; the idea that making a bitch toe the line was too much work
made sense in some ways and didn't in others.  Yeah, bitches were a lot of
trouble -- but you were gonna have to put forth the effort with ANY bitch,
weren't you?  It seemed to Frank that Miriam was less trouble than most...

	Frank spent most of Monday morning making what he considered to be
discreet inquiries confirming Miriam's identity before approaching her at
lunch, "How's your ass?"

	Miriam eyed Frank for a moment, trying to sort through her feelings;
this wasn't exactly the venue where she would want to answer such questions,
but Randy might have put Frank up to it, "A little sore."

	"That's what Rain Man wanted, I guess," Frank opined, eyeing Miriam
to see if she was going to make some kind of denial.  Looking at her, he was
pretty sure she was the one all right...

	Miriam limited herself to, "Yes."

	"I think it sets a bad precedent -- and I told him so.  He oughta
handle his own discipline.  That said, I didn't mind..."  Frank leered a bit.

	Miriam chewed her lip.  "I think I agree."  What did Frank want,
exactly?  Had Randy sent him to follow up?

	"Dunno if that's gonna happen, though," Frank muttered.  "Rain Man
seems to think it's too much work."  He eyed the chunky girl.  "Frankly, I
think he's fuckin' up.  What are you gonna do if he puts you on the street?"

	"I don't know," Miriam said quietly.  This conversation was touching
some extremely raw nerves; she felt her chest getting tight.

	"You oughta walk first," Frank opined.  "I think I know what you need
-- and Rain Man ain't up for it."

	"If you know what I need," Miriam snarled, "then you know that it
isn't up to me!  I belong to Randy until..."  Miriam couldn't go on -- her
chest was too tight.  "Excuse me," she muttered, turning away, thinking, 'I
need to cry somewhere, alone...'

	Frank watched her walking away while he processed her answer.  'I
belong to Randy...'  'Duh!  If they're doing master/slave shit, she can't
just walk, fuck up -- she can't do shit until he cuts her loose!  Otherwise
what the fuck kind of pretend slave is she?'  Frank hustled off, catching
Miriam in the hallway.  Grabbing her by the upper arm, Frank dragged Miriam
under a stairwell and pressed her back against the wall, holding her forearms
and getting in her face.  "You know, don't you?  You're in fucking limbo
waiting for him to cut you loose -- but he hasn't, because he doesn't get it!
That's it, isn't it?"

	Miriam's face collapsed; tears poured.  Big, choking sobs erupted
from her; she dropped her arms and stopped fighting him.

	Now Frank found himself constrained; you don't just take somebody's
bitch.  If he tried to steal Miriam from Rain Man, he and Miriam would be off
on the wrong foot.  He let go of her.  He tilted up her chin.  "I get it -- I
missed a chunk of it for a minute, but I got it now.  Awright, you belong to
Rain Man until he says different.  That works for me; if you walked on him,
what kind of a bitch would you be?  Listen up, though; when he cuts you
loose, I'm comin' for you.  You make the call when it happens -- but I DO
know what you need.  Look around -- you see anybody else who does?"  Frank
backed away, eyed her for a moment, and headed off; time to find Rain Man.

                       ----------------------------------

	That took a couple of hours -- until the end of the school day,
actually.  Frank, constrained by a need to get to football practice,
nonetheless caught up to Randy in the parking lot.  "Rain Man!"

	Randy rolled his eyes.  "That nickname is dead, Man!"

	"Yeah, hey, whatever," Frank waved it off.  "About your bitch..."

	"She's not my bitch," Randy replied, "that's over."

	"No it ain't," Frank insisted.  "Not by a long shot!"

	"Why not?" Randy asked.  "She knows we're not making it..."  Bernice
had told her so, right?  She'd accepted it, right?

	"She doesn't think so."  Frank eyed him.  "You don't get it, do ya?
You're fuckin' her over!"

	"What the fuck?" Randy snapped.  "It's none of your business,
anyway!"  'Of COURSE I'm fucking her over!  She doesn't deserve this...'
Shame sharpened his anger.

	"Just because she KNOWS, doesn't mean she can WALK!" Frank pressed.
"You two have a thing going, right?  She does what you tell her?  ANYTHING
you tell her?  Well, guess what?  SHE CAN'T WALK UNTIL YOU TELL HER!"

	Randy blinked, "What?"

	"Look, Man," Frank eyed Randy as if he was dense.  "If a normal chick
finds out you're about to dump her, she'll walk to save face -- but Miriam
isn't normal, is she?  You guys have some master/slave thing going, right?
And if the slave walks, that's a revolt, right?  Is Miriam the type to
revolt?  Your whole problem with her is that you're playing and she ain't..."

	"Fuck!" Randy rubbed his face.  "Are you serious?"

	"Big time!" Frank nodded.  "She KNOWS, Man -- but she can't walk!
You have to work up the balls to tell her you're done, Man -- all you're
doing is making it worse, hiding from her.  Let her move on..."

	"Why are YOU so fucking interested?" Randy rasped.

	"We're different, Man," Frank muttered.  "The shit you can't handle,
well, it comes naturally to me, you know?  How many bitches gonna put up with
MY shit?"

	"You ripped her a new asshole!" Randy rasped, "Literally!"

	"Yeah, and who put me on her?" Frank replied.   "And did you hear her
having a fit?  Look, I got to go to practice..."   Frank headed off, adding
over his shoulder, "You need to fix this -- just waiting for it to go away
isn't how you do it!"

	"FUCK!"  Frank might be right -- and if he was...  Randy sighed.  'If
he is, I'm being a big pussy.'  That wasn't the new Randy; that was Rain Man,
pretending to be fucked up so no one would unload on him.  But was Frank
right?  Miriam had stayed away... but then, what did she have to gain by
coming around?  The obvious way to find out was to hunt her down -- but the
tearful scene that would probably provoke turned his stomach.  No, he needed
to know, first...

	"Hello, Bernice?"

<1st attachment end>


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