Gene Polanski, Male, 45

	- Business VP, husband of Tamara, father of Lauren, Finch, and Logan

	- tanned beige skin, 6'1, 210lbs, short peppered grey-black hair

Tamara Khouri-Polanski, Female, 43

	- Professor, wife of Gene, mother of Lauren, Finch, and Logan

	- dark olive skin, 5'6, 150lbs, shoulder-length curly rich brown hair with natural red highlights

Lauren Khouri-Polanski, Female, 15

	- High school freshman, daughter of Gene and Tamara, sister of Finch and Logan

	- medium olive skin, 5'8, 150lbs, back-length curly black-brown hair, colored white-streaked highlights

Finch Khouri-Polanski, Male, 14

	- Eigth-grader, son of Gene and Tamara, brother of Lauren and Logan

	- dark olive skin, 5'6, 145lbs, ear-length curly rich brown hair with natural red highlights

Logan Khouri-Polanski, Male, 12

	- Sixth-grader, son of Gene and Tamara, brother of Lauren and Finch

	- medium olive skin, 5'1, 110lbs, ear-length straight black hair

Holly, Female, 19

	- Companion to and 'researcher' for the Harrelmans, agent of Marker 1

	- Bronze-tanned skin, 5'1, 100lbs, straight shoulder-length straw-blonde hair

Tamara moved her body slowly, her husband's half-hard penis pressing a couple of inches into her vagina. She'd woken early in the morning to feel her daughter's ass slide against her thighs, the fifteen-year old turning over onto her side. The girl seemed to be sleeping.

Lauren's flesh had felt warm against her, half-conscious thoughts of touching her made Tamara grow wet quickly. She imagined the scene Gene had described, Lauren masturbating and putting her father's cum between her lips, tasting the semen that had been in Tamara's ass just moments before.

Tamara had unconsciously slipped her hand back to Gene, found his penis, and stroked it before bringing it to her pussy, pushing back and taking his semi-hard cock inside her. Tamara moaned quietly, moving gently, her husband's dick growing hard inside her cunt. She wasn't sure if he was awake and didn't care. It felt so good to fuck him like that while her own hips moved softly against Lauren's ass.

She let her hand trail down her own body as she humped Gene, hesitated a moment before running it forward on to Lauren's thigh. Tamara let it linger only a moment, just long enough to send tingling thrills through her body, just enough to feel her daughter's warm flesh on hers.

Tamara started to shudder, tried to control it, returned her hand to her own body and slipped it between Lauren's ass and her own hips. Her daughter's soft butt cheeks were hot, tender as her hand slid down and caressed her own clit. Lauren's breathing was still shallow and steady, the girl apparently unaware that her mother was fucking Gene and masturbating at once, the teen's body pressed back against her mom's as Tamara's orgasm mounted.

The door burst open and Tamara froze. Lauren jumped immediately, as did her husband. A man leaned in, panting, shouted, “Up! Get up! Gotta move now. Hurry!”

Five bodies jumped out of bed, three of them naked. The man yelled, “thirty seconds, meet me by the stairs!”

Finch and Logan started to run. Tamara shouted. “Boys! Clothes!”

The five of them jumped into shirts and pants quickly, were by the stairs in seconds.

A tall, black-skinned man in a tight black body suit took Gene's arm, said brusquely, “You with me. The rest of you follow Private Sanderson. Come.”

Tamara grabbed her husband's hand, pleaded, “no! Don't separate us!”

“Ma'am, I have my orders. Move. Now!”

Gene was pulled away quickly, the tall man joined by four other heavily-armed camouflaged men. More soldiers pushed Tamara and the children toward the back of the house and through a small hallway leading to steps down.

- - -

Gene was furious. He'd been ripped away from his family and he had no idea why. The man holding his arm kept his iron grip in place as they moved quickly around the house and toward the high point of land to the East. “What's happening? Where are you taking me?”

“Forces moving in on the compound. Not safe for you here right now.”

“Not safe? What about my family?”

“They'll be fine, Mr. Polanski. Right now, you have to flee.”

“I'm not leaving without them!”

“Yes, you are.”

The man's voice was too flat for Gene's taste, and it made him even angrier. “You sonofabitch! Let me go! I have to get my family!”

The black man didn't slow down, and didn't loosen his grip. Gene reared back his other arm and punched him as hard as he could.

The dark-suited man barely registered the attack. He stopped for two seconds, looked to his side at Gene. “Try that again and I swear to god this will be the most miserable ride of your life.” With that, he turned back and picked back up his rapid pace, a second soldier taking Gene's other arm in that same iron grip.

- - -

“Mom, what's happening?” Lauren's voice was distraught. Seeing her dad taken away was frightening enough. Not having him with them in the small dark room made it worse.

“I don't know. Private, what's going on?”

The soldier held his position, squatted near a wall that opened next to the door. He'd led them down two flights of long stairs, and a handful of narrow tunnels before leading them into the crowded room. Three more soldiers were stationed along the entrance to their location.

Private Sanderson replied sharply. “Unknown people spotted milling around the base of the hill to the South. Believe them to be hostiles, they're certainly armed.”

Tamara huddled on a low couch with Finch pressed into her side. Her nerves had her trembling. Why did they separate us? Oh, God. Gene! Please be ok! “S-so... what next? We just sit here?”

“Until we're ordered to do otherwise. Please. Right now, silence. Tense situation, ok? Need to stay focused. Just sit and wait. We'll be fine.”

Tamara let out an exasperated laugh and almost cried. It wasn't the fear, it was the frustration that had her so close to the tears. She wanted to do something, anything. Sitting and waiting while her husband wasn't there was the most powerless feeling in the world to her. At least my kids are safe... She hugged them all to her, and they held tightly. No one cried, but the fear in their faces was certainly mirrored in her own.

She spoke sharply. “At least give us weapons!”

Sanderson grunted, reached quickly into the black bag beside them, pulled out a P228 and a small machine gun Tamara did not recognize. He slapped them into her hands, dropped a bag at her feet, said, “clips,” and returned to his position. Tamara hesitated only a second before putting the pistol in Lauren's shaking hand and pushing a clip into it, then did the same to her own. Tamara inhaled sharply, tried to catch her breath, and twitched the safety off.

- - -

The small helicopter moved quickly through the deep valley under dark, cloudy skies just as dawn began to push through the cover. Gene sat with his back slouched, the fight out of him for the moment. He felt like a child, unable to make his own decisions. Worse, he felt like he'd just lost his family. No one would tell him more than what Sergeant Wullis, the black man who'd barely felt his punch, told him on the brisk walk up to the chopper, and he wondered if his family was already dead.

Wullis sat across from him beside two soldiers, the other two pressed to either side of Gene. The sergeant occasionally spoke into a headset but the roar in the cabin kept Gene from making out his words. What Gene could see through the small windows was beautiful, but a hollow kind of beautiful. The worst kind, the kind that showed the promise of the joy but nothing else. His family was miles behind him, a distance that grew every second, and Gene could only feel gut-wrenching loss at the way he'd been ripped from them.

- - -

“Mike-One reporting a breach. Protocol fifteen is in order. If they get into the second level, there's a switch under the desk. When I tell you to, flip it, and run immediately to the end of the passage. It is long, but keep moving. Don't stop, and don't turn down hallways. Just stay on the path.” Sanderson called back over his shoulder, getting his rifle settled into his shoulder.

“What? Jesus, they're here? In the house?”

“Yes, now shut it! Please. Just do as I say!”

Tamara shook, felt under the desk for the switch, ready to push it into position. She heard shouting, then automatic rifle fire.

“Do it! Do it!”

Sanderson's words rang in her ear as her finger flipped the switch. A metallic whine signaled a moving panel that rapidly swung open. Tamara pushed her kids ahead of her, yelled, “run, run!” More firing behind them, shouting, Sanderson's rifle booming loudly through the metal passage.

- - -

All the explosions, the gunfire, the times they were almost killed in cars and planes and trucks, nothing compared to running a few dozen feet in front of a boiling firefight. There was nowhere to hide, nothing to do but run. Finch ran for his life, his feet slamming against the metal floor as he sprinted ahead of everyone.

Shouting and gunfire echoed as they rounded a corner, fled past several corridors. Finch had heard the direction to stay on the main path, and his mind had room only for that as his terror threatened to overcome him.

Finch glanced over his shoulder, his brother right behind him, Lauren and his mom only a few feet further back. He saw the fear on their faces, tried to steel himself, and ran as fast as he ever had.

- - -

Lauren's legs were numb by the time they slid out into the grey daylight. Gunfire echoed around the mountains, punctuated by dull thuds. The landing overlooked a river, the cliff easily twenty feet high.

The path seemed to go nowhere.

Lauren looked at her mom. The woman's head turned quickly, taking in the situation, she said, “jump! Jump now!”

The fifteen-year old girl didn't hesitate. She gripped the pistol tight and leapt out from the cliff as far as she could.

- - -

Logan's fear overcame his excitement. All his fantasies had involved running from well-armed enemies, but in those, he'd always felt in control, knew how things would turn out, eager to show his ability to survive. The reality of the run, gunfire splattering behind them, had destroyed his imagination's view of things, left him moving mechanically and trying not to trip over his brother's feet.

He'd jumped immediately into the water when his mother shouted, unable to think for himself or ponder his options. He was so afraid he almost drowned, panic hitting him as he splashed into the cold water, down deep before he thought to surface and breathe.

The water moved him swiftly downstream. Lauren bobbed ahead of him. He looked back to see his brother and Mom a few dozen yards behind. Looking forward, he saw a sharp turn in the flow and sucked in his breath when he saw the white water churning a hundred yards away.

- - -

Tamara swam with the current, trying to close the distance with her children. She'd dropped the weapon as she hit the water, the firearm long forgotten. She caught Finch first, urged him to move with her toward the others. They bobbed and splashed with each stroke, staying afloat on nerve and fear.

They caught Lauren just as they spotted the white churn ahead. Tamara shouted, “Logan, look out!”

There was nothing they could do, no way to safely get to shore along the steep banks. Tamara said a small prayer and braced herself.

- - -

Logan's body felt like a pinball, the churning water slamming him through twists and turns and small drops. He sucked in breath when he could, often being yanked below the surface only to shoot out and fly over another drop. Any other time, he might have enjoyed the ride, but the flight from the mansion safe room had cost him his sense of enjoyment, leaving the frightening rapids just one more thing trying to kill him.

- - -

Gene's head pounded as they flew East then South, rising over snow-covered caps and slipping close to the surface before moving down quickly into the next valley. His guts were churning, both from his sense of loss and from the tight maneuvers the pilot executed without regard to his passengers.

His head pounded, the changing air pressure rapidly pushing his mind into a dull, painful vice. Gene tried to calm down but found that he could not force away the thoughts of his family, of his anger at being separated. He leaned up and yelled in the sergeant's ear, “where we going?”

“Somewhere safe.”

Gene sat back and simmered.

Minover. Wwh-what? What the fuck is Minover? Where'd that come from? The thought was there only a moment, just enough to bother Gene greatly. The word had come unbidden, a whisper against the backdrop of his swirling emotions. Minover... But nothing else made sense about the word, nothing mapped to something he could describe. Gene stewed as he watched the trees zip by only a few feet below the fast-flying helicopter. He groaned, felt a bit sick, and tried to force his body to shake just a little less.

- - -

“I don't know, Logan. I'm working on it. Just sit a moment.”

They'd washed down the river for quite some distance before Tamara had directed them to pull out on a narrow, grassy strip that ran along one edge of the river. They sat huddled, dripping, a few bruises and cuts from the rapids being tenderly prodded.

She had no idea where they were, and when her son had asked her what they should do next, she was lost as to how to answer him. Tamara looked around her. The ground sloped steeply up around them, but it looked passable. She looked upriver, thought they'd probably travelled at least a mile before pulling out.

Tamara wrung out her clothes, noticed that Lauren still held the pistol. “How did you manage that?” she said, nodding toward where her daughter gripped the P228 in her hand.

“Uh... didn't know it was still here.” Lauren couldn't let go easily, even as Tamara carefully unwrapped the girl's fingers from the hilt and took it from her.

Tamara eyed the hill, made a decision. “Let's move. The further we get away from the compound the better right now. Follow me.”

- - -

Wullis leaned forward, shouted in Gene's ear, “putting down. You sit here.”

Gene grumbled, becoming more angry than frightened again. The longer they'd been in the air, the more he regretted not breaking the man's jaw. He'd tried three times to get the man to explain what was going on, where he was going, but Wullis had refused to answer.

The helicopter slowed and leveled, pivoted around, and descended, landing in a large grassy field surrounded by rising mountain faces. Wullis and three of the soldiers jumped out and disappeared, one remaining behind with Gene. The pilot flicked switches and otherwise sat still in the idling aircraft.

Gene pondered running, daring them to shoot him. The open door offered the chance, nothing restrained him. Impulse hit to do it, he braced, then doubts slammed in. I don't know where I am, I have no weapons, and my family needs me to get back to them quickly. Fuck... what to do...

Gene waited a long thirty seconds before he heard the engine begin to wind up again, the helicopter inching up off the ground. The pilot hovered, waited.

A black-suited body skittered into cabin, a flash of metal and movement. Gene saw just a blur as a fist slammed into the neck of the soldier next to him, then yanked back, a bloody knife held tight. The soldier gurgled, grasped at his neck. The black blur grabbed the man's vest, yanked him and tossed him out of the chopper just as the pilot began to gain altitude.

Gene sat frozen, ready to react, unable to know how to defend himself. He assumed he was next. His hands came up defensively, his heart pounding as the black-suited figure in thin, dark googles stood over him, knife a foot away from his head.

“Got here in time. You're a lucky man, Gene.”

Gene stuttered, “H-H-Holly?”

The figure pulled off the goggles and slid back the tight hood from her head, blonde hair pulled back into a long, twisted braid which slipped over her shoulder. Holly sank back in the seat opposite him, her lips tight, her face drawn and looked tired.

“Wh-what the fuck?” he shouted into the drowning drone.

Holly shouted her reply. “Things changed.”

“What?”

“Sorry about your family, Gene... I couldn't do anything about that.”

Gene shouted, “my family! We have to go back for them!”

Holly showed sympathy with her frown, “can't, Gene. Not now...”

“We have to! Holly, we can't leave them there!”

“Right now, Gene, we have no choice. Whatever has happened is over by now. They may be relaxing in the pool for all we know.”

“Or dead!”

“Either way, going back doesn't help. For now... we have to keep moving.” Holly exhaled fully. “I'm sorry, Gene. I don't know what is going on there, not exactly. But right now, my mission is you, only you. I had to steal a prop plane to make it to you in time, I haven't been in contact since late last night.”

“Contact... with who?”

“People I trust.”

“Victor?”

Holly said nothing a moment, sat next to Gene, looked out the window. “Not anymore.”

“Why? What happened?”

“I told you. Things changed. I found out Victor cannot be trusted. When I heard where you were going to be taken when the mansion was assaulted, I knew what he was up to.”

“Up to? Wait... are you suggesting Victor knew we would be attacked?”

“Knew. Planned. Probably fucking led the charge.”

“His own house? His own army?”

“Victor's loyalties are not what they seemed. One of his agents... his agents, not Marker 1's... was discovered and talked. Victor's playing a lot of hands in this deal, and he'll ride whichever one he thinks will win. Apparently, Marker 1 is no longer where his chips fall.”

“So... he attacked Marker 1's forces at the mansion? Why?”

“Cover, I think. He needed you for what you may know about No Limits, had to make it look like you were taken by the Playa Gordo mercs during the fight.”

Gene's mind raced. “The soldiers... the one you killed...?”

“Victor's, not M1. Never saw any of them before I killed them.”

Gene shivered, recalled the spurting blood that had covered the soldier's fingers before Holly tossed him. He looked up, nodded toward the pilot. “Him?”

“Mine.”

“Yours?”

“In due time, Gene. In due time.”

“You keep saying that.”

Holly drew a tight smile, “and I keep meaning it.”

- - -

Tamara kept them moving south at a brisk pace, mostly following the river, keeping inside the tree line whenever possible. They'd passed several farms, a couple of small luxury homes built near the river, and more than a few times raced across fields hoping no one spotted them.

They tired after an hour or so, needed to stop and rest a few moments. Tamara spotted a thick outcropping that overhung the river about a half-mile from the last farm. She called a halt and everyone sat, legs stretched out, panting.

Lauren asked quietly, “any idea where we go?”

“Not yet. We keep moving until dark, we'll find somewhere quiet and out of the way to sleep. Tomorrow, if they haven't caught us, we'll figure out where to go.”

“'If they haven't caught us.' Will they follow us this far? Will they kill us?”

Tamara shook her head, “I don't know, Lauren. We just need to assume the answer to both questions is 'yes.' Drink from the river if you're thirsty, we need to move on quickly.”

Tamara fingered the gun in her hand. She'd flicked the safety on half-way through the time moving over land, wondered if she'd remember to disengage it if someone caught them.

- - -

“Malta.”

“Why Malta?”

Holly shouted, “friendly place right now. We need to get on the ground very soon.” They'd refueled on some small island off the coast of northwest Italy, had said little over the flight. Gene couldn't stop the frustration that built to the point where his jaw hurt from grinding his teeth.

The helicopter passed over open water for most of last leg of the trip, the island coming into sight just as the sun broke through the clouds. The chopper hovered over a grass field and slowly set down. Holly grabbed Gene's arm, pressed a pistol into his hand, said, “let's see who wants to say 'hi',” and jumped out of the aircraft.

- - -

Nightfall had set in quickly as they descended a shallow hill set against a larger, steeper peak. The river had turned southeast before turning north again, and it still rushed by on their right as Tamara decided they needed stop. The small clearing a few hundred yards from the river offered some concealment in the tall grass.

Tamara was exhausted. Her thighs burned, raw in between, her sweat soaked into her clothing. She sat heavily as her children did the same. For long moments, she tried to think about her husband, wondered what had happened to him, prayed he was alright.

The rolling thunder from the West made her spirits sink, and the first drops of rain threatened to wash away any hope they had of a restful night.

- - -

Finch's legs were vibrating as he sat down, the endless walking had long ago pushed the burn from his muscles and left him feeling utterly numb and very weak. It hurt to sit, it hurt to rock his legs. The fear had numbed, as well, though there was plenty of it just below the surface.

As the light faded and the rain began to fall, his stomach felt like it was grinding sharp stones, the day without food and the exertion had left him feeling starved. They'd brought no food, only had water from the river.

Finch looked around them, saw a few buildings to the North, said quietly, “Mom... over there.”

- - -

Tamara crept up to the fence line to where the farm lay sprawled over knobby hills. Lights were on in the farmhouse, but the bank barn near the rear of the property, nestled into a hill, showed no signs of life, not even of livestock. She watched for ten minutes before making her decision to look closer.

Tamara made her way quietly, eyes scanning the farm and surrounding fields. The barn doors on the top level were closed. She dared to open one, heard only the lightest of metallic creaks, looked inside.

The darkness made it hard to see, so she listened a moment, letting her eyes adjust. There was just enough light to see hay piled around the edges of the upper level. She leaned in, couldn't see far enough to look at what was on the lower floor, but heard nothing but the drizzling rain and the thunder rolls rumbling over.

She slid back to where her children waited in the clearing, said quietly, “follow me. Be very quiet, stick to the trees until we get to the barn. We go in through the top, in the back.”

- - -

Gene sat drinking his fourth cup of coffee since arriving. The small hotel room made up for its size with the plush furniture and grandiose accents, such as the bundle of chocolate roses on the small table near the window, and the complimentary bottles of liquors made from honey and pomegranate. Gene had avoided the alcohol, sat staring off the balcony into the dim rectangle-shaped bay that ran a few hundred yards out to the Mediterranean.

The Hotel Xlendi overlooked the lapping water, the darkness obscuring most of its patterns, but Gene could hear the whooshing of the waves as they bashed against the bulkheads, wind driving hard past the balcony.

He'd indulged in the chocolate as he paced, hunger creeping up on him even though he had no appetite. After the helicopter left them, they'd waited a couple of hours huddled in silence before they met a woman near the landing field who led them to a boat and took then in the darkness across choppy waves. They'd motored hard to the north island, finally pulling into a small grassy area. The woman left with the boat and returned south.

A twenty minute walk brought them to the waterfront, concrete and hotels lining the edge of the bay. Gene walked nervously as Holly paced him across the hotel lobby, his eyes darting all around, expecting to be attacked. They'd been met at the room door by a man in dark blue slacks and a rich brown blazer, a full beard covering most of his face. Inside, Holly had introduced Gene to Wistin, along with a small mousy woman with nutty, almond-toned skin named Sofija.

Holly was curt in the greetings, and simply told him to wait while they talked. A knock at the door brought another man who was not introduced but screamed Special Forces in everything from his choice of clothing to the way he moved. Once inside, the man pulled a small automatic from his vest and knelt just inside the bathroom, saying nothing.

The other three had disappeared into an adjoining room and left Gene alone with the soldier. He'd quickly found the coffee maker while pacing and was most of the way through a full pot when Holly swept aside the curtain and opened the balcony door. She stepped out, closing the door behind her.

Gene watched her wearily, eager for any scrap of information.

“I don't know what happened to your family. The M1 forces held off the assault, barely, but it appears a breach occurred that allowed a few mercs to get into the house. Your family used one of the Protocol Fifteen panic routes that Victor had had created. Last trace of them is the river at the end. From there, we don't know anything.”

“Goddammit...”

“Sorry, Gene.”

“What can I do, Holly?” Gene clenched his fists. “Jesus Christ, give me something to do to help them!”

“Right now, there's nothing. If they return to the compound, they'll be just fine. Colonel Fleur will send patrols out to sweep for lingering mercs, I'm sure they'll find your family. Hang in there, Gene.”

“I'm hanging. It's all I'm doing.” He felt very low in that moment.

Holly pursed her lips, stood and straddled Gene's hips. She said very gently, “Gene, I know this is rough, but we're not done yet. We'll know something soon. Keep fighting. Right now, we just gotta make the most of this, what else can we do?”

“What else... Holly, stop that.” Her hips were swaying over his lap. “Please... not now...”

“Gene... I think this is what you need... right now... it's what I need...”

“Holly... I...” Her hand slid down and massaged his crotch, making his flesh jump with her touch.

“Go with it, Gene... go with it...”

His head rocked back as Holly's fingers drew down his zipper and pulled out his penis. He was half-hard as she stroked it and slid back onto her ankles, slipping his cock into her mouth. Holly mewled as she sucked him to hardness, going slow, making Gene feel more relaxed than he deserved.

All the terrible thoughts of the day slid away, hovered just below the surface, but effectively blocked by the warm, wet lips on his cock. Gene moaned, took Holly's hair into his hands, began to force himself into her mouth, fucking her lips. She smiled, laughed around his cock, didn't resist as he humped her face.

Gene felt anger, frustration, desire for something he could control. It burned in him as he slammed Holly's head down on his cock. He pushed her to her feet, turned her around, bent her over the railing. Gene yanked down her pants and panties, rubbed his cock against her shaved labia, and pushed deep into her pussy.

Holly moaned as Gene fucked her, holding her waist tightly, his dick pounding into her nineteen-year old vagina. Gene grunted as he humped her, her pussy wet and growing wetter. Holly called back over her shoulder, “oh, yes, Gene. Punish me... make me feel it...”

He spanked her ass as he fucked her, again, again, leaving large red marks on her butt. He did the same to the other side, slapping her, the snap of flesh-on-flesh driving him into her harder. Holly moaned and let him pound her. She moaned again. Gene yanked her by her braided hair back to him, wrapped an arm under her breasts, slammed against her hard.

He held her face as he fucked her, drew back, and slapped Holly. She grunted, ground down and back against him, said, “again... again!” He slapped her again, again, wrapped his fingers around her throat and bellowed as he ejaculated forcefully into Holly's vagina.

She came as he did, not bothering to mask her screams as Gene pounded his semen into her body. She shuddered and tried to take every inch of his squirting cock deeper into her spasming cunt.

Gene held against her, panting, the anger flooding away. He withdrew his fingers from her neck, let her lower back to the railing, and pulled out, sinking into the chair. Gene watched his sperm drip from Holly's shaved pussy.

She turned, a wicked smile on her face. Holly knelt down, cradled his balls. She looked him in the eye, said firmly, “that was the Gene Polanski I wanted the first time I fucked you. We're getting to know each other, Gene. I'm starting to hope you survive.”

- - -

Lauren tried for a long time to sleep. She was exhausted, out of all willpower to do anything but sleep. But it kept its distance, teasing her with softness before a creak or a thunder crack brought her back to alertness. It was creepy, frightening, only her mom's arms wrapped around her doing anything to mitigate the nauseating fear in her mind.

They'd quickly settled down on a dirty mat that lay over a flattened bale of hay. The four of them squeezed together for warmth as the air grew cold. Finch had thrown a small wool blanket over them, but it was nowhere near big enough to cover them all.

Her mom's tits pressed into her back, and for a moment, Lauren's mind drifted there. Just a moment, nothing more, another creak making her jump and push back tighter against the warm body behind her. This is going to be a long night...