| Return to Oyster Gulch, Chapter 1 The sign read 'Oyst 2'. The one that was supposed to be in front of the two giving the correct distance to the unique community was already gone over a year ago when Heather and her daughter originally passed this way guided by the hand of fate. The last storm had dislodged the weathered piece of wood entirely; now that it lay on the ground where the swirling desert sand could really work its reshaping magic. All the lettering would soon vanish; eventually the sign itself would be dust in the wind. Heather scanned the horizon, despite the glare of the setting sun, for a landmark—anything familiar. The desert landscape was beautiful, varied and monotonous all at the same time. State road twenty stretched out before them in an endless ribbon. Maybe if the sign hadn't blown down... 'Why didn't I read Peggy's directions more closely ... why didn't I print them out?' the slender busty redhead stressed as she searched for something she recognized. She knew of several answers and none of them gave her any comfort. The first was that she really didn't want to return to this life altering place; so she refused to visualize it. So why had she agreed to this vacation in the first place. It was Carly's fault. She glanced at the dark haired woman driving the SUV straining to see through her RayBans, her first female lover and now virtually her mate. Heather looked over her shoulder at the rocks and dunes receding behind them and was sure that they must have gone too far since they left the interstate. She couldn't help but notice the two angelic faces snoozing in the rear captain's chairs. Her daughter Caitlin in one seat and the granddaughter of the woman who had come to be like a mother to her in the other. Stephanie and Caitie, despite a couple of years difference in their ages, had hit it off right from that first meeting in that fateful motel room. Who could say why powerful bonds formed so quickly? The fact was that little more than a year later they were like sisters—better—there was less bickering and more mutual support than most siblings. Technically the sun had set the bright yellow ball on the horizon was becoming orange. Soon it would be pink. They'd intended to start at nine that morning but packing the SUV and getting ready had taken longer than they'd allowed for. It was afternoon when they finally cleared the estate's driveway and made the turn east. If they'd left as scheduled they'd have had plenty of daylight left after the nine hour drive. As it was they were out in the poorly lit desert without good direction and night was closing in. Heather downed the last of her water bottle and couldn't help but think about the last time she'd been stranded out here. It had all worked out for the best but there was no guarantee of that happening twice. Spying a rickety sign she couldn't read Heather impulsively said "turn right at the next road." Carly unquestioningly guided the Escalade through the indicated turn and they headed up the wrong road; five miles west of 'The Gulch'. After two miles the road forked and Heather directed her driver-lover to take the right fork. She couldn't recall a fork in the road to Abbey and Peggy's place but she could be wrong. The second fork solidified the realization that they were on the wrong road. The red haired woman was pretty sure that they were too far west so she reasoned that if they always took the right fork they would eventually get back on course. She was right to a degree. They reached the washed out area that gave The Gulch its name about the same time as the horizon turned its purplish pink. The road ended in a wide sand bottomed valley. On the other side was a viable looking road. "I might be able to get across that," Carly said expressing muted confidence in the SUV; "but if I don't were in big shit." The dark haired driver checked her phone again and saw 'searching for service'. Heather stiffened in her seat. The only way was to go back the way they'd come. "We've gotta turn around," she agreed. At least she'd been consistent in the direction she'd chosen. They could find their way back to the main road—couldn't they? There was no need for the sun glasses anymore. In fact Carly noticed the photo sensor controlled headlights switch on. "Where are we?" Caitlin asked, stretching sleepily and looking out the window at the sand and rocks. Caitie's year had seen more upheaval than many people see in a lifetime. The sixteen year old had handled it with amazing aplomb. As a reward for keeping up her grades her mother's partner had offered her anything her heart desired. She along with her surrogate sister already had every teenaged toy and gizmo known to man. What Caitie asked for was a road trip to visit the woman who had established or maybe just validated her sexual orientation. Her mother was very reluctant but Carly had said "anything" so she really couldn't deny the request. She couldn't bear the thought of being separated from her daughter so Heather reluctantly agreed to come along. "That my dear is an excellent question ... I really wish I had an answer," Carly informed her mate's daughter. Stevie roused from her nap but evidently too late to hear what had just been said, "Are we there yet?" "We're close honey, but we made a wrong turn and we have to back track a bit," Heather answered Carly's teenaged friend's daughter. Meeting the Mitchells through her lover was a watershed in her life. Heather was reluctant at first to accept the offer to come and live in the mansion that Clare Mitchell had purchased with cash. She really felt that there was little she could contribute to the business they were in and freeloading was against her principles. A year later she felt good about her role as housekeeper and cook, sometimes model, secretary, courier—whatever didn't have directly to do with the artistic production of the pictures. She should have been amazed that she accepted the business of photographing underage models for the net so readily. Her conservative upbringing and life married to the same man for twenty years should certainly have made the enterprise a shocking if not abhorrent activity. It wasn't just her husband's philandering ways that drove her to abandon the marriage. It was the age of the women—girls really—that he chose to cheat with. Heather for several months had identified the whole male gender with ex-hubby Hank's misdeeds. The fact that Carly's and the Mitchell's business catered to those tastes and that in effect he, or men just like him, were now paying their hard earned money for just a look felt like retribution. The just turned forty redhead, with the body to die for, had managed to focus her scorn better. She no longer hated all men but she didn't care to get acquainted with any either. Her change of sexual orientation had come about in the very place that they now couldn't find. The memories washed through her quickly; in a very few seconds. This was no time to reminisce. When they came to the bridge Carly stopped right in the middle of the road. "Do you remember crossing a bridge before?" she asked her none too competent navigator. "No ... no I don't," Heather replied feeling her innards roll and clench. 'We're lost!' "Are we gonna be there soon 'cause I gotta pee," Stevie informed. Carly started rolling again and glanced at the compass. They were headed south which was the intended direction—that much was good. 'Why didn't I bring Clare's GPS ... that was just stupid!' The photographer driving the SUV had never felt a need to buy one herself. She'd lived her entire life in The Bay area and rarely traveled outside it. All she had to do was borrow her mentor's. She'd thought of it at some point but then when it got so late and she started rushing to get on the road the very good idea had been lost in the shuffle. She had totally forgotten about the vehicle's on board system, having never used it. Salvation was literally the push of a button away. 'No sense crying over spilt milk, ' Carly excused herself. 'Somehow I need to figure out how to get back on a road that's on the map.' "Is that a house?" Caitlin asked pointing at what appeared to be some sort of structure off to the right of the vehicle. "It could be," Carly agreed as they got closer. "Maybe somebody there can help us," Stevie offered her opinion. When they arrived at the end of the long driveway Carly was surprised to find that it showed signs of recent use. She'd really thought that the dwelling would be long since abandoned. 'Maybe we're not as far from civilization as I thought.' The Escalade's powerful engine was all but silent as Carly coasted up the half mile of gravel toward the house. Most likely it was the loud crunch of the gravel under the wheels that drew the woman from inside before they rolled to a stop in the side yard. She wore a simple shift type dress, her hair was short, dark blonde and combed but definitely not coiffed. Carly exited the air conditioned comfort of the vehicle into the sultry heat of the desert twilight. She noticed that the woman standing at the end of the walk to her front door was tall; close to six feet, Carly thought as she approached. The lady of the house wore a neutral expression evidently waiting for the driver of the SUV to state her business. "We're lost," Carly said smiling pathetically when she reached the far side of her vehicle. "That's about the only visitors we ever get out here," the woman responded. Her expression didn't change. Carly thought if she saw anything in her face it was mistrust maybe even apprehension. "We were on our way to Oyster Gulch and I guess we made a wrong turn," Carly explained with a chagrinned smile hoping to elicit some sympathy from the impassive woman. She heard the doors of the Escalade clunk closed behind her and realized that Heather and the girls had gotten out. The photographer glanced over her shoulder and saw the Logan women approach with friendly smiles on their beautiful faces, but Stevie Mitchell looked stressed—almost to the point of panic. For a moment the dark haired driver was puzzled and then the light went on. "I wonder if my young friend could use your washroom. She's really needs to relieve herself." In true Mitchell fashion Stephanie was wearing a pretty little cotton sun dress. Right now she had her knees pressed together and was slightly stooped forward using all her willpower to hold her water. Carly thought it was a simple enough and understandable request but the owner of the house hesitated as if considering her alternatives. "Okay come on in," she said. There was resignation in her voice. She turned back toward her house with the four women following. Carly and Heather exchanged quizzical looks. The blonde woman took a walkie-talkie that had been hanging from the belt of her shift and said, "Ivan ... come back," There was some crackle and sizzle over the answer transmitted to the black cigarette box sized plastic communication device. "We've got company," the woman announced in the same monotone voice she'd been using all along. Inside the house the woman pointed to a door off the foyer and said, "that's a bathroom right there." Stephanie virtually shot through the door and closed it behind her. All three visitors let their eyes wander around the inside of the dwelling. Although it had certainly seen better days it was still quite impressive especially considering its remote locale. "Ivan is the best one to direct you to The Gulch from here ... he's coming directly." "Thank you so much," Heather said in a voice that dripped honey. "We're so sorry to intrude and we really appreciate your help." Carly looked at her gorgeous red-haired mate and felt the sensation wash over her that was equal parts love and lust. When Heather used that sweet voice and shy smile the photographer thought that there were very few humans of either sex who could refuse her. She looked back at their host—if she could be called that given her unwelcoming demeanor. The woman was tall and quite thin. Carly thought that she'd once been very pretty but time and perhaps circumstance had taken a toll on her face. She had the hard look of someone who's had more than the average number of trials. It was of course only a guess but Carly and Heather both silently estimated the lady of the house to be in her sixties at least. Carly didn't find it unusual for the woman to give Heather a head to toe inspection. Few people didn't appreciate—or envy—the red head's abundant charms. The photographer thought she saw a glimmer, a tiny crack in the woman's gruff exterior. The man appeared out of nowhere. All of the visitors had to look way up to see the weathered grizzled face of the man they knew was called Ivan. He was more than half a head taller than his mate, making him around six foot six, and a full foot taller than Carly who was the tallest of the wayward travelers. When Heather looked at the wiry giant she thought of a nail, long slender and straight. The short silver hair and steel blue eyes only added to the image. The piercing look in those eyes told her that he was actually a hammer. The way the man scanned Caitie from head to toe made her want to slap him. Something told her that it might be the last thing she ever did. "They got lost on the way to The Gulch," the woman explained. Ivan said nothing and continued his lecherous appraisal of Caitlin. Stevie emerged from the washroom looking relieved. Ivan diverted his attention to the new piece of pubescent eye candy. At about the same moment a noise from the hallway leading to the back of the house drew everyone's attention. The naked girl staggering down the hall looked younger than Stevie. Carly's expert eye put her immediately at no more than thirteen. She had just the slightest hint of womanly curves and the bumps on her chest were the size of half tennis balls. Dark wavy unkempt hair surrounded a pretty face and even at a distance of twenty feet Carly could see that the eyes were glassy and unfocused. The girl had bumped into a table in the hallway and knocked over an empty vase. The china toppled over but didn't fall to the floor. Heather, Carly and the girls looked at the tween in amazement as she stumbled over and bumped into the wall on the opposite side. They missed the meaningful look exchanged by Ivan and the tall blonde woman. "That's our daughter and she's not well just now," the woman said hastily as she headed toward the naked girl. "Come on sweetheart, you need to go back to bed," she said as she put her arm around the dark haired nymph and began escorting her back the way she'd come. Carly was ashamed of herself as a firm twitch pulsed in her vulva at the sight of the high round adolescent ass. 'Either they're not as old as they look, or this woman is a medical miracle if that's their daughter, ' Carly thought. Ivan spoke for the first time, "I have to finish what I was doing and then I'll lead you over to The Gulch." His deep baritone voice suited his appearance and the words were spoken with a noticeable accent. Carly thought, 'Russian.' The man headed down the hall after his mate. He disappeared through a door on the right side of the hall and a moment later the blonde woman emerged. 'That's where she took the girl ... their daughter ... what is it he has to finish?' Heather was wondering, but her inquisitive thoughts were interrupted when the tall blonde woman arrived back in the foyer saying, "I'm sorry I've been rather impolite ... my name is Holly ... can I offer you some refreshment while you're waiting for Ivan?" "Oh please don't go to any trouble," Heather replied. "It's no trouble ... no trouble at all," Holly assured her. "I have fresh homemade lemonade in the fridge, would you like some." All four wayward travelers were thirsty and it might seem disrespectful to decline so Carly responded for the group. "That would be wonderful." "Make yourselves comfortable in the parlor, and I'll bring it right in." Holly made a gesture toward a double door on the right side of the entry hall. The two women and two teenagers passed through it into a room right out of the early fifties. Their hostess went in the opposite direction; presumably toward the kitchen. The room was too antique even for the age of the owners. The furnishings looked like the things they might have grown up with. The girls had never seen anything like it and scanned the place as if it was a museum. They hadn't completed the survey when Holly entered with the tray of sweating glasses and a pitcher full of refills. "Please make yourself at home," she invited setting the tray down on the coffee table. When Holly smiled for the first time Heather understood why she might be reluctant to adopt that expression. Her teeth were horrendous. The buxom redhead thought again that their host had once been a knock out but she hadn't aged well. The four of them sat on the long couch and Holly took a seat in the armchair opposite the large coffee table. The girls grabbed the sweating glasses quickly and downed about half the tangy yellow liquid in one gulp. Carly and Heather were more refined but still drank down the sour-sweetness slaking the thirst the desert dryness caused. "What brings you to Oyster Gulch?" Holly said by way of making conversation. Her change in demeanor since the naked girl appeared was startling. "We're here to visit friends," Heather returned, thinking about how she really didn't want to come on this trip in the first place. Holly could feel the crampy heat building low in her belly. When the intruders had pulled up her first reaction was fear. There was a lot to be actually afraid of even if she weren't paranoid. There were enough illicit and legal but home made drugs on the property to get her and Ivan prison sentences longer than the years they had left to live. As far as the little girl was concerned, that might be a capital crime. The fifty-two year old wasn't sure whether Nevada had the death penalty or not. Her reaction was to get rid of the strangers as quickly as possible in spite of how gorgeous they were. The unfortunate appearance of the girl had made that ill advised. Ivan had given her the signal and she knew what to do. She couldn't imagine how he would work this all out but that wasn't her job anyway. For over twenty years he had been getting them into and out of one scrape after another Holly believed—had to believe—that this one would be no different. And 'hey' she thought, 'I was pretty curious about the redhead ... I'll probably get a chance to satisfy it now.' She'd been nursing in the psychiatric ward of the hospital when they met. Holly thought at the time that it was coincidence but would later come to the conclusion that it was Ivan's plan all along. He was so handsome back then, actually still was. As the sales rep for the pharmaceutical company he visited with the staff once a month to discuss any issues they had with medications and to get their views on what kinds of improvements, or new meds they saw the need for. She was already hooked on a couple of things by then. Feeding her addictions from the dispensary was hit and miss. It basically involved shorting patients on their meds, but if there weren't enough prescribed of the right stuff she had to resort to pilfering and that was dangerous. Ivan was able to provide a steady secure supply and the price was quite reasonable—so she'd thought. All she had to do was give the salesman uncontrolled access to the pediatric ward on the nights that she was the charge nurse. She wasn't stupid and she knew what he did in there but she didn't have to think about it. It had been quite a symbiotic relationship for a couple of years until Ivan picked the wrong patient. The ensuing investigation left Holly no option but flight. Even if her drug abuse hadn't reached a stage that that it had, she still didn't have the skill, knowledge and ability to get out of harms way on her own. She came to understand when Ivan relocated them both halfway across the country with new identities without breaking a sweat that he'd probably done this before. After the move she'd of course started living with the handsome drug dealer which was when she became aware of what he was really all about. He was always careful and methodical but the very nature of his business made it imperative to keep on the move. She wasn't exactly sure what the catastrophe was that drove him back to his roots she only hoped that maybe, somehow, this time they could settle. She was getting too old for this. Stephanie, being the smallest, and probably drinking the quickest felt it first. It was a kind of heaviness. Like her muscles were really tired. 'They shouldn't be ... all I've done today is sit in the stupid car, and I was napping half the time out of boredom, ' she tried to argue with what her body was telling her. The weariness wasn't the worst part. It was the tunnel vision. Tired muscles she'd experienced before but what she was seeing was completely new. It was like looking through a dive mask; all black around the edges and even the relatively clear center part was beginning to fog up. Something deep in her brain told her that she should be very afraid, but somehow she wasn't. Her reaction was more like fascination at how the world seemed to be drifting away. There were sounds like people talking but she couldn't make them out. Stevie felt like she should just go to sleep—take a little nap. The problem was not only did she have no idea where she was; she wasn't even sure if she was standing, sitting, or lying down. 'What if I'm standing and I fall down—' the thought occurred but it didn't seem to matter she slid willingly into the abyss. Caitlin was next. She saw her sister from another mother wavering and then slump to the side. It struck her funny and, in her head, she was laughing but on the outside she just looked stunned. The way the girl keeled over was comical, but who was she? The fog rolled in on Heather so fast that she barely had time to realize it was happening. Heaviness ... desperation she felt them for only a second or two. 'I'm in jail ... Oh God where's Caitie—' that thought would normally have caused raging panic but instead she felt serene. She tried to turn her head to look for her daughter. It wouldn't seem to move—but that was okay. Carly knew that she was going to drop the glass. 'It's almost empty anyway ... but what if it breaks... ' she had enough sense left to realize that she really didn't care. "They should have been here by now," Peggy moaned out of worry. She'd been standing at the front window of their neat bungalow looking at the driveway for nearly half an hour. The light was almost gone and she could barely make out the end of the driveway anymore. "When did you talk to them last?" Abby enquired. "About six o'clock, they had dinner in Mill City and had just gotten back on the road." "Mill City! Peggy that's way over two hundred miles ... it might be three. That's gotta take four hours and it's only nine-thirty ... relax," Abby counseled slipping her hands under her partner's arms and up to cradle the large soft pear shaped mounds. Margaret felt the tender touch of Abby's hands on her breasts and it did relax her—sort of. Then the svelte woman's thumbs teased her ultra sensitive nipple through the thin cotton of the T shirt and the pleasure pulse felt like a gush when it arrive a millisecond later in her crotch. There was no need to nor did she try to suppress the groan. Her head settled back against the taller woman's collar bone and she immersed herself in the delightful feeling Abigail was so expertly coaxing from her tingling boobs. Abby took it up a notch. She slipped her left hand under her lover's shirt and brought her right down to press on the plumpness of Peggy's mons, digging her fingers in hard enough to press on the root of her clit through two layers of clothing. The thumb of her left rolled and wobbled the rubbery peg that stuck out an inch from the tensely crinkled areola. Peggy twisted a hundred and eighty degrees within her partner's embrace. The slender woman dropped her hands and grabbed the substantial rump that had just come into range. "Oh fuck—" the twisting woman groaned as she was completing the turn. "Anywhere, any time my darling," Abby responded as their eyes met. "Bedroom ... now," Peggy demanded. Ivan Symenkov secured the naked girl's left wrist to the iron bars of the wrought iron headboard. He had very mixed emotions about what had just happened. His perfectionist OC personality was angry that he had been so careless. The girl was heavily doped up and he thought it wouldn't take long to deal with Holly's untimely call. It might not have been long but it had still been too long. It wasn't his first mistake and it certainly wasn't his worst. The big one still haunted him to this day. He was about to graduate UN-Reno with degree in Pharmacology. When he met Stefan Malonovich it seemed like a match made in heaven—or hell depending on your point of view. Ivan had a taste for young girls, as a matter of fact at that time the younger the better. Mister Malonovich or Mitchell as he preferred to be called was a producer of kiddy porn with a side business dealing drugs. Stephan was happy to trade opportunities with young ladies for Ivan's expertise in mixing drugs. In the eighties being able to produce designer drugs almost to order was a profit center for the Hungarian entrepreneur. The fact that they were from the same part of the world and shared the same mother tongue was a bonus that strengthened the bond. They needed a strong bond because a thorny problem cropped up within the first few months. Ivan wanted ever younger girls and Stefan, or Steve as he had taken to calling himself was unwilling to oblige. The fact that Ivan was quite rough with the girls was an even bigger problem. He'd learned a connection between violence and sexual gratification at an early age from his hard drinking motor mechanic father. Uri Symenkov was a stereotypical Eastern European head of the household but with a tender, loving side. When he got into the vodka, which he made in the backyard still, he could get nasty. Ivan thought that watching his father operate the still when he was a young boy had sparked his earliest interest in chemistry. When his father consumed the product of his labors he took his frustrations out on his wife and Ivan. Too drunk to exercise any discretion Uri sometimes ended his tirade by raping his wife in full view of his young impressionable son. Steve tried to persuade and cajole his drug formulating friend that his girls worked voluntarily and weren't there to be physically abused but Ivan's attitudes toward sex had long since solidified. The senior partner tried to school his protégé in the art of coercion to elicit co-operation from the young ladies. That was fine for Mister Smooth-Talker but Ivan was in favor of a more direct approach. If he saw a girl he fancied he took her. Kidnapping scared the out hell out of Steve. He couldn't see any way to pursue the practice without killing the girls afterward; which for him was totally out of the question. At the time only people with advanced knowledge of pharmaceuticals knew about the effects of flunitrazepam. When used as a sedative its side effect of producing anterograde amnesia was undesirable; for Ivan's purposes it was ideal. As scared as he was of the potential consequences the Steve soon found that he could sell the videos of Victor's rapes for much more than the already exurbanite prices he got for his regular fare. The rented warehouse where Steve had set up his studio was ideal. Tucked away amongst abandoned factories and other vacant warehouses there was practically no traffic of any kind in the area. Ivan began experimenting with the formula to enhance the amnesia producing effect while reducing the sedative value. The results were encouraging as the girls were much more animated and responsive but hours later had very little recollection of what had happened. He didn't even know the girl's name so it was just bad luck when he abducted cute little twelve year old Tatiana Illyitch. Ivan had barely even heard of her grandfather, the de facto head of the North American arm of the Russian mafia. Stefan Malonovich was very familiar with the powerful tyrant and paid a monthly fee to his organization. Tatiana reacted badly too the latest formulation of the drug. She died. Stefan knew that they were going to be in a world of hurt when word got back to Vladimir Illyitch—it didn't take long. The porn producer knew that even his longtime friend Gregor, who was Vladimir's second in command wouldn't be able to shield them; so they ran and in opposite directions. Fortunately for Ivan, the Russian Godfather, unjustly placed the majority of the blame on Stephan. Knowing that the Hungarian immigrant would be a hard target Illyitch went after his wife and daughter. Gregor leaked the plan to Steve; Steve warned his wife and so began a vendetta that would plague the Malonovich/Mitchell clan for two decades. Not having the connections or supplies Ivan was alone and out of business. His income working with and through Steve Mitchell was ten times what he could earn in legitimate business but he lacked the knowledge and experience to continue on his own. Since he'd graduated at the top of his class, landing the job with the major pharmaceutical company was easy. Even if he found the sales job they'd given him demeaning it was a foot in the door. That's when he met Holly and found a new way to pursue his hobby. It didn't take long for Steve Mitchell to regain his confidence. He missed the business advantages that Ivan Symenkov's skill and talent, not to mention his hobby, gave him. It was so much more profitable than anything else that he took the chance of resurrecting the partnership, albeit at arms length. When Ivan's mother died and left him his childhood home in the outback of Nevada it seemed like the ideal place to set up shop. His business was drugs and he had little taste for producing porn but he was no less obsessed with young girls—it was a profitable hobby. He recorded his encounters and marketed them through Steve Mitchell who was always on the run. If Ivan had the pity gene he would have felt sorry for the hardship his big mistake had caused his fugitive partner. Using the secluded homestead in the desert as a base of operations he rented warehouse space in a couple of cities for Mitchell's distribution network. There was always set aside one corner of the leased space for his hobby. One day about two years ago he was in his Reno warehouse when Vladimir just showed up—he looked terrible. The Godfather had never gotten over the death of Tatiana and it was eating him alive that he'd been unable to avenge her. He told Ivan that he suspected there was a leak in his operation but that he'd never been able to uncover it. It was the only way the Mitchell's could have known when he was homing-in every time and relocate starting the chase all over. "I don't have much time left and I want to see this bastard in his grave before I go," the ailing old man told him as he put the nine millimeter Glock on the table. That's when Vladimir Illyitch made him an offer he couldn't refuse. Either he delivered up Stephan Malonovich on a silver platter or he died. To sweeten the deal the old man offered a hundred thousand dollar finder's fee. Ivan could have killed the Russian king-pin right there, it wouldn't have been hard, but he knew that Vlad's lieutenant was lurking in the shadows of the warehouse. He might succeed but it would be moot because he'd still be dead. He agreed to set his partner up hoping that somehow word would get to Gregor who would tip Steve off—it wasn't the case. Having no conscience Ivan was not remorseful for what he had done, but he was sorry that his partner had paid the ultimate price for what was clearly his wrongdoing. Now, once again, his mistake was going to cost lives. Since their visitor's had seen the girl Holly had snatched for him earlier that day, when they got the lesbian enclave that was their destination it was a given that the connection would be made. As far as he knew no one in Oyster Gulch was even aware of his existence but they knew Holly and where she lived. When the wayward travelers saw the posters of the girl, that were no doubt plastered on every lamp post by now, they'd lead the cops right back here to his beloved childhood home. He just couldn't have that. Ivan thought again how wonderful it would be if 'Roofies' had the ability to erase the memory of things that happened before it was taken. There was no way he could formulate a narcotic that could turn back time. His psychopathic personality was able to look on the bright side. The two teenagers were about the sweetest eye candy he'd seen in a long time; now he was going to get the opportunity to do more than just look. Ivan arrived in the parlor and took in the scene he'd been expecting. The two very beautiful women were slumped against the back of the couch. Their eyes were open but Ivan knew that their ability to see was limited. One teenager was slumped on each armrest with a similar vacant expression. The sedative Holly used was the same one Ivan had formulated for abductions. It had a much higher sedative value than the one he used for recreation, but it was very short lived. The dosage Holly had been instructed to give would keep the girls incapacitated for at least a couple of hours but the women, being bigger, could start recovering very soon. He needed to hurry. Hauling the one with the dark brown hair up onto his slim but powerful shoulders Ivan used the fireman's carry to take Carly to the upstairs bed room. He unceremoniously plopped her on the bed and went back for the drop-dead gorgeous redhead. Draped over his shoulder he could feel the woman's substantial bust against the back of his ribs—his dick twitched. He wasn't normally very interested in females over sixteen but he was thinking that in her case he might make an exception. Heather landed on the springy mattress beside Carly the room was spinning and she felt like she was going to throw up. She wasn't really scared just horribly confused. Ivan met his accomplice in the hall as she was carrying the red-haired teenager baby-style to the back bedroom. She'd already deposited the other girl beside the naked abductee who'd caused this whole calamity. Holly set Caitlin down gently and turned toward the door. Ivan was right behind her. "Get them secured right away," he ordered. "I think the dark haired one is already coming around." Holly moved quickly up the stairs to where the unfortunate visitors had been deposited. Her pussy had begun to tingle as the quartet had been drinking the drug laced lemonade. Her coochie was throbbing now as she entered the room where Carly and Heather lay semi-comatose on the queen sized bed. It wasn't often that she got to have her favorite delicacy anymore, so this was going to be quite a treat. Ivan's thoughts were similar. 'I've never had three playthings at the same time, ' he rejoiced, putting completely out of his head where this must ultimately end. |