Message-ID: <31481asstr$995343002@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: From: kellis X-Original-Message-ID: MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; charset=US-ASCII Subject: {ASSM} The Last Fling: Easy Come, Easy Go {Varkel} (Mf Mf oral) Date: Tue, 17 Jul 2001 00:10:02 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: kelly, gill-bates The Last Fling an April-December Adventure Presented as a Series of Episodes by Varkel Copyright (c) Varangian and Kellis, July, 2001 Episode 2: Easy Come, Easy Go "Get the phone, will you, Lou? I've about got this nailed." Lou put down the _Financial Times_ and got to his feet. Across the room Jack was sparring with the new operating system on his just acquired computer, neither of which much resembled the previous. Lou grumbled, "Don't know why you had to buy a another phone so quick. I liked the peace and quiet." Jack grunted. "It's probably Kathy Saunders. Her cavity needs filling." That was hardly worth comment. But the teenagers had been gone for four days. If this was Kathy, Lou decided he was willing to talk. "Hello." A man's gruff voice said, "May I speak to Lou." "Lou who?" asked Lou, suddenly reminded again of the boo-hoo jokes. "Are you Lou?" Lou frowned. "What if I am? Who the hell are _you_?" "Sgt. Rutledge at Seward County Detention. I'll speak to Jack if you're not Lou." "Ah, excuse me, officer. I'm Lou." "Just a minute." Lou peered at the telephone's caller-ID display. He had never developed the habit of consulting it because usually his glasses were somewhere else. Now they perched on his nose to permit reading the newspaper. Sure enough, this call was from SEW CO DTN. He yelled, "It's the law, Jack, and something funny's going on." Jack turned around with a scowl. "The law?" Lou opened his mouth to repeat the phone conversation so far, but a familiar soprano voice sounded hesitantly in the receiver. "L-Lou, is it really you?" "Betsy!" he responded. Jack jumped to his feet. "Oh, god, Lou," said the girl. "I ... I can't say how glad I am to hear you!" "What's the matter, honey? Where's Anita?" "Anita's here too. They locked us up with h-hookers, Lou." "With hookers? Listen, Betsy, do you know which one of the jails you're in?" "Huh? It's just a jail. It's got men too." "Tell Anita we're coming for you. Let me speak to the sergeant." Jack, having arrived with his ear near the telephone, nodded vigorous support. After a moment the original male voice returned. "Sgt. Rutledge." "Where are you holding my girls, officer?" "Your girls, are they? They're in the Freedom Street facility." "What's the charge?" "Solicitation of a sex act." "Have they had a bail hearing?" "You don't need it for a Class-G Misdemeanor. The bail is $500 each." "We'll be right there." As Lou hung up the phone, Jack started toward the garage. "Let's go!" "Wait a minute, Jack," the smaller man called over his shoulder as he dashed to the bathroom and opened the safe behind the mirror. "They'll want cash." Quickly he counted out a thousand dollars, adding another 200 for good measure. He closed the safe, straightened his shirt collar and rushed after Jack, who was waiting at the door. "Well, let's go!" But Jack had lost his urgency. "How do we know this isn't another decoy operation?" "What? You're kidding!" "All you have is some man claiming to be an officer." Lou paused. "And the caller-ID." "Maybe he called from somebody's empty desk in the county offices." "That's paranoid, Jack." Lou sighed. "But you're right. Why take the chance? Set the burglar alarm." "Ah, do you remember how to do it?" Lou snorted. "Is it too simple for you, Jack? All you have to do is press this button." As Lou's finger descended into the box newly mounted beside the entry door, a raucous howling began outside and the lights went out throughout the house. "Shit!" cried Lou. "What's the disarm code?" Jack was aghast. "That thing will call police headquarters in 30 seconds." "The code is your ex's birthday. Come on, tell me!" "Oh. Eleven, Twelve, ah, 42." Feverishly Lou punched keys. The noise died and the lights returned. "Whew!" Jack observed dryly, "Yeah, it's too simple for me." Lou responded sheepishly, "I forgot to hit the reset key first." Cautiously he punched two buttons and looked around. "Now we've got 30 seconds to get out of here." * * * "We're here to make bail for a couple of girls," Lou told the uniformed woman. She sat behind the desk in a dank smelling room with unadorned cinderblock walls. "What's the names?" He opened his mouth and only at that moment realized he had never heard them. He said instead, "Would you ask for Sgt. Rutledge? Tell him Lou and Jack are here." The woman's eyes narrowed, but she picked up her telephone, punched a few keys and mumbled something indistinctly. After listening for a moment, she asked Lou, "Are you here about Betsy Elaine Coggins and Anita May Snith?" "Oh, yes!" Lou declared, trying to conceal his sudden relief. "Betsy Elaine Coggins and Anita May ... _Sn_ith?" The woman mumbled briefly, listened again, then returned the instrument to its cradle. She shook her head. "We can't release them here. You'll have to go downstairs to Juvenile and attest to your guardianship." Jack stepped to the front. "But you're holding them here, aren't you?" "Yes. Even so, you can't pick them up here." "They are not juveniles, madam. Or put it this way: if they are, Seward County has just broken the law. You have incarcerated them with adult prostitutes, and that's a big no-no for juvenile girls. I suggest you call that sergeant back and get the girls in here, not downstairs." "You're a lawyer?" "No, but I've worked with juvenile law quite a bit. These girls are eighteen. Didn't they tell you?" "They told us. But they're undocumented and their manner and speech is a lot closer to 14." "Well, now you have corroboration. Call your sergeant, or I'll call _my_ lawyer, and I suspect he'll want to call the newspapers." Lou nodded approval at Jack. Indeed the taller man had endured several encounters with juvenile law, even if most of them were 20 years ago in another state. His now upstanding son had suffered severely from the social mistake of ingesting proscribed drugs. And getting caught. Repeatedly. The woman again took up the telephone and spoke briefly. When she put it down, she glowered even more disdainfully. The men sighed and leaned back against the wall. At least it had been recently painted. It was an institutional pastel green. About five minutes later the door behind the desk opened. A hulking brute of a man with sergeant's stripes led two young girls, dressed in jeans and T-shirts but barefoot, into the room. They were Betsy and Anita. Their hair was in disarray and their feet were dirty. Their hands were empty. Their eyes lit. "Oh, god," Betsy squealed. "Lou and Jack!" She lunged forward but an arm like a sapling trunk held her back. "How about you, Ms. Snith?" the huge man demanded of Anita. "Do you know them?" No one could doubt the delight in her face. "Oh, wow!" The man whirled. "Who are you guys?" Gimlet eyes bored first into Lou then Jack. Lou took out his wallet and smiled easily. "We're the guys who will post their bail." "Not without some proof of guardianship." Jack sniffed. "We've already gone through this with your receptionist. You --" The woman declared, "I'm the Admitting Guard." "-- With your Admitting Guard. You have incarcerated these girls as adults, which will be duly noted if you claim them to be juveniles. In fact they _are_ adults, and now they have the money to make bail. The only proof you may demand is the money and their signatures of compliance." He looked at the woman. "Do you have the papers ready?" "Where's the money?" demanded the sergeant. His eyes held an ominous light. Jack put a restraining hand on Lou's arm. "Let the girls give it to him." Lou shrugged and divided the money into two packets, giving one to each girl. "$500 apiece," he noted. "Oh, wow!" breathed Anita. Betsy laid her packet on the desk, Anita following. The woman frowned but began counting it. The hulking sergeant watched with a sour grin. He glanced up at Jack. "Aren't you guys getting a little old for this work?" "What work is that, Sergeant?" "Pimping." Jack's eyes narrowed. "Your name is Rutledge, I believe." He craned his neck at the nameplate on the desk. "And this is Gail Jarvis. Ms. Jarvis, you may be called as a witness to this defamation." The sergeant laughed aloud. The woman flashed him a worried glance but shrugged and turned cold eyes on Jack. "I'll be a witness that two geezers who wouldn't even give their names bailed out two probably underage hookers. I'm willing to let the judge make up his own mind. Sign here, girls. There's a paper for each of you. Don't forget to show up in court on the eighteenth of next month." "Where's their stuff?" asked Lou. "They've got everything they came in with," the woman answered, "plus two meals at county expense." "Yuck!" Anita proclaimed, making a face. * * * "All right. What the hell happened to you?" demanded Jack as he wheeled the big Lincoln onto the throughway. "You left us four days ago with over $500 in your purses. Huh! What happened to your purses?" "We got ripped," admitted Anita, once again in the front beside Jack. She had jammed her body against him, one arm over his back, the other around his chest, her head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry," she murmured sadly. "I always stink when we get back together." "And you're dirty, too. But somebody stole your money?" Her voice was low. "It was my fault." "_Your_ fault!" Betsy carried on the tale from the back seat, where she tolerated Lou's close embrace with obvious reluctance. "A $100 bill fall on the floor when we pay for some burgers. Two guys following us snatch our purses right out'n our hands." She sighed, then grinned. "Easy come, easy go." "Didn't you scream?" asked Lou. "Wouldn't anyone help you?" "Yeah." She giggled. "Two old guys, maybe older even than you, holler, 'Stop, thief,' and shake their fists, but two old bats grab them and drag them off, looking back like _we_ is the bad 'uns!" "When was this?" asked Jack. "Night before last." "Then what happened?" "We got pretty hungry yesterday." "I'll bet. Why didn't you call us then?" "We ..." Betsy sighed. "We took your money, Lou. And Jack's too. We don't think you wanta hear from the likes of us again." She sighed more heavily. "Then we land in jail. It's our first time. I ... I'm sorry, but the sergeant's like, 'You can make one phone call,' and I can't think of nobody else but you. I guess we's just bad news all around, ain't we." "Not _all_ around," Lou countered with a chuckle. "How did you land in jail?" "We's going through the trash cans when this swell dressed guy stops us on the beach and says how would we like some big money. We's like, 'Sure!' He's like, 'Take out my dick and play with it and I give you $50.' Ain't nobody paying attention, so I take it out and he puts a $50 bill in my other hand. That's when a policewoman with a camera comes out'n the portajohn. He says to her, 'You get it?' She's like, 'In the box,' and pats her camera. That's when he tells us we's under arrest." Jack asked, "Are you sure it happened just like that? He offered _you_ money for sex?" "Oh, yeah. 'Nita heard him too." "Entrapment!" "What's that?" asked Betsy. Lou mused dryly, "Trouble is, I doubt seriously the cop will remember it that way." "Too bad you didn't carry a recorder, Betsy." "Well, _he_ might've. He has this Nerf ball a-hanging on his shoulder. On the way downtown I, like, ask the policewoman what for. She's like, 'To keep the wind off'n his microphone.'" Jack said thoughtfully, "I'd be willing to bet a clever lawyer could trick them into producing that tape." "Oh, Lou!" Betsy complained suddenly, twisting her body. "Let up, will you? I'm worse than just stinking. I feel so _nasty_ after being with them dirty women. They slobbered all over us, more'n you do. We both had to fight them off. If you just let up till I take a shower, you can do anything you want." Shamefacedly Lou withdrew his hands from the blonde's T-shirt and jeans. In the front Jack laughed briefly and tilted his head just above Anita's hair to ask, "Was it so bad, sweetheart?" She turned her face up and whispered in his ear, "I didn't think so. Betsy just can't stand women on her 'less she's drunk." "But you can?" She giggled. "I can stand anybody that stays in the right place. But she's right. They really did stink! You pro'ly oughta let me clean up." "Oh, I shall." He turned his face toward the back and spoke louder. "We had the man over this week to fire up the hot tub. You girls don't have to worry about getting clean. Lou and I are going to scrub those sweet tails until they sparkle!" * * * But Jack was not pleased by Lou's nudity and his own in the bright daylight. The hot tub was sunk in a small tile-covered deck built into an alcove on the side of the house, open to the sky aside from the ubiquitous insect screen, protected from curious external viewers by a tall redwood fence. The smaller man's rotund paunch and overlapping belly flap offended Jack's eyes, except that in looking away from Lou he espied his own reflection in the glass doors opening to the deck. His skinny neck, flesh sagging on arms where triceps were once discernible and the rich blue networks of varicose veins on his legs and hips constituted at least as great an eyesore. He recalled Lou's words during his disparagement of Kathy Saunders -- "Have you looked in the mirror lately?" -- and realized how much he had avoided doing just that. The girls, however, didn't seem to mind, which Jack knew was the main concern. And best of all, he and Lou could look at _them_! Their sleek wet bodies flashed silvery in the blue sky light while the men's were masked by the agitated water. Briefly the four played a less frenzied version of the well-known teenage game, "grab-ass," with the men clutching handfuls of firm breasts and firmer buttocks. But the girls retaliated with handfuls of more sensitive flesh that shortly had their victims begging for mercy. A quieter period ensued on the tiles outside the tub with the girls standing before the men, who scrubbed them as promised with bare hands and tongues. Once cleaned and rinsed the girls again stepped daintily into the tub followed by their eager hosts. Lou immediately arranged Betsy into the position of a dinner plate with her succulent femaleness against his mouth. "What a marvelous combination!" noted Jack, regarding Betsy's buttocks resting on Lou's paunch, her legs over his shoulders, her torso lying back in the swirling water, supported by hands extended to the plastic bottom. "Lou and Betsy?" asked Anita, twitching on Jack's shoulder from the effect of his hand between her submerged legs. "What's so great about them together -- or is that what you mean?" Jack leered. "I mean a sweet young pussy and an old man's tongue. You can't wear out either one." "Don't a tongue get tired?" He grinned at her. "Does yours get tired when you lick Betty?" She blushed and whispered close to his ear, "We did do that, two or three nights on the beach, after you shown us how." "And did your tongue get tired?" "Yeah." She shivered. "But I forget it when I come." "You mean, when you 'jizz?'" "Huh! Girls don't jizz." He regarded her thoughtfully. "Some claim they do, out their ureth-- their pee-hole." "Yeah, sure. Girls'll tell men anything." She laughed sarcastically. "I can do that too. Wanta see me? Only it tends to be yellow 'less I drink a lot of beer. And it stinks." He nodded slowly before an inquiring expression appeared on his face. "I haven't had the opportunity to study a girl's manner of pissing since Clara, ah, since my college days. Are you willing to show me?" Her voice softened. "Clara was your college girl?" He sighed. "Yeah. And then my wife for a long time." "Didn't Lou say you was, like, divorced?" "Yeah. I guess I was working too hard. She came to prefer the gardener." The girl's eyes widened. Her hand slipped under the water. "His couldn't've been bigger!" "I gather his was more available." Jack grinned. "But you make such simple demands on your man!" He chuckled. "And I love it that most of your guys can't meet them." Her hand moved under the water. "Betsy's like, 'A big 'un'll make you sore.' But I love this one, Jack. It ... stretches me so _good_!" "You sweetheart!" She moved around in front of him, pressing her sharp nipples into his chest, her haunches settling over his thighs. But after several tries to the point of pain he proved unable to penetrate her. They had to conclude that water was inadequate as a lubricant. "We need Vaseline," Jack announced, gritting his teeth. "They's some in the bathroom. I'll go get it." She rose to straddle him but he caught her hips. "Don't go. We can always get started in the air. While you're up there ..." He rested his head on the padded edge, leaving all below his shoulders under water. "Sit towards me on my chest." "Oh, wow!" She spread her legs to either side and slid herself toward his face. As her wet pubic bush approached, his fingers slithered under her legs and pried the puffy lips apart. His face had brightened with anticipation until that moment. "Oh, shit!" he exclaimed in disgust. She bent far forward, peering into her own cavity. "What's wrong with it?" "How the hell should I know? The last time I watched a woman pee, I could see what was happening!" "Oh." She had to giggle despite her well-trained caution. But she was able to ask with a straight face, "Want me to go get your eye glasses?" He mumbled something about his sense of smell still working. His hands withdrew to reappear clasping her hips. He pulled her against his mouth. She gasped and began to tremble. Shortly her weight settled more fully upon him. She sagged over his head, her arms extended to the edge of the tub. "Oh, Jack," she moaned, "I sure hope yours don't get tired soon!" * * * When they finally left the tub, the girls' hands and feet were wrinkled as the men's. All four retired for naps, the blonde with Lou and the slim brunette with Jack. The men were exhausted, though neither would admit it, and the girls had spent a sleepless night in jail. It was full dark when they awoke. The girls, still naked, made cold sandwiches in the kitchen while the robed men watched. "My god," Lou murmured, staring meaningfully around at Jack, "do you think your eyes could ever get tired of such grace and beauty? Look at those butt cheeks! I could run my tongue under them all day." Betsy remarked tartly over her shoulder, "You almost did, Lou." She shivered. "Nearly drove me out'n my mind." "_Tongue_ is right," Jack agreed. "Too bad we can't run something else in there all day." "Oh, no!" Betsy shivered more violently. "We couldn't walk for week!" "Oh, wow!" exclaimed the brunette, winking at Jack. The blonde brought a plate of sandwiches to the table and stood grinning at Lou. "I heard a joke about this old guy in the hospital. The doctor's like, 'Open your gown and show me your sex organ.' So the old guy opens his gown and sticks out his tongue." "Yeah, I've heard it," Lou sniffed. Jack was curious. "I'm surprised that _you_ heard it! Who told you?" "The old guy that give us a ride the other night when we's naked. After he licks on 'Nita. I told you about it." "I wanted more," Anita murmured, "but we was sore." Her eyes widened. "Hey, that rhymes!" Lou cocked his head. "I'm glad to see your bruises have almost all faded." "An advantage of youth," Jack contributed. Lou continued, staring at the girls, "And I hope you'll let me prevent you from getting bruised up that way again." The two girls took seats alternating with the men. Betsy smiled before biting into her sandwich. "How you gonna do that, Lou? Keep us from getting boyfriends?" Lou shook his head. "I know you'll need boyfriends. But if you let me, I'll see that you get a lot better ones than Luke and Bucky. By the way, how would you like to see them punished for what they did to you?" "Punished?" Betsy's eyes widened. She grinned but wiped it quickly away. "You two'd look worse'n we did!" "Not we two, Betsy." His voice was harsh. "I'm talking about a bunch of big, tough detectives. If you'll point out your ex-boyfriends, so good at beating up women, I'll see them brought to a place where _you_ can return the favor, where as the saying goes, their asses will belong to you." Jack frowned at his friend, but turned curious eyes on the girls' reaction. They stared from one man to the other. Betsy's mouth fell open. For once she was speechless. "You can do that?" asked Anita. "Oh, yes! But you'll have to point them out. 'Luke and Bucky,' even if he is taller than Jack, is not enough identification." "Maybe they learn," mused Anita, "not to treat other girls so mean." Betsy took a long, shuddering breath. "I don't know, Lou. We's shed of them. I'd as soon forget them, so long as they don't bother us again." Jack cleared his throat and declared firmly, "That's a good conclusion: 'So long as they don't bother us again.'" * * * Lou opened one eye owlishly. To his sorrow it was Jack and not Betsy who was shaking his shoulder. "Wha--" "They've done it again, god damn them!" Lou raised up and looked hastily around. The bed was empty. Jack in a lounging robe stood beside it. "Don't tell me they're gone!" "They're gone. This time you check _your_ wallet!" "Throw me my pants." Sitting up in bed, wallet in hand, Lou counted his money and frowned. "$274. I'm certain there was over $300 in here." Jack grinned sourly. "Yeah, they're showing us mercy. They only lifted about a hundred from me, too. Ungrateful little bitches!" "Are you sure they're gone?" Lou got out of bed, popping open an underwear drawer. "Did you check the hot tob?" "Yeah, I checked the hot tub. But the money shortage is the clincher." Lou slipped into a T-shirt and pulled on his overshorts, then started for the door. "Where're you going?" asked Jack. "To piss first. Then I'm going to look on the beach. I'll bet they haven't gone far." "It's a waste of time, but I'll join you." To Lou's chagrin the beach was heavily populated for a non-holiday. Umbrellas were set every hundred yards or so with sunning bodies of all sizes clustered around them. Then he reconsidered. Perhaps this was actually an advantage. His wristwatch displayed 9:14 A.M. "When do you think they left?" he asked his taller companion. "Who knows? They're very sneaky little cunts, you know. I'm sure they're well-practiced at slipping off with whatever they can carry." He gritted his teeth. "We laugh when they brag of doing it to someone else, like that farmer who befriended them. What fools we are!" Lou smiled tolerantly. "You just don't understand them, Jack. Why would you expect trailer trash to have any sense of property rights? I'll bet all their lives they've been made to share everything in sight." "Huh!" Jack sneered. "Even a dog understands property rights." "They've been taught to share," Lou repeated resolutely. "Which is why they're so willing to share their pussies." Jack gulped and closed his mouth. With a grin Lou turned away to approach the nearest umbrella. "Excuse me," he intoned. "I'm looking for my granddaughters, teenagers in T-shirts and jeans. Have you seen them in the last hour or so?" The young man shook his head. "No, but we've only been out here a few minutes." When four other umbrella-situated groups produced similar non-results, Jack observed thoughtfully, "Everyone's looking at the ocean." Indeed it was generally true, aside from the few who were now speculating about the two old men. "Besides," Jack continued, "what did you plan to do if you found them?" Lou looked up at his friend. "Ask them to come back." "And if they refused?" Lou sighed and shrugged. Jack continued sarcastically, "You'd follow them around, begging like a scorned dog." Lou shook his head but said contradictorily, "I guess so." "Well, think about this. _Why_ did they only take a hundred from each wallet?" Lou's eyes narrowed. "Because they were in a hurry?" "No. Because they wanted to keep their bridge unburnt." Lou took a breath. "You see it as a hopeful sign?" "I do, though why I should hope for more of those --" He shook his head violently. "I take it back. I want them back too. Correction: my _dick_ wants them back! Now come on, Lou. Let's go home where we'll hear the phone when they need bailing out again." * * * One of life's bitter little truths is that the anxiously awaited bus, boiling water or telephone call never seems to arrive. In fact no telephone in Jack's house rang at all until the third day after the brief respite from loneliness. Tired of hearing Lou's whines, Jack had gone off to his computer and the distractions of the Internet. Thus when the phones finally rang, both men simultaneously snatched up a receiver and bellowed, "Hello!" Pause. "Who's a-speaking?" It was Betsy's soprano, hesitant, as if she were half persuaded of a wrong number. "Jack," declared Jack. "Lou," declared Lou, again simultaneously. "Huh? It's both of you?" "Betsy!" both men screeched deliriously, but Jack recovered first. "Are you in jail again?" "No, it's 'Nita. I don't know what to do." "Anita's in trouble?" "She's hurting bad. It's her side. She's all balled up on the ground beside this phone booth. I think it's her 'pendix." "Good god! Where's that phone booth? Where are you, Betsy?" "At a Lazy Seven on Beach Road, I think about Ninety-first Street." "Don't go anywhere. We'll be right there." "Please hurry. I ... I'm afraid she's gonna die." "Hang on. We're out the door right now." Lou found Jack waiting at the door to the garage. "Set that burglar alarm," the tall man ordered. Lou complied competently this time. "Take my car?" he asked, closing the den door. "No," Jack answered, pressing the button to raise the door behind his own car. "Betsy is familiar with mine." In Jack's Lincoln, rushing up A1A at half-again the speed limit, Lou asked dryly, "So you think this is another decoy?" "I'm withholding judgment. But it would make a good setup." "You'll never trust them, will you?" "What do you mean?" Jack protested. "Of course I trust them -- to run off and steal me blind at every opportunity." Lou sniffed. "They hardly stole you blind this time!" "Perhaps not. But I remind you they've been in my house three times now. Each time their departure coincided with an involuntary reduction in our holdings. How long can that go on, Lou?" The smaller man looked away. His voice was low but by concentrating Jack understood him to say, "As long as it takes for them to quit hurting." "Hurting? What are you talking about, Lou?" But Lou only shook his head. Jack opened his mouth to press the question but the Lazy Seven sign, a stylized numeral seven lying on its side like a reversed check-mark, appeared among the palm trees. As they approached the intersection, they both saw two girls sitting on the curb beside the external telephone booth. One was doubled over, head between her knees. Jack wheeled the big car into the parking lot beside them, and both men sprang out with whatever alacrity each could muster. "Oh, god, I'm glad to see you!" breathed Betsy in obvious relief. Jack sank beside Anita, hand on her shoulder. "What's the matter, honey?" "Oh-h-h!" the brunette moaned incoherently. She looked up at the concerned old man, tears dripping from her cheeks. "Good god!" he cried, appalled. "Lou, give me hand. We've got to get her in the car." Betsy held the door as the two men bundled the slim body into the middle of the back seat. Lou and Betsy sat on either side of her as Jack returned to the driver's seat and snapped the car out of the parking lot to roar down the boulevard. In the backseat Lou, holding Anita secure against the lurching car, asked, "Why didn't you just go to the hospital?" "Huh!" Betsy sneered. "You mean Seward Medical? How's we gonna get there?" "How about a taxi?" She looked away. "We's broke again." Lou studied the girls. They were wearing better quality jeans but the same style of T-shirt. Again they were without shoes and purses. The obvious questions could wait. Anita was bent over her knees, moaning, tears streaking her cheeks. He asked, "How long has she been like this?" "An hour or two." "What did she eat?" "Nothing so far today. We had a burger and coke last night." "Where exactly does it hurt, Anita?" But the smaller girl only moaned. Betsy answered, "About midway of her right side, where my Mom hurt with her 'pendix." "Has she had any fainting or dizzy spells?" Jack called sarcastically from the front seat, "Is that Dr. Lou I hear?" Lou answered defensively, "I remember an aunt with appendicitis who fainted and complained of dizziness. What about it, Betsy?" "She ain't said nothing about that." Lou shook his head and took a breath. "We're going to the hospital. I hope Anita's wearing panties this time." "And a bra," affirmed Betsy. "Where you really taking us?" Lou craned his neck, looking around. "Yeah, Jack. Seward Medical is in the other direction." "We're going to Doctors Care." "Christ! That costs an arm and a -- Hmm. I see." Betsy asked suspiciously, "What's this 'Doctors Care?'" "It's a little private hospital," said Lou soothingly. "Top notch place. If my side was hurting, I'd go there myself." Jack snorted. "If you weren't so tight." "You think I'm tight?" "No, I take it back," Jack answered in a tone of discovery. "Here lately you are loose as a goose." Shortly the car bounced over a curb, eliciting a deeper groan from the folded girl in back, and stopped before a glass door labeled, _Doctors Care Facility_. In much smaller letters beneath that were the words, _Emergency Entrance / All Others by Appointment Only_. Turning off the ignition, Jack left the car blocking the door and hurried around to the other side, where Betsy and Lou had already lifted the stricken brunette. Betsy held the glass door open while the two men half-walked, half-carried the girl inside. They came immediately to a desk behind which sat a wrinkled old woman in a crisp white uniform. Jack, being nearest, received the full benefit of her fierce stare. "Your membership number?" she demanded. Jack looked over his shoulder. "Come here, Betsy, and help hold her up." With a flourish he withdrew a silvery card from his wallet containing the word, "Platinum," plus a long series of digits, which he threw negligently onto the desk before the woman. "Here's my number." At that gesture her face assumed a neutral expression. She ran the card through a slot on her computer and watched the screen, invisible to her visitors. Suddenly her face was wreathed in smiles. "What can Doctors Care Facility do for you fine people?" Jack answered, "We have a young lady here with an agonizing pain in her right side." The woman's face reset in a pose of sympathy. "Oh, I'm so sorry, dear." She touched several keys on her keyboard. "What is her name?" "Anita Snith," Jack declared. "Snith, with an N?" "With an N." "Date of birth?" Jack locked questioningly at Betsy, who rattled off a date 18 years in the past. "Next of kin?" "Put me down," Jack replied. The woman regarded him speculatively. "Relationship?" "Put me down as the responsible party. Do you want my address?" She gestured vaguely at her computer. "The credit company furnishes all that. Please verify your full name." "Jackson Fulbright Westfield." "Right." Typing furiously, she muttered, "And the chief complaint is severe pain in the right side... Well, we'll fix that right away." Her voice had hardly died away before the double doors behind her popped open and a wheelchair appeared, pushed by a husky fellow in a green uniform. He stopped before the doubled-over Anita and said, "This must be the patient." As he and Betsy settled the girl into the chair, the old woman behind the desk advised, "One of you may accompany Ms. Snith into the ER." "I'll go," said Betsy. The woman responded stiffly, "We prefer the responsible party, please. The waiting room for the others is just through that door." To the attendant she said, "ID code 17." So it was Jack who followed groaning Anita and the attendant through the double doors. They went down a short hall and turned into a room full of beds, each in its own booth secludable behind curtains, drawn closed in three cases. Two nurses were bustling around while a white-coated man consulted a computer monitor. One of the nurses, dark-haired beneath her crisply folded cap, pointed to a bed. "In here, please." She and the green-suited attendant stretched Anita on the bed. The girl immediately drew her legs up, arms clutching her belly, groaning louder. The nurse raised an eyebrow at the attendant. "ID code?" "17." She keyed something on the computer terminal set into the wall and said to Jack, "This is Ms. Anita Snith, ah, age 18?" "Right." Pointing to chairs against the wall beyond the booth, she added, "Please have a seat over there." The attendant left, taking the wheelchair. The nurse drew the curtains, closing off the booth. Jack heard her say, "Please take off all your clothing, Ms. Snith. I'll help you. Then we'll put on this gown." Anita groaned louder. Jack strained his ears but otherwise heard only rustlings and briefly the grinding of electrical motors. Shortly the curtain was opened. Anita lay on her right side, propped up slightly on the raised head of the bed, a pale blue hospital gown up to her chin, a sheet up to her waist, legs drawn up under the sheet. She was still clutching her belly and moaning softly. Tears streaked her cheeks again. A dripping bottle hung above the bed, tubing running from it to a needle taped to the back of the girl's right hand. Jack approached. "Can't you do something for her pain?" "As soon as the doctor checks her," the nurse answered. She stood poised at the wall-mounted computer keyboard. The screen was full of symbols and numerals unintelligible to Jack. She took an instrument wired to the computer and pressed it to Anita's ear until it clicked. Another instrument included a strap that encircled the girl's upper arm. It hissed briefly before being removed. The woman looked at Jack. "I need to take a history of her problem. Perhaps you can help. How long has she experienced this pain?" "A couple hours," Jack answered. "Has she ever had it before?" Jack blinked. He took a breath. "I don't know. Her, ah, cousin is waiting --" "No," declared the girl, peering up through her tears. "Nothing ever hurt me so bad." The woman keyed something. She directed her next question to the girl. "When was your last menstrual period?" Anita groaned but gritted her teeth. She looked up at Jack. "It started right after the beach." "About two weeks ago," Jack noted. "Can you describe your pain?" The girl shuddered but declared, "It was like a knife in my right side at first, but now it's all over my tummy. Oh, it hurts!" "My god!" murmured Jack, aghast. "What could _that_ be?" "Many things," muttered the nurse, typing rapidly. She turned away. "My poor baby," murmured Jack, stroking the girl's bangs out of her eyes. Her hand came up to clutch his. "Oh, Jack, it hurts so bad!" The nurse returned, followed by the white-coated man, apparently able to tear himself away from the computer monitor after all. "I'm Dr. Grenwold. Excuse me." Jack backed away in favor of the doctor, who studied the writhing body. "25 of Demerol IV," he snapped. The nurse hurried out. "We'll have your pain fixed in just a moment," he told the girl sympathetically, "but first, can you straighten your legs and turn on your back, please? I need to check your abdomen." He looked at Jack. "Excuse us, please." Jack stepped back as the curtain swished in front of his face. He heard the girl gasp and the doctor say, "I'm sorry I hurt you, but that told me a lot. Now feel this and say which pressure hurts worse, the left side or the right." Anita squealed twice but said weakly, "They're about the same, doctor." "Good, good." The nurse pushed through the curtain bearing a syringe. Shortly the curtain reopened. The muttering doctor and the typing nurse hovered before the computer terminal. Jack heard the initials "CBC" and something that sounded like "middle shmurts." In a moment the doctor approached Jack while behind him the nurse drew blood from Anita's left arm at the elbow. "I've ordered a Complete Blood Count, which will verify, I expect, that she has no infection, particularly of the appendix. We'll also take a bit of urine to verify no bladder infection." "But, then ... What's left, doctor?" The man smiled. "Not much, certainly not anything life-threatening. We have an automatic blood analyzer. We should have the results in just a few minutes, if you care to have a seat over there. Soon as we obtain the urine sample, you can move your chair in here beside her if you wish. I don't think we'll have to keep her very much longer." The Demerol in her bloodstream calmed the girl quickly. "Oh, wow!" she said as Jack pulled his chair closer. "What is that stuff?" "A narcotic. Don't start liking it. How do you feel?" "It still hurts, but it's getting lots better." She leered at him. "_You_ got something I wanta feel!" His hand stroked her shoulder. "And you shall, Sweeta-nita." "'Sweeta-nita!'" She giggled. "I like it. I like _you_, Jack. Wish you _was_ my grandpa!" "No, you don't," he told her with a smile. "Then you couldn't feel that something." "I'll bet I could, too," she retorted. Her eyes twinkled. "Might have to kiss it first." Suddenly they went out of focus. "Woops!" "What's the matter?" "The room ..." She took a breath. "The room twisted." He gripped her shoulder. "Take it easy. You're all right." She smiled and her eyes drifted shut. * * * The doctor stood with Jack outside the closed curtain, behind which the nurse helped Anita dress herself. "The young lady is simply ovulating, Mr., ah, Westfield. When an ovary releases an egg, sometimes the follicle tears. This is very painful and bleeds into the abdomen, causing a generally painful condition that lasts typically six hours, after which the pain miraculously goes away. It's a bit unusual in one so young as 18 who has never been pregnant, but it does happen. It's one of the crosses our females must bear." "Then she'll be all right?" "Yes, she will. Very, very rarely a complication develops. The Demerol will wear off in a few hours. If she still hurts, bring her back. Otherwise I think she'll be fine." Jack took a deep breath. He hesitated but finally blurted, "What about VD?" The doctor nodded. "That was a marginal consideration. We'd have to do cultures to be certain, but I saw no evidence of such infection. Her white count is in the normal range." "Thank you, doctor." The man lowered his voice. "One other thing that you may or may not have reason to know: her urine showed the ingestion of tetrahydrocannabinol in the last 24 hours." "Tetra-- Oh. Marijuana?" "The active ingredient. I'm supposed to report that, Mr. Westfield, but I've already erased it from the computer." "Th-thank you very much, doctor!" The man smiled grimly. "It's on the bill." Indeed it was, itemized as _Discretion, $1000_. * * * "This is getting old," Jack announced in mild disgust, speaking from the side of his mouth to the conscious occupants of the back seat as he drove the car, alone in front. "What have you two been doing the last three days?" Betsy and Lou sat in back with Anita, head lolling in drugged sleep, between them. The blonde sighed. "You know." "You left us with a couple hundred dollars. That should have lasted you more than three days." "Well, it didn't." "You didn't even buy better clothes!" "Yes, we did!" the girl declared, stung. "We bought undies." "Well, I guess that's something." Jack's voice was sarcastic. "You didn't spend quite _all_ of it on drugs!" "Drugs?" Lou's tone was incredulous. "What're you talking about?" "Anita's piss showed she'd been smoking marijuana. What would yours show, Betsy?" The girl snarled, "We didn't spend _nothing_ on drugs!" "Wait a minute!" Lou interjected. "The docs have to report urine tests." "Not this time," Jack retorted. "That's part of the service at Doctors Care. For an extra thou they don't squeal." "An extra thousand? What was the total bill, Jack?" "Over $2500." "Okay. You understand I'm taking half of that." The larger man grinned around at the smaller. "Why don't you handle the next one, Lou?" "Think it'll be worse, do you? No, we'll go fifty-fifty on the girls' expenses. You hear me?" "I hear you. Where did Anita get the mary jane, Betsy?" The blonde looked away. Neither man thought she would answer, but she surprised them. She took a deep breath. "All right. I can just hear 'Nita saying, 'Tell them all of it.' So here goes." [NARRATION FONT] When we left your house the time before we landed in jail, we met a pair of nice businessmen from Miami. These dudes fed us a swell dinner in the back room of a ritzy joint and rode us off to a motel. They were real nice, sweet guys, with dicks that you can't keep down. We stayed with them two days, lounging around the pool playing grab-ass during the day -- yeah, in bikinis, we had bought several outfits -- and fucking all night. Well, most of the night. These guys were full of jism, and they kept waking up. But the third day they had to go back to Miami, so -- Okay, okay, hold your horses, I'm getting to that part! The point is, we made a date to meet them again last Thursday, the day after you bailed us out. We talked it over and decided -- Hell, _I_ decided. 'Nita wanted to put it to you. I decided that you wouldn't let us out to meet our businessmen. So we borrowed some money and cut out while you were asleep. Lou, you are so sweet when you're asleep. You even had a hard-on. I had to kiss it before we left. We waited all day at the concession. Lots of guys tried to hit on us. We made excuses for our businessmen, but the fact is, we got stood up. Those bastards didn't show that day or the next either. The second night a dude sat down beside us, said he wanted some help with a party. So we went off with him to this falling down house in the dunes. Some party! He had some booze and some pot. We listened to his Walkman and got high. No, he didn't fuck a stroke. I asked him if he was that way, and he said the pot took care of everything. So 'Nita and I did nice things for ourselves and forgot about him, which was a mistake. In the night those old blankets of his turned out to have bugs in them. So we got dressed and went back to sleep on just the air mattress. When we woke up the next morning, the dude and everything but what we were wearing was gone. He took our flight bags and our purses. No, you're right, he wasn't as thoughtful as we, he didn't leave us $20. He didn't leave us anything but what we have right now. We looked in all the trash bins on the way down the beach, but no luck. I don't know what use he'll find for our makeup and shoes and spare clothes. [NORMAL FONT] Jack thought over her words. "Then you haven't had anything to eat or drink all day?" "Lou got me some crackers and soda from the machines in the waiting room." She reached across the unconscious brunette and squeezed Lou's hand with a smile. "He saved my life. But what about 'Nita? Did they feed her anything?" Jack replied, "Intravenously. See that tape on the back of her hand?" "Oh. That was a real hospital?" Jack chuckled. "Real enough to cost a bundle." "Did you really spend $2500 on 'Nita just now?" The girl's voice contained awe. "I really did. Well, if Lou gets his way, maybe only $1250." "I insist," Lou insisted stoutly. The girl took a deep breath and asked, "How we ever gonna pay you back?" "Just keep on being sweet to us," suggested Lou, patting her shoulder over Anita's slumped head. Turning slightly, Jack said, "You might try to stop stealing from us. Did it never occur to you just to _ask_?" The girl sighed. "'Nita wanted to ask. I didn't believe you'd let us keep our date." "Didn't you?" Jack shook his head. "I'll admit, we wouldn't have liked it -- and we don't! But, Betsy, you know you're not prisoners." * * * "But we got to trust them. They saved my life." Anita whined childishly in the dark. "Besides they spent all that money for me." The two girls shared a bed in the guest room. The men had insisted that Betsy stay with the ex-invalid for the night. "Yeah, they's really nice guys," the blonde sighed. "But you know they can't keep on. They got they own lives and probably families. We just won't fit in. Most likely thing is they run us off in a week or two, you know, after they gets tired of us." The small brunette almost wailed in dispair. "But Jack said he wanted to be like my grandpa." She burried her face in the blonde's neck and reached over a hand to grasp a comforting breast. "And Lou promised to be my uncle." "That's just talk, 'Nita, old guy talk. Once they get everything they want it'll be another story." "But they've already got everything from us. They've stuck their things in me everywhere and you too." "Still, they get tired of us in a few days, then you'll see. They start giving us cold looks and yelling at us. Why you wanta wait around for it?" "'Cause I don't believe it." Betsy scoffed, "'Cause you don't _want_ to believe it!" "Well, what do _you_ wanta do?" "When I kissed Jack goodnight, I seen the bulge his wallet makes in his pants hanging on that rack of his'n. Lou's is just the same. Let's lift a few hundred before first light and go back to Kingsley. That boy you was sniffing at works in the garden shop." Anita raised her head to stare at the dark form of her friend. She announced adamantly, "I ain't gonna steal from them ever again!" Betsy shook her head. "Don't say that, sweetie. We got to think of ourselves. At least we gotta be ready when they throws us out." Anita said thoughtfully. "Even if they _do_ throw us out, we won't be broke." "Huh! How do you know?" "These old guys have feelings." "Feelings!" Betsy repeated sarcastically. "Feelings of us! But I tell you, they gonna get tired of it." "I'm gonna stay till they do," the brunette declared positively. "Damn, you mean it, don't you?" Anita sighed. "Guys! Why don't _we_ get tired of _them_?" Betsy gently eased her skin against that of her friend. "We don't need guys tonight, do we, pretty 'Nita?" She leaned down and kissed the smaller girl's lips very lovingly as her hand found a modest, pointy breast. "I love you, Betsy," the little one whispered and stroked the back of the larger girl, now lying slightly atop her. "And I love you. The last couple weeks I figure out why guys wanta slobber on you." "Me too." Anita giggled. "But here is so different from the beach. We're so squeaky clean and the sheets smell so fresh. Let's lick on each other at the same time." "Yeah, let's do it. Scoot down a bit, darling." End Episode 2 Next: "A New Home" Contacts: Varangian, ludmax11@hotmail.com Kellis, kellis@dhp.com -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+