Prick Van Winkle

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1-2 | 3-4 | 5-6 | 7-8 | 9-10 | 11-12 | 13-14 | 15-16 | 17-18
19-20 | 21-22 | 23-24 | 25-26 | 27-28 | 29-30 | 31-32 | 33-Epilogue

Chapter 15

The symphony was wonderful, as was the late evening dinner they had at a little Italian restaurant Zack knew about. It was past eleven when they finally got back to Zack's car. Val leaned back in her seat and sighed.

"I ate too much. I'm just stuffed. I bet I look fat."

Zack glanced at her lithe form in the clinging dress. "You're fishing for a compliment." he said.

Her smile was only white teeth reflected in the light from the street light.

"You caught me mister detective. I can't help it. You make me feel beautiful."

"You are beautiful." he said firmly.

"I know, but you make me feel beautiful." she said. "So, where are you taking me now?"

"It's probably time to take you home." he said reluctantly. He figured the news van was probably gone by now.

"Oh goody!" she chirped. "I've never been in a detective's house."

"Your home, girl." he corrected.

"But I'm in protective custody!" she pouted. "In the movies the detective always takes the girl in protective custody to a nice hotel, or to his house to keep her safe."

"Believe me Val, if I took you to my house, safe is the last thing you'd be."

"Mmmmm sounds interesting." she purred. "I've never done that with a detective either."

"Girl, you're killing me." he said, fiddling with the keys.

Suddenly she was up off her seat and on her knees, leaning over him. She fell sideways and he caught her automatically as her back hit the steering wheel. Those sparkling strawberry lips crushed against his as he pulled in air reflexively and her arms went around his neck, crushing her braless breasts to his chest. Her kiss was warm, soft and ardent all at the same time. He was surprised at the insistent attempts her tongue made to get between his lips and he opened them instinctively.

Then he was lost in that kiss, and returned it hungrily. He hadn't kissed a woman like this in a long time. His hands went to her back and crushed her against him. She hummed through her nose as the kiss went on and on and she worked her lips and tongue against his.

Finally she lessened the pressure, signaling that she wanted to break and he let her pull back.

"Am I killing you now?" she whispered. "Or is it all better?"

"I have to take you home." he whispered.

"I can sleep on the couch." she whispered back. "I brought my jammies."

"Your mother..." he protested.

"I'm a big girl." she kissed him softly. "And you're not out with my mother. Besides, I can handle my mother."

"I might do something stupid." he groaned.

"I can handle you too." she said.

"That's what I'm afraid of." he moaned. His imagination had her ... handling him ... quite nicely.

"I thought that all men wanted was to jump a girl's bones," she pouted.

Zack pushed her back against the wheel. It didn't do much good because her breasts were still pressing against his chest. But it got those lush lips far enough away from his that he could get a breath.

"I like you Val." he said. "I think I like you a lot. I don't want us to do something you'll be sorry for tomorrow. I don't think I'd like it if you were unhappy with me."

"Then take me home ... your home..." she said, her voice low, "or you'll find out what it's like when I'm unhappy." She waited a split second and added: "If it will make you feel better, nothing has to happen. I'm having such a good time. I just don't want to go back to Circleton right now."

She got off of him then, going back to her seat and sitting primly, pulling her dress down from where it had crept up almost to her hips. Knowing what someone looking in the window might have seen only made it harder for Zack. She sat, looking forward silently.

Zack got the feeling that they were at a break point. She had stated her mind. She looked tense, almost as if she were afraid of something. Rejection? She had come on pretty strongly. Maybe she was having second thoughts. Zack didn't know what to do.

"Fasten your seat belt," he ordered.

She did and he started the car. He pulled out, darting quick glances at her. She seemed to relax a little when they didn't head toward the edge of town.

He tried to remember what his apartment looked like. He hadn't planned on bringing anybody home. He wasn't a slob, but then he didn't pick everything up all the time either. He worried about that for ten blocks and then gave up. She still hadn't said a word, and was looking out the side window as they sped by the night-lighted city.

The first thing she said was when he opened her door after he parked.

"Thank you." she said, almost formally.

She had to remind him about her bag in the trunk.

"My jammies." she said, turning to look at the facade of the apartment building.

He got the bag and ushered her up the stairs. It was a walkup. He suddenly felt old beside her light youthful step as her short heels clacked on the steps. She took her bag from him and stood patiently as he unlocked his door.

"I wasn't planning on bringing anybody home." he made the excuse as he reached in to flip on the light. "It might be a little messy."

She ignored the clutter as he snatched up some clothing draped on the couch. She looked around, dropping her bag on the couch.

"So this is what a detective's apartment looks like." she said to the room in general.

She zeroed in on his collection of African art, consisting of paintings and wood carvings. One of his partners had been black and had introduced him to the exquisite carvings, most of which had something to do with fertility. In the same little shops where he'd found those, he'd seen paintings that were so lifelike they made the breath catch in his chest. They were of fierce warriors, or bare breasted maidens mostly, but there was also one of a lion that looked almost like a photograph, so detailed was it. The lion's eyes nailed the viewer to the floor, and you got the feeling that if you moved, he'd leap right at you.

She stood and stared at everything. Once she reached out and traced a finger across the cheek of a long wooden mask with staring circular eyes and inlays of mother of pearl in designs Zack now knew marked the mask as a man's wedding mask.

"They're beautiful." she breathed.

"Thank you." he said. "I like them too."

She turned and went back to the couch, picking up her bag. She looked around and headed for the short hallway that led to his bedroom and the bathroom. "It's bedtime." she said not looking back. "I'm going to change into my jammies."

Zack stood there helplessly. He hoped for a long flannel nightgown. If not that at least a thick flannel top and bottom. What did young women wear for pajamas these days? The last thing he remembered was something called Baby Dolls. Baby Dolls would be dangerous. Just thinking about that made him stiffen again. He felt like he'd been stiff all night long and his balls ached.

This was a mistake.

Bringing her here was a mistake.

He'd never get to sleep, with her on the couch, only twenty feet away from his bed.

In the other room Val was nervous. She hadn't shown it, but she'd been excited and nervous all night long. The shopping trip had started it. The symphony had melted her as she leaned against his strong arm, smelling the faint scent of some after shave he wore. The meal had filled part of her. She knew she was being silly, and that it probably wouldn't go well at all when she went back out there. She had dreamed and planned this night for years, not knowing what man she would be with. She knew her dream probably would fall apart, but it had gone amazingly well thus far.

He was so cute when he was trying to be good. It made her want him even more. His kisses had been electric and his hands on her had made her whole body tremble. When she'd gotten off of him and sat back down, waiting to see what he would do, she was wet down there. She was afraid he'd smell her arousal. She was even more afraid he'd take her back to her mother, a little girl after all, being taken back home to mommy. Her relief when he'd headed back into town had been so strong she'd had to stifle a sob.

She was proud of the role she'd played thus far, proud that she'd been able to pull it off with what she hoped was flair. She didn't want this man to see her as a girl. No, she wanted him to look at her like a woman. She knew he wanted her. She also knew he was trying not to. She put on the garment she'd brought for this part of the dream. She stood up, took in a great breath and tried to relax. She was a big girl now. She could do this.

She reached for the doorknob.

Zack was picking up books from where he'd dropped them. He read three or four novels at the same time, unable to stay interested in only one. He'd picked up a beer bottle and thrown it in the trash. He picked up a glass and an empty Styrofoam soup container from the end table, where he'd left them after eating last night. He was trying to think of what he could cover the couch with when she came down the hallway.

It wasn't a flannel nightgown.

It wasn't any kind of flannel.

He gaped.

What he saw was a thin string crossing high over each hip, connected to a roughly triangular patch of lavender cloth that tried to cover her pussy.

Nothing else.

His professional mind noticed she had used the lipstick on her nipples, and they now matched her lips. Those nipples perched on paler areolas that were only a shade darker than the breasts they lay against. She had left her hair in the braid and her neck looked impossibly long and thin as she stepped out of the darkness of the hallway and into the light of the living room.

"I like to sleep cool." she said, her voice low. "Do you like my jammies?"

The glass dropped to the floor with a thud from Zack's nerveless fingers. He felt his knees going and sat on the couch heavily.

"That's not fair." he rasped. He could feel his heart thudding insistently in his chest. There was a roaring in his ears that he knew from his job was a result of blood rushing to his brain. It was common in people who were experiencing overwhelming emotion, such as someone about to commit murder in a fit of passion. Sometimes they couldn't hear what was being said to them at that moment because of the rushing noise in the ears.

She stood and looked at him, her head tilted slightly, like she was examining something on a shelf. His hands fluttered to his lap, to cover his complete, iron hard, ready-to-go, very insistent erection.

Her breasts thrust from her chest and looked rock hard, like they had been chiseled from fine granite. They didn't move as she bent over and picked up a throw pillow from the end of the couch Zack wasn't sitting on. Instead of tossing the pillow to the chair across the way, she turned and walked to it.

It turned out what she was wearing was a thong.

That slim cord of purple went around her back, just above the split of her buttocks and another slim cord slid down into that crack, disappearing completely. She didn't drop the pillow in the chair, she bent over, her left foot taking a small step to the side. The shape of her pussy lips, cupped lovingly in soft purple cloth became visible. She looked over her shoulder at him as her braid slid off her back and dropped in front of her.

"Should I put this here?" she asked, her voice completely innocent.

Zack was a hard bitten detective. He knew people and he knew manipulation. He used it all the time. He hadn't manipulated this girl ... no this woman. He hadn't had to. He knew he was being played. She had obviously studied how to do these things to a man ... had practiced. She was rock steady, a vamp in action, a slut begging for it.

But Zack also knew that this woman was no vamp ... no slut. She was acting like one, but he knew better. He'd spent a little time with some of her family members, and this was not what that family had taught her. His brain responded to the seduction she was obviously trying to pull off, and he actually regained some control he had lost as his mind whirred. Why was she doing this? What did she hope to gain? What was her angle? She was legal. He knew that. He'd run her name through the system. She hadn't gotten so much as a parking ticket in either Sacramento or Circleton. She was in college, studying interior design - he knew that from their talk at dinner. She was acting like an extremely high class hooker.

But she wasn't a high class hooker. He knew that. It was an act.

That gave him more control. He still wanted her. He'd be crazy not to want her. But he was no longer helpless.

"There is fine." he said, proud that his voice was steady. "I have an extra pillow in my bedroom." He wanted to grin, but kept his face blank. "You want a sheet to cover the couch?"

That got her. He saw her tense up. It made her lovely buttocks jump. She stood up and turned around, her cheeks pink and a frown on her lovely face. Man! She was gorgeous.

Her facade cracked.

"Zack Simpson," she said, her voice strong. "I'm not sleeping on that couch and you know it."

Zack felt his balls tighten and his prick leak. He forced a tight smile.

"I thought we agreed you were going to sleep on the couch." he said smoothly. She had teased him. Now it was his turn.

Her face fell and she actually looked hurt. He could see her eyes glisten suddenly, and knew that they were about to overflow. He realized on the instant that she was serious about her seduction. She was no longer acting the role. She was suddenly vulnerable. That made his heart thump again. This girl wasn't a pro ... an actress. She was sending too many conflicting signals. He suddenly realized she wanted to do this, but was on the verge of being terrified. He had to do something, but he was still worried.

He stood up, his knees working again.

"Come here." he said.

She looked startled, but took a timid step toward him. He kept his eyes on her face, hard as that was. He didn't try to cover his erection, but she was looking at his face.

When she took only a baby step more he stepped toward her and reached up to slide his hands along each jaw. She tensed.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked gently. Feeling silly he leaned forward to kiss her on the tip of her nose, and then on her forehead.

Her eyes widened and her hands went to his waist. She didn't push. He had reversed roles on her. She had been in control, but suddenly wasn't any more. She also didn't say anything.

Zack let his hands slide down each side of her throat to her shoulders, and then smoothed his rough hands down to her elbows. He moved them to her thin waist and had to slide them between her arms and where he wanted to touch her. Her eyes, staring into his, still glistened, but no longer threatened to overflow. He slid his hands up, his thumbs feeling the ribs he'd been able to count while she wore the dress. They ran into the outside swells of her breasts and he stopped, his thumbs pressing gently there. She took a deep breath, but still didn't say anything.

Zack didn't either, just staring into her eyes. He could get lost in those eyes. His thumbs moved on their own, making tiny back and forth movements, stroking the sides of her breasts. The tip of her tongue flicked out, wetting her still shiny lips. For a split second Zack thought she was acting like a virgin, but he knew she wasn't. She was too practiced to be that. Why she'd picked him, he didn't know, and she wouldn't say, but her scent was making him crazy. He leaned forward to kiss her, this time on the lips, but was just as gentle. She almost surged against him, her hands sliding to his back and then up as she kissed him back hungrily.

Then his control fled as his body responded to hers. They tried to eat each other's lips, their tongues clashing and licking. Her hands came around to his shirt and fumbled with the buttons. He broke the kiss, biting her lower lip and sucking on it before letting go and leaning back. He pushed her hands away from the second button.

"Bedroom." he ordered.

She jumped at the tone of his voice, but obeyed instantly, turning and actually running to the room she'd seen when she went into the bathroom. He followed, shedding the shirt and his belt, kicking off his shoes in the hallway while trying to watch her bouncing buttocks as she ran. His pants were undone and unzipped when he turned the corner to see her lying on the bed, flat on her back, legs straight and arms at her sides. Gone was the vamp, just as suddenly as she had appeared and something jarred in his mind again. He pushed that away as her hands came up to arrange the pillow under her head. She stared at him and her hands went to lie gently on her stomach. His training told him it was a defensive posture, but almost naked like she was he ignored that. He pushed his pants down, afraid of tripping on them if he just dropped them. Stepping out he then reached for his boxers and pushed them down too. Standing up he exposed what she had done to him. All she did was wet her lips again.

He stopped to remove his socks and then kneed onto the bed, expecting her to either move over or spread her legs. She did neither, lying almost stiffly, though her hands moved to her sides again. He had to straddle one of her legs, getting one knee between hers and leaving the other outside as he loomed over her. She was breathing heavily now, her breasts heaving as if she'd run some distance. Again he saw something like fear in her eyes, but ignored it. She couldn't be afraid. It didn't fit with her other actions.

On all fours he went for more kisses. Her response was gratifying as her hands came up and slid through his hair, pulling his face against her. When he kissed across her cheek and down to her throat she moaned softly and arched her neck to give his lips room to explore. He kept going, down to her shoulder and then lower to the swell of her left breast. Now her legs opened for him, as his lips neared that pale and pink nipple. It was stiff, hard, rubbery between his lips as he sucked it in and her chest heaved upwards off the bed. Her hands still entwined in his hair pulled hard again as he sucked, and lightly nibbled the little nubbin.

He paid some attention to the other breast before going between them to start lower. He found he was actually shaking as his lips got to her belly button and he stopped to probe it with his tongue. She wiggled under him and her hands suddenly left his hair and slammed down on each side of her body. Her legs were spread enough now that he could crawl between them and he did so, kissing down over her flat belly to where there should have been hair. It was bare and the next thing he felt under his lips was the little slip of purple that covered where he wanted to kiss and lick and suck next. Making himself wait, he nuzzled through the fabric with his nose, digging it in, pressing it between her lips as his fingers found the strings on her hips and began inching them downward agonizingly slowly. Her moans and other sounds came more raggedly now and her hips moved jerkily, sometimes down, or to the side, almost as if she were trying to get away from him.

He leaned backward and up, still pulling on her panties. They stretched to the breaking point on her still spread legs and her knees finally came up and together in front of him, like she was going to deny him after all. Her feet were an inch from his chest. That let him pull the garment up to her knees, though, and she pulled one leg away from the other, pulling her foot out of the panties. That leg dropped like a stone, spread wide, while the other stayed in front of him, the panties just below her knee. She didn't pull that leg up and he let go, letting the panties hang there. She flopped that leg back down and raised her head, looking at her now wide open pussy below him. His prick jutted out, a foot above her sex.

But he wasn't ready for that yet. Well, he was, but again he wanted something else first. He wanted to see what an orgasm looked like and sounded like with this gorgeous woman. He ducked his head suddenly and drove his tongue between her pussy lips, pressing with his nose where he thought her clit might be.

Val was in complete overload. She had never been naked with a boy before, much less a man. She had bared her breasts before, and they had been played with and sucked at, but not like this man did it. Always before she had been rushed ... had to push them away ... didn't want to go as far and as fast as they wanted to go. Her decision to give herself to this man ... to become a woman with this man ... robbed her of her normal reactions to what he was doing. And what he was doing was driving her absolutely crazy.

When his tongue left her nipples and reached her navel and pressing inside, she felt a massive cramp in her internal muscles under and slightly lower than where his tongue was. She felt a gurgling rumbling feeling in her pussy, like her stomach was growling, and felt moisture seeping down between her ass cheeks. It would have been embarrassing, except that she was in so much ecstasy that she couldn't take time to be embarrassed.

Then, when he took her panties off, she had to do something she'd never done before. She had to spread herself open to a man. Part of her was impatient to be rid of the barrier to what she wanted. Part of her was scared to death. Then his face had gone between her legs and another new thing burst upon her already saturated emotions like a bomb that was all light, and no sound.

Zack wasn't ready when her hips slammed up mashing her pussy into his face and she let out an agonizing long groan. She had already been soaking wet, and now his face slid back and forth in a spurt of juice that almost got in his eyes as it shot out of her pussy. He sucked and swallowed her nectar, amazed that she was having an orgasm already. He couldn't see anything except her shaved mons, but her body was rigid, and he could feel as her fists rose and fell, hammering the bed beside her hips, almost hitting his spread fingers. He solved that problem by sliding them under her butt, resting his weight on his elbows, and pulling her pussy against his mouth as he found her clit and sucked hard at it. He had a fleeting fear that the neighbors would call the police because of her wail as she strained up against him, and then suddenly she went totally limp.

It was time.

Zack lifted his dripping face and took the time to push it into the bedclothes between her legs. It didn't help much - she had soaked the bedspread under her buttocks.

Then, in one continuous movement, he crawled forward, fisted his prick and slid it all the way into her in one long, smooth lunge.

Zack's brain registered the sudden fleeting resistance to his entry, that vanished so soon his brain wondered for a split second if it had really been there. She was so tight as he slid in, and so hot and wet that he almost lost it on that first lunge. He hadn't been with a woman in several years, and had never been with a woman like this.

Then his brain registered her anguished cry of pain as what was had obviously been her hymen was ripped to shreds and she was fully impaled. He looked at her face, which was a grimace of pain. Her hips writhed beneath him and this time it was obviously an attempt to get away from the thing skewering her.

Zack pulled out instantly, and looked down. His cock dripped onto lips that were pink in a way that wasn't just the color of flesh. His prick too had a pinkish tinge.

"You said you weren't a virgin!" he said in shock. He started to get to his knees and her hands gripped the flesh and hair on his chest.

She panted back at him. "As I recall, ... what I said was... 'who says I'm a virgin?' ... I didn't actually tell you I wasn't a virgin." she got in a deeper breath.

"You should have told me." he moaned. "I did it all wrong."

"You did exactly what I wanted you to do." she breathed, gripping his chest so hard it hurt. He leaned down a little and she relaxed her grip a little.

"I wouldn't have done this if I'd known." he accused.

"I know." she said. "But I'm not a virgin any more, so would you please put it back in? I want to do this."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

For answer she reached for him and aimed him back into her pussy, pulling until the tip touched. "Maybe just a little slower." she said.

This time he played, sliding in and pulling out, going a little deeper once in a while, sometimes leaving it there and sometimes pulling it out again. He never pulled completely out, watching her face to learn how deep to go. Soon her hands were on his hips, trying to pull him farther than he wanted to go.

"You're teasing me." she panted.

"You want more?" he asked.

"Yesssss" she hissed.

He gave her what she thought she wanted and her eyes opened wide again at the discomfort. As he tried to pull back her nails gripped his hips.

"No!" she barked. "Leave it there ... let me get used to it."

He let it soak, leaning down to kiss her and then remembered her nipples. He sucked at them until her hips began jumping. He pushed harder, grinding the base of his cock against her clit and she started making noises again.

He started slowly, but soon it was apparent that she had adjusted to his size, and that the pleasure was overriding the pain. He moved faster then, trying to pound her clit with each trip into her velvety depths. He felt himself running into the back of her channel and each time she yipped. She had not done this before, and her hips didn't work in concert with his until he'd been feeding her passion for five or ten minutes. He was fascinated to watch her face, the face of a woman having her first man, and that was what kept him from blowing his balls to pieces.

But when her jerking got in time with his, and when her vocalizations started sliding back up the scale on the way to a full fledged scream, and her pussy began nipping and milking his prick as she tumbled into another loud orgasm, he gave up.

He sank down onto her, pinning her to the bed with his weight and covered her mouth with his own as she screamed into it. His hips gave four or five rabbit-like thrusts that punished her clit, and he felt the sweet release of semen rushing through his prick and into her belly. He froze, feeling each of five or six strong jets his balls offered her. He kept the muscles of his upper body rigid, knowing that if he relaxed he'd crush her. Her acceptance of his gift was transmitted when her legs came up and slammed down on his buttocks as she squeezed him deep into her.

It was the best thing either of them had ever done with a member of the opposite sex.

Twenty minutes later they still hadn't said anything. They had touched, and kissed and kissed some more, communicating only with gestures and touches. Finally Zack broke the silence.

"I've always wanted to know something, and I've never had the opportunity to ask anybody."

"What's that?" asked Val.

"When, exactly, does a virgin decide to go on the pill?"

"Beats me." she said, rolling away from him to stretch.

"I mean when did you decide to go on the pill?"

"I didn't." she said rolling over and playing with the hair on his chest.

"You didn't." he said.

"That's right." she said. She said it as if she had said she decided not to buy a particular pair of shoes or something.

Zack stared at her.

"Diaphragm?"

She stared back. "Uh uh. Never had anything in there except my finger, and even then I didn't go very deep."

Zack felt something between a chill and a thrill course through his body.

"Are you telling me we just had completely unprotected sex?"

"Well, you could say that," she said. "But I prefer to think of it as completely amazing, knock your socks off, hit it out of the ballpark lovemaking that might just put a bun in my oven."

"Why would you do that?" he asked, quite seriously. This girl practically owned him at this point, and he was man enough to admit it to himself. But there had been no talk of commitment, or responsibility or even a second date, for that matter. He knew quite well that he'd try to see her again, and would be devastated if she refused, but what she had just let him do to her was something incredible, to his mind.

She smiled. "I told you I never did that with a detective."

He rolled to face her, his face serious.

"I mean it." he said. "What if I got you pregnant?"

"Well, in the first place I'd prefer to say we got me pregnant." When he frowned and took a breath to complain she put a finger to his lips. "Okay, I'll explain." His frown vanished and was replaced by a look of intense interest. As she talked she played again with the hair on his chest. He'd almost shaved that off, thinking it made him look like a bear. He was glad now he hadn't.

"Okay, it's like this." she started. "Almost all of my friends - girl friends - are not virgins. They talk about how they lost their virginity like it was some trial, some strange rite of passage in which nothing much is expected and it doesn't mean anything. They sort of got rid of something they didn't want, if you know what I mean. They threw away something that was a hassle for them. It just seemed to me that it could be better than that. I mean you can only do it once in your whole life, right? So I decided not to let that happen to me. I decided that, when it happened, it would be with the right guy, at the right time, under the right circumstances and that, no matter what it was like I was going to make it as good as possible. I wanted to remember it for the rest of my life as something precious and special."

Zack smiled. "A lot of girls used to think that way, but they planned to have that experience with their husband, on their wedding night."

She looked at him quite seriously. "That was then. Nowadays, people don't get married for the right reasons. And marriage doesn't mean what it used to. Now marriage is like a contract, or the thing to do to get a tax break, or to be with the right person to put you on top or something."

"You've lived in California too long," said Zack. "But we digress. We were talking about you, and why you decided that I was the man to divest you of your troublesome maidenhead."

"No we weren't." she said. "I was telling you how I felt about losing my virginity. I didn't say a word about why I picked you to do it."

"Quite the contrary," said Zack, dropping into interrogator mode. "You said you'd only do it under the right circumstances, with the right man. Ergo, I am the right man, because, as you may remember, I just plucked your flower."

Val rolled on top of him and gave him a long, wet kiss. Her breasts on his chest felt like velvet. He hoped she'd stay right there for years. But she didn't. She rolled back and began playing with his hair again.

"I was kind of in love with a man." she said. "I can't tell you too much about it because then you'd have to go arrest him and that would make me very unhappy."

"He abused you as a child?" asked Zack, his voice heavy.

"No." she said firmly. "He never touched me. He didn't even know I was interested in him. At least I didn't think he knew. As it turns out, maybe he did. But that's not the point. The point is that he was kind of the man of my dreams, you know? But I couldn't have him. I knew that the whole time. I wanted him to be the knight in shining armor who carried me away and on whom I bestowed my precious gift. But I knew he couldn't be that man. And when I was in High School and later college, every boy I went out with got compared to him. They didn't do so well. So I just waited. I wasn't in a hurry. If I got too horny I could rub my troubles away. One of my friends said I didn't know what I was missing. She was right. So I didn't miss it."

She stopped to run one fingernail around his nipple. He squirmed as it tickled.

"You were about to explain why I suddenly seemed to appear to be a knight in shining armor?" he prompted.

"It wasn't like that at all," said Val. "I looked at you, and for the first time I saw a man who was as interesting, and as sexy, and as disturbing to be around as that other man was. Then I found out that other man had taken a lover. He hadn't betrayed me, exactly, but he bruised my dream. That tipped the scales toward you."

"But you hardly even spoke to me before we went out." he said.

"I can't explain that." she said. "I looked at you and I knew."

"You knew before we went out that we were going to make love on our first date?" he asked incredulously.

"No, silly. I just knew it would be you. Remember? With the right guy, under the right circumstances? Well, when you've found the right guy, a smart girl plans ahead so that if those circumstances pop up she's prepared."

"Yes, that was my reference to the pill." he said. "A smart girl would have been prepared ahead of time, or at least demanded the man use a condom."

"You still don't get it." she sighed. "This was a special time, involving a special man and a special gift to that man. I didn't want anything artificial to be involved. I didn't want to think about anything but the emotion of the moment. I guess you could say that this was so special to me that if it meant I got pregnant ... that was part of the experience. And if I didn't, then fine ... even better, but only maybe. After all, the making of a child is something pretty special too."

"Most people save that for marriage too." pointed out Zack.

"Okay, if it makes you feel any better, we'll get to know each other better, and then when you think you have fallen in love, let me know and we'll get married and have a baby."

"You're being silly now." he chastised. "You can't talk about marriage on a first date and expect to be taken seriously."

"I'm going to try to explain this one last time." she said patiently. "I chose you, tonight, to do something special with me that we can only do once in our whole lives. If that's not the kind of commitment that makes a marriage strong, I don't know what is. I admit I haven't had any good role models when it comes to marriage, but I'm not stupid either. So, if you're good enough to be the man to have my virginity ... you're good enough to be the man who fathers a child with me. It's simple really. I had to love you enough to let you have my flower. That means I automatically love you enough to let you make a baby in me ... under these particular circumstances, on this particular night."

"So this was a one night stand?" he frowned.

"You try to make it one and I'll hunt you down like the dog you will then be," she said.

"Okay, so let me get this straight. You like me. And you picked me to give your virginity to and because I'm special enough to get that gift, I'm special enough that you'll have unprotected sex at the same time. But only tonight." He looked hopeful.

"Close enough for Government work." she said, shaking her head.

"What about tomorrow night?" he asked.

"I'd be happy to go out with you again tomorrow night." she smiled.

"But would we have sex?" he asked.

"I have no idea. Maybe. It turns out I really like having sex with you," she said.

"Would it be unprotected sex?" he asked.

"Not if it's going to freak you out," she laughed.

"I'm trying hard to get this." he said. "Work with me a little longer."

"A little longer. I'm feeling horny again, so hurry." she smiled.

"You'd let me have unprotected sex with you ... if I wanted to."

"Yes." she said.

"And that's because you have strong feelings for me."

"It's because I love you enough to let you get that close. If I'm not willing to have a baby, why would I even want to have sex?"

"Because it's fun?" he tried.

"But if you only do it for fun, and don't care about each other, then it doesn't mean anything." she said. "Look at it this way. If I don't like a man enough to have his baby, he's not getting between my legs. Period. Ever. I don't do it for fun. I do it to share something special."

Zack's eyes widened as he got it. He was suddenly awed at the gift he had been given. For in fact, she had actually bestowed on him her most cherished gift. He had been found worthy, and it shocked him to the core.

"I understand." he said. "And if I love you enough to want you to finish college, then I'll use something to keep you from getting pregnant."

"Exactly." she said. "Or you'll let me go on the pill or whatever. But it will be a decision made for a reason based on love, and not just because that makes sex easier. Sex should never be easy. If it's too easy it gets taken for granted and then doesn't mean anything."

"I can't believe I'm talking about being in love on a first date," said Zack.

"There are lots of kinds of love," said Val. "Maybe someday we'll feel some of the others. I hope so. I really really like you Zack."

"Do you like me enough to transfer to a college in Sacramento?" he asked.

"Yes." she said.

"Do you like me enough to keep seeing me ... like this?"

"Oh yes." she said.

"Your mother is going to be really really mad at me." he said.

"My mother could have gotten you first. You snooze, you lose. She's too late."

"You know what I mean. Your mother's worried about you. She made me promise to take good care of you."

"You did take good care of me. Except for the one little time when it hurt a lot. But before that and then after that you were very nice to me."

Zack knew when he was beaten. Instead of arguing about her mother, he started kissing her again. Within minutes he was teaching her how to be on top. Her braid had come mostly loose, so she took the clip out and leaned over to let her hair slide all over his chest and face. He, in turn, pinched, rolled and pulled her nipples until she exploded. She wasn't as loud when she was on top, which was good, because he couldn't reach her mouth with his. As she wiggled and lurched through her orgasm she moaned.

"Make it spurt. I like it when it spurts."

Zack didn't even try to tell her you didn't spurt on command. Instead he thought about what she was offering him again.

That ... made him spurt.

Chapter 16

The next day, when Betty dropped Bob off at Gus' office, they took Sally along. She and Betty were going to go what they called "quilting" while Gus and Bob did their thing. After the women left, Bob got in Gus' car, a ten year old Buick. It was about three different colors, but ran well. Amalgamated had a parking garage in the basement of the headquarters building and the attendant was recalcitrant initially. Gus had foreseen this possibility and handed the attendant a piece of paper with an internal company phone number on it.

"Call that number." he said calmly. "Tell them Mr. Gunderson and his client are here."

This was a different Gus Gunderson than Bob had ever seen before. Not only did he have a fresh haircut, he was wearing a clean, pressed suit. It wasn't expensive, but it certainly wasn't a Hawaiian shirt either. Bob had decided to appear as he now dressed routinely. He wore something called a Guayabera shirt, which he liked because it had a multitude of pockets on it. Loose tan slacks and sandals completed his outfit. He'd examined what he called "Keds" with a detailed fascination but wouldn't buy any. He said they looked like monster feet, with their garish colors and clear impact absorbing heel sections, to say nothing of the ones with lights on them. He joked that it took a size twelve shoe to fit a size ten foot, what with all the added things that had happened to "Keds". So he wore sandals instead. The cut on his face from hitting the hospital door had healed to a scabby line. He still looked like he'd been beaten half to death.

Gus' appearance wasn't all that was new. His whole attitude seemed to have undergone some kind of metamorphosis, from a nervous, panicky loser to a calm, suave businessman. Bob liked the sunglasses Gus was wearing because they made him look mysterious. For the first time, Bob felt a little better about his choice of attorneys.

An hour and fifteen minutes later, Gus led Bob out of the building into the parking garage with his hand on his elbow. It was needed, because Bob could hardly walk. Bob kept saying "But ... but ... but..." and Gus kept saying "Walk Bob, act normal Bob ... just walk ... there you go ... good."

Gus Gunderson had indeed been waiting his whole life for this case, and he had practiced arguing it so many times that he could do it in his sleep. He'd never known what the details would be, but he phrased his argument in broad terms. "The damage you've done my client is inestimable!" he'd barked. "My client's life has been catastrophically ruined!" He'd bored in while the opposing lawyers had hemmed and hawed. "You saw the news yesterday about what happened at the hospital ... don't tell me you didn't. You saw what the media is doing to my client, and all he did was go in for a simple checkup to see if the physical damage you people did to him was healing. Just look at him. He's a broken man, who woke up in a strange world and tried to do the right thing!" Gus stood up. "And what did it get him? A faceful of mace, almost blind for life and wrenched shoulders that may never heal properly!"

"It was pepper spray, not mace." mumbled one of the opposing team.

"Well, whatever it was, it was totally unprovoked and it got my client into the public eye in such a way that his whole family is hounded by the media daily, and has been ever since you assaulted him!"

A small man with slicked back hair had been sitting at the end of the table since the "conference" started. He had not been introduced. He suddenly raised his hand and spoke. The Amalgamated lawyers went silent and looked at him as one.

"We'll offer him a hundred thousand dollars. He drops all charges and signs a waiver for future interest."

Gus smiled, a thin smile and sat back down.

"Mr. Henderson, I believe?" he addressed the man, who blinked at being recognized. Gus turned to Bob. "This is Riley Henderson, CEO of Amalgamated Indemnity of America."

"CEO?" hazarded Bob.

"Chief Executive Officer," said Gus. "He's the boss."

"Oh," said Bob. "How do you do." he said automatically.

Gus put a hand on Bob's elbow and took a deep breath.

"Mr. Henderson, I appreciate that you have a responsibility to your stockholders. I even appreciate that you took the time to attend this meeting. I'm sorry to find that your time was wasted, though. I can see that our time was wasted as well. We'll see you in court - both criminal and civil. Come on Bob, we're leaving."

Gus stood up and Bob looked up at him.

Henderson raised his hand again.

"How much?" he said, his face calm.

Gus sat back down as if the only reason he'd stood up was to stretch, or smooth his pants. "Well, let's see. Amalgamated made a profit of thirteen point four billion dollars last year. Your stock price is up fifty cents after dropping thirty cents the day after Bob was assaulted in your building. I personally think that was a result of speculators who thought that Bob's fame would bring value to your stock. On the other hand, when word gets out that we have filed a hundred million dollar suit against this fine company, those speculators might just want to dump their stock in what stock traders call a "precipitous manner."

Bob almost leapt out of his chair and Gus' hand on his elbow clenched hard, keeping him in his seat. He went on like nothing had happened.

"Now you know, and I know that a measly hundred million is pocket change for a company like this. You probably have twice that much in your various petty cash accounts. I also personally take umbrage at your previous offer. I thought that with you here, we were at least speaking frankly. I see I was wrong."

Gus stopped talking. Bob looked around. His mind was still reeling. A hundred million dollars? What in the world was Gus thinking? Then he remembered Gus saying something about billions in profits. Bob's mind went numb as he remembered how, in High School math class, the teacher had tried to help the students understand how much a million was. He still remembered her nasal twang as she said "If you had a million dollars, and you bought a brand new Chevrolet Fleetmaster coupe every day, at eight hundred and forty-five dollars, it would take you three and a quarter years to spend that million dollars." The whole class had gasped. The teacher smiled. "And, if you put it in the bank and drew interest on it, you could buy a new Fleetmaster convertible every week, and never ... never run out of money before you died."

In Bob's mind ... that was how much a million dollars was. And Gus had asked for a hundred times that much.

Bob heard a voice and tried to concentrate. Henderson was talking again.

"Mr. Gunderson, I appreciate your zeal to protect the interests of your client. But no jury in the world is going to award you a hundred million for a face full of pepper spray and I think you know that. I think you're grandstanding, mister Gunderson, and I'm going to call your bluff. We have the assets to drag this out in court for as long as we want to." He waited, but Gus didn't say anything at all. He just sat there. Finally Henderson went on. "Now I realize that our first offer was, perhaps, a little disingenuous of me. I apologize for that. I have certain doubts as to the veracity of mister Winkle's status over the last fifty years in the first place, but that's another issue. Perhaps I let those doubts influence my judgment. Mister Winkle, regardless of who he really is, and what has happened, was still involved in an unfortunate incident on our property. Let's just cut to the chase, what do you say? Ten million. Take it or leave it," he sneered. "You should be happy with thirty percent of ten million ... mister Gunderson."

Bob's breath stuck in his chest. It was just as if another door had slammed him in the solar plexus. He felt Gus' hand squeezing his elbow again, but it didn't matter. He couldn't have said anything anyway. Gus said "I'll need a few minutes with my client alone. That's considerably less than what I think a jury would award in a case like this. But Bob is the injured party here."

The other men had filed out and Gus had looked at Bob. "I can get at least triple that in court." he said.

"You're insane!" gasped Bob.

"I got you an offer of ten million dollars," said Gus calmly. "And that doesn't even include the fraud somebody perpertrated against you by shorting you three hundred and thirty thousand dollars. Does that sound insane to you?"

"Yes!" said Bob. His mouth was suddenly dry.

"I told you Bob, you're a famous man. You're worth hundreds of millions of dollars, and that's just for movie and book rights. This thing that happened to you here could hurt this company and they know it. They're short changing you because they think you're a country bumpkin. Me too, for that matter. But if you want me to, I'll go all the way and we'll crush them."

Bob thought about it. Then he thought a little longer. There was a discreet tap at the door that Gus told him to ignore and didn't answer himself. Finally he looked at Gus.

"If we take the ten million, will you still be my lawyer for other things?"

Gus smiled. "You bet your sweet ass I will mister Winkle, but let me assure you, we're going to get more than ten million."

Then it hit Bob that, if he said so, he would walk out of this room a millionaire ten times over. He felt his heart pounding inside his chest, and his knees went weak. He felt faint.

"I don't feel very good." he gasped, trying to get control of himself.

Gus had opened the conference room door and walked out with Bob then and there. Bob's knees were genuinely weak, and Gus played on that.

"He's having a relapse, so we need to go. I'll have to get back to you on your offer. I need to get him to the doctor."

By the time they got to the elevator, the offer had doubled, with the proviso that it had to be accepted within twenty-four hours or it would be withdrawn. Gus just waved and grumbled that the elevator was too slow.

Thus it was that Gus had to help Bob out of the building and into the parking garage. Bob could almost walk normally by then, though his head was spinning.

"Did I just hear that man say twenty million?" asked Bob.

"You did indeed," said Gus, steering him to the car. "I might be able to buy me a new car." he said.

His reference to trying to spend millions on cars brought back the teacher's example again and Bob started laughing, almost hysterically.

Gus jerked him. "Don't laugh here. We're probably on tape. They think you've suffered a relapse, so act like it."

Bob giggled under his breath, and was finally able to say "I am suffering some kind of relapse, and it was them who made me this way. Twenty ... million ... dollars! And then he giggled some more.

Back at the office, Margie was on pins and needles. She loved her husband, but she'd never actually seen him in action. She saw him there in the office, and he talked to people in a reasonably professional way. Whenever he was in court she had to watch the office, though. And he'd never had a conference with the kind of sharks she knew just had to populate that insurance company. She had visions of him coming back a broken man, and her having to take two jobs again to take care of him in a nursing home while he constantly popped some high priced drug for slobbering basket cases.

She was surprised, therefore, when he and Bob came into the office with a bottle of wine.

She looked at him.

"It went fine." he said calmly. "We thought we'd celebrate."

He handed her the wine.

"They negotiated?" she asked breathlessly.

"Not very much," said Bob. "They were pretty adamant about ... what did you call it Gus? ... ripping me off?"

"Yeah, they tried to slam him all over again. I thought I was going to have to call 911 or something," said Gus, sitting down in his chair and leaning back.

"But you said it went fine," said Margie. Her hands were shaking.

"Well, we settled for a lot less than we could have gotten in court, or I should say we will settle for a lot less in..." He looked at his watch. "about eighteen hours from now."

"What do you mean?" begged Margie. "Why eighteen hours?"

"They gave us twenty four hours to give them our answer." he said. "I kind of want to wait until the last minute, just in case they decide to raise the ante."

"How much?" screeched Margie.

"Only twenty million," said Bob, trying to be off hand about it. He was still shaking too.

"Twenty..." Margie's eyes rolled up in her head and a thirty dollar bottle of wine crashed onto the floor as she fainted. Both men jumped to help her as the wine soaked into her pants and blouse.

"I'm going to have to put this on my expense account Bob," said Gus. "You should have let me tell her. I'd have known to tell her to put the bottle down first."

"Buy her two new outfits," said Bob, grinning.

"I was talking about the wine," said Gus, laughing.

Bob decided to wait to tell Betty about the settlement. He wanted to be able to tell all the women about it at the same time. So, when she and Sally showed up at Gus' office to pick him up, and asked how things went, he just said "Fine. I think it's all going to work out." Margie would have given it away, had she been there, but once she'd regained consciousness from her faint and settled down after almost attacking Gus with kisses and hugs, she'd scurried off to go home and change clothes.

Gus played along with Bob.

"Yeah, it could have gone better, but it was just a first time meeting. I'm pretty confident that it will turn out in our favor."

Betty might have realized something was up by how almost fanatical Bob was about making love to her that night in the cabin. He was practically insatiable, taking her three times in the space of two hours, but she was so happy with her own feelings that she just savored them, bucking up against her father as his prick spewed deep inside her again and again. Finally she pushed at him.

"We'll never be able to get up in the morning if you keep this up." she sighed.

"So ... who needs to get up in the morning?" he responded, tweaking one of her nipples gently.

They did sleep late, and were roused by a knock on the door. Betty lifted her head off her father's shoulder and looked blearily at the door. The layout of the cabin was pretty much one room, except for the bathroom and some storage spaces. Then her eyes widened and she rolled frantically out of the bed, shaking Bob and telling him in a hushed whisper to get up and lie down on the couch. When he did she threw a sheet over him and pulled on a dressing gown before going to the door.

"Who is it?" she called.

"It's June." called her sister.

Betty threw open the door in surprise.

"What are you doing here?" she asked in surprise.

"You've been up here alone with Daddy for almost a week," said June, barging into the cabin. "All by yourselves." she added with a dark look. "I'm here so you can go home and mow your lawn."

Betty grinned. "My lawn doesn't need mowing." she said, closing the door.

"Yeah, well, you've been getting your ashes hauled up here in the mountains for a week, and I mowed my lawn, so I think it's time we switched." she blurted. Her cheeks darkened a little.

But Betty just laughed. "Okay, okay, I get it." She leaned in close. "He was an animal last night. He might not have anything left."

Bob had sat up when he heard June's voice and the sheet had fallen to his lap.

"What's he doing on the couch?" asked June, a note of disbelief in her voice.

"We thought you might be one of the neighbors," said Betty. "There's a positively delightful young woman named Sally who's been coming over here. And you won't believe who she's related to! Remember Denny? That nice boy who searched us at the hospital?"

"You're kidding!" squealed June. "Which one? The tall one or the short one?"

"The tall one," said Betty.

Then they were chattering like sisters always chatter when they get together and haven't seen each other for a while. June said that Martha was having trouble with Sunny after Val had gone out with "that nice detective". Sunny had suddenly become very conservative in her views on sexuality and was convinced that the older man had taken advantage of her daughter. Then the details were discussed of why Sunny was so convinced. Bob stared as he heard the way Val walked the next day mentioned, and her bouncy happy attitude. The kicker was when June said "You know what it was like when one of us had been with Daddy. We could always tell, even if we weren't in the house when it happened." Unlike Sunny, however, both great aunts approved heartily of the alleged union between Zack and Val, despite the difference in their ages. Their past might have accounted for that, since they had had an "older lover" all their lives. Martha, said June, was also happy about it, figuring it was high time that some great grandchildren came along - Martha's, not Bob's.

Bob just sat and listened as the social byplay of the late 20th century was displayed for him in ways most people wouldn't have thought was odd at all. But listening to these older women calmly discuss the sexual activities of their younger relatives was something that would never have happened like that when Bob went to sleep. That Sunny seemed to display more conservatism about all this just jarred him more. And the thought of Val, beautiful, slim Val, being made love to by Zack, reminded Bob of what it had been like to make love to Becca.

In short, their chatter turned him on and made him stiff.

He had to go to the bathroom, and since these two women had seen him this way innumerable times before anyway, he stood up and walked to the bathroom, his stiff cock like some kind of leash, leading the way.

June and Betty looked over at him.

June said. "That lawn of yours needs mowing pretty badly little sister. You need to get to it."

Betty just laughed and began to get dressed.

Bob thought about the possibility that Sally might wander over in their direction that morning, but June was hot to trot and pointed out that there was a lock on the door. He spent two hours making her wiggle and sigh and buck her hips up against his as she moaned through her orgasms. She told him how much she loved him and what they were doing over and over. It would be impossible for a man not to feel proud under the circumstances, odd though they might be to an outsider.

Finally she lay napping, splayed naked on the bed as Bob stood over her and gazed at her. She was beautiful. He almost wished that all that spermy mess around her pubes might make another baby in her. But he knew it was unlikely at her age, and probably wouldn't work out for the best anyway. Looking at her naked form though, even after coming in her twice, made him want to climb aboard for another trip down passion lane. He smiled at the thought. It was truly a different world than he'd gone to sleep in.

He left her there to sleep while he got dressed and went to Sally's to beg some breakfast. He explained that his middle daughter had showed up after a long drive, to relieve Betty, and that she was taking a nap.

"What, you can't cook for yourself?" asked Sally laughing.

"Men didn't do that when I lay down to take that nap." he said defensively.

"Oh yes they did," said Sally laughing. "That's a myth. Men have always cooked."

"Well, what can I say?" he grinned. "Any man would much rather have a beautiful woman making him breakfast than do it himself."

"Oh, so now you're flirting with married women!" crowed Sally. "You know, my little brother is coming up here later today. I might just have to tell him there's a masher in the community. I could have you arrested, you know." she laughed.

"Well, he's searched all my female relatives." noted Bob. "I suppose that would mean his female relatives would have to search me." He leered at her.

"You're horrible, Bob Winkle," said the woman, but there was a twinkle in her eye. "You'd better be careful about coming on to women. You're not a bad looking guy ... for your age!" She giggled. "And there are probably a whole lot of women ... married or not ... who would love to hop in the sack with a famous guy like you."

Bob sighed and sat down. "Well, we all have our problems in life." he said. "I don't know if I have it in me to take care of more than ... oh, I don't know ... a couple of hundred?"

Sally laughed again. "You just behave yourself around me. I love my husband too much to cheat on him, even if you are cute ... for a geezer." Her laughter tinkled as she started banging around pots and pans.

Bob watched her move. She was a nice woman. He'd read a little of her book, and she knew how to write, despite her poor self opinion. That she struggled with it only meant that she wanted everything to come out just so. He thought about what Gus had said the day before.

"You know, somebody told me that there could be a lot of money in a book about me." he said.

Sally cracked an egg into the frying pan and nodded without looking at him.

"That's probably true."

"Somebody would have to write it. I'm not an author. I can't even read my own writing," said Bob.

Sally looked over her shoulder. "Nobody writes by hand any more, Bob. That's what computers are for."

"Yes, but I don't know how to write a story. I mean I know a good one when I read it, but I couldn't write anything like that."

"You might be surprised," said Sally, reaching for another egg.

"I bet you could write a book like that," said Bob in an offhanded tone of voice. "You're a pretty good author."

Sally went stiff. Then she turned around, the egg still in her hand.

"Don't tease me about that Bob. It made me feel good when you flirted with me, but don't tease me about my writing."

Bob looked at her. "I wasn't teasing."

Her mouth opened and her eyes went wide. Then her mouth snapped shut. Neither of them said anything and she turned back around. When she cracked the egg it almost exploded, splattering outside the skillet.

"Damn!" she said, stepping back. Her right hand was slimy with egg. She reached for a towel, wiped her hands methodically, and turned to face him.

"Are you actually asking me to write your story?" There was something like fear in her eyes.

"I don't know any other authors." he said. "I've read some of your book. You're good."

"But I've never been published." she said. "I can't do something like that."

"Every author had never been published before they got their first book in print." pointed out Bob. "And that will give me a chance to flirt with you even more." He grinned.

"I told you not to tease me Bob." she said, her voice firm.

"Sally, just think about it, all right?" he said.

"I have a job. Writing a book like that would take almost a full time commitment. No. You need a real author Bob, somebody who can tell your story in a way that grips people's hearts. You're unique, and interesting, and sexy and ... you're all kinds of things, and all those things need to be communicated onto the page. There will be a hundred famous authors begging for the chance to write that book Bob."

"I can pay you," said Bob.

"You're not listening to me Bob," said Sally, frustration tingeing her voice. "You need a real author."

"So, let me get this straight," said Bob. "You're not up here writing a book like you say you are. You're actually just getting away from your job, and your husband, and pretending to be an author because it's more fun than all those other things. Right?"

"That's not fair!" said Sally heatedly. "I know I can write a good book ... but not that book. Bob, listen to me, you're an important guy. What if I write a bunch of drivel and all the critics hate it, and nobody buys it, and the world forgets all about you?"

"I can think of worse things than the world forgetting all about me." grinned Bob. "But I wouldn't want your first book to bomb just because it's about some guy who took a really long nap. Maybe you're right. A book about me would be boring."

Sally's eyes got huge. "You're an idiot!" she shouted. "You haven't got a single brain cell in that thick head of yours! You're the most interesting man I've ever met! Everybody in the whole world wants to know about you! Why do you think the media is hounding you like a preacher caught with a hooker?!" She started to splutter, making incoherent sounds and waving the spatula in her hand like she was leading the Philadelphia Orchestra.

It was at that moment that Denny banged through the door and shouted "Where's my big sister? I'm starving here!"

Sally's face turned toward him and her mouth opened and closed several times. Finally with an explosive "Men!" she threw down the spatula and ran crying for the bedroom.

Denny looked at Bob, puzzled. "What'd I say? All I said was that I was hungry. Hi mister Winkle. What's up?"

Bob grinned. "I just asked her to write a book about me. And to make me breakfast." he added.

Denny's face split into a smile. "Really? Hey that'd be a great idea. She's a good author. I've read most of her book and it's really good."

"She doesn't seem to agree with you," said Bob. "She kept telling me she can't do that."

Denny straightened up, almost like he was coming to the position of attention. He suddenly looked all cop.

"We'll just see about that." he said, stalking toward the bedroom. He turned the knob and pushed the door open.

"Sis?" he yelled.

"Don't come in here..." came Sally's strident voice, "I'm changing clothes!"

"So? I've seen you naked before," said Denny, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

There was some yelling. What Bob could hear was mostly "Get out!" and things like that, but Denny did not reappear and eventually the voices subsided to a low rumble. Bob got up, retrieved the spatula and flipped the eggs, adding two more for Denny and scrambling them in with his, which were a little overdone by now. He saw a loaf of bread and a toaster and dropped two slices in. Toasters hadn't changed all that much while he slept. There was already a pot of coffee brewed, in one of those delightful glass holders, and he poured two cups, topping off the one that Sally had been drinking from when he arrived.

He wandered over to the open laptop, where Sally had been working on her book. He'd taken typing in school, the only male in the class. It had been either that or chorus, and he couldn't carry a tune to save his life. The layout of the computer keyboard wasn't all that odd to him. There were a number of keys that didn't mean anything to him, but with two fingers he was able to skip down a couple of lines and begin typing.

"All he wantred to do was tak a map. Just to lier down for a bitr. But when he woke up the woprld had gon away and everythng waxs differnt."

Bob sighed. His fingers were too big and hit two keys at once. He couldn't figure out how to make the little flat line on the screen go backwards. Well, actually, he could make it go backwards with a little arrow key, but it didn't change anything. All his errors were there, apparently permanently. And some of the words didn't look right. Spelling had never been his strong point. He was still poking at keys when the bedroom door opened and Sally came out.

"What are you doing?" she said, her voice almost snarling.

"Trying to write." he said. "Breakfast is ready." He bit the tip of his tongue in concentration as each index finger stabbed at keys.

Sally walked behind him, lifting her coffee cup for a sip. Then she looked over his shoulder.

"That's awful." she said flatly.

"I'm not an author." he said, still stabbing keys. "How do you make this stupid thing back up and erase things?"

"You get up and let somebody do it who has a brain in their head and simple coordination." she growled.

He stopped and looked up over his shoulder at her. His eyes lit on her breasts, which were at eye level, and then slid up to her face. It was obvious that she saw where his eyes had been.

"Flirting with me right now won't get you much." she groused.

"But you'll do it?" he asked, hopeful.

"To get you two off my back I'll say this." she said firmly. "I'll give it a whirl. I'll start out and see how it goes. If I don't like it, you get yourself another author."

"Deal," said Bob, smiling.

"No, that's the way it's going to be," said Sally firmly. "Now get away from my computer before you break something."

Once she had resigned herself to starting the project, Sally closed the notebook and sat down with pen and paper. Bob decided not to mention that no one wrote with pen and paper any more. She started firing off questions to Bob about his life. Initially it was biographical stuff, where he was born, when, what his family was like, what the town was like. She took copious notes, asking for odd details, such as his first kiss, and the first money he made doing anything outside the home. Denny sat and ate at first, and then just sat, listening, as the interview went on for three hours.

Finally Sally dropped the pen and rubbed her face with her hands.

"Now, get out." she said calmly. "Both of you." she added. "I have work to do."

Denny, though he had come up to the cabin specifically to see his sister, stood up and offered to show Bob where some good hiking trails were. When he found out all Bob owned were sandals, he put hiking on hold. As they walked towards Bob's cabin, he told Denny that June might have "gotten comfortable" to take her nap, and that he should check before they went in.

June woke up upon Bob's entry, and then fussed when he told her there was a visitor and that she needed to get dressed. She wailed about her hair being mussed, and that she needed a shower. Bob wouldn't tell her who it was, since he was sure she'd freak out, but he got her presentable and then invited Denny in. June did get pretty excited when she recognized the man who had searched her so intimately at the hospital. Then, when she demanded to know why he was there, Bob had to explain about Sally. The men joked about how they had gotten Sally to agree to write Bob's life story. June was aghast that Bob would have "browbeaten the poor woman" into something she didn't feel capable of doing. That led to June demanding to meet Sally, but neither man wanted to disturb her after their abrupt dismissal.

In the end, Denny drove Bob and June down the mountain to get Bob some hiking footwear. In the car, as they chatted, June began to gossip a little.

"You know you made a big impression on my granddaughter." she said to Denny.

"Oh really?" he smiled. "I can understand that. Which one is that?"

"Becca," said June. "Her mother is scandalized." She smiled smugly. "Gidget called me on my cell phone while I was driving up here. She was all upset. Apparently Becca can't stop talking about you."

"Well, most young women don't go through that kind of experience," said Denny diplomatically. He remembered the girl clearly ... had even mentioned her specifically to his sister when he spun the tale for her about the hospital incident. She looked to be in her late teens or early twenties. He had enjoyed running his hands over her hard body. He had enjoyed the fantasy of taking her out too, but that was unlikely to happen. There had been something gripping about her smile ... her attitude in circumstances that would have made most women either uncomfortable or angry.

"I know I won't forget it for a while," said June. "And now that Val has gone out with that detective, Becca thinks she should be able to go out with you. That's why her mother is scandalized."

Denny thought about the idea of being out on the town with the auburn haired beauty. It looked good in his imagination. "Why would her mother be so against it?" he asked, taking a hairpin turn carefully.

"She thinks you're an ... older man," said June giggling.

"I'm every bit of twenty-six." he said, peering ahead.

"That's the whole thing," said June. "Becca is only eighteen and Gidget seems to think she should live at home like a nun until she's your age. She's having fits just about Becca going off to college. She's afraid Becca will do just what she did when she left home."

"And what was that?" asked Denny, paying attention mostly to the road, which switched back several times rapidly in this section.

"She hopped in bed with every man she could find, that's what," said June.

"Your daughter?" asked Denny, his attention diverted from the road.

"She was a classic round heels," said June. "She doesn't know that I know, but when she couldn't tell me who Becca's father was I knew it then. She was in college when she got pregnant. You know how those college boys are."

"Yes, Ma'am," said Denny. "I went to college myself."

June spluttered. "I didn't mean to say all of them are sex fiends ... but ... oh anyway, Gidget is afraid the same thing will happen to Becca." It was quiet for a while. Then June said "But if she had a nice boyfriend back home..."

Denny laughed. "Are you trying to set me up with your granddaughter? Me? An old college sex fiend who hasn't had a steady girlfriend in four years?"

"Why ever in the world has that happened?" asked June, her busybody nature coming to the front. "You're a perfectly nice boy, and handsome, too. I should think the girls would be crawling all over you."

"Well thanks," said Denny dryly. "When you're a cop, trying to make rank and stay alive, you sort of leave some things behind I guess."

"You should ask Becca out," said June firmly. "She's a delightful young woman and cute as a bug in a rug. I think you two would be perfect together."

"June," said Bob heavily. "Leave the man alone."

June blushed and leaned back from where she had thrust face up between them. "I was just trying to help."

"I thought you said Gidget didn't want to encourage her." reminded Bob.

"Oh pooh!" said June. "Gidget doesn't have the sense of a field mouse. She could have had any man she wanted, still could, for that matter. But after she got pregnant with Becca she just gave up. What kind of woman does that? If she had her way Becca would end up an old maid!"

Denny frowned. "Sounds to me like she was in love with Becca's father, and he wouldn't do the right thing. That might explain it."

"In love?" laughed June. "She was too young to know what love was."

"Oh, I see," said Denny smiling. "And how would your husband feel about his granddaughter dating a twenty-six year old man?"

"Oh, I'm not married. Never have been," said June before she thought.

"Oh, I see. So you managed to get knocked up as a single woman, and then your daughter went off to college and got knocked up as a single woman too, and now Becca wants to go to college. Hmmm, I'm not sure it would be safe to take her out on a date. The women in your family seem to have a tendency to end up ... in the family way." He grinned into the rear view mirror at a distinctly uncomfortable June.

"I think you need to pay more attention to the road young man." came the reply from the back seat. "Are you going a little too fast?"

Bob laughed.

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