PART ONE – the Party

   "Oh my god…"

   We both wanted to know "what"… she smiled and giggled.

   "You both have that silly smile on your faces. I was going to ask if you had fun for your birthday, Wizzy. But I can see you did."

   Lightning smiled at me now.

   "What does Wiz like on his pizza?"

   We both laughed.

   "I see Miss Moodypants is still disappeared?"

   That was lazy whore number three.

   "Still out decorating some criminal's room with used condoms, I guess."

   Light giggled.

   "Better there than here, right?"

   We all laughed. You tried, and just when you could tolerate her in some fashion, she'd act up and ruin your growing mild appreciation for her antics. It was as if she didn't want to be liked.

   "So. What were you guys talking about, before I so rudely interrupted you two. Anything fun?"

   "Hmm. Not so much, dear. You know I really like my naughty little boy here. We were talking about taking him home to meet my parents over holiday break."

   "Christ Hurry. I thought you liked the poor guy. If you want rid of him? Just do it the polite way, and break up with him. Taking a guy to meet your parents? That's just enjoying torturing him. Wiz? I honestly thought Mama Bear really liked you. But… if she really liked you? She'd lie, and pretend her parents died in a car wreck."

   "Lightning, really. You sound like him now. Like there's no hope it can go okay."

   She gave me the look, and shrugged.

   "Hurry? You've been my big sister how long now?"

   "Over a year."

   "Am I allowed to have an opinion? Or… I'll let you go."

   I nudged him, sitting quietly in front of me.

   "My little sister here? Is my… consultant. On how normal girls see the world. Me, you already know… I'm an insufferable cunt. Its a new hobby of mine, to try to appreciate the rest of the world. Go ahead, Light."

   "Okay. But you're not going to like it, I don't think. No more than you like everything else. Wizzy? You know your girlfriend grew up on a farm. She went to church. She ran around with boys, playing tackle football and riding dirt bikes and horses. She didn't ride the farm boys, like the other farm girls did. She was one of the guys."

   "I know. I'm pretty sure, that's what I love about her."

   I dribbled in.

   "Don't forget. I hung out with the girls one year. Didn't like it… at all. Went back to hanging out with the boys. Living here? This is the second time I tried being one of the girls."

   "Oh. He knows about…"

   "Yes. He knows the basic plot line. He knows I'm embarrassed to be one of the girls."

   "Okay Wizzy. That makes this easier. Hurry doesn't like… the whole game. She's determined to study the rule book, and try to make her own playbook up from the rest of the girl team. To find a better way of doing things."

   "Hmm. And how does my girlfriend do, trying this."

   Lightning shrugged and smiled easily, supporting herself leaning back on the sink with her hands behind her.

   "Not bad. She doesn't play much, but she goes in the game here and there. You? Are the second time we've seen her play. And, I might add… thanks for putting that silly smile on her face that I'm seeing."

   "Not a problem. I had fun putting it on her face."

   Lightning smiled.

   "Oh… you put it on her face, huh?"

   "Is he blushing, Light? He blushes…"

   She smiled.

   "Yeah, he is. You found another one, did you?"

   "Yeah. I did."

   He piped up.

   "Another one, what."

   "Another… whatever she is. Whatever you are. One of the people in this world who don't just follow the rest of the herd to the water hole. Most animals that don't follow the herd? Don't drink. They learn to do without. But some? They find a way. To do things their way. Hurry? What are you averaging now. One a year?"

   "Something like that…"

   "I'm sure you noticed, Wizzy. Hurry here, she's a little old fashioned. She's choosy about boys. One a year, instead of one a month. She's serious about it, too. We're all afraid to so much as look at you. Any girl gives you the eye? They get the… Hurricane treatment."

   I had my magic washrag again. Clockwise. I wrung warm water over his head from behind.

   "Pretty basic idea. This? Is mine. It belongs to me."

   "I know, Hurry. Wizzy? I'm amazed she lets you out of the townhouse before classes start…"

   We all giggled.

   "But, that wasn't what we were talking about. Hurry? You were asking my opinion on meeting the parents, right?"

   I sighed.

   "Yeah…"

   "Wiz is a guy. Wiz… you've met the girlfriend's parents before. It ever go okay?"

   "Hmm. In high school? Yeah."

   I interjected.

   "Poor Wiz here? He got to be the show boyfriend."

   Little Lightning got bored with leaning back on the sink. She dropped the lid and sat on her porcelain throne. Long legs spread out like a boy would, elbows on her knees, hands hanging down between her legs somewhat.

   "Ouch."

   He answered her.

   "Yeah. Ouch three times, playing that game."

   "Christ almighty, Wiz. You're a bright guy. I didn't have you figured for stupid. Why did you keep going back for more? Why didn't you just do what the guys did that were having fun, playing the field. Jesus, Wiz. You're only young once. Don't waste it."

   "He didn't have friends that played that game. So? He got to be the show boyfriend, three times in a row."

   "I can imagine what you think of girls now, Wiz. Hurry? Am I allowed to ask him what his honest opinion is?"

   "Go on dear, answer her truthfully. You won't make me mad. I'm pretty sure I'm going to be proud of your answer, hun. Don't hold back."

   "If you're sure, honey…"

   "Go ahead."

   "Lightning? Present company excluded, of course. Girls? Pretend to be all sweet and innocent, but… they're a bunch of lying, sneaking, backstabbing, morally bankrupt cunts. And that's the so called good girls. The bad girls? Hell, at least they're honest about it."

   Lightning sighed.

   "I won't argue with you. That's fair. How did girls in uniform turn out? Curious."

   "First girlfriend? Sweet, innocent little girl in uniform. Secretary in the computer department I worked in. Until I got showed her true colors. Same deal there. I was the show boyfriend. Again. Paying for dates and dinners, while she ran around and took it any way she could get it."

   "Christ, some guys never learn."

   "Oh no, Light. I quit playing that game."

   "What game did you play, then. You still talk to girls."

   "I lived with the Military Police. Which is who told me what my little girlfriend was up to. I ran with them after that."

   "Oh. I wondered where you got the tough guy streak in you from. Good god, none of us could believe it. When we saw you with your Army buddies. Half of this damn Village we live in, is female athletes, Wizzy. The gossip spread like wildfire. Toot's a tough guy! Holy shit! Wizzy, why would you hide something like that. You could have been dating anyone you wanted, just about. Why spend your freshman and sophomore year, like some kind of… monk."

   "Permission to speak freely…"

   I wrung the magic washrag over his head again. It's magic was back, it got recharged.

   "Permission granted."

   "And what would that get me, Little Lightning. Huh? A string of fun humps, with a bunch of whores. Gee, I could have some fun, and get herpes. No thanks. If a girl doesn't like me for who I am, she doesn't deserve my time or effort. I'd rather jack off, and go play video games on the weekend, with the computer crew."

   "Wow."

   "Wow what?"

   "Faced with the game and the way its played today? Boys turn out different ways. Some, keep being the show boyfriend. Figuring they'll get lucky sooner or later, and end up a show husband. Lots of guys go that route. Some guys? Just give up. Turn gay, or… just go to pieces and turn into a… I don't know what. A loner, with other loner friends. Some guys take advantage of it, and turn into another bad boy player."

   "You forgot the other option. Take your game and stick it. I can do my own thing. And Light? Once again, present company excluded. I don't mean any offense to you, personally."

   "Oh. Its fine. None taken. Question though… which one am I?"

   "I meant what I said, about bad girls being morally superior to good girls. At least you're honest about the way things are."

   "Hmm. Thanks. Hurry here, she kind of uses me. For insight into how… regular girls operate, I guess. You wanna know how the high school game plays out, here on campus?"

   "I already know. The show boyfriend game is now all over the campus. Just a bunch of sluts running around, going wild. A handful of so called players? Running around having fun giving themselves herpes and god knows what else. A whole bunch of guys getting used like tampons and thrown away. Smaller groups of guys sitting around, wondering what the hell's going on. That's my little computer world. We're playing video games, watching all you people burn Rome down. It took thousands of years to make it and perfect it? You're burning it down, in a couple short generations. Thanks."

   "That's about it. You sound like Hurry here. I can't argue with any of that. You never tried having fun though?"

   "Aw. Running around with the MP's in the service? I guess I did. Doesn't mean I liked it."

   I took over smoothly.

   "Our sweet little Wizzy? Was the show boyfriend in high school three times. He got to see how the other side lives, being a tough guy, with the military police. He didn't realize he'd turned into a polite bad boy. Tell her what you liked, dear."

   His voice got soft.

   "Latinas. We were down in southern Texas. Lots of cute Latinas running around. I speak Spanish, so…"

   Lightning was happy for him.

   "Oh! Good for you, Wiz. You bought a pack of rubbers and lived a little. That wasn't… better?"

   "A little. I guess. Can't get a relationship that way, and that's what I was looking for, not just a wet dick. The last year, year and a half? I went… warrior monk, I guess. I rejected the whole game, and learned to just work on myself. Work on my goals. Which is what I'm doing here at your university. I'm more interested in getting my degrees, than getting herpes."

   Lightning laughed, and it was genuine.

   "You're something else, Wiz. They really broke the mold when they made you."

   I heard his voice go soft again.

   "No, Lightning. Life was molding me, like clay. Into this, into that. The mold, though? Found me. Took me in. I was changing. From what I started out as? And into something completely different. He… made me. With my permission. We both worked on the final design in clay. And he… fired me in the oven. Baked the clay into the final form you see before you. Half what I was, half what I had turned into."

   "I see. The head… monk, I guess."

   "Yeah. The head monk. Took me under his wing. It was a great honor. As you can imagine, the military police are not a bunch of wallflowers. They have men there that teach them how to be… military police. The head monk, as you call him? He taught all the teachers. Like I said. Spending a year and a half with him… well, it was a great honor. You people around campus? You look at people, and you see intellectuals. You see jocks. He was both. I asked to be like him. He granted me that honor."

   I piped up, hearing his soft voice.

   "The head monk? Is dead now, Light. He misses him, like his own father died."

   "Sorry to hear that, Wizzy."

   "Yeah. It is what it is. If more men followed what he was taught? We could save western civilization, from burning down. But… here we are."

   "What did he teach? In a nutshell. What would he write, on a fortune cookie. That someone would read, and take home and frame it. Live their life by it. Tell me."

   The soft voice was gone. Confident now. Not loud, just confident.

   "Any society that separates its scholars, from its warriors? Is destined to have its thinking done by cowards, and its fighting done by fools."

   "Wow. That's… profound."

   "Of course it is. He was quoting Thucydides. Another great man among you mere mortals, that existed and lived thousands of years ago. He helped make Greece the light of the ancient world. You and your kind, the sheep in this world? Your victory over the modern world, will not be complete. Until the last one of us, that follow the true path to enlightenment, have laid down and died."

   "Sounds like a religion, Wizzy."

   His answer was confident and quick.

   "It is."

   "Oh. Where do you go, when you die."

   "When I close my eyes for the last time? I'll meet him in Valhalla. Where the brave that were granted and retained honor, live forever."

   I looked at her and smiled, shoveling my hand at him. Silently asking, do you see what I have, right here? Magic washrag. Clockwise, always clockwise.

   "Holy shit. I've heard this before…"

   I asked simply "where".

   "The Army boys. They all have posters of Vikings up on their walls. He's making more of them, I guess…"

   "Damn straight, I'm making more of them. If I don't pass on what I've been privileged to be graced with? I wouldn't deserve to have it."

   "Tell Lightning what I am to you. I never get tired of hearing it, dear."

   He tugged my hand, gently.

   "I've pleased Odin. He directed his son, Thor. Who's wife leads the Valkyrim. That I'm now worthy, to be sent my very own Valkyrie. When a warrior has been granted his very own Valkyrie? He has what he needs to see him through this mortal life. To fulfill his final purpose, whatever it might be."

   "Okay, Viking boy. Shush up for a second. Your Valkyrie is talking to her friend, you know."

   "Yes, dear."

   "Hmm. So, Light… did you have fun with Army boy?"

   "Yeah… fun's over."

   "Already."

   "Yeah. Apparently, I've had too much fun before I met him. We had words. So? I gave him the talk."

   "Oh. How did that go…"

   "Fine. We're okay. Just not working out, that's all."

   "Where's Right?"

   "Still having fun."

   "I thought you said you were both…"

   "I thought so, too. Apparently, she wants some more fun time. Before her… talk."

   "Everything okay?"

   "Eh. He's adult about it. We're fine. I got called a wench, by the way."

   "Oh. Is that bad?"

   "No. Apparently not. But, there's… Valkyrie, which you apparently are, by the way. And wenches, which is me."

   "And Right?"

   "Oh. She didn't mind being called a wench. She's having some more fun being a wench, as we speak."

   "What do wenches do, you suppose."

   "Well. One of the things wenches are good for? Making burgers for the boys. You should see her down there. She's in the kitchen, pretending she can actually cook. Because its just burgers. I walked home."

   "What else do wenches do…"

   "Burgers. Bring the guy beer. I mean, go figure what wenches do afterwards. She giggles and likes it. For now, anyways. Here I am."

   "You okay, hun?"

   "Sure. Another guy. It was fun while it lasted. I tried. We didn't fight about it, we just had the talk. We're good. Hey, wait a minute. We were talking about Wizzy meeting your parents."

   "Oh. We were."

   "Yeah… Wizzy. You didn't like the idea, did you."

   "What. Been there, done that one. I can pretend to be daddy's little scared bitch, or I can be a disrespectful little asshole, and put him in his place. Nothing good comes out of it. Why go through it."

   Lightning now shoveled her hand at what he just said.

   "There you go, Hurry. He has a great handle on things. Hate to say it? You should take that advice, and avoid it like the plague."

   "Why?"

   "What, you trying to lose this year's guy already? Let's say he treats daddy like a bitch and kisses his ass. You? Lose all respect for him. Let's say he tells your dad off, and gets away with it. Now? You hear about it from your family, and you'll take it out on him. What do you even want out of it. And what if shit goes bad, Hurry. What if he bops your dad in the nose, huh? What if your dad bops him in the nose. Either you'll hate him, or he'll hate you. Your family? Will damn sure hate him, no matter what happens. Hurry… I kind of admire your whole… thing. Trying like hell, to be a good old fashioned girl, while trying to be the modern, independent woman. But meeting the parents? You can't pull both off."

   "Ugh. Pretty much what he was getting across to me, in a nutshell."

   "Hurry? Meeting the parents used to make sense. Not any more."

   "Why is it a thing, then…"

   "Wiz? I guess you think I'm just a dumb jock. I'm here because I kick a stupid ball into a stupid net. And as long as I pass my courses in basket weaving, I can keep running around being a slut, right?"

   "Lightning? Get it right. You, are majoring in Advanced Basket Weaving. What's your take on the whole… meet the parents routine."

   "Well… human relations. That's my major. Parents used to pick and arrange dating and marriage. Friends and friends of the family, were in on the match, too. Bringing the boy home to meet your parents? Used to mean something. It meant you were serious about this one, that you thought you found a good one. The parents? Were supposed to take a serious look at the boy you brought home, and give you their opinion. If you were making a mistake or not. It used to mean something."

   "And now?"

   "When parents quit arranging dating and marriage. When friends and family don't get a vote anymore, like they used to. Boys don't have to ask daddy's permission to openly date daddy's little girl anymore, and you can marry whoever you want. Your own choice and no one else. You don't have to elope anymore, which is to run away and get legally married, and come home and surprise everyone. Surprise! We eloped! That's all gone now. So… why in the hell we're left with the meeting the parents ritual? I don't know. It serves no purpose anymore."

   "Hmm… you're both probably right."

   "Hurry? Are you going to date or marry, only boys that your mom and dad approve of? Seriously now."

   "No… that's for me to decide."

   "Exactly. If your mom and dad say no, are you going to drop him?"

   "No…"

   "Exactly. So… what's the point. The ritual has been replaced by something weird. All the other daddies now sit around, and drink beer, and give each other ideas. What the best way to try and scare the guy off when he visits is. They all drink beer, and brag. How they know how to scare the boyfriend. And? If a boyfriend isn't scared, and god forbid stands up to daddy? Fuck me, that's worse. Hurry… does your dad drink? I don't mean a drunk, I mean… drink at all."

   "He works hard on the family farm, dear. Couple beers when he's done working all day. A few fingers of something strong after dinner, over ice. He drinks like I do, its where I learned it. You have a drink or two, you don't get piss drunk like a moron."

   "And I've seen pictures of you, and your daddy. He's a big guy. He's going to have two drinks instead of one, because he has to sit and have dinner with the guy that squirts come all over his little girl's face every night. Sorry Wiz, just making an example. But Hurry? That's what's running through your daddy's mind. He's gonna start fucking with sweet little Wizzy here. And if Wizzy opens his mouth? He's gonna feel like he has to back up his bullshit he's been putting through him. And one of them, is going to toss the other one, through the window. Cops are getting called, the works. Why go through this. When it serves no purpose."

   "Lightning. Boys meet the family. I know it happens. He has to meet them anyways."

   "In the movies? Yeah, its cute. Its funny. In real life? Not so much, big sis. Unless maybe, and I emphasize the maybe part here, mind you. Maybe… if they both hunt, maybe they were both in the service? They can share something, and he'll put his arm around him and they have a beer together. Like in the movies, but… I'm not taking bets on it. Because Wizzy's an intellectual. Daddy? Runs a farm. I just don't see these two worlds colliding, and two hours of funny dialog later, everyone sings cum bye ya, and the curtains close."

   "Why aren't you two guys dating. You two sound alike."

   "Because I don't shake my ass, and poach my big sister's boyfriends, like lazy whore number three. I'm lazy whore number one, if you remember. I tell you how the game is, whether you like it or not. And I might be wrong, but… that's how I call it. My best guess. There's a bigger problem here that you might not be seeing, too."

   "What's that. Sounds wonderful so far…"

   "Wizzy? Real quiet, real polite. Perfect gentleman. Your daddy? Is going to circle him like a shark smelling blood in the water. He's going to talk mad shit, because he can get away with it. And when he goes too far? That's when the problem is coming. After its gone too far to put a stop to it. You hate your daddy, like a lot of girls do? Then by all means, go for it. But… you come from real family, not a mom that's been remarried a couple times like the rest of the world."

   "So no one ever brings a guy home, and it goes okay."

   "Yes, Hurry. It happens. Wizzy? Is an intellectual, among other things. If your father read Shakespeare, if he had a library. Hell, these two would go off and your dad would be all impressed, that you found a smart guy. Wizzy could wow him, with all his book learning. Now… does that sound like your dad?"

   I sighed.

   "No. Its not. Light, the other girls take boys home. How do they do it?"

   "Hurry. Do they take the guy home that bends them over? Or… do they suddenly date some nice guy for a month, and take him home. They cultivate, and take home? A show boyfriend. So daddy will keep making their car payment for them, so daddy will keep sending her money every month. Secure in the fantasy, that his little girl isn't doing exactly what she's doing for four years. Then? Mommy and daddy can all shit themselves in glee. Oh, our little princess? Is dating a pre med student, she's going to marry a doctor! Oh, I'm going to call the neighbors up and brag. Daddy can brag how his little princess is still going to church away at school and she's dating an engineering student. My future son in law? Will build bridges! Why, he's going to be a somebody! My little girl is going to be very important, you know."

   "Why can't Wiz, be my show boyfriend? My real boyfriend too, but… you know what I mean."

   "Wiz. Your family owns a big farm, about twice as big as hers? And you grew up working on it, and you're the kid that's going to inherit it?"

   "Fuck no. My dad works in a steel mill."

   "Hey Hurry. It was worth a shot."

   "Little Lightning… how did my little sister, get so jaded and practical about the world, huh? Why can't things be…"

   Lightning got quiet, and shrugged.

   "Like what, Hurry. Like the movies? Those damn romantic comedies everyone watches, and eats popcorn. Then go out trying to find a guy that's so sweet, yet still so strong and handsome? Boys like to watch action movies, and superhero movies. Girls? By and large like that stuff. You know the big difference though? Here, I'll show you. Wizzy?"

   "Yeah, Light."

   "Action movies. The tall, handsome, muscular and surprisingly smart hero. Is that shit real?"

   He laughed.

   "No. Fun to watch. Its an adult version of a comic book. Its entertainment."

   "There you go, Hurry. Boys, by and large? Know its just entertainment. Girls though, and why I don't know… they cling to their princess storybooks, then the adult version is those stupid romantic comedies. Now, the boys? The worst they risk, is going out the next night, and might get a black eye. But the girls? No, they'll dump a perfectly good guy, and run out trying to find mister perfect. That really gets them. Life isn't a movie, Hurry. Its called real life for a reason."

   "Some part of me, little sister? Knows you're probably right. Doesn't mean I like hearing it."

   "Do you ask me these things, for me to make you up a pretty story? Or, do you ask me, so I tell you the real deal."

   "Real deal. I know enough fairy tales."

   "There you go. Wizzy?"

   "Light."

   "Gonna go out on a limb here. I'm betting, that your parents, are your parents. Got married young, that's your mom, that's your dad, right?"

   "Yeah. Sure."

   "I know Hurry had it like that. Most of us? Didn't grow up like that. We know who our mom is, because someone saw us getting shit out of her twat at some hospital. Dad? Might actually be the guy that fucked her. Or, most cases… dad is just the guy mom's married to at the moment. If mom's even married at all. The other girls? Used to make fun of Hurry here, and called her… little mizz two parents. They thought it was funny. I don't. I wish I had what you two had. Real parents. Maybe that accounts for it. Why you guys, are like two peas in a pod. Hate all the bullshit and the games. I don't know."

   "Lightning?"

   "Wizzy."

   "This is the first time we really… talked. All of a sudden, you don't sound like a dumb jock, you don't sound like a ditsy slut. I mean that in a good way."

   "Thanks, Wiz. You? Are not what we all signed up for, the first time Hurry here wanted us to see the guy she liked. Which was before you two went out, trust me. I've been hearing about you long before I ever met you. I was at that party you were at, a long time ago, Wiz. The one where some asshole football player was giving you the shits. He's always like that, he does it to anyone he can. That was normal."

   "I know the party you're talking about."

   "What wasn't normal? Was when you went over and talked to him… then all of a sudden he quit messing with you. I knew something was up, I just didn't know what. But… I reported to my big sister, that I saw the guy she liked, out at some party. I knew the guy Bubbly you sent the asshole over to talk to, and that had something to do with him leaving you alone. I used to fuck one of Bubbly's wrestling team mates. I never did know what kind of a fire I lit under my big sister's ass, but… here you are. And she's got this huge, silly, shit eating grin on her face, talking about taking you home to meet her parents."

   "Little Lightning. I owe you. Big time. I wouldn't… be here, if it wasn't for you. Thanks."

   "No biggie. I owed Hurry. Big time. When I first got here? The older girls on the team, were giving me the shits. Just like your football player, was giving you the shits. You could just leave the party if you had to. I can't get off the girls soccer team. Not without going home. Scholarship. They weren't just picking on me, there was more to it than that, that I won't go into, but… I told the coach I couldn't do it anymore, that I had to go home. And the coach sent me to Hurry here. Now everything's okay. I'm glad I ended up paying her back, without knowing it. Even if I don't know how I pulled it off."

   "Thanks."

   "Its fine. I am a jock though, Wiz. I'm only here? Because I can put a ball into some net. No other reason, or I couldn't afford to be here. I have to major in something, so… advanced basket weaving it is. I hate my town, I hate my home life, I hate everything about it, and I think I'd die if I ever went back. Why lie. I picked Human Relations, because I have to get a degree in something, or I can't put the ball in the net, and I have to go home. If that gets me a job after I graduate, Human Relations? Great. Then I never have to go back home, ever again."

   "What's so bad about home?"

   Lightning chuckled.

   "I don't talk about it. It's not important. I just hate it there, and I don't wanna go back. Maybe when Hurry has some more… psychology under her belt? I'll get the nerve up, to see if she can help me. Until then? Ball in the net. Soccer's all that I'm good at, that really matters in any way. I didn't have grades like you and Hurry had in high school. I don't think if I had the money to go here, I would have got accepted anyways. Hurry… the coach… wanting to win that championship, just one time? That's the best thing that could happen to me. You see, if you win it? You get this stupid ring, that says you won. I get to take that with me, the rest of my life. First time I ever really wanted something, so bad I can taste it."

   "Lightning? You act like I'd be here, grades or no grades. Not without balls in a net. I wouldn't be getting degrees in Psychology without it. I'm a jock too, I'm no different."

   "Yeah, but you're not majoring in basket weaving."

   "Advanced basket weaving, and don't you forget it. The joke is, Wiz. I got three kids I'm responsible for? This is the smart kid, and one of the two good kids."

   "Hurry. Where's lazy whore number three at? I can report number two, is making burgers, and serving drinks to the Army boys. If she ain't home tonight, she wanted to get fucked again. You heard from number three? Or know where she's at?"

   "Who knows. I try not to let my imagination run away thinking too much about it. We're gonna lose her, you know. You, and Right, and her. All stars, all recruited to get a young front line going. You're all better than we ever hoped. Thing is, you two? Improved from just your first year. Little Miss Moody? Not so much. Its starting to look like she's just a milker."

   He asked what a milker was.

   "Lightning? Educate him."

   "Milk maid. A jock gets recruited special, to be a star for a team. You're expected to work hard, and get better, every year. Put out for the team. But… a milker? Doesn't. They just coast in, their hard work's done. They got their scholarship. They show up to practice, they show up to games… they get their degree for free, they just party as much as they can for four years. They're milking it."

   "Sounds like the service. Guy just doing the minimum to get by, knows he's going to jet when his tour's up."

   "That's her. What are we going to do about it, Hurry?"

   "What can we do. Between just you and me, the coach is trying like hell to get another star center. You, and Right… and even her, to some extent. Coach says recruiting is going great. He might snag one. I hope he scores one. We need a plan B, for her going sour milk. I don't like the idea of just missing out on another championship, because she won't take medication for whatever the fuck is wrong with her."

   Lightning laughed.

   "What, dear."

   "Oh. Nothing. I'm just the good kid, as you put it… because she's here, to make me look better."

   "Light? You know better. The coach loves you. Remember, you were big news. Any high school girl that's a star in a Quad A school? Coach says they get all excited, they might get a chance to play with Little Lightning, the girl they saw on the videos."

   "What's the roster like over the summer, Hurry?"

   "So far, so good. None of the girls managed to get arrested, pregnant, or fail to maintain a 2.5 in their chosen course of study. Fingers crossed. Summer ain't over yet. You girls get any workouts in the last several days?"

   "Well. I think we got as much of a workout as you got here, judging by the silly smile you're wearing."

   "I still managed to put a few miles in most mornings, riding Wiz for his birthday present or not. You two?"

   Lightning smiled, but she wasn't shy about it.

   "I? Worked on my breath control. And judging by what I heard late at night in the next room over at the Army house, we were both working on general muscle tone. And yes, we went jogging a few times. The boys? Get up at the ass crack of dawn, and go running."

   Mine chuckled.

   "Service thing. Morning PT. Most of us that were in the service do it, so we don't go to absolute shit. Muscle tone? I get the joke. Making out, is working out. Breath control?"

   Me and Lightning laughed. I reached around and stuck my finger in his mouth, and made him make the gagging sound. Lightning laughed her ass off, as did I at my little joke to show him.

   "Hey!"

   "Well, you get it now?"

   "Yeah, thanks for the visual aid, honey."

   Lightning smiled and shrugged. Shy wasn't one of her shortcomings.

   "Hey. What can I say. Boys like it, and I like boys."

   "Yeah. For all the wrong reasons, too."

   I stuck my tongue out at her, so she knew I was kidding. She giggled and stood up, putting her hands on her hips in mock anger.

   "Oh. Listen to you, Hurry. And, what was with that little video you sent me. Was that you? Dressed like a bigger slut than I ever was, bending over at some buffet somewhere? You don't get to say shit about how I dress, not any more. Farm slut…"

   "Hmm. How could I be a bigger slut than you, when it was your goddamn clothes I was wearing, huh?"

   "Can't believe you went there, but fine. You're taller than me, by about an inch. And you have bigger legs. All muscle or not? That mini covers less of you, than it ever did on me. That makes you? The bigger slut."

   "I only did it once. You? Go out like that all the time."

   While we giggled and had our fun mock argument, my boyfriend sitting in front of me in the tub got jostled every time I moved around to shake my finger at her, and try to win another argument point. He finally joined in the fun.

   "Now, now. Girls? You can both be gigantic sluts, its fine."

   Lightning thought that was the funniest thing and doubled over in laughter, and I gave him a mock beating with the magic washrag. Lightning waited until the "beating" was over, and leaned her hands on the far end of the tub, facing both of us. She winked at me, to let me know she was kidding.

   "No, Wizzy. I'm a way bigger slut than Hurry. I go through a new boy every month. She only manages one a year. Want me to prove it, hmm?"

   He didn't say anything, and I could feel his body freeze the way he sat in front of me, with me wrapped around him the way I was. I giggled and put the magic washrag across his mouth, and hauled back on both ends of the washrag. Slut reins, though it passed in polite company for a joke. I giggled and bit his neck softly, while he pretended to actually struggle. Lightning smiled and winked at me again.

   "Wizzy… did you enjoy the blowjobs Hurry gave you, hmm? I bet you did, didn't you, you naughty little boy. I bet you loved every minute of it, and pulled the hair right out of her head, huh? Of course you did. Because, all… boys… love it. Simple fact. Now. You have to ask yourself, Wizzy. Where, oh where, did my big sister ever learn such a thing. Hmm. The university insists all the athletes eat healthy food, and we get all the vegetables we can stand. Carrots came in that week, when we picked up our order, down at the supermarket. I taught her at the kitchen table, right downstairs, on carrots. Until she could do a half ass job at it. For your big date she took you on, and she disappeared for a couple days and nights."

   He had quit struggling, and had his hands back on me, under the whirling water. Rubbing my hips and thighs.

   "So, Wizzy. You not only owe me big, like you said… for hooking you up with your girlfriend you seem to be so in love with. You? Also owe me, even bigger, for making sure she had some idea how to make you feel good. Good enough, I might add, that you were moved in about a week after your big date ended. So, you can show a little respect, for sluts. Without this big one in the townhouse? You, wouldn't be having as much fun as you are."

   I had him fast with the washrag reins, giggling my ass off while she teased him for fun. She winked again, and played with the water in front of him, smiling.

   "You don't need to worry, Wizzy. I didn't teach her on a real, live, dick. Your girlfriend? Is way too much of a nun for that sort of shit. Now, Right on the other hand? She was complaining she didn't know how to do a decent job, so… I showed her. The guy I was fucking at the time she asked for my help? I took her over to his room one weekend, and I taught her. On the job, is the best way to learn… simply anything. That guy? About lost his little mind. That was about nine months ago, and last I heard he's still bragging about his big weekend he had."

   I couldn't stop giggling, and yanked back on his washrag reins in mock anger. She's too good at this, and winked again at me, to make sure she wasn't getting into trouble. I winked back, to let her know it was all in good fun, and he couldn't see me wink anyways.

   "And last thing, Wizzy? I fuck nice boys, too. When they have a decent body, and work on it. And you have one. You have about the same body, as this one light heavyweight golden gloves boxer, I used to fuck for fun. You know, one of my fuck buddies, they call it. You look just like him, from the neck down. Always in the gym, always running, always training. Yeah, girls like that."

   I yanked him around some more, for show, laughing. She splashed water up at him, giggling.

   "And for the record? I lied. The only reason I didn't fuck you, when you kept asking me out back then? Was because Hurry already had a thing for you. And? I already explained, I more or less owe her my life. I can get all the dick I need, and then some, if I want it. But my big sister? She gets all hung up, on just one… guy… at a time. Which was you. So, you can thank me for not fucking you, actually. I'd have had fun, for a couple of weeks… then traded you to one of the other girls. Put you on the circuit. After all, Wizzy… what's the best way to get back at the girl that dumps you, huh? Fuck one of her friends, right?"

   I giggled and dunked his head by his washrag reins and brought him back up, laughing.

   "You think that shit's all an accident, don't you. Its not. When one girl is getting ready to finish having fun with a guy? She lines her friend up, who starts hitting on the guy, right before she dumps him. Its called, throwing your girlfriend a dick. The girl you fuck? Knows before you do, who you're going to fuck next. So… don't be so impressed, with the guys that seem like they have some kind of magic going on. They don't. They only got lucky… once. The rest? All planned."

   I stopped biting his neck long enough to whisper loud in his ear.

   "You listening to this? She's a pro, explaining how its all just one big game."

   He nodded yes, then I giggled and made him "struggle" a little more for fun. She smiled, and splashed him some more. He jumped every time her hand went in the water.

   "Don't worry. I won't lay a pinkie finger on you. Hurry? Would kill me. I'm actually jealous, you know. You seem to actually love her. I don't know how she does it. And… thanks, by the way. I really liked Army boy. I honestly? Wanted to try to have a decent boyfriend for once. Like Hurry here is always bragging about. With you. The problem was me. Apparently, if a girl takes more than one guy every year? We're no good to you nice guys. Its a pity. I actually intended, to not go out on him, I really liked him. I tried it her way. But thanks, for hooking me up. I got to try playing nice girl for a change, and it was fun while it lasted. I'm gonna take a couple weeks off, then get back out there and try again."

   She touched his nose, and he jumped about six inches up from the bottom of the tub.

   "Yeah, Wizzy. Those guys that brag? Its mostly all planned. You know, the girl leaves the guy at her apartment, with her room mate. Guys? I'm going to the store. Now I'm trusting you, don't you do anything. I'll be back in about two hours. Then she leaves, and the room mate just about rapes the guy and won't take no for an answer. It was the plan all along. Don't think for a second that guy's got any special skills. He just thinks he does. The only special skills required? Just don't stalk or fight when the fun ends and you get dumped. That's it. And the so called nice guys, that don't take advantage of the situation? They're getting dumped just the same, whether they enjoy the room mate or not."

   She touched his nose again, and he jumped again.

   "Girls only get mad, when the room mate does it and there was no plan. Little Miss Moody? Got rag dolled by your girlfriend, because she knew better, and tried it anyways. I don't know what she was thinking. Now… did I do enough for you, that you didn't even know about, that I can be a slut and maybe you won't hate me for it?"

   I still had his reins, and moved his head up and down for him, in case he wasn't going to do it on his own.

   "Jesus, Hurry. He's so jumpy. You haven't been telling him the champagne stories, have you? You'll scare all my guys off with that one. Have a heart, would you… and… oh my god!"

   I was puzzled.

   "What?"

   "Hurry, and you called me the slut? Christ almighty…"

   She walked around him, looking him over. I still had him tight by the washrag, not even thinking. She looked at his shoulders, neck and upper back. Inadvertently, I was holding him still for her to inspect him like a horse.

   "What my ass, sis. Bite marks, scratches all over him. Jesus, are you fucking him or trying to kill him…"

   I dropped the reins.

   "A little of both. Birthday fun. What the hell."

   "I'm going to have to up my game, you keep this shit up. So… what are you guys planning on doing tonight. Its early."

   "We're doing it, Light. Don't you see us, in the tub?"

   "You've been scratching and biting him for days, it looks like. Let the poor guy have a night out… oh. Do you mind?"

   She was pointing at the little red bong and baggie on the chair.

   "No. Go ahead. Courtesy of Miss Moody."

   "Don't mind if I do…"

   She packed up a little bowl, and worked her finger on the carburetor hole, and held it in. Then blew it out.

   "God, I wish you could straighten her ass out. She goes to second string, I'm not going to miss her out of the Village housing, but… I will miss her goddamn stash. Christ, she scores a pillowcase at a time, so she doesn't miss it when we smoke out on her shit."

   "If I could magically straighten her out? I think I wouldn't need the psych degrees."

   "Can I roll a joint for us, you mind…"

   "You act like I paid for it. My hands are wet. Go for it."

   She left to go get papers. We heard her yelling from her room.

   "What the hell happened to my room?!?!"

   She came back in, and bent over the chair, to roll up a joint carefully. She was wearing a pair of her favorite type of jeans, with one of her summer tops. Ostensibly a cut up T shirt. Baring her tummy as far up as she could get away with, sleeveless. She practically never wore a bra. Original T shirt it was made out of? So big that now cut up it did everything except scream, please notice my tits. As soon as you're done looking at my tight tummy.

   As soon as her attention was all devoted to carefully tending what she was up to, I gently took a finger on his chin and turned his head right towards the show. She was standing right up against the tub, her flat stomach was right in his face. Little tiny bellybutton stretched tight. When she moved, you could watch her abs dance. If a guy liked a tall, fit girl that was still super feminine to boot? This was a great show. My finger pushing his chin over told him it was fine to ogle it. When she bent over the chair, her fairly small and perky breasts were put on full display when the oversize cut up T shirt went down.

   I'm tan, hell I'm Italian so go figure I get dark in the summers. I have the kind of skin a lot of Italian women have. Fairly smooth, but you can see our pores. She has the fine, glass smooth skin some women have. Barely a freckle to mar it. I get the extra dark tan an Italian girl gets. She goes pale in winter, but as soon as she gets sun in the spring? She quickly gets a rich tan. Not as dark as mine, naturally, but way more than you'd think such a pale winter beauty could get when the sun comes back out to play more than a few hours a day.

   He saw what I could see. Hell, we're girls and we live together, like I haven't seen her tits before. Perky, perfect little things. Small nipples like a guy would have, except on boobs that are small enough and she's fit enough, that they defy gravity. Like pears sliced in half, and glued on. Taut skin because we're all fit at this level of play. He could see she obviously lays out somewhere topless, the boobs are perfectly as tan as the rest of her. He's not aware that the field I used him for a horse in that rainy night? Is where the girls in the village hike to, to lay out topless. In the tall grass, with no music or other noise? They have ample warning if anyone's coming, but still fully exposed to summer sun.

   I guess when we get started with the fun I have planned, if I pull it off? I'll go up with her one day, and make him give us an oil rubdown. To get him all hot and bothered.

   Even her jeans are sexy jeans. I wear regular jeans. Work jeans, I always buy the heavier ounce jean material. So it takes a while to break them in, but they last forever. Heavy enough when the little rips come, they don't come apart. Hers? Pretty much the complete opposite. Low, real low, on her hips. Low enough you can see the perfect "V" starting under her flat abs. The first hint of ass crack beginning when she bends over, in the rear. Soft and thin jeans material, that form fits to her long, lithe acrobatic legs. When she so much as shifts her weight around? You can watch her leg muscles move smoothly with her. Shoelace for a zipper, and made so you leave the shoelace "undone", as a visual tease. There's a hidden zipper underneath the faux shoelace fly.

   My jeans are made to work in, if you want to. Hers? Made strictly to be cute and sexy. Any real work, and they'd fall to strings in no time. One knee's starting to give up the ghost on these, so you can see her leg muscles attach to her knee. More fit muscle play when she moves around, too. She has the compact upper body of a dancer as well. Rounded shoulders, and back muscles that show. Nothing moving on her arms but sinew and muscle over bones.

   She's probably what people think of, when they conjure up an image of a tall, well toned, athletic girl. Her face is very feminine and pretty, without looking too girly girly, like a cheerleader would. Naturally blonde hair, the kind some girls must go through color after color to get to, she just has it naturally. Not a dirty blonde per se, just a hint of the dirty. Just not that perfect platinum blonde. Her face would be about flawless, except for the one tiny scar on one cheek, close to her nose. That was courtesy of being airborne, kicking in to win the huge game. When she got knocked on the "two step" rule while in acrobatic flight, hard. She careened ass over tin cups into benches and equipment, so bad she never would remember anything from long minutes before her triumphant last minute score, until waking up on a stretcher.

   With the proper protection and coverage, she's a fast and lethal sharpshooter and ball handler and steal-er. Without that protection? She's vulnerable. Big fullbacks, like me? Is who she's smoking circles around, when she's in the "hot zone" the last so many yards from the other team's net. Big girls like me, that know how to hit her hard and fast and barely legal to squeak under what's covered by calling soccer a "limited contact" sport that allows for "incidental contact". That's on paper. In real life? Its not so much anything but taught and learned and practiced and drilled and completely planned.

   If you start roughing up my star forwards and center? I'm allowed to switch positions, and start playing up. I'm just fast enough, and have just enough skill that my size and speed and strength allow me to put a stop to it. We drill endlessly on blind screens, and I know how to lay a legal hit on the big girls that don't have the speed and skill to keep up with me. If I'm moved forward, I take over being temporary center, and Little Miss Moody has to fall back. I have a thing for stealing the ball on a slide, and getting it back to Lightning and Right, who can run and gun some more, while the heat's on.

   When the opposing coach learns his lesson, and takes the big goon fullbacks out? I can fall back into position, and number three comes back up to press her advantage. Speed and ball handling, and steals I could never dream of pulling off. Her job is to maneuver, and feed these two. And keep feeding them, its where the scores come from. She gets assists out the ass, every time she feeds Lightning and Right, and they score. She looks like a goddess on paper, with all those assists. Coaches like assist players, as much as they like scorers. They hate ball hogs. Number three used to basically be "Lightning" or "Right" at her quad A high school. Now? Her job is to feed these two, and it hurts her pride. She'll do it? But… she's losing interest in working out in the off season, and the coach has to keep on her to feed, feed, feed.

   She's putting herself above the team, and its going to cost us. If we can find another "Little Lightning", that can cover center as good as Miss Moody? She won't lose her scholarship, but she can go to second string, and party and milk her scholarship for all its worth. What the hell she's going to do with her "Practical Art" degree, I can't fathom.

   Who in the hell will pay her a living wage high enough to live in some big city where art is even a paying career, when she makes kindergarten level finger paints with her toes? I have no idea. Maybe its a thing somewhere, and maybe its just all she can pass courses in, to fulfill her scholarship requirements. I suppose she'll just claim to be an "artist" in the trendy part of a big city, where real artists live and work and earn a good living? And deal drugs to them. My best guess. Hey, its a living.

   I'm looking now, like he's looking. I know he's looking at his real life pole vaulter girl and being polite to me and her both, by not staring and slobbering. I know, and now he knows… that he stands an excellent chance of having some serious fun with this girl, that strongly resembles one of his calendar girls he once pulled his prick raw to. I'm not even jealous, simply because of knowing enough about him, his fantasies, and other things.

   I look exactly like a couple of his rodeo girls, that he had very naughty fantasies about. I'm no championship barrel racer, at the national level like those calendar girls? But, I look just like them… to him. I can get on a horse, and let him snap pictures surprisingly similar to the action shots he once touched himself to on weeknights, falling asleep for four years. He's already pointed out the girl driving stock with a bullwhip in the one action photo in her montage, and smiled at me. I'm her, for him. I do things to him with my bullwhip, and not just in his fantasy. I played it out for him, and he can't get enough of me.

   He once joked about calf roping, and I surprised him without warning him. I grabbed him by the back of his knee and around his neck suddenly, got him up on my knee under him, and dropped him in the gathered up heap on the bed… then wound the extra rough fun rope around his wrists and one ankle and stood up with my hands in the air, for my "time". Smiling down at him, drooling. I can't rope a calf in any time close to those championship girls? But I've done it in real life. Close enough that when I do it to him, he's all goo goo eyes for me.

   The extra naughty and dirty things, that his fantasy calendar girls would force him to "do", taken down to their barn, when they got tipsy and mean about it? I've taken him in the basement, and done to him. I've done it to him in the living room, and I've done it to him in the bedroom and in the shower. I've gotten a "buzz", and pretended to be in a bad mood before. Decided I was going to teach him to lick me better. Punished him, while I taught him how to do it "better". Once I make a trip home and can locate a few key things? I'm going to surprise him with my real life costume.

   I actually own goat skin chaps and spurs that fit on my heels of my cowgirl boots. I can clink them around in the basement while I menace him, teaching him a lesson worthy of a pissed off rodeo girl. The fact that the Texas rodeo girls were all piss-y to service guys and Yankees with northern accents? Works in my favor. The harder I whip him, the more I lay my hand across his face or yell at him? The more turned on he's going to get. I can't wait to stalk around him one night, and let him him hear my metal spurs clink distinctly on the cement sub basement floor. Hear, not see them. Because he'll be strung up naked and blindfolded, helpless for my big whip I can crack at will.

   He knows that in a number of weeks, no matter how "good" he is? He's going to get an unannounced visit from Mistress Vaquera. Tell him its time. I'm going to be in what he'll take for my rodeo getup. He knows Vaquera is going to get called in, to perform special services for his mommy. Bullwhip a pair of jeans right off his ass, while he screams and cries to her laughing at him to be quiet. That he was so jealous of some other guy getting one crack on the jeans, how lucky is he to get so many at one time.

   Then when Vaquera finally gets the rip, and sees the whip marks on his torn open jeans finally? She's going to "clink, clink" right up to him, tied over the extra desk helpless. Shred those jeans open from that rip, exposing his naked, marked up ass… and plow into him with her toy like never before. While he's still squirming and screeching and bawling from his whipping. She's going to leave him shaking and squealing, like a real life rape victim… while she coolly explains that this is going to happen to him twice in a row the next time, when he moves into the townhouse with his mommy. To set the tone for his good behavior living there with her "friend".

   Casually tell him, how she's going to keep stopping over for unannounced visits, and how she better get a stellar report on his behavior, or else. And not that it will save him, because even if he is good? She's still going to miss hearing him scream, and do it to him anyways. Because he's one of her trained sluts, and she can do what she wants with him. Then? She'll take him out somewhere to eat, dressed provocatively. Smile at him squirming in his seat across the table from her, because she knows that she made that squirming happen.

   He doesn't know I've secretly told Lightning, that she's allowed to "act up" around him to have fun with him. She does it all the time anyways, to impress boys when she's out. The only reason she doesn't do it around the townhouse already? Is because I asked her not to. Because she loves me like a weird combination of big sister and friendly attack dog that everyone else is scared of. She's having huge fun, being given the go ahead to flirt shamelessly in front of him, its her thing and she's well practiced at it. He has no idea this is what she does in bars, to attract guys to her.

   All she lacks in the looks department, is being a hair too tall if that offends a guy's delicate sensibilities on that count. If you're not intimidated by her height and otherwise approve of a fit, well toned body? She's perfect. I know I'm an 8 or 9 in his mind's eye, so I'm not jealous. I let her know, that her height actually makes her more attractive to him, so… she's having fun making him squirm in front of his girlfriend. In the tub right this moment, which is hysterical.

   She's all done with the joint, and is carefully laying it to dry, from her wet tongue's work on it. Maybe a hair too much, she's putting on an approved show, and having fun. She leans down over the tub again, once again putting her well formed small boobs on display like a showcase, right in his face where he can't help but notice.

   "Now then. Is someone going to tell me, why my room looks like it does?"

   "Me and him cleaned it. Are you mad?"

   "No. Am I not a lazy whore? What would I care if someone does free work for me, when I'm out and about. I'm just worried what I now owe for this service. Do… I have to buy pizza? I kinda already owe Wizzy here some pizza, for putting that smile on your face. Or, do I have to pay for it in trade, huh? Sure I can come up with something, if I put my head to it."

   "Free of charge. Maybe it'll be a little easier to keep it clean, now that we got it that way for a start."

   "Hmm. We'll see how that goes, I guess. Now. Wizzy? I can do more with my mouth than just make wise ass comments, and give great head. I'm kind of the townhouse shotgun champion. Want a sample of my award winning work?"

   "Ask Hurry for permission. I don't want whipped with the washrag again. A nice guy like me? Can only take so much abuse, you know."

   "Yeah. Judging by all the bite marks and scratches all over you? You can take quite a bit. Glad you had fun. Do you know what a shotgun is?"

   "I assume this isn't going to be performed with a 12 gauge."

   "No. If we had firearms in the townhouse? We'd probably string Little Miss Moody up and use her for target practice, when she acts up. Hurry? Your permission to give a shotgun…"

   "Go on. You can't see anything serious down in the water anyways, with the jets on."

   She lit the joint, and blew it out and wiggled it to get a nice little cherry going. She put it in her mouth, but backwards. Just the tip you normally smoke out of, peeking out of her mouth. She grabbed the back of his head, and drew him in, as if for a kiss. I felt him tense up. I whispered in his ear to go on, it was okay. He finally relaxed, and it was like she barely kissed him for a few seconds. When she let him go, he clapped his hands over his mouth, then finally lost the battle and blew out the cloud of smoke.

   "Not bad… one for me…"

   She hit it normally, then eventually exhaled.

   "Your turn, sis…"

   I leaned over, and it would have looked like we were kissing, but not once you noticed our lips barely made contact, and there was no motion whatsoever. Its just a smoke proof seal. I finally exhaled down his back, so he could smell it billow around him.

   "Wizzy up…"

   He got another one, and this time managed to hold it in without choking to death. She went around and we each got our turn, until it was down to a roach.

   "Professional courtesy applies, kids…"

   She dropped the roach into the bong and finished it off.

   "Do you wonder why everyone likes shotguns, Wiz?"

   "Because… your lips get to touch a pretty girl's lips, while you do it?"

   "Hmm. Maybe for you, you're a guy. You notice, your girlfriend likes it too, and she's not a lesbian. So…"

   "Then I don't know."

   "They say, the smoke gets filtered and isn't as hot as normal, doing it this way. If you tried to hit it this light like normal? It goes out. But since I'm blowing through the cherry? The tiniest bit of wind keeps it lit. End result? Colder smoke, bigger hit, less choking. You like?"

   "If my girlfriend doesn't get mad at me, its okay with me."

   "Hurry? Am I allowed to practice my specialty on him?"

   "As long as I'm in the room? Yes. If I'm not home and any other girls are here? Yes. If you two are alone? Well, even a big sister's love, has limits."

   "Oh. So basically, we're allowed to have our lips touch, but only if you get to watch? I get it. So, little Wizzy. Maybe, you could help poor little me out, with a teeny little problem I'm experiencing, hmm?"

   "Depends. Like everything else? I will direct all questions, to my boss. She's management material, I just work here. My name's not on the lease, and if I get into trouble? My ass is homeless. The boss, is sitting right behind me."

   "Well. Good answer. Hurry? You have this one litter trained very thoroughly. I'm impressed. You'll have to share your techniques with me. I could have used them the last couple days. My normal powers of persuasion that I've come to rely on? Failed me, in a clutch moment."

   "Pretty simple. You just beat them senseless? Then give them sweet hugs and kisses. They give up and do whatever you say, after enough times. Doesn't take long."

   "Hmm. Doesn't work on number three."

   "You have to tug on their wiener, while you use both techniques. She lacks a penis, so I can't train her."

   "Hmm. If I'd known you were such an expert, I could have switched boyfriends for a weekend, and see what you could have done with mine. Which brings us back to Wizzy and his help. Hurry, am I allowed to ask Wizzy for his opinions?"

   "Talking is allowed."

   She was bending over the tub again and might as well take her shirt off, that might make it less obvious. But I told her on the sly to have fun, so she's vamping it up to enjoy making him squirm.

   "Wizzy, Wizzy, Wizzy. I want the low down on… your Army buddies. I'm obviously not used to dealing with nice guys, and… I'm not used to coming up short like this. Any advice or help you can give."

   "I… don't know how girls relate to one another. I only know the guy rules and etiquette, Light. I'll try to help any way I can, and not violate the sanctity of the man club. I'm in your debt, for several services you've previously rendered, to make my life so… enjoyable. If? After we're done, you promise to talk about you, when you were growing up some. I never saw this side of you, and I'm all curious."

   "What side, my boob side? Yes, I put them on the display rack. In case you haven't figured out, you're allowed to look. Your girlfriend isn't slapping you, for looking."

   "So you say. What happens to me later on down the line? Is another matter."

   "Good god, are you squeezing his nuts under the water? I've never known a guy to be this polite before."

   "Do we have a deal?"

   "Deal, Wizzy. You first."

   "What do you want, what do you need."

   "Hmm. We'll smoke some more, while we talk… cool?"

   "Do your thing."

   "Yeah… doing my thing failed me, and I wanna know why, and I wanna know how to fix it."

   "Direct questions, will get you direct answers. Vague questions, will get you vague answers. Less useful, I would imagine."

   "Well. Wizzy? I can imagine what you think of me. I'm another slut running around campus. How was that? Helping to burn Rome down, while we all play cock instead of a fiddle, more or less."

   "Something like that."

   "Wizzy? You were in the service. Let me ask you something. There's things in the service, that just are. If you wanna be there, you have to follow the guidelines. Now… when its lunch time, you just follow the crowd to the chow hall, right? You get fed that way."

   "Sure."

   "Well? Regardless of what you think of me, its really not my fault that I act the way I do. The way most of the other girls around campus act. When its chow time, and you want to eat? You follow the crowd, or you don't get din din. I can tell by the look on your face, when I describe how "the game" gets played. Back in high school, here on campus… but I didn't make it that way, Wiz. I wasn't asked my opinion when the rules were being written, nor was I asked every year as the rules slowly changed."

   "Go on."

   "Okay. In the… Air Force, you were on a… base, right?"

   "It's called an Airbase. Yeah. Lackland Air Force Base, most of the time, when I wasn't sent around to other bases."

   "Service life. You had to wear a uniform, you had to wear your hair a certain way. You had to shave. They served food, at a certain time, and in a certain place. If you didn't wear the uniform, get the haircut, shave. Report to the right place, and at the right time? You didn't get to eat, did you."

   "Nope. You're right. We have a saying in the service, through all the branches. There's the right way, the wrong way? And then there's the United States military way. And right or wrong, that's how its going to be. Period."

   "Wizzy? The games you see us girls playing… that you hate so much. You and Hurry both. We didn't make the game, we didn't write the rules. You go fishing?"

   "Some."

   "The boys taught me and Right. If you see people catching fish? Just do what they do. Go where they go, make your line and hook and sinker, look like they're doing it. Use their bait or their lure. Throw in the same place, let it sit like they let it sit, reel it in like they reel it in. Because if they're catching fish, and you're not? Imitating a person catching a fish, is the only way to get one yourself."

   "Oh, hell yeah."

   "Well. If the girls around me, are getting more dates than I am, and I want a date too? I have to do what they do, if I expect to land a boy. Look how I'm dressed. I look… cute, right?"

   "If I don't get a red hot poker up my ass later on for saying so? Tentatively, yes."

   "Well, this is how other girls dress, that land boys. I can choose to wear a garbage bag, and poke my arms out the sides, but… if I don't get any dates that way, I might think about trying something else. Hence, my clothes you see and admit look cute. Fishing? I noticed the lures have bright dots and shiny things on them. Its designed to get bites and nibbles. I'm a girl. I want bites and nibbles, too. Why am I to be crucified, for wanting boys to notice me."

   "I can see where this is going, Light. When we're done, I'll tell you my take on it all, but, I'm not sure you're going to like my explanation. But for now, let's keep it simple and direct. I don't… hate you. Not personally. The system we have going though? This… game, as you call it? Its a race to the bottom. You people, men and women both… have now got it to the point, where evolution is working in reverse. We're all going backwards, instead of forwards. Because someone tweaked the game? And ruined the natural order of things. No, its not your fault. And I can appreciate where you're coming from. The other girls get dates, dressing cute. So? You want the same bait they use. Because you want a fish too. I get that."

   "Thanks, Wizzy. I always kinda thought you hated me for… acting like a slut. But, I can't be the only nun here, and expect to get laid."

   "Okay. Quid pro quo. Hurry here. Sitting right behind me. My tongue rolled out at her, and she was wearing combat boots, regular jeans, regular T shirt, and a flannel shirt. I get excited for her, not for what she's wearing. Yeah, you could stick her in a potato sack? I still can't wait to get a peek under the potato sack. To me? That's love. I love the person… you? Are describing lust. Not love. I spent the last four years of high school? As the show boyfriend. I spent the next four years in the service? Being the bad boy, even though I wasn't trying to be one."

   "I know."

   "Neither one, got me what I really wanted. A girl, to just love me, for being me. She's sitting right behind me, but… ask anyone. I speak the exact same way when she's not around, and I don't think it would get back to her. This is not some… rehearsed, nice guy speech. Its just the truth. Your… game? Is designed to get you laid. My game? Is designed to find me a mate, that I love, and loves me back. You? Want to catch more fish. I? Just want to land the big, perfect fish. I'm willing to wait for it, and you weren't willing to wait. So, years down the road… when we're all pushing 50 years old. You? Will have a stack of photos, of all those fish you caught. Look, I won the game. I caught 100 fish. I'll just take out a couple photos, then the one framed photo. Of that perfect, big, trophy fish."

   "Maybe this… is a guy and girl thing."

   "It could be, but I don't think so. Do I do what the other guys do? No. They all have it where they're the show boyfriend, and the girl's running around fucking everyone else but them, or… they're another bad boy, acting like a jackass, and they can't buy a relationship. Not one worth a fuck, anyhow. Its not just the girls, its the boys too. You're all acting like a bunch of idiots, all doing the same things, then wondering why you're all getting the same results."

   "Can you tell me, why the Army guys… are acting so different? From all the other guys on campus. It freaked me out."

   "Oh. Now that? I can tell you why."

   "Please."

   "Okay. We were all in the service. They let women in the service now. The women in the service? Are the biggest turbo-whores, you ever saw in your life. They put you girls here on campus? To fucking shame. They're surrounded by all these young, fit, macho guys. And they go fucking nuts. They like to try to maintain this sweet public image, but… they run around and let guys fuck them, one two and three at a time, every night of the week. The girlfriends, and the wives that aren't wearing uniforms? Are goddamn worse yet. Ask anyone ever been in the service. "

   "Really?"

   "Definitely, ask anyone telling the truth. If you get deployed? Its open season on your wife or girlfriend, and its game on, turbo-whore's open for business. All your buddies, all your enemies, even your sergeant gets a piece. Just light her cigarette, and bend her over the pool table. Everyone laughs. Everyone fucks her. When you get home, that's if you make it home alive, mind you. Everyone's showing you cell phone videos of her in action. Its the most disgusting thing you ever saw."

   "Holy shit. I had no idea."

   "Even for young guys, who you would think that this sounds like a sexy deal? Its just too much. After four or more years of it? We wanna throw up. We can't wait to get back to the real world, where the girls are only slightly better. And not by much, mind you. After a four year tour of Sodom and Gomorrah? Even a horny young man, is looking for something, as you would say… more like what you call a nun. Yeah, a girl like Hurry. Jeans, T shirt, and only one guy every year. You know, what normal women used to be like, before real life turned into a porno movie."

   "You're telling me, I'd still be dating the guy I liked, if I would have worn sweatpants and T shirts that weren't cut off, and didn't show off how good I can be in bed."

   "When I showed the boys videos, of you girls practicing? The boys came running. Tomboys. In shape. You girls were quiet and polite when you met the boys here, for the BBQ and I arranged a little fresh meat fighting practice. So you could see they're tough guys, like you girls like so much. Didn't you notice the boys were drooling over you girls? They were on their best behavior. Opening doors for you. Pulling your chair out. Standing up every time you sat down or stood up. Asking me, asking Hurry here, for permission to take you out on a date. Hell, your guy? I heard him promise Hurry here, that he'd have you home at a respectable time."

   "So, I did what works best on all the guys on campus, and… I accidentally did the exact opposite of the right thing."

   "Yeah. You think those guys can't get laid? They can. They want quality, not quantity. You know how here on campus, the guy brags the wilder the sex is, to his buddies. Yo, dude… last weekend, you wouldn't believe it. My girlfriend? Brought her room mate over. I swear to god. She actually taught her how to give a blow job. All weekend, both of them. On my dick! Dude, that shit was so cash, you have no idea."

   "Young boys, like young girls. No mystery there."

   "Well, here I guess. You know how you brag in the service?"

   "I'm afraid to ask, now that you mention it."

   "Dude, you remember that girl I met at the chili contest? Yeah, what about her. You got laid. Big deal. Well, I did, but… she was scared to try anything. She just laid there, and looked up at me, like she didn't know what she was doing. It was like my first time, back home, when I was 14. Then? Your buddies all go crazy. You never bring her around, you never leave her number laying around. She's too precious a commodity near an Airbase."

   "Wizzy? This is so unfair. Did you enjoy it, when Hurry used my carrot instructions, and you loved it?"

   "Um… she calls it the wet sloppy. I about die when she does it, ask her if I'm lying. I follow her around like a puppy dog. Why, I bet if she put a leash on me? She could walk me around and make me play fetch for her, and beg."

   I touched his dick, under the swirling water, to let him know how turned on I was, admitting it openly. Even if it was on the sly like he was doing it.

   "I only know about two guys I can verify she slept with, in two years she's been here. And you're number two, Wizzy. Who do you think made that happen for you? Me. The slut, with experience."

   "Little Lightning? Thank you. I am forever in your debt, and… anything you can talk my girlfriend into allowing me to do to pay you back? Get her to name it, and I'll do it. I owe you."

   "She was worried, she wouldn't… she asked me how to handle that date you went away on. I told her, make sure the guy knows that's the designated night. So he has something to look forward to. Did she show you her boobs? I told her to show you what you'd be getting, so you'd be all… mesmerized and want her."

   I gave him a couple little tugs on his interest meter, and I felt his interest rise. In secret, under the churning water. While he was staring at the pole vaulter of his dreams, who had gotten so engrossed in the conversation that she forgot he was getting an eyeful.

   "Again? I'll do anything I can, to make you feel better, Lightning. She… that was all you? She showed me more than her boobies. I got quite a show. She told me I was her boyfriend, and I was going to live with her, and probably marry her… before I even got past first base. I had a heart attack, when I saw her muscles. I would have knelt at her feet, if she would have asked."

   I was in heaven. Here I am, the practically a nun room mate. The inexperienced farm girl, asking for pointers on how to act like I know what I'm doing on my second college boyfriend. And my "every guy wants her" best friend? Is about to cry. I feel rotten, but oh so deliciously desirable and gorgeous right now.

   I poked his tight little bum with another hidden finger, in secret, while I gave him another couple tugs. Just to let him know how much I approved, how wet he was making me. And when he openly described kneeling at my dominant feet, and begging me to do more to him, anything my naughty compulsion craved, right before I did it to him? Yum. Even if he did say it in code, he still said it. If I get any wetter, any quicker? The water level is going to rise slightly.

   "Christ guys. I can't believe this. You, Hurry… you have limited experience in these matters, and you attract your soul mate, for the love of god. You followed all my advice, and it worked wonders. For you. On a service guy. Me? I find a guy I really liked, and was thinking about I could actually have a decent boyfriend for once. And… everything that should work? Backfired. The hell do I do now. Can I watch you guys fuck, so I can learn how to do it properly? So a nice guy will like me too? I don't believe this."

   "Lightning? Hurry kind of… I mean, I've never had anything like this before. We moved the furniture around, all over the townhouse while you girls were gone. I swear I thought I was going to die one time, she knocked something loose. Was that all your ideas too?"

   "Kitchen?"

   "Oh yeah. More then once."

   "Yeah, Wizzy. The kitchen? Is kinda my trademark. I don't know what about it, is so sexy about what I call… cooking in the kitchen? But… its so romantic, and I don't even know why. Please tell me, the kitchen got cleaned afterwards, that's all I ask…"

   "Um, we cleaned the kitchen, and we cleaned your room, too. It was on… cleaning day."

   "Gee. That's great. Before or after, living room. That's my other big advice. Something dirty, about doing it in what's normally a public space. Feels like you're going to get caught at any moment, when you know you're not. Makes it more exciting."

   "Yeah. Thanks."

   "Hurry! You farm slut. Wizzy? You were basically fucking me, in your girlfriend's body. She used my whole play book on you. Hope you had fun with me."

   We both laughed at the way she put it.

   "Little Lightning? You… were fantastic."

   "Thanks, Wizzy. I guess. This whole conversation is a little weird, but what the hell. Let's have another joint. You guys mind me hanging out with you? I don't wanna weird you out."

   "Light, we shower together all season long. I'm fine."

   "Yeah, but I don't wanna freak out your monk here. Him and his Army buddies, they're scared of any girl that knows how to fuck."

   "Light? I'm all scratched and bit up. I got worked over for days. You could jump in the tub with us right now, I might not even notice. She woke me up out of a sound sleep at night? Used me like a rape victim. I need counseling, I think."

   "Actually honey, I'm a psych major. I could give you the counseling you need for that."

   "Oh really. I'm not sure the rapist, is supposed to be the one that does the counseling. I felt so cheap and used. Like a piece of meat."

   Lightning blew out a giant bong hit, then went back to rolling the joint.

   "I know the feeling, Wizzy. Usually? That's me. Feels pretty good, to get ridden hard and put away wet and crying, doesn't it."

   "Hurry told me I'm a dirty little slut now."

   "Talking dirty. I taught her that one, too. If you need counseling, Wizzy, and I feel bad for you, really, you have no idea. My room is right around the corner. Feel free to stop in anytime. I'll give you all the counseling you need, so you can get through it."

   "Well. I would, but… I'm not allowed to set foot in your room, or… I'm a dead man."

   She lit the joint, a big one. Wiggled it and took a big hit, and passed it.

   "I thought you cleaned my room while I was gone, Wizzy. You need to get your story straight."

   "He's only allowed in your room, if I'm there with him. Under fear for his life. Nothing personal, Light. The other girl's rooms carry the same penalty."

   "Oh, well. There you go, Wiz. You have to bring the rapist down, to watch my rape counseling. Then? You're not in any trouble. Problem, solution."

   She handed me the hand towel so I wouldn't fuck the joint up with wet fingers.

   "So… how does your rape counseling go, little sister. I'd like to compare it to my Psych class on the subject."

   "Well, I have a new technique. I rape the ever loving shit out of the rape victim? Then, that way… they get over it. Then, I send them back to the rapist, and? Its no longer a problem."

   "Oh. Yeah, pretty much what the Psych professor said to do. And how did you learn this advanced technique?"

   "Practice. Lots of practice."

   I've actually got him sitting here, looking at her perfect little boobs out on display. While making jokes about me, watching him, get raped by her. Down in her room. He's enjoying the ironic comedy, and I can feel his hard on. I feel so dirty, and its feeling so damn deliciously good. Poor Little Lightning? Is feeling down, for feeling dirty. The irony is so thick, I could cut it with a hard dick. Which I have my hand wrapped around, while I hold the thick joint for him to suck on. After I passed it back, I used my wet hand under the water to switch around to his back end, and tease him that I was going to poke him in his rear.

   His next act? Was to ask, all innocently of course, what the champagne story was. I almost choked on my next hit, and Lightning almost doubled over in laughter.

   "Wizzy? That's a story for another night, I think. Suffice to say? Its not the story of champagne, its more like the story of the champagne bottle. Lets just say its part of my rape counseling class? And leave it at that, for now. Okay?"

   "Whatever you say, Little Lightning. I owe you big time."

   "Yes. For whoring up your farm girl soul mate for you. So you enjoy her more. Which should have turned you off, like your Army buddy? And didn't. Wizzy? If you keep trying to make me feel better like this? I'm going to beat you with a hockey stick."

   "If it'll make you feel better, Light. Anything for you."

   She giggled, and dunked his head under water suddenly. She had to use her other hand that was still dry, to hit the joint now. She held her hand out, and he dutifully dried it for her.

   "Told you. I'll do anything for you, Light."

   "Thanks, Wizzy. So… what was my part of the bargain? I had to tell you about growing up for me, huh? Great. What do you need to know."

   "Anything. I don't know anything about you, other than you're a soccer star, and you're my girlfriend's best friend."

   "Hmm. I'm half German, half Swedish, of all things. I'm actually not that tall, for a Swedish girl. I guess cause I'm only half Swedish. My real dad? A full blooded Swedish welder. He would go on site, to weld… farm equipment and factory equipment. When the thing to get welded is too big, you bring the welder to the work, not drag the work to the welding shop."

   "Swedish people are tall?"

   "Yeah. Countries with mountains, where the Vikings came from? Being over six foot tall, is nothing. My dad was about as tall as Hurry's dad. My mom, is German. There's a couple different kinds of German girls. Some are big thick girls, some have narrow hips and a compact body. So, I'm tall and big boned for a girl, on account of having a full Swedish dad. My mom, gave me the slender hips and body. Its why I look like I look."

   "You said you don't have your mom and dad together."

   "No. I don't. My mom is… Mom? Is a pretty German woman. But… she uses men like financial toilet paper."

   "Sorry for your luck, there."

   "Thanks, Wizzy. No big deal, I'm not the only girl my age, that has daddy issues. And got raised by a string of guys mom drags home to play daddy."

   "And you love soccer."

   "My mom hates soccer. My mom likes union men, and by likes union men, I guess I mean to say she likes their paychecks. In a small mid western town like mine? There's a few business owners, and a bunch of farmers around the outskirts… and a bunch of businesses, all blue collar, that pay decent to service all the farm stuff and businesses. Factories, too. If you want to land a decent husband there? You hook a guy with a union job. Mom wasn't dumb in that department."

   "Why does mom hate soccer?"

   "Mom hates anything, that doesn't teach me how to attract men with big paychecks. I'm sure she thinks she's doing me a great service, teaching me how to succeed in the marriage divorce game. Mate, bleed them dry, divorce and clean them out. Rinse and repeat until you're too old to play the game anymore. By that time? You should have your ducks all in a row, financially."

   "Soccer doesn't attract guys with big paychecks?"

   "I'm tall, slender hips. Long legs with muscle. I'm kind of built to be a dancer. Mom had me doing gymnastics and dancing, when I was little. I guess she figured that pretty girls that can wiggle around for men? Get better ones. I eventually hated dancing, even though I was okay at it. I insisted on playing sports. I was a sprinter for the girls track team, and played soccer. Mom hated every minute of me doing it."

   "Your life didn't sound that bad, Light."

   "Yeah. I'm skipping one or two things. One of these days, I'll let Hurry… counsel me, I guess. I don't wanna talk to anyone about it, that doesn't know me, love me, and understand me. I hate my home."

   "Anything you hate about it, you can tell me?"

   "Yeah. My mom cares about houses, cars, furniture. Going out to nice restaurants, and impressing everyone with her keen business acumen, by which I naturally mean her ability to rook men for all they're worth. My mom would leapfrog, from man to man. With a string of boyfriends all in between each one, till she had a live one on the hook. I mean, most of them were great guys, or at least trying hard. But… that was mom's main focus. Dating. Not spending time with me. Taking me clothes shopping? Is my mom's idea of spending quality time with me. What else would make any girl happy, but a trip to the mall for some more sexy outfits, right?"

   "Is that where all… you're cute outfits come from then?"

   "Yes. I was basically ignored most of my life, except to be taken out to eat, or shop for clothes. Without dancing, to teach me to attract a rich man to want to fuck me and marry me? My mom thinks buying me clothes to make me more attractive to boys will help."

   "Is she happy you're getting an education, and can provide for yourself one day?"

   "Yes and no. Mom's excited I'm at a giant university? So I can snag a doctor or an engineer to get married to. That's all college is good for, to my mom. Everything in life, to a girl? Should revolve around one thing, and one thing only. Landing rich guys, and getting them to marry you. Nothing else in life, could possibly make any woman happy."

   "I'm going to compliment you, Little Lightning. In your own way, you developed what you thought was morality. I have never, seen you be a gold digger, or seem like you use men for money. That, is a rare thing, and goes to your credit. Coming from me? That's high praise."

   "Huh. Thanks, Wizzy. That means something to me. There, you finally made me feel better. I'm a turbo-slut, but I have financial morality. That's something, I suppose. No, I don't want a boy’s money. I'm pretty sure, I have massive daddy issues. And no… I don't use boys for money and presents. I want their attention. I guess, I'm an attention whore. When I found out I could be a sports star? I got the first, real, positive attention I ever got. And getting recruited here? Well. Its the only thing good in my life. Playing soccer and trying to be the best."

   "Hmm. You like something more than just attention from boys. Call it a hunch."

   "Yeah. You noticed. Sex feels good, and you get attention from boys at the same time."

   "None of how you are? Is your fault, Lightning. It all falls squarely on your mom's gold digging shoulders. She gave you… a really warped view, of humanity and society."

   "You're telling me. You ever see a pretty older woman with a little girl, but the little girl's all dressed sexy, like a much older girl should be? That was me. You know what my mom did when she caught me starting to kiss boys? I was 11 or 12, by the way. I was still innocent that way, until then."

   "Spanked your little bottom blue, and forbid you to shave your legs until you were 30?"

   "No. Mom went the other way with it. Had a little talk with me. Honey, its wonderful you like boys. But, can't you try to kiss older boys? You'll be the first girl with a boyfriend that owns his own car, and has a good job. She started buying me sexy clothes, instead of the respectable designer clothes she'd been dressing me in, up until then. She bought me all the tiny, skin showing clothes any high school girl would normally not be allowed to wear, and made me wear it. I was trying to dress like the other girls on the soccer team. I was trying, I guess, to look more like your precious Hurry dressed. Nope. I had to change out of hooker boots and tiny miniskirts, to get into my soccer uniform in junior high."

   "That's just… bizarre. She was trying to make you every teenage boy's fantasy."

   "Teenage, hell. She lectured me constantly, to always date older boys. Boys that had more going for them, as she always put it. You know. Nicer car. Better job."

   "Christ. Most moms that age, are checking their daughter's purse for condoms and the pill. Your mom was buying you rubbers."

   "Oh. Funny story. You know how all the teenage girls, usually get the don't get pregnant lecture?"

   "Duh."

   "I was told to go to the drive in. Go to parties. Stay out all night on the weekends. Its okay to get in the family way, honey. Just make sure its to a boy that has something going for him. Never get knocked up by some loser. Always pick quality, clothes or men, and you'll never go wrong. That was the great life advice my mom gave me, every day of my life. In high school? She wanted me to date college boys, and boys that had union jobs from working where their father worked. You know. Men of quality."

   "Your mom? Makes me wanna puke."

   "Join the club, Wizzy. I'm gonna have to marry a psychologist, just so I can get all the therapy I need. I'm kidding. But… when Hurry thinks she has enough classes under her belt? I want her to try it out on me."

   "Something is missing from the picture, and I'm trying to put my finger on it…"

   "Wizzy? You're smart. Real smart. Maybe too smart, for your own good. Just… don't, okay? Please. I'm begging you. I'm okay with it, just… let it go. I meant it. I trust Hurry. I love her. She's like my big sister, and my guard dog. When she's ready, I'll do it with her. No one else, okay?"

   "I'm sorry, Light. And… for the record? I think you turned out great, considering what your mom put into you. And, you and Hurry both? I honestly can't wait to see you girls in real practice, let alone in games. I used to watch the women's Olympics, and… I think the real irony here? Is that all the dancing lessons, you're putting them to a better use, trying to nail down a championship."

   Lightning smiled. Genuine, too.

   "Thanks, Wizzy. That's the sweetest thing I heard all day. You're wonderful…"

   "And just so you know. I don't mean it creepy but… your clothes?"

   "Yeah…"

   "Its… kinda fun, seeing you in cute clothes. All the time. Its, like living with a fitness model, sort of. Cause you're an athlete, you know. And…"

   "And…"

   "You're butt. Those jeans…"

   "Do they make my butt look big?"

   "No, Light. The opposite. You have one of those tiny, hard little butts. Looks like a pair of apples, makes me wanna just take a bite out of your ass. Its really cute. I mean, not trying to be creepy about it. Just saying."

   "Huh. Yeah, these are some of my favorite hiphuggers jeans. Kinda my lucky jeans, if you know what I mean. Great for dates. Thanks, Wizzy. You're a real sweet talker, when you put you mind to it."

   "Anytime. I owe you big. You taught my little farm girl, to be a naughty girl. I could never repay you enough, just for that. Plus the other stuff. Thanks."

   "Hey, it was nothing. Remind me to teach her how to practice on a banana, if I forget when we get some in. You'll die when you see her practicing. I promise, way better then the carrots, believe me."

   I flicked my finger, pretty hard, on his thigh several times. Then? I put my cocked and locked finger up against his nut sack. He shut up quick. Light asked what was wrong.

   "Oh, nothing. I might have just got into trouble, with the boss here…"

   "Aw, Hurry. He's fine. He's just being nice. Let him slide."

   "Hmm. Just for you, just this once. I normally? Keep him on a pretty short leash, when I train him to be a good little boy."

   "Well? Whatever it is, its working, keep it up. He's nice. I'm happy for you two. Hey… are you guys gonna stay in the tub, for a little bit?"

   "We were planning on it. Why?"

   "Its fine. You guys mind if I grab a quick shower? My clothes are clean, I kept running them through the washer and dryer down there, at the Army house. But, I left before I got a shower. I just wanna get a quickie, and put my clothes right back on. You mind?"

   "I don't care, Light. Like I said, we shower together after practice and games. How about you, little Wizzy. You care if she gets a quick shower?"

   "She already peed in front of us, what do I care."

   "Thanks, guys…"

   She got towels and a washrag and all that together, while she gabbed. Like she normally would, with me in here. Now, she's doing it in front of him as well.

   "So. There's a bunch of little parties tonight, all around the Village. We should do a crawl. Not like a, puke and crawl home crawl, just… hit a few, go out for once. I mean, you two? You never go out much. Its summer, you should treat yourself. What do you think."

   "Oh. I guess. Honey, you wanna go meet some of the Village people?"

   "Sure. We'll see how it goes. I don't wanna be out all night, on an asshole parade though."

   Little Lightning giggled.

   "No, that's the thing. There's a bunch. We pick an asshole convention? We just go to the next one. I wanna hit Lida's townhouse though. They all pitched in, and got a hot tub. I gotta see that."

   I was surprised.

   "A goddamn hot tub? Did Lida hit the lottery? Or is she hooking perverts for the summer now."

   "Not that kind of hot tub. I know how this sounds, but… its inflatable. I swear, from the pictures? It doesn't look at all like you're thinking an inflatable hot tub would look. I looked it up? They're really affordable, brand new. We could probably get one, if we tried. But anyways, I just gotta see it up close, to see. Looks like the shit. What do you think? We'll try it out."

   "I could live with seeing a new hot tub. How about you, sweet talker. You have any problems seeing your girlfriend and Lightning in a hot tub? We wouldn't want to offend your monk training or anything."

   He shrugged.

   "No, sounds like fun. As a warrior monk? Water holds special significance for me. It makes dirty little girls, all clean again. Like brand new."

   I chuckled.

   "Uh huh, what monastery did you study at again?"

   "Well… the… brotherhood, of the… wet girls? That's a really rough translation, mind you. Real name's in Latin, its very religious sounding."

   "Oh, I'm sure it is…"

   Little lightning was getting undressed, and simply giggled and said "no peeking"… then giggled again and said to go ahead and peek, that it really didn't bother her.

   She continued talking to both of us, while she showered. Mind you, this giant shower has clear glass walls. Beads of water only slightly obscured his view of her completely naked and soaking wet from the back.

   I was shameless, and stroked his cock under water while he watched, whispering naughty things in his ear. Like, how we were gonna both tie him up. Give him his birthday spanking that he "missed". Give him a "tag team" tickling.

   "Hey Hurry?"

   "Yeah…"

   "What's this thing… is it some hind of… leather loofah? What…"

   I stood up, and dripped over to show her.

   "Oh. Be careful. This? Is a straight razor. Don't open it let alone touch it, if you don't know how to use one…"

   I opened and showed it to her, then closed it and put it back in its little porcelain shelf.

   "That's all you, farm girl. That thing looks like a murder weapon. So, what's the leather loofah for…"

   "That, is called a strop. Watch…"

   I worked the straight razor a couple times, to show her.

   "That's called stropping the blade. It hones it."

   "Okay. Again, all you. And the brush?"

   "How do you wash and scratch your back, without one… here…"

   And I took the brush, and scratched her wet back with it.

   "Oh! God… that feels great…"

   "I call it a bum brush, though… wanna know why?"

   I glanced over at him, palming his face in his hand in the whirlpool tub.

   I scratched her butt cheek with it, then the other one, and went back to her back. Scratching her back, made her make what to his ears were the most delightful sounds. If someone was listening, they would think there was something sexual going on in the shower, when there really wasn't.

   I told her in a joking manner, we needed a "shower boy", to scratch our backs with the brush, with soap.

   "Well. That certainly works out good for you, farm slut. You got one. I? Don't. Thanks for showing me what I'm missing out on… story of my life tonight, for the love of god…"

   I went and got back in the whirlpool, in my accustomed spot. After shooing him with my foot, to get my seat back. He whispered in my ear, between her shower conversation she raised her voice to have us hear her for. Like it was completely normal of a thing, to hold a gabby conversation about this and that, while soaping up, rinsing off, and then applying baby oil all over from head to toe to moisturize her skin against laying out in the sun to deepen and enrich her tan with the water temporarily stopped, then to rinse it off after rubbing it all in.

   With another couple canoodling in a whirlpool several feet away. With glass that was clear, and provided a somewhat clear view of her from the back of her head, down to her heels. You couldn't make out any really fine details, because of the beaded water on the clear glass, but… he was clearly shocked, though all but slobbering, since I allowed him to look and more.

   I teased him in his ear.

   "You're, gonna get, to play with that…"

   His whispering in my ear was his armchair psych analysis of her situation.

   "Call me crazy, or an amateur, but…"

   "What."

   "I think she got raped, or molested or something, somewhere along the line. And… it has to have something to do with her mother, as weird as that sounds. That's just my hunch. Not my field."

   "That would be my guess, too. When she's ready? She'll talk to me about it. Until then? I act like nothing's wrong."

   "You're the expert."

   "You like?"

   "How long do I spend with Vaquera in the basement, if I like it."

   "Little boy, if you weren't so shy? I got the chair right there. The big butt brush? Right in the shower. And the leather strop, too. If I feel like it, I can put you over my knee, and give you the leather until you cry. Then? I bet I could get her to hand me the brush, so I can give you something to really cry for. Right on your soaking wet, naked little ass. I bet, she'd just think it was fun to watch, and call me kinky. Dare me to prove it? She's a lot of things, and shy just isn't one of them."

   He didn't dare me, and went back to watching the show.

   "How am I not getting into trouble again…"

   "If you have my permission, and I share you? You don't get into trouble."

   "Our secret? Is going to get out. You heard her, she's bragging about taking her room mate to teach her to give a blowjob. For two days and nights. Will it be fun to get used by both of you? Hotter than the surface of the sun, but… she's a self admitted attention whore. She'll blab our secrets she finds out about. Every one of them."

   "Will she brag she's having wild fun, to shock people? Yes. Definitely. But… anything I tell her not to tell? I guarantee she won't tell."

   "And why not?"

   "Duh. I saved her. From getting pretty much molested, right in the locker room, right in the shower. Where the other girls could see. By a bull dyke. The coach can't be in the girl's shower and locker rooms. The captains are supposed to put a stop to bullshit, and they were all laughing. I split their face open, too. She understands secrets, and she'll do anything I ask her to do. Or not do, as in tattletale what I tell her to keep secret. She was going to quit, because the older girls were jealous of a new freshman starting all the games, she's that fucking good. They were smacking her around, and the bull dyke was given a free hand to molest her to get rid of her. Being the star? Is all she has in her life, that she enjoys. I gave it back to her, and I make sure she's safe. On the field? And off."

   He stared at the baby oil getting rinsed off. He was all but drooling.

   "I can see what I get out of this again. Its right there. She looks like the pole vaulter on my calendar, and you have no idea how many times I…"

   "I know."

   "What are you getting out of this again?"

   "I get to play rotten bad mommy. Sharing you, against your will. Remember how the fighting girls, were sharing you?"

   "Yeah."

   "You? Are going to get shared. By the naughty, mean, rodeo girl. With the pole vaulter she's close friends with, and they share everything. And here's another little tidbit. When I go home for the holidays?"

   "Yeah…"

   "So do the other girls. She? Stays here and gets lonely. If you're a really good boy, and you treat me right all year long?"

   "Yes?"

   "Maybe, if you ask real nice? I'll give you my blessing. So you two can… keep each other company, when I'm gone for the long holiday break. She's not shy, and I think you can tell where I got a lot of the fun ideas you've been enjoying. That? Is the horse's mouth, so to speak. Anything you get your nerve up to ask for? Is probably a go."

   "She's… I mean, do I get in trouble for saying she's…"

   "Pretty? No, I know she's pretty. Its fine."

   "No. I mean, yes, she's… pretty cute. That's not what I was going to say."

   "Oh. What then."

   "How much trouble do I get in, for suggesting, she's a little…"

   "What, dear?"

   "Crazy? Just a touch. I don't mean, chop your pets up crazy. But. Now that I'm allowed to stare into her eyes? When she stares sometimes, its a really hard look, and it seems like its a steamy kind of look, but… if you look at it just right, maybe a little crazy."

   "I keep forgetting. You like sports girls, and you never saw us play. This isn't high school, this is the big university level. You know how the coach used to give you a… pep talk, try to get you mad, or determined… before an important game?"

   "Sure. Some coaches? I don't know how they do it. They start out, normal. Then… they start getting worked up. Using these, cool analogies and metaphors. They make you feel like a bird of prey, and its time to go out and just feed on your opponents. I don't know how they do it, but they can."

   "Yeah. Our coach does that. Motivation. Its as important as skills. At this level, as an athlete, being essentially paid more than many fathers make to feed a family per year, all the scholarship money and perks added all up? Yeah. They expect you to show some personal motivation. You can dig that, right?"

   "Yeah. Sure."

   "I show it. I'm not as good as some of the other players, with any individual skill? But, I'm decent at all of them at once. It's my gift. And I'm a big strong girl, and I still have speed. Its my other gift. Its why I'm here. Its what got me here, its what keeps me here. But, I'm motivated. I get all worked up, I want a championship so bad, I can taste it. You can imagine me jumping around, wanting to go get em, right?"

   "Oh yeah. You can be intense. Its a good thing."

   "Well. If its a good thing to be motivated? Your Little Lightning? Is more… motivated. She's motivated like most girls are expected to be in games? For practice. She runs faster, she hits harder, she slides hard and gets bloody cherries up her legs. Other girls complain, she's too intense, just for practicing? The coach went nuts."

   "Oh. He yelled at poor Lightning. To keep it bottled up, and let it out for the game, instead."

   "No. He screamed at the girls complaining, and all her friends. One was a co captain. You're a co captain? You should know better. You're all supposed to show this much focus, dedication, and intensity? Every practice. Every game. If you don't? Maybe you should go out for cheer-leading squad instead."

   "Freshman. Going to start. Big recruited star. Showing girls up from the first practice. The girls hated her. I can see it in my head."

   "You think you got it, but… scrimmage, a practice game? She's worse. Preseason games? She's a nut. And by the time the first game comes? She's fit to be put into a straitjacket and get happy shots. The coach? Fucking loves it. Coach asked me once, in private. I ever see anything like this before? I admitted it, not this bad. He asked me, with Psych classes. Was she a little… crazy. I said, maybe a little. He asked me what my opinion was. I told him. Legally? If she's not a direct threat to herself or others? That's not legally insane, that's just… different."

   "What did the coach say."

   "He said, Hurry? You know how they try pills, to make people less crazy? I said yeah. He asked if they had pills to make people a little bit crazy. To make the rest of the team get that worked up, trying to win. I told him, that there were many people down through history? If they weren't in the position they were in already, and people saw how good they were at it… someone probably would have declared them insane. But, its a kind of good crazy, that way. When you use it for a good purpose. Like a soldier, that really takes it to the enemy, and terrorizes your opponents. Yeah, she's got a little touch of crazy, but… when you see her in a game? You'll see how great it is. An announcer once joked? We break her out of the psych ward, just for games and have to send her back."

   We both looked in, because the music came on. The smaller, waterproof, Bluetooth music player was in there. She's dancing and singing, like a little girl enjoying herself in her room. I'm sure its technically sexy to see a tall, svelte, long legged girl dancing naked in the shower while you get to spy on her with no repercussions. Her singing takes away from it, its not like she has any voice training, and probably not enough raw talent to try it. But, she can really move.

   A lot of girls practice, practice, practice. Memorize and drill their favorite routines, so they can go out and try to have all the eyes on them at the dance clubs. Sure, they look good doing it, and everyone backs up and claps and cheers, watching them go. But, only until a girl that actually had some real dance training comes out to show her up. Lightning's mom, had tried her damnedest to make her into a real, professional dancer. Years making her do it, before she was old enough to get into sports instead. You can see it watching her dance, its obvious.

   There's also something childlike and innocent in watching her right now, too. It reminds me of a little kid, that craves the attention they've learned that dancing when adults are gathered, gets them. Someone claps, anther person gives a little cheer. You can see it on the little kid's face, they like the attention, its really getting something for them going. Nothing sexual, nothing on the agenda, just… craving attention and getting some, and happy for it.

   Some kids try to tell jokes, others will repeat commercials and lines from movies, all kids tend to do something for attention. I've read in Psych class that emotional development freezes in people, and it marks where the trauma happened in development. Until they're treated properly, and that's different for everyone what they require. It could be medication, therapy, revenge? Who knows. But, that's when they begin to pick up where they left off and grow emotionally again, if they can.

   The little girl that got raped repeatedly by some drunken alcoholic she had to spend the summer with, as a young girl? Yeah. They famously revert to that widdle kiddie voice their whole lives. They pout dramatically, and use made up cutesy widdle kid words for everything. Instead of saying "spooky spider", they pout and point, and say "pooky, pider". Some guys think its cute, some find it sexy the same way an adult woman dressing up like a Catholic grade school girl is hot. Some guys hate it, and others get freaked out.

   She never once pulled the widdle girl voice. Whatever happened to her to scar her permanently? It happened when she was old enough she could talk properly. When I see her like this, I can sense she's just having fun even though soaking up a few drops of attention that she craves. There's an audience of one boy out here, so she'll take it. Its still somehow childlike and innocent. She's enjoying herself for a few minutes. I always wrack my brain, trying to pin down what age the trauma happened. My best guess is rape or molestation, or some kind of related exploitation of some kind. It fits with the mild sexual dysfunction. Some females respond with a shell, and refuse to ever show skin, ever try to be intimate, even with a proper caring romantic partner.

   Others respond with an outwardly focused hyper-sexuality. There's that slightly weird, she’s not kidding, I trade sex for attention, and refuse to take any gifts for it thing going. I mean, women shouldn't be gold diggers, but some level of trading sex and intimacy, for the guy doing something for them? Is entirely appropriate in our culture. Daddy will only work so many years providing for the wife and kiddies, without some sex thrown from mommy now and again.

   She snags boys like a girl fishing, and gets them alone and fucks them. But, when they try to take her out to dinner? Not interested. She'll walk home if they try to kidnap her and take her to a nice dinner. If a guy buys her even a small present? She'll leave it there, and if he tries to insist he wants her to have it? She'll yell at him, and throw it and storm out. Army boy was the only time I ever even heard of her once, let alone seen or heard from her own lips, that she was really trying, for once, to actually have a "real" boyfriend. She tried to make him happy in bed, and it backfired on her.

   She still can show the occasional emotional outburst. Its like a tiny but non erasable little mean streak mixed in with the whole dish. It can surprise a guy, and downright terrify a smaller girl. Surrounded by a lot of big, fit girls? Its not nearly the problem it would be if she was surrounded by smaller, weaker, more typically average females. You know, like when she one day hits some office somewhere. Its sort of appropriate, the person always earned their outburst, but… its out of all proportion to the crime. Its socially cutting off the hand that stole a disposable cigarette lighter.

   She doesn't do it all the time but its not the rarest thing in the world, either. Its rage when you see it. The glaring eyes, the scary contorted face. If she can't hurt the offender, she'll resort to hurting herself. Its over soon after it starts, no matter what the outcome. She won't pick anything up, if she can't do it with her body, she won't do it.

   This line of reasoning, isn't as accurate as I need. No trauma kid voice, so old enough she spoke properly. Way older than a toddler. Not quite an adult yet, though. Still got that leftover tantrum waiting to sneak out that had yet to be conquered, to be a full fledged young adult. Different kids develop at different rates, and depending on a variety of factors. Genetic, environment, influences. Take your pick when she got traumatized, and it doesn't seem to me like it was a one time event, but it wasn't years in the making. A short term, repeated trauma. Long enough to scar, but not long enough to completely cripple.

   8, 10, 12, 14? Somewhere in that range, judging by the rest of her make up. When the older girls were giving her the intense shits, she would get mad and fight back, or try to fight back. Normal. But when they put Bootsie, the big bull dyke up to cornering her, and smiling and touching her suggestively? Putting her arms around the littler girl, like a creepy man might do it. She froze. She shook. That was it.

   Every layman knows fight or flight. There's others. There's also freeze and flop. She did freeze. She was so scared, she couldn't even go for help after she was able to. She was crying alone in her room for days, unable to go to class, or practice. Bags packed, but putting off going home because that was right up there in her schema of things, with being prison raped in the shower or locker room by a bigger, scarier bull dyke.

   Regular women freeze when grabbed or cornered. Women who have no experience playing full contact or limited contact sports where they get used to being knocked around and shrugging it off like boys learn to when young. Not Quad A stars, and definitely not recruited stars at a top university athletic program. No way. The wimpiest girls we have, are tough as nails or they wouldn't be here. You get a check laid on you and knocked on your ass, you not only get up and shake it off, you leap up running for the ball.

   No, its definitely some kind of rape, molestation, sexual exploitation. Her intense pathological hatred of her mother? That has to be in the mix somewhere too. I already hate her mother, and I've never met the woman, nor so much as seen a photo. Little Lightning will tell strangers her single mom died in a car accident, to avoid talking about it. I hope I never meet the woman, I might even like to take a swipe at her. Fucking your kid up because you're too stupid or too mean to know better? Kids grow up and forgive them their shortcomings regularly. Really, if you try at all and fail by biblical standards at it? You still stand a good chance of the kid growing up, and someday saying. Hey, I know you meant well, you tried, you screwed it up bad? But, at least your heart was in the right place.

   No. This woman must be a real piece of work. Some kind of bad narcissist, I figure. Probably with touches of other goodies in the diagnosis. The extent of her parenting now? She buys oodles of cute and sexy clothes. Has them mailed in or delivered. A few computer mouse clicks, there. Parenting and parental love and caring? All done. Click, click, click.

   We have one special parent family game, every year. Whatever game is closest to homecoming. Little Lightning was an especially bright star that night. Then she walked off the field as soon as the final buzzer sounded, quietly gathered her things and marched off. No anger, no nothing. Like a quiet and polite zombie. Numb, somehow. She ended up with a rare hat trick, three goals in one game. One of them, was another of her seemingly impossible acrobatic shots, on that thin angle she can hit and can't even tell you how she does it.

   She had been on fire, and we won by three points. Without her, we would have tied, or lost. Its not just her scoring, she literally runs the other team to death with her speed and stamina. She doesn't even have to score or get assists to be highly effective. If you don't run your girls to death in practices to prepare them for her? They're gassed out by the last quarter, and the rest of the team can run around them too.

   Near as me and the coach could figure, it was the parents game. Everyone lines up after the game, and there's a series of parent family photos, each girl gets one and the family gets a set to take home and show off. Not her mom, whatever played daddy that year, nothing. No one bothered to show up, to smile for a photo with one of the biggest stars on the team. She hates her mother, her mother hates her playing soccer, so… parent game? Look out.

   I joked to the coach, can you adjust the schedule any way? Try to get someone favored over us on that game. She'll even it up, putting a job on them. We can get our big upset, trying to set the tone for going into the playoffs coming up. He tried, he saw the wisdom of that gem, but no way. The school athletic program insists on a win for homecoming games, which is more or less what our parent game is. Only the all holy football team is allowed to have the "official" homecoming game, we're girls, we have to pick shit with the chickens. Fuck it, we're female athletes, we're used to it.

   I found her at home, while the other girls were out celebrating. Watching TV, but with headphones playing music on. Mild dancing because she was alone when I found her. It was her version of that immersion tank people go into. You just float, in body temperature water, no sensations. Sensory deprivation. Music on, so she can't hear the quiet of the outside world. TV on, so she has something to look at but not really follow, so she doesn't have to see an empty house. I guess moving and dancing around? Because it either makes her feel better, or it prevents nervous tics.

   I'm the den mother. I don't know what the hell to do in this case. I got us ice cream and snacks, and sat on the couch with her, and watched movies. Her favorite pick? Wizard of Oz. She can't see it enough. Like a little kid, that you indulge sitting and watching the same movie for the umpteenth time. She can watch slasher horror flicks, no problem. But when the scary music starts, and the flying monkeys are coming? She hides her face, and peeks out from behind her fingers, nervous squeaks of laughter. It would be heart rending cute, if it wasn't so tragic.

   She can't sing, but wants to sing along to every song, she knows every word. All the dialog too. She can get up and act out favorite parts, with gestures and everything perfect. She can do all Dorothy's dances, or any of the other characters. The one scene where they all have a side to side, swishing motion to their legs, looks like they should fall over but never do? She does that, dancing down sidewalks when she's in a good mood.

   She has her own little dance she made up, for the wicked witch is dead finally. Go figure, I don't need a degree in Psych to figure that one out. Ding dong, my cunt of a mother is dead. She looks like she might actually cry, when the scarecrow gets his straw ripped out and thrown around. She has weird "lube him up!" jokes for when they oil the tin man up to get him unfrozen from rust hibernation and moving around.

   There's no place like home? She giggles and says "Yeah, thank god for that!"

   She both likes and hates precious Dorothy's idealistically simple home life. She's the reverse of what the heroine's condition is. Home? That's the weird and scary place. Where some unknown scary flying monkeys can come out when the scary music starts up. The weird, unpredictable and scary world she's transported to? That's the scary outside world, but for her it's home.

   I asked her once why she never ran away. Kids ran away from home for probably a lot less than whatever was in her past. That's what I figured in my head, but didn't dare say. Because the instant you assume you know something in Psychology, is when you make some huge mistake. Here, I had no way of knowing, until the patient told me. For all I knew, she'd been forced to watch her favorite dog's litter of puppies get smashed on the cement floor like dolls in front of her eyes, or ten times worse. What it was? Might be horrible beyond comprehension. Or, as mild as something trivial to an ordinary person. You never knew, until you knew.

   So, I simply asked why she had never ran away, when it was such a popular option. She shrugged. Then simply said she was determined, to not let her mother "win". Whatever that even means.

   I started out, just getting brownie points with my coach. I won't lie. I mean, I was determined to help the team out, and in any thankless way I could. I was already putting my team ahead of my body, and taking abuse playing my part as the Hurricane. But I can't lie, what would the point be. Some part of it, playing den mother and pretend best friend and pretend big sister, and real life guard dog? It quickly turned real. When you give someone protection and care that they're incapable of giving themselves, and they start to follow you around, and you see that sappy little smile. It quits being brownie points, and it becomes very real.

   Little Lightning, and Right were initially jealous of each other, because each had been the only big shining star at their big Quad A school on their respective teams. Both got the shits from jealous older team mates, but only Little Lightning had the added bonus plan of the prison rape scenario. I saw those two get over petty spoiled little kid jealousy, and turn into squabbling sisters. They argued over nothing, they shared everything, they teased and tormented each other like only real sisters could. But, I stayed Little Lightning's big sister, I don't know that I'll ever outlive that role.

   No more brownie points. Until I have my own kid one day, this girl not much younger than I am, really, is as close to being a mother as I guess I could get. I'd say that if you kick her, its like kicking me. Don't do it, but… that's not how it is. You'd rather take the kick yourself, rather then they get it. Maybe that's what motherly love is supposed to be, how deep its supposed to go.

   So, my little sister, adopted daughter, whatever the hell she really is… about done and wrapping up with her little showering show. She smiled and teased us both for "peeking", then stuck her tongue out so we knew she was kidding. She put her underwear on, under the towel material oversize bathrobe her mom mailed her one time with the usual care package of clothes. She looks like some debutante from some movie in it, what you see on the screen when they want to depict someone staying in a first class hotel or expensive day spa. The big luxury bathroom and giant shower does little to diminish the effect.

   She turned back around with her underwear pulled up now, show's over and she has pity now on either us or herself. No, she’s going for her jeans with the loose and open towel robe. I guess seeing her almost clearly enough through beaded water droplets diffusing the focus wasn't good enough, he might as well get the full effect. She had drilled into my head, for my third date? That if I wanted to come off as "worldly" and "experienced" that way… one way stood above any other.

   "Show your tits, they come running." No two ways about that. Guys love girls that flash. She said mine were bigger than hers, mine were every bit as fit and toned and well formed as hers. So? I win the tits game. Show them to him, to let him make an informed decision that I wasn't slightly chubby. Show him explicitly and up close, that I really was solid muscle and female curves, both all at once. Not the slightly chubby tall girl the jeans and T shirts proclaimed I was to the clothed world. Drive him over the edge on anticipation. First? He knows sex night is coming, its on the calendar. Then, the long drive, the knowing, the waiting, the anticipation of Christmas coming. Then, being shown the merchandise he's being asked to buy. Told he gets to try it on, too. I thought she'd been crazy, telling me to think display rack with merchandise on it, that's what I'm doing. Worked though.

   She eats her own advice, she doesn't just hand it out. He got the full effect of seeing her robe open and dropped down off her shoulders, while she stepped into her designer jeans and wiggled them up. For that briefest of moments? She was naked from head to toe, except for only her little panties. Trust me here, she doesn't wear granny panties, quite the opposite.

   Her mom would have gotten her whatever was the highest rated fashion that year they were clicked on. Girls that didn't know her, assumed she was fucking loaded. Where the hell was the Mercedes at, was what people assumed.

   He doesn't know designer special hiphuggers jeans with shoelace faux fly, from the department store cheap knock offs. I don't need a laser dot to ascertain his vision aiming point. He's eyeing her from her feet to her underwear, and those long legs ripped and cut with compact muscle. She shifts her weight? They react and dance. Like I tell him when he ogles my tan leg muscles, you wait until the season is underway, and we've dropped our off season porker pounds. I don't remind him, he'll see it when it happens. Those legs, get worse. The veins come out when she's working them, and the muscle fibers stand out, the corduroy lines of muscle striations.

   She was just about to drop her shirt on, and she padded over to the tub. Sexy jeans and bare feet, and just couldn't manage to get that shirt on yet. I gave her license to flirt, and she was.

   "Wizzy? I forget you don't really hit the bars. Here you go. There's probably more guys that have seen my tits, than haven't. They're boobs, I'm sure you've seen boobs before. They're not even big or special or anything. Standard issue, no one added the extra couple bucks to get them bumped up a cup, when they mail ordered me on the internet, I guess. I'm no options, base model only."

   She smiled, and dropped her shirt over the "base model" tits. She gave a little sigh. Then grabbed him by the chin, and demanded her dollar.

   "You looked! You kick up the buck, you fucking cheapskate! These things get me seven dollar drinks, all night, any night I want! You? Get longer, all for a measly dollar! Get your wallet out, you cheap fuck!"

   She was feigning it, and lowered her voice instantly back to quiet as a church mouse.

   "Okay. Fifty cents, but that's it. I don't get any cheaper than that, I mean I have to have some standards, right?"

   He's just staring at her flat, tan tummy now. Like he stares at my abs. I have the ones that stand up, slightly rounded off. She has the thinner, harder looking ones. As if the marble was too hard to go for lifelike depth like on mine, and the artist had to settle for outlines only.

   "What, Hurry. Does he have some… weird bellybutton fetish or something? Its an inn-y, I don't have a weird one. Standard issue, when mom and dad ordered me on the internet."

   "No. I told you, weeks ago. He's a leg man."

   "He gets a leg show every morning, this was tit night. I didn't know I could have just took a picture of my bellybutton, and emailed your phone. We could keep this one quiet at the party all night."

   His finger came up, and went to poke her tan tummy, then stopped.

   "Oh. He's scared to touch me. Christ, I have no trouble getting pawed up all year and now this is the second one afraid to touch me this week. Go ahead. Poke it. My belly, nothing that'll get you bit again."

   His finger froze in mid air, and he looked at me.

   "You're fine, dear. Go ahead."

   He poked it gently, then a couple times more firmly.

   "Its like wood."

   "Yeah. Walnut was base model that year. I think they switched to mahogany, I kinda got gypped. I'm made of a cheaper cut of wood, thanks for noticing."

   He went to pinch the inch. He had to kind of dig in, with mild effort, and we both laughed. Took effort to get some skin, and the little fingerprint of light, faded slowly back to her rich medium tan shade.

   "Yeah. I'm like your own there. We're pork-ed out in the off season. By the first game, you can see what real girls looks like. Until then? We're fluffy and soft. Enjoy it while it lasts. Hope you're not too much of a leg man, Wizzy. These things are gonna look like they went through a meat grinder, after a couple games. I'll have more scabs than skin. Her too. Take a picture, if you like our legs. You won't see them again until the season ends."

   One little poke more? Then he was done.

   "Does he talk, or… is this like some kind of… epilepsy thing. I didn't see a bracelet on him. Am I supposed to hold his tongue down with a spoon, or…"

   She giggled, and ran her hand slowly up and down in front of his face. Then she started snapping her fingers.

   "Up… up… up… up here, boy. Yeah, there you go."

   "What? Am I in trouble?"

   "Not if you didn't shit the tub. Let me try your handler… Hurry? There a pile of clothes nearby?"

   "Uh, my rooms locked."

   "Keys are right there, want me to…"

   "Oh. Um… no. I got, stuff out."

   Lightning giggled.

   "Gotcha. I don't need to know. I'll get you a towel, you want the robe…"

   "Actually. Just grab my stuff out the dryer, would you?"

   She was back with her own clothes.

   "Your stuff. I forgot about the video you sent me, showing your ass cracked open all over the restaurant, and wherever else you went."

   "Are you mad I borrowed something? You're always trying to…"

   "Its fine, Hurry. Just…"

   "What?"

   "Um. Why… are they in the dryer? Did it rain here, on this side of town."

   "They needed dried, okay? That's what the dryer does, it dries things."

   "How did they get… wet."

   "Light…"

   "Did… you spill lemonade on them…"

   I sighed.

   "I'm fucking with you. Its fine. Did… you have fun? Going out like that? I know, it was something new for you. Come on, wasn't it… neat?"

   I smiled sheepishly.

   "Uh huh. It was a… birthday show, for this one. But… I kinda got in the zone, quicker than I thought. By the time I was done at the first junk store, I had my walk all down pat and everything."

   Lightning smiled.

   "I saw the movie. Good for you. I keep telling you, there's nothing wrong with it. You go shopping, do they hide stuff? No, see through plastic. Or you don't know what you're buying."

   "It was supposed to be for him."

   "Yeah. Starts out like that. I was young. Once… but I was. But now you know. Its for you, too. You felt… sexier, didn't you? You did. Admit it. Come on…"

   "Yeah."

   "Okay. Keep it. Yours."

   "Oh… I can't."

   "He'll have another birthday next year. You got a closet. Go on."

   "No, I couldn't. I don't… designer…"

   "Oh. I give three shits about the label. Hell, I think I've given more stuff to Right than I kept for myself. My mom? Can stuff her platinum credit card up her loose middle aged ass. Do you have any idea, how many hooker miniskirts I got in there? Like I need one more."

   "You… do have a couple."

   "Plus? You act like I never ran any of my hooker clothes through the dryer, for no real reason before. You left the hooker outfit on, didn't you? Wizzy… earth to Wizzy… did she leave the hooker skirt on? Hmm?"

   "Uh…"

   "Fucking epileptic, I forgot. Hurry? I'm teasing you. I leave the clothes on all the time. Part of the show, hun. What I'm trying to say? Is… these? Are yours now."

   "Sorry, Light. I know… icky…"

   "Icky my ass. Congratulations, farm slut. You? Are the proud owner, of your very first pair of… lucky clothes. Lucky skirt, lucky shirt… lucky skirt, lucky shirt…"

   She giggled, clapped, turned it into some childhood tease rhyme. I get undressed and dressed again, all season long in front of her. I put her in the corner of the showers, and physically guard her. Don't have to anymore, but its routine now. Ritual. I make sure, we're the last two lockers in the line. Once again, she's at the wall, and I physically block access to her. Ritual.

   Like its any big deal if he sees me getting dressed, pffft. So, I smiled while she clapped and rhymed, and I got my recently dried underwear, hooker skirt, and hooker T shirt on. Designer label famous maker or not, people pay extra for this… wrinkled, I rolled around like a whore all night and wore it out the motel room look? Great. Just what would make my daddy proud. As soon as I put it on, however…

   Wow. The evil magic creeps back over me again. It now has me firmly in its twisted grip. I can no longer break free from the wicked spirit that lives in this piece of clothing. The denim mini is some avatar for the god of fuck to live in. You put it on once, and the spirit now jumps into you. I got out of it, thought I was free? I was just kidding myself. I willingly put it back on. I'm enslaved. Willingly this time, because now I know better and did it anyways.

   I'm Vaquera again. I look back and turn around, and "modeled" it for him. He just looked up, he still has that slightly dazed, dopey look on. He's under my spell. Vaquera's spell. He's been bit up, scratched. Fucked into complete submission and past it. I almost fucked him to death, then tortured him into screaming my name, and anything else I suggested. Then more, when he was no longer coherent, begging.

   He might be in total and complete submission to me. Fall at my feet, and kiss and beg. For my favor, for Vaquera's mercy. He's locked into utter submission mode now, temporarily I hope. Or not, and do I care? What harm comes from my boyfriend thinking I invented kinky rough sex, and following me around looking half drunk, like a lost little puppy dog that finally found a mommy that will scratch him behind the ears, and play fetch with him. None. No harm. He's for all intents and purposes, now my love slave, sex slave, sex crime victim, whatever you call it? That's him. Like is gone, he's now past love. He's into worship.

   I got everything on, but my boots. Lightning approves of my outfit, but go figure. He does. That's all the people that matter. I'm Vaquera again. Normal time, bath time? Over. Vaquera wants to go out again, and her current favorite slut is going with.

   "Light? Would you hand me that towel…"

   "Thank you, dear. You."

   "Me?"

   "Yeah, you. There a goddamn frog in here I don't know about. Who else."

   I held the towel out, and had him hold it. I'm in my stocking feet, treading carefully, watching out. I don't wanna step in a little puddle, and have to slog around in wet socks for half the party. I slid the chair over, and handed the chair's contents to Light, who placed them on the back of the toilet. I sat on the chair, which allowed me to do more than one thing. I got my stocking feet up and on a chair rung, so I wouldn't get wet socks. Which is just yucky. I was close enough to the tub that I could now hold the towel out rectangular, to hide his naughty bits standing up.

   A little hint of Vaquera's voice that brooked no question wouldn't hurt.

   "Stand up."

   "But…"

   He pointed at Little Lightning.

   "Fuck you. You watched her shower show? You can stand to be in a goddamn towel for ten seconds. You. Up. Now. Move it…"

   Lightning giggled and he stood up. She couldn't help making a quiet "woo woo" noise to tease him. I wrapped the towel around his waist, and fixed the end in to hold it.

   "There."

   Lightning giggled more.

   "Yeah! Where's my purse. You get a dollar…"

   "Fifty cents. He's all bit and scratched up. Until he's healed? Scratch and dent bin, if anyone wants him."

   Lightning clapped. Uninhibited jokes are her mainstay when her mood's up.

   "You. Here's mommy's keys. Bedroom. Get dried off? Get dressed. Report back with my boots? And don't make me come looking for you. Move it. Shoo…"

   Lightning stopped him, she couldn't help it.

   "Get over here…"

   He walked over and stood, wondering what she wanted.

   "Okay. Go. Just wanted to check her goods out. Get!"

   He jetted off, smiling dopey.

   "Good eye, Hurry. Not a bad… specimen."

   "He'll do."

   "I'm impressed. Litter trained and everything. He won't make a move to offend you. Not one word. He asked for permission, to pinch my inch, to see if I had one. They don't make em like that anymore, do they?"

   "They used to. That? Used to be the… base model."

   "Really…"

   "Back in my grandma's day? Every girl got one of those, if they wanted one. They were everywhere. You could walk down to the gas station, pick one up like a pack of smokes. Tough, polite, hard working. Now? We get what we get. Why do you think I snatched this one up."

   "Yeah. Where did we go wrong, you think."

   "You mean me and you? Or…"

   "All of us. Where did the fuck-up start. If these were all over, where did they go."

   "We fucked it all up? Between 1960 and 1980. Around 1970 was the tipping year, it was obvious the boat had a leak."

   "The fuck happened then? I wasn't even born yet."

   "Me neither. We tried the first time, in the 20s. Remember the flappers? Women, waiting tables for dimes… just bought stocks, they all went gangbusters, everyone made money. Men, girls, everyone just ran around. Drinking, smoking cigarettes. Women were allowed to show their legs, smoke in public, go to bars with the men. Women had recently got the right to vote."

   "That's when the fun started. Those flappers? They knew how to live and have fun, for old timer gals."

   "Failed experiment. Syphilis ran wild. Stock market crashed. Great depression. Things went back to… normal. Hard times, hard men. No money, no jobs? But… the pickings were good. If you liked macho men."

   "I'm a fan, when I have my choice. And I usually do."

   "Then? World war two. Rosie the riveter. Women? Had to work factory jobs, to get us through the war. When the war was over, most of the Rosie's had to choose between their first real paychecks? Or… back into the kitchen. Most of them, believe it or not? Ran back to the kitchen. They did their duty, life was normal again. A few Rosie's though, but… nothing major."

   "After world war two, Hurry. The ones that lived? Hard men came back."

   "Yep. The baby boom. Pickings? Were great. Go pick up a pack of smokes, and grab a polite hard ass while you're there. Labor jobs everywhere, the men were happy to work and raise families. You could buy a nice house for a thousand bucks, car was less than that, brand new."

   "Life was good."

   "To hear the old people talk? Yeah."

   "So… where did we fuck up? We lived through the flappers, and the depression. We made it through the big war. What the fuck happened."

   "Women's rights, feminism. The modern, independent woman? Was born. We could smoke, drink, own a business, have a career, go to college to be something other than a teacher or a nurse."

   "Sounds okay."

   "We thought so. But, look where we're at now. He's right, you know. Women? Are running around like crazy. Men and women competing for the limited good jobs. Women are getting those jobs, because of hiring quotas. Still demanding the men make more than they do, and take care of them and the kids. The women? Running around, and getting divorced. Its a hot mess. You know he's right."

   "Hurry? We're supposed to find… making our guy a sandwich, or a meal… demeaning."

   "Yeah. And working for some business owner, ordering us around like slaves. That's not?"

   "I see your point. You cook. I mean, you don't just make sandwiches, you actually cook. Casseroles, soups, roasts and side dishes. You're the den mother."

   "You have any idea how much money a guy has to earn, so we can stay home, and cook and clean and go take yoga classes and get your hair and nails done, go shopping… or whatever?"

   "Lots. That? Is what my mom wanted."

   "Icky. She make it to…"

   "What? Actual rich remarried divorcee? Not really. Not like she puts airs on, she didn't. She likes to pretend she's country club, old money? She's fronting that shit. Hard. It makes me wanna puke. We needed a maid coming in once a week, so she had time for shopping? Like I need an asshole on my forehead. I'm pretty sure, that tall Swedish welder? Would have provided steak and pork chops, just fine. From what I remember as a toddler, from what I heard from relatives when… she wasn't within earshot… he was, you know. One like him."

   "Decent guy. Quiet hard ass. Hard working. Dedicated."

   "Yeah."

   A voice shouted out of the bedroom.

   "What do you want me to wear!"

   She looked at me.

   "You dress him?"

   "Its… he's probably wondering what to wear to a hot tub party."

   "Honey! You wanna wear Jungle Jim, go on…"

   "Jungle Jim?"

   "You know how little kids, will wear the same couple things every time, if you let them?"

   "Sure."

   "He… I guess the MP's down Texas, they all wore these… heavy duty, cargo pockets, Army shorts. He says they're official jungle issue. He loves them."

   "You?"

   "Pffft. I love him. Which… has the Jungle Jim's… growing on me."

   "Hmm. Shouldn't you yell out socks and shirt instructions? You don't want him naked."

   "Once Jungle Jim comes out? I can call it. Gray military police T shirt. Work boots, socks turned down over the laces."

   "Hmm. When's the wedding."

   "After we graduate for the last time. When else."

   "I told you Hurry, it started out as a joke? I mean it now. I'm… actually jealous. I fucking had one of those. I tried too hard, and fucked it up. I didn't know, you know how Army guys think of money?"

   "Army? No. I can talk about Air Force though, obviously."

   "Job. Need one. Got one. Got that covered. Hey, we need beer. Okay… gimme some green stuff. Go in my room. Wallets in my drawer. Get the good stuff, I just got paid. Off the one goes, comes back with beer. No… who owes what, who buys, nothing. Some guy had a new jacked up truck. Tried teasing him. He laughed. That's because you're a faggot who can't tell a wrench from your own pathetic little dick… and he laughed and drove off."

   "Sounds like him. Money? Doesn't matter. You got food, water? One pair of clothes left? All good."

   "They got a dog. Down there."

   "Eh?"

   "Yeah. One almost got killed, dodging cars to try to get this… little puppy in the middle of the highway, crowded up against the… cement middle thing."

   "Someone dropped it off. In the highway. To get it killed, because they didn't have the guts to do it themselves. Assholes, Lightning. They're everywhere."

   "Guy actually risked his life, to rescue this little puppy. Its an Army dog now."

   "Oh. German Shepard pup, huh?"

   "Oh, no. Some… lord knows what, mutt."

   "Nice puppy?"

   "Adorable. But, its an Army dog. It has a job."

   "What… is the puppy's job?"

   "Guards the beer cooler. See, the puppy? Will sit, wherever it gets petted the most, by as many people as possible. Which means. It figured out, that if it sits in front of the beer cooler? It gets… petted. Talked to. Here, have half a cheeseburger. Dog sleeps on the beer cooler now. Thinks its living the life."

   "Is there a point to this, other than for a bunch of Army fighting guys, they're really sweet underneath it all?"

   "I guess that. But… that, in there?"

   "Yeah?"

   "He's… like that dog. You found him. You brought him home. Far as he's concerned? He's living the life."

   "Yeah. I can't believe it. His… whole life? Fits in a beat up green footlocker. Two of those… big green mail sacks they all have? Couple boxes. That's it. Oh, the motorcycle. Done."

   "You need more?"

   I looked down around the doorway, towards my room.

   "Nope."

   "Smart girl."

   "Hey. I ain't majoring in basket weaving."

   "Hmm. I am."

   "Advanced basket weaving, and don't you forget it."

   "Thanks."

   "Anytime."

   I couldn't help raising my voice. Well, raising Vaquera's voice. Whatever. Functional equivalence is a great concept, after all.

   "Hey! If I gotta come in there and get you? You're getting scratched up some more! Come on!"

   I'm teasing. I know what he's doing. Putting stuff away, locking the closet, double checking there's nothing… strange out. Just in case Lightning follows us into our room later, gabbing. Here he comes. I called it, the entire outfit. He's beaming, like a little kid that gets to proudly show off his favorite superhero PJ's.

   Lightning couldn't help it.

   "Well. Apparently, we're going to shoot some Chinks, in the woods? On the way to get to the hot tub party. Nice."

   "In world war two? We shot Japs, not Chinks."

   "I'm kidding, JJ."

   "JJ?"

   "Jungle Jim. This is your hooker girlfriend? Trixie. Now. We're going to a hot tub party, JJ. Do I have to pull your pants down, and make sure you have boxers on? Tight-y Whiteys are out this year."

   "One pair. Dark green, standard issue. Men's boxers. Size 2XL. Clean. Dry. Serviceable. I'm ready."

   "2XL? Hurry, the fuck's he packing in those JJ shorts, Christ."

   "I like… what I call… breathe-ability."

   "Free-balling. Gotcha. We go now?"

   "Honey?"

   "We're waiting on you. My boots… come on…"

   I still had the chair just inside the bathroom door. He knelt down, and put one boot on, then the other. Lightning was beside herself.

   "Yeah. Fucking precious. Lets go…"

   He chuckled and gave each boot a little kiss then hopped up and we set off.

   "Good sweet Christ, Hurry. I gotta get another one of those…"

   "Its a Village crawl, Light. Like going shopping for you."

   "Eh. I been to this mall before. Something to do though."

   "Well. If you don't find something you want at the hot tub store at the shopping mall, Light…"

   "Well?"

   "You get the consolation prize."

   "Which is…"

   "I'm sure you've heard about… the phone."

   "Good, sweet, Christ. Please tell me, I don't have to see… the phone, Hurry."

   "You hate phones now, Light?"

   "No. Phones are great. I haven't met phone girl personally yet? And I already heard about the goddamn phone, um… is it three times now, from three different people."

   "Its… funny."

   "How pathetic does your life have to be, that you get a fucking phone, and everyone you meet? Has to see the phone. Hear how much it costs. Talk about how she got the phone. Do these people stand around, and have phone talks?"

   "Probably. I assume they have their little phone talks…"

   "Yeah Hurry, I get it… on their phones, right?"

   "I couldn't help it."

   "The more I think about it?"

   "Yeah."

   "I keep hearing about the goddamn phone. This isn't the girl, that drives that little yellow car?"

   "No."

   "Oh. Shit. Please tell me its not the short, fat, ugly girl. The one with the fat hairy feet. Dates that wrestler kid. The one with all the zits."

   "Well. I could tell you that its not her, but…"

   "Aw, shit."

   "What's the matter, Light?"

   "Me and hairy feet? We just don't… really zen."

   "Is it a difference in philosophy? Your opinions on the beer market…"

   "Actually, smart-ass. She volunteers her opinions on my… personal life."

   "Oh."

   "Yeah. Calls me a slut."

   "I assume, its not in a friendly, joking manner. Like myself? I refer to all three of my room mates, as the three lazy whores."

   "We're friends, you're kidding. That's different."

   "Do you clean a lot?"

   "Don't start. Why start with someone? Not you, I mean her. I walk past her. We say hi. I get three steps away? I hear it… slut. I'm sick of it."

   "Are you gonna smack her one?"

   "Probably just say something witty and charming."

   "Oh boy."

   "Did you look in the mirror before we left? She might say it… to you this time."

   "Your clothes!"

   "No, its not. I gave them to you. Your clothes. You wore them. All on you."

   "They came from you! You used to wear them!"

   "That was before you…"

   "Oh, like you never once did."

   "I never said I didn't. In fact I said I did, but… be that as it may, fact is. You have those clothes on. She's there. She might say it to you this time. We'll see how friendly you are about it."

   "Did you ever fuck one of her boyfriends?"

   "Ugh. No."

   "Maybe you fucked a guy she wanted to."

   "Hurry? She's a short, fat, hairy troll. She'd like to fuck any guy I ever fucked, I'm pretty sure. That doesn't count."

   "That actually makes sense."

   "Of course it does. I'm not majoring in Basket Weaving, like Tardfoot. I'm majoring in Advanced Basket Weaving, which is a very elite course of study."

   "Do a lot of field work?"

   "Actually? Yeah. Human Relations? How many guys have I messed with. Its… like my subject I was born to major in. I've had lots of relations with a lot of human boys. I should go to grad school for it."

   "Do they have a graduate course in Human Relations?"

   "Hmm. I honestly don't know. Why?"

   "Are you here to do Human Relations? Or… play soccer."

   "Definitely here, to play soccer."

   "Grad school. Another two years of soccer."

   "Another two more years of boys…"

   "Imagine how good you'd be by then. Mm."

   "At boys or soccer…"

   "Hell, both I guess."

   "Okay, we're here. A small prayer to the party gods, that there are no fat hairy trolls here tonight. I just wanna relax in the hot tub."

   "Light? We have a whirlpool in our bathroom."

   "That's a whirlpool, not a hot tub."

   "Hot water. Jets moving water around… seems like the same thing to me…"

   "Any hot guys, to see my tits in the hot tub, fetching me drinks there? No. So, no, its not a hot tub. No hot guys? No hot tub. See how that works, Hurry."

   "You have a silver tongue, Light."

   "Hmm. Heard that before, not sure that's what the guy meant, though."

   "But you're going to get mad because the troll calls you a slut…"

   "Look. Its not about me being, or not being… a slut. Do we call fat people, fat? No. You don't bring it up."

   It was your typical Village party. You can't put this many townhouses, in long rows. Stock them all with college kids, and a good number of them with starting athletes to boot? And not expect a regular party schedule. When a certain number of different townhouses unofficially all get together and decide to all have simultaneous parties? Its called a crawl.

   We looked around. We had passed several on the way here. There were more up the way. The next block over had more, going by ear. Lida had joined forces with the townhouses on either side of her, to make hers more successful. Since we're both starting athletes? We know tons of faces here.

   I don't go out to a lot of these, but what the hell. Its summer, its just past his birthday. When I do go out, its usually with Lightning though. I about have to go to certain "mixers" if the soccer team is having one with another sports team, but… I duck out as soon as I can.

   Its cute when we walk in together, and I mean Light and me. There's a stream of calls out to us. Lightning! Hurricane! Lightning! Hurricane! You know, a bad weather report. I find it mildly amusing. Normally Right would be here with Lightning, but she's still doing… whatever is going on down at the Army house.

   I start counting heads and assigning teams, immediately upon entering any unsanctioned mixer or party. Reason. As a girl, I'm highly unlikely to be involved in any fisticuffs or general shenanigans. Oh, its happened with me a few times, but… it tapered off once all the girls on all the teams found out I don't call names, scratch and pull hair. None of this necessarily means I wanna be there for that phase of the party though. Now, as a general rule of thumb I noticed? The more football players and rugby players are present at any party, the higher the likelihood of fisticuffs and general shenanigans shoots way up. Nice, low football rugby count. Great.

   Well, there goes that rule shot to hell. There's phone girl. She just got her expensive phone she's inordinately proud of, and everyone's laughing about how she has to work it quickly into any conversation. Lightning tried to get a screen interference past her, passing her with someone else shielding temporarily coming the other direction, but nope. There we go, she has to corral Lightning, and show off her new phone. Lightning to her credit is smiling thin, and nodding politely. Oh, that's great. Happy for you.

   Then, as Lightning politely and adroitly made her escape? There it was.

   "Slut."

   I'm standing right in front of her and the zit faced lightweight wrestler, right as she said it. I just gave her the look. Her own boyfriend rolled his eyes and palmed his face. I'm sure she thinks she's really "arrived" socially and all, sleeping with a wrestler now. Able to go to all the athletic parties and little get together-s. Her new phone, which she is way too proud to have just gotten, is combining with her new found queen bee attitude in such a manner as to get her in a peck sack of trouble. She's going to mouth off to the wrong sports girl and get her ass handed to her in a hat.

   We don't always limit ourselves to just the catty name calling. Lightning stopped dead in her tracks, and whirled right around. Big smile on her face, though. That's not a good sign, but not an altogether bad one either. She did say, not much earlier on the walk up? That she would say something witty and charming to her. Well, here comes witty, here comes charming.

   "I'm sorry. I wasn't sure I heard you correctly. Thought I heard you call me a slut. Again."

   Little Lightning isn't that little, not to this short pear shaped thing. The wrestler? Could likely do way better, if he could get his bad acne under control. Like all wrestlers, he doesn't have a scrap of fat on him. All wrestlers at the university score high on the macho guy scale, little or big. They get great pecking order placement. Lightning is looking down at her, the little troll doesn't come up to her chin. There goes her cocksure attitude, and the smarmy attitude this little bitch has. Why? I'm sure she thinks she's improving her girl pecking order. A few sharp words, will adjust girly girl pecking order, and that's the big mistake this little freshman troll is making.

   "No, I didn't call you a slut. Actually? Its… fucking slut."

   "Oh. I'm a fucking slut. Well, that clears that one up, huh. Aren't all sluts, technically fucking sluts? Or… are there other kinds."

   "What?"

   "Slut? Makes sense. Fucking slut? Kinda… redundant. Makes you look… stupid. You should get some new material. The slut thing, its getting stale. You gotta, freshen your routine up. You're losing your audience."

   "Like you're not a slut…"

   "All right. Let's get into this. So… you? Are not a slut. Is that right?"

   "Hell no!"

   "Okay. So… a slut enjoys sex. Hey. I like boys. But, if you aren't a slut, doesn't that mean you don't like boys? And don't enjoy sex."

   "Fuck you."

   Light looked her up, looked her down. Gave her the patented "once over", before pronouncing her.

   "Uh, no thanks. If I ever do go lesbian? I guarantee you, I can do better than you…"

   "What the---"

   "Didn't you just explain to me, that's a 900 dollar phone?"

   "Yep!"

   "And… the way you popped your hairy little finger out of your mouth, that means you blew him for the phone…"

   She looked at the wrestler, who was blushing and smiling.

   "She blew you, then got the 900 dollar phone… got the phone then blew you… some shit like that, right?"

   He's smiling and nodding.

   "Thanks. Just a second? I'll get right back to you on that."

   She smiled and turned her head to the troll again.

   "Honey? I might be a slut, in fact I'm sure I am. Hey, I like boys, and I enjoy sex. But you? You're a fucking whore. A blowjob, for a nice phone. What, a fucking whore you are."

   Back to the guy, while the troll's mouth was hanging open, speechless.

   "Word to the wise? Just trying to help you out. Books are expensive… 900 dollar blowjob, are you shitting me? From that? She ain't worth 100 dollars on the open market, honey. Now. You could of got… around the world, that's all three holes in one night, a fucking hat trick? For 500. With something looks way better… than that."

   Lightning now smoothed the shorter wrestlers shirt and smiled as sweetly as she could.

   "I'm not a whore. I'm a slut. Now… I would of went around the world? Twice. And, brought over a girlfriend, to help me. And… it would of been free. Cause I'm not a whore."

   Lightning left the guy blushing and smiling, embarrassed. The short hairy troll cunt, mouth dangling open, speechless. Which for her, was a condition much better than her running her mouth, thinking she's getting somewhere with her act.

   I paused at the wrestler.

   "I know your face. You, used to hang around Bubbly. He's gone now."

   "Yeah."

   "My boyfriend? Guy over there… he knew Bubbly. Look. Just trying to be nice here. But… this gotta be, like, the third time this little yap dog pissed on the carpet, at one of these things. Now, it just happened again, no harm no foul, but…"

   "I know. Sorry."

   "Yeah. Get a leash on her, yank it once in a while. Now would have been a great time, for instance. Because… sooner or later? She's gonna piss on the wrong carpet. Trying to be nice. And… if you ever hear from Bubbly? Tell him Wiz said hello. You kids have fun."

   I grabbed the phone, looked it over. Handed it back.

   "Nice phone. Have a nice night."

   I walked over to join Lightning and Wiz. Lida was laughing with Lightning about… well, about what just happened. Lida apologized, the troll was in one of her study groups last semester, now she was dating a wrestler, that's how this sort of thing happened. It wasn't her friend, more of an acquaintance, she was being tolerated mainly because she was sleeping with a polite wrestler, she had no social standing of her own. Lida promised to try to draw her a picture. Lightning jumped up and down and clapped her hands like a little girl.

   "Lida, you sent me pictures of a hot tub. Where is the damn thing… basement… what, where."

   "Oh. Out back. Go around the bottom way, we're five in, you can't miss the BBQ back there. Drink table, one of the boys brought over a Foosball table. Have fun."

   "Thanks Lida!"

   Light grabbed both of our hands and led us out and around back. Couldn't miss the social gathering in the back, it mirrored the action out front, minus of course the hot tub and the Foosball table. The hot tub? You wouldn't know it was inflatable if someone didn't tell you.

   "We're going in the hot tub, guys!"

   I'm an idiot, sometimes. I must have the same silly smile my boyfriend has on. Because I just realized its Little Lightning. She can't wait, to take her clothes off and jump in the hot tub, its a perfect excuse for her to soak up some attention and have fun doing it. She's all smiles. Checking him for boxers? She's putting me on the spot, to show my boobs and get in with her, and him.

   Goddamn denim miniskirt, this thing is evil. It has to be, because I'm gonna do it. Not as many people stared at me as I thought. Enough I noticed, though. I even found myself waving and smiling. As if nothing was amiss. And what was amiss, after all? Nothing. I wore it for my boyfriend, to look at me. I wore it for me, too. I was starting to enjoy the leers. I was discovering what Lightning already knew, that it made you feel good to get stared at. I didn't even have any body count in my wake to speak of.

   You could comb campus. This was the second guy you could verify I fucked. A few guys I made out with at mixers aside, but kissing and roaming hands don't count for much. First, second base. I know there's one or two liars out there, claiming they had me. They get to pull that off because people saw us kissing and running hands around at a party once, it makes their story believable. So far, no one has brought any of that up, around Wiz. I'm realizing that he broke his two year "monk" status, most likely I assume, for me. He outed himself, having fighting practice at the big yard our row of townhouses sits on. As one of the end rows, we have the big yard and direct access to the woods on that side.

   He knew I liked it, and again I have to guess at this, but… just like telling a kid they can't have something, then they politely shut up and you soon after reward them with the very thing they wanted. It was like that. Just like I didn't suddenly mind dressing like this for him, to show myself off on his account? He was letting people know he was a fighter, or had been one, or worked out with them, or trained them… or whatever he was.

   Lightning organized this cluster-fuck.

   "All right. I'm… going to roll up a little number. I got the bag and the papers off the toilet, glad I remembered it. A drink or two won't hurt, but… we working out tomorrow, honey?"

   "We could. We should."

   "Smoke-y, no drink-y. Wizzy? Get us drinks. Booze table? Right there. Anything but beer for me and Hurry. She likes anything fruity. I see schnapps. That'll work for me and her. Couple fingers, on ice. Get one for you, too."

   Wiz got us three plastic drink cups with a couple ounces of schnapps on ice. Little Lightning rolled a cigarette sized joint. I really didn't have to do anything except stand there and wonder who was going to stare when me and Lightning played attention whores. Its a party, there's people milling around all over. They have a keg on a tub of ice in their sub basement. I can hear ping pong and party murmuring and music in there.

   "Well? Let's get naked…"

   Guys noticed Lightning taking her shirt off. She wiggled her boobs around for them and made the "woo woo" noise for them, laughing. They've seen her do her thing before, this isn't anything new. Not for her. She gets more whistles and some clapping when she steps out of her thick soled tenners and loses her socks, before wiggling around pulling her lace up fly jeans off. She waved and sipped the drink cup Wiz handed her, as she stepped in and stood there, waiting.

   My turn. More hooting and hollering. Some clapping. Male athletes that have never once seen me dressed in anything but jeans and T shirts might not even realize its me yet. Wiz is a guy, his dark green service boxers pass for swim trunks, he risks or loses nothing, and only gains standing for having two… er, sluts? In the hot tub with him.

   Lightning stayed standing last, I'm obviously going to curl up next to my boyfriend.

   "Honey? Are you going to sit down with us, or…"

   "Where can I sit?"

   "Its not my hot tub, hun. Put your ass where you want it, its not like there's assigned seating."

   "Not what I meant, Hurry. Do I have to sit next to you? Or…"

   Oh. She was pointing next to Wiz. She was politely asking if it was okay to sit on his other side, probably up against him. Shower room fun jokes I previously approved of to happen, to let her have fun and to amuse him aside, she doesn't want to offend me by curling up on his other shoulder. She probably would rather sit next to and hang on the guy in the hot tub, instead of seeming to be canoodling with the six foot tall tan muscular chick, which is me.

   I glanced at him next to me, he looks vastly different right now. Some guys take any excuse to run around shirtless, he doesn't do it out of the house much without an appropriate reason. The joke is, Lightning is more statistically likely to lose her shirt outside, than Wiz. Its a joke, but no one has ever kept track and ran the numbers, either.

   Five o'clock shadow. Its easy to forget he doesn't sport a small tattoo like other people do, he has the entire back done. Most people might not immediately recognize him. He's not a football player sized jacked guy, and he's not chiseled out of wood, all small and ripped. I suddenly realized he just looks more… masculine all of a sudden. Its like this isn't the same guy that asked me out and spent a date or two talking to me.

   He's just as quiet and polite as ever, but… with Lightning sidled up against him, I get to see what he looks like just sitting there with a cute girl showing boobs in the hot tub. I've seen him with his shirt and more off zillions of times, but… I'm just now sitting back and really looking. When you just see his forearms, its one thing. You realize he must work out some, but when he loses the shirt and you get to see the long distance running legs with it, its… more of a wow.

   I'm a girl, and while I'm not at all mad, I can see the change in her, too. She's looking and checking him out, just like I am. Probably not the same "Toot" when he first came in and I introduced him. We've all seen him in his boxers at breakfast, we live together. What would he pass for, here with the athletes at a get together, if someone had to guess? Not a lineman, they're huge. But, he passes for one of the muscular but trimmer football players. He could claim to be a tight end or quarterback or something like that, they're generally more compact and watch their weight.

   The couple of wrestlers around, he honestly looks a lot more like one of them though. Because he was friends with Bubbly, the wrestler that had a scholarship ending injury, he waves and says a few friendly words with the ones he knows. The one I know is a light heavyweight, and if he dieted more, he might match up in muscularity and overall size and shape to him. That's it, he looks like one of the bigger, taller wrestlers in the off season. Makes sense, he grapples and kick-boxes, he's half dirty wrestler. Hell, I'm an idiot, why wouldn't he look just like one of them.

   I'm guilty of what Lightning is guilty of. We knew him when we only thought of him as the computer god, and saw him socializing mainly with the rest of the other computer crowd, outside of his gym life. Suddenly, I realized its more his surroundings, than him per se. Lightning boobing out on his other arm, other muscular athletic guys all around, his back piece on display… suddenly he just blends in here. His body language says he's perfectly calm and at ease, too. Around all these bigger more masculine men than average on campus guys.

   Now, I can picture him surrounded by the Military Police tough guys. Having a beer, guns laying around at some military range. Taking a break and toweling off between practices throwing jacked gorillas around to prove you were competent at take-downs. A lot of the athletes tend to razz newcomers, particularly non athletes, and the smaller or non athletic guys that hang around. Everyone is polite and friendly, like they are with one another. No razzing. He doesn't say a word to anyone much beyond hello, hi, how you doing, nice weather we're having.

   A few people walking past said hi to one of us, or took a puff of the big joint as we passed it around, hey its a party. People socialize, they drink and smoke and act friendly. What else is a party for if not for all of that. Which is when someone started tossing turds in the punch bowl.

   Some young guy, looks like a freshman. Not super duper tiny, but really not a big guy. He's drunk. Not piss his pants stagger and slur drunk. Just at that too loud and too obnoxious stage. Anything he says, has to be loud and broadcast-ed. Everyone has to hear him. As a drunk in the beer muscles stage, he surely thinks he's showing off and acting extra cool. As he starts his act, some of the athletes are smiling and pointing at him, a few giggles. One guy I know waved to me and smiled.

   I know the wave. Hi, Hurry. I got this, if you need me. I smiled back and waved him off. I'm sure we're fine. Guy was any smaller, I'd consider standing up and looking down at him and intimidating him. It wasn't until he started calling Wiz "Groundhog" that I figured out who he was. Well, not knowing him from any other drunk asshole, I mean to say I figured out where he surely must come from. The Pardee house. Nicknamed the Party house, where he lived. In the basement. The handyman, the asshole they deliberately clogged the toilets on drinking at 4am, to have fun fucking with him to watch him fish a tampon out with a coat hanger.

   He's ignoring him as best he can. The kid's upping his game, now openly making fun of him. He has the drunk little girl with him doing it too. Is he homeless now, does he still have to shit in a bucket like an asshole. The girl's in on it now, too. Living and working there, they never had anything to fear from him. They could laugh at him, and he has great self control. Plus, it was his living arrangement. He can't go around smacking the kids around for fucking with him. They're drunk, and having fun going overboard. Picking on him.

   This isn't the brightest idea they've ever had. If they manage to get his goat, this kid's toast. Just hammered enough, that… hey! There's Groundhog! Let's fuck with him! That was always a fun game! Whee! And they see him with two shirtless girls in the hot tub, and want to have fun reminding him he's the asshole. Real brain surgeons. Drunk enough to not realize that the safety's off on the gun; he no longer has to abide by any restraint, they're nothing to him now. In the back of my head? I vaguely realize this is the kind of shit my own daddy would probably pull on him, if I bring my boyfriend home for the holidays. Fuck this world.

   I can see him smile at both of us. Look around and check his surroundings out. See who might be with them, might support or back them up. I can see the MP in him coming out. He's letting them go, hoping they leave, hoping he doesn't have to smack them around and run them in, so to speak. The more he politely ignores them, and smiles at their little snide jibes and jokes, the more emboldened they're getting.

   "Hey, kid."

   "What?"

   He sighed, and smiled. Looking straight ahead, largely ignoring him except for the fact he was addressing him. Voice was too quiet though. I'm not used to this voice, I don't recognize it. This was something new for me.

   "You're drunk. Glad you're having fun. Nice night out. I don't live there anymore, I don't work there anymore. I actually live up here now. I have my own townhouse, here in the Village. I'm going to tell you, one time. This is cute, its all shits and giggles right now. I want you to have fun, its a party. Go in there, get another beer. Play some ping pong. Go? Mingle around."

   "Why should I? Man, this is too much fun. I miss this shit… I found my Groundhog again…"

   "Kid. I'm out with my girlfriends here. I'm having fun. I don't like you. At all. Any of you down there. The only reason you drunk little shits could fuck with me? Was because I was working, I couldn't smack your little asses around, like you need. You're drunk, you're not getting it. There ain't nothing stopping me from getting up out of this hot tub? And tuning your ass up. Go on, call a couple of the other little assholes to come up with you. I'll wait."

   "Yeah, right…"

   He sighed and smiled, still looking straight ahead, ignoring him other than that he was addressing him.

   "Remember, kid. I don't work there anymore. Nothing saving your ass, if you keep this up long enough, that you actually manage to piss me off. I'm kinda curious, how long that's actually gonna take. Not too long, though. Go. Mingle, get a drink. Best deal you're gonna get."

   Drunk kid's laughing, his drunk girl with him is laughing too. I'm not scared of him in the least, he's my friendly attack dog that snuggles under the covers, and I rub his belly, play fetch, and feed him little snacks from the microwave. But, my cute cuddly guard dog? Just growled low, and I realized I never once ever heard it do that before. The voice is way too quiet, too low, too fake friendly. Too… sing song of a quality to it.

   If things don't change soon, and they don't seem to be about to… this is going to go down, its just a matter of time. None of the Army boys that fight for a workout can land a shot on him. He just politely moves his head and his feet around, and they swing and kick and miss on air. It takes any two of them, to try to get on him. It takes all three of them to actually get a hold of him and land anything and try to get him down and harmless.

   When he does finally let the other guys practice blocking shots and slipping blows, he's not winding up on them. Stiff jabs that rattle them and they stay away from him, he has to goad his students to get in on him and try to get some, don't worry, I won't really hurt you.

   He likes them. He about hates this kid, and the other drunk assholes that used to fuck with him nightly for fun. He can just let the drunk kid swing on air, until he's panting and let him go. Or, crumple him at will. He's not even worried about this, he's smiling and shaking his head like a fly is annoying him.

   Lightning sighed loud, and stepped mad out of the hot tub at the floor show. The kid's laughing, he chased one of his girlfriends away, now he's going to keep it up and chase his other girl away, me. Loud, broadcasting voice. Making sure everyone hears him play big man, all drunk. The kid thinks the guys standing around, laughing and pointing are laughing at the Groundhog. I'm sober, I can see they're not. They're pointing and laughing at him, waiting to see him get smacked around for entertainment. Which will happen in its due course because nothing is changing.

   Lightning is irritated. She's muttering under her breath. I caught something something "parade of assholes" something something. She stepped into her shoes, after throwing down one of the towels from the stack onto the cement and wiping her feet half dry before quickly lacing her shoes up. She's still in her underwear, and she grabbed her shirt and dropped it over her boobs. I saw her pull her hair back and band the ponytail in. She's no doubt going to find someone to put a stop to this, before the kid gets hurt.

   Then, her demeanor changed. I watched her look at me, smile and wink. She walked slowly up to the kid. She's taller than him, by a couple inches. She kind of towers over the girl. I'm watching him. He's still smiling, all calm. I saw him crack his knuckles under the water. A thing he would do before putting his fighting gloves on with the boys. I watched him slowly crack his neck, once to each side. Another ritual before he would engage for a couple of minutes at a time doing playtime. He sighed. He's getting close to standing up, and making good on his promise.

   Lightning was… actually hitting on this kid? What the hell. She's smiling. Running her fingers down the front of his shirt. Little giggle hair flip, giggle hair flip.

   "You're kind of cute."

   "Yeah. You too, hun."

   "Thanks. You know what I do?"

   "No."

   "I? Play… soccer. You know what soccer is, right…"

   "Sure…"

   She's running her fingers down his shirt while she smiles and articulates every word quietly and carefully. One of her over the top flirt voices.

   "That means… I kick balls around. Kinda my thing… you know what your thing is? Hmm?"

   "No… what?"

   "Hmm. This…"

   That's when she got him. There's a lot of bad things in this world, but one of the worst would likely be getting kicked in the nuts. But then, you can top that. Getting kicked in the nuts by what for all intents and purposes is a professional soccer player, has to be far worse. She had him smiling, looking at her acting all girly, completely unawares in his drunken state… and used it to haul off and all but lift him up off his feet when the flat of the top of her tenner made solid contact with his groin.

   Her eyes instantly went from all sweet and innocent flirt to what I see when she streaks past me on the field. Intense, highly focused, hint of the determination that only a slightly crazy person truly has access to. He crumpled, making some "ah…" noise. She didn't pause to admire her attack at all, she went to work. She now had a completely helpless prone victim down, and was hauling off, putting her instep to his ribs with everything she had. Shoulders and hips swinging into it, as if she was driving a ball up field like I would to clear it.

   Everyone either froze, or didn't yet notice. He had gone white and silent but for air hissing out when she caught him full in the groin, and the thuds off of his ribs went easily under the music coming out of the basement. The few people that did notice, were either gawking or pointing and enjoying the show. These were the people already bemused, waiting for the show to start when he finally had enough and got out of the hot tub. The fact that Lightning had done it first, was a complete wild card in the situation.

   After several leaden shots to his ribs that rendered him completely harmless, his face was laying cheek on the cement. Conscious, but out of it. In shock and in pain. She stomped on his head once, hard. The girl finally got her senses going and moved to grab her, but that wasn't happening. She was taller and stronger and definitely in better shape than the little snotty kid she had put down. She just tossed the girl like a rag doll and gave him another shot in the ribs before the girl tried again to get her arm and hold her back.

   Lightning grabbed the little girl up by the shirt and spoke to her for the first time.

   "The fuck you think you're gonna do! I'll kick your teeth right outta your goddamn mouth! You, were doing it, too!"

   Then she tossed her back for space between them, and while she didn't kick her, she did sort of wave her foot right over the girls head and back down. Quick. The girl was drunk like the kid laying all but unconscious now. By the time she reacted and jerked back, stumbling and almost falling from it, the foot had already passed over her head and came back. Her eyes went big, and she took several steps back.

   This tall, suddenly crazy girl really could kick her teeth out of her mouth, and she realized that now. Passing the foot easily and quickly over her head told her she could easily reach any part of her she felt like. Lightning just went back to kicking the kid some more, before two of the guys from the drink table hooting and hollering realized that while this was entertaining as hell? If they cut this off before a trip to the emergency room was in order, the party wouldn't have to stop.

   He had gotten out of the hot tub, chuckling at Lightning's response to all this, and made no move to stop her. He slipped his boots on, then tossed his gray Military Police shirt on. He walked over and nicely enough said "I got this…"

   He got the kid up on his feet, mostly with no help from the kid himself. He was out of it. He just yanked him up by the shirt to a waving no sea legs sway. He dipped his right arm down through the kids legs, and came up while dropping an arm over his shoulder. The kid was now cargo across his shoulders. He humped him like a military pack. He stepped over to the guys at the drink table calming Little Lightning down.

   "Guys? That end's where the dumpster is, right…"

   One nodded, and the other smiled.

   "Just taking out the trash. Be right back…"

   This took him past the girl standing there dumbfounded at what happened to the guy she came with.

   "Little lady? You, come with me."

   She stood rooted for a few seconds, then scurried to follow and see what became of the guy. I walked over to follow the surprisingly calm proceedings. He lifted the thick plastic lid of the dumpster, and unceremoniously looked in quick, then dropped the kid in and closed the lid. He wiped his hands dramatically, and calmly addressed the girl. Once again, in that quiet sing song tone.

   "Little lady. I tried to tell you guys. You wouldn't listen. Maybe now you'll take my advice. Just go."

   "But…"

   She pointed, mumbling. The dumpster.

   "Yeah. He can get himself out. You? Can help him out. Or? Go get a couple of your drunken assholes down that house, to come fish him out the garbage bin. I don't give a shit. I tried to be nice, let you go."

   She puckered up.

   "Aw, boo hoo. I hope you're not stupid enough to bring some of those other drunk little kids up here. But then again? You just might be that dumb. That? Was the little girlfriend in the hot tub. This one? That's the big girlfriend. You don't wanna piss her off, trust me on that one. If you bring a couple of those assholes up here, and do anything but get this piece of shit out the garbage bin? Any of you set so much as one foot near that party? I swear to god, I'm going to put you all in this same dumpster. By myself."

   He leaned down and whispered in her face.

   "Go ahead. I dare you. And fuck you too, you little cunt. You were running your mouth too. Thought you were hot shit. He? Can't handle the little girlfriend. Go on, run your mouth to this one, see what she does."

   She puckered up more.

   "Now. Try to use that little pea brain, and imagine what I'm going to do, if you bring a couple of those assholes up here and try anything. Now. If you fuckers need my services? You know where I'm at. I'm going back, I'm getting back in that hot tub. With both my girlfriends again, and I'm going back to enjoying myself. Do not… make me… get out… of the hot tub… again. Get this ass goblin out of here, or let him sleep in there, I don't really care. Or? Just go flush some more tampons down the goddamn commode, that's about all you're really good for. Not my fucking problem anymore. Good night. I look forward? To never seeing you again."

   He was done, and walked easily back to the hot tub. He exchanged a few polite jokes to the guys at the drinks table. I could tell though, he was slyly fishing to see if anyone knew them, or were concerned. No one seemed to be, no one could even identify them. Lida came out to see what had gone on, the kid was in the dumpster and Wiz was back before she even made it out. Everyone seemed like floor show was over, no one died, cops didn't need called.

   Someone spoke up, and proclaimed firmly but not yelling… that if the cops did end up here? No one knew what they were even talking about. Must have been some other party. The music went back on. Ping pong noises came back. Normal party talk and laughter returned.

   "Schnapps on the rocks, right ladies? Let's try this again."

   We both agreed.

   Little Lightning, did another little striptease, and went back into the hot tub again. I got undressed again, and went in another time. Me and him sat next to one another, and Light stood and pointed at which side she was still permitted to sit at. She ended up again on his other arm to the one I had. He put him arm first around me, then around Light, and we sipped our drinks. Eventually, Light rolled another but smaller joint than the first, when everyone was sure the cops weren't coming. They never did show up.

   Some guy asked about the scratches and bite marks. The guy standing next to him, perhaps a witness to the answers they got, who knows. Anyways, that guy asked what the marks up and down his legs were. My heel marks, ha. Lightning was hanging on his other arm. She claimed, while smiling sweetly, that me and her both were responsible for it. When he asked how that worked out, Light said I was Monday Wednesday Friday, she was Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday. When he asked what Sunday was, she rolled her eyes and sipped her schnapps. Then proclaimed Sunday was kind of a tag team, free for all sort of affair.

   Everyone knows he's my boyfriend, they kind of both swiveled their heads over to me. My reputation isn't Lightning's reputation, we're polar opposites. She's a slut, I'm more of a nun that just escaped the convent. The one guy glanced down at my denim miniskirt and cropped T shirt laying there though, then they both looked at me in the tub. Wow, it shot through my mind that tonight really had been opposites night.

   Little lightning? Was dressed more conservatively. That was usually me. Tonight? I had the hooker clothes on. The nun was on my boyfriend's one arm, the slut on the other. The nun was dressed as a slut, and while the slut wasn't exactly dressed like a nun? By Little Lightning's normal standards, she kind of was.

   They're kind of looking the entire situation over. I shrugged.

   "See my boots?"

   They glanced down, then nodded.

   "He wasn't fucking me hard enough. So? I put the heels to him, to get it out of him. He's lucky I didn't have my riding spurs on."

   Lightning giggled, it didn't take her any encouragement to act up and play along.

   "I bit him, because he was fucking me too hard. But I can't claim all the scratches, though."

   They know us, the one guy quipped wise.

   "Lightning got fucked too hard? That's a new one for me to hear."

   Lightning bent over the edge of the hot tub, to stretch way out and rest her drink cup on the cement. Then sat up at this new height. Hell, it gave her an excuse to put her tits on display. She held her hands apart a certain width, made a circular okay sign with her one hand, went back to the opening and closing of her hand's width apart again. The hell was she doing, anyways? I had no idea. Then she held her hands apart steady.

   "Like I said. I got fucked? Too hard. I bit him, to slow him down some. It hurt. It… kinda worked, so, its all good. I'm flexible that way."

   They didn't say anything, I'm hiding my face in my hand. He laughed and raised his hands in the air and walked back to the drinks table and his buddies, chuckling. They both did. Then, the one guy circled back.

   "Hey, Toot. How you been. You having fun? Sorry about that earlier. Damned kids get drunk, hear about the infamous Village crawls… it happens. No big thing, nothing to worry about."

   "Hey, thanks. I mean, I'm kinda embarrassed. I had to have a girl fight my battles for me. Man, I'm never going to hear the end of this, from my Army buddies. Aw, when I meet the boys at the gym Monday? Christ."

   They were both chuckling.

   "So, Toot. If you got a minute. I hate you bug you…"

   "No. I remember you. Nice guy. Taylor, right? Lemme see here. You were a sophomore, makes you a junior coming up. Football, elementary education major. I remember we did… algebra I, then algebra II. You did okay. How's my memory doing here."

   "Oh, fine. Tyler, not Taylor. Same thing though."

   My bad. Tyler. What was your nickname again? Names, I'm bad with. Now faces, nicknames? That's me."

   "They call me Styles…"

   "Oh yeah, the funny story, about the nice suits…"

   "Yeah, that's me. Styles."

   "Okay. What you need?"

   "I'm starting my third year. I'm almost enough credits to technically be a Junior, but…"

   "Ah. Same thing. What though…"

   "One word. I'll run it by you. Geometry."

   "Okay. Which Geometry."

   "Just… Geometry. Not advanced Geometry."

   "Oh. Well, which professor you got? Geometry, is usually Dr. Weinstein and Dr. Berger, they split it up. Lots of majors need to take it. Thing is, Geometry is funny. It can be taught two ways. By proof, or by algebraic. Weinstein? Does proof. Berger does algebraic. You do proof with Weinstein? Its all by proof, then you do the algebraic at the end of every section. You go Berger? Its the opposite. Everything is by inspection, by algebraic solution. Then at the end of every section, they show the formal proof. Its like going around the block clockwise or counter clockwise. You end up at the same destination, but, its a different way there."

   "Yeah. Coach wanted me to ask you early on this one. I was wondering if you could… make sure I'm on your list. If you fill up."

   "No, no. Gentleman's agreement. Between the Math Lab, and the coaches. The administration? Wants happy coaches. Now Doc, that runs my Mathematics lab? He wants to make the administration happy. That's his job. Which means Doc wants to make the coaches happy. Players, want happy coaches. Administration, wants happy coaches. I want a happy Doc I work for. So… I try to make the players happy. Everybody, makes everybody else happy. And happy players? Score more touchdowns. Which makes the coaches happier, which makes the administration happier, which gets Doc little gold stars, and then he's happy. And when Doc's happy, the tutors are all happy… and happy tutors? Make happy players. One, big, circle of happiness."

   "Right…"

   "On the record? First come, first served. Off the record? Scheduling conflict. Tutors switch students. Put my name on the bottom of the sheet you fill out, real light, in pencil. Wiz. That invokes the happy program. You're on the list."

   "Great. Now… about the… Weinstein, Berger controversy…"

   "Hmm. My memory's telling me… you worked with your, dad growing up… construction… actually laid block for a summer, before you decided to take the football scholarship."

   "My uncle, but yeah."

   "I remember the story, where you're laying block, apprentice. Doing great. Making good money. The older guy you worked with, he was explaining its all good now? But… he had his shoulder operated on, happens to all of you. He made journeyman. How you can test into journeyman, or get it on years. But… he can't pass the test to become a Master Mason, and run jobs. And they won't let you become a Master Mason, no way no how, without that test. Years can't get it. Building might fall down. Its important, lives are on the line. And so… you suddenly thought about your shoulder, and? That a college degree wouldn't hurt you any either, because you'd probably be able to ace those Journeyman and Master tests, if you were a college boy. Am I remembering that right, Styles?"

   "Yeah. My dad thought me getting a degree was a good idea, and football pays for it… and if I just happened to learn a few things to let me test up, quick to become a young Master Mason? Oh boy… can I make some serious money. Setting up big jobs for my Uncle's company… all the Apprentices and Journeymen, filling in between my corners I set up and pass inspection. My shoulder? Much happier. My bank account? Much happier. I'm sure I have a happier wife and a happier house, too."

   "See Styles? You got your own… happy program going. You just pass Geometry and Trigonometry? With a D minus, I don't care… you'll be the whiz kid that can calculate angles, shoot those transit lines, be able to speak the engineer's language discussing the blueprints… and you won't be faking it. The engineers? Will request that… college boy, be on their job site."

   "Well. Back to the Berger or Weinstein controversy…"

   "My crystal ball says… you want Dr. Berger. Solving geometrical applications by inspection, then by algebraic methods? To set up the proof. That's hands on. You first draw the lines and angles, carefully. You measure with a protractor. You plug the numbers into some short, easy equations, on a calculator. We can program your calculator, that you're not only allowed to have, but must have? You just memorize the order, the exact order you enter the numbers into it? It spits out the answer for you. You have to memorize the laws and proofs and the little equations? But… there's some dirty poems to remember that stuff."

   "You make it sound easy."

   "Its not impossible. Now, technically. I'm allowed to help you program your expensive calculator, and you're going to buy the real expensive one. The one with the big screen on it. Costs a few bucks. It'll pay off big time, when you can just read English words, next to the numbers. I can hide the equations and definitions in the calculator, too. If? You buy the real expensive one. Your professor? Will not know you have that in it. I know how to hide it, with a password. You see, you get the right expensive calculator? I can wipe the calculator clean, download a modified system for it, and install it. My computer buddies showed me that trick."

   "Ha. Great…"

   "Like I said. I'm not allowed to program the calculator for you, I'm supposed to help you, and you do it. Fine line, though. Between helping someone… doing it for them… one of those things. You raise your right hand to god, and swear I helped you, and didn't just do it for you. And Styles?"

   "Yeah."

   "Your professor knows about the calculator trick. But…"

   "But what…"

   "We're going to buy another almost as expensive calculator. We're going to take the cases off, and switch cases. So, when he looks at the calculator…"

   "He sees the legal one, not the illegal one."

   "Right… and the thing me and the computer geeks download and reinstall on the one we end up with? It changes the screen when you turn it on, so it says its…"

   "Oh, the legal one. I get it."

   "And Styles?"

   "Yeah, Toot."

   "Naturally, we never had this conversation. I know of no such operation, as operation re calculation… nor if I did, would I be at liberty to ever discuss such an operation. If it even existed. Which of course it doesn't."

   "Oh. Naturally."

   "And… you can sell your calculator, for a lot more than you paid for it? To some freshman football player you trust, taking the same classes you take. For a small fee, I set them up with everything you need for each class, every semester. In the end? Everybody? Just happy, happy, happy."

   "I like happy. Which brings up… what if my schedule has… Dr. Weinstein on it…"

   "Oh. Players on scholarship? Could never, ever get any kind of special treatment, to pass their scholastic courses, to keep them playing. That would violate the NCAA rule book. A blatant violation. We could never have that, Styles. But… if I were to have lunch with my Doctor, that runs the Mathematics Lab. If he happened to have lunch with… some administrator he likes to have lunch with? Who knows. Its a schedule. Its some words on a piece of paper, that the computer just prints out. You get schedule corrections in the mail sometimes. Some kid working in the scheduling office, I'm sure he just tapped the wrong keys that day, he was in a rush to get to lunch. Hey, it happens."

   "Oh god, thanks."

   "Don't mention it. Because it never happened."

   "Oh, right, right. We're good. So… speaking of the… happy program, Toot. You, finally got on your own little happy program, it looks like."

   "What do you mean?"

   "You're dating Hurry. You seem to be living in the Village now. And tonight? You look… pretty happy."

   "Ah. My birthday came not too long ago. Its just been a great week."

   "I can see that. Hurry? I see you have a new… wardrobe consultant. You look very pretty tonight. No offense."

   "None taken. And thank you. Lightning helped me pick something out, for Wiz's birthday."

   "I see. Toot? Thanks. Anything you ever need I can help with, just ask."

   "You doing okay in your education classes?"

   "Yeah. God help me, its all multiple choice, except for the math classes. You show up to class every day, you read the pages every night, its fine."

   "Good. Keep your education grades up. You just need to pass the math classes. D in a math class here and there, doesn't matter… its the average GPA that counts. You only need to hold a 2.5, you were what, 2.7… 2.8? Something like that."

   "Um, actually? Almost a 2.9. More is better. Which brings up something else…"

   "Hmm?"

   "My dad, my uncle. They're happy. My dad and my uncle are in fact so happy right now? That… if I can hit 3.0 and hold it a whole semester… they said on account of football paying for all this, it would be no problem to pitch in and get me a new car, which… I mean, come on, who wouldn't want a new car, you know."

   "Concentrate on your multiple choice education tests. Just read the chapters over and over, let the words in big print soak in. My advice, is not so much to try to memorize everything, but just keep reading the same chapters over and over. Come into the lab, we'll take an hour and go over your schedule before you make it. Space things out, so there's only one D a semester, and the other good grades average it right out. We all have to take electives, out of our major. We'll try to cherry pick those electives. Good way to slap easy A's in there. An average? Is a funny thing that way."

   "I didn't know I could go to the math lab, for scheduling."

   "You can. I'll just fill in the blanks on my form, that you're preparing for a math class next semester that you're nervous about. Then, what we do that hour? Nobody's business but our own. I mean, technically you are preparing for another math class, more or less."

   "Wow. Toot? You're great. Why is there only one of you, down there? We need, like, two or three more of you."

   "Aw, Styles. I appreciate a compliment and all, but… I'm just a tutor, bud. If I got a knack for explaining things, then fine. What I think it is, is that there's more guys out there, who're just like me. Or better at it than me. But we'll never know. Most geeks like me? Aren't interested in helping other students. You know what the biggest crime to me is?"

   "What."

   "A lot of you… jocks? You guys ain't dumb. No, to me, the biggest crime, by far. Is that someone started this bullshit, that tough guys, and smart guys, are different guys. Some are, some aren't. It goes both ways, too. I'm friends with tons of… spastic geeks, just like me. I think plenty of them, would have been just fine at some sport. They could be plenty tough. But… someone convinced them, they can't do that. Because they're smart. Same way someone, somewhere, convinced you. That you should concentrate on football, instead of… something else, something you might have enjoyed and gotten good at. I've been in both worlds, Styles. And I'm telling you. The best warriors? Play chess. The best chess players? Know how to fight."

   "Hmm. That would be my dad, Toot. Construction worker. Said if I had time to sit around reading a book in the summer? I had time to learn how to do something useful. Started taking me to construction sites. So I could learn about… good paying jobs. The trades."

   "And your uncle? What does he want. The dad's brother, that now owns a construction company."

   "Oh. Yeah. He wants a Master Mason. In the family. Turns out, you need more than a little math, to pass."

   "Styles? You could have had Geometry and Trigonometry, in high school."

   "I did construction with my dad, so… I went to Vocational Tech. Bricklaying. Couldn't take those classes."

   "Which is ironic, because the bricklayers? Could really use some guys that passed Geometry and Trig. And they wonder why they can't get them, and the course is weeding those guys out. Styles, you know how if you want a good football player, you gotta get em young?"

   "Yeah. My sport. I was decent at it."

   "Math, and… other classes. Similar thing. I was allowed to be a geek when I was little. My dad didn't take the book off me. He bought me more."

   "Well. Your dad was some kind of… scientist, or professor or something, I bet. My dad and his brother? Construction workers."

   "My dad worked his whole life in a steel mill. He said if I really wanted to work in a factory or a mill, like him and a lot of other dads did? I could try that when I was older. But, that the time to get ready to do really good at college? Was all through school, so I was ready."

   "Toot? Never saw you with your shirt off before. Of course, football players? We have our own private gym, at the stadium. So I wouldn't have ran across you, in the campus public gym. You look like you played sports. Just saying."

   "When I was little? Some parents make you play every sport there is. Take music lessons. You know, keep the kid out of trouble kinda thing."

   "Yeah."

   "As I started growing up? One by one. I got weeded out of those sports. Teachers? Well… like your coach encouraged you to keep working at football? Teachers… encouraged me to… take more classes. In the end, I was a spastic geek, and I was good at it. All I had left? Was I was a track star. I played high school soccer, but… my ass warmed the bench. I was a scrub player. My girlfriend, can kick my ass at soccer. Hell, why lie. Both of these girls can."

   "Track, huh. Skinny guys. But… I know you were in the service, you hang out with the Army guys. I see your T shirt. Military Police. Now I can put it all together. You were a cop in the military. GI bill."

   "No, Styles. I lived and trained with the MP's. For something to do. I was a computer programmer in the service. Spastic geek there, too. I just learned how to be an MP with my buddies."

   "Toot? You're a life saver. My coach loves you. You're great. You ever need anything? Just ask. A big football program like this? Can't afford to lose a few players, for failing out. Coach jokes that you should get a jersey."

   "That's funny you should say that, Styles."

   "Why?"

   "I have a complete Military Police uniform. I never wear it, but for Halloween. Hell, not a good way to score a sack of weed, dressed like a cop, you know? But… I used to help train the new guys, and it wasn't even my job."

   "I know one of the guys used to haze you, when he saw you at parties. Coach found out about that? He shit a nuclear bomb. He's scared of losing players, it happens. Every coach's worst nightmare. You're like family, brother. Don't ever hesitate to ask. Hell, if you're ever on skid row after college is over? Before you land a career job, it happens. Look me up. Anyone can do labor gang work, till you land your career job you want. Its a union card. You could go anywhere, and automatically land a good paying job, till you find what you want. Wanna move to some city? Or in the country? Just head for the local union hall. Sign up. Not hard. Its just hard to get signed in. That? I got you covered."

   "All right. Stop down the math lab. Bring your phone. I'll take you shopping, for a couple calculators."

   "I'll be down. All right, I'm taking you away from your fun time. I'd say have fun with the girls, but, uh… you seem to have that covered. Oh yeah. The kid? Dumpster boy."

   "Oh. Sorry abut that."

   "No. Its fine. They came and dug him out the dumpster, and they took off. Been a while now. If the cops were coming? They would of been here by now. Have fun. No worries. Its all good."

   I scratched the hair on his chest.

   "Well, Wiz. You're making friends."

   "I'm a tutor. I'm providing a service. If I'm good at my job, and the… jock program here appreciates it? Then everybody's happy."

   "You happy, Wiz? Today. Here. Now."

   "Yeah. Sure. Hell, I'm sitting in a hot tub. I got a beautiful calendar girl on each arm. Boobies out and everything. Life? Couldn't be better tonight. I'd love to send a cell phone pic of this, to my MP buddies. How about you, Hurry. You happy too?"

   "Yeah. I am. My classes are okay. I have a boyfriend I like. How about you, Lightning. Now that you kicked the asshole out the parade, you feeling better? You happy too."

   "Oh. I'm okay. I could be happier. But, we can't be happy every day. Tonight? Just not my night. Pooh."

   "You don't have to stay here in the tub with us, honey. You can mingle. Go… shopping if you want. You're at the boy store."

   "Yeah. Great. Does me a lot of good. I had a nice boyfriend, and I actually liked him. Hurry, those two things don't usually go together. I don't even feel like I did anything wrong. I'm being punished, for being good. Its definitely not fair."

   "Well welcome to my world. You don't get fun and prizes, every single day of your life, for being good."

   "Oh. Listen to you. Who helped you, when you asked. And, I might add, miss high and mighty. Who is being… not so nice, and enjoying it."

   "Okay, Light. I apologize. That wasn't fair. Little Lightning here, was my… tutor, I guess."

   "Why do I feel like, she didn't help you with your Geometry class."

   Lightning snorted, but smiled to let me know it was in good fun.

   "More like… Human Relations."

   "Hurry? How much help did… Little Miss Two Feet, actually give you."

   "Wizzy. No intimate details. But… you followed our little Hurricane home with a smile on your face, didn't you."

   "Oh. Yeah, I did. Definitely."

   "The plan for her to meet you? All her. No lie there. But… from the moment you asked her out. Well, you know how people make a living, planning parties?"

   "Yeah."

   "That, was me. It took a couple weeks for three dates, and she wanted your third date to be… special. I gave her my entire play book, over a couple weeks."

   "For which you were not working for free, I might add."

   Lightning stuck her tongue out at me and laughed.

   "I got pizza. Whatever I wanted cooked for me. Hey, I was giving up going out, for a couple weeks. To help my big sister out. I owed her. You enjoyed it, right Wizzy?"

   "Very much."

   "Hmm. I bet I can list the activities, that went on."

   "I don't know about that, Lightning."

   Lightning imitated the old time girl in the movies voice.

   "Oh my. I need a big, strong man. To just take me, right now. Bend me over my car, right away. I just can't take it any more. Make me like it. Make me…"

   I palmed my face, giggling, embarrassed in a fun way.

   "I had one boyfriend at college, before you. Two guys in two years. I had a couple boyfriends in high school. Not a lot, nothing super serious. I found you, I wanted you… I wanted to make sure I came home from that date weekend, with my boyfriend, bagged and tagged. Um… my grandma? Would say that Little Lightning was very… worldly, that way. She gave me a few pointers."

   "More like my whole play book."

   "Okay. Light coached me, on her… whole play book."

   "Hurry? Just admit it. You actually like being bad. It feels good."

   I sighed.

   "Yeah."

   "Wizzy? You, your Army buddies. You want girls without… lets call it experience. Girls that aren't… worldly. But, don't you like it, when the girl's good in bed?"

   "Well…"

   "Uh huh. You can't have it both ways. There's no such thing as a… virgin porn queen. Hurry is sitting there, being a bad girl right now, and loving it. The outfit, showing her goods off like I do. Like in that video at the buffet. Its just not fair…"

   He asked her what wasn't fair.

   "She's playing me right now, and you love her for doing it. And me? I'm just the slut. Wizzy? I didn't make the rules of the game you got caught playing in high school. I never did that. Not once. So, if you hate those girls for running you like that? You should. Wizzy? I know, I'm a slut. Because I don't lie about it. All these… respectable girls, running around campus? Crock of shit, Wizzy. They do what I do, and they do it every week, not every month like I do. And behind their boyfriend's back. Me? I don't sneak. I don't lie. I don't even want presents, and dinners. Now you tell me, how am I the slut, and they're the respectable girls. I get one dick for every four they take, and I don't work a guy for a single dime, like they do."

   "Lightning… I…"

   "You know why Hurry wanted my play book? She wanted to move on you. Close the deal. These days, with all those other girls out there, you gotta move quick. I didn't make these rules, Wizzy. Maybe I'd like to… move slow. Take my time to find him. Just the right guy. Then, take some time to… develop him. Make sure. Then? Yeah… helicopter spins."

   "Light, honey… so… do that!"

   "You can't, Wizzy. I know, its the right thing to do. It looks great on paper. But, you can't do that. Not in real life. While you spend your time looking and shopping. Talking, going out for coffee. Then dating and moving slow. All the other girls? Pffft. They'll let you find him, develop him. Then poach his ass off you, have fun with him, and drop him and move on to next week's dick."

   "I'm sorry, Light. You're very honest, and… that should count for something. I'm sorry it doesn't. The problem with honesty? It usually costs you. It rarely rewards you. Not the same way. The reward? Is… you feel good about yourself. And, you know not to be jealous of someone else, for getting ahead, while being dishonest."

   "Well. That's me, Wizzy. I'm honest about it. I get kicked around for it, too. I'm not a whore. And I'm not for sale, damn it. My mom, she tried to sell me. I'm not a piece of meat at the supermarket, Wizzy."

   I looked up at him. She wasn't sniffling and crying, far from it. She talks plain and open about stuff, without the heightened emotions you might expect. Its not normal. She should be showing emotions right now. Angry, or… sad. Nothing. If she hasn't been hurt bad, damaged in some way? Monkeys can fly out of my ass right now. And I don't hear any scary music, and I don't see any monkeys, and I sure don't hear any flapping wings.

   She had her arm around him. Her cheek on the front of his shoulder, practically on his chest. Talking at the water, if not for us being here with her. She can't see me. I talked up at him, with my eyes. Do you see this, do you hear it? I could read the concern on his face, and the puzzle too. He couldn't crack this nut any more than I could. If I was the den mother, then what was he? Den father, I guess. He was four years older then I was, after all. Maybe she would eventually respond to the strong silent type. Who knows. He tried.

   "Little Lightning?"

   "Yeah, Wizzy."

   "I meant what I said earlier tonight. You're not some stupid girl jock. Oh, they're out there. I've met them. But, you're not one of them. And you're very honest, Light. You don't lie. You don't sugarcoat things. My own grandma? She used to say, that some people were… on the mind, on the lips. They sometimes say the wrong thing at the wrong time, but… they're always open and honest. They tell the truth, even when the truth hurts. And that's rare."

   "Doesn't do me very much good. Does it."

   "Light? I didn't exactly enjoy my childhood very much. My parents were great, but. I just didn't fit in anywhere. And yeah, being a true blue, dyed in the wool… spastic geek? Might not have helped much. But… it's me. The real me. I'm like you, in a way. I'm not what people expect, and I'm not what they want. But, I'm open, and I'm honest about it. Yeah. I could easily do what other guys do. But, I don't want what they have."

   "Wizzy? Can I throw a ref's flag on the play? Or… I don't wanna…"

   "No, Light. Go right ahead. On your mind? On your lips."

   "You weren't open and honest, were you. I don't think so. You sneaked, and lied, and hid. From what you really are. That's just how I see it. Call me a foul mouthed slut if you want."

   "When… did I lie to you, honey?"

   "You lied to everybody, Wiz. You're really this… big tough… fighting coach, military police dude. Girls love that. And you took it, and you hid it. Like, you were ashamed of it, or something."

   Wow. That stopped him dead in his tracks. She'd have had less effect on him, if she'd have kicked him in the nuts. Just like the drunken kid she dropped with one of her golden feet and then worked him over until he just laid there like a worn out soccer ball. He exhaled slowly.

   "I didn't exactly lie about it, Light. I just didn't feel a need to tell everyone. I'm here, to get my degrees. To work on me, and what I want. And… I don't feel like I… lied, exactly. The guy you girls saw around campus? That's the real me, honey. That's what I was like when I was young. Before… well, before the world got a hold of me. Hurry here? She liked that guy. I wanted someone I can just be myself with."

   "I hear you, Wizzy. But… there's more flags on the play, you know."

   "Go on then. Its on your mind. Let it be on your lips. No one's listening to us. I promise you. I'll be honest with you."

   "Oh, Hurry liked you. She was… intrigued. Fascinated. But, she held back. Until she got a tiny glimpse of your… you know. Your other side. The side you hid. The side you're ashamed of. Oh, then? That's what pushed her over the edge. Then, she had to have you. She's not that different from the other girls that way. Girls? Like tough guys. We can't help it. We're made that way."

   "Hmm."

   "I'm not done. You said on my mind, on my lips."

   "I did."

   "Just because no one asked you, doesn't mean you didn't lie. I think they call it a lie by omission. You tell just enough of the truth to make it look good, then you just casually avoid that one, crucial bit of information. Its smart, its sly. And its very sneaky. I'm supposed to be ashamed of what I am? Well, I'm not. But you were. Why."

   "Oh, you ask the tough ones. Well, here goes. Do you want me to tell you, that when I was little, I didn't sit around, wishing I was… some big, strong, tough guy? I think its a very popular fantasy for young boys in my situation. Gee, if only I was a tough guy? Then, everything would be just swell. And, I ran away. To the service. I was a computer programmer, Light. Not… some guy jumping out of airplanes, with a knife in his teeth. But, I lived with the MP's. Don't know why. But, that's where the universe put me. They… took me in."

   "Just like I took Hurry in. Taught her how to be a bad girl. And enjoy it. They did that for you. How can people complain, when you grant them their wish like a fairy godmother, Wiz. You two? You're more complicated than I am, when you get right down to it. Don't you think?"

   "You're probably right. But, you ever hear the words… be careful what you wish for. Because you just might get it. Yeah. It happened slowly, but it really didn't take that long. Next thing I knew? I woke up one day, and… wow. And you're right about one thing. I was ashamed of it, towards the end."

   "Why would you be ashamed."

   "Well. No matter how tough or how weak you might be? Only a complete fool goes out looking for trouble. Plenty enough trouble happens on its own, without looking for more. But, some people's kids."

   "Like the assholes on parade tonight."

   "Yes. Some guy, just like him. Some big guy. He was doing everything he could do, I guess. To start trouble. He finally got around to starting on me. I ignored him. He finally kept putting his hands on me. Told him what he wanted to hear, told him to quit. He insisted. It doesn't really matter what I did, but. Its called a pass. I passed him, and I bounced his head off the wood bar. I tried to avoid it, I had every right to do what I did, and… there was blood everywhere. They had to clean the bar up, like someone spilled a pitcher of beer, but… it wasn't beer. It sprayed on people sitting close to us, at the bar. It was on me, on my shirt. And my hands? Jesus, my hands were… I looked like I just murdered someone. He's fine, he's out cold, and he needed a bunch of stitches. But…"

   "But what. You didn't do anything wrong. Why were you ashamed."

   "I wasn't. Its not a big deal to me, I practiced all the time, with the MP's. I was just going to the bathroom, you know. Maybe get some warm water on a paper towel, see if I can save my shirt. Wash my hands off, mainly. That's when it happened."

   "His buddies?"

   "No. His buddies, either didn't like him as much as he thought they did, or… they just cleared out. No, I'm just walking to the bathroom, and… people were, you know. Backing up, like Moses parting the red sea. Guys are smiling at me. Which I thought was… weird. Then it hit me. Everyone was nervous. Scared. Then, there was this couple. Some guy and his wife or girlfriend. Regular people that lived there, not service people. And, the guy is smiling, and backing up. And… his wife? The look on her face, just. Sure, she was nervous. Which I can appreciate. But… that was only half of what was on her face. She was… disgusted. It was the look you give someone that walks into the room, covered in shit. I was, something disgusting. Foul. Unclean. I mean, I was the good guy, he was the bad guy. But, not to her. To her? She was disgusted, and I was no better than him, just in a different way. I was some kind of monster."

   "Then you changed, I guess."

   "I had a… mentor. There's guys that taught us to fight, and this guy… he taught them. He spent time with me. He, I don't know. He took the old me, and this… new me? And he put them together. I… was expected to re enlist again. This time? As an MP, not a computer programmer. He helped me decide, what the real me truly was. I was a spastic geek, that the guys toughened up, and taught to fight. He spent a lot of time with me, like a dad would. And… what I really wanted, what I really needed? Was to go to school. Get my degrees. And be who I was really meant to be. Toot."

   "And people say I'm complicated. I'm not. You spend four years, learning to fight. Like you sat around and wished for your whole life as a kid. Then you get it handed to you… and you just refuse to ever fight again? Jesus. You wasted your time. That's like learning to throat a cock, then refusing to give a blowjob, ever. Why waste your time…"

   "That's what I love about you, Little Lightning. You have such a delicate way of putting things. But… yes? And no. Trust me, I'll fight. But… not because some knuckle dragging troglodyte had one too many beers, and he's trying to look like a big man. He has to put his hands on me. Or on someone I care about. Or… lets say I'm at work. And I have to deal with him every day of my life. Then? I'll deal with it. Get it out of the way. And we can move on. And, I don't. How do I explain this. I don't… get anything out of it, when I fight. Even if I win. I don't feel like a big man. I don't feel… anything, really. I'm not all worked up. I don't run around hooting and hollering, if I win. Its just… like going to take a shit. Its not one of the fun parts of life, but, you just wipe your ass and move on."

   "So. You're ashamed of me that I'm a slut, and now you're ashamed of me, that I got pissed and kicked that kid around. Even though he deserved it."

   "No, Light. I'm not ashamed of you. Not one bit. Never think that, not for one second. I owe you a lot. You told Hurry something, and it led to her… deciding she had to have me. I wouldn't have her, if it wasn't for you. Then, you… spent a couple weeks, coaching her on your playbook. And, I loved it. I was on cloud nine, believe me. And, you got mad because someone was giving me the shits, and you went and kicked the shit out of him. Literally, I might add. I'm actually very touched. I'm not the least little bit ashamed of you. And."

   "And… ?"

   "And. Um. If there was no… Hurry finding me. And you had found me, instead? I wouldn't be ashamed of you. I wouldn't sneak and hide, that you were giving me… well, I can only imagine what you do. I mean, based on how much fun Hurry here is? I'm left to only imagine how good the girl that mentored her on being a bad girl really is. And you wouldn't have been looking for anything from me. You just… give, and refuse to take. And, you can ask Hurry here, if I'm lying. I… had these… you know, girls on calendars."

   "She told me. You have a soccer girl on one. You made her feel pretty. Not a lot of guys really like girls like me and her. We're too tall, I guess. Or, they think they're doing us a favor, for overlooking us being in shape. Its bullshit."

   "Well, yeah. She's my… soccer girl from the one calendar. She's… also? My… rodeo or farm girl, from a different calendar. But you? You're on one of my calendars too, little one. You can ask her about it, I'm not making it up. I could have just as easily fell in love with you, as I did with Hurry, if things turned out different. You? Are gorgeous, just like she is. And, in your own way? You're… just as honest as she is, too."

   "Then… why did you ask Little Miss Moody out, too."

   "Well. To tell you the truth. Going on looks? There's nothing wrong with her. But, after that? The rest of the package, moves her 1 to 10 number, up and down. She, well to be honest? Loses about 5 points for being… whatever the hell she is. And you, just like my Hurry sitting on the other side of me? You two move up the scale, not down, the more I get to know about you."

   "Wow. Thanks, Wizzy. You really are sweet, like Hurry says."

   "Yeah. I hope your happy. I'm probably in all kinds of bad trouble now, with my girlfriend, telling you how wonderful I think you are. Now she's gonna kick my ass. Thanks."

   "Don't you dare, Hurry. He made me feel good. Is he in trouble?"

   "No dear, he's not in any trouble."

   "You promise."

   "Yes. I promise."

   "Thanks. I can't believe, you think you could have fallen in love with me. Just like you did Hurry. That's very sweet."

   "Okay. Now, try to quit saying things like that, before I get Hurricane-d for what comes out of your mouth, and I have to pick up your tab."

   "All right. Pity though."

   "What's a pity, Light."

   "Me and Right? We're best friends. We're room mates, too. Best friends that room together? They share. Happens all the time, you know. My big sister isn't like that, though. And I owe her, big time. Its not just I don't want thrown around the living room, like Miss Moody, either. I wouldn't be able to look at myself in the mirror, if I did that to the only person in my corner, the whole year I've been here. I wouldn't be here, if it wasn't for her. It'd have been fun though. Not the getting thrown around the living room part, I don't mean. The sharing. That? Would have been fun. But oh well. Will you do me a favor?"

   "If I don't get thrown around the living room like Miss Moody, for this favor? I'll see what I can do."

   "Maybe… talk to him. For me. See if… I don't know."

   "Talk to who, Lightning."

   "Army boy. Hurry was so happy with you. You said he's nice. She was telling me to try having a nice guy for a boyfriend. I tried. I really did. I might have slept with a few guys, sure. I flashed my tits a few times, yeah. But, why does that matter so much. Jesus. He's ashamed of me. Makes me feel like dirt."

   "I'll see him at the gym. I'll see what's going on."

   "You'll tell me the truth? Don't sugarcoat it. Promise me."

   "No sugar."

   "Thanks."

   "Will you do something for me? And for Hurry, and really for yourself."

   "Sure. Name it. I'll do anything you two want me to do. I love you guys."

   "One day. Maybe… you can tell me, her. One of us, both of us. What happened, all of it. When you were younger. She wants to help you, and she goes to school for it. If there's anyone you can trust, and just wants to help you? Its her."

   She sighed.

   "When its time? I will."

   "How do you know when its time, Light."

   "I'll just know, I guess. How do you know, when its time to fight?"

   "Oh. I have rules, guidelines. That I'm supposed to follow. I do. I's have to be dotted, T's have to be crossed. Its the last option, not the first one."

   "Okay. When there's no other option, I guess I will. I don't wanna spend the rest of my life, like this."

   "Like what."

   "Hating myself. Feeling like dirt. Its not fun. Did you like it?"

   "Did I like what, dear."

   "That night in that bar in Texas. That girl. Looking at you. Disgusted."

   "No. I didn't like it at all. It changed my life."

   "Because, I try not to think about it, and it sort of works, but. Sometimes the more you try to not think about something, the more it makes you think about it. If I'm making any sense. And, you said you felt… dirty. Unclean. That's how… it… makes me feel. You said it yourself. You didn't do anything wrong, but it still made you feel… dirty. That's how I feel. Like I didn't do anything wrong. And I was still made to feel… like dirt. Its horrible."

   "What happened was horrible? Or, you mean its horrible to feel like that, and hate yourself."

   "Both."

   I tried to change the subject. He had inadvertently brought me one step closer to the harsh or horrible truth, whatever it really was. I was once again surprised. He was surprisingly agile and emotionally intuitive, he felt and thought and plotted on his feet, trying to open her up. I guess he was fighting metaphorically. She was blocking his shots he was probing his opponent out with, circling around her, looking for a way in to take her out and down. She was tough and experienced, he was up against a well matched opponent. Maybe she lost the match, 10 to 9. Hardly what one would call a "victory". The crowd would say the fighters went even, and the ref could have called it wrong. Hell, some could claim she won.

   If she wasn't blubbering and crying, having both of us hold her while she sobbed out her story… there was no knockout. If she wasn't tearing up, with some composure. Then dabbing her eyes and going one step at a time, ice broke and moving slow… then there was no TKO. If there was no screaming and crying, no tearing up, just a numb and factual description of what accurately was done to her? Because he wore her down and frustrated her, and she finally just spit it out… without that? There was no going to the judges, and they called it unanimously in his favor.

   So I tried to change the subject. One of Lightning's favorite things, seems to be dressing in expensive and somewhat provocative clothes. Its a safe subject. You can't be hurt when you're touching home base playing tag. You're safe from the monster lurking under the bed or in the dark closet, as long as you're under the covers. We were playing tag with her; talking about sexy clothes was her fingers resting on home base. Nah nah, you didn't get me.

   "Well, Light. It's what, almost a year now for us. We finally went around full circle, me and you."

   "How's that."

   She's still talking matter of fact to the water.

   "Hmm. You? Are dressed like the good girl, compared to me right now. I dressed like the bad girl for once. So. How was it, being the good girl. If you liked it? We'll get you some real jeans. T shirts. Maybe some flannel work shirts."

   She giggled.

   "What's so funny abut that? Honey. She's your… calendar pole vaulter. Would you have still wanted to… ask her out for coffee twenty times in a row? If she was dressed like I dressed? Hmm?"

   He winked at me, so as not to risk pissing his Mistress Vaquera off. We were on complete normal time, out around people in public. But Vaquera hadn't left officially from her little "visit". She wasn't officially "gone", until she said so. I'm leaving now. Not bad, you're coming along nicely. Keep it up, little boy. Here's what I want you to work on with your mommy. So, he winked.

   "Honey. Don't take this the wrong way. But… if Lightning would have been dressed like you dress? Acted like you? I might have been living in her room, instead of yours."

   He smoothed her hair, and worked a couple gentle strokes into a gentle head pat. Like I guess he would a puppy he was keeping calm, practicing as a nice guy. Showing his mad skills off, to prove to his nice girl that had chosen him, hey look, I have the right stuff. I can hold and calm the puppy. Bet I can do it with a real baby. I got this, you made the right choice, hun.

   A lot of guys trying that? It would have come off as creepy. He made it… nice. She didn't jump or squirm. She didn't hear scary music. She made a contented little "coo" sound and nestled in. She had daddy issues, and openly admitted it. I was her den mother, her big sister. She was safe in her den father's strong arms. She felt warm and safe and protected. Maybe he was the big brother she never had, and here was the foster brother.

   It worked, whatever he had. His… whatever it is that some guys have. That male aura. Me and Little Lightning know all these guys, most of them. A mix of all the university athletes are present. This is the Village, this side of it. A certain number of these rows of luxury townhouses are dedicated to the starting athletes. A little "perk" to hand candy out to starting players, that perform for the program. The days of handing out cars and money to stars at big schools are gone. It was cracked down on and policed aggressively. Room and board, though… part of the standard scholarship deal. One school, gave the starting athletes their own dorm hall. Another? Gave them the new one. Then the next, gave them two, and private rooms. This was one of the biggest Universities in our conference, they had deep pockets and were trying to revitalize their years ago top place. Hey, luxury room and board.

   So… we know most of these guys. And the hooting and hollering, the smacking girls on the asses? That's at the other parties we passed up. Lida has a "no asshole parade" rule. This kid earlier? Slipped through the cracks. Now, unspoken but just as firm a rule? He won't be back. If he ever shows up? He'll automatically be made to feel… well, very uncomfortable. The boys will stand around, and eye him up. He'll get nervous, like he should, and turn tail and leave.

   But, these guys also know what they can get away with. With me and Lightning. They all know us. So they know our rules, what's acceptable. They really should be, on a normal night? Hey Hurry, how you been working those big legs out, huh? Yeah, your room mates said you don't have a thigh-master in your room. So, what's your secret for those strong thighs, huh? Its attention. Its not mean. I smile, and I say something witty or smart-ass. They laugh and show me their palms. Its banter.

   And normal with Lightning? Oh, gee. Hey Light, we need someone to do body shots off of. We got a sturdier drink table this time. How about it? Sure guys, but… this time? You guys better be nice. Anything, hun. Yeah… last time? I got all… sticky. You have to promise me? You'll lick. Clean up your mess. And yeah, they promise. They line up, do shots off her flat tummy, and she giggles and squeals, says it tickles when they lick up any spills or slops.

   Somehow she's in charge doing it. No one would dare try to grab her wrists and ankles, make her keep doing it after she says the show's over, and she gets up. Freshman boys, all big and muscular but surprisingly shy and unsure to approach her, and lick her bellybutton if they slop some. She's witty about it. Come on, I'll be gentle with you… and she talks him through it, and gently guides his head, to get her tummy licks in.

   We should be getting a string of invites to play, well, some game that has the word kiss in it. I routinely say no, thanks for the offer, boys. Little Lightning? Hmm. I'm gonna play some card game, and the boys take turns kissing me? Gee.

   We got none of this tonight. From the moment we set foot in the hot tub with him, and each sat on an arm? We suddenly went off limits. I really should have gotten some hooting and a string of comments about suddenly dressing like this. Just the one, and it was couched as the politest thing ever. Hurry? You look very pretty. Lightning should be getting a string of innuendo and banter. Not one word, not one butt slap.

   I should get my one butt slap, a very gentle one. By someone I know that its a joke. They get my finger in their face, they get sweetly threatened. The other guys hoot and tease him for getting lectured about it. They set the "new guy" up to get slapped by me. Lightning? Well, its like licking her bellybutton clean after, well… sometimes I suspect the guys might "spill" their tequila shot on purpose. They can get another shot of tequila all night, this is their chance to lick her tummy suggestively while everyone makes the "woo woo" noise, and she laughs.

   I get treated, more or less, like one of the guys. Similar to how the hometown farm boys I rode dirt bikes and sat around campfires with acted towards me. Those guys slapped my butt, about as often as they slapped each other's. Guy jokes only. They swat the next guys butt for a laugh, and someone teases them. Hey! You didn't say "no homo" quick enough! We need a judges ruling, on your man card now! I got my butt slapped once, and the guy winked and said "no homo". I was marked as an honorary guy. You're one of us, you're a full member.

   No, he has his very male aura and presence. I'm not used to it, hell I'm not used to very many guy's presence in the first place to know better or worse. I can gauge from what I see, though. This is like some new farm boy staying on his uncle's farm for the summer, happened a lot. They don't know if this guy might be hell in a bottle or not, best not to pop the cork with the bottle upside down. If the new kid throws the big bales around with ease all day, you wonder what he might be capable of. And sometimes, bigger farm boys tell stories. About that one time, they zigged when they should have zagged.

   That's how he's getting treated. Everyone knows who "Toot" is. If you haven't been risking academic probation and losing your scholarship and team spot? You know a team mate who has. You get sent to Toot. You get on his tutoring schedule, its uncanny. And the gossip mill grinds on. Everyone knows some football player abused him socially, but stopped short of putting his hands on him. Everyone knows the quiet computer and mathematics guy let it all go. They know the coach heard about it, and shit a nuclear bomb, was how Styles put it.

   He was assuaging Toot. Hey, that won't go on. And he was polite about it.

   He was also saving face. Engaging in guy diplomacy. The girls all gossiped about the wonder of seeing… was that Toot out there? Fighting with the fresh meat Army boys? Will wonders never cease. Those that came out to enjoy the show? Holy shit, he's the goddamn instructor. Bubbly the wicked wrestler? Wasn't being nice to the tutor that helped him, he was hanging out with another tough guy. The girls all thought it was cute, seeing the male athletes do their "oh shit" glances as it got around. The boys put a couple of shows on for the girls.

   It reminded me of one of the smaller out of town farm boys came in one summer. When it came out, that he was hell on wheels. Turned out he was a wrestler. He had that magical ability to ride the big farm boys and tire them out. He called it "riding the bull", and he wore the bull out. He was nice about it, just guy fun wrestling to see who got the last beer. He never teased his new friends, and they were… a lot more polite to him. He had to initiate jokes about himself, to get them going again, teasing around the campfire. Guy diplomacy.

   Athletes are all streetwise, even the dumb jocks. A football player went out of his way to give him a social wedgie. The others there, his buddies he was showing off for? Pointed and laughed. They all wear the same jerseys. This, was an outsider. Oh shit. He might have it in for all of us. They felt him out carefully.

   Bubbly was a sort of regular sized guy, but in the wrestler fashion. He took his shirt off, and even guys whistled low. He wasn't ripped, he was positively shredded. He was one of the big recruits to his wrestling team. Some kid that was big news in his town, and his county. Even made a splash going to states. Bubbly was also open and honest about being a fighter. He had posters up, that he wanted to fight one day on TV. So when he was with Toot somewhere, and he told some jock to knock it off, they did. Then? They politely teased Bubbly later. Aw, sorry I made fun of your boyfriend's dress, Bubbly. He looks really cute in it. Bubbly was a nice kid. Ha ha, you really shouldn't be an asshole, guys.

   Everyone thought Bubbly was just being nice to the Toot. He had saved another athlete from disappearing on AP, academic probation. Now? Like I said, all jocks are streetwise, they can add two and two and come up with 4, quick. "Toot" was teaching the Army guys who were open about it, to fight. Bubbly wasn't protecting his tutor from them; he had been protecting them from slapping a bigger bull on the ass than they should.

   Hey, I'm a girl but I grew up on a farm. Some bulls? Walk around and really wear it. Yeah, they know you can zap them or crack them. They eye you up though, and they're not nervous doing it. You come in my yard? You better have food. It better be regular feeding time. I better hear the voice of the farmhand that took the last stone out of my hoof wedged up in there and I can't get it out. Moving them is a delicate procedure. Its a herd animal, startle them and they move away and keep moving. Don't get too close, but don't hang back too far, either. They get bored walking away from the herd startling commotion? Well, be far enough back you got time to swing a gate to pen yourself off. And if they get piss-y? They can go right through that gate and kill you, they just don't know it.

   There's other bulls, though. Bottle babies. You bring those big "wearing it" bulls in, for big genetics, to make more money off meat feeders. More pounds, a certain price per pound? More money each, it pays off to buy them, then sell them down the line and get your money back. You're renting the bull's cock, basically.

   Bottle babies are different. Big bull, nice genetics, but… he's raised with love and sweetness. You coo to him when you approach, and he comes trotting over. He sniffs for his handful of candy, his apple core. Or did mommy bring me a whole apple this time, what a delight. Thanks, mommy.

   You either have not enough milk, or you have too much. You give a bottle baby, a big bottle of milk. In a big bottle, like he got as a calf. He won't hurt his mommy, she gives him sweet milk. You become the mommy, and he likes his bottle. He's safe. When he lumbers up behind you and nudges you? He does it as gently as a dairy cow does it to her calf. You raise your voice the slightest? Sorry mommy, I thought you might have an apple for me, just checking. They dip their head low, and wag slowly. A calf's apology to an adult cow they inadvertently offended.

   You coo and shush the bottle baby, and he walks in one step at a time, and you scratch that big, wet nose. He sniffs your hand to see you really don't have a treat. Its okay mommy, I love you anyways, you're swell. They turn sideways, slowly. They want you to scratch them a little. Bottle babies are great for training kids to get comfortable around big animals. The best of them, you see pictures of toddlers hanging off the horns, or riding along on the back, while someone snaps a picture.

   Wiz is a bull, it turns out. But, he's a bottle baby. He doesn't wear it around the yard. Funny thing about a sweet bottle baby following you around while doing chores? No other animal will approach you. Not so much as a goat or a chicken. Even the wear it bulls will follow, but not come in. A big bull is following his mommy, his special milk and treat and grooming machine around. Best not to uncork that bottle turned up side down.

   Some bottle babies? Treat the other bulls very differently than they treat you. Only a drunk retard, would think it was fun to fuck with a big bottle baby, to show off how tough and unafraid they were. Because if a bottle baby turns on you? You probably fucking deserved it. And its not the same thing as a regular wearing it bull, oh no. Those wear it bulls, are just being like boisterous farm boys, jostling each other practically for fun. Its what they do. And yeah, they'll do it to a human, too. They're really not trying to kill you, they're just butting heads a few times, and pushing their flank on you, to show they're bigger and can move you.

   You piss a bottle baby off, though. Oh my. You? Have broken the social contract. Regular bulls that wear it some? Get regularly zapped or snapped so they respect humans. Not bottle babies. Humans, are nothing to have any fear of. Humans? Are sweet to me, I love them. Now here you come? Being mean and torturing me? It freaks them out, like a mother beating her toddler with her fists. They might run and hide, or… if you give them no escape, and they snap. Look the fuck out. They aren't trained to respect humans. People don't close gates on them. No, you shock a bottle baby for fun in a closed pen, he's liable to hide and bellow, but… when he snaps? He can come straight through gates and fences. Buckboards explode, and you risk broken limbs as much from shit flying around as you do from him. And he's not coming to butt heads and push a little. He's coming to kill you.

   A bull gets scared enough, that his adrenaline system activates? He can't calm down, for minutes. Like a grizzly bear.

   A bottle baby, a big one with great size genetics, is a rare prize. He follows you and protects you from all possible harm. For treats, for soft words, for a few scratches and shooing flies off him where he can't reach, past halfway up his back. You have one, if you're buying strange dairy so he can service them. If you need your regular dairy serviced? To avoid inbred, you need outsider bulls. You buy one, you keep him, you sell him on. Get another.

   Dairy that knows you and is friendly, is great. Keep the sweet dairy cows, sell the assholes and the lunatics. Friendly dairy is a blessing. We had both. A friendly dairy herd, and a bottle baby we raised and got extra lucky with. His name was, somewhat appropriately, Baby. Big scary looking baby though. He was the friendly bull to his dairy herd. He serviced them, and he was gentle when not playing leapfrog. He was as friendly as he could be, to the mother's calves.

   We also had the wear it bulls, the other kind. For the meat program. That herd wasn't really dairy, they were to make big feeders, that sell for money every year. We swap bulls in and out to keep them going. Every bull can "handle" his own little herd, you have this many girls? Divide out, you need this many bulls to keep things going.

   I'm looking over at Little Lightning, she's all contented. She's going around a party with a bottle baby bull. No other animal will approach. Guy diplomacy. Styles could easily have stopped in the math lab on his short summer hours. It was as much to engage in guy diplomacy, as to actually ask what he wanted to ask. My Hurry, you look very pretty in your new dress. And not a word to Lightning.

   Lida had been the girl to gently rub the boy's noses in their piss on the carpet. The guys were talking about the new Toot, that everyone had been introduced to recently. Lida? Made it extra cute.

   "Yeah guys. I understand. Your buddy and some of his buddies? Made a mistake. He seems really nice about the whole thing too, and that's a big relief, huh?"

   They admitted it, sure, it worked out.

   "You boys all ready for the scary version?"

   Sure, what had they missed she picked up on. She drew them the scary picture.

   "Bubbly? None of you guys would so much as say boo to him, and everybody knows it. Because, not only was Bubbly a holy terror on the mat for his team, what else was the friendly Bubbly, hmm?"

   Well, he wanted to be a cage fighter or something. Everyone knew that. He trained for it, he was using his wrestling prowess to get his way into that world.

   "That's right. Toot? I saw him playing with the Army boys. He's their coach. Bubbly? Wanted to become a cage fighter. Sweet little Toot? Was probably showing him some moves. Giving his buddy that was nice to him? A few pointers. They used to go on long runs together. Mr. Bubbly? Was very polite. Toot? Would have liked that."

   You could see it on their faces. The bad dream? She turned it into a nightmare. Scary version. So yeah, there really should be more football players around this party. There's not. They really should be bantering with me and particularly Little Lightning. Hey, you never know when Light's up for some fun. I'm never open for business, but Lightning? Hey, once a month the red light is glowing on the front porch. Lightning sees this too. He knows it as well. I caught his polite comments. He referred to us both as his "girlfriends" out with him. Everyone knows the rules, especially streetwise jocks. You only act up with the wild girl, when her big brother or her father isn't around.

   Lightning has obvious daddy issues. She's found a substitute daddy. She could easily avoid this situation. Sit on the other side of the hot tub, stand up and shake her tits for some whistles and claps. No. She asked permission to sit on his other side, if I wouldn't be offended. I'm enjoying the novelty of wearing bad girl clothes. She's enjoying a similar but opposite thing. She's seeing what its like to sit inside the aura, the warm happy bubble. I'm off limits, and everyone here knows it. Lightning is putting herself off limits, for one night to see what that's like.

   She made sure she put that vibe out. Bantering jokes about giving him the bite marks, saying he had size. She bit him to make him go slow, so it didn't hurt. Made jokes that we were sharing him. She's enjoying the novelty of walking around in his warm safe bubble with me. I know he likes Lightning physically. She's his pole vaulter, one of his calendar girls. He enjoyed her morning leg show the most. She does have those long, ripped legs.

   Now, earlier tonight. He was mildly impressed. She wasn't half as silly as normal. Bantering with Tardfoot, over sixth grade fun taunts. She had a string of surprisingly insightful comments. She called him on lying and being ashamed of himself, and he admitted she was right. She provided him with a surprisingly shocking metaphor, that he knew what it was like to feel ashamed of yourself, and to beat yourself up and think you were dirt. When you knew better, that you did nothing wrong, but you felt dirty and ashamed anyways. She shocked him, like in the movies when the normally dippy character has to make that one surprisingly intelligent and intuitive observation, then go back to being the silly clown character again.

   In between some little hair strokes and head pats, he kissed the top of her head, after winking at Vaquera. I smiled and nodded, its fine. Hell, I was trying to engineer a "safe" girl sharing fun situation, to reward him with. To reward myself, too. It is surprisingly fun to play bad girl. No wonder all the girls do it. Then, Little Lightning isn't out of surprisingly deep and insightful conversation and observations, it would seem.

   "Hurry?"

   "Hmm."

   "What's it like?"

   "What's… what like, hun."

   "Being… you know. Good. How does a good girl flirt."

   "Oh. Here? Or back at high school."

   "High school I guess. I know you here. Didn't you like any of those… farm boys you rode dirt bikes with?"

   "I was off limits, Light. I was actually, one of the boys. They treated me? Like… their sister."

   "You… didn't like any of them?"

   "Yeah. I kissed one or two, but… it was weird. When two guy friends, were pushing and shoving, over who got to sit next to me at the campfire? It was way too weird. Like… kissing your brother's friends, I guess. No one's comfortable. Not you, not the boys. I tried the girl's club out, Light. They disgusted me. I went back to my boy's club, no girls allowed."

   "What am I then? Your token slut friend, I guess."

   "No, Light. You're not. I'm… there's a girls only clubhouse, and I turned in my membership card and left. I'm admitting to you, that I kind of peek through the hole now and then, see what I'm missing. I guess, you're that hole I peek through. To see."

   "Wow. I'm a hole. Great choice of words, future therapist."

   We all giggled, it was funny.

   "You're my little sister. You… gave me some playbook. Let me borrow… girl clothes. Before I graduate? You're gonna have to teach me to walk in heels. No joke. I thought it'd be the same thing as my cowgirl heels. Its not. I have one cheap pair, buried deep in the back of the closet. I'm scared of the damn things."

   "You afraid you'll get whistled at? You got the legs, hun."

   "No, Light. I'm afraid I'll actually break my damn ankle. I learned how to wear low heels. Real heels? Scary as hell."

   "Its like swallowing a… well, it just takes practice. I was a dancer. I'm used to walking around on my tiptoes, up on the balls of my feet for hours when I was little. So, I can wear tall heels. Dance in them. Walking? Easier than dancing. Your calf hurts at first. Then? Your calf tightens up, and they don't hurt anymore. Girls that aren't like us, you ever see one with amazing calves? She wore tall heels a lot."

   "I don't know how to pick… office clothes. I'm going to need a class in that, too."

   "I'll take you shopping, for librarian dresses. You'll be fine, Hurry."

   "Thanks."

   "So… how do you do… nice girl flirting."

   "Well. You kinda don't do anything. They know not to stare, and leer. They look away, before you see it. You have to figure out, that they were looking, and turned away. You have to feel it. Nice guys don't give you that hard stare, to see if you stare back. The best you get? This tiny little smile, that's it."

   "Fuck me. I need a microscope."

   "They don't run up, and ask to see your tits. Smack you all bold on the ass, and wait to see if you slap them, or smile. Then act all smug. Yeah, I knew you'd like it. They don't do that. They want you just as bad, but they hide it. You don't really see it. You… feel it."

   "What does it feel like?"

   "Your tummy does flip flops. You get warm and tingly all over. Like butterflies, before a big game."

   "We got over butterflies before a big game, in junior high, I thought. I'm just excited to get out there now."

   "Well. I don't get butterflies for a game, Light. Its just another day at the office now. But, when I'm noticed by a nice guy I got my eye on? Butterflies. You share this quick, little smile… and that's all it takes to set them off, fluttering in your tummy."

   "Hmm. Maybe I got that when I was young. Before my first couple car dates. Its just a day at the office now. I'm excited for game day. No more butterflies. Is that what makes me a slut? I have to pretend I'm shy."

   "I don't know. A lot of people can see through fake. Most girls, and some guys. Even if your guy doesn't pick up the fake shy routine? One of his buddies will, and tell him. Or, make his move, because he knows. Its just like a good girl, faking being confident. Its an act."

   "So, how long does that… shy, little smile, dance go on. Before you make your move. Or, I guess you're waiting for him to make the move. You can't make the move, or you're a slut."

   "I grew up with all boys, Light. I'm like them that way. I got to hear them giving each other advice. What lines to use, how to play it off. Problem is? Very few guys like a girl like that. You make all the moves? They think they have to get back on top of you, and turn the volume up on being in charge. It doesn't work. I need something different than most of you regular girls."

   "What?"

   "Most guys think a guy letting a girl make decisions, make moves? They feel… challenged, belittled. You stepped on their glass ego they oh so carefully have been building up. The girls, and the guys… think that guy that likes it, and lets it happen? Is… weak, or feminine."

   "You like Wizzy. He doesn't look or act very feminine to me."

   "That's my take on it. The few guys, that don't mind it, and even like it? To me, they're actually stronger, and more manly. They're not intimidated. They don't care that I'm tall. They have no issue, with me deciding things. Their ego isn't made out of glass. Those regular guys? To me, anyways. Their masculinity they put out, is kinda fake. Brittle. Easily offended and the glass breaks. Wizzy? To me, is much more masculine. He's not afraid of a tall girl, or if I choose where to sit."

   "You don't talk all dippy around him either. Most guys like that. Lord knows, I do it enough. The more I do it around Wizzy? The more he rolls his eyes, and doesn't talk to me."

   "Wizzy isn't intimidated by a smart girl. He likes it. He requires it. The geeks call him a geek, and he's proud of it. If I know something he doesn't? He doesn't have to strut around and act like a jerk, to be the man or whatever that act they all pull is."

   "Okay. So you are different some way. From the rest of us girls. You're not just a tomboy, like some of us. You actually are one of the guys, in a lot of little ways."

   "Yeah. And I'm not ashamed of it. Part of being a… good girl?"

   "Yeah."

   "You're willing to wait. Until the right one comes along, then? Once everything is kosher… then you can have fun being bad. But, just for him. No one else. He trusts you, that the bad fun? Is just for him. No other boys. Us girls? Are horses to farm boys. Some guys, like riding a wild one. Show the other guys, how tough they are. That they can stay on, and enjoy that ride. The ride that the other boys? Are scared of."

   "Oh. Farm bad boys. Gotcha."

   "I guess. Other boys? Want a nice trail horse. They care about the horse actually likes them. That its sweet and friendly. They know not to be rough with it, like you have to be to ride a wild one. They know how to be gentle, and that horse will walk them anywhere they want to go. Wild horses? Run away, and you have to go to the neighbor's fields and find them, and catch them, and bring them home. A nice trail horse? Pffft. Its waiting at your front porch every morning. He brings his feed pail to your door. When he jumps the fence? Its just to be standing outside of your window. Its sweet when a trail horse misbehaves like that."

   "But, if you want to ride fast, dart around trees, and show off… you got a sweet trail horse."

   "Oh. Not all of them. My barrel horse, for instance. Big, handsome boy. He walks right up to the other wilder horses, and nudges them. Tall, big flanks. Rippling horse muscles. He wants to run at the front of the pack. He's not scared of galloping so I can rope stock and bring them in. We jump fences and trees. He costs a little extra, and he's harder to find. Worth every penny though. When we're all out riding in the woods, and there's a black bear around? You find out who has the horses that aren't scared. My horse? Stays between me and the black bear. Some of those scary horses do, some don't. Not all piss-y horses are actually brave. Some are fraidy cats. And while a lot of gentle trail horses are fraidy cats? There's a few, that won't leave you."

   "Boys are horses to you."

   "Yeah. I'd rather have one great horse, than a barn full of… whatever. My barrel horse? He pulled firewood when we were camping. The other boys, that had tough looking horses? Pffft. Either stood there and wouldn't try something new. Or worse, broke. Breaking, is when they jump and buck. Nervous, don't know what to do. Mine? Just homes in on my voice. He trusted me, he loved me. Mommy wanted him to pull a heavy tree down for firewood for a big fire? Whatever mommy wanted, was fine with him."

   "Hmm. Your slave."

   "No. My friend. When we were camping out, and it rained? I could stand him over me, and trust him. I could lay him down, and get up to him with a blanket. You can't do that shit with a horse you don't trust. Other kids, mostly wanted a horse that was expensive, looked the part, and they could brag about. Not me. This isn't some… grass tractor. This is my friend. My horse? Wanted to serve me. If I would have tried to sell him? He'd have run away and tried to find his way home."

   "You give him treats, right?"

   "Anything. He got more sweet feed than any two expensive horses in the winter. I only had to feed and care for one horse, not a line of them. He got anything a horse could like, and more. I knew what his favorite music station was. He liked it. I could tell. He saved my life once, from a bull."

   "Really."

   "Yeah. I didn't know this one bull was in this one fenced pasture. He was coming, and getting close. I didn't have my zapper. I didn't have a whip to scare him with, a stick… nothing. Too far to the fences. No trees. I was fucked. He's figuring out, getting closer, I don't have anything to be afraid of. Only trick I had? Throw dirt in his face. Jump him back. But, that trick was wearing out, as I slowly made my way to the nearest fence line. I was shit on toast."

   "What happened?"

   "I yelled for help. Try to scare this piss-y bull back, and try to get a farmhand nearby to help me. My horse came up over the hill like a shot. He jumped his fence, to get to me. A horse can't square off with a big bull, and fight. But? They can come in, rear up, and give them some hoof. Then run away. They can gallop faster, and they can turn on a dime, and between speed and twisting turns… stay away. He kept that bull busy. I made the fence. Then? My horse jumped the fence and nuzzled me forever. He loved his mommy. He saved my life. He risked getting horned by a big bull, too. No wild horse, that you beat to ride will do shit like that for you. Yeah, been fun babe, but you're on your own."

   "How do I make my horse listen?"

   "Carrot and stick, hun. If you're smart, you go the long route, and train him with carrots, as much as you can. Then, he wants to listen. If you're dumb, or you listen to retards… you beat him with a stick."

   "Hmm. I find one that's been beat with a stick, then I give him yummy carrots. He eats out of my hand."

   "When you're standing there, and you got carrots? Sure. Miss carrot day? Starts acting up. Or you get a horse trained with the stick, and you never use one? He'll walk all over you. You get a carrot horse, and you use the stick on him. Oh, he listens, but… he just does the bare minimum. You want a young, fresh horse. Then? You break him yourself. Earn his respect, and his trust. Then, if you picked good, and knew what you were doing… that's where the golden horse comes from."

   "Well. I guess I'm just a box of carrots now, ain't I."

   He rubbed her hair.

   "What's the stick with a boy? I guess you shut his tap off, and bitch and nag until he quits his shit."

   "Dear? There's no easy answers. A little bit of stick, and way more carrots. My best advice. But… I'm on my second horse in two years. I guess I really don't know."

   "I can tell you all about how to attract a boy, how to land him. What to do with him, when you have him bagged and tagged. That? Is about the extent of my expertise. Hell. I just found out. That if I do manage to land a guy I like, that just happens to be nice. I obviously have no idea what to do with him."

   "Sis? What you… do… with a nice guy? Its not so much what you do, its more what you don't do."

   "Yeah. Found that one out quick. Don't swallow a nice guy all the way in. The bitching starts the next morning. Where did you learn that? I'm like, you sure liked it last night, asshole. There we go. Goddamn it, these boys all like big, fast quads. I'm a quad! Sit down, shut up, hang on and enjoy the ride. Put your seat belt on, I wanna try something."

   Little lightning talks like this sometimes, and I used to think it was part of the Lightning Show? I came to realize, it isn't. She's honestly talking and gabbing, about the weather, about deep throat on a boy. Whatever.

   He coughed, and seemed like he choked on nothing but air. I asked sweetly if he was okay. He covered it by saying his drink went down the wrong way. I smiled and winked.

   "They're both nice guys. Wizzy and my Army guy. You gave him the wet sloppy I taught you on the carrots, right?"

   "Yes dear."

   "Why didn't he run?"

   "Dear? I can't answer for you."

   "I… am content for you to speak for me a lot of the time."

   "Well, cough it out. Then say something, dear. She's… genuinely concerned."

   "Light? Most guys, love a bad girl. Ooh. I'm sure to get some. The badder the girl? Oh, the more fun the ride. The more experience? Aha, the more tricks she can do."

   "Me."

   "Most guys. Guys without enough experience, want that. You'll teach a new guy how to ride like a pro."

   "Yep. I'm a good horse."

   "Yeah. Now, some guys. Been around the block, and are looking to find a keeper. Every guy's different. They want a balance, between bad fun, and less track record. Your guy, Army boy. He doesn't know you from the bars. He doesn't know you from the sports mixers. I kinda know what happened. Guys are coming up to him. Oh, you snagged Little Lightning. Whew, heard they named her right. Lightning in a bottle, that one. She's wild. Flashes her tits at the bar, and man you should see her shake her ass on the dance floor. Oh boy, you landed a good one. Look at them legs! And the outfits? Man, like unwrapping a Christmas present. I ain't had her myself yet, but I heard that blow job, like having a car battery hooked up to your ears. Another guy? Swears that she'll bring a friend over, to stay all weekend, if she likes you. Man, did you get a live one. Can… you get me her number when you're done with her? I'd appreciate it. Do me a solid, bro."

   Lightning made a little sniffle, then that was it. Her voice came out all steady and even.

   "If I wear potato sacks? You boys aren't half as interested. If I wear sexy clothes and show my legs and tummy? I get talked to. If a girl just lays there, he fucked a dead fish. I ride them right? They love it. Why do guys ask girls to see their tits, if they count it against the girls, when they flash them. Everyone likes to watch a girl that can actually dance, and yeah, all real dancers know… there's something very sexual about good dancing. This is what we want. I do it? Now I'm wrong for it. Its not fair."

   "I think, you might be missing… nuance, dear."

   "Well. What was wrong about what I just said. Which one."

   Damn it, she had him again. He was speechless.

   "See? Its just me. Other girls can ride a different one every week, they still get to play nice girl, with four times my mileage. Other girls flash their tits, and shake their ass at the bar on the dance floor, and I'm penalized for dancing better. Wizzy, do you have any idea what some of the girls do, at some of these townhouses for the boys? Its shameful. And that should mean something, coming from me. They get a better report card than me, though. I can't figure it. I won't set a foot inside that… damned… kitchen table club townhouse. Those girls, they… do anything, with anybody and everybody. They don't get called names. They get boyfriends. I feel like I'm answering more questions right on the test? And the teacher is laughing, and giving me a lower grade. Just to be mean."

   "I heard about the… kitchen table club, hun. And I don't wanna go there either. And no, even without Hurry, or you… I ain't gonna touch one of those girls with a ten foot pole. I wouldn't fuck one with another guy's dick."

   "See? I'm getting cheated, somehow. There really is something wrong with me."

   "No, Light. There's not. Hurry? Why don't those girls at kitchen table townhouse, get a bad report card? She's kinda right about that. Why isn't the hairy troll over there, phone girl. Why is she torturing Lightning, instead of one of them."

   Now I'm stumped.

   "I'm obviously not the expert in these matters. But you're right, and she's right. They really should get bad report cards, and… the hell is going on anyways. See? You guys wonder why I all but stayed out of the game. I obviously can't figure it out. Yeah. The kitchen girls, get to pull train, and Lightning gets crucified for flashing her tits."

   "And what about pool table girl? Wizzy. I average one a month. Maybe, a good month here or there, a few more than 12. 15 or 20, tops. More like 15, I think. Pool table girl? There's a back room, where the pool table is, at this one dive bar. She took 20, in a row! One night! In… public! No one says a word to her, she has a steady guy now, takes her skank ass out to wine and dine her and all that shit. And she treats him like a bitch."

   He looked at me.

   "Well. I guess you don't go to the bars. Or you'd know. Joke is there, that's likely not a beer stain on the green felt on the table."

   "Hurry? Why can't you focus phone girl's attention on pool table girl. Then, she can go camp out in front of her apartment, and yell slut out of a bullhorn every morning. And leave poor Light alone."

   Lightning answered that one.

   "Oh, no. The women's rights twats will rally around her. Its not her fault, its those men. She's just a victim of the… what do they call it? The fucking Patriarchy, or whatever the in word is with Right's women's classes this year. I don't follow that shit, I actually like boys. I don't want trained to hate them."

   He looked at me again. I shrugged.

   "Yeah. She's about right."

   "I take my boys? One at a time. Not whoever happens to be in the pool room at the moment or wanders in for the free show. How am I a slut, but she gets to come back from that shit. I thought my mom threw me in the mud. But. I guess it wasn't mud. The stink of the pig shit won't wash off me. People can smell it. There really is something wrong with me."

   We both told her there's nothing wrong with her, and there is something wrong with the kitchen table club girls, and especially with the pool table girl.

   It has to be some kind of rape, molestation, or exploitation. She blames herself. She's stigmatized. The 20 guys that pulled the pool table train? No stigma. The girl? No stigma. The kitchen table girls. Its like a goddamn whorehouse there. No stigma on the girls, and the guys never get accused of anything, much less stigmatized. They strut around like they invented sex.

   "I haven't been here much over a full year yet. Why can't I start being… good. Whatever that is. Then, a year from now. Maybe… it'll be different. I have to wear regular jeans and T shirts, right? Jogging shoes only."

   Christ. She's really stuck in development. She's serious. This is some 10 or 12 years old girl's view of the difference between a good girl and a bad girl. A good girl? Has a good girl hair do, wears good girl clothes. Talks sweet and demure. Covers her mouth when she giggles or laughs. Keeps her knees together sitting down, in skirts or in pants.

   I can't even open my mouth, really. Adult women with degrees read Retards Monthly. Wear your smart glasses to the office. You'll look smart, so people will act like you're smart. Next thing you know? You'll just feel smart and you're on your way! Whee!

   Girls play dress up, and it doesn't end when they grow up. Put your bad girl clothes on, play bad girl. You'll feel bad, and its delicious fun. Another stellar and award winning article in Retards Monthly. Wear your smart girl dress, and you'll be successful in the office, and be taken seriously. I could just puke. There's girls running around that don't work out, just buy the workout clothes. They diet down to sticks, and act like they're "fit". Ugh.

   "Honey? Its not just the clothes I wear. I can wear… this get up, and I still don't get… unwanted attention. Although, my normal jeans and T shirts, I guess that does set the tone for the last two years, starting year three. But… its more than that. I slept with two guys, in two years. I go without between them, rather than just ride for fun."

   "I guess I talk like a slut, too."

   "I don't know. How many times have you heard me make sex jokes, talk about sex open and honest. I do it. I even do it some, at parties. Its my actions, and my track record, more than my hair or my clothes or what I say or do. And, believe it or not? We have a pretty wild romp. Where do you think all the bite marks and scratches and boot heel marks came from. I'm still a nice girl next morning, I've still got a nice guy next morning. I guess, because its all just for him. No other guy knows, and if it does get out? Just him, so. Good girl. And before you ask, no, I don't know how girls do trains and still get to act like nice girls with show boyfriends."

   "So. I missed my chance to be good. I'm… stuck like this. My mom… wins."

   I tried again. I feel like I'll never win, but just like Wiz described going to a single A school, that had 10 too many students one year that the census happened… they were doomed to be essentially a single A school, stuck playing all double A districts. Perpetual underdog athletic programs, and no way out of it. That's how I feel trying to crack this nut. I'm stuck in a game I have no way to win.

   "Honey? You don't tell anyone, ever. If you don't tell someone, someday. This will never end. The biggest part, is just telling someone. Someone who you trust, that's safe. For you? That's me. I won't make fun, I won't make jokes. I can't know, but I strongly suspect. That whatever it was, wasn't your fault. And even if it seems to be? There's probably your mother at fault, for something."

   "I hope so."

   "Most people, that something horrible happened to? They all admit, that more than half of it got better immediately. Just from telling someone. Then, there's trust. You keep talking about it, going into more and more detail every time. Until the butterflies go away. And… most of the… answers, what to do about it? Become clear. You? Are more in charge of this, than you know. All you have to do, is start talking to me. On a schedule. It starts to go away, just from that."

   "But not tonight, okay? I'm having fun. Pretending I have half of a nice guy for a half of a boyfriend. Can't I just keep pretending all night?"

   "Sure. I'm dressed up like a bad girl. I'm just pretending to be a bad girl. You wanna pretend you're a good girl, sharing a good guy? Have fun."

   "Thanks."

   "No problem."

   Conversation was finally gotten off track, and onto lighter subjects. Once again it was all forgotten, until the next failure. Which will happen again, because I won't take no for an answer. I feel as if, that if I simply treat this like an out of class therapy project? I'll slowly figure out how I did it, once the nut gets cracked. I'll have the beginnings of some kind of real insight into how I accomplished the crack, and I can then try to refine my technique. I'll probably need this skill later on in my career one day. I'm learning off Wiz. Do more of the work now, then you can enjoy it later. And after I get my nut cracked, I can compare my technique that worked with others I can read about. Every therapist has their own toolkit, and its what works for them.

   "Hey. Hurry."

   "Yes, Light."

   "Am… I allowed to drag my half of my boyfriend in and make him play ping pong?"

   "Yes, dear. Have him in at a respectable hour. No new bite marks, no new scratches."

   "Am I allowed to… be on his shoulder?"

   "Hmm. Yes."

   "Can… I kiss him?"

   "Define kissing."

   "I don't know. Kisses just happen."

   "No tongue. No kissing below the belt."

   She looked for all the world, like a very young girl who just got permission to go miniature golfing, out with her friend that just got her license. Her mother must be a piece of sewage filth. She's so eager for someone to set some reasonable boundaries for her, and she's just itching to be told what to do. She's just not sure who she should choose. Most people that give advice shouldn't. Most people that should? Won't. Wiz is lucky. He found his mentor, his zen master. I'm all the poor girl has, and I might not be up to the task. Observing other girls and their ways? Ain't working, that much is clear. I operate on the principle that I at least, probably can't do any worse.

   Wow. Light on her feet now. Mood lifted, like I gave her some medication. He looked at me, with the look. Go, I Bluetooth-ed him. He dried himself slowly, putting this off, as if it were some great chore. She was humming and buzzing around. Dressing for ping pong in Lightning's world was a pretty quick affair. She needs nothing. She can walk around in her wet underwear and hey, its a party. Before I have to suggest wearing some clothes? I waited. Her finger is on her lips, tapping. Thinking. She looked at him, then down at her pile of clothes. She finally picked up her shirt.

   I can read my best friend, my little sister's mind practically. Sometimes, anyways. Like now. She knows she can run around in nothing but her wet underwear, and it'll be fine. No boy here will put his hands on her without her consent. If they do? She can handle it, or another guy will handle it for her. If one of the boys gets drunk and weird, the others take care of their own and drag them off. No big university wants to be the one with "the scandal" in the news. Their coach shitting nuclear bombs, handles it.

   Sensitivity courses? Work in some situations. Other times though, its perfectly clear that there are no one size fits all solutions. A nice little film about an hour long with a boring voice over and bad acting was shown to all the students. You might as well have played a fucking cartoon. The guys laughed, the girls laughed, it was silly. The athletes hadn't left the room yet, and the boys and girls were imitating everything not to do in the film, laughing. Then before out the door and down the hall? They switched. The girls were smacking the guys on the asses, and the boys were dancing like they saw a mouse, and squealing "eek! Sex harassment! Sex harassment!"

   The high and mighty lord of all that's holy and unholy both, the athletic director himself? Threw his papers up in the air in frustration, and actually bonked his head on the desk several times. I was standing dutifully with my coach, at his side, his adult, his aide. I got to hear the athletic director's muttering, well, at least what popped up enough to be audible.

   "Well. There's 60 grand well spent. Goddamn consultants and their stupid focus groups. I could have bought the kegs for their mixers, and got better results. The fuck do I do now…"

   The football coach? Broke into a run. I could have sworn I heard something quite colorful come out of his mouth as he pumped furiously out the door to catch the athletes, all of them. Distinctly sounded like "fucking idiots", but I couldn't be sure. None of us, and that's one coach at least if not an assistant coach or someone like me, the coaches trusty aide decamp, one or two from each and every team at the University. None of us were sure if the football coach meant the athletic administration, the people they hired to piss the money away and make things worse, or maybe he meant the athletes themselves. No one had the balls to ask.

   He caught everyone, and you could hear his booming voice coming from a ways off. He marched them all, his team and all the others right back in. The boys, the girls, everyone. Even the football mascot was there, mercifully in street clothes or it would have simply been too much. He's got a nice, easygoing way with the students, all of them. Must be his Dale Carnegie course on Winning Friends and Influencing People, a standard course, naturally, that all former Marine drill instructors surely have to pass in order to be fully sensitive to the emotional needs of the young Marines under his command.

   "You! Will all sit the fuck down, and we'll go over this the proper way now! Now? We have been shown the incorrect way to handle this situation. Now? We all know what not to do. I have no goddamn idea what the correct way to handle this is? And I don't fucking care! We'll do this my way! Is… that… clear!!"

   When it wasn't loud enough of a "yes sir" in perfect unison, he did it louder. He promptly had their attention. He next instructed them how to sit. To turn off all cell phones, and if he heard a single electronic beep, some lucky proctologist was going to make a killing, digging cellphones out of all their asses, just so he was sure he got the one that beeped by default. He yelled "now stay like that!". Then, he lowered his voice to that of a church mouse, and told the athletic director?

   "And that? Is how you get their goddamn attention. Sir."

   "All right! During the next I don't know and I don't fucking care how long? We're going to go over this. Entire athletic programs? Have gone down the goddamn toilet, all because the entire program, wisely, rests squarely upon your shoulders! When you are on the field? Somehow you all sense without being told… its inappropriate to smack the cheerleaders on the ass, on television! Amazing. And why? Is it because you're all intelligent, sensitive, young adults of the highest moral caliber and fiber? Hell no! Its because you all know I'll break my goddamn foot off in the ass of the first motherfucker that tries to embarrass me on television like that!"

   "Now! No one, not one of you? Is going to like a thing I have to say. I… don't… care! No one, I can guarantee it? Is going to like how I say it! Like I give three goddamn shits, what you assholes like, and how you like it! I will not ask you how it is going to be? I will tell you how it will go. If it does not go that way? You all know, and if you don't believe me ask any football player about it… I will reach right down your goddamn throat and pull your little asshole out through your mouth! Have I established where I am coming from?!?!"

   A resounding "yes sir!".

   "Great. Problems exist in this world. Its not a perfect universe. Mainly? Because God didn't ask my opinion billions of years ago when he created things! Every problem? Has a solution. Every… single… one of them. I will tell you, what the problem is. Then? You will know what the problem is. Then? I am going to provide the solution. Then? Like goddamn magic, you will then know how to handle it when it occurs, because it will happen eventually. It will work, it will work every single time. I guarantee it! Am I making myself clear!"

   Wow. According to the attention he was holding, it was clear. They didn't know what the problem was, and did not know what the solution was, but by god they were waiting on it.

   "Now. Here's the problem. Young people? Like to have sex. Young cocks like to go into young twats, and that's all there is to that. No amount of anything, is ever going to keep you young people from fucking. I realize this. I was young once. I know. Hard to believe. We had toga parties, do you little assholes still have them? Wonderful affairs. You get to see boobies, and naked asses, and even a little cock now and then. You can accidentally step on someone's bed sheet, and everyone gets to see them in all the glory, the lord god almighty brought them naked into this world with. In case you're wondering? All the bed sheets you want or need, and nothing is allowed to keep them on. That's the fun of it. Damn things are peeking out, and falling off all night long, best fun you ever had. You don't believe me? Try it, you'll all be drunk and fucking in no time. How it worked for us, anyways. Your mileage may vary. See? No one wants to stop you from having fun, and no one can stop you all from fucking. Glad we got that established."

   The athletic director's mouth hung open at such a frank and honest discussion.

   "Now then. The entire free world, and more that's not free? Knows that you college boys and girls? Are getting drunk and fucking each other's brains out! Hell, they expect it. If you leave this university, with anything still cherry on your body? Your own goddamn fault, and no one else. There is a cock for every twat, and a twat for every cock, the good lord did provide for us to procreate, in his infinite wisdom."

   "No, the problem is not the drinking and the fucking. The problem? Pregnant athletes. For the love of god, you all maintain a 2.5 GPA in something, I'm sure you can fathom that jizz shot into a twat makes babies! Pregnant women fuck their hips up! Football players can't change diapers on the sidelines! Does… not… work! Wear fucking rubbers! Rubbers? Also prevent aids, herpes, syphilis, and whatever else comes along next week. Its a rubber! Put one on! Then use it! They should have covered this in third grade."

   "Moving right along. Accusations of… sexual assault, rape, and whatever else they decide to call it next week. Brings down entire programs. Just one is enough. Now I'm going to tell you all right now? I'm not just talking to the cocks in these chairs? You little twats get the tampons out of your ears, too. Every goddamn town across America? Has some place called, usually… make out spot. Cherry Buster Hill, Cock Block… whatever! Young people? Go there to fuck and drink! If you have a twat, and a cock asks you to go to a place called… appropriately enough… Cherry Buster Hill, what the flying fuck do you think is supposed to happen there? No shit."

   "Here's how rape prevention works. Wear some goddamn clothes!! That program failed miserably, and you young ladies insist on walking around in your goddamn underwear! Whatever. But for the love of god and all that's holy in this world? How in the fuck do you wear nothing but your underwear, out in public. Then? Agree to go to a place called Cherry Buster Hill. In your underwear! Then? Get drunk! Alone with a young drunk cock! What in the hell did you think was going to go on, you fucking nitwits! Because that's the missing half of these goddamn educational seminars! How can someone get a 4.0 in a Nursing degree, and can't reason that stump-er out. Gee, I'm in my underwear, in public. I'm shaking my little ass in public! Some cock? Invites me to go get drunk, at Cherry Buster Hill! How in the hell did this happen? Wake the fuck up!"

   "Not done with you twats yet. Here's practical rape prevention. If you find yourself alone, drinking, with a bunch of guys? You're a goddamn moron! Oh, they're my friends. Oh, this. Oh, that. Stick it up your ass, we've known from the beginning of time, that booze and young kids? Bang it just happens. We have now covered how to prevent the so called date rape. Now? I'm done being sensitive to the needs of you ever so sweet and innocent young ladies, and we'll get right into the hard topic. Actual forcible rape. Actual sexual assault. You know, cave man rape, the real deal."

   The athletic director looked like he was about to die.

   "Now then. Who the fuck here doesn't know what rape is? Raise your hand so I can break it off and stuff it into the orifice of my choice! You're all 18 or better, you're all passing something with a 2.5 at a major university. So? You all know what forcible rape is! Now I need a volunteer, to demonstrate what an unwanted sexual act is. Any hands? I need a twat up here, now!"

   No girl would raise her hand.

   "You? You just volunteered. Get the fuck up here, and stand right there. Move it!"

   The girl scurried up, and stood rooted where he pointed.

   "This? Is a young girl. She? Is at a party. Now, we got our drunken twat we need for our demonstration, what the hell is missing? Oh. That's right. I need a drunken cock. Uh… you. Yeah you! You look like a fucking halfwit, you're perfect. Get your ass up here… good. You're only half as stupid as you look. Now. I will demonstrate, with my visual aids here, what an unwanted sexual advance looks, and sounds like. You? Put your hands on her tits."

   "But…"

   "Put your hands on her breasts! Now! You? Like it never once happened! You'll live!"

   The athletic director looked like he was about to have an apoplexy.

   "He's a drunken halfwit. He? Is touching her boobies. It happens. Now, watch and listen…"

   He reduced his voice to the little church mouse squeak again.

   "Missy? Say no. Complain. A drunk boy, is doing something you don't want to happen. Open your goddamn mouth and say something, please?"

   She said nothing.

   "Little girl? If you don't open your mouth and say something? The drunken halfwit, with the intellectual capacity of a wet fart because he's been drinking all weekend? Has no idea there's a problem. Say something, would you?"

   She started saying something along the lines of… please no, stop that.

   "Not bad. Louder!"

   She did it again, clear and loud.

   "There! That? Is an unwanted sexual advance! I will show you, how to handle it! Now, not all of you are completely fucking retarded. Some of you? Actually manage to appear suspiciously like something evolved past the primates. You… you… and… yeah, you. You? Get up here. All three of you big, strong guys."

   They did.

   "You? Grab his left arm. You? Grab his right arm. Lift him up! Come on, you assholes move 350 pound linemen, you can bench press a small car, lift his ass up!"

   "See how easy that was? The police, call this… the swarm technique. You swarm all over the problem, and carry it away. You do not beat the problem, you do not carry him to the police station, you do not carry him to the news cameras! You carry him outside? And you lock the door. Problem solved!"

   The third guy asked what he was for.

   "You. Pick his ankles up. Get him up. Walk him out the door. You, the drunken halfwit? Struggle! Go on, struggle! You're a big, strong, drunken halfwit who doesn't understand why he can't play with boobies! Now? Carry his ass out the door, and come back in, and leave him outside! Do it! Move it! Now!!""

   They carried him kicking and pulling, bodily, out the door.

   "All right. Now? Sexual assault, is impossible. Ladies? Scream no, and call for help! Men that are still able to understand English? Go and carry the guy outside! Problem? Over! Now look. No police, no cameras, no reporters. And no goddamn cell phone videos all over the motherfucking internet!! And, if the same twat always seems to have the problem? We called that a cock tease, don't invite her drama queen's ass to the next party!"

   The athletic director's head was about to explode.

   "Now… you. You? Look about as bright as a rock. But? You have big thingies. What do you do, based on this demonstration? If you have a problem at some party? Hmm?"

   "Uh… yell for help…"

   "Excellent! Surely the first female brain surgeon. Well spoken, Missy. And… you? You look like the best part of you ran down your mother's leg, and it had the brain genes in it. What do you do, when you hear a female scream for help?"

   "Well… I grab some friends, and we go and… carry the guy outside. Oh, and lock the door."

   "Wow! Another brain surgeon! You two? Should get married, and send the kids here! Because they'll be bright enough, not to bring down a multi million dollar athletic program, that's 20 years in the making!"

   "Now. We might as well cover this one while we're here. It has come to my attention, that young people, see stupid shit on the internet. Then? They do it, and it kills them. Its always a challenge. This challenge, that challenge. The ghost pepper challenge? You will spend the next 8 hours crying to your mother for help, and no one can ease your misery! Don't be retarded. The word challenge? Is Latin on the internet… for… this, will, kill, you! Do I make myself clear? You assholes can all drop dead four years from now, off of university property, when it doesn't reflect poorly on us! If you get yourself killed, doing anything with the word challenge attached to it, on or off campus before you graduate? I will dig your stupid corpse up, and piss in your dead mouth, to show how much respect I have for your limited intellectual capacity!"

   The athletic director was hiding his face in his hands now.

   "All right. Booty bumping! Saw this on the internet, and I can't believe it, thought it just had to be a joke. I checked? No. People are retarded enough to do it. Example. You take alcohol, even beer… and you stick it up your ass! At a party! Apparently, what happens medically, is the alcohol is absorbed directly into your bloodstream. Every drink is something like 20 drinks! If you do this? It… will… kill… you! Dead athletes are slightly less useful to the university, so you're not allowed to die until you graduate!"

   "You might think this is a cock problem? Oh, no. The ladies? Are taking vodka, soaking a tampon in it, and sticking it up their hoo-haw. Then? Wondering why they're dying! Best part? The emergency room can't even pump your stomach to save your worthless ass life, because you stuck it up your twat, and directly into your bloodstream! If you do, the vodka tampon challenge? It… will… kill… you!"

   "Now then… what do we stick up our asses at parties? Anyone?"

   No one raised their hand or said a word.

   "Exactly! Nothing goes up your ass at a party! Now, retards do this with cocaine up their ass, heroin up their ass, crystal meth up their ass. God fucking help me, I have been to a lot of wild parties in my younger days, and never once? Has the big fun been… hey! Lets all stick drugs up our asses, while people watch, and cell phone it and put it on the internet! I shouldn't have to go over this? But its happening. All over the nation! It will never happen here! And do you know why? Because there will never be cocaine, heroin. Methamphetamine… or any other dangerous drug, ever! Get drunk! Fuck your little brains out! Smoke all the hand rolled cigarettes you want, in the off season! No one gives a shit, and they expect it to go on! But… the police will be the least of your worries. I will personally? Kick your door down, and if I find any of that shit? It will go up your ass, and I will put it there! I will then pull your eyeballs out and skull fuck you twice!! I will then go directly to your parent's house, and kill them? To save humanity from the problems their breeding is causing!!"

   The athletic director was choking on… air?

   "See? I was young. I understand shit's going to go on. You all might decide some weekend? Hey, let's buy a goat! Lets all get wasted, and fuck the goat! Whee! Yeah, yeah… that? Just marvelous. But remember. Use common sense. Boys? Will wear condoms before lining up and fucking that goat! Girls? You will purchase an appropriate sized condom and put it on the goat, then have a ball. And if that goat seems like it is saying no in goat language? Three big guys better take the offending motherfucker and lock him outside! And no cell phone videos of the great goat orgy, on the goddamn internet!! Am I making myself clear?"

   A resounding "yes sir".

   "I can't hear you! Have I not been sufficiently responsible to your emotional needs?!?! Let me hear that you understand me!"

   A very loud, "yes sir", in about perfect unison.

   "Great. Glad we could have this little talk. Now? You are dismissed. Get the hell out of here…"

   The football coach lowered his voice to a church mouse volume once again, and tossed the piece of chalk he was pointing with, at the athletic director.

   "You can cancel the other three movies, should save over a hundred grand. I have a list of essential cost over runs, and that should cover it. I'll have it on your desk Monday morning. I got a stack of paperwork to get through, but that? Is how you have little talks with young kids. You don't ask them? You tell them. You clearly announce what they will do, and what they will not do. You don't fuck around with high school films. Christ Almighty. God save us from the goddamn internet, because none of this shit was ever a problem? Before the internet! Goddamn it, pulling train on cheerleaders, I understand. Do I approve? Hell no! But why put a felony in progress, on the internet? Is beyond me. If you have any further need of my services? You have my number, you know where my office is. Tell the president of the university? I didn't say hello…"

   Then the football coach just walked out, happy as a clam. Well, actually he looked fairly irritated, and he was muttering under his breath. But, if you knew anything about the guy? That was him having a great day. Its more or less about optimum for him.

   I'm in my underwear and nothing else, in the hot tub alone now. Little Lightning, I can read that mind. She was going to prance around and play ping pong in her wet underwear and nothing else. But, that finger tapping on her lips. She added the shirt. Holy shit, she was choosing modesty. She could still show off her dripping wet panties, and the little shirt covered her perfect tan tits. For her? This was good girl mode, I could hear it from inside her head, beamed into mine. Wow, she's saying to herself. Its this easy.

   She's a free spirit, and unpredictable. When he was done with his slow motion drying off, he reached for his Jungle Jim shorts. She stepped on them, and giggled.

   "If I'm in my underwear for ping pong? My boyfriend can be that way, too. And you don't need a shirt, either."

   He looked at me, a mixture of half pain, and half amusement on the face. I shrugged.

   "Her underwear? Is… functionally equivalent, to a bikini bottom. Your boxers? Look like swim trunks after a few beers. Have fun…"

   She giggled and smiled, and sort of pranced up to get a little splash of schnapps for their cups. Then she took him by the fingers, and more or less danced into the ping ping sub basement. Apparently, they went for a game room theme on theirs. Instead of a place to have soundproof rough sex, where the "victim" could scream for help and none would come. Their loss, to each their own.

   I stepped out of the hot tub, and put a half a splash of the schnapps over my ice, then added some mixer. I tossed my own shirt on, too. I walked around that way, as if it were the most perfectly natural thing in the world. No one said a word, no one laid a finger on me. Either the world became polite and politically correct overnight? Or, infinitely more likely I figured, his male aura extended out from the basement, and still was around me.

   I small talked around the drink table, then idly wandered over to the basement. Same as ours, but with a game room in it. Old couches where people sat and gabbed. A few chairs. I leaned in the doorway and just observed. Lightning was testing her bare feet for footing, as she began to play ping pong. He saw her do it, so he did the same.

   Lightning has played before. She's teasing him and giggling that she's not taking it easy on him. He's mock affronted, and declared they had ping pong on his Airbase down south. They both looked for all the world, like two teenagers having good wholesome teenage fun. They joked and bantered, and both took turns laughing or feigning anger.

   Three points later, they're both down in a crouch, bouncing on the balls of their feet, ready to dart and stretch to cover the whole table and any angle. He looks a little more like he's in a modified wrestling stance, she looks more like a sort of sumo wrestler type of crouch. Well, he was a fighter and she was a dancer, so it stands to reason.

   Another male and female couple played when they were done. They had been more competitive; this couple? More along the lines of just bopping the ball back and forth. He probably doesn't want to try to win, and she wants to be the little lady that needs a big strong man to show her how its done. I think they're both better than they're letting on. Me and him would be like he was being with Lightning. Competitive and fun about it. To an outsider? Me or her with him, probably looks functionally equivalent.

   Everyone takes turns playing the next song on the music player. A cell phone is invisibly hooked up to two fairly big Bluetooth speakers. You can internet search for practically anything you ever heard before, and find stuff you never found before. Will never hear on the radio. Will never be offered for sale. But, you can play it.

   I was prepared to feel slight jealousy, and suppress it. I found I had none. I was more interested in seeing how he related to another young girl. About my age, and about the same 1 to 10 scale as me in his eyes? I get to see how he is. He blends right in. He's not the least bit awkward or shy. She's in a lifted mood. Not quite giggle hair flipping, but I can hear in her laugh she's near to there. She's smiling and giggling. Laying her head on his shoulder, while they pick the next song. She decides she'll go first, then him. I already know he's fine. Its her I'm observing.

   I can't see anything is amiss with her. Hell, I know there's a problem and I sort of know things to look for? I can't find a damn thing. Her mood was down a little, but hey, her boyfriend she just got called a whore by and then he dumped her instigated that. She's magically happy again, because I gave her permission to play pretend with my boyfriend. Hmm. She isn't fucking him, has no idea I might allow that soon, and she's just as happy. For her? Its the show it makes. She appears to everyone, to have something with this guy. They look the part, everyone buys it without question. That's enough for her. He's loosening up and losing that stiff and formal thing.

   There's another couple on the one long couch at one end, they take the other end. She puts her arm around him easily. He doesn't jump. I've heard this no vocals instrumental before. She likes it. The slow intro finally ends, and its as if she got to pick two songs. Its a long one. The orchestral opening, is giving way slowly to changes. Pace is picking up. Deep strings are being replaced by electronica. All of the orchestral arrangement suddenly has become all electronic, and its still the same song but different.

   There's the bass I know to wait on. She gets up and starts to dance a little. Nothing too much, but its enough to show she's light on her feet and really accurate about her moves. She can sort of "flash" from small move to small move, like time lapse photography, then put it all together smoothly. He's entertained, and hell I am too. He's not even getting a hard on. The wet boxers would betray the slightest hint of a stiff-y.

   Its clear, she's no amateur. She doesn't waddle, she's slick at it. She doesn't bounce, she looks like she walks on air. She can easily do those little moves where it looks impossible, like she's fighting gravity. But effortless. Her legs put on the major show now. Long, lithe muscles play and dance around her upper and lower legs. Even her tummy shows it. She can undulate seductively to the music, and pull it off because she's good at it. Now its his turn, the music is lowering in volume and repeating and slowing down, into a fade out. He picked some old song. Sounds like a love song if you don't play close attention, but its really a bittersweet.

   "Not in the league", that's the title and the main vocal hook. It tells the story of a man and a woman in love, but one doesn't meet up to the others expectations, and they admit it. Its not clear if its really this way for the couple in the song, or if the woman is just a cunt. Its vague enough of bittersweet lyrics, that the listener is not truly sure whether one dies, or one commits suicide, or just one goes away. Hard to tell. Why it became a couple dance favorite, and a wedding reception must play? No one knows. They all request it, and all dance and make eyes to it… and its all about lost love, not a love song. People are strange.

   She wants him to slow dance. He's waving her off, but smiling. She "makes" him, and drags him up by his fingers. As if she can force him to do anything. Not physically. Its amusing and cute. I dance, just not like her. I don't just waddle and clap, but… people don't back up and surround me and cheer like when she gets going. He's trying to get away with waddling and clapping, and she won't have it. I have no idea if he's confident enough to dance. I'm going to find out, thanks hun.

   She stops him, and puts her wrists over his shoulders, and makes him do it back. She shakes a finger "no!" in his face, and makes him start over. She now leads. Simple swaying, and she's, I don't know, I guess giving him running instructions in his ear. She finally gets him swaying with her, somewhat credibly. Now, she starts to get him to swing back and forwards, too. She does one or the other, he just has to keep his hips locked to hers. Whatever cue she's giving him, its starting to work. They start bumping less, and start to sway left and right, then back and forth seemingly at random. She makes it fit the music.

   Now she has her background, and she can fill in some of the little extras. She can start and stop little things and come back into the sway. It makes him look like he's dancing twice as good as he really is. All he has to do is feel her sway change, and stay with it. She can come in and out of time seamlessly with it. By the time the song is winding up, she's getting somewhere. She giggles, claps, and bounces over to the other couple on the couch, and points back at the music phone and gets their opinion on something, they both wave and flap at it.

   She puts it on repeat, and gets to have the song several more times to work on him. She can't get a real twirl for herself out of him, but she can do it herself and he loosens his fingers and lets her. She leads, but makes it look like he's leading. She can do the slow head rolling, and the locked eyes things, and it doesn't look trashy. By the last time? Its pretty credible. Now instead of just waddling like most couples "slow dance", they're actually dancing. I'm going to have to get her to get me in on this, so we can go out dancing some night. I can't instruct him like this, and she's about as good at being the "dance tutor" as he is at explaining advanced mathematics to jocks.

   She's not hanging all over him outlandishly, but without permission you wouldn't want your other half doing this with someone. Its on the edge. Just sexually provocative enough, that its probably squeaking in under the wire as "sensual". Now she takes repeat off, and they sit on their end of the big old couch again. The other couple picks the next song, things are back to normal. A few other people have wandered in, and eventually its their turn at ping pong again. She's having fun throwing a little undulation in between ping pong returns. I should be jealous, but I'm not. I should be somewhat mad? But I'm not.

   Its highly entertaining. She's trying to dance to the song, while playing. She can't complete either activity at the same time, nor do either one well. Ooh. He took full advantage, she feigns mock anger, and now they're playing for real again. Ouch, sigma strike. They're starting to play back, hit harder and faster? Then, out of nowhere, he just lightly gives a "bloop" and the ball barely clears the net. She's mock furious he has a weird trick.

   Now he has this sneaky little serve. Half his game? Seems to be this serve. He starts from where he's supposed to, it just hits the back corner of where he's allowed to hit, opposing corner. Jet quick blur, barely over the net. His new trick? He can also rocket a return straight down one side, she has to predict which one's coming. Her answer? Long legs and incredible speed, agility and balance. She can reach out with those long arms and legs, and hit it just after the net, then retract in case he returns it.

   He's working his two sneaky tricks, she's doing her trick unexpectedly. She adds a new one, she goes for the spike out of nowhere. They're having a ball, and other people are standing around, watching this "battle of the sexes". Oops. I'm smiling, watching my best friend have fun with my boyfriend, happy for her and him. Oops, because I'm inadvertently leaning across the whole doorway; I feel a finger tap my arm for entrance. I casually sip and look. Oh. Its phone bitch. I follow her eyes, and shes taking in the proceedings.

   Little Lightning is done with her game, I didn't notice who "won". She whirls him around in slow motion, towards the couch. They sort of "land" on it, and she puts her head on his shoulder after kissing his cheek. A sister could kiss her brother's cheek like that and no one will cry foul. She's smiling and talking with her fingers to some other girl with her guy. They both laugh a little, things are going swimmingly well… in there. At the door? Phone troll.

   Fuck her. I smiled at the little wrestler, who I'm fine with, but kept my arm across the door. He doesn't care, but her? She goes off on one hip and crosses her arms. I suppose that's her piss-y what the fuck you better not be doing this pose. Whatever. I fear her about as much as I'm afraid of a newborn puppy. I'd save the puppy and consider drowning her instead, though.

   "Oh… my… god! What, is that shit? Huh? Well?"

   I glance in, then back to her. Still arm blocking. I'm a human police tape across the doorway.

   "Are you blind? That's my bestie and roomie. That? Is my boyfriend. They're having fun. I like them having it. They like it. I like it. Everyone in the room? Seems to be fine with it. How about you, you have a problem with it?"

   Wrestler shrugs, nope.

   "Just you then. Typical. Everyone? Happy. Then, there's you."

   "Sh… she's… hanging all over him! She… she just kissed him! Why are you letting that little---"

   I cut her off by looming in.

   "If the next word that comes out of your mouth is slut? I'm going to think about knocking it right back down your obnoxious little throat. She's down in the dumps, because her boyfriend just dumped her. I'm sharing my boyfriend with her? And its cheering her up. The fuck business of yours is it, anyway?"

   "Oh! Now… you're turning into a---"

   "That's it…"

   I set my drink in his hand. I took a couple steps to her, she backs up but won't leave.

   "Been trying to be nice, that ain't cutting it. Look around you, little girl. Where are you? We're all family. You? Ain't. We don't care, but you keep starting shit with family. Why exactly is it, you think no one's going to knock the shit out of you eventually. Lightning? Just had to kick the ever loving shit out of some drunk guy, for being beyond obnoxious. We threw his ass in the dumpster. Did you see it?"

   He cut in amiably.

   "I did. She did some nice work…"

   "Okay. The fuck do you think she can do to her? Be serious."

   "Yeah."

   "Look. Everyone likes you. You're a great guy. Its her. Now, what do you think happens, if I do it to her, instead of Lightning, hmm? You? Welcome anytime. Her? Not so much until her medication gets readjusted."

   "Like this, is even your place. Bitch…"

   I smiled at him. She's doing her off to one hip, crossed arms piss-y stance again. Its one of the least threatening things in the world to me. I suddenly reached out, and palmed her face. She's a tiny thing, though getting chubby and already hairy. I put my other hand on a fistful of her hair, and retracted my face hand. She can't reach me to scratch, punch, nothing. She can't even reach me to kick me, without putting herself on her ass. I just looked at him, took my drink back and took a sip, and handed it back to him.

   He smiled, I smiled back. I looked at her.

   "The adults? Are talking, honey."

   She's cutting a little fit and getting nowhere.

   "So. Could I be any nicer about this…"

   He smiled, embarrassed. Handed me my drink back. He mouthed the words "I'm sorry" and grabbed her by a wrist, and hauled her off, the way you haul off a little kid pitching a fit in the store. He dragged her over not quite out of earshot, and started trying to explain to her that she was embarrassing him, and herself, and he wants her to just quit it.

   Finally, he yanked her leash. Amen.

   Christ. Is this the kind of shit women used to get a routine pimp slap for that left a mark? Maybe we ought to bring that shit back. I'm a girl, I can say it. Back to my fun. Watching those two look like, well… the perfect couple.

   Some guy is now telling the funny recounting of Lightning's fight, to someone that heard about it, but didn't see it. He explains it, by wildlife documentary metaphor. First, that ostriches are huge, bigger then you realize. Then, that they can actually kick a lion to death, apparently ostriches are one of the few animals lions actually show respect to. Just chasing an ostrich, can get the lion kicked in the jaw. Broken jaw? The lion loses its major weapons and can no longer credibly fight to defend itself or feed itself, its doomed to die a slow and painful death. A couple of ostriches defending the young? Routinely surround lions, chase them down and kick them to death, they send their ribs into the lungs.

   That's how Little Lightning kicked the obnoxious drunk, in his recounting. Wizzy, as she calls him? Laughing and smiling, admitting he's getting "carried like a loaf of bread" and that his girlfriend is tougher than he is. His only job, was to "take out the trash", which prompts the guy to now tell the funny dumpster story. Everyone is entertained and laughing now. Light proudly proclaims she handles the "light work". Someone asks if he does the heavy lifting? He points over to me, and everyone laughs again.

   He's magical. He has no trouble being self deprecating and getting laughs. He's putting people at ease who mostly all no doubt already heard about him or soon will. He's making himself harmless and friendly. Sigma male, hard at work. Play beta, fly under radar. Weird, advanced strategies if its called for. Either well planned or impromptu Sigma Lightning if you need an airstrike to help the ground situation out. Play alpha if its needed, but look around and hand off command to the first decent alpha you locate. Go back to cruising under the water line, like a German submarine in world war two.

   Little Lightning. He has Sigma Lightning at his disposal. She just struck like lightning. Its just all? Too, damn, cute. I realize, that he can adapt to almost anything. He can live in a dirt hole, and you'd never hear a peep out of him. You wouldn't guess it from seeing him every day. He can move into the luxury townhouse, packed with girls? Fits right in, takes him no time at all. His girlfriend? Consummate good girl. Suddenly, she starts demanding he have a threesome, so she can "share" him at her command, a dominance fantasy. He's quickly adapted to that as well.

   If I got run over by a truck tomorrow and was suddenly gone? Lightning would be beside herself, he actually loves me, he would be broken as well. They? Would cling to one another, console each other. He had a calendar girl. Here's another. If I didn't exist in the first place, they wouldn't likely have met, but, now that I started it? He could sweep her off her feet if I wasn't in the picture. She's taken with him, I can see it, I can hear it. I'm more than okay with it.

   Its going to be fun. I'll have zero trouble getting my whole plan going. I'm sure of it. Piece of cake now. I'm real sure, I get to set all the ground rules. Anything I want, doesn't matter. I'm drunk with power, but its a soft power now. I no longer have to grab him and throw him down to fuck him, I just push with a finger, and he goes with it. Like a big heavy boat in the water? Ungainly and impossible to move on land, but floating? One finger with steady gentle pressure, and you can move it anywhere you want slowly.

   Wow. My naughty compulsion is… satisfied temporarily? Its feeding me snapshot after snapshot, all around the theme of what I softly control these two doing, and not doing. I get to be the puppet master, and make these two do whatever I fantasize they should. Like a little girl playing doll house. My doll house is a luxury townhouse though, my two dolls as playthings? Are real live people.

   Hmm. I'm professionally curious now, as a psych major. I get to… what? Put my best friend under observation, something wrong with her, but I don't know what it is. I get to see her relationship begin, grow, and even end if and when I want. I can nudge and control everything that goes on. I can see where she's "messing up", in my estimation. I can "correct" it, and… maybe… help her?

   I have to be getting narcissistic, but then again… can I softly but firmly control this enough. So much so, that I demonstrate how she can have a proper relationship, with a nice guy. What one is, how to deal with things. What to do, what not to do. Can I somehow get her listening to me? No, you can't go out to the bar and act like a slut. That cost you the last good boy, you want to lose this one too? Gee. God forbid you stay home and study once in a while. Can I somehow "make" her keep her room clean? How can I manipulate and pull the strings gently, to get her opened up and talking about "it". So I can deal with it, and see if I can help.

   The naughty compulsion is working overtime. I see me and her, trading birthday smacks. Now, I see me watching him do it to her, then the opposite. Fuck. Me and her, playing fetch with him. I'm showing her how to play with the doggy, how to walk it. Now? He's walking her, me and him have her playing fetch with both of us. Christ, this thing has a turbo option. Oh god, my evil denim mini? Has turned me into a full fledged turbo-whore. No, that's not accurate, is it? No, it certainly isn't. I don't work him for money and prizes. Hell, Little Lightning won't even take dinner or a little present.

   I'm not a… she's not… we're not turbo-whores. We're both, what then? Turbo-sluts, I guess you could call it. At least I only do it with him, I guess that makes me a good slut. I'm going to try to show her, how to be a good slut? Yeah, that's it. My naughty compulsion just grinned at me. Another? Good, little, slut. I'd kick you out of my head, but I know enough of the nature of compulsions? Not worth the effort. I realize we have to live together in my head, but I'm in charge, damn it. It all but whispers back. Okay, sure. Whatever you say.

   The naughty compulsion, and it has me bridled and green broke. The bit is through my brain though, not my mouth. It doesn't yank the reins, it gives these teeny, tiny tugs. So gentle, that me, the horse? Doesn't even realize its being influenced and controlled. I walk, but… under that ever so gentle pressure, let's move in this direction, shall we? There, that's a good little horse. You obey me? I'll give you treats. Its where I lead you, you know. To yummy treats you dance for joy that you love so much. If I go away? You wander around, helpless and directionless. You only come across a little treat here and there, on accident. I'll take you from pile of treats, to pile of treats. Oh god. What I do for him? It does for me.

   Thank god I don't actually hear a voice that isn't there. I just… sense and sort of feel what it wants. But it guides me, and I realize its been guiding me. For a very long time. The denim miniskirt, and its ripped up shredded shirt? It wasn't possessed, and the evil spirit passed into me. Its been in there a very long time. I was either born with the seed, and it popped a sprout as I hit puberty? Or, it came in one night around then. But once it broke the shell, and a tiny root took hold…

   A boy just snapped your ass with a wet towel. Its fine, they're treating you like one of the boys. Wait, and snap him back. Do it hard, like he did you. Normal teasing, nothing not natural going on. Regular girls just get snapped and blush. Not you, you snap them back. See? The boys respect you, you have your own place among them. Look, the girls wanting to play? They get picked last. Not you, you get picked right along with the other boys being chosen to pick up teams. See? I helped you. You're better than those girls. You're still a girl, still pretty. But you're something more, too. I'm here to make your life better. Its what I'm for. Me? I'm nothing without you. You? You're less without me. But together, we're more than the sum of our parts. Don't question it, just go with it. We lose ground if you fight me.

   Oh great. Some tipsy guy walked in, and is checking Little Lightning's little rear end out. He sees, he smiles and shakes his head. She glances over her shoulder and shrugs. Back to their next battle of the sexes ping pong game. I hope this doesn't end with Lightning playing ostrich again. Or with him demolishing a drunk guy. Or, three guys coming in, and doing what the coach demands be done, to head shit off at the pass.

   What's his sigma approach. It'll be a weird strategy, that will strangely both amuse everyone, yet simultaneously defuse everything. Or, a lightning strike. Oh gee, tipsy guy is bending over and staring at her tight little rear end so closely, she's bumping into him when leaping back adroitly to hammer ping pong shots back. Oh, here we go. Let's see.

   There's no alpha in there, to handle things. Sigma boy? Will handle it. When the alpha is present, he can relax and let go again. He doesn't crave the reins, he has other more important shit to do in the back of the wagon. As long as there's a driver, and the cart won't overturn? He's fine. He'll tug on the reins, he'll grab them and yank if he has to, but… otherwise, its fine. If the cart is crawling or bouncing, as long as its in the right direction? That alpha driving will do. If not? He'll replace him. Or, take the reins until he can put another alpha in the driver's seat. He'll teach that alpha how to drive the cart if he has to, then he can go back in the wagon and tend to the more important things he's planning.

   He gets someone's attention, and makes a counter clockwise motion, and politely gets the radio down a couple notches, to speak. He's walking over. Lightning is… concerned, but not terrified. He's looking around, and everyone is giggling. Everyone now sees him standing right behind tipsy guy, who is so drunk and so into her ass, he doesn't know. Everyone is giggling and waiting for whatever entertainment.

   There we go, the guy comes up, from bottom ogling, and… whoa! There's some guy standing right up on me… shit! Looks him over, drunk. Guy smiles, laughs, holds both hands up in surrender. Points to his drink, shrugs. Points to her cute tight bottom? Shrugs again. He nods with him. He agrees that he's right. Can this be no harm no foul? Sure it can, buddy. He brings him in, smiling friendly, scratching his finger. He draws the tension out… men are waiting for him to clock him, girls are watching now too. He's got that dangerous smile he flashes. Christ, its the same one I saw staring out in the tub. When other guys yell and argue with you, at least you know to watch out for them. Not him. Its when he smiles and agrees with you. You won't see him coming.

   Puts his arm around the guy. Tells him, she looks great doesn't she? Yeah. You know what? She loves you looking, its kinda her thing, she loves to put a show on. Now, you can look? You're not allowed to touch… but hey, look all you want, buddy. Its all good. Now, just one thing, would you stand… over here? She's gotta be able to back up to return shots? Okay. Great… hey, get a cellphone pic, she loves it.

   Back to the game. Drunk guy was nervous, and now happy. He's allowed to look. Lightning loves the attention. She's not allowed to be touched or molested though. Her smile at him? And I can read her lips. Thank you. Back to the game. Everyone? Highly amused. Situation? Defused. Everyone has an optimum outcome. Fucking sigma males. Man, every company needs one of these near the reins.

   Game's finally over. Tipsy guy? Watched intently, whole game. He comes over to him… shakes his hand. Thanks him for making his girlfriend happy, making her feel pretty, he appreciates it. Oh… she wants to dance again. She… clears it with a few people, can she? Yeah, "their song" can go on repeat, for her to teach him some more of the dance she needs to teach him, if they don't mind.

   He winks at me, and he trots out, and brings back a fresh beer for… his new buddy. He shares, looks like schnapps shots with the guy, hands him the beer… oh. Guides his new "best friend" over to a special seat, just for him. So he can watch her ass dancing now. Drunk guy feels special and well taken care of, all his desires catered to. Holy shit, I'd have just threatened the guy.

   She picks up her dancing instruction where she left off, she's slowly adding things in for mainly her to do now. No one's complaining, guys are watching her dance in her panties and little top and nothing else, him in his boxers. Phone bitch is nowhere to be seen. She looks over at me, and flashes me some kind of… little kid at the prom look. Big, sheepish, smile. I smile back, give her the thumbs up. The last repeat, all face staring, arms draped over shoulders, she gets a few cheek pecks in, nothing I didn't authorize.

   I realize about the only thing I'm actually jealous of? The way she can move so suggestively, even slow like this. Anyone else but someone with dance training? Would be dirty dancing, and the amateur version of it to boot. They would look like they were deliberately fucking air. Suggestive, but also suggestively silly. She can pull it off. Wow. She can make a slow wave travel down her body. Like yanking a rope on the ground, kids love watching the wave you send up the line. It fascinates and mesmerizes kids. She can make her body do that, slowly. Its got boys gathered in the room watching, all but hypnotized. She has him under her spell now, I've seen her work before.

   No one's talking to me, but I pick up gossip as people drink and their stage whispers grow. Yeah, Hurry was in the hot tub, in nothing but her panties. Yes, of course Lightning was. No, they both came with Toot. Well, which one is he dating then? I thought he was… but it looks like… What? No seriously. She said that, right in front of Hurry? And she agreed? She's… a nun, she… the hell's going on down there? Well yeah, Light and Right both had that one guy, its possible, you know. No, I don't think they're lesbians, I think its just… tag team thing. Nothing too weird.

   Boys and girls, got the random cell phone pictures. Some little phone movies were created. Light got all the attention she craves and then some, she's satisfied. The way some girls are satisfied when given a present, or others when fucked well. Some primal need has been fulfilled. Some deep seated urge has been satisfied. The laymen, the pop psychs. All anyone knows is buzzword bingo. Look, an attention whore. No no, use the proper terminology? She's a narcissist.

   The amateur, and the ones that skim and only see the words in big print, so they can pass multiple choice tests? Sure. But, you'll never get the essay that way. To get the A, there's enough points in that essay that there's no other way. You have to fully understand the concept, to be granted an A. Go on, memorize everything. You're a B at best. I got my A on that test.

   Lightning is an attention whore, but she's no narcissist. She knows she's not good at things, and wonders why, and asks for help. The Narcissist? Convinced of their inherent superiority, would charge ahead and fuck things up, then blame it on the others. Surely not their fault, couldn't be. After all, they're superior. They invent blames for others, to cover their own bullshit. Lightning doesn't do that at all.

   A narcissist with her abilities? Would be a ball hog. She's really not. She feeds Right at the last second, and Right is coming up in case she gets that little tap. After Light has several of those impossible shots on goal that damn near go in, the goalie is ass puckered. Here comes another hard, accurate shot… then? Bloop. Her spike rockets down, and the ground stops it, her half buried spike just taps it over to Right, who is coming up… Light just fed her strong leg, too. And she's close to the net. Little Miss Two Feet knows that Right's right leg, is a hair more powerful, a hair more accurate. Lightning has her running and gunning with her, and if she can feed her, she does.

   Right has more goals than Light, by a small margin. They don't fight, they don't argue. The team wins? Then they both win. Coach got through to them early, that its not two stars competing who is going to be the best. You two work together? Championship. Big ring. You two compete? Looks almost as good, seems like it… but we make it to the finals. Again. And we fail to win the final game. Again. No ring.

   He told them. I don't care who has more goals. But you do it my way, and work together? We'll add your two goals up, and that number… will be higher than any other front line in our division. Everyone has a star center, and either a star left wing, or a star right wing. I got both star wings. You got one star wing? They can zone it out. They can mismatch and double team it to cancel it. But not both sides at once. You, the center? You keep the ball, you steal the ball… you draw the other center to you. You're good enough? A star center… so good, it draws a wing in to help out. Then? You feed the open wing, I don't care which one of these is open, but get it there. Then they can run and gun. No single one of you girls? Wins. We all win? Or, we all lose.

   We're winning more, and it was just their freshman year. We got three more to go, and its all coming together. The star wings are taking flight. We're being lifted by our wings. Its the center, Little Miss Moody. God, I wish she'd get over… whatever the fuck it is, and just pitch in. She did it, but her heart's not in it anymore. If we can't keep her head out of her ass, if we can't replace her? Its all for nothing.

   But Little Lightning? Is an attention whore. On the field, off the field, sure. But she's no narcissist. I'm happy. She's happy, he's happy too. How could he not be. I sit easily next to him on a couch, no fighting for my space back. Light is still all smiles and looks for all the world like a little girl all beaming in her face. She just takes his other side and sits. I have "my side" I use when I sit with him. Now, she has hers. I smile, but she smiles more. I'm happy, but she's happier. I kiss him on the mouth, more seriously. She's happy to get her pecks in. She makes up for it with more fun cling, and dramatic faces and head laying. I appear older, she appears younger. He just sits there, and adapts.

   I'm sure it looks to the room, like he's in charge. I actually am. She looks to be my equal or my rival, but she's really not. She's right now, the little friendly dog that goes with the couple that likes having it with them. He whispers things in my ear, that are coded but I understand perfectly well the full and complete meaning of them. I do it back. We have our own coded language. We're joking and reassuring each other, and Light doesn't know the code. She thinks we're talking about what we're actually talking about. The cute kid, doesn't realize mom and dad are having a conversation, outside the conversation. No one does, but us. This? Is intoxicating to me.

   But, I'm no female alpha. I'm a sigma female. I have my own weird strategies. I have my own ability to be alone and be okay with it, if the right companion or companions don't present themselves. I only play alpha female to the girls, because we don't already have a good one to take charge. Lightning couldn't be sent under a co captain or a captain for a den mother. They, were abusing her and siccing the other girls on her. To teach her, they were the alphas, she? Was not going to outshine them. They were queen bee. She? Was a worker bee, and she would learn her place or get lost. She was to perform under them, then sit back and let them bask in what she did for them.

   Fuck that shit. That's not team. That doesn't make championship rings appear. When the verbal assaults didn't work, when the physical assaults didn't work? They went too far. They egged Bootsie on. Hey, have fun. Sigma girl time. I need authority. Coach. He's on board. He can't be there, his hands are tied. Can I handle this? All I needed to hear. Co captain? Smacked around, right in front of everyone. Captain? fired off the lockers and tossed around. And Bootsie? Well, she slipped in the shower and got her face opened up for her shit. Little Lightning? Will shower with the team. I put her in the corner, and blocked physical access to her. Any verbal furthers? I stopped it the obvious ways.

   I put her at the end of the lockers. Not only can't you physically get to her? Bootsie can't so much as see her dressing and undressing, only little glimpses around me. I didn't understand what I was doing, until a psych class taught me. I had bad alphas. Bad captain and co captains. I tuned them up and put them back on the right path. Then? I went back to my place. No one ever forgot my example I set, though. So, I'm forced to play den mother alpha female, until that can be arranged better. God, I hope one of the coach's prospects for a "backup" star center come through. It'd be great. Maybe? Even a young true alpha, I could show the ropes in the townhouse to, and hand the reins over to her. I got my own shit my time would be better spent on, you know.

   Things were going swimmingly well. Optimum, even. Little Lightning is getting notched up in social standing. No one is so much as permitted to giggle hair flip my guy, and they all know it. Lightning? Obviously permitted. If I make captain one day, especially because I plan on staying for grad degrees, and being one of those more rare older girls, with all the extra experience? I need to pick co captains along the way, and while coach approves or disapproves? I get a lot of influence.

   Lightning has serious star power. She could be a useful co captain. Such a big star, taking advice, playing for the team and not herself? Would set the prime example. The team would slowly graduate the older girls, we'd be recruiting younger replacements. They, would get brought up right. We don't pick on new stars, we cherish them. Fuck you and your queen bee bullshit. As if somehow, your petty social pecking order, is some higher priority than the team's winning or losing the championship. Read Retards Monthly again, I'll keep at my psych textbooks. We'll see who has the better strategy for the team's benefit.

   We're all three walking around now. Other people are in the hot tub. Other girls are showing their tits, their turn now. Wiz sips my drink. Looks at me, smiling. All mixer now. He whispers in Light's ear. She starts doing it. Everyone is convinced we're getting as drunk as they are, but we had a light buzz and let it dissipate. They go forwards, we just stop and let them all go. When the body shots table thing gets going? That's Light's cue to play her game. Lay there giggling, while the guys take shots off her flat tummy. She squeals and giggles and puts on a show. Says… that tickles, when they lick the spills and slops up. They love it.

   She puts him on the body shot table instead. Something different, claps from girls now. I'm sobered up on mixer. I can have a shot or two of schnapps. I get to imitate Light some. Wiggling and prancing up, to get my shot off of my boyfriend's stomach. Prancing around in my tiny ripped up slut's shirt, damned denim mini revealing me. I know I'm the complete farm slut now, with the fancy cowgirl boots.

   Then it's Lights turn. She does one normal, then for her second, well, its Light. Has to be a show. She takes her shirt off, and sort of more or less blindfolds herself, raising her hands to show off. She approaches slowly. Hands behind her back, Feeling with her feet to get close, there's the table leg, which one is it, there we go. She centers herself up. She leans over achingly slowly. Crowd goes quiet. No hands allowed. The "ooh!" starts now from people, she's snaking her tongue out, feeling with it. Finds his waistband of his boxers with it. Follows it, and locates his bellybutton.

   Someone yells…

   "Go north, not south, you don't wanna run into the Hurricane down there!"

   Everyone gets the joke and howls and hoots with laughter. She can slowly, gingerly, feel with her tongue. Locates the shot glass, but doesn't spill it. There's a light, but growing "ooh…" now, can she do it? Another yell.

   "Now that's a tongue that knows what its doing!"

   More laughter, more cheers. More growing noise, then. She gingerly gets her blindfolded lips around the shot glass, and envelops it. Most people try to lock teeth or lips below the rim. She goes down slowly and more or less kisses his stomach, but around the shot glass disappearing into her mouth. She gives a little kiss as she comes slowly back up, then gets standing up. Does a little pose, then tosses her head back, and lowers her head slowly back down… deposits the empty shot glass upright and back where it came from. Then stands up, and raises her hands from behind her back.

   Someone suddenly yanked her by a fist full of her slightly dirty blonde hair, and kissed her. She squeals, but laughs. I take her blindfold off, and hand her the shirt back. She sees its me that kissed her. No tongue, a friendly lip smooch. The boys love it. She poses on me, like she's been doing on him all night. Everyone's entertained.

   "Toot! You got competition! You gonna hit a girl!"

   He has to make a joke. Its him after all.

   "Sure am. I ain't having that sort of shit in the townhouse, you know…"

   He swats her bottom playfully. She jumps and covers her mouth dramatically, to get more attention. We wander off, one of us on each side. I have my arm around his waist. I gently lead, though no one else, not even Light knows it. He follows me, she follows him. Small talking alone, I sweetly ask him to go socialize with the boys at the drinks table for a while. He knows a polite suggestion is more or less an order. This is my crowd, I can yank the levers from behind the curtain the best way for the best outcome.

   I'm left alone now with Little Lightning. I casually put my arm around her. Hand her an all mixer drink. I lead her gently around, so we can be in the party, but have a quiet conversation to ourselves. I'm starting to hint. Just jokes, that will later turn into hints. That maybe, we can share. Just a little. Maybe. Because? Sharing went fine here.

   Is she happy? She assures me, she's simply ecstatic. I? Am simply the best big sister, that anyone ever once had, ever. Well, I might be pretty fantastic but I don't know about all that. She pulls my head in, and touched foreheads with me.

   "You? Are wonderful. Thanks."

   "You were a good girl tonight, you know."

   "Was I? Thought I was putting my usual naughty show on, honestly."

   "Not really, hun. You haven't even fucked him. Everyone else? Just thinks you do. This? Is a taste of what its like. To date, instead of just fuck and hang out. No one else knows. You… get the same attention, as if you are. That's dating. Isn't this fun?"

   "Hmm. Yeah. It is."

   "What's dating… okay. You know how you watch a miniseries? Its a little bit, one night every week. It builds up. The good episode, the best episode? Is the last one. Not the first episode. That's a single show. A one night fuck. A weekly miniseries? You draw it out. Then? After its drawn out long enough, there's interest and anticipation generated. Okay, everyone knows, this is the last episode. Its gonna be the big one. That? Is the big night. My third date, not before my first one even got started. Make sense?"

   "Hmm. I guess so. But, question, sis."

   "Shoot."

   "What's the point of dating?"

   "Um… the old timers used to have a saying. Its not the kill. Its the thrill of the chase. Didn't you ever want something? You save up, a little every week. Then you get it. Its great, but… then its on to saving up for the next thing. After a couple times? You realize. The anticipation, is as much fun as getting it in the end. And even more so, really. You get to… enjoy the work, not just the prize. It… provides a reward, to show you that work is just as important as prizes. Good people? Do what's needed to get things. They don't take illegal shortcuts, except in emergencies."

   "So. Technically, I could have remained a virgin. Dated a lot. Never gave it up. Still had fun. They have a name for that, Hurry. That's a cock tease. That's not good to be."

   "You're looking at extremes, dear. No fire? You freeze to death, and become an ice queen. All fire? You're a red hot slut, who burns herself out. Somewhere in the middle, hun. One date? Or 99 dates. You can be pretty icy, or pretty spicy. But not one or the other."

   "You never said. What's the point of dating, anyways. You're just enjoying the hunt. Some other girl? Can snipe your game."

   "Yeah. They can. But… not when you pick a nice guy. Watch him. His body language. Girls are trying to stand right up on him. Watch, he wanders away. There, there's one doing it right now…"

   He did. I'm not even sure he realizes it. Another girl's leg brushed up against his. He suddenly wants more ice, and its on the other end of the drinks table. Lightning melts. I can see it on her face.

   "Wow…"

   "Yeah."

   "You had tingles, pretending."

   "I did."

   "But, what was that tingle you just got."

   "Oh. Something though."

   "Lightning? He got used as the show boyfriend in high school. Then? He accidentally fell into being the bad boy. He had a string of cute Latinas. But, he couldn't date them. You sneak and hide, banging a bad boy gringo. No taking them home and around your friends, openly. He wants… both. That? Is me."

   "A show boyfriend, that you put out for. Don't run around."

   "He's a bad boy. That I date openly. I don't have to sneak and hide, use fake names."

   "You want the best of both worlds. You greedy bitch, you demand the whole loaf of bread."

   "We were both willing to wait for it, to happen. Now? I can be as bad as you can teach me, little sis. But, I'm still a good girl."

   "Why can't I… if you're a very good girl, taking bad girl lessons? What stops me, from being a very bad girl, that learns the basic lessons to be a good girl."

   "Wanting it. That's all."

   "But you get the prize. I don't get anything, but a blue clit."

   "Maybe. But, maybe not. We'll see."

   "Now? You're being a… clit tease, I guess."

   "What do you mean?"

   "I can't believe you shared… this much. Fun though. You're not going to share share. Not like me and Right did."

   "You sure about that?"

   She just looked at me. Looked over at him. Back to me. Him, me. Me, him.

   "Now you're just being the ultimate clit tease, sis. You're moving from funny? Into mean."

   "Play you're cards right. Yeah, I'm dangling a carrot, to get my little foal moving. But, if we get there? I'll give you the carrot."

   "Where's… there."

   "You. Finally have some idea of what… being good gets you. What it does. What a good boy, is for. Not just for show. He can be a bad boy too. You? See that you can have the whole loaf of bread."

   "But. I get the carrot. His carrot."

   "If you're a good little foal? You get the carrot."

   "And what do you get out of it."

   "My horse? Gets extra sweet feed, with extra molasses. I get to watch the foal, munch on the carrot."

   "Oh… you wanna be… bad bad. I gotcha."

   "And you? Wanna be… good bad, right?"

   "Hmm."

   "Well?"

   "I'm thinking. How long till I get my carrot."

   "Well. I kinda want to toss you a little carrot already. Tonight."

   "Ooh. Do tell."

   I started explaining what I was plotting. Sure, I lied. But, my boyfriend knows I'm doing this lie. Somehow makes it okay. I kept it simple. Great guy. We were having a little bit of rough naughty fun, here and there. He was supposed to tickle me, and "make" me do something naughty. Fun little game. She agreed and smiled, that would be a fun game to play. Then I explained, that we were drinking and smoking. He tickled me a lot, had too much fun, was a little rougher and longer than I anticipated. A little too demanding. Made me promise the naughty thing, over and over. Then? Enjoyed that a little too rough and too long, as well. I wanted to have some fun. Like a practical joke. But, a bad one. Would she help me?

   Oh, this appealed to my little foal. She gets to put on a big show.

   "Hurry, really. You're serious."

   "Yeah. I can't hold him down and tickle him. I need… a helper."

   "I'm in, this is very bad, but… I'm not sure me and you can hold him down, hun. Don't kid yourself."

   "I'm not stupid. That's why I'm asking for your help. How much naughty fun like this, you ever had a with a boy. Surely…"

   She giggled.

   "I mean, I own a pair of handcuffs. They usually go on me, but… once or twice? Went on the boy some."

   "You own handcuffs?"

   "Duh. Hello. Bad girl? Right here. Wanna know the first rule of bad girl school?"

   "Afraid to ask."

   "If you don't do it? Another girl will. Boy wants a hummer? You hum. Guy wants to… whatever. Then that's what you do. If its something too out there for you? You just get a different boy."

   "Well, I guess handcuffs work."

   "I have two pair."

   "What?"

   "Bought a nice pair. First boy asked for that? Whatever. Got drunk a different time. Thought I was grabbing mine on the way out, ended up with another pair. Doesn't do us much good, though."

   "How do they not work. Its what the damn things are for, right?"

   "Hurry? Usually, they go on me. Yeah, a boy can slap them on me. But the other way? They have to want that. Right, and all her stupid girl power classes? Girl cops are not the same thing as guy cops. Girl cops can't even barely slap the cuffs on the suspect, without holding a gun to their head. Look on the internet. Now. That's some drunken asshole. That guy, there? Hello? Military Police. We'll both end up in handcuffs, getting tickled. Hmm… of course? That, sounds like fun too… I'm in."

   "Light, you're not bad. You're rotten."

   "Flattery? Thanks. Good girls may get to heaven, but… bad girls? Go everywhere."

   "You act like I can't get the damn things on him. I'll sweet talk him into anything."

   "Then we tickle the shit out of him, right?"

   "Oh yeah."

   "Fun, that only a bad girl could enjoy."

   "Yeah. I wanna teach him a lesson. And… have bad girl fun, at the same time. Light?"

   "Hmm."

   "You bought the pair of cuffs, for you?"

   "Sure. Standard bad girl item, really. Bunch of girls have them."

   "You said they were usually for you. But, if a guy asks…"

   "Yeah. Here and there? They ask for it. The guys that do? They like it. I was surprised."

   "What did you do after that?"

   She shrugged.

   "I didn't know what to do. So, I just did to him, what the other guys did to me. When I was in them. No biggie."

   "What… do the guys usually do, when you wear them. Or do I wanna even know this…"

   "Ah. They wanna put it in my bum. That's all. Like I wouldn't do it anyways, pffft. Lost my butt cherry in junior high school."

   "So, you…"

   "Look. Handcuffs came up. Hey, I got a pair. Bring em over next time. Hey, great, that'll be fun. So? I brought over a big bottle of champagne, and had a pair of handcuffs. You know, couple drinks, before… to relax, you know how it is."

   "So, how did… I mean, if you're relaxing, for…"

   "Well, that's what I figured. Then, after a few glasses of champagne, he holds his wrists out. Oh. Remember, rule number one, of being a bad girl. You won't do it? There's some other girl who will. So… put them suckers on him, and finished that bottle of champagne, and…"

   "Oh Christ. That? Was champagne boy."

   "Yeah…"

   "Hmm."

   "You got the picture now?"

   "Yeah. Thanks for the image."

   "Anytime… oh?"

   "Yeah, Light."

   "You said he tickled you too much. Got that. What was… you were being made to promise naughty fun…?"

   "Oh, that."

   "Well?"

   I acted all embarrassed.

   "Uh, you know. Bum?"

   "Oh, I get it. He had to make you, gotcha. Just ended up a little rougher than you planned, eh?"

   "Yeah."

   "Eh. That happens. You act like every guy was the same once I wore the bracelets… some are nicer, some are rougher. All the same thing though. Your bum got it a little harder than you planned on, you're saying."

   "Uh huh."

   "Well…?"

   "Well, what."

   "I dunno. We're already teaching him a lesson, might as well teach him that lesson too. Its not like I don't still have the champagne bottle."

   "Yuck."

   "Oh. I ran it through the dishwasher. Twice. Kind of a… souvenir. I use it, as a kind of a… be good story."

   "Huh?"

   "You know. The champagne story? You better be a little bit nice when you're back there, or you'll be the next champagne boy. They get the drift. Now. You said, he wasn't nice back there, right?"

   "I wouldn't call it… nice."

   "Lesson number two then. Fucking go for it. Have fun."

   "How do I talk him into that…"

   "Oh. Bad boys don't ask, they just… do. I mean, you know that much, right? Its the whole point, you know."

   "Okay…"

   "Well. Once the guy wanted the cuffs on him? Shit, what do I do now. Bad boys don't ask, they just do… so? I'm the bad girl now, I just… did."

   "He… didn't ask for… champagne?"

   "Duh."

   "That's… rape."

   "Another big duh."

   "The coach…"

   "What. Only girls get raped. When's the last time you ever once heard about a guy getting raped, let alone seen it. Get real, Hurry. What's he going to do, go to the cops? They'll ask for our phone number…"

   I feigned indignation, and mild outrage.

   "Anything else you wanna tack on? While we're having fun?"

   "Well. I was thinking… it was his birthday. Birthday swats. He's twenty four. One to grow on? Twenty five."

   "Okay…"

   She sipped her drink.

   "Just like that?"

   "Yeah. Why."

   "We're gonna cuff him, tickle him. Champagne him, swat him…"

   "And?"

   "Little much, don't you think?"

   "All that stuff? Goes on all the time. Christ Hurry. Articles in girl magazines all the time. Have spicy fun, spice up your love life. Everyone does it. We'll just do it all in one night, that's all. No biggie."

   "Okay. I guess… you'll handle… champagne, right?"

   "You're handling swats. And sweet talking him into the cuffs. I get to help tickling him. And I get champagne fun. Question."

   "Yeah?"

   "When do I get my… carrot."

   "Oh, that."

   "Yeah, that. I haven't heard any carrot talk yet."

   "Well, after that goes down? Yeah, you get carrots."

   "What… kind of carrot."

   "What do you mean, what kind of carrot. You get… his carrot."

   "And you watch me get his carrot, you said."

   "Yeah."

   "Aren't you getting… carrots? Only so many carrots, to go around. I have no idea how many reloads we get. Who gets which one."

   "I get carrots all the time. You could… have as many carrots as you can get out of his little feed bag."

   "Hmm."

   "What now…"

   "You got four basic carrot groups. Hand carrot, mouth carrot. Then twat carrot, and butt carrot. What do I get."

   "Which one do you want?"

   "Uh…"

   "I'm afraid to ask."

   "Around the world? All three holes. Now, the hand job? That's another one. So, other girls go around the world. I go around the world? Plus one. I want all four carrots."

   "That's… not a quick snack."

   "Oh. He's three pumps and a dump, takes a nap?"

   "Actually, no."

   "I take my time, enjoying my four course meal. Not sure what you're used to. If I have to wait, between carrots? I wait. Watch a movie. Time for talking. But, I don't leave until I get my four course meal in."

   "Jesus."

   "They usually talk to him, yeah."

   "You wanna rock his world, for a couple hours."

   "Look. A lot of girls? Go out to eat. Come home. Three pumps and the dump. Then? They hit a party. Maybe another hump after the party. Not how I roll."

   "You skip the date, skip the party…"

   "The date? The party? Fuck that. This, is about fucking. I go over there. I'm there to stay. I fuck them, for hours. Room mate comes home? He can listen through the wall. You know when I get in. Wee hours, or first light."

   "All night?"

   "All night. Look. You told me what you think the date's for. That? Is what the date's for, to me. I don't want bought pizza, I don't wanna hit the party. I don't want presents. I want that. When I finally leave? All tuckered out. My idea? He's had other girls before me. He'll have other girls after me. But, the nights he spends with me? I like to think, years down the road… the boys sit around, reminiscing. Yeah, well. There was this one… and that? Is me."

   "Okay. But not tonight. I'll… plan this a little."

   "Aw. Pooh. I thought I got a carrot tonight."

   "What carrot do you want?"

   "Hmm. I'm not trying to… show you up, or anything. You don't have to let me… around the world, plus one. I don't want you to think, I'm trying to…"

   "I only do… wet sloppy carrot."

   "You mean, I'm allowed to…"

   "Yeah."

   "I still have… blue clit."

   "Oh, okay. I'll have him… take care of that. Return the favor."

   "He any good at it?"

   "Guess you'll find out, won't you."

   "I guess I will. I'm getting my eggs the way I want them from now on. Cool."

   "What do you…"

   "Breakfast. You? Get your eggs, any way you want them. We all, get scrambled or we can make it ourselves. After I swallow him? I don't want money, I don't want dinner, I don't want presents, or anything. But… I bet after I'm done? I start getting my eggs, like I want. And… the other girls don't."

   "That's all you want?"

   She shrugged.

   "Its a moral victory. He's your boy. You get your eggs the way you want them, and no one else. I want my damn eggs. That's all."

   "Deal."

   "Hmm."

   "What else?"

   "Write this down. Not what else? First time I think I ever said… what less."

   "Meaning…"

   "As much as it… kind of pains me to say it? I was getting… excited, I guess… being good. Something new. I have to learn how to be good. Anticipation. Waiting. Can… I wait a little?"

   "Oh. You want to…"

   "I wanna savor it, a little. You made it sound so… good. Then? I looked over. Its a different… tingle. You rush this? I get carrots. You get… bad girl lessons. He gets, well, we know what he gets now. But… will you give me, good girl lessons?"

   "Yes, honey."

   "I can get fucked anytime I want, just about. If I hit a patch, new guys aren't looking good enough? I have a roster. You act like I can't call one up, or just stop over, and…"

   "They really missed you. I get it. You don't get turned down much, do you."

   "Not bragging, but."

   "You meant it when you said it, you wouldn't try to show me up. I mean, I didn't realize, I would have to sit there for… you're describing hours, and watch you rock his world. And that's a normal fuck for you, right?"

   "We take breaks. We need drinks of water. We have snacks. But my rule? You stay naked, until I get all mine out of you. I refuse to fuck a boy, if I don't like him. That's what I do for them. But, if I really like a guy?"

   "Oh Christ."

   "You heard me tell phone cunt. I wasn't just making that up, sure she thinks I am though. Around the world twice? Actually, that's around the word, plus one… then I start over again. Twice on every… carrot. It takes all weekend. Every carrot? Takes a little longer to get out of them."

   "Eight?"

   "Four, if I just like them. But yeah, eight if I really like them. So, when I call one back…"

   "They tend to pick up the phone, or text back."

   "Usually. Yeah."

   "You want… anticipation heightened?"

   "I mean, not a whole year or anything."

   "No. Nothing like that. Want to experience something new, I bet you never experienced before?"

   "Now. That? Would be a trick. I might have run out of cherries, sis."

   "Follow me…"

   We ambled back over to the drinks table. I sipped his drink. Mixer. No tang. I picked up the schnapps bottle, and dumped some in. Glug, glug, glug. Smiling. He started sipping. Anything I want, I get. I now had both in tow, and we went off to the side. I had Lightning roll a joint, a nice sized one. In the course of us passing it around, of course Light was giving shotguns with a little kiss…

   "New rule, you two."

   They both looked. I eyed him, smiling.

   "I'm revoking the no tongue rule. She wants tongue? My friend gets all the tongue she wants. I expect you to keep her happy. She was down in the dumps, and now look at her. Keep that smile on her face. Also?"

   I put one hand above his package, and one hand below it.

   "This? Is off limits. And…"

   I put one hand over her panties, and one just below it.

   "Off limits. But… if she wants to drag you off, and circle second base for an hour? Make her happy. Please. For me?"

   "Uh… okay."

   Me and her wandered off some a little bit later.

   "Now. You can get him drunk. You can smoke him out. You can whisper all the sweet nothings you want, promise him three trips around the world. Work him all you want. Slow dancing, shake it for him. I don't care. I want you to see if you can get him to agree to it. You? Can't get into any trouble. He can't either. But, he doesn't know that."

   "Aw. You wanna test him. That's… not right."

   "Not a test. Not really, though it technically is, I suppose. But, he got a lecture about… Miss Moody giving him a show, and he didn't notice. He's under… orders I guess, he promised to run and tell me if anyone tries to… you know. Go on. My money says, you're going to get turned down. He doesn't have to tell me, he's allowed to just ignore it. But, just in case he ignores it and doesn't want you in trouble? Then you tell me. Let's see what you got, little sis. Let's see… the magic."

   "Nothing bad can happen…"

   "Nope. You ever been shut down before?"

   "Uh… do I think I can get any guy? No. Of course not. There's… 10 boys walking around, they have rich parents, they're tall, handsome, work out. Big university, so we have a few… extraordinarily over eligible bachelors. But… once I get the eye? A little talking? Means I'm over the tall girl thing. That's about it. Its a matter of how much charm I turn on."

   "I think you know. He already likes you. Looking at you, and more importantly? He actually respects you. Understands you some now. That about all you need?"

   "Liking to look? Is enough. The rest is just bonus ammunition."

   "Have fun."

   I smiled.

   "You're really sure of yourself."

   "I am. I think you're gonna get rejected, no matter what you try. Nothing will work. There's a method to my madness, if you wondered."

   "If its not testing, then what."

   "You. Your… mother. She taught you, that boys were for sex, boys were for money. Get both, get it all. Move onto the next one. Never give up the milk, without getting fair market value for it, how am I doing?"

   "She was the queen of gold diggers. Here, this isn't a joke. She has a little computer site, she pays a fee for?"

   "Yeah…"

   "Any guy she talks to. Click click click… knows what he's worth. He owns a business? Right there. Tax info, so they can't brag and lie. Car's a rental? She knows. Its disgusting. Boys? Are for money. The sex? Is just how to get it."

   "Honey? You have the most… skewed world view, that you could possibly get."

   "Its why I refuse to take dinner, presents, nothing. I just… like them. I prove it. Some other girl? Can steal all their shit. I just liked them. I prove it."

   "Well, this will prove to you? There's more to a real relationship, than just sex. Love is different than sex. Its part of it, a big part even. A huge part, but… there's more. Love, real love. It has… trust. Understanding. Acceptance. You feel secure, in knowing that no matter what else? There's that, waiting at home. Neither one of us, has any money the other wants, right? But its more than just sex. Go on. Prove me wrong. That's the big test, not testing him. You finding it out. Or? Prove me wrong."

   "Sounds like, who can run more laps. You're on."

   "Get those legs and tongue moving. Oh. By the way?"

   "Yeah?"

   "You? Are allowed to try to get your hand down his boxers. Or anything else you think you can get down there. Not gonna do you any good. But? Try away."

   Try she did. I watched a serious Little Lightning show get put on. It was nothing short of epic. The "dancing lessons" got a little obscene. She had him do schnapps shots off of her. She even giggled and knocked one over, and guided his head to lick it up. I was reminded of, well… we played that game slightly differently, but what the hell. They ended up in a couple of dark corners, here and there at times. She had one of those long legs wrapped around him, kissing him about as slutty as I've ever seen. Hell, at least there's something I can keep up with her at, kissing.

   She even tried taking him for a walk. He ended up back, before her. His Jungle Jim's went on, his shirt, the works. No more hot tub for him. She started running out of… options. He looked at me with a slightly pained expression on his face. He just shook his head. He actually ended up socializing with the guys, and more or less ignoring her. He explained her behavior off, yeah, she had a couple drinks. Whatever. Someone offered him that there were rooms, if he had to take care of things quick and didn't want to leave the party. He laughed that off, we all had our own rooms anyways.

   "Well? How did it go."

   "He threatened to slap me. And, I know that's not him, so… okay. I give up."

   "Are you surprised?"

   "Oh yeah. If I didn't know you, and him so well? I'd… swear he was gay."

   "Big question. Does it give you… some kind of a tingle."

   "Yeah. Its… the same tingle when he walked away from the girl who brushed up against his leg. But… more."

   "I know that tingle. I like it."

   "My god. The hell do you… do for him, that…"

   "Nothing you haven't done. Maybe one thing more and others less, but… its not the sex."

   "Hmm. He lived in a dirt hole… you're head of household…"

   "I don't think so. He lived there two years, happy as a clam. He just had to survive four years, to get his undergrad degree. Two years in. Most service guys? Aren't huge about money."

   "I just… I never saw a guy as pussy whipped as you have him. He's so far under your thumb, I can't find him. Holy shit…"

   "Light. Pussy whipped? Under my thumb? You're talking like one of those girls. And you're not. You're different."

   "What's the treat he's scared to lose? What's the big threat. I gotta know your secret."

   "The real treat? The real threat. Both the same, really. Think back, to when you were real little. There was a time? When money, meant nothing to you. You don't understand the difference between a dollar bill, and a hundred dollar bill. You might pick the five? Because the picture looked prettier than the one on the hundred. Remember then?"

   "Yeah."

   "Sex? Didn't exist. Money? Held no value. Now, candy? You understood candy. You knew toys. That age, Light. Then."

   "Okay."

   "Now, all kids just… like to play with the one kid. That? Is their favorite person. Period. You don't know white, black, rich, poor, Catholic from Episcopalian. You understand candy, toys, and who you prefer to play with. That's about it. The rest? Comes later. That time."

   "Yeah."

   "That? Is the big treat. I'm his favorite person to hang out with. Take away the sex, there is no money yet. He likes me, in that childish, innocent way. The way you kicked and screamed, you can't play with… whoever."

   "Hmm."

   "You getting it?"

   "I see what you mean."

   "Okay. The treat? Is me. The threat? I told him. This shit where all the guys, have an oops? Then we fight, and he's in the doghouse? But eventually, the girl's gonna take him back, and they have makeup sex."

   "Normal."

   "Not here. I won't fucking do it. That's not pussy whipped, Light. That's not… browbeat under my thumb. That's… he likes me? For me."

   "But you have to admit, you bite and scratch him, you said you moved furniture. That's in the treat, that's part of the threat of losing that."

   "Yeah. Sex is part of an adult relationship. But… he liked me? And was hanging on my every word. Before we fucked. Matter of fact? Before I dropped 'big third date' on him? I was talking about how I didn't know how long I had to wait, to be comfortable sleeping with him. He said he didn't care. He wasn't dating anyways, not like he was losing."

   She cocked her head, taking it all in.

   "And our dates didn't cost anything. Time spent being around me? Talking? Was all it took. None of your… sex talk, no show I had to put on."

   "Yeah, The girl has to play sports. We all knew that one."

   "Do you know why?"

   "Calendar girls. You told me. Some guys want porn star calendars. He's different. He has… sporty girl calendars. Some guys do. Its a thing. You act like a boy or two didn't beg me to wear my soccer uniform to his house. So I did."

   "Not like that. That's no different, than the guy that wants… pigtails. This is different."

   "How?"

   "Well. He was the show boyfriend in high school. Then? The MP's, turned him into a tough guy. When he figured out, that he was now the bad boy? That was okay, he said. It was when it dawned on him one day… there was some poor schmuck out there."

   "Oh. The show boy."

   "Yeah. Now, sports girls? Yeah, they were always his calendar girls, from when he was young, but… he thought, maybe if he found a real tomboy? We'd be different. Maybe, we wouldn't be lying, sneaking, thieving, conniving cunts."

   "Wow. He was in for a shock there…"

   "Yeah. But? He found me. I already had my eye on him."

   "When's the wedding."

   "When we're done with school. We both want grad school."

   "That was a joke."

   "You were joking. I wasn't."

   "Wow. Naming the kids, are we."

   "Figure that's after we have our degrees, and get married? It'll just… happen."

   He wasn't watching us anymore. Not like before. He put his back to us. When he went to go play ping pong, we both asked to play, he said no. It was guy ping pong, if that was okay. I said it was fine.

   She looked back at him retreating to ping pong, and back to me.

   "Wow. He doesn't like me anymore. I can tell. What's with these… nice guys. Its like they don't want you to… I feel bad. I was high as a kite for a while there. Now? I'm right back where I started. Mopey my thing fell through. And being honest? I think I'm a little lower than that now. He actually liked me there for a while, and I screwed it up."

   "He's irritated. And, he's probably more irritated with me, than you. But you too. We played games with him, and he doesn't like that. That's something other girls do? That I don't do. And, I just did it. I have to apologize to him."

   "Gonna give up some bum, huh…"

   "No, Light. Sex? Won't buy my way out of this one. I just burned some capital I had saved up. Proving a point to you. He doesn't know exactly what just happened. All he knows? We fucked with him, and he didn't like it. Girls play little games with their guys all the time? And sit back and laugh. Like some asshole torturing a puppy. Because they can. I… just kinda did that. I wasn't thinking."

   "I haven't even fucked him yet, and I'm already fucking your shit up. I'm telling you, I'm, like, cursed or something."

   "No. You're not cursed. Welcome to the other side of love. I just hurt him, and I feel terrible. Not because I got caught? Just because I know I hurt him. When you're really in love? If you go get some strange dick, and totally get away with it? You feel worse than if you get caught."

   "I'll be back. I did this, not you. Let me try…"

   I walked to the door. Two on two, guy ping pong. He completely ignored her. She might as well have been in a suit of armor. He didn't glare at me, but it was… indifference? Not quite. Then he shrugged, and just rolled his eyes. Went back to ping pong.

   Light came trotting out. Got a couple paper towels, and got them wet and wiped her feet to clean them, did this until she was reasonable. Dried them. Jeans and socks and her shoes. Then she went back. She stood and waited patiently. Another two vs two match was next, and his team had lost. She started trying to talk to him. He just gave her a stream of "whatever" and "yeah yeah". She started begging, and pulling on his wrist. Something like a young girl would do to an adult.

   What age is that? She's stuck emotionally, 14 tops. An adult 12, an immature 16 year old. I'm calling it at 14, for lack of anything more concrete.

    He looked at me, and shook his head. I watched as he leaned in, and got in her face. He didn't yell, that wouldn't be his way. He said something, whatever it was. She didn't like it, and he pointed at the door. When he turned around, she started that pulling at the wrist thing again. He finally strode over to me.

   "Will you put a stop to this."

   "Wizzy please…"

   "Will you stop with the Widdle Wizzy shit? I don't know what's going on. But I would be a whole lot happier? If it stopped. Just, for five minutes."

   "Wizzy… please, let me---"

   "Wiz. No more Wizzy. My name? Is Wiz. It was cute for a minute, I admit. Until someone lets me know what the hell's going on? I'm… more interested in ping pong, and hey… my turn to play a song, too. I'm more interested in that. Right this second? I'd much rather be home. On my computer, my nose buried in my manual. Cause this isn't fun anymore."

   She was a kind of little kid type of emotional. A 14 year old girl, puckering up. Trying not to cry. I'm just kind of blank and defeated looking, my best guess what I presented as. He looked at me, at her, back and forth. Then? He did what he can do. He sighed, then exhaled.

   "All right. I'm calm. Will someone tell me what's really going on?"

   "Wizzy. Please! Let me try to explain it…"

   He was quiet.

   "Wiz."

   "Okay. Wiz? Can I explain…"

   "Glad someone's gonna say something useful."

   "I'm sorry."

   "Oh. Well. I'll just do back flips."

   "Just, wait. Look. This was my fault. Don't… if you wanna be mad? Be mad at me. Because its all my fault. Not her, please? Just… if you have to be mad, its on me. I made her."

   "What were you trying to pull a little bit ago."

   "It… I didn't believe, entirely. That… it was impossible to get you to…"

   "To what?"

   "Fool around with me. Or agree to."

   "I thought you might have figured out already? That something along those lines, might actually be possible. Well, it was."

   "I know, Wiz."

   He looked at me, he's calm. He wants an explanation. I gave him a brief overview.

   "Oh. I'm not, I don't know what. I have to pass the big test, like this is one of those retarded TV movies that dippy girls watch, and try the retarded shit they see on TV out in real life?"

   "Honey? I'm embarrassed. I did something, without thinking it through. I didn't mean to… test you, not like that. You want the truth? Light? He operates best on the truth, even when its not pretty. Anyways. Light has this thing. Dating, relationships… all based on sex. Love? Is sex to her. Its the same thing. I was explaining the difference, then this whole thing happened."

   "Oh. Now I got some idea what just went on. That's better. Light, honey?"

   "Yeah…"

   "I'm… me and Hurry? We're… its hard to explain. Its, one of those work on yourself courses, a couples thing? Anyways, in the course of this, thing we're doing. I'm not allowed to tell her no, I'm not allowed to be mad at her. But? I'm not aware of any rule that says I have to be happy. And, I'm not happy right now. You two? Obviously sat back, and decided to… test me, and fuck with me… and I'm not pleased. Now… this is the sort of shit I expect from those stupid fucking romantic comedies, that dippy girls love so much. Kind of shit I expect to be in some women's magazine. I'm with Hurry? Specifically, because she's doesn't do retarded girly shit, just like this. Well, normally. Real mature, honey. Real mature. Hey, I'm the guy. I know, I'm supposed to be all immature, and drink beer and I can't say no to titties and beer… well? I'm not like that. And I'm just not… happy about this."

   "I'm the one who screwed up this time. Not you. You… risk nothing. From our, self improvement course, as you put it. Be a little mad. I deserve it."

   "Lightning? Let's get some truth out. Now, you realize that me and Hurry, we were… she thought it would be fun to play an adult game. She, shares me with her best friend. I actually got into trouble. I said no. I don't want that. I know, only guy in the world you can't just throw titties and beer at? And I yell woo hoo. Now… I agreed to something, as yet to be determined what that something might even exactly be like. But… I get final approval of… who."

   Lightning looked up.

   "Really?"

   "Yeah. Its my choice. Not hers. I mean, she has choices, but. I have to give my approval, of the girl. I… have to actually like the girl, or… no way. My personal 1 to 10 score? Doesn't go on looks. I mean, it does? Then it goes up or down, when the girl opens her mouth, and how she acts. There are some very, very smoking hot women out there? I honestly think of, as about a 2 at best. Gorgeous? But all snotty and shitty. I can't stand to be around them, I don't like having to talk to them? And the thought of sleeping with one? Makes me wanna puke."

   "And I don't make you like that?"

   "You want the truth, Light?"

   She nodded, something sweet and innocent in it, and on her face. She has daddy issues, and daddy just told her he wasn't disappointed in her. She had that little kid's hope look on her face as well.

   "Looks. Little Lightning, you are pretty much the spitting image, in many ways, of one of my… calendar girls. Yeah. I asked you out for coffee… I lost track of how many times. Figured if I was persistent, maybe you'd take a look at me. I like to look at sports girls, won't lie. I also wanted to try one? Because… not real happy with the way girls are today. Won't lie about that. That wasn't enough for me to approve of you for… that though."

   "What was it then?"

   "You were… on the 1 to 10? You were really high up, when I was asking you out for coffee. When you were there when I moved in with Hurry? You slid down the scale. One of the things, was… you were always having these scintillating conversations with Right. Kind of sounds to me? Like… Tardfoot, Tardfoot, duh! I figured you were a Human Relations major? Because like a lot of jocks, you just picked a major you thought you could pass."

   "Sorry I disappointed you."

   "Well. All of a sudden, you might think your shower show, made me like you? Don't get me wrong, I love your body. Its wonderful. All of a sudden, I did a double take. You started talking. Really talking. You sounded… intelligent. Articulate. You had, deep ideas and opinions. All of a sudden, you had real substance. You were, picking things out in me? Like she does. Deep insights and shit. I realized, your mother is a piece of shit. I'm thinking you picked Human Relations? You wanted to actually know something about how people relate to one another. I think, half of what's… whatever your issue is… is one thing, and the shit our society is turning into, with men and women? Is the other half. None of it, technically your fault. Your 1 to 10 scale? Rose back up again, and… I judged the book by the cover, I had no way to know."

   "Thanks. I'm sorry I just ruined that."

   "You didn't… ruin it. The truth? If you would have went out for coffee with me. Did, what you do with guys. I'm sure its… very fun. Call it a hunch. But, wouldn't you have just moved onto the next guy, like always? I'm not a little boy. I don't sit around with a broken heart, and cry. I just move on. You'd have played with me. Then moved on. Right?"

   "Probably. Yeah. While we're telling the truth and all."

   "Now. Maybe you two girls, could tell me? What's going on. Other than the dippy, 12 year old girly girl game you two just pulled. Hurry? You're the adult, kinda. I expect this shit out of some of the others, but you? This was a weird one for me."

   "The test, wasn't about you. I even told her that. I was just showing her. Love is more than sex. Its… trust and other things. I kind of thought, you'd run right to me, and it wouldn't get…"

   "I chose to ignore it. I didn't want… trouble between, and this is a joke, by the way, trouble between both of my girlfriends, before I got any fun out of it. And I'm joking."

   He paused.

   "Lightning? Did I explain why I originally liked you, what made me dismiss you as a dippy girl, then how you went back up to a high number again, and that's the real reason I like you?"

   "Yeah… I'm, thank you. That's… one of the nicest things anyone ever said to me, that way."

   "Okay. We're back to… I hesitate to call it… normal. Just for lack of a better word? We'll say things are back to normal again. Someone care to clue me in, on where we're at?"

   "Lightning, wants to enjoy… she really liked her boyfriend. She likes you, she thinks you're really nice, as well as she just plain likes you like any other boy. She, likes pretending you're her boyfriend. She… wants to try to, I don't know, see what its like? To have a nice boyfriend, and… see what we're like. Because we like each other for something more than sex. She doesn't understand that. She wants to."

   "Can I have permission, to say it with all my normal glib sarcasm, just for gallows humor?"

   "Go on. You earned it. I… deserve to be in the doghouse for acting, as you say, like a dippy girl. Go ahead. No penalty."

   "The fact that there just might be more to love, in an adult relationship, than sex? Wow. What a profound fucking concept. I don't understand how she doesn't get that. She dropped the I'm a stupid blonde act earlier… she's not dumb, like she pretends to be. And if she doesn't get that? This is the gallows humor, but… how does sucking one more cock give it to her. I mean, honestly."

   I pinched my nose, then tried.

   "Go back in your mind. You are now… 12, maybe 14. What were your views on adult relationships like? Be honest. Wow! When I'm older? I get to have sex. Mommies and daddies get to bang. I mean, on some level? That's a young man's appreciation of it at that stage of development, right?"

   "Well, yeah. I grew out of that. Honestly, getting the show treatment three times, fucking cured me of the idea that adult relationships were all about sex, trust me. Well, at that point? They were so everyone else could have sex with my girl, except me. I mean, that's how it was."

   "Then in the service?"

   "Cute Latinas were discovered. Shit. Adult relationships were all about sex. Just some other poor asshole was getting fucked over, and I was now the guy fucking him. I felt like shit. I put the whole fucking thing on the back burner? Worked on me. I tried again here. Found the Hurricane. Here we are."

   "Okay. You're describing, your development, of your understanding of adult relationships happen. Can… the three of us go somewhere private, and sit down for three seconds?"

   "Yeah…"

   I led us all out a piece, where we could have a quick word.

   "Lightning. I'm gonna give it to you straight. I'm not mad about anything, far from it. Do you want me to say this privately? Or… can he be here."

   "Can I go back to calling you… Wizzy again?"

   "Of course. Come here…"

   He hugged her. A real hug. Not a cheap feel, not just excited to have his substitute calendar girl in his arms. He actually drew her in, rubbed her hair, and kissed the top of her head.

   "This is about… what you always wanna talk about… I pretty much know that. Yeah. Wizzy can hear. He's… I don't know, he seems like he would be… helpful somehow."

   "If you're sure."

   "I'm not sure of a lot of things, sis. But… I want it. He can keep a secret, right?"

   "We both can. You? Would be surprised."

   Naturally, a pause ensued.

   "So? Tell me."

   The pause wasn't ending.

   "Light. When… certain things happen to a person. There's a really common thing that almost always happens. The person who was traumatized? They freeze. I mean, they freeze emotionally. They're stuck like that, forever. Until they get help. Want me to prove it?"

   "Go on."

   "I can guess what age, whatever happened to you? How old you were."

   "How?"

   "By… guessing how old of a person you sometimes act like. I don't mean that in a bad way. So, can I guess how old you were?"

   "Sure."

   "I… see a 12 year old, I see a 16 year old. Either a mature 12 year old, or an immature 16 year old. Different people, mature at different rates, at different times. Some of its genetic, some of its environment. Lot of things play into it. But… I'm gonna ballpark my guess? You were traumatized, say… about 14."

   "Wow."

   "I'm right, ain't I?"

   "Real close. Or right on it. Yeah. I didn't exactly write the date down on the calendar and save it."

   "I understand. Does it surprise you, that I can guess like that?"

   "Yes."

   "That? Tells me, you have never, ever once. Sought any kind of counseling, treatment, not a goddamn thing. You don't even read books about it, or you'd know that."

   She looked like she was ready to cry.

   "So. Everyone does know. That something is wrong with me. Great, huh. Go figure why no decent, well adjusted nice guy, would want a 14 year old girl, all fucked up around. Well, that's just perfect, ain't it. Fuck me and my life."

   "Light? You want me to guess what happened? Bet I can."

   "Aw, man…"

   "I need your permission to guess."

   "Why not? If everyone knows how fucked up I am, now they know what it is too, even though I never told anyone. Go on then."

   "The only reason I know? Is because I've been around you. And because I take psych classes. That's it. Anyone else? Would only see that you act like a 14 year old sometimes, that's all. And there's a lot of 30 year old women out there, that act like little kids their whole damn lives. That, by itself? Isn't a big thing."

   "Go ahead. Guess."

   "I'm gonna say. Around age 14? You… were raped. Molested. Sexually exploited. Something along those lines. The way you present? It wasn't just… some stranger lurking in an alley grabbed a cute little girl. I'm gonna guess, it was someone you knew, that you trusted. That's why it hurt the way it did. You could have gotten over a random stranger attacking you. You… were betrayed. I don't know what your mother had to do with it, but, that tells me that since she was involved somehow, that once again tells me it was someone you knew and trusted."

   Textbooks and professors say, most cry now. Some go numb. She did numb. Too quiet. Vacant eyes. Stiff posture. No body language. Her little nervous tics I know? Vanished. They should be here with bells on.

   "Yeah. Well?"

   "Well what, honey."

   "You said… when I tell you? I get better. Is that, like… five minutes? Tomorrow. When."

   "Right now, you would become either emotionally distraught, and enter a temporary depressive state? Or. A small percentage, enter a slightly depersonalized state. Numb, more or less. You're obviously the numb kind."

   "Wonderful. How long does this last. Years? Everything's years, and my life's just burning away."

   "You're just turning 19. You work on this? By the time you graduate, you'll be… 17, 18. Emotionally. No one will know. If you start now? By the time you're done with school… you'll have filled in the gap. Think. Here, watch me talk to Wizzy."

   "Yeah honey?"

   "When you were 14, tell us how you thought about relationships. Then, by the time you were 17, 18… you knew a lot more, right?"

   "I went through this. Worlds apart. I said. At 14? An adult relationship was… essentially. Wow. I get to boink someone. They boink me. How cool is that gonna be?"

   "Then at 18…"

   "Oh. By then? Show boyfriend. My case might not be the best one to use, to demonstrate how cool its going to be, to hit 18 in terms of development. Now, I was a spastic geek when I was young. Lightning? A very popular sports star, and all the boys like staring at her butt. I'm sure being 18, will be a lot of rewarding fun for her. Not like 18 was for me."

   "I wanna laugh. That, was funny. I can't laugh."

   I came back in.

   "You're numb. It will pass."

   "Great. I'm at a party."

   "You had one drink too many. An hour from now? You'll be better. Just like someone who drank too much, as far as everyone else is concerned."

   "Could I just be stoned instead?"

   "Oh, good idea. Yeah, you could pass for someone all smoked up, easy. Its a party."

   "No. I mean, can't I just be stoned?"

   "Oh… yeah. How about no more drinking. Fluids only."

   "Sure. Right after I have a big, fat joint. I promise, I'll drink all the mixer, with cotton mouth, and piss everyone off. Scouts honor, Hurry."

   "Little bit of your humor in there. Honey? You've lived with this… thing… for five years or something like that. You won't go to complete pieces. Four years ago maybe. You know something about living with it. You'll be back to your normal self quicker than you think."

   "Great. My normal self? Is a fucked up 14 year old girl, and everyone knows something is wrong with me."

   "Not really. You blaming yourself, is kind of a normal reaction. You feel like everyone's looking at you, even when they aren't. Did you understand, when I said you're stuck at the development of a 14 year old? Its perfectly natural, that you view an adult relationship, as boinking. Young girls, that don't get treated? Typically act out, sexually. They go different ways. Some? Don't want to be touched. They're cold and distant. They want to date, they don't want to have sex. Others? Run wild. Always in trouble. Some? Form seemingly normal relationships with men, but… they act weird. Some turn to drugs and alcohol. There's a whole host of behavior sets, that spring out of this, left untreated."

   "What's treatment…"

   "Main treatment? You talk about it. Told you before. We make a little schedule. We talk about it. First time? You gloss over what happened. Then, every time we talk, I'll get you to go into more and more little details. You'll have… this feeling, every time. But, it will be less and less, each time. In the end? You won't feel like this. You'll have processed it. You take a couple days off, after each session. Basically, I don't do anything. I'm just who you trust, and can talk to."

   "Then what. I'm fixed?"

   "From the moment you start? You begin to grow again. You unfreeze. I would say, be very careful what kind of relationships you engage in, and try to take good advice about how they should be."

   "Pretty sure, I shouldn't listen to mom's advice on relationships. Just a hunch there."

   "I'm with you. I never met her? And I wanna whack her upside the head with a baseball bat."

   "Mom never was nominated for mom of the year or anything…"

   "Yeah. I bet."

   "As a member of the human race, that has a cock, I'm probably supposed to disappear."

   "No. You're fine. If you have anything… constructive to add."

   "I, uh. I used to volunteer and teach one of the, you know, rape prevention classes. Self defense thing. For women in uniform. The wives and daughters. Civilian base employees, and their relations."

   "Oh. Well, that was nice of you. Right, honey?"

   Lightning stared around.

   "Little late for that…"

   We just looked at her.

   "I can't laugh. Told you that. But, I thought that was a little bit funny. I wanna laugh. Just can't."

   "Teaching rape prevention class? Kinda fun."

   "How?"

   "Heck. I was a young guy. Met a lot of girls that put out that way."

   "Honey!"

   "No. If I could laugh? I would. That was funny."

   "It wasn't that funny…"

   "Hey. I'm the one it happened to. And that was a little bit funny."

   "I had to read, like, medical pamphlets and stuff. I know about some of the recovery methods."

   "There, honey. Now that? Might be more constructive. Go on."

   "Different approaches exist. One way, which the more attractive victims report works particularly well? I mean, if you're curious and all."

   "What? I'll try anything."

   "Every night? You dress up in a different costume, and then…"

   "Honey! Stop it!"

   "No Hurry. It is funny, a little. I wish I could laugh. I… when I can laugh again? I'll be back to normal. Well, back to a fucked up 14 year old anyways. That's normal to me, right?"

   "Both of you! Stop it!"

   "You're just mad my treatment is working better than yours. I should run a clinic. Have a big row of costumes for the girls to wear… bunch of male volunteers. All guys that lift weights, naturally. Costumes for them…"

   I palmed my face. This is ridiculous. And she? Is encouraging him. Christ almighty.

   "I got one…"

   "Light? You don't have to…"

   "Wizzy."

   "Yeah, Light."

   "Remember, we were going to have sex soon?"

   "That's… not important right now, honey."

   "Right now, I'm numb. I'd just lay there. You wouldn't enjoy it. We should wait."

   "Laughter. They say its the best medicine."

   I was getting exasperated. Not so much at him. At both of them. This is supposed to be serious. Then? He winked at me. I was either about to be impressed, or strangle him.

   "Little Lightning? You made a wisecrack, when me and Hurry were in the tub. You showered, we were talking. Before we went out."

   "Yeah. We were."

   "You made one comment. You run a rape clinic down in your room. Send me down there, if she wanted to. Something like that. What would happen to a guy that got sent to your rape clinic. You know mine. Costumes. What would yours be like."

   "Oh. I remember that. That was a champagne joke. That's, an inside joke between Hurry and me. But, your costume idea was original. I have a new clinic in mind."

   Fucker winked again. Goddamn it, flip a coin. I better get impressed real quick, or I'm going to choke the ever loving shit out of him with my bare hands. Lightning is in no condition to pry my hands off of his throat.

   "Describe it. I love naughty stories. Ask Hurry."

   "The girl. The victim. Needs to act it out. Helps her feel better. Help her process the… bad thing. I take you out. Car date. Nice day at the park. Cool. Blanket. Beer. Bottle. You know. Like that."

   "Sounds therapeutic."

   "Oh, yeah. Couple of my friends show up. After I got you pretty drunk. You don't drink much, do you."

   "No. I'm a lightweight, honey."

   "Get you nice and wasted. A couple of my friends could show up. A few more drinks. Then, we start the therapy."

   "You're a cute girl. Are your friends cute too?"

   "Some look all right, yeah. You're wasted. We can hold our liquor. Me and my girlfriends? We'd toss you in the middle of the blanket. Surround you. Every girl? Grabs an arm or a leg. Helps. Its a hot day out, little boy. You're sweating. We should get some of those clothes off of you. Just trying to help you out. Do the right thing."

   "Very noble of you."

   "Oh. We're wonderful. Once we have you naked. We each have an arm or a leg. Me and my girlfriends? We all start taking turns with you. You know, for this kind of therapy to work right? Guess me and my girlfriends would need those… plastic dicks, the bull dykes wear. We'd all go around the world on you. If you scream? We take turns being the one shoving a plastic dick in your mouth. Did you know that you can pour liquor into someone's mouth? And just hold your hand over it. Then if you hold their nose, they have to swallow it to breathe again? It works better than you think. Therapy lasts a while, Wiz. You start when its still sunny out. Say 4 o'clock or so? Best time. It doesn't end, until real late at night. Maybe… 4:00 am. Of course, I got other friends, and they have friends. Regular party we're having. Party ends late at night. You're so wasted, you don't realize time. You? Just wake up on Hurry's porch."

   "What would Hurry do. I wonder."

   "Kick the shit out of you. For drinking."

   "I'd tell her what happened."

   "She'd kick the fuck out of you more, right on the porch. For making a bullshit story like that up. To cover up for being drunk."

   "Eventually, Hurry would figure out, something bad happened."

   "That would take a long time. Every time you told her the story, you get the shit kicked out of you. For lying, yet again. You don't know shit about raising kids, Wizzy."

   "I guess I don't. Eventually though, I'd end up telling someone."

   "Anyone you tell? Pretty much would come tell Hurry. Who would kick the ever loving shit out of you. For embarrassing her, with that bullshit story you won't let go of."

   "Would Hurry ever believe me?"

   "Not if the person you went to the park with? Was the daughter of the guy Hurry was fucking. She doesn't believe you. Well, she probably would. But then? You'd be fucking her shit up, dating a guy that makes good money."

   "Eventually…"

   "Oh, yeah. After getting the shit kicked out of you, for so long, so many times? After the rich guy dumps her, she might believe your story then. Well, just enough to get him scared enough to cough up cash. She doesn't really believe you, Wizzy. Its just a way to score cash. You don't get any. You're under 18. Hurry signs papers, that signs away any right you have, to prosecute. For cash. You? Get nothing. Hurry? Gets paid for what you had to do. Hurry gets paid, for kicking the shit out of you. For training you what happens, when you open your mouth. To anyone."

   "Fun times."

   "The best. Don't forget your aftercare, Wizzy."

   "Sure, sure. What would you recommend."

   "You have to have dinner with me. Every time you say anything, or act up? You get dragged away, and you get the shit kicked out of you. For trying to ruin her rich guy dinner date. Then? You go back to the dinner. And for years? Anywhere you go, Wiz. You meet them. All my girlfriends. You can't go anywhere, without running into one of them. It never ends. Hell, you can't do anything to them. They have nothing to fear. Your mom sold you out. Me, my girlfriends? We get to laugh at you, point at you, for the rest of time. You're a slut, Wiz. Taking that many girls on. For 12 hours. What a fucking whore you are. Everyone knows. Everyone points and laughs. And if it really was rape, cops. But Hurry signed a gag order. Signed a statement for cops. Illegal to go do anything legal. Ever. Proof you liked it. And other girls? Yeah, they treat you real well when they see you out. Trust me. What would you do after therapy, Wizzy. Aftercare."

   "I guess I'd play soccer."

   "You'd quit dancing. You really wouldn't enjoy it anymore. All those older girls, ogling you, moving around sexy. Dancing? Its so you can attract a wife with money, like a good boy should. Playing soccer? Doesn't attract rich girls, that's retarded. The more it pissed Hurry off? The harder you'd play, Wiz. When you got a scholarship? You'd leave. You'd never come back. You might, just might? Put Hurry in the emergency room, the day you left though. Why not. When the cops never show up at school? You'd just… move on."

   "Would I ever date again?"

   "You'd want to fuck girls, Wiz. But, no dating. You go on a date? Something could happen. Nah… just meet the girls, have fun. Leave. You'd never let any girl, ever. Buy you a thing. Take you out to dinner. Nothing."

   "I wonder what Hurry would do for me. After I left."

   "I'm sure she'd buy you clothes, all the time. Nice expensive ones. Makes it all better. Everyone knows that. She'd know better though, after waking up in the emergency room? She'd never show her face again. Small mercy there."

   "What would I know about… love and sex. After therapy like that."

   "You're what, about 14, right Wizzy?"

   "Something like that. Yeah."

   "You'd get on the internet. How people have sex? Videos. Hell, there's videos of boys, on blankets. Surrounded by girls. Taking turns. Its normal. Lots and lots of videos just like that. I mean, there's a little movie. Exactly what happened to you. There's the blanket. Sunny day in some park or field. There's the girls, grabbing you. Taking turns. Sure, the little boy is kicking and screaming. But, its fun. When the movie is over? There's the boy, laughing and joking with all those girls. They're all joking, talking about how much fun they had making the little movie. Sharing drinks. You just know? All the girls like that movie. You know they touch themselves, watching it. You can look and see, that big number in the corner. How many times some girl watched it, touching herself. Girls? They all like this. The ones that don't do it? Wish they could."

   "Would I enjoy sex?"

   "Sure. The act, is fun. Dating? You probably wouldn't like that idea. And… the way people are, about money and relationships. All the financial advice, on TV? Marriage, all about money. Fuck that. Sucking cock for a phone? Get real. That's a smart girl. But me? I'm a slut. I guess, because I don't want paid for fucking, like all the other girls do. Like mom tried to teach my stupid ass. Dinners, dates, presents. They fuck, they get paid for it. They're smart girls. Me? I just do it because I like some guy. I'm a slut because I don't want paid. Because being a whore? Is so much better, than being a slut."

   "I'd never go back."

   "No. You wouldn't. But… when you danced? It would feel like… before me and my girlfriends ruined you. If you ever went back? You'd want to kill people. You'd either wind up in jail for life, or just kill yourself, and get it the fuck over with quick."

   "I'd want to talk to someone though, to try to help me. Between 14 and 18."

   "Like Hurry would let you. They need her permission. Hurry signed papers, and got paid for it. Hurry sold you? For money. After she was dumped. Had to milk it, and kick the shit out of you, to shut you up, until she was dumped. After getting dumped though, smart money move."

   "Hurry? Roll up a fatty…"

   "I'm way ahead of you."

   "Light? I like you. I really do. You're… my real life calendar girl. Just like Hurry is. I wouldn't have met her, if it wasn't for you. I think you're amazing."

   "You like 14 year old fucked up chicks, huh."

   "They're the most fun. I heard. I wouldn't know, myself."

   I looked at him. He looked at me. I was impressed. Real impressed. He wasn't going to get strangled now. We sat and smoked the joint, down to the nubbins. He went and brought back a whole unopened two liter of mixer soda. Within an hour, the life if you wanna call it that? Started to come back into her voice, into her eyes. She slowly regained normal posture and body movements I would recognize as Lightning again. She came back and re-materialized in her body.

   We asked her if she wouldn't rather go home, but she wanted to stay.

   "I spent four years alone. I wanna live. I don't want my mom to win."

   I gave her a little smile.

   "She won't. The bigger star you became at soccer, the more pissed she got, huh?"

   "Oh yeah. Got to the point, I pretty much got the shit kicked out of me, for winning. The bigger win I got, the worse it got. I eventually escaped. I'll never go back."

   "Pisses her off, the more you win…"

   "Yeah."

   I smiled.

   "Conference championship. Big ring. I want the ring."

   "You think so small, Hurry. I wanna start a fucking dynasty. I wish I could make it to the Olympics. Be on his… calendar. Oh, I'd mail a giant box of those calendars to her."

   We went back to the party. She was… normal. But more like normal around the house. She definitely wasn't the normal Lightning at the party anymore. It was weird. She smiled a lot. Not a big smile, but a smile. She was happier again, but not that highly elated, look mom I'm at the prom look.

   She asked for permission from me, to do everything. Can I sit on his lap. Can we play ping pong again. Am I allowed to dance with him. Am I still allowed to kiss him like before. When everyone got drunk, she was able to put "their song" on repeat, and get several "dance lessons" in a row. They looked for all the world, like the happiest couple at the party. Which personally I found hysterically ironic.

   She asked me, sitting with him, how long good girls waited on dates before putting out. How long was appropriate. I said we did three dates. The third time was the charm. She asked what our first date was, I said we met at a party. Similar to this one, just somewhere else. A bigger party but a party is more or less a party. She asked if we kissed. I told her we made out in a dark corner, sure. I assured her good girls make out, they just don't put out right away. She asked if good girls used tongue on that first make out. I said I did. I pointed out that we did roaming hands, with our clothes on. She had kept her clothes all on, after we came back from her… well? Her first therapy visit.

   I sent them out for a make out session. I told him I expected him to put some time in, and roaming hands were required. They were out there for nearly an hour. I took videos, using the zoom function on my phone. I went and got some closeup videos a couple times, and they never stopped. They ignored me. I felt creepy and dirty. The person at the party, getting videos of people making out. It looked so sweet and innocent. She wears clothes a younger girl would wear, if mom would buy her anything with no restrictions. She looked for all the world, like some 14 year old girl. Making out with some boy that finally noticed her. I finally backed off, and let them go. She might have never had this perfect, appropriate, 14 year old girl moment before.

   She sat next to him. Nice posture. Knees together, palms on her knees. Just her head was moving, turned to her left. If I didn't see his head angling on the other side of her correctly, if I didn't see the way her hair was slowly moving? I might not even know they were kissing, and they could just be talking. Eventually, her hand went up. Just one at first. Touched his face, then the back of his head. Eventually her other hand went up. It took a while before she experimented with where she let her hands rest. Before finally roaming and exploring.

   I noticed him, too. She took him by the hand, and they walked out. She pointed, where they would sit. She sat, then he sat as she did. She leaned into him, first. When her hand hit his head, his followed soon after. When she held his head with both hands, and her hair moved faster? His hands imitated. When she switched how they leaned their heads? It was nearly simultaneous. They were in sync, he was only slightly behind her.

   I can only guess what this game was for him. His calendar girl, that didn't want coffee in real life? Suddenly wanted coffee. Extra sugar. Creamer, too. She wasn't the confident star he had imagined all those years up on his wall. She was some weird mix. A part of her, was a surprisingly intelligent and very insightful adult. Another part? Was weirdly immature, like a little girl. With an amazing streak of loyalty and morality, that only a sigma male could truly appreciate. His perfect calendar girl? Was broken. Just as surely as someone had ripped that month in half, and it had been taped back together. It looked fine, barely a seam from the tape job, and even then you had to know where to look. But, she wasn't perfect like she looked on that calendar. Someone had ripped her in two before.

   Maybe he got something small out of it. He was once 14, and while he hadn't been hurt and betrayed just like her? He had been betrayed, and he had been hurt. Maybe he had gotten to see what it was like, to have the girl he thought was pretty, be excited to sit with him. Wanted to kiss him and get kissed back. Knowing she wasn't using him as an actor in a game she played. Some man had taped him back together too. He came from two different calendars. His page was torn in half on both of them. That man had decided which half of which calendar, should go into the one, final calendar that would be all that was left when he was done. He had done a spectacular job. The final calendar picture? Was better than either one had been intact.

   What were my calendars? Nicest guys of the big 10. Best geeks of the Math and Computer department. The hunks of the Texas Military Police. I couldn't decide which calendar was more important than the others. My friend took one glance at all three. Asked me if I hadn't ever noticed, but the July guy? Look at the eyes. Looks like the same guy, on all of them. Weird, huh? I decided she was right, too.

   When they came back to the party, it was odd. He was sheepish and smiling, which would be normal given the situation, but it was her. She was… shy, smiling. Almost, what's the word I'm looking for here. Demure, I guess. She was like this for some time, then asked what our second date had been. I told her, we met for a quick bite to eat, and where in town. Her face went, well, not quite white… but close. She closed her eyes. A date was scary. I told her I could chaperon her date. She asked if, you guessed it, good girls got chaperoned.

   "Only the very best of them. Hell, even I didn't have a chaperon on our second date. You trying to out do me or something, sis?"

   We all went briefly silent, and then had a good laugh. Bless him for what he did. Sometimes, laughter might be the best medicine. She asked if it was okay to sit in the hot tub some more. No one else was in it now, this late. Fun rowdiness overtook most, quietude others. I smiled and nodded. He got to his boxers easily and stepped in. She did it like everything else since that magic tipping point came and went, and she had slowly re-materialized. She looked around. She normally made sure boys were noticing her doing anything like this. She got down to her panties quickly. No fanfare, no gestures. Another quick glance to reassure herself no one was surreptitiously ogling her, before she quickly stepped in and sat down next to him, and sort of nestled in.

   There was no magic wand that had been waved. She was by no means "fixed". This was real life. This wasn't some romantic comedy drama. All laugh track and dramatic music, as you watched all the inappropriate situations and odd characters. Then magically wrapped itself up, as some character voiced wooden lines explaining the morality lesson so even the densest audience member got the fairy tale.

   No, in the movie version of this? The credits were about to roll, and no further situations would come about. The music was about to play. Things were far from perfect, but… they were about as ideal as you could hope for, given everything that had come before. But this is no movie. Here comes another situation when the music and credits should be arriving instead. Army boy, a couple of his buddies in tow. Looking around. People that are glancing around, hey, where's the people we know? Here somewhere.

   If I'm playing dollhouse, with humans for dolls? My dollhouse and dolls are about to get scattered. I don't know exactly what's about to happen, but, it can't be good. The scary music is playing, so I know something's coming. Flying monkeys are about to show up.

   In my Wizard of Oz movie? God, its fucked up. Dorothy was gang raped. By half the small town. They all point and laugh at her for it, she doesn't get to play victim. Her mom beat her up for getting gang raped, made her be nice to the lead rapist. Pretended it wasn't so, because the guy with the bigger farm she was dating wouldn't be… uncomfortable with having a gang rapist for a son. Appearances are everything. Reality is nothing. Dorothy is the daughter of the wicked witch, and no one will throw a bucket of water to melt the cunt. Dorothy's sweet and innocent dress? Anything but, she dresses like a hooker with money would for casual wear.

   Some drunken asshole edited this fucked up fairy tale. Pieces of gang rape caught on security camera. Oz, the scary and dangerous outside world? Far better a place than home ever was. And just when this travesty of cinematic ineptitude is finally about to begin to wrap up with something resembling an ending everyone might be able to live with, here come the flying monkeys. You can't even tell who the tin man is, the scarecrow, the lion, none of them. Why can't the scary music quit. Shit's about to get all fucked up.

   There ain't no way this situation is going to reverse itself into another surprisingly perfect ending. I can't even see some good alpha around, so Sigma Boy is going to have to shit Sigma Lightning and play Alpha. Ain't no one going to be happy. This isn't a fucked up fairy tale. Its a goddamn nightmare. The warm barrel we nestled down into and got comfy? Filled with soft, dry stuff, that's surprisingly comfortable. That's gunpowder. We're all in it. Someone can't see what's going on in the dark, and is waving a lit match around. Powder keg's about to explode, and all my dolls are going to get scattered.

   No one is good, no one is bad. Dorothy? Half slut, half sweet innocent girl. I guess I'm supposed to be the good girl, and look how I'm dressed. Wiz is actually a good guy, great even. But… to Army boy and his henchmen? He looks like a bad guy right now. Army guy's character is all over the map. He's the nice boyfriend. He called her a whore, for no real reason. She sort of deserves her past coming up, she sort of doesn't too. Now him and his henchmen? Are they good guys operating on completely understandable bad misinformation? This is all so misunderstood and totally fucked up, its unreal. Hollywood couldn't come up with a plot point like this, even if they put the director known for his twists and reversals, with the writer known for his twists and reversals into a room together, and gave them beer and LSD to see what they would come up with.

   But, here it is. Wizard of Oz remake. Rated X. Mature content may not be appropriate for younger audience members. Warning. May contain rape, sexual assault, adult situations and strong sexuality content. Some drug and alcohol use. Graphic violence.

   I wondered about the graphic violence part. Here it comes. He can take any one of them, and they know that. But he can't take all of them, and they know that and he knows that, too. He could get hurt. Any or all of them could get hurt. Maybe all of them will get hurt, and hurt each other. Lightning could even get a punch in the mouth out of it all. The athletes? They don't appreciate what's probably about to happen. They could hurt all of them, or they could all get hurt by them. Or, more likely, everyone gets hurt and everyone hurts one another. Hurt buffet, I guess is what its looking like.

   I walked over to the drink table, and found a beer bottle with a couple swigs left. I nonchalantly dumped it out, and decided it was a great thing to have in my hand. I'm not watching my boyfriend go to the emergency room, not without splitting someone's skull open. I want my punch in the mouth too. I didn't join the boys club, then rejoin it for nothing. If you run or hide when these things happen, and don't at least get your black eye? You get your boy card revoked. Fuck that. I treasure it too much. Or, I'm going to protect Lightning. Or hit a fellow athlete over his head? Or one of the Army guys to protect them. Christ's throne, this is fucked up. Trying to explain it all later? That's going to be a fun process too.

   I'm standing now. Near enough the hot tub, with Wiz and Light sitting alone.

   "Hey Wiz."

   "Boys… how's it going."

   "We were watching an old war movie on cable. I got a couple of texts and pics and movies. Curious?"

   "Sure…"

   He's got that grin. He doesn't look nervous. I know enough about him, to know he's sizing this all up. The Army guys though. They're a little nervous. Body language. Mostly crossed arms. Defensive postures. You use numbers though, if you have to.

   "My ex girlfriend. Is up here, at a Village crawl. Kicking the shit out of some drunk guy. You might not know we broke up."

   He took a sip of his drink. They might figure he's drunk. Its all mixer, for a while now. He's sober. They might not be.

   "Oh, that. My girlfriend, is her best friend. All roomies. How could I not know. Five minutes after she hits the townhouse, I get the rundown."

   "And what do you think about that?"

   "Told Light here. Sorry your shit didn't work out. Looked like it was for a minute there. Them's the breaks. Now? I'd say the same thing to you."

   "Wow. One thing isn't completely fucked up. At least you know we broke up. There's that."

   "Well? If you saw her fight video. The guy? One of the assholes I used to have to put up with, down at the Pardee house. Sees me here, having fun. Wouldn't quit fucking with me, ask anyone. I was about… this close? He was forcing me to tune him up. Then? Light here drops his drunk ass. For me. I guess you saw the video. Beautiful work. She didn't get hurt, guy deserved it. Hell, all I had to do? Take out the trash, toss him in the dumpster. Party entertainment. Little floor show."

   "Yeah. That wasn't all the entertainment up here. Was it."

   "Its a party. If there wasn't entertainment? People would have gone home. They're still here, so yeah. Its been fun."

   "Wanna guess some of the entertainment I've seen? Keeps coming in, I can't even enjoy the second war movie, the sequel to the first one."

   "Why don't you tell me. If you didn't stop up to have a beer, I guess you came to let me know what I might have missed. Even though I'm here."

   "Well. Here's one. A couple of them, actually. Hot tub party. Wow. Looks like fun."

   "Actually? Yeah. It was. It is. But… its a party. Almost everyone? Is here to have fun."

   "I can see that. Ping pong. Oh, and dancing. Wiz? I honestly didn't know you could dance."

   "Well? I'll try to keep you updated on all my new hobbies."

   He sighed while his Army buddies are glancing at one another. Other than her ex? They don't like this. Maybe they did at first, but now? They don't like the look and feel of things. He's acting way too calm given the situation, and they can smell that.

   The athletes are starting to pick up on quiet tension. One thing about jocks, all streetwise. Little groups are forming, trying not to be noticed. Couple wrestlers over there, couple football guys over there. Soccer girls, another spot. Unaffiliated people, who don't belong to one or more people of the established groups, are forming their own little huddle. I don't know if the mixed herd even realizes that its segregating itself, could be an automatic response.

   He lowered his voice.

   "Wiz. Will you level with me."

   "Ever known me to lie?"

   "Not really."

   "Probably won't start now. Just ask. It doesn't hurt to ask. Politely."

   "Are we friends? I thought, we were friends. Buddies. You know. We were all in the service. Little bit of us against them, the damn civilians. Buddies."

   "We're not friends."

   He looked slightly shocked at such a dead panned and glib response. His Army henchmen all glanced at one another. This was a surprising twist, that much was obvious.

   "Excuse me?"

   "I said. We're not friends."

   "The fuck are we then…"

   "Best friends. I thought me, you, all of then? Were best friends."

   "Well, yeah. I thought we were, anyways."

   "Were. Past tense. What happened?"

   "Wiz? What's it been now. Two years? A little more. I think we all spotted haircuts and T shirts in the gym about a week in, been like that since."

   "Yeah."

   "For two years. You were Wiz. I like Wiz. We all like Wiz. Wiz likes us. The last couple months or so now? We're all… like who are you, and what have you done with Wiz."

   "What's so different. My eyes change color, or something?"

   "Started out okay. You got a new girlfriend. Happy for you."

   "That part was pretty cool. Thanks."

   "You got out of… the Groundhog hole. You live up here with the rich kids now. Good for you."

   "And that part? Was actually pretty cool too. Thanks again."

   "You're a jeans and T shirts kind of guy. Your new girl? Her too. Well, she was a jeans and T shirt girl anyways…"

   He held out one of the hot tub movies someone made. And, obviously sent to his phone.

   "Mind if I make a suggestion? A polite one."

   "Sure."

   "Don't bring my girlfriend into this. And if you do? You don't get an opinion on how she's dressed. That's between me, her, and her closet. There's probably a guy rule on that one. You get an opinion on how your own girl is dressed. You don't get an opinion on how some other girl is dressed."

   "Oh. A guy rule. Interesting way to put it."

   "Why is that so interesting…"

   "Wiz. I'm getting texts. Describing what's going on. No way. So I get pictures. Now, you can color a picture with different crayons. What happened before, what happened after. What might even really be going on. I can dig that. That? Was what interrupted the sequel. But then… I get videos. They're as bad, actually? Even worse than the texts."

   "You see what's going on at the fun party I'm at. You can see its fun. Kinda party you come up for to have some fun. Or… maybe you came up to not have fun…"

   He's using soft language. Another Sigma specialty. When he described the drunk Pardee house kid, he kind of drew out the part where he was just about to get up out of the hot tub and handle it. Which was when Lightning handled it for him. You could detect a polite hint there. Or you could miss it, or even think it was coincidence.

   The hints were very polite. Everyone is here to have fun. He adroitly stopped him, before he said something or called me something, about the way I was suddenly dressed, and how I cavorted in the hot tub. I suppose though, just in case his buddy wasn't getting his hints? The last one… maybe you guys aren't here to have fun. There's no missing that one, polite or not. His flying monkey henchmen were glancing at each other a lot more now. I don't think I ever once heard a direct warning delivered quite so sweetly, ever. How many hints he'd go for, or for how long? Anyone's guess. For now though, the flying monkeys were stationary. The scary music stopped. Temporarily.

   "Guy rules. Okay. You're right, I don't get an opinion on how your girl dresses. I get an opinion on how mine is dressed. Or actually, not dressed. Wouldn't you say."

   He looked around. He feigned slight confusion.

   "Now I'm confused. If you have a girl, you do get an opinion on how she dresses. Perhaps you could point her out for me."

   They all looked at one another, and he just shoveled his hand at the hot tub.

   Now he feigned ignorance.

   "You mean Light here?"

   "No. I mean some other girl you have your hand on her tits in the hot tub."

   "Sarcasm. Verbal irony. Nice touch."

   "What's the… guy rule on that? Since you bring guy rules up and all."

   "Well. You guys? Have been giving me advice for about two years now. And, taught me the guy rules, too."

   "Which guy rule, says you can… fuck me Wiz, you were here. You know what kind of videos I got sent, for Christ's sake. I'm looking at one now."

   He looked at Little Lightning.

   "This isn't your girl. Not anymore."

   "I can see that now, for myself."

   Lightning left him in the hot tub, hands over her tan little tits. She didn't look embarrassed, she didn't look frightened. She looked like she was making herself small, and getting out of the way. Maybe she wanted to disappear, or blend in. Blend out. Whatever. She dried off in seconds, though moving slow. She slipped socks then her jeans on. Dropped her shirt on and stepped into her tenners. She more or less, inched away.

   "Want me to go over the guy rules that cover this?"

   "Oh. I can't wait."

   "They're your rules. I'm surprised you need them repeated back to you."

   "Oh, I'm all ears."

   "You. Back there… no, you. When I was always talking to the girl, the one at the coffee shop? Yeah. I went there one day, actually for my regular thing. I was supposed to sit down with her on her lunch break. We have coffee. We talk. Our thing. I come in one day, for our little coffee date… you're in my seat, in my booth. Did I say a single word to you."

   He looked around.

   "I'm being polite. It would be polite to answer me. We're so far, having a polite conversation. Is anything about what I just described, not accurate. I went for my regular coffee date, with my regular coffee girl I was working on. And… there you are. Did I say one single word."

   "Uh… no, actually…"

   "Did I complain?"

   "Well, no."

   "Shit happens. Life goes on. When I brought it up, at our beer BBQ night… what was the ruling on that?"

   "Well…"

   "Right. The coffee girl I took you guys to see, cause you wanted to see what I was trying to work? One of you now knew my schedule, got there early for lunch break. Sat in my seat, and that's how that went. I asked if that was a dick move, and everyone told me no, that wasn't. The girl? Would rather have coffee lunch with you, instead of me. I remember tapping my beer on yours, shit was fine. Guy rule."

   He didn't say anything.

   "And you. Right behind him. I dragged one of the computer girls into the gym with me. Started working out with her. We always came in together. We always left together. Then, one day… you? Were there early. You guys were laughing and working out. Remember that?"

   He didn't say anything.

   "Did I say a word."

   Nothing. He's looking around, shifting his feet around.

   "No, I did not. I already knew the rule, but I brought it up at the next BBQ. Once again, there was a guy rule. Same guy rule. Have fun."

   A different one said something.

   "He's two for two."

   "I thought maybe? Those were both dick moves. But, turned out, they were fine. Hey. I do play by the rules. There might have been one or two others in the last two years? But, they were way less than these two. Which brings us right around to now."

   "I gotta hear this one…"

   "I got a new girlfriend. She kinda moved me in. Girls wanted me to bring some guys up, for a BBQ. I brought a bunch of you up. Several times. Two of you ended up dating those girls. One of those girls, was Lightning. Following me so far?"

   "Yeah."

   "Now. Did you, or did you not… complain at the gym, pretty much daily. How your girlfriend dresses. What you heard. How this isn't going to work. Now… what did I tell you, every single time. You tell me."

   "Well…"

   "Every time, I told you what I was hearing from my girlfriend. That she's hearing from Light. Her best friend, her room mate. How much she likes you. How she isn't seeing anyone else. How she wishes you weren't mad at her, for… dating a couple guys last year. Did I, or did I not… do my best, to keep you two together. Because the girl liked you, and asked me to help. True or false."

   "Kinda true…"

   "Kinda true? Or just… true."

   "Okay. Yeah."

   "Did I once, go and report back, what you called her. Every time you complained about her. What word you used? Not once. I kept that shit to myself. You guys? Will sneak into my seat, the minute my ass leaves the chair to go take a piss. Me? I'm trying to keep your thing going. For my best buddy, and, for my girlfriend's bestie roomie. I'm a goddamn saint, is what I am. Ask anyone that knows me. I'm simply too nice. My biggest flaw."

   "Yeah. I can see how nice you are…"

   "I introduced you to her. Me and my girlfriend, gave you our blessing to date. I never once tried to sit in your seat at the coffee house, I never once tried to slip onto the weight bench when you got up to take a piss. I didn't tell her what you said about her every day, and I tried to keep you two together as best I could. Because? She liked you. But… brings us to today."

   "Yeah."

   "When I woke up this morning? As of I had gone to bed, you two were still dating. Light walked home. You got tired of complaining about her, you called her a whore. Again. And broke up with her. She walked home, you didn't even have the decency to give her a last ride up the hill. Whatever though. Now then. Your girl? You talked shit on her the whole time, you were mad she wasn't a virgin I guess, you called her a whore. And dumped her. That's the shit I woke up to this morning."

   He got no answer. Nothing but crickets.

   "We come to the party. My girlfriend, so far, has no problem sharing me with her best friend and room mate. You got videos? Maybe you didn't get all of them, I can probably find you some more. She likes me. She's been hanging all over me, ask anyone here. We're playing in the hot tub, that's me, my girl, and her too now. Gotta tell you? Its been fun. Best fucking birthday, I ever had. I've been kissing her, I've been getting dancing lessons. I had fun playing ping pong. My girlfriend scratched the hell out of my back and my legs, and Lightning? Well, she's responsible for all the bite marks all over my shoulders."

   Nothing.

   "But there's no way I violated any guy rules, not a one. I'm allowed to show up early at the coffee house. I'm allowed to show up early at the gym. And I don't. But there's no way, this is your girl. This all happened after I woke up today. Figured I'd tell you about it, as best I could? At the gym. Monday. But name me one thing I did wrong. I'm waiting."

   Lightning wasn't shrinking away. She was dried off and dressed, and out of the line of sight, out of the line of fire. She was working and inching her way up and off from the side of the pack. She might even be working her way close, to do the ostrich technique again. Same situation as earlier, someone came and threatened her Wizzy in the hot tub. She might be getting ready to give the same response. Wouldn't be out of line. Same stimuli? Same response. He called her a whore, dumped her, and told her to walk home. He was done with her. Called her a skank and everything else, trying to make her cry. More I thought about it? The more she probably was. Fuck. This situation is surprisingly static, and possibly defusing itself. Don't do it, Light. We're all standing in a powder keg, a lit match got a squirt of piss dribbled on it. Don't light another match, we probably won't get lucky twice in a row.

   "So. We're all good then. Great…"

   He got up, and pretty much did what Lightning had done. Did a speed dry, and got dressed quick. He ambled over to his army buddies, instead of trying to ooze away.

   "Anything I said… not accurate? Any of it."

   "I guess not… but…"

   "But what."

   "You've… I don't know. You're just a different person, the last month or two. What. You have all new friends up here, I guess."

   "Guys? Since we're all best buddies. Since none of us violated any guy rules. I can only assume you guys came up? Because you saw a fun party on the videos. To congratulate me? On my sudden lucky streak. Been having a two year run of shitty luck with housing, with girls, with everything. I never complained. I'm enjoying the winning streak, while its going. I was happy for you, when you got your new truck. Be happy back. I need a drink. Its a party…"

   He smoothly got his arm around Lightning, and steered her away from her ostrich maneuver she might be about to pull off twice, going for two in a row. Wouldn't be the first time that she ever scored two goals in a row, with the same maneuver. He tipped a splash of schnapps down into his mixer filled cup, and sipped the little mixing straw. He walked Lightning back over to the group.

   He kissed her neck, right in front of them.

   "To you? She was a whore. To me? Well, I think she's pretty amazing…"

   He kissed her more for a little bit, right in front of everyone. The situation was entirely defused. There seemed to be no more matches to try to light. Someone squirted a little warm water down in our little powder keg we were all nestled into. It was getting comfy again. So far.

   I walked over, dressed as I was, and put my arm around him on the other side. To show my approval.

   "Oh. Hi, honey. Where you been, huh…"

   He kissed my neck.

   "Now. Drink table's over there. In there? Ping pong, internet music and big speakers. Karaoke if you do that, but mercifully no one started that shit yet. Hot tub? Towels on the bench. If you didn't bring a suit? Well… doesn't really matter. Now then. While you boys obviously think I have all new friends, and I forgot who my friends are? I've been up here, trying to help you guys out. Honey? How's Lida and the whole… Barracks and Girl's soccer mixer going? Hmm? Boys are right here. Lida's here somewhere, its her townhouse."

   "You know? That's a great idea. I'll go get her."

   "Come on, Light… help me find Lida… she's around here somewhere…"

   As we were slowly making our way out of the line of fire, that was no longer about to go hot, I saw and heard the rest. He smiled and glanced around, to make sure they were out of earshot. With no entertainment developing? The herd mixed back up, music went back on, laughter and bragging resumed. He leaned in to speak quietly, so as not to make it a public shot.

   "No more calling my new girlfriend a whore. I mean, that goes without saying. Now. Let me just guess, I have a crystal ball because I live with them all. Uh, you. Your girl probably dumped you, pretty much right after Lightning got called a whore, and had to walk home, and texted her about it. How am I doing here…"

   "That's about it."

   "Yeah. I'm a guy. Gossip and updates can wait for the gym for me usually. I didn't know I had to be texting every ten minutes like a bitch, so everyone can keep up. You boys, broke the ice by dating the starting right and left wing on the girls soccer team. Now? Seems like the rest of the team wants a crack at some fresh meat. They're bored trading the same football players back and forth."

   "Really?"

   "You see this party. You already saw how much fun these things can be, right? Video proof and all. This? Is a mixer. This one, was football and girls soccer mixer. The girls soccer team? Wants a mixer with… bum bum bum… the Army house, which is what they call the Barracks. Since you're all single now… what do you think will happen, huh? Why, the girls that were jealous of Little Lightning and Right, finding fresh meat? Well… do the math. You boys want a tip?"

   "Uh. Sure."

   "Here's the basic plot line. The girls? Are all competitive. Once a girl scores a guy, all the other girls try to move in. Called sport-fucking. You fuck your team mate's guy, then tell her about it. For fun. You bitch. Then? They do it back. Now, for the guys that get in on this? Well… imagine the possibilities. Here's another tip. I've been watching this fucking soap opera, for going on two month's now, from the inside. Never ceases to amaze me. Here's how this works. The girls? Are competing. For fresh meat. Which? Is all of y-o-u boys."

   "Competing?"

   "Hey. The little Army fighting house? Is like a brand new sports team to them. I'm sure you can imagine if we all played some sport. We'd all be keeping score, who had more girls. They're the same, they're worse. Now, in addition to the sport-fucking? Only rule is, when you get dumped? Don't make a fuss. Hey, whatever. Now, you're on the menu. The other girls circle in like vultures. Sometimes? The other girls already know you're dumped, before you do. Its called throwing your bestie a dick. Aw, you poor thing. She was so mean to you. Come over and tell me all about it."

   "You're not serious."

   "The girls? Are going to trade you poor bastards, like baseball cards. Keep your mouth shut, get sport-fucked, and don't make a scene when you get dumped. The next one is coming right along, or the others are circling like vultures. Your mission? Should you choose to accept it… is you all get to slowly fuck your way through the entire roster of the girls soccer team. Lots of nice legs I see, by the way. If you're a leg man. No one else will tell you these rules. I just did. Keep it under your hat. Mouth? Shut. Zippers? Open. And, this little scene tonight? You wanna avoid that. I'm not asking you guys to get married, I thought my buddies would enjoy next semester, hell, whole next year."

   "Anything else?"

   "Uh, let's see. Oh. The girls basketball and volleyball teams? Have a kinda, unofficial… back and forth sport-fucking thingy going on. You guys can slowly branch out, each pick your own team? And… fuck your way through the rosters. This, should carry you through to graduation, if my spastic geek calculations are correct."

   "And… why are we suddenly in such demand again?"

   "There's only so many sports teams, boys. A house full of Army guys, fighting guys? Kinda like an unofficial new boys sports team has been discovered. And the girls are going to claw each others eyes out, to see who gets to fuck which one next. So… now then. Who's your buddy, who's your pal. Who didn't keep it all to himself, and shared the inside track with you. Hmm? Oh, that's right. Me. If you don't believe me? Lida, who's house this is by the way… official unofficial party, scheduler, caterer… whatever. Every girls team has one, the girls soccer team, has Lida. She likes to play, what is it. Queen bee, arranging the social activities. Guess it keeps her being some kinda alpha female bullshit."

   "And… we now hang out with all the jocks?"

   "I wondered about that, before I got up here. You guys, fighting practice out in the yard a couple times? You're kinda like athletes to them. The girls? Like it. The boys? You're like one of them. Couple assholes, go figure. If you have any serious problems with the football players? I have a man on the inside, he owes me, he loves me. All smoothed over. Remember. The coaches send athletes who have trouble with math and computer classes? To me. These aren't my friends. They? Are o-u-r friends. I assume, I'm just about to hear a round of… thank you, Wiz. You're so wonderful, Wiz. Which brings me to my last thing I need…"

   "Which is?"

   "You know my style. I like to, kind of, ease… into a polite explanation. I don't really go in for, the whole… what we just had in public thing. Guys, we looked like a bunch of bitches. Christ. We're men. We talk about shit at the gym, not scratching each other's eyes out at parties. Come on. Now, be that as it may. Someone here, put you guys up to this. Only someone here, had access to see everything you mentioned. Had to be someone, that was mad, or… had an ax to grind."

   His Army buddy, Lightning's ex… wasn't offering a name up.

   "Dude. Its a bitch. Trying to start shit. Trying to ruin a party. Now, let me see. I have no issues with anyone here. That's guys and girls. In fact, I can only think of one little cunt… that has it in for Lightning… who I'm guessing created this lovely bitch fight we just had."

   "Wasn't a girl. I can't blow a guy doing me a solid in."

   "All I needed to know. You guys? All knew Bubbly. Bubbly? Had a wrestling buddy. Who didn't get hurt and leave. Short ripped guy. Real quiet, real polite. Nice kid. Pimples, or he'd get way better fuck-meat than he's getting. How am I doing."

   "Uh…"

   "Yeah, right. That? Wasn't him. That? Was this short, fat, hairy troll of a cunt he's been reduced to fucking. He's a great guy, and opposites attract. She's only around here, because she's fucking a wrestler. The sports girls? All hate her guts. You guys like this drama that didn't need to be? This, is cunt shit, not guy shit."

   "What are you gonna do?"

   "That's not his phone. Not really. That's his girlfriend's new phone, must just be in his name."

   "What do you think we should…"

   I was hanging around. Eavesdropping. Its my boyfriend after all. I smoothly walked in, and got my arm around him. Light was off, and just now returning with Lida, the self appointed party arranger. Her townhouse, too. I smiled.

   "Couldn't help overhearing, boys. Why don't you boys all have a drink, play in the hot tub… music, ping pong… whatever… let the girls handle the girl stuff, hmm? All except for… you. Please stay. Lida! Hey…"

   The guys filtered out around the party. Lida went over the Barracks Girls Soccer mixer plan. Then, I clued her in, on how this all went on. Who was at fault, most likely. She agreed. Lightning wasn't happy. The hairy little troll failed at her usual shit, so she resorted to making text, pictures and videos… get her ex, his crew, and her new "boyfriend"? All at each other's throats. Publicly. Which would have resulted in about all of us getting an X through our names at future mixers. Now, Lida is pissed.

   Me. Lida. Lightning. And two other girls, that she's been running afoul of lately… all quietly and inauspiciously drifted and got around her and her boyfriend and their little group. We had her surrounded. Lida yelled over to Lightning's ex Army boyfriend.

   "Hit it!"

   Everyone looked around for the few seconds it took for the call to go through. Simple. His job was to simply call or text the phone that had sent him the texts. In the wrestler's name. Thought you should know, bro. You're a cool dude, bro. Texts, pictures, videos. Trying to get trouble brewing.

   Guess who's phone beeped. It wasn't the wrestler.

   Lida explained to the wrestler, how he had been duped. She had used his name on the phone he had bought her, and signed his name to it all. To letting Army boy know "what was going on behind his back". Which it actually wasn't. Any repercussions for starting the brawl? If it even happened, would fall on his shoulders. Not hers. Nice plan, but… Sigma Lightning just struck. She was now facing down something infinitely more scary to her, personally as a girl. A Little Lightning strike.

   "You? Everyone loves you. You're automatically invited to anything. You don't even need to ask. But…"

   We were all looming over, and all around her. Lightning was grinning. Lida was smiling, and it wasn't a nice smile.

   "This… thing? Will never set foot in another mixer. Ever. Its not bad enough she tried to instigate a brawl. Secret pictures and videos and texting. No. She? Used your 900 dollar phone she brags about to anyone unfortunate enough to see her… to make it your problem. You can't be this hard up to get laid, you have to put up with shit like this…"

   That was it. He was now pissed. Highly pissed. Lida was about to escort her out and give her the don't ever come around here again speech, when Lightning grabbed a fist full of her hair and started dragging her along behind her, the group of big girls around her. Bitch is lucky she now only faced getting dumped or her leash yanked by the wrestler boyfriend, who had about had his patience stretched to an end. She could just as easily have lost teeth.

   Everything went fairly smoothly after that. The fat hairy troll's special 900 dollar phone? Was found by someone who returned it to Lida. I happened to be standing there, when she got it.

   "This fucking phone. I'm so sick of this phone, and then tonight's shit show…"

   "Lida?"

   "Yeah, Hurry."

   "He bought a second phone. He bought her a 900 dollar phone, and added the number to his plan. While he has a 200 dollar phone for his own. He'll be calling and asking about it, not so much her."

   "Yeah. So?"

   "We know what phone it is, based on where they found it."

   "Okay."

   "When he calls you, to see if it turned up? Suggestion."

   "All right."

   "Don't return it right away. If he hasn't dumped her? Losing the 900 dollar phone, on top of all the shit she caused with it… well… better chance he dumps her ass. Problem solved. Then, you can return it to him after she's gone. You can always return it even if its not… as useful as I'm thinking it might be."

   "Hurry? Good idea. Won't it get found though? Computer, dot on a map."

   "You turn the power off? Yeah. But, if you take the battery out… no."

   "You little stinker. I like that one. I think, whoever found it? Found it with the battery popped off. Huh. Imagine that."

   All's well that ends well. We stayed longer than we thought we would, Wiz thought it was appropriate that he had to hang around with his Army buddies, and I heartily agreed. He smoothed the "entertainment" over to the other party goers. How it happened, how it wasn't actually like it had seemed. With jokes he used to turn it into a big, funny story that got funnier as he went around telling it. Placing all blame. Start, middle, end? Squarely on the doorstep of the 900 dollar phone whore.