PART FOUR - Planning

   In the morning, I could have sworn I set the alarm but that didn't wake me. Oddly, it was Right at my bed. Christ almighty, the whole damn townhouse is in my bedroom. All but one are in my bed and the other one is touching it. I could get more sleep at Grand Central Station, even though I've never been there. Even though everyone says the phrase Grand Central Station as a well understood joke, Wiz when I asked him if he had ever been there? Said he had been through it, and to trust him, I wasn't missing shit. Apparently he had buzzed around some meeting a few guys that had gotten out before he had. I asked how New York was, and it was typical Wiz. He said if you had a couple million dollars, it was probably the place to be. Other than that, cross it off the list of wish places.

   Right was saying, I thought, "to please". Tugging my arm insistently though gently. Covering her mouth. Well, head count was easy enough. Everyone was still alive. My bedroom is like homeroom. I followed her out, and she said in low tones at the foot of the steps to the kitchen. What I thought had been "to please", in my waking ears? Turned out to be in all actuality… "two police".

   Right had cracked the door, she whispered to me, and told them she'd get the "homeowner". Which is silly in a rental, and doubly so in one owned by the university and not charging the "tenants" rent. If we didn't play soccer? We'd be freeloaders. The hell could the police want, anyways. Oh well, den mother to if not the rescue, then what? Up to the challenge, I suppose.

   I opened the door, and apologized they had been left outside like that. They looked at each other, then verified the address. I mean, I assume these guys can read numbers and letters. Its plastered on the signs around the plan, the sides of the buildings, and both on my door and near it. No one wants to miss pizza delivery here, I suppose. That seems to have been built into the planning and zoning stage of this development when it was dreamed up. I guess rich people, which is who was intended to live here? Like hot pizza.

   After the address verification, I rubbed the side of my sleepyhead hair and asked if they had paperwork on anyone specific, smiling to let them know I was at least half joking. Honestly its not completely impossible for lazy whore number three to have gotten up to lord knows what with lord knows who and they managed to get picked up at that point with lord knows what on them or in the boy's car. Shit. I just woke up, still clearing sleep from my head and my thoughts. I'm thinking of number three as if she's still alive. How long will her being gone take, to become automatic. So, my big comical smile to let them know I was joking, was paired up with crossed fingers I held up. Again as part of the joke. Not like they need to know that the crossed fingers were the half of the joke that wasn’t.

   They looked at each other with that sort of patented cop forced stern politeness they share with the service guys. Wiz does a good imitation of it, to amuse the girls sometimes. Usually right after they request the drill instructor "scary voice". There's a light drizzle outside, so I widened the door and told them they might as well come in. They weren't pulling guns, so that’s always a good sign.

   I could see now, they weren't campus police. They weren't town police. These were state police. Whatever it was, it had to be at least moderately serious. I did a quick check in my head. Wiz had a handgun, but he said it was legal and he had license and paperwork and all that jazz. Some pot? Sure. But, jokes on them. It was in a room that… hello, reason for visit.

   "Guys… let me take a wild stab in the dark here. You're not here to arrest anyone, are you?"

   They had their hats with the plastic shower cap looking covers under their arms. They glanced at each other and gave an ever so slight shake of their heads. They weren't. They began to start, stop, then start again… trying to say something.

   "Boys? You're going to make some sort of… announcement, yes?"

   They nodded slightly, as much to each other as to me and Right. When we made coffee for our nightcap the night prior, we had most of the pot still on the stove.

   "Hold on. I'll get everyone, we can do this all at once. Right? I'm going to get them coffee, its already here, I just have to heat it up. Would you please go get Wizzy and Lightning? Ask them to come down. It just makes it official, is all."

   By the time I ascertained that they would take coffee, either because they actually wanted it or it put their task off another minute? Wiz and Light were following Right back down. We all assembled and either sat at the table or stood near it, watching the two strapping state policemen add milk and sugar to their microwaved coffee mugs. They thanked us all several times and sipped, waiting.

   "It often times falls to the state police to bring news of friends, family and other loved ones. If I may, which of you would happen to be…"

   And? We all looked at each other. First off, none of us are used to hearing either our own or each other's real names. Outside of a classroom, anyways. I have "too Italian" of a full name and Lightning has a first name that's both difficult to pronounce and read off, if not impossible for anyone not from her father's home country to spell it or even get close. We all get by on our nicknames. The announcers at the sporting events? Don't even bother with Lightning's name anymore. She's just Little Lightning now, from announcements to official sports business.

   They must be confused. They're asking for Miss Moody. Everyone looked at me.

   "Um. Are you sure you're looking to tell her your… news? You might have the names mixed up. I mean, she's not here."

   They looked at each other, then the one glanced at his sheet he had on a clipboard. No, he had the name right.

   "If, you have an address we can locate her at, or a phone number so we can give her the news in person? This can't be done over the phone."

   How awkward.

   "Officers? I think there's been some sort of a mix up. I'm pretty sure, you're… there was a mix up in paperwork, or something."

   "If you could get a phone number for her… this is important."

   "There… there's no phone there, be---"

   "If you could get an address… a location… t---"

   "Officer? I'm pretty sure, you're here to inform us, about that woman's name? Not… the way your clipboard might have it. In fact, I'm really sure."

   "How could that even be, ma'am?"

   What's more awkward… than awkward itself? Is there even a word for that? Uberawkward, I guess, but that's technically a portmanteau, I think its called.

   "You, are here to inform us, about… a recent death."

   "Well, not everyone. Just the---"

   "Officer? You're here, to inform us about the suicide. Yes?"

   "So, this news already reached the woman I'm looking f---"

   "Oh, my god. Please, get the obituary right? You're going to give some relative a heart attack. Look. You're paperwork came in wrong, someone copied the information down wrong… some computer has it on the wrong line…"

   "Ma'am? They're usually pretty accurate about this sort of thing."

   "Officer? Okay, but… I can guarantee you this time? There's been some kind of a foul up."

   "What foul up? If you already know about the suicide, then what is the---"

   "Wiz? Please, honey. This is going like an Abbott and Costello routine, who's on first for St. Louis. I'm sorry, officers… Honey? you were Military Police, you speak cop ese… would you handle this, politely, please? Keeping in mind that Lightning is in the room? Thanks…"

   "Um. Officers? Sorry about this, really. In this particular case, I'm sorry to be bearing the news, to you gentlemen, that… how do I put this? Ah. You two guys, were sent to the… well? To the dead woman's house, and are trying to locate, the dead woman. To tell her, she's dead? Not trying to be rude, but… this is awkward. I understand, errors happen. Not your fault. You just get a sheet, at morning roll call. I'm sure no one here is mad. If… you'd like breakfast? To go with your coffee. Say something. Hell, I'll give you each a shot of brandy if you want."

   They looked at each other, they really were confused.

   "Sir? Who informed you who committed suicide? Because, we're pretty sure… you have the wrong… misinformation. Begging pardons and all."

   "Guys? Look. Please! Lightning, honey? Would you please sit down, or… I don't wanna… disrupt you, if you know what I mean, while I try to explain this…"

   Lightning sat down and sighed. 19 year old body language. She had wide knees and confidently thigh rested forearms.

   "Wiz? I'm… okay at the moment. Go for it, get it over with already."

   "Officers? I got the information, and I'm real sure its… correct. I got the news… let's say… extremely first hand."

   "May I ask who from? Did someone phone you a prank? What…"

   "Oh. It wasn't a prank, I can guarantee you that one. Officer? The dead woman herself told me. You two? Are, ironic as this all really is… actually speaking to three people that… found the dead woman. We reported, you know, finding her… earthly remains. Hmm?"

   They shook their heads, they were still not getting it.

   "Sir? Is this some kind of… gallows humor?"

   Wiz palmed his face.

   "Honestly? You could not have put your finger on a more inappropriate way of showing how confused your paperwork really is, sir."

   The one cop wasn't perturbed, but he wanted an explanation. He did look as if he could become perturbed, if Wiz insisted on keeping his "prank" up. Which wasn't a prank, but he didn't know that. Christ, this would be ironic and possibly funny in some way, if not so tragic.

   "Officer. Excuse my directness, but do you want me to be… blunt?"

   "Please do. By all means."

   "Okay… but don't shoot the messenger. Me… her… and her? Found the woman. The dead woman? We f-o-u-n-d her. We, are the three people, that called the police, and… reported finding a…"

   Lightning spoke up.

   "Wiz? Just say the word already. I'm… okay this morning. This is… getting old. Do it and get it over with."

   "Officer. You are here, right now, asking for the dead woman. Who, we located her… corpse? There, I said it. So like I said. I can guarantee you, you got this wrong. And, by gallows humor? Wow. It was a suicide. We found the suicide victim, um… feet, off, the, ground. Okay? And… the blonde girl here, had a kind of… early PTSD going from seeing it. So, pretty please with birdseed on it, can we stop this… comedy of errors? Please."

   They looked at each other… yet again. Then to the clipboard. Honest to god, I'm getting half ready to shove that clipboard up someone's ass, except they do have guns, so… but I'm getting to the point I might like to. Let's say I'm forming… intent.

   "Sir? Could you give me, some way to obtain confirmation, of what you're telling me? Because…"

   "Hurry? Would you do me a huge favor, and… run and get that… nice detective's business card? I mean, maybe they'll take his word for it. Officers? Before this goes any further. No, stop! I'm just so sure, you guys have heard about PTSD, right?"

   They both said yes.

   "The blonde girl here. Quit talking about this subject. Because… she's seeing… pictures? Of the… woman you came here looking for. Nightmares, the images are flashing, and they aren't pretty ones. So… no more graphic talk about… what was seen attached to the rafters, by an extension cord, okay? For the love of god, just call the nice detective."

   Light spoke up.

   "Yeah, have them call pot cop."

   The one officer asked what "pot cop" meant.

   Light shrugged.

   "Detective's standing on the street corner? Handing out free dime bags of weed, for Christ's sake. Pot cop."

   "What?!?!"

   "Yeah. New one on me, too… about how surprised I was, to tell you the truth…"

   Wiz tried to explain, after a healthy face palming…

   "Officers? What the, uhm… PTSD victim is trying to say, is… the detective? Was in plain clothes, and… he was working a sort of vice slash armed robbery kind of case? If that explains why we nicknamed him… pot cop behind his back. Just saying…"

   They looked at each other and smiled. It did explain a lot.

   Now armed with the "pot cop" business card, one started to call.

   "Gentlemen? Blonde girl? Flashing images? Next room, and… keep your voices down? Thanks."

   The one cop pulled out a copy of Moody's drivers license.

   "Sir? Is this who you're calling the dead woman? That you supposedly found?"

   Lightning looked too.

   "Yep! That's good Moody."

   I explained, that's her nickname we all called her.

   "And, you're certain, that…"

   Lightning waved her hands at them to get their attention.

   "Guys? Let me put this in terms, that you two will understand, okay?"

   They glanced at each other, shrugged, then… looked back at her to go on.

   "That girl, on that paper there? That's my starting center. Well, was my starting center. We're real sure she's dead? Because she was missing for several days. We went searching for her. Ended up in the city. That's where pot cop met us. He helped give us ideas on where to search, for my missing center. Now, we found her. But? She's playing Christmas wreath when we found her, all right? Call pot cop and confirm it, but… that's where things are at."

   The one cop looked at the other.

   "Christmas wreath?"

   Light waved her hands as she exclaimed, standing up to deliver it with what I would charitably describe as "full brevity", as it were.

   "Swinging from a rafter? And… very green! Okay? Now you got the picture, that I keep seeing? Every time I wake up in the middle of the night, with a bad dream. And… if you lose sleep now that I told you that? My gift. Kay? Thanks for playing."

   Well? Lightning is… for lack of a more clinical term. All better, at least for the moment. She's on a roll now. She marched over to the fridge, and got out a container of chili.

   "I see from your plastic hats, that it's raining. Yes? Well… no workout this morning. I'm having chili for breakfast. I'd say I can't take any more of this comedy show? But honestly, I can't wait to see where this goes next. Seriously, I'm not missing this for the world."

   She said this, pretty sure, because the two state cops were having a little pow wow, pointing at the clipboard. The one came up, just as she was hitting the microwave button.

   "And… there they go… this ought to be a good one coming outta them. Wizzy? How much would I have to pay you, to maybe go get Teddy Ball for me."

   He trotted upstairs and was back with Teddy Ball. He handed him to her, and she kissed him, said good morning and put him under her arm.

   The one cop went for Wiz again.

   "Sir? If I may."

   "Aw, hell why not, at this point…"

   "Just… you're telling me this woman is…"

   Light piped up, getting heated up chili out the microwave.

   "A Christmas wreath… yep…"

   "Yes. And… you think we're here, to inform… someone…"

   Light cut in again.

   "Yeah. Not her, that's for damn sure. Probably someone else…"

   "And you think, we're here to inform you, she's dead?"

   Wiz put a weak smile with his shrug gesture.

   "Officer? Person dies… here comes two state cops. Hats in hands, instead of tasers and handcuffs… I'd figure they were here to inform us our friend died. Yep."

   Light got the chili and sat down.

   "She's dead, didn't have to check. Actually, Teddy Ball found her? We just let Wizzy take the rap, but that's off the record, guys. Just trying to help your little investigation out. You guys want some chili… no? Say something, you do…"

   "So… okay. This is… weird."

   Light piped up with chili being chewed.

   "Weird was a couple days ago, guys. Today? Not as weird. But getting there…"

   "Sir. Normally, we're supposed to deliver the bad news, directly to the next of kin, but, seeing as she's…"

   Light offered a euphemism to help out the pause in conversation.

   "Real good at playing dead…"

   "Yeah. This. Oh, god. See, sir? You kept saying I was here, to tell you that the dead woman's death had occurred? That's not the case. I'm… well, we're here to inform the… dead woman, if she wasn't dead…"

   Light helped out again.

   "Oh, she is…"

   "Yes. But if she was alive? I'm… supposed to inform her that her mother. Passed."

   I about shit myself. But, that did explain a lot. I raised my hand, like a kid in a classroom. The cop actually looked at me and said "yes?"

   "Let me guess. Suicide."

   "Uh… its not official, and there's a required investigation…"

   Lightning chimed in again.

   "He's trying to say? Yes, it was suicide. Whole damn family is going to off themselves, I guess. Fuck… at least tell us how she did it? We'll compare cases. My starting center? Gets style points, for playing hide and seek doing it. Did this one at least leave herself somewhere convenient?"

   "Um… ma'am…"

   With a full mouth of chili now…

   "Aw, stop with the ma'am shit, would you? Just get my name right. Call me Light, would you?"

   The cop kept looking at her.

   "Okay. Ms… Light… what?"

   "Oh. No Ms. That girl there? She pulls that shit. Me? I'm learning how to cook. So, I don't say Ms. It's just Light. Short for Lightning. I'd tell you my first name? You won't be able to spell it. I'd write it down for you? You'd never be able to pronounce it. So… its just Light or Lightning. Joke is? I had to learn to write my own name correctly, to get out of grade school. Its that bad…"

   Some of us were palming our faces. Some of us were trying to quietly apologize to the nice, large state policemen with the guns on their hips. Light? Was eating chili for breakfast.

   "Wizzy?"

   "Yes, dear."

   "How much do you love me?"

   "Oh. Without measure, little one. What do you need."

   "I'm trying to eat chili? For breakfast. And… do you wanna guess, what's right there, in the corner? Pretty much right in front of you. And you were right, I can see right through it, and still see it. Its fucking weird. But, chili… bloated corpse… the two? Aren't going real well together. If you loved me half as much as I loved you? Is there any way, you being the expert on this and all… that since its raining, and workout's canceled… I could get some brandy to go with my chili?"

   "Oh. Not, like… half the bottle or anything, I don't recommend that dosage level, but…"

   "You know, its sort of a dark orange color… can we put it in my juice glass, and call it my orange juice? Come on…"

   He looked at me. I shrugged. I opened a cupboard, and took the half gallon of cheap apricot brandy out. I put it on the table next to her coffee, and put a clean juice glass next to it. Lightning took a swig out the bottle, filled the admittedly small juice glass up to practically the rim, then added a dollop to her coffee.

   She raised her coffee cup to the state police.

   "Officer Laurel? Officer Hardy… to bloated corpses. Cheers…"

   She took a quite healthy bite out of the juice glass, and chased it with the now apricot brandy flavored coffee. Then, went back to her chili. She waved at the corner, but we now all pretty much knew she wasn't waving at Wizzy, though if you didn't already know it would pass for that.

   Then, the one cop that had asked her about her name, and got "Lightning" out of her… was staring at her, while everyone else gabbed. Frivolous, friendly nervous chatter about the whole misunderstanding and everything. But, he was drilling a hole in Little Lightning with his eyes. I didn't notice, until I caught Wiz's own stare. I followed it. His stare led right to the cop's stare, which was at Light.

   "Hey. Chief? Eyes over here…"

   He had his Military Police T shirt on, but I wasn't entirely in love with the eyes he was giving the state cop. Of course, I wasn't exactly in love with the eye raping he was giving Light right now either. Fair all around I suppose. Oh. Here we go. He got his attention with either his tone or calling him "chief", or both really.

   "Yeah. Its not chief, actually. Its…"

   "I don't care. If you wanna stare at someone? You can stare at me. Leave her alone."

   "And what's your problem. Huh?"

   "Right now? You. You guys came here. I tried more than once, to explain? P, T, S, D… blonde girl. Nobody listened to me, we had to have a goddamn morgue conversation. The girl? Saw something she shouldn't have seen. Now? You guys got her seeing it. Fucking thanks. All of which is shits and giggles, I get that. But… don't start staring at her, for being under 21 and wanting some brandy. Because she's trying to ignore… what's in the corner, that she can see. Thanks to you guys. So? If you wanna stare a hole in someone? You can stare… at me."

   The cop just looked at him. Not mad, not entirely happy, but… not pissed. He asked where he bought the T shirt at.

   "They hand them out free, at Lackland Air Force Base? If you go up to a base housing door at 3:30 in the morning, and your battle buddy gets his face blown apart and some of it lands in your eye. Which… is why I'm more or less in charge of her… seeing her… you know what we found. Are we riding the same wave now? Cause… I'd appreciate it if you quit staring at her. Cause if you're not going to come help bail the boat out at 4 in the morning tonight? Please… quit rocking the boat. Eyes? Here. Not? There. Like to thank you in advance for your cooperation."

   "Oh, gee. Sir?"

   "Wiz. Everyone called me Wizard. So… Wiz."

   Light cheerfully helped him out.

   "Its Wizzy. Fuck the Wiz shit…"

   "Um. Mister Wizard? I'm not… you have my apologies. This all… I'm sorry for… the conversation, that's ruining Miss Lightning's breakfast. I'm serious. And, for the record? I don't care if she drinks the rest of that bottle, and she's 12, if she's seeing… Christmas wreaths, and we're talking about… Christmas. And, I'm not staring at her… in any way that… I have a daughter about her age, so… sorry."

   "All right. I just really wondered where this morning bus ride was going to stop next. Didn't mean to snap at you, then."

   "Mr. Wizard, is it all right if I ask the… Miss Lightning here, a question? I promise, its more appropriate… table conversation, I assure you."

   "Sure. Be a welcome change from the proceedings up till now. Be my guest. Light? The nice officer would like to ask you something, dear."

   "Yeah?"

   "Your last name wouldn't be… Storm, would it?"

   "No. But… that's close. And, can I ask how we know each other?"

   "We don't. But… you're not… Lightning Storm, then?"

   She went back to her chili and having a drink now and then. She more or less addressed her chili bowl.

   "You know? My first name, I can understand. Its as fucked up as I am. I admit it, Szarabjorna… is a mouth full. Can't pronounce it, can't spell it, I can see where people screw it up. But, my last name? Is actually… Sturmer. Which, everyone sees and then spells it as… Stormer. Now. Szarabjorna Sturmer? I was called… SS. Blonde girl, blue eyes… you get the joke. Now. I was supposed to be fast, someone gave me the name Lightning, and it stuck. Also? SS… lightning bolts? Nazi joke. So… Sturmer, became Stormer anyways… which after the Lightning, became… yeah. Lightning Storm. I guess, I went on kind of a… goal scoring spree, they called it the… wait for it… Lightning Storm hit the Midwest."

   "So… it is you?"

   "I just wanna know how in the hell you know my name. I haven't been arrested in this state… yet. But give me a couple hours. The day is yet young, you know? But seriously. What gives. I don't drive, can't be old parking tickets or speeding tickets. I don't remember any fines, at least none I didn't make sure I already paid them. So… what's the big deal. My mom dead too, or what…"

   She went back to her chili, now talking quietly, after having talked to the chili bowl.

   "Miss Storm? I'm… sure your mother is alive and well. Nothing like that, I assure you."

   "Fuck. You could at least have brought some good news to the house. Mrs. Sturmer slid into a gas truck and tasted her own blood before roasting alive slowly? I'd dance a jig. Are you gonna tell me how you know me? Or… do I have to kick it out of you…"

   "My daughter? She's 17. She plays soccer. Not like you, I don't think, but… her and half her team? Have your picture up on their wall in their rooms and in their lockers."

   "Oh. I… originally? I was supposed to be a dancer. I could get air… dancing. So, they called me… Sky Stormer. You know, getting in the air. It, was supposed to be that name, and doing that."

   "Oh. You… got hurt dancing, or…"

   She was quiet. Just for a second, and grinned. Quiet, but it was the 19 year old's grin.

   "Oh yeah. Got hurt, while dancing. Really bad, actually."

   "You'd never know it. Seeing you jump and run, and everything… I guess, soccer is actually easier on you, than dancing was?"

   "Uh… actually? Yeah. A… whole lot easier. You, really have no concept of how much easier. I got hurt dancing. I… simply couldn't really dance anymore, and… soccer."

   "Wow, I'm happy for you. You… came back from being hurt, and… you're as good as you are? That's… amazing."

   "I know. It… staggers my imagination, sometimes."

   "So, soccer was, therapy for being hurt, and… here you are."

   "About it."

   "Um. Any chance I could get… autograph, a video of you saying hello to someone, any of that stuff you try to get famous people to do when you meet them?"

   "Your daughter plays soccer?"

   "Yeah."

   "I'll… give you the… normal thing for what a kid wants, I guess… but. If you answer some questions? Leave me an email, yours and hers? I'll make something extra and send it to her. And, a few more for the team, the coach, jazz like that. But questions."

   "I'll try."

   "You a good dad?"

   "I try."

   "All it takes. Uh… write down… team name, team mascot character. Her full name, yours, and coach's name… anything like that. Your daughter, she have good enough grades to go to school somewhere after high school?"

   "Uh… state school, her soccer, her grades… like that."

   "No. Good enough. How much time she have left? A year, two more years…"

   "Two years left."

   "That's enough, if she quits boys and anything else, except practicing. I'll make a little head cam video, shows people are always asking me. How do you this, how do you that… she watches the video? She'll see."

   "Great! My daughter's mad at me, she's grounded for staying out late… this might get me talked to again this week."

   "Oh. I'll address that too. And I ain't yelling at you. I'll make the quick video with you, then, leave me the info, so I can make a few and send them to you and her."

   "I don't know what to say."

   "You don't have to say anything. My boyfriend over there, Wizzy?"

   "Yeah."

   "He was an MP guy… and… I honestly don't know how he… look, your job? Its ridiculous. I don't know how you guys do it, I don't know why you guys do it. I don't know about you. If you're any good, if you… but, I know some of you do? So… even if you don't, another guy on your team is doing it, and I'm happy. I know Wizzy did a few things here and there, changed people's lives? So… I don't hate cops or anything."

   "What's it like to be a star?"

   "I wouldn't know. Girls like me and my wing? We can't get a thing done, without players like Hurry. She plays every position, and she takes a beating so girls like me and my wing can get open. We just lost our starting center, the Christmas wreath. We'll probably have an easier time replacing her, one of the so called front line stars? Than… if we had to find another Hurricane. You'd think I was some kind of… big deal in the coach's office? I'm not. Hurry is. She's more versatile, she knows more about how the whole thing works as a whole? Than me and my wing do. God's truth."

   "Christ. Please tell my daughter that. She beats herself up, she's not a leading scorer, she thinks she can't get a scholarship…"

   "There's not that many… leading goal scorers on our team, and we're in probably the toughest conference. We're competitive, we're in the finals every year. We'll make it and take a final series, one of these years. Its coming. You bring in all goal scorers? You get out muscled and out gritted. Simple as that. There's some real… goon teams out there, not mentioning any team names. Our coach has been working for a couple years now, on a fast shifting skill game, a lot more of a slick European styled game? Its taking over. A few big goal scorers? And more speed shifting versatility players. If your daughter is good at more positions? That means more to a coach like mine, than a star in one position player."

   The state cop was ecstatic to meet her, and hopeful she made good on her promises. Lightning is gonna kill me, but I made a cell video of her speeches to the cop. The coach is going to shit. She sounds like one of those players that has all the answers in some big pro interview. You know the ones, that seem to go on and have an announcer's career after their pro career is over. Hell, our captain? Is one of those girls that stands there, and goes… uh, its a team effort, we all give a hundred and ten percent. You gotta do your part, then find a little more inside you? And give that too. Thanks for having me, enjoy the game.

   If I can get a "secret practice moves" tape out of Light, with some stuff no one ever saw before? It might make a huge recruiting bonanza. I'm thinking, email a one hour video, to every triple A and quad A school out there? Watch recruitment go through the roof. And, me and the coach both think, that every coach is sending us "one Little Lightning" star video? And skipping over three good versatility players, we might be able to make more use of.

   Emails cost zero pennies to send out. The video will cost him nothing. I wonder if I can get Light to swallow Wiz's dick enough times, to hypnotize him into finding some computer club whiz kids, to do video editing and sound and all that. Between me fucking him into utter and complete submission and her delivering blow-star toxin directly into his lips and penis, this could happen.

   I honestly didn't know Light could "interview" like this. I'm like, who the hell are you, and where did you hide my friend's brain.

   The "Lightning cop" ended up after his pow wow with his daughter's college fan crush, to speak with Wiz. I was initially worried, but body language all around told me things were fine. A big alpha male type cop, who didn't see any need to try to be overbearing on an unknown quantity, especially with nothing to gain in any way from a confrontation. They leaned in, and shook hands and even ended up in a little smile fest and some boy goo goo eyes.

   That's just what I call it. The boys like each other and have things in common, and both feel silly they were barking at one another. I don't smell a full scale "bromance" brewing, but these two could have the occasional low-key night out. Both probably when nothing important was happening, and each wanted to kill time but not waste it. In girl terms? Not besties, not worsties… more like once a month let's meet up and catch up without trying too hard.

   I overheard Wiz sort of showing off in his own style. Casually dropping how Lightning's next move, as soon as the "pigs left" was going to be getting her to stop drinking, and get a "hand rolled cigarette" into her, for some balanced out relaxation inducing calm, without the "uh" of getting hammered. The cop laughed and made a crack that he was sure it was with "strictly legitimate tobacco products only". Wiz quipped back that it had to be legit, a cop had given it to them while working. They shared some goo goo eyes and laughed and shook hands to end things.

   Wiz was not showing off he could talk cop ese, but not that he wasn't either. He was also doing his routine. Quietly doing whatever the fuck he thought was best, and screw everyone else and what they thought. He would even straight out tell you what he was up to, strictly above the table or not. He was always a classic sigma, however. Fairly laid back and quiet, until he thought one of his own was running into something and he instantly rose up to challenge everything. Bigger men with bigger personalities, authority figures, nothing would stand in his way if one of "his girls" seemed like they might need help.

   Alpha's seem like the best ticket. But, they're also like lugging around a cannon all day and night, every day and night. While they're impressive to see as a deterrent… they're also impossible to miss. You can just walk around a cannon and avoid its firing zone. Wiz and his style? More of an accurate rifle. Easier to lug around, and more accurate. If you placed your shot where it needed to be? It brought the elephant down as well as the cannon did… and once in a while better. You can hide or disguise a rifle a lot easier than a cannon, too.

   When the whole thing ended, our new "friends" the cops left. Wiz shared that one of the whispers, had been the cop sharing with him that because of his T shirt and "he could tell" it wasn't "just a T shirt"? That off the record, pending investigation… pills and booze had done the mom in. Intentional or unintentional? The deed got done.

   Right wanted to be alone. Hearing that her room mate, team mate, and bar wing was dead hadn't been the highlight of her week, by far. It was odd. When still alive? We all complained more than we appreciated her. Once gone? We quickly realized she wasn't "that" bad. And found ourselves missing her more and more. Even Wiz was prone to be found sitting staring off into space, and it seemed obvious that while he wasn't exactly "lost" without her? He beat himself up for not understanding her more.

   Wiz admitted to me privately this and more. He said the biggest shame, was that if she had the right person around her at the right time, that she trusted and took advice from? She could have lived a much better life, and this likely would never have happened. I felt pained, and said I think that was me. He said no. I was the exact right person to handle it? But, she was incapable of either asking for help or taking it when offered, and even avoided help actively. He said it was fine to feel bad, not fair to blame yourself? So, her death was like her life. Somewhere in the middle ground of everything. You simply argued if she was above or below fifty fifty.

   We quickly saw that while she was no social prize daily, she wasn't the worst alternative out of all the townhouse girls around us. Admittedly, a few "personality quirks" aside. We gave Right a little joint to take with her when she wanted to run out for a bit. We shared a giant one among all three of us, down in the basement. So as Light was peaking and coming down from her not too much brandy? She was picking back up relaxation from the pot. Not specifically recommended for therapeutic time, but not useless and we took a what the hell, let's see approach.

   Lightning admitted a few things. Off the bat? She admitted that being around more people when the poster came? Was a lot better than one or two people. You could see it, and concentrate on other stuff. Being by herself was slightly problematic. You tended to stare and sort of wonder "what if" too much. Wiz noted that for him, the MPs had always assembled around him day and night until his own poster subsided. Those guys were dedicated to each other. He explained that they stayed up one at a time in two hour shifts with him during his three days of no sleep stretches. That situation had lasted about two weeks.

   Light pulled off an early word zinger that summed shit up quick. Gandhi hadn't died, but then again Hitler hadn't passed either. Light struck again. When Wiz stated that no matter what? It is what it is. No, Lightning pointed out. It was, what it was. What has gotten into her lately, popping off deep comments and insights.

   Lightning went on to admit, that while it might seem like she was the center of attention? She really wasn't. Or, didn't feel like it. Light's little bit of booze, little bit of pot fueled therapy session? Had produced no great soul searching answers. Yet, it did produce a number of soul surface scratches and nicks. Coming down and getting relaxed and quieter, but not sleeping this early… Lightning asked if it was okay to talk about sex. Sure, we both said.

   "When… is it appropriate to have it?"

   We both thought anytime was fine. If both were willing or better, seemed to be all it took. To us.

   "Well. I feel like I want it. I don't crave it or need it, but, a mild itch. Not boredom sex, but not the high intensity drive of excitement sex either."

   Her question seemed to be. Was it okay to do it, simply to do it. To see if it improved her mood. Or, was that bad to use sex as a TV program.

   "Light? Do you sometimes pretend you're way more excited and driven and into it, than you really are? How often are you just going through the motions."

   She described slowly, that normally she did it when driven to. The building urge any sexual being feels when its been a while. She didn't have to normally pretend to enjoy it more. She just did. This though, would be maybe pretending a wee bit. Because it would be rude to act like it was boring when it was really her and not the act itself that would be lackluster and lackadaisical about it.

   He asked her then.

   "Lightning? Pretend you had unlimited funds, and could simply pick up the phone, and get some… call boy to do X. What would it be, if you placed an order."

   "Oh. I don't know."

   "The call boy expects you to tell him. If you waste his time? He gets paid for doing nothing. Which suits him."

   "Oh."

   "Light? I'm kidding. We're still waiting some more for our big night."

   "No, I don't want to disrupt that… whole program. I really am looking forward. To… seeing how waiting turns out."

   "Well, we were circling second and third base. If you want something, all you have to do is ask me."

   "Am I exploding with desire, like the ending of a romance novel? Not really. But… you, okay. I feel silly. There, I said it."

   "Little Lightning. The sex goddess that rocks boy's worlds like a love grenade, the original love em and leave em temptress of naughty desires herself… is shy about something to do with talking about sex?"

   "Maybe a little."

   "Try."

   "I don't have to try, I can just say exactly what it is. I feel silly admitting it. Like, a little kid is shy about admitting they stole a candy bar. They know they're not gonna get beat and grounded, but… still not rushing to admit to it."

   "Maybe admit it, in the interest of therapy."

   "Fine. When I was, what… 12? I admit it was a turn on, if a guy got in another guy's face, and it was anything about me. Hey, you took her place in line! Don't do that! Like I said, its silly, we're talking 6th grade romantic motivations here. Wizzy watched me like a hawk is what it feels like, and… when he jumped the big state cop? I… felt like a silly 6th grader again. Now. I'm a little old to get turned on by 6th grader shit. I thought I was froze at 14, now I'm 12… am I gonna be 10 or 8 next week? I'm kidding but… I hope I'm kidding. Of course, now that I'm an adult? I can afford the really big boxes of crayons now… just saying. Are we gonna be holding hands and exchanging finger paint I like you notes next? Wizzy, how do you feel about changing my diaper."

   "You? Are pretty enough, Lightning. I'll change your diaper for you, and powder your bottom. If that turns you on. Want me to shave you, for that little girl look? Done. Then, I'll lick the peach."

   We all chuckled at the humor they both painted over everything to cover her silliness feelings.

   "Hurry? Expert advice from you…"

   "I… there is some element of… my hero, when guys do that. Its the girly girl part of me, that I hate to admit that it exists, but, I know its there and I try to watch it."

   "Oh. So… you feel silly and liked that performance he did too. Okay, now I don't feel so bad. I kinda thought I had the juvenile view of relationships, and you had the… mature things going on. Wow, I don't feel as bad now."

   "No, Light. Most women report this. From that happening. I think mature vs immature? If you act like a spoiled brat and get him into a fight, just to giggle? That's highly immature, and I'm pretty sure Wizzy hates that. In fact, that would be one of the few things that turn him off. Not just sexually, but… all the way off. He avoids girls that do that. Pretty sure a 9? Goes to a 3, when they do it."

   "How many points do we lose, when we just enjoy it and try not to gloat too much. I mean, I kept my mouth shut."

   "Wizzy? Light's asking if she lost points for not saying anything when you did that, but admits she liked it."

   "Um. You incurred no point loss. You probably gained a half a point, for being mature and keeping the pleasure to yourself. Gloating can aggravate a situation, I otherwise have solved, at the sub-violence level."

   "Wizzy? I feel… guilty ain't the right word. But look, I know I'm actually not like I say sometimes, human garbage or a human toilet? But, that's how I felt. I'm… coming out of that, I mean I still feel it? But, now I know its silly. This wasn't my fault. But, you act like I'm something way more special than I am… and I feel too special, when you hover over me, protect me, take extra time with me. Um… in car terms? I'm this high mileage, belching smoke and backfiring piece of crap? And… you're wiping this tiny bit of dust off, like its a Rolls Royce or something. Standing there yelling. Don't touch it! I just got it detailed, asshole!"

   Good therapy observation out of her. I wanted to hear this one.

   "Do you just feel like that and know its not that bad? Or… you suspect its actually like that…"

   "Some part of me knows, this is me damaged by the problem then 4 years of… hell. But, some part of me wonders where this car is, in the scheme of things. Am I country club? Or… driven by a heroin hooker. Somewhere in between? How far which way, in the middle? I feel like I can't accurately judge myself."

   "So… you could easily be undervaluing yourself. But, you're afraid to overvalue yourself and be pointed and giggled at."

   "Yeah."

   "Wizzy? In car terms… what's the book value on this thing parked here."

   "Hmm. Interesting find…"

   My boyfriend takes me, and Light as well… often enough by surprise. He'll be straight laced for just long enough you get caught by surprise when he does the silly thing or the funny voice for humor. Here, he did the voice of some… fictitious TV show where his premise was they find "this old car", in a heap somewhere. Its brought in, on a flatbed, covered in… whatever the hell happened to it. What is it, what's it worth, can it even be fixed… that was the premise his humorous take on this went in the direction of. It tickled our funny bones.

   Light giggled into her palm. Slightly red faced, but laughing with good nature humor.

   "Oh. Go on, Wizzy… "

   "All right. No bullshit. I won't exaggerate, to win brownie points. I won't downgrade you, to make you easier to manage. Straight dope."

   "Well? What's Light worth."

   "Value, new, low miles, running perfect, well taken care of and polished up. All accessories. This is an expensive ride. This? Flash ride. In high school? Only the kids with the really rich daddies drive this car around. Not, dad has the really good job? But, daddy makes enough that there's a string of brand new high end sports cars, enough his kid can drive one too. That kind of flash sports car. When new."

   "Hmm. I'm not new, Hurry. My value is crashing…"

   "Now. Picture this. There's a sort of regular guy, driving around in a holy shit, how did he… kind of car. Now, you get up on it? Okay. Looks like it was dragged out of a creek or something. Runs real rough. Scratches, dents, scuffed seats… but nothing serious. Long as you stomp the gas, it runs. Eh, its missing, there's something wrong. But you go, okay. That's how he has it. But…"

   "Hurry. I'm dropping by the second here, save me. Any asshole can drive me, and I'm not impressing his asshole buddies. I'm fucked, and in a free fall. Ah-h-h-h!"

   "But wait. Average kid finally got told one too many times. Dude, its beat. Dump it, get something reasonable, that runs right. Economy grocery get-er, you're better off. He does…"

   "Oh. Wizzy. The shit-box is better than me? Aw, man…"

   "But wait. This next guy gets it. Even cheaper than the kid got it. Damn near free, get it out of here, I hate it. He's like… oh man, the rich guy down the street has one of these. This is… I just gotta get this fixed. This, is one of those car jobs, no amount of money will fix. It has some weird issue, gonna take too many hours to find it, you can't afford to get it fixed, because every hour is X dollars. But… if you park it in the garage. Go out every night, and keep poking, going through the manual. Talking to all the car guys… eventually? Someone is going to go… Aha! Its this, and this… which combines to make it seem like it was this, when it was really the other…"

   "Hurry! Hope! I have hope!"

   "Then? Since it was a quest, not a matter of money and worth it or not… now. You get that last, oh… this isn't plugged in right. This goes… and you turn that key… oh yeah. Listen to that thing purr. Revs. You take it out? Baby it a few miles, then you can take it for a real drive. Yeah…"

   "I'm not worth shit, but I run good, Hurry… I'm a decent fuck! Drive this shit-box hard, baby! Drive me like you stole me!"

   "Now. This, was a guy that deserves to fucking own this car. He's had it all apart. He knows not only what was wrong with it? Anything that ever goes wrong in the future? He knows how to address it. He’s intimate with this thing. Its now running perfect. No money, some time, and smarts and determination. Now? Paint's perfect. Just needs clear coated and rubbed with love. All those dings popped out, the scratches all rubbed out. Couple bucks, some new leather seat covers. Its worth it. You got nothing in it? And its worth more than all the guys in town's car. Yeah. This car? Deserves it. It gets that high end stereo. Now? Everyone in town drools over it, and you look like the man. And not only do you have the coolest car around? Everyone knows that you, are the car master now. You're twice as cool."

   She just looked at him…

   "That's you, Lightning. Some rich asshole? Drove your ass into a lake, and left you there. The kid, that got this thing that looks very desirable, and didn't have the knowledge or expertise to appreciate it? Took advice from other guys who also knew shit about nice cars? Dumped it. That, was Army boy. Dude, get this thing outta my driveway, I'm getting a shit-box that runs decent. Me. I'm the guy that's willing to learn everything the manual has to say about it, and when I fix that last issue? I'm going to not only have one of the coolest flash rides in town? I'm gonna be twice the man, because I could work on it."

   She was still just staring at him, and I couldn't decide if she was going to cry, or squeal. He stared right at her, like he could sometimes do to people. To make a point, so they could see he was being dead serious though not challenging them.

   "So yeah. Cop, some other asshole… don't, so much as run your finger down my car. Don't even look at it like that. All the issues identified with this car? Are every time I take a measurement? Closer and closer to running like new. Do you want me to continue with my honest evaluation of this car project? Because I'm about to jump from car analogy, over to real life."

   She gave a weak little nod "yes"…

   "I've seen your athleticism? You, are high end. You're not only tall and strong and pretty and fit… you have that extra, oh my god, balance and agility. That extra bit of grace. I shouldn't be able to afford you, you're not in my league. Mileage? I've had my finger in your little slit, and its just like a young girl's. I bet your little bum is even tighter. Not one issue on your to do list isn't fixing itself now. Almost there. More?"

   Now she just nodded.

   "I've seen women like you before. Officer's club. Always married to some young but surprisingly high ranking handsome officer. The kind that will end up in the pentagon, and everyone knows it. The hair tastefully done. Pulled up, to show the shoulders and neck. The designer heels. Always open toe, to show they have no flaws. No stockings, to show the perfect skin. The black dress. Long, but slit up the side to show that incredible fitness model leg off. Backless, so you can see when she walks how well put together she really is. Talk to her? Oh, not a ditz. Not a foul mouthed bitch polished up, but not a snooty cunt, either. Pearls, a few flawless diamonds. Men spill drinks on their own wives turning to stare as she goes to get some more prawn. That? Is you. That? Is what I walk around with, when I'm done."

   Now she did nothing but stare.

   "You? Are like Hurry to me. Undervalued by most men, and I can't for the life of me figure out why. Smart, pretty, strong, tall, proud. I put her, you… on either arm? I walk in anywhere. Oh yeah. That's right. They? Are both… with me. And I don't mean into that party up there. I mean, wherever millionaires go. Wow, dude. All that cash? And… I'm not only keeping up with the Jones's, but… I got two of them. I sleep sometimes in the same bed with both of them? And they admit it in public. And, I think Hurry and you? Will toss your champagne in the millionaire's face when he tries to slip you his number, when I go to take a piss. So yeah, that's the kind of value I place on you, and on Hurry. Don't even look at it wrong. Just step back, you might drool on it."

   She looked away embarrassed.

   "I can't wait to drive it? All I've done is rev it in the garage a few times, got it going to get groceries in town and straight back. I can't wait to see how it corners. And if I ever, find the asshole that drove this car when it was brand new into a lake and left it there? I don't even like to think what I'm liable to do to him. And? I'm on that project, too."

   She looked back, but down at her knees.

   "Hurry's mine. For life, I hope. With you in my other hand? I… feel like that kid that has two ice cream cones, and don't know which one to lick first. So… Little Lightning? If you want your ice cream cone licked, or… anything else. You just point. Ask Hurry."

   She looked around at everything and nothing in particular, for a bit. Light was fairly sober from the little bit of apricot brandy now, and relaxed from smoking earlier but no longer fuzzy from it. She was in that slightly tired place, coming back into baseline. Reserved and laid back, little smile. Prone to short giggles and laughs, not overly outrageous guffaws like an intoxicated person. She finally asked quietly.

   "Hurry? Does he always talk like this, or what."

   "That he seems to enjoy licking anything I point at, or that he speaks so highly of you."

   "Is either one true?"

   "Seems to be. I can vouch for the one, and he's said in private several times now, more or less about what he just told you. About the… value of the car."

   She pressed her palm to her mouth to hide her little nervous smile, fingers spread up and out her cheek. Wrist and inner forearm up her center line from her tight little tummy and bellybutton to her jaw. She was smiling and seemed embarrassed and happy at the same time. The effect was marred only by one tear at a time that would stain a cheek. She used a fingertip to erase it, like a pencil's eraser to make the errant scribble disappear. She switched hands over her mouth, fingers up the other cheek to attack whichever side made the single tear at a time. Soft little voice, but the 19 year old was there.

   Normally the 14 year old and that body language was the one for unsure, nervous, and such things as that. The 19 year old body language came out to enjoy confidence, outgoing, emotional states that were preferable. This was no split personality. The two halves were the same person. They were two separate body chemistry states. There was no separate memory or other things like that. But, the 19 year old chemistry was coming up now and again to sample the air even when it wasn't perfect weather.

   Victims of sustained trauma regress to their stuck point, in unfavorable emotional weather and external stimuli. That's the body chemistry operating, the body language and responses show it. When they begin to fix and heal? The "normal" state that would under most conditions only operate in fair weather, begins to take on the greater role.

   It would look to the untrained eye, as if this were a "new" slight problem developing. But it wasn't. This was good.

   "Light? Do you feel all right?"

   "Yeah, Hurry. Just… a little bit of a hot flash. That's all."

   Normally when she's even mildly embarrassed? The 14 year old chemistry predominates. You see all the little girly body language. The smiling, the slight nervous body wiggles and tics. She's an intelligent 19 year old girl, she can control what she says and such things. You can't control chemistry though. If she were told or knew, she could try to sit rock still to hide it, but that would look even more outlandish and awkward.

   This is one of the little issues that make her odd… the boy doesn't notice this at first usually. Some pick up on the little girl persona coming out at times, and it makes them feel funny. They might not notice it explicitly, they just feel something's off or wrong. Pretty, sexy and eager to please with me, but… what is that weird vibe? Short relationship, happy with the sex she pleases with… then dumped. A little break, then back for more. Like a person eating single serving portions. You can't get a fridge full of emotional fulfillment? You just go out and get a little at a time, in serial installments.

   Some boys pick up on it quicker, some later. But sooner or later? All do. All she knows? Something is wrong. I look in the mirror. I'm pretty. Boys respond to my shtick. Got them eating out of my hand, got it down pat. I give them more and better sex than they could ask for, what more do they want? And if the boy is happy he's punching above his weight… his friends will one by one notice and say something. Dude, there's something… can't put my finger on it. Pretty, but… slightly creepy.

   If she were "stuck" or "froze" emotionally at some earlier point, it becomes more noticeable. A 9 year old girl's mannerisms and mouth speech movements are remarkably obvious. But 14? Just enough to blend in, if the 14 year old it happened to had been dating boys up to college age for 2 years. Enough time to pick up some speech and walk and mannerisms that made the 14 year old girl inside that came up? Less noticeable.

   You feel it more than see it, until you either see it or its pointed out. Or you know about the mechanism, like me. Initial sexual attraction and machinery? The 19 year old. As you begin to hit the initial fascination and bond though… there's a chemical similarity to embarrassment in this phase. The 14 year old shows.

   Get red faced and nervous because you get teased… get red faced and slightly jumpy from romantic fascination's early stage. Identical chemistry.

   The more intelligent and emotionally perceptive the boy? The quicker they notice something is off. Wiz for instance, adds to his natural abilities self training in body language. It aids him in his quest to have unique strategies. He can see a person is lying by reading what they act like, and it doesn't go with their forced expression or words and deeds. He reads fake like a tax stamp. Nope. Made in China, not original equipment.

   So. Wiz sees his pole vaulter calendar girl at the railing. Wow. Outta my league, but hey. Gotta try. When he sees her in my apartment after she feeds him to me? Wow. That leg show, every morning, every night. And? She likes him. But, living around the boy she crushes on? 14 year old comes out. Eh. Something really immature about my confident, hot calendar girl. 9,8,7… falling slowly.

   Light plays down her smarts, to aid her with boys. She can't do anything about her height and athleticism. But, guys are also many of them turned off by smart women. Intimidated like others by height, or others taught them. Dude, smart chicks suck. You want cute dumb bunnies. Easier to flatter and bang. So? She plays that. Hey, she needs a snack.

   Wiz doesn't like immaturity. The 14 year old that came out when she liked him? 9,8,7… then when she plays dumb bunny to try to fix him not responding to her? 6,5,4.

   Light isn't used to dealing with a guy like Wiz. He's different from most. When she finally "learned" he didn't "like" her despite his initial fascination? The 14 year old went away. My crush doesn't like me. Pooh. No more mild embarrassment chemicals. No more immature girl display. I told her he likes smart girls, he's turned on by that. She suddenly talked open and deep. He responded like a light switch.

   The calendar girl wasn't dumb. I misjudged her. Wow. The 14 year old gave him mild creeps, but… her admission, him knowing a little now… he's hooked. And she's finally realizing that he's not lying to flatter her, he actually cares for her. And, she can't figure out why.

   Because if he likes me, then… why isn't he ravishing me, asking for wild stuff. I offer it. He isn't like other men. He doesn't want fake sex, he wants a real relationship. Now that he can have one, and with my blessing with her? She's not used to this. She feels like damaged goods, human garbage. She should be treated like lesser goods. But, he's treating her like she actually is. Smart, pretty, worthy. Its freaking her out. The trauma victim is unstuck. Reintegrating. The 14 year old will "grow" faster than a year for a year, usually.

   I don't know. I'm guessing if everything goes well, in another year and a half, two years? She could go from 14 to 18. Might not be barely noticeable by then. She's going to be the quintessential diamond in the rough that gets polished into a holy shit diamond of a girl when its all over. Pretty, smart, and emotionally whole. Some guy is going to go… wow. Why is this even on the market.

   And, with a year or two off the market? Every month she skips her monthly mini mating… she becomes less of a tramp and more of a good girl, a higher value catch. Add some little extras. Ability to accept small gifts, car dates with trusted boys… and that sexual appetite and special ability of hers will suddenly get her a whole lot more than a week or two with a boy.

   "Hurry?"

   "Yes."

   "Do you think Wiz is… thinking I'm weird right now?"

   "Ask him, hun. He's right here."

   "No, Light. I know you're growing now. When I was between 14 and 18? I went through little bursts of emotional ups and downs. Hormones, chemicals. Then you even out. I don't think you're weird. I think you're very tough and brave. When this is all over? I'm afraid you won't be impressed with me any more. You'll be out of my league again. I won't be able to compete. You're going to break my heart, not me breaking yours. I know you feel ugly, weak and powerless right now and all this time. You're power is going to grow steadily. You're not some ugly duckling. You're the body of the swan. When your body chemistry catches up more to the swan? You, are going to have options like you can't believe."

   "But… loyalty. I'm loyal to people, that… like Hurry. Ask her. I won't bite the hand."

   "I went from… bookworm that worked out? To… MP mascot, in about a year. I didn't bite the hand either. You see me. Do I act like jocks do, to my computer friends? You've seen me with them. That crowd accepted me when I was a bookworm that jogged a lot. I reward them with my loyalty. I protect them when I'm with them. I don't… lord it over them, make them feel like I'm slumming it with them. I have a fun little side project I'm going to do soon."

   "What?"

   "Computer buddies. I'm going to bring one or two up. To the beautiful people parties. Let everyone see, what world I'm really from. I don't just talk loyalty. I show it."

   "Oh, Wizzy. You know what will happen. Your computer club buddy? Will think… its the male version of a pig hunt. They were brought up to be made fun of."

   "Oh. You forget. Toot's out of the closet now, little one. Who's going to lay a finger on them when they're with me. You might get to see that other side of me."

   "You… hide that, like you're ashamed of it. Like… a small version, of me hiding that I'm damaged goods."

   "Not any more. You witnessed my… coming out party."

   "When was that?"

   "When your Army ex came up."

   "Oh… that. I'm… blushing again. You… you know. You wouldn't let anyone scratch your car."

   "Did my computer friends treat you nice when you were down there that night?"

   She nodded fervently yes.

   "They're still asking, when I'm bringing the "warrior princesses" back. They all think you two look like the female warriors in their computer games are made to look. Tall. Strong. Pretty. Every boy there, pushing and shoving to get to bring you a soft drink. Arguing whose turn it was to sit next to you. Did you like it."

   She nodded like a little steam engine, and wiped a tear.

   "In less time than you think? You're going to get that treatment, in a lot more places. Not just slumming it with the computer club, as jocks think of it. Do you want to know my secret, to staying a nice guy, and not getting off on picking on people? Maybe you don't want to turn into a bitch and a cunt, when the swan realizes the duckling inside grew into the body already there."

   "How."

   "Simple. Just never forget what you are, right now. Inside? I'm still that shy, quiet bookworm. Never forget where you come from, and take on airs. You'll be twice as beautiful for it. Beautiful, and nice personality. I don't mean that fake plastic smile and voice pretty girls adopt to be so called perfect. I mean real, easy, nice. Don't forget your roots? You'll be every man's fantasy, I promise. You're already mine."

   She went from one tear in alternating eyes, to one out of each at once, that was all. No great waterworks or other gushes. It was a small, tight, controlled growth. Like an ache in a shin, a growing pain. Her emotional bone framework? Was growing by ossifying. Nerves had to die and regrow back. Aches and pains, that would replace and be fine.

   "I will… never forget this, you two. Never. I thought… it always had to be like this."

   "I thought the same thing about the shy bookworm that jogged and worked out, till I left home and the universe put me where it wanted me. Now? The universe put me here, I'm pretty sure."

   "Will you sit with me."

   He went over, and sat with her. He drew his chair right up to hers. Their bodies rubbed from being close, and both being near to height of one another. He held his hand out, and she slowly put hers to his. Little jerks back and again. 2 millimeters up, 1 millimeter back. Finally it touched, retracted a couple times then stayed. She closed her eyes and squeezed.

   She leaned her head over, cheek to him. Too embarrassed to look at him. He kissed her cheek lightly. She turned red with embarrassment, and the knees went together like a spring unwound. The little smile spread, the head swiveled like a 14 or maybe a 14 and a half year old girl. Who knows. She kept leaning her cheek over, and getting little kisses. Like a girl wanting to make out, but shy.

   "Will you look at me?"

   "I can't."

   "Close your eyes, then."

   She closed her eyes and faced him, for kissing. She took his other hand, laced fingers of both hands with his, then gripped and held on. Not wanting to let him go. The blow-star started to spread its neurological toxin from her lips to his, from her tongue to his. She wouldn't let his fingers go. She slowly turned to him. Then like a dog one paw at a time, she stealthily inched onto his lap until sitting astride him and facing him. The blow-star had claimed another victim, and she gripped the interlaced fingers just to be sure.

   I heard her whisper but staged so I could hear.

   "First base. Base hit."

   But the neurological toxin had its hooks into him now. She slowly with trepidation let his fingers go, and when he was still there, she knew the blow-star venom was working and she could relax. Her hands found his face, then after a time some roaming. She roamed anywhere she could reach, and dragged his hands around for him, to show him this is okay.

   "Trying to steal second."

   She got her smooth hands under his shirt, and put his hands under hers. When her shirt finally came up enough to put her perky breasts on display a little, she announced a play.

   "Safe, at second."

   She began whispering to him and using the neurological toxin empowerment. To plead with him, and to beg and wheedle. For him to please fuck Hurry well, all the time. She repeated her request over and over again. When he asked why that was so important to her, she said so she was allowed to keep doing this. Because she wanted it and needed it, and if he really liked her he would promise to not ignore me. To give me what I needed and more to keep me happy. So that she herself wouldn't have to be done away with.

   She still had the single tears, and they left their tracks now. He asked her why she still cried a little bit.

   "If I do it good, you'll start to hate me and leave me… they all do…"

   He promised he wouldn't do that. She claimed he said that now, they all did. But if she got a month or two, that would be enough. He promised her as long as she wanted. He told her that the longer she did this, the longer she was off the market she simply became rarer and more valuable. The more she grew. The happier he became with his car. The more he wouldn't let any other boy dare touch it, because it was already precious, and rapidly becoming priceless.

   "Hurry…"

   "Yes, Light."

   "Is third base open?"

   "Am I the third base coach now?"

   "Yes, you are…"

   "Do, you two want some privacy?"

   "I don't care…"

   "Do you want me to watch?"

   "Hmm. That was your first rule. You share, you get to watch, you get to say what's allowed… it must have been your hot game…"

   "Back then, it was for me… its not just for me anymore. This… is really for you."

   "Hurry…"

   "Yes, Light."

   "Do you, want to steal third base, first? Hmm? You shared…"

   "I'm making notes on my laptop, hun. Have fun…"

   "Are you sure…"

   "I'm sure. I've had third base already. Enjoy it."

   "All right…"

   He cocked his head at her slightly silly, drawn out low voice. Naturally, the 14 year old personality giggled and tittered when he noticed and questioned her voice. She explained, through giggles, that she was going… "slow-w-w-w…" and talking slow like a little kid obeying a parent's request to "go slow", they make the silly voice and you can't help but find it adorable somehow. So genuine, so… innocent. I know him now, and can read him when I want. He's over his little creepy meter readings. Its a form of innocence now, not creepiness. I'm another girl, and even I have to admit. Its somewhat infectious. The elevated mood, the smiles and the overly dramatic 14 year old girl's way about everything.

   He played with her through her jeans, then he opened them and played with her more. She clung to him, she wriggled around on his lap, she made noise after noise. Then these things randomly cycled. He eventually got her jeans and panties off, and enjoyed ostrich meat on their mattress. I've certainly been through this before, and I noted the time when the oral action on her ostrich meat started. I've certainly been where she's at. He gets off on his technique. Its not about any specific thing he does while performing the cunnilingus, its about his time he puts in.

   Almost all women will report the time isn't too long, because the tongue gets tired. I asked him once how he went over an hour and even two hours at this. He told me his secret. After attempting working on "tongue stamina" over a period of time… he figured out to relax. Normally, he had held his tongue stiff and pushed in at the clit. He learned when it got tired to just leave it limp, and keep going like that. Which allowed him to do it… a ridiculously long time. He now did what he does to me if its going to be a while. My wrists get held as I pass them to his strong hands just under my buttocks at the top of my thighs. Thus caught? I'm "captured" and therefore "forced" to take more.

   The fun starts when you try to get away, and make different noises with each passing frenzy that comes. You hit points where you pant, beg, scream, cry, sob… and hit exhaustion points that are magical. You're still "caught", and you go limp. Slits for eyes that lazily move around as if drugged. Awash in love chemicals and endorphins. You feel weak. Silly, dopey smile. Puddle of your own sex filth you scoot around in, so dirty of you and yet so very hot. Your ass gets a slip and slide as you "struggle", actually more of a can't sit still periodic bursts of movement and spastic jerks and twitches. You can't catch your breath. Well, you feel like you can't catch your breath but you never pass out. These things all cycle around again and again. Glad its soundproof, because she screamed and struggled and collapsed and all over again continuously.

   She begged to be let go, then begged for more. She screamed his name, her name. My name too. I joked I wasn't in this, she thanked me for a while. She begged me to let her have this and never take it from her, she would do anything I wanted. She shamelessly promised him how he could have "anything" and "absolutely anything" when in her room. Over and over. Any hole, as long as he wanted, she would do it all. He made her say she loved him, she would never leave him, all of that. She screamed and panted every mantra he suggested. It was his neurological toxin attack turn. A parasite that feeds on… her sex filth? Her struggles? Something it got, some id.

   He reduced her to a hot, writhing screaming mess. I called out their "time" on 15 minute intervals. One late orgiastic frenzy she entered was a lengthy screeching thing. She pulled and twisted and screamed bloody murder. Neighbors if within earshot would swear a girl was being murdered. She screamed he was killing her, she kicked and fought but he had her wrists under her thighs, his face pressed in tight. She could clap her soaked thigh tops on his head, but it was ineffective.

   I chuckled, I've had this many times. Normal for me to get, if we're home alone. When Right teased me I was bragging too much of what was unrealistic? I let them hear it for a good two hours. I finally got my locked door pounded on, and I ignored it and made more noise. I finally came downstairs, soaked in sweat and, well… covered in love stink. The silly, dopey smile. The rolled eyes they all had. His big grin that he was "capable" of that. He whistled, he twiddled his thumbs, then the girls beat him with pillows for his nonchalant display. We ruined their movie. We laughed at them like they were little kids, which infuriated them more.

   I never got called out on lying after that, though.

   I knew the point she hit near their end. Its when the girl can't scream any more, and these long forced pants have a sort of… wheezy forced push to it. He calls it "death by lick-a lick-a". You lay there a complete mess, nodding and smiling and drooling. You say anything he tells you to say. By that point, it makes perfect sense to say "I'm a fire engine" and he laughs, and you laugh too. "I'm a love rhinoceros", you'll say anything in that phase.

   I'm actually happy she's having fun, had fun. Well, looks like another one barely survived "death by lick-a lick-a". After regaining a little bit of strength to sit up and drink liquids he held to her lips. Now spent, he grabbed her wrists and pretended he would start and go another two hours. Now, she begs him not to, she'll die. He does the scary voices and the silly stuff. Robot voice, he has a repertoire of the stuff.

   I teased her, that promising to "take a spastic crack monkey up my ass" was a very real thing, that he lived in a little cage under my bed.

   Now he's silly-d up, and will sing his stupid made up comedian songs. Heavy metal ones about lick-a lick-a, with made up silly guitar solos. Retarded silly rap ones, there's no end to the comedy. She's like I was, laying there just laughing like a complete twit. Its… silly little kid fun by this point.

   He ended like he does with me. Cleaning and kissing, telling her how tiny it is, how tight and well groomed. How good she tastes and feels. What a… hot little "insert anything here", she has. She's back at the desk, clothes back on, mussed hair. Silly smile and dopey lidded eyes. He's back grinning like an idiot. Trying to kiss me, and I'm squealing no. Now its my turn, I squeal no, I'm organizing notes and details. I threaten him but I don't mean it.

   They kiss some more, but its the slowest intimate sort of thing on her part now. Such slow tongue darts and mouth openings and closings, slow motion lip scrapings. She must be running out of neurological toxin.

   "Only two hours, dear. You? Aren't what you used to be."

   "I'm getting old. I won’t be around forever, you know. Its… just hell to hit these years…"

   He's fucking 24.

   I recognize my language on his lips now.

   "So, have you ever been licked like that before, hmm?"

   She swears no, never.

   "Dear?"

   "Yes, Hurry…"

   "Do, you think you might be in love?"

   "Hmm. I'm in something…"

   "Feel good?"

   She nods her head, smiling the silly smile, grinning like an idiot.

   "So, dear. How's your little sports car doing."

   "Not bad. A few more adjustments…"

   "Mm hmm. And, what car maintenance was that just now."

   "Uh… air filter maintenance. You, have to clean out the filter. Takes a while. Very technical."

   "Oh, I'm sure."

   "Can I charge for this? I think I wanna be a whore…"

   "Wizzy! You're so bad…"

   Oh good grief… now I get to see what idiots we looked like at first, to the others. Oh well.

   He's teasing her she gets locked in the closet now, no other boy is allowed to even see her. She comes out only for practice, games, and classes. Then back in the closet. She's not allowed out of her closet for good, until she's old and ugly and her tits are to her knees. Christ, he's in gear now. He found old wet dry vac hoses, split and broken. He's got two ribbed hoses a couple inches in diameter, hanging from his shirt.

   "I'm a 35 year old stripper… I shake my booty…"

   One is longer than the other by a foot.

   "Hey. One's bigger then the other. I thought that was a myth. Huh."

   "Wait. That's the one I breastfed with. Damn. Should have switched boobies between kids. Too much crystal meth. Ah-h-h-h, ha ha ha-a-a."

   He's full of fun and humor, you gotta love him. Now, he's asking me if I want anything. Food, drinks, shoulder rub. I take the shoulder rub, but he's not allowed to do anything, I'm working. Or else.

   He does it. I pretend I'm mad. I wink and use the stern mommy voice, and give him a little "lecture". I wink and smile, and grab him by the chin. Then I give him stern and slightly irritated mommy "instructions". I finish my notes, I was almost done anyways. They're both sitting there at the therapy desk.

   "Okay kids. How was playtime? Looked like you had fun."

    The 14 and a half year old girl is up. Fun smile and the exaggerated nodding. Knees together, wrists and palms wound together and all stretched out down between the knees. Ankles a tad apart, feet cocked. God, how the body's chemical systems control us and we don't know and if we do know, how we don't realize it even when someone like me learns it. It staggers you to see it.

   He's an adult. But he acknowledges the little boy in him, and lets it out. Some real, some as exaggerated humor. He doesn't want to be one of those board up their ass adults. I can picture him in the service. Ten mile march with the MP's and the new guys, he's there for a fun camping trip that weekend. Cracking jokes about how much fun he's having. Or how his recruiter lied to him that it would be like camping with the boy scouts. I can just see him making miserable guys laugh and keeping their spirits up. New guys scared they can't "do this" taking heart and learning to laugh. Looking around them, seeing how the group handles it and imitating those around them that seem to be successful.

   The alphas are pleased at their mascot. The mascot is happy, he has a group and fits in well. Number two is a great place to be. Almost all the respect and admiration from new and lower ranking members, none of the hard choices and reduced enjoyment of true leadership. And he can play substitute teacher when the teacher has to step out of the classroom. Leaders happy there's a sub on hand, kids happy there's an adult around who knows how to handle what might come up.

   He's got that mix. He smiles right at her, to let her know he really does like her. Unlike some men, he'll show it after the fun is over. He also winks and makes a joke about how he was just tuning up the car, making sure it revs in the garage right. But, he assures her the car runs smooth as a kitten. That he can't wait to get done with work, and come down to the "garage" and play with his toy. My god, is he good at this.

   "Okay. Light?"

   I explain the basics of how she's stuck at a developmental phase. How she was stuck, and is now off that snag. How the 14 year old mannerisms creep up and ruin things. How its not bad, its not good. It just is, or really was, that way. With big wide sad and hopeful eyes, she trusts me and hangs on every word. Here, is possible help for an impossible situation. The face of the little kid that got picked on by bullies, looking up at the tough but tender sided karate teacher. The little boy that wasn't good at any sports, finally found a sport he's excelling at naturally finally. Looking up at the coach all impressed and the kid hangs on every word. God, this is a rush.

   "Wiz? You, are also Toot. You… got some really cool… way to explain this? Maybe some car analogy… you're on, if you do."

   He looks at me, then her.

   "Yeah. Sure. Light? Car got run into a lake, and left there. Eventually got dragged out, and you already know this story. Man, is this an impressive looking car. Its… that top of the line, low miles, every option sports car. Just runs real rough. But Hurry? She found the answer. She found what all the expert mechanics couldn't see, hooking it up to their expensive diagnostic computers."

   With big, hopeful eyes. A little tear. She asks.

   "What… is it."

   "Well. So called real mechanics, they just know. You hook it up to the computer, idle it and rev it. Run it around with a computer hooked up. They forgot the old fashioned way. The shade tree mechanic's way. That underneath all those computer systems a modern car has? There's a basic engine under it all, and they forgot how to do the basics. We found it."

   "What?"

   "Air fuel mix is off. Computer sees it. There's a bunch of high end things to look at, but they all test out okay. Get rid of this car, can't be fixed. Ain't worth your time, and time is money. But? Found it. There's a blob of mud and lake gook, got sucked in where the air goes in. It dried and hardened, like a soft rock. It's preventing air from going in right, starving the engine for air. The computer? Tries to adjust, but everything the computer can control, reports back. Hey, this system's fine. Ain't us. All the control systems report back, same thing."

   "But Hurry… the, mechanic… found it?"

   "Yeah. You take the air cleaner off, rev it on the computer? Fine. Put the air cleaner and stuff back on and run it to get groceries? There it is. You gotta stomp the gas to go slow. One of those air pieces? Plugged up inside. We pounded out the dried mud and clay, hard as a rock. Brushed it out. Runs fine now. Everyone else, took that off and back on, never noticed."

   "I'm not… fixed. I'm still… junk. Look at me."

   "Light? The computer. Your brain. In real life, if you disconnect the battery to work on a car, you have to run the car 100 miles, let the computer learn and read and see. Runs rough, until the computer adjusts around it. Never heard a mechanic say, run it a while, till that light goes off. Think its fine now."

   "Yeah. But… I'm not a car…"

   "One day? Light goes off on the dash, driving to work. And you suddenly feel it. You step on the gas, the car goes out of limp mode… the transmission is now allowed to drop gear and rev up. Takes off. You get to feel the full power of that expensive sports car, throws you back in the seat. Like an elephant is sitting on you, like an astronaut taking off. On a grocery get-er, this happens and its barely noticeable. On a high end sports car? Wow. Guys that have them, hate to install a new radio. Because they know disconnecting the battery to change radios? Means they have to wait through limp mode for 100 miles. But, when that light goes off? Wow."

   "Wiz? That was… eerie. Excellent… way of explaining that. Thank you. Light?"

   "Yeah, Hurry."

   "I think I knew which girl you were in school."

   "Not making fun of you, Hurry. But you said you rode dirt bikes with the boys. You, got to go on boys only things. I figured, you came to town with the boys when they brought their cars to parties. Hung out with the boys and their cars. Not in the… girl's huddle. You said it yourself a bunch. Really one of the boys."

   "I was, Light. I was. It was trucks and horses for us, out in the country? Same thing. The girls stayed in their… huddle. When the boys would go off to be boys, then come back. I went with the boys. I liked it, the boys wanted me with them. No, I didn't sit with the girls at the fire. I went on the hill climb. Girls can't go. They scream and cry going up cliffs and down cliffs. You ride in the back of the big off road truck, hanging on. Everyone daring each other to ride in the back. Yeah. I did what the boys did. I was proud of it, and the boys treated me like another boy. New boy stayed in the summer? There was a girl riding in the back, and not scared. They had to quit crying like a girl."

   I suddenly realized it, but kept it to myself. He's 4 years older than me. While he spent 4 years as the MP's mascot? I was the boy's mascot. The team tomboy. I was a training aid, too. For younger or newer guys. Gee, you can at least do what the girl in the group can do, right? Sure you can. Makes sense, we're both sigmas. I instantly feel a step closer to him. It warms with me with another of those little rushes that feel so good. I just know I'm in love.

   "Okay. I was… one of the younger girls, with the older girls. But, we weren't all country. We were… at the local hang out and parking lot. Cars, not trucks. You go where the boys with the cool cars hang out, those big parking lots. They race. You want the boy with the coolest car, not the coolest truck or horse. Same thing, I guess."

   "No, Light. I spent… about one year? With the girls. Then went back to the boys. I know who you were though. You were friends with the older, and popular girls. Got to go to keg parties, college keg parties. You were tall, and could dance. Bet those college freshman boys, didn't know you were 12, 13, 14. Bet they thought you were 16, 17. You let them think that. How am I doing here? Do I know you?"

   "Yeah. Like I said. Silly now, but I thought I had it all. Older boys, pushing and shoving. Who got to talk to me. Between boys? Hmm. Who's got the coolest car, huh? The one that wins the race, gets to go out with me. I could get girls beer, bottles, bag of whatever. I was popular. Thought I was really something. Then? It all went away. Overnight. I turned into dirt."

   "I know, Light. Bet you talked to Teddy Ball. How when you two finally escaped? It would be different. Things could go back to the way they were supposed to be."

   "Oh yeah."

   "How was it? You weren't dirt anymore. You already knew all about dancing around a keg party. Boys eating out of your hand."

   She had a few single tears again. Got quiet.

   "No cars. No dates. But? Keg parties. I can have that. And all those boys? I can have that. And… I know what to do with a boy. Finally, you know. I was… starved for four years. I could eat again."

   "I see that. Something was off though."

   "Oh yeah it was. Without cars, without dates? There was just… that. And even that, doesn't work. Not for very long. It wasn't all over. I was damaged goods. And… people can sense it. Its like, they can smell four years of thrown in the garbage dump on me. Like I can't wash that stink off me. How do they know? But they know. You take what you can get."

   "Light? We've identified the problem. The phobia about cars, and dates. And taking dinner or gifts. Understandable. And, starved for boys and attention? Yeah. You go and get those TV dinners. Hungry? Go and microwave a TV dinner. Eat it. Go back home."

   She was real quiet.

   "Hey. Gotta eat, you know."

   "I know. There's no stink on you, Light. I explained to you, how you were emotionally stuck. At 14. Fortunately? It was a… fast girl, an advanced 14. One that hung out and was popular with the older fast girls. So… it was easier."

   "But… that stink on me. I'm garbage."

   "No. I explained to you. When you get embarrassed, your body is stuck at emotional responses of a 14 year old. That's the little… outbursts people see. Makes you seem a little childish. They can see that. And? I also explained. When you like a boy, the same systems work the same way. So, you act like a 14 year old girl when you're infatuated with a boy."

   "I'm… unstuck now?"

   "Yes. And? Your phobias. You… are learning you can go with a boy, in a car. You did it. Every ride is easier, you said so. Its exciting now. Like a roller coaster ride, to go to the store and back with Wiz. Fear and dread? You got over the hump. The fear is excitement now. You get used to the excitement, and settle down. You got over pregame jitters, didn't you?"

   "Yeah."

   "We've taken this… huge problem? And turned it into something no different than getting the uniform on, and going out to play. Pretty soon, from repetition? You'll be riding in the car with Wiz. Going places, enjoying it. And you went on a real date, too. Had fun, talking over pizza. You watched a boy pay the bill. The game jitters will go soon."

   "And I'm not stuck anymore? I can go now."

   Him and his car analogies.

   "Light? Ever been in a car, and you get stuck in a ditch? You just spin tire. You don't go anywhere. Winter time, everyone knows that one. You get stuck in the deep snow. You're… stuck. That's you. You were stuck in a ditch. You were doomed to just race the engine, spin tires, but not go anywhere. Hurry brought the tow truck. You're out of the ditch."

   "Another excellent… Toot story. He's right, Lightning. You're not stuck. You just don't realize it yet. Now, a couple weeks, a couple months… you'll begin to see it. Begin to feel it."

   "I hope so. I never made a month. With a boy. A night? Great. A weekend? Better. A week, real nice. And some? Those couple weeks, until it starts to come undone… I get a taste of what its like, to… be a real girl. But, it ends. 30 days, would be the record. I'll wanna throw a party, for Christ's sake."

   "So. If you make it a month, with Wiz? You'll take that as proof that you're outta the ditch, huh?"

   "Oh yeah… dare to dream."

   "Dreams can come true, Light. This is all… perfect. You? Can only trust a close friend. Not an acquaintance? Only a close, personal friend. That's me. I, get experience with being a therapist. I can't do it in the real world, but on the side? I get to concentrate all my effort, into this one special client. Day and night. I get to learn. I get experience. You? Get your own personal therapist. Free. All the hours you want. We have all the time in the world. Two, three years if we need it. No rush. No other clients. Its perfect."

   "Wow. I don't know what to…"

   "Light? There was a perfect storm, when you were 14. It was about the most horrible thing that could have happened. And, when it was over? The most horrible things came after it, instead of nothing, or help. So… its only fair, that things come around again. And that now? You don't just get some… couple hours a week. With some, new or bottom of the barrel… state paid therapist. Who's pissed they didn't get the high end therapy job, or ain't there yet. Paying their dues, with state paid drudge work."

   "If… I went through the system, that's what I would of got?"

   "Yeah. Not like some rich girl. Gets her own private, expensive therapist. And, if daddy's a senator or a rock star? He'd hire his little girl her very own. Hell, move a therapist right into the house, with the other staff. Night and day, no billable hours. Four in the morning, bad dream? Therapist right across the hall, next bedroom. Top of the line care, all just for the rock star's daughter. That? Is what you get."

   He chimed in.

   "Light. Karma, honey. The universe saw it, and was ashamed. Now? Its all turned around. You get the best thing imaginable, just for you. You got kicked around, and then punished for it, for four more years. Its unthinkable. But, it happened. Now? Its only fair, that you get the rock star daughter's treatment."

   "Hurry. You really don't mind?"

   "No. You're making me happy. When I finally become a real therapist? Oh. I already have experience. I handled a worst case scenario. I'm confident. I got a leg up on all the other new therapists. And? I get to return the favor you gave me. You brought Wiz to me. No other girl would have. I get a chance to return that loyalty. Pay it back."

   "And Wiz…"

   "Light? Just like you don't need to feel guilty, because you're giving Hurry a big gift? I feel the same way. I get a couple months, a couple years… seeing what those tall, rich, handsome millionaires get to enjoy. A girl like you. I can't wait to see it. When you walk into a room, and everyone looks. Men are jealous of me, women are jealous of you. You're off the bad girl market. You're now forbidden fruit. Good girl, high end. Classy, not trashy."

   She was quiet. Real quiet. Then, she spoke quietly.

   "I used to… be ahead of the other girls. Like, those 13 year old's that take college classes. Then? Now, its reversed. All the other girls are ahead of me, I feel like the dumb kid, keeps getting held back. Stuck in 8th grade. I'm finally out of 8th grade, but…"

   He came in.

   "Light? You don't get what those girls get, you get more. You? Get better."

   "How?"

   "Look at it this way. You got bad girls, running around like complete tramps. That's not you. You got good girls, who sit home every night. Wishing they could. That's not you. Now… it seems like the other girls, got it all. They run the show boyfriend game, they go out and tramp around with losers. They aren't learning shit about a real relationship. They're just going to go on, and have a show husband. Run around on girls night out, and fuck it up. Like all the others do, look around you what America is like. Then? They'll do it again. Two, three, four husbands down the road? Washed up tramps, with a kid to every guy they fucked over. But not you."

   She said nothing, but hung on his every word.

   "You have a great gift. I know you don't see it. Your mother, was ruining you. To be just another gold digging tramp. Like zillions of other… well? You called it. That's not wives and girlfriends. Those are just whores, by another name. You already see it, and you hate it. That's rare, that's more precious than gold. Remember, I told you. When I got to run with the cool guys, I never bit the hand. That's you."

   She still was quiet. Took it all in.

   "You're different, Wiz. You… can run with the jocks, but… I see you with the computer club. You don't… you're tough, and nice."

   "I know. I try to be. And that's? Going to be you. The bad girl, breaks into the high end good girl club. But? Doesn't have that snooty, spoiled, entitled attitude. Down to earth. Just at home, in jeans and T shirts… as she is wearing a little black dress and pearls. Gorgeous, with or without makeup. With or without the clothes and the hair. Perfect. Every man's dream. And after three months or three years? You'll know how a decent relationship is supposed to work. So, you won't screw it up. Not like those other girls are going to ruin the perfect boys they land."

   "Maybe. I guess. If you say so."

   "I know so. My secret? I know what it used to be like. So I appreciate what I was given. That's what you see me as now. You? Are going to be the same."

   She sat quiet and took it all in. She shrugged. Okay, if you both say so.

   "Wiz? Didn't you tell me you have something for Light?"

   "Oh. I forgot… here, Light."

   "What's that?"

   I shrugged and smiled.

   "You ride in a car with a boy now. You started to go on a date. I wanted to see if it was time, to break that last phobia. Wiz wanted to get you a little gift."

   It was the little soccer ball key chain. A little Teddy Ball. A tiny and insignificant gift. I actually got a box of them from my friend that works in the gift shop. They're pennies apiece in the bulk they order them in. Still only a couple dollar gift, and here its a pile of them for free, its nothing. But, its a great personal gift. A little Teddy Ball.

   She took it. Looked at it. Then hugged Wiz like nothing I've ever seen before. Sat there like a little kid, dangling it and marveling at it.

   "Can you take a tiny gift, Light? Its not trading sex for cash and prizes. People in love give each other gifts. Its very good and very normal. If you can take it, and it doesn't freak you out…"

   She nodded. Wiped a tear. But smiling. There we go. Its the tiniest thing, but… proof she's unstuck. Psychology might be half art and half science. But the science part? If you think you have something, you test it. Like now.

   "How do you feel, Light. You okay?"

   She nodded yes. Grinning. Twirling her little Teddy Ball around. She had her Teddy Ball on her lap, and introduced them.

   "Look, Teddy. You got a little friend. His name's Teddy too. He's going to keep me company, when I leave the room, and you stay there. Don't be jealous, okay."

   She shrugged.

   "Wow. I was afraid, that as my therapist? You'd be mean… and… make me get rid of Teddy Ball. I was kinda worried about that. Instead? I got another one. Thanks."

   I smiled. He did too.

   "You mind if I…"

   "Go ahead. I'm your therapist, Light. Not your teacher. I watch, I learn. I suggest. I don't order, I don't force."

   "Hmm. Don't worry, Teddy. You don't have to go away. Its fine. I told you, I'm never leaving you. You were there for me, all those years. So don't worry. Aw, you like your little brother, huh. Cool. You were right, Teddy. We didn't just escape. Things get better. You were right about everything else, but I have to admit. I was worried you were wrong, about that one. But… here we are."

   "You were worried I was going to make you throw Teddy Ball away? Like some mean mom, that demands you throw your toy away, you're too old for it?"

   "Well, yeah. If you made me? I was just gonna pretend to do it anyways. I told him I'd hide him, then come back and get him when I could. He's my best friend. You don't leave your friends behind, even when you escape. You take them with you. I don't care what everyone else thinks. That's not right."

   "It's fine, Light."

   She played with Teddy and his new little brother. Did their conversation for them. My boyfriend looked at me, and smiled. I smiled back. It was working. We were doing it. Then, in the course of idle conversation with her two Teddy's, and them with each other. I heard it. She's looking down, engrossed in the "conversation" and the playing. I glanced at him, he heard it too, and he heard that loud and clear.

   She was saying, how "we" get everything fixed, and things get better now. Even better than better. And how great was that? And, Teddy was happy for her. See? I told you so, you never believed me, but I'm always right.

   The chilling thing, was hearing the voice of a little girl. How Teddy was right. We can't get them all, that's impossible, but… we got the main one. We sure showed mom good. It was all her fault, anyways. And you got to watch, didn't you, Teddy. Yep.

   Very chilling, phantom fingers dancing tickles up your spine. That kind of chilling.

   Teddy Ball had told her it was time. You're taller and stronger than mom now. Kick her good, kid. Let me watch. And she had said how it went. She took some time, and did it right. She kicked her mom almost to death. And stopped and danced a little, then gave her some more.

   And Teddy Ball sat and watched.

   The chill grew and danced back down my spine.

   It would be like something out of a horror movie, or a good revenge movie. The little girl voice, talking to the ball. Oh, you want to watch? Sure… put you right here. Best seat in the house. Then she went to it. I saw the jeans, they were painted and spattered and drenched in blood. It would have been horrific. I really don't feel bad in the slightest for the mother's fate that day. She earned it, she got what she deserved. Some of it anyways. She deserved far worse. She got off easy. She got off… light.

   Sorry for the pun. My boyfriend is rubbing off on me, his love of wordplay.

   I know every personality type, has a good phase and a bad phase. Alpha for instance. Good alpha? The strong dependable leader. Bad alpha? The mean bully. All the personality types, have their good phase and their bad phase.

   The sigma personality? Is no different. Wiz, is the epitome of the good sigma. But, when a sigma goes bad… oh boy, cover your eyes Mabel. This is the stuff of nightmares.

   See here, the sigma. Intellectual. Deep thinker. Likes alone time, craves it. Likes to understand the big picture, how things really work. Motivations behind things. All while studying all those little details. Able to plan, and craft long range goals and how to get them. Cunning and strategy. They have their own rule book, their own values. And they put them into practice. Loyalty, justice. Right from wrong. They can play by your rules, and bend them. And strike without warning, after setting you up for the longest time.

   That's a good sigma. When a sigma goes bad? Well, like I said. The stuff of nightmares.

   What happens when a really smart person, feels the world cheated them. And with good reason. The whole world's against them. Someone who not only can be alone, but likes it. Now, you got someone out there. Brilliant, pissed off. Able to plan and work up complex strategy. How to inflict pain and suffering back, on the people that caused it. Or, the people in on it. That strong sense of justice? When it goes bad… look out.

   The sigma, is nicknamed the lone wolf. In good phase? They wander alone, content with themselves and their own development. They join groups, and function as quiet members, and usually end up… number two. They help the leader, they never challenge him and try to take his spot. As long as there's a good leader to follow. This is the number two wolf. He stands next to the alpha, and helps him fend off danger.

   Smart, bold, ruthless, cunning, loyal.

   We run, or we stand and fight. Whichever is best. He's the alpha's best resource. He'll stand there right at the big strong lead wolf's side, and protect it. He'll fight to the death to protect his weaker friends, the rest of the pack. This is the second in command, that goes out with the alpha and his couple allies when they spread out and take turns harassing and chasing the bear off. So the pack, gets to keep their kill. So the women and children get food to eat.

   The alpha wolf, doles out resources. He rewards a sigma, a good number two. Better share of meat, next to almost his own. He's earned it. He's an example to the young, you want more? This is how to get it. Be like him. He gets a great mate, too. This is a great pack member, can't wait to get his young to grow up like him. A big female. So the kids are bigger and stronger, yet inherit his smarts.

   Human sigma males are just like that.

   Except when they go bad. The bad phase? Holy shit. This is where those rare killers come from. Smart and cunning. Able to sit back and wait. Control their emotions, and you can't pick them out. They strike with no warning. They're ruthless. The rare capable serial killer, the rare high end hit man. Not like the others. Actually brilliant, actually brave. Almost impossible to catch, except by blind luck and persistence.

   That deep sense of loyalty and justice. When the world turns on one of these guys? All hell is coming to breakfast. If drunkard and drug addicted parents, torture and abuse and exploit one of these young? They don't go to pieces. They survive. And when they're older? They seek their revenge. And they're well equipped to do just that.

   They join criminal gangs. Their gifts do not go unnoticed to smart criminal leaders. Loyal, dependable, smart, ruthless, great strategies, and most importantly… they won't challenge the leader and try to take his spot. This, is the leader's second in command. This, is who he sends after his most important enemies. Why? He strikes with no warning. You send him out to bring back the head of the rival gang's leader? He sneaks in at night and takes that head, and brings it back and hands it to you. Then kneels on one knee, while you praise him, and use him as an example of what the best is.

   These men are highly feared and respected in the world of crime. They can also form their own gangs. They can lead, and play alpha. Their men respect them, that loyalty, that dedication.

   Governments have learned to fear these men when they go bad, too. The rare dedicated, brilliant and fearless terrorist. Not cowards, these men will form a big plan, and can carry it out. They'll give their life, to see it through. To extract their revenge.

   So, it was all the more chilling to see that Little Lightning had passed her own test. Would the rare sigma that was tortured and abused, go bad or good. She extracted her revenge on her mother, ruthlessly and with no mercy. Then? All over. She just went off and started over again. She's a good sigma. Society? Won that coin toss. Heads on the toss. Whew.

   It could have went the other way. Prowling through life. Finding abusive mothers that torture innocent kids that didn't do anything to deserve it. And striking like lightning. Kicking them to death, after getting them alone. Showing them what it was like, to be a victim for once.

   And the cops and FBI would now have their hands full, huh? Wonderful. A serial killer on the loose. Stalking and finding abusive worthless parents who torture their kids. Cops would have a soft spot for this killer. They were taking out the garbage after all and doing a great thing, really. Be hard to get people to really try hard to get this one. Hell, doing what you wish you had in you to do yourself. Justice.

   Every victim, a monster who got what they deserved. Difficult to really try hard to prioritize that case above others, that are preying on innocents. Bottom of the pile. Maybe we get to that one, maybe we don't. And if you try? You got a smart, pretty woman out there. Career woman, decent job and life. Not standing out, anywhere she went. Below radar. And, really you'd be looking for a man anyways. Women don't typically do this. Men do. No, very and I mean very… hard to spot, hard to catch. You'd almost need a stroke of luck.

   Like I said. When a sigma goes bad? Its the stuff of nightmares.

   I'm sitting here, and a chill just went down my spine, imagining what I knew went on. And he heard it, too. His face picked up. Revenge. Yeah, I was worried that she would just want fixed, and not want involved with the police. But, maybe. I nodded to him. Go ahead. Probe. He smiled.

   "Light? Honey."

   "Hmm. Oh… yeah, Wizzy. Sorry, got lost playing with my Teddy's… what."

   "You're going to help, right?"

   "Anything. You guys? Are… like Teddy Ball. The best. What do you need? Name it."

   "Well. I have all these friends, spread out in law enforcement. A couple? In your state, where you came from. I'd like to gather as much detail and information as I can? And hand it to them."

   "Like how do you mean?"

   "Well. This is a big case. These guys, would love to sink their teeth into it. Mister Big? Is a criminal. Running a small town. Laundry list of crimes. Cops in his pockets. Selling drugs. Prostitution ring. Speakeasy. Illegal liquor. Tax evasion. Legit front businesses. And you? You escaped it all. You, know everyone in that small town. You got the inside track, on how Mister Big runs the place. You? Know all the dirty secrets. And? They'll never see it coming. You, can drop a nuclear bomb on that whole, dirty town. Blow it all to hell. Won't cost a dime. You're doing the right thing. You get revenge. Think, honey. You think you were the first… Sky they ruined? Or, that you were the last one? No, I bet my bottom dollar. There's another poor little Sky, suffering. Right now. And you? You can help. You can bring the whole dirty house of cards down."

   "I don't know. Maybe. Let me see."

   "Take your time. Take as long as you need, to think about it. Weeks. Get back to me."

   "Won't take long."

   "Really?"

   "Mm hmm. Teddy Ball… what do you think, hmm? You can hear this, too. You have a perfect track record, Teddy. You? Have never been wrong yet. What do you say."

   She actually put her ear to the ball, and nodded her head. Whispered back to him, silent. Listened more, then nodded her head more. Then, she was done.

   "Teddy likes the idea. And I sure like the sound of it. But… Teddy has questions."

   "Shoot."

   "My mom."

   "What about her. You want her… spared?"

   "Fuck no. Set her ass on fire in front of me. I'll laugh, and even hand you the matches. No. I'm worried about… look. You wonder why I never went to try to get help before? Mom. I don't wanna go to jail for what I did. I was prepared to, when I did it. I knew the risk. But? After I was here a little while. No cops came. Hey… I read a little about therapy. But, you have to tell the truth. No way I could do that. Now, with Hurry? With you? I trust you guys. And Teddy trusts you, too. So… sounds good, but you know. Okay to leave saying goodbye to mom out of it all?"

   "I think so. My take on it. What mom don't know, won't hurt her. And, that was some good work. Let that one slide."

   "Okay. Maybe."

   "Light?"

   "Wizzy."

   "You're a lot of things. You're not dumb. I can understand kicking your mom, in the guts. All over the place. But, you knew to kick her in the head, didn't you?"

   "Duh. Teddy told me. Think who you're talking to, Wizzy."

   "What do you mean, Light."

   "Another big duh. Who else but me would know that. Think. I'm the girl that got a bad concussion, and can't remember the end of the big game I won. My biggest moment. And I never could remember a thing. I don't remember the whole last quarter right up to then. Nothing. Last game of the series. National championship. Game tied, going into the fourth quarter. I lost a big chunk, of before the head injury. Duh."

   "Hey. I'm content to let bygones be bygones. Condition accepted."

   "Sounds good. What about the cops there. Not a good idea, to fuck around with dirty cops, you think?"

   "Well. A lot of small towns, have a Mister Big. They usually have… henchmen. But, he uses the small town police force? Like his own personal henchmen. Those cops, are up to their neck in it. He pays them off. It'll show, too. They'll have money they shouldn't have. Money's no good, if you don't spend it. In today's world? That's easy to track."

   "Hmm. Mom, Mister Big, Little Asshole. The cops, who wouldn't help. I like it. One question."

   "Sure."

   "What about… them. You know who I mean, by them."

   "Well. I'm guessing you mean… the guys that…"

   "Yeah. Look, I know its one thing, to pay for a hooker. Its another thing, for a drunk girl to take on the whole team at a wild party. It happens. But… Wizzy? I was 14. My boyfriend? Was… putting something in my drink. Giving me to the party. And that last time? I could remember it. Everything. What do they get."

   She wasn't going to pieces. She's tough. She can hold her own.

   "Light? There's two kinds of… rape therapists. The personal kind, they work for you. If you don't wanna tell who, that's fine. And a lot of girls don't. They don't wanna tell, they don't wanna go through it. And, if you want to stay out of that? I respect your decision. Hurry isn't a police rape therapist. They kind of… push you. Make you feel that you can get the help you need, but… you're obligated to prosecute."

   "I didn't know there were two kinds. But, it makes sense."

   "Me and Hurry already had a little… talk. About just that. And Hurry said, she'll flay the skin off of me, if I try to push you. To do that and you don't want embarrassed. In fact, if the cops do that? I'm under obligation to answer to Hurry for it, and its my ass if they try to force you."

   "Hurry?"

   "Yes, Light."

   "Is… therapy different? If you get a real therapist, or… the police kind."

   "The personal therapist? Wants what's best for you. Fuck what the police and the courts want. If you'd rather not name names? But tell everything else except who? Your choice. Actually, more women elect to not go through that. Its like living it all over again, in a public setting. Therapy? Is you learn to go over it all, in detail, in order to desensitize and let it go. That's what we do."

   "Okay. And the police therapist?"

   "Same thing. But, they do it to extract the information out of you. And, to prepare you not just to live with it and let it go? But to be able to name names. Then stand up without going to pieces, and point the finger. Him. That's the man that raped me. Then? The lawyers try their best, to humiliate you, and make you get hysterical and break down. Makes the jury think, you're a mess. Maybe the lawyer is right, your version can't be trusted. Maybe you are mistaken. You were drinking, it was dark. Maybe. That's how they defend rapists in court. They attack the victim."

   "The therapy sounds… the same."

   "It sort of is. But… your personal therapist? Just wants you to be okay. The police therapist? Its a little rougher. You not only have to live with it, you have to be able to go over it, again and again. Clear confident voice. You can't cry. You have to keep yourself together. Its… like soccer practice in high school? Compared to soccer practice at a big university. Which one is a tougher, longer practice."

   "I understand. Same thing, just more of it. Sounds like, I'm tougher and able to live with it better. Sounds like, I do better. More push ups. Longer practice."

   "You could look at it that way."

   "What would you do, Hurry. What's your opinion."

   "Oh. I don't get an opinion, Light. I had a little talk with your Wizzy there. If he pushed you? His ass is mine. And if those cops, or… some prosecutor tried to push you? And he doesn't do all he can to stop it? Again, his ass is mine. You, come first. In my book. Period."

   "I get that. But, what if it was you? What would you do then. You get an opinion, on that."

   "I… don't know. Honestly? Let's say some guy grabbed me, and dragged me into an alley. Beat the shit out of me, and did horrible things to me. I… might just want therapy, then move on. I might not want to relive it, and make it harder on myself."

   "Hmm. You're forgetting something, Hurry."

   "What, honey."

   "That's just it. Some guy. Some dark alley. No one really knows, but you and him. You would want to just… get it out, get help, then move on. You forget, though. This wasn't some stranger. This was no dark alley. It was… lots of people. All faces from my small town. Everyone knows. I got made fun of, for four years. There's nothing to keep secret."

   "Its over. You escaped. If you want to put that behind you? I'm behind that idea."

   "Hurry. The whole town knows. They pointed right at me. For years. Look, that's her. That's the one I was telling you about. She's a complete whore. The football team? That one can take the whole town on. Every girl knows, that I'm human garbage. Every boy knows, I'm dirt. Four years. Anywhere I went. They point and laugh, right out in the open, in the store. Her. That's the one. The boys were bad enough, some of them. But the girls? You have no idea. I'd scream at them, I was raped, you stupid bitch. They'd say… raped my ass. You didn't even go to the cops. You had a few drinks, and you fucking loved it."

   "I'm sorry, Light. No one deserves that."

   "We had internet. Every kid, has to have internet. If you don't have it? They give it to you. An old computer, too. Welfare thing. You know what the girls did, some of them? My email. I'd open it, they sent me a clip. Of some gang bang porn. Email would say, something like. Is this how it was? Hey, at least you get a career, doing what you enjoy, whore. When you graduate, just email this website."

   "The… girls? Did that."

   "One, mainly. The rest, just went along with it, for the most part. Her friends would talk shit, but… it was her. She's the one who wouldn't let it rest. After two years, everyone knew, but I didn't have to hear about it. Just smile at me, point while whispering. But her? Cunt."

   "I'm sorry."

   "That's just it, Hurry. I already went through it. Then? I had to go through four more years, of extra humiliation. The hell can anyone even do to me now, I ask you that one. What? Stand up in some courtroom, point a finger? Whoop Dee Do. What, talk about it? I lived with this. Every day, four long years. Five years, now. I could stand right up in court, and say… that cop right there? Him. I can tell you what my shit off his dick tastes like. He pulled it out of my ass, and shoved it in my mouth. That wasn't a little bit of food I spit out. That was a little piece of my shit, off his cock. Did you know that if enough guys come in your ass? You actually fart and shoot all that come out of your ass? Then everyone laughs. There is no embarrassed. There is no humiliation. That? Its all been done already."

   I sat there silent.

   "Hurry. When I go to a boys room. To give him for free, what he can't get even if he pays for it. Anything he wants. Why do you think I can do that, hmm. What can he possibly ask for, that hasn't been done to me already, and worse. What's the worst that can happen? Oh, he tells his buddies. They get drunk, and talk about it at a party, maybe even in front of me. Ooh. I'm so hurt. Maybe you know now, why I couldn't be embarrassed. She did this, she did that. Pffft. That's right. And it was fun. Cute boy. Loved every minute of it."

   What can I say. Nothing.

   "Hurry? I'll go you one better. Let's say, I graduate. I know it'll never happen, but let's just suppose. I made the girls Olympic soccer team. The fuck do you think would even happen? I know. Hey. The local paper. Local girl makes good. Look. Szarabjorna, Olympics team. No one can miss that golden opportunity. That girl? She'll get right on the internet, right on social media… and make sure everyone, the whole world knows. What I am, and what I did. She'll probably make a big old web page. So everyone knows. Soccer-whore, dot com. Hurry? There might even be… cell phone videos floating around. Boys still beating off to home made gang bang porn, for all I know. Bitch finds one of those? There we go. You think Szarabjorna, the Olympics soccer girl is cute? Here, have a look. Click here to see her, in all her glory."

   I can't speak. I actually want to puke? I can't. Now, I know how Wiz does it. He puked his guts out long ago. You learn to take it. Maybe, I can learn to do this job after all. Maybe.

   "Yeah, Hurry. That guy pulls you into that dark alley. That's a secret. This? Was no secret. I have no shame. I can't be embarrassed. The fuck else could I do. Learn to live with it. That's all. I can't kill myself. Or I'd have done it a long time ago, trust me. No other choice. I'm not strong, I'm not brave. I didn't have a choice. So… if I can get those motherfuckers? Just one of them? Fine. There's no threat. This… shame and humiliation those other girls that got raped fear, if they name names and point fingers. Right. Shame? Humiliation? No, that was ripped out of me, a long time ago."

   "So, you're saying… you want me to build a case file. For him. To give his buddies."

   "Fuck yeah."

   "If you change your mind, you can."

   "I won't."

   "All right. Then… it goes the same way. We'll spend time, every session. You, going over… the bad thing. Over time, more details. By the end, you can tell the whole story, start to finish. With details. Without breaking down. Without, by the end, feeling depressed. That's one part of it."

   "Okay."

   "And… another part, where we talk about relationships. About how you and Wiz are doing. Anything."

   "You want… details?"

   "Light. Consenting adults. If you want to have a private sexual life with him, then what you do when you're alone, is your business. If you want to share, or you don't have to. But if you do, that's fine. Some people aren't shy and talk about that, some don't."

   "Hmm. I'm not shy that way. Wizzy? You can brag, or tell on me. To her. Not a problem. Unless it makes you like me more, that I'm a good girl about it. Then, I won't say. Whichever you like more. If you want it both ways? Just tell me you want the good girl, or the bad girl that night. Trust me here, I do both. And Wizzy?"

   "Light."

   "You make me feel wonderful. Back in Swellsville? No one could stand up for me. One or two boys maybe tried, and… everyone made fun of them for it. No one ever stuck up for me, like you did. You… really won't let anyone call me bad names. No one's allowed to touch your car you worked on?"

   "Never. You get, what she gets. No one's allowed to walk up to Hurry, and smack her ass. She wouldn't let it go on, and I'd put a stop to it if she didn't. I'd appreciate it, if you didn't go trying to get me into anything. But, if you tell someone no, and they don't listen? Just tell me, and don't be ashamed. I'll handle it. Question, Light."

   "Anything, Wizzy."

   "Hurry's not… on the market. Do you wanna be… off the market that way?"

   "Definitely. I wanna be like her. You know, respectable."

   "Then you will be. A reputation takes time, but it happens. The longer you spend off the market, the more respectable you get."

   "Wow. Respect. I never thought I'd know the meaning of that word, believe me. You're gonna have to get sick of me and dump me, Wizzy. Because if I get more respect, every month I stay off the market? I want all 3 years until I graduate. I want every scrap of it, I can get my hands on. I don't understand the concept. I guess, when Hurry finally gets tired of this game, my tap's shut off. But until then? Wow."

   "Light? I'm not… this might have started out. The idea of it, sharing. As just a hot game. For fun. Its not any more. He actually really likes you. You actually like him. It's real. As long as I don't get ignored? I'm fine. Look. You're doing me a huge favor. Letting me get my feet wet, being an under the table therapist. Real experience. That's worth all the tea in China to me. He gets… well, we know what he gets. I'm pretty sure, he's happy. You? Get as much therapy as you want. The only client. Not saying I'm the best therapist ever, but, I'll try my little heart out. Everyone? Gets what they want. Everybody does for everybody. There should be no down side."

   "Right lives with us. She's going to find out."

   "All she knows? Is I'm helping you. She doesn't know about what. She can guess. I won't talk about a client and their case, outside of therapy. Its like a doctor patient, or a lawyer client relationship. Its supposed to be sacred, and take a court order to violate. If I don't live up to that? I don't deserve to call myself a therapist."

   "I mean, she'll figure out… hell, we were making jokes at the party. Openly."

   "People can guess. People can suppose. I'm not confirming or denying. As far as I'm concerned? Me, you and him spend a lot of time together, for the purposes of therapy, and its private. And yes. He claims you as his girlfriend. Publicly. And I'm okay with that."

   "Its a real relationship, then."

   "Yeah. It is. How else would you learn about what one's like, if you're not in one. And, its a safe one. I'd never cheat on him, and he knows he's not allowed to cheat on me. Not that I think he would. Which means, he can't cheat on you. As long as you do this? You have an ironclad safe guarantee, that your boy? Is yours. That's trust, and that's hard to come by. If you give him that same trust back? The bond deepens. Its part of love, real love. Trust, real trust. They go hand in hand."

   "Can I ask a question then."

   "Sure."

   "What… you and him. You have something going on. Am I allowed to know what it is?"

   "He's my boyfriend. I love him. Pretty sure he loves me. What about us."

   "In my mind? You're… a good girl. Very… respectable. The boys don't talk about you. Not like the other girls. There's almost nothing to talk about. You, had one brief boyfriend, pre med boy. Then he's gone. Other than now Wiz is your new boyfriend? There's nothing else."

   "True. What are you asking."

   "There's something going on. Between you two. I guess, you guys won't tell me."

   "Light. He's my boyfriend. If by going on, you mean we do it? Yeah, we do it. Hell, you watched us do third base before. You girls have heard noise coming from our room. It goes on. Of course we have a sexual relationship. Its definitely a big part of being in love."

   "That's not what I mean. You guys? Have… some kind of hot game. I'm just sure of it."

   "Oh. That. Yes, we do. I think most young couples in love, have something like that. To each his own. If you don't have a hot game to play, the women's magazines? Give you new ideas every month. And the internet? My god, field's wide open, with the internet."

   "Not going to tell me, are you."

   "Actually. I came this close, to demonstrating it. He knows, he knew it was close to happening."

   "When?"

   "When I took us all in my room, and I was laying this therapy thing out. I was saying, how I would keep your secrets, and you swore you'd keep ours. I almost showed you then. I'll keep yours, and I expect you'd keep my private secrets, private."

   "So…?"

   "Light. What do you think we do."

   "Well. For a respectable good girl? I was surprised, Hurry. You're… you and him? You guys, are bad. I mean that in a good way."

   "What do you suspect."

   "Well, I mean… that one night? I thought it was a little kinky. Hey, it's me, Hurry. The original bad girl. I've played a lot of fun games. Some boys have asked me for stuff. I guess, since I'm supposed to be a bad girl? They figure its okay. And, no one ever wanted to dress up as the mailman. I'll say that much."

   "You hinted about that before. I think you know more or less the general idea what our hot game is."

   "So. You didn't really wanna get revenge on him. That was just for fun."

   "It was fun. Yeah. Being a good girl, to me, means that… I don't go out and screw half the campus behind his back. Like a lot of the girls do. But, that doesn't mean I have to be boring in bed. I want him to keep coming to me. Not, missing out. I want it to be hot and exciting."

   "So, that's it then. That night. That wasn't a one time thing, for fun to try it out. That's the game."

   "Honey. Your girlfriend is asking questions."

   "I'm in the room. I hear this."

   "Do you want to say something?"

   "What's to say. Light?"

   "Wizzy."

   "Me and Hurry play games. Yeah. Like that night. It wasn't the first time."

   "So, that's what you like then."

   "Light? Its like this. Here's my hot take on it, my two cents. You… I think you… do anything the boy asks for. To please him. So, you can try to get three weeks, instead of three days, or three hours. Am I right?"

   "Yeah. That's my game. Whatever the boy wants."

   "Light? I don't expect you to just imitate what she does. That's not what I want from you. You told me? You wanted it… sweet. I'm interested, in what you want. Not what you think I want. I guess, in a way? I'm like you. If my partner is getting what she wants? That's how I get what I want."

   "So, you don't want to play the same game with me."

   "Light? I think, and correct me if I'm wrong. You, have sex confused with love. A lot of people do that, nothing abnormal about you that way. I don't want you to do things, just because you think its what I want. I want you to ask for what you want. I want you to have your own… what's the words I'm looking for. You're own… sexual identity. Know what you want, what you like."

   "I like anything. Or, didn't you get that memo."

   "Light. I got that memo. Look… one day, you get married, lets say. The guy asks you. What do you like? When you answer, are you telling him what you like? Or, are you just telling him a list of stuff you've done. You're not a whore, and I don't think of you as one. But… you just walk into the room. Say, okay? What's it gonna be. I don't do this, this, this. Whatever else you want? Just tell me."

   "Wizzy? I champagne-d you. You? Are a bad boy, and we both know it. You liked it. Are you sitting here, trying to tell me you don't want to play fun games? Seriously."

   "Light. You told me, you wanted it… sweet. Now, that was what you wanted. Your own, actual desire. Tell me, what sweet means."

   "Sweet. Um… lot's of kissing. Touching. No rush. We have all night. Sweet. Then, other nights? Hey, make me talk to cat Jesus. I like that, trust me."

   "See? You know what you want. I'll give you what you want."

   "You'll do whatever I want?"

   "I wasn't kidding. You want something licked? You just point."

   "But, you'll give me whatever I want."

   "Yes. I wanna make you happy."

   "Well, I want some naughty games too, mister."

   "Fine."

   "Glad that's settled. Like I'm getting three pumps and a dump. Fuck that. Hurry?"

   "Yes dear."

   "Is… there an outfit? A costume. Do I get to wear a cape?"

   "What do you mean."

   "When you're playing naughty. I've seen it on the internet, sis. Who hasn't by these days. What's you're outfit like. Is it hot?"

   "Oh. You made a joke that night, about the boots. No. Honey? She wants to know what my outfit looks like. When I'm naughty."

   "Light. She doesn't wear an outfit. No costume. Its… just her."

   "Shit. For a minute there? I thought I got some cool stuff to wear."

   I'm laughing. He's smiling. He took over.

   "Light? If you want your own… outfit? You… can wear whatever you want. If you wanna dress up like a superhero, and wear a cape? Not a problem."

   I cut back in.

   "Okay. Honey? I kinda have an outfit. Sort of, anyways."

   "Really? How come I don't remember."

   "Hmm. Because I always wear it, even every day. Light? You know me. How often do I wear jeans, boots, maybe a flannel. You know, farm girl clothes?"

   "Oh. You grew up on a farm. That's… you."

   "Right. Remember his calendar girls? The farm girls, the rodeo girls."

   "Yeah."

   "So… I kinda do have an… outfit. I'm his real life… rodeo girl. On those naughty nights? I don't take no for an answer."

   "No. I can see from how you kissed him, and everything else."

   "Light? I'm dominant, sexually. I kiss him. I get on top, and do what I want. I'm aggressive, and he likes it. And, he makes you talk to cat Jesus. When you want that."

   "He does?"

   "Yes. Hey. Ride me hard. He does it."

   "So, pretty much? Anything goes."

   "Yeah. I mentioned before. If you wanna play rough with him? I need to be there. At least, at first."

   "Ha. We talked a little about this before. Yes. Naughty fun!"

   "Yes, Light. Very naughty fun. Did you think I was a boring fuck, because I'm not screwing half the football team? Think again. I'm a lot of fun. But, just for him."

   "Glad we got that settled. So… me and you, we really do get to share him."

   "I guess. Yeah. You hear that hun? We're both gonna play with you. What do you think of that."

   He shrugged and smiled.

   "All right. Light, what were you gonna do with him, your first night. In your room. What was your plan."

   "We went over that. Flannel. Sweet. No rush. Around the world, plus one."

   "Good plan. Trust me, he's gonna love that flannel. Naughty cowgirl outfit for you, basically."

   "Oh. Cool…"

   "And. One of these days? After you guys have gotten introduced to each other. Yeah. I'll show you how to play rough."

   "Fucking A. So… that game we play? With the little soccer balls. Keep score. We're gonna do that?"

   I looked at him.

   "Yeah."

   "Hmm. Okay. Hey, as long as being a good girl, doesn't mean I have to be bored."

   "Oh, Light. You, really have no idea. Its not boring. Honey, are you ever bored?"

   "Never."

   "Well, we got that out of the way. Moving right along. Hun. Your case file. Sounds like you get your way. You, will go over the case file I'm building for you. You know what the cops want. You tell me what to go after."

   "Done."

   "How long before you get in touch with any of the… MP's."

   "Well, I think a couple weeks. The main one I wanna call, if he shows up. I want to have something to show him. Let him know I got a live one."

   "Okay. Anything else, that anyone wants."

   Light smiled and raised her hand.

   "Yes dear."

   "Wizzy."

   "Light."

   "I just. I wanted to thank you."

   She indicated the mattress. Where he had licked her until she about died.

   "Oh. No problem. Anytime."

   "Anytime? I thought that was… special occasion."

   "Ask Hurry. That's… standard operating procedure."

   "What? No way."

   I smiled.

   "I get that all the time."

   "Wow. That's… my record for that? Told you, like… half hour or so. And I thought that was something."

   "One night, when you're bored. You two have time? See if you can beat your new record."

   "Oh god. I don't think its about how long he can go, I think… its more about how much I can take without a heart attack. That was… I wish I could brag."

   "He's a lot of fun."

   "Wizzy. I'm… you didn't, you know. Get yours."

   "There's no keeping track. I enjoyed doing it."

   "Hurry?"

   "Yes."

   "Can I… return the favor?"

   "Why are you asking me. Ask him."

   "Oh. Wizzy?"

   "Hmm."

   "Come on. Your turn…"

   She took him over, and the blow-star took another victim. She delivered neurological toxin first on his lips, and after a while worked down. Unlike his last swallowing, this one was a lot different. She teased, stopped and started, but… after a time? She stretched out on the mattress, and got face down comfortable. She started in, and got more into it. At some point, she grabbed his wrists, and dragged them to her head. Not content to let him just ride his hands on her head, she took his fingers under hers, and showed him what she meant. She grabbed her own hair with his fingers under hers, to show him she meant business.

   He grabbed two fists full of her slightly dirty blonde hair, and got to fuck her throat like a sex toy. She taught him quick, that when she tapped his tummy, that was her breathing break. She was holding her breath. She was in great shape from all our athletic training, and only needed a brief pause during which she teased the under-tip with her soft little snake tongue amid all the hot, moist air pumping in and out of her lungs. Then? He got to go back to it with fistfuls of hair again.

   Okay. I'm jealous she can do that. Its incredible. He finally finished, then laid back and it was more of a collapse. Breathing heavy, getting his breath. She came up smiling, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. She crawled up on him, and nestled in to snuggle after carefully tucking him back in, zipping and snapping his jeans back up. Patting his package before crawling up for snuggle time.

   She kissed him slowly some more. After care, I guess. She whispered sweet nothings to him. She made sure he understood, that was anytime he felt like it, anytime at all. She made it a point during sweet nothings, to make sure he knew that she did anything. Any hole, any time he wanted. As long as he wanted. That was her thing, that was her game.

   I did some more notes on my laptop, and was just finishing up. Now, I sat there watching them. He looked like he had been devastated by her attack. Tired, tuckered out, eyes down to slits, smiling. She had him under her spell, the blow-star claimed its victim. She was smiling and whispering in his ear, slow light kissing at times. Anything she said looked like it was a great idea and he smiled, kissed and whispered back in her ear to return some comment. From the way she smiled and nodded at the sound of… whatever it was coming back? He seemed under her power of suggestion.

   The neurological toxin allowed the blow-star to render its victim harmless and hypnotized. With far less work than a larger and more aggressive predator went about achieving the same ends. Me, for instance.

   "So. I'm curious."

   "Hmm."

   "So. I'm guessing that's your…"

   "My what…"

   "What you're known for. Your signature moves."

   "Oh. You mean…"

   She imitated phone whore's motion. She knew imitating phone whore would jog my memory and be cute and funny at the same time. She put her finger in her mouth and popped it out. No popping noise, just the motion. She shrugged and smiled.

   "Yeah. I guess it is."

   "Can I ask about it?"

   "Sure. I'm a lot of things. Shy ain't one of them."

   "How long did it take to…"

   "Oh. That's a story."

   "If you don't want to…"

   "No, its fine. He looks like he could use a break anyways. Wizzy… you mind if I talk to Hurry, hmm?"

   He smiled and waved his hand and dropped it back down. She smiled at me.

   "Seems its fine. The story of the swallow, huh? Well. Not like I was born able to do it. Now. Take most regular sex. A girl decides one day, she's giving up her pussy, to some boy. No real work required. I mean, you can just lay there, your first time. Its about just deciding to do it."

   "Well, yeah."

   She wiggled her hand and fingers.

   "Not like that takes any great planning. You decide to try your hand? Bingo. Again. No work. You just decide to do it, it happens. In fact, most of sex is like that. A girl decides hey, I want to… and that's about it. Taking it in the bum? Not as easy as the other things, but once again. More of a decision that you wanna try it. And, in case you didn't know? If you lay face down, a lot of boys will make the decision for you. Its how a lot of girls tried it the first time. You…"

   "I do now."

   "You gave him your butt cherry. That's sweet. Now, did you give it to him? Or, did he kind of take it."

   "I offered it. I was just… that night? He doesn't, you know, make decisions for you. That was just an excuse to play a game that night. I guess some boys just… get rough?"

   "Oh yeah."

   "He'll get rough. But, you have to tell him. He won't just… do it."

   "Gotcha. Rough rides available, but he's a gentleman. Well… back to the story of the swallow. Practically anything, you just decide to do it. Play with a blindfold and handcuffs? Just a decision. A little slap and tickle fun? Just a decision."

   "What's the point."

   "The point is? Any girl can make any of those decisions. A guy says, my last girlfriend, why, she did this or that… and the girl? Can just decide to do it. But… not that one."

   "I guess I see your point."

   "Uh huh. So, that's why. I knew if I could do that…"

   "You'd be special."

   "Special. Never forgotten. One person wrote about it. That, is like the Olympics of sex. Very few girls are in that club. So… you sure you wanna hear this?"

   I pulled up my chair.

   "Okay. 12 to 14. Car dates, parties, older boys. Its no secret, I was putting out. Then? Well, we all know now what happened. Four years alone. Me and Teddy Ball, basically. All I wanted, was… it was like being in prison. I wanted a boy. Then, I escaped from prison. And…"

   "You get out of prison? First thing."

   "First weekend. I didn't know about… any… changes in me. But? Found out quick. Boy wanted to take me out. My heart started pounding. Uh, no."

   "No car. No date."

   "Yeah. I said… lets go to your room. I made it my business to… well, my first time in over 4 years. I wanted it to be memorable. I kept waking him up. That last one? Well, took a while. I remember getting dressed and leaving, and the sun was coming up. I walked back. He saw me leaving, jumped up and wanted to give me a ride home. My heart pounded, I got dizzy, I almost fell over. No no, I like to walk. Its my thing… I kissed him. Told him he was spectacular. And really, he was. I mean, other than the obvious breaks? All night. Told him I'd see him again. Walked home."

   "You had no way of knowing. Car and date phobia."

   "Found out quick. I got a ride from one place to another when I was out. But… found out, I wasn't going to get in that car. I almost fell over. I walked away. Poor boy, he's following me, trying to ask what he did. I kept trying to tell him, its not you. You're fine."

   "And, that was it."

   "Yeah. Here I am. I still got it. No car, no dates. I can't even get a ride, from the party to his room. If two boys are… equal, let's say. The one without a car? Wins. Oh, that's funny. The one with the car, the first time? He's acting all… smug. Ha, he doesn't even have a car. Look at mine. Takes a picture out of his wallet, like a photo of his girlfriend to show."

   "Nice car."

   "Oh yeah. The kind of car… when us girls would go to the big parking lots, where the car boys show off, and race and come back? Like that."

   "Car guy didn't win that night."

   "Oh. Hell no. These two boys? Both just as cute. Both got a bod. Both had decent lines. But, that car bragging. That smart ass, smug attitude. Ha, I got this one… making fun of the other guy, cause he didn't even have a car. Wanna guess who he reminded me a little bit of? Hmm?"

   "You saw… Little Asshole, all over again."

   "Oh yeah. Like his head, was sewed onto this guys body."

   "What did you do."

   "I told him the car was nice, and I felt sorry for him. He looked so confused. So. I told him I was sorry for him, and he was very brave to admit it like that. He ain't getting it. I told him… its all right. Everyone knows. You got a tiny pecker, it doesn't always work… yeah, you need a car like that. Then? I looked at the other boy. You ain't even got a car, huh? He said no. I said, well… let's check anyways. Grabbed the car guy through his pants… grabbed the other one. Said… see? Told you."

   "Nice."

   "I know. Story not over though. I made the right choice. On accident, but, yeah."

   "How? Oh, he really had a bigger…"

   "Oh. He was fine. I couldn't tell, I was just fucking with them. But… the car guy? I definitely made the right choice there. He got turned down. He called me names, he acted like a dick to the boy I picked. Called him a loser, said I liked losers, I must be trash anyways."

   "Drunk."

   "Not really. Early yet. I'm just seeing… what he's like, if he doesn't get something he wants. Anyways, now I'm hanging all over no car boy. I mean, I'm making a point. I'm dancing on him, I'm kissing him, I'm making out. You know, the works."

   "What did car boy do…"

   "Oh. When I did the dick thing? Everyone laughed. Its a party, it was funny. He can't take a joke though. The more I'm hanging on my boy I picked? The more of an asshole he acted like. He's now making fun of girls, only trashy girls that like losers hang out here. Now, after a while, guys are trying to calm him down. He starts pushing guys, running his mouth. Me and my boy? We're over in the corner. I'm dancing on him, having fun. We're watching the show… car boy wasn't happy until he got into a fight, and got the shit kicked out of him."

   "Nice."

   "I know. Now. The moral of the story. The idea of prison, is to teach you a lesson. You steal shit, you go to prison. You get out? Don't steal shit, you don't go back. Well… I was in prison. Four year sentence. I didn't do anything to deserve it, but… still happened. I guess I learned my lesson."

   "What lesson? You didn't…"

   "I know. Just… kind of a joke. But… before four years in prison, no boys? I definitely would have picked car boy. Every single time. And now? I can't have a car boy. I can't even get in a car with a boy. And, that night? I got to see that car guy's true colors. First time he didn't get anything he wanted? Temper tantrum, like a little kid. What happens to me, in his room. If he decides he wants a blowjob, and I say no? Make fun of me, push me around. I'm seeing what he's like, when he's told no."

   "So? I said to my boy. Guess he really did have a little dick. I was only kidding. How about you? He smiled. Said he thought he was normal. Well? Let's go. I wanna check… now, this kid had a room on the whole other end of town from the party. Decent walk. We got there. Once again… sun's coming up. He said his roommate would give me a ride home, I said no. I play soccer, I walk everywhere I go, I gotta stay in shape. Walked home."

   "I'm noticing a trend developing."

   "Yeah. I realized quick. This, was no accident. This… there's something wrong with me. I'm fucked up now. I can't get in a car with a boy. To cover it up, well, picking guys that don't have a car, makes that really easier to hide. But, the strange side benefit? Every storm cloud has a silver lining, you know. I used to like it when… you know, a guy acted up. Hell, all us car girls did."

   "The mouthy bad boy routine."

   "Yeah. Anyways, these no car boys? Other than walking… not a thing wrong with them. Little nicer, too. Got used to it. And, that leaves only dates. The same boy. I used to walk to his house. His room mates? He's in his room… he wanted to walk downtown, we're walking back. Hey, let's stop. I'll get you a sandwich. Okay… I got there? I can't go in. This is just like the car. Dizzy, heart's pounding."

   "Phobia attacks."

   "Yeah. I'm scared of things. Cars and boys. Guys with nice cars. Guys with a car at all. Now? Can't go on even the tiniest hint of a date. I mean, I can't walk into that place. He asked what was wrong. I told him… I just, right now? I just have to have you. Sandwich, then… no. Right now. Take me back to your room? I want you right now."

   "You covered it up."

   "Yeah. Well, we get back. Um… I guess my whole… gotta have you now, right now routine. Kinda, you know. He tried harder, let's say. We'd done it earlier. Once quick when I got there, then again a little later. Then, the walk downtown and back. Took a while. It, took a nice long while. So… by the time I left when the sun was coming up…"

   "You were walking funny on the way home."

   "Not a bad feeling. Now, I gotta sit in my room all day after a couple hours of sleep. Recovering some strength, and… gotta face facts. No car, can't go on dates now. No car boys? Working out fine. I mean, what else am I going to do. That's how this whole… thing… got started. Now, wasn't all bad. I wasn't getting quickies in cars anymore. Lot more comfortable, in a room with the door locked. All night? Way better than a quickie. This got me turned off of guys with a mouth and an attitude, and…"

   "Question."

   "Yeah."

   "This started out, the story of… swallow. Now, don't get me wrong. As your therapist? This was… wow."

   "No. Its still the story of the swallow. Remember, I asked if you had a minute. You pulled up a chair. I figured…"

   "My bad. Keep right on going."

   "So. I ain't here a month? And I know all this. If this is how things are gonna be, well. Gotta work with it. I'm sitting there, trying to think through all this, and… I came to the conclusion. I had been trading sex? For time with boys with awesome cars. What I was really doing, though I didn't know it? All the girls were impressed, seeing me riding around in these nice cars. Made me look… successful. I'd been selling myself, to make myself popular. And I would have kept right on doing it. Except? I ended up in prison for 4 years. Came out fucked up."

   "Hmm. You? Are doing a lot of my work for me right now, you know that?"

   "Well. Before. What was the whole point of putting out? Quickies in cars. I was just trading a quick hole shot, for what I really got out of it. Made me look good, made me popular. But now? I was forced into it, but… way way better sex. And, with nothing to gain out of it… what did I really want?"

   "And that was…"

   "Spend time with a boy I liked. Better, longer sex? Went right with that. And, I decided. I used to take things, in exchange for quick hole shots. Not any more. I just want you. The boy. And I don't want anything for it. Then? I looked around me, at how all the other girls were. Well, not you, but… almost all the other girls. Bragging about his car. Bragging what he did for them. What he bought them. Then, to thank him? Running around on girls night out. I just… saw it."

   "You saw the game for what it really is."

   "Yeah. Trade sex for anything you want. Then? Why run around, unless… you don't really like your boy. You like those other guys. I just cut out the middle man. I'm not going to lie, cheat, sneak. Sell hole shots for what I want. Just… find a boy I like? Go to his room. And I'm going to give him, more and better than any other girl he can buy. So. Now, you can see it, I think. How I got like I am. And? Where the swallow came from. My… motivation."

   "Oh. You couldn't already do that? I thought, maybe…"

   "No. Takes work. I wondered why it went down… that night? Why can't I do it now. I tried… practicing. Alone. On my boys. Like I said. Everything else? Just decide to do it. But, not that. That's a special skill. Hello, internet."

   "Oh. You found some… secret trick that worked, huh."

   "Yes and no. It takes forever, and… well. The boxes of clothes started arriving. And, there's usually a gift card inside. Goddamn internet. Me and my… sexy clothes, right?"

   "Yeah."

   "Well. The place I get my… wham bams and get lucky's from… they sell a… called a BJ belt. You know, blowjob belt."

   "You wear a special belt? How does…"

   She smiled and shrugged.

   "Not… like you think. You've seen it. You might not have noticed, I mean, how could you know. Mom's gift cards. Paid a little extra, got next day delivery. Opened that box up in my room… tried it out… worked. Got my first, gulp. If you know what I mean. Got dressed. Nice wham bam and a tore up get lucky. Walked right to… well, same boys house he has a room at. No car boy. I'm standing there, the boys are all playing video games. I'm dressed for success, if you know what I mean. Boys are all staring. I just smiled, pointed at the steps to his room. He, just hands the controller to the guy sitting beside him, didn't even care about the game."

   "I showed him how the belt worked. And, it really worked. By the time we went downstairs to hang out with his room mates? He had this smile on…"

   "Oh, I bet. This smile, did it look anything like that one, right there?"

   I pointed at my boyfriend laying there, smiling.

   "Yep. Now… we went in the kitchen, get something to drink. No car boy, he's real nice to me anyways. He told me, don't worry, he won't say anything. I smiled. Really? Told him that was fine, but… if he wanted to brag, I was planning on it. I had to make him brag. I pretty much, did the bragging for him."

   "Oh Jesus."

   "Well. You can imagine his buddies playing video games. Their reaction. Man, you should have seen this boys face… you know how a guy with a great car walks around?"

   "Oh. They strut."

   "And if they have to go ten feet from the car? They have to point every ten seconds. That's my car you know. That one. Now, not that loser-mobile, no, mine's that cool one. They go indoors? No one can see the car. They gotta have a picture on their phone or in their wallet."

   "He looked like that."

   "You know? Better. His buddies? Oh, they're hooting and hollering. He's getting high fives. One's calling someone on the phone, bragging for him. There was… no end to it. I couldn't have given him a better present. And not just doing it. That bragging, so everyone knew? Oh… we went to a party that night. He's… the man. His buddies are all impressed. Guys are shaking his hand, how do you do it. Remember car boy? He was there. With a black eye and marks on his face. He just sneaked out the door and disappeared. I never saw a boy that happy in my life. That's my boy. I made him… that happy."

   "This all happened quick."

   "I wasn't here, I don't think a month. I know it was a special gift to give. And the bragging? Makes it more than twice the present. Now. Can a few other girls do it? Sure. But… a lot of them? You can't tell. Hell, that's taking most of the fun out of it for him. So? Let them brag. Brag for them, if they won't do it. And. More important here. Any girl that can even do it? Oh, they want something. They know they can trade that, for more than a hole shot. And they do."

   "You're really not a bad girl. In your own, very different way? Very… a very good girl, actually."

   "Been called a lot of things before. Good girl? Not one of those things. Thanks."

   "Um… question."

   "Yeah."

   "You… I mean I watched you. Just now. And before. You… I mean, no BJ belt."

   "Oh. That. A couple times? You don't need the belt anymore. I just wear it. Kinda… my lucky belt."

   "Wow. That good, huh?"

   "Look. I read all the… instructions. Every set of instructions? Oh, here's the real instructions… and? Uh uh. Look, they all boil down to this. One, you have to want to do it, and keep trying. Two? You get sick of hearing how you have to relax your throat. I mean seriously. Really? No shit. Like… bum fun instructions. Use a lot of lube, go slow… and? Relax. Same thing here."

   "I thought I heard or read that… you have to be born able to do it. Like, able to raise one eyebrow. Or, you can wiggle your ears."

   "Yes and no. There's a thing called the gag reflex. There's also? The bite reflex."

   "I threw up easy, when things got…"

   "Yeah. That's your stomach. The gag reflex. Did you ever get sick, and wanted to throw up? People tell you to stick your finger down your throat, get it over with."

   "Yeah. I make a sound, but… it never made me barf."

   "Well, you don't have a strong gag reflex."

   "That keeps you from…"

   "Oh. Fact is, any girl can do it. If you have a strong gag reflex? Makes a noise. That's what the website said. If you have a regular or weak gag reflex? No noise once you do it, or just this tiny noise. And if you have no gag reflex? Well… no noise. The less gag reflex you have, the easier it is to do it the first time. And, once you've done it? You know how to do it, from then on. Like I said, a couple times with my magic BJ belt, and… belt's just for show now, as you just saw."

   "Can Right…"

   "No. She chickened out. I just made sure she can give the world's best wet sloppy. You want… a lesson, I guess."

   I blushed.

   "Well. Okay. We need a boy. Oh wait, we have one. I doubt he'll need talked into being there. One night? The three of us, will have a couple drinks, a nice smoke… chill out. And… now. There's just one thing."

   "What?"

   "You can do it by practicing, just takes forever. Doing it the quick way, with the magic BJ belt? Its… well, you'll see."

   "I guess I should reciprocate."

   "You don't have to. But, what did you have in mind."

   "I'll arrange a little… demonstration. Of our hot game. It almost got demonstrated once or twice, just didn't."

   "Uh, that night…"

   "Oh. That's nothing."

   "All right. When these things happen, they happen."

   Over the next several days, we fell into an easy rhythm. We woke up. We ate breakfast. We worked out. Lightning worked out with a sort of a vengeance, which would seem normal except it was more intense. Right would begin to complain about how hard she practiced, then realize who she was talking to and how it really wasn't a bad thing. At the end of every workout though, we had to all but bodily drag her inside to get her to quit.

   She had learned to live with what had happened. But, she had learned to just ignore it and try to move on. It had sort of worked, but just like a physical injury that left a person with a limp because professionals hadn't made sure it healed perfect, there were issues. The limps and the hitches were in her emotions and personality and actions and how she dealt with the world. Particularly her personal life suffered from these limps.

   We all had our own rituals. Right would shower first, then leave to go and do her thing. Lay out or hang out with Lida and her crew. Lightning would get shower and tub care with me, pampered with me. Then? The holy massage and rubdown. We would talk easily during and after massage and rubdown time. No therapy, nothing taxing. We did some therapy before lunch. Me, Light and my therapy assistant as I now thought of him in that capacity, Wiz.

   Ritual existed for therapy as well. First and foremost, was the telling and the retelling. Then, the probing for more detail, always more detail. New information would set her back a little. Going over portions that contained no new details, became more routine. That was the main thrust, and we would break for lunch.

   A new ritual developed where Light was inordinately fascinated with cooking now. Anything quick and easy to learn, Wiz or me would show her. Boxes of generic macaroni and cheese and the various things we could add, until she became confident enough to try adding her own. Chili and ham and bean soup were her two first actual recipes she learned. I hadn't become my grandmother by any stretch, yet I had picked up the "shoo" off of her. Now I had someone staring at me anytime I cooked anything, asking a ream of questions and clarifications.

   After any meal, Light would rinse her dishes and started putting them in the dishwasher. Lunch was no exception. Another new ritual. After lunch, was the second half of therapy. Typically consisting of Wiz gently asking for details, asking open ended questions, or anything really. I then picked up on his heading and bearing, and gently teased around.

   He wanted her to draw a generic rough map of Swellsville. Locate a few things for him. Every day, he would come back to this map and ask for more. When he needed a bigger map, he had her draw a bigger one, and they filled that one in. Leaving him more room to add in things she told him. Where was the main drag. Where were the other ones. Business district, housing, anything. Where were the rich houses. Where were the middle class houses, where were the poor people living.

   Like any person from a small town, she could tell him "something" about seemingly every location. This intersection? Where she almost got hit by a car on her skateboard when little. That store? Was the one where she skinned her knee a year prior. The other store? She was sick to her tummy and threw up in the alley behind it. That tree was the one Timmy fell out of and got a swollen ankle. I said nothing as he milked idle detail after idle detail, developing his master map. The big one with all the little information items. Words, a blurb that pointed with a carefully drawn straight line, to a location and an explanation.

   Where was her old abandoned gas station and woods she practiced at. Put it in relation to the town. Where was the school, where was this, where was that. Was there one of these? How about one of those.

   What business was the big one Mister Big owned. Where was that at, what buildings were there. What was that layout. What was in his house? Make a map of the house and grounds. Which bedroom was where. How many servants did she remember. What did she recall of their schedule and comings and goings and duties. He could become inordinately fascinated with absolutely anything.

   He was particularly interested in where the club was. Where the boys gathered for the sort of speakeasy setup. He naturally asked a zillion questions about various things surrounding that subject. Light to her credit never once asked why he was interested in this or that, no matter how mundane or unimportant it seemed to her or me. I quickly learned to just let him go. He was noodling, probing, teasing. You just back off and let him go. This was The Wizard at work. I had seen him surmise and guess before, then draw out that what she had thought was once? Had been a dozen times.

   Last was always a short break, then on to the personal relationship aspect of things. This was much more laid back. Light would put her feet up, and we would all talk about big things, little things, anything really that seemed to even remotely involve an adult male and female engaged in an ongoing relationship. Sometimes she would lay on one of the old mattresses as if it were a sort of ghetto therapist's couch. Which really I suppose it was, what I was. Now that would make a nice business card one day, huh? Dr. Hurry, ghetto rape therapist. I can just imagine the TV spots.

   At some point in time, they had replaced the beds and mattresses, and the old bed frames and mattresses ended up down here in the back of the sub basement. The same for extra desks and chairs and kitchen and living room furniture. Most of the student athletes turned it into a sort of clubhouse, party room, or otherwise some kind of hobby room. One batch of male athletes worked on street bikes in theirs, it had a sort of mechanic's garage theme to it. Sure, they drank beer there though it was amid all the benches they whipped together and the tools everywhere.

   After personal relationship talk and the requisite question and answer period was over, things would drift towards those two fooling around on the mattress. I would generally type up and organize my notes during this time. I always asked if they wanted privacy, Light always said it wasn't a big deal. She always pointed out that the original "deal" had been that I was going to watch, so I obviously got something out of it. I fell into the habit of either taking turns fooling around with him as well, or afterwards.

   She seemed fascinated with how I grabbed and kissed him. In her parlance? I kissed big, I kissed hard, I kissed like a boy. Her style of everything was gentler and softer. I strongly tended to simply grab him and do what I felt like doing. We had fun sometimes imitating each other, particularly how we kissed. I would try her softer gentler approach, she would try my big approach. The results of these experiments for fun were mixed. Some worked better than others, and there could be humor come out of it. When she tried to imitate my style of grabbing him, throwing him down, and getting up on him and taking control… the humor was at a peak. I couldn't say that my attempts at imitating her softer style were really working either.

   Her mood evened out fairly quickly. Once new information about "it" itself slowed to a trickle, she settled down. Her body language became more predictable. I knew more or less when to expect the bold and confident 19 year old, and when I could count on the 14 year old appearing. Over that first week, her pictures from seeing "bad Moody" trailed off, and her sleeping improved a little. She was still prone to sleep in two shifts. She liked to fall asleep a little earlier than was normal for her. She was prone to wake up in the middle of the night and be awake for less than an hour to almost two hours. Then, another sleeping shift. Typically it ended up 3 to 4 hours, up for the break, then back for another 3 or 4 hours.

   She liked being around people and said it made "pictures" easier to deal with. She didn't like to concentrate on it alone. She preferred to sleep with us, as having us in the room even if we were still asleep while she was awake seemed to comfort her.

   Lida's Army barracks girls soccer mixer finally arrived. It started particularly early, as a whole pig roast was an all day and all night affair. Right left directly after showering for Lida's. After me and Light had enjoyed girl time during our dual rubdown and massage, we got ready. Light wore her most sedate pair of jeans and a big T shirt. I went before they did, I know they were fooling around in her room when I was leaving, and I can only guess that continued after I left.

   They arrived a few hours after I did. The Army boys he was close with were friendly but a little subdued. I saw the game plan right off. Lida had gotten less kegs than normal, but it was darker beer. More expensive, a little more potent. I know this approach. The girls soccer team was eyeing up fresh meat. Get the boys drunk and fill their stomachs. Start the party early, and keep it going late. Right had her eye on a boy that wasn't in the Army barracks house, and she homed in on him.

   Light's ex never said a word, and neither did Right's ex, either. Everyone seemed to be content to just pretend nothing was amiss, and move right along. Wiz and Light stayed long enough to have a couple drinks, and some of the first slices of pig roast. It was a big pig. The outer layers would slowly cook, get sliced off, and it would continue. Three buckets of sauce being mild, medium and hot. The game plan was simple. Drink and eat off and on all day, and hookups would just happen.

   Light and Wiz left quite early, before it even threatened to get dark out. I could tell which couple of girls had their eye on Light's ex. They were fetching him beer and drinks, and giggle hair flipping around him excessively. I stayed and kept an eye on things. When Right started hanging on her guy and I saw the first few kisses happening, I knew things were set. When she disappeared and didn't go home? I let those two know they were in the clear.

   While I'm sure it involved breaks, those two were gone from about 4pm to around midnight when they came back. It was obvious who had hooked up with who. Phone whore was nowhere to be found, and her boyfriend claimed he was now available. Lida told him she thought she might have found his 900 dollar phone. He was mildly excited to clap the battery back in and see it worked. Light and Wiz both wore slightly silly grins.

   Light made sure to show her place with him by her actions. A little slow dancing, a little hanging on his shoulder. Some making out and some hand holding. He did the same with me. It raised a few eyebrows, but after the last party where we were all in the hot tub… people had gotten used to it. A few girls asked me if we were both going out with Wiz, though they all called him Toot. I simply shook my head yes. No one furthered it. About all of the Army barracks guys got hooked up with single or pretending to be single soccer girls.

   As usual, the guys thought they were picking out the girls they thought they had the best chances with. In reality, the girls were divvying up the meat. Overheard drunken gossip told me what the next pairings would be and roughly when. The boys would figure out which girl got them next when it happened. When I got the word Right was out overnight, I texted them.

   I stayed out as long as I could keep my peepers open. Lida fixed me up with a really huge platter of pig meat, and told me to come back and get even more tomorrow. There was way too much. With Right gone and on an over niter, and having received a text that said don't wait up? I went back home. Those two were still up, and I knocked and got invited in. They weren't really still at it, but it was after-play. I told them Right was gone and then some, so… I went to bed.

   Sleeping alone felt weird after so much time getting and being used to a steady bed partner. I hadn't really gotten drunk. I switched to mixer only quite early. When I got up for a pee shortly before first light, I sleepily crept down to Light's room. There was nothing in the way of noise, and I peeked in. They were asleep. I was about to close the door silently and go back to my room, when I decided what the hell.

   She has the same bed I have, these beds are huge. I nudged him and crawled in behind him. I've slept with him long enough that my gentle nudge moves him as if he's an appliance on casters. I got behind and around him and instantly fell back asleep. We slept in a little, there was no workout after a party.

   When we were all awake, he knew I was behind him in bed as soon as he opened his eyes. Light was mildly surprised to see me, but since we all fell asleep talking it was nothing new. She had the awake but sleepy face of someone who had sex all day and night off and on in spurts. Big silly smile, and lethargic movements. When asked, I offered that I was so used to not sleeping alone, what the hell. I asked her if she left anything for me, and she finally got the joke and giggled.

   "Not sure about that, Hurry."

   "Well. How was it?"

   "Mm. Around the world, and then some."

   I asked him how things went, and he offered one of his typical off the wall analogies.

   "Vanilla, but… you know how places sell that gigantic sundae? Like that. Many scoops of vanilla, and lots of sweet sauce drizzled all over it."

   I knew what he meant. Vanilla was slang for straight non kinky sex. Many scoops? Several times. Lots of sweet sauce, well, she had talked about slow and sweet. She modeled her flannel, and explained she had been in the flannel and nothing else for a good part of the time. There was some "kitty style" near the end, and the flannel had finally come off halfway through that. He wouldn't "brag", so she did it for him. Apparently, he had wrapped the flannel tight around her mouth several times half way through "kitty style", and ridden her extra rough and hard the rest of the way. She smiled lasciviously, explaining that since it was the last one? It took… simply "forever" like that. She smiled explaining that she screamed to "cat Jesus" for a while.

   When Light asked me if I wanted any "therapy details", I shrugged.

   "Every hole, more than once. Lots of kissing and touching. A nice hard ride to finish things off before you two collapsed."

   "More or less, yeah."

   I asked if she was happy, and the sleepy 14 year old nodded her head and smiled. Breakfast was postponed until later than usual. We had a light therapy session, and abbreviated each portion. We laid around watching movies, until Right popped back in. The silly smile on her face, and her exaggerated movements told us all we needed to know how her night and next day went.

   Lida made good on her offering me a second and as it turned out even bigger platter of leftover pig meat. Wiz used it to make a string of pork fried rice dishes. Ham and bean soup. Pork for breakfast meat. Sandwiches. Apparently, from working around the Chinese delivery for too long, he even has his own wok. He said they were getting rid of this one and the couple smaller ones that came in this old set, they had inherited them with the location. As they got new that they wanted, they offered it to him before they got just above scrap value at the local used restaurant equipment place.

   These things went from really big, to fairly small. They stacked neatly inside one another. If you had room for the big one, you already had room for the rest that fit inside, like little Russian dolls. For a small one maybe two people meal, he might use one. But for more, he would usually get all of them out around the stove top, running on different heats. One was for water. A scoop of hot water and the rubbing with the steel wool grasped by tongs? Instantly cleaned and refreshed and ready. A scoop of water to thin a sauce out, its there. Another smaller wok for boiling little dumplings.

   The whole thing reminds me of a fold out bed, in theory. You look, you see one big bowl, the big wok. Several others are nestled down inside, getting smaller in size. There's also a last set of cheap stainless bowls all beat up but clean. Several bigger ones together, and a stack of littler ones. The bigger ones, he seems to use them like I would a salad bowl or a mashed potatoes casserole. The smaller stack, seems to be usually for the way I use plates. Its just such a novelty, to see the stove top go from clean and nothing, to big pots and pans everywhere, and more on the counter top nearby. His Americanized Chinese cookery implements expand like an accordion to take up the whole kitchen and table, then retract back into that one big wok bowl after cleaning and air drying.

   Ritual followed ritual. Workouts came and went. My boyfriend split his attentions that way either between us, or we all fooled around idly. Therapy went smoothly and predictable by this stage. By the end of another week or ten days after Lida's mixer, Wiz announced he was thinking he had enough to make his first call. I figured this was preliminary and when the date firmed up I would know. I was wrong.

   We were on our last movie of the night, when there was a knock at the door. Right was closest and answered the door after looking out. Some guy, she said then stood there. I upended a palm at her. I mean, you have to open the door to see who it is, you know.

   An inch taller than Wiz, a little thicker and heavier. He had that service look and feel to him. Military style crew cut. Jeans and T shirt. The green mail bag they all have when they move around. Guy just stood there, Right just stared up at him.

   "Wiz? If one of us isn't under arrest… guessing its for you."