| Dad's Going to KILL Us!by Cobalt Jade 4/97*May, 1991*The decrepit MG made a series of rude noises as she eased it to the curb, blaph-blapha-kaBLATTA mph blat. She killed the motor and reached behind her for the paintings she had brought up from Seattle for Dr. Turner, a onetime Rhodes scholar and recipient of a Fulbright scholarship in the mid-seventies. He taught music theory at the in Bellingham now, passing up positions at more prestigious schools for the peace and quiet of northern Washington state. When she'd met him at the group show at Galleria Potatohead he'd laughed and said it was the best environment he'd seen for raising kids."Oh," she replied, with a belated glance at his wedding ring. He was handsome in a newscaster kind of way, with sparkly blue eyes and hair. Not the professor type at all. "How many do you have?""Three. The oldest one's at college. Well, was at college. He's home for this semester, but he'll be going back in the fall." He pointed to the paintings. "Now these really intrigue me...I collect art, you know. No one else has a style quite like yours." The critics compared her to HR Giger crossed with Joan Miroe. "I'll take these three. When can you have them properly framed?""Next Saturday," she'd said, and here she was, the paintings tucked under her arm as she walked up to Dr. Turner's restored Victorian house in her black riding boots (with spurs) and tight black tube skirt: a slim, woman, hair in a Louise Brooks bob. She wore a man's Harris Tweed jacket with the sleeves rolled up. Tied at her neck was a tacky nylon scarf covered with pictures of slot machines and showgirls, a tourist's souvenir from a Las Vegas vacation. Eyes dusky, cheeks pale, lips as a first-degree burn from a hot iron. Vintage, ethnic and weird, her favorite way to dress. The door opened as she raised her knuckles to knock. She stared at the as he stood before her in cocky aplomb. No, man. Baggy cotton trousers, a loose striped shirt, and pale yellow hair that rippled down over his shoulders like the wavy manes of the pre-Raphaelite painters she loved. And he looked as pensive and distant as one of those pale, lovely ladies too."I'm here to see your father," she said. "I'm Tyler Smith. I brought his paintings up from Seattle."His light green eyes flicked down to the paper-wrapped bundles, then up again, with a quick glance at her boobs. "All right." The side of his mouth quirked up a little. "Dad! The artist's here." He opened the door wider to admit her. "He's in his study."Dazed, she followed him into the house. Breathe, Tyler, breath, she reminded herself. The moved with the unselfconsciousness of the young, that loping, lanky stride that came from flexible joints and taut muscles. He looked eighteen or nineteen, but no pocks or blemishes marred that dewy skin. Healthy living, she decided. Dr. Turner had told her he didn't believe in television, smoking, alcohol, or indulging teenage slackers. That, and the relative isolation of their city, must have coaxed the best from their offspring, like flowers grown in a hothouse."Glad you could make it," Dr. Turner said, rising from his desk. "This is my son, Reed.""Nice to meet you," Reed said, quickly shaking her hand. He was shy now, casting those icy green eyes down. His hands were lean and strong. The skin felt a little chapped, probably from whatever sports he was involved in. Tyler grinned, mentally peeling away the loose and pants he wore. What was the rest of that lithe, smooth-muscled body like? "Ms. Smith is an artist," Dr. Turner said jovially."Really?" A spark of interest from the lad. Dad faded beside this cutie!"Yes, you could say I'm one of those wicked bohemian types." Actually she'd left her nose-ring at home that day. No point in freaking Herr Professor out. "Cool." Reed grinned. How much did that kid understand? She tried to remember back to when she was 18. It was almost 15 years ago. "Actually, I'd like to talk to you about a commission," Dr. Turner said. "I've always wanted a painting of the nine muses to decorate my office on campus. Call it the whim of an old-fashioned classicist. Why don't we talk it over in the kitchen..."No! They couldn't leave that luscious behind. But she had a commission to think about, and god forbid the good professor notice her drooling on the floor. Reed squatted beside the paintings she'd unwrapped and flipped through each one. "See you," he said without looking up.Life was so unfair. Why couldn't she be eighteen again? She went over her rates over a cup of espresso, the stimulant of choice to counteract the Northwest's seasonal overcast. As they talked she heard piano music coming from the living room. "Who's that?""That's Reed. My son is a pianist.""You don't say.""Yes, he's very talented. My and I are proud of him. He even won a scholarship to the San Francisco Conservatory of Music after high school. But he had an accident at the end of his first semester. That Christmas was...hell for us." Dr. Turner was silent for a moment, taking a meditative sip of coffee. "He spent the winter term in physical therapy, but he's taking a few credits at Western this quarter. He's almost recovered, thank God. My and I were worried."A mysterious accident; tragedy; drama. Tyler's interest deepened rapidly. "Would he mind if I listened?""No, of course not. We're used to giving recitals. I play the trumpet and oboe, and my sometimes joins in on the viola." He led her into the living room. Reed's gaze was turned inward as played, listening to the music that existing simultaneously on paper, in reality, and in his mind. He gave them a brief glance. He was sharp-featured, with a lean jaw and high cheekbones; almost Nordic. Too cold, she decided. It would be very interesting to see what that face looked like once it was warmed up.She was so entranced she didn't notice the other until the cello broke in. He was sixteen or seventeen and slightly shorter than his brother, with his father's movie-star looks. He had straight sandy-blonde hair he wore back in a loose ponytail and fawn-colored freckles on his face. He ran the bow through a series of quick arpeggios, then, with the ease of long practice, he and Reed began to play a duet.She glanced from one to the other. A feast of astringent lemon and ice, and one of granola and honey. Mmm, and she was so hungry!"That's Brent, my other son," Dr. Turner explained. She leaned against the doorjamb, her eyes half-slitted in pleasure. Somehow, she knew this was never going to be the same again.#Dr. Turner prepared lunch for them when the concert was over: apple, cheese and walnut salad, griddle scones, and soup. Tyler did most of the talking, relating anecdotes about other artists and gallery owners she'd known. Reed and Brent only listened. Maybe they were just shy, or didn't know enough about the art scene to ask questions. Brent smiled more easily than his brother, but both had that introspective quality, albeit expressed in different ways. Reed might rappel up mountains, his eyes fixed on the summit, while Brent careened down them on a snowboard whooping with the joy of the descent.She mentioned she had a website where her artwork was available."Really?" Reed said.His laughed indulgently; he might have tousled his son's hair had Reed been eight years younger. "Reed's been taking a multimedia course this semester. I've been paying him to develop a web page for me.""Oh, I know all about HTML," she said. "I have a side business designing web sites. I'd be happy to show you some tricks."She found her hook. Reed was staring at her again with the single-minded intensity he might reserve for that mythical mountain peak. Two peaks, actually, their stiff pink tips nuzzled in shiny cups of satin, though of course he couldn't know that."If you have time today, I can show you my studio in Seattle."Reed glanced up at her with eyelashes as long and pale as a heifer's. "Uh...I don't drive.""I can drive you down. It's no big deal." "Why don't you go, Reed," his prompted. "It's about time you started getting out of the house again. Brent or your can pick you up." Brent started to complain but his shot him a look."All right. Thanks, Tyler." Reed drained his soup and went to fetch his jacket. "I'd like to thank you for doing this," Dr. Turner said. "Reed...well, he hasn't been too outgoing since last winter.""He's been insufferable, Dad," Brent interjected. "I want my room back.""It's no problem," Tyler said. Reed came back into the kitchen with his denim jacket askew. He hoisted an canvas backpack onto his shoulder, the student's basic carry-all, and wriggled one arm through the strap. The look he gave her was inscrutable. "No problem at all."#"Cool car."The beat-up MG was doing eighty down I-5. Reed's hair was a curly snarl of yellow, a daffodil blasted in a wind-tunnel. "Hey, can I turn on the radio?""I thought you only listened to classical music.""I like Pearl Jam." He twisted the dial to an alternative station and thumbed up the volume, then leaned back into the passenger seat. He stretched his arm out along the open window, tapping his fingers in time to the music. The remote yet attentive look was back on his face.What was he thinking? Although she was thirty-two, she had always prided herself on her ability to pass as a twenty-something in looks and attitude. But while a twenty-five year might be fathomable to her, an eighteen-year was not. He was like a strange species of that was only half sentient. Half alive, she reflected...lacking the formative experiences and the acceptance of the consequence of one's decisions that characterized those of her age. That, more than the difference in generations (which were in the main superficial) made him opaque.He picked up one of her tapes and turned it over in his fingers. "Huh. I never got into Morissey. I always thought he was a whining poser." He grinned at her, telling her not to take offense. "Don't you watch MTV?" she asked."Only at friend's houses. It's boring, to tell you the truth. I mean, there're more interesting things to do than watch MTV, aren't there? I used to bitch about it when I was younger, you, know, 'My don't let us have a television in the house.' But now that I'm older, I can see they were right." The sun came out from behind the clouds, and like any long-time northwesterner he dug out his sunglasses. The frames were platinum and the lenses were metallic blue, the kind a skier into techno might wear. "You know, I've been listening to a lot of John Cage lately..."They had an interesting talk the rest of the way into Seattle.#Reed did not go into Seattle that much except for visits or special events like the symphony. He gawked like a rube at the boatplanes of Lake Union, the skyscrapers, and the mashed-potato lump of Mt. Rainier. "It's a volcano, it'll blow up any minute," Tyler teased."I know that." A little defensive, but he continued to gawk as they turned off the interstate and began the climb up Capitol Hill. She drove down Broadway, and Reed stared in amazement at the grunge holdouts, the neo-punks, and the wannabe goths that crawled out of the cracks to take in a sunny May afternoon. Green hair, bleached hair, buzz cuts and dreadlocks; leather jackets, thrift shop polyester, platform shoes, combat boots. Rings dangled from ears, noses, and upper and lower lips, saucy accents against Seattle-pale skin. Reed stopped staring when he saw the kids staring back. He must look obnoxiously wholesome to them even with his long hair, the epitome of a Carter-era liberal's kid. Her house was on the edge of the hill, closer to crime-ridden First Hill than the upscale condos that overlooked downtown. Due to the efforts of a previous owner the structure and wiring was sound, but the exterior of the late Victorian hadn't been kept up as well. One could call it crapulous in a certain light. But it was hers, and she'd worked hard for it. She lived upstairs, renting out the lower unit to students from Seattle University. The downstairs apartment was empty now, however, pending the arrival of a new tenant the first week in June.Reed followed her up the creaking, carpeted stairs that cored the center of the house. He did a double-take when they came into her kitchen. The cabinets served as canvases for sketches in charcoal, embellished with lines of free-form poetry and touches of gold leaf. Instead of tile, the wall over the sink was plastered with smashed porcelain, mirrors, and plastic toys. A curved, crushed velvet sofa, a lounge lizard's fantasy, dominated the living room, and on the floor, shelves, and tables were her collections: expensive art books, antique doll furniture, mannequin parts, and plaster Madonnas...along with a few plastic ones filched from suburban nativity displays. The latter glowed beguilingly at night, lit from within by colored bulbs. If there was any spare space on the walls, it was taken up by one of her paintings.Reed left his jacket and backpack on the sofa and went over to look at the paintings. "This place is amazing!"She resisted the urge to come up behind him and sandwich his hips between her arms and body...clench tightly, then shove her pelvis into that lean-but-rounded butt. The savage lewdness of the notion gave her other ideas, but he was too engrossed in the artwork to notice her interest. He didn't even glance at her computer, the ostensible reason for his trip. Sunlight striped him as he made the circuit from wall to wall, a quick but thorough look at each painting."There's more in the back room, if you're interested. I'll get us something to drink, okay?""All right." He began to drift down the hallway, following the series of nudes she'd tacked onto the walls. #Tyler hadn't meant lemonade.A chilled bottle of wine was waiting in the refrigerator, but for an occasion like this, the stronger stuff was best. A friend had of hers had bought back a bottle of absinthe from Amsterdam...along with a few other things which might come in handy later. She grabbed two glasses and made a quick visit to the bathroom, then caught up to Reed as he looked at the paintings in her bedroom. She closed the door behind her with her foot. The sharp sound made him jump. He turned like a startled animal, and flushed an attractive shade between madder rose and burnt sienna. He must have seen dozens of about sex-starved women seducing sex-starved men, and fantasized, perhaps, about how suave he would act if it happened to him. But even adult turned into moosh when faced with a female body in a purple pushup bra and high-cut thong panties, though she also wore a thigh-length black silk robe for modesty's sake. "Hiya, stud." She stepped closer, jiggling. He gulped and pulled his loose shirttail in front of his crotch, crossing his arms like he wanted to protect himself. He looked like he was desperately thinking of something to say. She waggled the bottle. "Don't you want something to drink?""Uh...sure." He was playing it cool, but he knew what was happening. He gulped the yellow-green liquor so fast she thought he was going to blow it out his nose.She ran a hand up his arm from wrist to shoulder, delighting in the feel of him through the soft cotton fabric. "Haven't you ever been with an woman?"He gave a little strangled laugh which could have meant yes or no. What an innocent. She broke into a grin like a little who'd woken up on Easter morning with the biggest Easter basket in the world, and all the time in the world to eat it in. She ran both hands up under his and undershirt, over the ripple of his ribs, and playfully pinched his nipples. They were quite hard...as was his cock, judging by how he was beginning to squirm. "...Tyler!""That's my name." She undid his fly. Yes...quite hard, forming a pretty bulge under the white fabric of his briefs. She slipped her hand under the elastic and gave him a firm but loving squeeze. "Why don't we go lie down, huh?""My father--" Reed groaned as she tickled his balls."Yes, I'm sure he'll get out his bullwhip and beat you raw for spending an enjoyable afternoon having sex with a willing woman. You're eighteen, what does he expect?""He hired you!" "So?" She kissed him before he could start protesting again. He had a musky, bitter taste from the absinthe. His mouth was inert with surprise at first, but then she felt his tongue slide under hers, accepting the invitation with a slippery, albeit tentative, passion of his own. His hard-on poked her thigh. "Come on! You're a healthy man. Why shouldn't you enjoy yourself?""How are you?" he gasped when he could talk again."Old enough to be your mother...if I hadn't had the common sense I had at age fourteen." She brought her lips close to his ear. "Stop complaining and I'll give you a tongue job."That did the trick. "Um...all right." He quickly stripped off the rest of his clothes. His body was pale and lean, caught somewhere between and man, the muscles well-defined but not overly athletic. Tyler's grin spread wider. Yes, that ass was as nice as she'd thought. "Lie down."He sat gingerly on the edge of the mattress. Her bed was king-sized and canopied, made of matte black metal that was barred like a cage. Sheer black curtains draped each side, tied back at the posts. Reed stretched out over the Indian-print bedspread and tried to look relaxed, then jumped as his foot brushed the cold steel of a handcuff. "Uh, Tyler...""It'll only be for ten minutes." She turned round to face him again, having wriggled out of her underwear. She made sure he got a good look at her breasts, which, while not large, were the right size and shape to scoop up a generous serving of ice cream from a ten-gallon bucket. "Not handcuffs!" He drew his knees up, his whole body going defensive."Pretty please?" She stroked his leg ankle to thigh, the curly, almost colorless hair a soft scratch against her fingers, and rested her chin on his knee. Her bumped against his shin. "Try it, you might like it." She reached for his cock again."No." He closed his thighs and pushed her hand away. "I'm really not into that. I mean, I don't mind having sex, but, ah..."Stubborn. "Five minutes. And no handcuffs. I'll use something soft, something you could wriggle out of if you wanted to." She kissed his chin and feigned an innocent smile. "Yes?"His cock answered for him.She reached underneath the bed for a roll of wide black tape, the clothlike kind one might use for strapping packages. "Move over." Reed scooted to the other side of the bed. "Put your arms over your head." Businesslike, she wrapped each of his wrists and taped them to the bars of the headboard. "Now spread your legs." He grunted when she grabbed his left ankle and pulled, securing it in a cuff of tape she wound around the railing at the foot of the bed. She repeated the process for his right ankle. Now he was magnificently splayed in a giant X, white and yellow against the earth tones of her bedspread, with highlights (being an artist, she thought in artist's terms) of Mars black at the corners...and, in accents of bubblegum pink, two dots and a bar at the X's center. The tape looked soft and innocuous enough but was actually reinforced with kevlar. A friend who'd worked in the aircraft industry had stolen it for her. It was only a matter of time before he discovered how strong it really was."Happy now?" he said."I should take a of this," she leered."No!""Just kidding." Tyler climbed over the bottom rail and straddled his ribcage. She ran her hands up his arms from armpits to wrists, then curled his helpless fingers between her own. She squeezed her thighs together, making sure he felt the soft pressure and the warmth from her now-purring pussy. "Like that?" He tried to catch one of her dangling in his mouth. Uh-oh. Better watch that; she didn't want him to get too excited too quickly. So she stretched instead across his chest with her chin in her hands, gazing up at the agonized frustration on his face, and how vulnerable that frustration made him. "You're gorgeous, do you know that?" She ran a hand, palm down, over the muscles of his flank, feeling him quiver as if given an electric shock. Sensitive! "You are a beautiful man, and I'm going to enjoy every inch of you." She gave his nipple a delicate peck, then set to work on it in a more vigorous fashion with her teeth and tongue."Tyler...uh...ah...." Even the noises he made sounded amazed, as if he had never considered such sensitive parts of himself existed. He had a spicy, almost sweet smell, a combination of clean male flesh, musky oranges, and fabric softener. Not too much hair, just a soft down. And he was so pale he was coloring nicely, the nipples pink as the candy conversation hearts schoolchildren brought back from Valentine's Day parties."Ah!" He jumped, spine arching, as she gave his tit a hard nip with one of her canine teeth. "That hurt.""If it didn't you wouldn't like it so much, would you?" She ran her tongue down his breastbone from throat to belly. She at the hard flesh there as he groaned. "Have you ever had oral sex before?""No." He sounded at once eager and desperate. He raised his head a little, looking at her down his body to where she crouched between his legs...an odd but stimulating perspective, from her point of view.She clicked her teeth together several times, loud."This isn't funny, Tyler!" He was angry now. "It's been over five minutes. I didn't say you could me--""I'm not going to you." She caught his cock, lightly, in her hand as it was beginning to deflate and massaged it back to life. She stroked it against her face, over her lips. "I love cock. I will worship your penis. I will give it the attention and respect it deserves." She caught the tip in her mouth and engulfed him."Unh!"She disengaged almost immediately and grinned up at him. "That was a sneak preview." She had more exploration in mind before the main event. He groaned again as she licked his scrotum, giving the loose flesh there soft, teasing nips and took one of his balls in her mouth, then the other. The dandelion fluff of his pubic hair tickled her nose. She let her tongue explore that virgin forest, savoring the taste of salty, musky flesh. Was he a virgin? She'd be surprised if he was (after all, he was so gorgeous) but a late first sexual experience wasn't unheard of, albeit rare.She held his hips and ran her tongue down the shaft of his cock. It was hard again, and several shades pinker than the rest of him. She took it in her mouth, slower this time. It gently bumped the back of her throat. She began to suck in a languid rhythm, scraping him lightly with her teeth, wrapping her tongue around that hard, delicious tube. She took him to the root, and back again, her head sliding back and forth like a piston in a well-tuned Ferrari."Oh Jesus...oh...fuckÑ" He was actually saying words this time.He shuddered under her, his pelvis jerking. She held his hips, stroking the sensitive juncture between trunk and body with her thumbs. Then she grinned (as much as she was able to with a tumescent cock filling her mouth) and brought her hands up underneath him, digging her fingers into his buttocks. She parted them roughly with her knuckles, keeping her fingernails protectively curled under.But he came before she could do anything else, in a series of quick, explosive spurts. She took it deep, swallowing most of the before she slid his limp shaft out of her mouth. But not all.She scrambled around to change position, curling around his body to face him. He was breathing deeply, head turned to the side. He looked spent as a rock star's dew-rag at the end of a show. "Hey." He opened his eyes. She kissed him hard, opening his lips with her tongue. He made a disgusted face as the fresh entered his mouth. "It's only semen. Jeesh! You suck the blood off a paper cut when you get one, you probably your own snot sometimes. What's so different about your own cum?" "Who says I wanted to eat it?" he complained."Come on. You liked it." She gave him another kiss, a reassuring one this time. Then, because she'd been wanting to do it, she fanned his wavy yellow hair out over his shoulders with her fingers. He tried to keep up the annoyed act but nature and hormones won out again. God, he was such a cutie! Getting another idea, she scampered over the edge of the bed and fetched the telephone from off the floor. "Here, call your brother.""What?" She began to tickle him."All right! All right!" Gasping, laughing, he gave in to her, seemingly too worn out to fight any more. He had clearly enjoyed the blowjob, even if he wasn't gushing with superlatives. He rattled off the number, and she held the receiver close to his mouth and ear. "Hi Brent, it's, uh, me. Listen, I'm in Seattle, at the artist's house, and IÑ"She quickly cupped her hand over the receiver. "Tell him to come down and get you."He narrowed his eyes. "Why?"She teased him until he was breathless again, caught between groans and giggles. Finally he settled down. "I need you to pick me up. Just get down here, okay?""I'm in the middle of doing something," she heard his say."You're going to have to drop it. Look, Brent, don't be a little shit, okay? You remember what Dad said." After a few more crude-but-loving brotherly exchanges, she took the receiver and clicked it back down, with great decorum, on the base of the phone. Their eyes locked."Will you let me go now?" Reed said.She grinned. Not on your life. She ran her hands over his chest again, and he shuddered. She had all the time in the world, and all this body to play with. Why should she? She buried her face in the sheer masculine freshness of him."You fuck like a man."Startled, she raised her head.Reed gave her an ironic little smile. "Hey, I went to school for four months in San Francisco, didn't I?"#She pulled that out of him, along with a few others.Mark was the cousin of a friend of his, an student who was going to Berkeley. A jazz aficionado, he'd invited Reed out to sample some clubs. They'd gotten very drunk and wound up at a bath Reed had innocently commented on when they drove by it earlier. He was underage, but some fake ID had taken care of that."So how many did you let doink you?" Tyler said."Just Mark." Ordinarily he would have been insulted at the smutty talk, but now it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. As natural as being spread-eagled on a crazy artist's bed in the middle of a sunny afternoon, a warm, fragrant breeze blowing past the gauzy curtains. He reflected on what the neighbors would see if they were completely blown open. "I was very drunk."She held a hashish cigarette for him to take a draw on. The stubs of several more rested in a saucer on her nightstand. Presents from Amsterdam, she'd said. "Are you gay?""No.""Bi?""No. I don't think so.""Mmm." She nuzzled the soft hollow between his neck and shoulder, taking little bites of the skin here and there. Completely off her rocker...but the most erotically alive woman he'd ever experienced. Not that there had been many at this point in his life. Kayley, his girlfriend in high school, had given him his first fuck. She was a California girl, a star on the track team and an honor student like himself. He had been crazy about her but had never really known her. He was shocked when she confessed to being bulimic and seeing a psychiatrist in his senior year. He'd broken it off, unwilling to handle her neurosises. It had taken the rest of his senior year to discover that other didn't taste like mouthwash all the time.Then there was Yumi, a fellow student at the Conservatory, who'd been so shy and demure he'd always felt like apologizing whenever he'd had sex with her. And Mark, of course.Tyler stretched out beside him, propping her head up on her hand, and started to stroke him again. "Did you like it?" Oh God, he wished she wouldn't do that...especially since she'd get him hard, then pull back and leer at him like a gleeful, perverted elf. When he went soft the torture would begin again, building to a point where he felt the was going to start spilling out of his ears unless he got some relief. But there was nothing mean or nasty about the teasing, for all the frustration it caused him. On the contrary, it was very flattering to be an object of lust to someone who so obviously enjoyed him!"You didn't answer me. Did you like it?"He gave her a little nod, unable to keep a smile from forming. "Yes, I liked it."Ooh! She gave his cock a good taffy pull, equal parts pleasure and pain. When the hell was she going to let it inside her? She must be horny as all-out too, after nearly an hour of it. Maybe she just liked to watch!"Your dad said you'd been in an accident. What happened?"She had to have seen the scar on his abdomen where his spleen had been removed. "It was a drunk driver. I was driving back after practicing at school one night and got hit head-on. My car was totaled. My head got whacked pretty bad. I don't remember any of it. The last thing I remember was eating breakfast with my girlfriend two days before. After that, nothing, until I woke up in the hospital, with my body fucked up..." He couldn't tell her how awful it had been, to be drugged, intubated, and catheterized...unable to eat or even use the bathroom on his own. She gave him a surprisingly tender kiss. "What happened to the other guy?""He died on the scene. Look in my wallet." She scrambled down from the bed and rooted through his pants pockets. She still wore that short, silky robe, loosely belted, though she'd taken her underwear off ages ago. She didn't look 32, but she didn't look 18 either. Her body wasn't all that great. She wasn't long-limbed and athletic like Kayley or pert like Yumi. She was but fleshy, and her ass and thighs jiggled when she walked. But somehow that only made her look sexier, because they were real...and because she was real and with him, too. He groaned, feeling another hard-on making itself known. How could he even think of getting a hard-on while talking about his accident!She parted the leather creases of the wallet, looking in the billfold. "There it is. Take it out.""Oh," she said, then again: "Oh!"It was a taken of him in the hospital while he was still unconscious. After five months it was still hard for him to look at it. He was intubated, the plastic cylinder held in his mouth by a gag of white tape, and both his eyes were purple and swollen shut. His head was bandaged from where the surgeons had reattached his scalp. That area had been shaved, but fortunately his hair was so curly and it was hard to notice."You?" She didn't really have to ask the question."Yeah. I carry that around with me to show people what happens if they drink and drive. You can't see it, but my foot got caught under the gas pedal and was...fileted, for want of a better word. I had to have a couple of skin grafts. It was pretty painful.""Aww." She crawled to the bottom of the bed where his foot remained a well-secured prisoner. She had to have seen the scars when she was taping him up, but hadn't commented on them. His foot did look better than it had five months ago, but to him it still looked like a jigsaw puzzle, a pickled specimen from a mad scientist's lab. He hated looking at it. It made him feel like a cripple. He never went barefoot anymore. "You can walk on it okay, can't you?" "Yeah, but I can't be on it too long before it starts hurting. And forget about soccer or rock climbing." The latter came out with more bitterness than he'd intended; he'd just gotten into the sport last summer. "I'm still seeing a physical therapist for it.""At least it wasn't your hands," she said. Then, to his surprise, she grasped his foot with both hands, giving it the same loving attention she had given to his cock. Her fingers applied a firm but respectful pressure. "Do you feel that?""A little. My physical therapist says the nerves need time to grow back.""This is called reflexology. It'll make the blood flow better." There was nothing sexual about the massage...it was just an expression of sympathy, an acknowledgment of his grief. For the first time in his life he had a taste of the depth of intimacy possible between a and a woman."How did your take it?" she asked softly."They flew down immediately. It happened four days before Christmas, which cast kind of a bummer on things...we always celebrate every year with a big party for friends and Dad's students. They had to cancel the open house that year. When I came to they were very teary. They drove me back as soon as I could travel. I was having headaches all the time, and sometimes I couldn't remember my name. Like when you're trying to remember something but can't say it, even though it's on the tip of your tongue. I went through a lot of weird shit. One time I started crying because I'd forgotten how to put the cap back on the toothpaste."She pressed her fingers into his foot heel to arch to ball, and back again. The scars didn't seem to disgust her. He realized that he didn't have to feel so self-conscious about them, either. A heavy weight left him, one that he'd been aware of only by its sudden departure. "Did you tell them about your wild adventure in the bath?""No. And I'm not going to. They'd freak out because of the AIDS risk.""You use a condom?""Well yeah, of course. My warned my and me about that. What do you think we are, total dweebs?"She shrugged. "He seemed protective.""Well, he is my father. If I had to be a kid again, I'd rather he was than wasn't. He always had his own ideas on how to raise us. It's the teacher in him, I guess. The No Television rule, for example. As a we always took vacations together...skiing, hiking...we'd go to the symphony, too, and the musical performances on campus. I got started on the piano when I was six. So you could say he was strict, but maybe a better word is tight. He lets us mouth off to him as long as we understand who lays down the law. And as long as we keep it polite. Do you know what he'd say if he saw those punks in the street?" He imitated his father's voice. " 'Why are they wasting their lives like that?' He calls it giving society the collective finger.""Collective finger?""You know. Like this." He raised his middle finger, which was hard to do as his hand was still taped to the bed railing.She gave a high-pitched hyena laugh. "What do you think of those punks?""I don't get it. I mean, I knew people at school who were into that, and that's cool. They were OK people. But there's not much point in looking like a weirdo is there, with studs in your lip and your hair dyed blue. I mean, why bother? Life is rich enough without it. There's music and the outdoors and giving back to society, and being with your friends and family. I feel sorry for those kids. It's like they're asking for attention, trying to make everyone notice how different they are. They're kind of sad. I'd rather jump off a cliff than have someone stick a ring through my nose."Something about his tone amused her, so she was almost purring as she massaged his foot. "So what makes you such a superior human being?""Those kids aren't doing anything with their lives. They're just slacking off, marking time. I'm going to school, I have a goal. I'm going to be in the New York Philharmonic five years from now, did you know that?" He tried for a bit of masculine bravado but she said nothing, only smiled. What was she thinking?He heard car tires crunch on the driveway gravel. His had arrived from Bellingham. Tyler went over to the window, staring dazedly at the Mustang for several long seconds. For the first time he realized how stoned she was."Hey, can you let me go now?"She acted like she hadn't heard him. She turned and started walking towards the bedroom door."Tyler!"She glanced down at her skimpy robe. "Oh." She grabbed a loose long-sleeved dress off a chair and yanked it on over the robe, then rushed out."Tyler?" he called, but she was gone. "Tyler! Let me go!" It was the loudest he'd ever raised his voice to a female. But it was useless. He heard the kitchen door open as she thumped down the stairs. To let his in. "Oh, shit." He flexed his arms and legs, pulling and twisting at the tape in a vain effort to free himself. Nothing happened. "Oh, shit!" More emphatic this time, as he realized with horror he couldn't get loose. He tossed and struggled, gritted his teeth, and made the bed shake until he thought the neighbors downstairs would complain. But he remained as splayed and helpless as he had been in the beginning. "Fuck! Shit!"Finally the sounds he had been dreading to hear: Tyler joking with his as they began to walk down the short hall that led to the bedroom. No, please, she couldn't, not with his brother...She did.Brent glanced around the bedroom, taking in the sketches and paintings that covered the walls. His jaw dropped open when he looked at the bed. Tyler slithered up behind him with her arms folded, leaning with one shoulder against the post. Brent glanced towards her as if to ask a question, and she nodded. She was clearly enjoying this. Damn her!His broke out laughing and clapped his hands together. It was that infuriating, high-pitched "Ha! Ha! Ha!" whenever he thought something deserved mocking. "I never would've believed it," he guffawed. "My brother, the B and D freak. I never knew you were such a crazy-ass. Whose idea was it, yours or hers?""Hers," Reed said shortly, feeling an embarrassing full-body flush creep over his naked skin. Why the fuck did he have to be so pale?"That's right," Tyler said, taking a nip from the bottle of absinthe.Brent leaned over the bottom railing and smirked. They'd seen each other naked before--they'd shared a room since puberty--but Reed couldn't help feeling helpless and exposed anyway. He hadn't been very nice to his lately. Brent had been tolerant of him since the accident, but now that Reed was returning to his self Brent wanted his room, and his privacy, back. "Think I should tell Dad?""I'll skin your ass alive!" Reed snarled."Ooo!" Brent pulled back in mock fear. Why did he have to be such a little pain in the ass? It was bad enough that he'd been more precocious than Reed. He'd heard his refer to them as "the early bloomer" and "the late one" when she talked to his aunts on the phone. Reed had never felt so hopeless and infuriated as on the day when 14-year-old Brent came home and announced "Guess who I fucked today!" while he, at 17, was still an awkward virgin jacking off in the john with a copy of Penthouse. "Aren't you going to let him go?"Tyler broke out into a shit-eating grin. "What do you think?""You've had your laughs," Reed snapped. "Just untie me, okay? My arms and legs are getting cramped.""No, I want to enjoy this," Brent said. "Now maybe if you *paid* me, say, fifty dollars, I might--"He never finished his sentence because Tyler, sans dress, had come up behind him and inserted her hands under his Save the Rainforest t-shirt, then down the crotch of his frayed, knee-ripped Levis. The look on his brother's face was priceless as she fondled his cock and pushed her naked into his back...just like a kewpie doll knocked off a carnival barker's shelf by a baseball."Don't you want to join him?" Tyler whispered lasciviously.Brent recovered quickly. "No," he grinned, having caught on to the game that was being played. He must have smelled the hemp, too, and realized she was drugged out of her mind. "Let him watch." He kissed her, making sure Reed saw their tongues meet. Reed's stomach churned with fury. "You little fuck! I'm going to kill you!""Try walking back to Bellingham, then," Brent said before Tyler attacked him with her mouth again, pushing him back into the wall so he couldn't make much more than "mwuh-mwuh-mwuh" noises.Shit! Reed would have kicked the bed, if he was able. Fuck her, leaving him horny as hell and then getting it on with his brother!The mattress bounced as Brent and Tyler fell against the covers. They were giggling now, Tyler giving little love bites as Brent's common sense and control vanished by the second. Long strands of sandy hair escaped from his ponytail and hit her in the face. She pulled down his jeans and briefs, revealing an ass as creamy white as Reed's own, albeit covered with freckles. The paleness made a strong contrast against his brother's tan, which had come from a recent trip to Florida he, Reed, had been too fucked up to go along on. Not fair! Reed jumped as they pressed up against him, Tyler's soft back undulating against his side as she ran her hands over his brother's butt. The pressure increased when Brent rolled around on top of her, catching one of her nipples in his mouth."Don't do this, Brent," Reed ordered, dropping back his mode, a ploy that, given his circumstances, miserably failed him. "If you want to fuck, take it somewhere else.""I think your doth protest too much," Tyler said, and suddenly slapped a fresh piece of tape over his mouth. Now he couldn't talk at all. Shit!"We should go into the other room," Brent panted, having finally kicked himself free of his clothes. "I mean, don't you want some privacy?""Don't you think he'd like to watch?" Tyler said amusedly. "Look. He's enjoying it!"To his horror Reed realized he was half-erect.Brent sat up on his knees and looked at him, at once fascinated, repentant, and aghast. His face was very flushed and perspiration slicked his skin. His hazel-green eyes were very wide. And at that moment Tyler popped a capsule of amyl nitrate under his nose and he assumed the expression of someone hit over the head with a hammer. Where had she gotten that? Mark had said poppers were illegal!Tyler shoved Brent back onto the bed and snapped the forgotten handcuffs around his wrists, then around each ankle. He was chained in the form of a Y, his arms stretched above his head and fastened to the top bar of the headboard, his legs spread as far apart as Reed's were. He had a bit more latitude to squirm around...not that it would do him much good. Brent shook his head several times, coming to, then realized how he was bound. He pulled at the handcuffs but of course nothing happened. "Fuck!""We will have no rough language in this house," Tyler said sternly, now standing at the foot of the bed. "Unless, of course, it comes from me." She took several steps back, admiring her handiwork. "My oh my. Two sweet little have wandered into my bed. What a pretty you two make. Wanna see?" She opened the doors to her closet, revealing a full-length mirror on the back of each one. Reed saw, with a mixture of arousal and mortification, what an interesting they did make...splayed out like game being dressed for the butcher, their genitals on display like precious jewels."I'm really not interested in this, Tyler," Brent stammered as she took another pull of absinthe and swaggered back to the bed. "We have to be home by nine. My father's gotten paranoid since Reed's accident--he's always thinking about drunk drivers. I'm not allowed to drive after dark. Reed can't drive either. He doesn't have a valid Washington State license any more. Our will be worried sick. Let us go?" He tried to smile, but, being still woozy from the drug, it came out as a twitch."Sheltered aren't you?" Tyler said. She put her hands on her hips, making her jut out like comic book superheroine's. "Maybe I should go back down to Broadway and pick up a few bi goth types, then let them have their way with you."Brent went speechless with shock. They both realized that, as stoned and drunk as she was, it was very possible. "Your brother's had a taste of that already."How dare she! Brent gave him a quick glance, but Reed could only shake his head. Sometimes his looked almost like a girl, with his full rosy lips that formed a heart-shaped pout whenever he was astonished, like now. That, along with his long hair, made him look suddenly like the character Pitstop in the clutches of the Hooded Claw."No, don't do that," Brent said quickly."Then you're gonna have to join them," Tyler said."Join?" His looked very desperate, and very puzzled, but, realizing they had no choice but to play along, he said, "Okay, um, we'll join."She flashed them an evil grin. "All right. Now, if you'll excuse me...." She left the room, mumbling something over her shoulder."What'd she say?" Brent whispered when she had gone. "She's going to heat up something in the microwave? Reed, what the hell are we going to do?"Reed heard the panic in his brother's voice, but there wasn't anything he could do. He couldn't even shrug, much less tell Brent he had heard the word correctly...and it was autoclave.Tyler came back a few minutes later with an enamel tray she placed on the bed between them. They couldn't raise their heads far enough to see what was in it, though Reed suspected. Then she reached in and held up the freshly sterilized piercing instrument. "You boys," she announced, "are finally going to join Generation X.""No!" Brent blurted."Yes!" Tyler echoed his tone, giving it a mocking spin. She picked up a clear plastic box full of rings. They were of different sizes and thicknesses, from tiny ones a quarter of an inch across to gold ones the size of a man's wedding ring. Some had beads of semiprecious stone attached to them. She rattled the box. "Any preferences?""You don't understand." Brent was nearly babbling. "Our parents, they...they told us not to do that. As long as we were living under the same roof. Get pierced, I mean. My Dad hates it. He sees enough of it on his students. We'll never hear the end of it.""I think your is enough for your to respect his decision," Tyler said with a knowing look.Reed began to sweat. Oh God, why had he gone on about the Broadway slackers earlier. He shook his head slowly, side to side, saying "no" the only way he could. But he knew it was useless. She was going to do whatever she wanted to do, and neither one of them could do a damn thing about it. Although his had been indulgent since his accident, they wouldn't think too much of his judgement--or his recovery--if he came home with a ring sticking out of a freshly crusted scab."The equipment belongs to a friend of mine," Tyler said casually as she prepared a small bottle of something, probably antiseptic. "He lost the lease on his studio a couple of months ago so I've been keeping his stuff for him until he finds another place. I've helped him out a couple of times so I do know how to use this.""You don't have a license," Brent desperately. "You're breaking the law!""Be quiet," Tyler said. "Or do you want it through your tongue?"Brent clenched his jaw, his eyes glassy. Just the other week he had been talking out loud about getting his ears pierced. Reed reminded him that he still lived under his parents' roof and drove their car, and that was the end of that speculation. Well, now he might get his wish, under slightly more unusual circumstances than he'd pictured.Tyler finished her preparations and faced him with the gun. She held up a gold ring where Reed could see it clearly. "You're going to go first. Where do you want it, little boy? Your lip, your navel...your cock?" He flinched as she goosed his penis with the cold steel of the handle. That wasn't possible...was it?It would like hell if it was.Tyler laughed wickedly. She knew he couldn't talk back. How could she have changed into this perverted bitch? "Don't worry, I couldn't be so mean." She swabbed the side of Reed's nostril with a Q-tip as Brent looked on in horrified fascination. Reed shook his head. He felt betrayed. No, please, don't do this...But she had her way. It more than he thought it would. There was more blood than he'd thought, too. "It didn't that much, did it," Tyler said in a falsely reassuring tone. "Now it's your brother's turn."Brent recoiled as she doused the gun with more alcohol and selected a ring for him. He eyed the blood Reed still felt trickling from his nose. "See this? It's silver. That's a malachite stone in the middle of it."Brent tried to draw his knees up as Tyler drew closer, but the handcuffs only permitted them to rise a few inches off the bed. He squirmed his butt on the covers, trying to gain leverage to hoist himself into a sitting position. "You can't do this! Reed!"Brent was a pain in the ass, but he was still his little brother. Reed worked his muscles, trying to kick his way free, but nothing happened. "Charming, but futile," Tyler said. She ran her hand across Brent's silky belly, pausing to stroke his cock, which was becoming hard again with excitement or terror. "Where do you want it? I've got two. Maybe one through each tit, huh?"Brent fought her, thrashing and jabbing at her with his knees so she couldn't get close. She finally sat on him, her weight keeping him pressed to the mattress. His eyes were glazed and wild. He jerked his head away when she drew close. "Stop that!" she ordered. "Do you want me to fuck up? Do you want me to put it somewhere it isn't supposed to go?""Fuck you!" Brent shouted. His body bucked as he tried to throw her off. Tyler bounced like a rodeo star on a Brahma bull, her wobbling like dishes of flan. Gleefully thinking of a new perversity, she reached in back of herself and stroked Brent's cock to full erection. Brent nearly went cross-eyed when he realized what was happening. Still grinning, Tyler lowered herself on his erection and began to slide her hips up and down, moving in little circles like a swizzle stick being sloshed around in a drink.Reed wouldn't have thought it possible for a woman to rape a man. But Tyler was putting the lie to that as she began to pant and groan. His began to participate, thrusting his hips up at her and making noises of his own. Reed couldn't look away. His own hard-on came back with an intensity that was almost painful. Jesus! What kind of pervert was he, getting turned on watching his being raped? "Ah...oh...fuck..." Brent moaned.Tyler hissed in reply, scratching her fingernails along his ribs. Her thighs plunged up and down, impaling herself again and again on his brother's well-lubed cock. She came in a series of little shocks that made her look like she was being electrocuted. Reed half-expected her hair to smoke. It was the first time he'd ever really seen a woman come. Brent shot his load a few seconds later, then sank back with a defeated groan. That was unusual. Usually his only needed thirty seconds. Tyler wasted no time. She grabbed Brent's jaw, painted the corner of his eye with antiseptic, then pierced the skin at the outer tip of his eyebrow. Brent blinked back involuntary tears as Tyler cleaned up the blood. She'd been less careful than with Reed so there was a bit more."That wasn't so bad, was it?" she asked. She fetched a mirror so they could have a look at themselves. "See?"Brent's wound was beginning to bruise, and Reed was horrified at the size of the ring sticking out of his nostril. It still like hell.Tyler put aside the tray and snuggled between them on the bed. There was just enough space for her to lie comfortably and touch either one of them if she chose. "We have the rest of the afternoon," she purred, running her hands down their bodies, throat to hip. She paused at their cocks. "Now what should we do..."It was a very long wait until evening.#She stroked and teased them, then masturbated herself a few times, but wouldn't let them come. Finally she fell asleep, her right leg flung over Reed's thigh, her left arm across Brent's chest."Reed," Brent whispered, "Do you think she's going to let us go?"What a stupid question. Brent seemed to have forgotten he couldn't reply."Dad knows where we are. He knows this address. He has her phone number."Reed knew she had unplugged the phone ages ago. He wondered how many disappeared over the years in scenarios like this, while their families thought they were the victims of wanderlust or foul play.Tyler stirred, then roused her head, groggy. She smelled like pussy, stale smoke, sweat and booze. Not exactly a bouquet, and not exactly unarousing, either. She coughed a few times, acting very hungover. "Whoa. Must'a fallen asleep." She noted her captives. "I'm going to take that tape off now. Are you gonna be good?"She ripped off the tape before Reed could shake his head yes. It stung, pulling out small facial hairs. "Ow!""Will you let us go now?" Brent asked humbly."Huh? Oh, all right." She didn't seem to be too interested in them anymore, or in the fact she had committed at least three felonies. She got a pair of scissors off her dresser and cut the tape at Reed's wrists and ankles. He sat up on the bed, stretching his arms and legs and rubbing them back into full circulation. Still moving like a zombie, she grabbed a key from under her mattress and unlocked Brent's handcuffs. Reed waited until she undid the third one. It was now or never; justice demanded that the biter be bitten.He grabbed her from behind, catching her in a headlock and pulling her arms behind her back. She screeched in outrage as he pulled her toward the empty handcuffs. "Now, Brent! Get her! It's payback time!" Brent caught her legs and pulled her ankles apart. Then, overcome by the wide-open before him, he forgot all about the idea of and went down on her, burying his head between her switching thighs."Brent! Shit!" Why the hell couldn't his control himself for once? Tyler began to gyrate as his brother's tongue drove deep, jerking like a woman being roasted alive on a spit. She drew her knees up as she gasped, catching his brother's head between them like a vise. Reed pulled her robe over her head and used the silk belt to tie her wrists together, then secured them to the headboard of the bed. He planted his knees on either side of her shoulders and pushed her head down on the mattress. She knew what was coming and was helpless to prevent it. Reed felt a roller coaster thrill race through him as she realized she was one small-boned and sedentary woman against two athletic men.She eagerly opened her mouth to admit his cock. Some payback! He pushed his cock into her mouth anyway, fucking her with an intensity that had been building all afternoon, and had gone unsatisfied all afternoon. She drew on his sex with her tongue and lips, until he thought her face would turn blue. Brent ate her out at the other end, pushing her in a rhythm that Reed felt beneath his body, a rhythm that engorged him even more painfully. Tyler him deeper, her hips galloping against the mattress. The noises she made merged into pain. Reed dug his fingers into her hair, sealing her tight to his crotch, as the rhythm drove them on and on.She came in spasmic jerks and then he did, too, with an explosive thrust he swore would have hit the wall, if his cock hadn't been buried deep within her throat.He withdrew as she swallowed spasmodically. His raised his head, panting. Then they collectively sighed and slumped together, utterly spent. "Do you wanna have a bath?" Tyler asked weakly.#Tyler didn't have a shower, only an Victorian lion-footed tub. They sat together in the steaming water--"The water heater's kind of funky, so I only get enough for one bath at a time--" and squeezed sponges over themselves, knees up to accommodate the tightness of the space. Tyler told dirty jokes to Brent and blew a raspberry between his naked shoulderblades. He giggled like a dirty-minded ten-year-old, having forgotten all about the ordeal on the bed.Reed had not. He knew their would hit the ceiling when they saw them stagger in. Brent, like most kids his age, had been fascinated with the idea of body piercing, but only a handful of his friends had actually done it. Though smartass, he wasn't the rebellious grunge type, and would probably take a lot of ribbing from his peers for it.Reed knew he would take most of the heat from his because he had been the elder and permitted it to happen. Not only that, but their ex-hippy would know exactly what else they'd been up to, from the post-hash redness in their eyes to the liberal scratches and love bites they sported...along with the normal variety of bruises caused by a naked female bouncing around on top of them."I'm sorry about the ring," Tyler said, squeezing warm water over his back. "I was kind of out of it. I didn't know what I was doing."I'll say you didn't, he thought, but the up-and-down motion of the sponge felt good anyway. Brent climbed out of the tub and folded a towel into a cushion for his butt so he could sit on the edge. He began to dry himself between swigs from his third beer. Reed had the sense not to drink, foreseeing the drive home, but he couldn't help feeling resentful."I've got a friend who can take them out for you," Tyler continued, her voice a husky whisper from all the screeching she'd done. "I'd do it myself, but I don't have the right tools here. He gets home from his shift around eleven.""Our would still see the holes, and we have to be back in Bellingham by nine," Reed said. "So what's the use of that?""Come on, Ice Prince, don't be mad." She wrapped her arms around his chest, cheek resting briefly on his shoulder. "That ring is real gold. It would cost you over two hundred dollars to get it done downtown."Her wet pressed against his back. He was still annoyed, but not as much.#Tyler offered to cook them some bacon and eggs before they left, but Brent put the kabosh on that. "I'm a vegan," he said with superior disdain. There wasn't much else to eat in her refrigerator besides a half-empty jar of pesto and a few wilted lettuce leaves, so they decided to go.Tyler walked them downstairs, now in a plain terrycloth bathrobe that reached her ankles. She looked tired, but had a gleam in her eyes that told them she wouldn't mind doing the whole thing again. "Hey, don't tell your Dad about this, will you?"Reed shook his head no. How could she be so nonchalant after an experience like that? She acted like it happened every day. Maybe it did. He wasn't about to tell anyone, and neither was Brent. They might share the between themselves, in the future, over a six-pack of beer by the pool. "Brent, go on ahead to the car, will you?" His pulled a face, seeing a gushy farewell scene coming. He went to toss his backpack in the trunk."Tyler..." Reed began, as she folded her arms over her bathrobe and gazed seriously at him, her face disarmingly pixyish. She smelled of cedar oil soap. It was hard to look her in the eye. He kept seeing her face when he pinned her down on the bed and stuck his cock in her mouth. The memory made him feel guilty and embarrassed now. He wanted to say a million things, and ask a million questions, but only one came out: "Why?"She shrugged. "Maybe I like guys. I could tell you about a little who was always trying to fit in and never did, or I could tell you about a teenager who was constantly put down for being poor, being ugly, being different...or I could tell you about an art student who sacrificed everything, literally everything, to put herself through school and be the best she could be...or I would tell you about the crazy bitchiness of the art world, the friends who drop you when you're no longer hot, the agents who screw you blind, and long hours of pounding the pavement going to gallery after gallery begging to show slides of your work even to the janitor if he was interested. "But you don't really want to know about all that, do you?"She kissed him softly on the mouth. "Take care of yourself, Ice Prince.""Drive safe," she called as he walked to the car. She gave a last little wave of her hand, then the door shut.Brent went automatically to the driver's side, but Reed pushed him aside. "No. I'm driving.""You don't have a license!""And you're bombed. No way are you going back on the highway." Brent complained under his breath, but took the passenger seat anyway and handed over the keys. Reed backed the Mustang out onto the street. They drove along the quiet street under the oaks, heading for the lights of Broadway and the on-ramp to the freeway."Reed? Do you think she was crazy?"For all his sexual hyperactivity Brent knew very little about the female personality. "No. I think it's her lifestyle.""She fucked *me,*" his said smugly."Yeah, but I got two blowjobs."They debated which was better the rest of the way out of Seattle, then Brent decided to take a nap. He drew his legs up like a child, lying curled against the passenger door with his head cradled on his arm. Reed felt just a little bit sorry for his brother. He had a year left of high school to go, and there was no way he'd be satisfied with his own age now.He woke up on the outskirts of Bellingham complaining of hunger. Reed pulled into a casual restaurant they were familiar with where a lot of his friends from high school had worked. He hadn't been in there since last Thanksgiving, before his accident, and was surprised at the happy reception he got from his friends."Looks like you have gone grunge," Anna the waitress joked. "I'm glad to see you're doing better. We all heard about the accident.""I'll have a veggie burger," Brent said.Anna eyed the beaded ring at the corner of his eyebrow. "Very stylish. Hey Chris, Terry. Look who's back."They found themselves the objects of bemused admiration, not ridicule like Reed had feared. It felt good to be back with his friends. He wondered why he hadn't gotten in touch with them sooner. After a quick meal they went back out to the car. It was almost midnight. They had a ten-minute drive to their house from here...ten minutes to cook up a plausible between them."We met an ex-teacher of mine from San Francisco," Reed thought out loud. "It happened downtown. He drugged our drinks and dragged us to a piercing parlor. Then we got mugged when we were walking back to the car.""Drugged with what?" Brent said. "LSD? Dad's gonna ask if we filed a police report, Reed.""Okay. We went to a concert in Volunteer Park where someone slipped us drugged Gatorade. We don't remember anything after that except waking up on the grass with these rings stuck in us.""No! That's totally unbelievable!""You got a better one?" Reed snapped.Brent didn't reply. He rolled down the window to look at himself in the sideview mirror. The bruise around his new brow ring looked like someone had mashed a ripe blueberry into his face."Dad's going to KILL us," he moaned.ENDThis work is copyrighted 1997 by Cobalt Jade (Cobaltjade@aol.com). This work may be be freely distributed over electronic media provided no fee is charged for its use. Charging a fee for this story, or publishing without author credit or this notice violates my copyright.
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