The Phases of One's Life
Copyright© 2026 by N.D.Tomes
Chapter 41: Tina Meets Gilligan – Tina II.3 – Friday (7 days til Reception)
Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 41: Tina Meets Gilligan – Tina II.3 – Friday (7 days til Reception) - A controlled corporate attorney wakes tied to her own bed by a naked stranger who knows her name and claims it’s “for your own good.” The young woman has been quietly tangled in her life for months—leaving signs, steering events, and creating a strange current between them. What follows is a tense night of revelations about the firm, the last six months, and unsettling supernatural abilities. Dry, first-person, focused on the emotional shift more than explicit detail.
Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa Fa/ft Consensual Lesbian Heterosexual Fiction Humor Group Sex Interracial Black Female White Male White Female Oriental Female Hispanic Female First Masturbation Oral Sex
I was furious. No—humiliated. Having a colleague laugh—actually laugh—at you over a video call is a special kind of mortifying.
I’d set up the call with an agent who knew maritime investigations. He picked up a pen, ready to take notes. But the second I started relaying Daphne’s details, he set the pen down and gave me exactly the same look Daphne had given me when she said “Latin America.” He held up a finger, typed something on his phone, and a song started playing. By the time I heard “In their tropic island nest,” my face was burning.
He coaxed the rest of the story out of me. When I finished, he laughed again—but recovered quickly. He said he’d once fallen for something just as bad, but refused to elaborate. “Google ‘Flintstones’ and ‘Father Guido Sarducci,’” he told me. I did. I was spitting mad. Mostly at myself.
But I still wanted to wring her neck.
I buried myself in paperwork and started my expense report to calm down. Around two o’clock an email notification popped up. It was from Kate, inviting me over for dinner again. P.S.: “Daphne wants to introduce you to our neighbors, Barney and Betty.”
I didn’t know whether to be angry or laugh. I ended up smiling.
The email didn’t specify a time. Yesterday we’d started eating between six and seven, so I decided to arrive early. It was two-thirty now. I left immediately. I was still annoyed, but I hoped the drive would build the anger back up.
The same security man was at the desk. He just waved me through. I asked if there were any dishes today. He smiled and shook his head no.
Once on the floor and standing in front of the door, taking a breath, I knocked, already composing my stern agent face. The door opened. A tall Black woman stood there. Seeing me, she broke into a charming smile and called over her shoulder, “You’re right—she’s got her cop face on. And she’s way too pretty to be a real agent unless she was playing one on TV.”
I kept my voice level. “I call it my agent face. I assume she’s hiding.”
The woman called back, “She says it’s her agent face, not cop face. But she sounds a little angry. You sure you want me to let her in?”
Daphne’s voice drifted from the kitchen. “Let her in. There are plenty of witnesses. Tina’s not crazy.”
The woman extended her hand. “Agent Cruz, nice to meet you. Betty Rubble, call me Betty.”
“Of course you are. Call me Mud,” I said. “By the time I get back to Washington that’ll probably be more appropriate. I assume your husband Barney will be joining us.”
I marched toward the kitchen, determined to chew Daphne out—at least long enough to soothe my bruised ego. The woman, I didn’t believe for a minute her name was Betty, followed behind me.
Turning the corner, I saw Daphne at the island. Three children sat there eating sandwiches. Daphne said something in smooth, accented Latin. The children—twin boys and a striking older sister—turned to me in unison and each said, “Mucho gusto, señora Tina.”
Switching to Spanish, I asked their names, shook each small hand, and greeted them properly. Daphne spoke to them again in Latin. They went back to eating and chatting—in Latin.
“This place sounds like the UN.” Then: “How many languages do the children speak?”
She pointed an accusing finger at Daphne. “Just the three.” Then added, “Four if you count English. But I only hear that around the house when my husband’s home.” She then introduced herself, “I’m Christine Barrington.” Then pointing at each of the children introduced Christopher Jr. and Roland, and their big sister Christine June, who goes by CJ.
Daphne came around the island now and gave me a firm hug. She brushed my hair aside and kissed me lightly along the jaw, very close to my ear. Releasing me, she said, “I’m happy you could make it. I was expecting you earlier. Finally made Kate send the email.”
Christine took a sip from her cup and said casually, “The agent was probably busy looking for Gilligan.”
Daphne turned to her. “Tina has a sense of humor.” Then, returning to the cutting board: “No harm, no foul.”
“I called an agent who knows maritime investigations,” I said.
Daphne spun around, eyes wide. Christine started laughing. Daphne rushed over, grabbed my upper arms. “I thought you were smart! Didn’t you check anything first?” She jabbed a finger at me. “This isn’t my fault.”
Christine finally calmed enough to speak. “My husband’s a cop. I know the ribbing you’re in for. You might consider moving. I hear the mall is hiring.”
“At least you didn’t mention Fred and Wilma,” Daphne said. “Or the Father.”
I didn’t answer. She studied my face and clearly got the point. Christine started laughing again.
Daphne gave me a pained look. “Thank goodness you’re beautiful. Maybe you can go into modeling or something.” She shook her head, turned back to the vegetables. Then, softer: “A tip—if someone wants to take ‘artistic’ pictures of you...” She made air quotes, didn’t finish, just shook her head again.
Christine told her, “Be nice.”
Daphne turned back to me. “I know. I feel bad. I’ll be good.”
“It’ll be all right,” I said.
“You sure?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She walked around the island and hugged me again. The children, wanting in on it, hopped off their stools and wrapped their arms around both our legs.
Daphne looked down at them, then back at me. “Am I forgiven?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll never do anything like that again ... Now that I know how smart you are.”
I groaned. Christine started laughing again. The kids joined in, giggling too.
The laughter died down. There weren’t any stools left, so I stood at the island. Daphne handed me a cup of coffee. I looked at her and said, “I hope you paid those three a lot for being here and protecting you.”
“They actually work for food,” she replied as she started clearing their already-clean plates. The kids scampered off to a back room to play. I took a vacated stool.
The three of us chatted. Christine’s husband’s name rang a bell from the police reports, but we didn’t talk about the incidents. Instead we talked about how Daphne kept hitting on Christine’s husband, Chris. Daphne said Christine should be grateful she didn’t wear heels to look taller around him. Christine shot back that Daphne would need stilts and some implants.
Daphne grabbed both her breasts. “These are perfect.”
Christine smirked. “I’m not talking about those bug bites you’re trying to pass off as boobs. I’m talking about your lack of booty.”
“I go for firmness, width, and roundness,” Daphne said. “It’s not meant to be a bouncy castle.”
“Yes it is,” Christine replied, smiling.
Just then a knock at the door. Christine jumped up. “That must be Chris.” She answered it and returned with a man in a police sergeant’s uniform—easily twice Daphne’s size. When they entered, Daphne rushed between them and latched onto his arm. Looking at me, she said, “See? We look great together.”
I glanced around the room. “Who said that?” Then, deadpan to her: “Sorry, didn’t see you behind his forearm.”
Daphne released his arm, scowled at me, and said, “Jealous.”
She called something in Latin to the children and walked into the back. I wondered just how big this place really was.
Christine introduced me to Chris as Agent Cruz. He looked surprised. “What brings you here?”
Daphne must have heard. She came back with the kids, who immediately ran to hug their father. “She’s here to see if I’m a Russian or Chinese spy.”
I said to him, “Just routine questions. Screening for an event in Washington. Dotting the i’s, crossing the t’s.” He nodded. The kids were already tugging him toward the door. He waved back—”Nice to meet you.” Daphne followed, saying something to the children.
Christine quickly turned her back to Daphne and whispered to me, “Say this loud enough for her to hear when she starts walking back: ‘That is a nice bra, it’s so sheer.’”
I saw Daphne coming. Christine pretended to button her blouse. I blurted, “That is a pretty bra. Very sheer.” Then added, “Looks a little small though.”
The ad-lib made Christine smile. She winked at me.
Daphne called out, annoyed, “You just met her. You flash her and not me?”
I had no idea what was going on, but I asked Daphne, “Want me to describe what I saw?”
“Yes.”
“Too bad.”
Christine burst out laughing. She gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek, whispering in my ear, “Perfect.”
Then she gave Daphne a quick hug and kiss on the head and rushed out the door.
“You going to explain all that to me?” I asked.
“Maybe after you’re all grown up,” Daphne replied. I gave her a smirk. She smiled back. “It’s not what you think.” She gave a short pause then added, “Mostly.”
“So ... what do you do all day?” I asked as she cleared the island of coffee cups and loaded the dishwasher. She didn’t answer for a long moment. Wasn’t even looking at me. I wondered if she’d heard. She closed the dishwasher door, turned to me, and said, “Get us a bottle.” She pointed at the wine fridge. I gave her a questioning look. “Anything in the top row,” she said, smiling.
I grabbed a bottle at random and opened it. Daphne had already taken two glasses and was heading to the balcony. I followed with the open bottle. She sat at the table, feet up on the rail. I poured and took the chair next to her. Staring out over the ocean, I took a sip.
With no preamble, Daphne said, “Everything I told you yesterday was true.” Then, giving me a slightly pitying look: “Except for the pop-culture references.” She turned, put her hand on my leg, and added in an apologetic tone, “If I thought you’d told anyone else, I would have made-up a lot more.” She gave me a giant smile and squeezed my knee.
For the next half hour she talked. She answered every question—not that I had many. It seemed she didn’t know a whole lot about some things herself. There was an LLC—that’s where her money came from. It also owned the entire floor they lived on.
It had somehow been set up in the will of a dear friend of her father’s. She had no idea who. A local law firm—not Kate’s—handled everything. They assured her it was all legal, nothing shady. Except they didn’t know who actually established either LLC.
They were hired from a firm in the Cayman Islands. I knew it was virtually impossible to trace who owned the LLC or any of the LLCs that might be in the chain. She knew it too. In short she was telling me nothing.
We sat and talked for another hour. She talked about traveling around the US and around the world with her parents. She told me her parent really did die several years ago while traveling through Africa. Again it was in a region where records were not kept. No way for me to verify anything she just told me.
I had poured myself a glass of wine, but hadn’t taken a sip. Daphne on the other hand had finished her glass and was pouring another.
“Is there anything you can tell me that I can verify?”
“I’m a good cook. I’m here talking with you. You know where I live. You met some of my friends. I really do have a better ass than Christine.” She gave me a charming smile then said, “I’m no threat to anything or anyone.”
“That’s what I thought,” I said with a sigh. Then added, “That’s really not good enough. I’m going...” Her phone rang just then. She didn’t have a cell phone, it was a landline inside the apartment. She excused herself and returned happily chatting with someone named Jill. Daphne sat back down and asked if she could put Jill on speaker. Daphne next said, “Just Agent Cruz.”
This was the first time she ever referred to me as Agent Cruz, it had always been Tina. Jill, whoever that was must have given permission, because Daphne hit a button and put the phone on the table between us. The second Daphne announced, “You’re on speaker.”
The woman on the other end greeted me, “Hello Agent Cruz, enjoying the weather there.”
I said it was quite nice. Before I could say anything else a man’s voice on the other end of the phone told the woman, “We need to hurry.”
The woman said she was confirming the meeting with Daphne and the consulate person. The man greeted Daphne by asking if she was staying out of trouble. Daphne replied, “I’m trying, but the FBI here. Say Hello to Agent Cruz.”
The man asked half amused, “What did you do now? You need me to talk to anyone?”
I thought, who is this guy? Who would he talk to?
Daphne laughed, saying, “No, Agent Cruz is just doing background something, so I can attend the reception.”
The man then greeted me, “Agent Cruz, take good care of our friend. If you need anything or any help just contact my office.” I gave Daphne a who does this guy think he is look. Assuming it was a friend who would vouch for her character. Then I said, “I think I can handle it.” Trying to keep the mixture of sarcasm and annoyance out of my voice. But not really succeeding.
Daphne quickly jumped in saying, “That’s sweet of you Senator Lester.” She said Senator Lester while eyeing me sternly. Then said, “Agent Cruz and I are getting along like old friends.”
I jumped in immediately after Daphne quit talking, saying, “Daphne’s right, this is all quite routine. I don’t foresee any issues. Thank you very much for the offer though.” I tried to sound very upbeat even though my teeth were clenched.
“Very good,” he replied. His tone seemed slightly stern. I was hoping it was my imagination. I gave Daphne a look of annoyance. She returned an even more annoyed look.
Jill and Daphne talked for a minute longer. I stewed, thinking I wasn’t already in enough trouble at the bureau. Now there was a senator that might be annoyed with me and my attitude. When Daphne said her goodbyes, Jill also gave me a polite goodbye. Nothing like her friendly greeting.
The moment the call disconnected, Daphne gave me a look saying, “You really are your own worst enemy.”
“You could have told me who you were talking to.”
That was obviously the wrong thing to say. She gave me one of the sternest and disapproving looks I received since I was a teenager and said, “You shouldn’t care who’s on the other end of a phone. You should treat them with kindness and respect. Those were two friends showing concern for me. That’s something I never take for granted.”
She got up carrying the phone saying it’s getting late, it was only a little after five o’clock. Her message was clear. She walked toward the front door. I knew apologizing wouldn’t do any good, but I did it anyway. She didn’t say anything in response, just opened the door.
As I walked out the door I said, “Thank you for your time. And, I am sorry.” Again, there was no response. Just the door closing behind me.
I spent the ride down in the elevator cursing at myself. When the doors opened I was still looking at my shoes still mumbling under my breath. There must have been a pissed off look on my face because Kate was standing there. The first thing Kate said was, “What did she do?”
Looking up I said, “Nothing. I stepped in it. My own fault.”
She was blocking my exit from the elevator. She asked, “What happened?” She didn’t wait for a response.
Entering the elevator, she didn’t let me exit. On the way back up I explained my rudeness to the Senator. If I was expecting some sympathy it didn’t come.
Kate gave me a look, telling me, “Yes you were. Plus Daphne is fiercely loyal to her friends. The only person allowed to be rude to me is her.”
I tried to tell her I’d like to just leave quietly and not have any kind of confrontation. Kate just said trust me as she led me back to the apartment. Kate opened the door and announced “we’re here.”
Daphne called out, “Is the ‘Super Sleuth’ with you?”
“Yes, Agent Cruz is with me.”
“Great.”
The reply was not as enthusiastic as the single word might lead one to believe.
I looked at Kate who was shaking her head. She held up a finger and said “Wait for it.”
Daphne went on, “I called Jill and the Senator back and explained the situation. They were both laughing so hard they could barely say goodbye.”
“Is she serious?” I asked Kate.
Kate shrugged saying, “Fifty-fifty, I should have let you escape when you had a chance. From here on out, you can blame me too.”
The feeling of anger and confusion was fighting for control. Working to keep my expression neutral, I said, “Great.” My tone matched Daphne’s ‘great’.
Even as I said it, the thought landed: am I just another Doyle Lonnegan in the making? Something was going on. I was determined to find out what.
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