Chapter 23: RESET, RESET, RESTORE

“Excellent choice for the prisoner exchange, my lady.” Lou leers at little Sally. “Your son and I are too big to comfortably share the lamp. She’ll fit in nicely.”

Sally falls to the floor. Put on my bed senseless, five minutes of anxious concern later, Sally’s eyes are slow to focus when she reopens them. Mom smiles at her.

“Who are you?” Sally asks, focusing on Mom, her voice, a curious little girl’s.

“Don’t you know me, Sally?”

“It’s nice to meet you Sally, you’re pretty. Where am I?” Sally sounds confused.

Rolling her head, she sees me, focuses on me. Having trouble with her eyes. Maybe she needs glasses. “I know you. You promised me something to eat.”

“Do you remember anything else, Sally?” She rocks her head no, then brightens.

“I remember! I’m hungry. Can I eat now?”She looks perplexed. “I’m Sally.” Turning again to Mom, “My name is Sally. I remember now. Who are you?”

“I’m Mom.” Sally’s face shines with delight. She folds upright into a sitting position and into Mom’s arms. Sally throws her arms about Mom, and croons,

“Mama!”

I’ve seldom seen Mom happier. The plea on her face as she looks at me, would be heartbreaking to refuse. Mom absorbs my silence as my acceptance. Getting up, she goes to my bureau, opens a drawer, and selects a teeshirt for Sally to wear.

“You don’t mind.” A statement rather than question. Mom helps Sally pull the teeshirt over her head and arms, then down her body. It’s now a dress. Or a shift.

“Let’s go eat.” Mom suggests as the obvious next action. Sally bounces with joy.

Mom firmly but solicitously supervises Sally’s trip down the stairs to the galley. Straining at the bit, Sally wants to fly down. She needs to be closely watched.

In every version of Sally’s life, she exhibits an impulse towards self-destruction. The odors wafting up the stairs from the galley are tantalizing. Sally’s starving. The food sure smells good. To us all. Maybe we picked up the pace a little.

I’m skeptical of this new innocent juvenile Sally. I’ve seen no evidence of deviousness, slyness, or duplicity. Detected no tells, mis-speaks, shifty eyes or duper’s delight. No non-sequitur incongruities to cause suspicion. My credulity is strained by one factor only. It’s too damned convenient. Too good to be true.

Gidget and Lindsay are there, sitting and chatting over coffee. Surprised to see Sally, they are more surprised at her childish demeanor. Soon all doubt is assuaged by Sally’s guiles charm and effervescent delight in everything. Except coffee. After one tentative sip, she delicately pushes the cup away, makes a prune face, which almost instantly morphs into joyful inspiration, shining with infusive light.

“Can I have a glass of milk instead?” Sally beams at Lindsay’s quick response.

“Of course you can, darling.” and brings her a chilled glass. Sally chugs thirstily.

Sally’s memory may be truncated, but mine isn’t. This saccharine soap opera is upsetting my digestion. I’ve lost my appetite, so excuse myself and go for a walk.

My carefully composed plan has encountered a hitch. That happens. That’s why I drew a flow chart of step sequences. To avoid disruptions. Hows that working? Ha! Ha! Not FUNNY! I’m in a tailspin. I’m spiraling up, not down. Up the stairs.

My thoughts and feet unmanaged return me to the Texas deck. Vicinity of my quarters. Is that my unconscious destination? I have none. Entering the Foyer is a non-committal logical move. From here I can leave EROS, return to my rooms, check on our prisoners or look in on Bebe, Flor, and Nana. Nana is attractive!

Attractive as a destination, an excuse for standing here witless and direction-less.

Also, if you like mature plump, an attractive woman. Wonderful personality and a gentle loving heart. I very much would enjoy seeing Nana. A sudden woody in my pants, suggests another agenda. It’s unanimous. My wits are recollected and single minded again. Knocking lightly on their door, in a loud whisper, I CALL,

“Nana? Are you in? I’m desperate to see you. Nana? Please open the door.”

Aggressively jerking the door open, Nana warmly welcomes, salaams me inside.

Barely the door latches, and we fiercely embrace. Mouth’s hungry on each other’s.

“Your question in the night, I now answer yes.”

Nana refers, I think, to my earlier asking if she wanted to fuck. We are too busy shredding away each other’s clothes to discuss references. She’s sopping wet.

“Are we alone? Nice! Where are the girls?” Nana explains Randy took them shopping, along with Luz and Carlita. Where shopping? Paris. London, New York. Big plans. How did he take them to these remote places and how can he afford it?

“Well, I really tried to dissuade him, but Randy is very persuasive himself. He helped himself to a credit card from your desk. I told him that was wrong without asking, but he assured me, he has a right to it.”

I won’t argue with Nana. Don’t want her to feel worse. She already suffers from feelings of guilt. With Randy is the actual argument. I’m tempted to put a freeze on the card, but I’m busy at the moment. My cock usurps command and control.

“Randy wanted a teleport ring like yours, and Will’s. There aren’t anymore. He selected a pair of Tektite earrings, rather than a dowager type necklace, or loose stones. The girls pierced his ears and threaded the earrings through for him.”

“Both ears? Does he know the significance of wearing earrings in both ears?”

“Randy says, who cares, when we told him about cultural emblems. Maybe it will even be helpful in negotiating better prices while shopping, he thinks. As to his sexual persuasion, he insisted on demonstrating. Convinced us with his very nice cock and his stamina. Too bad he won’t eat pussy. Flor tried her best to entice him, until he threatened violence if she didn’t desist. Shame he won’t use his silvered tongue where it counts. He is painfully attractive with or without ear bobs.”

Damned Randy is getting around too much, taking too much, taking for granted- TOO MUCH! I suppose a good talking-to wouldn’t hurt him, but if that doesn’t settle him in his place, a good follow-up thumping will. Convince him it HURTS!

“Never mind Randy, Nana. I can hope none of your wetness is attributable to Randy? Sloppy seconds is yucky. I can wait, if you want to ... make repairs?”

She swears she’s clean. All her humidity is her own making and my inspiration.

I convinced Nana my matured and practiced lovemaking is superior to Randy’s youthful zest and amateurish enthusiasm. She didn’t offer to be exclusive, and I didn’t ask, not intending to allow any such restrictions on my own philandering.