Chapter 14

Harry woke to pleasant wetness on his flaccid penis, seeing a washcloth removed, replaced by Sam’s mouth.

“You’re awake!” Yolanda grinned beside him and soon sat on his face. He felt two tongues licking his burgeoning erection, followed by lips and one tongue. And that great pleasure, signaling the erection’s complete revival, was replaced by another greater one, Sam sinking her pussy down on it.

Both hers and Yolanda’s orgasms, from Harry cock and tongue respectively, catalyzed a switch, and a change of positions, and Harry, no longer blinded by Yolanda on his face, got to watch Yolanda suck Sam’s pussy while he slid in and out of Yolanda’s squeezing and relaxing pussy. Though intense as it was, and unlike their first “round”, he kept going and going, through both Yolanda’s orgasms and Sam’s, Yolanda’s becoming more and more frequent, to the point that she moved from him, having had too much of a good thing, giving space for Sam to peel away the condom and lie supine and wide open, letting him fuck her with abandon while pulling his face down for several kisses. Her gasping breath prevented any lengthy seal of lips to lips.

Finally Harry felt the throbbing demand of his balls, and as Sam built from her last orgasm to her next peak, Harry held back for it just enough to join her in a shared true climax of the night, squirting what little remained of his sexual substance directly into her uterus, their eyes gazing at faces tightened by ecstasy.

“I’m going to be tired tomorrow, but it was worth it,” she murmured.

And she was absent in bed when Harry and Yolanda awoke. However Marisol wasn’t, waking Harry up by sucking him before pulling off him with a pop. “Not enough time,” she pouted. “Time to get up!”

He tackled her and tried kissing her as punishment. But despite her legs wrapping around him, she pleaded, “No no. I can’t!”

“Then I guess you better let go,” he chuckled.

“Tom’s gone. Could you maybe stay in the cabin?”

“We’ll see, okay?”

“Okay.”

Her legs released him. He gave her a quick peck on her lips, not enough to bother her with his morning breath.

“Let me take care of what that bad girl did,” Yolanda said, and Harry followed her waving ass into the bathroom.

“It’s a piss hard on,” he explained.

“I’ll leave it alone and start the shower.”

His erection relaxed just enough for him to piss. He flushed since she hadn’t entered the shower, and he followed her in. Then it became all about his cock, Yolanda making sure it was clean and then shifting him so he blocked the stream of water while she knelt and sucked it. Harry worried it’d take too long, but Yolanda had as skillful a mouth as pussy, and unlike it all about him getting hard and ready to fuck, this was all about him cumming as quickly as possible, so a couple minutes later, he came.

He offered to return the favor. “Honestly I’m a bit sore,” she told him.

“Maybe a bath?”

“I’ll be fine. My ex and his fat cock would get me like this, but I recover pretty quick.”

Instead he did all he could for her to enjoy as sensuous a shower as possible.

They had breakfast, Huevos Rancheros, and Harry collected his stuff and, after thanking his hosts and asking if he might be able to stay in the cabin and getting the mi casa reply, they left.

As they descended out of the canyon, Yolanda showed him a baggie of bud. “He grows his own Kush,” she told him.

“We’ll need to get a pipe or some papers,” he said. “How are you doing?”

“Already feeling better.”

“That’s good, but I mean about...”

“Tasting my first pussy? And my second I guess,” she giggled. “I don’t know. I thought it would change me. Thought I’d crave it or something. And maybe I do. Marisol was sweet and hot, like the best sauce ever. I definitely won’t ever crave man cum.”

“You’re a swallower.”

“And I had a convenient shower to get rid of the taste. I guess I trained myself to swallow because it made my man happy.”

“You never have to.”

“Habit I guess, and I’m used to it, and there’s some power in it, the bittersweet taste of success. I like to prepare, have a drink nearby, the stronger the better.”

“I mean how are you doing being around me?” Harry asked.

“Maybe the better question is how you are doing around me. Because I’m fine with you. More. I’ve been meeting the best people, smoking the best weed I ever smoked, fucking the best cock I ever fucked, enjoying the best tongue ... And I really like you Harry.”

“I really like you too.”

“But?”

“I don’t know. It’s like I’ve always been around people, years with those I had no choice about, and now those I have definitely chosen, however much chance had to do with it.”

“You want some alone time. You want me to go back to Houston?”

“No. I don’t know. I mean I’m not quite ready to be solitary, you know, the way a writer has to be, collecting his thoughts and composing them. I still have a lot of research, and I’m here instead of where the research would be, except Peg’s my researcher there and I should find out what she’s gathered.”

“You don’t need an excuse to have time alone.”

“I know. I don’t know.”

“I could go back, but I’d prefer not to.”

“Your vacation plans?”

“Definitely not a busman’s holiday. My job I can fly pretty much anywhere United flies for free, but I’m always up in the sky trapped in a fuselage. We were going to drive down to Mexico, to Mexico City, maybe to the coast at some point. It’d have been a long journey, and of course you hear about how dangerous Mexico can be, so it would have been an adventure. Who knows, maybe we’d have chickened out, turned back, returned to the relative safety of the states.”

“You’ve been to Mexico?”

“A few times. It’s so different, so strange, like entering an alternate universe, almost post-apocalyptic. Then you skip over it, fly to Cancun or Mazatlan, and it’s like you’re in a bottle or some sci fi dome of protection with just glimpses of the other side, the reality I guess. But I’ve always wanted to journey through it and to stay in the heart of it, in Mexico City. To be like an expatriate like so many have.”

“I hope you take this as a compliment, but you’re nothing like what I’d imagine a stewardess might be.”

“Because I’m not,” Yolanda chuckled. “I mean everyone’s different, but I guess I’m more different. I’ve always been a dreamer, but with a practical side. Like I always did well in school, and I suppose I could have gone off to college or something, but I didn’t have the money for it and it just wasn’t practical. What would I do with it? So instead I was a barista in a college town, chatting up those who didn’t look at me as an ignorant local and an easy lay, though the ones I slept with probably felt that anyway and were just more charming. I tended to focus on the brothers. A couple of them were African, one from Nigeria and one from Ghana. I thought they’d be especially fascinating, but both had an arrogance I couldn’t stand.”

“You’re attracted to fascination,” Harry guessed.

“Why else would I have chosen you, besides being handsome and charming and tall?”

“Other requisites?”

“Probably in that order.”

“Fascination first?”

“Along with handsomeness,” Yolanda admitted. “Sometimes the shy ones can be good company and appreciative, you know? And even the shorter ones can have nice dicks. I suppose that makes me sound shallow.”

“It makes it sound like you have a choice, which you obviously do being as lovely as you are.”

“Why thank you.”

“Then you became a stewardess.”

“Steadier work, a lot better pay, and an adventure. I put on my practical face, my practiced service face, my face that told them there’d not be a better choice but not in an arrogant way, and got the job.”

“The dreamer part of you, what’s that about?”

“It’s about entering alternative universes I guess. I’ve always been somewhat of a sci-fi geek. Books mostly, but movies and television as well. But also art, like surrealists or just those with alternate views like Frida Kahlo.”

“Thus Mexico City.”

“I’ve wanted to visit her home.”

“Why haven’t you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because I’ve never had the right company to share it with? Charley would have been.”

“Charley with the thick dick?”

“Yep,” Yolanda chuckled. “He’s a graphic artist, does stuff for the hip hop scene in Houston as well as more lucrative things like creating art for corporate websites. He’s into Diego Rivera more than Frida, but he’d have known why I wanted to experience the ambience of her place and would have appreciated it.”

“You don’t want to visit Mexico City alone?”

“You are trying to get rid of me.”

“No. Sorry. It’s just I feel like I want to be alone for a bit, maybe a day or so. I thought ... but you don’t want this to be a busman’s holiday.”

“I don’t. You want to be alone because of me?”

“It’s not that, honestly. I think it has more to do with Tom.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The way he retreats, to his office or the cabin. The way it’s like his job, he’s expected to be alone writing. It struck me how much that appeals to me.”

“Or Marisol coming down to give you a midnight blowjob.”

“That’s a perk.”

“Asshole.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist. It’s just ... if I leave you alone just to have some time to myself...”

“I know some people in town, but I’d actually just rather read a book. Alexa, where’s the closest bookstores?”

They chose a Barnes and Noble.

“Did you bring a swimsuit?” Harry asked. “Sissy’s place has a really nice pool.”

“Aren’t I tan enough?” she smirked.

“I love your skin,” he told her. “They have umbrellas.”

“Melanoma isn’t as risky for me, but it can still be a problem.”

“My skin barely remembers the sun.”

“Some sun is good for you. Maybe swimming and maybe backstroke sometimes?”

“You want me tanner?”

“I love your skin too. I love the contrast.”

“Me too.”

They shopped for a while at the bookstore. Yolanda found a couple recent additions to a couple series, and the latest Hugo award winner. Harry had little knowledge of science fiction, preferring histories and mysteries, the latter the more atmospheric hard-boiled style derivative of Hammett and Chandler. He picked up Burr by Gore Vidal and The Executioner’s Song by Norman Mailer as a sort of research for writing fictionalized history, or at least histories done by novelists. He’d always preferred histories by historians, even the drier ones. And an author who he’d never heard of but, of course, praised as in the tradition of Hammett and Chandler. He thought about rereading Chandler since Chandler’s milieu was an old version of Harry’s current one, but he remembered he could actually download books.

“Doesn’t everyone read books on those tablets?” he asked Yolanda when they were in line to purchase their books.”

“I prefer paper, and it’s hard as fuck to read tablets in the sun.”

“I haven’t tried reading a book on a computer, but I have a feeling I’m going to prefer...”

“Old school.”

“Yep.”

“At least my music isn’t old school.”

Harry laughed.

Once back at the Hacienda, they changed clothes, both enjoying the other’s bodies but only visually. Melly had met them on arrival, some kind of signaling for visitors, guiding Harry to park on a bit of concrete on the far side of the garage entrance so as not to block any cars coming in or out. She and Yolanda agreed to swim, so, while Harry dressed for comfort, warm up pants and a t shirt, Yolanda put on a deep red bikini, not the thong and tiny patches of cloth over nipples, much more conservative than that, but wonderfully sexy nevertheless.

“Second thoughts?” she giggled at his gaze.

“Yep.”

She gave him a quick kiss and his penis a quick squeeze and left.

Left alone, Harry set up his laptop and scanner on the desk, not leaving much room. He tested it with the nude drawing of Marisol, sending a scanned copy via email to her. She emailed almost immediately back thanking him and teasing him about being with the real thing.

“Maybe but no promises,” he replied.

Her reply was two videos, both sex scenes, one the entirety of the cabin scene shot by Yolanda and another a portion of what transpired the night before in the guest bed. He couldn’t help thinking about Chrissy and her exhibitionism. He decided to send the foursome video to Peg, but realized he didn’t have her email address. He called her.

“Finally got the timing right,” she laughed. “I’m not working for another hour. Chrissy’s here. I’ll put you on speakerphone.”

“Hey,” said Chrissy. “Miss you.”

“I miss you both. Something reminded me of you, Chrissy.”

“What? Found another blonde spinner?” she giggled.

“It’s something I want to show you, but I don’t have your email address.”

“You have yours?” Peg asked.

He gave it to her.

“Okay. I’ll email you and cc Chrissy so you’ll have both.”

“Sounds good.”

“Did you get Skype?” Chrissy asked.

“Something else.”

“Zoom?”

“Something proprietary. The place ... Let me just send you the set up software.”

“Is it safe?”

“Completely.”

He received the email and attached the video, the drawing and the set up software to his response. They talked while he did it, Harry putting his phone on speaker as well.

“Have you done any research?” he asked.

“I have,” Peg told him. “Dusty work in the bowels of city hall.”

“Sorry.”

“It was fun, like digging up hidden treasure. Want me to scan what I found?”

“That would be great.”

“I’ll borrow Frances’s scanner. I have a three in one.”

“What’s that?”

“Scanner, copier, fax machine. Frances’s is a lot better.”

“They let you borrow the documents?”

“With a bit of monetary incentive and a promise to return them unscathed.”

“My incentive would have been cheaper,” Chrissy giggled.

“He seemed gay,” Peg pointed out.

“A blow job is a blow job. He could close his eyes.”

He sent the email.

“You’ve been a busy girl I’ve heard,” he said.

“Are you upset with me?” Chrissy murmured.

“I’m sorry Chrissy. That was a stupid thing to say.”

After a beat passed, she responded. “You’re forgiven.”

“Holy shit,” said Peg.

“A girl after my own heart,” Chrissy giggled. “I don’t imagine it was you.”

“Marisol. I think she got the idea when Yolanda taped us earlier.”

“You have that tape?” Peg asked.

“I do. I thought you’d prefer the plethora of women.”

“She’s gorgeous, Harry.”

“I agree. I’ll send it. I’ll pay you off for the bribe.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just an investment in my man.”

Harry chuckled.

“What’s the black dot?”

“Click on it and follow the instructions. Let me know when you’re up and I’ll set up mine.”

“Okay. It says I have to reboot when it’s done.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Nope. I’ve been writing up my recollections of what my dad talked about when he talked about the old days.”

“You can send me what you have.”

“I’m nearly done, just letting the grey cells bring up more recollections. A lot of memories.”

“In a bad way?”

“No. He was drunk but at his best telling tales just like a good Irishman.”

“I thought your family was Swedish.”

“A joke in poor taste passed down over the generations coming from embracing the general consensus of the good Lutherans that we must have been Irish doing what we did. Of course more than half of the customers were good Lutherans making use of the place, and more than one of the wives stepped over to the dark side, including the daughter of a preacher. My great aunt in fact who married Nathaniel.”

“He’s not your grandfather?”

“He wasn’t much for running things supposedly. His brother, my great grandfather took over the business side of things, but a woman always ran the whores, generations of lesbians, so I get my preferences honestly.”

“So your great aunt took over for...”

“Skönhet, yes. Lise. Things ended during her reign, a righteous chief of police followed by a righteous mayor turned out to be a bad combination. Some judicial wrangling allowed the family to keep the place, turning it into a legitimate bar.”

“The Vaudeville.”

“Inside joke,” Peg laughed. “The timing was good because prohibition just ended. People still needed drinks during the depression. Supposedly the full service continued, though much more discreet, and for a select few.”

“Something in which you kept the trend as well.”

“True,” Peg chuckled. “And I could say it was different because it was for the elite to curry favors, but I did fuck the current sheriff. Okay it’s up.”

“There should be a code number.”

“Got it.”

She gave it to him and his screen filled with his favorite woman, naked, along with a cute blonde spinner in the same state, both on Peg’s bed. He ended the call.

“Wow,” he said.

“Too many clothes,” said Chrissy.

He stripped and moved his chair back so they could see all of him, a little square in the corner showing what they saw.

“Barely half hard,” Chrissy complained, showing him her preferred version, Big Harry, and slicking it with lubricant.

“Be nice,” Peg scolded. “He’s been through a lot.”

“More like it’s been in a lot.”

Both ladies laughed.

“What’s with...,” Peg started.

Harry shook his head and showed her his phone, pressing the back to turn it off. She nodded and did the same for hers. “Chrissy?” she said.

“Just a sec.”

Chrissy crawled out of sight and returned with her phone, shutting it off.

“Please explain,” Peg insisted.

“The place I got my laptop deals with ... dealers.”

“Gangsters.”

“Yep. So the televideo thing is part of...”

“The dark web. So it’s a real thing.”

“It is, and you now have access to it.”

“Cool,” said Chrissy.

“Won’t that trigger...?” Peg started.

“You’re protected. Your desktop will have that block dot. I sent the software to open QBVC, which means Queen Bea Video Conferencing, proprietary software created by Horst who owns the computer business with his wife Bea, but you need their operating system within the black web to access it. Clicking the black dot will open a window and there’ll be a black dot among other things, including access to Queen Bea’s catalogue and trouble shooting. You also can subscribe to her operating system and some protection software, but supposedly anything you open in that window will have its own protection, like I guess it would be invisible to prying eyes.”

“So if anyone were to gain access, all they’d see would be the desktop.”

“Without the black dot,” Harry nodded.

“Pretty sneaky.”

“Horst’s a genius as is Bea and even their kids,” Harry chuckled.

“Enough serious shit,” Chrissy insisted. “You’re finally here, so let’s fuck!” She pushed the dildo inside her.

“Let me figure this out,” said Peg, her lips curling up. While she went off-screen, Harry grabbed lube and a box of tissues in his bedside table. When she returned she had a vibrator with a phalange. She lubed it and pushed it inside her pussy, her ass facing Harry so he could see, and she angled her torso so he could see her hanging tits and she grabbed the dildo from Chrissy so she could fuck her. Her free hand went to Chrissy’s nipples, and Chrissy returned the favor. Peg’s face tilted towards the camera, i.e. the screen and Chrissy had propped up her head to watch as well.

“Let me know when you’re ready to cum,” Peg said.

“I’ll wait for you,” Harry moaned, fisting his cock, fully erect.

It turned out Chrissy came first and then moved to the other side of Peg, removing the vibrator and replacing it with Big Harry and her tongue lapping at Peg’s clit.

“Almost there!” Peg announced.

“Me too,” said Harry.

“Oh fuck, now!” Peg exclaimed, Chrissy enclosing her clit with lips and sucking.

“Argh,” Harry grunted.

“Don’t cover it Harry!” Chrissy ordered.

He pushed back and let the geyser land on his thigh. Trying to catch it was futile, since his focus was entirely on Peg undulating in ecstasy, and Chrissy pulling the faux cock out, glistening with Peg’s juices, until he could see Peg’s juicy maw dripping.

“Not as good as you,” Peg murmured.

“Same,” said Harry. “I hate to cum and run, but...”

“You’re busy?” Chrissy asked.

“I guess I feel like I need some alone time. To finally get to work, and what you told me, Peg, is really helpful.”

“I’ll send you the documents and my story,” Peg promised.

“I’ll take care of the documents,” Chrissy volunteered.

“Thanks,” Harry said.

“But what’s this alone time crap?”

“Yolanda wasn’t happy about it either,” Harry muttered.

“You sent her away?” Peg asked.

“No, she’s here at the pool with Melly. It’s just that...”

“You’re just out of prison and it’s been about me and Chrissy and Sam and those girls in LA,” Peg realized. “Or Tom and the audition and...”

“Yeah.”

“I should have known. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry about what? Peg, you’re by far the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Back at you big guy. But, I mean I’ve never been to prison, but I can’t imagine you had much time to yourself.”

“I always shared a cell and there were literally hundreds I could hear around me, or see when we were out of the cell. I never did anything to get solitary, or at least for a decade or more.”

“And then you met me.”

“Best moment of my life.”

“And I encourage you to share the wealth, everyone knowing how lucky I am because I’m your main squeeze, your fiancée. Not once considering how precious your privacy might be. I’d say that’s pretty fucking selfish.”

“Who’d know I’d attract hot women like flies on shit?”

Chrissy giggled.

“What’s so funny?” Peg asked.

“I was about to object being called a fly, but I guess shit might be worse.”

The two others joined in her amusement.

“Honestly I wasn’t surprised,” Peg admitted. “You’re handsome and wise and approachable, and you’d never eye a woman as a piece of meat. Sure you’d appreciate them. I did notice you noticing my big tits and ass. But I felt appreciated.”

“Hard not noticing your tits and ass,” Chrissy quipped.

“Chrissy!”

“Just saying. I got to be bouncy to get mine attracted to.”

Peg smirked and shook her head. “Anyway, women notice how men place them, either above them on some platform like a goddess, an object to gaze at, or below them as not being at their level, just not as good as they are in intelligence or ability or whatever.”

“I’m afraid I place them higher,” Harry confessed. “Not as objects but as better than men in just how much harder it is to get the respect they deserve. They, at least most women, might be more vulnerable, I mean in the general muscle mass that men have more than women, and there’s pipsqueak guys and Amazons, but in general, but I still think they’re tougher than men. And yet they’re tenderer too, more adept at empathy, at least generally, probably stemming from maternity, the absolute connection between having a human growing inside them and then giving them sustenance once outside, nurturing. In short, women amaze me. Of course I respect them.”

“Not having them around for 25 years might help,” Chrissy pointed out.

“True,” Harry chuckled.

“And here we are continuing to keep you from your alone time,” Peg remarked.

“And I love every moment you do,” Harry stated.

“I love you Harry.”

“Me too,” said Chrissy.

“I love you both.”

“Me too,” said Chrissy.

The older ones shook their heads and grinned.

“Tomorrow?” Harry asked.

“Same time?” Peg asked.

Harry glanced at the clock and nodded, “Sounds good.”

“How will we know?”

“I’ll send you a text.”

“Sounds good. And then phones off.”

“Yep.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

Harry shut off the app and began to work, shifting the scanner and pulling out the journals and his notebook, noticing Nathaniel’s weird scrap book and the outline remained. Shrugging, he found the journal he’d been in the midst of and studied. He was near the end of them, just one more after the one he was reading. He felt he had the sense of it, that it would be like the World According to Garp in that it would be mostly from Nathaniel’s perspective even if third person, his weird experience growing up, though perhaps there’d be interludes, brief histories of other characters like the accumulating prostitutes, especially the tragic Indian girl and maybe the villain who killed her.

He was halfway through the last journal when he heard a shy tap on the door. Opening it he found Yolanda dressed in a lovely summer dress in red gingham.

“Hungry?” she asked.

“I guess I am,” he chuckled. “You could come in to change.”

“Turns out Sissy’s oldest is my size.”

“Cute dress.”

“Cute girl.”

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

“Mmm,” she murmured after. “Enough time off?”

“Sorry, maybe later tonight?”

“I sort of figured. I’ve been invited into the house by the kids. Playtime with them, but when they’re sent to bed...”

“Then I look forward to you joining me.”

“Or you joining me,” she giggled.

“That too,” he chuckled.

He met the daughter, cute as advertised, blonde as her mother, and at seventeen a couple inches taller, about the same height and figure as Yolanda, lovely moderation. And gorgeous. Her brother too, a handsome version, 15 and about the same height. They snacked on carrot sticks and celery and dip as did the adults there, Sissy, Melly, Frances and Yolanda while Harry ate a mini vegi pizza and drank a beer.

Both kids had a thousand questions and both seemed to flirt, the boy definitely gay.

He had his own question. “You following in your mother’s footsteps?”

“No way,” said the young woman, no girl this.

“She’s an example of the STEM promotion,” her mother said proudly.

The young woman noticed Harry’s confusion. “Science, Technology, Engineering, Math. Been lost in the jungle for a while?”

“Something like that,” Harry chuckled. “So which one?”

“Which ... Oh, engineering. Architectural. How to build best on unstable lands. And underwater.”

“Sounds practical especially around here.”

“I know. Earthquakes. Global warming...”

“Smart ass,” said her brother.

“At least I’m not an ass ass.”

They laughed. “Anya got all the smart genes,” her brother said.

“Not true,” said Sissy.

“Maybe I got some, but I’m not interested in going down the nerd path. Looks and charm will get me far.”

“Unless you only got one,” Anya fired back.

“Which?”

They laughed again.

“Theo’s a model slash actor, so I guess he’s following Mom. And speaking of looks and charm...”

And so it went, teased by a too young and too beautiful and too smart woman and a charming and beautiful man/boy.

Harry finally escaped.

Later, his phone chimed with a message from Yolanda: “With Frances and Melly, Sissy approved.”

Harry went to bed with Norman Mailer.

He awoke from the immense pleasure of being sucked. “Please tell me you’re not Anya,” he moaned.

Yolanda giggled, gloved him up and rode him as only she could do, somehow sustaining the fuck long enough for her to have a last gallop to achieve her orgasm amidst his own.

“You’re a fuck artist,” he murmured. “Every man who cheated on you is a moron.”

She giggled and extracted his penis for safety. When he attempted kissing her, she stopped him. “Sit up.” He did as commanded, with her remaining on his lap. She handed him a cup of cranberry juice. “Drink.” He did and they kissed.

“Needed cock?” he asked.

“Yep. Even better that it’s yours.”

“Glad to oblige.”

They kissed again. “Breakfast?”

“You guys already eat again?”

“Nope. Come on.”

He decided to pull his warm ups back up after Yolanda disposed of the condom and go as he was. After he pissed.

Melly was concocting some kind of egg stir fry on the stove. Already buttered wheat toast was on the table along with three mugs, one of them empty. Yolanda solved the discrepancy by pouring coffee in his.

Melly poured the contents of the wok into a serving bowl and placed it on the table.

“Everyone at school or work?” Harry asked.

“Yep,” Marisol explained. “I got a few minutes of beauty sleep before making breakfast after unloading the kids. For them, just enough time for a quick shower, put on the uniform, grab my coffee and go.”

“You guys have fun last night?” Harry asked.

“Nothing like training in a neophyte lesbian.”

“I’m not,” Yolanda argued.

Melly laughed and pointed to her bed. “Lesbian zone. All those who enter leave their heterosexuality behind.”