Chapter 1: Limbo

“He who would keep a secret must keep it a secret that he hath a secret to keep.” Sir Humphrey Appleby.

I had slept in until 9. Bathroom — ablution solutions — then time for my daily inspection with the full-length, three-sided mirror. It’s a way of marking the passage of time and all of that. But really, it’s a vista that simply pleases me inordinately.

I was cheerfully contemplating one Winter Jennings, a sexy lady, naturally blonde, spa-tanned, slender, full boobs, a very smart blunt-cut bob, and deep blue eyes. Not bad, not bad at all. Even when Mercury was in retrograde. And, my hair was not, definitely not, the best color money can buy. The carpet matched the drapes. Well, it would have if there were any carpet to be compared. Bald, baby, bald.

Vanessa came in, smiled, and slipped her arms around me from behind. She nuzzled the back of my neck and whispered, “God.”

She handed me a white, butt-length tee with pink lettering — I swallow — and we walked out to the kitchen holding hands. She was still whispering, “Walker was awfully quiet this morning.”

Both Vanessa and I instantly sensed trouble. It was a chilly Monday morning in April, and Pilar Paloma hadn’t caught the Main Street MAX with Walker. For the first time in over a year, he had ridden to school by himself.

Pilar poured a fresh cup of espresso for Vanessa, then me. She sighed and sat down at the round kitchen in our top floor loft in the Wrigley Hotel.

She took a deep breath, looked at Vanessa, looked at me, and said, “I told Walker last night that I’m moving back with Mama. Poppy is growing up not really understanding that I’m her sister.”

Vanessa looked evenly at the little girl, “That’s not the main reason, is it?”

Another sigh, this one even deeper, “No, it’s ... it’s ... Walker and me. I need some time to myself. I mean I still love him, always will, but I want — I need — some independence. Some freedom.”

Vanessa, who had become almost as fierce a Walker-defender as I was, said, “Is there someone else? Another boy?”

“No, not really.” Pilar blinked back some tears, “But I’m going to start seeing other people.” She looked from Vanessa to me, “I still want to stay with Walker on weekends. If it’s alright with you guys.”

I said, “That would be entirely up to Walk.” Then I softened my tone. This wasn’t unexpected news, but I’d hoped that the two of them would last at least until my son left for college. “Did you talk with him about weekends?”

“Not yet. I wanted to clear it with you guys first. No sense in getting his hopes up if you don’t want me here.”

Vanessa spoke gravely, “You’re always welcome here, honey. But Walker may ... be in shock. Or hurt. Or furious.”

We discussed the mechanics of a slow-motion breakup, and the three of us agreed that it would be best for her to move back to Brookside that very day. Her ongoing presence would undoubtedly be a torment to Walker.

Vanessa and I helped her pack — she left plenty of clothes for weekends — and we drove her back to Brookside, back to Lina and Poppy and Pilar’s newish stepfather, Matt Whitney.

I had managed to collect a rather useful boyfriend named Clint Callahan. A New York native, he retired early from the FBI and formed an investigative consortium that we named Vanguard Security, LLC. It was composed of a dozen former agents. Plus Daddy and me.

Dave Jennings — Captain Dave — had more street experience than any of them through his years with the Kansas City Police Department, Homicide Division.

As for me ... well, I was scoring the founder, and Clint knew better than to invite Daddy and then to ignore me. Pussy power — never underestimate it.

A few hours after Pilar had dropped her little bombshell, Clint called me, “Winter, Benny Chang disappeared.”

“What!”

I’d never met Benny — retired from the Minneapolis FBI office, but we’d Zoomed and texted and e-mailed through our Vanguard connection.

Clint said, “I’m flying out to Minneapolis to look into it. To find out what he’s been working on. Thought I might stop in Kansas City on my way back.”

Pussy power — never underestimate it.

After school, Walker tried to nonchalant it, fooling neither Vanessa nor me. He pimp-rolled up to Vanessa and held out his fist, “You feel me, dawg?”

She tapped him, “Dawg.”

My beautiful, blond, 6’ 2”, 16-year old started to stroll back to his bedroom. I said, “Sit.”

He stopped, stood still, then sighed and sat down. He knew I wouldn’t let him put off talking about an uncomfortable topic. Vanessa and I joined him at the kitchen table. He still wore his Pembroke Hill clothes — a dress shirt and creased slacks. The school allowed middle school and high school students to choose their own clothing within the limits of the dress code. He’d been glad to ditch the uniform of the early years.

But I was focused on his face, his eyes, his posture, his demeanor. Stiff upper lip all the way. A brave front, but I knew he had to be aching inside. Sure, he’d miss the regular pussy, but more than that, much more, he’d miss Pilar herself.

Falling asleep with her in his arms. Waking up to jokes, giggles, blowjobs perhaps. But now ... the knowledge that his girlfriend had dumped him. Well, he’d gone through a similar rough patch once before when Mindy Montgomery moved out to California to enroll at Stanford.

And, Vanessa and I would get him through this. Not just sympathetically, but proactively — doing whatever it took. She glanced at me — we can read each other so easily. I nodded back; yep, Walk would be sleeping with me tonight.

That should perk the lad right up. He loved Pilar — it was more than a schoolboy crush — but he worshiped me. And spending the night in my bed ... well, it was Christmas and his birthday and every other holiday rolled into one.

I looked at my son, “What about Gregory? Will he still be coming to visit?”

Gregory Williams, a classmate of Pilar’s who had a crush on Walk. With permission from Vanessa and me, Pilar brought Gregory into our lives. She was fucking them both, but one of the mainstays of the ménage had been, from day one, that Gregory sucked Walk off. Later on, again with our permission, my son began reciprocating. After I had determined that he really wanted to; that he wasn’t merely acquiescing to Pilar’s naughtier impulses.

Walk said, “Pilar told Gregory to start spending more nights with me.” He looked at Vanessa, then me, “If it’s okay with you guys.”

Vanessa said, “Tell Gregory to have George call me first.”

George Williams, Gregory’s father, a stockbroker on the Plaza. His mother, Allison, was a busy attorney downtown and didn’t seem to be all that involved in her son’s day-to-day. But if Gregory were going to start spending more time with us ... well, we wanted some sort of parental sign-off.

Later, Vanessa discussed it with me, “Pilar is doing her best. She’ll be here on weekends and Gregory will be coming by during the week.” She grinned that killer smile, “And you, whenever you want to aid and abet.”

That night at dinner, that first night without Pilar, we all still felt her there. And not just because we were scarfing down the chili that she had fixed a couple of days earlier. No, Vanessa and I were certainly aware of her absence. Walker? Even more so.

Without discussing it, Vanessa and I had decided not to be overly bright and sunshiny. There was no sense in trying to ignore reality. Besides, chirpy can bleed over into chippy when you try to force things.

After Walk and I finished doing the dishes, Vanessa surprised me with a present. It wasn’t from Tiffany’s — this little carton was pink instead of blue. But it was about the size of an engagement ring box. She smiled that dazzling smile and said, “Better open it in our room.”

That got Walk’s attention.

Our room. The bedroom and bath suite that she and I shared. The bed that we shared.

I unwrapped the present, which involved merely untying a single green bow. Then I laughed out loud, couldn’t help it. That tiny box held the sheerest babydoll nightie I’d ever seen. I stripped immediately and slipped it on.

No sleeves, no straps, just a narrow elastic band that held it up right where some cleavage started to show. But the nightie was so diaphanous, so completely transparent, that I was more naked than naked. It hung down a little below my butt and showcased my boobs and bald pussy.

Looking in the mirror, I couldn’t stop giggling. My tan lines were so easily visible —three little white triangles where my nipples and pussy had been covered when I went to Wendy’s spa for a tanning session.

The negligee was so gossamer, like a silky spiderweb; no wonder it fit into that minuscule box.

My nipples hardened, I felt that certain tingle. Hell, I was turning myself on.

Well, if Vanessa wanted to take Walker’s mind off of Pilar...

Ash Collins, former FBI exec in the J. Edgar building, first put me in touch with an ex-cop named Flynn Gallagher. He had met Flynn through numerous liaisons with the NYPD. The relationship between the two organizations had intensified after 9/11.

These days, Ash was retired and had joined Clint and Daddy and me and other former agents in Vanguard Security, LLC. Flynn, too, had retired. He seemed young to have done so, but I didn’t really know anything about his life.

The reason Ash connected us was because of a girl named Bianca Uribe. She was from New York City, and was a victim of a complete digital ID theft believed to have originated in Kansas City. Ash brought me into the case not only because of my home town, but because...

Well, this was how he explained it to me, “Winter, there’s no money in this. Bianca’s mother, Emilia Uribe is a dear friend of mine. Flynn Gallagher also got to know the family when he was stationed up in Harlem. The 25th Precinct on East 119th, not that far from the Uribe’s little apartment.”

“Got it.”

“Bianca’s a freshman at the State University of New York — the SUNY campus is up in Binghamton. A couple of hundred miles southeast of Buffalo.”

“Got it.”

“Emilia told me that Bianca is furious and it’s affecting her studies.” He paused for a few moments, “The Uribes are achievers, many of them are. Bianca isn’t the first of her cousins to go to college and Emilia is immensely proud of her. But nervous too. Worried.”

“I’m on it, Ash.”

“You work it from Kansas City, and Flynn will backtrack from the New York end. He’s pro bono too. Thank you.”

“De nada.”

I started to go back to Vanessa and Walker, to model my latest, but paused at the bedroom door. Then stepped into a pair of black, 4-inch fuck-me heels. I nodded at the mirror in approval. Not only did they add height, they delivered a bit more definition to my legs and butt. Good to go.

Walker glanced at me, did a double-take, and, literally gasped. Vanessa smiled in genuine pleasure at the two of us. Walker stared.

Vanessa put her fists on her hips and pretended to glare at the boy, “Whenever Winter puts that on, you are sleeping in her bed. And, young man, don’t try to wriggle out of it either.”

Walk barely heard her; he was dumbfounded. It wasn’t that he could see everything that I had — it was far naughtier than if I strolled out stark fucking naked. No, it was beyond naughty, it was obscene. The intention was obvious — to spotlight my ... um, assets. To draw the eye.

Perfect.

Vanessa, at 5’ 10”, was eye level with me when I wore heels. Lip level. She put her arms around my waist, cupping my butt and deep-kissing me, moaning softly to herself. I closed my eyes, but knew a certain lad was staring. And staring.

But as our tongues explored each other for a minute, then another, I lost track of Walker. Was completely engulfed by Vanessa. When she pulled back and stepped aside, my motor was racing.

Then I heard Walk, practically panting, and turned to him. He had a major bulge in front, and was unconsciously rubbing it with the palm of his right hand. I circled his wrist, and gently pulled him away. “Don’t worry about that, baby, I’ll take care of it.”

Vanessa grinned and patted the protuberance, “Shower.”

He sped off like he’d been goosed by a booster rocket.

Vanessa winked at me.

Okay, she knew that I was thinking some naughty thoughts. And, there was no question that I was mostly comfortable with a little outré behavior. Years ago, in the harsh, cold reality of morning sunshine, I’d decided that not only I didn’t worry about the unconventionality of my little Walker liaisons, but — total honesty — the absolute naughtiness of our relationship actually titillated me a little.

But — and this is critical — that forbidden element was merely a once-in-a-while thing. It was not — absolutely not — anywhere close to an obsession. I might initiate the fun and games on a whim. Or, months might go by with nothing more than some mild flirting back and forth.

Or, like tonight when Walk was hurting so much...

_Vignette:

Walker came out, shampoo fresh, wearing a white terrycloth robe that I’d given him three or four years ago. It had been ankle-length then; now it barely reached his knees. He had forced himself to calm down; in fact he tried to act as if seeing me in my new nightie was just a regular thing.

Vanessa asked, “Did you jack off, honey-lamb?”

A question that would have mortified him not all that long ago. But with Pilar, and Mindy before her, and with Vanessa and me, he’d grown more accustomed to personal, intimate conversations.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from me, but shook his head and whispered, “No.”

“Good. Winter is in charge of the cum department.”

I held out my hand and led the lad back to my bed. Usually, it was our bed, Vanessa and me, but tonight it belonged to me. As did a certain boy.

I untied his robe and tossed it on a chair. Throb, throb, throb.

I casually slipped out of my negligee and flipped it on top of his robe. I took my time, turning out the lamps, but opening the drapes to allow moonlight and the soft glow from the Main Street lights to illuminate the room. Walker couldn’t stop staring.

In a way, a sort of dissociative way, I felt like I was back in middle school with an eager, naked teenager trembling in front of me. By ninth grade, I was dating mostly high school and college boys, but even the oldest ones usually couldn’t quite believe how lucky they were. Or, were about to become.

So even if Walker hadn’t been Walker, I would have recognized the signs — pounding heart, shallow breathing, and a boner about ready to explode.

I pushed his chest gently, lay him on his back, and straddled his thighs. I reached for my lotion and whispered, “Let’s get the first one out of the way.”

I grasped the base with my left hand, and, as I’d done with so many boys over the years, began the ancient up-and-down movement, with a special squeeze right on the crown. I sensed the moment and aimed him at my boobs, left, right, left, right. He moaned and gave that little shudder-sigh that just melts me.

Both nipples were well covered, and I lay on my back before his cum started dripping down. I whispered, “Lick me clean, then kiss me.”

He rolled over as I spread my thighs in invitation and he tongued up a nice little load. He lay down on me and eagerly kissed his cum into my hungry mouth. I palmed his butt, and got him gently humping his semi-erect penis against my pussy. I reached down to center it and thrust up to meet him.

As I tongue-fucked him, I heard myself moan in genuine pleasure. I was turned on, really turned on. He continued to lick cum from my boobs and kiss me. Obviously, my nipples were as hard as diamonds, and I knew Walk could feel my wetness with the back of his penis.

Idly, in a far off corner of my mind, I wondered how far I would go this time. Right before I returned my full concentration to him, I promised myself that I would be getting off, and getting off more than just once.

I had already been turned on from modeling that obscene nightie. And Vanessa had revved me up even more. Then, add in the guy in my arms, the guy between my thighs, the guy who worshiped me far more than anyone else on earth.

Focus.

Walk was now completely erect again, rising and lowering his hips to rub up and down my moistened pussy. I reached down with both hands and pulled myself more open. I had taught him, years ago, where my clit was, and how vital it was to a girl’s enjoyment.

Walker, feeling my fingers, probably emboldened by my obvious heat, began licking his way down my body. I placed my hands on the sides of his head to guide him. And, I widened my thighs even further, bringing my heels back to my butt, giving him the most blatant invitation possible.

He had no doubt eaten a lot of pussy — first with Mindy, then Pilar. But this was me! An all-time first.

He was so hungry — too hungry. He was thrusting his mouth against me, jabbing his tongue wildly, rushing his fingertips.

I whispered, “Slow down, baby boy, take your time, do it right.”

Then I closed my eyes to concentrate on my first orgasm._

Finally, life in Kansas City was getting back to what used to be considered normal. Some states did better than others during the pandemic. The rate of fatalities was dropping in most places, including in Kansas City. Although our town and St. Louis were late in having access to the vaccine since our governor lost the urban vote and decided to reward rural areas first.

And the Wrigley Hotel, like Euforia, was coming back too. The Wrigley Restaurant wasn’t turning away hordes of customers, but at least it, along with the speakeasy, had reopened for business. And, hotel guests were starting to trickle in too. Conventions and expositions and live concerts hadn’t returned yet, but there was still an uptick in business and tourist traffic.

It was kind of cute ... our elevator operator, Nature Boy, held a little ceremony where he taped his laminated vaccination card to the elevator wall, right next to the Inspection Certificate.

He was wearing a protective mask — otherwise nude — and we were all used to it. Except, of course, for first-time hotel guests. Pre-Covid, Pilar and Walker tried, with zero success, to determine if there were any pattern to his erections. Nope — it was a coin flip. Nature Boy’s patter — “Floor, please,” remained the same, hard or limp.

One of the other permanent Wrigley guests, Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna, resumed riding up and down in the elevator, strolling the hallways with him, just to see the sights, I guess. Arm in arm, they were quite the sight.

Nature Boy’s sister, Edwina Rowbottom, often joined him; and he was letting her drive the car more than ever. Pilar and Walker, in another case study, couldn’t discern any pattern with her sleeping arrangements. Some nights she slept with her boyfriend, shy little Wally Maypole. Other nights — the little roundheels — she bunked in with Scout. Another permanent hotel resident who always wore a crisply pressed Eagle Scout uniform. I couldn’t speak to what he wore to bed, although Vanessa and I did have a mild curiosity about that.