Chapter 8

The effects of the drug which Dianne Keller had unknowingly taken into her body through the Bacardi in her Cuba Libres were still heating the sensually stimulated girl for many hours into the night, long after she had left an exhausted and sleeping Kye to go into her own room. The incessant arousal smoldering in her belly and down between her legs drove Dianne to fingering herself into a series of wild climaxes in the darkness, the last one aided by the handle of her hair brush. With her long legs nakedly drawn up and back until her knees were touching her shoulders, her still swollen breasts flowing over her chest beneath them, she obscenely plunged the brush handle with a wild fucking motion in and out of the hungrily grasping hole in her hungrily upraised loins, while with the other she stroked and caressed the flaming little bud of her erectly palpitatingly clitoris in an insane effort to put out the lustful, unceasing fire incredulously tormenting her. At last, near exhaustion herself, yet still filled with maddening desire, she had been tempted to quietly steal into Kye's room and coax Sergeant to follow her back to her own bed, the lascivious thought of his long, thick animal-hardness battering into her seething pussy wantonly irresistible... But instead, she realized upon awakening, that she had mercifully lost consciousness.

It was almost noon the following day when she opened her eyes to a smiling Kye who was gently jostling her by the arm. For a long moment, it hardly occurred to the sleep-benumbed Dianne that she lay uncovered on her bed and stark naked. When she did discover the fact, she bolted upright with a start, drawing her thighs up tightly together as she crossed her arms over her lush breasts to feebly shield them from his young, ogling eyes.

"Kye! What're you doing in here... ?" she embarrassedly snapped, sensing the flush to her cheeks as she gaped at him.

"It is the telephone, Mrs. Dianne! Captain Mark is waiting to speak to you! I knocked but you do not hear me, so I have to come in... !"

"Mark is on the phone, now?" Dianne interrupted the explaining teenager who was still avidly smiling at her.

"Yes, very much waiting for you, Mrs. Dianne!" he said, quickly scooping up her green silk gown from where she had tossed it over the chair and handing it to her. "Here, I will look the other way if you want!"

Dianne's memory bank overflowed then, filling her with a wave of scarlet-cheeked confusion, the full impact of shame yet to come. She swung from the bed, slipping the robe around her while he stood with his lean back to her, and then she, too, had to smile when she saw that he was grinningly watching her in the vanity mirror.

"Oh, you lusty young devil!" she reprimanded, but gently enough, the ridiculousness of her sudden modesty at this point absurd even to her. "You and I are going to have a very long talk the moment I hang up that telephone. So don't go away... !"

With that, Dianne hustled to the phone, desperately trying to clear and prepare her mind... "H-Hello... Mark darling... ?"

"Yeah, where were you, honey, in the bathtub?"

"Yes... yes, I was showering," she managed to lie with a light-hearted tone. After all, it was crowding twelve o'clock noon. "Sorry to have kept you waiting."

"That's okay. I just wish I'd been there to watch that sexy little event," he said.

"M-Me too, darling."

"Well, it won't be much longer, baby... but listen, Kye and Sergeant have to appear before a special hearing up here at the Base tomorrow morning. They will have to fly up this afternoon. Can you make the arrangements and take them to the airport?"

"Why... certainly, darting," Dianne replied, a feeling of apprehension tightening in her belly. "I-Is there anything wrong, Mark? I mean... how does it look for them?"

"God, hon, I really can't say," he answered, his voice straining for an uplifting tone, she thought. "I'm trying to pull all the strings I can. How're they doing, anyway? Are you all getting along together?"

"Y-yes... yes, of course! W-We're doing fine, dear," Dianne finally got out, guiltily wondering if that might not be the greatest understatement she had ever made to him. Oh God! "But... but... Mark, they just can't send them back... can they?"

"Damn, baby, I wish I could say no, they can't... but the fact is that they can...

"And you believe they will!"

"I didn't say that, Dianne," he hastened to correct, "but... well, just don't get your heart set on them staying... It'll be easier to take that way..."

"Oh Mark... just the thought makes me ill!" Dianne choked, the mixture of emotions tearing at her inside enough to make her burst out in a torrent of tears. "God, I've come to love them both so much, darling! They just can't send them back there! It would be inhuman... !"

"Dianne, for Christ's sake, get hold of yourself, honey!" his voice came sharply commanding over the wire to her. "I know how you feel, but you hardly know them. Kye is just one of millions of boys who have been bred and suffered in their crazy war, except that he's lived like a prince in comparison to some! Look, as much as we both want to help him, yeah, and the dog, too, we're going to have to go by the decision of the authorities! Now, the best we can do is hope, and I swear, baby, I'm doing everything I can for them!"

"Oh, I know you are, Mark darling. I-I'm sorry... I'm over emotional this morning, I guess..." the young, strung-out wife apologized, running fingers absently through her long blonde tresses while she stared unseeingly with the tears that had welled up into her eyes.

"I understand, doll. Believe me, I do... "

But he didn't, she knew. There was no way he could understand, for even she couldn't analyze the almost frantic love and possessiveness for both the boy and his dog which had taken such a lecherous hold of her! It was not only warped and wanton, it was as addictive as the most depraved drug habit, and though only moments before she had been prepared to admonish her young lover that neither of them could ever let, nor expect such lewd sexual acts to happen between them again, now she was desperately frightened that they wouldn't... !

"Dianne... Dianne... ? Are you still on... ?"

"Y-Yes, yes, Mark, I'm here... I-I was thinking what would be the best thing to do..."

"Well, after you hang-up, call the airport and find out when they can catch a flight up here," he said, detailing her necessary moves. "Try to get something into Riverside and not L.A... Then, you'll have to call me back and let me know their arrival time. That's all, outside of taking them to the airport... and keeping that cute little chin of yours up the way I remember it. Now, how about it, baby, can you handle it?"

"Yes, of course, I can, darling," she managed, firming her voice for him. "I'll take care of everything on this end. And you, Mark... ? When am I going to have you for good... ?"

"Just a few days, angel. Hang tight a little longer if you can. Can I count on you?"

"Y-You bet, lover!"

"Okay... okay... then, let's leave it right there! I'll wait for your call back... and here's the number...

At three-thirty that afternoon, it was a weepy, lonesome Dianne who returned to their ground-floor apartment with a sensation of emptiness she could only compare to walking into her grandfather's home an hour after they had buried that loveable man. Never had she felt such an emotion of loss as she had on that day, for her Grandpa had been very dear to her. But she knew it again now, and there was no Grandma, aunts, uncles and other relatives to help share and minimize it. The morose feeling was one she had to endure alone.

The young wife made herself a Cuba Libre, feeling as if she were rattling around in the empty apartment as she walked into the living room and slumped down into Mark's favorite chair. Her mind, as it had ever since she'd left the airport after seeing them off with kisses and hugs, continued to function along the same fines. It reviewed in intimate detail all she could remember of her lewd acts with Kye, though much of it seemed fogged, and even as she knew remorseful shame time and again, the pain of Kye's and Sergeant's loss by far outweighed it.

She would never see either of them again, she felt certain. Their brief passing through her life had been a meaningful phenomenon, perhaps meant to make or break her! And she lingered on that teeter-board, didn't she? Shame continued to spiral through her like wafts of choking smoke, but she could cough it away, and when it was gone there were all the breaths of sensual excitement that Asiatic street-boy had raised, then erotically satisfied within her!

Oh, the little, lovable devil! With his whores and Joes... and his Mr. Ace! Who was he? Mr. Ace! That absurd alias, or was it a title of sorts... ? She tried to think of when they had talked about such an individual and couldn't. Yet, the name had registered with her! Mr. Ace... He would pay ten-thousand American bucks for you... !

Dianne shook her head and drank heavily from her glass. So much had happened so quickly between them... and Sergeant... ! God, she thought, her half-morbid, half-invigorated mind racing back and forth between the somber and the sensual, the ultimate realization finally fixing itself that Mark Keller would very, very soon again be her whole overwhelming world!

C-Could they find it together? Now, so much had happened during their separation! She loved him! There wasn't the slightest doubt in her mind about that... but... but love was many things, wasn't it? Could he... would he love her as that fourteen year old boy had done, like an innocently smiling little slave, firing her so that she could do the same to him? God, she had never realized the importance of such love-making, where each subjects one's self to the other's passionate delights!

Dianne drained her glass enroute to the kitchen to make another, contemplating changing the mini-dress she had worn to the airport for shorts and halter. The tingling feel of the cool liquid spilling down her throat pleased her, and on the second, she drank half of it right then and there. Damn, she needed an uplift of some sort, and it was nicely doing the job.

Suddenly, she was very confident that Mark would manage something. He loved them both as much as did she, and even before... ! Yes, he would... her darling, Mark, and then... then, she would have all of them around her!

Goddddd!

The bell at the front entrance rang before she had retraced her steps into the living room. Setting her glass down, Dianne walked to the door, tugging it open, annoyed at having her private world interrupted. She had expected an unknown face, a salesman of some nature, but instead she looked into that of the young neighbor boy, Olaf.

"Oh... Olaf... what... can... can I do something for you?"

Knute Jensen was anything but a gentle person, and aware of it, the massive, bewhiskered man took certain pride in the fact. His own father, a brute who had believed in the wisdom of the horsewhip as well as the evils of education, had been his cruel teacher. He'd hated his father with a passion, and the day he had found him dead in the barn from a heart attack, he had taken the old man's bottle of whiskey from its hiding place and sat down beside the dead body to laugh and drink himself drunk.

As near as possible, he had raised Olaf under the same rules of tyranny, except that the law, as well as his wife while she lived, had demanded the boy attend school until he was sixteen. Knute had realized the waste of this, but a poor man couldn't fight the law and a wise man never argued with a bitch-woman. He was only sorry that she had died before their overgrown offspring had been arrested for using and selling marijuana. Christ, how he would've gloated and taunted her with that. As it was, his only satisfaction came in the knowing that he had been right, and his continual punishment of the son whom the court had seen fit to release to him on probation until the boy was twenty-one.

Naturally, Knute had snatched the big oaf out of school immediately and put him to work around the building where he himself had been caretaker for five years. Now with his bitch- wife dead and cold in the ground and the boy to do the work, the fat, barrel-chested father was enjoying his version of the fruits of life for the first time in his half-century of living, drinking his daily fill of booze and wenching with the tavern sluts to his lusty heart's content.

But the goddamned kid was not only lazy, he was sneaky and undependable, traits he'd inherited from his mother. It was necessary that Knute have one eye on him all the while if they were to keep the work up around the building, which was exactly what the grey-haired, bearded man was doing at the moment, only to see his muscular, blond-haired son standing at the open doorway of the Keller apartment talking to the Captain's sweet-assed young wife.

Just what in hell was he up to, anyway? Knute had seen her drive off with the foreign kid and his dog, then come back alone, deciding that it couldn't be him Olaf was looking for. Anyway, there was no goddamned time for him to fuck-off with that scrawny little shit! If he didn't have enough to keep him busy, Knute could damn sure find more... But sonofabitch... she was letting the stupid lunkhead in... stepping aside and... sure as hell, Olaf was going in and closing the door behind him!