Chapter 28: Various Ambushes

"Matheson," the investigator murmured into his cell phone.

"This is Scott. There seems to be a second team setting up at the Adams place."

"How many?"

"Three, I think. Unless they're smarter than they look."

"Any idea who?"

"Not sure, but at a guess, they're Pinkham's boys. I think that Flood is placing them."

"Okay, I'll alert the support team." Matheson hung up and called Davis, who had the security team for Nora at this time of the day.

"Davis."

"Matheson. Scott says it looks like Pinkham's people are setting up around the Adams place."

"Okay. We're up at the hospital -- Ms. Adams has a crowd. I'm pretty sure young Nate is planning to go get himself some clothing, though, from the intercepts." Christensen, managing the audio equipment, nodded. The pair were in a van, downstairs; Allenby was close-in, wandering the ward upstairs. Matheson had bugged the room himself, during his visit.

"Okay, I think we should prepare for something to go down," Matheson directed. "The three of you stay ready, and I'll go there and we'll have the surveillance team in place's support, too. That's about two to one..."

"Okay," Davis confirmed, "We'll be ready."

"We're going to want to ID these guys and get a grip on their intentions -- without seriously endangering Nora or Nate..."

"Roger." Davis' military background showed periodically.

"I'm headed out -- keep us posted."

"Will do."

Matheson made for his car, calling Scott back en route, "There might be some action; Nate is going by to pick up clothing. Get ready for trouble; the team on Nora is briefed and will let us know. I'm on the way there..." Next, he called the duty supervisor, briefing him. The surveillance team normally assigned to Sharon embarked in a van to assist.

Crossing George's palm with silver had gotten Flood into the apartment. "I bet you five bucks he ain't been here in a coupla days," he grunted. Jaime, scoping the living room, shrugged. "Okay, he ain't here now, so we back out until he gets here. Let's go!" Nate could have been a bunch of places, but he wasn't -- Flood was right. The pair retreated to positions outside the apartment, inconspicuously watching the approaches.

Randall nerved himself for his second 'tutoring session' with Peggy Ellis. Peggy had made things pretty clear, yesterday, receiving him in an empire-waisted sundress that was thin enough to see through and short enough to see under and a pair of sandals with short heels -- and apparently nothing else! Follow-on activity was just as obvious; she kept finding ways to wrap her unfettered breasts around his upper arm while leaning over his shoulder to look at the chemistry book. Late in the session, Peggy had begun overtly touching him, putting her hand on his back when she leaned in, and letting it drift over his ass as she withdrew. Randall had a hard time keeping his mind on the material he was trying to impart, which raised another of Peggy's shortcomings -- she wasn't the brightest bulb in the circuit, and probably DID need the assistance. Randall frankly didn't see any future in laying Peggy, but his glands kept telling him that the present would do quite nicely... Staring at the chessboard, he rubbed his forehead distractedly.

Jimmy Hightower grinned. "C'mon, Man, this move isn't rocket science..." He was winning handily, which told him that Randall was distracted as clearly as Randall's expression. "What's up?"

"I have to go tutor Peggy in Chemistry..." Randall sighed.

"That's a fate worse than death?"

"Well, it's supposed to be chemistry, but to Peggy, it's pretty obviously biology..."

"Oh? Porky Peggy is chasing you? When did THIS start?" Jimmy chuckled.

"Yesterday, out of the blue," Randall grunted. "I dunno..."

"What?"

"Well, she spent an hour and a half trying to get me to jump her bones -- and when you get past the basic size thing it's not like she's a hag or anything -- but she's pretty slow..."

"Ummm," Jimmy flashed a glance at where Amy Kelleher sat, ten feet away, reading a magazine, "Brains aren't everything, Man..." How could he couch this so as not to get in trouble with his girlfriend?

Amy demonstrated fine hearing without looking up. "I picked Jimmy for his brains, among other things -- but not because I want to compete with them. We have other things in common, but I let him run the brains department, while I bring other things to the table..."

Jimmy, mostly off the hook, wriggled the rest of the way. "Amy has the common sense franchise." His reward for this was Amy looking up from her magazine and blowing him a kiss. "And maybe a couple of other things... Point is, it might work for you."

"I dunno, Man."

"Well, it wouldn't hurt to try it out..."

"I guess not. Check." Randall moved a rook.

"Maybe getting laid again would make you a better chess player," Jimmy observed, taking the rook. "Mate. Go take care of business, Man."

Twenty minutes later, Randall was on Peggy's front step. This time, her mother answered the bell, and Randall got a look at what was undoubtedly Peggy in twenty years -- something somewhat larger in all dimensions. Still, the woman was somewhat sweet-faced, if a bit jowly. "Hi, I'm Randall. I'm tutoring Peggy in Chemistry..."

"Oh, I see..." The woman backed up and waved him in, her expression saying that she understood a good deal more than what was said. Randall entered gingerly, wondering what was up.

The answer seemed to be 'Peggy'. She'd found a halter-top that covered her belly while offering even less control of her breasts than yesterday's sundress. She was contriving to display a large amount of relatively creamy flesh at the back while the handkerchief-cut front dipped below the waistline of the short black skirt she was wearing with it -- and of course the obligatory sandals with the short stiletto heels... Thinking about it, Randall realized he'd NEVER seen her in flats; Peggy's calves, while large, were well-shaped for their size, and Peggy undoubtedly knew that defining them using heels was important. Randall, being Randall, wondered what they DID look like in flats...

The look on Peggy's mother's face said she usually did her homework in sweats -- but then, Randall had figured THAT out the day before. Ah, well... "Where were we?"

Peggy played up. "Mr. Friedrichs handed out a bunch of problems today -- molar volume calculations. Can we take a look?"

"Okay. Let's see 'em." Seconds later, Randall was wondering vaguely what Peggy thought he'd meant as she lurched up out of the chair, climbed onto it on her hands and knees, and leaned clear across the table to pick the paper up off of a pile there. The motion lifted the skirt halfway up the bare moons of her ass cheeks and Randall became embroiled in that age-old war to determine whether the head on his shoulders or the one in his pants ruled his existence.

Actually, Randall's basic programming rendered the supposed conflict moot; the little head won, hands down. Randall found himself looking at the blonde fringe on a pair of puffy outer labia that framed a set of thin, delicate, and mildly damp inner lips, slightly open to expose a hint of pink flesh.

Randall came back to himself with the realization that he'd been reprocessing the image for several seconds, and Peggy was again seated, turned to hold the sheet up for him to accept. A guilty glance at Peggy's mother revealed the fact that she was apparently unaware that Peggy was sans panties and he'd just gotten a major flash; her return glance was puzzled. Randall shrugged and collected the sheet of problems.

Peggy smiled sardonically as she turned back to the table. Got him! He'd seen it, and he'd reacted -- now all she had to do was reel him in... For the next fifteen minutes, she worked seated at the table with Randall hanging over her shoulder, going slowly from a start point with both his hands on the chair back (which was unsatisfactorily distant for both of them) to beside her with one hand draped over the chair back, to -- finally -- pointing out issues from close beside her with one somewhat sweaty hand on her bare shoulder.

Gladys Ellis, watching this out of the corner of her eye while she worked on dinner, was vaguely disquieted -- but both of them were apparently intent on whatever ungodly piece of science they were wrestling with, and the boy was OBVIOUSLY well-credentialed as an instructor...

Randall's bent-over position fig-leafed his erection -- until Peggy deliberately turned to her right and rubbed her shoulder against it. Randall flicked a nervous glance at her, to find her face expressionless, but her eyes laughing as she asked, "Is it 'v squared', then?"

"Uh huh." Randall's fingers spread and squeezed a handful of her fleshy left shoulder without conscious direction.

"Okay, then, so..." But the verbal flow stopped there while Peggy took a moment for gleeful anticipation. Randall was in the trap! Now, how to close the door... The day before, it would have been easier, since her mother had been out shopping, but Randall had been more wary...

"Ahem..." Randall prompted. Jeezus, she could be slow... Even distracted, Randall had worked this one in his head in a few seconds. Randall wasn't good at multi-processing, but he could do the math, worry about whether he liked the feel of her fleshy shoulder, and still have available processor time -- not to mention wonder if she'd picked up on his hard-on when she nudged it with her shoulder, and, if so, what she was going to do about it.

"Ummm..." Back to chemistry; Peggy put her mind back on the rails and cranked out the answer.

Gladys provided the excuse for the move to Phase III by turning on the small kitchen TV. "Mom! How am I gonna concentrate?" Working up a fine head of bogus steam, Peggy announced, "I'm tired of trying to work here, anyway! We'll be in my room, where I have a computer to help!" Gladys blinked and started to impede the move that Peggy had immediately begun preparations for, collecting books and papers and shoving an armload on her lanky tutor -- but Peggy had produced two apparently perfectly valid reasons why continued efforts at the table were a hardship. Besides, it wasn't as if the boy was visibly drooling on her or anything... She stood down, shrugging. "Leave the door open."

Randall couldn't decide whether this pleased him or not; the big head was relieved, while the little one ranted at the lack of privacy and maneuvering room the tactic provided. Peggy led him to the stairs to the second floor and preceded him up them; the little head insisted on backing off in order to take advantage of the changed angle to ogle the swaying moons of Peggy's ass as she ascended ahead of him. Those moons were good- sized, but Randall was learning appreciation for them as he went.

Once in her room, Peggy went to her desk and started her PC, settling into the task chair. Randall followed, and she took his armload from him while he murmured, "I'm not sure we need the computer..."

"Well, it won't hurt to start it," Peggy smiled, " since I told Mother we did." She started arranging books and papers on the desktop. "Okay, where were we?"

"Number eleven, I think." Randall moved up on her right and the little head insisted that he replace his hand on her shoulder while he bent forward to peer at the problem list.

"Okay." Peggy surprised him by sliding her hand along the inside of his left leg. The little head went nuts, screaming, 'She wants it! Get in there and cop a feel!' Randall blinked owlishly; there were issues, here -- why couldn't he seem to remember them? Peggy's position kept her from working her hand UP his leg -- she was limited to somewhere around the knee and below -- but it was just as deliberate an invasion of HIS personal space as his hand on her shoulder -- and they both knew it. Furthermore, she was moving the hand, up and down, encouraging Randall to do the same...

"Let's see what we have, here..." Randall leaned further forward, and in the process moved his hand along the top of her shoulder to her neck. "This one looks pretty straightforward; why don't you take a run at it without me in the way?" He raised up and Peggy reluctantly leaned forward, releasing his leg -- but Randall's hand started moving all over her exposed upper back.

'Okay, ' Peggy thought, 'That works. Damn! What can I do to push things along?' She re-focused and started working on the problem; Randall's hand was enough distraction without conscious thought about how to keep it moving... She worked at it, plugging figures into the formula and doing the math, and the next step took care of itself, as she rolled her head to the left, trapping his hand against her neck when it ventured there.

Randall froze. He'd been mindlessly inventorying the smooth skin of her broad upper back when she pinned his hand. Removing the thing didn't seem to be the right thing to do, so now what? The most natural thing seemed to be engaging her upper arm with his right hand... The little head pressed the attack -- if you consider walking through the open gates of a totally undefended fortress an attack! -- and Randall began rubbing Peggy's right shoulder and upper arm while nodding over her efforts.

This was good... Peggy was having some issues with writing straight with her head canted over to the left to trap his hand, but she didn't want to give him the freedom to step away, just yet -- not before he was too committed to do so, anyway... Half of her brain was handling the math, which had gotten to the simple manipulation phase, the thought process defining how to handle the problem being over -- and the other half was reveling in Randall's touch. His left hand was gently squeezing her shoulder and neck, and his right was drifting from the point of her shoulder up and down her upper arm.

Randall's attention drifted from the arm to the breasts immediately adjacent; they were big and juicy and capped with a pair of seriously stiff nipples... Randall couldn't see the color, but the things were poking serious bumps in her halter; chemistry was drifting rapidly out of the focus of his attention.

Peggy, starting to sense a victory in chemistry, triggered Phase IV inadvertently by raising her head and flopping back at problem completion, "There!"

Randall, taken totally by surprise, found his hand on a soft, globular breast with a nipple on it every bit as stiff as it looked! Peggy's sudden shift had caught him in mid rub, and his hand had lost contact with her arm and dropped onto her breast as a result of her motion. Both froze in shock, then Randall snatched away his hand as if it were burned. "Wups! Sorry!" But the little head was cheering, and his hand tingled from the feel of the soft flesh. Peggy's breasts were a lot different from Darla Jean's in shape and size, but the actual feel of them was very similar...

"It's okay," Peggy husked. "My fault. Want to check the problem?"

Randall, embarrassed, kept his hands to himself as he stepped forward, tracing the flow of the solution with a finger. "Yeah, that's it. Uhhh..."

"Cut it out," Peggy murmured, pinning him by wrapping an arm around the base of his butt. "I haven't exactly been screaming and yelling, have I?" She rubbed the theoretically violated breast against Randall's left leg, eyeing him coyly.

"Uh, no..."

"All right, then. Let's forget about it." Her expression became feral, and she added, "Or let's not..." She deliberately took his left hand in hers, and, wrapping it around her shoulder, laid it on her left breast. "Now," she added, businesslike, "I need to pass this quiz..." She leaned forward to examine the next problem, her hand still pinning his wrist.

"Okay, on to number... twelve..." The little head was in full control; Randall couldn't rely on memory it didn't have. He released her right hand from his hip so he could step back, but squelched her momentary disappointment by shifting to a point behind her and collecting her right breast, too. He was amazed at himself, and amazed at Peggy, who seemed content to deal with any old intrusion as if it were a minor matter. His fingers automatically settled on the stiff buds capping her fleshy mounds, and he began teasing them, gently pulling and twisting.

Peggy inhaled sharply through her nose. Mother had better stay downstairs, dammit! She released his left hand so she could rub up and down the arm. This next problem was going to be hard to read, even, never mind work... "Maybe we should take a break?" Randall stood there, trying to decide whether he should take the high road and insist that they work longer when Peggy scotched it by leaning back and husking, "Take them out..."

Randall's little head spoke directly to his hands; in a moment, they were full of soft breast flesh without an intervening layer of fabric. Peggy snaked her hand up behind his head, and Randall found himself taking her offered lips. This was good -- VERY good -- and it got better when Peggy followed husking, "Yeah, break time," in his ear with a nibble.

Peggy was going full-tilt, trying to figure out how to bring this scene to the point where she could feel him moving within her. Gone were long-range concerns; his hands on her breasts had lit her already smoldering desire and she needed a good quenching. Trapping his hands against her breasts, she leaned forward and turned on her portable CD player, just loud enough to drown out the moans she KNEW she was going to make if she could just keep Randall moving forward... Trapping his hands again, she rose from the task chair, moving to her right and then backing into him. Old Mister Eveready seated himself between the cheeks of her ass, iron-hard even through her skirt. "Mmmmmmm..." She reached behind her and rubbed Randall's crotch. Could they fuck here? No, probably not -- Mother might wander in if there was a commotion -- and there was going to be, if she got THAT out of his pants! Where, then? Of course! Sliding out of her sandals so the heel click wouldn't give them away, she murmured, "Shhhh! Follow me..."

On the way out, however, she stopped, melting against him for a moment, then got his attention and pointed to her night table. Even the untutored knew a birth control pill case; Randall got it immediately, and the last vestiges of sanity disappeared with the concern over possible pregnancy. Red-faced, practically panting, he went to work on her neck, eliciting a shuddering, "Oh, God... Hurry!"

She broke free, taking his hand and after a quick glance up and down the hall, she led him quietly toward the room her father had outfitted as his office/study, leaving the bedroom door wide open behind them in an effort at misdirection. Once inside, she closed the door behind them and led Randall to the big leather couch. There was no fear that her father would catch them -- he was on a sales trip in the Midwest -- or at least that's what he'd told Mother... The halter went on the floor as she seated herself, pulling him to stand before her and putting his hands back to work on her itchy, tingling nipples. "I want to see it," she husked, reaching for his fly.

Randall couldn't have stopped her if it meant his death. He couldn't even talk -- things had gone 'way too far for sanity. Peggy wanted it -- the little head had been telling him that all along, and now it was coming out to play...

"Omigod!" Freeing Randall's erection from his underwear brought a surprise -- the thing was MUCH bigger than anyone she'd had, except maybe August Lippmann's, and while August was in the same class, Randall was noticeably longer -- and harder, too! "Wow! Soooo nice!" She leaned forward, and Randall thought that she might start a blowjob, but she merely inhaled the scent, kissed the shaft briefly, and rubbed it against her cheek. Then she went to work at his belt, opening his pants and working his erection back through the opening in his underwear so she could slide the whole mess down his legs.

That done, she held it while she lay out flat on the couch, spreading her legs and flipping up her short skirt to expose her cunny (and provide some belly coverage in the process). "Put it in me, Randall! Fuck me!"

Randall was in no condition to argue; he fought with the wad at his ankles so that he could work properly braced, then threw himself at Peggy's exposed pussy. He stopped for a brief moment of discovery, opening her outer lips with is finger and collecting a fingerful of her honey to spread up and down her slot. This was the first pussy he'd actually SEEN, close- up; Darla Jean's had been operated on in darkness. The thing was amazing -- and he could tell already that the pair differed widely. But both of them were feeling the urgency, so Randall didn't delay long; instead, he knelt up and began sliding his cock up and down between her puffy nether lips.

Peggy was in no mood for delay; she pulled him up and forward, demanding penetration with her hands. Randall complied, discovering instantly one difference between Peggy and Darla Jean; Peggy was TIGHT -- incredibly tight -- so tight that wedging himself inside her was unbelievably difficult! Darla Jean had been tight, but Peggy was virtually crushing...

For Peggy, Randall was everything she believed that he would be, and more -- too much more! Early penetration was painful, but the pleasure component overrode it. But when Randall got his rhythm going, it became apparent that the pair were mismatched -- Randall bottomed out before he reached full depth! Impacts on her cervix were painful, causing her to bring up her legs to fend him off, "Easy!"

Randall backed off. Peggy pulled him higher, which helped them both by taking advantage of his length to stimulate her along the channel between her labia. Friction along her clitoris had her hugging him to her, crushing him to her globular breasts, moaning, "Okay, like that! Go! Go!"

Randall went. He drove himself like an automaton, allowing her to control penetration by taking him on her shins, and getting stimulation from dragging along her labia. In very little time, Peggy went rigid, almost unseating him, but her hugging arms counteracted the pressure from her shins, "UuuuuUUUUUUuugggghhhh!"

Randall rode right through this, managing to maintain something close to his pace while Peggy jammed up. This was good stuff, but he was having a problem with that last, little bit of sensation that would bring him off... After Peggy loosened up, things got better, but the urgency was gone for a bit. Randall kept driving, Peggy rubbing his back and grunting with every stroke. This time, they rose toward climax together, Randall driving through Peggy's rising resistance. As she began to surge in her final approach, Randall felt that tickle that a hundred masturbation sessions told him was his final countdown. He stepped up the pounding, pushing past Peggy's resistance and bringing her over the hump, then ground himself against her as he let go of his spunk, pouring it out in quantity in long pulses while she gasped and whined beneath him, "Hhhrrrrrrgh!"

Peggy clutched him to herself, "Wow! That was..." Words failed her. "We'd better get up, though..."

"Okay." Randall struggled up. Looking down at himself, he felt kind of foolish; he was naked below the waist. Snagging his pants, he started climbing into them.

Peggy had it easier -- all she had to do was put on her halter. After that, it was time to clean the excess off the leather of the couch, while ignoring the white leakage running down her legs. "Ready?"

"Yeah," Randall was still tucking in his shirttails.

"Okay. I STILL need to pass that test..."

"Let's go, then."

"I have to hit the bathroom first. I'll be right there."

"Okay." Randall headed for the bedroom, while Peggy made for the bath.

Two minutes later, Gladys found the boy alone in her daughter's room. "Where's Peggy?"

"Bathroom," Randall shrugged. He hoped she'd be quick; he was beginning to feel his post-coital urge...

Peggy was sopping up the aftermath. She was sore -- really sore -- worse even than the night she lost her virginity. During the act, it had been great, but now she was going to waddle for a couple of days... When she was done, she went back to her room and stepped into panties, the very first thing. "Ready?"

Randall grinned. "Now I have to pee..."

Nate pulled up before his ratty-looking apartment building. "This'll only take a sec..."

"I'm here, Nate -- might as well see..." Nora insisted. "Besides, I'm not sure being alone out here is a good idea, either."

"Awright. It ain't pretty."

"And how is that YOUR fault?" Nora cocked an eyebrow.

Nate shrugged and led the way inside. Two shadows detached themselves from locations in the immediate vicinity and followed...

The apartment was run-down; the furniture saggy, the TV set had rabbit ears instead of cable, and the walls could use some paint. But it was clean, and Nora had no doubt that it was because Nate had cleaned it. This became particularly clear from the doorway of Nate's tiny bedroom, which was as neat as everywhere else -- except the OTHER bedroom, visible through the door at the end of the hall... No, a woman who left her own things in such a mess didn't keep her son's as neat as a pin... Nate started digging through the closet, laying out some jeans and a couple of shirts -- but he didn't get to the dresser; the front door opened, and two guys walked in -- a big black and a Hispanic.

"Yo, Nate! Where's your Mama?" the black asked.

Nate moved Nora behind him with his eyes, and replied, "Hospital."

"She shoulda paid better attention to Rodday."

"Mebbe," Nate replied. "Mebbe Rodday's in deep shit."

"Oh?" The black passed a significant glance with his partner. "From who?"

Nate passed it off. "Then again maybe Rodday had nuthin' to do wit' it..."

Scott, just outside the door, grinned. Nate was doing his work for him -- just like he knew he was there. Stretch, Flood's lookout, hadn't been alert -- probably since the others had been there for hours. 'Thud' Thompson, his backup, was well-named, although he'd managed to keep Stretch from making a loud one on the floor after he hit him...

Flood grinned. "What do YOU think, Boy? You be sure that your Mama comes to see Rodday, as soon as she's better, now. He wouldn't want to have something ELSE happen to her..." His grin showed even more teeth. "Hospitals are SOOOO expensive. She's gonna have to work hard to pay for this... Too bad she ain't got a protector."

"What makes you think she don't?" Nate replied.

"He'd a' stuck his nose in shit by now," Flood replied.

"Mebbe you're fuckin' blind. Mebbe somebody's gonna get their dick cut off..."

"By you? Hey, whatcha got here, anyway? Come around front, Sweet Thang -- let's get a look at ya." Flood flicked a glance back at Nate. "Mebbe if you put your little piece, here, on the street, she can pay Mama's hospital bills."

"Now you done it," Nate grated. "Now you fuckin' done it!"

Flood had, too. It was a trigger point. Scott and Thompson came very quietly through the door. Flood wasn't laying hands on Miss Nora...

Nate telegraphed nothing; to his street-wise eyes, the new pair was night and day to Flood and Jaime. Nora's eyes widened; she wasn't as sure -- but Flood took that for fear generated by his threats. "Hey, Nate, how about I break her in for ya? After she's had a few strange dicks in her, she'll be another meal ticket -- just like Mama..."

BZZZZZZT! Thompson used a tazer on Jaime; he never knew what hit him. "Wha?" was all Flood got out before Scott hit him the first time. Flood was big, but Scott had surprise and martial arts training behind him; it took all of a second and a half to leave Flood semi-conscious on the floor.

"Everybody all right?" Scott asked perfunctorily. "We'd have come in sooner, but Mr. Adams was conducting such a fine interrogation..." Nate and Nora nodded, mildly dazed, and Scott went to radio, "All clear, here. I think we already know what we need to, but we might as well take these three somewhere and sweat them a bit."

"Agreed. Is the back way clear?" Matheson replied.

"Was when I came in."

"We're bringing the van around. I'll call you when it's all clear."

"Bring muscle. One of these guys is BIG, and they're both out of it."

"Will do."

"You can go on about your business, Sir," Scott advised Nate, "but I'd wait to leave until we're all ready, since both yours and Miss Nora's surveillance teams are tied up with this bunch..."

"Cool." Nate returned to his room and resumed collecting his things; only Nora noticed how his hands were shaking. "Can you take this? I gotta do something, and I'm gonna need my hands..." Nora nodded and followed him meekly out of the apartment, just as Matheson and two others arrived. Scott and Matheson passed a glance, and Matheson nodded; Scott followed the pair out at a distance. It wouldn't be a good thing to discover that Rodday had put a second team in place...

Nate led Nora down to the first floor, but instead of going out to the car, he headed for the back of the building. Knocking on the last door on the right, he yelled, "George! Open the fuck up!"