Chapter 8

Same Day

Formal Dinner

"Wow! This isn't a Ranger Station," Tanya said with some awe in her voice. "This is a god-damn mansion!"

"Well," the ranger said, "the original owner was a movie mogul who had it built some fifty years ago. The last owner had it donated to the Forestry Service upon his death. I was lucky enough to be assigned to it a couple of years back."

"You're really lucky!" Frank replied, looking around with awe and admiration. "This place looks like the Ponderosa!"

"The what?" the ranger asked. "Oh, I think I know what you mean."

He shook his head. He didn't have a clue what the female's companion meant, but that man was just a thrall, and she was the one with the power. The human male didn't matter. The Arian female was much more interesting – especially the way she completely ignored the charcoal burns she'd made on her stomach earlier that morning.

He invited them all in, including their prisoner, then made excuses to go upstairs to call a deputy sheriff from the radio room.

"What am I being charged with?" the man asked, pretending innocence.

"Assault with a deadly weapon," the ranger replied, "manslaughter, kidnapping ... Your choice."

"I didn't have the gun," the man whined, "and that filthy slag killed..." He stopped as the filthy slag took a menacing step toward him.

"I'm certain that all those petty details can be sorted out later," the ranger replied candidly. "In the meantime, I can offer you two a drink, perhaps?"

"You can offer me a bath," Tanya replied. "I'm covered with Deet, charcoal, and..." She shrugged her shoulders and looked at their host.

"Oh, of course! How thoughtless of me," the ranger replied with a wane smile. "The bathroom is right through here."

He guided the aromatic young blonde through his living room and toward a doorway, noticing that the charcoal smears beneath her tied-off t-shirt concealed fresh, healthy skin – no burns. He had expected that. "Everything you need is in there, My Lady, and I am at your complete disposal. You need only call out."

"What should I call out?" Tanya replied, standing half in and half out of the doorway. "Rape? Murder? Your name, perhaps?"

The ranger laughed. "Of course. I haven't told you my name." He hesitated for a moment as though deciding what to call himself now. "It's Tommy. Tommy Torque."

"Thank you, Mister ... Torque," Tanya replied, smiling. "I appreciate your hospitality." With one last uneasy glance at her husband, she disappeared through the doorway. The room immediately smelled fresher.

"She'll probably need some fresh clothes," Frank suggested. "I'll take her some from her backpack."

"No need," Tommy the Ranger replied. "This house is well supplied with clothing. She'll find something suitable in the dressing room, I'm certain."

"Well, you certainly are nothing if not accommodating," Frank said. "How do you afford all this on a Ranger's salary?"

Tommy smiled as he prepared drinks. "The house, of course, belongs to the state. Most of the furnishings were left behind by the last owner, as was the clothing. In addition, campers always leave things behind when they depart."

'I bet they do, ' Frank thought to himself. 'Especially if they depart on the end of a stake... '

He'd caught Tanya's look – her warning for him to be careful – as she disappeared into the bathroom. He politely held out his hand to accept the drink offered by his host.

"Do I get anything?" the thug asked from his sitting position on the couch.

"Would you like some water?" Tommy asked, smiling coldly. Without waiting for an answer, he drew a glass directly from the tap and offered it to the prisoner – no filters, no ice, though the glass was clean.

"If you'll excuse me," Tommy asked, ever the gentleman, "I must return to the radio room for a moment." Frank nodded and the ranger left.

There was no sound other than the shower turning on at the far end of the house. Tanya was finally getting the chance to wash off the last few hours of their outdoor adventure. Frank smiled as he recalled watching his 'slave' play with the hot charcoal stick. Her body had writhed sensually when those sparkling red embers dripped down from the stick and hotly bounced across her flesh. If they had been alone, he would have raped her right then. He wondered if he could get her to do that again, just for his pleasure. His hard-on throbbed just with him thinking about that.

"You know," the stranger on the couch said, interrupted Frank's daydreams. "You could jus' lemme go, you could." He looked as though he was ready to leap up and bolt for the door.

"Yes, I could," Frank replied, smiling coldly. "I would enjoy nothing more than giving you a two minute head start then hunting you down in cold blood. I'd let her..." he indicated the distant bathroom... "take you down. She likes to kill with her hands."

The man looked more frightened, and sat back, evidently deciding not to run for it after all. He remembered how fast his partner had gone from living to stone cold dead the instant that evil skank touched him.

Frank smiled, more friendly now and glad that his bluff had worked. He hadn't wanted a struggle and he would have had one if the prisoner made a break for it. A moment later, Tommy the Ranger reappeared. He was carrying two rifles.

"Oh," he said, seeming surprised and perhaps a little disappointed to see the man still sitting on the couch," You're still here. I was hoping perhaps you would provide us with some entertainment."

"What?" the man exclaimed, definitely frightened now. "You want me to run?"

Tommy smiled toothily. "It occurred to me that you might. That's why I brought these down." He hung the two rifles on the wall.

Frank noted that the bolts were drawn on each, and there was already a cartridge in each bolthole. Depending on how good Tommy the Ranger was, he could possibly get two well-aimed shots off in less than three seconds, even though each rifle was a single-shot weapon.

"Your choice of weapons appears to be exquisite," Frank said admirably. "May I look at them?"

"Of course, sir," Tommy said, half bowing. "Be my guest."

Frank lifted one off the wall peg where it was hanging and inspected it carefully. It was a well-made rifle, and except for some exquisite carving on the stock, there were no identifying marks on it. It had a Kerns sight on it, so it could be of Swiss manufacture. He simply didn't know that much about rifles. But, the one he was holding was at least a hundred years old.

"This seems very well made," Frank conjectured. "Is it Swiss?"

Tommy smiled, "Yes. It's a Schmidt-Rubin – made around the turn of the century, I believe, although it could have been made much more recently, perhaps as recently as the 1930's."

"I think perhaps your original estimate may be more correct," Frank said, guessing wildly. "The more recent models were equipped with magazines."

"Perhaps," Tommy said. He smiled and gently took the weapon back and returned it to its peg on the wall. "It's not important. Would you care for another drink?"

"Hum? Oh, uh, no," Frank replied. "Thank you."

The shower had turned off, so Tanya should be coming out soon. He was surprised how anxious he was to have her safely by his side again. Was he worried about her, or did he feel safer when they were together? He smiled to himself, wondering which truth was more correct.

"She should be rejoining us, soon," the ranger interjected, noticing Frank's unease.

The sound of an approaching helicopter became evident now that the shower was off. In another moment, it was very loud.

"Your ride is here," Tommy said to their captive, indicating that he should get up, now. Guiding him to the door, they both went through.

Frank headed back toward the bathroom and Tanya as soon as his host was out the door.

"Tanya?" he called out.

"Back here," Tanya replied.

She grinned in relief when she saw him. He grinned and hugged her damp body against his.

Tanya sniffed at him. "You're the one who smells now," she said, then laughed. "Look at all these clothes. I could dress like a queen with these exquisite gowns."

"Well," Frank murmured. "There goes my theory that campers left this stuff behind. Perhaps our host is telling the truth – the last owner left the house and its contents to the Forest Rangers. He suggested that you could wear one of these outfits to dinner."

"Hmm," Tanya smiled. "A formal dinner in the middle of nowhere. Sounds like ... a bad plot for a screamer. 'The House on Haunted Hill' comes to mind..."

"I know what you mean," Frank replied, laughing. "That guy gives me goosebumps."

"Well, he's obviously not from around here," Tanya replied. "But half the people we've met today were from somewhere else – that Brit we took prisoner, for instance."

"How could you tell he was British," Frank asked. "I didn't notice an accent."

"'Slag' is metal that's been heated so much that it's worthless for recycling," Tanya informed him. "It's usually found in bombed out buildings that contain steel girders. There haven't been that many gutted buildings in the U.S. for the term to become popular here. Overseas, the word has recently become popular for describing girls who are so loose and well used that you can't feel when you're inside them. It's very insulting."

"Well," Frank replied, grinning, "I hit him in the head with a rock. Did that make you feel better?"

"Yes," Tanya said, then kissed him lightly on the cheek. "Immensely. Which do you like better, the red one, or the black one with the silver?"

She held up two beautiful gowns, both very sheer.

"The black-and-silver will accent your hair," Frank said, smiling as he envisioned her ample breasts and curvy waist filling out the transparent material.

"Black and silver it is, then" Tanya exclaimed, then shoved him toward the bathroom door. "Your turn, darling. You stink."

Frank laughed, then started undressing.

Tommy the Ranger came back in from getting rid of his prisoner and found the living room empty. He searched long enough to discover that his two guests were both in the bath-dressing room area, then proceeded to the kitchen to prepare dinner.