PART TWO j – the Bad Thing

  I ended up goading them into another high school make out session. I was having fun, and I ended up grabbing his wrists, and hauling them back against a tree while he was standing in front of it. I had his wrists in tow, and reached for my trusty key chain. I dangled it at her, and he couldn't see. I ended up trying out the thumb cuffs in real life, and pretended to walk away, while Lightning stayed and enjoyed a make out session with a "captive" boy. Is french kissing first or second base? I forget. They circled their base for a while.

  Then it was more fun. We threatened to leave him there, and anything else we could think of. In the end, I couldn't barely pry her off him, thumbs locked behind his tree. I assured her that "good girls" are allowed to kiss as long as they feel like it, it was fine. And, rest assured I took my turns kissing him as well. No set schedule. He got whichever of us he got, although it was continuous.

  I left her alone with him, and decided to walk back to the townhouse. I left him there with his thumbs secured behind his tree, and the blonde girl he liked kissing him like a teenager while she roamed hands around. I was introducing her slowly to enjoying little things I knew he would like. Right now, he was having fun. I was just sure of it. How couldn't he be. My thumb cuffs had been in my jeans pocket, and I had a couple of bandannas under them. S and M in a jeans pocket, you could find them in my jeans and not give them a second thought.

  I blindfolded him to hear 14 year old ughter and squealing at her fun she got to have. She teased him with her tongue and lips. Whispering whatever naughty sweet nothings in his ear between wet lips and exploring tongue. I didn't have to show her biting the neck, she already knew that one. She looked at me like I had discovered something, right. I whispered something in her ear, out of his earshot. She nodded before I left.

  I didn't even think of it, my hands just automatically checked the mailbox. Typical junk mail, and a small brown box. Huh. I took it in with me while I got what I went back to get. Oh. My new belt and buckle. With my name on it. I was initially disappointed, but oh well. It was supposed to have my team number on the buckle, my name Hurry on the belt, embossed. It was reversed. My team number up and down the leather, Hurry on the big silver buckle.

  I could hear nothing as I came down the path retracing my steps. Walking off the path to where a captive boy was being "forced" to enjoy an extended make out session, I eventually saw them before I heard them. I handed her the champagne bottle, and she giggled. I slipped her the little bottle of baby oil, too. I rearranged him on the tree. Getting his face to the tree, blindfolded and redoing the thumb cuffs was a simple procedure. Some neck biting made it easy. Once I was done, I showed her the second and third bandanna. I shoved one in, and knotted the second to hold it in securely.

  She got to kiss his neck from behind, as she teased him. How he couldn't have a birthday, and not get his birthday spanking. I was going to wait on this, so his butt would have no marks for her to see, for me to expin. In the low light, in the woods at night? No expnation needed. Now, any marks he had were covered up, or were caused by us. I had just broken the ice on restraining him for naughty fun. Now, I was breaking the ice on naughtier fun.

  I handed her what was normally my own cowgirl belt. Thick, heavy grain leather. The big, shiny buckle almost forming a handle to keep your hand from sliding off. I had been working the leather on my new one all the slow walk back. It was a brand new thick leather belt, about the same as mine. Just new, so stiffer. She giggled as we lined up to surprise him. I had whispered to her, we would each take a crack for each birthday swat. He got twice as many.

  I took my first one, then she took hers. I had lined up and taken a full arcing backhand, nice and long. Nice and hard. She had taken a forehand from her side. Not a lot of power. I told her that one didn't count. We would do that one over. So, we did. I took an even more careful line up, and twisted and wrapped back around to deliver a good one. I held my palm out to her. She shrugged and wound up and gave him a much better one. I quietly said "one".

  We worked through his 24 swats, then the st one "to grow on". Don't know who invented that one. Someone with a secret naughty compulsion like mine, I suppose. An excuse to get that one extra smack in. When we were done, she whispered sweet nothings in his ear, before I whispered in her ear. She "reyed" it to him. She asked if he had birthday smacks st year. He shook his head. She giggled, and said we had to fix that, too. We repeated it, with us switched positions. Now I took forehand shots, and she had the backhand side. She had seen how to do it, seen and heard how much harder full backhands could be. She imitated me doing it. Lining up, twisting and arcing around to get momentum and speed up.

  She got into her fun new game. Novelty. When it came time to take a break, she knew to tease him without being told. She had giggled before his birthday spanking. How on the bare butt was the only way to fly for a thing like this, you know. She didn't need any prompting to tease him after. Asking if it had hurt, if she had done it right. I put her hand on it so she could feel the warmth. She ran her hands over the warm cheeks, and even swatted with her hand with some giggling. She gnced nervously at me, I shrugged and waved her on. She shrugged back, giggled, and smacked him with her bare hands some for fun.

  She had her own shtick for the tickling. The story her friend had told her about what he had done. How he normally was such a nice guy, but scaring and hurting her friend was definitely not going to fly. How we decided to fix him from being mean. He wasn't going anywhere, thumb cuffed facing his tree. I wrapped a belt around his knees and secured it. No kicking. Blindfolded and securely gagged, he was helpless. We took turns tickling him, and did it together. Little rape clinic, without realizing it. She kept looking to me, for when to stop. I kept waving her on. When she upended her palms to me, questioning me silently? I took my finger and ran it down from the corner of her eye slightly. I wanted some tears. She nodded and went back to work in earnest. She whispered sweet nothings in his ear, while she finished him off in one long session.

  I wonder if she got off on doing something to a boy against his will. Now getting muffled screams and tears out of him. Fun sex game, mispced revenge, therapy? I couldn't know. She had her own version of "the speech". After all, this was her game. She was helping me ostensibly, she had done this before and I hadn't. How she had heard about more than just the tickling, she knew what he had done to me after. Now? Just like the tickling, she was going to take care of that, too. She lubed up the champagne bottle with some baby oil, and I rubbed my hands and wiped it around where it needed to be close to. The little rabbit hole. New bunny pying with its friends. New hole to py hide and seek in.

  Just like belt spanking, just like tickling, she looked over to me for cue. How much, how hard, how fast? I waved her off with a wave of my hand every time until I touched my finger to her eye again. Tears. I buckled the belt around his waist, and put her hand on it for a handle. She got the idea, and I left her to it. She needed no further prompting. Her sweet little nothings in his ear, got less sweet and more demanding, then downright mean.

  I whispered to her that I wanted one st bit of fun out of this. I let him go, and got him dressed. She was standing there. Crossed arms, demanding look. She wanted him to apologize, and it better be good. Nothing was good enough, naturally. I pushed down on his shoulder, and it didn't take a lot to get him on the ground. I do it all the time alone with him. She had a way with a boy down on the ground, didn't she. That was where she could be powerful. She shoved him with her shoe several times, while demanding a better apology. She winked at me on the sly, and rolled her eyes.

  I rolled a joint, after I cuffed him back on his tree for more kissing. It was all her now. I lit the joint and took a few drags, then handed it to her. When she was done with her first few hits, she kissed him a few shotguns. We went around slowly until it was done. I let her have some more make out fun. I put the extra belt, the champagne bottle, the baby oil into the little bag I had brought from my trip back. My smallest beach bag.

  I was quite proud of myself, as the three of us walked back hand in hand down the path. I had so far kept my secret I shared with him, which meant I kept his secret too. For now. I had introduced some of it innocently enough to her, and got her pying with him. I know he had fun, she just doesn't know how much. I gently reminded her about her keeping secrets, to make sure I kept mine. The quick look I got back on her face told me all I needed to know, then it vanished and she was 14 again.

  We went back, and I put my beach bag away. Other than stopping all holding hands, nothing further was required to switch us over from having a bit of introductory threesome mommy sharing fun, over to what we also were. A girl, her boyfriend, and her roomie bestie that went along for the walk with us. Right was watching some comedy on TV when we got back. She asked Light if she was still sick, and she said she was feeling better. He made us rice, meat, vegetables… one of his Chinese dishes. He used to work in a Chinese restaurant, and can whip these things up with nearly any kind of meat and any vegetables.

  We all picked a movie. Light always goes st. She's being polite. That way when she picks Wizard of Oz, anyone that's sick of it can wander off. I wanted a romantic comedy. He wanted an action movie. Right went off to her room, when Light wiggled the DVD case at her. I was starting to understand the special significance the movie held for her now.

  Things can go from bck and white, to color in an instant. One minute you could be home in the dreary bck and white. In a fsh, you could be living in a world of color. Wicked witches sometimes got a house dropped on them… or kicked almost to death, simir thing I guess. One character wanted desperately to be brave, instead of always hiding and scared. The cowardly lion. Long legged ostriches are built for speed, but they can suddenly turn on a dime and kick a lion to death, surprising everyone. She was part cowardly lion that way. Cowardly ostrich in her own movie?

  The outside world of color, did certainly have flying monkeys. You just didn't always hear the scary music to warn you. The flying monkeys really could rip a person into pieces, someone did have to happen along and put them back together. She was part tin man. Quit dancing and rusty. Escaping to the university? She got oiled up and could move around once more, and enjoy it again. The scarecrow wanted a brain, she was getting a degree in Human Retions. A subject that held fascination for her. She didn't have magic ruby slippers, but she did get golden soccer spikes. They had powerful magic too. They transformed her. Gave her power over her enemies, and took her in a fsh when she learned how they worked, to somepce she'd much rather be.

  The tin man wanted most of all? A heart. To understand love, and be able to both give it and receive it back. I guess I was her good witch, and I repced the bad witch. A good mommy to repce the bad mommy.

  I guess Wiz? Was some weird combination in this fucked up retelling of the cssic. He was a sigma male. He worked behind the curtains, and no one knew what all magic he could work. But unlike the original Wizard, he was the opposite. Instead of pying powerful man behind the curtains, he pyed the polite quiet guy out in the open. He was also going to try to pull the curtains back on the guy and his son, that thought they had everyone impressed and cow-tailed and scared, and reveal them to be what they actually were. Not much.

  Just about anyone else? Grew up around them. Like any seemingly powerful bully, you just "knew" who they were, and what they were allowed to do. Which was, of course, naturally whatever the hell they wanted. He knew the truth. Big, mean, jacked up gorils? If you knew how, and weren't afraid… you could walk right up to them and rip them off their feet and toss them around, and stun them. Then finish them off when they had the wind knocked out of them, ying suddenly helpless at your feet.

  Money? Meant nothing to him. He couldn't be bought off. He was slick. They'd never see him coming. No big alpha male coming to town to confront them. Some guy that would stand out from the crowd. If he checked things out? Just some quiet, polite guy passing through. Seeing the world after the service, a few bucks in his pocket. Nothing to be scared of. Just another sheep to fleece some wool off of.

  I just had to give the tin girl a heart.

  During the movie, we were alone after Right left. She had seen the movie too often. She no longer teased Light, there was no point. Didn't get a rise out of her, it wasn't even fun to razz her. Light did her customary show. A few dance moves in time with the action on the screen. As a child, dancing? She might well have put on some little show for the parents. So they could see the dancing lessons going somewhere. The girls that were good, could all move in synchronized and choreographed time.

  They would be all dressed up like dancers, in cute lighthearted versions of characters. Young girls would appear older. They would move slinky, performing. Older men would get that slight charge they would enjoy. Their hair and makeup the dance instructor prepared and oversaw and worked on? Would do its job. One girl would of course be taller, and appear even older, more easily. She would have a little more snap and precision than the others her age. She would be slightly more desirable than the other young ones around her. The instructor might even arrange them according to that. Tallest in the middle. The one that danced better? Out front.

  The little star.

  She would learn to like putting on a show, getting the attention. Her mother would see this. A gold digger, would wonder how to best use this. After a few years of these little shows? It would be easy. Dress her up sexy, and get her dating. She already was primed to do her thing. She enjoyed the limelight, dancing for boys. The sexy clothes would seem like the sort of things you put on dancers. A little too small, a little too revealing. But hey, that's the idea.

  When her daughter never got pregnant to some older kid, with a dad with a great job? Her pn went awry. No increased welfare money and benefits rolling in from a single teenage mom, into a single divorced mom's house. The boys she picked for her and nudged her onto? She enjoyed. Nice sports car daddy had, nice luxury sedan daddy had. But, she couldn't get more than being a side piece for these married men. Then, she finally hit pay dirt on her own. Trashy pything for the single rich guy. Son that had trouble dating, but had an even better set of cars to run around in. Too perfect to pass up.

  When they had an idea to make money? To give the gold digger a way to make money off her little girl? Pffft.

  I had to have a little bit of mommy sharing fun. We did a few bong rips during Light's movie. I had him stand in front of me, and wanted to see if there were any marks. Me and Light sat next to each other, while I had him stand in front of me while we "had a little peek". 24 plus one to grow on? Is 25. With two mommy's, its 50. Repeated? 100.

  She got to giggle, seeing 100 hard belt strokes. It more than covered up anything else that was already present beforehand. She couldn't help a few hand swats, after I giggled and took a few. I owned something. I proved I owned it, by sharing it. I kept our secret, and also had our kind of fun with a new py partner. He had a strict mommy already. Now he had a young sweet one, too.

  When the movie was over, she talked to us some. Then? She did what she had done in the shower room. Fshed her normally unseen intelligence and insight. She stopped her little couple dance moves she was enjoying for us, and pointed at herself.

  "You guys know, why most of my tops always show off my tummy?"

  We didn't answer.

  "I know. Show off the goods, like all the girls do if they can. Hey, I'm a serious sports girl. I know mine's tight. Probably think that's why. Its not."

  We didn't say a word. I'm a therapist. Let them go.

  "I spent four years pying soccer. Last thing I wanted? Was boys looking at me. Girls looking and pointing at the slut. The whore. I wore regur T shirts. I dressed for four years, like you do Hurry. Mostly sweatpants. Big, loose T shirts."

  We kept silent.

  "Even if I wanted to show off my nice ft tummy? I couldn't. I always had those bruises there. Be just one more thing, for everyone to point at. So yeah. Its my thing now. I'm… free. Boys like seeing the goods, some girls are jealous. And I don't care what people think or say. Got over being pointed at and made fun of? A long time ago."

  Silence is golden.

  "But? That's why. Look. No more bruises. I escaped. I'm free. I can prove it."

  Nothing.

  "A lot of people think dancing is silly. Or just for fun. It can be silly. It can be just for fun. But… it can be serious. It can be a job, or even a good one. If you do it long enough, and you're good enough? You teach, and get to be a choreographer. Its like going from being a sports star, and making it to being a coach now. You teach the new ones, you get to make up the pybook."

  "Here. I'll show you…"

  She went to internet on the remote, and searched and found girls dancing in little videos they put up. She selected one finally. Several girls on sand somewhere. One girl out front, the rest in a wedge fanning out on either side of her. They were doing their routine they liked. Bunch of jump and what I call "ghetto dancing". Imitating the girls in the rap videos with all the moves.

  "That's not real dancing. I call that monkey dancing. Monkey see, monkey do. That girl in front, look at that face. She thinks she's the best one, the one that really has it. Eh. Not bad for an amateur. The others? They're all happy the girl picked them to be in her little show. Looks to me? Like part of some cheer-leading squad. But? Let's look at it again. In slow motion…"

  She could now pause it, speed it up or slow it down, when she took over with her phone controls.

  "See? Look at their feet. They're not hitting the ground at the same time. Everyone is completely out of time…"

  "Now? Look at the angles of the legs, the arm angles. Everyone is supposed to have the same angle."

  "And the girl out front? She's the lead. She needs to be doing what they all do, perfect. But… now and again? She's supposed to be doing the mirror image of it. To stand out. She doesn't know that, there's no choreographer. This is just a bunch of girls picking up moves, stringing them together at random. Practicing them to do them as fast as they can, they think fast is automatically better. Amateurs."

  "They just watched a bunch of hip hop videos, and… monkey see, monkey do. If they wanted to even try to impress me? They should be doing it slower, but in perfect time, at least. Then watching the videos as they work on it, over time. Getting those arm and leg angles to match up."

  "That girl out front, the leader? She should be watching them practice. Starting and stopping them. Showing them all those random angles are off. She doesn't know any better, she never took a single week of dance lessons. Or she'd know."

  "It takes a long time to do it right. A lot of practice, to even begin to bring the speed up. You practice with a metronome, like a musician. You slow it way down, until everyone knows the individual moves down pat. The leader, the choreographer? Can now see which order to put the moves in. Which ones get their feet and legs ready to smoothly go to the next one. You notice how at full speed, sometimes they sort of have it, its smooth? Then there’s a kind of a shudder. That's a move to move, that's unnatural."

  "You either rearrange the moves, to prevent that. Or? You stop and change up. Go into something surprising. Some slow twisting. Different girls doing slow spins in opposite directions. Then? You can sm back into the main routine. And everyone should finish in some different pose. Bang, on point. Like suddenly hitting pause. I mean, I'm sure boys like beating off to this one? But… its just monkey see, monkey do."

  "Something like this…"

  She did some of their moves. Stopped, started a couple times.

  "There. This one… to this one. That's a mismatch."

  She did it again, this time the stutter went away.

  She now ran through it again, and suddenly stopped. Went to slow spinning, first one way and back… then snapped back into what she had just worked out.

  She did it a final time… smooth and into the slow spins for the change up… then back into it, and… bang! Into a pose. Arms out, fingers spyed and pointed. One foot pnted, the other cocked and toes on point from the knee bent.

  "Now. Tell me. That's not better?"

  We agreed it was.

  "What. A minute or two, to get that. Imagine if those girls would let me coach them. Make them work out slow, to a metronome. Do some simple change up, they could all get easy. Bring the metronome up slowly, over weeks. Blow a whistle, show them time. In time. Show them the angle's off, on pyback. Imagine when it was all put together. An actual little show. This video would be ten times better. Than this… monkey dancing shit."

  "I wouldn't even be in this movie. That girl out front? She's still in front. That's where she wants to be, those girls buy it. If the leader, would let me tell her what to do? The rest would follow her. Agree they do need a coach. But this? Eh."

  "These are the kinds of girls that think they're the stars when they go out dancing. They're the ones I show up. I'm not even a pro or anything. Imagine if a real professional dancer showed up. Makes me, look like one of these."

  We ended up having some leftover Chinese, some cold soft drink to wash it down with. Headed up to bed. She followed us in. We sat and talked some. I couldn't help asking.

  "Why soccer, Light. Big high school. I bet they had a dance team. You'd have been a star there, too."

  "Yeah. Just what I wanted. Everyone looking and pointing. There, that one? She's a whore. No way. The cheer-leading squad wanted me, pretty bad. You know, real dancer, real training? Once again… no way. There. That one? You think she's good? That's the token whore cheerleader. The little outfits, everyone looking. Uh uh. Sports. When I tried out for the st year of junior high girls soccer? Coach liked me at tryouts. Hundred yard dash? Go figure. He said they just had to teach me how to handle a ball. Then how to shoot. Speed, agility? I had that from dancing for years."

  "Remember. My dance name was Sky. I could get air. Dance leaps, come from a couple things. One is just speed. You only have so many steps to get up to full speed. Then its how high you can jump. Dad's best gift to me? My legs. Running track was just so I could get the stamina I'd need. I was decent in the 100 yard dash. Then, the coach liked me for the long jump, and the high jump. I honestly wasn't serious about girls track. It was just a workout to me."

  "So. If you ever wondered how you see my head come up out of the pack up there, going up to get that head ball, to get possession? That's a long jump. Combined with a dancer's leap, to get that air. Now. When you see me going up, and getting my feet up to catch the ball and take a one time shot? Watch people doing the high jump, on the track team. You'll suddenly see it, now that I told you. Coming down though, I don't have a big mat to nd on. That's all dancing again."

  "The… assistant coach? He worked with me, half of every practice. I worked for hours, by myself. All year long. Just… go find a big ft wall, and practice. I made chalk marks, to hit. All the other girls were… doing the normal thing. That's what I did. Got me out of the house, away from you know who."

  "Everyone else? Finding pces to make out, drink beer. I had a little broken down garage. Used to be a service station where they sold gas, fixed cars. The old kind. That got repced by the big gas chains. I practiced in there. You wonder how I got fast? I did it for hours. When I'd kick into the corner, the ball shot back on a new… line. I learned to kick it back, and get that… pinball thing going. Juggle. See how long I could keep it up. Faster corner pinball practice. Hit my chalk marks when I wanted to. Switch walls, switch corners. All I ever did. Sometimes, I didn't even come home on weekends. Just stayed there all night, doing that. I ran a lot, too. When summer was over, and it came time to try out for the big high school team? I was ready."

  "It… got kinda like dancing. Just by myself. I had two big corners, one little corner. One big long wall, two shorter side walls, and one little wall. A tiny bit of wall, between the two garage doors. I could spin around and one time it right onto that little wall between the doors. After some fast pinball out of a corner."

  "I could jump, like dancing? But hit the ball. Make it go where I wanted. Hit an old can, my target. From anywhere in the garage. There were a couple little windows out. I could hit those by the end of the summer, after a wall return, after a corner pinball… from anywhere. I don't know how Right learned it, but… once I came here and found her? That's how I was able to do it."

  "Power? I was always… mad. I learned to stay mad, but… to control it. I can't expin it, jumping and one timing the ball into a shot, but… you can't watch it. Its just a blur. You… feel it. Once you get it a few times? You know what you're trying to do. Dancing? That's how you see me whirl away, back and forth. I just learned how to do it with the ball, that's all. I'm really, just dancing."

  "I ran through the trees, with the ball. Hit trees I chalk marked. Avoid trees I marked for that. Until I could dart around like a nut. After school, till te. Every weekday, every weeknight. Every holiday. Day, night. Hot, cold. Rain, shine. Snow, ice. Whatever. Thanksgiving. Christmas. Even Valentine's day. I always skipped school for that one."

  "No… boys?"

  "You know what boys want the town whore? Virgins. Or boys that were shy and barely knew how to talk to girls. Hey. Town whore. Go to her. You imagine what its like, being the older girl, some young virgin comes up to. On the sly. Trying to give me all his grass cutting money he saved up? Begging me. Better yet, boys would come and walk and talk with me. Try being nice. Like I don't know what they figure. Might have, but… they wouldn't walk and talk with me, out in the open. Where the town could see them with me."

  "There's always popur girls. With cool boyfriends? Nice cars. They wanted to try me out. Pffft. Like Daddy's nice car is the way to get me in it. I could have had all their boys, on the side if I wanted. No way. I was just the town whore, I must be easy. Well? Not only wasn't I easy… I was impossible."

  "I spent four years like that. Only reason I concentrated on schoolwork? So I could try to get a schorship. I knew I didn't have the grades to get an academic schorship, had to be for sports. And I had to be a star, to get that."

  "You know how I prepare the night before a game? I'll show you…"

  She brought back the jeans with the bloody legs. It wasn't dark paint.

  "These? Were under the wham bam and the ripped up shirt you borrowed. Night before a game? I put these, and the denim mini, and the ripped up shirt over a chair… and just stare at them. All night. Till I get tired. I wake up, and stare at them some more. Getting pissed. Controlling it. Then? I'm ready. And yeah. I treat practice, like a real game. A scrimmage or a preseason game? Like a big game. And a real game? Like its the st game of the nationals. I'm all worked up and pissed off. I have no way to let it out. I've learned to bottle it up, save it, and that's the only way I can let it out."

  "Once I won that big game, and woke up in the hospital. Found out I actually won. Hell. I thought we were tied, all I knew. Mom had her own version of… soccer practice. But, I got my schorship offers. Coach and assistant coach had to tell me which one I should take. I wanted the biggest, most famous school? But… one that was slipped, from what it once was, for their girls soccer team. My coaches said they'd treat me the best. That's this school. The rest of the story? You already know, Hurry."

  "So? That's how I got to be who I am. I need some time with boys. I can't get into their cars they love to show off. What every other girl likes? I hate. You may have noticed, I only got into my ex's cool truck? When Right was with me. Only went fishing and camping, because there were lots of other people with me. Movie date? Double date with her and her guy, or not at all."

  "So? I pick one, and go to their room. I get what I need. They? Get what they need, or what they like. Then, it ends. When I don't like them as much after getting to know them. When they want to take me out, and I can't take anything. Or, when they don't want to be seen with the slut, the whore, for anything else other than that. Its over. When I need it again? There's plenty more where that one came from."

  He asked her.

  "Lightning?"

  "Yeah, Wizzy."

  "I want one piece of information, but don't worry. I'm pretty sure this one won't trigger anything."

  "Wizzy? I mean this more than one way. Whatever you want. Take that for all its worth. And? You like little puns, cute phrases, right?"

  "Sure."

  "Then what I just said? You… can take it any way you want it."

  "You ever drink cranberry juice? I have a little crystal ball, and it says… you once drank it. Like… a lot of it. Maybe had a gallon jug of it, and hammered the stuff down."

  "Wizzy? You… really are a wizard sometimes. Someone gave you just the right nickname, you know that? And you really must have a crystal ball. How in the hell, did you know that."

  "Oh. Just a hunch."

  "Yeah. By the gallon."

  "Care to tell me why? You don't have to. Its enough I know now."

  "I have no idea, how in the hell you know that, but… yeah."

  "Well…"

  "I was reading a, what she calls… Retards Monthly magazine. Cranberry juice. It was magical stuff. Its supposed to really clean your system out. Has all kinds of health benefits. Special vitamins, special minerals. Antioxidants that just attack bad stuff and take them away. There was a health kick years back. Flushing. Cranberry juice? Just flushed you out. Cleans you. Supposed to make you… feel like new again. Like magic. So? Yeah. Back then, I figured what the hell. Sure, I could use a little magic. In fact, I could use a whole lot of… magic. I was a filthy, dirty whore. Human garbage. I wanted my… magical cleaning."

  "You're saying, you drank a gallon of the stuff?"

  "Mom had a cranberry kick. Women read those magazines. The test health fad. Hey, drink this stuff. Makes you healthy. That's mom. Don't need to work, don't need to exercise. Just drink something, and all done. Easy. So yeah, there were a couple gallons in the fridge. I read an article. The stuff was there by the gallon. Tried it, for a while."

  "Did it work?"

  "Well. Funny you ask. That was right around the time… well, you know what time. The st time. In fact, I liked pretending I was getting my magical cleaning so much? I was a young girl. Silly pretend fun. My drink? I wanted… vodka and cranberry juice. A little bit of vodka, a lot of cranberry juice. I only get a couple drinks. Girl drink, tastes really good for a mixed drink."

  "Sounds okay."

  "Then? I went from thinking I was a filthy, dirty whore. To knowing I really was. And figured out I was the town's garbage can. My ass, my pussy, my mouth? Garbage cans. And me? I'm the garbage. So no, it didn't… work. Kinda, the exact opposite of what I wanted. Nope. Didn't work at all. I learned real quick, too. No such thing in this world, as magic."

  "You okay Lightning? I didn't… trigger you?"

  She had her hard game face on now.

  "You see me crying?"

  "No."

  "Then I'm okay."

  "All right. Thanks."

  "Hey Wizzy…"

  "Yeah, Light."

  "Another little… py on words for you."

  "Sure."

  She paused, so he wouldn't miss her little word py.

  "You done with me now?"

  "Sure."

  "Gd you had fun. That makes one of us."

  He sighed.

  "Light? Could you do me a favor?"

  "Any, thing, you, want."

  He sighed again.

  "We're not talking about you, we're not making fun. Maybe you could take those… jeans, and the outfit back? To the box, where they belong. For game day. And give us a minute, would you?"

  "You even want me back?"

  "Yes, Light. I want you back. This is just… therapist to cop talk. I promise. Couple minutes, then I promise you, I want you back."

  She went off and took the evil clothes away, all of them. Back into the box, in the back of the closet. Her own little hurt locker. Taken out to make her mad, and remind her.

  When she was gone, I just looked at him.

  "The hell just happened?"

  "I… proved my theory. About the date rape drug that was used. Proof positive, as surely as I took the drink and had it tested."

  "How? And how the hell did you just know she drank lots of cranberry juice. And… all magically, right around… the st time, the worst time ever for her. What…"

  He was quiet.

  "I know which date rape drug they used. GBH I think, or GHB. Whatever. But, that's the one. Definitely."

  "What do these things have to do with one another. I feel like I'm pying the kids game in the comics page. I have to figure out what's the same and what's different in the two little pictures that look identical. I ain't finding the st two."

  "GBH. It used to be legal. Just an industrial chemical. A couple drops? The original dance drug. All the dance clubs would have it around. You get all warm and fuzzy and loose, and you really enjoy dancing all night. Every so often, you take a drop or two, stay in the fun zone."

  "More drops…"

  "Yeah. Date rape. They bck out, they get confused. But? They do anything you suggest. They don't remember a thing. Why have a passed out drunk chick, that's not half as much fun… as a girl awake, doing whatever you say. Then? You add a couple drops, to keep them there, or… get your quickie in. Too easy. When they come out of it? They're just… they don't know a thing. If you're drinking, its the perfect cover. Hey, you had a couple drinks. Guess it hit you."

  "A girl knows…"

  "What. She went around the world? Yeah. The guy used to sp her. He made her do what he wanted. I'm sure that was a normal date with him. Its why the older girls knew to stay away from him. Couple drinks with him, he sps you and does what he wants. Spoiled rich guy's kid. He ran out of girls, quick."

  "That's one of the two things in the pictures, left. Last one?"

  "She's right about one thing. Cranberry juice? Worked her magic, and just like she wished for, pretending. Cranberry juice? Is the antidote, kind of. For that date rape drug. A girl drinks a lot of cranberry juice? A lot… she stays awake through the date rape drug. Oh, she'll look the same. A little confused, a little out of it… still listening to whatever you say, but… they come out of it and were awake the whole time. They saw it all, they heard it all. They can tell the cops? Everything."

  "Wow."

  "That was the st time. She knew. The magic cleaning agent? Ironically, worked. It put a stop to it. Mom? Wasn't kicking her for getting drunk. She was kicking her, because she wasn't supposed to remember. It was supposed, to be perfect. The money train just ended. I just proved she was date rape drugged. I just proved what drug was used. I just proved? Mom knew all along. Mom got what she could. Kid wanted cops. Mom got the rich guy? To kick up the cash. To agree to sign it away. Guy’s rich. I'm sure mom got a bundle."

  "Some magic wand."

  "Its a red juice. Instead of ruby slippers that made it stop? Ruby red drink. Weird, huh."

  "Holy shit…"

  He went and got her. Brought her in by the hand, assuring her he wanted her in here with us. We talked about other things, until she started getting tired. She got up, to go to her own room. He told her she didn't have to go. If she wanted to stay, that was fine. She looked at me, I nodded.

  Its Lightning. She was comfortable in her underwear in the hot tub at the party. She didn't think anything about kicking her shoes off, losing her socks. Jeans off, shirt off. Just underwear. She got under the covers, and asked if she was allowed to sleep on him again.

  "I got a better idea."

  "What?"

  "You get on the outside. Put him in the middle."

  She just rolled over him, and he went in the middle.

  I shoved the bandanna in, and knotted the other one to make it secure.

  "This should keep him quiet. Worked st time."

  I thumb cuffed him. Mentioned she could kiss him all over, if she wanted to. She did. While she was having her fun, I showed her the champagne bottle. She rolled her eyes and smiled. She watched me use an alcohol wipe girls use to take makeup and things like that off on it. She was giggling with her eyes watching me, knowing what was coming.

  "Anything I need to know, about your game you taught me earlier?"

  "Nope. Just…"

  She rubbed her fingers together. Lube.

  "How much can I…"

  "Pffft. Go to town, now."

  She kept kissing him, and slung her leg over his. She had him on his side. She got a hold of the thumb cuffs, and slowly worked his hands out of the way, up onto his hip where she could keep them secure. She kissed him, held him. I went to town. I asked her questions, made sure I was "doing it right". She waved me off. After a while, I rolled him over. I kissed him. I held his hands out of the way. Her turn. I pulled the covers back, and showed her. He was hard. She giggled.

  "I know. You wouldn't think it. But… yeah."

  We switched a couple times. I got her into the spirit of things. Whispering dirty nothings into his ear. Teasing him about it.

  "Hmm. I was only joking about running a rape clinic down in my room, you could send him down for a lesson. Now? You can. If he needs a little reminder from time to time… I'll handle it."

  "You hear that? I might just take her up on it. Might be good therapy for her, you know. Let her get it out of her system. You okay with this, Light?"

  "Hey. It was my dirty game I told you about. If you think its fun…"

  I started tickling him while she raped him. Then we switched. Eventually though, the fun had to end some time. I showed her his interest meter, and let her check him out some.

  "Hmm. Perfect. You know… fun size."

  Eventually, I went down on him. I told her to make it hurt while I did it. Seemed like she did. She had to take a good hold of his thumb cuffs while she gave it to him. I took my time, mouth only. When he finally finished, I slowly undid the gag and let his mouth go. She giggled because she suspected what I was up to. I kissed him and fed him his mess. She made the joke that boys will do it, and they won't tell. They're too embarrassed.

  I let him go finally. Put his boxers on him. He fell asleep up against me. Her right behind him, arm and leg slung over him. I put the light out and set the arm clock.