text:
Dedication

For Angie. Maybe you shouldn't read this one.
Chapter One

The radio was mostly static with only fragments of "China Girl" __ fading through, so Michelle Hopkins shut it off. Now that she was higher up the mountain with dense woods and rocky hills on each side of the car the reception had gone bad and would continue to get worse. She'd been listening to an eighties station and enjoying it, but it would be a more soothing drive if she rolled the windows down, letting the breeze nip at her face, and smelling the rich autumn air.

_Too bad Britt won't get to enjoy the weekend with us_.

They'd been planning the trip all month, a long weekend at her parents' cabin in Mountain Rock. They'd picked the first weekend of October, when it would be chilly at night, great weather for cuddling, and with warm days, which was good for hikes and swims.

It would have been perfect. Romantic. _Would've been_. Instead, she was making the drive solo. After Britt learned yesterday that he would have to work this weekend, delivering parts for his father's auto shop to a service garage in Raleigh, Michelle improvised, changing her plans spur of the moment.

Now the weekend would be a reunion of sorts with the old gang.

Michelle had recently run into Lucy at Wal-Mart. She hadn't seen her in over five years, but there she'd been, looking for vitamins, and had spotted her doing the same. She'd tried to track Lucy down on Facebook, Twitter, and she'd even used a website that had promised it could reunite her with high school friends, but found nothing.

A quick trip to Wal-Mart had changed everything. They'd exchanged phone numbers with a promise to get together.

Yesterday Britt delivered the bad news while they were eating lunch at Blanch's Diner. As she was driving back to work, depressed and tempted to stay home all weekend, the idea to call Lucy popped in her mind. Michelle assumed Lucy would decline, but Lucy surprised her by saying yes, and not only that, she would see if Helen and Amanda would tag along.

_Just like old times_.

The road leveled out as she took the exit for the Blue Ridge Parkway. A longer route, but the countryside was beautiful and worth the extra time. Normally, she would pull off at the Seven Devil lookout, sit on the hood of her car, and stare at the vast array of sloping woodland. She checked the clock in the console, and seeing it was already past nine, realized she'd have to skip it for now, but would definitely stop on the way back. This was her favorite time of the year, and the Seven Devil lookout had the best view.

She wasn't going to miss it.

The wind whipped through the open windows as Michelle rounded a sharp curve, slapping her long hair in her face. She put on her hat to help keep her lashing hair out of her eyes. She was surprised by how empty the parkway was. Not that it was ever crowded, but being Friday she figured at least one car would be trailing her in the distance, or she'd pass a few bicyclists, maybe even some motor homes. So far she'd passed neither, nor had she spotted a car in the rearview mirror. It was odd, but she reveled in it.

"I wish Britt could see all this," she muttered.

Lucy Wallace packed immediately. Sure, it was the weekend and a short notice invitation, but she had nothing else planned. Her parents were still in Milwaukee visiting Aunt Glenda. And Roy had dumped her to go back to his wife in August. Since she couldn't afford their apartment's rent without him, she had to move in with her parents until she got back on her feet. She'd quit her job at the newspaper as copy editor when Roy moved in so she could get his daughter Jenny to and from school, help with homework and have dinner waiting for him when he got home from work. She'd been so consumed with those wife-like duties that she hadn't noticed him beginning to act oddly and texting on his phone when she wasn't looking, or the sneaking out in the middle of the night, because she was so exhausted in the evenings that she was normally already asleep at eight.

Lucy had never considered Roy had been secretly seeing his wife again, and that while she was doing the job his wife _should_ have been doing, they were devising a way to get back together on the sly. One Saturday she'd gone to visit her parents for the day and when she'd come home that afternoon was greeted by a half empty apartment.

A note left on the counter had explained everything.

So, other than watching movies on Netflix and drinking plenty of beers, she had nothing else to do to this weekend. But thanks to Michelle, she suddenly had plans, fun plans, and a long weekend at Michelle's cabin to look forward to.

The last time was following high school graduation, when they'd spent the entire week in the mountains. Hiking, swimming, canoeing, it'd been the best time of her life. Then they'd run across a group of men camping, and had given _them_ the best time of their own lives.

Thinking back on it, she couldn't believe how rambunctious she used to be. How she could do anything spur of the moment and not think twice about it. She never used let her weight be an issue or an inconvenience. But these days, she lingered less on the possibilities of life and more on its penalties. As she skulked closer to thirty, life had seemed to become stamped with a warning label of dos and don'ts.

_Not this weekend though_ , she thought.

Nope. She would not let her life fuck up this weekend.

It wasn't just that she was thrilled to be with Michelle at the cabin. Helen and Amanda were going to be there too. Amanda had moved to South Carolina two years after high school, and sadly they'd lost touch. She blamed herself for it just as much as she blamed Amanda. But this weekend would be a chance to rekindle the bond they'd had since grade school.

Nervousness and excitement were bubbling in her gut.

Helen had gotten pregnant in college and married Roger—whom Lucy had given the moniker of sperm donor—then dropped out to raise their children. Roger went on to become a very successful lawyer as she became a stay at home Mom.

She wasn't able to adapt very well.

Roger's drinking grew from casual to abusive and eventually so did his relationship with her and the kids. One night she apparently fought back, and when the brutal confrontation was over, Roger was dead. Their two sons were taken from her custody, and Helen spent some time in an institution, but was released soon after. She never served a prison sentence and Roger's death was ruled self-defense. But after nearly two years, she still hadn't regained custody of Jarrod and Randy.

That was all Lucy had ever learned of what happened. She'd been told Helen hadn't taken it very well, but really, who would have? It was hard for Lucy to imagine Helen being a mother, let alone a housewife. But it was even harder for her to picture her killing someone, even in self-defense. A trip away from it all would be good, an opportunity to leave it all behind for a few days without having to worry about her everyday life.

_Hell,_ she thought, _might do us all some good._
Chapter Two

Ricky Myers finished typing the sentence, leaned back in his swirling chair, and exhaled a satisfied breath. He had already finished writing chapter two, and the clock in the corner of his laptop's screen showed he'd done so sooner than expected. He was tempted to continue straight through chapter three, but decided to wait and carry his enthusiasm into tomorrow, saving the cram sessions for later when he was nearing the deadline.

Tonight he'd do some light editing on the two chapters he'd already written and start the next one tomorrow.

Ricky's stomach grumbled. He felt as hungry as if he'd just finished a long day of writing. Something usually happened to him when he sat slouched over his laptop, hammering his fingers across the keys. There were fingerprint smudges across them, and the white letters printed on the small squares were fading. Writing invigorated him, but at the same time, it left him feeling completely famished and often sweaty.

The day was nearing ten. He wanted to eat something big, and not just some kind of snack, so he stood up and stretched. His muscles pulled, tingling as they thanked him for allowing the proper flow of blood.

He crossed the room to the bay doors that opened onto a deck over the backyard and when he saw how lovely of a day awaited him through the glass, he decided to have lunch outside. Summer was over, and gone with it was the heavy, humid heat, but the day looked crisp and warm.

Ricky removed the wig he wore when writing, a lengthy mane of red, and brushed his hand back and forth through his own sodden hair. Wearing the wig, and sometimes special __ clothes, helped him to write better stories than if he tried to work without them.

He returned to the card table he'd assembled as a writing desk and set the wig beside his laptop. Leaning over, he put a finger on the CTRL button and another on S and simultaneously pressed them to save his file. He was sure he'd done so already, but did it again anyway. After he'd lost a nearly completed novel in a hard drive crash, he now took every precaution he could think of to ensure his work was safe. Each USB port was occupied by a flash-drive. He always made sure he backed up his files multiple times.

Which he now did one more time, for safety.

Deciding to print his pages, he clicked the Print icon. The laser printer he'd set on the floor hummed as the toner began heating up. Then it started spurting out pages. While it printed, he walked into the small nook-like kitchen on the opposite side of the living room and poured himself a glass of sweet tea. He liked to make it from scratch, but on the way to the cabin a couple days ago he'd stopped at McDonald's and purchased four gallons of their tea instead. It was easier to pour and chug, but he was already down to two jugs. Drinking that much tea while sitting at a computer typing was an easy way to gain weight.

He glanced through the window above the sink at the allure of color in the woods. A walk after lunch would be nice. It was a good way to enjoy the surroundings and also get some exercise. His back would thank him for it after being confined to a cheap office chair for two days, and with more to come.

Plus, it would distract him from how alone and lonely he was out here.

It'd been his idea to come to the sticks and work on the new book, isolating himself in the hope of catching something special. So far, it had worked. He was excited about that, but couldn't escape the realization that he was miserable without Ted. _But I've made Ted pretty miserable the last several months... He's probably enjoying my absence._ He'd been supportive through it all and Ricky felt he didn't deserve someone as wonderful as him.

His ruin started with the emails. When they'd stopped coming in wanting to read his work, he began to stir, thinking he'd already slipped so early on in his career. Writing under the pseudonym Laura Kelly, he'd become—or rather she'd become—a sensation. The first novel, _Lust Mirror_ , attracted publishers and readers like flies to shit. Her second one, _Lust in Peace_ exploded onto the Erotic Horror scene.

Laura Kelly's books depicted graphic scenarios, usually supernatural, that consisted of multiple partners engaging in kinky sexual activities. The stranger the better; he'd learned Laura's readers liked it that way. So, with each book she made sure to include one scene that stood out amongst the bundle where guys would be with girls, girls on girls, and then more importantly, guys on guys. The seriousness and respect Laura treated each love scene with was not overlooked by her fans. They never felt as if they were reading cheap trash.

But it had taken longer for Laura's third novel, _Lust Redeemer_ , to be finished and released, although Ricky felt the wait had been worthwhile and it was probably her best piece. The sales and numbers were good at first, but they'd quickly dwindled in the following weeks. Then suddenly his and Laura's inboxes were empty. The traffic to their email accounts had been steadily declining, and one day it had all just halted. That first day he saw zero messages in the inbox, he nearly cried.

It was as if the entire publishing world, as well as his fellow author buddies, had forgotten he even existed. So Ricky began a workload that consisted of website interviews, magazine interviews, publishing free short stories on his/her own website, and even blog tours to keep Laura alive. It wasn't until they self-published the eBook _Lust in Space_ that Ricky felt Laura had returned. It was an instant hit on all the eReader websites.

The majority of the reviews were wonderful and kind, not all of them of course, because no one can escape the internet troll who enjoys posting negative comments and criticisms on message boards and Amazon even if that loser hasn't read the material they're reviewing. It was always easy to disconnect those guys from the legitimate reviewers. Usually you just had to check their spellings, lack of capitalization and poor texting-style grammar.

After the success of _Lust in Space,_ Laura Kelly's old publishing house got in touch, pretending nothing had happened, and eagerly anticipating Laura's next manuscript. That had angered Ricky more than their ignoring him. Plenty had happened. He'd started drinking again, and much heavier than he had before quitting years back. He began seeing a therapist, and worst of it all, he could feel Laura Kelly's disappointment. She was the one who had been the driving force all along, who picked him up and brushed off his failures, giving him a pat on the back and sending him back out there to try again. Without her, he would have perished. Ricky had become a wreck, an absolute horror to be with, and even worse to live with.

And Ted had become the emotional punching bag during his drunken binges. But on the day the publisher came crawling back to him, he took a gut-chance and severed all ties with the house. Then, with Laura's support, he came out of the closet about being Laura Kelly. The buzz was huge. Suddenly, people were talking about him again. His parents couldn't believe it. He'd even learned his own mother and most of his aunts were fans of his/hers, which he found to be odd considering the erotic fiction on those pages could fluster a gimp. He'd debated coming out of the sexual closet as well, but wasn't brave enough yet. Other authors had admitted they were gay, and the sales of their books had plummeted afterward. Movie deals became stale. And Ricky had heard rumors it even affected those authors' creativity and personal well-being. He was finally at a point that he felt comfortable as a writer, and his emotional state was teetering on the positive side.

He didn't want to risk jeopardizing that.

Nor did he want to put Ted through anymore bullshit. So he'd decided to keep it hushed for now, and when the time was right, he'd announce it to the world.

Maybe after _Fear and Lusting in Las Vegas_ , the next book in the Lust series, was released with a new publishing house, a new editor and, hopefully, many new fans. Perhaps that would be the right time to come clean about his sexual preferences. But for now, he would keep going about things as normal. It was no one's damn business anyway.

He made a ham and cheese sandwich with a side order of low-fat saltine crackers. He carried the plate and sweet tea with him out on the back deck. Then he sat at the table and ate while watching the lake's water gently ripple as it licked the shoreline.

A cool breeze brushed across him, stirring his hair. He could smell the forest, sweet and clean.

He could not wait to go walking.
Chapter Three

Michelle parked her Honda at the front of the two-story cabin in her usual spot, a rectangle-shaped blemish that had once been luscious green grass, but was now browned and frail under the old oak tree. She and her brother Glen had spent many summer days climbing that tree. It was gargantuan in size to her even now, but as a child, Michelle had thought it reached all the way to heaven. And maybe it could, she'd never been to the top of it.

She sat behind the wheel, staring at the cabin with her car door open and the engine off, enjoying the drifting air, and smelling the sweet scents from the woods. Pine, leaves old and new, wood and dirt. She wondered why no one had ever been able to accurately capture the scent in a candle.

The cabin looked as if it had been placed there amidst the trees by God's hand. The lawn was made up of a small, clean patch of grass in the back and around both sides. The front was nothing more than a gravel driveway that blended in with the yard, and the woods enclosed the property like a wall. The lake was within walking distance on a path through the woods, and all the hiking trails that traversed through the thickest parts of the woods could be accessed right from her backyard.

And of course, there was the camping area where they'd met those campers the last time they'd been here together.

Michelle studied the cabin. The plants hung from under the eave, where they'd been for as long as Michelle could remember, swaying this way and that. They were still lively and green, although it must have been Fourth of July weekend since they'd last been watered. She should probably water them at some point today. But not right now. She was enjoying the calm way too much to do anything. She found herself almost regretting that she'd invited the girls out. This would be the only moment like this for the rest of the weekend. That was fine, though, because she would probably grow pretty bored in a day, but the girls being here would help her appreciate solitary moments like this.

But, like all good things, it must come to an end. They'd probably be here soon. She had to get the cabin prepared, open the windows and doors so the four month old stuffy air could be fanned out. She wondered if she should cut some wood for the fireplace, but figured there was probably plenty behind the shed already. It'd be old, but it would burn like any other tinder.

Michelle climbed out of the car, stretched and kicked the door shut with the heel of her shoe. _I'll get my bags in a minute._ She wanted to get inside and get started.

On her way to the front door, she contemplated taking a quick walk if the others hadn't arrived by the time she was finished inside. And, if they hadn't, then she would do just that.

"I have to admit," said Amanda, puffing on a cigarette, "I'm excited about this weekend."

Lucy laughed, keeping both hands on the steering wheel as she took a sharp curve five miles lower than the recommended limit. "Sounds like your life's been as exciting as mine lately."

"Hardly," she said, and flicked her cigarette out the window. It disappeared somewhere over the mountain's edge.

"That's a good way to start a forest fire," said Helen from the backseat. She lay stretched out, her feet bare even on such a cool day. Her bronzed, sporty legs had a glossy sheen to them from frequent trips to a tanning bed. "Don't you remember what Smokey told you?"

"Who?"

Lucy shot a surprised glance Amanda's way. "Smokey the Bear. Remember when we were kids, someone dressed up as him would come to the school?"

"Oh, that guy."

"That _bear_ ," corrected Helen.

"Whatever. Yeah, I remember him. He passed out all those pamphlets." Sitting up straight, Amanda placed a hand over her heart as if about to say a pledge. In her best Smokey voice, she said, "Only _I_ can prevent forest fires."

"You just probably _started_ one by flicking your cigarette out the window like that. Real good, you know. Hot ashes and dry leaves equal a combustible combination."

Amanda rolled her eyes. "Sorry, _Mama._ " She shook her head. "I haven't seen you in _how_ long and you're already giving me shit?"

"Wouldn't be Helen if she wasn't," said Lucy.

Helen tilted back her head and released a single laugh. "The girl knows me too well."

Amanda leaned closer to Lucy. "You're on my side, right?"

"I know better than to side with _either_ of you." Though she was joking, it was really a lighthearted admittance of the truth. Helen and Amanda could be trouble separately, but getting them together was borderline catastrophic. She had been excited about this trip, but couldn't stop the nervous tingles in her stomach about where it might lead. "How long has it been since we've been to the cabin?" Lucy said, trying to divert the conversation.

"God," said Helen. Pursing her lips together, she made a hissing noise as she exhaled. "We'd just graduated high school..."

"Thirteen years?" asked Amanda.

"Yeah," said Helen. "I'm thirty now, was almost eighteen the last time. Now I'm depressed. Point me to the nearest gallon of ice cream. I want to get fat, again."

"Oh please," said Lucy. "You couldn't if you tried."

_I'm the fat one_ , she thought. Hardly large enough to be considered obese, she was much heavier and shorter than her two passengers, who made the excess weight seem like it was that much more. Their taut shapes were augmented with curves where she had gullies in her doughy skin. Their breasts were round and compact, and hers were loose, hefty and oval. Their skin was golden in tint, and hers was white, as if bleached. She had much to be envious of. They'd always tried convincing her otherwise, even back in school, but she'd never believed them.

"The hell I couldn't," said Helen. "I gained forty pounds when I was pregnant."

"Which time?" asked Amanda.

"Both. But I didn't give myself time to lose the weight from the previous pregnancy. I just packed it on top of the rest."

"Bullshit," said Lucy. "I call total bullshit."

"Ah," she said, sitting up. "I thought that someone might. So, I brought a picture. I knew if I told this story, no one would believe me. So, I brought proof." Leaning up, she dug her pocket book out from under the seat of Lucy's car. She sifted through it, pulled out a photo and passed it to Amanda. "There I am, in all of my overweight glory."

Amanda squealed, "Oh my god!! That can't be real." She glanced back at her, then back to the picture, comparing and contrasting. "It's unbelievable."

"Believe it, sister."

"Oh my God, no way..."

Lucy tried getting a glimpse the picture from where she sat, but couldn't take her eyes off the winding road long enough. She was afraid if she did she'd steer them to their deaths. "Let me see."

"You might want to pull over for this one," Amanda declared.

"Just hold it up."

Helen leaned forward, resting her head on Lucy's seat next to her ear. "You at least will want to slow down."

"If you say so." She eased her foot off the gas, slowing the speed down to twenty. "Slow enough for you?"

Helen groaned. "Just show her the damn picture."

"Fine." She leaned over and held the photo above the steering wheel.

Lucy gasped. Caught on film was someone that resembled Helen, but not the girl in the backseat, nor the one she'd grown up knowing. The features were similar, the same boyish dark brown hair, the same wide curving mouth, the big eyes, the large breasts, the mole above the top lip, but expanded versions of them. The hips were wider, the stomach pudgier. Lucy recognized the gloss on her skin as sweat. Instead of laughing, she felt sad. She hoped to God she would never look like that, and prayed she wasn't already there. "I saw it..."

Amanda sat back.

"No cheap shots?" said Helen, disappointed.

"Like I have room to take cheap shots."

Amanda stirred uncomfortably in her seat. "Do you remember how to get there, Lucy?"

"Yeah, we're close now. Probably another half hour."

"Really?" She sounded over-enthused.

Lucy knew she was pretending in hopes of changing the subject.

"Should we stop and eat first," asked Lucy.

"I don't know, it's up to you, I guess." Helen said, leaning back in the seat.

"Don't leave it to the heavy girl to make decisions on when we eat."

Sighing, Amanda passed the picture back to Helen. "Shouldn't have shown you the damn picture anyway. Now you think _you're_ fat."

"I don't think."

"You could lose weight if you feel so self-conscious about it."

"Oh, sure."

Helen chimed in, "I did. You saw how heavy I was. I lost the weight. And, you're nothing at all like I was."

"What am I?"

"Do you really want to do this?" she asked.

Lucy shrugged. She saw Amanda twisting even more in her seat. If she kept it up, she might roll right through the opened window.

Helen sighed. "You're not fat."

"I'm something."

"You're right. You're not fat, but you're not skinny. You've got some extra cushioning there that you could stand to lose. That's all. You're neither skinny nor overweight. Just thick."

"Guys like thick girls," added Amanda.

"That's true," agreed Helen. "They don't always go for the boney blondes like Amanda up there."

"Ain't that the truth," she agreed with a sigh. "It's been three months since I've gotten laid."

Lucy snorted.

"And it was a hook up at a bar. I don't know _what_ I was thinking."

"You weren't," said Helen. "That's your problem."

"I thought I was going home with Prince Charming. When I woke up the next morning I realized he was the toad. Except, he didn't turn into a luscious prince after I kissed him."

"Or sucked him off," added Helen.

"Shut up!"

Sitting up in her seat, Lucy ignored Helen and Amanda and squinted her eyes as she gazed through the windshield. "Amanda, help me out. Does that sign say Bannister?" She slowed the car down nearly to a stop as Amanda leaned her head out her window.

"Yep. This is it."

"I guess we'll skip stopping to eat."

Lucy spoke with noticeable disappointment in her voice. She was hungry and didn't care how much flack she got from the others. _I want a sandwich_. Maybe Michelle would have a nice lunch waiting for them when they arrived. She checked the map on her smart phone. "We're just a little over ten miles away."

"Hallelujah," said Helen, lying back and folding her hands behind her head. She closed her eyes, smiling. "Can't wait to see Michelle. And that beautiful lake."

Amanda smiled. "I can't wait to have some drinks."

"Eat," said Lucy.

Amanda and Helen erupted with laughter as Lucy turned the car onto Bannister Road, growing steadily closer to their destination. Rolling her eyes, Lucy flipped them the bird which only caused them to laugh harder.

Amanda's eyes rounded as she turned to face them both. "Think we'll run into any hot guys like we did the last time?"

"Doubtful," said Helen. "But we can still hope."

"God, can you believe what we did? Seducing them like that. We acted like a couple of bitches in heat."

"Yeah, but they loved it." Lucy smiled, remembering. Not only had they seduced them, it had turned into a full-scale orgy. They'd shared men, teamed up on the same guys, and even tried each other. It had been a lot of fun, but afterward their friendships had suffered. Lucy had often wondered if it was because of what happened at the campsite that night.

"We loved it too," said Amanda.

Helen crossed her legs at the ankles, and propped her feet on the window ledge, wiggling her toes in the nipping breeze. "God help them if we do run into someone out there. Mama is on the prowl and needs some meat."

Resounding with laughter, the car traveled onward on the isolated road.
Chapter Four

The path was used mostly by deer, so it was only a small and narrow line that snaked through the woods. When Michelle had finished getting the cabin ready, she'd thrown on a jacket and headed for the woods. She walked along the trail with her hands burrowed in her hooded jacket's pockets, letting the breeze stroke her face. She hadn't stopped smiling, even as she approached the campsite. _This is where it happened_. Standing at the launch of the camping area, she looked around. The picnic tables were no longer there and there also used to be an outhouse sitting atop the slight incline and away from the vicinity, but it was gone too. All that remained from her memories were the log benches, and the circle of stones to contain the campfires.

Everything else had changed.

In the years since graduation, she had been to the cabin quite often with her family, but hadn't once ventured to the campsite. She'd been tempted a time or two, but had never actually gone through with it. So, she had no idea when the area had begun to change. It was kind of sad, how it looked as if the camping area had been left to decompose. Even the log benches were rotting. No longer brown, they had turned grey from years of abuse from the weather and possibly even the local animals.

Although Michelle liked to pretend that one night with the campers had been harmless fun and experimentation, she knew deep down that those sorts of things were bound to happen whenever the _girls_ got together. A tugging dread in her bowels seemed to be trying to tell her this weekend wasn't such a good idea. Maybe she should have only invited Lucy. The two of them could have caught up, gone on hikes, or whatever else they decided to do. But it was too late now. She would have to trust that they would stay out of trouble.

_Whatever._

Michelle became a different person when she was around them. All of them did. Alone, or even in pairs, they were normal, typically good girls, but once the four of them were together it was as if all the bets were off.

She hoped no one would bring up that night, but understood that it was impossible for them not to talk about it.

Twigs snapped behind her, announcing footsteps of someone approaching.

Chills scurried up Michelle's neck. She fought the urge to whip around and gasp, but instead she turned calmly, and with a smile on her face.

A man, probably in his early thirties, was approaching the camping area. He was tall, thin, a dark complexion and even darker hair. He wore glasses, a beanie on top of his head, and a grey sweater with light brown pants. A jacket was tied around his waist.

He was gorgeous.

Michelle wondered if she'd fallen asleep and was dreaming this guy. He was just too good looking to be real. Her stomach fluttered. _Stop it_. _You're taken. Remember Britt, the guy who would be taking this walk with you if he could have been here._ But he wasn't here, she realized. Maybe that was how it was supposed to have worked out.

Michelle wanted to slap the back of her head to jar those thoughts, but the stranger's smile froze her in her spot.

"Hi there," he said.

"Huh-hi," she stuttered.

He stopped on the other side of the rock circle, took a deep breath, and let it slowly out as if savoring the feel of it. "Wonderful day, isn't it?"

Michelle nodded.

He looked her in the eyes. "I have never seen something so beautiful."

Heat rushed up from Michelle's hips making her armpits immediately sweat. She hoped her cheeks weren't turning red, but if they were, she was going to blame it on the chilly air.

His smile was crescent-shaped and white, with perfectly rowed teeth. She had never seen a smile so perfect, except in movies.

"The trees I mean..." He looked up. "Such beautiful colors. They almost seem unreal."

Feeling like a dope, Michelle nodded. She finally found her voice. "It always is. I love coming out here this time of the year."

"You're from here?"

"Well...I'm from Charlotte actually, but my family owns the cabin right over there." She pointed to the trees over his left shoulder.

The handsome stranger turned around as if he could actually see it from where they stood in the woods. "Oh yeah?"

Michelle nodded, again.

"I passed it a little ways back. It's nice."

"Are _you_ from here?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No, I'm only visiting. My name's Rick Myers. You can call me Ricky, everyone else does." He extended his hand over the circle pit.

Michelle even liked his name. _Ricky._ She smiled as she reached out and took his hand. They shook. His hand was soft and warm. "I'm Michelle Hopkins."

"Nice to meet you."

"You too."

"Well, Michelle Hopkins, I will leave you be." He smiled that faultless smile again. "I'm going to keep walking and take as much of this place in as I can."

She couldn't reply. Her voice had snagged in her throat. Michelle didn't want him to leave, but couldn't tell him to stay. As he walked around the rocks, smiling a farewell, she mouthed words that wouldn't articulate. Finally, something like a cough or gag shot from between her lips.

It was enough to stop him. "Are you all right?"

Smiling, she managed to produce a sentence. "Yes, I'm fine."

"Okay," he smiled again.

He was about to leave when she stopped him. "Listen, Ricky, if you don't mind, I could walk with you, and...give you the tour, so to speak. I was taking a walk myself, and would sure love the company."

"You don't mind?"

_Ask my wet panties that._ She smiled. "Not at all."

"I would love the tour, Michelle. It sounds great."

"Okay."

_Yes, it sounds perfect. _

She joined him at his side. She almost put her arm around his, but caught herself. As they began to walk, Michelle tried to comprehend what she was doing, why she was acting like this. She hadn't acted so juvenile since she was...well...a juvenile. But all it had taken was one dreamy guy and she was right back to acting like a bitch in heat. She _wanted_ to feel guilty about it. Picturing Britt stuck in horrible traffic on his way to Raleigh, cursing from behind the wheel, and wishing he was with Michelle, she still couldn't make herself feel bad about this.

"Where are you from?" she asked, hoping to keep her mind distracted.

"Georgia."

"Wow," she said. "So far away?" She felt something like depression in her chest.

"It's not so far. Just a five hour drive."

Again, Britt frowning in his car flashed in her mind. "Yeah, but five hours is still _five_ hours."

He laughed. It was soft, ear pleasing. "True, but once I got here, I realized how it was all worth it."

Another flurry of heat shot up her neck. She could feel her forehead beginning to perspire. _Is he talking about me?_ Probably not, but she liked to think that he was. "Is this your first time here?"

"Yep. But it won't be the last, that's for sure."

"You should see it during the summer."

He groaned as if savoring a wonderful taste. "I bet it is _fabulous_. Green, warm, and I bet that lake is great to swim in."

Something about the way he'd reacted threw up a red flag. She had never once heard a man use the word fabulous to describe anything. But Michelle chose to ignore it and keep the conversation going. "Yeah, it is. Skinny dipping is a lot of fun too." She nudged him with her elbow.

Laughing, Ricky rubbed the back of his neck. It was obviously a nervous habit of his. Michelle found it adorable. "Oh, please. You hardly seem like the type of girl that would do something like that."

"Are you serious?" She laughed. "I'm a skinny dipping pro."

"Oh?"

Michelle could have kicked herself. Now she sounded like a whore. "I mean—it's not that I just go to any body of water and throw my clothes off and jump in..."

Ricky laughed. "Well, that's good. It would be awkward at a family pool party.

"Or, a kid's birthday party."

"Depending on the kid's age, I suppose."

Michelle laughed, then continued. "But I do enjoy it...have ever since I was a teenager."

"So, you _should_ be a pro."

"Exactly. I've got moves that will knock you out."

Ricky's laugh reverberated through the trees. "I don't doubt you for one second."

"Have you ever skinny-dipped?"

"Me? Yeah, right. I'm too much of a nervous ninny to do something like that."

"A nervous _ninny_?"

He nodded.

"You sound like my grandmother."

Another thunderous laugh came from Ricky. "Wow. I'm lame."

Michelle had to fight her urges with everything she had. She wanted to grab his sweater and pull him to her, to touch her lips to his, feel their soft, cool fleshy mounds on hers. "Not at all lame, but maybe a little under-experienced..."

"Missing out?"

"Yes," she said, pointing her finger as if he'd answered correctly. "Missing out is the perfect way to put it."

"Hmm." He fell silent as if pondering the possibilities. "Maybe I should do that sometime."

"You'll have to let me know how you lick—liked it." She shook her head. What a way to fumble her words.

Ricky didn't seem to notice. "Deal."

They continued trekking along the trail that surrounded the lake, talking about the weather, the area, the wildlife. Any bit of pointless dialogue that Michelle could whip up, she spoke it to keep the conversation from halting. Before even realizing it, they had arrived at his cabin. He thanked her for the tour, extended his hand once again. She ignored it and hugged him. Ricky tensed from the sudden display of affection, and when he finally returned the hug, it was one-handed.

He thanked her again, then disappeared into the trees in front of his cabin.

As Michelle watched him leave, she nibbled at her bottom lip. "Smooth move, Michelle." She left, moping her way back to her own cabin.

She made the decision not to tell her friends about Ricky. They would want to meet him, and once they saw him, they'd act even more foolish than she had. She didn't want to bring more awkwardness down on him. She'd caused him enough already. So, Ricky Myers would remain a secret. Maybe when they left on Monday, she would come over and invite him on another walk, maybe even dinner that night. A way to apologize for acting like a dweeb. _A ninny?_ She smiled, thinking about Ricky the entire walk back.
Chapter Five

"I think we should have a drink to celebrate the reunion," said Helen, on her way to the kitchen. Three paper bags sat on the counter, each containing bottles of various alcohols and flavors. They clinked and rattled as she stuck her hand in up to the elbow.

Michelle swallowed the last bite of her sandwich. "Helen, it's barely lunch time."

"What better time to start than now?"

Michelle glanced at Lucy and Amanda for assistance. Amanda only shrugged, and Lucy was too distracted by her own sandwich to even notice the conversation. "Fine. What are you making?"

"Black Widows."

Michelle's eyes rounded. "Whoa, so early? That's the kind of drink we usually finish the night with, not start a day with."

"It's a special occasion."

"Come on, Helen. Don't you want to hang out first and catch up?"

"Absolutely, but being intoxicated will make it that much more fun."

"We'll hardly be able to stand up after a couple of those."

"Then we'll _sit_."

Michelle rolled her eyes, giving up the fight.

Amanda chimed in. "I could use a Black Widow. No one can make them like you Helen."

Smiling, Helen held out her arms. "Thank you very much."

Michelle added. "I still think we should start off with something lighter."

"You can make whatever you want, Michelle. We have tons of drinks here, but _I'm_ making Black Widows." She removed a bottle of Crystal Skull vodka and set it on the counter. "We have the whole weekend ahead of us to relax. But I want to party _tonight_. So, let's get the partying out of our system today, then we can be bums the rest of the time. How does that sound?"

No one disputed Helen's plan.

Michelle threw away her paper plate, walked back to the chair in the living room and sat. She sighed. Leaning her head back against the cushion, she was beginning to dread the day that lay before them. Sure, she could decline the drinks, but then she would be the only sober person in a group of inebriated bitches, and that would not be fun at all.

By the time she had returned from her embarrassing walk with Ricky, she'd discovered Lucy's car parked behind hers. They'd let themselves in and Lucy had already found the food and was preparing lunch. Hoagies. Long hugs filled the room in a cycle as each woman hugged the other, complimented them on their appearance, and declared how much they'd missed each other. As they ate, they'd made small talk about the trip up here, and other meaningless subjects to keep silence from making the meal uncomfortable. She'd almost slipped up twice and told them about Ricky, but managed to catch herself.

Ice clamoring as it struck glass startled Michelle out of her thoughts. She looked over her shoulder and saw Helen mixing the first drink. Helen really looked good. The years had been kind to her, plus she could tell by the way her arms flexed that she worked out, maybe even obsessively so. Her body reminded Michelle of Linda Hamilton in T2, only with bigger boobs. Michelle had managed to stay in great shape as well, but she was nowhere near as cut as Helen.

Lucy sighed as she finished off her sandwich. "That was good."

Amanda laughed. "Not as good as a Black Widow."

"Damn right," agreed Helen. "And, to be a sweetheart, I'm going to give you the first one, Lucy, to wash down that sandwich."

"Sounds good to me."

Michelle hoped Lucy wouldn't turn into a self-pity drunk like she used to, and say degrading things about herself. She could only try and convince her otherwise so many times before she got tired of trying. So, usually when the others quit attempting to cheer her up, Lucy would sob until finally passing out.

Helen brought the drink over to Lucy, swapping it for the empty plate. Then she returned to the kitchen to begin making another. Michelle studied the glass as Lucy sipped from it. Just as she remembered, the liquid was nearly black in color and what she remembered being red cherry juice as well giving it a red center just like the hourglass on a black widow spider. It wasn't a popular drink, but Helen made them better than anyone.

When the drinks had been given out, Helen joined the girls in the living room. She stood by the fireplace, and held her glass high. Michelle, Lucy and Amanda did the same.

"A toast," Helen began. "To old friends and new beginnings."

Michelle smiled. "To old friends."

Amanda finished. "To new beginnings."

They clanged their glasses together and chugged.
Chapter Six

Ricky sat on the couch, his feet tucked under his hip, with what he'd written of the new book before him, skimming through it and making changes with a red ink pen. What he'd already edited lay printed side down on the coffee table beside his empty plate. He'd eaten another ham sandwich for dinner, and had detested it. He'd been tempted to ride into town and get something at the diner, but had gotten too cozy to make the drive.

He promised himself he'd go into town tomorrow and get some groceries, and then have a meal at the diner. He'd earned it.

The lady he'd met on his walk, Michelle, had crossed his mind more than once this evening. She was odd, but also sweet and funny. His heart broke every time he thought back to their conversation. She was obviously carrying a lot of emotional baggage, whether she realized it or not. He didn't know her well enough to make assumptions, but he could read people, and he read a lot of sadness inside her.

Ricky finished the page he was working on and added it to the pile. Then he set what was left beside him and stretched. His muscles pulled and tingled. Looking through the bay door, he saw the sun was sinking behind the trees. The sky was orange as a jack-o-lantern, flickering yellow and purple into a red river flooding the clouds. It was beautiful. He stood. The leg he'd been putting his weight on was numb, and as he walked to the door it began to feel as if it was pumping rice instead of blood.

He opened the doors, stepping outside. He wasn't wearing shoes, and the damp wood soaked through his socks. He hated that soggy feeling, so he removed them, and tossed them back inside. Then he shut the doors. It was chilly outside without his sweater. In only a T-shirt and jeans, he shivered, but it wasn't cold enough to send him back inside. He wanted to watch the sun set. He sat in the chair where he'd eaten lunch, leaned back and watched the sun make its descent behind the undulating throng of trees that continued to rise as they climbed the mountain.

He figured it was going to be a cold night, and he should probably go to the woodshed and get some wood. There was a fireplace in the living room that he planned on putting to good use tonight. It was depressing knowing he'd be alone on such a romantic evening, but thoughts of Ted would keep him satisfied. Maybe he would call him later, just to check in. He'd promised to give Ted some freedom while he was gone, and though Ted acted as if he didn't want it, Ricky could tell he truly did. He didn't want to make the man he loved feel as if he was being smothered. Perhaps he wouldn't call after all...or maybe he would. It was too early to tell.

As he watched the sky go from orange to purple in a matter of moments, he wondered how he could ever accurately describe it in a book. He doubted he had the talent to pen what he was seeing.

_Laura probably could_.

_The orange flush of the sun was swallowed by the approaching lavender of night?_ Eh, it was okay, but not great. _Sounds like something a homosexual would write._ He laughed aloud. "Guess that's why I came up with it." He shook his head, deciding to shut his thoughts down and enjoy the beauty in front of him.
Chapter Seven

Michelle couldn't feel anything from the hips down. She sat on the couch, her legs stretched across Amanda who was massaging her calves, and stared at the ceiling as it swirled this way and that. They'd taken a break from Black Widows and had begun drinking Helen Sours until it felt as if their livers were going to explode. So they decided to let the alcohol rest and drink some water, hopefully regaining enough electrolytes to drink more booze throughout the night.

"You have such soft skin," said Amanda. She seemed genuinely amazed.

"Thank you."

"What's your secret?"

"Lotion. A lot of fucking lotion." But as she spoke the word, it sounded more like: _Loshin._

"Uh-oh," said Helen, from the chair across the room. She sat with her ass in the cushion, but turned sideways, with both legs draping over the arm. Her legs glimmered. "Amanda's starting to get touchy-feely on you Michelle. Better keep an eye on her hands."

The warning was enough for Michelle to attempt sitting up. She was drunk, but not so drunk that she wanted to be fondled by her friend. Not yet. She pulled her legs away from Amanda, and sat up straight. It seemed awfully bright in the room. She squinted against the light.

Lucy was in the chair across from Helen, chewing on what ice remained in her glass. She'd been unusually quiet during their celebration. Maybe instead of being vocal about her self-pity she was keeping it to herself this time.

Michelle noticed that the day had nearly passed while they'd partied. She couldn't see the countryside through the windows, just the reflection of the living room in the darkened glass.

"Wow," she said. "It's night."

Helen looked at the windows. "Damn, it is."

Lucy sat up, her eyes wide, the corner of her mouth raised in a half-smile, half-smirk. "You know what we should do?"

No one said anything.

Lucy continued as if they had. "We should go to the campsite...see if we can find any hot campers."

Helen's eyes twinkled. "Great idea, Lucy."

Amanda groaned. "I don't think I can walk."

"Sure you can," said Helen. "Just stand up and let your feet do the work for you."

It was Michelle's turn. "Are you crazy? The four of us, drunk off our asses, and trying to walk through the dark woods? One of us, if not all of us, will wind up hurt or lost."

"Nah," said Helen. "Anyway, I'm getting bored. A change of scenery is just what we need." She stood. Her skin was glossy with sweat. Other than her puffy eyes, no one would have ever guessed Helen was smashed. She moved as if she'd only just started drinking. "I'll get the booze and cups."

Amanda sat up. "We're going to need flashlights."

"Michelle where are the flashlights?" asked Helen.

"In the pantry. I'll get them."

Amanda added another idea. "We should start a campfire..."

That idea even sounded good to Michelle. "I'll get matches. They're in the pantry too."

As Michelle made her way through the kitchen, Helen had already loaded more vodka and mixes into a shopping bag with what remained of the plastic cups.

Michelle turned a corner, approaching the pantry door. She opened it. It was a walk-in space, with the light being a single bulb dangling from the ceiling in the middle of the room. It was turned off, so all she could see were colorful blotches dancing around the darkness. Fumbling her way through the room, her head knocked against something skinny and cold. _The chain._ She found it and tugged it down. Dim, yellowish light expelled through the cramped room. Shelves of canned and boxed foods surrounded her. The supply shelf was to her right. There she found two flashlights, and a box of long-stem matches. She took them, killed the light and headed back for the kitchen.

The hike to the campsite wasn't as hard as Michelle had anticipated. The nipping air and cold temperatures had probably sobered her enough to handle it. She expected at least one of them to fall in the lake as they crossed the tapered piece of terrain separating the two sections of water, but surprisingly no one did.

Helen kept to Michelle's heels, shining the flashlight ahead of her feet so Michelle could see where she was stepping. Helen had a backpack over her shoulders with a flashlight in one hand. Amanda was behind her, carrying the shopping bag full of alcohol and smoking a cigarette with Lucy taking the back, shining the other flashlight in front of Amanda.

_Like a bunch of girl scouts,_ Michelle thought.

They arrived at the campsite. It was even darker here. The heavy canopy of limbs above them made it impossible for moonlight to penetrate. Michelle stepped off to the side, allowing Helen to take the lead.

She shined the flashlight. A groove of light slashed through the black, its disc landing on the benches. She walked over, slumped her shoulders so the backpack could drop, then sat down with a groan. "Got the matches?"

"Right here." Michelle walked toward the light, handing Helen the thin box as the other girls each found a seat around the rock circle. The matches scuffed inside the box while Helen fished one out. "I guess we should go get some sticks or something."

Helen nodded. "Good idea."

They took a few minutes gathering fallen sticks, and breaking the larger ones down. Then they took what they'd managed to confiscate and domed them between the rocks. Helen splashed some vodka across the skeletal pieces of wood, and placed the lighted end of a match to them. They ignited with a whoosh. The pile crackled and popped as the flames licked them from the bottom up.

Iridescent orange light pressed against the heavy blackness, dancing shadows on the trees around them. Michelle sat on the beach with Helen. She was already unloading the alcohol from the shopping bag.

"So, what'll it be girls," asked Helen. "Black Widows? Helen Sours? Or something else?"

Although she really didn't want to drink anymore alcohol, Michelle was thirsty, and hadn't thought enough ahead to bring along some water. So Helen's bar was all she had, and a Helen Sour sounded delicious right now. "I'll take a Helen Sour."

"That's my girl."

Lucy and Amanda ordered the same, and Helen went to work. She used a rock to break apart the ice that was a frozen block in a plastic bag.

Michelle eyed Helen's backpack on the ground by her feet. It was the size of Helen's upper body, and bright orange. The pack was designed for serious camping and hiking. "I didn't know you were the outdoor type, Helen."

Helen glanced at Michelle, her face a sheet of confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"The backpack. I've never seen one so big."

"Ah," Helen chuckled. "That." She sighed. "Let me finish making our drinks and I'll tell you all about _that._ "
Chapter Eight

"Roger was a wannabe outdoorsman. Always running away on weekend adventures with his buddies... Doing as he liked to call it 'preparing for the future'. They were really just a bunch aspirants who liked to think of themselves as radicals, or as I referred to them, 'backwoods soldiers'." Helen laughed, taking a swallow of her drink. She rested her head on Michelle's shoulder. "Anyway, it first started with his work buddies, going into the deep wilderness for a holiday weekend, usually Labor Day and Memorial Day...then it was Fourth of July, then Thanksgiving... Each trip he took, the more he left of himself in the woods when he came home."

She sighed, gulped more drink. "Then it was like living with a stranger...a _violent_ stranger."

The woods around them grew darker and quieter as if nature was holding its breath in anticipation of Helen's story. Michelle gazed across the popping fire, studying the expressions on Amanda and Lucy. Both of them shared the same concerned, yet terrified, look on their faces swathed in an orange blush.

Helen's laughter resounded around them like a witches cackle. It was void of humor, eerie, one that questioned Helen's mental balance. "Some extremist he turned out to be, huh? He couldn't even finish _me_ off. Fucking prick. Tried to strangle me...but you know what I did to Mr. Backwoods Soldier? Stabbed him in the fucking throat. And, you know what? He could have survived...if only I would have called an ambulance right away, but I didn't. Instead, I watched him bleed out." She waved her hand in front of her, then slapped her bare leg. "And that man _bled._ I never knew so much could come out of one person."

Michelle didn't know what to say, but felt she should say something. She settled for, "I'm sorry..."

"Don't be," Helen answered. "I survived. I learned." She sat up, finished off the drink in her cup. "Look what I found in his backpack on the way over here. I was looking for a lighter for Amanda in the car and found these..." Helen grabbed the backpack, sat it on the ground between her legs, and unzipped the front pocket. She buried her hand in up to the wrist, and when she pulled it back she had a baggie of white pills the size of jelly beans. "Do you know what these are?"

Michelle shook her head.

"Hard-on pills. The fucker couldn't even get it up without medication. Now, let me ask you something. Why would a man going into the woods with a bunch of other men need dick medicine?"

Michelle could think of no reason, but tried to guess. "He...uh...well..."

"Because he was a closet _faggot_ , that's why. Going out to the woods to prepare for the future must have meant learning how to shoot guns and fuck other men's assholes. That son of a bitch. He needed these pills to fuck me too, I guess, because he preferred the feel of a man's asshole stretched around his cock..."

"I don't think he was..."

"Don't you tell me what you think he was doing. I saw the websites he looked at on his computer. Sick, sick stuff. Barely legal, teenage boys, doing things in these videos that would make you shit. He went to a doctor about his dick _problem,_ and the quack told him it was stress causing it. Stress my ass."

"Helen, you didn't deserve what you were put through..." Michelle stopped talking when Helen held up her hand.

"Don't feel sorry for me. It was a learning experience." Helen lowered her head, letting the talking stop.

Michelle wanted to do something, to say the right thing that would bring this party back to the guiltless fun it had been before. Seconds ticked by like minutes in the tranquil night, until she finally couldn't handle it anymore. She was going to hug Helen, let her get it out, whatever it took, she would hold her until Helen cried herself dry. As Michelle curved her arm around Helen's shoulders, she sprung to life, whipping her head around with her eyes wide.

And yelled, " _Boo!"_

Michelle jumped back. Her scream carried through the trees.
Chapter Nine

Ricky dropped the chopped log when he heard the scream. He turned around, gazing at the darkened woods across the yard. Listening. It was faint, but recognizable enough that he discerned it as female. _Why would a woman be screaming in the woods at this hour?_ He put his hands on his hips.

He frowned.

Ricky slowed his breathing until all he could hear was the steady chorus of wildlife around the lake. His heart rapped against his chest, making a vibrating pulse in his throat. Shaking his head, he decided to ignore it, and finish doing what he'd come outside to do—getting wood for the fireplace. He'd been unable to think of anything else except for lying on the rug in front of the fireplace, and drinking some red wine he'd brought from home. He'd promised himself he would not get drunk, because he feared he'd begin feeling sorry for himself, become paranoid, and start calling Ted so that he'd convince him that he still loved him. It would be bad for their already strained relationship.

More sounds resounded from the woods. Female. He wasn't certain, but it sounded as if there were more than one tone. Which was odd to him, since the only female he knew of being out here was Michelle. She hadn't said anything about their being others around, so why had he heard the slight ricochet of multiple voices? _What if Michelle's hurt?_ He could picture the pretty thing out for a late night stroll, slipping on a broken branch, or tripping over an exposed root, and breaking her ankle. It was totally fathomable. But that didn't explain the other voices.

_What if she came across someone in the woods she had no business finding?_

That also seemed possible, but not likely. Still...it _could_ happen.

Sighing, he turned his back on the woodpile, again focusing his attention on the woods. He would not be able to sleep tonight unless he knew Michelle was not in any danger.

On his way back to the cabin for a flashlight and coat, he decided he would walk the path back toward her cabin, if he found her along the way, he'd help her, and if not, he'd just mosey up to where she was staying, tap on the door, and check on her.

He saw no problem in that, and he hoped he wouldn't be intruding on her.
Chapter Ten

"So, how are things going with you and your man," Helen asked Michelle.

After nearly peeing herself from Helen shouting _Boo_ in her face, Michelle guzzled another drink to calm herself. Amanda and Lucy, although they'd been startled too, had begun heckling her over her reaction. Thankfully, the attention had turned away from it and Helen's troubled married life onto less stressing topics.

"Good," Michelle answered.

"Just good?"

"As good as they can be, I guess."

Amanda and Lucy traded looks.

Michelle noticed. "What was that?"

Lucy shrugged. "You said you _guess_ , and that usually means something's wrong."

"No, no. Everything's fine."

"Can he fuck?" asked Helen, bluntly.

Maybe it was all the alcohol she'd consumed, but Michelle hardly noticed. "Yeah, he's pretty good."

"Just pretty good?"

"Well, he makes me come."

Amanda clapped. "That's a plus."

"Yeah, it is." Michelle nodded. "But sometimes I want a little more, you know?"

"A little more?" Amanda repeated, with confusion in her voice.

"Yeah..."

Helen swallowed some drink. "What does that mean? More guys? Girls?"

"No, not more partners...I mean...He'd never go for that anyway." The others laughed. "Just a little _more_..." She held her hands up like claws and quietly roared.

"Ah," said Lucy. "You want him to be more aggressive?"

"Yes and no. I mean, I'm not one for being dominated..."

"You want to dominate _him,_ " said Helen.

"Well...I guess so. Yeah." Michelle remembered the one time she'd attempted dirty talk with Britt. It had been a complete disaster. He'd thought she'd been cheating on him with someone who enjoyed that kind of foreplay. She hadn't been, but it was obvious that Britt did not care for it.

"How would you dominate?" asked Amanda.

"Oh... I don't know."

Helen patted her on the back. "We're all friends here. We won't judge you. Tell you what... You tell me how you would dominate and I'll tell you a fantasy of mine."

Amanda added, "We can all swap fantasies."

"Oh boy." Lucy chugged half her cup.

Michelle laughed. "Do you really want to hear this?"

They did and told her so.

"All right." Michelle sighed. Was she really going to confess the fantasy that had replayed in her mind endless times? She supposed so. "Well...I've always wanted to tie him up, you know...on the bed. His hands up above his head, his ankles strapped down, but pulled tight so his legs are spread." She held up two fingers as if giving the peace sign to indicate how Britt's legs would be. "I have this outfit that I bought online...it's a black leather corset, with fishnet garters, and an opening in the crotch area..."

"For easy access," stated Helen.

Michelle nodded. She couldn't believe she was telling them this. "Then—here's where it gets a little weird—I would straddle him, but not on his cock...his stomach...and then slap him." She held up her hand, palm opened. "Not hard at first, just playfully. Then I'd pull his head forward by the hair and make him suck on my nipples." She felt a tingle between her thighs, moistening. The visions accompanying her story were turning her on. "I'd demand he nibble on them. By this time, he'd probably be getting hard."

"Hell, I would be." That was Lucy.

Amanda laughed, nudged her with an elbow.

"Well, I would!"

Michelle continued as if Lucy hadn't spoken. "Then I'd turn around, putting my ass up to his face so his mouth was right at my pussy. I'd push it against his lips, and order him to lick me. Then if he was a good boy, I'd lean over and suck his cock into my mouth."

"That's fucking hot," said Helen.

"I'm not finished." At first Michelle had been hesitant to tell the story, now she was eager to finish. "After sucking on him awhile, I'd turn around and grab his cock and put it inside me. Then as I rode him, I'd slap him some more."

"Hard?" asked Helen.

"Hard as hell. I want to see my handprint on his face."

"Hell yeah."

"Then I'd really start riding him...slamming against him. And, then I'd..." She stopped, unsure if she should divulge this part.

Helen nodded. "Go on."

"Okay." Michelle took a deep breath. "See, sometimes when we're fucking, Britt makes these gasping noises...and, when he does that, I find myself wanting to choke him so he'll make them even louder. I love those sounds. So, as I'm riding him, I would wrap my hands around his throat...watch his mouth gasp open...his eyes close as he tried to breathe, and then I'd let go...let him get some air, and do it again."

"You are hardcore," said Helen. "I fucking love it."

Michelle laughed. "I think I'm just weird."

"Nah, not at all. But I have question. What if he busted his load before you did?"

Michelle laughed a cold laugh. "He'd better not."

Helen exploded with laughter. "Good fantasy. I don't know if I can top that."

Amanda lighted a cigarette. "Shit, I don't think any of us can."

Lucy looked troubled as she stared into the fire. "I wish we had hot dogs, marshmallows, or something..." The other girls erupted with laughter. "Well, don't you? Wouldn't that just be the perfect addition? Like a real campfire? Swapping stories while we snacked?"

Michelle had to admit, she was getting a little hungry herself. She couldn't recall having eaten anything since lunch.

Helen added more vodka to her cup. "Well, I don't think I can top it, but I'm sure as hell gonna try."

Amanda cheered. "You go, girlfriend!"

Helen opened her mouth to speak, but stopped. Her brow creased. She looked past Michelle. "Did you hear that?"

Michelle glanced over her shoulder. "Hear what?"

"I thought I heard something over there." She pointed to Michelle's left, where the illumination from the camp ended and the black of the forest began.

"Oh, please." Amanda puffed on her cigarette. "We're not falling for that."

"I'm serious."

Michelle strained her eyes. A furrow of white light raked across the trees, left and then down. Someone was on their way to the camp, and they were just a few feet away. "I see it too. It's a flashlight."

Lucy and Amanda turned around. Lucy was first to speak. "Yeah, I see it. Who do you think it is?"

Suddenly it hit Michelle who it was. _Ricky._ He'd probably heard all the noise and was coming to see what it was about. Her stomach began to sizzle, popping as the nervousness slurped up all the alcohol.

Then like an angel coming into the light, he emerged from the shadows, just as gorgeous as he had been earlier. Michelle's heart began to beat even harder.

"Hi..." Ricky said, his voice edgy. He looked from girl to girl until his eyes settled on Michelle. "Hey, remember me?"

Michelle nodded, smiling. "Yuh-yeah..."

Helen turned to Michelle, giving her a look she understood. It said: _And, why haven't you told us about him?_

Ricky lowered the flashlight away from the girls. "Sorry to barge in on you all like this, but I heard some screaming, just wanted to make sure everyone was all right."

Before Michelle could reply, Helen blurted. "We're fine. Just a few girls that haven't seen each other in a long time. Partying it up."

He smiled. "That sounds nice. Well, I'll let you get back to it. I didn't mean to interrupt."

Michelle was quicker this time. "You didn't interrupt."

Helen added. "Nope. In fact, we would just love it if you joined us."

"Joined you? But you don't know me."

Helen nodded toward Michelle. "You know Michelle, right?"

He nodded. "We met earlier."

"Then that's good enough for us. Have a seat."

Usually Michelle despised Helen when she got like this, but since it was Ricky she was trying to persuade into attending the party, she wanted to applaud her. She would have never had the courage to ask him herself.

"I wouldn't want to impose..."

Helen put a hand to her busty chest. "It would be my pleasure if you allowed me to make you a drink to thank you for being a gentleman and coming to check on us ladies you thought were in trouble."

_Good one,_ Michelle thought. There was no way he could turn down that offer.

And he didn't. "Okay, maybe just one, if you don't mind."
Chapter Eleven

By his fourth Helen Sour, Ricky was talking comfortably and quick. After each drink he'd relaxed a little more, and the conversations had become much easier to carry on. He sat on the same log as Michelle but with Helen separating them. Michelle found herself getting lost in his eyes, or his smile, instead of paying attention to some of the stories he told, but when she heard the others laughing at an apparently funny part she would quickly do the same.

He went to take a drink, but pulled the cup back. He looked confused, disappointed.

"Empty?" Helen asked.

"Yeah," he said. "I can't believe I drank it so fast. You make them good."

It looked as if Helen was blushing. "Please... I bet you say that to all the ladies you stumble upon in the woods."

He laughed.

Amanda had been chain smoking. She lit another one before asking, "So, Ricky, what do you do for a living?"

He seemed tentative to answer. "Well...I usually don't go around announcing it."

"Are you a spy?" Amanda asked.

"No, no, he's a secret agent." Lucy said, laughing.

Helen was mixing him another drink. "We're just a few harmless girls. You can tell us if you want."

"I'm _hardly_ a secret agent..."

There it was again, Michelle noticed. Something in the way he said certain things. It took on another quality, as if there was a quirk to it.

"I'm a writer," he said, as if confessing he was a drug addict.

Lucy and Amanda's eyes widened, the lapping flames like little orange waves in their corneas.

Michelle was impressed. Not only was he gorgeous, sweet and well-spoken, but a writer on top of all of that? What else could he do? Fly? She would not have been surprised had he sprouted wings and took flight before them. She was just about to comment on it when she noticed Helen reaching into her ex-husband's backpack. The front pocket. When she extracted her hand, clutched between her fingers was a jelly bean-sized white pill. Michelle's mouth opened to gasp, but nothing came out.

_Roger's dick medicine_ as Helen had put it _. _

Helen saw her watching, winked, and took to crushing the pill between her fingers. Flakes and grits of medication dropped into the cup.

Ricky, as well as Amanda and Lucy, was oblivious to this. They had begun asking him questions about writing. Turned out he wrote books, fiction novels, but wasn't ready to inform them of what kind.

Using her finger to mix the drink, Helen leaned over, putting her lips to Michelle's ears. "In less than ten minutes, he'll be so hard that it hurts. We're getting laid tonight sweetheart."

Michelle knew she should knock the drink out of Helen's hand. It was wrong to do what she was planning, so incredibly wrong. This was no better than being in a bar and someone slipping something in her drink when she wasn't looking, only to catch up to her later after she'd passed out and take advantage. Helen was planning to take advantage of Ricky by giving him a painful erection that would need to be relieved. What better way to relieve it than by doing four horny women?

_What the hell are we doing?_

Helen interrupted Ricky to give him his drink. Holding it in his hand, he stared down into the cup. For a brief moment Michelle thought some of the pill hadn't dissolved, and he'd noticed little chunks floating in his drink. But he smiled and gulped some down. They were in the clear...with him anyway.

Lucy and Amanda had both caught Helen whispering to Michelle. Amanda spoke first. "What are you two up to over there?"

Michelle felt heat on her cheeks and it wasn't from the fire. "What?"

"You two have a look about you..."

"What kind of look?"

Lucy finished. "Like you're up to no good."

Helen laughed.

If Ricky had heard any of this chat, he didn't let on. He took a sip, swished the drink in his mouth, then swallowed. "I should probably make this my last one for the night. I need to get back to my cabin soon and get to bed. Got work to do tomorrow."

"Awww," said Helen. She put her hand on his thigh and rubbed. "I don't like the sound of that. I don't think of any of us do."

No one did and they let him know it.

"You girls are so sweet..."

Ten minutes later Ricky had finished the drink, and was shifting uncomfortably on the log. While the girls talked about this and that, Michelle observed him secretly. She was careful not to be noticeable to everyone else. When she caught him adjusting the bulge in his pants, she couldn't stop the smile that spread on her face. But there was a nudge in the back of her mind, something trying to get her attention. Guilt. It was the guilt over what Helen had done trying to make itself prominent in her mind. She ignored it, pushing those feelings so far back she no longer noticed them.

Helen had stopped being coy with her intentions. Her hand rested high up on Ricky's inner thigh. She leaned against him, and when she would speak, she was so close to him their lips were nearly touching. Ricky would be a gentleman, tilting his head back, only for Helen to bend forward even more. If they kept this up, Ricky would fall off the log.

"So," Helen began. "Why _are_ you out here all by yourself? I would be too paranoid to let you out of my sight."

Ricky laughed softly, but it seemed forced. "Well...thank you. The truth is we agreed that I would come out here alone to allow him some room to breathe. I haven't been the best boyfriend lately."

"Trouble in paradise?" asked Helen.

As Ricky tried to politely keep Helen, who had moved so close to him her breasts here squishing against his bicep, at bay, Michelle focused on a key word he had just said. _Him._ He'd said to allow _him_ some room to breathe.

_Does this mean...?_

Michelle put her hand on Helen's back, and tapped. Helen glanced over her shoulder. Michelle shook her head, trying to tell her to stop. If Helen had understood what she was trying to get across, she ignored it.

Ricky was still talking while scooting to the edge of the bench. "We decided that after the hell we'd gone through, which was mostly my fault, I would give space where it was needed."

"Too bad," said Helen. "Her loss is our gain." She waved her hand around the group. "You've got four girls here that I'm sure are more than willing to take your mind off of whatever is troubling it."

Amanda was quick to agree.

Michelle cringed. She felt embarrassed, and not just for Ricky, but for Helen as well. She was making a complete ass out of herself, and when Ricky turned Helen down—which he was sure to do—Michelle wondered how she would take it.

"I appreciate the offer, Helen, you all are beautiful women, but I have to pass."

Helen shot back so hard she knocked against Michelle, causing her to drop her cup. What remained of Michelle's drink trickled out of the cup and into the dirt at her feet.

"What's that supposed to mean?" demanded Helen.

Ricky smiled courteously. "I don't mean you any offense, but I can't."

"If you're worried about your girlfriend, then don't be. It's her own problem that she didn't come here with you."

Michelle tried to intervene. "Um, Helen..."

Helen looked at Michelle. "Hold on a second." Then back to Ricky. "I am strongly attracted to you, and I am willing to fuck your brains out right here. And, if you're into it, I'm willing to bet the others would do the same." She turned to the group. "Am I right?"

Amanda smiled. "I definitely wouldn't want Helen having all the fun."

Lucy glanced at Michelle. Their eyes met, and for the brief moment they were connected, Michelle tried to stop her, but Lucy was already putting her attention back on Helen and Ricky.

"I could go for some of that," said Lucy.

Helen patted Michelle's knee. "And, Michelle?"

"Well..." How could she say this? How could she tell them she knew Ricky would _never_ go for what they were offering? It wasn't her place to say such a thing, and even though she doubted it, there was the possibility she might be wrong. "If things were different..."

Groaning, Helen threw up a hand. "Oh, fuck that boyfriend of yours. Who knows what the hell he's doing while you're not home. Delivering car parts my ass." She turned back to Ricky. "Anyway... We can do things to you that most men would only dream about."

"Helen!" For the first time since his introduction, Ricky had raised his voice. His eyes were narrowed, his brow dented. "I said _no_."

"Give me one good reason why we're not good enough to fuck you."

"Because I'm gay!"
Chapter Twelve

His shout had silenced them, silenced the woods. His voice reverberated through the trees, bouncing off each one until it became only a faint accent.

Helen was motionless, her mouth agape and her eyes stuck in a scowl as his words slowly smothered her.

_I'm gay. _

Michelle felt terrible. She liked Ricky, a lot, and hated that he had to reveal such an intimate secret just to get Helen to back off.

A short cough or harsh laugh came from Helen. "You're wuh-what?"

Ricky sighed. "Gay. A homosexual."

"A faggot?"

Michelle felt as if she'd been slapped. She couldn't believe Helen had said that.

"If you have to be so blunt and coldhearted," said Ricky. "Then yes, I'm a _faggot._ That's why I'm declining your offer. I mean no disrespect to any of you, but I'm just not that kind of guy. I'm sorry."

"Oh, you hear that girls? He's _sorry_." Helen shook her head. "What's that old saying? All the good guys are taken? Should be, all the good guys are fags."

"Helen," said Michelle. "Stop..."

"Stop what?" She finished off her drink and tossed the empty cup into the fire. It curled, splitting into dripping blue flames as it melted. "Let me ask you something Ricky. When did you know you were _gay_?"

Ricky sighed. "I've always known, I suppose."

"Always? What does that even mean? You were sitting in your high chair, and your Mother was spoon-feeding you and you thought, 'Wow, if only this was another guy's cock I'd be in Heaven'."

Surprisingly, Ricky laughed. "Probably. That sounds like something I might have thought. There was a boy in my neighborhood. Luke. I was about seven at the time, and we played together a _lot_. I guess he was my best friend and my first crush. I can remember wondering what was wrong with me...because as we played with Transformer toys, or G.I. Joes, I just wanted to lean over and kiss him. He moved away, but those feelings I had never went away, they would just be replaced with a different boy in school...or from the neighborhood. Then as I got older, so did my crushes."

"Wait, wait," Helen interrupted. "You mean to tell me you've never even been with a woman?"

"No. Well...not really, no."

"Never kissed one? Never even held hands with one?"

Ricky shook his head.

"Then how the hell do you know you're gay if you've never tried?"

He shrugged. "I've never wanted to."

"You've never wanted..." Helen threw her hands up. It looked as if she were having a difficult time processing what he was telling her. "So, since you were old enough to comprehend, you've wanted to be with boys?"

Ricky laughed. "Yes."

"Have you been approached by women?"

His mood darkened. "Many times. Forcefully."

"Huh..."

Helen went quiet. Michelle hoped that was the end of it, and that Ricky would excuse himself, go back to his cabin, and maybe they all would forget this by the morning.

She couldn't have been so lucky.

Helen took a deep breath. "Then prove it."

Ricky looked confused. "Prove what?"

"Prove that you're gay."

"How can I prove that I'm gay? I mean... I have pictures on my cell phone of Ted and I cuddling, but my phone's back at the cabin."

"No, you let me do something to you, and if I don't get a reaction, then I will believe that you're gay."

"No deal."

_Please Helen, just stop before you make a bigger fool of yourself and us._ She looked to Amanda and Lucy for support, but realized she wouldn't get any. They were watching like two eager spectators.

"What have you got to be afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid of anything," he said. "And I don't have to prove anything to you."

"I hear doubt in your voice."

"There's no doubt, and I'm done with this conversation."

Michelle noticed the hump was still in his pants. Even after all of this its size hadn't dwindled.

"Oh, please," said Helen. "You're too drunk to make it back to your cabin on your own. You'd probably fall in the lake and drown if we didn't help you. But I'm not willing to take you home just yet. After you prove to me that you're gay, I will."

As if to prove her wrong, Ricky tried to stand, but his legs took to wobbling and he dropped back down.

Smirking, Helen said, "See what I mean?"

Ricky groaned.

Helen removed her jacket, dropping it across Michelle's lap. The combined aroma of perfume, lotion and liquor wafted up from the jacket. Helen smelled like someone you'd meet at a club—sweaty, drunk and extremely horny. The shirt she wore underneath was thin with a square gap at the chest. Her breasts jutted up like two bald heads. Before anyone could ask what she was doing, Helen had grabbed her shirt at the bottom, and hiked it over her head. She tossed it on top of the jacket. Wearing only a lacey black bra, she took a breast in each hand.

Helen asked Ricky, "Like what you see?"

Ricky looked at the fire. "You're a very beautiful woman, Helen, there's no denying that, but I've told you I'm not that way."

The bra's material was so thin that in the haze of the campfire it was practically translucent. Helen's turgid nipples poked against the cups. They were small, the coin around them a light brown. A perfect pair that would have had any man licking his lips, but not Ricky.

"I'm not finished," Helen told him. "We're getting there though. I'm not _quite_ convinced." She reached behind her back. There was a snap, then the bra dropped onto her legs, freeing her large breasts. They hadn't drooped or sagged in the slightest. She cupped her hands around them, massaging them, using her forefinger and thumb to rub her nipples. She gasped. When she spoke again, her voice was quivery. "Now what do you think?"

Ricky wouldn't look. "Helen... Please. Stop this."

"Make me."

Ricky closed his eyes like a parent trying to remain calm with a child who'd just broken something expensive. "Don't do this. You're a good person..."

"Am I?" She reached over with one hand and grabbed him by the wrist. Then she pulled his hand to her breast. There was a moment of resistance, but Ricky caved, allowing her to guide his hand. She pressed his hand against her, gasping when his skin touched hers. "Your hands are so warm..."

"If I do this, will you stop?"

"I told you to prove it to me–"

"Fine."

As he began squeezing her breast, Helen moaned. She lowered her hands to his thigh and rubbed. Ricky pinched her nipple which made Helen cry out. She whipped her head back, moaning at the sky.

Although Helen had forced Ricky to do this, and the grimace on his face showed his disgust, Michelle couldn't stop the rising heat between her legs. She felt something trickle out from her. Glancing to the other two across the fire, she saw the same need in their eyes as well.

Helen's hands disappeared between Ricky's legs. "Well, what do we have here? Feels like someone's enjoying this after all."

"No, I'm not."

"Liar, liar, pants on fire."

"I'm not." He stopped. His hands pulled away from Helen's breasts and locked on her arms. "I'm done."

They stared at each other.

Michelle stared at Helen's back. Even from behind she could see the anger growing.

"You're not done." Helen clucked her tug in a _shame-shame_ manner, tugging at the crotch of his pants until they ripped open. A massive, engorged penis flopped out. It was swollen with Ricky's pulse apparent in its veined flesh. The head wasn't proportioned with the shaft, and was like an oversized mushroom cap.

The harmonized gasp from the women solidified its impressive size.

Apparently not wanting to hurt her, Ricky slapped at her hands, trying to push them away as she pawed at him. "Stop, Helen. This has gone far enough..."

"No, no, no." Helen curled her hands around his penis. "Not yet..." She began lightly stroking it.

Dumbfounded, Michelle observed, her mouth a rounded hole, her eyes wide like spheres. She didn't know how to stop this. She needed to do _something_ , but could not move. It was as if her feet had sewn roots where they sat.

Neither Lucy nor Amanda was any help, either.

Finally, Ricky must have had enough. He grabbed Helen by the wrist hard enough that she yelled. Then he shoved her. She knocked against Michelle. Both of them tumbled off the log. Michelle landed on her side with Helen dropping hard on her rump, grunting when it struck the cold, unyielding ground.

"I told you to stop!" Ricky stood up, trying to hold the torn flap of his lounge pants in front of his penis. It seemed impossible from its swollen size. His knees looked ready to buckle from too much to drink. "I'm sorry I had to do that, but you wouldn't listen."

Wincing, Helen got to her knees. She looked up at Ricky as he scolded her. She listened only another moment before lunging. Her arms wrapped around his waist, spearing him. Ricky's angered veneer switched to one of shock and surprise as he went down.

He landed on his back with Helen on top.

"What are you doing?" He shouted.

Ignoring him, Helen looked around. "Get his arms!" His flailing appendages struck Helen repeatedly in the face and shoulders. Turning her head, she scrunched up her neck so her arms received the brunt of the blows. "Get his goddamn arms!"

Lucy and Amanda sprung to action, each crouching by an arm, Lucy at the right, Amanda the left. They grabbed at them, but Ricky was too fast, too wild. His hips bucked against Helen, nearly throwing her off, but she squeezed his hips with her thighs, pinning his waist down.

But his legs were still free to kick, which they did.

Michelle watched in confusion and awe. It was easy for someone such as Ricky to underestimate Helen's strength. In her jacket, she'd given the impression of a homely woman, but once it had come off, exposing her muscle-lined flesh and rocky abs, there was no mistaking her power.

The girls managed to get his arms. They pushed them to the ground, and held him by the wrists with both hands. His legs still thrashed wildly

Helen looked back at Michelle. "Sit on his legs!"

Michelle shook her head.

"Do it!"

"I can't!"

"Do it, damn it!"

Michelle was up before she even realized it. She wasn't sure if it was the fear of what Helen might do to her, or her own twisted exhilaration over what was happening that had caused her to act. She hugged his legs, forcing them down with her buttocks. She leaned back, putting her weight on his feet and ankles.

"Michelle, please stop them!"

That was Ricky. His pleading did not go unnoticed. Michelle heard it, but by now, it didn't matter. She was a part of whatever this was turning into.

Helen balled her hand into a fist and socked Ricky in the jaw. He began to cry.

"Shut up," ordered Helen. "Just shut up!" She looked around at the girls. "You got him?" All of them nodded. "Good." Standing, Helen grabbed her belt and yanked it open. It waved and rattled as she unbuttoned her shorts. Then she hooked her thumbs through belt loops and tugged them down. When they dropped to her ankles, she stepped out of them. She stood by the fire with a hand on each hip, hairless from her eyes down. As she panted, her breasts stretched tight with each heavy breath. The fire radiated her skin as if she had been molded from gold like a trophy.

"What are you doing?" asked Lucy.

"What's it look like?" answered Helen.

Michelle shook her head. This was immoral. Evil. Wicked. It should not be happening. _Then just let him go, make Helen stop._ She couldn't do that. It wasn't until now that she realized how much she truly feared Helen, how much she'd always been afraid of her.

Lucy wasn't ready to give up. "You can't...just..."

Helen stepped over Ricky, one foot on each side of him. "Can't what?"

"Do... _that_..." Lucy seemed unable to say the words.

"I can't?"

Lucy shook her head.

"Watch me."

Helen got down on her knees.

"Helen," Ricky said. "Please...don't do this. It's the alcohol making you think you have to do this...but you don't. Just stop right now...before you do something you're going to regret later."

Helen chuckled. "Oh, shut up. You're about to appreciate what you've been missing out on all your life." She reached behind her. "I'll _prove_ to you what you're missing.

From where Michelle was positioned, she could see it all. Helen's hand found Ricky's ridiculously large penis and gripped it. She pulled it between her legs where her dripping sex was waiting. The head brushed against her moist lips. Helen gasped. Then she settled it against her and eased herself down, slowly impaling herself. It went in over halfway before Helen stopped. Michelle figured if it went any deeper, it'd tear her open inside.

Ricky continued to beg, trying to coax her from going on with it, but his cries were overlooked. By now, no one was paying him any attention and had focused on Helen and how much she was enjoying grinding her hips against him. Her head leaned back, her mouth yawning and arching into a simultaneous smirk and smile. Shadows pranced across her sweat-slicked skin. Sweat was dampening her hair.

She continued to thrust. Her movements became harder, more intense as if building up to something. Before long, she screamed, her body convulsing as an orgasm ravaged her.
Chapter Thirteen

"Get over here and hold his arm," said Amanda to Helen.

Laughing, Helen grabbed her shorts and slipped them on. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. He doesn't quite seem convinced."

"And you think you can?"

"I really don't care if I can or not."

Helen laughed.

Michelle couldn't be certain, but the way Amanda kept wiping her mouth, she could swear she was drooling.

Helen met Amanda at Ricky's arms as she buttoned her shorts. "We'll have to make the switch quick."

Amanda nodded. "He's strong. Once I let go of his arm, he's going to start swinging."

Ricky lay on his back, his erection a pointing, fleshy shaft. It glistened in the firelight. He'd stopped flogging, but there was still resistance left in him. At least he'd stopped begging. Helen was on him long enough to have two orgasms. The first was brought on with a lot of fight and struggle, but the second seemed much easier.

And now Amanda wanted a go at the prone man. _She might as well,_ Michelle thought. She'd already aided in a crime, why shouldn't she go the whole way?

"Ready?" asked Helen.

Nodding, Amanda crawled off his arm. It came to life, swinging and swatting the moment it was freed. Although there was strength in his movements, they weren't as swift as they had been. Helen had no trouble subduing him. Ricky groaned when his arm hit the ground.

Amanda tore herself free of her clothes in one smooth motion and trotted over to Ricky like someone who needed to pee and couldn't hold it any longer. There was eagerness, and excitement, in her movements. A smile adorned her face that looked maniacal, almost evil.

She climbed on top of Ricky, grabbed his moist cock and shoved it inside of her. She cried out as she lowered herself, taking him in further. She took a moment to ready herself. Then she went to work.

As she grated against his hips, her hands found the nipples of her small breasts and began to twist. Gasping and moaning, she rode Ricky until her own orgasm took her. Amanda put her hands flat on Ricky's chest and began to thrust faster as her body thundered with her release. She dropped down on him, her head on his chest, panting. Her back rose and fell.

Michelle felt sick to her stomach, yet also nervous. Not the kind of nervousness she'd experienced before meeting Britt's parents. No, this felt more like the tiny hand grenades exploding in her stomach before having sex with someone for the first time. It felt good being on top of Ricky's shins, feeling their struggle beneath her. When he rubbed against the moist spot between her legs, she would quiver.

Thankfully, it was finally over, because she didn't think she could take much more. She was already close enough to crawling on him herself.

Then Lucy spoke. "I want...to..."

Helen looked at her, a proud smile on her face. "What'd you say?"

"You heard me."

Amanda moved her hands to the ground on each side of Ricky, pushing herself up. "Are you serious?" She was still winded, and spoke between rasps.

Nodding, Lucy nibbled on her lip.

"Okay," said Amanda. There was uncertainty in her voice.

As she stood, Ricky's erection emerged once again, smothered in Helen's, and now Amanda's, juices like a glazed doughnut. It hadn't lost any of its girth, standing tall and firm. Amanda walked with her legs stilted and spread. She looked to be in pain as she threw on her shirt. Then she went to Lucy and switched places.

Lucy meandered up to Ricky, nibbling on a fingernail. She looked at Michelle. In her eyes, she was asking if she should go this far. Michelle had no answer, and only averted her gaze to the fire that was starting to weaken.

Grabbing at her coat, Lucy seemed hesitant to remove it. She looked around as if there might be someone peeping on her.

"Go on," said Helen. "Don't be shy."

Lucy nodded, then removed her coat. She wore a long sleeved shirt underneath. She grabbed the bottom, pausing only a moment before tugging it over her head. Her breasts were like two watermelons in slings behind her bra. Her stomach sagged in the front. Her hips were surprisingly firm and there looked to be some muscle around her shoulders and upper back.

Then she stripped down to her socks. Her doughy skin practically glowed in the firelight. She stepped over Ricky. By now, there hardly seemed to be any fight left in him. He watched her through swelled eyes, but didn't retaliate. She got down on her knees, bestriding his hips. He grunted as she put her weight down. Instead of feeling behind her, she reached between her legs, found his solid penis and slid it inside of her.

Lucy moaned.
Chapter Fourteen

Tears were streaming down Lucy's face when she finished. She crawled off Ricky, not bothering to dress as she returned to her seat. She sat down, huffing, her eyes focused on the fire.

"All right, Michelle." Helen looked at her from across Ricky. "Your turn."

Michelle had tried preparing herself for this because she knew it was coming. Instead of being repulsed by their actions, she'd found herself becoming absorbed in them. It was like a pornographic show she was watching, not reality, but just an act. She'd be lying if she tried to say she wasn't turned on.

"I—I can't..." Michelle's voice betrayed her, dropping to a whisper.

Smirking, Helen nodded at Ricky's erection. "Look at it. _Look_. It's perfect. And to think, the sick bastard's only been sharing it with _men_. The sick, selfish bastard. Get on it. You can do what you were telling us about earlier...your fantasy? Do it on _him_."

Amanda smiled. "Yeah, that would be hot."

Helen and Amanda shared a cold, bitter laugh.

Michelle looked at Lucy but got no response. Her body was there, but her brain was somewhere else. Then Michelle looked at Ricky, supine before her, his penis exposed and jutting. _Waiting_. She could just mosey right on over there and sit on him. _No. You'd never forgive yourself._ Or, would she? How did she know what she'd do afterward? She'd never done such a thing before, and now with the opportunity in front of her, the decision seemed an easy one. It was the wrong one, but still easy to make.

Michelle began to tremble as she envisioned her hands clasped around Ricky's throat. She tingled from her groin to her chest, deep pin-like tendrils fluttered inside her. She'd never been so horny.

_Fuck it_.

"Luh-Lucy," stuttered Michelle.

Lucy turned her head toward Michelle.

"Take my spot."

Helen and Amanda applauded her.

Lucy nodded once and stood up, walking back to them as if in a trance in nothing but her socks. Michelle stood up. The muscles in her legs were tight and sore. She stretched them.

Ricky had been incoherent, but when Lucy sat on his legs his head suddenly sprung up. His wild eyes darted back and forth. They locked on Michelle. "What are you doing?"

It was a pitiable look that should have broken Michelle's heart, but instead it only angered her. She took her jacket off, then her shirt. She hadn't been wearing a bra, so her breasts were slapped with the bitter air. She hissed through her gritted teeth as she pushed one foot against the back of the other, lifting her foot out of the shoe. After that, she repeated it on the other foot.

Helen started chanting Michelle's name, building up to a steady drum. Amanda joined in, supporting Michelle as she pushed her pants down her legs. She stood in socks and panties, studying Ricky up and down. Her mouth was dry, her lips brittle. She licked them. Swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat, trying to ignore what felt like cold fingers tapping her on the back, and centered all her focus on control.

She removed her panties and socks.

Like Helen, Michelle's skin was void of hair. She glowed; streaks of orange and yellow flickered across the slopes of her breasts. She walked on legs loose and wobbly over to where Ricky awaited her. As she passed Helen, she felt her hand rubbing her thigh, leaving a tingling path behind it.

Then Michelle assumed the pose on top of Ricky.

Legs folded under her, she leaned up, balancing herself on her hands. Bits of rocks and flakes of dirt dug into her palm. She was where she needed to be to get started. All she had to do was slink down, allow his erection to enter her. But she balked. Fireworks exploded inside her head, a flashy display of caution. She looked into Ricky's eyes. _He looks like a frightened child..._ His bottom lip quivered, his rounded eyes leaking tears in sinuous lines down into his hairline.

"Muh-Michelle...listen tuh-to me. You're the...only one that...hasn't...done anything yet... You haven't...done anything...wrong..."

Yes, she had. Michelle shook her head. "I helped hold you down..."

"I don't care about that... Just don't...do this. Let me...go."

Michelle mulled over the possibility as Helen's cheers resounded around her. Then she heard a sound. A gasp...a choke. Looking down, she found her hand had seized Ricky's throat. She hadn't even noticed the movement, or felt the course stubble of his oncoming beard under her fingers.

It felt wonderful, even better than she could have imagined.

She swayed her hips, mounting herself above his penis. Then she lowered her hips. He pushed into her, stretching her soft walls as far as they would go. She stifled a scream, and grunted a gasp as she descended. He felt like a log inside her.

"Ride that cock!" Helen shouted. She licked her lips, looking as if at any moment she may begin panting.

Michelle felt sweat beading on her forehead, and trickling from under her arms. His penis felt incredible, yet constipating at the same time. She slowly ascended, then eased back down again. This time didn't hurt as bad. Slowly, she began moving at a steady pace until she was thrusting incessantly.

Michelle released his throat, allowing him to suck in air. He coughed, wheezing as he tried to breathe. She slapped him, a solid _thwack_ that knocked his head to the side. He looked up at her, pain in his eyes and a hand-shaped welt on his face. She smiled. Then she struck him again. This time her fingers caught him just below the eye. Ricky grumbled as a fresh batch of tears misted. A dab of blood seeped out from the corner of his mouth. His teeth looked as if he'd brushed them with red toothpaste.

Michelle squeezed her breasts. Hard. Smashing them flat against her, it felt as if she might push them through her back. Then she felt other hands on her, smooth and roaming. She opened her eyes. Helen was kneeling beside her, exploring Michelle's body. One hand went up to her face, caressing it, and the other traveled between her legs. She felt a finger grazing her fold, rubbing her up and down. Then she proceeded to vigorously polish from side to side.

Michelle squealed from the sensation overload. She looked past Ricky and saw that Amanda now sat on both of his hands with three of his fingers up to the knuckle inside of her. Using her hips, she grinded against his wrists.

Helen leaned in, putting her lips to Michelle's. Only hesitating for a brief instant, they began to kiss. Helen's tongue shoved into Michelle's mouth. Then they began to thrash and roll.

As Ricky was reduced to begging, again, the woods erupted into a tumult of gasps and moans from the synchronicity of the girls' aggressive orgasms.

Not stopping to rest, they kept the rhythm fast and hostile.

Michelle knew as she continued to grate her hips that what she was doing was inexcusably wrong, and that she would forever have to live with the ramifications of her actions. An unforgivable sin.

At the moment though, she couldn't care less.
Chapter Fifteen

Britt Marlowe thumbed his cell phone off when he got Michelle's voicemail again. He'd been calling all evening, because he felt awful about not being able to go with her to the mountains and just wanted her to know so. But his dad had said he was sorry Britt had to cancel on Michelle, and to make it up to him had decided to run the parts himself for Saturday's deliveries, leaving Britt free to make the trip after all.

_Better late than never._

He'd been trying to reach Michelle ever since to let her know he was coming out there. It was odd. Usually she answered on the first ring, practically singing _Hello_ into the phone. Britt had assumed her reception wasn't the greatest where she was, so he'd kept trying, taking turns calling her cell phone and then the number to the cabin. Finally, he gave up and called her parents for directions. He'd decided to stop calling and just surprise her tomorrow. He could already see the smile on her face as he lay back in his bed.

This was probably the sweetest thing he'd ever done. Their relationship was essentially a good one, although he knew they disagreed when it came to sex. She was the wildest and most open-minded person he'd ever been with, perhaps even _too_ open-minded. It seemed that nothing was sacred to her when it came to sex.

Most guys loved a girl like that, and Britt could vouch that it did have its advantages, but there were times when he found himself wishing she was more traditional. He loved a little creativity, but it was nothing for her to take it too far.

Such as one night early in the relationship when they were having sex—fucking __ as Michelle would bluntly put it—missionary-style, she sucked on her finger until it was nice and moist, then slid it inside his ass. Never in his life had a girl done that to him, nor had he ever wanted one to. When he made her stop, she told him not to be a common cock. _A common cock._ It was the only time they'd _argued_ about sex, but the hurtful words had stayed with him and had given him a complex that he tried to ignore. Although she hadn't said anything else about his uninspiring preferences, he knew it still bothered her.

Britt's cat Babs hopped up on the bed and was already purring when her feet met the mattress. She was older, and her purr was more like a rattle from inside her chest. He reached over, running his hand along her downy fur. She was a calico cat that he'd rescued from the animal shelter last year. Six years in age and declawed, he'd managed to get her without having to pay an adoption fee. Michelle hated Babs, and Britt assumed the feeling was mutual. He was often accused of loving the cat more than his own girlfriend.

Sometimes he wondered if he actually did.

Babs meowed as she climbed up on his chest, walked in a circle and laid on her stomach with her cold nose grazing his chin. He stroked her back, making the rattling purr increase in volume. He could feel her sputtering breath on his neck. She closed her eyes, ready to unwind for the night.

Britt was ready to unwind as well. He looked over at the alarm clock, making sure the red dot was lighted in the corner. It was. That meant the alarm was set. He'd already packed his bag, so all that was left to do in the morning was shower, brush his teeth and eat. Then he would be on his way to Michelle's cabin.

As he began to drift off, with the blurry apparitions of a dream wavering toward him, an evident hostility about tomorrow prodded the back of his mind. It was the same kind of feeling he'd get the night before he was supposed to do something very important the next day.

Dread.

He was not looking forward to going out there, but somehow he knew he was _supposed_ to. That was his last thought as he succumbed to sleep, and it never bothered him again.
Chapter Sixteen

The woods had gradually returned to its usual splendor. The owls and frogs started to croon as crickets broke into a steady chorale. It was a beautiful night, cool and chipper, a crisp wind that occasionally swayed the trees, raining multi-colored leaves down from the sky.

Lucy had added more wood to the campfire, raising the flames to galloping slaps of orange and red. It had nearly died while she'd held Ricky's legs down so the others could have their fun. She'd already had hers, and wasn't at all interested in seconds.

Although she couldn't exactly claim she felt guilty about what she'd done, it bothered her how quickly their innocently fun night had turned to one of depravity. She'd tried not to watch the others as they'd molested Ricky, pawing and cooing at each other, their bodies suited in sweat as they'd kissed and licked each other. She wasn't worried she'd become affected and want to join in, actually she was afraid of how sickened she would become with her friends. Yes—she'd participated, but it had been quick and basically painless, but she still regretted it and probably would forever.

As she began putting her clothes back on, she realized nothing about this night had been quick and painless and she was just as bad as the others. Then she allowed the guilt to register. It sat on her chest like a boulder, slowly crushing her lungs and making it difficult to breathe.

Lucy hiked her panties up. She ran her thumb along the waist band to straighten it. Then she sat on the log that had become her true companion tonight, and slid her feet into the legs of her pants. She looked beyond the fire to where Ricky lay on his side, quietly sobbing.

His penis was softening, but had not completely gone limp. She'd wondered how he'd remained hard throughout it all, but then Helen had confessed to drugging him with Roger's pills and it had all made sense.

Amanda stood by the fire smoking a cigarette while Helen drank vodka straight from the bottle. Michelle sat on the ground near Ricky's feet, naked, hugging her legs to her chest. Her eyes were serious, her mouth partly opened. There was a battle going on behind her bothered expression. Lucy couldn't hear the thoughts, but she could guess as to what they were.

Helen's laughter killed the silence. "I can hardly walk."

Lucy watched as Helen staggered, her legs bowed out to the side. It wasn't just the booze that had caused it, but Ricky's gigantic penis. They would all be sore for the next few days.

Amanda rubbed the area below her stomach. "I hurt deep. I think he messed me up in there."

Helen laughed again. "He messed us _all_ up deep in there."

"So, what do we do now?" asked Michelle.

Lucy had been wondering the same thing, but was too scared to ask. With Helen's track record, she would not have been surprised if she declared they should kill Ricky.

"About what?" asked Helen.

"Him," nodded Michelle.

Ricky hadn't moved.

Helen sighed. "Who cares?"

"I care. We... We..."

"Yes," said Helen. "We. _We?"_

Groaning, Michelle shrugged, clucked her tongue.

Lucy cleared her throat. "Michelle's right. Do you think we can...just...go on like we didn't _do_ anything?"

"Of course we can," Helen snapped back. "I can, so why wouldn't you able to?"

"We forced ourselves on him!" Lucy shoved her arms into her shirt, and jerked it over her head. When the shirt passed her eyes and her view was no longer obstructed, Helen was glaring down on her. Lucy gasped.

"You shut your fucking mouth! We didn't do anything he didn't want us to! That is the truth."

Lucy felt the heat of her words, the warm saliva as it spattered her face.

Michelle stood up, her exposed flesh the color of candlelight. "He didn't want us to do that...we just...did it."

"Yes, we did. Even _you._ And, who gives a shit? Who _really_ gives a shit?" Helen shook her head, and took another swig from the bottle. "What do you think he's going to do? Tell on us? Do you think a _man_ would be willing to admit that four little girls got the better of him? And, the fact that he's gay... Who would believe him?"

"You think he's gay now?" asked Michelle.

"Fuck if he is or not. No one will believe him."

Lucy wanted to quarrel some more, but there was no point in doing so. Besides, through all of Helen's psychotic babblings she had made some valid points, and Lucy had to admit they all made sense. Who would he tell? _Why_ would he tell? Every man she'd ever known was cursed by their stubborn pride, even the ones that hardly seemed to be men at all. She doubted any of them would report being assaulted by four women, and doubted even more that Ricky would.

Lucy was confident they were in the clear.

When she turned around to profess her agreement with Helen, she saw a flash of movement. She felt the rugged tread of a boot bracket her throat. Inside her throat something imploded.

Then she couldn't breathe.
Chapter Seventeen

Michelle's attention was focused on Helen when Ricky kicked Lucy, catching them all by surprise. She'd doubted he would have ever recovered from this, and definitely hadn't expected him to fight back. He seemed like too timid of a guy, someone who avoided confrontations. She guessed anyone in his situation probably came to a split in the road where they could go in either direction, and Ricky chose to retaliate.

Lucy took the brunt of the kick on her throat. She fell backwards, her legs shooting upward as she rolled onto her stomach. When she sat up, her hands were slapping at her throat, her eyes wide as golf balls.

Ricky shoved Helen. Her feet tangled together, locking her legs at the knees. There was nothing she could do to keep herself up, and down she went.

Amanda screamed, back-stepping as Ricky approached. She wasn't fast enough, obviously from how sore she was. He backhanded her. The slap was louder than her screams. She landed on her knees and then was kicked.

Michelle had to do something. Had to stop him. She looked around. There weren't any weapons, nothing that was powerful enough. And she definitely wasn't strong enough to take him on by hand.

Hugging her stomach, Amanda groaned behind her sobs. Ricky planted another solid kick between her breasts. She made a horrible rasp as the air blasted from her lungs.

Michelle continued to look for something to stop him with. There was nothing. She considered running into the woods, breaking a branch from one of the trees, but she was naked and dreaded going out there without any clothes on. Her head whisked this way and that until her eyes spotted something.

_Rocks._

There was a circle around the campfire of bludgeoning weapons. Why hadn't she thought of them sooner?

She broke for them, dropped to her knees and curved her hands around the closest one while heavy slapping sounds and Amanda's cries resonated from behind her. Michelle's skin sizzled when it touched the rock. It burned. But she didn't let it stop her. She heaved it up. Carrying the rock with both hands, she charged over to Ricky as he was raising his leg to what looked like stomp on Amanda's head.

Then she revved her arms back and brought it down.

Ricky was a foot taller than Michelle, but the rock connected with the back of his skull making a wet cracking sound. His head knocked forward, then his body followed. He turned a half circle and fell. He landed on the campfire. Cherry red ashes sprayed out from under him as he quickly rolled off and onto ground, where he remained motionless. His clothes were patched with charred areas, fuming smoke from the black grunge.

Michelle dropped the rock.

As she allowed her breath to steady, Helen's screams faded through. Michelle forced herself to look away from Ricky's cataleptic form. To the right of her, Helen was squatting beside Lucy who sat with her back against a tree. She was grabbing at Helen's shoulders, making the most frantic and disturbing asthmatic gulps she'd ever heard.

Michelle quickly went to them, careful not to step on any of the hot ashes that had peppered the ground. She hoped another fire wouldn't start, because they had no way of putting it out if one did. As she neared Lucy, she saw why she'd been making such horrible sounds.

The front of her throat was dented inward. Her neck was bruised in a booted footprint pattern, and her face was dark blue. The color of her eyes was drowning in the bulging whites.

Michelle gasped. She grabbed her own throat in response.

Helen's eyes were raining. Fresh beads of tears clung to her jawbone. "She's fucking suffocating!"

"What should we do?" cried Michelle.

Lucy tried to answer, but only produced wet shrieks that sounded as if they were coming through a distorted speaker. Her arms had lost their frenzied lilt, and when she pointed at her throat, even that looked to have been a nearly impossible feat.

Michelle watched as Lucy's chest moved up and down, but didn't hear any air being pulled in. Then it looked as if her chest was starting to bloat.

It was her lungs, Michelle realized, about to burst.

"There's nothing we _can_ do," Helen finally answered.

Lucy struggled to breathe another few agonizingly slow moments before her hands slapped the ground. She looked toward the fire, then at Michelle and Helen as if imploring one last time for their help.

Then her head canted to the side. She no longer moved, nor did she try to breathe.

She was dead.

Michelle's legs went weak and stringy. She dropped to her knees, bracing herself up with a hand on the ground. She could hardly breathe. Her heart was beating too fast, and everything around her looked as if she was seeing it through a glass of water.

She could faintly hear Amanda crying from behind her.

"He... He's gone..."

Michelle slowly raised her head, looking at Helen to see what she had said. When she saw Helen's puzzled expression, she realized it wasn't Helen that had spoken. In unison, they turned around.

Amanda was standing on top of Ricky.

No...not on top of him... She was standing where he _should_ have been, but where his body had landed was now unoccupied.

Ricky had escaped.
Chapter Eighteen

The sun sparkled off the dew-slick trees, casting a golden glow in the light mist as it rose above the clouds. Michelle was on her way back to the campsite with blankets, trash bags and duct tape. She had applied a layer of aloe to the blisters on her burned hand, then wrapped it with gauze from the medicine cabinet. It felt better, but not by much.

After they'd discovered Ricky had fled, they spent some time searching, but didn't find him. Helen suggested they wait until sunrise to search again.

_I don't understand why she wants to look for him at all._

Actually, she did know, but had chosen not to ask.

Helen wanted to kill him.

She hadn't stated so, but Michelle had known Helen long enough to understand the workings of her mind. Some of the workings, anyway. Ricky had killed Lucy, and if he was _man_ enough to do that, then he was definitely _man_ enough to get the police involved.

_Let him,_ thought Michelle. _We all deserve to go to jail. _

Then she thought about Lucy, and how she'd died. It had been painful to watch, and Michelle could only imagine how it had felt. It was a terrible way to go. All of them deserved some kind of punishment, but not to have their throats kicked in. But could she really endure prison? Michelle tried to visualize spending time in a box of a room, barred from her normal life, wearing an orange jumpsuit, and going without makeup and decent soaps and shampoos. Plus, the food would be terrible, and the other inmates might make her time spent there even worse.

_I could end up someone's whore,_ she thought.

Just the idea of having to be someone's lover made her stomach roll. _Guess it wouldn't be much different than what Helen and I did last night._ Her stomach constricted on itself as she remembered Helen's lips around her nipples, her own hands cupping Helen's breasts and massaging them.

She rubbed her hand across her aching belly. The fabric of her shirt felt dirty and soiled. _My stomach could be acting up because I'm hungry._ It was odd to her that her appetite was still strong with all that was going on, or with all that might happen. She craved some bacon and eggs, maybe even some grits. Her stomach grumbled in agreement. Michelle pictured the full carton of eggs and unopened pack of bacon waiting for her back at the cabin in the refrigerator.

She was tempted to turn around.

There was a _snap_ in the woods to her right. Michelle's heart slammed her breath out through her nose. She halted her step, looking toward the woods where the sound had come from.

Listening.

All she could hear was the faint rustle of leaves as a breeze stirred the trees. A few leaves waved down from above her, grazing her shoulders on their way to the ground. She listened a moment longer, then started walking again.

But she heard it again. Closer this time. Louder.

_Definitely a footstep,_ she thought.

Was it Ricky? Had he been hiding in the woods all this time, waiting for them to make a mistake? Such as the one she'd made by going back to the house to get something to wrap Lucy's body in while the others slept? _Yeah, exactly like that._ She realized it was dumb to have gone back to the cabin alone, and couldn't believe she had been contemplating doing it again for some food. But as she was lying by the dwindling campfire, staring up at the sky as the moon crossed to make way for the sun, she couldn't handle the hushed tranquility of nature. It felt too good and wholesome after what they had done, after what had _been_ done to them.

So, she'd dressed, then hiked back to the cabin. Not once had she worried Ricky might jump out at her, or attack the others while she was gone. But now it seemed like the most probable scenario.

_He's gotten them, and now he's waiting for me._

She stopped walking again, slowly turning in a circle. Trees waved past her. No sign of Ricky. She took a deep breath, turned around, and screamed when she bumped into someone. Michelle dropped the blankets. They landed in a heap at her feet, the roll of duct rape flattening the pile.

It was Helen. Amanda stood by a tree at the bend in the trail.

"Where the _fuck_ have you been?" she interrogated.

"I went back to the cabin."

"Why the hell would you do that?"

"I..." Michelle didn't like the way Helen was questioning her. It wasn't her choice of words, but the choice of tone. There was accusation behind the foul words. "I went to get some blankets...and tape."

Helen grimaced as if she smelled something awful. "Why would we need that?"

"For Lucy."

"Lucy's dead sweetheart, I don't think she'll be using them."

Michelle's hand had shot out before she even realized it was going to and slapped Helen across the cheek. She looked at Michelle as she raised her hand to the red spot, her mouth yawning a surprise.

"Suh-sorry..." Michelle stammered.

Helen shook her head. "Don't be... I was out of line."

"Well...I still shouldn't have slapped you."

Helen delicately rubbed Michelle's handprint. She locked her jaw and stretched her mouth from side to side as if trying to get the feeling back in her face. "It's okay. Don't worry about it."

Sighing, Michelle squatted down and scooped up the blankets, leaving the roll of tape on top. She bundled them into a gaudy ball of fabric. "I went and got this stuff so we can wrap Lucy's body. I can't stand that...that look in her eyes..."

Helen nodded. "Okay. But next time, let us know before you take off like that. With Ricky out there..." She took a deep breath. "None of us should wander anywhere alone right now."

Michelle nodded, and together they walked back to the campsite.
Chapter Nineteen

Britt finished urinating, tapped and zipped his pants. Using the heel of his shoe, he pushed down on the urinal's lever to flush. Nothing happened. He tried one more time before giving up. He walked to the sink. Standing in front of the mirror, he glanced at the soap dispenser and saw it was empty. Then he stuck his hand in the paper towel block and felt nothing but aluminum.

_No water, no soap, no paper towels. Great. _

He'd taken the ramp off the highway when he saw the Rest Area sign. Away from the road and private, the roof was missing shingles and the screens over the windows were ripped and tattered, flapping in the breeze like feathers. It was a small shoebox of a building, old tanned bricks with two doors. One was for gents and the other ladies. The gents' restroom had two urinals and two stalls and two sinks.

_Everything in twos, but none of it works. _

He sighed.

Britt looked at the tired young man in the glass and declared he needed a shave, some better sleep, and a haircut would do him some good as well. He formed an L-shape with his thumb and forefinger and held it to the reflection like a gun. "Psshew," he huffed. Then he raised his finger to his mouth and blew it as if it was smoking.

Smiling, he left the restroom.

At his truck, he leaned inside the cab and reached into the console for his hand sanitizer. He squirted a nickel-sized dab in his palm, and rubbed his hands together until they felt dry. Then he leaned against the truck, checking the time on his cell-phone.

_8:11_

He'd been driving for almost two hours, and still had a decent ways ahead of him. He scrolled through the recent calls, found Michelle's name and thumbed the _send_ button. He put the phone to his ear, and listened.

Voicemail.

_Hi. You've reached Michelle, sorry I didn't answer, but I'm probably talking to someone on the other line and haven't figured out how to switch over to another call. Please leave me a message and I'll call you back A.S.A.P. Bye!_

This time it hadn't even rung. This meant she either had the phone off, or was out of the service area. A knot formed in his gut. He tried to ignore it, but something just wasn't sitting well with him. Why wasn't she answering the phone? Why hadn't she at least called to tell him good night, or good morning?

_Something's going on._ He shook his head. He didn't need his mind to start wandering. If it did, he'd never get it to stop.

Britt tossed the phone into the truck. It landed on the passenger seat.

Then he climbed in.

The map he'd bought at the gas station when he filled the truck up sat on top of the dash. It had slid into the groove between the paneling and windshield. He grabbed it, then unfolded it on the steering wheel. Times like these he wished he had a GPS in his truck like the one Michelle had. He could have programmed the address into the menu and let it talk him there. _Oh, well..._ Britt was just fine without it. Using those things took some of the fun out of traveling anyway.

He put his finger on the paper, gliding it along Highway 95. He'd passed the exit for Chinowa Falls two miles back. He found it on the map, then traced the highway until he found the parkway. Ninety-five miles to go. Then on the parkway he had...

_Wait a second..._

Judging the map, there looked to be two ways he could take to Black Mountain. One road had dotted lines (unpaved) making up forty percent of it with green blots on each side the entire way (woods), and the other had some of the most dangerous looking curves he'd ever seen on a map. Neither route seemed sensible, especially considering he'd never been there before. But he also realized that on the other side of those scary curves were steep drop-offs.

So, he decided on the dotted path. If he put the truck in four-wheel drive he should be fine. As he folded the map, he began to wonder if coming out here had been a good idea. What if he got there and Michelle became angry with him for surprising her?

Or, what if she had another guy with her?

Something pinched in his chest. He didn't even want to consider the second thought as a possibility, but the fact that she wasn't answering her phone made it hard not to.

Britt finished his cigarette and flicked it into the parking lot. It hit the pavement, exploding into ash as it bounced. Then he flung the map back on the dash, and shut the door. He fired the engine, put it in reverse and backed out of the parking spot.

Back on the highway, he drove in silence with the radio cut down. He wanted his mind free of distractions as he traveled the rest of the way.
Chapter Twenty

Ricky's cabin sat behind two giant trees, the colorful branches drooping over the roof and hanging in front of the framed structure like curtains trying to conceal it. Leaves littered the ground in ankle-deep heaps, sounding like ripping paper as Michelle closed the gap between her and Amanda. Helen was leading the way, and appeared to be in a world all her own, oblivious to them behind her.

After Michelle met up with Helen and Amanda in the woods, they'd all walked back to the campsite together, and on the way Helen had expounded her plan to Michelle, and even now she didn't like it. What Helen had suggested—demanded—that they do was horrible.

They weren't savages.

_You really believe that? _

They'd left Lucy back at the camp, cocooned in blankets and duct tape. Amanda had wanted to bury her, but was scolded by Helen for suggesting it.

Michelle replayed the night in her mind, and could still feel the effects of Ricky inside her, spreading her open like a ghost penis. She was sore. She'd taken all of his length inside her and was suffering for it. Britt wasn't small either, but compared to Ricky, he might as well have been infant sized.

Her throat tightened.

_Britt._ She'd forgotten all about her boyfriend, the man she assumed she would one day marry. Should they get away with what Helen had convinced them of doing, how could she possibly ever look at Britt again? Would she be able to enjoy his touch, or the feel of him? Would she ever want sex with him again?

As much as she wanted to say no as a way of punishing herself, she knew that eventually she would want all those things. In fact, she already craved Britt's arms tight around her back, and nestling her head into the small area between his shoulder and neck. She should have just canceled this damn weekend trip and waited until Britt was free to make it. None of this would have happened, and her life would have remained as it had been.

Helen halted. The three of them gathered around a tree to the side of the cabin. The windows were dark. It looked quiet inside, peaceful.

Guilt gnawed at Michelle's belly.

"All right, here's what we're going to do. Michelle, you go around back and see if you can get in that way, I'm going to try the front door."

"What about me?" asked Amanda.

"You hang around the yard and keep an eye out. His car is still parked over there, so he obviously hasn't gone anywhere. If he comes out and we don't see him, it's up to you to keep him from getting to his car."

"Huh-how?"

"You'll think of something."

Amanda made a face. Her eyes narrowed, misting as she apparently realized the only way to stop him was to kill him.

Helen tugged her backpack off her shoulders, sat it on the ground and squatted next to it. Rummaging inside, she glanced over her shoulder every other thump of Michelle's drumming heartbeat. Finally, she stood. In one hand were two pocket knives, and in the other was a rock. "These knives were Roger's, but I brought the rock from the campsite. Didn't want us going in empty handed."

_Empty-handed..._

Helen was serious. They were really about to kill a man. Michelle looked at the knives. The handles were the size of cigarette lighters, so the blades couldn't have been any longer than her pinky. She took an offered knife. Helen gave Amanda the rock and kept a knife for herself.

"Is everyone ready?" Helen asked.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" said Amanda, holding the rock as if she'd never seen one before.

"Crack his fucking skull if you have to."

Shaking her head, Amanda gave the rock to Michelle. "I can't...do that."

"For Godsake Amanda..."

"Hold on," said Michelle. "Here." She passed the knife to Amanda. "I'll take the rock."

Amanda looked relieved.

"It brought me luck once already."

"Whatever." Helen shook her head. "Let's get moving."

They separated. Helen and Amanda went to the right and Michelle circled around the left. Her legs felt rubbery. The rock was a jagged weight in her hand. Trying not to think about what it was they'd come here to do, she kept her attention focused on being quiet, but it was impossible to silence her movements from all the leaves.

She stepped around the corner of the house where the yard angled down to the start of the woods. She scanned the area. There didn't seem to be anyone back here. She kept moving, walking alongside the back deck. It was two head-lengths above her and open underneath. She noticed a lawn tractor parked down there, various yard tools and trash cans. She was tempted to take the garden weasel she saw leaning against the paneling, but decided to just keep her rock. Although the spikes on the weasel's dial would hurt him more, the rock was easier to carry.

At the stairs, she froze. The sliding glass doors up top were opened, the white curtain waving in and out through the gap. _He's been here._ Of course he'd been here; this was where he was staying. She wondered if he'd left the door open last night when he'd left, or if he just never closed it when he came home. _Only one way to find out..._ She set a wobbly foot down on the first step, took a deep breath, and climbed another one. Halfway up, she spotted one of Ricky's boots at the top of the stairs. It lay on its side, mud caked on the bottom. She wondered if it was the one that had crushed Lucy's throat.

Clutching the rock so tight in her hand it hurt, she went all the way up. She stood at the top of the stairs and looked around. Ricky's clothes were scattered all over the deck. His other boot was just outside the door. It looked as if he'd stripped naked on his way inside and hadn't bothered closing the door behind him.

Was he still inside?

Was he waiting for them?

As she cautiously inched closer to the backdoor, something shattered from inside.
Chapter Twenty-One

Amanda patrolled the front of the house, puffing on the moist end of a cigarette. She hated the way her lips slurped the filter, dampening the paper, and eventually causing it to tear off in her mouth. She'd often tried to change the way her lips formed around it to no avail.

She couldn't stop thinking about Lucy, her cold hollow eyes, the deep gulley where her throat had been. She could still feel the bone deep chill of her lifeless skin on her hands as they'd wrapped her in the blankets Michelle had brought. Amanda had begged them to bury her. She thought Helen was going to hit her for even suggesting it. So, instead of dwelling on Lucy, she'd tried making herself feel just as bad about Ricky, but no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't do it.

She hated to think he'd deserved what he'd gotten.

_Great, now I sound like Helen. _

Amanda assumed Helen hated men thanks to Roger, but she had no idea it was with such severity. The rage she saw in Helen's eyes when Ricky confessed he was gay had been frightening.

And they still weren't finished with him yet. There was one more thing left to do before this nightmare would finally be over.

They had to _kill_ Ricky.

That was what Helen had brought them here to do. She said they could claim he'd attacked them in the woods, and they'd chased him back here and accidentally killed him during the confrontation.

Nails grumbled in her stomach.

There was no way they'd get away with it. But at least they would have killed the asshole who'd murdered harmless Lucy. Yes, she'd gotten her rocks off just like the rest of them, but it seemed justified when she thought of Lucy doing it. The poor girl had earned a little action, maybe even deserved it.

But she had _not_ deserved getting killed. If any of them had to die, Amanda wished it had been Helen. It was her idea originally, and they'd just followed her like little sheep.

An idea sparked.

That could be _her_ defense. She could say Helen forced them to attack Ricky. And they feared what she might do to _them_ if they resisted. She smiled. That just might work. She'd have to get Michelle alone and propose the idea to her, because it would only be believable if _both_ of them put the blame on Helen. She doubted Michelle would argue with her.

Amanda walked across the front yard, puffing on the cigarette. She tasted paper. Had she already smoked it down to the filter? She checked the cigarette. There was no tobacco left, only the cotton filter, and it was starting to burn. She dropped it on the ground, stomping it out with her shoe. As she removed another cigarette from the pack, she noticed a subtle movement from the corner of her eye.

She turned around.

Across the yard and diagonal from the cabin was the woodshed. Just as her eyes locked on the rickety structure, she spotted someone stepping behind it. Not Ricky. She only saw a glimpse, but it was enough for her to recognize this person was female.

Amanda sighted white clothes, long red hair, and tanned slender legs in a flash.

Who else was out here?

"Huh-hello?" She'd spoken although she hadn't wanted to, but doubted the mystery woman had heard it. Not only had she been too far away, but her voice had croaked.

Amanda glanced over her shoulder. The cabin sat silently behind her like an ill-omened presence. It was as if it had swallowed Michelle and Helen and was waiting for her. She looked back at the shed, allowing her legs to carry her closer. She spotted a tower of logs inclined against the building.

The woman's tall shape came into view at the rear of the shed. Her back was turned toward Amanda, and she couldn't see her hands. Like maybe she had her arms crossed over her chest. She wore only a short white skirt with a long sleeved white shirt that draped her buttocks. It reminded Amanda of how she'd put on a guy's clothes after sex to go to the bathroom or something. They'd be baggy and draping her tiny body.

But this woman wasn't tiny, she was lean and taut. The wind rustled strands of her red hair. The fire-colored locks reached the curve of her back.

Amanda's hands were trembling, so she clenched them shut. She felt something flaky in her hand. Opening it, she realized she'd accidentally broken her last cigarette. Another pack was in her bag at Michelle's cabin.

"Why are you here?"

Amanda's stomach lurched. The soft voice was like an explosion in the still air.

The redhead spoke again. "Are you here to see Ricky?"

Shaking her head, Amanda mouthed words that just wouldn't come.

Then the redhead turned around.

A scream snagged in Amanda's throat when she saw her face. Familiar, albeit poorly painted with makeup. Black smears around the eyes, blurry red lips from lipstick that looked to have been applied with shaky hands. And deep blue hues on her cheeks that looked like bruises.

Amanda pushed some words out of her mouth. "What-what-what..."

Red tilted her head as if trying to understand her. Then she raised the two-bladed ax she'd been hugging to her chest.

Too shocked to react, or possibly too shocked to care, Amanda only watched as the redhead raised the ax above her head.

"No one will ever hurt Ricky again..." She brought the ax down.

Amanda felt it split the top of her skull. She felt its impact in the roots of her teeth, but only for a brief moment.
Chapter Twenty-Two

"Fucking lamp," said Helen, both hands on her hips. Michelle looked on in disbelief. "Who the hell puts a lamp right by the stupid door?" Helen kicked a shard of broken porcelain against the wall.

From what Michelle had gathered in her brief scan of the room was Helen, upon entering through the front door had turned left, then bumped into the small table supporting the lamp and knocked it over where it busted when it struck the floor.

She was lucky she hadn't been cut. Better yet, she was absolutely fortunate Ricky hadn't been near enough to hear her and surprise her with an assault.

"How are we going to explain this?" Helen spoke as if Michelle had been the one to break it.

Michelle shrugged.

Helen swatted the air. "We'll think of something later, first things first." She walked through the living room, slowly spinning a circle as she took it all in.

The cabin was quaint, a picturesque, relaxing lodge just big enough for two. Michelle went left, approaching what looked to be an office. A collapsible table had been setup against the wall where it looked out a window to a wonderful view of the mountainside and lake. The sun was rising in the east, showering the yard in gold, and shimmering rippling waves of light from the lake. It was absolutely beautiful. She wondered if she'd get the chance to park on the way home to enjoy the view from her favorite lookout.

She certainly hoped so.

She could hear Helen moving around in the living room, the frantic stomp of her feet as she darted back and forth.

Michelle stopped at the table. She pulled her eyes away from the lovely spectacle on the other side of the window, and snooped around his desk. There were papers, bowed from handling, stacked beside a laptop. Paragraphs were printed from the top of the page to the bottom with various words scribbled out and their replacements scrawled above them in red.

_A manuscript? _

She picked up the papers. Gazing through the stack, she found even more pages with a lot more red markings. She reached the final page. _A title page._ The name of the author was printed underneath.

_Laura Kelly. _

A scream tickled her throat. Chills scurried up her spine and into her scalp. Her mind flashed back to her apartment, and as if viewing it through a camera, it rapidly zoomed to her bookcase. The second shelf was where she stored her romance books, and her three favorites were first. She could see their spines, the creases up and down the titles from multiple readings, the dog-eared pages, and coffee dots. _The Lust series._ All of them had been penned by Laura Kelly, her favorite romance author. She'd always enjoyed her trashy, yet slick style, and honest depictions and stories.

"Oh...my God..."

_I'm a writer,_ she heard Ricky say.

_What do you write?_

He hadn't wanted to answer the question and give away his secret identity. _His pen name._ Ricky was Laura Kelly, the romance writer.

"Huh-Helen?"

"Yeah?" She called back from what sounded like the rear of the cabin.

"You need to get in here. Q-quick."

"What's wrong?" The cabin rattled as Helen's feet smacked the floor. She stopped at the doorway, winded. "Are you okay?"

Michelle turned around, holding the pages with trembling hands. "My God, Helen... We fucked up... We fucked up so bad..."

Helen's eyes narrowed, her lips pursed. "What do you mean? What did you find?"

"Ever heard of Laura Kelly?"

Helen made a face. "The author?"

Michelle nodded.

"Yeah, so what?"

"Ricky _is_ Laura Kelly."

The confused expression slowly melted into panic. "No...he's...he can't be..."

"He is." She held the papers out to Helen. She took them. "Remember, he said he's a writer? This is what he was writing."

Helen's eyes whisked from left to right as she read the words in front of her. "Oh shit... What are we going to do?" She whispered it as if asking herself more than Michelle.

"You tell _me._ "

Helen's panic was short lived. "This doesn't change a goddamn thing."

"It _has_ to."

"Why? Why does it?"

"Because, he's _known._ It's not like he's some kind of Jack Nobody and the police will believe he could have done what you want them to believe. He's an author. A lot of people know him, and they can blow a hole in the plan..."

"No. Famous people do stupid shit all the time just because they think they can get away with it. And he's nowhere near _real_ fame."

Helen stopped talking and looked past Michelle. Her eyes continued to move inside her head as if they were trying to keep up with the frantic thoughts behind them.

She spoke again. "Actually...this is even better. Yeah." She waved a finger. "We'll tell them he invited us back to his cabin to show us his new book. Then he tried to use his success to get us to fuck him. But we wouldn't, and he went crazy."

Michelle felt dizzy and sick. Just when she thought it couldn't get any crazier... "What about the campsite?"

"We'll leave that part out."

"And Lucy?"

Helen shrugged. "We'll bring her here. Make it look like he killed her here."

Shaking her head, Michelle jerked Ricky's manuscript from Helen's hands, then threw it on the table. Her head was still moving when she said, "Absolutely not. I will _not_ do that." The thought of having to touch her gelid skin again was awful.

"Yes...you will."

Michelle couldn't speak.

"You'll help me move her to fucking North Dakota if it means keeping us out of jail."

"Helen...listen to yourself. You sound—"

"Don't say crazy. You better not."

Michelle shook her head. "I was going to say you sound like a bitch."

Helen smirked. "You doubt me. Have I ever done you any wrong?"

"What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you even hear what's coming out of your mouth?"

"I'm just trying to make sure you're still on Team Helen."

Michelle wound her hand back, clenched a fist and swung. Expecting to feel the soft skin of Helen's cheek again, it was caught halfway there. Helen gripped Michelle by the wrist. She gave it a harsh squeeze, then she threw her hand down. "Fine." Helen back-stepped, keeping her eyes on Michelle. "I'll just get Amanda, and we'll go get her without you."

"Leave Lucy alone."

"She's dead. I don't really think she minds."

Michelle took a step toward Helen, ready to lunge. She wanted to slap and claw her face until there was only meaty pulp left. But when she saw who was standing behind Helen she froze.

With her eyes focused on Michelle, Helen was oblivious to what awaited her. Her back bumped against it. Realizing someone was behind her, her scowl relaxed to a mask of worry. "Michelle..."

"Oh my God..."

Slowly, Helen turned around. Michelle couldn't see her expression, but figured it was the same as her own. The red hair was deceiving, as was the white shirt and skirt. The long legs were slender, yet muscular with large ankles. The hands that gripped the wooden ax handle were beefy, with worm-like veins jutting underneath the skin. Although it was crudely decorated with makeup, the face underneath the bright colors was easily identifiable.

The ax swung in an arch. The blade hit Helen's neck on the right side and kept going all the way through. Her head launched, spinning in flight, and with shock frozen on its face. It struck the floor with a wet thud as the body danced, spurting blood from the jagged stump between its shoulders. Then it dropped on its side, two feet from the severed head.

The evil eyes encased in clumpy black eyeliner flicked in Michelle's direction. "Ricky trusted you."

"What is this?" Michelle asked, backing up. Her rump bumped the table behind her.

"He only joined your party at the campsite because _you_ were there. He thought you were sweet, a decent person, a _good_ person."

"Th—this is crazy..."

And, it was crazy. The tall woman before her was not a woman at all. Sure, she had long red hair, shaved legs, makeup albeit haphazardly applied, and even musky perfume. But the person under the guise was a man. A man Michelle had grown to know quite well during the past twenty-fours, who had caused her to fiercely orgasm stronger than she had in years.

Ricky.
Chapter Twenty-Three

Ricky lay near the fire as Michelle mounted him. The others had spread around his body, pinning him to the ground. His mind was a flicker of thoughts and fears. A voice tried to force its way through the static, one that always spoke truer and louder than anyone when Ricky's psyche felt threatened.

It wasn't the first time, and probably wouldn't be the last.

Ricky was a timid creature, afraid of almost everything. There wasn't much his fears and worries wouldn't ruin for him. Others often treated him poorly, and Laura Kelly couldn't handle watching such a sweet man like Ricky hurting so much. So she often took over when things got heavy. At first, Ricky only allowed her to help him write, but it wasn't long before he allowed her to do even more.

This time it had been harder than usual to break through. Ricky had nearly shut down completely. When Laura finally had enough strength, she'd retaliated. She did what she could, but it would have been foolish to take the girls all on unarmed, so she'd retreated.

Ricky was a delicate creation, and Laura admired him for his sensitivities, but not his weaknesses. She would even go as far as saying that she loved him in a platonic sort of way. Like a big sister who adored her younger brother, no matter how much trouble he got himself into. And Ricky was good at that. Getting himself into situations he had no business being in to begin with.

She hated to remember what it was like before she'd come along.

Nearly all of his conflicts had somehow originated with sex. Why was it so hard for people to grasp that he was a gay man and had been born that way? He hadn't asked for it. In fact, if it had been his choice he would have chosen to be heterosexual, so he wouldn't have had to experience what he had through the years.

Even his Aunt Jennifer didn't accept his preferences.

At thirteen, Ricky had two loving parents, but he also felt miserable and confused because he couldn't discuss his compulsions with them. They wouldn't understand, or if they did they'd shun him. So, he kept the compulsions all bottled up, and because of that his parents assumed his depression stemmed from girls, or the lack thereof.

In the early nineties there was nothing to study but gay porn magazines and movies, and none of those things divulged any information on why he was progressing in that direction. Actually, the magazines he'd managed to steal from the bookstores usually depicted _straight_ men sneaking around on their wives, using other men as a fetish, or for a sexual release. Something that was done in shame and private. He didn't agree with it. It came so naturally to him that it didn't _feel_ wrong, but he assumed it should have. There was no internet to search through then, nor were there books in his local library to read. All he had were his own uncertainties and confusion.

Barry Warner was his first love. Sure, he'd crushed on other boys before Barry, but this was the first time the boy had actually liked him back. They'd played on the same Little League team, and after practice they would sneak into the woods behind the ball field to swap smooches. One Saturday after winning their third straight ballgame, Ricky and Barry convinced their parents to let them stay at the field and watch the other games.

They'd had other intentions.

In the woods, they'd used this rare opportunity to explore each other. They started with their clothes on, and escalated to taking them off.

By the time Ricky got home, he was floating. He couldn't eat, couldn't concentrate. He was in love. They had agreed to keep their relationship private, but he wanted to tell someone _so_ badly that he opted to tell Jennifer, his Aunt on his Dad's side. She was twenty-two, much younger than his father. They liked a lot of the same things. Movies, music, and even read the same books. She lived alone, was single, and he thought the only one who'd understand his dilemma.

Laura Kelly felt sick to her stomach when Ricky visualized what Aunt Jennifer had done.

She'd been so convinced that Ricky was not gay and just _experimenting_ that she had led him to her bedroom and forced him to strip down just to prove it to him. He'd refused at first, but then she had threatened to tell his father about Barry so he obeyed. He lay on the bed, the blankets cool and soft under his back. He'd realized that Aunt Jennifer wasn't just trying to assure him he wasn't gay, but she was also trying to make him understand how much he really wanted to fuck _her_.

She was a lonely person and reeked of jealousy.

Aunt Jennifer wasn't an ugly woman, either. She was slender and shapely with spiraling red curls on her head the color of sand. Her breasts were heavy, yet busty and firm. Her skin was soft and milky, dotted with freckles in various patches along her body.

She crawled on top of him.

"Now Ricky... Is this so bad?"

"Yes..." He bit down on his bottom lip to keep from crying.

"Just wait... It gets better. I promise." She reached between her legs and found his lifeless penis. "What's wrong? It feels so sad..."

"Please, Aunt Jennifer...this is wrong."

She shushed him. "Call me Jen."

He didn't call her anything.

Lucky for her she was so wet and Ricky was large enough even at thirteen that he didn't need to be hard to be put inside her. She'd been able to just slide him right in.

She gasped as she impaled herself on his soft member.

"Oh...Ricky... __ I can't believe how big you are. Don't worry... You'll get hard in a minute...I promise."

He didn't, but she hardly seemed to care as she grinded her hips, thrusting with her thighs as sweat began to pebble on her paper-colored skin. He didn't warn her when he came. He'd just let it spurt inside her. Jennifer collapsed on top of him, resting her mussed damp hair on his chest, proud of herself. And of course, her actions did nothing to help Ricky. He sank even deeper inside himself, further worrying his parents.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Ricky said nothing.

"You can't tell anyone about this. It has to be our secret. Maybe we can even do it again."

They never did.

Aunt Jennifer learned a month afterward that she was pregnant. There had been only one person she'd had sex with in all that time. She'd probably assumed that considering Ricky's age, his seed wasn't a threat. She put the barrel of her deceased father's .45 in her mouth and pulled the trigger. Ricky's dad had been the one to find her dead body three days later. She'd left behind a message on a notepad, scribbled in pencil that read: _I deserve this._

That was when Laura Kelly began to manifest like a planted seed beginning to sprout. He'd started writing, just short stories at first or random dialogue scenes, but one thing he'd learned while doing it was that writing was healing. It helped him. In several of his stories, a homosexual character was conflicted with the reasoning as to why he was gay, but in each story he found a way to deal with it.

Over the years his writing grew to be more polished as Laura Kelly grew. Now she was as much alive as Ricky.

But she was every bit as different too.
Chapter Twenty-Four

"You're not the first whore to try and take advantage of Ricky," he said, clutching the ax handle so firmly his/her knuckles were turning white. "There have been many before you...even some men, but mostly women."

His voice sounded odd, higher in pitch and squeaky.

"Ricky...I'm so...so..."

She was so __ what? Sorry? Like that would stop him.

"Now...just like the others." He twisted the ax, pointing the blade toward Michelle to finish his statement. It was mucky in gloppy red streaks.

Helen's blood...and possibly Amanda's. She hoped Amanda was all right, but doubted it.

"Don't do this..." She sounded like Ricky had the night before.

Ricky advanced. Michelle was quick to counter, grabbing the laptop and throwing it at him. The cord snapped free from the power brick. The computer shot through the space between them and smashed against Ricky's face.

Michelle didn't wait to see what damage, if any, had been inflicted. She ran. As she moved past Ricky, she swerved as far to the left that she could to avoid him. He blindly swung the ax, but didn't come close to hitting her.

Her feet clapped across the hardwood floor. The rug tried to trip her, but she managed to keep going after only a stumble. Ricky exploded from the office, knocking another end table over. He kicked it out of his way with a long leg. Michelle saw a flash of black nylon panties under the skirt. It looked as if Ricky had taken the charade to the very extreme.

She spun on her heels after taking a wrong turn toward the stairs when she meant to find the front door. Ricky was already at her back. The front door was out of the question now. She had to take the stairs.

And she did.

Darting up the stairs, she felt the ax split the wood between her feet.

Splinters flaked her pants.

"Stop running," Ricky shouted in that feminine voice. He stopped just long enough to tug the imbedded blade away from the step. Then he was moving again.

Michelle reached the top of the stairs. She faced a short hallway that separated at two doors. She assumed one was for the bathroom, and the other for the bedroom. Both doors were closed, and she had no idea which one was which. If she went to the bathroom, she would probably be trapped in there. If it was like her parents' cabin, there wouldn't be a window to climb through in there.

Ricky's heavy tread broke her out of the trance. She darted for the one straight ahead. Her shoulder bumped the door as her hand slapped at the doorknob. It found it, and turned. The door popped open, nearly spilling her onto the floor. _The bedroom._ She wanted to cry she was so relieved. Michelle slammed the door. Her fingers found the lock and twisted it. It shook violently as Ricky slammed against it, but thankfully the latch held.

She turned around, her eyes darting this way and that, barely taking a moment to register anything. The bed was neatly made, an opened suitcase on top. The closest was a folding door to the right. She eyed one dresser, a nightstand, then she spotted it.

The window.

Her throat made a shrill whimper. She trotted around the end of the bed to the window, gripped the sill, and heaved. It didn't budge. She felt a tight pull in her elbows, and her fingertips throbbed.

The room became a furor of splitting wood. Looking over her shoulder, Michelle caught the gleam of the ax blade twisting and tearing through the wood, then it disappeared. A diagonal, rectangular hole was in its place. The blade fractured the door again, but this time lower. Another few good whacks and Ricky would be able to come in.

Michelle heard herself screaming. She faced the window again, yanking with all she had. Her arms felt as if they were being slowly torn from their sockets, but it still wouldn't move, so she pushed the blinds out of the way to check the lock. It was angled left. _Locked._ She couldn't believe she had wasted so much time.

_Valuable_ time.

Precious seconds that could mean her death.

With the window unlocked, she lifted again. It sprang up so fast, the window slipped from her grasp, causing her to stumble forward, and rap her head against the aluminum paneling. She saw a flash, then blackness before it slowly began to fade back in. Bright splotches pranced in front of her.

The door imploded.

Michelle shook the fog out of her head. Ricky was moving in, so she didn't bother with the screen, just stepped back, then sprung herself forward. Her head and arms went first. There was a brief resistance when she hit the screen, but it quickly gave way. Then she was weightless. It lasted only a moment before the roof punched her from underneath.

Then she was rolling.

The golden light of the day whirled before her. She saw flashes of bright colors from the trees. The gutter around the roof's edge rammed her in the ribs as she toppled over. The weightless feeling came again. Then she was plummeting.

The deck came up to meet her.

Her cry was silenced by a thudding huff when she landed on her back. Air blasted out of her lungs. She couldn't breathe. As her lungs tried to pull in air, she looked up. Ricky was at the window, looking down at her.

She blinked, and he was gone.

_Oh God... He's going back down the stairs..._

He'd be down here in a matter of moments. She needed to move. Rolling over, pain rattled her hips. Her right leg was throbbing numbness down to her knee. She wondered if it was broken.

It didn't matter. Broken leg or not, she was going to run.

Gripping the deck railing, she dragged herself to her knees as if doing a pull up. It hurt so badly that she felt nauseous. She'd done something to her hip, all right; maybe not her leg, but definitely her hip.

The thudding sound of Ricky descending the stairs resonated from inside the cabin. Hearing him was like a slap to the face. Michelle quickly fought her way to standing. She could put weight on her left leg, but not so much on her right. But it was still working. She held her leg under the knee, rocking it back and forth.

It would have to do.

She ran the best she could.
Chapter Twenty-Five

Britt stomped the brakes. The truck skidded to a halt. To his right was another old, broken dirt road that divided the woods. The path looked even worse than the one he'd been using for the last half hour. _Is that it?_ He used the rearview mirror too see as he backed the truck onto the shoulder. Then he wrenched the gear into park.

The map was on the seat beside him. He grabbed it and his pack of cigarettes, then pushed the chrome button for the lighter inward. As he waited for it to heat up, he used one hand to unfold the map, and fished a cigarette from the pack with the other. The lighter popped out. He lit the cigarette and began scanning the map.

On the paper, he followed the route he'd taken, and it looked as if he was where he needed to be. _Has to be it_. Britt had assumed the driveway would look...well, more like a driveway and not some busted horse path. He'd expected a mailbox, or at least a house marker, but there was neither.

He rolled the window down to let the smoke waft out, and pushed the button on the instrument panel to engage the four-wheel drive. The front wheels clicked as they became ready. Biting down on the filter of his cigarette, he put the truck into drive, slowly veered onto the dirt road and turned onto what he hoped was Michelle's driveway.

Drooping branches scraped the sides of his truck as he drove.

Michelle's balance was off as she trudged through the woods, forcefully tugging her right leg behind her. Ricky was a blur in the rear, but close enough she could easily see the ax by his side like a saber.

Michelle darted around an oak tree. Branches slapped her. A bouquet of leaves whacked her in the eye. Her feet tangled. She landed on her stomach. Her feet shot up behind her and kicked her lower back.

She pushed herself up on her hands. Looking behind her, she spotted Ricky as he appeared from behind the oak tree.

"It will be easier for you..." He was winded. Fragments of his real voice cracked through the womanly pitch. "Just one whack and it'll all be over."

Michelle rolled onto her back, bracing herself up on her elbows. Hunched like a ghoul, Ricky crept closer. The ax refracted light from the sun in dazzling lines. She watched it rise above Ricky's head. One blade was aimed down at her, the other pointed over Ricky's back.

She waited for him to get a little closer...

Hoping for the best, Michelle shot her knee up, smashing it between his thighs. She felt something mash under her knee.

Stunned, the ax slipped from Ricky's grasp. The blade punched in the ground beside her. Michelle's father liked to say when she was kid: _You can put lipstick on a pig, but it's still a pig._ Even though Ricky had faked the appearance of a woman, he still had a cock and balls.

And being struck there paralyzed any man.

His mouth formed the shape of a ring as he cupped his hands over his crotch. He dropped to his knees. Michelle scooted back on her rump. Rocks jabbed her through her pants. She reached for the ax.

But Ricky's foot stomped on her hand.

There was a sound like breaking celery when her wrist snapped. Pain shot up her arm and into her chest. Ricky was wounded, but not conquered. She tried reaching for the ax, again, but her hand just drooped limply to the side. No way could she grip it. She collapsed on her back.

She wanted to lie there, to rest, but she couldn't.

Michelle clumsily got to her feet.

Ricky latched onto to her ankle, and pulled her foot out from under her. She went down, landing chin first. Her teeth clacked together. He towed her towards him, bouncing her breasts across the ground. She bucked in his hand, writhing, until she managed to roll onto her side. She continued to thrash her legs. Finally, she slipped from his grasp.

On her knees, she looked at her foot and saw only a sock. Then she glanced at Ricky who was holding her shoe, staring at it dumbly. She didn't bother trying to retrieve it.

She crawled to a run, and didn't let her exposed foot hold her back.

The driveway had somewhat settled. The truck only bounced over a bump or gulley every few feet now instead of continuously. He increased his speed, hoping to see a cabin come into view soon.

But he was beginning to wonder if one ever would.

Michelle's equilibrium suddenly shifted. She was heading down.

Straight down.

Trying to keep her balance, she shambled down the steep hill. As the ground leveled out, her feet had trouble adjusting thanks to the lack of one shoe. The ground was rough, uneven. Roots protruded everywhere she stepped. She stumped her pinky toe on one of the snaked lumps, and fell against a tree, her arms embracing it as if giving it a hug. Her foot was screaming. When she looked down, she didn't find a toe poking out from the torn sock. Instead, there was a wet red stump with a light-gray object cleaved to the side. Inside the freshly made nook was an even darker red, and below that was blackness. The toenail had been dislodged, and only clung there by strands of flesh. She immediately regretted looking at it as throbbing blasts seared through her leg.

She had to keep moving, but this setback would make it nearly unfeasible. She was tempted to just wait here for Ricky, and let him get this over with.

But a noise resounded through the trees, faint but casually growing louder. A rumble. Pause. Then another rumble.

_Britt's truck? _

Sounded like it. She could pinpoint that engine's roar through a dozen others.

"Britt!" She felt a smile trying to tear the corners of her mouth.

It died when she caught the whiff of musky perfume.

_Ricky. _

She turned around. A gleam flashed across her face, trailing up the bark of the tree. She dropped to a squat. On her way down something ruffled her hair. There was a solid _whack_ when it punched the tree. She looked up. The ax blade was imbedded at least two inches into the bark. She'd just missed having her head lopped off like Helen's.

Ricky tugged the handle, already trying to extract it. It was giving him some trouble, but it wouldn't last.

She didn't linger to watch. On her hands and knees, she crawled out of Ricky's reach, then jumped to her feet, and launched herself away from him. She ignored her broken wrist, ignored the pain in her hip and foot. Instead, she focused on the sound of Britt's truck. And, even if by some chance it wasn't Britt's truck, it was _somebody's_ truck, and that meant someone else was out here.

Someone that could help.

Michelle was scared if she looked back to check on Ricky that she would find him right behind her, or worse yet, she would fall. But she had to risk it. She stole a quick peek, and her fears were realized.

Ricky was three strides behind her.

And, he had the _ax!_

Michelle faced forward, ducked her head and pumped herself harder.

Britt steered the truck around a curve. Once the road straightened out, he pushed the pedal down farther and increased his speed. Up ahead and through the trees he began to make out a triangular shape a dark shade of brown. _The cabin._ This was the right road after all. He smiled behind the cigarette.

Someone screamed.

He jumped in his seat, screaming himself as a flailing shape shot in front of the truck. He was too late to brake, so he swerved. Another larger figure emerged as the truck slid around sideways.

Trying to keep it from flipping, Britt struggled with the wheel as his cigarette flew from his mouth.

He failed.

Britt felt the bottom slant out from under him. Through the windshield he could see the trees rotating clockwise. He heard two metallic bumps, then he felt them as the truck landed on its roof. It toppled again, bouncing when it landed on the tires.

The truck sat there wobbling as tranquility was restored to the woods around it.
Epilogue

Britt finished reading the article in the paper, then folded it and tossed it on the coffee table in front of him. Since his testimony, he hadn't gone back to the courtroom once during Richard Myers' trial, nor had he wanted to. It had been painful enough learning all he had during the two days he was in there. The stuff they'd said about the girls—Michelle particularly—had broken his heart.

The defense argued that Myers had been drugged, and then was molested by Michelle and her friends. Afterward he'd snapped, a second personality had surfaced and enacted a violent revenge on his behalf. Apparently, Myers had had a traumatic childhood of sexual molestation, and was also living with the confusion and shame he felt for being a homosexual.

The prosecutors didn't buy it. And, neither did the jury. They agreed that since Richard Myers was a man, then there was no way he wasn't in control of his sexual actions. They'd rejected the drugged theory completely, and declared that because he had an erection, then he _wanted_ to have intercourse with all four of them. It was his guilt over realizing that he was not gay that had finally sent him over the edge. Plus, he had a reputation as a homosexual author to protect, so they needed to be disposed of, and the whole Laura Kelly split personality act was only that...an act, a charade.

So, the jury sided with the prosecutors, and, as the paper had stated, sentenced Myers to four life sentences in a maximum security prison, denying the not guilty by reason of insanity plea.

But they'd waved the death penalty.

Britt didn't know how to feel about their decision. Just like he'd said when he was on the stand, Michelle's sexual desires could get out of control, and yes, he believed that she could have done the things the defense team was saying she had done. But he also said that he didn't believe her acts were predetermined, either. It was a spur of the moment mistake...one that had cost Michelle her life.

She had been instantly killed when Britt's truck struck her. She'd run out in front of him from the woods, and he'd seen her too late. Sometimes he could still hear the tinny thump of her body hitting the truck. The collision had also seriously damaged Myers. He lost the use of his left leg after the truck crushed it as it rolled over. Britt came out of the accident unscathed, but the nightmares he'd endured afterward almost ruined him.

His cat Babs purred from his lap. He stroked her chin, then leaned back in the chair. His anti-depressants were kicking in...making him sleepy.

It had been over a year since the carnage at Brown Mountain, and Britt had not been intimate with anyone since his last time with Michelle. He doubted he ever would be again...because just like his nightmares, the thought of sex had become just too much to bear.
About the Author

Kristopher Rufty is the writer/director of the movies Psycho Holocaust, Rags, and Wicked Wood, and also the author of Angel Board, The Night Everything Changed, and The Lurkers.

He also hosts Diabolical Radio, an internet radio show devoted to horror fiction and film. The show has been online for nearly five years now and has developed quite an archive list and following.

He is married to his high school sweetheart and is the father of two insane children that he loves dearly, and together they reside in North Carolina with their 120 pound dog Thor and a horde of cats. He is currently working on his next novel, script, or movie.

For more about Kristopher Rufty, please visit his Website lastkristontheleft.blogspot.com

He can be found on Facebook and Twitter as well.
Look for these titles by Kristopher Rufty

_Now Available:_

Angel Board

The Lurkers

_Coming Soon:_

Oak Hollow
_They're waiting for you in the woods._

The Lurkers

_© 2012 Kristopher Rufty_

They've lived in the woods and cornfields for as long as anyone can remember. Small, humanoid creatures with sharp teeth and grasping hands. The people in what's left of the nearby town live in fear. They've learned that if they let the creatures take what they want, they won't be attacked. An uneasy peace has reigned. But no more. The leader of the creatures has decided his kind will be dormant no longer. To survive, they must kill. They will satisfy their unholy hunger with their favorite prey—humans. But some humans—females—will be kept alive in captivity...to breed.

_Enjoy the following excerpt for_ The Lurkers:

Nancy glanced at the sink, gasping when she noticed the toppled over rack. The shattered remains of her favorite coffee mug littered the bottom of the sink. All that remained of the logo was a shard with the heart cracked down the middle. It teetered on the edge of the drain. She wanted to cry. The broken shards were all that remained of the mug she'd spent so many mornings at the table with, reading a paperback and guzzling countless cups of coffee. Who knew when she'd make it back to California for a replacement? Maybe Elizabeth could send her another one. That would be a temporary fix, but wouldn't be the same. The memories of the trip had also made the cup that much more special. __

Something thumped inside the cabinet above the stove, pulling her out of the broken cup blues. It landed with a metallic thud. _A can?_ Somehow, the bastards – whatever they were – had gotten inside the cabinets.

Nancy moved away from the sink, glancing at the tracks in passing. Seeing them again caused her bowels to feel as if they were being pronged with an icy fork. Something about them frightened her. They weren't right, or normal, but unusually small and out of place.

_Looks like a damn baby._ Not just _a_ baby – babies. More than one. Different shapes and widths left the kitchen peppered in the white dust. The only thing they had in common was their diminutive size.

She regretted not going back for the gun.

Nancy attempted calling for Hank, but her cries only tickled the back of her swollen throat. She could barely release a squeal, let alone a howl for her deep sleeping husband and even in the silence of the kitchen that sounded earsplitting.

She was truly alone.

Before going to the cabinet, Nancy took a detour to the fridge. Walking slow and stilted, she snatched the broom out from behind it. Now she had some kind __ of a weapon _,_ at least. Not much of one, she realized, but it felt good to at least have _something._

Hunched over, she slunk back to the stove with the wooden tip of the broom pointed ahead of her, the dried straw silently scraping the floor behind her as she moved. With her left hand she gripped the cabinet by its bronze handle. It was cold and clammy in her sweaty hand. Taking a deep breath, she mustered up a hint of courage to peek inside, and as she was ready to wrench it open, she caught the hushed sound of raspy whispers inside. They spoke to one another animatedly, talking so fast she couldn't decipher the syllables. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

What little bit of bravery she'd manage to obtain had promptly retreated.

The cabinet door jerked from her hand.

She jumped back, shrieking so vigorously that something inside of her throat ripped. A scorching wetness coated the back of her throat.

_Blood._

Standing inside the cabinet were four things huddled together. They looked to have been arguing over a large canister of chicken until detecting her presence. Simultaneously, their heads turned to her. She was met with stares, and watched as triangles of white stretched across the dimness.

_Smiles!! They're smiling!!_

Then she looked at the cabinet door. Hanging upside down from the spice rack by its feet was another one of the tiny creatures. She stood face to miniature face with the inverted munchkin. It appeared human-like, but as if it had been left in a drier for way too long, its skin pruned and withered like a rotten apple. It wore what looked like some kind of burlap sack as a hooded suit. It erupted with squeals, like shrieks from an injured cub.

Nancy tried hollering, but only produced a wet burble.

Laughter, high-pitched as if on helium, reverberated around her, in front of her, and behind her as the cabinets throughout the kitchen sprang open, clamoring in the tight room with an explosion of slamming doors. The central air vents on the floor flipped upward as the minuscule things climbed out from the ducts, revealing that more and more of them had been hiding under the floor. Stemming from under the sink, above the counter, and even behind the same damn fridge she'd just taken the broom from. She stopped counting crescent-shaped heads at thirteen, but there had to have been more, so many more.

They'd been watching her all this time.

Waiting.

And none of them looked to be above two feet tall.

Nancy tried to scream again. Couldn't. Whatever had been damaged inside her throat flapped loosely like a piece of lettuce. It gagged her.

The creatures slowly pressed in on her, encasing her in a horde of dwarfed bodies. She was the beetle with an army of hungry ants all around her, stranded with nowhere to go and no point in trying.

_Where the hell are you, Hank?!! Why aren't you helping me?!!!_

As if to answer her, his muffled screams resonated from the bedroom, but were quickly drowned out by more screeching laughter. Then she heard nothing more than the juicy rips and slashes of her husband being devoured where she'd left him sleeping in their bed.

Nancy started to cry.

_What have_ we _done?_ she wanted to scream at them. _Why us? Why did you come after_ us _?!!_ Of all the possibilities as to what may have been in the kitchen, she'd never once considered it to be them.

_We'd done our part, kept to ourselves; let you take whatever the hell you wanted from the barns and sheds. We did nothing wrong!!!_

The snarling and drooling and savoring assembly had inched in as close as they could. She could feel their tiny hands petting her, fondling her. Hatchets, knives, and scythes – anything small enough to hold – that they'd probably stolen from the surrounding farms were clutched firmly between their teeny digits. The weapons were nearly the same size as the intruders. Others were armed with weapons they'd made themselves: Sticks with rocks filed to points that had been strapped down with leather twine. Knives made of stone, and miniature replicas of the average-sized weapons the others were struggling to hold.

Their clothes, concocted from potato sacks, crudely stitched, home-bred garments that were either bleached white or died an assortment of colors like camouflaged fatigues. Their heads and faces were hidden under burlap hoods. Though it left their faces bare, the flap hung low, hiding the majority of their features. All that remained were their hideous smiles. The dripping drool and crooked teeth.

Then they lunged.
A Dark Autumn

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_Kristopher Rufty_

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_Some vengeance cries for blood._

He's a writer seeking solitude. They are four women on vacation looking for fun and relaxation. But when they meet they will find only terror. An appalling crime will lead to an unthinkable, gruesome revenge. In the deep woods of Mountain Rock, no one will hear the screams, the agony, the mayhem. No one will hear them die.
**eBooks are _not_ transferable.**

**They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.**

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B

Cincinnati OH 45249

A Dark Autumn

Copyright © 2013 by Kristopher Rufty

ISBN: 978-1-61921-390-6

Edited by Don D'Auria

Cover by Scott Carpenter

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: January 2013

www.samhainpublishing.com

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