Trust Comes Easy

TRUST COMES EASY By Rogue Writer

(FF, FFF, exhibitionism, toys, threesome, drugs, violence, death, destruction of a high-grade printer)

AUTHOR NOTE: If you like this hilariously grim little tale, read some of my other equally uninspired fiction:

After the Party Daphne's New Life How I Spent My Summer Vacation by Carol Hitchcock A Death, Baked Bob, and the Personal Ad Screwing My Ex

They came out in that order, and according to one reader I got better as I went along, so do yourself a favor and read them in order to avoid getting disappointed by my early lack of skills.

DISCLAIMER: Pay attention! This story is fiction and not meant to do anything more than entertain, don't read this stuff with any intention other than having a good time, don't take life too seriously and don't swim after you've just eaten. Isn't it stupid that I have to write these warnings in case someone goes out and does something bad because of what they read in my story? What's happened in our society to cause this? I know, I know, lawsuit-happy people and the lawyers who run commercials that inspire them. Now you have to put warning labels on everything. And I understand that some things need warning labels. Hydrochloric acid -- big warning label on that one. With letters four feet tall. But I don't need a cup of coffee with a warning label that says it's hot. I know it's hot. I wanted it hot! Well, not that hot. I take it light, actually.

1. Florida, several years ago...

As the woman who had called herself Michelle finished dressing, her eyes kept going over to the dead body on the bed. It fascinated her how just a few short minutes ago the woman laying there was alive, talking, laughing, writhing in the throws of passion, and now all that was left was the shell, a motionless body growing cold and a pair of eyes that looked at nothing. No, they did look at something; they looked towards the window and the sunlight streaming in through the sheer drapes. But the eyes had nowhere to report that information to, since the brain had stopped functioning, along with all the other parts in one of the most complex organisms on the planet.

And Michelle was the one who had stopped it. She had stuck the knife into Doctor Sara Gold's heart, ending her thirty-nine year old life. Right up to the moment she'd done it Michelle felt fear and anxiety because this was the first time she was going to kill someone. But just after, she felt something she didn't expect -- power. It was the kind of power she hadn't felt in months, the kind of power she used to feel when someone put their financial future in her hands, the kind of power that told her she was special, above other people. This was why she couldn't stop looking at the body, because every second she spent with it she felt that power.

Another unexpected surprise was that she didn't feel a shred of sympathy or sorrow. Instead of feeling bad, she felt like she had done the woman a favor. Last week Sara spoke about hating that she would soon turn forty, an age she associated with older people. Now Doctor Sara Gold would remain thirty-nine forever. It was the least Michelle could do for the woman, given how much Sara had done for her over the past three months. Doctor Gold was a plastic surgeon, and a decent amount of work had been done to change Michelle's appearance. Now, along with a dye job that made her a redhead, she looked different enough to make a second-guesser out of anyone who knew her back in New York, and most likely she wouldn't be recognized at all by some cop who'd only seen a 'Wanted' poster.

All that work had been done for free, thanks to the false sob story Michelle had spun the night they met at a local lesbian club -- a viciously abusive girlfriend, a late night getaway, the girlfriend tracking her down wherever she went, feeling like there was no where left to turn. Sara offered to let Michelle stay at her place, and it wasn't long before they were involved physically and romantically. The romance part was important. Michelle expressing her love for Sara but knowing that staying there might be dangerous for both of them if the ex-girlfriend showed up, then Sara getting the idea to use her skills to change Michelle's appearance.

That's the key to any good con -- always let the mark think they came up with the idea on their own. Michelle had labeled Sara as a mark from the second she saw her car pull into the club's parking lot, where she watched from the shadows to pick out who drove in with the most expensive wheels. Sara's was a Mercedes Benz with a bumper sticker on it, something for a stray animal shelter. Anyone who puts a bumper sticker on an expensive car like that is the kind of person who puts their heart before their wallet. All Michelle had to do was provide Sara a stray to take home.

On her way out of the bedroom Michelle wiped down wherever she remembered touching today. For the past three months she had always been careful about remembering what she touched when Sara was around and then wiping it down afterwards. Whenever Michelle was in the house alone she made sure to wear some of the rubber gloves a doctor like Sara had in multitudes. It made for lots of work, and all because she had made a Stupid Move, one that had put her fingerprints in the system forever.

That mistake happened back in college, where she got arrested for stealing a car as part of a sorority initiation. Daddy had the power to fix it, to get her out before a bail hearing and have her record expunged like it never happened. But he did nothing, just let her sit in jail for the night and let the arrest stand on her record. She even had to hire her own lawyer and go to court. Luckily it was knocked down to community service and a fine. Afterwards, she asked Daddy why he'd let her go through all that when he had the power to fix it, and he said it was to teach her a lesson. She told him she knew it was wrong and she was sorry. That wasn't the lesson, he said. Plenty of people break the law or do things that are morally wrong, and people with power actually need to do those things if they want to gain and keep power.

The lesson was not to get caught.

In the kitchen Michelle wiped the knife clean of blood and fingerprints and put it in a plastic sandwich bag. She put the bag in her purse, grabbed a manila folder and keys from the kitchen counter, and went to the back door. Michelle cracked it open and looked around, trying to see if any of the neighbors were out and about. All clear. She locked the door and shut it, then strode across the backyard, stopping to pick up a decent sized stone from the rock garden, and finally down to the dock where she got into Doctor Sara Gold's boat. It was a twenty-foot motorboat that could do eighty miles per hour on the open water; full of gas and supplies for the trip they had planned. Michelle started it up and cruised out to sea. The sun was starting its downward trek on a Friday afternoon, and no one expected to see Sara Gold until Monday morning, plenty of time to get south of the border. Once there, Michelle would sell the boat and buy a few documents, then take a plane to somewhere in South America.

When she was out far enough that she couldn't see land, Michelle stopped the boat, took out the manila folder and opened it. Inside was the medical file that Sara had created for her. It was under the false name she was using, but there were also pictures of Michelle from before and after the surgery, not something she could leave behind. She tore it up page by page, into the smallest pieces she could, before tossing them overboard. That felt symbolic for Michelle, like she was literally tossing her old identity away. Now she could start new.

Only one piece of business left.

She took out the knife in the plastic bag, opened it and put the stone from the rock garden inside. Just as she was about to toss it overboard Michelle saw the distorted reflection of her face in the knife, and that feeling of power came back. Suddenly she wished she could keep the blade, so every time she looked at it she was reminded of the power. That reminded her of a sad fact -- all the things she'd had, all the things she'd worked for years to build, were forever lost. She'd fled New York with almost nothing, no mementos of what had been her power. If she could keep this one thing...

No. That was the Stupid Move. Her father always taught her to avoid making the Stupid Move, the one that separated the successful from the losers. She tossed the bag overboard and it disappeared below the surface. Michelle started up the boat and headed south with an empty feeling in her gut, wanting to feel that power again.

1. New Jersey, yesterday...

"Maggie, I've got to leave soon," Rich said.

I forced a smile. "I'll have it on your desk, don't worry."

Rich walked off and I got back to work. It was Friday afternoon and I was sitting in my area of the lab, rushing to get my part of a formula for a big project finished so I wouldn't have to take any work home. My girlfriend and I were planning to spend the weekend relaxing at our apartment, watching movies, eating take-out and having sex. The only two things that would cause us to get up from the couch were the party we were throwing Saturday night and a romantic picnic on Sunday afternoon. The past two months had been full of busy work, running errands, helping a friend move, and organizing not one but three events for charitable causes Kaye is involved in. So we planned to use this weekend for spending some "just us" time together.

I couldn't wait, and not only because the "just us" time involved copious amounts of getting slutty with each other. At the picnic on Sunday I planned to ask Kaye to fly with me to Amsterdam sometime soon and get married, which is legal there and not in the land of the free. This will be a shock to my friends, who have labeled me Miss Anti-Romance. It will be even more of a shock because Kaye and I have only been dating for eight months, but the truth is our relationship has been nothing less than extraordinary. We made love on our first date, despite the fact that she had a personal law against sex on a first date, and several days later we said "I love you" to each other without the slightest hesitation or fear.

The only hitch in the plan for this weekend was the gig I have to play tonight. Since I was eight I've played the violin, and these days I earn some extra money as part of a quartet that hires out for parties and social functions. The gig had been booked a few weeks ago, before Kaye and I planned the down time. Tonight was a dinner benefit for some charity and I'd already cleared leaving work early with my boss.

But now the project deadline had changed and I had to finish before Monday. I couldn't be late to the benefit, so if I didn't finish now that meant I'd have to finish it at home. Kaye would be pissed and I didn't want to pop the question to her when she was angry. My eyes kept looking at the clock, like it was going to somehow have sympathy for me and slow down. But there were forty minutes before I had to leave and more than an hour's worth of work to be done. This was too much stress to be under just before my pleasure weekend.

Little did I know that was the calm before the storm.

It took an extra ten minutes, but I managed to finish everything, put it on a memory stick and toss it to the project manager before running out the door. Forget the elevator, I flew down the stairs, jumped in my car and zipped out of the parking garage with tires screeching. The first red light was when I felt it, that incredible sense of relief that washed over me followed by a burst of excitement. I blasted Black Flag's 'Rise Above' on my stereo. Rolling down the window I screamed, "Yeahhhhh!" and started screaming the lyrics at the top of my lungs. The people in the next car looked at me like I had three heads.

I felt my phone vibrating and turned down the music. It was Kaye. No surprise she was home already since schoolteachers have those hours.

"Hey Pookie," I answered. That was my pet name for her.

"Hey sexy girl. I've got a surprise. You will never guess who I have sitting next to me."

"Oprah Winfrey?"

"No."

"Gwenyth Paltrow?"

"No."

"Paris Hilton?"

"Ew!"

"Elmo?"

"Stop it! I said you'd never guess! Now I hope you don't mind, but I've offered to let her stay the night..."

"I thought this was a weekend alone."

"I know, I know, but she just came in from out of town, showed up here as a surprise for you. One of your ex's."

That caught me off guard. "Okay, now you have to tell me who it is."

"No I don't. But maybe I can narrow things down. Let's just say she hinted at the idea of the three of us having some fun together."

That really didn't narrow things down very much. I've never been the romantic type, at least not before I met Kaye, so many of the girls I've ended up with were keen to having threesomes or moresomes. One girlfriend deemed me a sex addict, which I didn't argue with. Sex is fun. Sex feels great. Love hurts.

"So you okay with this?" Kaye asked. When I took a second to think she added, "C'mon, you know you want to say yes!"

That's my Little Miss Fun Time. Kaye loves to party, and if you're on the fence about staying out too late or drinking too much or taking one more hit on the joint, she'll be the one who kicks you over the edge and then jumps in right after. Funny thing is you wouldn't know it if you met her at her job. During the day she's an eighth grade English teacher, and most of her students come to her without the ability to read. A good number of her students are in gangs, and from what she tells me the girls are more vicious than the boys. Yet Kaye maintains order and her students leave the class with better grades and test scores than they came in with. Those who've had her know she's strict and doesn't put up with any shit, and the ones who haven't learn quickly. Meanwhile, I get to experience Kaye the rest of the time, where she turns into Lindsey Lohan on crack.

"Come on!" she chided. "You know, for someone who looks like a Blink 182 groupie you can be a big tight ass!"

My eyes darted to my bag on the passenger seat. Inside was a box holding identical silver rings, each inscribed with 'Maggie and Kaye forever'. I worried about this surprise visitor having some bad effect on my plans for Sunday. But then again I understood why Kaye was so gung ho about this. She'd never been in a threesome before, and even though she's always been open to the idea circumstances seemed to forever align against her. Most of the women she dated before either weren't into it or just when it seemed like they were warming up to the idea the relationship ended. And when she finally finds someone who is all about open sexual relationships, namely me, the aforementioned busy period of our lives swept in on us.

"All right," I said, "that's fine."

"Great. We're going to grab some dinner while I try to pry out some embarrassing stories about you. Have fun playing. Love you."

1. The benefit was being held in some rich bigwig's mansion. A tuxedoed guard stationed at the bottom of the driveway directed me to park around the back by the servant's entrance, presumably so my ten year-old VW Rabbit didn't show up all the Benzes and Cadillacs and Jaguars out front. I grabbed my violin and my dress and ran inside, ducking into a bathroom where I quickly changed and then made my way to the foyer, which was bigger than my apartment. The other three members of the group were already there warming up. As I took out my instrument I got a hard glare from Robert Hanson, our self appointed leader, who is also a certified asshole.

"You're late," he spewed. Then he craned his neck towards me and stared at my arms. Hanson is certain that one day he'll find track marks there, since he firmly believes that anyone who looks like me will end up on heroin.

"Stop trying to look down my dress, asshole" I said loud enough to be heard by the few guests who were standing nearby. As Hanson smiled and waved at the startled guests I began playing to drown out any further bullshit he wanted to throw my way. There were lots of things Hanson didn't like about me, which he had made clear soon after he took over the group. He didn't like my tattoos, at least the ones he could see, which were a big black 'X' on my arm, a broken heart on my ankle and a bar code on the back of my neck, and my piercings, which were in my nose and lower lip (I did diamond studs for gigs), and several in each ear. He also didn't like how I cut my dark hair, which was shorter in the back and longer in the front, or that I dyed one lock purple. He dislikes liberals, and he dislikes liberal lesbians even worse. I told Hanson that the only thing that really bothers me about him is that his hairpiece reminds me of Rose, the poodle I had when I was little. But he couldn't throw me out of the group without cause, mostly because he sensed that the other two wouldn't stay, and good players were hard to find.

We started on Vivaldi while people walked in and ate Hors d'Oeuvres and chatted. They wore expensive clothes and jewelry and talked of tax shelters and country clubs and constantly smiled at the joy of being privileged. A few of them stood in front of us and watched us play as they made comments to each other. 'This is what a fish must feel like,' was our joke in the quartet. I caught sight of a girl, maybe sixteen, standing next to a young boy around her age who flirted with her as they laughed and smiled. When I was her age I was sleeping in parks and sticking my head in dumpsters behind restaurants looking for food. I looked at the girl and thought it must be nice to not have a care in the world.

Suddenly a fortyish woman came up behind the two teens. They turned and the woman gave a stare that quickly sent the boy away. She shot the girl a stern look and it wasn't hard to tell they were mother and daughter. The daughter looked down sheepishly as the mother whispered angrily in her ear. Then the woman took her daughter by the shoulders and spun her, proceeded to wipe some crumbs off the girls dress and adjusted it to her liking. As they walked off, with the mother leading the daughter by the hand, I discarded my previous thought and remembered the grass is always greener when you're not standing in it.

During the performance my mind kept wandering to whom Kaye was with. It could be Beth Larson, since she always had the bad habit of dropping by unannounced, or Ginny Roberts, who does everything on the spur of the moment. If it was Pam Grace it meant she needed money. Then a truly horrible possibility entered my head -- Sarah Rosenberg. Please, please, don't let it be Sarah Rosenberg. That girl could talk for five hours straight before she needed to break for air.

Dinner was announced and everyone filed into the dining area. That gave us an hour break and I stepped outside for a cigarette and a phone call. I was going to demand Kaye tell me which ex she was with, mostly because I needed to know what embarrassing stories from my past were coming up. I dialed her cell phone, thinking they might still be out to dinner, and it rang and rang and I started to get worried. But then there was a click and some noise like the phone was being fumbled in her hand. Kaye finally came on the line with, "Hey sweetie!"

"Pookie, who are you with?"

"I can't tell you that, but I can tell you that she...oooh..."

"Kaye?"

"Yes...yesssss."

"Are you having sex with her?"

"A little. Uhhhhh, Jesus. Are you mad? You always talked about an open sexual relationship, but I didn't know if that...that..." She gasped. "That meant sex without each other, or the other present, or, ah, or...you know what I'm saying."

"Yes, it's okay," I reassured her.

"Good. 'Cause she said having a little warm up was a good thing, mmmmmmmespecially to get you hot. She said you liked that sort of thing. Sssso we're videotaping it to sh...sh...ow you later."

I had to admit, talking to my girlfriend on the phone while she was having sex was getting me hot. Whoever this ex was, she had my number. Then suddenly a bad thought entered my mind. "Um, Kaye, how do you even know she is who she says she is?"

My mouth stumbled over the awkward statement and that made Kaye giggle. "She showed me a, ah, picture of the two of you. You were cute with long hair."

That did narrow down the possibilities. I'd cut my hair a month after college, and dated only fifteen girls during school, compared to the twenty-six I'd dated in the five years since I graduated. Remember, sex addict yes, romantic, not really.

Trying to catch her breath, Kaye said, "Just get your butt home...when you're done. We'll try to save enough energy for, uh, round with you. Love you!"

She hung up before I had a chance to speak. I didn't care Kaye was having sex with another girl, because one of the things that made me realize she is "The One" was how we agree about our relationship. While we both feel our hearts belong to one another, we agree that our bodies should be allowed to play with whomever they want. Even though Kaye grew up privileged in Connecticut she had grown away from conservative ideas quickly. I grew up in very different circumstances, but my experiences had turned me off from society's idea of what a "loving" relationship should be. I could never survive in a monogamous relationship, and knew I had to have a partner that felt the same. The last place I expected to find such a partner was in an elementary school.

Kaye and I first met when my friend Lisa was doing her student teaching. I'm a chemical engineer and Lisa brought me in as a guest speaker to demonstrate how chemicals work in the world. Lisa and I knew each other through our college radio station when we had shows back to back. I played punk rock and would usually stay afterwards to hang out during her show, cleverly titled 'Goth That' and we became good friends. Lisa still dresses like she did in college, all black with the occasional red plaid skirt thrown in. It was fun to watch the most timid girl I'd ever known get up in front of a classroom full of rowdy, inner city eighth graders and try to keep them in line, much less teach them anything.

"Class," Lisa said. The roomful of kids were laughing and talking, screaming and yelling. "Class!" she tried again. They went on like she wasn't even there.

I'd just decided to help Lisa in my typical subtle fashion by screaming, "Shut the fuck up!" when suddenly the room became as quiet as a tomb. All the kids sat at their desks like perfect little angels, their eyes towards the door. Standing in the doorway was a woman. She smiled at them and said, "Good morning class."

In one collective sing-song voice they kids responded, "Good morning Miss Foster."

"Work on your journals for ten minutes and then we'll start."

The kids took out notebooks and started writing. Miss Foster walked up to us. She was about my age, twenty-six or so, with wavy auburn hair that came down to her shoulders and an apple nose with light sprinkling of freckles across her cheeks. Just looking at her made me hold my breath. She gave Lisa a friendly smile.

"Thanks," Lisa said shyly.

"Don't worry, you'll get the hang of it. Before they trust you to discipline them they need to get to know you. Speaking of which..." She turned her gaze to me and suddenly there was this spark, a flash behind her eyes that said I wasn't the only one eager to meet.

"Oh, Kaye this is Maggie, my friend who's giving the talk today. Mags this is Kaye, she's my teaching mentor."

When our hands reached out and took hold of each other it was totally by instinct, because our eyes never left each other. "Very glad to meet you," she said.

I finally found my breath and managed to say, "Same here."

I got through the presentation without a problem. The kids laughed at my jokes, and I did an interactive thing where I assigned each kid to be an element, made them stand together with elements of the same family and showed what happened when certain elements mixed together. At one point I caught sight of Kaye sitting in the corner, smiling at me, and that's when I wasn't making a joke.

Walking down the hallway after my presentation, I was nearly jumping out of my skin. "What the hell happened to you?" Lisa asked.

"Lis, that girl is so into me."

"Who, Kaye? You're kidding! How could you tell? Is this that gaydar thing?"

"No, this is that I could tell she was as into me as I'm into her thing. Like when you met John."

Lisa looked back towards the classroom and then at me with a skeptical look on her face. "I don't know Mags."

"Why?"

"If it was like the kind of thing that happened when John and I met, how come I didn't notice it?"

"Lis, you've got something on your shirt." I pointed my finger at her chest, and when she looked down I brought my finger up and bopped her nose, making it the four millionth time I've done that since we met. "Because you can be a space cadet Lis, that's why."

"Funny. At lunch, I might have another space cadet moment and drop my vanilla shake in your lap."

"It'll be okay, I'm wearing white pants." We walked to the parking lot before I worked up the courage to ask, "Any other reason you think I'm off about Kaye?"

Lisa turned and twirled her hair between her fingers. "Kaye just gets excitable sometimes. Remember when we saw Quentin Tarintino on Letterman and he was all hyper and nutty? She's like that, just not as annoying."

I held up a finger. "But he still makes great movies."

"Oh hell yeah. He should make Kill Bill 3: The Ghost of Bill."

Disappointment must have shown on my face because Lisa's shoulders slumped and she sighed and said, "Look, maybe tomorrow I could talk to her about you. Kind of feel her out."

I kissed Lisa on the cheek. "Thank you, best friend."

"Uh uh. This one doesn't come cheap."

"Does this mean you're not paying for lunch?"

The next day Lisa called me at work sounding uncharacteristically upbeat. "I talked to Kaye."

I said, "Give it to me."

"Okay, when I got there Kaye was at her desk grading stuff. So I asked her what she thought of my lesson plan and she said it was great, and then I ask her what she thought of your presentation and she said it was outstanding."

"Outstanding?"

"Outstanding. So of course I had this moment of jealousy because she said my lesson plan was just great and not outstanding but then I got over it when I remembered that she might want to get slutty with you."

"That's progress."

"I know, because normally I'd be freaked about it for the rest of the day but I was over it in a few seconds. So then I said, "Maggie really liked meeting you." And she said, "Yeah, she seems really cool."

"Really cool?"

"Really cool. I wasn't sure if that was in a friendly way or a more than friendly way. So I said, "Listen, Maggie has this theory about you and I told her I wasn't sure about it and I kind of wanted to ask you about it and I wasn't sure how to bring it up and..."

I impatiently said, "And..."

"And that's as far as I got because I was obviously beating around the bush and like I said she can be a little hyper. So she puts her hands up to stop me and said, "Yes, I'm gay, yes I'm available, yes I'm interested." Oh, and she also said, "Yes, I will kill you if you tell anyone at school that I'm gay."

I screamed out loud and did a stupid happy dance and tripped over my coffee table and fell on the floor. But I was still screaming. I continued to do so for a few moments before remembering Lisa. When I grabbed the phone all I heard was dial tone. I figured she was irritated by my screaming and hung up, but then ten minutes later an ambulance crew and the police showed up and it turned out she thought I was either having a heart attack or that someone broke into the apartment and was jumping me. That's my Lisa.

1. I didn't get home from the benefit until a little after nine. When I stepped off of the elevator I could hear the music from my apartment at the other end of the hall. It sounded like they were in full party mode and probably wouldn't be too long before someone called the cops. I was fishing my keys out of my pocketbook when the door across the hall opened and my neighbor stepped out. I think his name was Mike, and he was a slight, quiet man who had moved in with his wife a few months ago. They weren't very talkative people so we didn't know them very well. I hadn't seen the wife in a few weeks and just the other day Miss Prescott, the building gossip queen, told me the wife had moved out. She didn't know why for certain, but the way the guy moped around it was a good bet the wife left him. Mike looked up at me and gave me the sad stare he'd been wearing lately.

I gave him a guilty smile and said, "Sorry about the noise. I'll turn it down when I get inside."

"It's okay," he said. "I'm going out." His eyes went towards the carpet. "My first time in a singles bar in eight years."

I looked at him and struggled for something to say. Nothing was coming and I simply said, "Good luck." It sounded weak.

"Thanks," he said. I watched him walk up the hall and wanted to say something else. Part of my brain said to leave it be, not to get involved with someone else's problem. The other part of my brain just got disgusted with that thought. As Mike got in the elevator I made a promise to myself to talk to him more the next time I saw him.

Then I turned to the apartment door and quietly said to myself, "Please not Sarah Rosenburg."

When I walked into the apartment Kaye was sitting on a chair in the living room. As she got up and came towards me I had a chance to do what I love to do -- stare at the beauty that owns my heart. She was wearing a sports bra top and a pair of black yoga pants, which allowed me to appreciate her teardrop breasts, her taut stomach, the curve of her thighs, and the beautifully sculpted bare feet with a silver toe ring on her right index toe. Kaye goes to the gym regularly and is proud of her body, especially since she was a little pudgy as a kid. She's not painfully thin like a celebrity and not muscular like the weightlifting steroid queens, her body has a nice hourglass shape to it. In order to accent this, Kaye loves wearing belly chains. Tonight she wore a silver chain with colored beads hanging around the length of it. Kaye loves wearing belly chains as much as I love watching her in them.

As soon as she got to me Kaye gave me a passionate kiss, a big hug, and then stuck a drink in my hand. "You need to catch up, quickly."

While Kaye loved to workout, she also loved to drink and smoke pot. It was one of the contradictions that I loved about her.

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a woman standing on the other side of the room, facing my Rembrandt print. When she turned it took me a few seconds to recognize her, but once I did I'd have traded anything in the world to be listening to Sarah Rosenberg for the rest of the night. Plastic surgery had altered her face, which was no big surprise, and the only reason I even thought of Amanda Gailing was because she's the one who gave me the print. But the fact that she was standing in my living room after four years was nothing less than shocking. You rarely expect the fugitive criminals you've known to come back into your life.

Finding out what she told Kaye about me suddenly took on a whole new importance.

"Hey stranger," she said, her voice sounding like we were friends who parted amicably. It took every ounce of will power I had to not grab the closest sharp object and lunge at her throat.

"H-hey. What are you doing...here?"

She walked over to me. "Just happened to be back in town and thought I'd look up a familiar face." She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek.

"Yours isn't so familiar anymore," I said. When I first met her she was a brunette. The woman who stood before me had blonde hair, with higher cheekbones and a wider smile than she used to have. A pair of very full, and very sexy, Angelina Jolie style lips accented that smile. But those smoky bedroom eyes hadn't changed one bit, and neither had the message her smile conveyed. When I first met her I thought it was saying, "I'm wild", but three years later I knew I had misread it. Her smile was giving away her true nature. It was saying, "I'm trouble".

Suddenly Kaye took the drink from my hand and brought it to my lips. "Less talking more drinking," she said. Between the big, shit eating grin on her face and a playful look in her eyes I could tell Kaye was drunk.

We all sat down. "So," I said to Kaye, trying to keep the fear out of my voice. "What lies has she been telling you about me?"

"None! She's good! I couldn't get a thing out of her. Actually we spent most of the time talking about me."

Amanda smiled. "Yes, and I must say she's everything I expected you'd end up with Maggie." Her face twisted a little. "Except for the fact that she's not out. Never thought you'd stand for a closet case."

"I'm only not out at work," Kaye corrected. "And that's just because the principal is a raging homophobic asshole who's got the school board in his pocket."

I noticed a small silver video camera on the coffee table. "Whose is that?"

"Amanda's" Kaye said. "She suggested we make that hot video of what we were doing before. Make you jealous. I like the way she thinks."

"She is a little devil," I said.

Amanda smiled at me again, and I vowed that somehow I'd punch her before she left. Then I had to ask Amanda the question I'd been dreading since I walked in the door. "So, what have you been up to?"

Amanda smiled that fiendish smile again, stole a glance at Kaye, and said, "Thought you'd never ask."

Motherfucker, I thought, she's enjoying this. I knew she hadn't told Kaye a thing about the past, because Kaye would have beheaded me the moment I walked through the door. But then I started to worry that the bitch was waiting until I got home before she fucked up my life just for the fun of it. That's when I realized my predicament -- I couldn't warn Kaye about Amanda without exposing things I didn't want Kaye to know about me. I just had to hope that whatever brought Amanda here would be resolved quickly. And that it didn't have anything to do with us.

"I've been traveling a lot," Amanda said. "You know, with work and all. I explained to Kaye that's why we haven't seen each other in so long. The world is my office."

"Now that's a cool fucking job," Kaye said, "working for an international hotel chain, going to exotic places and acting like a guest to check out the service."

"Yeah," I said. "Amanda always was able to get away with the craziest things. She's practically a criminal." I smiled at Amanda. She didn't look worried in the least. I realized there was something about Amanda that wasn't there four years ago. Beyond the obvious physical changes there was something even bigger that was different under the surface. It was in the way she had moved when she came towards me, the way her arms hung at her sides, the way she smiled, the way she looked at me and everything else in the room. It annoyed me that I couldn't put my finger on it, because whatever it was, my mind was telling me to be frightened of it.

The CD player was on shuffle and a song by the Sneaker Pimps started. Amanda looked at me. "Remember this?" She turned to Kaye. "This was our song back in the day. We loved dancing to it. And fucking to it."

Kaye's eyes widened. I knew she was turned on, by Amanda's candor and the sultry glance I received after she said it. "Well," Kaye said as she picked up the remote and switched to another song. "We don't want to get too ahead of ourselves." She chose a dance song and stood up, offering a hand to each of us. Amanda and I stood and the three of us started to dance together.

We worked our bodies to the rhythm, occasionally taking turns grinding up to each other. There was also laughter and goofiness and for a few minutes I forgot I was in the company of one of the most treacherous women I'd ever met.

At one point Kaye reached over and turned down the volume. "I hate to be a downer, but I need to take a break." She started walking away.

I was a little out of breath when I asked, "Where are you going?"

In a proper tone, she responded, "To fire some ass monkeys into the toilet."

There was a pause, and then we all burst out laughing. Not a giggly laugh, but a full-blown go-until-you-can't-breathe-anymore laugh. It took almost a minute for us to settle down, but then Kaye lost it again and Amanda and I followed suit. Eventually I controlled myself enough to ask, "Where the hell did you get that?"

Kaye had been laughing so hard that tears were coming from her eyes. Between giggles she said, "One of my kids. It took everything I had not to laugh while I told him that's not the way to ask about going to the bathroom."

That sent us into a laughing fit again, and it was another minute before Kaye could function enough to walk away. Amanda and I were trying to catch our breaths, still having the occasional chuckle, when I heard the bathroom door shut. My laughter stopped on a dime, my smile dropped and my tone became serious as I gave Amanda a hard look and said, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Her smile widened and she shook her head. "Well, well, not much has changed. You're still all business."

"You want money? I'll give it to you. Just get out of here once you have it."

"And miss all the fun of watching you squirm? Little Miss Serious, always making plans and plotting your every move. Just the possibility that you might fall apart is worth sticking around for."

"Stick around much longer and I might have to call the police. They'd love to sit and talk with you, wouldn't they?"

"You're not going to call the police. Then you might have to explain our past to Kaye. I don't think she'll want to be your sweetheart much longer after that."

I let my anger get away from me. "Bitch!"

I threw a fist at her, but she caught it in her hand. My other hand grabbed her throat and she grabbed mine. Her arms were skinny but proved to be all muscle as she wrestled me down on the couch. I pressed my thumb onto her windpipe, but other than a little gagging she showed no sign that I was hurting her. She got her fist away from my hand and pried my other one off her neck, then grabbed a throw pillow and covered my face with it. Suddenly I couldn't breathe. I kicked and threw my fists at her body but I couldn't see where I was aiming. Amanda pressed the pillow harder and I thought she was going to kill me.

Then she pulled it off and I coughed and gasped for air. When I looked up Amanda was putting the pillow back in place. I couldn't stop coughing as I heard the end of the toilet flushing. Amanda helped me up to a sitting position and started rubbing my back.

Kaye stepped into the doorway. She was stark naked.

My body actually stopped coughing for a moment. Amanda said, "So much for not getting ahead of ourselves." And then I started coughing again.

Kaye looked at me with concern. "Babe, are you okay?"

"Just..." I coughed twice and then held up my glass, "...went down the wrong pipe."

She walked in and my coughing started to subside as I admired her. I loved looking at the curve of her pert breasts, which were capped with small pink areolas, and her nipples were like hard pebbles on top. Her mound had a strip of brown hair that she kept neatly trimmed. Kaye walked over to the table and picked up the camera, turned and started hooking it up to the television. Her lovely toned ass commanded our attention, the small butterfly tattoo on her right cheek somehow managing to enhance its perfection.

Kaye sat between us on the couch, placing her hands on our legs. The screen flickered and came to life, a shot of the very couch we were sitting on. Kaye sat there dressed in a blue sweater and dark skirt, the outfit she'd worn to work earlier that day. Amanda walked into the shot and sat down. They stared at each other for a few moments, but the eager anticipation in their eyes was obvious. Kaye looked hesitant, like she wanted to move towards Amanda, her upper body slightly rocking back and forth, but something kept her from following through. Amanda simply sat there, half a smile on her face, and that thing about her that I couldn't put my finger on came back into my mind. I still couldn't figure out what it was, and my hand balled into a fist at the frustration.

Then almost simultaneously they moved toward each other and started kissing. There were no light pecks and it was neither soft nor tender, just an open mouthed sloppy wet kiss full of passion. I could just imagine Kaye sitting through dinner in some restaurant with Amanda, trying to contain all her bottled up excitement at finally getting into a threesome, and with the beautiful creature sitting in front of her no less.

As on-screen Kaye enjoyed the kiss, the Kaye sitting next to me started to rub my leg suggestively. I turned and noticed she was staring at me intently. I put my arm around her shoulders and started to lean in for a kiss, but her finger came to my lips and stopped me. "Un uh. Not yet."

I pouted and she smiled. There was a moan and I turned back to the screen and saw Amanda was licking Kaye's neck, which was one of her big turn-on points, and had a hand up under her sweater, presumably playing with her breast. Then Amanda pulled back and took off Kaye's top. The kissing and fondling continued, and I felt a tingle between my legs. Kaye moved her hand to the inside of my leg and I let out an audible sigh.

On the screen, Kaye's upper body was sprawled out on the couch and Amanda was sucking on a nipple while her hand toyed with the other one. Kaye's eyes were closed and her mouth was open, her jaw moving up and down slightly with each mini wave of excitement. Amanda moved her mouth to the other nipple and gave it the same treatment, then started to lick her way down Kaye's stomach. She stopped at Kaye's belly button and gave it a little rim job, and then Kaye pushed Amanda away and sat up. She unbuttoned Amanda's shirt, and just as she got to the last button she leaned in and they started kissing again. Kaye slid the shirt off of Amanda's shoulders, made quick work of her bra and exposed a pair of breasts I hadn't seen in a while. They were large, probably bigger than Kaye's and mine put together. Kaye worked her way down and spent some time licking and sucking them, her tongue snaking over and around the large nipples.

I felt very hot and downed my drink. Kaye jumped up and said, "I'll get you another one." She grabbed the glass and ran into the kitchen. There was a moan from the television, where Kaye continued to work on Amanda's nipples. Her eyes fixed on the screen, Amanda said, "She has an amazing tongue." Then she looked at me and winked.

Kaye came back in and handed me my drink. I took a taste and nearly gagged because she had made it very strong. Then I realized a little numbness was exactly what I needed and took a big gulp. My girlfriend sat back down and resumed her caressing of our legs. I looked up at the screen, which had turned blue.

"That's all you guys did?" I asked.

Kaye turned and with a sultry look on her face said, "Hardly."

I looked back at the screen and two seconds later an image of our bedroom popped up. The shot was of the side of our bed, and Kaye was sitting on the edge, naked. I realized the camera was sitting on the low dresser across from that side of the bed. Amanda walked into the frame, also naked, and as she approached, Kaye started to lie back onto the mattress. Amanda leaned down and they started kissing, and when they broke apart Kaye crawled back further onto the mattress, where Amanda worked again on Kaye's breasts. After a while she started licking her way down Kaye's belly, and when she reached her muff Amanda gave a few licks around the strip of hair. Kaye spread her legs and Amanda brought her index finger up to the folds, playing with and caressing them. Kaye pursed her lips and let out an audible sigh. Then Amanda positioned to slide her finger in Kaye's hole.

"Wait," Kaye said. She brought her legs up, grabbed behind her knees and then brought them back until her feet were behind her head, essentially folding herself in half. Kaye was on the gymnastics team in high school and college, and she had once dreamed of joining the Cirque Du Soleil.

On screen Amanda said, "Wow."

Amanda on the couch said, "Yeah, still wow."

We both laughed. I loved what Kaye could do with herself. I could lick her from asshole to clit in one swipe. And that was exactly what Amanda did on screen. Kaye gave a loud, "Oh!" on the first lick and then began to breathe quickly and audibly as Amanda repeated that same lick back and forth several times. Then her tongue started licking the folds of Kaye's pussy, while her index finger started to play around Kaye's slit, teasing, testing, and occasionally going in for a shallow dip just to antagonize. I remembered her doing that to me a million times in the two years we dated.

Amanda's finger slid into Kaye, and she slowly pumped in and out. Suddenly there was a moan that didn't come from the screen, and I looked next to me. Amanda had put her hand on Kaye's bare leg and was caressing it. Kaye's eyes were closed and suddenly I was very jealous. Why hadn't I thought of that? But then I remembered my rule -- never get jealous in a threesome because it's not all about you. That's been an easy rule to follow, at least until now, when the woman I hated more than anyone else is turning on the woman I love the most.

I leaned in and started kissing Kaye's neck, which made her let out a breath, and when I started licking she moaned loudly. Amanda brought her hand to Kaye's bush and let her fingers dance lightly over the patch of hair. I kissed and licked my way down her shoulder and finally to her breast, running my tongue around the small globe and licking and sucking her nipple.

"Oh God," Kaye sighed, "you're both turning me on so much." She gasped and said, "Somebody kiss me." Amanda was closer, and she engaged Kaye's mouth with the same passionate kiss they had shared on the screen. Kaye cupped my chin with her hand, pulled my head up and brought me into the kiss. Our tongues danced in a three-way until I finally ended up kissing just Kaye. Our lips and tongues joined with the mixture of romance and lust I'd come to expect from her, the moistness of her tongue and the softness of her skin mixed with the ferocity of her passion and instantly turned me on. Kaye could bring me to an aroused state within seconds of a kiss, because I could tell which ones were the lovey-dovey kisses and which were the I'm-about-to-tear-off-your-clothes ones.

We broke off and suddenly Amanda's face was there. I didn't even hesitate. Caught up in the moment I tossed my worry and fear about her aside and we kissed like lovers again. Her lips and tongue dominated the kiss just as she had once dominated my life, thoughts, and wet dreams. I felt her hands start to caress me, and even through my clothes she managed to touch me in ways that made my heart flutter.

When we parted, Kaye started assisting Amanda in taking off her top. A loud cry brought my attention back to the TV, where Amanda had narrowed her tongue's attention to Kaye's clit while her fingers worked rapidly in and out of Kaye's pussy. I'd been in many threesomes and seen many of my girlfriends having sex with another girl, but something about watching Kaye being pleasured by another turned me on in a way I'd never felt before. I had always worried that loving someone would mean jealousy in this kind of situation, but somehow it was just the opposite.

Next to me, Kaye started fondling Amanda's breasts while sharing a few kisses. On screen, Kaye shook and cried out and then went slack and started whimpering, which was what she commonly did after a good orgasm. Amanda got up from the bed, walked over to the camera and stuck her face into the lens.

"Hope you enjoyed this as much as I did, Mags."

She kissed the screen and then it went back to blue. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder. Kaye and Amanda were looking at me and smiling.

"End of movie," Kaye said. "Start of orgy."

We made our way into the bedroom. There sat the king size bed Kaye had insisted on having. It's not that she needed space for when we slept, usually we fell asleep with one of us holding the other. No, Kaye wanted it so that when we have sex there's plenty of room to have fun. On the bed sat the real Pookie, or Mr. Pookie as I called him. He was a small stuffed bear I've had since I was six, with his frayed fur and a few obvious patch jobs showing his years.

"I can't believe you still have him," Amanda said.

"Of course." I carefully moved him from the bed to a chair across the room. Facing him away from the action, of course.

The three of us got onto the bed and the fun began. We got Amanda undressed the rest of the way and Kaye and I each took a breast. As I sucked on a nipple I looked over and saw the love of my life doing the same thing to the same girl, and I got that feeling again. It was like a wave of ecstasy that mixed the highs of love and lust.

At some point the two of them undressed me and after that we got lost in each other. I ate out Amanda while she ate out Kaye. Amanda fingered my ass while Kaye's tongue toyed with my clit. I sucked on Kaye's toes while Amanda gave her rosebud a rim job. We played in so many combinations that after a while I couldn't remember whom I'd done what to. Finally we were lying there in bed, unable to move after so many orgasms. The heavy breathing had ended and we started cuddling up against each other, the feeling of bare skin comforting after such an intense high.

"Wow," Amanda said weakly. "We had to have set a record for something tonight."

I smiled. "Maybe it was The Longest Threesome Ever. How long have we been at it?"

"I don't know." Kaye said. "Didn't look at the clock when we started. How many orgasms you have?"

"Lost count," Amanda said.

"Lost the ability to count," I added.

"Well," Kaye said, "I'll just buy a copy of the Guinness Book Of World Records and write something in the bottom of a page for us."

We giggled. I put up my hand like I was writing. "Maggie, Kaye and Amanda. They did something, and they did it plenty."

We broke out into laughter. Then suddenly Kaye stopped and bolted upright. "That reminds me! I have to go call Lucy! I always told her I'd let her know after my first threesome."

Kaye jumped out of bed, grabbed her cell phone and dashed out to the living room. Once again Amanda and I were alone together. I felt the tension grow as Kaye left the room, but Amanda turned on her side and gave me a warm smile.

"Seems like old times," she said.

I couldn't help but smile back. "Yeah."

"You haven't lost your edge in bed."

"You neither."

Amanda leaned forward and brought her lips to mine, engaging me with the kind of soft, tender kiss she knew I loved. Once again I let my anger and fear of her subside. She took me in her arms and the kiss intensified, her tongue deftly moving into my mouth as our breasts pressed up against each other, our bodies turning so she was on top, her leg moving between mine and pressing down. I moaned and she broke the kiss, pulling back so she could look down at me, her intense eyes burrowing into mine and making me feel weak.

"Come away with me."

She had spoken in a breathless whisper, and in my aroused state I barely managed to say, "What?"

"What do you think I came back for? I've got everything I need where I am, except you. I want you to come with me." Her fingers came to my lips and lightly started to trace them. I felt like I was sitting on a cloud and falling at the same time. Four years ago Amanda was everything I wanted. A sexy, powerful, confident woman who pursued her desires with vigor. I wanted her as much as I wanted to be her. All those things came rushing back to me in that moment.

"But Kaye..."

Amanda's fingers moved to trace the side of my face, while hers moved closer to mine.

"Isn't worthy of you on her best day."

And suddenly the spell was broken. I pushed Amanda away and gave her the best angry look I could muster at the moment.

Kaye walked back in with a towel over her hand. "Want to see a magic trick?"

As Amanda and I turned towards her we erased the harsh looks on our faces.

Kaye waved her hand over the towel and then pulled it up with a "Ta da!" In her hand sat a packed bowl and a lighter.

Amanda and I both smiled at her, the picture of civility.

Fifteen minutes later the three of us were good and high. It's always a great feeling getting high after sex, like when Kaye and I went and had a fun day at an amusement park and then enjoyed really good food at a restaurant later.

"This is the greatest," Kaye said, and then fell back onto the bed and stretched out her naked body. "I love to Shake 'n Bake."

"Shake n' Bake? Amanda asked.

"Having sex and then getting stoned," I said.

Amanda smiled. Then she turned to me and out of the blue said, "Have you ever gotten back in contact with your family?"

I froze. Amanda's first attack, and definitely not what I'd have guessed.

A confused look crossed Kaye's face. "What are you talking about?" She sat up and looked at Amanda. "Maggie never had contact with her family. Figured since she was left an orphan that they didn't want to ever know her."

"Orphan? Maggie was never an orphan. She...oh shit." Amanda looked at me with fake surprise. Or maybe not so fake. She went fishing and happened to hit pay dirt on the first shot. "I'm sorry baby, I just assumed you'd have told her."

Kaye looked confused. "What? Told me what?"

I swallowed hard, and tried to control my fear. "I wasn't an orphan that grew up in a foster home, like I told you. Actually it was the opposite, I grew up with a family, parents and a brother, but then they threw me out of the house."

I could almost feel the temperature in the room drop. Or maybe it was my skin growing cold. Kaye stared at me. "Wait, so, you lied to me?"

"I just...I'm sorry."

I could see the surprise in her face, touched with a hint of anger, and the effort she was making to keep it under control. Finally she said, "I can't..." then got up and walked out.

I shot Amanda a nasty look as she smiled and blew me a kiss. I got up and went to the living room. Kaye was sitting on the couch, her legs crossed underneath her, staring at the black screen of the television. I thought about asking her if I could sit, but the look on her face said I shouldn't bother. I sat on the love seat.

In a low, throaty voice, she said, "You know how I feel about lying."

That scared me. Kaye had some bad experiences with an ex-girlfriend named Trish who turned out to be drug addict. I didn't want Kaye associating me with someone who put her through the ringer emotionally as well as financially.

"Yes, I know" I said. "I was going to tell you the truth, but I just hadn't worked up the courage yet."

Her intense gaze came to me. "So what, you're scared of me?"

I shook my head. "Once I graduated college and got on my feet, I didn't want to be anyone's sympathy case. I'd spent too many years asking people for help, telling my story so they'd feel sorry for me, and I never wanted that to happen again. I didn't want people to treat me different, including girlfriends. Like I said, I was working up the courage to tell you, but I was scared because you'd had that experience with Trish and I was afraid you wouldn't understand why I didn't want to tell you the truth from the start."

Kaye sat there quietly, hopefully considering what I'd just told her. I sat there scared out of my wits, trying hard not to shed a tear and determined not to let Amanda screw up my relationship.

Finally Kaye said, "So the pictures you showed me of the foster family?"

"The Yangs. They kind of did foster me, for a year and a half. It's a long, complicated story."

She looked at me. The anger in her face was gone, replaced by sadness. "Well why don't you tell it to me."

I nodded. "Okay. I told you I'm from Utah. My parents, like ninety percent of the rest of the state, are Mormon, and when I was fifteen they threw me out."

"Because they found out you were a lesbian."

I nodded. "Big no-no in the Mormon faith. I knew they were going to take it hard, but I didn't expect to come home from school one day and find all my stuff sitting on the sidewalk." Kaye's face softened. She reached over and put her hand on mine. I smiled at her. "I sat on the curb and cried for a while, but then I made a promise to myself. I swore that I would succeed, become whatever I would have if they had never thrown me out. It was rough at first. I started out sleeping in parks, rummaging in dumpsters for food."

Kaye made a face.

"Yeah, but I learned quickly to choose where I did it. Restaurants toss out stuff and it's usually in pretty good shape. But the important thing was that I stayed in school, worked my ass off to get good grades."

A small smile crossed Kaye's face. "Scholarships."

I nodded. "It was the only way I was going to afford college. But going back to school wasn't easy either. You of all people know how kids can be. Everyone called me 'Faggy Maggie', and people wouldn't even talk to me because the next day there'd be a rumor that maybe they were gay too. The few of my friends tried to stand by me were given so much shit by everyone, their parents included, that eventually they gave up too."

Kaye winced. "My God."

Thinking about those days had me on the verge of tears. I held them back, looked up at Kaye and brought up a good memory. "But I stuck with it. I was even the class Valedictorian. At graduation, when I went up to the podium to give my speech, all I said was, "Fuck you all." Then I walked away."

Kaye smiled. "Now I know where you get all your charm from."

I smiled back and squeezed her hand. "Yeah. That and Mr. Yang. Guy had the sharpest tongue I've ever heard. His family adopted me for a while after he found me dumpster diving behind his restaurant. Gave me a job, let me sleep in a room in their attic..."

"Taught you how to make great dumplings."

"Oh yeah."

We sat silently for a few moments, looking at each other. Finally I said, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

She took a deep breath and said, "No, I understand. It's just...it was hard finding out this way."

That brought my mind back to Amanda. "Trust me, it's not how I planned it either."

We went back into the bedroom. Amanda looked at us, guilt written all over her face. "Are you guys okay? I'm sorry, really sorry."

"That's okay," Kaye said. "I think we just all need some sleep."

1. The clock read four a.m., and light snoring had been coming from Amanda for almost an hour. I decided that was good enough and carefully dislodged myself from under her leg, slipped out from under the covers and managed to tip-toe to the door without hitting any of the really creaky floorboards. I shut the bedroom door behind me and crept to the bathroom, where I turned on the light and then shut the door without going in. Slowly I moved past the bedroom door to the living room, where Amanda had left her bag. It was a large leather duffel that was cracked and weathered with age. I opened it and started sifting through the contents.

There were very few clothes. Either she wasn't staying long or being a fugitive had taught her to travel light. I was hoping for the former.

What did fill the bag were books. Four were histories of Greek, Roman, and Egyptian societies, mostly covering the wealthy members of each society and how they lived and carried on with wild sex. Another two were true crime novels, which seemed hilariously ironic, also an FBI training manual, a book on coin collecting, another book on law enforcement techniques, and a book on document forgery. At first I started to wonder what library she belonged to, but then I realized the FBI training manual can probably be purchased on the black market and the rest found on the Internet.

There was a small mesh bag that contained three passports. All had Amanda's picture, but the names were Gwen Harlan, Lisa Sutton, and Michelle Stacy. There was a small metal lock box as well. I couldn't find a key for it. Whatever was inside was solid and heavy, as I found out when I turned it over and it clanked against the side of the box. I froze and listened to see if the noise woke Kaye or Amanda. Nothing. I carefully put the box down and continued my search.

A folder contained the kind of paperwork that would back up Amanda's claim that she inspected hotels for a living, which I knew was total bullshit. That kind of job required flying everywhere, and even with good forged documents she'd keep her traveling to a minimum in the post-9/11 world. Finally, I found a thin binder. Inside was a cover page.

As Naked As A Tree

By

Carol Hitchcock

I wondered if this was the same Carol Hitchcock who had recently written a best selling book, one that some friends had told me I needed to read. As I flipped through the pages and saw this was a rough copy, with margin notes in red pen and circled spelling errors, suddenly a crazy thought hit me -- was Carol Hitchcock really Amanda? But I quickly realized that couldn't be true. I'd seen Hitchcock's picture on the back of her book and watched an interview with her on television. Some people ghostwrite with fake names, but I'd never heard of anyone using an actor to represent themselves in public. Then again, Amanda had serious reasons to stay out of the public eye.

Suddenly I heard something and turned. Amanda was standing over me.

I had no idea how she'd gotten so close without a sound. And that's when it hit me, that change I'd noticed. Being a fugitive meant living like a wild animal, pursued by predators and having to stay one step ahead all the time. Her eyes had an intense, feral look and every movement she made seemed like it was done with a singular purpose. She could probably sit still with an incredible patience, putting intense thought into every move, executing that move with deftness and precision.

Like sneaking up on her prey without a sound.

"Find anything interesting?" Amanda asked. She looked down and saw the binder in my hands. "Funny story about how I got that. I'll tell you sometime."

"Why are you here?" I asked.

"I already told you. I want you back."

"Do you really think I'm that fucking stupid?"

Amanda chuckled, crossed her arms and shook her head. "No, and I should have known better. The other story I came up with was asking for your forgiveness, you know, for leaving you to deal with the cops and all, but that sounded like even bigger bullshit. And I know you're a smart one."

"Honestly, I don't care why you're here. Just leave or I'll call the police."

"No, you won't." Amanda crouched down and put her face right in front of mine. "You've got it good here Mags, nice place, a good job, but most of all you've got yourself an outstanding girl. She's a real wildcat. Perfect partner for the one person I thought would never settle down." Amanda's face took on a ferocious look as she cupped the bottom of my face in her hand and held hard. "But know that if you fuck with me, I'll make sure she never wants to see your goddammed face again. Earlier was just a taste. If she didn't even know about you getting tossed by your parents in high school, just imagine how shocked she'll be when she finds out what you did in college."

I spat in her face. Amanda stared at me, and a slow smile grew as a gob of my saliva moved down her cheek. Suddenly she moved forward and kissed me on the lips. I tried to pull back but her grip on my chin was strong. She ended the kiss, shoved my face away and stood up.

Amanda wiped the gob of spit off her cheek with a finger and stuck in her mouth, sucking it off. "Mmm. It's like I can taste the stubbornness." She looked straight at me. "Just this one night and part of tomorrow. Then I'll be out of your hair forever, and you can go back to this little domestic bliss you worked so hard to create. But you give me trouble, and I'll make sure she tosses you out just like your parents did."

I wanted to cry. I wanted to run. I wanted to wake up and have this nightmare over.

Amanda held out her hand. "Now come to bed."

I took her hand. What else could I do?

Coming in part two -- you'll find out what Maggie did in college. And so will Kaye.

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