Chapter 13
Two men were standing beside the housecar's door when Juliet stepped down from it, first thing in the morning. She turned and started back inside, but one of them caught her elbow, clamping hard upon her upper arm with strong fingers.
"The kids in there, lady?" The man was thick-chested, thick-browed, and wore a sports shirt that bulged over his protruding belly.
Juliet said coldly, "Take your goddamned hands off me."
He grinned at his partner and squeezed harder, almost bringing Juliet to her knees. "Don't get smart, lady. I asked you a question."
She tried to pull away and couldn't. "Who-who are you?"
"Don't make no difference who; we come for the-kids. Call 'em on out here."
They were afraid to break into the van for some reason; they were depending upon her to bring Ryan and Rochelle out into the open where they could grab them without some kind of legal complications. Like a search warrant, she thought-or private-investigator credentials that were no good in this state.
"Go to hell," she said, and lifted her voice to yell, "Blake! Robin! Men are holding me out here-grab a gun!"
There wasn't a gun of any sort in the van, but these people didn't know that. The chunky one dropped her arm as if it had turned white hot, and backed off two quick steps. "Now look-"
The other man said, "Watch it, Harry! They're coming out."
He was short and skinny, with a prominent Adam's apple and eyes gone nervous behind pale sunglasses. He wore a straw hat, one of those plantation things with a bright band. It looked ridiculous on him.
Harry said to Blake as her husband bounced down from the housecar, "Wait a minute, mister! We're officers of the law, and if you start something with us, you're in big trouble."
Blake moved to one side, and Robin jumped to the ground, one hand under his shirt as if he were holding something there. Robin moved to the other side, watching the big guy, glancing at the retreating little man and dismissing him.
Harry said, "Look, damn it-you hear me now-"
Juliet kicked him in the leg, using the side of her foot because she had on sneakers. She hit him above the knee, and it must have hurt like hell, because he jumped and bellowed like a rump-shot bull.
"Damn you, woman! I'll-"
She didn't learn what he was going to do to her, because just then her husband leaped forward and hit the man on the side of the head. He fell over onto his knees, his shirt popping open to expose his hairy belly button, looking for all the world like an ugly and surprised Buddha.
Robin came in fast from the other side and destroyed the image, hitting the man so hard that Harry fell face down and didn't wiggle.
The skinny man squeaked, "I didn't do anything! You better not attack me."
Blake was breathing hard and looking mean. He advanced slowly upon the man in the plantation hat. "Listen, you. Nobody manhandles my wife; nobody tries to run a bluff on the rest of us. You show a warrant and some badges, or haul ass out of here, and take your fat buddy with you."
The man backed off rapidly, scuttling sideways, a crab in a ludicrous hat. "You won't get away with it. You can't run much farther, because I got friends in the highway patrol, and they'll let me know exactly where that van is."
"Shove it," Robin said, "and your patrol friends, too. Come on, people-before I'm tempted to run down that little son of a bitch and stomp a hole in his ass."
Blake asked, "You okay, Juliet?"
"Of course," she said, her voice shaking only a little bit. "I'd just like to finish my trip to the bathroom."
She saw Harry pushing himself painfully up from the blacktop, shaking his head. There was an ugly welt already rising over one eye. He got up and balanced there, swaying, holding one hand to his eye. Without saying anything, he wobbled off after the other man, his colorful shirt still hanging open, flapping behind him.
Juliet walked sort of precariously into the rest room and found an empty booth. When she sat down, her knees just about collapsed. She hadn't known she was that scared.
So Martin's people had managed to find them here. He must be spending a small fortune on private detectives, so all roads in adjoining states could be watched for them. The big travel bus was so conspicuous, they couldn't hide it. She didn't know what the hell they were going to do.
She came out of the booth and washed, using the toothbrush and paste she'd carried wrapped in a towel, brushing her hair carefully and tying it back with a bright piece of ribbon. When she turned, Rochelle was standing there, looking very small and frightened.
"Auntie-I didn't know-I mean, we didn't think that Daddy would send someone else. We thought he'd come himself, and when we called him-"
Juliet gasped. "You called him? Why?"
The girl's eyes were wide, tearful. "Because Ryan and I d-decided he ought to be here with us, that we could help him, and if I made him-we'd all swing together, and-and there wouldn't be any more of this hiding-oh, Auntie! Now I'm so sorry. Now Daddy knows where we are, and he'll only send more of those ugly men after us."
Reaching out, Juliet scooped the girl close, held her sobbing into her pillowing breasts. "Come on, Rochelle; let's go back to the van, and we'll talk it all out. It's all right, honest. It's okay."
And in the housecar, they held what amounted to a council of war. Manfully, Ryan took his share of the blame, adding that he still thought it was a pretty good idea-if his father came himself.
Blake looked thoughtful. "Why not? Now, wait a minute, before you start yelling, Melanie. The twins have a perfectly good plan, one that will fix Martin one way or the other. Or fix us; I'm perfectly aware of that possibility. He couldn't prove anything that could count as a felony, unless they've been using directional mikes, electronic snoopers and infrared cameras. So I have to vote with the kids."
"Me, too," Juliet put in. "It's one way to end it, Melanie."
Rochelle said softly, clinging to her mother's hand, "If I called him again, and told him we'd be somewhere special-"
"Sure!" Melanie said excitedly. "And we can trap him when he won't be expecting it."
"You won't hurt him?" the girl asked anxiously.
They chorused no, and Blakes said, "Here's some change. Go call your dad and tell him we're doubling back to throw him off the trail, that we're going the most direct route, right back to Robin's house. To Uncle Robin's house, don't forget; but say that we won't be there until late tonight."
Robin frowned. "We can make it by evening, if we romp on it and take turns driving."
"Right," Blake said, "so we'll be there ahead of him, waiting. All of us will be waiting for Martin Clements."
They pulled out within minutes, eating breakfast on the road, staying within the speed limits most of the time, but barely, and when the stretches of highway were long and deserted, whoever was driving kicked the van to its limit, hurrying all the way home.
Juliet worried, and took a nip of bourbon from time to time to ease her nagging apprehension. What if her brother-in-law was waiting for them? Suppose all the snooper gadgets had been employed by the investigators, and there was enough on tape and on film to give Martin a big legal club to hold over them?
He could give them a choice-either turn the twins over to him permanently, or face prosecution for statutory rape and contributing to the delinquency of minors; maybe a few other complicated charges arising from crossing state lines.
She downed a few more belts and fell asleep lying across the bunkbed, Rochelle snugged in beside her. It was funny, she thought, just before the fretful dreams came to plague her, but nobody in the moving housecar seemed to be thinking about screwing now. It took a relatively clear mind for people to concentrate on fucking, to give themselves wholly to its total enjoyment. Worried people didn't make good screwers.
The dreams were swiftly passing, fearful, yet foreboding no danger she could read; but the colors of her dreams were gray and black, or brown, and when she came awake, Juliet was glad.
It was later than she thought; the liquor must have soothed her well, and kept her under for quite a while. The van was turning into the familiar driveway as she sat up.
"The playroom," Robin was saying. "That will be perfect. You know I had it soundproofed, so the stereo wouldn't bother the neighbors. Let's leave the door open and the twins sitting on the couch inside, with the light shining on them. You and I will be beside the door, and when Martin comes in, we'll grab him. I have some nylon clothesline-"
Juliet nodded to herself, found the hair ribbon that had slipped off and put it back into place. Martin would hurry into the house and see the open playroom door on his right, see his children. He would go right in to them, and from there on, it would be up to Blake and Robin.
She followed them out of the housecar, and went quickly to one of the bathrooms, hoping she could finish a shower and change into one of Gale's robes before anything happened. When she came down again, fresh and clean, smelling good, she knew a sense of excitement. Their plan would just have to work out, for the good of them all-including Martin.
She peeked down the hall, and Melanie quieted her from the shadows. Her sister caught her arm and pulled her close. "There's a car out front, and we think it's his. The kids are in place-bait in the trap. I could call it a rat trap, but I won't. I'm not really mad at Martin, just hurt. I love him, you know."
"I know," Juliet said quietly. "That's the door. He isn't ringing the bell."
"The guys left it unlocked on purpose," Melanie said. "Shh, now; we don't want him to hear us."
Juliet saw the figure ease into the darkened hall. The door closed behind him, so she knew he was alone this time, come to claim his kids, by force if necessary. She watched him glide a few feet, looking from side to side. Then he saw the open playroom door. Its light played upon his face. Martin seemed surprised, then he frowned and straightened up to march into the room.
"Bingo!" Melanie hissed, and on the echo of her whisper came the sounds of scuffling, the crash of something being kicked over.
She was right with her sister, and Gale was just behind them. They ran into the playroom entrance. The first Juliet saw was Rochelle's big, wide eyes; then she saw Ryan's tense face. Wheeling to one side, she saw the rest of it-Blake and Robin sitting on Martin, flattening him out.
"You-you crazy bastards! What the hell-"
Robin was busy with the nylon cord, looping it around Martin's wrists, dragging the man's hands behind his back, knotting the cord.
"I'll kill you!" Martin raged as Blake rolled him over, avoiding the flying feet until he could kneel on the legs and hold them down.
"Take his shoes off, then his pants," he said to Robin.
Checking the bindings, Robin let go of Martin's arms and moved around to strip his legs. Martin lay in shock, staring with disbelief until they got his shorts off. When he tried to fight, it was too late.
Blake said, "We'll have to rip off his shirt and T-shirt, but what the hell."
"Sons of bitches," Martin said. "You goofy bastards are up to something, but I don't know-oh, lord! The kids! Get them out of here!"
Swiveling his head around, he saw the others-his wife, Gale, Juliet. Juliet smiled at him as if to say don't worry, nobody's going to hurt you. She hadn't remembered Martin as being quite that slight. The other men were much bigger.
Face flaming, Martin dropped his eyes and bit his lips. Juliet stared at his nude body and saw the limp prick that her younger sister had been fucking all these years. It was wrinkled and ashamed, trying to hide between Martin's legs, but even so, there seemed to be an awful lot of it.
"What the hell are you doing to me?" Martin asked, his voice colder and more under control.
"Getting you off everybody's back," Blake said, standing up and looking down. "Robin-I guess we'd better lash his ankles, too. Tie him to this heavy couch here, right around the legs. He'll play hell kicking loose from that."
"Damn it-why?" Martin grated.
Robin grinned and surveyed his handiwork, tested the bindings. "Get him spread real good, Blake. Martin, just shut up and relax. Isn't that what they say to do when rape is inevitable?"
"Rape? If you think you can get off the hook by-by this freaky performance-"
Blake moved out of the man's immediate line of vision to say softly to Rochelle, "Do you want us in, or out? Are you sure you can handle this?"
"I-I have to," the girl breathed. "If-just everybody stay back out of sight, please. I'd like you close by."
They drifted back, took positions on the other sofa, in the shadows. Juliet kept her eyes fixed on the naked man who wiggled helplessly upon the carpet. The table lamp cast a soft circle of light upon him, and now little Rochelle moved into it.
She had dropped her robe farther back, and stood poised like a miniature goddess, the light sliding appraising rays over the lovely hills and beautiful valleys of her sleek young body. At that moment, Rochelle was breathtakingly beautiful; her head was held high and proudly.
Martin said roughly, "You-like that? Go on, get out of here! Go put on some clothes. You're a disgrace!"
Her voice was tender, faint, so that they had to strain to make out the words. "Am I disgraceful, Daddy? Really? Or am I pretty? You like me, I know it; you look at my naked body and you like it."
"Damn it, Rochelle! Do as I say! I'm your father, and-"
She slid nearer, turning her body so that the light played joyfully upon her uplifted tits, casting diamonds into the feathering of red-blonde pubic hair between her thighs.
"And that bothers you," she said, "being my father, when you would much rather be my lover. I want you to be my lover, Daddy. I do-oh, very much!"
Martin's head rolled from side to side and he battled against the restraints that held him. He could sit up by straining, but his bound ankles kept him from rolling away.
Rochelle came closer, kneeling beside him, and Juliet thought that the distraught man must now be able to smell the sensuous odor of the child, partly a compelling perfume, partly the odor of her own woman lust. The girl whispered, "Oh, look at me, please. See my tits and my belly and my mound. I can make you happy. I can make you so very happy."
"G-get away from me," her father said in a choked voice. "You're my little daughter, and I can't-we can never-"
"Yes, we can," Rochelle said. "There's nothing to stop us now. You have to fuck me, Daddy. You just can't help yourself any more."
Her small, slim hand moved out like a pale butterfly and stroked over her daddy's softened prick. He flinched mightily and tried to turn his lower body from her, but his tied ankles prevented that.
Watching closely, breathing harshly in her constricted throat, Juliet saw the man's cock begin to rise, slowly, swelling as if he were fighting the inclination, but expanding just the same. It grew in length, almost crawling out, and began to gain in thickness.
Juliet's eyes widened. That prick was going to be huge, bigger than she had thought any human cock could be. And Rochelle, little Rochelle, meant to take that massive shaft into the tiny confines of her barely stretched little-girl cunt.
It might damage her insides, tear the delicate tissues. Reaching out blindly in the semidarkness, Juliet hissed, "Melanie-"
"Shh!" her sister came back. "It's all right. There's Vaseline right on the couch there."
Rochelle said, "Oh, Daddy-that's wonderful. What a lovely cock."
"Baby-you can't-please don't-" She reached up for the grease and daubed some into the palm of her hand. When she started to rub it over the head of her father's prick, he twisted and turned, making loud, wordless noises of protest. But that monster prick just grew and grew.
The head of it grew slippery, giving back reflections of light, shining purple and gold. Rochelle leaned down and kissed it, touched her child's tongue to the swollen glans as her fingers continued to apply the lubricant to the stem of his immense cock. She kissed and licked, while her daddy groaned helplessly. She fondled his hairy sac, and greased the entire trunk of that gigantic organ.
-She would be hurt, Juliet thought. Then another quick thought hit her: How had her sister Melanie been able to keep such a tight cunt, after fucking that huge cock for years, and after producing two children?
A woman's vagina stretched, of course. And if the woman was hotly willing, eager to get a rod that size up her snatch, it would probably fit. But even so, it would be a tight fit.
Martin tried a final time. "Rochelle, baby! Don't do this-I'm too big for you-little girl, please don't-"
"You're just the right size for me," Rochelle replied, ceasing her ministrations upon his upright and throbbing cock. "I've been building up to you-first by fucking Ryan, then Uncle Blake and Uncle Robin. Now I'm ready for you, Daddy."
There was Vaseline on the girl's labia. Juliet saw the dull gleaming of the grease as Rochelle stood open-legged above her father, straddling his tied and spread legs.
"You-you did it with all of them?"
Rochelle lowered herself carefully, spreading her knees and coming down so that she kneeled with the blunt end of his cock just touching the silken moss of her cunt hair. She looked very sure of herself, Juliet thought, and crossed her own fingers, just in case something went wrong.
The girl had her father's prick in both hands now, setting its tip exactly into the pussy entrance. Her white thighs glistened and Juliet could see the pink lips of the labia, oiled and ready as they would ever be.
Gently, Rochelle lowered herself, holding firmly to the base of her daddy's cock, letting her weight press downward to force the spongy, giving glans into her vagina. Slowly, with care, she guided the flared head into her slender body. It went in an inch, then another, and the purple knob disappeared.
"She's got it made now," Melanie said. "All she has to worry about is the length of it."
Gale said admiringly, "I wouldn't worry about that magnificent piece of meat."
Juliet said, "You're not twelve years old," and they shut up to concentrate upon the stark scene before them.
The shaft was sliding up into the widely stretched cuntlips, its veined bulk burnished with lubricant, and meeting the girl's own oils inside.
Martin Clements made a strangled sound and gave an involuntary little hump. Rochelle came all the way down, so that she was sitting on his pelvis, and her Daddy's colossal prick was safely buried in her pussy. She gave a triumphant little smile and said to him, "See? Now let's really fuck."