Chapter 12
When Randy woke up the next morning, the eerie events of the night before rushed back to his mind so swiftly he sat up in bed, looking wildly around him as if it were a dream that was still in progress. Seeing the bright sunlight streaming through the window, he sighed with relief. He looked down at the bed beside him.
Gina was gone.
He rubbed his eyes, trying to remember whether that had been a dream, too. No, he was positive she'd gone to sleep beside him last night. He looked at the bathroom door and got out of bed and padded over to it. He knocked and called her name. Getting no answer, he opened the door and glanced in. Empty.
For a minute he stood there scratching his head, trying to collect his thoughts, still dazed with sleep. The door opened then without warning, and Gina came striding in with a tray. She stopped abruptly when she saw him and burst out laughing.
"What's so funny?" he asked, angry because he'd gotten so worked up over her disappearance.
"You are, silly. You're standing there stark naked, scratching your head. You look like you're still asleep. I brought you some toast and coffee. Well, would you like to have it standing there in all your glorious manhood, or would you rather have it in bed?"
Randy went sheepishly back to bed and crawled in. Gina brought the tray over to him and sat on the bed.
"I've been up since seven," she said. "And it's nine o'clock now. You really must have been exhausted to sleep that long. I'd like to flatter myself and think it was just little old me who tuckered you out that much, but I'm reserving judgment."
Between mouthfuls of toast and coffee, Randy asked her if anything else had occurred last night while he slept.
"Well, if it did, I didn't hear it. And neither did Sherry or Ava or Groton. They're in the dining room having breakfast now. Your hunch was right."
"I'm going to the village on an errand," Randy said, "and I want you to come with me. I think we can clear up this mystery today."
"What do you have to get at the village?"
"Bolt-cutters. I know there are some on the premises, but trying to get them from Groton is like trying to squeeze water from a rock."
"Did you try Ava? She pulls his strings, you know."
"I tried. She's hardly what you would call cooperative."
Gina grinned. "Maybe you didn't try hard enough. If you used some of that sexy, manly charm..."
Randy winced, remembering the frantic, clawing episode in Ava's room the night before.
"No thanks." He gulped down the rest of his coffee. "I'm going to take a shower. Why don't you wait for me downstairs?"
Gina took the tray and placed it on the bedside table. Then, without a word, she began undressing.
"What're you doing?"
"If we're going to take a shower, I'm certainly not going to leave my clothes on. It'll be my second today, but that's all right. Cleanliness is next to godliness, they say, or do they?"
Randy watched her slip out of her dress, his eyes widening with surprise when he saw she had nothing on underneath. She grinned when she saw his expression.
"I sort of expected this," she explained. "No sense in fumbling with all those under things again."
His eyes traveled hungrily over her creamy body, lingering on her succulent breasts and again on her velvety thighs, and he felt a vigorous flood of desire. Ten hours of deep sleep had completely renewed him, made him ready to cope with anything or anyone.
Gina arched her eyebrows. "Well, what are you waiting for? You can't shower in bed."
Randy followed her to the shower, noting with appreciation the way her hips flared out from her narrow waist, the way her firm buttocks wobbled ever so slightly when she walked, and the ease and grace with which she moved on those long, smooth, lovely legs. By the time they got to the shower, his cock was vibrantly awake, throbbing with need.
Gina turned on the shower and adjusted the nozzle to a fine spray. She tested the water with her hand and adjusted its warmth. Before stepping in, she looked at the other door in the bathroom with a frown.
"Is that Sherry's door?" she asked.
Randy nodded. She went over to it and bolted it decisively.
"Three's a crowd."
She stepped into the shower, and Randy followed. Their bodies came into immediate contact in the confined space, and Randy's cock erected violently. He watched the expression in her eyes change from amusement to ravenous hunger.
She handed him the soap. "Scrub my back," she said in a husky voice, turning so that her buttocks brushed hard against his loins.
Randy soaped her back, marveling at the smooth flawlessness of her skin, its creamy texture slippery against his hand. Working from one shoulder to the other, then down in a large circle to her lower back, he put his other hand around her, against her soft belly to steady her while he soaped her ass. A soft groan escaped her. For a minute he soaped her buttocks thoroughly, aware that she'd begun to flex them in a rhythmic manner, as if they were pulsating in time to her rising pleasure.
"My turn," she said, turning around and taking the soap. Her eyes were feverish on his cock as she soaped his chest and shoulders, working down across his hard, flat stomach. She knelt down to soap it better, and Randy felt a sudden thrill as her hands eagerly roamed over his body.
Gently he turned her around. She bent over, steadying herself by placing her hands against the wall of the shower.
"We're going to try something special," Randy said.
He sank to his knees and stroked her buttocks with a hand that quivered. He caught each of the glossy hillocks and pulled them apart. She stiffened, tried to close them together, but he persisted and she groaned as he soaped her ass-hole.
He slid his hands between them and drew the buttocks apart like curtains and wriggled between them. He let his fingers glide, feeling the way. The index finger encountered the sudden, rubbery point of her posterior, and he nosed his knob after it, prodding tentatively.
"Oh, God!" he heard Gina's weak, muffled cry beneath him.
He pressed down vertically with his staff of rigidity. lie felt it come in contact and took his hand away. He wriggled into her closer and put his hands under her loins, gripping her tight.
For a number of little strokes, he jogged up and down, pushing his loins at the soft cushion of her ass. In and out, in and out he sawed without any specific feeling but a growing sense of pressure, vague and ill-defined in his genital region.
Randy pushed, pushed, levering his whole body on his stiff stem of flesh until it suddenly broke through.
Gina uttered a cry which sputtered into a gurgle.
He pushed down, thrusting into her, feeling the clamping pressure fitting tightly and strongly defined along his inflated flesh.
Gina began to pump against him, trying to press her thighs even though she was crying out, "No, no! I can't bear it!"
Randy held her in spite of her struggles and plunged more and more thickly into her with a slow, swampy advance as he reached around and stuffed his fingers into her cunt.
For a long time the chafing in land out, which was a wave of advancing and withdrawing torment and pleasure, went on, until she was aware of herself performing certain actions which were dictated by his guidance.
Her thighs were widespread and pushed in under her. Her legs felt stiff and jelly-like at the same time.
She was aware of a greater edge to the continuity of passion, an extra pricking stab which her new position had enabled him to make.
As he swept in, his belly smacked against her bottom. The well-fleshed buttocks provided a buffer from which his body recoiled with a spring before flowing in again with a smooth, agonizing fluency.
He wished it could go on forever, but he wanted it to gather momentum as well, to sweep to the inevitable climax which was such sweet torment.
He felt the climax growing in intensity, and his mind reeled with the pleasure of it. His mind took in the groaning of his soft-fleshed lover, the abandon of her posture, her helplessness, the fact that she was crying through her groans.
The moment of oblivion, wonderful oblivion, was almost on him. He gasped for breath, his chest heaving in great, gasping sighs. He couldn't keep on the same pitch. It was too much.
He couldn't hold it. His mouth twisted into a multitude of ungovernable shapes. Her buttocks were there, glossy and smooth, wet and exciting, and her prostrate back and her thighs like a tripod under her, and her groans and her sobs. He couldn't hold it. It was rushing suddenly straight through and burst with a force which dragged a long, grating cry from his mouth. Twisting his mouth under the cries, he smashed home again and again, ridding himself of a great weight, hearing her cry out sharply every time he shattered in.
Gina felt him come. Her body rose and shuddered from head to toe, a look of indescribable ecstasy on her face.
"Randy," she gasped, rearing back her head.
A hot, blinding fusion followed, and Randy felt the wave wash away. The next moment he was aware that Gina was sobbing.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"Don't be silly," she sniffed. "I'm crying because I feel so good. And you're a professor of psychology!"
They finished their shower and stepped out. Gina handed him a towel. "Dry me, darling."
Randy rubbed her with the towel until her creamy skin tingled with rosy pinkness, taking special care to be gentle with her lovely breasts. She shivered with delight when he got to her thighs, clutching his hair with her fingers. By the time he finished drying her, his cock was hard again. Resolutely, he threw the towel aside. They still had all that day and night before them, and Randy wanted to clear up the nagging doubts in his mind concerning the events of the night before.
Gina dried him with her hands, lingering with loving care on his cock and balls, deliberately taking her time to arouse him. When she finished, she stood up and gave him a passionate kiss.
"Now take me to bed," she whispered.
"No. We've got work to do first. Until we clear up this mystery, we're going to be investigators and nothing else. Is that clear?"
Gina wrinkled her nose. "You're beginning to sound like that old, crusty professor again."
Randy bestowed a hard slap on her ass that made her jump. "Move, woman!"
She quickly went back into his bedroom and started dressing. Five minutes later, they were both neatly groomed and dressed. He found himself staring wonderingly at Gina as she applied lipstick before the mirror. She never looked more radiant or lovely. Her hair glistened with a rich, healthy sheen, her eyes sparkled with inner happiness, and her newly discovered womanhood seemed to cast a bright glow from her entire body. Sherry and Ava were pale memories beside her, events that would fade before the day was even over. And not only was Gina exciting to look at, she was bright and efficient at her job.
"Can you cook? he asked her.
Gina turned to face him, a wry smile on her face. "Well, to tell you the truth, my cooking won't win any awards. But I can learn. Why do you ask?"
"Just wondering," Randy said thoughtfully. "Ready to go?"
She nodded, and they left his room. Downstairs, Randy sought out Sherry and Ava and told them he was going into the village and would be back shortly. Sherry looked considerably better than last night, he noticed with relief. Her youth and resiliency had protected her against any permanent emotional damage. Ava, however, looked cautious and watchful, her guard up.
"What are you going into the village for?" asked Ava.
"To buy a pair of bolt-cutters. Any objections?"
Ava's eyes narrowed.
"You won't find any. It's Sunday. The stores are all closed."
"Don't worry," Randy said. "I'll get a pair if I have to drag the owner of the local hardware store into his place by the scruff of his neck."
Sherry frowned. "But we have a pair of bolt-cutters, Ava. I've seen Groton using them."
"They're lost," Ava said quickly. "Groton lost them weeks ago."
Randy grinned at Ava. "Convenient, wasn't it? See you all soon."
He and Gina went outside. The sun shone brightly on the decaying old house and tangled, weed-filled grounds, vainly trying to infuse a little cheer into such deep gloom. Randy took a deep breath and looked up at the cloudless, blue sky. The eerie events of the previous night seemed more unreal than ever. With a little luck, the whole mess would be cleared up in a few hours and he and Gina would be driving back to resume their sane, routine life. He glanced over at Gina's full breasts and shapely legs. Once again life would be sane, but not entirely routine.
They went down the porch steps and got into his car. Randy put the key in the ignition, turned and pressed on the starter. Nothing happened. He repeated the procedure, and again nothing happened. With a frown, he got out of the car and lifted the hood, peering underneath. A moment later, he raised his head and Gina saw a look on his face that frightened her.
"Let's go back in the house," he said between clenched teeth.
"What's wrong? Why won't the car start?"
"Someone stole the distributor cap. And I'll give you just one guess who."
Together they went back into the house.
"Wait here," Randy told Gina in the dining room. He found Groton and Ava in the kitchen. Groton was crouched over a second breakfast of bacon and eggs, while Ava stood at the old stove, frying more eggs.
"Leave," Randy told Ava in a grim voice. "Leave us alone."
Ava started to protest when she saw the look on Randy's face. She closed her mouth, took the frying pan off the burner and left the kitchen.
"All right, Groton, where is it? Where's the distributor cap to my car?"
"Don't know what you're talking about," Groton said sullenly. But he stopped chewing, and his eyes avoided Randy's.
Randy went over to the kitchen door and bolted it. Then, as Groton watched with widening eyes, he took off his jacket and placed it neatly over a chair. Next, he took off his tie and hung it neatly over his jacket. He calmly began to roll up his shirtsleeves when Groton stammered, "What are you doing that for?"
"Because I'm going to beat the shit out of you, and I don't want blood all over my best jacket."
Groton gulped and held up a hand. "Now just a minute. I don't know nothing about no distributor ... "
"I ought to warn you first," Randy interrupted, rolling up his other sleeve, "that as a younger man I was a promising fighter with a record of twelve K.O.'s out of thirteen fights. I was also boxing champion at my university. Either you're going to tell me the truth or I'm going to beat it out of you."
Randy leaned over the table, staring hard at Groton.
"Which is it?"
Groton's face went white. He ran a tongue nervously across his thick lips. "Boxing champion?"
"Undefeated. Stand up, Groton, and take your medicine like a man. Come on."
Groton's eyes went to Randy's powerfully developed biceps. He looked frantically at the locked kitchen door. Randy reached over and seized Groton by the shirt and lifted him easily out of his chair.
"Wait!" cried Groton, flinching. "I did it. I did it because Ava made me. She made me take the distributor cap and hide it."
Randy thrust his face close to Groton's chalk-white one.
"Where did you hide it?"
"Basement. Don't hit me. I'll get it."
Another idea occurred to Randy then. "I want the key, Groton. The key to that padlocked door in the secret passageway."
"I don't know what you mean," Groton mumbled. But Randy saw a new fear in the caretaker's eyes, the fear of Ava's sharp tongue and dominating personality.
Randy shook him violently. "You know which door," he barked. "Tell me, or I'll start punching you out right now."
Groton's eyes darted to the door Ava had gone through a minute earlier, his face struggling, trying to determine who was the lesser of two evils, Randy or Ava. One more vigorous shake of his body by Randy produced a quick decision.
"Ava's got it," Groton stammered. "She's got the key to that door. She keeps it hidden somewhere."
"And the bolt-cutters," Randy snapped. "Where are they?"
Groton's lips twitched, still fearful of Randy's threat. "They're ... in the basement."
Randy released the quivering, hulking body. "Fine, Groton. Now I'll give you exactly two minutes to go down to the basement. Get the bolt-cutters and the distributor cap to my car, and get back up here with them. If you're not back in two minutes ... "
He unbolted the kitchen door. Groton stood there for a moment, trying to collect himself. Randy looked at his watch.
"One minute and fifty-five seconds, Groton."
The caretaker ran clumsily out of the kitchen. Randy put his tie back on and knotted it, satisfied his suspicions that Ava knew about the passageway and the room were true. There was no definite proof yet that she was behind the eerie phenomena of last night, but he was certain the padlocked room held the answer to that.
A momentary doubt seized him as he remembered the thing outside the library door last night. He couldn't control the shiver that ran up
his spine when he recalled that heavy, snuffling breath and the terrifying, low growl that signified its presence. Suppose the thing was kept behind, the padlocked door?
Nonsense, Randy told himself. Monsters didn't exist, except in the imagination of children. And yet, no human being could have produced sounds of such enormous depth and volume nor could any animal he was familiar with. But if such a thing did exist, it would undoubtedly have to be kept locked up, and the padlocked room would be an ideal place.
Gina and Sherry came into the kitchen as Randy was putting on his jacket.
"What did you do to poor Groton?" asked Gina. "He ran out of the kitchen as if his ass was on fire."
"I offered him a boxing lesson and he declined. He'll be back in a minute with a pair of bolt-cutters and the distributor cap he stole from my car."
"Why would he do that?" Sherry asked.
Randy faced the small blonde squarely. "Because Ava ordered him to. She wanted to prevent me from going into the village to get a pair of bolt-cutters. Obviously, she wants to keep me from getting into that padlocked room in the secret passageway. I've suspected all along the answer to these apparitions and ghost-like effects lies in that room. The three of us are going to find out what's there as soon as Groton gets back here."
Sherry's eyes grew large with fright.
"Suppose that thing we heard last night is in there? Shouldn't we carry a gun or something?"
"Do you have one?" Randy asked her.
"No. Ava has the only gun in the house."
"Well, I don't think she's going to volunteer it to us," Randy said. "And I'm certain that thing doesn't really exist. We'll take a chance and go unarmed."
"But why would Ava try to frighten me out of my wits? Or, for that matter, try to kill me with that falling statue and chandelier? It doesn't make sense."
"That's something only Ava can tell you," said Randy. "Maybe the value of those paintings in the hidden room is the answer. They're worth a fortune."
"That's right," Sherry murmured. "And I hope you're not forgetting my offer."
"What offer?" Gina interjected.
"I've asked Randy to marry me," Sherry said. "The first man I ever proposed to. And probably the last."
Gina's face went white. "Did he accept?"
"No, I didn't," said Randy. "I've got other plans."
At that moment Groton came slinking back into the kitchen. He held out the bolt-cutters to Randy, who took the heavy tool.
"Now put that distributor cap back where it belongs," Randy told him. Groton started to leave, and Sherry said, "Wait. Where's Ava?"
"I don't know," Groton mumbled. "She ain't in her room."
"You're in with her on this, aren't you?" accused Sherry. "You fixed the chandelier so it would fall. And the statue, too. Ava told you to, didn't she?"
Groton's face darkened. "Don't know anything. Ask Ava."
"You can go," Randy said. "But don't leave the grounds."
When he'd gone, Randy said, "He won't admit anything of course. And whatever he's done isn't actually his fault. He's merely Ava's puppet. I don't think any court would find him mentally responsible for his actions under such circumstances." Randy held up the bolt-cutters. "Now let's find out what's in that padlocked room."
Sherry and Gina followed him up the staircase in silence. Sherry shivered, and Gina's face was taut with anticipation.
In his room, Randy lit a candle, unable to find batteries for his flashlight, and pressed the spot beneath the mantle that operated the fireplace mechanism. It swung open slowly.
"Stay directly behind me," Randy told the girls. "If the candle should go out from a draft, don't panic. Just grab the person in front of you. Ready?"
They nodded. Randy crouched and entered the passageway, covering the flame with his hand when it flickered and almost went out from the sudden rush of damp air. He led the way slowly after he heard the fireplace creak shut behind them, wondering how many times Sherry's mother had traveled the same path to meet her lover, and why it was necessary for her to take such elaborate precautions.
A minute later he paused in front of the door with the skull on it. He turned the candle on Sherry's face. Her lower lip was trembling, and she
was pale as a ghost.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
"I'm fine," she quaked. "Go ahead."
He wondered if he should have brought her along. She'd undergone a tremendous strain the night before, but he wanted her to see for herself there was nothing to fear. He glanced briefly at Gina, whose expression was nervous but determined, and he pushed open the door. The candle cast eerie shadows everywhere, making the statue seem alive for a moment. He led the way through the room to the padlocked door. He held out the candle to Gina.
"Hold this."
She took, it, and he placed the jaws of the bolt-cutters over the curved steel bar of the padlock. Then he paused, listening carefully with his ear to the door. It was utterly still. Gripping the handle of the bolt-cutters securely, he applied pressure. The steel bar snapped easily. Randy put down the cutters and removed the lock.
"Stand back," he told the girls. He took a deep breath and pushed open the door. It creaked painfully on its ancient hinges. Randy tensed his muscles, braced for anything, and peered cautiously into the darkness of the room.
"Give me the candle," he told Gina. She handed it to him, and he stepped inside the room, his heart pounding in his chest.
"Stay back," he warned the girls.
"Don't worry about that," murmured Gina.
Randy held the candle out before him, his eyes straining in the semidarkness.
"Well, I'll be goddamned," he said a minute later.
"What is it?" asked Gina behind him.
Randy laughed. "If this isn't a son-of-a-bitch."
"Can we come in and look?" Sherry asked.
Randy turned to face them. "Come in, both of you. I want you to meet our ghosts. Behold our sobbing, laughing, fist-banging, spine-chilling ghosts. Come on," he urged, "they can't bite."
Gina stepped into the room, followed by Sherry. They stared at the bank of electronic equipment.
"This, ladies, is a powerful amplifier, at least two hundred watts, I'd judge, powerful enough to fill a football stadium with sound. And this," he said, "is a sophisticated, stereo tape deck. And these," he pointed to cables leading away from the amplifier, "undoubtedly lead to hidden speakers all over the house."
Randy stood up. "In other words, you're looking at a unique stereo system, very expensive from the looks of it, and the sound it produces is so realistic as to be indistinguishable from the real thing. Let's see if it's hooked up."
"What's this?" asked Gina, pointing to another group of equipment.
Randy studied the system carefully. "Your ghostly face on the bedroom wall, I'd say. It's a slide projector with remote projection capabilities. The face was probably projected through an opening in your fireplace."
He switched the play-back dial on. the tape deck and turned on the amplifier. Then he turned the volume up and waited. A few seconds later, a low, sobbing, ghostly noise began to echo through the room. It was precisely the same, haunting sound they'd heard the night before. Randy ran the tape ahead a bit further, and a nerve-shattering, fist-banging sound ensued. Finally, he allowed the reel to run out, and at the end they immediately heard the heavy, rasping breath and leaden foot being dragged. He switched off the equipment and stood up.
"Well, girls, there's your blood-curdling monster. And I don't have to tell you, Sherry, who's been operating this record player."
"No, you don't," Ava's sharp voice said from the doorway. They were suddenly blinded by light.
"As long as you're here, you may as well have the lights on," Ava said. "The switch is hidden, but the whole place is wired. You don't think Sherry's mother always fucked by candlelight, do you?"
When Randy's eyes adjusted to the bright light overhead, he opened them fully to see Ava standing in the doorway, holding a gun on them, smiling in that thin, cunning way of hers.
"I was waiting for you in the other room behind the drapes," she said. "I figured you'd get the bolt-cutters from Groton this morning, so I decided to give you a welcome."
"Then it was you who tried to kill me." whispered Sherry, "you who almost frightened me to death. My own sister."
"Adopted sister," corrected Gina. "No real sister would do what she's done to you."
"Wrong," hissed Ava. "I am her real sister. Sherry's mother was also my real mother. Our fathers were different, though."
"That man in the statue," said Randy. "He's your father, isn't he?"
"Yes," said Ava. "And I'm surprised you didn't recognize the facial resemblance earlier."
"I knew he reminded me of someone," Randy said, "but I just didn't connect him with you. Who was he?"
"The caretaker here for years." Ava turned to Sherry, her face filled with malice. "Yes, that's right, dear sister. Your mother and mine, too, remember was madly in love with Father, who was the caretaker here when she was young. Then one night your father your mother's husband caught him in the next room with your mother and shot him. When I was born shortly after my father's death, your mother refused to give me up, so your father pretended to adopt me, and I was brought up as an adopted sister to you. I never even knew about it until your mother our mother, I mean died a little while ago. She left me a letter explaining everything, with a map of the secret passageway and rooms."
Sherry shook her head in bewilderment. "Let me get this straight. Your father was the caretaker here, my mother's lover, right? Then my father Mother's husband shot him. But we both had the same mother, which makes real sisters, doesn't it?"
Ava nodded. "Real half-sisters, anyway."
"Then why did Mother leave me everything and you nothing in her will?" asked Sherry.
"That's where you're wrong," snapped Ava. "Our mother left you the house, but she left me the contents of the next room. When your father died a few years ago, she invested all her insurance money in those paintings and that statue. She made a shrine out of that room, a shrine to my father's memory. In her letter, she left everything in that room to me."
Randy interrupted her. "How was that statue made if your father had been dead for years?"
"The sculptor made it from old snapshots," replied Ava.
"But I still don't understand," Sherry said. "Why did you try to kill me?"
"I didn't try to kill you," retorted Ava. "I only wanted to scare you away from the house, but that clumsy Groton almost killed you in the process."
"By why? Why did you try to frighten me away?" asked Sherry.
Ava's face turned hard. "Because I don't want you to sell this house. I want to live here. I want it to remain exactly the way it is. I don't want anything changed. You would have sold it and moved away and completely forgotten about me."
"I think you'd better give me that gun before it goes off," Randy said, taking a step forward.
"Stand back," she warned. "It's loaded. Don't take another step!"
"You won't shoot," said Randy, still moving toward her. "You're not a killer, Ava. You're bitter, and that's understandable, but you haven't got it in you to really harm anyone. Now hand me that gun."
"Don't take another step," she hissed. "I swear I'll shoot. I warn you-"
She suddenly burst into tears and sagged against the doorway. Randy took the gun from her gently.
"You poor thing," said Sherry, putting her arms around Ava. "Why didn't you tell me the truth days ago? I would have let you have the house. I don't want the old place, anyway. All I wanted was enough money for a college education. If it means that much to you, you can keep the house."
Ava dried her eyes with the back of her hand. "Do you mean that?" she sniffed. "I won't have to leave. ever?"
"Of course not," said Sherry. "I'll sign it over to you today."
"Then you can have the paintings," Ava said. "You can sell them and you'll have more than enough money. All I want is the house itself. And the statue. I want to keep the statue of my father and our mother."
"It's a deal," said Sherry, embracing her half-sister.
Randy looked at Gina. "I think that clears up everything. We may as well start back to the city."
Sherry stepped up to Randy. "I won't ever be able to thank you enough, Doctor. Do I rate a good-bye kiss?"
Randy looked questioningly at Gina.
"Just one," Gina said warningly.
Sherry put her arms around Randy and gave him a long, passionate kiss. After a minute she released him with a sigh.
"You don't know how lucky you are," Sherry said to Gina.
Randy shook hands with Ava cautiously, hoping she wouldn't kiss him good-bye. Even with Sherry and Gina there to protect him, he didn't feel safe.
Ten minutes later, Randy and Gina climbed into his car. With one last look at the old house, he started the engine and pulled into the drive. The last thing he saw of the place was Groton peering at him from some bushes.
"Do you suppose they'll be happy together?" Gina asked. "Groton and Ava, I mean."
"I'd say so," Randy said.
Gina snuggled next to him, her arm around his shoulders, her ripe breast pressing against his arm.
"Well," she sighed, "back to the happy, sane routine of campus life."
"We're not going back to the campus," he said firmly. "First we're going back to that motel we stopped at the other night. Then we're going on a two-week vacation. Is that clear, Mrs. Garten?"
Gina bit him gently on the ear lobe. "You bet your sweet ass it is."