The Lifeguard

Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction. If you are

offended by graphic descriptions of homosexual acts, go

somewhere else.

Copyright c 2001 by Orrin C. Rush. All rights reserved.

Neither this story nor any parts of it may be distributed

electronically or in any other manner without the express,

written consent of the author.

This is a work of fiction, any resemblance of the characters

to anyone living or dead is pure coincidence and not

intended. They are all products of the author's imagination.

THE LIFEGUARD

Chapter 50

Eric must have noticed him at the same time I did. He froze,

then turned to look at me. "What the fuck is that

asshole doing here?" he growled.

I turned my back to him to escape those damned eyes. "I have

no idea who the hell he is or what he's doing here," I said.

"He bothers me."

"I know he does, babe, me too, but we can't let him get to

us. Just ignore him, hell, he's just another face in the

crowd."

"Easy to say," I said. "That guy spooks me!"

We pretended that he wasn't there, making an effort to have a

good time regardless. My success at this was limited. In

paranoid fashion, I felt his eyes on my back, and every time

I looked around, there he was.

I tried to concentrate on other people. I checked out all

the women who were wearing beautiful gowns and drenched in

diamonds. At a quick guess, I'd bet that there was a years'

worth of deBeers production wandering around the dance floor.

Tina and Annie were no exception. "Where'd you get all the

jewelry?" I asked them.

"Sarah arranged for us to borrow it from Harry Winston in New

York before we left," Annie explained. "Aren't they cool?"

"If you want 'em, I'll buy them for both of you," Eric

teased, "and charge 'em to your Dad."

"Get your own girlfriend!" Hans teased him.

The orchestra was playing Strauss waltzes. That was

something else I could handle, if I didn't get too exuberant.

We both danced a couple of waltzes, but it felt like there

was an ominous cloud hanging over the whole evening. At the

next break, Eric motioned for me to follow him out onto the

terrace.

"This is bullshit," he said. "I can tell you're miserable

and I'm not too happy either. It's got to stop."

"What do you suggest?" I asked.

"I think we have two choices. Either we talk to him or we

leave."

"Let's face it, babe, this isn't that guy's problem, it's

ours, mine in particular. The only thing he's ever done is

make that one comment."

"I don't know why either of us are making such a big deal out

of this," he said. "We don't have any secrets, so what's to

be afraid of?"

"It's those eyes," I answered. "They draw me, and at the

same time repel me. I don't feel I have control over myself

and that scares me."

"Looks like our decision's been made for us," he said. "Here

he comes."

"Hello, Gentlemen," the Eyes said. "We seem to meet in the

strangest places! I'm Alan Sloan, Sarah's nephew," he

continued, holding out his hand.

"Eric Lundborg," Eric said, shaking his hand.

"Dave Rush," I said, shaking his hand too.

"I've heard a lot about both of you, but wasn't able to put

your names and faces together until you were announced

tonight," Alan said.

"We try to keep a low profile," Eric offered.

I didn't know what to say. I was in shock. Where had he

come from? He certainly didn't belong to Edward or John, so

there must be other siblings.

I think he sensed our discomfort, so tried to make it easier

for us. "I used to work for Uncle Edward," he said. "He

fired me when he thought I was getting too close to finding

out what he and Uncle John were doing, but I think you know

all about that."

We nodded but didn't comment.

"From what I hear, Milton has taken off like a rocket since

you took over," Alan added, leaving an opening in the

conversation.

"We're doing quite well," I said, "growing pretty fast."

"I'd better get back to my wife," Alan said. "Nice to meet

you both." We'd all recognized that this conversation wasn't

going anyplace, so he was ending it. Before he left,

however, he had a parting shot. "Dave, I still think that

you have the most captivating eyes I've ever seen."

Eric waited until Alan was back inside then burst out

laughing. "Gotcha!"

The tension evaporated. It had been a strange conversation,

more unsaid than said, but at least I had been able to look

him straight in the eye without being affected.

"Feel better?" Eric asked.

I nodded. "Whatever hold he had over me is long gone," I

smiled.

"I agree with him about your eyes," he said. "I get off on

them all the time."

It was nice to be home. Eric and I decided to ignore the

threat of jet lag and just got back to work.

Bill wanted to see us the minute we came in. He brought Bob

with him, and although he was smiling, something was going on.

"Have you guys seen the papers?" he asked.

"Not since we left," I told him.

"This is quicker than explaining," he said, handing us a

newspaper. "Lower right corner," he directed.

Eric slid closer so he could read too. "ANOTHER GANGLAND

EXECUTION" headlined the article. "The body of Anthony

Rizullo, a gangland figure and Vice President of the United

Metalworkers Union in New Jersey, was found in the marshes of

Long Island with a single bullet wound to the head," was the

first sentence.

That's all I needed to read. "Is this good or bad - for us?"

I asked, noting the date on the paper being several days ago.

"We're not sure yet," Bob said. "Here's what we've been able

to piece together so far: The Miltons took off for Bermuda,

leaving Tony in the lurch, so when Tony couldn't come up with

the money to cover the Website's loss, they took care of him.

"By then, from phone calls to Tony, we knew who in the Mob he

was dealing with and put surveillance on them. Our main

concern was whether or not they'd stop there, or whether

they'd go after you guys too. So far, they seem to be

satisfied with 'offing' Tony, but we'll keep watching them."

"What's happening at the Union?" I asked.

"Total chaos," Bob reported. "Tony was running the whole

show. I know, he wasn't doing much, but he was directing

their feeble efforts. Now, the Union President has decided

to get involved, and has called in the 'Goon Squad' to take

over. Ironically, they're the same ones who did away with

Tony. Don't worry, we have them all 'wired' too."

"The election's only three weeks away," Eric observed, "what

can they do between now and then?"

"About the only thing we can think of is some heavy

intimidation of the membership," Bill said. "That's surely

going to backfire if they try it, just emphasize the Union's

Mob connections."

"Has the Union tried to negotiate with us at all?" I asked.

"Not so far," Bill said. "They'd consider it a sign of

weakness."

"What do we do now?" I asked.

"Just what we've been doing," Bill said, "keeping up the

pressure."

Preliminary third quarter financials were ready for all our

companies, so we studied them. For the first time, I showed

Metalco's statements to Eric.

He was hesitant to even look at them. "Are you sure?" he'd

asked.

"Go ahead, it's Community Property now," I kidded him.

He pored over the statements, then looked up at me, "I had no

idea," he said softly.

We looked at the reports on Hydra's subsidiaries. The CLP

Railroad was showing marked improvement. Revenues were up

and costs were down. The absence of debt to service helped a

lot and it looked like Wilson was clearing out the dead wood

at the top, probably Edgar's cronies.

"Did anybody ever follow-up on that high-speed train?" Eric

asked.

"Not to my knowledge."

"Mind if I look into it?"

"Go for it," I told him, "they're going to have to do

something with all that cash."

"You know what?" he said, "I've never been on a train. Might

be fun sometime, just the two of us."

"I have, but it was a long, long time ago," I told him.

Development was a drain. I guess that's how it works, you

pump money in for a long time, and eventually it starts

coming back when the projects go on the market.

Sales of marginal properties were going very well. As Eric

commented, "Annie and Tina don't say much, they just get the

job done."

Lovebird was the star performer. If current output could be

maintained, it alone would retire all of Hydra's debt in

three years.

Last came Lundborg Rush. We were both surprised. In the

last quarter we had exceeded even our most optomistic

original projections by almost fifty percent.

"Ready to go Public yet?" Eric laughed.

"Hell no!" I yelled back. "Let's be greedy and wait until

all the new stuff is on line. It'll be worth a helluva lot

more then."

"We don't need the money," Eric chuckled. "YOU sure as hell

don't!" he added, pointing at the Metalco statement.

After she got caught up, Annie came into my office for a chat.

I did my best not to be nosy, but I was curious about Hans.

At first we discussed the overall festivities and agreed that

two solid weeks of it was just too much. It had been fun

this time, but a week would be more than adequate in the

future.

Finally Hans came up. "What do you think of him?" she wanted

to know.

"I like him," I told her honestly.

"He thinks you and Eric are really neat, too," she said.

"He's got a lot of respect for the way you two act like

yourselves and can't understand why we Americans make such a

big fuss about anyone being gay."

"I think part of it is that we're so damned hung up on

labels," I told her. "Everybody's got to be catalogued and

identified, no ambiguity allowed.

"Now," I continued, "how do you feel about him?"

She thought about her answer for a few seconds. "I like him.

A whole lot. He's caring and considerate, and so much fun to

be around. I haven't laughed that much in a long long time.

He's also got what we talked about - Life! God, he wore me

out!"

"Are you serious about him?"

"I could be, but it's too early to tell. There's a good

possibility, though. The only problem I see is that he's

there and I'm here. You know I'm never going to be just a

hausfrau," she said.

"If it's meant to happen, it will," I told her, "regardless

of obstacles."

"The Government funding's still available," Eric announced.

"For what?" I asked.

"The high speed train," he said as if I should have been a

mind reader.

I had to chuckle. Most of the time when he'd start in the

middle of something, I would pick up on it, but this was such

an abrupt switch of subjects that he caught me.

"How does it look?" I asked.

"Pretty damned good, Wilson tells me. I'm going up to San

Francisco tomorrow so he can explain the whole thing. Wanna

go?"

"I really shouldn't," I told him. "There've been some

rumblings in New Jersey and I want to keep on top of things.

You go find out everything and tell me."

"You're right. As much as I'd like us to do everything

together, we've both got things that we need to do separately

• until we can dump them off on somebody else," he giggled.

Within 24 hours the rumbles became roars. In a last ditch

effort, the Union and it's rabid supporters were physically

attacking non-union sympathizers. Full-scale riots broke

out, and the Governor of Connecticut was threatening to call

out the National Guard. As the Union had hoped, the NLRB was

threatening to postpone the election that was only a week

away.

We brought in an army of security people to keep peace on

Company property, but we had no jurisdiction over the

surrounding areas where the battles continued. We were

hoping and praying that the Governors would step in and end

it, but they dawdled.

On the third day of battle, a non-union supporter was

bludgeoned to death. That did it. The National Guard was

called out in Connecticut, New Jersey and Pennsylvania, and

after a day of light skirmishes, things quieted.

There was an armed truce and the NLRB announced plans to go

ahead with the election.

All was relatively quiet until the day of the election. As

the first shift showed up, there was a picket line at the

gate of every Milton facility, coast to coast. It wasn't a

peaceful picket line carrying signs, but a group of thugs

making physical threats and hurling invective.

It was reported that a few refused to cross the picket line,

even though THEY were the ones being picketed.

I'd never heard of anything like this happening before - a

Union picketing its own membership! Metalco had experienced

some pretty nasty Union tactics over the years, but this was

the meanest I'd ever seen.

In the cities where things got overheated, riot police were

called to maintain order. Once the shift was underway,

things calmed down outside the gates and our guards kept

things quiet inside the plants.

During the day, there were attempts to steal ballot boxes and

to scare off the NLRB election supervisors, but our guards

were on their toes.

The whole performance was repeated when workers for the

evening shift arrived. More chaos, but this time everyone

was ready and violence was held to a minimum.

Once the voting was complete, the NLRB took the ballots to

Federal offices for counting under armed guard. We'd have to

wait until noon the next day to learn the results.

All the troops gathered in my office to await the results.

We were confident that we'd win. By how much was the

question.

Jeff took the call. He was beaming when he hung up. "Eighty

seven percent!" he whooped.

When the cheering died down, Eric asked a sensible question.

"What happens to the thirteen percent who voted against us?"

With a totally straight face, Jack looked straight at Eric.

"We take 'em out and shoot 'em."

A look of disbelief was quickly replaced with a grin, then a

big belly laugh.

"Never thought I could pull one over on YOU!" Jack said, "not

even for a second. Actually, if they run true-to-form, in

six months the ones who were the biggest Union supporters

will be OUR biggest supporters. They're 'followers'."

It was over. As soon as the contract expired, every Milton

employee would see a raise, and as fast as we could, Milton

would be integrated into Metalco.

The bedroom was dark when Eric slid into bed. "Remember the

talks we've had about how great it'd be if we could fuck each

other at the same time?" he asked innocently.

"Um hmm."

"I've found something that might be real close to that," he

said, brandishing what looked like about a 16" double-ended

dildo.

"How's it work?" I asked.

"One end goes in you, the other end goes in me. Whenever one

of us moves, the other one feels it," he explained.

"And how do you plan to manage that?"

"Lemme show you," he said, reaching for the lube.

He prepped me, then himself. While he was doing this, I held

the dildo. It had a skin-like surface texture and bumpy

veins. It also felt nice and warm. "This thing got a heater

in it?" I asked.

"No," he giggled, "I soaked it in hot water to warm it up."

"Oh."

He carefully lubed up one end of the thing then started

working it into me. It felt pretty damned good. Not as good

as his real cock, but not bad. When he scored a direct hit

on my prostate, I just about jumped off the thing. Eric hung

on and managed to keep it in.

"I'll be more careful," he promised.

"Why?" I chuckled, "that was sensational!"

I watched him lube up the other end. He then positioned

himself between my legs, one of his over one of mine, the

other under. Butt toward butt, holding the dildo, he inched

forward trying to impale himself on it.

It wasn't going in. Instead, he was driving the damned thing

deeper into me.

"You ever used one of these things before?" I asked.

"No, isn't that pretty obvious?" he giggled. "I can't get

hold of the damned thing," he laughed. "It won't go in."

"Get a pair of pliers," I suggested, laughing too. "You

oughta be able to hold it with them."

"I'm gonna try a towel, maybe I can grab it with that."

He got a towel. After several tries, that worked. He was

able to get the end inside himself then slid down on it until

we were butt to butt.

"What do we do now?" I asked, laughing, looking down at our

soft cocks just lying there.

He wiggled his butt. "Wow! Not bad!" I told him, watching

both of our dicks stir.

He grasped my hardenening cock with his lubed hand, moving

his butt again. Now, that REALLY felt good! He held up the

lube, gave me a handful that I rubbed all over his dick and

started stroking.

We got serious in a hurry. Both of our butts were gyrating,

our hands stroking. It was a triple stimulus - the "cock"

moving around in my ass tickling my prostate, Eric's hand

stroking my dick, and his cock in my hand. I'm not sure

which one was the greatest turn-on.

"This ain't a bit bad!" he said gleefully.

"Shut up and wiggle that bootie," I told him, laughing.

We gazed into each other's eyes. It felt good, but we were

wound into such pretzels that there was definitely an element

of humor. The only way I could "get anyplace" was to

concentrate, wiggle and stroke.

We built and blew. All orgasms are good, but on a scale of

one to ten, this was about a five. Usually, we were off the

scale.

"That was FUN!" he said lying there. "I think it'd be more

fun if we took it all a little more seriously, though."

"You'll have to admit, it WAS funny," I told him.

"We'll just have to practice."

The Railroad had two routes going up the coast. One followed

the coastline wherever possible, the other was inland,

running from Los Angeles to San Francisco. The "bullet

train" would best be suited to the route between San Luis

Obispo and San Diego. That's where most of the commuter

traffic was, and the part where Federal funds were available

for construction.

The project would cost billions and take years to complete

once all the bureaucratic and environmental hurdles were

crossed. It was estimated that our share of the cost could

be capped at between $500 million and $1 billion.

With ongoing Department of Transportation subsidies our

projections showed that a mere five percent increase in

ridership over current levels would make it profitable. Not

much, but beyond break-even. Much larger increases, which all

of the surveys predicted, would make it more than a

worthwhile investment.

Eric had enthusiastically done all of the legwork, and after

many hours of discussion between the two of us, sometimes

Annie and Tina included, we decided to start the ball rolling.

Since we would be dealing with the Government, everything had

to be done "according to the book", including a Railroad

Board resolution before we could even start the paperwork.

With George Wilson's wholehearted support, details of what we

proposed were sent to each of the directors for them to study.

Since we had taken over the Railroad, Quarterly Board Meetings

had been held, usually hour-long sessions where we

rubber-stamped approval of everything Wilson proposed. This

one would be a little more involved.

This Board meeting lasted all day. Eric's knowledge of what

had to be done was unbelievable. He'd done his homework

well, and amazed us all with what he knew.

There was a lot more involved than just filling out some

forms. Politics were involved. Oh shit!

Wilson would handle everything, and I was surprised to learn

how well he was politically "connected". Toward the end of

the meeting, Wilson asked Eric if he would work with him,

occasionally, on negotiations. I considered that a very high

compliment to Eric, indeed.

After the meeting, Eric had something he wanted to show me,

so we split off from the crowd and headed to the South Bay in

a rental. At the Railroad's main "Yard" we were waved right

in. Eric had evidently been there before. We drove around,

dodging switch engines to a far corner of the property.

There, by itself on a piece of track not even connected to

any other rails, sat the most dilapidated looking piece of

rolling stock I'd ever seen.

"Isn't it a beauty?" Eric asked.

"What the hell is it?" I asked, not noticing anything

resembling "beauty" anywhere in the vicinity. Maybe I was

looking at the wrong thing.

"A piece of Railroad History," he said getting out of the car.

"Come look."

We stood and surveyed the thing. It was NOT a pretty sight.

"Over a hundred years ago, this was the Private Car of the

Railroad's President," he explained. "At the time, this one

was considered the ultimate in private transportation. Not

even the Eastern Railroad moguls had anything to match it."

"That was then, this is now," I commented dryly.

"I'm going to restore it," he said, "for us," looking at me

with that twinkle in his eye that I knew so well and using

those words that he knew I couldn't argue with.

"The wheels and suspension will be replaced with modern

stuff, but the carriage itself is sound, and the interior can

be totally restored," he continued. "I have pictures of the

original interior, and I plan to put it back to the way it was

originally, gold fittings, chandeliers and all."

I stood there shaking my head. "You've got a lot of work

ahead of you," I commented.

"I'm not into 'fixer-uppers' myself," he giggled. "There're

people who do this type of thing. Just think, we can go

anyplace where there're rails!"

I put my arm around him and gave him a squeeze. "I married a

nut, but I love every minute of it," I told him.

We peeked into the door that was hanging by one hinge. The

inside was a total disaster, looking like something out of

"Great Expectations" with almost solid cobwebs and inches of

dust and grime.

"That's the 'before' view," he said proudly, "wait'll you see

it when it's restored."

Jack and Dale wanted to talk to us before doing anything with

all the evidence we'd gathered on the Milton brothers. They

knew that we had become close friends with Sarah so wanted us

to make the decision on how to proceed.

"We've waited long enough after the Union mess so that there

won't be any connection," Jack said. "We can get everything

we have to the New York District Attorney's office

anonymously. They'll never be able to trace where it came

from."

"Why New York and not New Jersey?" I asked.

"Probably both," Dale said.

"What do you have on them?" Eric asked. "I haven't read very

much of the information that's been coming in."

Jack nodded to Dale who jumped right in. "They may seem like

refined, sedate old men, but there's a dark side. Both of

them are into children. Edward likes little boys and John

likes little girls and they've gone a lot further than just

collecting 'kiddie porn' though they do that too."

"How much further?" Eric asked.

"They have an apartment in New York near one of the poorest

sections of the city. They work with street pimps who bring

them a steady supply of victims, poor children eight to

around twelve years old, both little boys and little girls,

occasionally some as young as five.

"The old bastards have sex with these kids, and evidently

take turns videotaping each other while they're doing it.

We've managed to get copies of several of these tapes. Not

all of these kids are willing participants, and John,

particularly, seems to prefer it when the kid is fighting

him. I call that rape!"

"Have you actually seen one of these tapes?" I asked.

"I watched as much of one as I could stand," Dale said. "It

was enough to see both John and Edward in action. Sorry, I

couldn't look at any more. What I did see, though, is enough

to put them both away for the rest of their lives."

"I didn't have the stomach to look at them," Jack said.

"I'll rely on Dale's word."

"How would you handle this?" Eric asked.

"We'd send copies of the tapes, along with a letter

identifying the Miltons, to both D.A.'s. The letter'd also

have the address of the apartment in New York," Jack said.

"We'd also let New York know that New Jersey also got

copies. That way they'd HAVE to act."

"Don't do anything until we have a chance to think this

over," I told them. "We'll let you know."

"Those fucking assholes!" Eric said after Dale and Jack left.

"Puts us in a rather delicate position," I commented.

"I know!" he said. "Neither of us want to hurt Sarah, and if

this came out, she'd be dragged in for sure. On the other

hand, those pricks can't be allowed to continue that shit.

God, it makes me shiver just to think about it."

"Do you think we should look at those tapes to make sure

they're what Dale says they are?" I asked.

"No way in hell! I trust Dale. If I saw them, I'd lose what

little objectivity I still have, and probably try to kill the

old fuckers myself."

We sat, lost in thought, weighing the possibilities.

Child molestation cases always got a lot of press. There

would be even more in this case because of the Milton's

prominence. Sarah, holding the social position that she did,

would, no doubt, be mentioned in everything written or said,

her name dragged through the mud just because she was their

sister.

It wasn't fair to her, but with the knowledge we had,

something had to be done. I can tolerate a lot, but this was

just too much. I also detest self-righteous people who stand

in judgment of others, and here I was, doing just that.

Eric interrupted my thoughts. "I hate to wuss out on this,"

he said, "but the only thing I can think of is to tell Sarah

the whole story and let her decide what to do. I think we

owe her at least a chance."

I weighed that idea for a minute. "That's the humane thing

to do. What do you think she'll do to them?"

"I know I'd cut both their dicks off," he said. "I have no

idea what she'll do, but I'm sure she'll come up with

something just as bad."

"I don't think that what you're proposing is a cop-out," I

told him. "We both love Sarah and don't want to see her get

hurt. I have confidence that she won't let them off the hook

and do it in such a way that it won't be a public scandal and

those assholes will still get the punishment they deserve."

"It'll take a day or two to gather everything up, then I'm

going to New York and give it to her," he said.

"NO!" I said. "WE'RE going to New York together. I'm

involved here too, and I'm going to be with you all the way.

I love Sarah too."

"Thank you," he said, and I could tell he really meant it.

"Let's get to work so we can get this whole thing behind us."

"What do you need?"

"More than just hearsay," he said. "Cold hard facts to back

up what we're going to tell her. I'll get Dale to gather up

everything we'll need."

That evening, Eric told me what he'd asked Dale to do. He

was thorough and we would be well prepared.

The General had found us a slot later in the week, so we had

to wait a few days before we could make the trip. Eric had

alerted Sarah that we were coming to town and wanted to talk

with her.

We were both dreading the trip, but at the same time wanted

it over with. The whole situation had sickened us both to

the point where our own sex lives had ground to a halt.

Neither of us were interested.

"Do you think we're perverts too?" Eric had asked when we

were talking about it.

"No!" I had answered vehemently. "We're two people who love

each other, and the fact that we're both men has nothing to

do with it."

"Yeah, I know, we're consenting adults and all that, but I

get a twinge of guilt every time I think about it. At the

moment, it just seems wrong."

Selfishly, I was glad that we were dropping the whole problem

in Sarah's lap. Once that was accomplished, I hoped that we

could return to our old lives. Closure, hopefully, and some

laughter and some physical "loving" too.

Jacques took our stuff to the penthouse, and we went straight

to Sarah's. Eric felt that it would be best to break this

news on "her turf" where she would feel less vulnerable.

Neither of us had any idea what her reaction would be.

We were greeted with hugs, and we thanked her profusely for

the great time we'd had in France, then Eric got down to the

nitty gritty.

"Do you remember when you told us that your brothers might be

up to something?" he asked. Sarah nodded. "To be on the

safe side, Dave had them put under surveillance," he

continued. "In the process, we learned some things that we

didn't want to know. They've been doing some pretty awful

things and we wanted to let you know the whole story before

we turned the evidence over to the police."

Dale had prepared a short description of the brothers'

activities, using clinical terms wherever possible. Eric

handed that to her.

I couldn't watch her while she read it. I had a vague idea

of how painful it must have been for her.

"I know you have hard proof of all this or you wouldn't have

brought this to me," she stated.

"Unfortunately, we do," Eric told her. "We have copies of

several tapes for you."

"I don't want to see them!" she said, "but I may need them to

get this matter settled."

"They're yours," Eric said.

"I'm just too old for this kind of thing," she sighed,

looking very tired. "Why do I have to be saddled with such

sick siblings?" she asked, not expecting an answer.

"I know you wanted to protect me," she continued, "but I

almost wish you had taken it directly to the police so I

wouldn't have to deal with it. What they've done this time

is so disgusting that I can't let them get away with it."

We all sat in silence, Sarah deep in thought.

"How long do you plan to be here?" she asked.

"We were planning to go back to the Coast in the morning,"

Eric told her.

"Could you stay a couple of extra days? I can't talk about

this to anybody else, so I really need you."

"Of course, Sarah," I spoke for the first time.

"We'll do anything we can," Eric offered, going over to give

her a hug.

"I need a little time to think," she said, sitting straighter

in her chair. "Can you get me copies of those tapes by

morning?"

"I'll bring them over later myself," Eric said.

"Keep a copy yourselves," she cautioned, "when I corner them,

I believe my brothers will be capable of anything and I want

insurance."

"We've got two copies with us and another at home," Eric said.

We rose to leave. Sarah got up too, and took both of us in

her arms. "Nobody but you two would have given me a chance

to work this out. There is no way to thank you, so I won't

try. Another thing. If you don't like the way I handle

this, you have my blessing to do whatever you feel is right."

"We love you, Sarah," I said.

Wanting to get his "delivery" over with, Eric turned right

around and took the tapes back to her.

When he got back, he was much more cheerful. "That's one

strong lady," he said. "I can't believe how resilient she

is. I think she's already got a plan worked out."

"How do you feel now?" I asked.

"Kinda mixed up," he said. "I'm relieved that we've turned

the whole mess over to her, but sad that we had to hit her

with it. I also think that it's time we got on with our own

lives. We have some catching up to do."

Our first shots were therapeutic, relieving the pressure that

had built up. The volume of Eric's ejaculate was so great

that I gagged for the first time ever. I just couldn't

swallow fast enough. Eric had his problems too. I noticed

him struggling to down my copious spurts.

After the pressure was off, we made love.

Sarah called in early afternoon, asking us to come over for

an early dinner.

Her eyes were twinkling. She must have gotten her way.

"I've been kind of busy," she grinned. "Would you like to

hear what I did?"

Of course! We were both dying of curiosity, but controlled

ourselves, Eric saying "If you'd like to tell us."

"Edward and John showed up this morning as ordered," she

began. "I sent them into the library to watch the tape.

They came out looking like they'd seen ghosts, but,

unfortunately, chose to go on the offensive. They demanded

that I give them the tapes, which I graciously offered to do

after telling them that there were other copies in existence.

"There were physical threats, then they tried reason - what

would happen to ME if their secrets got out. I pointed out

that I wasn't the one who would be spending my life behind

bars, and that I'd survived worse.

"Then I sat them down and told them what was going to happen."

She rested for a moment, then continued. "Some time ago, I

told you that I had ways of finding out where they had their

money hidden. Well, I did find out, and I know where it is

and how much. I handed them a list, and told them,

truthfully, that all of those accounts were frozen, and that

all of the money would be given to the UN Health Organization

for medicines in the third world. They believed me because

they know I don't bluff.

"For the final humiliation, I told them that they would sign

irrevocable consent forms to receive drug treatments.

"There's a drug, I forget the name of it, that is occasionally

prescribed for violent sex offenders. It eliminates all

sexual desires when taken regularly. They will undergo that

treatment which will render them harmless and remove their

threat to society."

"How can you be sure that they'll continue the treatment?"

Eric asked.

"One of my late husband's associates helped me with that.

He's retired, but his son took over the practice, and can't

be bought, so I trust him. If Edward and John don't come in

for monthly injections, he will notify my attorneys and the

tapes will be turned over. The Doctor's a lot younger than

they are, so will be around long after I'm gone if my

brothers happen to outlive me."

"Have they signed the consent forms?" Eric asked.

"Not yet. They have 24 hours to do so. What do you think of

my solution?"

"Does this drug really work?" I asked.

"I'm told that it's highly effective in suppressing the libido

whenever it's been used," she said. "By no means am I ruling

out the possibility of their eventually being prosecuted. One

slip or slight balk on their part and those tapes get

delivered. I don't care what the consequences are for me,

those men cannot continue to inflict damage on innocent

children."

"We'll keep an eye on them too," Eric assured her.

For now, the subject was closed. The only remaining question

was whether they'd submit to treatment.

"Are you satisfied?" I asked Eric.

"No," he said candidly. "I don't trust those two SOBs any

further than I can throw a grand piano. I'd still like to

cut their dicks off!"

"We'll keep an eye on them. They're so goddam arrogant that

if they do intend to try anything, they won't waste any

time. If they do, we go straight to the cops."

"I'm afraid that's going to happen," he said. "Soon."

"I'm not so sure that the punishment Sarah's giving them fits

the crime," I commented. "She's probably found the bulk of

their money but by no means ALL of it. It would surprise me

if this causes them the slightest discomfort."

"Probably not," he agreed, "but can you imagine having your

sex drive removed? That's scary!"

"With you around, I don't think any drug would ever work on

me," I kidded him.

"I just thought of something," he said. "If anybody'd know

about that drug, it'd be Mom. I'm gonna give her a call,

it's still early out there."

When he got through talking with her, he was very serious.

"It works, most of the time, but it isn't foolproof.

Different people react to the drug differently. Mom was REAL

curious about why I wanted to know about it."

"What'd you tell her?"

"I gave her some lame excuse," he giggled. "She'll be on my

case until I come up with something a little more believable."

"I'll see if I can help you come up with something," I told

him.

Eric pondered a minute, then burst into hysterical laughter.

"Boy, are we ever in trouble!" he said between laughs.

"How come?"

"I don't think anybody told Mom and Dad that they didn't have

to wear the beacon watches and carry the panic buttons any

longer."

"Oh shit!" I said.

"As soon as we get home, I'm going to make a big deal out of

it. If we don't, they'll never believe me again!" he said.

"Better talk with Bob first," I suggested. "He may have told

them."

"I'll handle it," he said, still laughing.

We waited to hear from Sarah. We'd promised to stick around

until everything was settled, by now it looked like Edward and

John were dragging their feet.

We were anxious to get home, and neither of us was very good

at waiting. At noon, Eric called Sarah for an update. He

learned that the signed and notarized agreements to undergo

drug treatment were on their way by messenger, and she

expected them to arrive momentarily. She'd call us as soon

as they got there.

We got ready to go home. We'd stop by her apartment on our

way to the airport.

We didn't have much longer to wait.

Sarah seemed relieved. "I hope this whole thing is behind

us," she said, showing us the signed documents.

She insisted on serving tea. We were all tired of talking

about Edward and John, so the conversation wandered.

"We met your nephew at the Grand Ball," Eric said to her,

going off on a new subject.

"I don't have a nephew," Sarah answered.

Eric glanced at me then continued. "He said he was Alan

Sloan, your nephew."

Sarah thought for a moment. "I don't believe I know anyone

by that name," she said.

To be continued.

To be continued.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I appreciate hearing your comments on the

story, my writing, and anything you would like to offer -

good or not so good. Also ideas and plot suggestions are

welcome. Send me a message at orrinrush@yahoo.com