Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Why do I demand such miracles of myself?"

"Because all along you've known what a brilliant mind you have, but you weren't getting a lot of support from people close to you, who love you but still see you as a little girl. You've been depending too much on their opinions, and have been too modest in your self-appraisal. So you're over compensating. You need to relax and give yourself some credit. If you need an outside opinion, depend on me and George. Right now you've got three things to work on: your self image, our relationship, and your Hempstead project. No matter whether the Hempstead millions turn out to bathe you in instant riches or are purely imaginary, you'll have me at your side forever, so one way or another everything is going to be all right. In other words, trust me. I realize that's sort of new for you, but work at it. We're going to live happily ever after."

"Oh, Jack. Give me a big hug and kiss. I love you so."

Chapter sixteen

Henry stood up in the mine tunnel and hauled Fern to her feet. He jerked his head toward the adit and pulled her along with him as he started running. The going was treacherous in the dark and they stumbled a few times, but they got away successfully. Once out in the open air they had moonlight shining through ragged clouds to guide them, and they scrambled down the slope for a hundred yards, then stepped behind a rock outcrop and stood, panting, until they could breathe almost normally.

"How'd you get that double tap off so fast? And right on target."

"Practice, practice, practice. When I'm not on the move, at least two thousand rounds a month. If you shoot enough, it gets to be so automatic that you seldom miss, and yet you aren't even aware of aiming, or what the sight picture looked like, what the trigger felt like, any of that. All you remember afterward is that you decided to take a certain shot, the gun went bang, and your target got a hole in it."

"I don't hear any footsteps out there. Do you think we're safe now?"

"You stand here, and if anybody comes snooping around that side of this rock, shoot him. I'm going over to the other side, and then I'll climb up on top of these rocks so I can see if anybody is sneaking up on us from the blind side. If they've stopped chasing us, we can walk out of here slow and easy."

"Do you think the Jeep is safe?"

"I'd like to leave it alone till daylight. Then we can look for signs that somebody's been fooling around with it, the way we did at the swimming hole. But on a nice moonlit night like this we can walk home. It's only a couple of miles."

"Suzy, got any ideas what Henry and Fern ought to do next?"

She walked in from the living room. "They've been through a lot. Why not let them get back to their bed and have sex for the rest of the night? You remember that comment she made a while back about having to be drunk to let him do something? She could have meant letting him in the backdoor. How about having them stop in her saloon and hoist a few shots to celebrate their successful escape, and then take a bottle up to the bedroom with them. When they're fooling around she could surprise him by pushing his thumb into her asshole, and then they could lube up and do it."

"Sounds like a plan. I'll have to use some delicacy to describe it, but Grace is going to love it. If I do it well, it ought to sell an extra twenty thousand books once the word gets out."

"Just take your time and it'll all come out all right. Don't forget the explosive orgasm she'll get, jumping all over the bed so violently with him locked in place that he's afraid she'll break his dick off. Next day Fern can refer to 'that thing we did last night' and the memory will make her smile despite the pounding headache she'll have from her hangover."

"You are wonderful at feeding me ideas. How did I ever write those other books without you?"

"Hey, wait a minute, Jack. Have you ever done anal?"

"I might have just once, but we were both so drunk that the whole scene is pretty vague. If we really did it, I don't remember it. What about you?"

"No, never, so I can't help you with it. Unless you want to try it now, so you'll know what you're writing about. Should we do that?"

"Let me start writing it, and then if I get stuck on some of the description we'll know what we have to find out by trial and error. Is it all right to refer to it as a buttfuck?"

"Sure, that sounds about right. If you try to sound too clinical it'll come across as phony, but if she asks him 'Please shove that huge prick of yours into my asshole,' it'll seem too graphic to match the rest of your narrative. So 'buttfuck' is probably the best way to go."

I went back to the keyboard and labored for half an hour or so, before running out of lurid details for the housewives. So I saved my text and went to persuade Suzy to assist with some research, which she seemed more than willing to do. Anything for literary authenticity.

We had to hit the square bottle with the black label to get into the same mood that Henry and Fern were in, so we weren't able to start the experiment for an hour. While we were getting into the mood, Suzy parked a microphone near the site of the experiments in our bedroom laboratory, so we could revisit the real-time observations next day, and determine which of our comments should be included in the manuscript. Then we gave it a try. It's not something that comes naturally, like regular sex, but after some initial fumbling around we figured it out, and were pleased to find that once we got comfortable, we both enjoyed it. When it was all over, while we were cooling down and discussing what we'd learned, the question of positions came up. We'd used a variant on doggy style, but Suzy asked whether the reclining position with one leg sticking straight up in the air would work, so we downed a few more shots, got into position, and gave it a try. Toward the end of that experiment a question came up about clitoral stimulation, specifically whether I ought to be reaching around to tickle it or she should put a hand down and do it, so we had to rerun the experiment to resolve that issue. By the time we declared the research program complete, we had three complete sessions to draw information from, with three complete mutual orgasms and an extensive soundtrack of authentic commentary to select from, enough for the present manuscript plus future reference. For the present novel, "Oh yes, use me! Take my virgin asshole!" would make the cut. On the other hand, "Come on, you assfucker! Jam that big dick up there in my shithole! That's it, really fuck my ass! Sodomize me! Fuck me! Harder! Really plow me, you fucking bastard!" might be a bit too racy for the ladies of the PT A. Just to make sure, I burned the sound track onto a disk so that when Grace edited that chapter she'd have access to the real stuff.

As I recapped the nearly empty Jack Daniel's bottle that had been full when we started, I realized that Henry and Fern wouldn't be the only ones with pounding hangovers.

Chapter seventeen

"Oh, Jack, what did you do to me? I'm not sure which end hurts more, my head or my butt. Please come back to bed and hold me. Be very gentle. And don't make any loud noises, like breathing."

"Yes, I'm on my way. I'm moving slowly but I'll be there soon. Anything I can get you while I'm up?"

"I'd like an Alka Seltzer if it doesn't fizz too loud."

We shared a "plop, plop, fizz, fizz" before we snuggled back under the covers and slept without moving for a couple more hours. Then we lay there and talked about the scientific experimentation of the previous evening. "You may never get a chance to repeat those experiments, so I hope you got what you need for the novel. If you ever see me looking seriously at a shot of whiskey again, just shoot me."

"Aw, that's too bad. I was just about to suggest that we start the day off with a double."

"This is nothing to joke about. I don't think I'll even feel like talking about whiskey for a month."

"Now this is all stuff I ought to be getting down on paper. Everything you're feeling, Fern will be feeling, too. I've got the little mini recorder right here. How about telling me just how it feels, and what you remember about it, good or bad."

"The thing I was most worried about was feeling pain when you first stuck it in. But you spent a long time massaging me and greasing me up, and you got me all nice and relaxed and loose, so the insertion didn't really hurt. I remember you sliding it in very slowly, and then just lying up against me when it was all the way in, until I told you it was all right to move. You were so gentle. When you started to move I was worried about how it'd feel, but then once you started the serious stroking in and out, it felt very sexy and I couldn't get enough."

"What about your orgasm?"

"It started in my pussy and seemed to spread like a warm feeling over my whole body. It made my asshole spasm, and it seemed there was a throbbing going on, like a throbbing pain but it wasn't pain, it was a purely sexual thrill. It was like any other very intense orgasm but it was all over my abdomen. My arms were tense, sort of locked at the elbows. I don't think I made tight fists; I think I splayed my fingers all out flat. It even made my fingertips tingle. And I remember curling my toes up so tight that afterward my feel ached a little."

"Anything else?"

"When my orgasm hit, I remember tightening down hard on you. I think that may be what made me so sore this morning. I hope I didn't injure you. Are you all right?"

"Just a little tender, that's all. I'll be fine."

"Now that I look back on it, the whole thing seemed a little scary, but considering that it was our first anal experience, I think we got through it pretty well. What do you think?"

"Well, it got me what I needed for that chapter, so I guess I'd say that it was successful. Sure was intense. Of course, now that we have all that information, we can just put it behind us. No pun intended. You were very brave about it all. We won't need to put you through all that again, ever."

"Yes, I think that pretty well sums it up."

I excused myself to go to the kitchen and put together a pot of coffee. While the coffeemaker was burping away I got out the eggs and started heating up a frying pan. At this point, Suzy walked into the kitchen. "Oh, Suzy, I was going to bring you breakfast in bed, in case your butt is still too tender to sit on a hard chair."

Suzy gave me a kiss. "You are a very considerate lover. While I was alone on the bed just now it occurred to me that in the interest of thorough investigation, now that we're experienced buttfuckers maybe we ought to try it again to see how it goes without the whiskey." She reached over and turned off the stove, then took me by the hand and led me to the big sofa in the living room, where she turned gracefully and dropped her robe, revealing once again the exquisite perfection of her willowy body. She had already spread a large towel on the sofa, on which she lay down and raised one leg straight up in the air.

It's amazing the sacrifices that some people will make, just in the interest of great literature.

Forty minutes later I finished off with a kiss on Suzy's neck, just below her ear. Then I lay down next to her on the sofa, or you could say that I collapsed, and tried to get my breathing back to normal. I expected Suzy to stay there beside me, but instead she stood, slipped her robe on, and headed toward the kitchen. "You were wonderful. Lie there and rest, and I'll fix the breakfast."

She was taking a long time. I got up, put my sweats back on, and went to see if she needed any help, only to be greeted by, "Oh, hi. I was just about to go in to ask if you feel like sitting at the table. It's all ready." I looked over, to see her bringing me a plate with a steak, two eggs, tomato slices, and whole wheat toast. My face must have registered my surprise, because she said, "Well, I can't expect you to keep that up on just a stupid egg, can I?"

"I really appreciate all this, and I think I'm probably more hungry than I thought, but what gave you all this sudden burst of energy?"

"I think you did. That whole experience was such a surprise to me. I was thinking about it as I was cooking your steak. I guess I never wanted to do anal because I thought it would be degrading, but it wasn't at all. Regular sex is wonderful, and I just love it because it brings us so close together and it seems like a natural expression of our mutual love and respect. But this is different. You could call it unnatural, or disgusting, or demeaning, but that totally misses the significance of a sex act that we'd never in a million years dream of doing with anybody else. There's more of the man dominating the woman in it, but besides that there's the woman allowing the man to do something that she'd never let anybody else do to her. It symbolizes total surrender, giving you a gift that nobody else has had or can ever have, of binding ourselves together, totally, forever. And trust, that's in there, too. It's like saying, 'This seems as if it would hurt, but I know you'd never hurt me, so take me, I'm here for you, forever.' Do you understand what I'm saying? And that steak and egg breakfast is my way of saying that I want to nourish you and make you strong. You're my teammate, the man in my life."

She sat down across from me, very gently, on a chair she had padded with a folded towel, and took a sip of her coffee. I put down my fork and wanted to say something intelligent, but the words wouldn't come. So I just said, "Suzy, I'm overwhelmed by all this. I appreciate your gift of yourself, and the wonderful breakfast, but I certainly never expected all this. I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything. Or maybe 'Thank you' would work. Look, I'm just as surprised as you are. A whole great big weight has been lifted off me. You know all that need I had to manipulate you in the beginning, that compulsion to control you? Well, it's gone. Up until now I was able to ignore it, and I knew I didn't need it any more. But now it's gone, poof, as if it never existed! So if you feel overwhelmed, how do you think I feel? That control business had become so imbedded in me that without it I'm a totally different person. Maybe 'renewed' would be the best description. A whole new me. And light as a feather."

I bet you expect me to say that I pushed the steak aside and took Suzy in my arms and held her so tight that she had trouble breathing. Well, that could come later. That steak was tender, and it tasted wonderful. I ate it while it was hot. Every bit of it. Between the steak and Suzy's emancipation, that was the best breakfast I ever had.

Chapter eighteen

The writing seemed to speed up after all the research and Suzy's self discovery were out of the way, because I couldn't waste a single sentence that resulting from her introspection. Every discovery by Suzy became a partially disguised discovery by Fern. Henry stayed on at Fern's hotel, and they helped the Sheriff catch the bad guys from the old mine. But a whole 'nother crisis was looming, and only Fern had the key piece of information that could point to the solution. The trouble was, she didn't realize how important it was, so she didn't mention it for four more chapters. And of course, in between they fucked like rabbits.

Just as the gang of terrorists that they were rounding up was about to lead them to the evil banker who was their leader, the Sheriff had a heart attack and ended up in bed. They went to see him in every other chapter after that, and filled him in on what was going on. Once he understood what they were going to do next, he drew on his decades of experience to coach them. But he couldn't talk for very long, and sometimes his advice was obscure and they'd spend most of a chapter trying to figure out what he meant.

With the Sheriff all stove up, one of the deputies had to assume command. Bob wanted Bubba to do it, but Bubba thought Bob would do it better, and after two chapters of indecision, Bubba pinned the Sheriff badge onto Bob temporarily at a meeting of the county supervisors, who agreed and even applauded. Fern was so delighted with her cousin's promotion that she wanted to throw a party in his honor, but Bob vetoed the idea. The sheriff's office was a team, all for one and one for all, whatever that means. Besides, the last of the terrorists had to be rounded up first. And after he spent another chapter explaining all this to Fern, they wrapped up the whole crisis and they all got a unit commendation from the Governor, with a big plaque to hang in the office near the front door, where visitors could see it and read all the nice things it said. They laid the plaque on the copying machine and ran off a copy to take to the Sheriff in the hospital. That cheered him up so much that he recuperated ahead of schedule, but he was advised to stay out of the day to day operation of the office. So Cousin Bob was confirmed as the official Sheriff, no longer the pro tem substitute, Bubba was named Chief Deputy, and the Sheriff was elevated to Sheriff Emeritus, to consult and advise. Then they had the party at Fern's saloon, with drinks on the house and a busload of prostitutes brought in from Kansas City to help celebrate.

During the party Henry bribed the bus driver, and when the party was wrapping up he hauled the busload of working girls over to the Sheriff's house, where they shacked up for two more days. When it was all over, everything went back to normal except for a mysterious red area on the Sheriff's private parts that might have been a rash or perhaps just a friction burn, and everybody lived happily ever after.

Grace was elated to have the complete manuscript. She came to see me in Providence, and of course she met Suzy. They really hit it off together, and forged some sort of an agreement that if Grace were to call Suzy and tell her what she needed from me, Suzy would see that she got it. So peace reigned over my association with the publishing house and I was able to kick back and take life easy until Grace finished working over the whole story.

Grace called later in the week to set up a meeting in Boston for Suzy and me. We drove north, got a hotel room, and met with Grace and Herb, the Publisher in Chief, the next day. What a meeting! It started off with Grace reviewing the story in general terms, and then pointing out that while it was a good yarn, the general tone of it was uneven. Then she turned it over to Herb, who began by saying I was indeed back, and the fire that had won me such acclaim was right there on display. Then he mentioned that the new novel read like two separate books, the first half with my trademark action and suspense in it, leading to the second half with so much sex, both explicit and implicit, that it was hard to imagine that it came from the same author. But he didn't seem to be complaining about it, and aside from saying that "the ranch half doesn't match the raunch half" he didn't comment further. Grace observed that the change in my writing style coincided with Suzy's arrival, which brought forth a knowing nod from Herb.

Then Herb started to talk about a company he'd just bought, that published high grade pornography, and his search for ways to increase its sales. He had picked up this porn outfit for a song, because although it was a widely recognized imprint, all the hardcore porn on the internet now competes directly with the traditional printed books and magazines, effectively driving them out of the market. His plan was to capture the lion's share of the diminishing market for printed smut. Through all this explanation I kept thinking it was nice of him to tell me all this, since it had nothing to do with me. Then he dropped the bomb. He wanted to use me, with my established international reputation, to pump new life into the smut business!