The Uncommon Artist

Their meeting and subsequent tour lasted until the office closed. He took both women to dinner, managing in the process to get another appreciative stare at Lauren's majestic breasts, completely exposed to public view yet totally clothed. He knew very well that she was aware of his looks and enjoyed it. Parker was a study in quiet loveliness. Her soft voice intrigued him. She had creamy, muscular arms and shoulders, her underarm fur slyly stroked erotic interests somewhere deep within him, and the darkness between her thighs was just plain sexy.

With good reason the patrons around them glanced enviously at him. "You will, of course, stay with us tonight, Dear," said Lauren more as a directive than an invitation.

"Thank you, and yes, how could I pass up an opportunity to be with you two just a little longer?" His smile was boyish and endearing. "I can't be there for breakfast, though. I have to get back to the marina to work on an airboat engine, then I'm off for two weeks on the rig."

Chapter 13

Revenge Engaged

Ralph Mertaugh was ready to make her pay. He was going to get her as she arrived home, and she was both later and alone on Wednesdays when that good-looking but hairy freak she lived with stayed at the office. Taking her apart was going to feel good, better than those young whores he'd killed a few years ago. This one was a social catch. When he beat her half to death after he'd drilled her good, it would strike fear into those who knew her. Fear was good in Ralphie's book, as long as it wasn't his.

Lauren kissed Parker goodbye at the office but completely lost sight of her mission when her lover led her to the couch in Parker's office, sat down with her supervisor and kissed her deeply as she fondled Lauren's breasts. Parker was an expert in tenderly manipulating those pretty creations, and her caresses brought deep sighs of pleasure.

She never really thought about the fact that she, Parker, was actually bigger than Lauren. Her breasts were more firm and her areoles considerably larger than Lauren's, though she also had distinctively puffy nipples. She was definitely aware, however, of the delicious way in which her entire chest became a riot of motion whether she was braless or not, whatever she wore. That aroused all of her co-workers, Lauren, the public in general and the cat-out-on-the-fence. Parker could always get herself hot and bring a sweet little orgasm by making them jiggle, and she enjoyed this little secret buzz more times than she would admit in the course of a day.

Lauren reluctantly broke herself away from Parker, kissed her again, and departed. Parker settled down to more hours of strategizing the start-up of their erotic websites.

It was ten o'clock under a gibbous moon when Lauren pulled into the drive of 12 Greystone Place and drove to the garage. She parked her sedan, got out and retrieved her purse, and started toward the back door. She never saw the shadow detach itself from the darkness in the corner. She was grabbed from behind and something gripped her throat so tightly that she could not even gasp for air. She saw stars, then a muffled voice whispered, "You whore. You all think you're better than everyone else...well now you're gonna pay for it."

Ralphie flung her to the pavement, relishing the crack of her head on the cement apron. Bitches need to be hurt, he explained to himself. He literally dived onto her body, ripping hungrily at her tight sweater until he had exposed her. Two slaps to her face shut up her efforts to cry out, then he hit her in the mouth. Finally, he got to the good stuff. His cell mate in Raiford showed him how to successfully do a sleeper hold on someone to quell resistance while not completely putting a victim out, and he accomplished it on Lauren.

He began to haul off her tight pants, kneeing her in her abdomen and hitting her for the sheer pleasure of it. She wore no panties and the sight of her strip of heavy black fur aroused him further. He unzipped his work clothes and pulled out his rigid penis, ready to spear this animal. Lauren had regained consciousness enough to realize that for her this was it, that point in life when you fight or you die. She had too much to live for; she fought back in contrast to the pacifist advice of law enforcement representatives and others who so often discussed self-protection moves.

As Ralphie prepared to shove himself into her vagina, Lauren, with her left hand held down, used her right to pull herself toward the arm with which he braced himself over her. She opened her mouth wide, shoved his arm into it, and bit down with a force of more than 3,500 pounds a square inch. She ripped her head sideways, tasting her own blood in the process, and spit out a chunk of his forearm.

Her attacker yelled in pain. She remembered what Larry and Mark had taught her: 'never stop attacking, Lauren. Once you start to fight back, keep driving in until either you or your attacker are dead. Never quit. You cannot give your enemy time to recover.' In her fright and desperation there on the hot cement she drove on, having become a weapon rather than a victim.

Ralphie tried to grab her head, but she reached down against all her inclinations and grabbed his penis and balls, squeezing them until he screamed. Detecting an imbalance in the figure above her, she made herself rise, forcing him to one side. He toppled off her, and she rose unsteadily to her feet. Now she knew what to do next. She grabbed a short but heavy aluminum strainer used for the pool, drew back, and hit him directly in his face. She continued her attack, now cursing him, until he escaped her reach and stumbled off into the darkness.

Lauren tried to contain her tears and sense of pain until she could get inside. The lamps around the pool illuminated her handbag where she had dropped it. She grasped her keys, shoved one into her back door lock while trying to keep watch for her attacker, and made it inside. After turning on the lights, she grabbed her phone and called Parker who was aghast at the news. Then she called the Palm Beach Police Department and reported the assault and attempted rape.

Parker broke every traffic rule in the book getting home. She rushed inside to find Lauren in the kitchen, bloody, sobbing, and terrified. The police had not arrived, so Parker called 911 and requested an ambulance. They rushed the terrified, injured woman immediately into care where she and Parker were peppered with all the usual but necessary questions. After her treatment, Lauren received her room assignment where she remained for the next day, Parker all but taking military-like control as if she were a commanding officer.

The male and female detectives were kind, sympathetic and raked in every bit of information Lauren could recall. In addition, the hospital ran an HIV test to ensure that the attacker was not a carrier of the disease. Given the chunk of flesh that lay on the cement, she had bitten a sizeable hunk out of his lower arm. Eventually, that threat was cleared, but the police were less than encouraging as time wore on. A rash of attacks and one near-killing lay in the shit-pile, that collection of cold cases that aged and were forgotten, shoved aside by newer, more important and more visible crimes. They promised they would stay in touch, and departed.

Parker drove Lauren home, put her to bed, kissed her and 'made over' her, then sat beside the pool thinking about what she would do next. Early that evening she called Mark. He was understandably worried and offered to come up to Palm Beach, but Parker and he decided that she would take Lauren down to his Everglades home to stay for a time. She mentioned to Mark that his mother also needed a rest from office pressure; Parker believed that time away from the business would be good for her, and she herself could run things, video-conferencing with her supervisor whenever necessary.

"Mark, she's going to be better. She was beat up quite a bit, and he almost raped her, but she fought back. She kept whispering, 'Mark told me to never quit, and I didn't.' Whatever you told her probably made the difference between life and death...thank you, Mark. With all my heart, thank you. We'll see you tomorrow."

Chapter 14

Recovery

Parker drove Lauren's Lexus instead of the Wrangler; she didn't need the rougher ride of the tall vehicle, and certainly not the steady grumble of the modified V-8. Neither woman spoke much during the ride down. Lauren was still in the throes of recovery from the assault, and Parker orbited in a circle marked by fury, sadness, thankfulness that Mark was the man he seemed because his mother desperately needed him, amazement that she had been given the job she loved, and near-constant longing for the woman beside her.

They arrived at Mark's home around eleven in the morning, and he was waiting for them. There he was again, that delicious man she had met in Lauren's office. 'I do love my Lauren,' but honey, if I ever get a chance at you, you are going to remember it forever!' She laughed at her silent brazenness, knowing that that was impossible. She worked in Palm Beach, and Mark and Lauren were here now. How she would get along without her lover she didn't know, but she was loyal. There was no other woman for her.

Her breasts shifted pleasingly as she turned to get out of the car. Erotic little fireballs shot through her body every time she felt them move. She looked down once more at the way her dark trail of abdominal hair curled over the belt buckle to her white denims and plucked at it, then stepped out of the Lexus. 'You are an inveterate lust machine, Parker,' she snickered. 'Now's a good time to get serious...still, I really do love having big tits.'

Later that afternoon she was on her way to Palm Beach where she completed plans for running the PRISM office in Lauren's absence. One week later and back in Mark's Everglades home Parker discovered with joy that she, Lauren and their new friend, Ashwynde Richardson, would be moving into that wilderness location for the long haul. Mark had asked Lauren to move in with him. She, in turn, had asked him if she could bring Parker and Ashe with her, to which he speedily agreed...with a huge and hungry smile.

Several days after they had moved in, Lauren and she were sunning out on the deck. Lauren, who had been eyeing her young lover as the two of them basked naked in the midday warmth, suddenly remarked, "Parker, Darling, I now know a great deal about the wonderful and sensuous lady inside of that gorgeous body. You have fallen for Mark, and nothing could make me happier."

"But you're head-over-heels in love with him, aren't you?" she replied, startled that Lauren had read her so well.

"So you picked that up, eh? You don't think less of me for being in love with my own son? You're not jealous?"

"Heavens, no! I think it's beautiful and sensuous and I just want to see it in action."

"Well, Honey, Mark is too much of a man for me alone," and she smiled at herself. "I have longed for him for years, secretly. But with us here together, there is no way I won't share him with you, Parks. You are life to me, and I love you with all my heart. I just wanted you to know that, though it may take a little time for Mark to understand that I want you and him to be part of each other. It is something that I desire, oh, so very much."

"Are you certain, Lauren? Because I can never do anything that will make you doubt my love for you or bring you sadness."

"Yes, Honey, I am certain. We can all make it work. I also want as much joy for you as I can possibly bring. Please...do not ever think you must walk on eggshells because of me. Mark captured my heart and my body my first night here. He also gave me this," and she withdrew his diamond from her bag and slid it on over her finger.

"But I know my son, Parker. Aside from the fact that you are gifted, sensuous and lovely, anything that will bring joy to me he'll want as well. And you, Parker Scott, are a real catch, that lovely fur and all. Oh, by the way, I have it on good authority that you really light his fire with that."

"I cannot believe I am hearing this incredibly sweet invitation and... And let me see that gorgeous rock!"

After Parker's admiring inspection, Lauren said, "You'll see. Just be casual and, as Jane Seymour says, 'love will find a way'. Besides, it is inconceivable that a sexually-awake, healthy, red-blooded male like my son will be able to avoid you. I treasure your desires and love for me, but, baby, you are also a man trap. And I want you to trap this one!"

Mark went in to work at the marina daily. He had spoken at length with his supervisor on the Elizabeth Varden and explained to Preston that he needed to make a job change because of that attack on a family member and because he had received a job offer so attractive that he could not turn it down. "Besides," he said, "I'm in love, Press, and I'm setting up house here in the 'glades. I already gave her a ring."

"You lucky dog!" roared his foreman out in the Gulf of Mexico. "The guys here will miss you. You know they all respected you, Mark. If you ever have a need, anything, and the rougher the better, all you have to do is call me. No time limit on this one."

The next several weeks found Lauren and Parker multi-tasking...capably developing the company's latest designs that were guaranteed to arouse lovers everywhere, put their wearers at delicious risk of being apprehended for equally delicious public exposure, and spread the company's brand even farther; just as capably making furious love with each other in and out of the presence of their man, Mark; and going for long, restorative walks around their wilderness home while Mark worked on his projects around the cabin.

Ashwynde Richardson, the fourth member of their family, had hastily made a quick trip to Arizona because of illness of a family member and then her death. Although she felt left out of things, Lauren, Mark and Parker reassured her that such was not the case and that she would have her hands full when she returned, as Mark repeated heavily several times during their call. Lauren threw at least two pillows at him in mock fury for his suggestive remarks, all the while grinning "like a mule eatin' briars," as her son described her.

Parker could arouse Lauren, guaranteed 100 percent effective every time, like Smith & Wesson and Preparation-H, by wearing something either skin-tight or loose and low-cut so that Lauren could see her great breasts bounce and sway, and by wearing some skimpy skirt or dress that revealed just about everything she had.

Their long walks through the wetlands and their intimate conversations coupled with caressing and, when they gave in to desire and spread out a ground cloth, as risky as that could be out here, their sexual heat, was healing medicine to Lauren. Slowly her confidence returned, her fear eased, and she began functioning as the manager of PRISM as well as taking on more activities around the house. Parker also knew that her lover was getting better when Lauren's lovemaking with Mark returned to its before-the-attack level of exquisite savagery.

Chapter 15

When Sleeping Dogs Do Not Lie Quietly

Unknown to the women, Mark had been checking with the Palm Beach Police about progress in searching for Lauren's assailant. He wasn't surprised when one evening he concluded that they were never going to discover and capture the animal. That night he made a second call to Jacksonville to the number he called only when he could not handle a threat alone.

"Sam, you keeping the earth on its axis from up there?"

That familiar voice with the stainless steel surface to it came back, "If you mean, Marcus, am I ensuring law an order in this part of Dodge City, hell no! If the snowflakes don't care enough about their own safety to stand up for it, I'm not going to bleed on their hill for 'em."

"Still the same old crusty bastard I came to know and love back on the rig and in N'yawlins when you and I and got involved in that exercise with our friends from the team."

"Yep, same one. I know you, Marcus...what's up?"

"Sam, you recall that Lauren was attacked several months ago. She's living with me now, and she's doing better. But the police still have no clue as to who did it, and they've inserted the whole matter deeply into the department stack of shit-pile cases. It's dead."

"But you're not, are you? That long, clear memory of yours is working overtime. Can't let those sleeping dogs lie."

"Not in this lifetime. I called in a couple of favors that my father Larry and I got from some folks we helped. I discovered on the night they took her in that her attacker showed up at another hospital bleeding like a stuck pig in his lower arm. The PD knows him, and he has a record as long as John Gotti's rap sheet. It includes one murder they know of, a series of assaults, attempted rapes, and whoever-the-hell knows what else. The reliable word is that the Palm Beach DA refuses to pick up on this one to prosecute because he doesn't think they have enough hard evidence."

"What can I do for you, my friend?" answered the voice with an icy chuckle utterly devoid of humor.

"I need for you to meet me at...," and Mark gave him directions. "I'll pay your expenses and...,"

"Not just no, Marcus; hell no! When you called me the first time, I told you that if you needed help for anything, especially regarding that incredible Lauren, you call. Don't talk to me about money. I'll get a flight out of here first thing tomorrow, and you pick me up in Miami. I keep a storage unit there, and I can get the tools we'll need."

"See you then, Sam. Text me your arrival time. I'll have the airboat on-call. We're going to go to Fort Lauderdale. I found out where this piece of garbage hangs out since he left Palm Beach; I'll describe the plans on our way to the marina.'

"Got it. Watch your six, Mark."

"Always, Sam. Always." The text came in twenty minutes later. Mark went out and checked his Tacoma for oil and tire pressure, then tossed a package of heavy zip ties, a black bag with draw strings, a package of rubber trucker's tie-down hooks, and a thick sleeping bag ground cover into the capped back of his truck.

Finally, he went to bed. Lauren was sleeping with Parker in her bedroom; Mark was always pleased when she did that, but for tonight that was an especially good idea. He needed to be able to move without any questions. He'd told her and Parker that he'd be gone for two days on work in and around the marina, and they understood. He kissed both of them good-bye.

The next morning he drove away to meet Sam at the Miami Airport. He had always appreciated the long circular entry to the airline counters, and he spotted Swam with little effort. They drove up to Fort Lauderdale and located the motel where Ralphie Mertaugh stayed, then they went to the club where he tended bar. After parking a block away, Mark and Sam walked casually around the entire area, assessing their target's routes of movement to local fast food outlets and the other actions he would take in the course of a day.

That night the two took a positon in the shadow of two entryways and waited for Ralphie to emerge and leave for the day. At one o'clock he stepped out the door, walked around the corner of the club to an alley, and mounted what Mark identified as a Triumph motorcycle. He touched the starter button, fired up the big machine, rocked it down off its stand, and took off down the dark alley to the street behind the club.

"At least he's riding in good taste," muttered Mark. "Where that idiot got a Triumph T140 Bonneville is more than I can figure."

"Good Brit company," replied his friend, "before BSA drove 'em into the dirt. But the new ones are actually rated better than a Harley 883."