Author: Sue (
Rating: M-14 (for mature audiences)
Category: Gunfic (Story)
Spoilers: Those you recognize.
Timeline: Events happening not too long after 'Three
Of A Kind.'

Summary: The discovery of a deep-cover covert
operation doing the Government's dirty work
in plain sight under the guise of environmental
activism and charity projects... And many
other discoveries along the way.
Disclaimer: All X-Files characters and
references are property of C. Carter and Company,
Morgan & Wong, 10-13 Productions and FOX. The
British chick's mine.

Thrown Back - 4/18

Washington, D.C.
No. 42
3:49 A.M.

It must have been ages since they'd eaten.
She wondered when it could have been. The
little grubbers weren't swimming all that
much. The little they were was far from
lively. They must be starving, she assumed.

Margot reached for the small container of fish
meal on the aquarium's overhanging shelf. She
twisted the rotary lid, lifted her hand over
the tank and began sprinkling bits of food in
the form of flaky shavings. "That's better,"
she judged aloud, "the little nippers are
swimming more energetically enough, now."
She sprinkled more food in less cautiously.

"How long did you say your friend's been away?"
she called to Langly who was in the kitchen,
scrounging for something to eat. Her curiosity
nudged her eyes around the room, taking in
what interested her, which wasn't much. A bit
too spartan for her taste, except for the
owner's fish.

"It's goin' on two weeks now," Langly called
back, sounding as though he was talking through
bites. "Hey, I'm gonna warm up this left over
pizza I found. You want any?"

"Sure. Thanks." She gave the brown and yellow
dispenser one more good shake before setting
it back on the shelf. Looking satisfied, she
bade them, "'Bon appetit mes amis,'" watching
the tropical pets spiritedly dart to and fro.

"Nice of this Mulder person to let you have his
key," Margot said, leaning against the door
jamb of the kitchen. Don't think he'll mind our
helping ourselves?" She leaned against the door
frame with folded arms, regarding an occupied
Langly finish with the microwave settings. He
was too busy trying to get them right to answer.
"Did you notice if there are any fixings to make
a salad?"

Then, as though hearing her for the first time,
he answered, and hoped he'd gotten the guesswork
right. "Dunno. Didn't notice. Not too big on
salads. Help yourself." He indicated the
refrigerator with a jerk of his thumb.

She noticed some plates in the drainer. She
placed them on the countertop, then went to
see about the fixings. Their absent host's
refrigerator could have stood a good restocking.

Aside from a small carton of Tropicana, a
bottle of Amstel light, and two eggs rolling
around in an improper place in the door, there
wasn't much else. She opened the vegetable bin
to be disappointed but not surprised.

Browning lettuce steeped in its own gummy sludge,
one rubbery celery stalk and three dried up
carrots were the extent of Mulder's vegetable
supply. Next to the orange juice was a single
piece of hardened American cheese, topped off
with some very green mold; yeech.

"I say, your chum seems to be the light eater.
Are you sure the pizza's safe for human

With wide eyes trained on the contents in the
microwave, Langly replied, "Mulder's big on
ordering in, and take-out. Scully shops for
him sometimes." He frowned. "Is it supposed
to look like that?"

"Like what?" Margot came to inspect what had
him looking so puzzled. "Ummm, well, no." She
hit 'stop' and removed the pair of slices.
"They'll do, though. This is no time to be
fussy. I'm starving."

"Me too," Langly agreed.

"I'm so hungry, I'd eat it even if it were
completely pitch black." Mindfully, she poked
at the bubbling conglomerations of 'tomatoey'
red, marigold yellow, fudgy brown and the
charcoal black which clung to the edges of the
pepperoni Neopolitan triangles. Donning two oven
mits, hanging above and over to the left of the
toaster, she whisked the slices to the plates.
"I believe this one's yours," she invited,
handing him the piece that bore his teeth marks.

"Yeah," he confessed and wasted no time biting
off the end. "Owww--dammit to hell!" He cursed
until he ran out of steam. His complexion went
from snowy pale to fire engine red, his cheeks
ballooning, his mouth opening and closing
rapidly. He gagged the rest of what was in his
mouth down. "Shit!" he swore. Gently, he
assuaged the burned roof of his tenderized
mouth with the singed tip of his tongue.

With a pitying eye Margot cooed, "Oh, dear."
She hurried to the refrigerator, extracting
the Tropicana, and smelled its carton's
contents. Nodding, she plucked up a thick-
bottomed glass, and poured. "Here, love, drink

Langly downed the citric liquid in two noisy
gulps. "Thanks," he said snuffily, and wanted
more, wiping his mouth off with the back of his

Margot got him water then. "You should have
blown on it first." She watched him drink it
down in one long draught.

"Yeah, duh," he said, finally coming up for air,
and feeling like a jerk. "Starving, like you
said." He set the glass down, then took up their
plates and slanted his head in the direction he
wanted to go. "Let's eat on the couch. Maybe
there's somethin' good on the tube."

"Maybe, but at this hour? And I thought--"

"He's got cable. Real cool cable."

"I thought you were so tired."

"I'm okay. C'mon."

She looked about, but couldn't spy what she
thought they'd need; napkins. "Has he got

"Dunno. Mulder's not a 'in plain sight' kinda
dude." The last of his voice she heard from
the living room, where he was already getting
comfortable on the couch.

She couldn't find any napkins, so she snatched
the towel hanging on a rack beside the sink
and joined Langly. The living room could have
used some housekeeping, she decided before
nearing the couch.

"No naps?" Langly asked, knowingly, before
shoving more pizza into his mouth. He had
his stuff strategically positioned on the
coffee table Margot noted. He was channel
surfing with a remote that looked like it
could double for a missile guidance system.

"If there are, I don't know where he hides
them." She regarded him for a few moments
on the stained, saggy couch.

"Sci-Fi channel comes through again, bay-bee.
Look what's on! This RULES!"

What had him so excited? "I thought you said
you're exhausted," she felt she had to reiterate.

"That was before. I'm pumped. C'mere." He
bounced up and down on the couch.

"On one condition."

"And that is..."

"You sit still so the beer doesn't spill."

Once she sat beside him, he said with an
animation she hadn't heard up until now.
"Hey--it's Next Gen.--First Contact. I inhale
this flick. Could watch it for breakfast,
lunch and dinner." Langly chuckled, remembering
how he had watched the tape he owned twenty-four
hours straight two months ago. He threw himself
back against the couch's worn backrest like an
ecstatic fifteen-year old all hopped-up after
consuming a case of Mountain Dew.

"I gather it's good, then."

"You gather right. The Borg Queen's one
righteous psycho babe. Man, do I get off on
her!" He crammed the rest of his pizza into
his mouth, wishing for a whole pie. "You'll
dig Picard. You sound just like him." He
asked if he could finish off the beer which
Margot had just stopped sipping.

"By all means. Help yourself." After she
handed him the bottle, she said, "Lucky I
have a cell phone since you didn't want to
use Mulder's phone to call your chums because
you said it could be bugged as it had been once

"Uh, huh... Yeah-right." The cussing-out
he'd gotten from Frohike made him wonder if
calling them had been the greatest idea.

"Something wro--"

"AWESOME!!" Langly erupted, caught up in his
fervor over the Borg cube's imminent decimation
for the umpteenth time. "That is so hyper."

"They said they'll be here early tomorrow morning
with the equipment required to get into--"

hooted like some crazed sports fan, with the
complete and utter demise of the Borg cube.

Margot began shifting away from him, startled.
A grown man acting so juvenile? What could
possibly account for it, she wondered, lobbing
curious looks at him. "You returned the phone
to my backpack?"

Langly was with the crew, as he nodded
carelessly with distant eyes which were locked
on to every flying object filling the T.V.
screen with F/X firepower. "It NEVER gets old..."

Margot rolled her eyes, a twinge annoyed.
Turning her nose up at the screen, she complained,
"Are you listening to me?" It was plain he
wasn't; not by a long shot. "Langly?"


"What *time* did they say they'd be here?"

On the T.V., fireballs were raining down from
the sky. The Enterprise was tearing through the
time warp, hurtling toward an Earth that was on
a collision course with 'first contact.' The
trekkie gulped, light years removed from any
current conversation. She did not consider
whooping and caterwauling intelligent speech.

"*Goodnight*, Richard." Margot rose from the
couch stiffly. "Which way's the bedroom?" She
was holding her pizza scraps and the empty beer
bottle, about to carry them off to the kitchen.
Giving Langly several more impatient looks, she
made her move for there.

"Hey--?" He jerked his eyes off the set.
"Where ya goin'?" His eyes widened. "Can I
have your crust?"

"I'm going to bed," she said, shaking her head.
"Unlike you I'm very tired."

He made full use of his whine. "Aw, c'mon...
Watch this with me?" Margot looked unswayed,
but she let him help himself to her scraps.
"Like, please?"

"I'm not a huge fan of these sort of films,"
she said with just the right measure of

"You like mush, right?" he speculated, chewing


He sounded garbled. "You know. Chick flicks.
Romantic junk; what girls like." Langly slid
forward on the couch and removed the empty
bottle and cleaned plate from her hands. "Don't

"'The Prime Of Miss Jean Brodie.' Pictures
along those lines. That's what I like. Maggie
Smith was brilliant...'I am in the business of
putting old heads on young shoulders...'"

"Sounds diabolical," Langly said, poking fun.

"Deftly acted, more's the point."

He had her by the wrists now and he tugged a
little. "Please? I don't wanna sit here
alone. 'Member what you said back at my place?
You wantin' company? Be down with it? Even if
it's for a little while, and you fall asleep?

She searched his ungainly face. "Well...I"

"That's a yes, right?"

"Not exactly."

"Say 'yes' exactly. I like you being around,"
he said simply, unpolished, a genuine appeal.
He surprised himself. He let go of her wrists,
his shyness calling him to his senses. "Bein'
alone sucks..."

Smiling a little shyly herself then, she said
with a brief touch of her hand to his cheek,
"Very well. I'll stay, then." Without another
word, she got comfortable against him, patting
his restless hands which didn't know what to do
with themselves. "Will this do?"

"Uh," He ordered himself to
relax, with a deep swallow, telling himself
that she wasn't going to bite, he hoped. This
was what he wanted, wasn't it?

"So, then, what's the premise of this picture?"

Draping his arm around her was out of the
question; this wasn't a drive-in. His nerve
was in the developmental stage. "Well, see,
the Borg--"

"The Borg? Are they Swedish?"

"No way. Those dudes would never be mistaken
for Swedes." He pointed at the T.V. "That's
them. Butt-ugly, ain't they? With that shit
stickin' out of 'em. Their implants." He
mimicked their 'call signal' expertly.
"'Resistance is futile...'" He felt her quiver
against him, and that touched off one of his
own. "They get done out of inheriting Earth.
The first warp drive flight, courtesy one Z.
Cochrane, happens, which paves the way for--"

"I," she shut her eyes, re-living a nightmare.
"I do-don't think I want to see this." 

The corridor scene in which Picard and his
posse engaged the Borg was unfolding.

Margot trembled again, and this time there
was no room to wonder whether or not she was
'okay' with this, clearly, she wasn't.

Langly's fertile memory skipped ahead then to
the scene where the Queen made good on her
promise to Data, and the android got his
synthetic flesh...

Shooting up from the couch, Langly gushed,
"Ya-ya know, maybe you're right. We'd better
get some sleep for tomorrow." He swooped down
over the remote, lying on the coffee table,
and switched the set off. "I got the couch.
You take the bed."

Margot rose then too, looking ill, thoughts
of Max accosting her. "You can still watch
your movie. I'll close the door to the

"Yeah, you do that, but I'm gonna sleep too.
I really need some."

"We can share the bed, if you like. This
couch will murder your back."

Langly's eyes practically fell out of their
sockets. Striving to sound in control, he
replied, "I'm used to couches. My back trained
on the one back at my place. So, it's dope."
He waved her off. "G'on. Get some shut-eye.
See ya in the morning."

She decided she was too tired to argue, so
shrugging she bid him a good-night too.


4:25 A.M.

Ominous, glowing shadows with shimmering red
pupils loomed. They seemed to leap out at her
from every conceivable jail cell. The cell
barriers were heavy and drearily opague, and
were shot through and through with the same
vengeful eyes the lurking phantoms had.

There were legions of these monsters...

She tried to scream, but failed; kept trying,
again and again, although failing to emit any
sound. Her mouth was sticky, as though stuck,
and her throat felt swollen.

Beyond this particular corridor in this
tenebrous maze of writhing phantasms with
their grotesque grafts peppering their
loathsome bodies, resplendent light as
dazzling as that of a hundred halogen beacons,
beckoned her to freedom.

Yet, before she gained a running start, the
grisly forms engulfed her, dragging her down
into their morass of...she wasn't sure what,
and she was horrified all the more.

As they dragged her down, she glimpsed the
the disembodied head of a man, rising above
the twisting nebulae of her terrifying captors.

She struggled to scream his name, but couldn't,
her voice was intractably imprisoned in the
cage of her throat.

He was laughing at her, mocking her and her
impotence as she drowned in the sea of those
foul bodies, defeated. His name exploded in
her beset mind as she wrung the blanket in her


Rolling off the couch, and crashing onto the
floor awakened Langly, who then sprang bolt
upright, startled out of his wits. Her screams
pierced him, and he raced to the bedroom,
bumping and colliding into anything in his
path on the way like a man on fire. "Wha' the
hell? What's the matter! Marg?"

She was thrashing violently upon Mulder's bed,
still sound asleep. She sobbed and wailed,
but didn't wake.

Wild-eyed, and fully on red alert, Langly
shook her. "Wake up--wake up--hey--wake up!"
He stopped trying to wake her, and turned on
the nightlight on the nightstand, then resumed
getting her to stop.

"Gus--Gust--" Margot opened her eyes which
looked just as crazed as Langly's. "I-I saw
him. I saw Gustin," she whimpered breathlessly.
"He had no body. He was just a head. An'--and
there were hideous creatures with glowing red
eyes all 'round me. The walls had red eyes
too--great big ones," she blathered. "They
grabbed me, pulled me down with their filthy

"Don't think so," Langly mustered, as reasonably
as he could, considering the manner in which
he'd been awakened from a sound sleep. But,
more gently then he said, "You were dreamin'.
Listen to yourself." He scrubbed his face with
his right hand, and threw a glance at Mulder's
clock-radio for the time. His hand dropped down
to his throat which had sounded hoarse.

"A-A dream? Bu--"

"Get a grip. You were dreamin', Marg, so chill."
He sat on the bed, holding one of her trembling
hands. "Trust me. You were."

"Ar-are you sha...sure?" She sat up then, unable
to calm down as easily as he was making she

"Positive." Talking as though to a child, he
continued, "You see him? Or those red-eyed
things, anywhere in this room? Does it look
like the walls have eyes? Dust mites I'd be
willing to bet, but no eyes."

She gripped his hand, trying to be reassured.

"All right." He readjusted his glasses which
had slipped down his nose with the hand that
was free. "Want anything? Some water? A Nytol?
A phaser?" He rolled his eyeballs, feeling
cynical up to them. Never shoulda watched that
wack flick, he scolded himself....too heavy for
her to handle. Now she's totally tripped-out....

Her eyes searched his face. "Some water will
do," she said, sounding more in control.

He got off the bed, moving away, and she tumbled
out after him.

"Hey, I'll get it. You stay."

"No, I'm going with you..."


She followed closely behind him, her hand
resting upon his back, and as they emerged
from the bedroom she whispered, "I'm not a
terribly brave person. I've never been."

Langly cracked a smile it was too dark to see
in the connector between the kitchen and the
bedroom. He wasn't either, but there was
no need to tell her that. "You study whales,

"Yes, but that's different. They're
tremendous. They're nothing to trifle with,
but they're regal creatures, ever noble, fear-
inspiring, but not fearsome. They never
frighten me, but then again, I've studied
their behavior. Gustin, well... He wasn't 
cruel in the beginning."

The bastard, Langly thought, leading them
on. "I ain't blaming you for being scared,

"I know."

He sighed loud enough for her to hear. "I
got issues with bein' afraid sometimes too.
Like who don't, huh?" She smiled at his back,
and held onto him more securely. He located
the nearest light source, and proceeding,
they made it to the kitchen with no further

Langly rinsed, then filled the same glass
he'd drunk out of earlier, handing it to her.
She drank to the halfway point and handed
the glass to him. He drained it dry and set it
down in the sink, thinking back to when Mulder's
water supply had been tainted.

Too late now, he rationalized, and looked at
Margot, who was looking at him with compelling,
trusting eyes.


Nodding, she answered, "Uh uh."

"Let's try gettin' a little more sleep before
my buds roll up. Cool?"

"I'll try," she said noncommittally.


"Only what?" he asked gently.

"Come to bed with me? Please?" She took his
hand, jiggling it a little. "I think I'd sleep
so much better if you were sleeping beside me."

You might, he thought, gulping, and recoiling a
little from her touch, but will *I*? Candidly,
he said, "I-I do-don't think that's such a

"*Please*?" With the fingertips of her other
hand, she dusted his cheek, then his forehead,
moving a wispy tendril aside. Her eyes goading
him; those freaky, gorgeous eyes.

"Yea-yeah okay. All right. Uh-sure." Flustered
and placative at the same time, Langly couldn't
move, so Margot jiggled his hand again to get
him going.

"Sleep," she arched plaintively, "that's all
I've in mind..." She smiled at him, reading
what she guessed he might be thinking. "Just

"Oh, oh, yeah--right. Wh-what else?" An image
chalk-marked by fantasy had popped into his
mind, but he chased it off.

They yawned in unison, upon entering the bedroom,
but Langly thought he'd heard something, so he
doubled-back and checked the front door to make
sure it was nothing.

"Everything all right?" Margot asked upon his
return, already under the covers, her head above
them like she was in water over her head, the
way Langly was feeling, as he looked at her

"Thought I heard a noise. It was nothin',
though when I looked out into the hallway."

She drew back the blanket next to her, waiting
for him to join her. "Coming?"

His breath bobbled, over the way she had said
that. It had sounded like she was flirting,
daring him to make a move on her; almost
enticing, or was that just him? Would he?
Well, under different circumstances.... He
shook his head, already knowing the route he
always took; the safe one. "I, I'm gettin'

"Aren't you going to take off your socks?"

"No," he said sharply. "My feet are cold."

"If you put them near mine, they'll get warm."

....And that's not the only thing that will,
Langly considered, feeling his eyes tighten
behind his glasses. He removed his specs,
putting them on the night table and guided his
hand to the light to turn it off, relieved that
he'd get into bed with her under cover of
darkness. He wished he hadn't removed his
T-shirt which was on the coffee table. He'd
removed the T so the 'Ramones' wouldn't get
rumpled. Being barechested like this only made
him more self-conscious, and nervous beyond

"Oh, leave it on, won't you?"


"The light, might you leave it on?"

Looking helpless, Langly nodded, painfully
uncomfortable. "Wait." 


He shrugged, realizing he'd already taken off
his glasses; they stared at him on the night
table. As though testing the waters, he slid
in beside Margot, counting to three. Relaxing
was out of the question, but with his entire
body as stiff as a board, he untensed a little
after a few moments.

Just when he thought he could handle this, the
next thing she requested blew his mind to

"Hold me?"

Appalled, Langly blurted, "NO--I ca-can't!"

"Wh-why? What's wrong?"

"I ju-just can't, okay?" He shifted his
quaking body away from hers, cursing himself
for being like this.

"I won't take advantage of you, if that's
what you're afraid of," she promised.

Grumbly, he shot back, "I ain't afraid, I'm
just real tired. I wanna get some sleep.
Th-thought you did too."

Margot said nothing for several unsettled
moments. Patiently then, she vocally
tip-toed, "I'm sorry, love, for imposing on
you like this."

"You're *not*," Langly said emphatically,
rolling back over. "it's just that...that."

"You're not used to this, is that it?" she
replied sagely, patting his cheek, her face
a study in understanding.

He wanted to say that that wasn't it, but
there was something in her face that prevented
him from telling her that was exactly how it
was. "I...well I." Oh, just tell her, and
get it over with. "I've ne-never slept with
a woman before."

"And I've never slept with someone so honest."
She scrunched in closer to him. "I wasn't
coming on to you when I asked if you'd hold

"Well, I figured," Langly retorted scornfully,
half-wishing she had been, probably dying
where he stood if she had. Hearing how
bungling this conversation was sounding, he
said with false bravado, "You want me to hold
ya, I'll hold ya then. No prob. Piece'a cake."
He held his arms out to her, his turn to call
her on this. "Well, what are you waitin' for?
I can do this."

"It isn't one of a Greek mythical hero's labors
I'm asking of you. If you don't want to, you
don't have to."

Turning the tables on her now, he re-emphasized,
"I can do this, try me." Getting cocky, he
insisted, "What are *you* afraid of?"

More things than you can possibly imagine, love,
but being with you like this isn't one of them,
wafted through her mind. "Fine, I shall."

So, this was how it felt to have your arms
wrapped around a member of the fair sex....
Langly let out a breath he'd held for a long
time once she'd gotten settled, her back lodged
in his chest. "See, told ya." His body was
still quivering, and he was wider awake than
he'd ever been in his life.

"So you did."


"Worlds. What about you?"

"I-I'm cool, I'm cool," he upheld, although he
was sweating to beat the band.

She hesitated a moment. "You never got the
chance to tell me about yourself."

"Didn't get our pancakes or steak 'n' eggs
either, but we lived."

"Are you really that tired?"

"Not so much now," he said truthfully.

"Then, tell me about yourself."

"Damn, why would you wanna hear my sob story?"
And at a moment like this, he thought, beginning
to enjoy the feel of her against his bare skin.
His arms held her tighter. She smelled great,
and felt greater, it nagging him what he'd
missed all these years.


"Because why?"

"Because I find you interesting."

Langly paced himself. "You do? Ho-how come?"
He hoped she knew that was his heart beating
almost audibly like that, and not the pounding
going on in his brain. ....Breathe deep, dude,
real deep....and slow....very slow....

Because cute, geeky types like you secretly
turn me on, she thought, dreamily, feeling her-
self sink heavily into his tenacious embrace,
the way she was feeling making no sense. She
hardly knew him, but she couldn't deny that his
arms felt delicious around her.

How could her falling for Max as hard as she
had be explained? He was the farthest cry
from being a geek. Well, when he'd been all
human, he'd been different. There was something
about this boy-man, that she had felt the moment
he'd offered her his custom-designed T-shirt.
Beneath the juvenile overtures lay a man who
hadn't come into his own, yet.

"I just do. Will you indulge me?"

His breath caught, and this time he thought he
might need to use the inhaler they'd been able
to pick up for her. "So, uh...where do you want
me to start?"

"From the beginning, silly."

"You'll be way bored, *silly*," he mocked.

"Try me," she mocked in kind, saying so the way
he had, earlier.

Careful how you mean that, he cautioned her to
himself. He switched his groin away from her,
for embarrassment's sake. "Okay, well..."

"Might I ask a tiny question before you begin?"

"What's the question?"

"Here's my curiosity getting the better of me
again." Her sleepy eyes drifted up to the
mirrored ceiling. "What sort of man *is* this
Mulder?" She was squinting up at their
reflections. "Does he have some sort of kinky
fascination for the bird's eye view when...well,
you know when."

Langly willed his waking hard-on to die. "He's,
uh, well he's funky that way..."


"Yeah. Least it's what he's led us to believe.
Personally? I think he's more talk, nil action."

"You don't say..."

"I *do* say." He grinned when she patted his
left forearm. The delicate wintergreen scent of
her hair overpowered him, and he breathed in
deeply again.

"Okay, begin."

Langly hesitated, thinking things over. "Lemme
just say that...that, see there's a lotta crap I
haven't liked facing about myself." He felt her
nod against him.

"I'm not a stranger to the club, love."

"I'm trying to, but I'm not there yet. I got
problems. Drinking heads the list."

"Drinking, hmmmm? How? In terms of not getting
enough, or too much?"

He gave her right forearm a light pinch. "You're
real cute, y'know that?" She giggled.

"I've been told. So are *you*." He decided to
let that ride.

"I go to AA meetings sometimes. They help me
face *me*. I really should go back. Haven't
been since my last big bender, last month. See,
deep down, I really have it bad for the 'drug
ya chug.'" Why was he telling her this stuff?
This wasn't what you told a girl you may want
to impress. Did he want to?

Twirling a strand of his hair she said, "I won't
think any less of you, whatever you decide to
tell me. You can let there be some mystery.
Mystery's good in its place." She started
stroking his arm. Its soft blonde hairs felt
nice running her fingers over. He lightened up.

"Okay. So, like...I was born...twenty-nine
years ago to Esther Jane and Silas Micah Langly
in Saltville, Nebraska." There was a definite
edge to the way he'd said his father's name.
He yawned expansively, and was plainly
unsuccessful in stifling another one when he
yawned again.

"Go on, don't stop now. I'm hooked..."

Langly rocked her a little, and dared bringing
his long legs nearer to her sinewy ones. He
wondered what she would think, but little did
he realize that he'd hampered her breathing.
"You say that now. Ten minutes from now, get
back to me."

"You're stalling," she said thickly.

"I'm warnin' ya. Life on the farms was the
pits. Dull as hell. If I hadn't made up my
own gadgets, I would've gone nuts..."

"Keep going."

"'Ja wohl! Ich habe und belfoge,' Oprah..."

"Then continue, 'Dussel...'"


End Part 4