Dooby Rhymes with Scooby

                                                                                        by Jamie Haze 

 

 
Part 33



Mattie and her new husband, Jimmy, boarded Auggie's plane as soon as it was
parked at Nassau, Bahamas, International Airport before anyone had a chance
to deplane. It was apparent that Mr. and Mrs. James Chambers, the
newlyweds, had been acting as Auggie's advance team regarding room
assignments at the Atlantis Resort and Casino. They had just come from
Dom's plane. Auggie welcomed them with relief since he had been blocking
the open hatch with his body and scooter since they landed to prevent the
boys from racing off the plane to board a series of limos that would
transport everyone to the hotel.

Once again the adults flew the very short flight to Nassau on Dom's plane,
the three dowagers, Margery, Bernice and Agatha with their new `Executive
Assistants', Mike, Ben and Dan, flew out on Margery's plane and Tony Orsini
acted as the mysterious couple's flying chauffeur and transported Jennifer
and Lane separately so they could be photographed boarding and exiting a
shiny new executive jet of their own. It was already known to the Paradise
Island casinos that the combined four jet plane party comprised the large
prestigious Bligh/Orsini group.

While August Bligh was recognized as a `high roller' from a previous visit
to Paradise Island when he was accompanied by a young entourage of
questionable age, everyone behaved like gentlemen. In total they all
gambled and lost more than they won so they were to be welcomed
back. Dominic Orsini on the other hand was known as a `Whale', by name, his
face and reputation for only using $10,000, or larger chips at all the most
exclusive casinos around the world including Atlantis The Palm, Dubai, so
he was one of a very few `mega rollers' on earth and the Atlantis casino in
Nassau, was eager to get their chance at his money for the first time and
were willing to overlook a few young people of questionable age in his
entourage to facilitate his losses. Casinos were fierce competitors but
they all shared information, good and bad concerning customers.

"Dooby boy I swear if y'all don't set your ass down an' listen up, yo'
stayin' locked up on this here plane until we leave fo' home," Auggie
warned. That threat got everyone's attention and they all settled down to
listen to what Jimmy had to say although Dooby remained hovering over Jimmy
and Mattie's shoulders after he gave Mattie a welcoming and congratulatory
peck on the cheek.

Jimmy held up a plastic card, one of a bunch Mattie had in a small
box. "These are your room keys. Each one has your assigned room number and
your name on it but it doesn't matter where you sleep. What does matter is
that it is also your personal account card. You'll need your cards to get
into places like our section of the hotel, the Royal Tower, and upstairs
into your suites, the water park, to eat at restaurants, to charge anything
and most importantly you use it in the casino instead of cash."

Auggie piped up, "that there means if yo' lose all your money the first
damn hour playin' the slots, yo' goin' to have one long hungry weekend,
understood?" He warned while looking at Trasker and his boys who thought
they could beat the odds by attaching themselves to previously lucky Dooby.

"What's our limit this trip Unc?" Trasker as first nephew, boldly asked the
one question all the boys were dying to have an answer to, even though they
all had some money of their own or could put the `squeeze' on their parents
in the remote possibility they lost what they brought. To say that the gang
was eternal optimists was something of an understatement.

"Well," Auggie hedged, to see how long anyone could hold his breath, "Dom,
Charlie, Carl, Jimmy an' Margery, `an yo' parents, all kicked in a few
extra bucks to my, `get rid of the kids fund'," he ignored the boos, "so as
yo' have 10 large to piss away, so y'all best stretch it out until we
leave."

"Each?" Little Zeek asked innocently after most of the cheering and
expressions of thanks, and undying gratitude died down. Rodger nodded; he
wanted an answer to that question as well.

Auggie looked around frantically for something, "Mattie girl yo' best give
yo' pebble head son an' his boyfriend their cards befo' I find my cane," he
warned, "Of course each!" He raged in a roar and a hearty slap on Little
Zeek's ass as he ran by through the hatch. He took a swipe at Rodger as
well but missed.

The rest of the gang exited like perfect young gentlemen after they
received their plastic keycards, until they were just outside the hatch,
then they joined a contest to see how many steps they could skip in one
jump down the portable steps without regard to possible broken
bones. Auggie just rolled his eyes and shook his head until he saw the last
boys in the line to receive their room keys; the youngest members of the
Bradley bunch and the chefs.

Auggie held up the three morose youngsters with a wink, "Don't be offended,
but this visit only, if anyone asks, you guys are dwarfs if yo' get my
meanin'."

"You mean we can get in the casino and gamble?" Curt questioned, he was
nearly overwhelmed with excitement; worse than Dooby.

Auggie rolled his eyes again, "Is yo' a dwarf?" he asked.

"Yup, all my life," Curt agreed with a giggle.

Auggie turned to the waiting chefs, "Mattie, Jimmy an' me got together an'
put two grand each on your key cards," he began and had to hold up his hand
before the chefs could say anything. He watched Mattie give each chef a fat
envelope. "That there is five large each as a cash Christmas bonus for all
the hard work yo' boys has done an' is doin' fo' us at the Club, but
there's just one little string," he added.

"Who do you want us to whack?" Flynn asked far too seriously.

Auggie and Zeek laughed, Auggie answered, "That there is a whole other
division. Mattie girl had the kitchen in my suite stocked up with breakfast
vittles and we was hopin' y'all could make up some breakfast fo' us an' any
o' the boys who can get up that early and has their sniffers workin'?"

A bit of the devil appeared in Chef Brian's eyes, "We'd be happy to fix
breakfast and all your meals if you want, but we might need someone to help
us."

Auggie's grin indicated that he knew where `back talkin' Brian was
going. "If Ollie boy shows up in that kitchen, I'll be wantin' them
envelopes back," he advised. "Poor Zeek here is still passin' egg shells,
or so he claims."

"Dat boy sure is a caution," Zeek agreed with a laugh, "Good thing he ain't
wid us. He chartered a plane an' flew over here on his own self wid Jon,
Cole and Pete boy. He said as how his Uncle bought him a home here near the
gamblin' casinos so as he might as well use it," he told the Chefs. "He
said he'd be in touch soon," he added. With that said Zeek ran down the
steps like a man on a mission and disappeared in the company of a man,
toward the tail end of the big plane.

By the time Auggie looked out at the tarmac, the limos were all still
parked near the planes, the rear doors were standing open but there was not
even one driver or anyone else to be seen. He shook his head when he heard
some distinctive thumps in addition to the cargo hatch being opened to
unload the mountain of luggage; they were also the sound of his ramp
deploying. He'd completely forgotten that Trasker had once been his
airplane `step an' fetch it boy' and was `heping him out' after inviting
everyone in the four jet party to assemble to watch him deplane.

An elegant customized SUV soon appeared with Zeek riding shotgun. He was
there to direct the driver to park so the trucks' side door and hidden
elevator platform was exactly opposite the foot of the extended ramp while
Ryan and Trasker invited certain boys to be bowling pins in lieu of any
Bligh company executives. In the end all of the boys, including the chefs
volunteered to be pins, with Dooby in the number one pin place. When
Jennifer figured out what was happening, she dragged Lane by his hand to
stand behind her brother Dooby.

"Auggie's not really going to hit us is he?" Jennifer asked Dooby.

Dooby shrugged and opined, "Well if you combine Auggie's weight with the
scooter's weight and speed, and add in the ramp's steep incline, I don't
think he really has a choice. Just don't be standing here when he arrives,"
Dooby told Lane so Lane would see to it that Jennifer was safely out of the
way.

Auggie's blood curdling Rebel yell announced that he was already halfway
down the ramp with increasing momentum. Dooby suddenly striped off his
shirt, stood his ground like a bull fighter and waved the shirt as a target
all while the `bowling pins' behind him were already scattering. Lane was
predictable despite Dooby's warning; if Dooby was standing fast, so was he,
although he did scoop up Jennifer into his arms. At the very last instant,
Dooby shifted slightly to the side while he continued to hold his shirt,
the target, in the exact same place. Lane followed Dooby's move and lifted
Jennifer somewhat higher so hopefully she would clear Auggie's bulk as he
passed them.

When the time was right, Dooby draped his shirt over Auggie's head, so he
could no longer see where he was going. He was safely passed Dooby and
almost passed Lane when the heel of Jennifer's shoe connected with Auggie's
shirt covered head. Auggie braked hard for the first time ever when
playing this executive bowling game. He removed Dooby's shirt and looked
around in alarm. "Who'd I hit?" He asked with concern. He was relieved to
see that Dooby was laughing, Lane was almost laughing in relief and
Jennifer was struggling to be put down while she screeched that she'd
injured Auggie and he needed first aid. She calmed down after Auggie
laughingly assured her that he was far more surprised than hurt as he
returned Dooby's shirt.

"Where in tarnation did y'all get that smooth move, Dooby boy?" Auggie
wondered.

"I was in front of Granny's building minding my own business," he answered
piously, "when two taxi cabs came out of nowhere from opposite directions
and tried to assault me for absolutely no reason. I had some practice."

"What you mean is, you were out in the middle of the street," Cory
corrected, "and you barely missed being run over, probably legally. You
were just lucky that you didn't get your silly ass squashed because you
weren't paying attention."

"That is not the way I remember the incident," Dooby replied archly before
he took off running for the first limo in line since none had yet been
occupied by anyone. "Let's get to the hotel and change so we can go to the
water park!" He invited the gang over his shoulder, quickly dismissing
further discussion about his almost run in with New York taxi cabs.

The adults in the party were content to follow the gang in the remaining
cars and Auggie, riding in the customized handicapped equipped SUV, brought
up the rear in company with a hotel step van that was packed with the
group's luggage.

######

A small chartered jet landed at the Marathon airport an hour after Auggie
and company had departed for Nassau. Two casually dressed men without
luggage deplaned; one was large, bald, and mean-looking, even wearing
sunglasses. He had tattoos everywhere exposed, including his head. The
second man was small and slight, with long unkempt hair who was wearing a
perpetual meaningless smile and gave the appearance of being unduly
slimy. The men were from Las Vegas and well used to airport services
provided travelers in large airports. They stepped from the jet and went
into the terminal to rent a car for a week.

They'd never heard of a rental car company at any airport that didn't have
any cars to rent. Neither seemed to be aware the rest of the entire nation
was celebrating the long Thanksgiving holiday and those that needed rental
cars while vacationing on Marathon or in the Keys had rented all that were
available.

"We'll take a taxi," Slimy decided out loud. He turned back to the young
rental clerk to ask, "Do you know where the Rainbow Club is located?"

The clerk was 17. He knew exactly where the Club was and he was biding his
time until he was 18, old enough to apply for any kind of part-time job
there. He knew exactly what type of clients the Club catered to, because of
the small rainbows that graced the sign, plus he fantasized about some of
the staff he'd seen in public, as well as the name and local gossip. The
boy couldn't resist a knowing smirk after giving the two men a quick second
look. He decided he needed more experience in utilizing his gaydar. "Sure
the Clubs' just down the highway on the Gulf side. You can't miss the
sign," the boy answered finally after a noticeable delay.

"Gulf side?" Tattoo questioned with a threatening frown. He had the
feeling that the kid was putting him down.

"Yeah, facing south, the Gulf of Mexico is on the right and the Atlantic
Ocean is on the left, so the Rainbow Club will be on your right," the boy
patiently explained some basic Keys geography.

The young car rental clerk had his future employment at the Club in mind
when he called there after the two strange men were back outside in the
heat waiting for the taxi. "This is Brenden at the rental car desk in the
airport. Two guys are on their way down to you; they asked where the Club
was by name, but if those two guys are gay, then I guess the Doc cut off my
gaydar along with my foreskin just after I was born."

Keith, the primary desk clerk introduced himself in turn and to thank
Brenden for the heads up (he sounded `hot' over the phone too), Keith
invited him to the club to spend the day anytime he was off so they could
meet and hang out together.

Outside, the men were further disgruntled by the need to actually call for
a taxi, there were none waiting for fares, and then they had to wait 10
minutes more until the driver finished his coffee break. They had never
encountered such a totally `laid back' atmosphere such as they were finding
in the Florida Keys. Once again Slimy saw the taxi driver look up into his
rear view mirror and smirk before he nodded and drove from the terminal,
all of 100 feet to the Overseas Highway.

The taxi pulled into a landscaped, paved drive only about one mile further
down the highway. The driver had barely stopped in front of the building
entrance before the rear van door was opened by a smiling young man who
didn't appear to be embarrassed by the fact that all he was wearing was a
blue kerchief knotted around his neck, while the cab driver nearly
unscrewed his head looking back at Keith.

Over three-quarters of the staff had been cross trained to serve in any
capacity except kitchen or bartending, and Keith, as the desk clerk on duty
was also the front line guest screener. "Good morning guys. I have to ask
if you're members of the Club before you go inside and let your taxi go."
He already knew the men weren't members since there weren't any. He was
just making sure that the men knew what rainbows meant. He agreed with
Brenden, these men did not appear to be gay. Earlier guests had checked out
or had opted to fly to Nassau to gamble for a few days, of course at their
own expense.

"Members," Slimy questioned, "we thought this was a beach resort. We don't
want to stay here; we're just looking for someone who is. He's a friend of
ours." He allowed his eyes to drop momentarily before he just had to ask,
"Why are you standing out here in broad daylight and you're stark naked?"

Keith laughed, "That's easy, clothing is optional for all members but not
optional for us, the staff. Could I ask who you're looking for? That would
save a lot of time."

"Sure, his name is Oliver Olsen," Slimy was suffering in the heat combined
with high Florida humidity unlike dry Nevada, and wanted to end the
conversation if the information about the kid spending 1000s of dollars in
this joint was wrong.

Keith made a snap decision. He thought it would be best if these two slime
balls were guests, so everyone could keep an eye on them, but if they
became guests, he would make them pay double the going rate. "Ollie, sure
he's a member here but he's not here right now, he flew over to Nassau to
gamble for a couple of days. If you want to wait until he gets back, I
guess I could register you as his guests." He waited all of 30 seconds for
the pair to decide.

"Well then, we'll just stay a couple of days," Tattoo agreed and sent the
taxi away while Slimy headed inside to cool off.

Both Slimy and Tattoo got stopped just inside the door. They were staring
at the rest of the staff, out on the beach, many without their kerchiefs,
since they had no guests at the moment. The young men were partaking of the
Club's many amenities while they had the chance and of course, improving
their full body tans at the same time. They all agreed that they had the
best jobs in the world.

Keith shook them awake, "If you'll just have seats over here I'll get you
registered. We accept all credit cards. Now how long did you plan to stay?
Would you care for something to drink? I forgot to say that your stay here
is all inclusive; we have gourmet meals served wherever and whenever you
want to eat and if you'll just tell me your favorite brands, bottles will
be placed in your room and in the bar so you can be served wherever you are
on the property."

The men sat down. "I'll have a Long Island iced tea," Slimy decided.

"I'll have the same," Tattoo agreed.

Keith snapped his fingers and a passing staff member diverted to the desk,
"These gentlemen are Ollie Olsen's friends. (That was a simple but
effective staff alert.) They're going to wait for him as guest members
until he returns." He placed the drink order.

A stranger's mention of Ollie's name was electrifying. The beach cleared
with a hand signal. Everyone wanted to see what a `hit man' or men looked
like on the way to their positions. The barman poured generously, two
waiters served the two drinks and three more arrived with trays of unasked
for finger foods.

"Our flat rate is $2000 per day per person," Keith announced with a
straight face, "How many days will you be staying?" He asked and waited for
some form of payment. The double rate caused the men to gulp their very
strong drinks that were replaced at once by two other waiters.

A problem arose. The alleged hit men only brought five thousand dollars
each in cash to pay their expenses and of course didn't have any
identifying credit cards, but they'd found their mark and they'd already
discussed the possibility of a quick fatal mugging and robbery after which
they'd dump the body somewhere where it could be easily found and quickly
identified so they could be paid their normal fee. They did not know about
the million dollar bonus. After, they planned to get lost, just up the road
in Miami. They were unaware that the State of Florida was big, just like
California and Miami was a long way up the road, but a $2000 cushion seemed
acceptable.

The men decided to stay at the club two days, after that time, they'd find
a motel or simply camp at the airport until they saw a bright red single
engine Piper Cub land. The pilot would be their mark. The kid would be hit
the same day, just after dark and they'd be off to Miami within the
hour. Neither had yet considered how they would reach the anonymous safety
of Miami.

The only two guests wanted separate suites and neither had luggage, not so
much as a tooth brush or a pair of undies. They continued to be overwhelmed
with room service as the parade of servers continued and after instructions
from Keith, continually encouraged to partake of the resort's
amenities. Neither had ever been on a jet ski and since they had a wait and
had nothing to do, they decided to try Sea-Doo's out on the placid Gulf.

The next problem was what to wear on the boats. Jockeys or baggy, loose
fitting boxers would look ridiculous even though no one was likely to see
them except what appeared to be a platoon of naked staff. They decided to
go nude, which was exactly what Keith wanted. If the men were naked and out
on the water all their worldly possessions and weapons if they had any,
could be carefully searched and weapons might be disabled or maybe even
stolen. Keith and company had 48 hours to decide a course of action or
longer if Ollie didn't return through the local airport or returned, hidden
aboard one of the big jets.

After two more Long Island iced teas, the men ran to the boats wearing
towels. The boat attendants were ready for them. The men were not sun
worshipers; their work was generally completed at odd hours during
darkness; they slept during the day so their bodies were pasty white and
Tattoos' was a kaleidoscope of colorful designs. A boat boy offered two
bottles of `suntan oil' without being asked. The oil was a mixture of
mineral and olive oils provided guests to use as lubricant, suggested by
Dooby, and contained no sunblock because of negative taste tests.

The boat boys didn't begin congratulating each other until the hit men were
safely away after advising that they would be out for an hour or
so. Unprotected skin in the south Florida sun for an hour, even in winter,
at high noon would be just enough to insure that neither man would even
want to look at their clothing for the next two days. Sunburn could be such
a wonderful weapon.

Keith had finally contacted Chef Brian after leaving text and voice mails
since the Chefs were enjoying the fantastic water park rides with the
gang. Phones and water were not generally known to be compatible. Chef
Brian sought out former Monroe County Deputy Sheriff Jim-Bob Longfellow and
Jim-Bob made a quick call back to Florida to Barney, a no nonsense Marine
Patrol Deputy Sergeant and part-time security officer for Auggie.

After Jim-Bob retired, and the Dead Lobster opened, Jim-Bob, with Carter on
his arm, met Barney in the company of another Deputy, dancing, up in the
Oar House, the Dead Lobster's second floor bar. Since there was strength in
numbers, the two couples had been casual friends ever since and
confidentiality had been maintained.

Barney called Keith immediately; within the hour. He instructed Keith to
copy the men's cellphone directories and the serial numbers of their
weapons. Then he asked Keith to carefully bag their used drink glasses, and
dub a copy of the Club's security video that showed the men's
faces. Barney's friend Daniel was off duty and he would collect everything
as soon as possible. Barney was on duty that day and couldn't get away but
both deputies would appear in the evening to act as guests occupying a
suite next to one of the men.

#######

Dooby and the gang burst into Auggie's suite just in time to enjoy the
cocktail hour. "Damn Auggie, is this suite the whole top floor?" Dooby
marveled at the size and view from the hotel's Bridge Suite that was
actually built into the `bridge' that connected two towers near the top, as
seen on all Atlantis TV ads. The view overlooked the Aquaventure Water Park
the gang had just abandoned in favor of snacks and a longneck or two before
dinner.

Logan and Stevie went to work as soon as they got into the suite. Logan had
already ordered a barman to arrive packing everyone's favorite brands and
enough hors d'oeuvres to feed a small third world country one meal from
room service earlier. Then from a house phone and together, they began
calling every suite that was occupied by someone in their party. Auggie was
bemused by their efficiency and wondered at their future successes in the
business world after college. Trasker would have a formidable team in Ryan,
Stevie and Logan when he took over the far flung Bligh business empire.

Scott and his merry crew arrived in not so merry moods. Scott complained
that the boys had split up inside the water park and they didn't get nearly
enough exciting footage. Auggie waved him off for the duration except for
some footage at dinner and later in the casino, just like they did on the
earlier visit. It was time for the crew to begin enjoying themselves and
utilizing the cash benefits on their room keycards. Even Dom agreed that
enough was enough. That would be enough for all concerned, AFTER dinner and
a visit to the Atlantis casino.

"We won't be able to leave here for at least a week, Auggie," Dooby
announced. "There's just too much to do that we haven't done yet," he said
as he danced to a table laden with a broad assortment of snacks. "We want
to play a round of golf, climb the rock wall, swim with some dolphin, and
make friends with a bunch of stingrays." He turned to Cory, "We should get
a couple of stingrays in both tanks," he said as an aside.

"What tanks?" Charlie asked from directly behind Dooby.

"Gramps, damn, you've got to stop doing that. Sneaking up behind a person
is very rude. Tanks, what tanks, who said anything about tanks?" Dooby
back peddled with a guilty look

Cory shook his fist under Dooby's nose. "You have the biggest mouth and
it's always in gear." He turned to his father and mother, "We went together
and got you guys a saltwater aquarium for Christmas. You were supposed to
be surprised when you walked into the drawing room at home," he confessed,
with a nasty look at Dooby.

"You don't have to do anything to take care of them," Dooby assured, "we'll
feed them when we feed ours in our bedroom tank, and we contracted with a
local aquarium service to do all the maintenance. All you need to do is
enjoy them."

"How big is this tank if there's a contractor to take care of them?"
Charlie asked suspiciously.

"Well, it fits between the dining room doors and the hall door on the other
wall, but the paneling on the base matches the wall paneling exactly. We
put it there so the fish have a real nice view outside, through the closest
French doors," Dooby explained. He was hoping to redeem himself.

Charlie sputtered in amazement after some mental calculation, "But, but
that's over 20 feet! How high is it going to be?"

Cory answered that, "The base that holds all the equipment is three feet
high and the tank will be eight feet high. We were limited by the height of
the doors."

"We'll need a damn step ladder to feed them, which will be a pain in the
ass," Charlie groused.

Cory corrected that assumption, "The builder told us that there's a thingy
in the cabinet where you put the food, close it and then open a valve. No
ladders needed." Laura and Charlie whispered together for a few seconds
before Charlie looked around the room until he found Christian. He called
him over and asked if there was somewhere in the new apartment where they
might install a salt water aquarium that was just like the one at home.

Christian looked somewhat confused, "What aquarium in which home," he
asked.

"Where in the world have you been?" Dooby demanded in his acting mode, "We
have two salt water aquariums in our house, and it looks like Laura and
Gramps want one put in their new apartment too." It suddenly looked like
Dooby had a revelation, "With three tanks full of fish maybe we should
arrange to give them vacations in one of the other tanks?"

No one had time to explain to Dooby how preposterous his idea was because
Jim-Bob and Carter appeared. Jim-Bob looked concerned while Carter was
laughing, "What's wrong Jim-Bob boy, did your dog die an' Carter boy is
plumb happy about it?" Auggie inquired.

Jim-Bob told everyone that two men arrived at the Club looking for a friend
of theirs, Oliver Olsen, and when they found out that he was over here,
they rented two suites and decided to wait for him to return. He explained
that he'd arranged to have them watched by two off duty Deputies who just
happened to be partners and instructed the Blue Kerchiefs in charge to get
drink glasses for finger printing, serial numbers off weapons, phone
numbers and copies of any ID they were carrying so that they could be
identified and checked out for `wants and warrants'. "I no sooner hung up
my phone and went to take a nice peaceful dump, when Carter called the Club
back and told the Blue Kerchiefs to actually steal their weapons, their
phones, their bill folds and all their cash."

Everyone congratulated Carter for his daring and foresight and wondered why
Jim-Bob looked so glum. "Because Carter's an officer of the court and he
has a reputation to maintain. I was going to tell the guys to steal all
that stuff AFTER we identified them. If the thefts are traced back to
Carter, he could be disbarred," Jim-Bob worried.

"I'm betting that they're both dirty and they can't call the cops; not even
if we stole all their clothes too, which we could, they won't be wearing
anything for a few days and they didn't have luggage," Carter explained
with some giggles.

The news that both men were horribly sunburned was greeted with smiles but
how they got that way resulted in laughter by almost everyone. Chuck
Fulton, Lane's father, and Jennifer and Dooby's father, John Dubois seemed
perplexed and looked at their children with raised eyebrows. Dooby was
first to realize that the two fathers were considering the significance of
replacing sunblock tanning oil of any numbered strength with a mixture of
olive and mineral oils just before any of the gang took boats out from the
Club's beach or Auggie's cove for that matter.

Dooby whispered to Jennifer and Lane and all three decided that it was time
to beat a hasty retreat; shower and dress for dinner. Cory realized what
was happening and got out the door before Dooby and the soon to be busted,
mysterious couple, although he walked with difficulty because he was
laughing too hard.

Dooby was suddenly lecherously inspired and looked it when he suggested;
"You two should hide out in our suite for a while, our reservations at Mesa
Grill aren't until 7:30, so we've got a couple of hours to kill."

Jennifer nodded cautiously while something in Lane's board shorts began to
grow just like Dooby's; straight out and they still had 100 yards of
hallway to go. Lane panted out a question, "Could we call room service to
order supplies before we hang the `Do Not Disturb' sign and double lock the
door?"

"We ordered in supplies as soon as we got in the suite," Cory advised. His
problem was growing down his left leg inseam and although there was no
danger of it exceeding the length of his shorts' leg, it would be
noticeable if anyone were to look down.

Jennifer looked and pointed as she was fond of doing to Lane, "Cory
Spelling, have you grown since the first time?" That question caused Cory
to stumble into their living room after he fumbled with the keycard to
unlock the door.

Dooby responded with pride, "I've been exercising it every chance we
get. It's beginning to make his oranges look like tangerines!"

"Dooby," Cory said after turning a very bright red, "you are so
embarrassing, no nookie for you tonight!"

Dooby took Jennifer and Lane's arms and guided them into the bedroom
leaving Cory to close and secure the door, "Y'all want to bet?" he
challenged with a drawl from over his shoulder.

######

Slimy and Tattoo found a tiny islet with a sandy beach and decided to
stretch out on their backs to tan their fronts as well as their backs that
were already `warm' from riding the Sea-Doo's. They had such a relaxing
time, they returned to the Club in just under three hours instead of the
hour they estimated. Both men realized that they weren't feeling too well
by the time they got into their suites, and discovered that they were
absolutely freezing due to the light 80 degree breeze that was gently
blowing in from the Gulf. They attempted to warm up by wrapping their
pinkish bodies with the bed comforters, only the silken cloth material felt
like sandpaper on their shoulders. They summoned their room stewards to
make them drinks. Slimy ordered a triple Old Fashion, which arrived as
three drinks contained in double Old Fashion glasses that Auggie and
company had tested for leaks several times in the interest of the ultimate
in quality control. Tattoo ordered a bottle of Grey Goose vodka and a
glass. They eventually found tepid showers to be the most soothing
individually until they felt that they absolutely needed to lie down and
rest before they fell down. Screams, in baritone (Slimy) and tenor (Tattoo)
in separate suites were the last any of the staff heard from them to denote
that they'd found their beds just before they passed out.

The theft of Tattoo and Slimy's ID's and cellphones along with their finger
prints was most revealing. Amazingly, only the photos on their California
driver's licenses were legitimate, but those photos were crudely glued over
the original owner's. Closer scrutiny revealed that Slimy was not a 78
year old deceased black man and Tattoo was not a 94 pound Asian woman, not
even if he'd endured the necessary sex change surgeries. However their
fingerprints on the `iced tea' glasses yielded a wealth of useful
information. Slimy was identified as Wendell Barker, who once was a liberal
loan officer and Tattoo was really Bruno Miller, a former debt
collector. Both men worked for a loan shark in Las Vegas who specialized in
making loans to desperate gamblers, who, in the heat of the moment, were
sure that the next turn of the wheel, throw of the dice or cards that
totaled 21 in any combination was just the next big bet away from
recovering the money they lost plus a profit that would pay off their car
loan, and the house mortgage, as well as finance yet another trip to Vegas.

Originally a skilled certified auto mechanic, Wendell was self-employed and
frequently maintained the loan shark's fleet of cars. The shark hired him
for more lucrative work because he appeared harmless to potential
customers, he was especially convincing when he displayed wads of cash
coupled with a trusting expression in the closest casino men's room without
any mention of repayment.

Usually the morning after, the customer woke up and headed straight for the
airport to get back home, safe and sound, without even thinking about
repaying his debt to the well-heeled, strange little guy he met in the
casino the previous evening. Thirty days later, the mark discovered that
he was not safe and wouldn't be sound unless he repaid his debt, plus 50
percent interest, accrued monthly, plus travel expenses and a generous tip
to smiling Wendell and always frowning Bruno who appeared on his doorstep
two or three hours before breakfast, well before the banks opened, so there
was ample time for a home cooked breakfast accompanied by a generous
serving of pain if necessary.

That last `dish' is what got the team into trouble with the law –
again. Bruno got a bit over-zealous. The debtor could hardly appear at his
bank unconscious, with two black eyes, a smashed flat nose and a broken
arm, to make a $20,000 withdrawal from his bank account. They hoped no one
would notice if they used the drive-thru, but someone did and the duo was
arrested and charged with aggravated assault. Their employer promptly put
up a cash bond through an intermediary and they promptly skipped town and
the state just before the unfortunate mark succumbed to his injuries. The
assault charge was increased to second degree murder but the pair couldn't
be found to be rearrested. Their employer owned them, body and soul and
they became the loan shark's only employees in his new `M&M' Division
(Murder and Mayhem, not the candy). This incident occurred many years
earlier and since then, if blood and gore didn't matter, Bruno led the
team, but if subtlety such as bombing, arson or sabotage was required, then
Wendell, with his mechanical skills, was the leader.

At 10 P.M. that same evening all carefully orchestrated hell broke out at
the Rainbow Resort, with Deputy Sergeant Barney hopefully the behind the
scene conductor. It seemed like the entire Sheriff's Department turned out
to arrest two bail bond jumpers who were wanted in the great state of
Idaho. They had been charged with the second degree murder of a small
farming community's beloved local philanthropist, the town's Mayor, who
also happened to be the largest land owner and potato grower in the county.

Sergeant Barney had the Marine Division well represented in advance by
their new 30 foot, shallow draft, semi-rigid patrol boat, two large
inflatables and two airboats, all crewed by Deputies who were armed to the
teeth. The landward assault included the County S.W.A.T. team packed into
their armored personnel carrier and ten patrol cars, each occupied by two
eager Deputies. Local Fire/Rescue was augmented with additional equipment
and personnel from Key Largo and Key West. There were also Crime Scene
Investigators, a custom built bus designed to transport 40 suspects, all
safely restrained and in comfort so all Civil Rights were protected, a
communications van that bristled with antennae and dishes, a generator
truck to power all equipment and if necessary light up half the Key, the
County bomb squad, a HASMAT team for good measure and a roll back tow truck
to impound and haul away wheeled evidence. To add to the confusion on land,
contingents from ATF and Florida State Police were also on site. Everything
was expertly managed from a mobile command and control vehicle that would
embarrass Auggie's million dollar bus by comparative elegance. The entire
Club was additionally lighted from above by a hovering Department
helicopter and two circling news choppers from Miami.

Having been appraised of the pending visit by Sergeant Barney, the staff
dressed for the occasion (at least everyone was wearing shorts), and even
took the `law' into their own hands while preventing anticipated damage to
Club property by opening all the automatic doors. They also took the
liberty of restraining the two sunburned and blistered, suspected felons by
sort of sandwiching each between inflated beach floats and then tying and
duct taping the rafts together. The guys given charge of obtaining the
rafts from the beach had not been told to be sure the floats were free of
sticky, salty sand, so the screams of pain from Slimy and Tattoo almost
drowned out the noise from the helicopters as they were presented to the
Deputies at the open front doors. Sergeant Barney and his men took pride in
arriving first and the credit for apprehending and presenting the two
cocooned suspects to their earth bound compatriots.

The Deputy who was holding the unused battering ram was clearly
disappointed and gave the assembled staff and the marine contingent the
finger before he stomped away. Executing search warrants was supposed to
be fun and law officers involved were not generally held responsible for
damage or incidental civilian injuries despite being ordered to lie face
down in broken glass or risk being pepper sprayed, shocked or shot while
resisting lawful orders.

Slimy used his one phone call from the Key West hospital burn unit to
advise his longtime employer that he and Bruno had been arrested and
therefore the `hit' on Oliver Olsen could not proceed as planned. The Las
Vegas loan shark replied, "Sorry, I think you have the wrong number," and
disconnected the call.

The FBI was delighted to hear the loan shark call someone else in
California using the same phone; legal wiretaps were a pain in the ass to
obtain and expensive to maintain. He in turn advised that his team had met
with difficulties in Florida and unfortunately the contract could not be
fulfilled in the timely manner the client desired.

Harold Olsen responded in a rage, "Fuck you asshole! I'll do the job
myself!" He attempted to break the loan shark's eardrum when he slammed
down Ollie's home phone. That was when he realized that the loan shark
actually had no other way to contact him. The FBI traced the new number and
wondered who a reclusive billionaire, 17 year old teenager, Oliver Olsen,
wanted hit so urgently in the Florida Keys, and how the boy could be in two
places at once. The Agents had yet to disconnect when a second call was
made, to a cellphone. The kid or someone ordered `the jet' ready to go a
7:00 A.M., wanted lunch onboard for he and his wife and a flight plan filed
for Marathon, Florida. The listening Agents were able to deduce that the
caller and the boy were two different people and the one named Oliver
Olsen, the boy, was in Florida while the man and his wife were the boys'
aunt and uncle, the guardians, who were intent on having Oliver join his
deceased parents. An FBI plane and four agents were dispatched to Marathon
from the Miami field office without anyone being aware that there were no
cars to rent anywhere in the Florida Keys, no matter how impressive an
individual's identification or how much money Harold Olsen waved
around. There were also very few rental accommodations available - with one
notable exception.

The twin engine FBI plane arrived at Marathon at 2:00 A.M., the four Agents
debarked with an impressive amount of luggage and the plane promptly
returned to Miami just prior to the Agents' discovery that the airport was
closed and the terminal was locked. The one security guard the Agents
encountered couldn't quite stop grinning while he personally helped by
calling a taxi driver at his home, and then boldly called the Club to make
sure they would accept four male guests before he suggested that they might
find lodgings at a brand new inn called the Rainbow Club. Two out of four
Agents looked at each other while the other two, including the Agent in
Charge, thanked the guard for his help.

The agents knew that the same Club was where two suspected felons had been
apprehended earlier, taken into County custody and by then were residing in
the County jail in Key West, while awaiting extradition to some state out
west. They were the same felons who had contracted to hit a teenage boy
locally. He was the same boy whose guardian was coming `to do the job
himself' as recorded via wiretap.

When the Agents arrived at the Club, the two who looked forward to spending
some time in a gay resort, hung back to watch their boss, the Agent in
Charge and the other Agent, to see their reactions when it dawned on them
that the private resort was very high end gay. All the Agents blinked in
surprise when the taxicab was literally surrounded by unabashed blue
kerchiefs and boat shoes, having had some advance warning once again, this
time from the security guard.

The agents were further shocked to discover what the rates were and
flashing badges did no good at all. Fortunately credit cards worked so the
Agents soon found a pair of elegant suites and a room steward each. The
Agent in Charge immediately called the desk. He wanted a room with twin
beds. That request evoked only ribald laughter. Then he suggested a game of
rock, paper, and scissors to see which of them would sleep on the
floor. They finally reached a compromise by using pillows to divide the
king-size bed down the middle and they were `in' for the rest of the night.

The second pair of agents had no such reservations about sleeping together
for the first time, if indeed they fell asleep. Being well trained in their
craft, they watched the lights in the next suite wink out before they
stripped and made their way down to the pool area and the steaming spa that
was conveniently hidden by a bamboo fence. They had just sent their hands
to exploring and locked lips for the first time when a pool boy interrupted
just long enough to deliver and serve a bottle of Champagne and point out a
double chaise lounge piled with pillows that had been placed behind some
bushes, before he bid them a very pleasant morning.

They checked out the lounge while they still could and also found a low
table with a stack of towels, assorted bottles and jars and a large bowl of
condoms ready and waiting for adventurous and/or `virginous' guests. The
pair just managed to get back in their suite in time to see the eastern sky
brighten at sunrise and hear the damn phone ring.

The Agent in Charge advised that he and his partner had borrowed one of 20
unused SUV's and were on the way to Key West to interview the two recently
apprehended, suspected felons and they expected to return in time for
dinner. While they were gone, the remaining pair was ordered to keep the
resort under general surveillance by blending in with the staff and any
other guests; he was clearly suggesting, but not ordering nudity while
using the Club's other amenities!

The new partners showered and went down to the terrace to have
breakfast. There, they met Barney and Daniel who were just sitting down, so
the four decided to eat together. The four young men eyed each other
suspiciously for all of one minute before they began to smile. "So what
branch of law enforcement are you with?" Barney asked. He volunteered that
he and Daniel were Monroe County Deputies. Breakfast quickly became
something like a reunion or busmen's holiday as they began to compare notes
about why they were staying at the club. It didn't even seem strange that
several of the staff not only served them but stayed to join the
conversation and elaborate on many points and events in the Ollie Olsen
case.

The Agents were astounded to learn that Ollie Olsen, boy billionaire and
amateur super spy possessed several audio recordings he made that
implicated his aunt and uncle in the deaths of Ollie's parents over 13
years ago by tampering with their plane which caused it to crash. Further,
Ollie's uncle ordered someone to `fix' his small plane in the same way. A
plane was fixed but it wasn't Ollie's and Ollie was able to advise the real
owner about possible tampering. Breakfast was finished while the guys
remained talking when Keith invited everyone into the main lounge using the
Club's PA system. He said the new website was finally online.

There was a mad rush from all around the beach, terrace and building into
the lounge. Law enforcement was merely curious and followed the pack. Keith
had the website paused on the big screen TV until everyone was present. The
whole staff was interested because they were all paid actors who appeared
several times each. The entire site was narrated by several guys but the
primary voice was Dooby's because of his ability to act without a script or
a teleprompter if he was on screen. He never was, without his face being
fuzzed because he was underage, just like several other `actors' in what
turned out to be somewhat comedic as well as informational. Nothing was
shown without the area being peopled with very attractive, well-tanned,
apparently young, male bodies including grinning faces if they were at
least 18. Keith quietly explained to the only four guests on the premises;
"The guys you see with fuzzed out faces just might be a little bit under
age and the producer didn't want anyone to get in trouble with guys like
you. Plus some of the young guys are very important in Club management..."

Barney interrupted, "Relax Keith, remember I work part-time in Coral Place
security. I know who all those guys without faces are. I've even seen the
guy doing most of the talking and his friend outside the cove on a Sea-Doo,
um, behind some mangroves. No one will care about them playing bare ass
volley ball; they all have very nice bodies that appear to be young
adults," he assured. He pointed, "Look, there's Dooby, that's Cory and that
very fine body is Christian's, he's the producer even though he's under age
too."

"Has that Cory dude been photo shopped?" An Agent asked suspiciously.

Barney laughed, "I promise, that's real. You'll see for yourself if you're
still here when the gang gets back from Nassau."

The site concluded with a 30 second squib about parasailing that starred
Alex and Darryl flying tandem, of course naked. The clip showed them
leaving the boat and flying – almost, with perhaps a frame or two,
almost subliminal, that displayed them thoroughly excited. The clip did not
show them returning to the boat intentionally.

"We should try that before the sun gets too high and it gets too hot,"
Daniel suggested eagerly with a look that included the Agents. Barney and
the Agents agreed with nods.

Keith cautioned that parasailing was not a part of the Club package. If
they flew they would have to pay. The Agents laughed and said they would
use their `company' credit cards since the Agent in Charge already had some
serious explaining to do concerning the cost of their stay at the Club; a
few 100 dollars more wouldn't be noticed and the Agent in Charge did order
them to mingle in order to maintain surveillance. "Who knows if felons lurk
at the marina or up in the sky?" One Agent intoned dramatically to
rationalize the expense.

The new friends decided that they would wear shorts to the tow boat and
borrowed another SUV for the short ride to the Atlantic side marina. They
were expected and fortunately there were no other fliers to accompany them
so they might get up the nerve to fly naked just like Alex and Darryl in
the video. Both Agents agreed that Darryl, with his curly red hair, peaches
and cream complexion and assumed similar `attributes' elsewhere, could
easily be Prince Harry's double and Alex appeared to be almost as
well-endowed as underage Cory. They were surprised when told that Darryl in
fact was a member of the British aristocracy (although a second son just
like Prince Harry) and spoke very proper upper crust English, as one might
expect.

Wench Boat had just cleared the marina breakwater when brave Daniel asked
Mason about flying naked. "We can all lose our shorts now if you want to
and you can start flying after we get a few miles further out." The guys,
with Mason and Ian all lost their shorts together, "But," he qualified as
he dug out a laptop and a big dark beach towel from a locker, "so far, all
the guys who have gone up bare ass have landed with raging hardons that
just won't quit until someone, maybe a good friend, does something to give
them some relief. Here are some outtakes from an advertising video the guys
made that will show you what happens. Bunch up and put this towel over your
heads so you can see the screen," he instructed. He even had the laughing
audacity to apologize for the total edits being about 10 minutes long. The
four law enforcement officers didn't mind at all or that by then there were
a total of six erections, including Mason and Ian's, bobbing around on
Wench Boat; the cops were more than ready to fly and Wench Boat's crew were
more than ready to help them after the great `reveal' was concluded.

While Mason got the Agents in life vests, helmets and tandem harness, Ian
explained about the possibility of obtaining a DVD of their entire
adventure with sound, for only $100 each individually, or $50 each for four
copies of one DVD that would include all four men. They opted for four
copies with everyone participating in whatever was going to happen.

The Agents' feet hadn't left the platform when young Daniel began moaning
that he was in a great deal of distress already and stretched out on a
seat, waving his quivering cock while looking at Barney hopefully. Ian
swung the camera around toward the seating area to record Barney come to
Daniel's rescue before he messed the boat.

Just watching a live action head job between two hot new friends caused the
Agents to ejaculate together before they were 100 feet in the air. "Don't
worry I got that shot," Mason reported from inside the flier's helmets, "By
the time we reel you back in you'll be ready again," he assured. Mason
enjoyed scaring the shit out of first time customers by revealing the
built-in helmet audio feature while the customers were flying.

######

Carefree Ollie accompanied by Jonathon, Cole and Peter arrived at Auggie's
suite just after Dooby, Cory and the mysterious couple, Jennifer and Lane,
departed in some degree of haste. The boys and their men were already
dressed in dinner jackets. "Wow Auggie," Ollie exclaimed, "you wouldn't
believe how much pull my last name has around this place. We just about got
into the house Uncle Harold bought for me, when I got a phone call from
this hotel to welcome me and give me a free suite up here, right near
you. Since the price was right we moved and then I asked about some dress
up clothes like the guys' and just like that, a tailor was knocking on the
door. We spent the day in the water park and when we got back in our suite
three hours ago; our clothes were ready and waiting. Don't we look sharp?"
he asked the room.

"Why yes dear, you do," Margery agreed, "but don't you think you would look
even better if you left your First Mates' cap behind and perhaps wore shoes
and socks instead of flip flops?"

"Well sure Granny, and thanks, but then if I did, I wouldn't be recognized
as a second generation whale in the casino. That's what the old caretaker
at the house called me; I'm an eccentric whale," Ollie announced
proudly. Then he asked, "I know eccentric, but what is a whale anyway?"

The moment `whale' was mentioned, Tony Orsini began laughing and looking at
his suddenly uncomfortable father, Dom. When Ollie asked, Tony pointed at
his father, "Pops is a whale, you tell him Pops," he encouraged.

"Um, well, um, casinos refer to those people who gamble rather large sums
of money," he hedged, "whales. Personally, I feel that if I bet large, I
can win accordingly. Of course I only gamble anywhere with disposable
income. If you bet large, Ollie my boy, you should adopt that policy too."

Ollie frowned, "I guess Uncle Harold is a whale, so that's why the
caretaker called me second generation. Is there any word from home about
Uncle Harold? By now he should know I used a credit card for our vacation
at the Club."

The room got quiet while Jim-Bob gave everyone an update including the
information that the two men had taken out Sea-Doo's. They planned to be
gone an hour but were currently overdue. The boat boys had given them
bottles of lubricant and told them it contained sunblock, so when they did
return to the club, they should be completely toasted.

"LUBRICANT," John Dubois exclaimed, "that explains everything, those kids
have been screwing around right under our noses all along," he said to his
wife Betty.

"Of course they have," Betty agreed, "you, darling are so dense sometimes,
but if we continue to make believe that we're unaware, that will curtail
their activities somewhat by having to be sneaky, and we'll avoid a great
deal of useless arguing." She whispered in John's ear; "As soon as we get
back we should take out one of those little boats too," she suggested. John
grinned and nodded enthusiastically in response.

Suddenly Margery looked at her watch and let out a cat-like screech. She
announced that it was long past the time required for her to get dressed
for the evening. That initiated a mass exodus of women and the men had no
choice but to follow that ended in 10 seconds flat. That left Auggie and
Zeek alone with Ollie, Jon, Cole and Pete. Auggie and Zeek disappeared into
their bedroom to dress; Jon and Cole accepted a drink and sat down to watch
Ollie and Pete go to work demolishing what was left of the hors
d'oeuvres. While Ollie couldn't cook and Pete had no better skills, both
boys could eat nonstop if food was in sight. They were a pleasure to watch
but less so if their partners had to do the cooking, which is why they all
loved staying at the Club.

When Auggie and Zeek emerged from their bedroom it was easy to see that
they were a couple. Their midnight blue formalwear matched exactly but the
most striking parts of their ensembles were their ruby watch bands, cuff
links, huge pinky rings and shirt studs. Their bling was beyond
ostentatious; it was stunning and surprisingly tasteful, as well as nearly
priceless.

######

The Mesa Grill was one of Chef Bobby Flay's restaurants and Dooby and Cory
were excited about meeting him. Unfortunately when Dooby asked, they
discovered that Chef Bobby wasn't in the Bahamas, he was thought to be home
in New York City. Dooby, Cory and the four chefs were disappointed.

The Bligh/Orsini mob were spread out, sitting at different tables all
around the main dining room for ease of timely service and to soak up the
ambiance of a fine dining establishment that Charlie hoped to emulate in
his new restaurants. It wasn't long before a few American diners; fellow
foodies, recognized Dooby and Cory. After one lady asked for and got their
autographs, a line began to form. Dooby waved them away by quietly
announcing that he and Cory would come around to their tables if they
waved, so the restaurants' ambience could be preserved and no one would be
disturbed.

Soon, other patrons, who didn't know Dooby, but assumed he was a celebrity
of some sort, began asking for autographs as well, and Dooby became sort of
Bobby Flay's ambassador by acting as a host. He began asking questions;
where someone was from, about enjoying the southwestern menu and inserting
some advertising for the new, New York Charlie's to be located in Granny's
building and even managed to advertise the exclusive condo's upstairs or he
advised them to wait until the second tower across Central Park was
finished and then choose the best views from way high up that would be
available then.

Scott was quick to follow Dooby, Cory and cameraman Artie with a fist full
of releases should anyone want to see themselves on a future television
food or perhaps an adult cable show. The Mesa Grills' management frowned at
Dooby's antics at first until they overheard him plugging the New York Mesa
even though he hadn't been there yet himself. He and Cory promised to dine
there as soon as they got into the City when they got back home and if they
were very lucky they might meet Chef Bobby Flay.

The Atlantis Resorts' management began to appreciate Dooby's advertising
skills when the two nondescript `observers' who were assigned to watch
large parties of gamblers such as the Bligh group, that included whales,
plural, (there were at least two that they knew of), reported that Dooby
began talking about the excitement of gambling in the beautiful and huge
casino as soon as they finished dinner. That reminded Dooby that they
hadn't eaten yet, which served as a valid excuse to sit down and eat. He
left a few tables with the reminder that he would see them in the casino
shortly.

(A few days later, the President of the Paradise Island Atlantis Resort,
reviewed a video with audio that featured Dooby, shown enjoying as many of
the resorts' amenities with his friends as they had time for during their
stay, and importantly, saying so very enthusiastically. He wondered about
the future possibility of using Dooby as the resort's spokesman in a new
massive advertising campaign. He felt that the current campaign was too
impersonal or institutional and a young, handsome boy, who was young enough
to really enjoy the many physical activities but old enough to enjoy all
the adult activities as mature young adults such as Dooby and company,
would be ideal. He would send the idea to corporate with the video and by
the time they agreed, if they agreed, Dooby would actually be 18, and his
celebrity would have grown nationally and internationally to match the
growth of Atlantis Resorts around the world.)

The mysterious couple entered Mesa late and caused the desired temporary
hush. Lane and Jennifer were seated with Dooby and Cory. Surprisingly,
Scott and Christian left them alone because they had already been
photographed in their suite at a table set for two so the lighting could be
precisely controlled to best highlight the few Orsini teen cosmetics
Jennifer was wearing. Her hair was up so the diamond earrings and matching
choker accented her delicate neck and radiant complexion. Her petite body
was encased in a floor length, black silk, strapless sheath that made Dooby
wonder, what held it up.

Dooby referred to Lane as `Plain Lane' because his evening clothes were
severe so as not to detract from his lady love's appearance. By then Lane's
face was nicely tanned and the only Orsini `aid' he wore was some carefully
applied bottled stuff to eliminate the white around his eyes caused by
wearing sunglasses. His hair also remained suspiciously neat throughout the
evening so there might have been some sort of light control up there as
well.

"Wow Jennifer, did they give you all that ice too?" Dooby was checking out
her diamonds.

"No, unfortunately it's all rented and it has to be returned in the
morning. We decided that we're just going to put in an appearance at the
casino," she announced, "There's a private club for teens called, Crush,
we're going there and saving all our bonus money in our new car fund."

"New car fund," Dooby joked, "would that be as opposed to your old car
fund?"

"Smart ass," Lane replied, "it just so happens that we have a classic car
fund too, but a new car is more important. Your dad even told us, he
doesn't care what we buy as long as we stay safe," his eyes rolled toward
Jennifer, "as long as everyone's little hands stay out of my lap while I'm
driving," he risked joking.

Jennifer bent down and over to pick up the napkin that she hadn't dropped
and Lane's face turned red in response. "You just say that again," she
hissed sweetly and twisted one little hidden fist.

Dooby and Cory knew that some of the gang planned to follow them to the
casino and place bets wherever Dooby bet at any game. They watched the gang
finish dinner first and then exit toward the closest casino entrance. The
gang was waiting for Dooby and Cory to join them. Cory whispered to Dooby
and Dooby waved Scott over and whispered their revised plans to him so the
cameras could put in a brief appearance.

Dooby and Cory would accompany Jennifer and Lane to the teen night club,
Crush, first and then after the club closed they would visit the casino
early in the morning. With that plan they could avoid most of the gang
early and the casino would be quieter, with fewer patrons, if they waited
until an hour or two before it closed at 4:00 A.M.

The two couples left Mesa by another route and Lane and Jennifer led the
way to Crush until they could hear the pounding beat and see the crowded
dance floor and dancers lit up with black light and flashing strobes. At
first Dooby and Cory were apprehensive about dancing together until they
saw that no one could possibly pick out individual couples from the mob;
individuals were dancing with whomever they were facing at the moment,
before they turned away to face someone else, boy or girl, a friend or a
stranger.

Dooby gradually proved how useful his being hyperactive was. When Cory
wanted to take a break, Dooby kept on dancing. He returned to their table
only when the music paused and took pleasure in enlightening the guys
concerning which other guys in the mob were also gay, thus proving that his
delicately fine-tuned gaydar was working perfectly. Of course Jennifer
suspected that Dooby was bullshitting her; there could not possibly that
many young gay guys assembled in just one place. That was until one guy
caught Dooby pointing him out and he came over to be introduced to Cory,
Lane and incidentally to Jennifer, who turned out to be a real girl not an
aspiring drag queen; allegedly Dooby's sister and incredibly disappointing,
Lane's girlfriend. Lane returned the guys' interest but Jennifer used her
nails on the palm of his hand so he couldn't shake hands with the guy or
else.

It turned out that most of the teens present were visiting Atlantis in the
company of their parents and few if any was accompanied by a boy or
girlfriend so everyone was on the `hunt' for a like-minded stranger who was
passing in the night. After all, Atlantis was a huge place and there had
to be somewhere very private where a couple could explore each other
without being observed (If 1000's of video cameras could be ignored.)

The most inquisitive girls approached Jennifer to find out where she got
her gown AND what a few recognized as real diamond jewelry. The girls heard
only that Jennifer and the guys were professional, working models, visiting
Atlantis for a `shoot', which the cameras proved. Word spread stranger to
stranger and the group became popular teen celebrities as most of the girls
and some of the guys wanted to know how they could become models as
well. Most seemed enamored with potential enormous pay checks and
all-expense paid trips to places such as Atlantis.

Lane attempted to dissuade some of the guys listening by recounting his and
Jennifer's shoot involving a Maserati Grand Turismo the previous
morning. Since he was actually driving the car, he planned to ditch the
photographers riding in a chase car and see how far he could get, driving
toward Key West from Marathon Key, 60 miles away. He looked deflated when
Dooby and Cory began laughing. Lane's plan was not a very closely held
secret and Scott, the photographer, foiled the plan by holding the shoot on
the fenced in Marathon airport runway and Lane never managed to get Tony
Orsini's very sweet machine over 70 before he had to turn around and start
all over again for almost two hours straight. The guys listening were
waiting for him to tell them what was so hard about that.

Then he told them; "Tomorrow morning we have to board this 180 foot yacht
and cruise around for a couple of hours. We'll have to stretch out in the
sun, being served Champagne and canapés while these guys get to swim
with the dolphin, it's just not fair," he complained.

"Are you putting us on?" A boy questioned suspiciously.

Lane burst out laughing, "Actually, I am, we're having a blast. Where will
you guys be tomorrow morning, maybe we can wave to you from the yacht?" he
confessed.

Lane laughed harder when the guy gave him a poorly concealed finger that
Dooby interrupted, "Hey, I have an idea; it's so hard to talk or do
anything, and we all have to go down to the casino later, but you guys can
just stay put and party in privacy until you have to leave if you're here
with parents."

Privacy was the magic word. Three hetero couples in the making agreed along
with three guys, which Dooby had pointed out earlier as being gay, followed
Dooby, Cory, Jennifer and Lane, out of Crush up to the guys' suite.

After the door closed one guy asked, "What are we allowed to do?"

Dooby shrugged, Cory answered, "The one thing you aren't allowed to do is
wreck anything. There's beer in the fridge, booze I think and some dip and
crackers. There are two bedrooms, if anyone gets too tired," he added with
a wink.

Another guy exclaimed hungrily after exploring, "Hey do you know that your
wet bar is stocked with full-size bottles not those little airplane
bottles?"

"If you want a serious drink, go for it," Dooby allowed, "No one has to do
any driving and if you get smashed and caught by your parents, just forget
our names and this room number," he warned. "We just drink beer," he added
while Cory served longnecks.

Someone turned on the MTV channel and everyone began to relax, loosen up
and enjoy themselves. After the first mixed drinks the hetero couples
became more and more handy with each other until first one couple
disappeared in a bedroom and the second couple chose the second bedroom and
the third couple went out to a lounge on the terrace, which left all the
guys with Jennifer together in the living room.

"Maybe I shouldn't say this," a boy began, "but I recognize you two guys
from your TV show. What I'd like to know is; where the hell do you find all
those hot studs that appear on the show with you, you know, the other
Tarzans?"

"Are you guys THAT Dooby and Cory? I didn't recognize you wearing all those
clothes. Who won the damn Tarzan contest? I know it wasn't me but there's
still time to reconsider since we're friends now," another joked.

Dooby had just about finished explaining when there was a knock on the
door. Cory assumed that it was more beer that he ordered and opened it
without bothering to look through the peek hole. There stood Steve and
Rodger. "Come on in and meet some new friends we met at the teen night
club. We were just talking about you, Rodger," Cory welcomed the guys.

"What'd I do now?" Rodger asked.

"You won the Tarzan contest, which means that none of them won so a few
million guys hate you," Dooby elaborated, "You have to understand that
Rodger here is a super geek. He wrote a program to vote once every minute,
24 hours a day, so you guys never had any chance at all."

"Son of a bitch, I wish I thought of that," the boy grinned, "of course if
I did I doubt that I could have written a program anyway. Can you tell us
about the next contest so we'll have a head start?" he suggested.

Dooby looked at Cory in surprise. The Tarzan contest was a spur of the
moment thing, but it turned out to be immensely successful with millions of
current addresses on the mailing list. Dom was ecstatic and Auggie was
delighted with the growing number of viewers, which exceeded some numbers
for national broadcasting in that time slot according to national ratings
services and he had names and addresses. Dom had Christian and his group
designing mass mailings while the addresses were current.

"We'll have to think about a new contest and if you give us your email
addresses we'll be in touch." Dooby promised. He turned to Steve and Rodger
to ask, "How did you know we were up here instead of in the casino
somewhere and where're James and Zeek?"

"We saw you get on the elevator with these guys and we watched it stop here
on our floor, so here we are. The rest of the gang including the Chambers
brothers, gave up waiting for you, Doob, so they're busy losing their money
without your help. Rodger and I assume that you're going down to the
casino later when it isn't so crowded, so we'll wait for you, that is, if
you have a couple of beers to spare," Steve had beers open for he and
Rodger by the time he asked. He looked the three guys over before asking,
"So, are there a lot of gay guys in the teen club?"

All three boys turned red and one nearly drowned on a swallow of beer in
response to Steve's question. "Don't be embarrassed," he chided, "I didn't
know I was slightly bent, Dooby calls me a bi-boy, until very recently. I
guess I was interested, but I never would have done anything with another
guy before I became friends with these guys. On reflection, it's far easier
to give a guy a head job than it is to eat out..."

"Don't you dare say it," Jennifer warned, "unless you want to find out how
sharp my nails are, buried in your thing!"

"Ouch, sorry Jennifer, I just kind of think of you as one of the gang,"
Steve sort of apologized. "So, are you guys out to your parents or anyone?"
They weren't.

One volunteered, "We just met tonight on the dance floor and after
comparing past experiences, we decided we aren't, experienced that is. We
were kind of hoping..." he let the thought drift away while he stared at
the closed bedroom doors wistfully.

"Is that occupied," Rodger asked, pointing at a bedroom door. After Cory
explained their straight guests, Rodger went to the door and pounded, while
he called out, "You two need to get dressed and get out of there, hotel
security just came around looking for a young couple that missed curfew;
the girl's parents, at least the girl's father wants to have a serious chat
with the boy." It was apparent that the warning traveled when all three
couples appeared barely dressed, and looked up and down the hallway to be
sure that there was no one out there at that moment before they ran to the
elevators.

"Rodger," Jennifer scolded, "that was mean and cruel; those three guys were
so scared that they probably won't be able to get it up for the rest of the
night."

Rodger bowed, "Why thank you Jennifer, you're very kind. I've been taking
lessons from your brother and his best bud," he said proudly. He looked at
the three guys with a raised eyebrow, "There's only one way to gain
experience and time is wasting." He nodded toward the newly vacated rooms
to make his meaning even clearer. A second nod was unnecessary as all three
boys ran for the same bedroom after getting permission to call their
parents and use the actual room number for safety.

After another beer Dooby suggested that they go down to the casino, no
matter if the Johnnie Rebs were still there or not. He rationalized that if
they were still there, then they were most likely winning, etc. They all
had been sticking fingers into their stiff shirt collars and Dooby wanted
to untie his bow tie that Cory spent over half an hour tying in the first
place. On the way down in the elevator, Dooby said, "You know if we keep
coming to casinos and I keep playing craps, I'm going to learn how to
play."

Steve and Roger did double-takes while Cory shook his head and laughed at
Dooby's shrug to agree. Cory elaborated, "This big time gambler didn't know
that he was playing at a $100 table at first; he was just trying to avoid
the crowds at the other tables. Then after he placed a bet and the dice
were thrown, he'd look at the dealer not the dice, to see whether he won or
lost, like if he'd get more chips or lose the ones he bet."

Rodger was astounded, "That's your system, the one that James and Zeek kept
talking about; no system at all? No wonder they couldn't figure out how you
did it."

"It was probably beginner's luck," Dooby agreed with a shrug, "and you can
stop laughing now," he added.

######

The Olsen corporate jet touched down on Marathon in late morning with
Harold and Virginia Olsen on board. Once again, Brenden, the car rental
clerk reported that there were no cars to rent and was almost in tears,
because he couldn't accept the $100 `tip' Harold offered to find them a
car, any car, but at least he convinced Harold that there were no cars and
he wasn't a part of a national conspiracy to foil Harold's planned takeover
and sale of the brat's, his nephew's company.

He had it all planned; poor depressed Ollie would commit suicide; at least
that's what the note Harold wrote for him claimed. Ollie would suicide one
of two ways; he would overdose or die by self-inflicted gunshot. After
driving slowly through the `hood' for an hour, the previous evening, Harold
finally approached a street corner punk who was better dressed although he
looked rather more ill at ease than some other punks he'd considered. The
punk in question was delighted to see Harold drive up in a new Infinity,
who was also foolish enough to flash a considerable wad of cash before he
stated what he wanted to buy. The punk was new to drug sales and had yet to
find a wholesale source, so he would only sell his white powder to
customers who looked and acted like first time buyers, people just like
Harold. Those customers might never realize that they bought confectioner's
sugar and if they did, they were unlikely to complain to the cops or return
demanding a refund and no one could possibly overdose unless they were
diabetic and he certainly couldn't be blamed for pre-existing diseases.

After the drug deal was concluded, Harold asked in passing, if the punk
had, or might know about a handgun that was for sale. Harold thought such
weapons were untraceable per all the TV shows he'd seen where the
perpetrator was careful to remove all fingerprints. Harold was in luck, the
punk did!

The weapon had been used in a drive by shooting committed by a friend who
was aspiring to join a gang. He was successful, there was a rival gang
member killed and several bystanders wounded. The friend had been ordered
to dispose of the weapon throwing it away, but he misunderstood
intentionally; he would profit by selling it. Harold had to drive around
the block for 20 minutes while the punk went to find his friend with the
extremely `hot' handgun. He consummated a second deal for only $1000, cash
of course, but still a bargain.

Young Brenden called the Club once again to say that a Mr. and Mrs. Olsen
had just arrived at the airport and was unaware that everything might be
booked for the holiday. While he knew of the Club's policies, he wondered
if there could be an exception. Mr. and Mrs. Olsen were stranded. Great
news, the Club would make an exception, just one time; however Brenden had
to advise them that the very private club catered to gay clientele and they
just might encounter some nudity during their stay. Harold and Virginia
were world travelers at young Ollie's expense, well used to some nudity at
pools at the best resorts and adjacent beaches; nudity would not be a
problem.

There was a brief flurry of activity at the Club as room assignments were
shuffled so the Olsen's were neatly sandwiched between FBI agents on one
side and Deputy Sheriffs on the other even though the four cops were
parasailing. While the Olsen's expected nudity, they were overwhelmed by
the number of staff who appeared outside the front doors to take care of
their luggage and more to serve them drinks before and while they
registered, others guided them to their suite and two different boys stood
ready as their around the clock room stewards.

Poor Virginia was hard pressed to make eye contact with any of the
attending staff; she was too busy trying to estimate the length of their
cocks when fully erect. She wondered again, how she might get rid of
Harold without being caught; his rosebud didn't begin the compare with any
of the studs they were currently surrounded with. She assumed that there
was any number of straight men in the world who were equally well endowed;
she wouldn't have married Harold if he hadn't promised her that he would
inherit the Olsen real estate empire. Perhaps she would begin dosing his
coffee and drinks with some of the drug he purchased the previous evening?
Two over-doses were just as easy as one.

#######

When Dooby and his group from upstairs arrived in the casino, the first of
the gang they saw was Ollie at a roulette table and by the size of the
surrounding crowd he was either winning or losing big time. The crowd
parted for the excessively well-dressed group and whispered about the
identity of the mysterious couple and Jennifer's diamonds.

"Are all you guys winning?" Cory asked since there were a bunch of neat
stacks of chips in front of the four.

"Nope," Ollie reported, "just me. These guys are saving their bonus money,
but I'm a whale and we whales have a reputation to maintain."

"Where's everyone else, are they all busted or are they saving theirs too?"
Dooby wondered.

Ollie giggled, "Well, let's see, the three dwarfs are bouncing around the
slot machines and I guess winning because I've heard the bells and seen the
lights and then some whoops of joy from Kurt's deep voice. Some of the men
are in the Baccarat Lounge and they must be winning because they're still
there. The three grannies, including your auntie, Dooby, are in a card room
teaching some of the guys and some strangers, how to play poker at the
guys' expense I might add, but they have difficulty understanding that such
nice little old ladies would clean them out in a heartbeat! Are you guys
going to play or just watch?"

"We're going to play, craps, I guess, but we set a $1000 limit so we can
bank the rest."

Scott created a diversion when he arrived to capture the mysterious couple
and the guys digitally. He had to frame them tight to avoid photographing
bystanders. Some people in the casino did not wish to be photographed, or
trust Scott to fuzz out their faces eventually. Dooby and Cory took
advantage and migrated to the $100 craps table with only Steve and Rodger
in attendance. Cory gave Dooby $900 in chips and went to the nearby slot
machines to lose the rest on his own. He opted not to watch Dooby play,
just like the first time. He planned to return in an hour to see if Dooby's
luck and his continued ignorance of how to play just might win them another
pile of chips without observation or certainly any advice.

Steve played flamboyantly and even accepted the dice when offered and began
to win, while Rodger bet with Dooby, smaller amounts and very
quietly. Their winnings also grew. Steve noticed that Rodger's play was
exactly like Dooby; neither cared about the dice, both kept their eyes on
the dealer and their wagers to see if she was going to give them more chips
or rake in their bets.

Steve was several 1000's ahead until his father; Jake found them and was
going to teach Steve how to `really' play the game. Jake left poor Steve
really poor with a pat on the back and wished him better luck next time.

Of course Steve didn't hear his father telling the men at the baccarat
table that he just taught his son how NOT to gamble in the future, although
he was sure that he was going to have to hire a personal food taster in the
near future since Steve tended to hold a grudge and he looked very unhappy.

Suddenly Dooby shivered with foreboding. He nudged Rodger and told him that
he was cashing out because he was sure that he was about to begin
losing. Rodger started to protest that they were each about $4000 ahead,
but if Dooby was quitting so was he. Dooby explained that he had the same
feeling the first time, just before he began to lose while he was sure that
he was invincible and went from $20,000 down to $7000 in a heartbeat.

Dooby and Rodger headed toward the poker room where Grannies Margery and
Agatha and Dooby's Aunt Bernie were supposed to be playing. Kurt joined
them, having won, by amazingly beating the slot machines. Cory was also
winning, having adopted Kurt's habit of moving from machine to machine;
particularly to those where the same player managed to lose a fortune over
the course of the evening before quitting.

They found the ladies playing with Auggie, Carl, and Charlie and they were
only using $1000 chips. It seemed that Bernie was not risking her money and
tended to fold as soon as possible, that is unless she was dealt a full
house or better thereby causing the other players to fold, and she couldn't
figure out why.

The casino observers assigned to the Bligh/Orsini group were pleased to
report that there was a veritable `pod' of `whales' in the party, not just
one or two based on the small mountains of chips Margery and Agatha had
managed to win from someone earlier. Auggie and Carl seemed to be the
current contributors, while Charlie was holding his own.

The boys decided to get up their own table around an idle dealer. Dooby,
Cory, and Kurt were joined by Christian, Tommy and Ryan. They would play
five card stud, with a $100 anti. The game quickly became interesting with
enormous bets and following raises and everyone wearing apparent poker
faces.

Apparent because it was really necessary to study player's faces and body
English during early hands that might reveal what any one player thought of
that hand. Dooby noted that Kurt would wiggle in his seat, Cory had an
involuntary muscle tick in his cheek, Christian's face would show signs of
displeasure and if Tommy had a good hand he would roll his eyes toward the
ceiling while Ryan would close his eyes in thought.

Slowly, Dooby began to win more and more pots by actually having the
winning hand or bluffing successfully and `buying' the pot by raising or
simply folding a really poor hand early. He bluffed just often enough that
he kept the players guessing, and frequently folding winning hands
prematurely in disgust.

Cory was the first to collect his remaining chips and watch the action from
a distance since he and Dooby had pooled their resources, there was really
no point in betting against his own money. Rodger was quick to take Cory's
place. Kurt was next to fade. He still had a considerable pile of chips and
decided there was no reason to hand them over to Dooby. Steve replaced Kurt
with very few chips he had left.

Tommy, Christian and Ryan obviously had their own more extensive resources
and a united agenda; beating Dooby. They seemed united in the determination
to take Dooby down and Dooby noticed that all three made eye contact for a
fraction of a second after the dealer finished and they looked at their
hole cards. Dooby took great advantage of those looks; he was proved right
more often than wrong so he continued to win more pots than he lost and
folded quickly if he had nothing to play with. While the three older guys
hung tight, the faces in the other two places kept changing; it was the end
of the evening and gambling money was getting tight. Dooby graciously
invited them to breakfast in Auggie's suite as compensation for their
generous donations.

When the dealer announced last hand, because the casino closed at 4:00
A.M.; Dooby graciously threw in a small pair, which allowed Christian to
win the final greatly reduced pot with the highest card. In the end Dooby
walked away from the table with nearly $50,000.00 of someone else's money,
while his and Cory's original stake remained safely in their pockets.

Auggie clapped Dooby on the back at the elevator. "Dooby boy yo' got brass
balls to take yo' friends to the cleaners an' then allow me to pay fo'
their breakfast!" He declared while frowning at the ladies' backs since
they rode the same elevator. Not one of the men would admit to losing to a
woman, women in this case; Margery and Agatha, while those two ladies just
hugged their overstuffed Hermes handbags lovingly, while wearing perpetual
smiles.

Most of the gang followed Auggie into his suite since he mentioned
breakfast, which caught the chefs, already in the kitchen, flat footed;
they were a long way from serving. Auggie forgot completely about Ollie who
was part of the group, until Ollie volunteered his assistance and promptly
disappeared into the kitchen.

Auggie lifted his eyes heavenward to beg; "Why me Lord? First the ladies
take me to the cleaners, an' now I'm about to go to a pauper's grave due to
food poisonin'," he mumbled.

Ollie reappeared just as suddenly as he disappeared into the kitchen. "Chef
Brian put me in charge of the bar," he announced happily to one and all,
"Does anyone want a drink before breakfast? I know how to make bourbon and
branch, but I'll need some help to make anything else."

Auggie's hand was first in the air with his four fingers held at
horizontal. "I purely love that back talkin' Brian boy, he thinks on his
feet," he told Zeek who agreed with a sigh of relief. Jonathon, Cole and
Pete rushed to Ollie's side behind the bar

"I've got some news from home about the hit men," Jim-Bob announced. The
big lounge fell silent instantly. Even Ollie lost his perpetual smile
briefly before Jim-Bob said that they were safely in custody. He began
giggling uncontrollably at the expense of the first two drinks he was
attempting to serve to Auggie and Zeek.

"There goes my nice new Sunday go to meetin' suit," Auggie complained, "not
to mention an ounce of fine bourbon."

"Sorry Auggie, maybe I should just go help out in the kitchen and leave bar
tending to these guys." That offer promptly ended any further complaints
from Auggie.

Jim-Bob continued his hit man report, "The two idiots ended up spending
three hours out on the water and sunning themselves on some little islet
they found so they ended up with monumental cases of sun poisoning, with
second degree burns over most of their bodies," he laughed, "including
their dicks, oops, sorry, I meant penises, but you get the idea where the
worst blisters were." Every younger guy in the room competed to see who
could make the most pained expression since most had experienced minor
cases of sunburn on their own dicks, a very sensitive, thin skinned bit of
flesh.

"ANYWAY," Jim-Bob continued with difficulty, "The two dudes are Bruno and
Wendell and they're both wanted for a murder they committed about 15 years
ago. They both worked and I guess may still work for a loan shark in Las
Vegas. One guy made loans to gamblers and the other collected the loan, or
else the gambler had the crap beaten out of him. One time they got carried
away and the customer died. Since then, they do special jobs for the
shark, jobs where the customer dies." He looked at Ollie, "We think one
guy just shoots, beats or stabs a mark but the other guy may be more subtle
by using fire, explosions or sabotage. This guy could have been the one
that fixed your parents' plane.

Jim-Bob went on to tell about the Sheriff's Department showing up with
enough manpower and equipment to repel Cuba's invasion of the Florida Keys
and then mount a successful counter attack while Sergeant Barney and his
Marine Division already had the suspected felons entombed in inflatable
beach toys and secured with rope and duct tape, courtesy of the efficient
Rainbow Club staff.

"But what about my Uncle Harold, has anyone heard from him?" Ollie asked.

"Not directly, but Wendell made a call to Las Vegas to say that they
couldn't fulfill the contract. We believe he called the shark but the guy
he called just said it was a wrong number, so we're guessing your uncle
will find out shortly if he doesn't know already. I'm guessing he doesn't
know too many professional hit men so now he has to do the job himself
which means he could arrive at Marathon as soon as tomorrow."

"If he flies in won't he be stranded at the airport, just like those odious
hit men?" Margery asked with a hopeful smile.

Jim-Bob nodded to agree, "He could always be directed to the Club since
there's nowhere else to stay. That way Barney and his friend can keep a
real close eye on them. I'll call and ask if they have access to any
electronic surveillance equipment."

Ollie began laughing hysterically and only stopped when everyone was
staring at him. He explained; "I had their bedroom bugged with a video
camera until I saw them making it with each other. That was gross, Aunt
Virginia rode Uncle Harold because he isn't very well endowed," he held up
a hand with his thumb and index finger slightly parted, "about that big,
honest Granny Margery," he said as Margery began laughing and holding up
her own parted fingers.

######

Car rental agent Brenden was told to close unexpectedly because there were
no cars to rent and no returns were expected until after the holiday (He
also prepped cars to re-rent.) so management decided to save money by
cancelling his shift. That was depressing. He had lived with his father on
a 35 foot houseboat that was tied up at the marina. His father did odd jobs
involving boats; detailing, hull cleaning, painting and occasionally
working as a mate or crewing. He also kept the beer inventory in the marina
store at the peak of freshness when he wasn't working. Brenden helped out
with his car rental job and he helped his father whenever that didn't
conflict with school or his job. Father and son weren't rich, they weren't
always comfortable but they were surviving; eating regularly and paying the
bills.

About a year earlier Brenden came home to the houseboat, after school to
find a note from his father. He had signed on as a crewman on a cruising
sailboat that was bound for the Bahamas and other island countries further
south. There was no schedule mentioned or any subsequent communication, and
after a year, Brenden had to assume he'd been abandoned. He was careful to
stay under any state agencies' and the high schools' radar; he had his job
renting cars and he did computer bookkeeping at night for the marina to pay
the boat slip rent, Internet and Wi-Fi. He'd also developed a list of
regular customers, keeping their boat hulls clean and free of barnacles and
algae and of course the car rental clerk job so he had a regular income; he
was a survivor who was even saving for a car. If he could find a
boyfriend, and have his first ever experience, he would be a happy camper.

Since Brenden was unexpectedly free for the afternoon, he decided it would
be a perfect time to visit the Club and meet Keith, so far a sexy voice
that he was sure was built into his fantasy boyfriend's body. He peddled
his bike home to the marina in record time because of the need to be
perfectly dressed or nearly undressed, so hopefully they would remember him
favorably when he finally applied for a job and hopefully Keith would come
to be his first friend. He chose an older pair of board shorts that were
tight but not too tight and most importantly they had a liner that would
contain his package while creating a definite drooping bulge in the general
shape of a five inch flaccid cock.

Lots of hard work, spending hours diving under boats was even better
exercise than bicycling or running, and he was just vain enough to admire
his 17 year old body in every reflective surface. He also sported a perfect
all over tan because the railings on the upper sundeck were covered with
neatly laced canvas, which he could access via a ladder in the galley up to
the fly bridge. He even got a high jerking off on his sundeck unseen while
people were walking along the dock, just a few feet away. A pair of flip
flops completed his limited wardrobe and after a deep breath, he was ready
to go.

The houseboat was over 30 years old but except for design, including
teakwood accents, looked almost new. All the glass glittered, always free
of salt, the fiberglass was kept polished and waxed and all the bright work
looked to be fresh from the marine store. Her stern bore the letters
H.i.t.W., an accurate acronym for `Hole in the Water', after the saying,
"Boats are holes in the water into which owners pour money." Brenden called
the old girl `Hit' affectionately; unfortunately the last thing `Hit', hit,
was a submerged palm log which destroyed her outdrive, so Hit was an
immobile boat due to the cost of a major repair.

Brenden had rested his bike against a distant light post in front of the
Club and was 20 feet from the door when it whooshed open and no less than
five grinning blue kerchiefs ran out toward him. He was the first ever
guest who was as young or younger than they were. That, plus his face,
athletic body and very obvious substantial package combined to cause the
mini-stampede to see which of them could be first to be of service to the
good looking young stud. The questions started before Brenden could explain
his business for being there along with effusive greetings and welcomes.

"Can I get your luggage from your car?"

"Perhaps you'd like a cold drink while you register?"

"How long will you be staying with us?"

And the most important question of all that caused the kerchiefs to stretch
their necks to look around the parking lot, both optimistically and
fatalistically; "Do you have a best friend with you?"

Brenden backed up a step so he could view the five very handsome guys who
were all vying for his attention before he answered; "Um, yes, I have a
friend, at least I hope I have, and I hope he still works here, his name is
Keith. I'm sorry I didn't get his last name, I just talked to him over the
phone."

That explanation caused another flurry of questions and some comments
disparaging to Keith. Brenden was assured that Keith was far too old for
him since he was fast approaching 21 years of age. Poor Keith had pale gray
eyes that caused him to wear sunglasses far too frequently, sometimes,
rudely, even indoors. Keith tipped his dark curly hair, blond, which was
thought to be out of vogue; it wasn't really due to the sun and the effects
of swimming pool chlorine as he claimed. Keith smiled too much, displaying
a set of chompers that were so perfect, clearly he'd spent entirely too
much time at the orthodontists wasting much of his childhood.

One detractor stopped and frowned at Brenden. "Wait up here Sir, just what
do you think you're doing, soliciting sex over the telephone from poor
Keith without giving us equal time? What is your phone number anyway? We'll
call you."

"No, wait, it wasn't like that," Brenden protested, "I rent cars part-time
at the airport and I sent two guys here to stay. I talked to Keith then and
I told him I didn't think they were gay, but they asked about the Club by
name. Keith invited me to hang out; that's all that happened."

With that cryptic explanation, the five guys invited him inside to wait
while they looked for that damn lucky Keith who was thought to be out on
the beach, so they went in the direction to look for him. Meanwhile Keith
walked into the empty lounge from the dining room having just made a
sandwich. He wondered why there was no one working at the registration
desk, saw the young, handsome stranger and asked if he could be of service
while attempting to hide his half eaten roast beef sandwich behind his back
because it looked unprofessional.

Brenden identified himself and said a bunch of guys just went looking for a
guy named Keith and since Keith had been eating a beautiful roast beef
sandwich, Brenden assumed that he was a guest. "This Club is sure
beautiful; have you been staying here long?" he inquired politely to make
conversation while he hoped the guys would return soon with Keith. He
didn't think he should be interacting with guests, even one who was drop
dead gorgeous like the guy standing in front of him.

Keith smiled brightly while he lifted his sunglasses up into his
sun/chlorine bleached hair. Both boys grinned at each other. "Gray eyes
and a perfect set of chompers," Brenden mumbled.

"You must have met Ed already, he claims to hate my eyes and chompers, he
calls teeth. I'm Keith and I'm really glad to meet you finally," Keith said
while the pair high and low fived, fist bumped and even shook hands the old
fashion way eventually. When he saw Brenden's interest in his sandwich, he
invited him to the kitchen to fix one for himself.

Brenden declined while almost drooling, "Sorry, I didn't bring any money,"
he slapped his solid butt and hips to give an excuse, "no pockets."

Keith laughed that off and actually planted his hand in the middle of
Brenden's warm smooth back to push him across the lounge, dining room and
into the kitchen to the refrigerated prep station where he flipped up lids
to expose a broad assortment of deli meats, cheeses, veggies, spreads,
breads and rolls.

"What the hell are you doing back in here?" Someone questioned Keith so it
echoed. "You haven't finished your first sandwich yet."

"HELLO," someone else called to Brenden, "where'd you come from new guy?
Welcome to the only place in this funny farm where we actually have to work
for a living! Now YOU can make as many sandwiches as you want as soon as
you get into the proper uniform and you kick Keith's ass out of here back
to the volley ball court or registration desk until dinner time. NO
TAPEWORMS ALLOWED!" The guy screamed.

Brenden was looking for any excuse to shuck off his shorts and he acted
like his shorts caught fire while Keith was jousting verbally with the guys
in the kitchen. No one seemed to be looking at Brenden making a sandwich
before he joined the funny, heated discussion concerning Keith's love
affair with food especially food prepared by others. "I'm not an employee,"
he enlightened, "I'm a guest."

The kitchen fell silent after that pronouncement. None of the very few
guests the Club hosted heretofore had ever felt the need to enter the
kitchen, not with a platoon of servers. Keith had committed an unwritten
cardinal sin; a guest was making his own lunch while Keith watched.

All eyes fell on Brenden's sculpted rear view from his slightly messy,
sandy hair, his strong neck, wide sloping shoulders, narrow waist, almost
non-existent ass crack, to his thick columnar thighs, defined calves dusted
with blond hairs and delicate feet for a guy. All was perfectly highlighted
with a magnificent south Florida tan. That was just about the time that
Brenden noted the sudden silence and turned around to discover why, thus
revealing his body's uncovered front view. There were some intakes of
breath. What appeared to be five inches when contained by nylon cloth
actually looked to be closer to six, once it was free.

Keith knew he was in trouble when the room got silent and the staff frowned
as they began to join and move toward him, presenting a united
front. "Wait, no, you guys don't understand; he isn't `A' guest," he
emphasized, "well he is; he's my guest, not the Club's AND he is an
employee but he doesn't know it yet. This is the guy who works at the
airport. He sent us those two creeps yesterday, and today he sent us the
big fish, we've been looking for; the Olsen's."

Brenden had to say nothing more. He was gently pushed aside by far too many
lingering hands so his sandwich could be completed by experts, while Keith
was rudely pushed out of the way with frowns and shaking heads. Brenden was
a local hero and the very least the kitchen staff could do was prepare any
kind of food he wanted.

"Fuck all you guys," Keith declared with a grin but without relinquishing
his sandwich. "You guys entertain Brenden, without molesting him please,"
he added. "I've got his pay out in a desk drawer. I'll be right back."

"Pay, what pay?" Brenden questioned Keith's back before he turned to humbly
request that the one giant sandwich the guys fashioned be made into two so
that he might actually eat one and perhaps share the second with Keith in
some quiet place where they could talk between bites. Keith returned
quickly with an empty plate and an envelope. By then the guys had sort of
explained that the two guys were hired killers who were paid by the couple
that just arrived that very morning. Since the killers had been arrested
the couple flew in to do the job themselves.

Keith gave Brenden the envelope and took charge of the two sandwiches since
Brenden's hands were occupied. Brenden counted five $100 bills, a princely
sum. That much might repair Hit's outdrive or if combined with his savings,
would allow for the purchase of a car if he shopped outside the Keys.

Living in the Florida Keys was like living in another country that some fun
loving local separatists hoped to call the "Conch Republic" whenever it was
felt that the State or Federal Government meddled in local affairs.

"I, I, could really use this," Brenden sputtered, "but I didn't really do
anything but make two phone calls."

"Well, you don't know who you were helping," Keith replied. He told Brendon
all about Ollie, which was almost everything since the Club was a closed
society and none of the kerchiefs had ever met a billionaire before. They
had of course met several, but didn't know it.

"I know that guy," Brenden returned, "He's a mate on Hobby, a big sport
fisherman that just docked permanently at the marina. I don't think he
likes wearing too many clothes either. I asked Captain Jonathon about
keeping his bottom clean but he said the guys from the new dive boat are
friends and they would probably do it for both boats together. Bummer, I
love big bottoms; I charge by the foot."

Keith twisted his body around, trying to look at his own bottom that he
already knew to be normal size or smaller than normal and nearly dumped
both sandwiches in the process. "Yeah, bummer," he agreed.

"Not guys' bottoms," Brenden elaborated with a giggle when he realized
Keith didn't know what he was talking about, "boat bottoms. Like in warm
tropical water, algae and baby barnacles start growing on even the best
antifouling bottom paint, which slows a boats' speed down if they aren't
cleaned like once a month. Those are the bottoms I clean to earn extra
money." He hesitated after glancing back and down at Keith's bottom,
blushed and said what he thought; "I think your butt is perfect and
probably doesn't need cleaning."

Keith wagged his eyebrows and replied rather cryptically, "Maybe a deep
cleaning sometime soon." They arrived at the registration desk where Keith
told Brenden to stash his shorts and money, and then they could sit there
and eat their sandwiches since the guy that was supposed to be on duty
wasn't there for some reason.

The phone rang at the moment that Keith's mouth was full, so he motioned
Brenden to answer the call, "Good afternoon, this is the Rainbow Club
Resort, how can I direct your call?" He was motioning Keith to chew faster
so he could `transfer' the call.

The caller first asked, "You have got to be one of the guys running bare
ass all over your website, is this club for real or is it a rip off? It
looks a little bit too luxurious to be a club for gays based on personal
past experiences."

Brenden frantically mouthed `speaker phone', so this potential customer
wouldn't have to repeat himself to Keith. Keith pushed the proper button
and both boys' eyes widened.

Without waiting for an answer, the man stated his business, "My partner and
I belong to a sort of national couples club, it's a very informal
organization of guys who have met at resorts, vacations, casinos or
wherever, and we enjoy each other's company so we try to get together a few
times a year. I know it's late but I just found your website. I'm wondering
if we can book, say, 30 suites over the Christmas holidays? We'd be
dragging in anytime from about the twentieth of December and checking out
after New Year's, some right after and some a few days later." The caller
laughed, "Some of the guys still have to work for a living. If I read this
right, your rate is $1000 a day per couple. That's reasonable. How much
deposit do you need up front? Well, speak up, pick any question and answer
it."

Keith sputtered after a moment's hesitation, "Well, a 20% non-refundable
deposit for say 10 days to reserve 30 suites would be required," he stated
somewhat authoritatively while crossing the fingers of both hands and
crossing himself for good measure, didn't hurt either.

The caller didn't sputter or hesitate. "My name's Ben Crossley; I'll hang
up here and run a credit card through your website to save time. I'll
guarantee 30 suites for couples who will pay you individually when they
arrive, but there could be another 10 or 12 late comers, some guys can
never make up their minds, but that's their problem. Now you two tell me
your names; I want to meet you guys when we get there. Say, we can go out
fishing, I'll have my captain bring my boat down and I'll twist your
bosses' arms so you can get off," Ben seemed inspired.

Brenden perked up; he knew who owned Hobby, "I'm Brenden and my friend is
Keith," he introduced. "There's no need to bring your boat Mr. Crossley, we
have a beautiful big Hatteras with a crew that's included. The Gulf Steam
is close and winter is the time to pull in some big bill fish."

Keith brought up the Club website on the screen right after Ben Crossley
disconnected, before Brenden asked. Then both boys watched as Mr. Crossley
used his credit card as he promised and sighed with relief when the charge
was approved, meaning the humongous deposit was safely in the Club's
account. Keith opened the reservation spreadsheet and blocked out 30 suites
beginning December 20 until January 2, then made notes about other suites
that might be booked individually. After he was finished, he turned the
screen toward Brenden so he could see the rest of the site for the first
time. They waited impatiently until the guy who was supposed to be manning
the registration desk returned from taking a break. Keith felt free to
scold the dude for leaving the phone unattended risking the loss of the
Club's first real business since the website was in operation. The guy
copped an attitude and quit on the spot. Keith called someone else over to
finish the shift, before the two boys could hit the beach and join the
volleyball game in progress. Brenden wanted to try and match faces and
bodies in the website video clips with the guys on the beach.

An hour later found them sharing the mostly secluded poolside shower
companionably, but unnecessarily, to rinse off the sand and sweat. They
bumped bodies just enough to become excited before they began using their
hands on each other's body. It took all of five seconds for them to be
standing proud in each other's hand. Brenden whispered hoarsely, "You
should know that I'm not...I mean I've never done..."

Keith ended Brenden's speech with a kiss. "Don't worry about a thing. You
never have to do anything you don't want to do, but right now I want to get
you off before you explode." He gently tugged Brenden by his pulsing cock,
the short distance to the double lounge near the spa and had him lying on
his back with a gentle push. He lifted the youngster's cock upright and
asked, "Wow! Eight inches?"

"Yeah," Brenden panted, "a bit more. Please do something!" he begged
through clenched teeth. Keith did the something that made half of Brenden's
cock disappear. He tried to lift his head but Brenden grabbed his head and
held it while he began to bounce upward in spastic thrusts and shudders. He
allowed Keith his freedom after he was completely spent and actually began
apologizing for such rough treatment while Keith just nodded and laughed as
he made sure that his ears were still in place as he fluffed his damp hair
so it would dry looking typically messy. He stopped laughing when Brenden
suddenly took him down to his back on the other half of the lounge and
their positions were reversed.

"Tell me if I bite you," Brenden instructed before he gobbled Keith's cock
in as far as he could and then simply stopped. Keith used his hands to
begin Brenden's head moving. He found Brenden to be an eager student in the
art of head bobbing until it was his turn to hold his student's head in
place for a minute. After he freed Brenden, he was surprised and pleased to
see him swirling the end product around in his mouth before he swallowed
with a radiant smile that disappeared with a long deep kiss and reappeared
when he pulled away slightly to thank his first ever boyfriend for an
experience that he'd dreamed of for years and imagined in scenario's every
time he jerked off.

They spent the remaining daylight hours, talking a bit, making out a lot,
really inspecting each other's body openly and placing kisses of approval
in all the most intimate areas. They were about to try a classic `69' when
Deputies Barney and Daniel and the two FBI Agents found them and saw the
size of Brenden's dick, that also was becoming known to the Club staff, as
the size of Keith's commitment to romance, which deflated from being caught
unfortunately.

Law enforcement wanted to thank Keith for already rearranging their rooms,
so the Olsen's were positioned between them while they were away
parasailing. The two Agents only made one additional tweak to the
arrangement; they quickly switched suites with the Agent in Charge and his
partner since they were in Key West. They felt that the Agent in Charge
should have the honor of having all the surveillance monitoring equipment,
the screens and recorders, in their suite while they monitored what the
Agent in Charge termed the `local yokels', the Deputies, who had been
situated in the suite on the opposite side of the Olsen's. By then the
local yokels were willing to welcome the Agents with open arms since
intimate secrets between the two couples were becoming few in number and
they had already planned to get those out of the way all together that very
night.

To insure that they wouldn't be disturbed by the Agent in Charge, the two
presented their detailed verbal report in the `buff' as the man called
stark naked. He was so embarrassed he even refused to look at them directly
while they reported they had questioned most of the staff, that they'd been
all over the property to check for weapons caches that could have been
secreted earlier and any possible escape route should the suspects, the
Olsen's, decide to flee. They had even investigated all rental and charter
boats at the local marina, which took several hours alone.

The Agent in Charge announced from behind the partially closed bathroom
door that the two rookie Agents did such a thorough `bang up' piece of
investigating that he would have letters of commendation placed in their
personnel files just before he excused them so they could continue to
mingle and blend in with the staff and other guests so he and his partner
could put on earphones to listen while watching the subject suspects on no
less than three split monitors that had been arranged in a bank along one
wall.

The Agents and Deputies returned from their parasailing adventure and
discovered that the Olsen's had arrived and were out on the terrace
enjoying an early dinner since they were still on California time. Harold
studied the cloud formations as he ate, while Virginia frankly studied the
amazing size and shapes of the wait staff's dicks and balls wearing a
wistful expression.

The Agents displayed their extensive collection of carefully packed
sophisticated surveillance equipment to their Deputy friends. They were
frantic to get the suite adequately `bugged' with the most advanced
listening devices and the tiniest cameras available. (Those 10 minutes were
actually the only time that they did any real FBI work.)

Keith and Brenden enjoyed a quiet but hurried dinner in the corner of the
dining room. Since there was a certain lack of privacy in and around the
Club, they planned to adjourn to Brenden's houseboat where they could get
really, really comfortable without being disturbed. Keith excused himself
to go up to his room to get some clothes and his shaving kit. Brenden hung
out near the registration desk and watched the desk clerk accept two more
reservations due to the new Club website. He had begun to worry about Keith
after 20 minutes had elapsed and Keith still had not reappeared.

When he did show up he was wearing a pair of very baggie shorts and wanted
to leave immediately without interest in the new reservations. Brenden
shrugged and followed Keith out to the nearest SUV where they loaded
Brenden's very precious bicycle. Keith appeared to be nervous during the
drive to the marina, so Brenden stayed quiet and was reluctant to ask what
was wrong, although he was sure it was something that he did or didn't do
that would wreck their budding relationship before it really got started.

Surprisingly, Keith turned extremely, gloriously, passionate once they were
onboard Hit, the house boat. Keith was even reluctant to let Brenden out of
his arms long enough so he could close all the blinds before he could turn
on a light. Keith stripped off Brenden's shorts but would not allow Brenden
to take off his until after they'd climbed up to the dark sundeck that was
lit by the stars and some light from the docks and the brighter lighted
marina bathhouse that was conveniently close to Hit's slip, so the
live-aboard wouldn't have far to walk to the toilet and showers. (Boats
with bathrooms have holding tanks, which if used, need to be pumped out
periodically, an avoidable expense for Brenden.)

Brenden didn't get the chance to remove Keith's shorts; Keith did it
himself and was stretched out on his back with his legs spread invitingly
almost before Brendon stepped off the access ladder. "Am I missing
something here?" Brenden whispered with a gulp, although he was tempted to
pounce and apologize later if he was wrong.

He wasn't wrong. Keith invited Brenden down. "I believe I need my bottom
deep cleaned," he said and raised his legs suggestively for ease of access.

"You mean you want me to..."

"Exactly," Keith agreed, "using that big eight and a bit more inch
cleaner," he explained. Brenden was kneeling at Keith's side. Keith took
his hand to place it where he wanted the ultimate in deep cleaning to
occur.

Brenden felt something like a small, soft, round disc with a finger ring in
the middle, "What..."

"It's a butt plug. That's what took me so long to get dressed; I'm a rookie
at this kind of love making and I knew I needed to sort of get stretched so
I could take you. You need to pull it out and replace it as fast as you
can," Keith instructed.

"I, I'll try but I don't think this will take very long; I always get off
too fast." While Brenden moved into position on his knees, he was already
apologizing for any eventualities including premature ejaculation.

"Just shut up and fuck me," Keith commanded breathlessly and steered after
Brenden tossed the big butt plug aside carelessly. It rolled a short
distance erratically and was just small enough to fit under the canvass
railing screen.

"Plop," The butt plug responded followed by a splash that worked to release
the tensions in both boys and diverted Brenden's attention from what he was
doing for the first time so he began thrusting naturally without thinking
about it. His orgasm was still fast, too fast he thought, but smiling Keith
used his heels on Brenden's ass to signal that he should continue. Keith
didn't need to spur Brendon into preforming a third time, after which
Brenden collapsed his full weight on Keith and appeared to fall asleep.

Sleep until Keith began laughing. Brenden rose up to look down on his
wonderful lover's face, "What?" he asked without disconnecting or even
deflating yet he noticed with the pride of a seventeen year old constantly
horny teenager.

"I don't believe you tossed my butt plug overboard."

"It was an accident," Brenden protested with some giggles that transferred
down through their joined bodies to feel extremely good.

Keith moaned, "If you don't stop laughing I'm going to pop," he
warned. Brenden suddenly realized that he'd gotten off three times while
Keith, not at all. He used the strength in his arms and legs to lift and
pull Keith's body up and back while he folded his body almost double and
bent his head. With his goal barely achieved, Keith exploded just inside
his mouth.

Brenden swallowed before he started laughing again. "I'm supposed to be the
rookie, but you're the old guy, you can't get away with that kind of
speed," he scolded. "Want to try that again, or do you want to go find your
butt plug? The current washes floating crap up against the bulkhead, two
slips over."

Keith waggled his eyebrows again, "If you look down; I think I'm still
wearing the only butt plug I'm ever going to need, that is, if you're
willing to let me use it whenever I want, OR," he added, "whenever you want
to use it in me" He took a deep breath, "I guess you can tell by now, I'm
kind of a bottom guy. Before you came along, I used that butt plug and a
dildo that's a lot smaller than you. Now I don't need either."

"Well then," Brenden asked brightly, "can I have your old dildo so I can
practice and get ready for you?"

"Um, ah, my fantasies didn't go that far," Keith began to decline.

"Don't make me pout," Brenden warned, stuck out his lower lip and even
managed to make it quiver.

"Oh okay, but not anytime soon, and you may not practice without my
supervision," Keith qualified, "It will be fun to see if I can get you off
with the vibrator feature." It was Brenden's turn to waggle his eyebrows as
he imagined all the possibilities.

#######

Virginia Olsen ordered the makings for Old Fashion cocktails and quietly
emphasized that she did not want the finished drinks. She wanted to make
the nightcaps for her and her husband Harold, herself. The FBI agents
looked at each other in question, zoomed a camera in on the wet bar and
leaned in closer to the video monitor to watch Virginia make the drinks
while Harold was in the shower and out of sight.

She used powdered sugar that had been delivered in one drink and then
scurried to their luggage with a glance at the bathroom door to retrieve a
Zip Lock baggie of white powder that she actually poured, without
measuring, into the second drink! She just managed to replace the plastic
bag before Harold appeared wearing pajamas.

The Agents discussed the possibility that Virginia was about to murder her
husband with an overdose of some kind of white powdered drug. But what if
it wasn't an illegal drug? What if they intervened only to be embarrassed
and worse; expose their surveillance operation? The Agent in Charge decided
to refer the problem to the local yokels, the Deputies on site, and allow
them to look foolish. Since he'd appointed the other two agents to liaison
with the locals, he decided to call one of them to do his potential `dirty
work'.

The cellphone only rang once before it was answered. He quickly explained
what they saw the suspect wife do; attempt to murder her husband by
overdose. He instructed the agent to relay the information to the locals,
to make no suggestions at all and allow the locals to proceed on their
own. The Agent in Charge fully expected to witness a good door smashing
that would lead to an emergency intervention and the arrest of the
perpetrator wife. Instead nothing of the sort happened; Harold Olsen drank
his drink slowly and then both thanked and complimented his wife for her
unusual thoughtfulness and her mixology skills, climbed in bed and fell
into a deep sleep evidenced by his very annoying snores the whole fucking
night.

Sergeant Barney considered the information carefully for almost a minute
before he shrugged and responded; "If Olsen dies, then the States of
California and Florida and the Federal Government can avoid the cost of
prosecuting Harold while his wife can be charged with first degree murder
here in Florida and two charges of conspiracy to commit the murder of
Oliver Olsen's parents in California according to Ollie's recordings. I see
this as a win, win situation. Let's let the bastard croak and arrest the
loving wife in the morning. You guys have audio and video so she's going
down. Now where were we Daniel, I believe it was your turn in the old
barrel before we were so rudely interrupted by that witless asshole Agent
in Charge?"

#######

Virginia wasn't an expert on drug overdose symptoms but she doubted that
incessant snoring, which was normal for Harold, was one of them. There was
no need to feel for his pulse, he was clearly very much alive and sleeping
soundly. The damn white power had no affect and knowing her incompetent
husband like she did, whatever he bought was a fucking fake. While Harold
slept, she couldn't. Each time she closed her eyes, the vision of a
handsome young stud with an exciting erection of sufficient length so he
wouldn't keep popping out on every up thrust, was mounted on her for a
change of pace. She was tired of mounting and very carefully riding
Harold's `pencil stub' that she called his dick.

She climbed out of bed without trying to be quiet; Harold slept like a bear
after too much alcohol in his nightcap. She took the special overnight bag
into the bathroom, closed the door and turned on the light so she could see
what she was doing. First she tasted the suspect white power with the
smallest dab on the end of her finger; exactly the way drugs were tested on
TV. She made a face at the mirror and licked more off her spit covered
finger to be sure; there was no doubt, it was powdered sugar.

That fact was good to know, she wouldn't use it on her nephew, Ollie, the
annoying little bastard who had many more lives than a cat. Next she picked
up the used, 9 mm semiautomatic pistol, stood in front of the mirrored wall
and held it up to her head. She'd seen case after case on TV crime shows
where someone attempted to disguise a murder as a suicide and lost in court
because the prosecution proved that the victim couldn't possibly shoot
himself in the back of the head or anywhere else where the victim's hand,
wrist and/or arm couldn't reach to fire the fatal bullet.

She decided that a simple temple shot was easiest for her and most
realistic for Harold when he was found holding the gun in his lifeless
hand. Satisfied, she paused to work the weapon's slide to be sure that
there was a bullet in the chamber. Panic set in as tears began to
form. Her asshole husband bought a handgun and didn't check to see if it
was loaded. The clip was empty and she knew the cartridges hadn't been
packed separately because she did the packing.

(In all fairness to the street corner entrepreneur who sold the empty
weapon; Harold did not specifically request ammunition as a part of the
transaction. There would have been an extra charge for ammunition.)

Virginia decided that Harold would die from blunt force trauma to the head
as a part of a burglary.

#######

The FBI Agent in Charge and his second in command had nodded off after the
Olsen's went to bed and the lights were turned off and their adjoining
rooms got very quiet. They assumed that they would be awakened by any
conversation in the target suite. While the cameras automatically switched
to infrared, they weren't awake to see Virginia move into the bathroom and
didn't wake when a quarter of one screen lit up as soon as she turned on
the bathroom lights.

They slept through the ghostly green images of Virginia using the empty
handgun to bludgeon her husband until he was unrecognizable. They did
finally wake up when they heard Virginia pounding on the tempered,
hurricane proof safety glass windows and sliding door that was locked from
the inside, and clearly heard her maniacal screams when the glass refused
to shatter no matter how hard she pounded with the blood covered
handgun. By then it was too late.

It was near dawn and Barney and Daniel had just left the rookie Agents and
were returning to their suite. They were helpless to gain access although
they could see Virginia's light colored nightie vaguely and certainly see
her pounding and hear her screams. The room steward appeared with the FBI
agents from both directions. The steward activated the door and all six
members of law enforcement rushed in, with the Agent in Charge and his
second in the lead. Both had their weapons drawn. They saw Virginia raise
her arm from the light from the bathroom, they fired almost simultaneously.
Virginia Olsen slid down the opposite wall leaving a bloody trail from two
bullet holes that pierced the wall after passing through her body.

#######

My undying thanks to Emoe for his editing this chapter; this includes a one
hour turnaround when I added several paragraphs after he returned the
edited chapter this morning.


HAPPY READING!

Jamie Haze


                                                                                                                                                        

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