"Baxter Court": Always open to new liars, cheats, and other fun people

Mark Davis stood on the porch of his home at the end of Baxter Court, staring through the bulb of the cul-de-sac and down the short road, over the orchard to the setting sun. He squinted -- even behind the dark shades that turned the glowing globe blood red -- and waited, sipping at the mug of coffee his wife had nagged him about drinking so late in the day.

He smiled as he heard her heels closing from behind him. His smile wasn't for her, per se; it was for her imminent departure. Hearing those god-awful -- and god-awful expensive -- shoes tapping upon the tile on a Tuesday night meant she was going to her Women's Group ... which meant that he would be alone ... for a bit, anyway.

"Back by ten," she said, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek and caress a cool hand up under his shirt against the small of his back. "I'll pick up some ice cream on the way home. Maybe a cable movie later ... snuggling. Can't wait for fall, and the roar of the fire before us."

"Can't wait," he repeated, his tone genuine though the thought was a lie. He turned to face her and leaned in, giving her a soft, yet intimate kiss on her mouth as he slipped one of his hands down to gently squeeze a buttock kept firm by daily, incessant work outs, both here and at the most expensive local gym she could find. He whispered another lie, "Will miss ya."

She giggled at the squeeze, and headed down to her car, pulled from the huge garage already and parked in the drive for convenience. She headed to her chariot, putting a little wiggle in her hips for him before giggling, waving, and departing.

Mark scanned the street, sidewalks, and yards before him; even this late in the August evening, there were people out and about -- his neighbors, their kids, their groundskeepers -- doing what they do ... doing what their neighbors expected them to do. Behind those doors and windows, however, there were others, doing what their neighbors would be shocked to know they were doing.

Mark watched in silence as a small sports car careened off the suburban road and down the cul-de-sac's narrow lane toward him. He reached into his jacket pocket and pressed the garage door opener; the crazed driver drove the little car up into the empty side of the garage even as the door was still rising.

He turned, closed both the front and garage doors, and headed to the kitchen for a bottle of wine. He contemplated the decision to lease the little bat-out-of-hell ride for his guest. He hadn't wanted any questions from the neighbors when his friends came to visit, of course, so when he'd taken his first mistress, he'd leased her a car identical to the ones his daughters drove. That way, it would simply appear as if one of his college student kids was home for a short visit ... and a wad of cash, of course.

He was on his fourth mistress by now, but luckily his daughters had liked their cars, so he'd only had to shell out money for two leases so far.

Mark returned to the foyer, stopping to smile at the barely-legal beauty. She was the youngest woman he'd ever wanted ... even going back to when he had been the age she was now. It simply amazed him that he could be lucky enough to have her in his life at all, let alone in his home, dressed like that, with his wife out for several hours.

"You look very nice, Stella," he said. He noticed her gaze dropping to the bottle and single glass in his hands, and he chuckled. "Sorry, you're underage. I wouldn't want your father to think I was corrupting you."

She laughed, then turned and began ascending the stairs ... toward his bedroom. As she went, she reached to her hips and slowly, seductively pulled the hem line of her shape fitting dress upwards, exposing her upper thighs, then her bared buttocks. Mark expected to find a thin piece of thong fabric dividing those perfect cheeks, but instead ... found only those perfect cheeks.

"Who's going to corrupt whom, Mister Davis," she said as she climbed, hips swaying dramatically. "Coming...?"

Mark stepped closer to the stairs but waited at the bottom, enjoying the view; with each step, he got just a quick glimpse of the promised land before her thighs and ass stole his attention once more. Coming...? Oh ... soon enough, girl. Soon enough...


OOC Comments

• For anyone interested, the wife is an available character.
• The next post in this thread -- which was for the wife -- is null and void. It's a long story I won't repeat here, but the writer is no longer with the role play and, therefore, the post can be treated as if it never occurred.

Joyce

I wiggled my ass as I went to my car, and even gave him a peek when I opened the door and got in. I hoped he noticed I wasnt wearing panties, but then, I rarely do.

As I drove off, I waived but headed right to a nearby hotel and parked. That way in case he had me followed, they would think I was in the meeting, but I went through the lobby to the side door where the cabs waited for fares, and climbed in.

Giving the address to the driver, I started to hand him a twenty dollar bill, but he turned his head and I thought he was cute, so I offerred him a blowjob instead.

He pulled into a parking lot and got out and climbed into the back seat with me.

I laid back and pulled up my skirt so he could see my pussy, and eat me if he wanted, but he opened his fly and pulled out his cock so I did what I offerred him.

It didnt take long,and i swallowed every drop as he returned to his drivers seat and asked for the address again.

I laughed and asked if that meant he wanted another bj, but he just laughed and drove me to Frank's house and let me out. At the door he kissed me and I knew he tasted cum, but didnt know whose and I didnt tell him as he asked why it took so long to get here since I had sexted him when I left home.

This link will take you to a "Personal Thread" that continues the action between Mark and Stella -- and, to Mark's shock and horror, his daughter Abby -- which begun in Post #1 above.

Personal Threads, as I explained, are separate threads where two -- sometimes more -- writers can write out a specific scene -- be it conversation, sex, or whatever -- without having all of the activity of the Main Thread getting in the way. It makes both reading and writing scenes in group threads easier. It also allows them to write as many "Free" style, short posts as they want without upsetting those writers who prefer the more "Casual" or "Advanced" style of role play.

When the Personal Thread is completed, the rest of the writers will be informed. (Hopefully, they will all be reading along, so they won't have to be informed of anything ...right?)

"James Green" was the name he was using these days. Real original. He stared at the fake driver's license WitSec had given him -- he'd had this one, his third, for five of his eight years in hiding -- and simply shook his head. I hate the frickin' name James...

He dropped the ID into the bathroom drawer with every thing else that could identify him as who he was ... who he was now, anyway. What remained were three bills of each denomination from $1 to $100; three VISA prepaid gift cards, each for $500; and two wallet sized photos of people he'd never seen before, taken from a wallet he'd stolen more than fifteen years ago.

James checked his appearance -- he was dressed casually, with a sports coat waiting in the other room -- then went to the bed to gather his things. He checked the little compartment in the violin case to ensure he had the Tools of his trade. Then he set the cheap, assembly line violin inside, locked the case, and headed for the door...



Forty minutes later, he was pulling onto Baxter Court. The sun was gone, and with this part of the city using minimal street lamps to cut down on light pollution, driving down through the tunnel of 50 year old elm trees was a little bit eerie for a boy who'd grown up on a flat, open desert.

He pulled over to the curb and killed his lights to stare at one of the first homes on the street. It had been sitting empty for as long as James had been coming here, a foreclosure sign leaning a bit to the left; he doubted that anyone from the bank had even been here to inspect the property in the two years it had been vacant, and yet he couldn't buy it because he'd given up his past -- including his credit history -- and WitSec didn't want him moving away from the neighborhood that they'd so carefully vetted for his safety.

He saw a porch light go on kitty corner to him. He waited for the resident to poop'n'scoop his little dog and go back inside, then turned his lights back on, drove to the end of the court, circled back, and stopped directly under one of the hooded street lamps so that anyone who might be watching would see him gathering up the violin case, music books, and music stand.

When he reached the door, it opened without him ringing the bell. The man inside greeted him with a polite smile but no words. They went to the family room where James took note of the pulled drapes, being gently wafted about by an evening breeze sneaking in through open windows. The home owner took a CD from James and put it into a stereo; a moment later, the room was filled with the sound of a violin music lesson that wasn't his own...



Ten minutes later, the man grunted with great satisfaction as his dick jerked, filling one of James's latex tools of his trade with warm semen. The male prostitute-turned Federal Witness-turned-male prostitute-once-more jerked with a firm grip, synchronized with his head bobbing up and down the man's full length. Even after his customer's shaft had ended its twitching, he continued pleasuring him, having learned what the man could handle post-ejaculation without the tickles ruining the ecstasy.

The home owner collapsed back onto the mattress, his heart pounding, his breathing labored. The man's euphoria was deep and genuine. The pair only saw each other every other Tuesday, and after meeting James, he'd even given up masturbating. That meant that his release was unbelievably overwhelming to him, each and every time. The man had assured James that he was clean and had had sex with no one else in over eight years, not even with his spouse; he'd wanted James to forgo the condoms, of course, but the younger man had respectfully declined and answered, "If you're going to do it, do it right."

James stood and removed the rest of his clothes, then laid on the bed with the man for several minutes. He pulled away the condom and tossed it into a little trash can, then gently stroked the man's dick, keeping it hard and ready.

When the man was finally ready, James slipped another condom onto him and took position on his hands and knees. The home owner used to take James lying on his back, legs up high, but the young man had had a serious mountain biking accident recently and simply couldn't perform that way anymore.

The customer didn't care, so long as he enjoyed himself. He was a nice guy to James -- firm, but not cruel -- but he didn't care a hoot for the whore's own pleasure these nights. And not that he should have, of course. He was paying to get his own rocks off, not James's. And he did, faster tonight than usual as James fondled his balls with professional fingers until they began to pump out their contents.

James cleaned up, redressed, picked up his $400, and laid a blanket over the quickly dozing man. On the way out, he turned off the CD and slipped it back into his sport coat's inside pocket. In his car, he again slowed in front of the abandoned home, one hand pressing the pants pocket with the new found cash in it.

In five years, he'd saved almost $150,000 dollars that his WitSec handler knew nothing about, and with the home going for rock bottom, he could afford to buy it, a new car, and everything else he needed and simply walk out of his current situation. His handler would assume he'd been found and disappeared by the mob and, after an appropriate amount of searching, would give him up for dead.

And then he could start fresh ... on his own ...

He smiled, wondering what it was going to be like living a few doors down from the man who had helped him buy his new home...

Gerry Baxter

There were still boxes everywhere. How did he have so much shit? He left most of the house stuff with Anna-Marie in the house that used to be theirs but was now solely hers. Seemed like a fair trade: she bought his half and a little extra, he signed everything over to her and got the car. He didn't need the old house or its old things, nor did he want them. This new position forced him to move anyway and, in the end, the old house had too many memories for him.

It was a stroke of good luck that the company needed someone to head up the creative department in their new office just as Gerry was ready to make a clean break from the past. His new pad was cosy and the neighbourhood was exceptionally good for his price range. Baxter Court - no doubt his real estate agent had a giggle about that.

He'd moved into the house less than a week ago and emptied a grand total of three boxes. Computer, kitchen utensils, blender - hell, what more did a guy need? But maybe he just told himself it was laziness. Maybe Gerry wasn't quite ready to admit that a long chapter in his life had finally ended.

It had been a year, for Christ's sake! He was totally ready to move on! He'd already rejoined the dating game: the daughter of his mom's friend Doris who frankly admitted she was a lesbian after their second date; the redhead at the record store with the incredible ass who turned out to be really, really racist; that ill-advised fling with the ditzy intern that Gerry had to stop when he realised she was only a year older than Holly...

Yeah, it hadn't gone well so far. It probably explained why he and Anna-Marie had hooked up about three months ago. Because that made the divorce simpler... fuck it, she'd always been great in bed. Gerry couldn't regret that.

OK, time to see about these boxes.

Right after a quick run.

He quickly climbed the stairs and threw on some sweatpants and an old t-shirt. He'd picked up the shirt at Warped Tour eight years ago, back when he was still trying to convince himself that he could rage against the machine and not just be a cog. It was bullshit, of course - he only had the ticket because the company had done some work for Vans.

Don't worry about that - you're not even 40 yet. Young, free and single, no worries or constraints. Just had to get out there and meet some people... even if the locals did seem a little WASPish. That was a concern. How was he supposed to recapture his youth among a bunch of middle-class suburbanites?

Gerry tried not to answer that question with the truth - "You're a middle-class suburbanite" - and instead sauntered down to the front door, where he put on his sneakers, stretched and headed out into cool Autumn air. A brisk run to get the blood pumping, then he'd get those boxes emptied. Yeah, that's what he'd do.

(OOC--This post returns Mark Davis to the Main Thread from the Personal Thread in which he was caught by his daughter Abigail having sex with his City University Student Aide, Stella, in his home. Mark and Abby just about had sex, too, so if you weren't following the story, go read it now. I think it's hot!)



One of the first things Mark had done following his father's death was begin the restoration of the Baxter Wetlands. Mark's great-grandfather, who had originally settled this area, and each subsequent generation had reclaimed the wetlands, turning them into arable and profitable farmlands.

Mark had always has a problem with the word reclaimed. Wetlands were reclaimed from Mother Nature, as if she wasn't supposed to have put them there in the first place. Over the past two decades, Mark had returned over 200 acres to their original state with the financial and labor assistance of the people of not only Baxter but of three neighboring towns, too.

Mark sat down on the back deck, changed into his running shoes, and headed out into the night on the Wetlands Trail. As he ran, the lights before him illuminated and then, once he was gone, went dark again. Mark had donated a hundred thousand dollars of his own money -- tripled by government and non-profit grants -- to put in the most advanced lighting system of its day. Motion detectors on the light poles triggered the lights on the next pole on the trail, ensuring that night time joggers were never in the dark but also returning the stars to those sitting on the park benches marveling at the stellar beauties.

He had barely covered a quarter mile of the four mile trail when he saw the light far ahead of him illuminating and darkening coming toward him. His eyes moved from the trail to the lights to the figure that finally showed itself, and a smile spread across his face.

Mark slowed, then stopped, his breathing only slightly labored, before waving to the approaching jogger and sticking his hand out for a polite handshake with his newest neighbor, a man with a coincidentally interesting name. As the man slowed and stopped, he said, "Hi ... Mark Davis ... from number sixty-six, just up a couple of houses. Welcome to Baxter ... Mister Baxter."

Abby giggled to herself as she heard her mother calling to her father in the other room, talking about ice cream and whatnot. Standing up after she heard the door downstairs open and shut she shut off her computer, and then walked over to her closet door and the large mirror on the door. You could barely see that she wasn't wearing anything under the over-sized t-shirt at all, it hung down just below her hips and at the right angle she was exposed to the world. Thinking that would be fun, but not needed right now she reached in her closet and pulled out a pair of micro shorts which did just enough to cover her up.

Walking downstairs she glanced over as she entered the kitchen.

"Well hello dear, I didn't know you were up."

Rolling her eyes Abby grabbed a bowl and spoon then filled it up with some of the ice cream and chocolate her mother had been yelling about earlier. As she topped it off with a touch of whipped cream she started to turn away from the kitchen.

"Umm... a simple thank you would be nice honey."

"Yea, whatever Joan, thanks bunches."

She could feel her mothers eyes staring holes in the back of her head as she headed for the front door.

"Don't you think you should be putting a little more on if you're going outside?"

Abby turned around to look at her mother. Upon a bit of scrutiny you could tell her face was still a bit flushed from whatever she had been doing earlier. 'Women's Group' what bs.

"Look, Joan, if you don't like the way I dress when I go out, then just don't look at me as I walk away."

Abby shrugged and turned around, shaking her ass a bit more as she walked out the front door and onto the porch to eat her ice cream. It had been a long night already and she was ready to relax in the breeze outside. As she finished her bowl she decided to take a walk down the driveway. She felt like enjoying the breeze a bit, and if it pissed off her mother, well, all the better.

Coming to the street she paused, stretching a bit. No one was out thie time of night, but she saw a few lights on, and she thought for certain she had seen one of the curtains of the neighbors rustle slightly. As she turned away she saw a man exiting one of the neighbors houses with a violin case, then get in his car and leave. He was kind of cute she thought, then decided to turn around and head back up to the house. As she returned to the front door she yawned then smiled. Sleep was going to come easy tonight.

From window of his second floor bedroom at the east end of the house at 35 Baxter Court, Joey Park raised his head to look over the top of the telescope at the man leaving #40. Joey called him Guido, after a character he'd seen in an old black and white gangster movie; the man had carried a violin case throughout the movie, only opening it near the end of the flick to pull out a machine gun and slaughter the rival mob members.

He'd commented about the man and the moniker to his mother one day and got slapped. "Racist! So racist. You no use name again."

And he never did, at least not in front of her. Joey was very proud of his immigrant family and the strides they'd made in the United States. But having lived in the country all his life -- in integrated suburbs, no less -- he'd never faced the racism they had, and somehow he was always stumbling over his tongue with comments like the Guido one.

Tonight he'd expected to see Guido, of course; every other Tuesday at 9 o'clock for going on several months now. Joey had gotten curious one night and Googled violin lessons, wondering how much they were. He'd found a great variance in pricing, but one thing that had been very consistent was that no lesson ever lasted the two hours that Guido spent at the house on the far side of the loop. He could here bad music for the majority of the time, so he'd thought, Sure, sounds like a beginner. But then one day, he notice a skip in the music and realized that he was listening to a recording.

Eager to find out exactly what was going on, he'd used a U.S. Savings bond that had matured on his 18th birthday to buy an infrared conversion kit for his spotters scope. It was cheap and wouldn't let him see through walls, but he'd quickly learned that the bed at #40 was just behind the drapes of the second floor window.

Joey had never seen two men kiss, let alone have sex. Of course, he wasn't actually seeing them; he was seeing rather blurry, heat images instead, but it was still enough for him to know exactly what was going on. And to his shock -- specifically because he had no homosexual tendencies to speak of -- it had made him so hot that he'd masturbated that first night and many subsequent ones to a variety of fantasies involving men, women ... and both together.

If had gotten old, though, and now on Tuesday, he typically verified that they were doing the same-old-same-old through the magnified lens, then moved onto the other homes, looking for something of interest...

...and tonight, he'd found it! Jackpot! The mother lode!

Mister Davis, at the end of the cul-de-sac in Number 66, had been cheating on his wife for months, possibly years. Joey had learned of it after he'd gotten a parabolic microphone for Christmas -- presumably to record bird song -- and heard his neighbor going at it after Mrs. Davis had left the house and a sexy young woman drove up.

Suddenly, Joey had a new sex channel, and it was fantastic. Mister Davis was getting laid at home -- not by his wife -- an average of twice a week; one week, he'd had nine visit by four different women ... and those were just the ones Joey had seen or recorded while he was away from the house.

Joey invested another savings bond into sound trigger devices, better optics, digital recording upgrades; and pretty soon, he could sometimes hear the conversations between Mister Davis and his girl friends ... and they were practically that, girls, all of them just barely older than Joey himself ... just so long as they were in a room on the west side of the house.

Tonight's score was simply phenomenal. Not only had he recorded Mister Davis fucking some cute little thing that looked like she weighed 50 pounds, but he'd been caught by his daughter, too! He'd lost track of their conversation when a power fluctuation rebooted the recording system, and by the time he was able to hook up the reserve battery, it was all over.

As he watched Guido get in his car and head away, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and saw the daughter as she wandered down the sidewalk and driveway to the edge of the road. Joey dropped down behind the telescope with the infrared update; the new one was so good that he could make out the girl's body parts through her clothes, as if she were a naked with a slight halo about her.

Abby was incredible. Joey knew her from school, but he doubted very much that she knew him as anything but That quiet Korean kid down the street. They weren't from the same crowds, and except for one art class their freshman year, they'd never even been in the same classroom together, despite the fact the Baxter High only had 900 students.

Oh wait, Physics! They had the same Physics class together. But ... well, she was hardly ever there, and yet some how, she was pulling down an "A-", just enough to keep her 4.00 and get into a good college next year. He'd been having troubles with Physics -- despite the stereotype, not all Korean students were geniuses -- and he'd considered using the topic as a way to start a conversation with Abby. But ... no ... not a chance. She was simply beyond Joey's reach.

As he watched her through the scope, Abby reached her arms high into the air, stretching. Joey popped his head up quickly, then scooted over to the starlight scope that he'd found at a flea market. It turned night into twilight, and through it he could see Abby's shirt rise, exposing...

Crap, he thought, hoping she'd be in skimpy panties and not the pair of shorts she was actually wearing. But he pressed the shutter release on the camera anyway, snapping the grainy pic that he would transfer to his Tablet later, possibly for inspiration when he finally went to bed...

With a breath, she blew a stray strand of hair away from her face. One hand lifted to rub fingertips over rapidly blinking eyelids as she stretched in the car's backseat. Barely audible, a soft grunt forced its way free of her lips. Her mind was forced to awaken fully as she sat up, allowing the blanket over her to fall to her lap. She wore only a teal bra above her waist, her breasts held in and concealed within the cups as her cheeks flushed at the thought of anyone discovering her sleeping in her car's backseat, clad in only her bra and panties.

Anna clutched the blanket to her as she turned, as she reached into the front seat to grab her clothes and glasses. It was awkward, but she managed to squirm into each garment in the limited space offered in her car, all the while thanking genetics that she wasn't tall. At least stripping down before curling up to sleep in the backseat kept her clothes from being wrinkled, which would be an obvious sign that she was down on her luck.

It wasn't anywhere near morning yet. She just couldn't sleep. A smile came unbidden to her lips as she stepped away from where she'd parked the car next to Baxter Drive. It'd been years since she last set foot anywhere near Baxter Court, and the sight of the homes gathered together did bring back memories. Some of those memories included the cousin she was hoping to bump into while she was in these parts. She just had to be careful to not let on as to just how badly things were going for her right now.

The soft thuds of her black boots striking the pavement of the street greeted her senses with her every step forward. She paused a moment and bent over in the street to smooth out her jeans, to be absolutely sure they didn't look recently folded. Next, she resumed her walk through Baxter Court but found herself hugging her arms to her and against her breasts as a defense against the chill night air. She'd thought to wear a long-sleeved black shirt, knowing the night was somewhat cool, but its fabric was apparently too thin.

Her feet led her to the end of the court, to the driveway that would lead her further and into the lot of 66, the home of her cousin, Mark Davis. She stopped there, however, with no intention of going further, not tonight. Anna knew better than to knock on the door of a relative in the middle of the night, asking about that loan they'd discussed previously. No, she'd bump into him, sometime, somewhere, and casually bring it up. But, for the moment, she did stand there, looking across the driveway and to his home as thoughts of how things were so different, so much better, for someone so closely related to her.

Abby tiptoed down the stairs of the house, wearing nothing but her over-sized shirt. As she made her way down the stairs she was cautious to make sure she woke no one. If she were caught, she would be dead meat.

Softly opening and closing the front door she made her way across the porch to the front steps and slipped a cigarette out of the pack in her hands. Flicking her lighter she lit up the cig and took her first couple of puffs.

Abby had been smoking for the last couple of months and had been sure to not be caught. She was 18, therefore legal to smoke if she damn well pleased, but there were some things you just did not do around the house and this was an iron clad rule. Technically she didn't either, she always smoked while she was out with friends or on lunch break at school. Rarely did she smoke at home but every so often she felt the urge to get in a few puffs.

As she inhaled that sweet menthol mist she noticed she had been seen by a woman at the end of the drive. Fuck, who the fuck was this bitch sitting here in the middle of the morning and staring at the house. Abby could barely make out the details but decided then and there she would see whats up. If nothing else she could toss her butt away at the end of the drive and get rid of some evidence. Moving some hair from her face she began making her way towards the woman at the front of the driveway.

The patrol car was making its periodic circuit around Baxter, arriving at the intersection of Baxter Drive and Baxter Court in the wee hours. Officer Hansen, slowed the cruiser at the sight of a vehicle with no front plate. Oregon required plates from and back, of course; he continued past the car slowly and found the familiar green on white plate of the State of Washington on the back.

Hansen continued on to a spot where driveways on either side of Baxter Drive created a wide spot. He spun the car around to cruise slowly past the car again, his eyes taking in the darkened neighborhood. As he approached the car this time, he used the passenger side spot light to illuminate its interior. No one home. There were possessions in the front, as well as a blanket in the back.

His first thought was that it was someone traveling and not wanting to spend money on one of Baxter's many motels. The economy had taken a terrible toll on people's wealth, and Hansen was seeing far more homeless people sleeping in their cars -- if they were that lucky -- than he had just a handful of years earlier.

He stopped at the entrance to Baxter Court and shot his driver's side spot light down the road, sweeping it to each side, then back again. Nothing but old deciduous trees, houses, and cars. For a moment, he thought he saw movement, but before he could even make a decision whether or not to drive down the short dead end, a call came over the radio about a possible vehicular accident on the freeway off ramp. Even though it was technically out of the Baxter City Police's jurisdiction, the BCD often fielded such calls; due to budget cutbacks, the Country Sheriff's department didn't even have a night time patrol anymore, so if anyone was going to respond, it was going to be Hansen.

He flipped on his blue strobes but left the siren quiet. No reason to wake up the entire neighborhood of Baxter Court. After all, every one would be in bed this time of the early morning ... right?

Anna crossed her arms over her chest as she stood there, her sapphire gaze raking over the Davis home. Only after someone opened and stepped out of the front door did she realize that night had given way to morning with the sun's rays already beginning to illuminate Baxter Court, the place seeming to have an almost eerie beauty in the early morning light.

Her gaze held on the person approaching from the house's front porch. A slight blush stained her cheeks. It had not been her intention to be seen by any of the home's residents, as her walk had merely been a reminiscent one with no particular aim. She certainly didn't want to seem like she was watching and staking out the home.

She gave a soft, barely audible cough and turned her head to one side as a hand lifted to cover her mouth and the cough. Coincidentally, that hand also covered the deeper blush that was beginning to form on her cheeks. She recognized the young woman approaching her, knowing her to be her younger, second cousin Abby.

The girl looked to be no more than a teenager, the age Anna had been when they first met. And, that was the source of her shame: remembering how she'd behaved and the impression she left on the young girl. The details she remembered of that night, that family reunion, were hazy at best, but she did recall being far too drunk and outspoken around her relatives.

She cleared her throat before calling out to the young woman with only a hint of her earlier blush still coloring her cheeks.

"Your father lets you out of the house dressed like that? I hope you have something on under that shirt, Abby."

The moment Abby got close enough to see that it was Anna she almost swallowed her cigarette. Choking she flicked the butt into the grass and crushed it out.

"Your father lets you out of the house dressed like that? I hope you have something on under that shirt, Abby."

Laughing softly the thought that came to Abby's mind was that after last night her father was probably hoping she was wearing a lot less. Holding her arms out Abby rushed up to Anna and hugged her tight.

"Oh my god Anna, I haven't seen you in forever!" Leaning back Abby gave her a once over, smiling "You look fabulous cousin!"

~~11 Years Ago~~
Abby was 8, running around the family reunion giggling up a storm as her older cousin Anna was chasing her around growling like an animal. When caught Abby got rolled onto her back and Anna growled into her stomach making her giggle harder. Abby loved playing with her older cousin! Playing with her big sister was fun, but it wasn't a riot like this was.

Later that night after playing games with some of the other cousins at the reunion Abby had gone looking for Anna. She looked everywhere but just before she could get to the pool and hot tub area she had been snatched up by her mother since it was close to bed time.

Abby would see Anna over the next few reunions, and always had fun with her older cousin, but she never had as much fun as she did that first time 11 years ago.

~~Present Day~~
Abby smiled, thinking about how much fun she'd had with her cousin. She'd heard stories about why her cousin had seemed like so much fun that night, but it didn't matter to her. Everyone needed to get a little wild now and then, right? Looking around Abby didn't see a car or anything that could have brought Anna all the way here from Seattle.

"Hey cuz, umm.. I don't know where you parked but if you want you could pull up in the drive. I know its only like 4 in the morning but if you want to come inside and get warm we can talk and hey, I'll even make you a couple eggs! You should take the offer, I make eggs for no one"

Abby laughed softly, making sure to keep at least one arm to her side, her hand behind her to hide the pack of cigarettes and lighter.

A nervous smile broke out across her lips to be hugged so by her cousin. It wasn't that Anna wasn't happy to see the girl; she just felt awkward every time she saw her. The teenager was a reminder of how she was at that age, of how wild she once was. If anything, Anna desperately wanted to forget those wild years. But, here she was, talking someone that cherished those memories made with her wild and "fun" cousin.

Her smile became more genuine as her cousin stepped back and delivered that uplifting compliment. With cheeks slightly flushed, Anna answered in kind. "Thank you! So do you. Is the red hair new?"

As her cousin looked around for her car, Anna blushed a little more, thinking of how the inside of her car currently looked lived in. How thankful she was that she didn't drive up to the Davis home with it looking like that! But, she rubbed her fingers over her cheeks to try and rid herself of that blush, hiding that movement of her fingers by adjusting her glasses, as her light blue eyes focused on her cousin's face once more.

A soft laugh mirrored the girl's own at the mention of the rare offer of eggs. Her smile again dominated her face, her eyes sparkling as she gave a slight nod of agreement. "Okay. That sounds wonderful. You go inside, make the eggs, maybe put something on before your father kills you... and I'll go get the car."

It was with another laugh that she turned on her heel and walked away from the Davis home and their driveway. It took her a little while to reach her car where it was parked on the other side of Baxter Court, but she enjoyed the walk in the early morning light. Once she reached the car, she grimaced at the sight of its interior and quickly moved her blanket to the trunk, along with any stray articles of clothing.

Maybe fifteen minutes after walking away from her cousin, Anna was pulling into the Davis driveway. Now she had another reason to blush, as her car was only a standard compact car, typical of what you'd expect someone on a teacher's salary to drive. She knew it would look subpar in comparison to any vehicles her cousins would have on hand. But then, maybe it would show Mark all the more that she needed that loan, just so long as he never realized how badly she needed it.

With her car parked in the driveway, Anna walked onto the house's front porch and up to the front door where she knocked softly, not wanting to wake the house. Abby should be in the kitchen, anyway, and it was reasonably near the front door.

Abby laughed softly as Anna turned around to go get her car. With what she knew, her father killing her was still the least of her worries, but still, it would be nice to have her cousin here for breakfast. Making her way back to the house she stopped at her car and tossed her cigarettes and lighter under the passenger seat.

Making her way up to her room quietly she grabbed some clothes from her closet, a black t-shirt that clung to her in all the right places, and a pleated black skirt that stopped just above her knees. Deciding to forego her underwear she grinned at a thought then slipped out of her room and down the stairs, just in time to catch the light knocking at the door.

"Come in Anna, I was just about to head into the kitchen and get the eggs going, pull a stool up to the island and we can catch up!"

Continued here

OOC -- Shoot, I forgot to put a link in the main thread for a conversation between Mark Davis and Gerry Baxter that took place last night (in the current time line) between 11pm and 3am.

Sorry, I'm usually a lot better about these things.

It will likely be finished today (Real Time).

Samantha introduction

Samantha woke up in her room at the Davis' house like every other day hearing Ravel's Boléro as she slowly woke up with the tune. Depending on how immerse in sleep she was, she woke up in the first minutes or way beyond the beginning. Once she even woke up almost at the end, when Abby started banging on her door for not turning off "that fucking boring alarm music".

But today she was almost awake when the music started playing. She was thrilled at the events to come in the evening. It was her third date with Jim, a friend from college, and Lisa, her best friend, had guaranteed Sam that they were going to have sex. Samantha was both nervous and happy. She had never been that far before and she was looking forward to it.

While she was getting dressed her mobile phone buzzed. It was Lisa


She smiled looking at the red lace underwear on the mirror. She felt awkward, but she had to admit she looked so good in it.


Lisa had gone to another state to college, she wasn't afraid like Samantha to start a life in a place far away home. But they were still in contact. In fact, Lisa was the only friend Samantha had, as she was quite solitary and due to her problems with getting to know people. She had some acquaintances, but nobody but Lisa that she really trusted. It was like a sister she had never had. Well, there was Abby... but they were so different that they really didn't talk much. So much had changed since they were playmates in their childhood.

However, their relationship was better than that with her mother. Samantha would never forget how she had stopped her musical career. 'That leads to nothing', she had said when they were talking about what Samantha would do after high school. 'You will study something useful'

It was getting a bit late so she rushed out. No time for breakfast, but she had to leave a note at the kitchen. Luckily it was already empty. She had heard some talk in the house while she was getting ready but it seemed that they all had left by then. She wrote on a paper. <<I won't be home for dinner. S.>> Not that they cared, she was old enough to do whatever she wanted, but she liked to let them know.

She usually took her bike to college, but today she was too finely dressed for that, so she decided to take the bus out in Baxter Drive.

Walking in front of the #40 of Baxter Court she started daydreaming. There was a violin teacher coming over every Tuesday night, and she had immediately fallen for him the first time she noticed him. And every week she waited on her window when she knew he would arrive, so she could get a glimpse on him. She had never talked to him, although she had almost tried once, so she always fantasized and how he'd be when she went past the house.

She shook her head. Focus on Jim. There will never be nothing between you and that guy, she thought to herself, as she quickened her pace.

(OOC -- This post continues this one, just to be clear. I know sometimes it can be confusing in a group thread.)


Three cities away...



"I want to know where you were last night," the woman demanded. "And don't tell me down at the tavern."

"Who are you?" James asked, "My mother."

"I'm more than your mother!" she barked back. She reached to her belt and pulled off the badge, slamming it down upon the kitchen table before him. "I'm your case officer! And I'm supposed to know where you are at all times."

"Then you obviously aren't very good at your job are you?" If James had realized the kind of limitations the WitSec Marshall could put on him if she truly wanted, he wouldn't have been antagonizing her the way he was. He stuffed a piece of toast in his mouth, speaking through spraying crumbs, "Cuz if you were, you would have known that I was at Harry's playing pool all night."

"You weren't at the fucking tavern!" she barked.

"Language, please," James said with a mocking tone.

"Fuck you, James," she countered, turning away and stomping her way across to the counter. She stood there for a moment, fuming before filling a mug with coffee, and turning back to him. In a calmer tone, she said, "You weren't at the tavern ... because one, you don't do taverns, and two, I know that you drove to Greensburg last night."

"How do ya know that I wonder...?" said, turning to face her. "Another tracker on my car?"

"Yes! Another tracker ... since you found the first one and tossed it into the luggage bin of a fucking Greyhound bus bound for Des Moine... Really, James?"

He couldn't help himself and cracked up laughing, spewing bread crumbs across the table. When he'd recovered, he responded, "Had a few of your corn husker buddies out searching for me that day, didn't you?"

"Why can't you take this seriously?" she asked, her tone almost compassionate.

"Oh, I'm taking this seriously, all right," he said, his tone suddenly harsh. He looked her directly in the eyes for the first time that morning. "I took it seriously when I saw that Colombian drug lord put a bullet in the back of Max Payton's skull. I took it seriously when your frickin' DA leaked my whereabouts to the hit men who were--"

"That was an accident--"

"And...!" he cut her off, "And I took it seriously when they showed up again just a couple of months later, right after the hearing--"

"We don't know that those guys were--"

"They were Spanish speaking men with guns searching every floor of the flea bag motel you were hiding me in!" He said, slamming his open hand down upon the table, causing his glass to topple and spill milk across the table and down to the floor.

There was a moment of silence, interrupted only by the drip, drip, drip of the milk hitting the linoleum and lap, lap, lap of James's two cats which knew that anytime James sat to eat, they ate, too.

"Will you tell me what you've been up to?" she asked softly. "I can't protect you if--"

"You can't protect me," he cut in, his voice just barely loud enough to cover over the rest of her thought. "Only I can protect myself."

Another moment of silence passed while the Marshall was eying James with a worried look. Finally, she walked to the back door, opened it, and turned. "If you run this time, my boss won't let me come find you. He's at the end of his rope. You already testified. Ortego is in jail. The only way he'll see the light of day is if his appeal goes through ... and I don't think that's going to happen."

"Why are you telling me this--"

"I told you," she cut in, her tone one of concern, not impatience. "If you run ... I'm not coming for you."

"Good," James said bluntly, stuffing another piece of toast into his mouth.

She stared at him for another moment, then turned and closed the door behind her.

James waited until he saw her car through the window, taking a corner and heading back toward the WitSec office sixty miles away. He stood and went to the kitchen counter, looking out the window for any prying eyes. Then, he reached up under the counter and withdrew a cell phone that his caretaker knew nothing about. He pressed a speed dial number, and when a woman's voice came on the other end of the call, he said, "I have the rest of the money. I'll take the house. When can I move in?"

Mrs. Jenkins

At 30 Baxter Court Anna Jenkins surveyed the empty road from her favorite spot on her Breakfast Porch. It had been so named 30 years ago by her precocious daughter, Emmalynn, and the name had stuck ever since.

She sipped her tea and reveled in the memories of her beautiful little house, her children and her wonderful gruff husband, Fred. Her children and grandchildren lived a short distance away from her now and they visited often. Fred, didn't visit anymore, well not in the physical sense anyway. He had been dead for almost 30 years, and Anna could hardly believe it.

"Fred, it's a quiet morning-"

Anna was interrupted by the peal of tires as the calm of the morning was shattered as that tart, Joan Davis went speeding out of the cul-de-sac, and Anna just shook her head. That woman had demons.

"Fred, you should have met those two when they first moved in, carrying on for the whole neighborhood to watch! They were a sight!" Anna scoffed in the general direction where her husband had always sat, reading his paper and grunting at her gossip.

"Course, she would have problems, with her husband carrying on like a fool. Mmhm... you strike my words, Fred. Those girls of theirs are going to have some serious problems. But then they are nothing like that fellow next door. I tell you something is going on there!"

Fred grunted.

"Two hours for a violin lesson, and I don't hear no playing! I know what it sounds like when someone is learning that violin, it sounds like a cat dying, and I haven't heard anything like it!" Distinctly hearing the rustling of her husband's paper, she continued, "I've kept my eye on that young man getting lessons. I know his look, all shifty eyed! I tell you, I might be persuaded to call the cops next time he shows up in the neighborhood!"

Fred sighed.

"I tell you Fred! Then there is that little pervert across the street! I see him peeking out his window with binoculars, and I just know that he's up to something sexually perverted. I bet he watches me change! Thank goodness I put in those new blinds!"

Anna looked over at her husband, finally remembering he wasn't there to hear her rundown of their neighbors. She sighed softly, and shook her head. What a strange neighborhood to be living in, but at least they all intrigued her.

Abby ran out the door of the house, her hair still wet from the quick shower she had to take this morning after her father got her quite... messy. Pulling her pink top down so that it wouldn't completely expose her stomach while she drove she slipped behind the drivers seat of the car. She relished her school schedule this year. Had it not been for the fact that her first class was math followed by study hall (due to the ineptness of the school staff she had been scheduled in an advanced art class which she was unable to actually take, so they gave her study hall since there wasn't a spot for her in any other class she wanted or needed) she would have to lug her books around to and from school. Instead she spent that study period to finish up anything she hadn't finished for the day.

Pulling her cigarettes from under the passenger seat, she lit one up before turning on the car, her Linkin Park cd beginning to spin as she pulled away from the house. She usually made sure to not turn it up until she was at the end of the drive because that old biddy in #30 had complained to her father about the 'heathen music' that his daughter listened to. Speaking of the old biddy she saw her sitting on her porch again, like always. Most mornings she would just roll her eyes and ignore it, but this morning she felt like pissing her off, so she turned the music up loud just as Chad Pennington began to yell the chorus to 'Numb' giving the old witch a wicked grin as she passed.

Abby had already decided to skip her morning latte from the local Dunkin', not having enough time to grab it. Pulling into parking lot she grabbed the closest spot she could, then made her way inside the school. She saw a couple of the football studs leering as she passed, she grinned, giving them a quick spin as her pink skirt flew up just enough to show off the edge of her black panties. They gave a quick whistle as she got in the door, laughing at the stupid boys.

As she made it to her locker she pulled out her bag and made sure she had a couple pens. Looking in her little locker mirror she ran her hand through her hair, then shut the locker, sliding the lock back on. Before she headed toward class though she turned around. A feeling went down her spine as though she was being watched, but as she turned she didn't see anyone she knew. Before she turned back around she saw someone standing next to their locker who had glanced from behind it to look at her. It was that asian kid from down the street, Johnny or Jackie or something. She didn't know much of him, but she knew he lived in Baxter Court. She'd caught him staring last semester a couple times but he never said squat to her which she felt was kind of weird.

Shrugging she turned around and headed to class, looking forward only to the end of the day when she could get back home. Maybe she'd be able to go out shopping with Anna later.

Anna stepped out of the shower with a shiver and quickly reached for a towel. Only when the last drop of water had been wiped from her supple skin did she begin to feel warm again. Bending over, she towel dried her long, brown hair before leaving the towel to one side on the bathroom floor. Hopefully she wasn't leaving too much of a mess in her cousins' bathroom, but then, with a family this rich, she was sure there had to be a maid around here somewhere.

Her chosen outfit today was a pale green top, matching boots, and a denim skirt that fell just below mid-thigh on her. She wanted to look contemporary and not like a doughty school teacher for the afternoon she planned on spending with her teenage cousin, Abby. Flashing herself a warm smile in the mirror, she brushed her hair as her gaze fell onto the clothing she'd been wearing before her shower. If Joan was genuine about her staying here or in a nearby house, then it seemed okay to leave the clothes as a neat pile set aside on the counter, for now.

It was with a moment of hesitation and with a deep breath that she stepped out of the bathroom, clean and ready to face the new day. Or, more precisely, ready to face her cousin and ask him about that loan. Of course, now she felt awkward moving through the house of her cousins without Abby playing hostess. So, it seemed to be the reasonable thing to take a seat in the living room while doing her best to act natural and appear relaxed. Abby should've told her father about Anna being there anyway; he should be expecting her to be there this morning.