Sticky, somewhat disgraceful slumber

Lenore cast an automatic glance to the rear of the van, then looked up at Milo, a forgotten drop of his semen dancing at one corner of her mouth as she spoke.

"That's cool, it's my little boy, Armand. I'll be right back."

Lenore ministered Armand for a few moments, changing him and tucking him in, then sang softly to lull him back to sleep.

When she stepped back forward, she took the driver's seat without a word, started the motor, and crept the van along the scanty shoulder for a hundred yards to a place where the headlights washed over a flat spot betraying a trail into the bush. She steered the van down the dark path until it was safely hidden behind a screen of branches, switched off the key and stepped outside for a quick pee.

When she climbed back in to kiss Milo again, she was completely naked.

They spent the rest of the night tangled together, eventually thrashing into bed next to the sleeping Armand. For some reason Milo couldn't guess at, but silently blessed, Callie didn't return for the next several subsequent episodes of their congress. Finally spent, near dawn, they drifted into sticky, somewhat disgraceful slumber.

Milo fell asleep, he heard a small motorbike putt-putt past on the main road, not slowing down, taking no notice of the van in the trees. he felt safe, hidden.


Milo woke to daylight, motion, the sound of wind buffeting against the van's flat front, a bumping thrum of tires on potholed, aging pavement. He realized they were moving and that Lenore was probably driving. He sure hoped so, anyway.

He lay on his right side, knees drawn up slightly, his body curled around the still-warm spot from which Lenore had risen. He smiled and slowly opened his lids. Then he startled violently to a pair of eyes he did not recognise, staring thoughtfully at him from inches away. Reacting involuntarily, Milo snapped his head back and smacked it on an aluminum frame brace. As his morning bleariness was thus jarred, a small, grubby hand reached out and grabbed his nose.

Milo didn't dislike children. But his first conscious thought, when all he really wanted to do was luxuriate in the afterglow of an amazing night of earpopping sex and the first actual sleep he'd experienced in weeks, was a sudden sharp annoyance.

"Fuck! A kid! She has a kid! Fuck!" he thought bitterly.

Armand, heavy-lidded gaze unblinking and unnerving, let go of Milo's nose. Then he poked a sharp little finger forcefully into Milo's left eye.