From Newsgroup: rec.food.cooking

On 2/17/2026 5:15 PM, Bryan Simmons wrote:

-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a WinterrCOs Present
-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a .
-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a Bryan Simmons

-a-a-a Table of Contents

Silver-a-a-a 9
Winter-a-a-a 23
Fast-a-a-a 29
Wearing White-a-a-a 49
Sex Kitten-a-a-a 59
The Party-a-a-a 73
Turkey Claus-a-a-a 101
Boy Talk-a-a-a 121
Scorpions-a-a-a 131
Ann-a-a-a 147
Lady Bear-a-a-a 173
Cinnamon Buns-a-a-a 189
Sandy Beach-a-a-a 205
Our Tricycle-a-a-a 235
Queen of Love-a-a-a 249
Art-a-a-a 279
Pillow Talk-a-a-a 291
A Pink Line to Burritos-a-a-a 297
Making Love-a-a-a 309
Solomon-a-a-a 317
Wearing White Again-a-a-a 323
Change is Hard-a-a-a 333
The Letter-a-a-a 337
The Vapors-a-a-a 365
Performance Issues-a-a-a 373
Somebody Else's Daughter-a-a-a 391
Love Kiss-a-a-a 399
Bigamy-a-a-a 411
Equality-a-a-a 425
Anniversary-a-a-a 439



Copyright 2014, 2025 by Bryan Simmons

This book is dedicated to my wife, Betsy, and to my muse, who shall
remain nameless.

Lady Bear

Ann cried hard, and Winter held her close. When the crying lessened to
a sob, Winter raised Ann's face, and gently kissed the salty tears.
"The first time I saw you, you were arguing with another girl. Then
some days later, I saw the two of you again, and I could tell you were
more than friends. The third time, the girl was obviously being cruel
to you, and you cried. I wanted so much to hold you just like this, and
kiss away your tears, but I figured it was only a matter of time until
you'd get sick of being hurt, and I tried to make sure I'd be the one to
make it all go away. All during break, even with all that was going
on, I thought about you, that I wanted to be your white knight, and you,
you'd be my princess. When school started back up, I noticed that you
were always alone. I racked my brain trying to figure out how I was
going to meet you, and I came to the conclusion that I should just be perfectly honest, because the worst thing that could happen is that
you'd tell me that I was creepy, and to stay the Hell away from you."

Ann said, "That took a lot of courage. You just walked up and
introduced yourself, and when I offered you my hand and said, 'I'm Ann,' instead of shaking my hand, you lifted it up and held it and asked me if
I believed in love at first sight."

Winter corrected her, "Not exactly. I asked you if you thought someone
could fall in love with a person they'd never met, because I thought I
was in love with you. You laughed."

"I thought you were crazy, Winter, but in that moment every other 'I
love you' I'd ever heard, it was like they were hollow, and I kissed
you. That surprised me almost as much as what you did, because I don't
kiss in public, especially not a girl, but I couldn't not. I think
today all the crap from the past just kind of came back, and it feels
like maybe I got it out of my system, at least for a while. I *am*
sorry."

"For what? asked Winter.

"For crying like that."

"But it gave me the chance to kiss away your tears like I imagined all
those times." Ann began to cry again, but Winter knew these tears were
happy ones, and they were for her. It was early, but they both fell
asleep, woke in the darkest hours to commune, then back asleep, satisfied.

Ann awoke in Winter's embrace, and assumed she'd slept there pretty much
the remainder of the night with only slight repositionings. Winter's
face was expressionless in her slumber, but Ann knew that when she awoke
there would be that glow of love in her eyes, and in her words. Ann
knew if she asked Winter to move somewhere where they could be together forever, she'd give up anything, the money, anything. They could live
under a bridge together, that was the gist of what she'd said. None of
that exactly, but that kind of love. rCLShe told me, 'Just say the words,
and I'll end it with Ian', but I can't. Can't. He gives her things
that I *can't*. I keep rehearsing in my head, just the way that Winter
told me she did. How can I tell her that I just want to be there too?
To be included.rCY

Ann nudged Winter awake, "Winter?"

"Ann," said Winter, then pursing her lips, "come here and love me."

They kissed until Winter seemed to have her fill, then Ann asked, "Can I
go with you today?"

Winter sat up, "To the zoo? With Ian?"

"Yeah," said Ann.

"So you want to meet him?" Winter asked. "I guess I knew that had to
happen eventually, but I was concerned that when you see him it might be hurtful. He's not unattractive, even though he's older. I've gotten
used to him, and enjoy him physically, but I can see you being put off.
Up to now the whole thing has been abstract to you, but if you spend
time with us, I'm just afraid you'll feel, I don't know, feel something
that makes you unhappy. He thinks that too, and he knows how I love
you." Winter kissed her again, then whispered, "Everyone who matters to
me does."

"I won't be jealous," said Ann. "I know what he means to you, and what
I do. Maybe he just doesn't want me around because he's afraid I'd cock block."

"No, Ann, if that were the reason, he'd tell me. It really is because
he cares for me, and he knows how I can't stand to see you sad.
Otherwise, I'm sure he'd love you to be around. He knows I sleep with
you every night that I don't spend with him, and he's made clear that he doesn't want me to shower, or so much as wash my face before I go to
him, because he doesn't want me to wash off a molecule of *you*."

"That's hot."

Winter laughed, "You're full of surprises. You never impressed me as
the type to be turned on by lechery. He asked me to bring him your
panties too."

"Did you?"

"Of course not, and he apologized for asking. You don't work for him.
I do. Speaking of which, I need to get over there. I'll call you after
he finishes with me. I can't tell you when. Sometimes it's a quick
blow job, other times it's the full body inspection, and whatever else.
I'm sure he'll be OK with it, but it's his time, so I do need to ask. I really have to go," and Winter finished pulling on her clothes before
she turned toward the door.

"Um, aren't you forgetting something?" Ann asked.

"I'm sorry. How could I leave without kissing you and telling you how
much I love you?"

"Well there's that," said Ann, "and then there's these." Hanging from
Ann's extended index finger were her yesterday's panties.

"You're sure?" asked Winter, her eyes wide. Winter put them in her
purse. She again walked to the door and as she opened it to leave,
turned her face toward Ann, shook her head slightly and said through a
smile, "You *little* whore." As she walked to the car she thought,
"That was my best one in weeks."

On the short drive, Winter strategized. It was a fairly warm day for
early February, and she didn't want to spend any more of it than
necessary inside, being cat-washed by Ian. "The quick blow job it is
then, and I have the secret weapon."

When Winter got there, Ian was in the living room listening to the
radio. When she came in, he got up and walked over to the radio, and
turned it off. "Reporting for duty." She saluted, and they both
laughed. They sat on the couch and he kissed on her neck, her
shoulders and her breasts. Winter wanted to get on with things. She
and Ann had already satisfied each other so well bodily the night
before. Anxious to see how the zoo was going to go, she said, "Lie
back and let me give you a present." Luck was with her, since he was
wearing nothing under his robe." He was already hard, and she started
to work on him with her right hand. She ordered Ian to close his eyes,
and with her left hand, retrieved the panties from her purse, put them
over Ian's face, and gently held them there. Then, affecting a younger
voice, "They're Ann's."

It was almost as fast as the first time. He held her head with both
hands as he exploded in her mouth. The first thing he said was, "Thank
you." She knew what he meant. He never thanked her after sex.

"Don't thank me, thank Ann."

His expression betrayed the slightest embarrassment as he asked, "She
was OK with it?"

"She offered. Also, she wants to go to the Zoo with us today. Is that OK?"

Ian smiled, "Right now if she asked me for the Moon, I'd be hard pressed
to turn her down."

"No Moon," said Winter, "just the Zoo."

As usual, Winter drove. She'd freely admitted that she just liked to
drive his car, and she wasn't embarrassed by Ian driving it, just amused
by the fact that he'd chosen such a feminine color scheme. When they
pulled in front of the dorm, Ian relocated to the back seat. As Ann approached the car, Ian thought, "Except for the missing wings, she
could be an angel." She was wearing a sundress that wasn't exactly pale yellow, nor cream, but something in between, and a wide brimmed hat.
She walked to the passenger side, paused, then opened the back door and climbed in with Ian.

Winter said, "He got into the back so you could sit up front. He's
always such a gentleman."

"So I've heard, but I think I'd like to get to know this gentleman of
yours." Ian couldn't help but look her up and down, and his gaze lasted overlong on her legs, which were covered in soft blond hair. Ann
noticed, and said, "They've never been touched by a razor. Winter said
you liked women just the way God made them."

"Well, I'm not sure if I mentioned God, but that is correct, and as far
as I can tell, in your case, God made no errors, and it seems I am in
your debt."

"It seemed only fair. I've certainly tasted you enough times."

Winter spoke up, "Ian, she's never like this. She's messing with you,
and I feel a bit like I'm being mocked, albeit in a good way. She's
right though, and I've been thinking that you should pull out every now
and then, both for Ann, and for your own benefit." The little car
filled with mirth, but both Ian and Ann blushed a bit, which further
amused Winter. "I'm serious, Ian. I love feeling you ejaculate inside
me, but a girl would like to taste all girl now and then." Winter was
on a roll, "You could take your penis out of my vagina and ejaculate on
my tummy. That'd be hot, right?"

Ian and Ann looked at each other, and almost in unison raised their
shoulders and moved their heads side to side, all smiles, as if they
were both thinking, "Only Winter."

Winter let Ian and Ann make small talk as she drove the short distance
to the zoo. They didn't need each others' vitaes, because they were
each curious enough to have gotten that much from Winter. As they
pulled into the parking lot, Winter started where she'd left off some
minutes before. "I think the scientific sex words are way hotter than
slang. They're more specific. That's why they make people squirm.
You two are both a little uncomfortable with me saying ejaculate. I
know you are, and you need to not be. It's something that male bodies
do, and I like it, and I have orgasms. I don't just, "come." It's more
than that. We all have orgasms, and we don't just come to them, we have
them, and relish the feeling while it's happening. We go through the
whole process, and it's good." Winter found a parking spot. "Used to
be, people were uncomfortable with 'vagina,' but now they use vagina
when they really mean, 'vulva.' See? Vulva is a beautiful word, but
it's too beautiful. If I just had a tube for the semen to go in, and
the baby to come out, I wouldn't be what I am." Winter had parked, but
no one was getting out. "Saying vagina like that is insulting to women.
It's like denying every other aspect of my vulva, and I'm not OK with
that. I'm not just some receptacle. My vulva is beautiful, and you
both love it. I don't want either of you to ever say pussy or even
vagina unless you are specifying vagina." Winter looked back at Ian, "I
don't call your penis a cock. You're not a rooster. People use
euphemisms because they are ashamed, even if just a little. Even if
just a little isn't alright. I'm not ashamed that I enjoy my vulva, and
Ann," Winter craned her neck to look back at her, "I love every little
part of your vulva, and both of you feel that way about mine." Winter
smiled, "I know you do. You show me, and it's glorious. Don't ever
diminish anything by using shame words. Clitoris is beautiful too.
Clit sounds cold, and like you're ashamed to say the real word, not
either of you even, but everyone. Shame words hurt women, and they
diminish men. They make sex seem dirty, when it is really the purest, cleanest thing there is, if you can take the dirtiness out of your mind,
and when I share my body with another person, there's nothing dirty, and that's the case with you Ian, even with the money thing. If I thought
having sex with you was icky, it wouldn't have happened more than once.
I won't ever let anyone take away my birthright, and you never tried to,
Ian. If you ever do, I'm gone, but I don't think you will." Ian didn't
know how to answer.

Ann broke the silence, "I've never heard anyone say things like that. I
don't know what you mean about dirty, but I know about being ashamed.
The shame wasn't in me, but it was put on me. I felt like I was
supposed to feel it, but I didn't." She turned to Ian, "You know I was raped?" She waited for an answer.

"Winter told me that, and it pains me to think that anyone has ever hurt
you, and it's worse to know that it was a man, I mean, like that. I've
never hurt a woman in that way, and while I think that sexual aggression exists in all males, no decent excuse for a man would ever act upon it."

As they got out of the car, the subject went back to words. "You know,
I also take issue with people calling intercourse, 'making love'," said
Winter with conviction. "That's only one way to make love, and I'm not talking about other sex things, but about creating love, and expanding
love. Touching can bring love into existence. It doesn't have to be
sex. When I hug my mom, that makes love. When I smile, and sincerely
thank someone who hands me food at a freakin' fast food joint, I bring
love into existence. When I do anything unselfish, even if it didn't
cost me anything, I make love."

After a thoughtful pause, Winter said, "I'm sorry I got so heavy. Let's
get on with our day." She knew that she'd made the other two
uncomfortable, and that she'd have to make up for that. "Ian has
tickets!" she announced, as they exited the parking lot. "We can ride
the carousel, and the little train. Oh, Ann, have you ever ridden the
train?" Winter embraced Ann, and Ian looked in awe at the comfort that Winter gave, and its effectiveness. Winter seemed to take Ann's
uneasiness into herself, and transform it into pure love. Pity was
cast off so quickly, and replaced by hopefulness, as they jaunted toward
the gate, Ian mostly going through the motions while the girls seemed
almost giddy. Winter finally noticed his mood and said, "It's all
good." Ian wasn't sure that it really was, but admitted to himself that
it should be, and steeled himself to make it so.

Winter continued to cut through the fog of the uneasiness she'd sown,
"They have baby goats, and a carousel, and sea lions, and the sea lions
are almost like people."

Ian wondered what had set Winter off. Maybe it was just the stress of
having he and Ann together for the first time. It was nice that she'd
thought to praise him, and her take on words was didactic. Winter's
anger seldom surfaced, but it was always in the form of righteous
indignation, and never about her own life. She'd told him that nothing
really bad had ever happened to her. It was probably all the stories in
the news about girls being hurt. She'd mentioned what had happened to
Ann, and he couldn't know what they'd spoken about last night or early
this morning.

The women had gotten a ways ahead, and Winter was pointing at the train
that was just starting to move, then she looked back and motioned for
him to hurry up. They kept walking, and didn't stop until the bears.
Ian's tensions vanished when he caught up and heard Winter's words,
back to form. "They need to get that one a lady bear."

They walked past the bears and the penguins until they reached a
colorful carousel, where the seats were in the shapes of various animals.

Winter whispered in Ann's ear, "Watch Ian when he's on the ride. You
know how I notice things. Well, Ian intentionally positions himself to
check out girls. I mean, even with me there he does. Not little girls,
but teenage ones, and especially the young moms."

Ian asked, "What are you two whispering about?"

"Oh, I was telling Ann about how you like the carousel early in the
morning, when there are lots of women to check out. You see, I've
observed you twice in this environment, and it easily could have been
the same event." Winter started laughing. There was no one close
enough to hear, no one else. It was just they three. "You scope out
all the women and intentionally orient us so that you can see them."
Winter continued to laugh as she recounted, "Ian, I think it's charming.
You don't leer. You're so careful not to, and I almost wish that I
hadn't said those things in the car, because I noticed that you, and you
too, Ann, found it a little much, but I need to say things. That's what
I do. I say things. I say things that I figure need to be said, and I
don't let myself not say them because the timing might not be right. If
I try, it's almost always wrong, so I don't try."

"What I was telling Ann wasn't a confidence. The whispering was more
for drama than anything else, and I'm glad you asked. Do it, Ian. Look
at that one." Winter pointed and snorted. "She's hot and she's got two
kids. You're thinking, 'Fecund,' and she's got a little boy and a
little girl, and you're thinking you wished that you could have," after coughing out a laugh, "impregnated her. I mean it Ian, charming."

Ian didn't try to prove Winter wrong. He didn't feel called out, but validated, and went with Winter's suggestion. The woman wasn't his
preferred physical type, and Winter knew that, but she was pretty in her
own way, and had a unique face. "Yeah," she thought, "but what he's
looking for is novelty. Tiny nuances excite him," and she did her
little scrunch up face like a rabbit thing that she'd said more than
once made her less pretty but "so cute."

Winter understood that Ian didn't prioritize the carousel experience
because it was free for the first hour. He may, and she was certain
did, back before the lottery money, think he was getting a bargain, but
for that hour it was generally dense with scenery, and he was so visual,
a thing that women hold against men. *They slap their husbands. The
guy is getting a kick out of a fathering fantasy, with some woman whom
he knows is already taken, and most likely well loved by another man,
maybe one who looks at other women too, but he comes home every day. If
it wasn't so absurd, I'd have to scream*. Winter had felt like she
needed to explore that, and had concluded that attractions were so much
a hodge podge for most people. *They must be. Even seemingly
unappealing people mate, and they look content. I love that, and
somehow both of them know that they should be walking ahead of me,
letting me have this. They both have pretty much unlimited access to
my body, but both of them can also share my mind, at least in stages. I
have to portion it out carefully, more than I did today. That matters*.

For an instant Winter thought, "Have I just handed my girlfriend off?"
Then she realized how silly that was. Ian wouldn't be capable of taking
Ann, taking her away. Ann was so hers. Why shouldn't they like each
other? That made everything easier. Besides, Ian doesn't take, and the things he said to Eric, they were true; it was never about fear.
*People almost never kill for good reasons, and good people don't kill
at all, except when given no alternative*.

When they saw the chimps, Ann's exuberance shone, "Look at them! It's
like recess."

Winter had caught up, and addressed Ian, "Great day, right?"

Ann was fascinated with the chimpanzees. "They're at recess."

Winter was still facing Ian. Ann was out of earshot for her quiet
words, "It's good that Ann is here, right?"

Ian said, "Sure."

Winter knew that it was more than that. Ian didn't expect anything more
than what he'd said he had. She puzzled while they observed the
exhibit. *An older, widowed librarian, his longing for what could have
been. This is interesting*.

Ann was happy, perky happy. She said, "I've seen chimps a few times,
but I've never seen them like this. It was always inside, and they
looked like they were in a prison." Winter walked directly, only two
paces to Ann, and held Ann's face between her hands, "Sweetheart, this
is about as free as any of them get to be, and that just about breaks my
heart because they aren't objects. They're all hairy, and they have
weird butts, but...I just said butts and but; butts are funny. They're
just funny, like they need that." Winter herself was the only one amused.

Ann was all about enjoying the chimps, and told Ian, "That one is you."
It was a large male, and very obviously male. "And that one is you,
Winter. See her? She's so free, and climbing up that tree. Now I
have to pick one to be me."

Ann could slip into childlikeness so easily, and that made Winter happy.
She'd obviously hung on to herself through the medieval inquisitions
of her post adolescence. Even her steadfastness in faith was impressive.

Winter had quit using the words, "damned," and "God," unless she
literally meant them when she realized that Ann was Christian, and
really Christian. Ann didn't go through the motions of dutifully going
to church, and while the whole thing seemed foreign, Ann's faith seemed
to improve her. *I don't want a carbon copy of me*.

It seemed to Winter that Ian and Ann were really hitting it off. They
were both imitating the chimps, and a little boy was pointing at them
while his mother smiled. After they'd had their fill of the chimps,
they moved on to the seals, and Ann read aloud a sign describing the differences between seals and sea lions. When she finished, Winter told
her, "Just wait until you see the sea lion show. It's one of the best
things ever, and you'll think that even more than I do."

Ann gave Winter a tiny hug that Ian interpreted as saying, "I love that
you know that about me."

Ian had to inform them that the sea lion show was only in the summer,
and Winter said, "Something to look forward to."

Ann looked at Winter and mouthed, "I love you." She knew that Winter
expected them to be together in the summer, and every summer after.

Winter answered aloud, "I love you too." Ann gave her a look, then
looked around at the other folks, seeing if any of them had caught the exchange, and Winter said, "We'll be out of the dorm in a few months
anyway. Besides, I tell people that I love them. I grew up that way.
There are so many varieties of love, Ann, and that word, with all its ambiguities, is my favorite. I'm a word person, and that's my favorite
word." Not wanting Ian to feel ignored, all Winter could think to ask
was, "Have you thought about lunch?"

Ian offered, "Burgers at my place?"

Winter thought for a moment, as if she were considering whether burgers sounded appealing, but her real hesitation was about taking Ann to the
place where she went to have sex with another person. It wasn't
infidelity. Ann never conveyed the slightest jealousy, and the Zoo was
being fine, even after her crazy sex words rant. "Sure."

As they headed for the car, it looked increasingly like it was going to
rain, and as they hurried their paces, Ann agreed, "Sounds good to me
too, and I'm really looking forward to seeing your dishwasher."

"Because you can't believe it exists? asked Ian.

"No. Because I want to see what happens inside the dishwasher."

"Oh, good grief," said Winter.

"That's what you get for falling in love with a physics major."

"You could at least have done me the courtesy of looking like a physics
major. Maybe a slide rule or a pocket protector, or glasses."

"Winter, my vision is fine, and they haven't used slide rules since,
well, since Ian was a boy." Then she asked, in a suspicious voice, "How
do you even know about slide rules?" They'd all been pretending to be serious, but the absurdity caught up with them. "I guess I really
should have been a boy."

"Oh no, I already have one of those, and the last thing I need is one
more," and Winter gave Ian an affectionate shove.

When they got to the car, Winter chose the back seat, and Ann joined
her. Ian said, "I guess I'm driving, then."

Winter replied, "Obviously."

"If you two start necking back there, it's going to distract me."

Ann wasn't familiar with the word, "What's necking?"

"He means kissing. Back in Ian's day, the boy would suck on the girl's
neck, and leave what they called, 'a hickey.' Girls liked it sometimes because it showed they'd gotten kissed, and they could show the
evidence, like blood on marital bed sheets, but then they'd try to cover
it up. Mom told me about it, and Dad confirmed that they did that, but neither of them could explain why."

As they pulled out of the parking lot, Ian admitted that he'd given a
few hickeys, and explained it away by saying, "It's just something we
did; it was normal, or normative, or...don't make out in the back seat
while I'm driving, OK?"

Ann said, "We promise."

On the short drive home, Ian barely paid any attention to the women, but
made occasional comments about efficient navigation, the order of the stoplights, and other aspects of his driving that were mostly ignored.
When they pulled up in front of the house, Ann said, "Nice place." Ian
popped out of the car quickly enough to offer Ann a hand, which she
took, and said, "Thank you." Winter made a split second decision not to
wait for Ian to come around to the passenger side, or get out herself,
but elected to take the middle path, and scooted across the seat to the proffered hand. It was always funny when he pretended to be old
fashioned in this way. He wasn't. It was partly that it was quirky and funny, but she knew that it was also because he liked touching female
hands.
--
--Bryan https://www.instagram.com/bryangsimmons/

For your safety and protection, this sig. has been thoroughly
tested on laboratory animals.

"Most of the food described here is nauseating.
We're just too courteous to say so."
-- Cindy Hamilton
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From Newsgroup: rec.food.cooking

Bryan Simmons wrote on 2/25/2026 7:20 PM:

On 2/17/2026 5:15 PM, Bryan Simmons wrote:

a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a WinterrCOs Present
a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a .
a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a Bryan Simmons

a-a-a-a Table of Contents

Thanks Chef!


--- Synchronet 3.21b-Linux NewsLink 1.2

From Newsgroup: rec.food.cooking

On 2/17/2026 5:15 PM, Bryan Simmons wrote:

-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a WinterrCOs Present
-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a .
-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a Bryan Simmons

-a-a-a Table of Contents

Silver-a-a-a 9
Winter-a-a-a 23
Fast-a-a-a 29
Wearing White-a-a-a 49
Sex Kitten-a-a-a 59
The Party-a-a-a 73
Turkey Claus-a-a-a 101
Boy Talk-a-a-a 121
Scorpions-a-a-a 131
Ann-a-a-a 147
Lady Bear-a-a-a 173
Cinnamon Buns-a-a-a 189
Sandy Beach-a-a-a 205
Our Tricycle-a-a-a 235
Queen of Love-a-a-a 249
Art-a-a-a 279
Pillow Talk-a-a-a 291
A Pink Line to Burritos-a-a-a 297
Making Love-a-a-a 309
Solomon-a-a-a 317
Wearing White Again-a-a-a 323
Change is Hard-a-a-a 333
The Letter-a-a-a 337
The Vapors-a-a-a 365
Performance Issues-a-a-a 373
Somebody Else's Daughter-a-a-a 391
Love Kiss-a-a-a 399
Bigamy-a-a-a 411
Equality-a-a-a 425
Anniversary-a-a-a 439



Copyright 2014, 2025 by Bryan Simmons

This book is dedicated to my wife, Betsy, and to my muse, who shall
remain nameless.

Cinnamon Buns

Ian wasn't one to ignore opportunities, and his approach was thought
out. After their first night together, she asked him about the Cinnamon
Buns scented body wash she'd showered with, and he'd told her that it
served several purposes. "Above all, it cleans, and it also works well
as a shampoo. Also, it reminds me of Lauren, which is bittersweet, but
mostly sweet. It was her favorite. Then there's the fact that it
smells great, and I can afford it. Finally, and this is important
Winter, it reminds me to live my life in a certain way. See, I used to
be overweight, and when I decided that I'd rather be hungry than fat, I
had to give up many things, mostly carbohydrates. Of course, that meant
that cinnamon buns were pretty much out of the question. One day, in
the shower, where so many profound epiphanies are reached, I thought
about my desire for the cinnamon rolls, which had been brought to mind
by the fragrance, and something clicked. There were two ways one could
feel. One was that the scent was frustrating, because it reminded me of
what I couldn't have, but on the other hand, if I gave up the soap, then
I'd not only be losing the pleasure of tasting, but also the pleasure of smelling. My mind flooded with the knowledge that so much in life was
that way, and so often the choice made was, 'all or nothing'. I
promised myself to always go for the smell of cinnamon buns, and as a
symbol, to never take another bite of one."

Winter had told him that he was the only person she's ever met who was
able to parse complex ideas the way she could. She was remembering
these things as they walked, holding hands, to the front door. When
exiting the car, Ian had extended his right hand to Ann, who was not
letting it go, and was gently guiding Ian away when they noticed Winter hurriedly scrambling to go out the driver's side door, and Ian gave her
his other hand, and this time it was he who'd held the hand just tightly enough to request what Winter had wanted anyway. She grasped Ian with
her right hand before slowly drawing away her left.

When they were a few steps from the front door, Ian released Ann, and
fished in his pocket for the keys, and Winter looked at Ann, smiled, and silently mouthed, "I like my job," and Ann giggled.

Once inside, Ann surveyed the furnishings. It was just as Winter had described. Nice looking, old wood furniture that was in good, but
lived-in condition, and newer, expensive looking chairs, couch and
loveseat. He had a large television, which Winter had said he seldom
used except to play movies and DVDs of the quirky TV shows he liked.
Ann wanted to look at his DVDs, but before anything, Ian gave her a tour
of the house. He straightaway took her to the kitchen, because here
was a woman who could appreciate his fancy dishwasher. He'd thought it interesting that Winter's brother thought it was cool, and her father
even more so, while every female who'd seen itrCoeven Chloe--obviously
found it odd, if not absurd. When Ann saw it, she said, "That is so
cool, Ian."

"We'll fire it up after lunch. At first, it's all steamy, but then,
when it gets hot, you can see the workings." Then he showed her the refrigerated compartment that had a door to the outside of his house, so
he could get deliveries of perishables when he wasn't home or didn't
want to be disturbed, and explained that the outside door was padlocked,
and the grocery store had a key. "I have an account there, but I leave
the tip inside the other box, the one for items that don't need to be
kept cold." Next, he took her to his barbecue room, a transformed sun
porch with a giant range hood, and elaborate exhaust and fire
suppression system. He said that the building inspector for the city
had laughed, but the inspector from the county issued the permits, and
he went on to explain in some detail how it all worked, and that the
ideas were all his, but the technology was way outside his skill set,
and had been designed by someone who knew what he was doing.

Ann asked, "So the air quality sensors send readings to the computer,
which adjusts the fan speeds? Ian, that's brilliant. Have you
considered patenting the design?"

"No. I don't need any more money, but if you are so inclined, you can
look into patenting it. I'd be happy to pay the fees. You could
probably do it as a practicum, though I'd require that you be completely honest as to our respective roles."

"Of course. Ian, I'd never try to take credit for someone else's ideas,
and learning the patenting process, that's a valuable skill. Winter
told me that you're someone who cares about personal integrity. She
really respects you."

"And I respect her. Why don't you keep her company while I prepare lunch."

Winter was sitting in the living room, reading, when Ann joined her.
"Ian has cool toys."

Winter closed her book. "He does, and I could tell he was getting a
thrill out of showing them off. You seem even more overwhelmed than my
dad." Ann explained about the practicum, and that he'd let her own the
patent if she wanted, and Winter said that she wasn't surprised. "He
really does feel that he has more than enough money, and I guess he does."

"Can I look at his movies?"

"Sure," said Winter, as she rose to guide Ann to the drawer that housed
his collection.

Ann pulled out each DVD, and examined them, commenting that she wasn't familiar with many of them. "What's this?" Ann showed Winter the case.

Winter rolled her eyes and smiled. "Ian's mermaid show. He only
watches it for the cute girls. He even admits it. He's got Roswell
too. Major crush on Liz."

"He's got good taste."

"He has an overactive libido, but I guess I shouldn't complain." Winter looked away for a moment, then said, "You really like him."

"Why wouldn't I? You do."

"Because he's having sex with your girlfriend."

"Winter, I've told you that I'm fine with that. I know you love me, and that's the one thing that's happened to me in my life that matters. You
just told me that you love your job, and I believed you." She began to
cry, and Winter was glad that Ian was busy cooking. "See? I've never
had a man in my life who liked me, and treated me like... I mean there
were teachers who respected me, and were nice to me, but that's their
job. You have Ian, and your dad, and you said that your brother is good
too. I've never had any of that." Winter took Ann to the couch, as she continued to cry. "It's hard, not envying you. Please don't make it
harder."

Winter held her as her tears subsided. "I won't."

By the time Ian called them for lunch, Ann had recovered, but Ian,
noticing the redness of her eyes, asked if there was something wrong.
Ann said, "I'm just very emotional. I cry a lot. And," Ann laughed, "I
have issues."

Ian said the thing that he thought would be most supportive. "I cry
too, and we all have 'issues'."

As the meal was ending, Winter said, "Isn't it time for your nap, Ian?"

Ian knew that Winter was suggesting alone time with Ann, but Ann said,
"Oh, no. Not before the dishwasher," and they all three laughed. After loading the plates, Winter exited herself.

Ian moved two chairs into the kitchen, and he and Ann watched the dishes
being sprayed by the rotating arms. Ann shared her observation that the spinning was due to the off center positioning of the jets, and Ian told
her that he already knew that. "There's a pump that powers the water."

"Well, duh," and she poked him with her finger.

"Ann?rCY asked Ian.

"Yeah?"

"That whole nap thing, it means Winter wants some private time with you,
and I'm happy for you two, really happy. She loves you so desperately,
and I might fall into sleep myself, just musing on your love." Ian
rose, and Ann craned her neck to keep eye contact. Ian slowly brought
his face close, and planted one gentle kiss on her forehead before
departing for his bedroom. Ann took a moment to reflect, then walked dreamy-eyed toward Winter, who had re-opened her book. Ian had passed silently, with only a pleased expression directed toward Winter.

In his room, alone, Ian tried to conjure images of the two women in
sexual activity, but it wasn't working, and in truth, that wasn't what
was happening in the other bedroom. Ian did fall asleep, and Ann did as
well, her head resting on Winter's shoulder. Eventually, Winter dozed,
waking once, and wanting to shift for her own comfort; she instead lay
in stillness, eyes closed, and drifted back into slumber.

Ian woke, and saw that the clock said 5:18. It took him a moment to
digest that the time was PM, and that he'd slept only a scant few hours.
He got out of bed fully dressed, but shoeless, and when he entered the living room, there was only Ann. His eyes flitted in several
directions, and Ann, anticipating the question, said, "Winter's still sleeping." Ann detected the slight nervousness in his demeanor, and
said, "She's OK with us."

Ian was startled, "Us? There's an us?"

"That we get along, that we like each other. It's weird what you two
are doing, but it's only weird between you two. I think it's peculiar,
and funny, but there *is* an us. We both have Winter, and there's only
one of her."

"She truly is a singular person." Ian said it completely dryly, and it
took Ann a second for it to register before she reacted.

"That's so exactly what she'd have said."

Ian agreed, and Ann told him, "I was looking at your videos. Can we
have movie night?"

"That sounds fun. Did you have something picked out?"

"This." Ann showed him A Midsummer Night's Dream.

"Good. I've been wanting Winter to watch that with me."

"But you haven't had time, and it's because of me."

"That's true, but now that we've broken the ice, I'll get to spend more
time with her, with the two of you."

Ann giggled, "Your video collection is funny. You really like pretty
young women. "

"Are you suggesting that the reason I like you is that you're pretty?"

"No, and I'm sorry if it sounded like I was, but it probably makes you
like me more. People are like that. Winter thought you'd like me, and
not because of how I look, but me, and I trust her judgment. She *was* worried that I might be uncomfortable around you because you have sex
with her, but I'm not. I spent years being told that sex was bad, by
people who think about sex in bad ways that demean women, and want to
punish women for liking sex. I didn't even buy into that when I was
little. I might be inexperienced, but I'm not naive. You're not like
those people, Ian. Whatever you are," and Ann shook her head, "you're
not that."

"She talks about me?"

"We talk about everything. We're in love." Ann exhaled through her
nose in lieu of a chuckle. "Better than even odds that Winter wants us
to be having this conversation. Ian, I don't think you're the least bit perverse. Know that. Really. Everything about this day has been
positive for me; it seems like one of the most important days of my life."

"Did you get any sleep?"

"Probably about two hours."

"Me too, and she's most likely awake. I'll go get her."

Ian walked to the guest room at the end of the hall. Ann had left the
door open, but Winter could not have overheard the conversation, and she
was asleep. Her gentle snoring was familiar. Ian kissed her to
wakefulness, and she purred before asking, "Where's Ann?"

"In the living room. She wants us to watch a movie tonight."

"Really? We were looking at your collection earlier, while you were
cooking. Did she pick anything out?"

"A Midsummer Night's Dream, and before you ask, she chose it herself,
with no prompting from me."

Winter looked at the clock on the nightstand. "It's almost six. You
know what I feel like?"

"More and more every day."

Winter threw a pillow at him, "No, what I feel like doing tonight. How
much beer is in the keg?"

"It's almost full. I've had maybe, five or six. So you want it to be a
movie and beer night?"

"And toasted ravioli. I saw a big bag of raviolis in the freezer, and
we can bread them with panko and fry them up." Ian offered both hands,
and she accepted, ending up standing, and in his arms. After a brief
hug, they headed down the hall to Ann. Ann greeted her with another
embrace, and Winter joked, "You two make me feel so popular."

"It's funny that you said that," said Ann. "We, Ian and I, were talking
about how there's only one of you, and deciding that we want to be good
at sharing."

Winter lifted her eyebrows and said, "That sounds like fun. I was
talking to him as well, and we decided that beer and toasted ravioli
would go nicely with the movie."

"Toasted ravioli sounds good. I've only had it once, but no beer for
me. I would like to drink something though."

"Ian, Ann's never gotten tipsy. She's an alcohol virgin."

"I've tasted beer and wine, and they were both awful, but I had a sip of margarita once, and that was actually pretty good. Do you have stuff to
make those?"

"The best,rCY said Ian, rCLand I can mix them up really light on alcohol.
You want your first experience to be a good one. Also, I make them with sweetener instead of sugar. More than half of the hangover thing is a
sugar crash. I can show you how to make them. C'mon." They all headed
for the kitchen, and Ian got a bag of limes out of the fridge. He
halved eight of them, and by the time he finished, Winter had assembled
the juicer attachment on the Cuisinart. In less than two minutes, he
had what he needed for a gallon of margs. He explained to Ann about
tequila, and the proportions of the liquors used. "I usually use twice
as much vodka as tequila, and the tequila has to be excellent quality,
but since I'm going extra light on the alcohol, I'm going to go 50-50.
Instead of orange liqueur, I use orange extract, again, the highest
quality stuff." Ian carefully measured the sweetener with a tiny spoon,
then finally added the water. "I know this is way more that you'd drink tonight, but it freezes well."

Winter had filled three short glasses with ice. "Even though we're
drinking beer, we have to taste it. Quality control." Ian poured a
very small amount in each glass, just enough for a tasting. Winter took
a sip and said, "This is great."

Ann smiled, "I could get used to this."

"Ian's committing a crime, and I think that's sexy," said Winter.

"That twenty-one thing is asinine. You can volunteer to go get your
balls shot off when you're eighteen."

Winter laughed at Ian's predictability. Meanwhile, she had started to
whisk eggs for the ravioli. She and Ian worked well as a team in
breading the frozen squares, something that Ann called attention to.
They nearly filled a baking sheet, and let them sit to thaw before
frying them. "So, they're fried?" asked Ann. "How come they're called toasted? Toasted isn't fried."

"It's a St. Louis thing, Ann." Winter was being silly. "Something a Chicagolander can't be expected to understand." Winter put a big wet
kiss on Ann's cheek, and as she pulled away, Ann motioned in Ian's
direction with her eyes.

Ian noticed, and said, "You two can kiss or whatever else, all you want,
just not while I'm driving," then he added, "or operating dangerous machinery." Ian had opened a jar of marinara and emptied it into a
saucepan.

"The cheese grater?" asked Winter. Ian smiled. "After you get done,
you can come to the living room and watch us kiss. You're OK with that,
right Ann?"

"Winter, when you're kissing me, I'm oblivious to my surroundings, but I
want my drink now."

"Sure," said Winter, and she poured the half melted ice out of Ann's
glass, and put in new ice, before getting out the pitcher and pouring.
"I'm waiting until after kissing, because I think that tequila and beer
would probably clash, like one of those gross beer margaritas they make
at bars."

"Have you ever had one?" asked Ian.

"No, but I've never had a sardine sundae either."

"Eww," said Ann. "The sardine sundae, not the margarita," which she was
just finishing. She handed it to Winter, "Refill?"

Winter cautioned, "You're going to end up drunk."

"I thought that was the idea." Even as lightly as Ian had mixed the
drinks, Winter knew about drinking on an empty stomach. Ann would be
feeling it very soon, if she wasn't already. His tasks completed, Ian followed the girls and took them up on the offer to watch. "I've never
done anything in front of anyone before. It feels naughty."

"Naughty is good," said Winter.

Ann nodded, "Naughty is good."

The kissing was pretty, but Ian's thoughts were on the wetness. He knew
that Winter's mouth tasted wonderful, and was imagining what it would be
like to taste Ann's, and it was making him hard. He tried to turn his
body so that it would go unnoticed, but that very act, moving into a
slightly awkward position alerted Winter. Her hand shot out and brushed against him. "Ian is thinking naughty thoughts, Ann."

"Ian is going to fry the ravioli," he said as he walked away, but he
didn't go directly to the kitchen, but to the barbecue room, where he
removed a large beer stein from a freezer, and poured a full mug. When
he turned around, there was Winter. Ian wondered how she could have
traversed the creaky dining room floor without him having noticed.

"Sorry."

"It's OK, Winter." Ian was surprised when she kissed him with open
mouth. She was sharing, sharing the traces of Ann's body, and Ian was
hard again. Winter took away his beer, and put it on the shelf in the freezer. She took his hand and pulled him into the pantry, turned on
the light, and closed the door. Ian said, "Winter, we have a guest."

"She's not a guest, and she knows what I'm doing. Ian, come on, you
know you'll be uncomfortable all evening otherwise. You get to put it
where Ann's tongue was a few minutes ago." That line convinced Ian, and Winter easily coaxed him to a great orgasm. "See? Now, we can drink.
Ann's already feeling it. She's extra giggly.rCY They exited the pantry,
and retrieved Ian's beer, and got Winter a matching one, before going to
the kitchen to fry the ravioli.

"I preheated the oven for a frozen pizza too." Coming from the other
room weren't the giggles that Winter had spoken of, but something more
like a shriek.

Winter went to investigate while Ian started frying, and when she came
back to the kitchen she said, "Mermaids, and she's got the pitcher on
the coffee table. At this rate, she'll be on it herself, wearing the lampshade, before we even get to dinner, much less the movie."

"I really couldn't have mixed those drinks much lighter. There has to
be some placebo going on. You can go back in there with her while I
finish up."

"With the mermaids? No thanks. I'd rather stay and finish the cooking."

"Cool," said Ian, taking her at her word. "Call us when it's ready."
To Ian, Ann didn't seem drunk. She wasn't slurring words or seeming uncoordinated. She was just uninhibited and goofy happy. "Ian, the
best part is the opening credits." Ann replayed the opening, singing
along in a cute voice that made Ian want to hug her as he laughed, but
he restrained himself. When Winter yelled that the food was ready, they turned off the TV and returned the disc to its home.

Winter had removed the pizza from the oven several minutes earlier, and
had left the most recently fried raviolis in the kitchen. She was
protecting the others from burning themselves. Her parents always did
that because Eric had little self-control when it came to pizza. "So,
Ian, it looks like you have a mermaid friend."

Ann asked Winter, "You remember that first day, when I thought my feet
would be stinky?"

"I remember."

"Well," now Ann was sounding tipsy, "it occurred to me that those
mermaids must have horribly stinky feet because every time they go to
wash them, they get tails instead, so they never actually get washed feet."

"It's not just feet, Ann," said Winter. "They can't wash any lower body parts. Another thing, when they turn into mermaids, where do their
clothes go? Then when they turn back, the clothes come back. That part
is really implausible. It ruins the show for me." Ian was trying to
laugh as soundlessly as possible so as not to drown out the wacky
banter. "You know, Ann, all this talk about unwashed female bodies has probably got Ian all hot and bothered again."

Now Ian lost it, partly because he had been having thoughts along those
lines. "Stop, Winter. It hurts."

"Then go ahead and adjust it. We understand."

By the time they got to the movie, its humor didn't quite measure up to
their own, but all agreed that it was, as Ian said, "Darling." They had paused it numerous times for refills and bathroom breaks, and Winter,
with Ian to her one side, and Ann to the other, felt very well kissed.

As Ann had gotten more intoxicated, she became more sexually
provocative. Finally, all but suggesting a three way. Winter and Ian,
each for their own reasons, were having none of that, and convinced her
that she really needed to call it quits for the evening, and lie down.
They walked her back to the guest room at the end of the hall, and she
fell asleep almost instantly upon hitting the bed. The other two had
yet to have their fill of beer, and toasted the events of the day. "I
wonder if she's going to feel ridiculous in the morning. Ian, you
brought out something in her I've never seen. She seems to really like
you."

"I like her too, and you know we both like you."

"Sorry about her teasing you tonight. I know that's hard on you, I mean difficult. That one wasn't intentional."

"I didn't think she was teasing, but I don't take advantage of drunk
women. Men who do that should be horse-whipped."

"We need to be really gentle with her. She's delicate. I know she
didn't seem it today, but she is."

"I'm glad she had a good day."

"I know you do. You're a good man, Ian, and as much as I'm in love with
Ann, sometimes I miss falling asleep with you. You've been so sweet the
way you insist that I almost always sleep with Ann, and I know that's
not motivated by your girl body thing, but because you really do believe
in love. Oh, and that reminds me," Winter said as she got off the couch
and retrieved her purse from the dining room table. She reached inside
and removed Ann's underwear, and handed them to Ian. "She says you can
keep them as long as you want, and I told her that she has earned
herself an unlimited panty budget, and I told her about the Moon."

"So you two were in there making fun of me?" Ian said with a smile.

"In a sense. Ian, she told me that she doesn't think you're a perv.
She thinks you're like men ought to be about womens' bodies. She's
smart. It's in different ways than we are. You and I are a lot alike,
and however long our thing lasts, I hope we part as friends, and that we
don't ever completely cut ties."

"I love drinking with you, even though it means no sex, and I'll always
be your friend, even if there's no sex. Winter, I have enough money to
pay for extraordinary sexual experiences with very skilled professionals
who can make the experience seem very real, but I'm instead, here, right
now, with you, because whatever the artificiality of our arrangement,
there's friendship, and genuine kindness. You say that I'm a good man.
You say the words, 'good,' and, 'nice,' and 'sweet', repeatedly. Those
aren't sex words."

"No, Ian, they're descriptions, ones I'd be perfectly comfortable using
to my potential replacements. When that time comes, assuming that you
stay all those ways, I'll just tell the truth, you're a good, nice and
sweet man with a voracious sexual appetite, and you pay well."

"That's all accurate."

"And that you're cuddly. Let's go to your bed." On the way, they
stopped at the bathroom. As Winter sat to pee, Ian knelt and kissed her
face. When she finished, she tore off three sheets, which she folded,
then leaned forward, bumping heads, and wiped herself front to back.
She stood up, leaving her shorts halfway down her thighs, and reaching
back, raised the seat. "Your turn."

Ian unclasped his trousers while Winter positioned herself behind him.
Any shyness that Ian had was overcome by the fullness of his bladder,
and Winter took hold of his hand, playfully directing his stream to all
parts of the bowl, washing down every surface in child's play, both of
them knowing that while sex was close to impossible that night because
of the alcohol, body privacies had been breached.
--
--Bryan https://www.instagram.com/bryangsimmons/

For your safety and protection, this sig. has been thoroughly
tested on laboratory animals.

"Most of the food described here is nauseating.
We're just too courteous to say so."
-- Cindy Hamilton
--- Synchronet 3.21b-Linux NewsLink 1.2

From Newsgroup: rec.food.cooking

On Wed, 25 Feb 2026 19:20:52 -0600, Bryan Simmons
<bryangsimmons@gmail.com> wrote:

On 2/17/2026 5:15 PM, Bryan Simmons wrote:

-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a WinterrCOs Present
-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a .
-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a Bryan Simmons

-a-a-a Table of Contents

<snip>

Copyright 2014, 2025 by Bryan Simmons


This book is dedicated to my wife, Betsy, and to my muse, who shall
remain nameless.

Obviously, the muse is John Kuthe.
--
Bruce
<https://i.ibb.co/WN88KZm7/kim.jpg>
--- Synchronet 3.21b-Linux NewsLink 1.2

From Newsgroup: rec.food.cooking

Bruce wrote on 2/25/2026 8:07 PM:

On Wed, 25 Feb 2026 19:20:52 -0600, Bryan Simmons
<bryangsimmons@gmail.com> wrote:

On 2/17/2026 5:15 PM, Bryan Simmons wrote:

-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a WinterrCOs Present
-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a .
-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a Bryan Simmons

-a-a-a Table of Contents

<snip>

Copyright 2014, 2025 by Bryan Simmons


This book is dedicated to my wife, Betsy, and to my muse, who shall
remain nameless.

Obviously, the muse is John Kuthe.

That's what I thought too, but it also could be Winter. Chef has his
mouth set on Auto-Blab when it comes to that character.

--- Synchronet 3.21b-Linux NewsLink 1.2

From Newsgroup: rec.food.cooking

On Thu, 26 Feb 2026 15:33:47 -0600, Hank Rogers <Hank@nospam.invalid>
wrote:

Bruce wrote on 2/25/2026 8:07 PM:

On Wed, 25 Feb 2026 19:20:52 -0600, Bryan Simmons
<bryangsimmons@gmail.com> wrote:

On 2/17/2026 5:15 PM, Bryan Simmons wrote:

|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a Winter|ore4raos Present >>>> |e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a .
|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a Bryan Simmons

|e-a|e-a|e-a Table of Contents

<snip>

Copyright 2014, 2025 by Bryan Simmons


This book is dedicated to my wife, Betsy, and to my muse, who shall
remain nameless.

Obviously, the muse is John Kuthe.

That's what I thought too, but it also could be Winter. Chef has his
mouth set on Auto-Blab when it comes to that character.

He's obsessed with hat book and needs ATTENTION ATTENTION ATTENTION,
like all narcissists.
--
Bruce
<https://i.ibb.co/WN88KZm7/kim.jpg>
--- Synchronet 3.21b-Linux NewsLink 1.2

From Newsgroup: rec.food.cooking

Hank Rogers wrote:

Bruce wrote on 2/25/2026 8:07 PM:

On Wed, 25 Feb 2026 19:20:52 -0600, Bryan Simmons
<bryangsimmons@gmail.com> wrote:

On 2/17/2026 5:15 PM, Bryan Simmons wrote:

a -a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a WinterrCOs Present
a -a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a .
a -a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a Bryan Simmons

a -a-a-a Table of Contents

<snip>

Copyright 2014, 2025 by Bryan Simmons


This book is dedicated to my wife, Betsy, and to my muse, who shall
remain nameless.

Obviously, the muse is John Kuthe.

That's what I thought too, but it also could be Winter.aa Chef has his
mouth set on Auto-Blab when it comes to that character.

Pass the brain bleach, him and Kuthe naked in a boat together.

Scorned lovers.
--- Synchronet 3.21b-Linux NewsLink 1.2

From Newsgroup: rec.food.cooking

Bruce wrote on 2/26/2026 3:38 PM:

On Thu, 26 Feb 2026 15:33:47 -0600, Hank Rogers <Hank@nospam.invalid>
wrote:

Bruce wrote on 2/25/2026 8:07 PM:

On Wed, 25 Feb 2026 19:20:52 -0600, Bryan Simmons
<bryangsimmons@gmail.com> wrote:

On 2/17/2026 5:15 PM, Bryan Simmons wrote:

|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a Winter|ore4raos Present >>>>> |e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a .
|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a Bryan Simmons >>>>> 
|e-a|e-a|e-a Table of Contents

<snip>

Copyright 2014, 2025 by Bryan Simmons


This book is dedicated to my wife, Betsy, and to my muse, who shall
remain nameless.

Obviously, the muse is John Kuthe.

That's what I thought too, but it also could be Winter. Chef has his
mouth set on Auto-Blab when it comes to that character.

He's obsessed with hat book and needs ATTENTION ATTENTION ATTENTION,
like all narcissists.

Perhaps that's why he has always tried to present himself as a complete
ass hole. He has talked about this in the past but you might have
missed those posts.

In his glorious punk rock star past, he wouldn't drink ANY beer at the
shows because he was afraid it would interfere with his ability to
portray himself as a mean nasty vicious low down ass hole, which was his primary goal to advance his punk rock career. He wanted this to be the personality that others observed, believing it to be required for the
punk shit. I think he is still doing it today. He NEVER outgrew the
punk teenager, even decades afterward, as an old man.

In many ways, I like him, but I also feel sorry for him because this
must be a hell of a mental burden. Imagine the effort to constantly be
on guard to present yourself as a super ass hole at all times. You can
never completely relax and be yourself, not even for a single hour.
Ever. The only way out may be the same path that kuth eventually followed.

--- Synchronet 3.21b-Linux NewsLink 1.2

From Newsgroup: rec.food.cooking

On 2026-02-26, Hank Rogers wrote:

The only way out may be the same path that kuth eventually followed.

What? Does that mean pretend to be an asshole
*and* pretend to be too stupid to use Usenet?

--- Synchronet 3.21b-Linux NewsLink 1.2

From Newsgroup: rec.food.cooking

Hank Rogers wrote:

Bruce wrote on 2/26/2026 3:38 PM:

On Thu, 26 Feb 2026 15:33:47 -0600, Hank Rogers <Hank@nospam.invalid>
wrote:

Bruce wrote on 2/25/2026 8:07 PM:

On Wed, 25 Feb 2026 19:20:52 -0600, Bryan Simmons
<bryangsimmons@gmail.com> wrote:

On 2/17/2026 5:15 PM, Bryan Simmons wrote:

aa |e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a Winter|ore4raos
Present

|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-
.
aa |e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a Bryan
Simmons

aa |e-a|e-a|e-a Table of Contents

<snip>

Copyright 2014, 2025 by Bryan Simmons


This book is dedicated to my wife, Betsy, and to my muse, who shall >>>>>> remain nameless.

Obviously, the muse is John Kuthe.

That's what I thought too, but it also could be Winter.aa Chef has his
mouth set on Auto-Blab when it comes to that character.

He's obsessed with hat book and needs ATTENTION ATTENTION ATTENTION,
like all narcissists.

Perhaps that's why he has always tried to present himself as a complete
ass hole.a He has talked about this in the past but you might have
missed those posts.

In his glorious punk rock star past, he wouldn't drink ANY beer at the
shows because he was afraid it would interfere with his ability to
portray himself as a mean nasty vicious low down ass hole, which was his primary goal to advance his punk rock career.a He wanted this to be the personality that others observed, believing it to be required for the
punk shit.a I think he is still doing it today.a He NEVER outgrew the
punk teenager, even decades afterward, as an old man.

In many ways, I like him, but I also feel sorry for him because this
must be a hell of a mental burden.a Imagine the effort to constantly be
on guard to present yourself as a super ass hole at all times.a You can never completely relax and be yourself, not even for a single hour.
Ever.a The only way out may be the same path that kuth eventually followed.

I agree with your opinion of Bryan, spot on, except for
the liking him part.

Hopefully he's not that way in person but my guess is that
he is.
--- Synchronet 3.21b-Linux NewsLink 1.2

From Newsgroup: rec.food.cooking

On Thu, 26 Feb 2026 16:43:50 -0500
Pete Tuttle <pmt777@yohaa.not> wrote:

Hank Rogers wrote:

Bruce wrote on 2/25/2026 8:07 PM:

On Wed, 25 Feb 2026 19:20:52 -0600, Bryan Simmons
<bryangsimmons@gmail.com> wrote:

On 2/17/2026 5:15 PM, Bryan Simmons wrote:

-a |e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a Winter|ore4raos Present >>>> -a |e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a .
-a |e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a|e-a Bryan Simmons >>>> 
-a |e-a|e-a|e-a Table of Contents

<snip>

Copyright 2014, 2025 by Bryan Simmons


This book is dedicated to my wife, Betsy, and to my muse, who
shall remain nameless.

Obviously, the muse is John Kuthe.

That's what I thought too, but it also could be Winter.-a-a Chef has
his mouth set on Auto-Blab when it comes to that character.

Pass the brain bleach, him and Kuthe naked in a boat together.

Danforth anchors.

Scorned lovers.

Aweigh with them!
--- Synchronet 3.21b-Linux NewsLink 1.2

From Newsgroup: rec.food.cooking

On Thu, 26 Feb 2026 16:31:30 -0600, Hank Rogers <Hank@nospam.invalid>
wrote:

Bruce wrote on 2/26/2026 3:38 PM:

On Thu, 26 Feb 2026 15:33:47 -0600, Hank Rogers <Hank@nospam.invalid>
wrote:

Bruce wrote on 2/25/2026 8:07 PM:

On Wed, 25 Feb 2026 19:20:52 -0600, Bryan Simmons
<bryangsimmons@gmail.com> wrote:

On 2/17/2026 5:15 PM, Bryan Simmons wrote:

|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a Winter|a-o|orCU-4|orCR-os Present
|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a .
|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a Bryan Simmons

|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a Table of Contents

<snip>

Copyright 2014, 2025 by Bryan Simmons


This book is dedicated to my wife, Betsy, and to my muse, who shall >>>>>> remain nameless.

Obviously, the muse is John Kuthe.

That's what I thought too, but it also could be Winter. Chef has his
mouth set on Auto-Blab when it comes to that character.

He's obsessed with hat book and needs ATTENTION ATTENTION ATTENTION,
like all narcissists.

Perhaps that's why he has always tried to present himself as a complete
ass hole. He has talked about this in the past but you might have
missed those posts.

In his glorious punk rock star past, he wouldn't drink ANY beer at the
shows because he was afraid it would interfere with his ability to
portray himself as a mean nasty vicious low down ass hole, which was his >primary goal to advance his punk rock career. He wanted this to be the >personality that others observed, believing it to be required for the
punk shit. I think he is still doing it today. He NEVER outgrew the
punk teenager, even decades afterward, as an old man.

In many ways, I like him, but I also feel sorry for him because this
must be a hell of a mental burden. Imagine the effort to constantly be
on guard to present yourself as a super ass hole at all times. You can >never completely relax and be yourself, not even for a single hour.
Ever. The only way out may be the same path that kuth eventually followed.

But which path is that? Dementia?
--
Bruce
<https://i.ibb.co/WN88KZm7/kim.jpg>
--- Synchronet 3.21b-Linux NewsLink 1.2

From Newsgroup: rec.food.cooking

Mars Sellus wrote:

On Thu, 26 Feb 2026 16:43:50 -0500
Pete Tuttle <pmt777@yohaa.not> wrote:

Hank Rogers wrote:

This book is dedicated to my wife, Betsy, and to my muse, who
shall remain nameless.

Obviously, the muse is John Kuthe.

That's what I thought too, but it also could be Winter.-a-a Chef has
his mouth set on Auto-Blab when it comes to that character.

>
Pass the brain bleach, him and Kuthe naked in a boat together.

Danforth anchors.

Scorned lovers.

Aweigh with them!

I reckon Bryan needs some anchor management after that.
--- Synchronet 3.21b-Linux NewsLink 1.2

From Newsgroup: rec.food.cooking

On Thu, 26 Feb 2026 17:54:55 -0500
Pete Tuttle <pmt777@yohaa.not> wrote:

Mars Sellus wrote:

On Thu, 26 Feb 2026 16:43:50 -0500
Pete Tuttle <pmt777@yohaa.not> wrote:

Hank Rogers wrote:

This book is dedicated to my wife, Betsy, and to my muse, who
shall remain nameless.

Obviously, the muse is John Kuthe.

That's what I thought too, but it also could be Winter.-a-a Chef has
his mouth set on Auto-Blab when it comes to that character.

>
Pass the brain bleach, him and Kuthe naked in a boat together.

Danforth anchors.

Scorned lovers.

Aweigh with them!

I reckon Bryan needs some anchor management after that.

Whose mast will he stand before?
--- Synchronet 3.21b-Linux NewsLink 1.2

From Newsgroup: rec.food.cooking

Mars Sellus wrote:

On Thu, 26 Feb 2026 17:54:55 -0500
Pete Tuttle <pmt777@yohaa.not> wrote:

Mars Sellus wrote:

On Thu, 26 Feb 2026 16:43:50 -0500
Pete Tuttle <pmt777@yohaa.not> wrote:

Hank Rogers wrote:

>>>

This book is dedicated to my wife, Betsy, and to my muse, who
shall remain nameless.

Obviously, the muse is John Kuthe.

That's what I thought too, but it also could be Winter.-a-a Chef has >>>>> his mouth set on Auto-Blab when it comes to that character.

>
Pass the brain bleach, him and Kuthe naked in a boat together.

Danforth anchors.

Scorned lovers.

Aweigh with them!

>
I reckon Bryan needs some anchor management after that.

Whose mast will he stand before?

Yard arm and forty lashes!
--- Synchronet 3.21b-Linux NewsLink 1.2

From Newsgroup: rec.food.cooking

On Thu, 26 Feb 2026 18:07:22 -0500
Pete Tuttle <pmt777@yohaa.not> wrote:

Mars Sellus wrote:

On Thu, 26 Feb 2026 17:54:55 -0500
Pete Tuttle <pmt777@yohaa.not> wrote:

Mars Sellus wrote:

On Thu, 26 Feb 2026 16:43:50 -0500
Pete Tuttle <pmt777@yohaa.not> wrote:

Hank Rogers wrote:

>>>

This book is dedicated to my wife, Betsy, and to my muse, who >>>>>>>> shall remain nameless.

Obviously, the muse is John Kuthe.

That's what I thought too, but it also could be Winter.-a-a Chef
has his mouth set on Auto-Blab when it comes to that character.

>
Pass the brain bleach, him and Kuthe naked in a boat together.

Danforth anchors.

Scorned lovers.

Aweigh with them!

>
I reckon Bryan needs some anchor management after that.

Whose mast will he stand before?

Yard arm and forty lashes!

Then right back to Blighty for Ramadan!
--- Synchronet 3.21b-Linux NewsLink 1.2

From Newsgroup: rec.food.cooking

Mars Sellus wrote:

On Thu, 26 Feb 2026 18:07:22 -0500
Pete Tuttle <pmt777@yohaa.not> wrote:

Mars Sellus wrote:

On Thu, 26 Feb 2026 17:54:55 -0500
Pete Tuttle <pmt777@yohaa.not> wrote:

Mars Sellus wrote:

On Thu, 26 Feb 2026 16:43:50 -0500
Pete Tuttle <pmt777@yohaa.not> wrote:

Hank Rogers wrote:

>>>

This book is dedicated to my wife, Betsy, and to my muse, who >>>>>>>>>> shall remain nameless.

Obviously, the muse is John Kuthe.

That's what I thought too, but it also could be Winter.-a-a Chef >>>>>>> has his mouth set on Auto-Blab when it comes to that character.

>
Pass the brain bleach, him and Kuthe naked in a boat together.

Danforth anchors.

Scorned lovers.

Aweigh with them!

>
I reckon Bryan needs some anchor management after that.

Whose mast will he stand before?

>
Yard arm and forty lashes!

Then right back to Blighty for Ramadan!

How do you circumcise Moby Dick?

Send down 4 skin divers.
--- Synchronet 3.21b-Linux NewsLink 1.2

From Newsgroup: rec.food.cooking

On Thu, 26 Feb 2026 18:13:08 -0500
Pete Tuttle <pmt777@yohaa.not> wrote:

Mars Sellus wrote:

On Thu, 26 Feb 2026 18:07:22 -0500
Pete Tuttle <pmt777@yohaa.not> wrote:

Mars Sellus wrote:

On Thu, 26 Feb 2026 17:54:55 -0500
Pete Tuttle <pmt777@yohaa.not> wrote:

Mars Sellus wrote:

On Thu, 26 Feb 2026 16:43:50 -0500
Pete Tuttle <pmt777@yohaa.not> wrote:

Hank Rogers wrote:

>>>

This book is dedicated to my wife, Betsy, and to my muse, >>>>>>>>>> who shall remain nameless.

Obviously, the muse is John Kuthe.

That's what I thought too, but it also could be Winter.-a-a Chef >>>>>>> has his mouth set on Auto-Blab when it comes to that
character.

>
Pass the brain bleach, him and Kuthe naked in a boat together.

Danforth anchors.

Scorned lovers.

Aweigh with them!

>
I reckon Bryan needs some anchor management after that.

Whose mast will he stand before?

>
Yard arm and forty lashes!

Then right back to Blighty for Ramadan!

How do you circumcise Moby Dick?

Send down 4 skin divers.

With $tarbux...
--- Synchronet 3.21b-Linux NewsLink 1.2

From Newsgroup: rec.food.cooking

Bruce wrote on 2/26/2026 4:50 PM:

On Thu, 26 Feb 2026 16:31:30 -0600, Hank Rogers <Hank@nospam.invalid>
wrote:

Bruce wrote on 2/26/2026 3:38 PM:

On Thu, 26 Feb 2026 15:33:47 -0600, Hank Rogers <Hank@nospam.invalid>
wrote:

Bruce wrote on 2/25/2026 8:07 PM:

On Wed, 25 Feb 2026 19:20:52 -0600, Bryan Simmons
<bryangsimmons@gmail.com> wrote:

On 2/17/2026 5:15 PM, Bryan Simmons wrote:

|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a Winter|a-o|orCU-4|orCR-os Present
|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a .
|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a Bryan Simmons

|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a|arCU|e-a Table of Contents

<snip>

Copyright 2014, 2025 by Bryan Simmons


This book is dedicated to my wife, Betsy, and to my muse, who shall >>>>>>> remain nameless.

Obviously, the muse is John Kuthe.

That's what I thought too, but it also could be Winter. Chef has his >>>> mouth set on Auto-Blab when it comes to that character.

He's obsessed with hat book and needs ATTENTION ATTENTION ATTENTION,
like all narcissists.

Perhaps that's why he has always tried to present himself as a complete
ass hole. He has talked about this in the past but you might have
missed those posts.

In his glorious punk rock star past, he wouldn't drink ANY beer at the
shows because he was afraid it would interfere with his ability to
portray himself as a mean nasty vicious low down ass hole, which was his
primary goal to advance his punk rock career. He wanted this to be the
personality that others observed, believing it to be required for the
punk shit. I think he is still doing it today. He NEVER outgrew the
punk teenager, even decades afterward, as an old man.

In many ways, I like him, but I also feel sorry for him because this
must be a hell of a mental burden. Imagine the effort to constantly be
on guard to present yourself as a super ass hole at all times. You can
never completely relax and be yourself, not even for a single hour.
Ever. The only way out may be the same path that kuth eventually followed.

But which path is that? Dementia?

There are MANY paths to our demise and final death. We alone can choose
our exact path. Chef's path will be an unhappy path because that is
what he wishes. You should be concerned with your own path.

I choose to do as little damage as possible on my way out.

--- Synchronet 3.21b-Linux NewsLink 1.2

From Newsgroup: rec.food.cooking

On Thu, 26 Feb 2026 17:25:42 -0600
Hank Rogers <Hank@nospam.invalid> wrote:

Bruce wrote on 2/26/2026 4:50 PM:

On Thu, 26 Feb 2026 16:31:30 -0600, Hank Rogers
<Hank@nospam.invalid> wrote:

Bruce wrote on 2/26/2026 3:38 PM:

On Thu, 26 Feb 2026 15:33:47 -0600, Hank Rogers
<Hank@nospam.invalid> wrote:

Bruce wrote on 2/25/2026 8:07 PM:

On Wed, 25 Feb 2026 19:20:52 -0600, Bryan Simmons
<bryangsimmons@gmail.com> wrote:

On 2/17/2026 5:15 PM, Bryan Simmons wrote:

|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e-a|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e-a|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e-a|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e-a|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e-a|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e
|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e-a|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e-a|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e-a|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e-a|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e
Winter|a|A|e-o|a-o|ore4+i|e-4|a-o|ore4++|e-os Present |a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e-a|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e-a|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e
|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e-a|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e-a|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e-a|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e-a|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e-a|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e
|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e-a|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e-a|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e-a|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e-a|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e-a|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e
|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e-a|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e-a|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e-a . |a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e-a|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e-a|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e
|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e-a|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e-a|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e-a|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e-a|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e-a|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e
|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e-a|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e-a|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e-a|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e-a Bryan Simmons |a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e
|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e-a|a|A|ore4+i|arCU|e-a Table of Contents

<snip>

Copyright 2014, 2025 by Bryan Simmons


This book is dedicated to my wife, Betsy, and to my muse, who
shall remain nameless.

Obviously, the muse is John Kuthe.

That's what I thought too, but it also could be Winter. Chef
has his mouth set on Auto-Blab when it comes to that character.

He's obsessed with hat book and needs ATTENTION ATTENTION
ATTENTION, like all narcissists.

Perhaps that's why he has always tried to present himself as a
complete ass hole. He has talked about this in the past but you
might have missed those posts.

In his glorious punk rock star past, he wouldn't drink ANY beer at
the shows because he was afraid it would interfere with his
ability to portray himself as a mean nasty vicious low down ass
hole, which was his primary goal to advance his punk rock career.
He wanted this to be the personality that others observed,
believing it to be required for the punk shit. I think he is
still doing it today. He NEVER outgrew the punk teenager, even
decades afterward, as an old man.

In many ways, I like him, but I also feel sorry for him because
this must be a hell of a mental burden. Imagine the effort to
constantly be on guard to present yourself as a super ass hole at
all times. You can never completely relax and be yourself, not
even for a single hour. Ever. The only way out may be the same
path that kuth eventually followed.

But which path is that? Dementia?

There are MANY paths to our demise and final death. We alone can
choose our exact path. Chef's path will be an unhappy path because
that is what he wishes. You should be concerned with your own path.

I choose to do as little damage as possible on my way out.

Mind that white light and the rellies act then, they love to drop that
on ya with a 'karma for u" attachment to be opened in...the NEXT life...
--- Synchronet 3.21b-Linux NewsLink 1.2

From Newsgroup: rec.food.cooking

jmquown wrote on 2/26/2026 7:39 PM:

On 2/26/2026 5:42 PM, Mike Duffy wrote:

On 2026-02-26, Hank Rogers wrote:

The only way out may be the same path that kuth eventually followed.

What? Does that mean pretend to be an asshole
*and* pretend to be too stupid to use Usenet?

Good lord, are people still talking about those two and this silly "novel"?

Jill

Well, your royal Majesty certainly seems very interested in it!


--- Synchronet 3.21b-Linux NewsLink 1.2

From Newsgroup: rec.food.cooking

On Fri, 27 Feb 2026 15:31:42 -0600
Hank Rogers <Hank@nospam.invalid> wrote:

jmquown wrote on 2/26/2026 7:39 PM:

On 2/26/2026 5:42 PM, Mike Duffy wrote:

On 2026-02-26, Hank Rogers wrote:

The only way out may be the same path that kuth eventually
followed.

What? Does that mean pretend to be an asshole
*and* pretend to be too stupid to use Usenet?

Good lord, are people still talking about those two and this silly
"novel"?

Jill

Well, your royal Majesty certainly seems very interested in it!

She's been fantasizing about Winter, you can sense it...

--- Synchronet 3.21b-Linux NewsLink 1.2

From Newsgroup: rec.food.cooking

Mars Sellus wrote on 2/27/2026 3:49 PM:

On Fri, 27 Feb 2026 15:31:42 -0600
Hank Rogers <Hank@nospam.invalid> wrote:

jmquown wrote on 2/26/2026 7:39 PM:

On 2/26/2026 5:42 PM, Mike Duffy wrote:

On 2026-02-26, Hank Rogers wrote:

The only way out may be the same path that kuth eventually
followed.

What? Does that mean pretend to be an asshole
*and* pretend to be too stupid to use Usenet?

Good lord, are people still talking about those two and this silly
"novel"?

Jill

Well, your royal Majesty certainly seems very interested in it!

She's been fantasizing about Winter, you can sense it...

You know, I think the stranger who drops in to admire her tits hasn't
been around for a while, so she's probably needing some attention.

Let's try to support her Majesty as best we can.

--- Synchronet 3.21b-Linux NewsLink 1.2

From Newsgroup: rec.food.cooking

On Fri, 27 Feb 2026 16:10:23 -0600
Hank Rogers <Hank@nospam.invalid> wrote:

Mars Sellus wrote on 2/27/2026 3:49 PM:

On Fri, 27 Feb 2026 15:31:42 -0600
Hank Rogers <Hank@nospam.invalid> wrote:

jmquown wrote on 2/26/2026 7:39 PM:

On 2/26/2026 5:42 PM, Mike Duffy wrote:

On 2026-02-26, Hank Rogers wrote:

The only way out may be the same path that kuth eventually
followed.

What? Does that mean pretend to be an asshole
*and* pretend to be too stupid to use Usenet?

Good lord, are people still talking about those two and this silly
"novel"?

Jill

Well, your royal Majesty certainly seems very interested in it!

She's been fantasizing about Winter, you can sense it...

You know, I think the stranger who drops in to admire her tits hasn't
been around for a while, so she's probably needing some attention.

Let's try to support her Majesty as best we can.

Pip pip!

--- Synchronet 3.21b-Linux NewsLink 1.2

From Newsgroup: rec.food.cooking

On 2/25/2026 7:37 PM, Bryan Simmons wrote:

On 2/17/2026 5:15 PM, Bryan Simmons wrote:

-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a WinterrCOs Present
-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a .
-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a Bryan Simmons

-a-a-a-a Table of Contents

Silver-a-a-a 9
Winter-a-a-a 23
Fast-a-a-a 29
Wearing White-a-a-a 49
Sex Kitten-a-a-a 59
The Party-a-a-a 73
Turkey Claus-a-a-a 101
Boy Talk-a-a-a 121
Scorpions-a-a-a 131
Ann-a-a-a 147
Lady Bear-a-a-a 173
Cinnamon Buns-a-a-a 189
Sandy Beach-a-a-a 205
Our Tricycle-a-a-a 235
Queen of Love-a-a-a 249
Art-a-a-a 279
Pillow Talk-a-a-a 291
A Pink Line to Burritos-a-a-a 297
Making Love-a-a-a 309
Solomon-a-a-a 317
Wearing White Again-a-a-a 323
Change is Hard-a-a-a 333
The Letter-a-a-a 337
The Vapors-a-a-a 365
Performance Issues-a-a-a 373
Somebody Else's Daughter-a-a-a 391
Love Kiss-a-a-a 399
Bigamy-a-a-a 411
Equality-a-a-a 425
Anniversary-a-a-a 439





Copyright 2014, 2025 by Bryan Simmons


This book is dedicated to my wife, Betsy, and to my muse, who shall
remain nameless.

Sandy Beach

Winter was killing time. She was at the computer reading about random subjects on Wikipedia and Pub Med, while Ian was taking a very long bath
with his cinnamon buns. It was Thursday, and Ann had two classes,
whereas she had none. Best to spend those times at Ian's, her body accessible, and he'd indeed availed himself. While the money was always
there in the back of her mind, Ian usually made it easy to keep it in
the background. He'd had years to learn that women needed more arousal.
Most women. Winter couldn't complain, or if she could, it'd be that
he often took too long to get to the sex, too long for a guy at least.
Now she was recalling how she'd recently told him that he was like a
lesbian with a penis, and he'd taken it as a great compliment. What she didn't say was that sometimes she wished he'd be less lesbian, and more
penis. After all, she had Ann.

In the time Ian had been in the bath, she'd accumulated far more
knowledge about pomegranate seed oil that she'd ever have use for,
though it would give her something to talk to Ian about. When they'd discovered that they both enjoyed looking up almost random, usually
useless facts, Ian had bought a second computer for the living room and
a matching monitor. They'd sit next to each other, like an old married
couple each solving a crossword puzzle, and every so often sharing
comments or questions about the content.

She checked her email, and there was nothing new, then the weather.
When she saw that Friday was supposed to be really warm, she got up and
headed for the bathroom. Ian was adding hot water, and he'd been
liberal with the body wash, so the area smelled heavenly. He turned off
the water so he could hear Winter. "Ian, it's supposed to be nice
weather Friday. There's this crazy heat wave coming on that's only
going to last Friday and part of Saturday. Can we go camping?"

Ian was surprised. It was only mid-March. "Sure. Do you have
somewhere in mind?"

"One of your wilderness places. I haven't been out in the forest since
before I met you, and I've been telling Ann how wonderful the woods are
here. I know it'll be way too cold to get into the water, but how about
that place on a creek that you call Sandy Beach?"

"We can't get a vehicle down there. The road's really washed out.
That'd mean a couple mile hike down the mountain. I'm up for it, and I
know you are, but do you think Ann is?"

"What? Are you nuts? She's in great shape."

"No, Winter, I mean do you think it'd be fun for her?"

"Of course, and Ian, we need to buy a Jeep, and get it modified where it
can go anywhere. Huge tires and winches. We can get rid of my car.
You do realize how ridiculous it seems, a woman of my means driving
around in a nine year old economy car."

"That's not a bad idea, though we do need to keep your car, and you need
to drive it when you visit your parents. The rest of the time,
whichever of us is driving, or if we both plan to, the one driving the furthest can take the Fiat."

"Boy. That was easy."

"It was a good idea. The reason I hadn't bought something like that
already was that there really wasn't anyone to go out in the woods with.
There is one condition, though, to buying the Jeep."

"What's that?"

"You need to promise to drive it like a granny. It's fine, the way you
drive my car, but the better a vehicle is suited for off road use, the
worse it is for the street. I don't want you, or anyone else getting
hurt. OK?"

"I already knew that. So you're really buying us a Jeep?"

It made Ian happy that she'd said, "us," because that suggested that
she'd planned to stick around. "If we look online, we can probably find
one today. That'll solve the problem of getting down to Sandy Beach.
We can get two winches put on the front, and one on back. However bad
the road has gotten, we'll be able to get out."

Winter stood behind Ian while he searched. She wanted to be able to
offer her input, but it wasn't necessary, as Ian found what he was
looking for rather quickly. Seeing that there was a white one sitting
on a lot, with a white hard top, he picked up the phone to inquire if it
was still available, and when he was informed that it was, he said,
"Let's go." Winter was surprised when he said, "Let's take your car."

"Why?"

"To give them the impression that we might just barely be able to afford
to buy, and because it will get them thinking about us trading in your
car, which we aren't going to do, but we want to set things up to get
the best price." As the door closed behind them, Ian kept speaking,
"Even when we tell them that we don't want to trade in your car, they'll assume that we need financing, which they also profit from. The
checkbook, and my ability to pay cash comes last. Pay attention. This
is a life lesson that will serve you far past our liaison."

"In my negotiations with car salesmen?"

"You're amused by my frugality?"

"No, Ian. What I find funny is your strange take on pragmatism. You're quirky, and the ways that the lottery money has changed you, or better
put, not changed you, is interesting, and it's amusing. I'd like to say
that I'm laughing *with* you right now, but I'm not. I'm not laughing
*at* you either, and I'm not laughing at all. We're pot and kettle."

"We are, and what I was cautioning you against was being un-careful with money. Nobody deserves to be wealthy, and you know that, but getting
used to spending might make your future less happy. I don't mind you
spending my money freely, but when you leave your resources will be
finite. Substantial, but finite. My own sense of well-being is
dependent on leaving you better than I found you, and then there's Ann."

"If you weren't fucking me, I'd have trouble not confusing you with my dad."

"Two men who care about your future."

"Oh, take me Daddy. Fuck me, then teach me how to buy a car."

Ian was consumed in laughter, and Winter joined him, grasping his waist
and gazing up imploringly, "Spoil me Daddy. Spoil me for all other men."

"First things first."

At the car dealership, it went pretty much as Ian had intended. Winter
drove, and they parked close enough that the salesman knew which car was theirs, especially since Ian excused himself to retrieve his "stronger
reading glasses" from the car. Rather than speak about the upcoming
weekend's plans, Ian used the words, "By the time camping season gets
here," to establish his time-frame for actually buying a Jeep. At one
point, he asked Winter, "What time does Ann get off school? Because
she'll be wondering where we are if we're not home."

"I think she's in class now," said Winter, "but she's good about
checking her voice mail."

Ian called, and within earshot, indicated that he didn't expect them to
be late meeting her. He'd established a buyer's market. They test
drove the Jeep, and loved it. On the drive out, Ian had told her that
this was the point at which Winter could act excited, while he'd say
they needed to really think about it, because it was a big purchase.
"It's not exactly what we wanted, though it is white, and that's nice."
All of these maybes set up the bargaining, and as Ian had told Winter,
at some point in the negotiations the salesman had to "get approval"
from his manager because the deal was unusually good, and when he
returned, he had a price that Ian was happy with. They signed the
contract, and Ian had $1000 earnest money charged to his credit card,
after turning down the offer to have Winter's car appraised for trade-in.

Ian had told the salesman that he needed to go to his credit union to
get the balance, and it was suggested that they could drive the Jeep,
and deal with getting their own tags on it after they returned. Much to
the surprise of the folks at the dealership, they were back in not much
more than a half an hour, with a cashier's check for the balance. They completed the rest of the routine, including getting temporary tags, and
were ready to leave, but for one detail. "Tomorrow," said Ian, "we get
those winches installed, but tonight, tonight I spoil you," and he
kissed her on the lips, closed mouthed but for several seconds.

Winter had steeled herself for this, "You're already spoiling me, Daddy."

Ian waited until this had thoroughly percolated up through the salesman
and his manager, before saying, "She's not really my daughter."

Then Winter went off script and added, "He just likes to pretend." Ian
turned away, and went straight for the Jeep, without looking back, and
Winter winked a smile at the salesman before heading for her car. Ian
drove away, but Winter called Ann, who had already walked more than
halfway to Ian's, and told her about the new Jeep, and the camping
excursion. The conversation was brief, but it had put Winter enough
behind Ian that when she arrived, he was already showing Ann the new
purchase. Winter practically leaped out of her car and pointed at Ian, "Gotchya!" Then she explained to Ann how she'd embellished their
planned routine.

Ann listened, then said, "You're naughty."

Winter answered, "I know."

"Ian?" asked Ann, "what's the place we're going to?"

"It's about three hours from here on pavement, and almost another hour
on gravel." Ian and Ann went inside, leaving Winter, who was busy
inspecting the underside of the new Wrangler. "Is it true that you've
never been camping?"

"Never," answered Ann, "but it sounds like fun, and I can tell that
Winter is pretty amped up. You've made her happy. She told me that she
asked to go camping, then asked you to buy a Jeep, and you just did it.
You're pretty sweet on her."

Ian corrected her, "Pretty sweet *to* her. She does, after all, have a girlfriend."

Ann gave Ian's hand a squeeze, "You get to have feelings." She didn't
take her hand away, and Ian accepted the invitation to the limited
physical intimacy. They didn't lock eyes, both sensing that might cross lines, and while they didn't move their bodies closer, Ian didn't reject
the proffered hand. His instinct was to caress, and his fascination was centered less upon physicality than it had ever been with Winter, with
whom feelings had a different set of limitations. The interaction was
brief, and when Winter came through the door, they appeared to merely be conversing.

They hadn't moved but a few paces inside the door, and Winter gave them
both curious looks as she passed, "Now all we need are winches."

Ann gave Ian a questioning look, and he shouted, "And scullery maids."
Winter shot back a smile before seating herself at the computer, and Ann directed Ian to the loveseat, where he explained to her that the winches
were not wenches.

The way they played with words excited Ann. She knew about winches, and
if the vehicle were to get mired, she'd be useful, with her knowledge of vectors, but the casual innuendo was seductive, though it was only one
aspect of Winter and Ian's banter. Word play peppered their planning
for the trip, and Winter proposed that they might want to go wading.
Ian told her, "You might change your mind when you feel the water," but
agreed that they buy the footwear just in case. They decided to outfit
the women with scuba diving boots and orthotic inserts. Ian already had those, and his were custom fitted, but close approximations could be purchased, using a machine at a pharmacy. "They don't provide much
ankle support, but otherwise they're great. Lauren and I have hiked
miles up and down the creek, and the inserts protect the feet from pokey rocks."

Winter was obviously happy about the trip, and Ian's acquiescence to her desires. She kissed him on the cheek and said, "Let's go," and they
were off to shod themselves for the adventure.

Ann was fascinated by the scanning machine. You stood on it in only
sock feet, and it determined which of the pre-made inserts most closely matched your soles. They took their new purchase to the local diving
store to try on the boots, where Ian explained that they needed to fit
the boots with the orthotics, and the use they'd be put to. "We want
the ones with the thickest bottoms, the most durable," he explained to
the man behind the counter, who turned out to be the owner. Winter
asked for his name.

"It's Dave. So, you hike creek beds. Do you fish?" asked the man.
Winter started giggling. She was recalling what Ian had told her about
hiking the creeks, and how you would never see anyone else more than a
quarter mile from an easy access, save for smallmouth bass fisherman,
and was delighted that the day had given her two opportunities for humor.

"Ian, here," and Winter motioned with her head in his direction before
turning back to Dave, "He used to hike creeks with his late wife, and
they liked to be naked, so it's funny that you asked that. He said that
they never had to worry about anyone complaining about them being naked, because the only other folks out there, and there weren't many, were smallmouth anglers, and if you weren't a bass, they didn't really care
much about you one way or another." Winter was shaking her head in a
silly way, "and since we're obviously not fish..." Everyone laughed.

"It's pretty cold," said Dave, "to hike naked."

"We're not hiking naked, at least not for a few months," said Winter,
"but we might pull up our pant legs and cross the creek where it's
shallow. It's supposed to get warm on Friday." Dave directed them to
the area with the footgear, and Winter again elicited laughs when she
said, "You're going to enjoy this. I have very pretty feet."

"I'm sure you do, ma'am, but health codes require that you try them on
with socks."

Ian kept up the farce, "I must apologize for my companion. She's quite
the exhibitionist."

Ann resisted the urge to add one word, but was able to hesitate for only
a fraction of a second before she exclaimed with well played shock and admonishment, "Daddy!"

After they left the store, Ann was congratulated by Winter for that
word. rCLWerCOre becoming a troupe, performance artists, and in a sense, we are fish, big fish invading small ponds who flop out, grow legs, and
drive off in a really kick-ass Jeep.


TheyrCOd set the alarms for five, but Ian had woken earlier, entered the girlsrCO room, switched off the clock, and roused them with mugs of
coffee. They were easily awakened, and Winter commented, rCLThat smells
so good.rCY

Ian elicited smiles when he replied, rCLThis whole room smells so good.rCY

Ian left to give them a few minutes to clock their wares, but everything
was already packed, and they were soon on the road, the Burger King
drive-thru their first destination, then back onto the highway. The
women were together in the back seat, and with no admonishments against kissing, but these were highways that Winter had traversed, and Ian was
taking them further into the past, into places that were once peopled,
not ghost towns, but only because they were never towns proper, hollows
named, then abandoned. Winter had studied the topographic maps. There
were schoolhouses, with schoolchildren, the errant ones brought into
line with the violence inherent in the idea that freedom spoiled
children, and that the hickory switch was improving. rCLOh, Ann,rCY she thought, as her love waxed, rCLit could have been so much worse.rCY

The drive was nice. Ian had set the cruise control to 7 MPH over the
posted limit, and the highway was uncrowded. rCLInteresting,rCY thought Winter. The music he picked was two albums that had been spoken of on
the night they met, and he had omitted two songs on each. She knew that
it increased her value to Ian that she was so familiar with his
preferred music, and it might have played some part in him not haggling
over her salary demands. That aspect of herself was something she knew
made her priceless.

*Dad not only paid for a good college, but he prepared me for probably
the most lucrative job IrCOll ever have. Men who share their knowledge
with women want to share their privileges.*

The music had ended, and Ann started, as she noticed that they were
exiting the highway, and she asked, rCLIs this where we turn? I thought
we were going almost to Rolla.rCY Ann had noted the green distance signs,
and the exit number seemed too high.

rCLCheap gas, right Ian?rCY asked Winter.

rCLIndeed,rCY he replied.

rCLAgain, educating me in the ways of frugality?rCY

rCLItrCOs a virtue.rCY

That one sentence woke Ann to a new level. She'd slept through nearly
half the drive. The austerity sherCOd experienced had nothing to do with which gas stations had the lowest prices. That word, rCLVirtue,rCY was
mostly reserved for girlsrCO bodies, objects to be kept pure in a battle between aggressive boys and unsoiled girls. Everyone, or almost
everyone, got less, but nothing was reserved, nothing saved. Only years wasted. Opportunities for the feelings like those between herself and
Winter, gonerCodownstream in time, or she wasnrCOt sure if it should be upstream, but no matter. You could never paddle fast enough to get
there, to alter the past, and she remembered her dream. Winter and Ian
were there, and they were together, and she was a fairy, a young fairy,
and sherCOd chosen them. They were her first humans. The parents who cautioned her were hers, but they were more like WinterrCOs parents. They trusted her foray into involvement with the short lived, and had merely
told her to be careful. rCLI just had the craziest dream. I was a fairy.rCY

When they stopped in front of the gas pump, Winter went inside, and Ian
pumped the gas. Ann rolled down the window and said, rCLYou and Winter
were there.rCY

rCLWhere?rCY replied Ian.

rCLIn my dream. I was a fairy, and you were people. I think I was about
to do some kind of mischief, like in A Midsummer NightrCOs Dream, but then
I woke up.rCY

rCLAnn, since the first day I met you, there hasnrCOt been a moment that IrCOve been anything other than happy that yourCOre in WinterrCOs life, and in mine.rCY When Winter emerged from the store she saw them embracing
through the window, and it made her smile.

After they got back on the highway Ian said, rCLWinter, it seems that Ann
is a fairy. SherCOs here to bring magic into our otherwise ordinary lives.rCY

Winter looked at Ann suspiciously, and narrowed her eyes as she said,
rCLThat would explain my almost unnatural attraction. Ian, do you think itrCOs wise to go into the forest with a known fairy?rCY

rCLIrCOm afraid that werCOre about to find out.rCY

Ann had never been this far from the city, and when they stopped at the sawdust pile, she exited the vehicle, stretched, and surveyed the surroundings. When the other two joined her she asked, rCLA fire did that?rCY

rCLIt did, and I hope that the inside looks anything like it did last Autumn.rCY They tramped around to the opposite side, where Ian had said
they could get into the crater, and Ian said, rCLIt's pretty much the way
that I remember it.rCY

rCLWow,rCY said Ann. rCLCan we go inside?rCY

rCLSure,rCY said Ian.rCY He led them around to the side where he had less than a year before dug an ingress, and he slid in, then offered arms to receive the women.

Winter wasn't surprised, but was amused by his intentional setup of an opportunity to touch Ann, one that came across as incidental, and though
one misstep on the obviously slippery surface would have landed Ann in
his protective embrace, he held her at a distance; he helped her down
like a loving father would have. Winter could have leaped in behind
her, but waited for Ian to receive her as well.

The evidence of fire was unmistakable. White ash covered some of the
surfaces while other areas were burned nearly black. They soon climbed
back out, vowing to return, because Winter had reminded them that it was nearly 11:00, and the hike they'd planned wasn't a short one. The
backpacks had been carefully provisioned, and Ian, over Winter's
objections, had taken the lion's share of the weight. They left the
gravel road just south of where they'd parked, with Ian in the lead, and
the second time they caught up to him, he was fiddling with his hand
held GPS. He'd given Winter one too, and it was tracking their
movements, but she seemingly hadn't removed it from the sleeve of her pack.

Ian passed each of them a bottle of water, and Winter thanked him, then
said, rCLI am really hot.rCY

Ann smiled at Ian, who said, rCLOf course you are.rCY

Winter responded by removing her backpack, then everything else other
than her shoes.

Ian objected. rCYYour body is perfectly wholesome, but if you don't put
those jeans back on, we can't go much further. The sticker bushes would
tear your legs up.rCY Ian looked to Ann for support, but she had already begun to undress.

rCLIt's too far anyway,rCY said Winter, rCLand you know that. Besides, I want to drive my new Jeep, and think of the derrieres.rCY

rCLWinter, you spoke French,rCY said Ian, as he snatched her arm and applied kisses.

rCLGomez.rCY

Ian removed his backpack, and stored his clothing inside as he heard Ann
tell Winter, rCLI like being naked.rCY

On the return hike, Ian's ethics were challenged. On one hand, he
wanted to exploit every opportunity to position himself to view those
parts of Ann's body that had been hidden from him, but the mere chance
that he'd be noticed doing so, and might lessen Ann's experience,
constrained him. He knew that there was no wrongness in his desires,
and he knew that Winter wouldn't fault him, but this wasn't the
occasion, not the time. She was no longer Winter's faceless lover, an
easy object of lust, but a known and loved friend, though on the other
hand, she did seemed to be displaying, climbing over logs and rocks not
six feet in front of him, maneuvers that she had to know were revealing.
Ian let them get quite a ways ahead, and when he caught up, they were inspecting a patch of mosses.

rCLLook, Ian,rCY Ann said. rCLI was imagining what it would be like to be really tiny. It's really pretty out here.rCY Ann kissed Ian's cheek and
said softly, rCLThank you for bringing us to this place.rCY

rCLWinter brought us here. I just drove.rCY

rCLThank you for driving then.rCY

rCLIf you like *his* driving, Ann, you're going to love mine.rCY

Ann pulled her face to one side in a half smile and said, rCLIt isn't a competition.rCY

rCLOf course it isn't, silly. I was just being silly, you silly-silly, you.rCY

They hiked back up the hollow with Ian tramping in the lead, and when he
saw the gravel road, he advised them to dress. Winter's reply was
swift, rCLMy bare butt on the drivey seat of my Jeep. I'm on a roll, and
the sooner we're rolling the better. Ann, back seat, and Ian, you're shotgun.rCY

All of Ian's concerns about Winter's driving were allayed by her
performance, which was slow, and deliberate, not at all manic. Even the
final descent into the vale, straddling a ravine in the washed out road, didn't elicit fear, but praise, rCLGood driving. You scratched up the driver's side of the Jeep pretty thoroughly.rCY

rCLSorry.rCY

rCLNo, you prioritized keeping the tires where they belonged even with branches grinding against your side, and you didn't flinch. I declare
you quite the Jeepster.rCY

As they crawled along the old stream bed, Winter scanned the path ahead
before turning around and singing to Ann adoringly, rCLGirl, I'm just a Jeepster for your luh-uh-uh-ove,rCY and looked ahead for a moment before returning her attention to Ian.

Ann's gaze was fixed on Winter, and she didn't catch Ian's silently
mouthed words, rCLI'm gonna suck you.rCY

They came to a stop on a level, well packed surface, and when Winter set
the parking brake, Ian climbed down, and Winter leaped to the ground to
open Ann's door. She extended her arms and said, rCLSlide on out.rCY She
was smiling large, and shot a knowing glance to Ian, who had been slow
in making his way to the door at Ann's right. He flashed a parody of
the bunny scrunch through the closed window.

As Winter received Ann, she held her and shook with mirth. rCLWhat? asked Ann.

rCLIan made a funny face at me.rCY

rCLWhy don't you ladies have a look around? The creek's right over there.
I'm going to go dig a few catholes.rCY

rCLWhat are catholes?rCY Ann asked.

Before Ian could answer, Winter encircled her waist to lead her away and
said, rCLI'll explain.rCY Their feet crunched on the gravel as they made their way to the creek, and Winter shared the ways of the woods.
rCLPeople have to poop, and there aren't any restrooms out here, so you
dig holes. Ian is really practical, so he pre-digs holes beforehand.rCY

rCLThat's so considerate.rCY

rCLIt is, baby, but it's also efficient.rCY When they reached the creek,
and Ann saw the stones at the base of the bluff she teared up, and
Winter held her. rCLI know, it seems unspoiled, but I intend on spoiling you.rCY

rCLWith Ian's money?rCY

rCLIt's my money, Ann. I earn it. Ian even jokes about spoiling me for
other men, and there's even a grain of truth there, but you, you've
spoiled me for every other woman too. We can get by on love. If you
want me to quit?rCY

rCLNo. I was only crying because it's so pretty here. I don't need the money. I'm going to be an engineer. I'll design railroad trestles, or
water treatment plants, or hydroelectric dams. I don't need your money.
I only need you, and anyway, I like Ian. He's my friend. That's what
you wanted, right?rCY

Winter sidestepped the question. rCLAnn, you've already built a bridge to
my heart. That's all that matters.rCY

The Sun was low in the sky by this point, and while the two had sat
admiring the stream, Ian had assembled sandwiches, baguette sections
piled so high with roast beef and Havarti that Winter declared them Dagwoodesque, and smashed hers between her palms before taking the first
bite, and Ann remarked, rCLYou'd never survive in Chicago.rCY

rCLWhat, they kill you if you squoosh your sandwiches?rCY

rCLIt just isn't done.rCY

rCLThen I'd be content to be a pariah, and I can't imagine why this one
would want to stretch my mouth.rCY She motioned toward Ian's frontside,
and Ann looked a bit mortified until Ian laughed. rCLAnn, Ian is my baby bear.rCY

rCLBut I'm the one with the Goldilocks.rCY

They finished their repast, and Ian busied himself with setting up the
tent, leaving the women to converse. Ann asked, rCLCan we lie together
under the stars?rCY

rCLLike in your book?rCY

rCLYou read it? asked Ann.

rCLSome of it, but that part, yeah.rCY

Ann lay naked in the fading sunlight that was dappled by the trees,
"This should be perfect," but she hadn't really been truthful. She'd
told Winter that she'd at least felt love from her parents, even
thorough the disapproval, but that wasn't exactly the case, at least in
the later years. If her father could see her now, he'd hate her. He'd
likely blame her mother, who had been her only feeble advocate, and
she'd take his side because he dominated her, so indoctrinated her with
the idea of a vengeful God who saw sexual aberration as evil that she
would have to forsake her daughter for her husband. Even if their
communal nudity had no sexual components, having to wear clothes was punishment for humans losing their innocence, and it had been a woman
who was responsible for that. Ann didn't believe the story was
literally true, and she'd talked about that to Winter, who said that she thought stories like that were written by men who wanted justification
for oppressing females. Winter had also pointed out that what was
considered sufficient covering of the body was culturally relative, and
that the cultures that required the most covering were always the most repressive, and those that allowed minimal or in some cases, no
clothing, tended to be more female friendly.

Winter hadn't gotten worked up angry, but she made it clear that she considered requiring women to cover their bodies to be hostility. She
said she believed that in the most repressive cultures, men had sold
women on the idea of modesty, convincing them that seeing female bodies
caused men to be damaged by impure thoughts, and that the women were
really better off than in Western cultures where men didn't respect
women. She called those women "bearded ladies," which Ann realized she
didn't get at all, but Winter had been on a roll. She seemed to be
trying to walk a fine line between condemning Abrahamic faiths and
offending Ann's sensibilities, but this was something Ann had confronted
long before. She saw it as God impatiently waiting for humanity to grow
up.

Ann loved Jesus, and believed that Jesus loved her. He was, and had
been her only refuge. Jesus loved everyone. He was part of God, the
perfect part. She knew this went against what almost all Christians
believed. God, the Father was imperfect, consumed by jealousy, and
was cruel, and capricious, even causing humans to fail, then taking
delight in their punishment. To her, there was no other way to read the Bible, but he loved his son, and Jesus often prevailed upon him to act
with love. Jesus was, and is, perfect, so perfect that he offered his
life in a gamble to prove that love was the most powerful force. His
father loved him, and allowed him to prove that love can transcend even
death. His father loved him, and respected him, even though they
disagreed. Ann had concluded these things through the silence of the
Quakers' worship, and this had been too much even for them. Her
heresy was the only way to reconcile the Jesus she knew so well with the
Old Testament God. She knew never to mention this to her father, or
his church, and had concluded that while they professed to follow Jesus,
they were still stuck in the fear of his father, and thought it was
right for a father to rule by fear. Suddenly, her mind was flooded with self-pity, Winter's father loved her even though she wasn't really his daughter. Ann thought, "I can't believe this is happening," and at the
same time, "I can't let myself cry. Not now."

They had brought along a large tent, but had chosen not to use it.
Winter told Ann, "It keeps the bugs off."

Ann had said, "I'm not afraid of bugs." When they told Ian that they
wanted to sleep sans shelter, and Ann announced with some pride her bug hardiness, Ian told them that there were very few nighttime bugs, even
in the summer. The bad bugs were the midday horseflies, and while the
day had been warm enough to shed clothing, it was only March. Horsefly
season was still quite many weeks away.

Winter and Ian were lying at her sides. They were naked as well, but
she knew that they weren't feeling her anguish, her vulnerability, her confusion. They were merely feeling the movement of the Earth, as their portion became shaded from the sun, and the air slowly cooled around
them. Winter took her hand, and Ann closed her eyes and thought,
"Winter loves me." She was surprised when Ian grasped her other hand.

Winter rolled toward her and kissed her cheek, and Ann said, "Love me."

Ian released her hand, and Ann said, "No, both of you. Love me."
Winter and Ian both embraced her, holding her close, and she felt
Winter's foot caressing her leg. Ian put his face next to her hair, but resisted the urge to taste her head, and instead parted her hair with
his nose and barely kissed her behind her ear, and losing control, he
said softly, "I love you."

Winter was taken aback, but only for moment. Ian had never said those
words to her, but she knew why. That would have crossed a line, a rule,
but spoken to Ann, those weren't words of passion or romance, or even of
the desire that Winter knew Ian had. He'd meant it. He had come to understand what she knew the first time she saw Ann. As desirable as
she was physically, Ann needed to be loved, and loved gently. It was
Ann who was truly the little sister, and to them both. It made Winter
want him, but this evening belonged to Ann.

The Sun set quickly behind the hills, and Ann lay in stillness as first
Ian, then Winter, following his lead caressed the soft blonde fur on her
arms. Oberon seemed to be showing her favor, and compassion, filling
her companions' hearts with unselfish love. The forest was nearly
silent with no sound of whip-poor-will or cricket obscuring the faint
sound of the water ceaselessly spilling over the stony shoals.

Ann fell asleep in Winter's arms, and Ian walked to the truck to fetch
covers. They slept close, huddling, with Ann in between.

Ian woke first. The dew was falling like rain from the trees. The
drops were loud on the space blanket, and wondering, he checked the
time. It was almost six o'clock, still an hour before sunrise. There
was no moon, and it was profoundly dark without the flashlight. He dug
his clothes out of one trash bag and shoes from the other, and got dressed--dressed being shorts, a tee shirt, socks and shoes. They'd put everything that needed to stay dry in, or under plastic. Ian had
anticipated the dew, and while he understood the physics of the process,
it never lost all of its wonder, how rain can fall from a clear, starry
sky. He pulled the tarp part way back, and retrieved a handful of small sticks, and a few grocery circulars. Scratching around in the ashes,
Ian located a few orange, glowing coals, wadded up the paper, applied
the sticks and blew a few times until the flames came, then went back to
the pile for larger pieces.

It was good that they had driven out in the morning and done all the
prep work; they'd gathered plenty of wood, and even found an ample
supply of hickory for grilling that was segregated into its own pile.
Ian had constructed what he called a "latrine system," that consisted of pre-dug cat holes, a cleared path that was marked for both day and
night, with blue ribbons tied to small trees and solar lights made for suburban lawns, a shovel, a plastic zipper bag with toilet paper, and a
pint bottle of alcohol for washing up. Blue ribbons were also tied to
sticks that had been stuck into the ground to mark each hole, to be
removed when the hole was used. He'd then brought stones, as large as
could be carried comfortably from the nearby creek, and built the fire
ring, while the women broke up the firewood.

Winter was at home in the forest. For the past several years her family
had gone camping every chance they'd gotten. Ann was Chicagoland North Suburbs and knew nothing about camping. She hadn't even been a Girl
Scout, that organization having fallen into disrepute with her father,
and was amazed at how effortlessly Ian and Winter were transforming a
little sandy area near a creek into a home. Winter found a forked tree,
and showed Ann how to use it to break off pieces of larger branches, so
they would fit nicely in the fire. Ann, of course, understood the
leverage, but this only increased her delight when she could both feel
and hear the wood crack, and a short piece either fell to the ground, or occasionally ejected several feet from the break.

As the dawn was breaking, Ian heard the crackling of the space blanket,
and heard soft voices. The girls were awake, but he wasn't going to
disturb them. He wanted their time to be special. This was Ann's first experience with wilderness--if you could call it that when they had a
Jeep parked fifty feet away--and whatever was happening under those
covers might be remembered fondly for their lifetimes. The minutes
passed without boredom or loneliness, as there was ample wood to feed to
the fire. As the sky went from black to purple, Ian could make out the silhouette of the Jeep, and remembered that he had a jacket in there.
He tried to open and close the car door as quietly as possible, but he'd
been noticed, and saw Ann, her head poked out of the blankets, smiling
at him. He walked over and fished her clothes out of the bag for her,
and Winter popped out too, and Ian said, "I guess I'd better put on the coffee."

Winter agreed, "You'd better," and also accepted clothes from Ian,
dressing quickly in the morning chill before she excused herself to *the latrine system*.

Ann confronted Ian right away. "You could have had me last night," she
said, as they ambled slowly toward the fire.

Ian answered, "I thought I did."

"No, *had* me. You know what I mean."

"I'm not obtuse, Ann. When you said you wanted to be loved, neither
Winter nor I heard that as a euphemism."

"You do love me."

"Of course I do," Ian said. He extended his arms, inviting an embrace,
and Ann complied, her voice soft in his ear, "You'll get your chance."
They held each other for a long time, and were only beginning to loosen
their bond when Winter bounded down the path, announcing, "Just in time
for morning hugs!"

The hugs were close, and enjoyed, but it was a light-hearted thing.
Winter's comic relief was transformative, and brought the focus back to
the more mundane issue of breakfast. "I'm sorry that I can't provide
you ladies the breakfasts to which I have accustomed you to, but I'll do
my best."

Winter and Ann sat on a fallen log, and Ian concluded that they hadn't
paid any attention to what he'd just said. He'd provide the food, and
after a short repose, they'd walk. Walk. He thought about every step
they'd be taking, every crunch of the former year's leaves and mused,
"I'm falling into dreaming of Babylon, and there's work to be done."

As warm as it had been when they'd arrived, the temperature had dropped overnight, and although it would have been a stretch to call it cold,
the fire attracted them. There was a light fog poised above the creek,
and the forest was quiet. Ian walked to the water's edge, filled a pot,
and returned to place it upon the grate over the fire to heat, then set
up the coffee apparatus. He poured some of the water into the bottom
half of a double boiler, and set both on the edge of the cooking grate,
and went to the cooler to pour milk into the top half, and thought that
some might find this regimen fussy, and too much to mess with out in the woods. They'd be all about getting on with their day, beginning their
day, but Ian's day had already begun, and he was in his element. When
Ann had woken, and given him a smile, his Sun had risen. He didn't mind
the least that the women were sitting on a log, conversing, not offering
to assist in any of the breakfast makings, because they looked content,
happy to be where they were. He saw Winter point at something, and Ann laughed in response. He didn't know what had aroused their interest,
but it wasn't him. Maybe, or maybe not, he'd ask later, but probably
not. He knew they'd just share, and it would be mundane, and it would
make him seem pitiful, desirous of being a fly on the wall. Not to Ann,
of course, but to Winter. Better to focus on a perfect pour.

Ian was pleased with the quality of the coffees he'd prepared, and felt
that the way they'd been received validated his assumption. Winter had
taken one sip, and her subtle reaction was a clear thumbs-up. Ann just
seemed appreciative that he'd lovingly handed her a cup, and he turned
away to fill his own, again leaving the lovers to relax, while he went
about cooking.

The breakfast was simple, home fries and scrambled eggs with avocado
slices, and Ian delivered the plates, sitting in the sand in front of
them with his own, and as they ate, they planned their day. "I'd like
to explore the woods some more after breakfast," said Winter, "because
it's not supposed to get any warmer than this. Maybe we could hike up a hollow."

Ian thought about the topography, and was glad that he'd bought them all
scuba boots, though he'd been doubtful when Winter had suggested they
might hike the creek, as he answered, "There aren't really any hollows
close to here on this side of the creek, a peculiarity of this place,
but here's where the wading boots come into play. We can cross a little
ways downstream, and change back into shoes on the other side, but the
booties should be fine for a short hike. There's a hollow we can go up
over there, and it probably has a little water in it. I don't think we
want to get our shoes wet."

Winter agreed, and Ann said, "You called them booties. That's cute. I
want to wear the booties."

Just being out here on such a premature spring interlude would have been
more than enough for Winter. One year ago, if she'd had the means and opportunity, she'd have wanted to be exactly here, wetting her feet in
the creek to the confluence with an Ozark hollow, and if she were unaccompanied, the surroundings themselves, their beauty, and the
fragrance of the forest would have been friends enough. But she wasn't
alone. She had Ann, and the hiking of the cleft was sure to delight her.

The creek was a smaller version of a river, but the little intermittent
stream was a dollhouse version, and there were details. You could look
at the mountain on the other side and see shelves and crags. There were places on Earth with tall waterfalls, but here, all those things were represented on a much smaller scale. Winter knew that Ann understood
the concepts of geology, and how such things came to be, far more than herself, but she hadn't seen the manifestations firsthand, and Ann had
an attraction to miniatures. She'd been primed by the previous
evening's stargazing, and must have been thinking about her book. The
sky out here was probably larger, more filled with detail than any Ann
had ever seen, though she had curiously not commented upon that.

Winter was poised to share the smallness, the tiny mosses, trickles of
water that they could experience together, merging their two persons
even more, as there was nothing so tiny that they couldn't grasp, and
blow up into a landscape for their love, one that had started out
little, but was growing day by day, and she had to admit to herself that
Ian had never come between them. He'd been nothing but kind to Ann.
His sexual requirements had even diminished, and he'd told her that it
was more important that she share slumber with her openly declared,
"love of her life," than himself, but she didn't see that as a
sacrifice. Ian was generous, and made no secret that he, as he'd
described on that first encounter, was the recipient of "dumb luck."

Their arrangement wasn't impractical, but casual, and the comment that
she'd made months before, that he was generous with luck, flippant words
that had confused her, even as they'd left her mouth, concorded more
with her mother's concept of reality than with her own, that things
happen for a reason. Winter disliked the word, over-thinking. It
implied complacency, and resignation, and there were situations where it
took one's attention away from participation, relishing the pleasures of
the moment. They were ascending to the pinnacle for no reason other
than to get there, and then what? However unlikely, this could be the
best day of any one of their lives, and Winter thought, "Especially
Ann's." "Hey you two, wait up."

Ann stopped, but looked back with a big grin, and waggled her butt as
she replied, "Hey you, hurry up." When Winter caught up, and it was up, because they were far above the creek, she gave Ann a quick sideways
hug, and Ann broke away contented. Ian, she noticed, was breathing
hard, and she knew why. It wasn't the exertion, his heart was hale.
The altitude aspect was troubling him, but he wasn't going to let that
ruin the day, Ann's day. Every spark in her mood seemed to enchant him,
and she wondered why this delightful person hadn't been pulled close
much earlier by someone who, like her, would hold on for dear life, or
like Ian, was content to bask in her glow, with or without hope of consummation.

As they stood almost equidistant from the summit, Winter suggested a
race, and Ian asked, "What's the prize?"

Winter smiled and said, "A kiss, Ian," and he took off like a hare.
Winter was sure that she could outrun him, but Br'er Ian's jump, and
Sis' Winter's overconfidence had made this a race. While she'd wasted
moments joking with Ann, and pointing, Winter had become the hare. None
of her quick scramblings, entering and leaving the obstructions of the intermittent stream allowed her to gain much ground on the surprisingly
swift tortoise.

Ian was king of the hill, and Winter thought it only fair to wait until
they'd both caught their breaths to bestow his reward. Ann's squealing
and clapping from below called for more than an obligatory peck, and
Winter swooned as Ian took her in his arms and kissed her mouth like a
soldier who'd just returned from war, with none of Scarlett's
resistance, or deference to the Production Codes.

Ann was making her way up the hill hurriedly, still clapping and with a
look of pure joy, and Winter pushed Ian away, her hands on his shoulders
and said, "Oh, Rhett, no man has ever kissed me that way."

"Winter Sue," answered Ian, in the fashion of Clark Gable, "you know in
your heart that no other man ever will."

Ann had summited. The Sun was overhead, and her long yellow hair glowed
as if she were taking all its radiance, and reflecting it, a youthful,
mortal Galadriel set against a background of trees barren of leaves, a
bringer of spring, bearing a message of rebirth. That was what Winter
saw, but what floored Ian was the tiny slice of time where her mouth
opened, and her tongue extended slightly, touching her incisors as she
said slowly, with conviction, "That was one of the best things I've ever seen."

Winter considered bowing, but wanting to stay in character, instead
curtseyed, and when her legs straightened, Ann took two steps toward her
and declared, "I am no man."

Winter was laughing uncontrollably, to the point of coughing, bent over
to the point that she hardly noticed Ann ribbing Ian with an elbow,
while she huffed, and puffed in an effort to get out the words, "We have
to stop watching so many movies."

As they transcended the hollow, the temperature falling even as
afternoon approached, Winter felt the magic around her, the hilltop
events succumbing to rationally explainable coincidence, and the
peculiarities of the day pushed back, not forgotten, but stored for
analysis, both in dreams and wakefulness, a magic that was slowly
fading, and she drank in the clean smell of the hills, reflecting on the
lives of the folks who had managed to survive out here. They weren't
here for the beauty, and had left, but the hollow they'd raced up had a
name, one given by those pioneers. Ian's ancestors on his father's side
had scratched out lives out here, but they were on a plateau, rich land, compared to these hills, where nothing could be extracted but trees and white-tailed deer, wild turkeys. None but those and the ubiquitous
squirrels had any value for their sustenance. She guessed they'd been loggers, the men of course, but what had the lives of the women been like?

There had been alternating hand holding, with the false justification of helping them down the hill, when in reality, at least to Winter's mind,
it slowed their progress, but seeing Ann so happy, looking back
contented as Ian escorted her, guiding her steps with gestures, seeing
him point, suggesting footholds, and seeing Ann's neoprene booties land
just there; this trek was beautiful in a way that she'd have trouble describing, even to herself. Winter wasn't indulging in self admiration
for her embracing of expansive love, even though that was the very thing
that removed the obvious distraction. It was Ann. Her body wasn't particularly special. No one's was, except to its inhabitant, but every
step she took tugged at Winter's heart. Her past had left her with no immunity to love-sickness, and even when they held each other as closely
as was physically possible, sometimes Winter wanted more.

With every other lover, it had been about the touching of surfaces, and
that was astounding. There was the silky smoothness of girls, and the
rougher textures of boys, all good, and all the cuddling, the spooning
with Ian where he ran his practiced hands over her body, and as good as
that was, Winter had never felt what she did for Ann.

After they crossed the creek, Ian took charge of the cleanup and
loading, and one wave off sufficed. The *time on the mountain* was
past, and Ian was aware of that.
--
--Bryan https://www.instagram.com/bryangsimmons/

For your safety and protection, this sig. has been thoroughly
tested on laboratory animals.

"Most of the food described here is nauseating.
We're just too courteous to say so."
-- Cindy Hamilton
--- Synchronet 3.21d-Linux NewsLink 1.2

From Newsgroup: rec.food.cooking

Bryan Simmons wrote on 2/28/2026 4:44 PM:

On 2/25/2026 7:37 PM, Bryan Simmons wrote:

On 2/17/2026 5:15 PM, Bryan Simmons wrote:

-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a WinterrCOs Present
-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a .
-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a Bryan Simmons

-a-a-a-a Table of Contents

Silver-a-a-a 9
Winter-a-a-a 23
Fast-a-a-a 29
Wearing White-a-a-a 49
Sex Kitten-a-a-a 59
The Party-a-a-a 73
Turkey Claus-a-a-a 101
Boy Talk-a-a-a 121
Scorpions-a-a-a 131
Ann-a-a-a 147
Lady Bear-a-a-a 173
Cinnamon Buns-a-a-a 189
Sandy Beach-a-a-a 205
Our Tricycle-a-a-a 235
Queen of Love-a-a-a 249
Art-a-a-a 279
Pillow Talk-a-a-a 291
A Pink Line to Burritos-a-a-a 297
Making Love-a-a-a 309
Solomon-a-a-a 317
Wearing White Again-a-a-a 323
Change is Hard-a-a-a 333
The Letter-a-a-a 337
The Vapors-a-a-a 365
Performance Issues-a-a-a 373
Somebody Else's Daughter-a-a-a 391
Love Kiss-a-a-a 399
Bigamy-a-a-a 411
Equality-a-a-a 425
Anniversary-a-a-a 439





Copyright 2014, 2025 by Bryan Simmons


This book is dedicated to my wife, Betsy, and to my muse, who shall
remain nameless.

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Sandy Beach

Winter was killing time.a She was at the computer reading about random subjects on Wikipedia and Pub Med, while Ian was taking a very long bath with his cinnamon buns.a It was Thursday, and Ann had two classes,
whereas she had none.a Best to spend those times at Ian's, her body accessible, and he'd indeed availed himself.a While the money was always there in the back of her mind, Ian usually made it easy to keep it in
the background.a He'd had years to learn that women needed more arousal.
aMost women.a Winter couldn't complain, or if she could, it'd be that
he often took too long to get to the sex, too long for a guy at least.
Now she was recalling how she'd recently told him that he was like a
lesbian with a penis, and he'd taken it as a great compliment.a What she didn't say was that sometimes she wished he'd be less lesbian, and more penis.a After all, she had Ann.

In the time Ian had been in the bath, she'd accumulated far more
knowledge about pomegranate seed oil that she'd ever have use for,
though it would give her something to talk to Ian about.a When they'd discovered that they both enjoyed looking up almost random, usually
useless facts, Ian had bought a second computer for the living room and
a matching monitor.a They'd sit next to each other, like an old married couple each solving a crossword puzzle, and every so often sharing
comments or questions about the content.

She checked her email, and there was nothing new, then the weather. When
she saw that Friday was supposed to be really warm, she got up and
headed for the bathroom.a Ian was adding hot water, and he'd been
liberal with the body wash, so the area smelled heavenly.a He turned off
the water so he could hear Winter.a "Ian, it's supposed to be nice
weather Friday.a There's this crazy heat wave coming on that's only
going to last Friday and part of Saturday.a Can we go camping?"

Ian was surprised.a It was only mid-March.a "Sure.a Do you have
somewhere in mind?"

"One of your wilderness places.a I haven't been out in the forest since before I met you, and I've been telling Ann how wonderful the woods are here.a I know it'll be way too cold to get into the water, but how about that place on a creek that you call Sandy Beach?"

"We can't get a vehicle down there.a The road's really washed out.
That'd mean a couple mile hike down the mountain.a I'm up for it, and I
know you are, but do you think Ann is?"

"What?a Are you nuts?a She's in great shape."

"No, Winter, I mean do you think it'd be fun for her?"

"Of course, and Ian, we need to buy a Jeep, and get it modified where it
can go anywhere.a Huge tires and winches.a We can get rid of my car. You
do realize how ridiculous it seems, a woman of my means driving around
in a nine year old economy car."

"That's not a bad idea, though we do need to keep your car, and you need
to drive it when you visit your parents.a The rest of the time,
whichever of us is driving, or if we both plan to, the one driving the furthest can take the Fiat."

"Boy.a That was easy."

"It was a good idea.a The reason I hadn't bought something like that
already was that there really wasn't anyone to go out in the woods with.
aThere is one condition, though, to buying the Jeep."

"What's that?"

"You need to promise to drive it like a granny.a It's fine, the way you drive my car, but the better a vehicle is suited for off road use, the
worse it is for the street.a I don't want you, or anyone else getting
hurt.a OK?"

"I already knew that.a So you're really buying us a Jeep?"

It made Ian happy that she'd said, "us," because that suggested that
she'd planned to stick around.a "If we look online, we can probably find
one today.a That'll solve the problem of getting down to Sandy Beach. We
can get two winches put on the front, and one on back.a However bad the
road has gotten, we'll be able to get out."

Winter stood behind Ian while he searched.a She wanted to be able to
offer her input, but it wasn't necessary, as Ian found what he was
looking for rather quickly.a Seeing that there was a white one sitting
on a lot, with a white hard top, he picked up the phone to inquire if it
was still available, and when he was informed that it was, he said,
"Let's go."a Winter was surprised when he said, "Let's take your car."

"Why?"

"To give them the impression that we might just barely be able to afford
to buy, and because it will get them thinking about us trading in your
car, which we aren't going to do, but we want to set things up to get
the best price."a As the door closed behind them, Ian kept speaking,
"Even when we tell them that we don't want to trade in your car, they'll assume that we need financing, which they also profit from.a The
checkbook, and my ability to pay cash comes last.a Pay attention.a This
is a life lesson that will serve you far past our liaison."

"In my negotiations with car salesmen?"

"You're amused by my frugality?"

"No, Ian.a What I find funny is your strange take on pragmatism. You're quirky, and the ways that the lottery money has changed you, or better
put, not changed you, is interesting, and it's amusing.a I'd like to say that I'm laughing *with* you right now, but I'm not.a I'm not laughing
*at* you either, and I'm not laughing at all.a We're pot and kettle."

"We are, and what I was cautioning you against was being un-careful with money.a Nobody deserves to be wealthy, and you know that, but getting
used to spending might make your future less happy.a I don't mind you spending my money freely, but when you leave your resources will be
finite.a Substantial, but finite.a My own sense of well-being is
dependent on leaving you better than I found you, and then there's Ann."

"If you weren't fucking me, I'd have trouble not confusing you with my
dad."

"Two men who care about your future."

"Oh, take me Daddy.a Fuck me, then teach me how to buy a car."

Ian was consumed in laughter, and Winter joined him, grasping his waist
and gazing up imploringly, "Spoil me Daddy.a Spoil me for all other men."

"First things first."

At the car dealership, it went pretty much as Ian had intended.a Winter drove, and they parked close enough that the salesman knew which car was theirs, especially since Ian excused himself to retrieve his "stronger reading glasses" from the car.a Rather than speak about the upcoming weekend's plans, Ian used the words, "By the time camping season gets
here," to establish his time-frame for actually buying a Jeep.a At one point, he asked Winter, "What time does Ann get off school?a Because
she'll be wondering where we are if we're not home."

"I think she's in class now," said Winter, "but she's good about
checking her voice mail."

Ian called, and within earshot, indicated that he didn't expect them to
be late meeting her.a He'd established a buyer's market.a They test
drove the Jeep, and loved it.a On the drive out, Ian had told her that
this was the point at which Winter could act excited, while he'd say
they needed to really think about it, because it was a big purchase.
"It's not exactly what we wanted, though it is white, and that's nice."
All of these maybes set up the bargaining, and as Ian had told Winter,
at some point in the negotiations the salesman had to "get approval"
from his manager because the deal was unusually good, and when he
returned, he had a price that Ian was happy with.a They signed the
contract, and Ian had $1000 earnest money charged to his credit card,
after turning down the offer to have Winter's car appraised for trade-in.

Ian had told the salesman that he needed to go to his credit union to
get the balance, and it was suggested that they could drive the Jeep,
and deal with getting their own tags on it after they returned.a Much to
the surprise of the folks at the dealership, they were back in not much
more than a half an hour, with a cashier's check for the balance.aa They completed the rest of the routine, including getting temporary tags, and were ready to leave, but for one detail.a "Tomorrow," said Ian, "we get those winches installed, but tonight, tonight I spoil you," and he
kissed her on the lips, closed mouthed but for several seconds.

Winter had steeled herself for this, "You're already spoiling me, Daddy."

Ian waited until this had thoroughly percolated up through the salesman
and his manager, before saying, "She's not really my daughter."

Then Winter went off script and added, "He just likes to pretend."a Ian turned away, and went straight for the Jeep, without looking back, and Winter winked a smile at the salesman before heading for her car.a Ian
drove away, but Winter called Ann, who had already walked more than
halfway to Ian's, and told her about the new Jeep, and the camping excursion.a The conversation was brief, but it had put Winter enough
behind Ian that when she arrived, he was already showing Ann the new purchase.a Winter practically leaped out of her car and pointed at Ian, "Gotchya!"a Then she explained to Ann how she'd embellished their
planned routine.

Ann listened, then said, "You're naughty."

Winter answered, "I know."

"Ian?" asked Ann, "what's the place we're going to?"

"It's about three hours from here on pavement, and almost another hour
on gravel."a Ian and Ann went inside, leaving Winter, who was busy inspecting the underside of the new Wrangler.a "Is it true that you've
never been camping?"

"Never," answered Ann, "but it sounds like fun, and I can tell that
Winter is pretty amped up.a You've made her happy.a She told me that she asked to go camping, then asked you to buy a Jeep, and you just did it. You're pretty sweet on her."

Ian corrected her, "Pretty sweet *to* her.a She does, after all, have a girlfriend."

Ann gave Ian's hand a squeeze, "You get to have feelings."a She didn't
take her hand away, and Ian accepted the invitation to the limited
physical intimacy.a They didn't lock eyes, both sensing that might cross lines, and while they didn't move their bodies closer, Ian didn't reject
the proffered hand.a His instinct was to caress, and his fascination was centered less upon physicality than it had ever been with Winter, with
whom feelings had a different set of limitations.a The interaction was brief, and when Winter came through the door, they appeared to merely be conversing.

They hadn't moved but a few paces inside the door, and Winter gave them
both curious looks as she passed, "Now all we need are winches."

Ann gave Ian a questioning look, and he shouted, "And scullery maids." Winter shot back a smile before seating herself at the computer, and Ann directed Ian to the loveseat, where he explained to her that the winches were not wenches.

The way they played with words excited Ann.a She knew about winches, and
if the vehicle were to get mired, she'd be useful, with her knowledge of vectors, but the casual innuendo was seductive, though it was only one aspect of Winter and Ian's banter.a Word play peppered their planning
for the trip, and Winter proposed that they might want to go wading. Ian told her, "You might change your mind when you feel the water," but
agreed that they buy the footwear just in case.a They decided to outfit
the women with scuba diving boots and orthotic inserts.a Ian already had those, and his were custom fitted, but close approximations could be purchased, using a machine at a pharmacy.a "They don't provide much
ankle support, but otherwise they're great.a Lauren and I have hiked
miles up and down the creek, and the inserts protect the feet from pokey rocks."

Winter was obviously happy about the trip, and Ian's acquiescence to her desires.a She kissed him on the cheek and said, "Let's go," and they
were off to shod themselves for the adventure.

Ann was fascinated by the scanning machine.a You stood on it in only
sock feet, and it determined which of the pre-made inserts most closely matched your soles.a They took their new purchase to the local diving
store to try on the boots, where Ian explained that they needed to fit
the boots with the orthotics, and the use they'd be put to.a "We want
the ones with the thickest bottoms, the most durable," he explained to
the man behind the counter, who turned out to be the owner.a Winter
asked for his name.

"It's Dave.a So, you hike creek beds.a Do you fish?" asked the man.
Winter started giggling.a She was recalling what Ian had told her about hiking the creeks, and how you would never see anyone else more than a quarter mile from an easy access, save for smallmouth bass fisherman,
and was delighted that the day had given her two opportunities for humor.

"Ian, here," and Winter motioned with her head in his direction before turning back to Dave, "He used to hike creeks with his late wife, and
they liked to be naked, so it's funny that you asked that.a He said that they never had to worry about anyone complaining about them being naked, because the only other folks out there, and there weren't many, were smallmouth anglers, and if you weren't a bass, they didn't really care
much about you one way or another."a Winter was shaking her head in a
silly way, "and since we're obviously not fish..."a Everyone laughed.

"It's pretty cold," said Dave, "to hike naked."

"We're not hiking naked, at least not for a few months," said Winter,
"but we might pull up our pant legs and cross the creek where it's
shallow.a It's supposed to get warm on Friday."a Dave directed them to
the area with the footgear, and Winter again elicited laughs when she
said, "You're going to enjoy this.a I have very pretty feet."

"I'm sure you do, ma'am, but health codes require that you try them on
with socks."

Ian kept up the farce, "I must apologize for my companion.a She's quite
the exhibitionist."

Ann resisted the urge to add one word, but was able to hesitate for only
a fraction of a second before she exclaimed with well played shock and admonishment, "Daddy!"

After they left the store, Ann was congratulated by Winter for that
word.a rCLWerCOre becoming a troupe, performance artists, and in a
sense, we are fish, big fish invading small ponds who flop out, grow
legs, and drive off in a really kick-ass Jeep.

TheyrCOd set the alarms for five, but Ian had woken earlier, entered the girlsrCO room, switched off the clock, and roused them with mugs of
coffee.a They were easily awakened, and Winter commented, rCLThat
smells so good.rCY

Ian elicited smiles when he replied, rCLThis whole room smells so good.rCY

Ian left to give them a few minutes to clock their wares, but everything
was already packed, and they were soon on the road, the Burger King drive-thru their first destination, then back onto the highway.a The
women were together in the back seat, and with no admonishments against kissing, but these were highways that Winter had traversed, and Ian was taking them further into the past, into places that were once peopled,
not ghost towns, but only because they were never towns proper, hollows named, then abandoned.a Winter had studied the topographic maps.a There
were schoolhouses, with schoolchildren, the errant ones brought into
line with the violence inherent in the idea that freedom spoiled
children, and that the hickory switch was improving.a rCLOh, Ann,rCY she thought, as her love waxed, rCLit could have been so much worse.rCY

The drive was nice.a Ian had set the cruise control to 7 MPH over the
posted limit, and the highway was uncrowded.a rCLInteresting,rCY thought Winter.a The music he picked was two albums that had been spoken of on
the night they met, and he had omitted two songs on each.a She knew that
it increased her value to Ian that she was so familiar with his
preferred music, and it might have played some part in him not haggling
over her salary demands.a That aspect of herself was something she knew
made her priceless.

*Dad not only paid for a good college, but he prepared me for probably
the most lucrative job IrCOll ever have.a Men who share their knowledge
with women want to share their privileges.*

The music had ended, and Ann started, as she noticed that they were
exiting the highway, and she asked, rCLIs this where we turn?a I thought
we were going almost to Rolla.rCYa Ann had noted the green distance
signs, and the exit number seemed too high.

rCLCheap gas, right Ian?rCY asked Winter.

rCLIndeed,rCY he replied.

rCLAgain, educating me in the ways of frugality?rCY

rCLItrCOs a virtue.rCY

That one sentence woke Ann to a new level.a She'd slept through nearly
half the drive.a The austerity sherCOd experienced had nothing to do
with which gas stations had the lowest prices.a That word, rCLVirtue,rCY
was mostly reserved for girlsrCO bodies, objects to be kept pure in a
battle between aggressive boys and unsoiled girls.a Everyone, or almost everyone, got less, but nothing was reserved, nothing saved.a Only years wasted.a Opportunities for the feelings like those between herself and Winter, gonerCodownstream in time, or she wasnrCOt sure if it should be upstream, but no matter.a You could never paddle fast enough to get
there, to alter the past, and she remembered her dream.a Winter and Ian
were there, and they were together, and she was a fairy, a young fairy,
and sherCOd chosen them.a They were her first humans.a The parents who cautioned her were hers, but they were more like WinterrCOs parents.
They trusted her foray into involvement with the short lived, and had
merely told her to be careful.aa rCLI just had the craziest dream.a I
was a fairy.rCY

When they stopped in front of the gas pump, Winter went inside, and Ian pumped the gas.a Ann rolled down the window and said, rCLYou and Winter
were there.rCY

rCLWhere?rCY replied Ian.

rCLIn my dream.a I was a fairy, and you were people.a I think I was
about to do some kind of mischief, like in A Midsummer NightrCOs Dream,
but then I woke up.rCY

rCLAnn, since the first day I met you, there hasnrCOt been a moment that IrCOve been anything other than happy that yourCOre in WinterrCOs life,
and in mine.rCYa When Winter emerged from the store she saw them
embracing through the window, and it made her smile.

After they got back on the highway Ian said, rCLWinter, it seems that
Ann is a fairy.a SherCOs here to bring magic into our otherwise
ordinary lives.rCY

Winter looked at Ann suspiciously, and narrowed her eyes as she said, rCLThat would explain my almost unnatural attraction.a Ian, do you think itrCOs wise to go into the forest with a known fairy?rCY

rCLIrCOm afraid that werCOre about to find out.rCY

Ann had never been this far from the city, and when they stopped at the sawdust pile, she exited the vehicle, stretched, and surveyed the surroundings.a When the other two joined her she asked, rCLA fire did that?rCY

rCLIt did, and I hope that the inside looks anything like it did last Autumn.rCYa They tramped around to the opposite side, where Ian had said they could get into the crater, and Ian said, rCLIt's pretty much the
way that I remember it.rCY

rCLWow,rCY said Ann.a rCLCan we go inside?rCY

rCLSure,rCY said Ian.rCYa He led them around to the side where he had
less than a year before dug an ingress, and he slid in, then offered
arms to receive the women.

Winter wasn't surprised, but was amused by his intentional setup of an opportunity to touch Ann, one that came across as incidental, and though
one misstep on the obviously slippery surface would have landed Ann in
his protective embrace, he held her at a distance; he helped her down
like a loving father would have.a Winter could have leaped in behind
her, but waited for Ian to receive her as well.

The evidence of fire was unmistakable.a White ash covered some of the surfaces while other areas were burned nearly black.a They soon climbed
back out, vowing to return, because Winter had reminded them that it was nearly 11:00, and the hike they'd planned wasn't a short one.a The
backpacks had been carefully provisioned, and Ian, over Winter's
objections, had taken the lion's share of the weight.a They left the
gravel road just south of where they'd parked, with Ian in the lead, and
the second time they caught up to him, he was fiddling with his hand
held GPS.a He'd given Winter one too, and it was tracking their
movements, but she seemingly hadn't removed it from the sleeve of her pack.

Ian passed each of them a bottle of water, and Winter thanked him, then said, rCLI am really hot.rCY

Ann smiled at Ian, who said, rCLOf course you are.rCY

Winter responded by removing her backpack, then everything else other
than her shoes.

Ian objected.a rCYYour body is perfectly wholesome, but if you don't put those jeans back on, we can't go much further.a The sticker bushes would tear your legs up.rCYa Ian looked to Ann for support, but she had
already begun to undress.

rCLIt's too far anyway,rCY said Winter, rCLand you know that.a Besides,
I want to drive my new Jeep, and think of the derrieres.rCY

rCLWinter, you spoke French,rCY said Ian, as he snatched her arm and
applied kisses.

rCLGomez.rCY

Ian removed his backpack, and stored his clothing inside as he heard Ann tell Winter, rCLI like being naked.rCY

On the return hike, Ian's ethics were challenged.a On one hand, he
wanted to exploit every opportunity to position himself to view those
parts of Ann's body that had been hidden from him, but the mere chance
that he'd be noticed doing so, and might lessen Ann's experience, constrained him.a He knew that there was no wrongness in his desires,
and he knew that Winter wouldn't fault him, but this wasn't the
occasion, not the time.a She was no longer Winter's faceless lover, an
easy object of lust, but a known and loved friend, though on the other
hand, she did seemed to be displaying, climbing over logs and rocks not
six feet in front of him, maneuvers that she had to know were revealing.
a Ian let them get quite a ways ahead, and when he caught up, they were inspecting a patch of mosses.

rCLLook, Ian,rCY Ann said.a rCLI was imagining what it would be like to
be really tiny.a It's really pretty out here.rCYa Ann kissed Ian's cheek
and said softly, rCLThank you for bringing us to this place.rCY

rCLWinter brought us here.a I just drove.rCY

rCLThank you for driving then.rCY

rCLIf you like *his* driving, Ann, you're going to love mine.rCY

Ann pulled her face to one side in a half smile and said, rCLIt isn't
a competition.rCY

rCLOf course it isn't, silly.a I was just being silly, you
silly-silly, you.rCY

They hiked back up the hollow with Ian tramping in the lead, and when he
saw the gravel road, he advised them to dress.a Winter's reply was
swift, rCLMy bare butt on the drivey seat of my Jeep.a I'm on a roll,
and the sooner we're rolling the better.a Ann, back seat, and Ian,
you're shotgun.rCY

All of Ian's concerns about Winter's driving were allayed by her performance, which was slow, and deliberate, not at all manic.a Even the final descent into the vale, straddling a ravine in the washed out road, didn't elicit fear, but praise, rCLGood driving.a You scratched up the driver's side of the Jeep pretty thoroughly.rCY

rCLSorry.rCY

rCLNo, you prioritized keeping the tires where they belonged even with branches grinding against your side, and you didn't flinch.a I declare
you quite the Jeepster.rCY

As they crawled along the old stream bed, Winter scanned the path ahead before turning around and singing to Ann adoringly, rCLGirl, I'm just a Jeepster for your luh-uh-uh-ove,rCY and looked ahead for a moment before returning her attention to Ian.

Ann's gaze was fixed on Winter, and she didn't catch Ian's silently
mouthed words, rCLI'm gonna suck you.rCY

They came to a stop on a level, well packed surface, and when Winter set
the parking brake, Ian climbed down, and Winter leaped to the ground to
open Ann's door.a She extended her arms and said, rCLSlide on out.rCY
She was smiling large, and shot a knowing glance to Ian, who had been
slow in making his way to the door at Ann's right.a He flashed a parody
of the bunny scrunch through the closed window.

As Winter received Ann, she held her and shook with mirth.a rCLWhat?
asked Ann.

rCLIan made a funny face at me.rCY

rCLWhy don't you ladies have a look around?a The creek's right over
there. aI'm going to go dig a few catholes.rCY

rCLWhat are catholes?rCY Ann asked.

Before Ian could answer, Winter encircled her waist to lead her away and said, rCLI'll explain.rCYa Their feet crunched on the gravel as they
made their way to the creek, and Winter shared the ways of the woods. rCLPeople have to poop, and there aren't any restrooms out here, so you
dig holes.a Ian is really practical, so he pre-digs holes beforehand.rCY

rCLThat's so considerate.rCY

rCLIt is, baby, but it's also efficient.rCYa When they reached the
creek, and Ann saw the stones at the base of the bluff she teared up,
and Winter held her.a rCLI know, it seems unspoiled, but I intend on spoiling you.rCY

rCLWith Ian's money?rCY

rCLIt's my money, Ann.a I earn it.a Ian even jokes about spoiling me for other men, and there's even a grain of truth there, but you, you've
spoiled me for every other woman too.a We can get by on love.a If you
want me to quit?rCY

rCLNo.a I was only crying because it's so pretty here.a I don't need the money.a I'm going to be an engineer.a I'll design railroad trestles, or water treatment plants, or hydroelectric dams.a I don't need your money.
aI only need you, and anyway, I like Ian.a He's my friend.a That's what
you wanted, right?rCY

Winter sidestepped the question. rCLAnn, you've already built a bridge
to my heart.a That's all that matters.rCY

The Sun was low in the sky by this point, and while the two had sat
admiring the stream, Ian had assembled sandwiches, baguette sections
piled so high with roast beef and Havarti that Winter declared them Dagwoodesque, and smashed hers between her palms before taking the first bite, and Ann remarked, rCLYou'd never survive in Chicago.rCY

rCLWhat, they kill you if you squoosh your sandwiches?rCY

rCLIt just isn't done.rCY

rCLThen I'd be content to be a pariah, and I can't imagine why this one would want to stretch my mouth.rCYa She motioned toward Ian's frontside,
and Ann looked a bit mortified until Ian laughed.a rCLAnn, Ian is my
baby bear.rCY

rCLBut I'm the one with the Goldilocks.rCY

They finished their repast, and Ian busied himself with setting up the
tent, leaving the women to converse.a Ann asked, rCLCan we lie together under the stars?rCY

rCLLike in your book?rCY

rCLYou read it? asked Ann.

rCLSome of it, but that part, yeah.rCY

Ann lay naked in the fading sunlight that was dappled by the trees,
"This should be perfect," but she hadn't really been truthful.a She'd
told Winter that she'd at least felt love from her parents, even
thorough the disapproval, but that wasn't exactly the case, at least in
the later years.a If her father could see her now, he'd hate her.a He'd likely blame her mother, who had been her only feeble advocate, and
she'd take his side because he dominated her, so indoctrinated her with
the idea of a vengeful God who saw sexual aberration as evil that she
would have to forsake her daughter for her husband.a Even if their
communal nudity had no sexual components, having to wear clothes was punishment for humans losing their innocence, and it had been a woman
who was responsible for that.a Ann didn't believe the story was
literally true, and she'd talked about that to Winter, who said that she thought stories like that were written by men who wanted justification
for oppressing females.a Winter had also pointed out that what was considered sufficient covering of the body was culturally relative, and
that the cultures that required the most covering were always the most repressive, and those that allowed minimal or in some cases, no
clothing, tended to be more female friendly.

Winter hadn't gotten worked up angry, but she made it clear that she considered requiring women to cover their bodies to be hostility.a She
said she believed that in the most repressive cultures, men had sold
women on the idea of modesty, convincing them that seeing female bodies caused men to be damaged by impure thoughts, and that the women were
really better off than in Western cultures where men didn't respect
women.a She called those women "bearded ladies," which Ann realized she didn't get at all, but Winter had been on a roll.a She seemed to be
trying to walk a fine line between condemning Abrahamic faiths and
offending Ann's sensibilities, but this was something Ann had confronted long before.a She saw it as God impatiently waiting for humanity to grow
up.

Ann loved Jesus, and believed that Jesus loved her.a He was, and had
been her only refuge.a Jesus loved everyone.a He was part of God, the perfect part.a She knew this went against what almost all Christians believed.aaa God, the Father was imperfect, consumed by jealousy, and
was cruel, and capricious, even causing humans to fail, then taking
delight in their punishment.a To her, there was no other way to read the Bible, but he loved his son, and Jesus often prevailed upon him to act
with love.a Jesus was, and is, perfect, so perfect that he offered his
life in a gamble to prove that love was the most powerful force.aa His father loved him, and allowed him to prove that love can transcend even death.aa His father loved him, and respected him, even though they disagreed.a Ann had concluded these things through the silence of the Quakers' worship, and this had been too much even for them.aaa Her
heresy was the only way to reconcile the Jesus she knew so well with the
Old Testament God.aa She knew never to mention this to her father, or
his church, and had concluded that while they professed to follow Jesus, they were still stuck in the fear of his father, and thought it was
right for a father to rule by fear.a Suddenly, her mind was flooded with self-pity, Winter's father loved her even though she wasn't really his daughter.a Ann thought, "I can't believe this is happening," and at the
same time, "I can't let myself cry.a Not now."

They had brought along a large tent, but had chosen not to use it.
Winter told Ann, "It keeps the bugs off."

Ann had said, "I'm not afraid of bugs."a When they told Ian that they
wanted to sleep sans shelter, and Ann announced with some pride her bug hardiness, Ian told them that there were very few nighttime bugs, even
in the summer.a The bad bugs were the midday horseflies, and while the
day had been warm enough to shed clothing, it was only March.a Horsefly season was still quite many weeks away.

Winter and Ian were lying at her sides.a They were naked as well, but
she knew that they weren't feeling her anguish, her vulnerability, her confusion.a They were merely feeling the movement of the Earth, as their portion became shaded from the sun, and the air slowly cooled around
them.a Winter took her hand, and Ann closed her eyes and thought,
"Winter loves me."a She was surprised when Ian grasped her other hand.

Winter rolled toward her and kissed her cheek, and Ann said, "Love me."

Ian released her hand, and Ann said, "No, both of you.a Love me." Winter
and Ian both embraced her, holding her close, and she felt Winter's foot caressing her leg.a Ian put his face next to her hair, but resisted the
urge to taste her head, and instead parted her hair with his nose and
barely kissed her behind her ear, and losing control, he said softly, "I love you."

Winter was taken aback, but only for moment.a Ian had never said those
words to her, but she knew why.a That would have crossed a line, a rule,
but spoken to Ann, those weren't words of passion or romance, or even of
the desire that Winter knew Ian had.a He'd meant it.a He had come to understand what she knew the first time she saw Ann.a As desirable as
she was physically, Ann needed to be loved, and loved gently.a It was
Ann who was truly the little sister, and to them both.a It made Winter
want him, but this evening belonged to Ann.

The Sun set quickly behind the hills, and Ann lay in stillness as first
Ian, then Winter, following his lead caressed the soft blonde fur on her arms.a Oberon seemed to be showing her favor, and compassion, filling
her companions' hearts with unselfish love.a The forest was nearly
silent with no sound of whip-poor-will or cricket obscuring the faint
sound of the water ceaselessly spilling over the stony shoals.

Ann fell asleep in Winter's arms, and Ian walked to the truck to fetch covers.a They slept close, huddling, with Ann in between.

Ian woke first.a The dew was falling like rain from the trees.a The
drops were loud on the space blanket, and wondering, he checked the
time.a It was almost six o'clock, still an hour before sunrise.a There
was no moon, and it was profoundly dark without the flashlight.a He dug
his clothes out of one trash bag and shoes from the other, and got dressed--dressed being shorts, a tee shirt, socks and shoes.a They'd put everything that needed to stay dry in, or under plastic.a Ian had anticipated the dew, and while he understood the physics of the process,
it never lost all of its wonder, how rain can fall from a clear, starry sky.a He pulled the tarp part way back, and retrieved a handful of small sticks, and a few grocery circulars.a Scratching around in the ashes,
Ian located a few orange, glowing coals, wadded up the paper, applied
the sticks and blew a few times until the flames came, then went back to
the pile for larger pieces.

It was good that they had driven out in the morning and done all the
prep work; they'd gathered plenty of wood, and even found an ample
supply of hickory for grilling that was segregated into its own pile.
Ian had constructed what he called a "latrine system," that consisted of pre-dug cat holes, a cleared path that was marked for both day and
night, with blue ribbons tied to small trees and solar lights made for suburban lawns, a shovel, a plastic zipper bag with toilet paper, and a
pint bottle of alcohol for washing up.a Blue ribbons were also tied to sticks that had been stuck into the ground to mark each hole, to be
removed when the hole was used.a He'd then brought stones, as large as
could be carried comfortably from the nearby creek, and built the fire
ring, while the women broke up the firewood.

Winter was at home in the forest.a For the past several years her family
had gone camping every chance they'd gotten.a Ann was Chicagoland North Suburbs and knew nothing about camping.a She hadn't even been a Girl
Scout, that organization having fallen into disrepute with her father,
and was amazed at how effortlessly Ian and Winter were transforming a
little sandy area near a creek into a home.a Winter found a forked tree,
and showed Ann how to use it to break off pieces of larger branches, so
they would fit nicely in the fire.a Ann, of course, understood the
leverage, but this only increased her delight when she could both feel
and hear the wood crack, and a short piece either fell to the ground, or occasionally ejected several feet from the break.

As the dawn was breaking, Ian heard the crackling of the space blanket,
and heard soft voices.a The girls were awake, but he wasn't going to
disturb them.a He wanted their time to be special.a This was Ann's first experience with wilderness--if you could call it that when they had a
Jeep parked fifty feet away--and whatever was happening under those
covers might be remembered fondly for their lifetimes.aa The minutes
passed without boredom or loneliness, as there was ample wood to feed to
the fire.a As the sky went from black to purple, Ian could make out the silhouette of the Jeep, and remembered that he had a jacket in there. He tried to open and close the car door as quietly as possible, but he'd
been noticed, and saw Ann, her head poked out of the blankets, smiling
at him.a He walked over and fished her clothes out of the bag for her,
and Winter popped out too, and Ian said, "I guess I'd better put on the coffee."

Winter agreed, "You'd better," and also accepted clothes from Ian,
dressing quickly in the morning chill before she excused herself to *the latrine system*.

Ann confronted Ian right away.a "You could have had me last night," she said, as they ambled slowly toward the fire.

Ian answered, "I thought I did."

"No, *had* me.a You know what I mean."

"I'm not obtuse, Ann.a When you said you wanted to be loved, neither
Winter nor I heard that as a euphemism."

"You do love me."

"Of course I do," Ian said.a He extended his arms, inviting an embrace,
and Ann complied, her voice soft in his ear, "You'll get your chance."
They held each other for a long time, and were only beginning to loosen their bond when Winter bounded down the path, announcing, "Just in time
for morning hugs!"

The hugs were close, and enjoyed, but it was a light-hearted thing.
Winter's comic relief was transformative, and brought the focus back to
the more mundane issue of breakfast.a "I'm sorry that I can't provide
you ladies the breakfasts to which I have accustomed you to, but I'll do
my best."

Winter and Ann sat on a fallen log, and Ian concluded that they hadn't
paid any attention to what he'd just said.a He'd provide the food, and
after a short repose, they'd walk.a Walk.a He thought about every step they'd be taking, every crunch of the former year's leaves and mused,
"I'm falling into dreaming of Babylon, and there's work to be done."

As warm as it had been when they'd arrived, the temperature had dropped overnight, and although it would have been a stretch to call it cold,
the fire attracted them.a There was a light fog poised above the creek,
and the forest was quiet.a Ian walked to the water's edge, filled a pot,
and returned to place it upon the grate over the fire to heat, then set
up the coffee apparatus.aa He poured some of the water into the bottom
half of a double boiler, and set both on the edge of the cooking grate,
and went to the cooler to pour milk into the top half, and thought that
some might find this regimen fussy, and too much to mess with out in the woods.a They'd be all about getting on with their day, beginning their
day, but Ian's day had already begun, and he was in his element.aa When
Ann had woken, and given him a smile, his Sun had risen.a He didn't mind
the least that the women were sitting on a log, conversing, not offering
to assist in any of the breakfast makings, because they looked content, happy to be where they were.a He saw Winter point at something, and Ann laughed in response.a He didn't know what had aroused their interest,
but it wasn't him.a Maybe, or maybe not, he'd ask later, but probably
not.a He knew they'd just share, and it would be mundane, and it would
make him seem pitiful, desirous of being a fly on the wall.a Not to Ann,
of course, but to Winter.a Better to focus on a perfect pour.

Ian was pleased with the quality of the coffees he'd prepared, and felt
that the way they'd been received validated his assumption.a Winter had taken one sip, and her subtle reaction was a clear thumbs-up.a Ann just seemed appreciative that he'd lovingly handed her a cup, and he turned
away to fill his own, again leaving the lovers to relax, while he went
about cooking.

The breakfast was simple, home fries and scrambled eggs with avocado
slices, and Ian delivered the plates, sitting in the sand in front of
them with his own, and as they ate, they planned their day.a "I'd like
to explore the woods some more after breakfast," said Winter, "because
it's not supposed to get any warmer than this.a Maybe we could hike up a hollow."

Ian thought about the topography, and was glad that he'd bought them all scuba boots, though he'd been doubtful when Winter had suggested they
might hike the creek, as he answered, "There aren't really any hollows
close to here on this side of the creek, a peculiarity of this place,
but here's where the wading boots come into play.a We can cross a little ways downstream, and change back into shoes on the other side, but the booties should be fine for a short hike.a There's a hollow we can go up
over there, and it probably has a little water in it.a I don't think we
want to get our shoes wet."

Winter agreed, and Ann said, "You called them booties.a That's cute.a I
want to wear the booties."

Just being out here on such a premature spring interlude would have been more than enough for Winter.a One year ago, if she'd had the means and opportunity, she'd have wanted to be exactly here, wetting her feet in
the creek to the confluence with an Ozark hollow, and if she were unaccompanied, the surroundings themselves, their beauty, and the
fragrance of the forest would have been friends enough.a But she wasn't alone.a She had Ann, and the hiking of the cleft was sure to delight her.

The creek was a smaller version of a river, but the little intermittent stream was a dollhouse version, and there were details.a You could look
at the mountain on the other side and see shelves and crags.a There were places on Earth with tall waterfalls, but here, all those things were represented on a much smaller scale.a Winter knew that Ann understood
the concepts of geology, and how such things came to be, far more than herself, but she hadn't seen the manifestations firsthand, and Ann had
an attraction to miniatures.a She'd been primed by the previous
evening's stargazing, and must have been thinking about her book.a The
sky out here was probably larger, more filled with detail than any Ann
had ever seen, though she had curiously not commented upon that.

Winter was poised to share the smallness, the tiny mosses, trickles of
water that they could experience together, merging their two persons
even more, as there was nothing so tiny that they couldn't grasp, and
blow up into a landscape for their love, one that had started out
little, but was growing day by day, and she had to admit to herself that
Ian had never come between them.a He'd been nothing but kind to Ann. His sexual requirements had even diminished, and he'd told her that it was
more important that she share slumber with her openly declared, "love of
her life," than himself, but she didn't see that as a sacrifice.a Ian
was generous, and made no secret that he, as he'd described on that
first encounter, was the recipient of "dumb luck."

Their arrangement wasn't impractical, but casual, and the comment that
she'd made months before, that he was generous with luck, flippant words that had confused her, even as they'd left her mouth, concorded more
with her mother's concept of reality than with her own, that things
happen for a reason.a Winter disliked the word, over-thinking.a It
implied complacency, and resignation, and there were situations where it took one's attention away from participation, relishing the pleasures of
the moment.a They were ascending to the pinnacle for no reason other
than to get there, and then what?a However unlikely, this could be the
best day of any one of their lives, and Winter thought, "Especially
Ann's."a "Hey you two, wait up."

Ann stopped, but looked back with a big grin, and waggled her butt as
she replied, "Hey you, hurry up."a When Winter caught up, and it was up, because they were far above the creek, she gave Ann a quick sideways
hug, and Ann broke away contented.a Ian, she noticed, was breathing
hard, and she knew why.a It wasn't the exertion, his heart was hale. The altitude aspect was troubling him, but he wasn't going to let that ruin
the day, Ann's day.a Every spark in her mood seemed to enchant him, and
she wondered why this delightful person hadn't been pulled close much earlier by someone who, like her, would hold on for dear life, or like
Ian, was content to bask in her glow, with or without hope of consummation.

As they stood almost equidistant from the summit, Winter suggested a
race, and Ian asked, "What's the prize?"

Winter smiled and said, "A kiss, Ian," and he took off like a hare.
Winter was sure that she could outrun him, but Br'er Ian's jump, and
Sis' Winter's overconfidence had made this a race.a While she'd wasted moments joking with Ann, and pointing, Winter had become the hare.a None
of her quick scramblings, entering and leaving the obstructions of the intermittent stream allowed her to gain much ground on the surprisingly swift tortoise.

Ian was king of the hill, and Winter thought it only fair to wait until they'd both caught their breaths to bestow his reward.a Ann's squealing
and clapping from below called for more than an obligatory peck, and
Winter swooned as Ian took her in his arms and kissed her mouth like a soldier who'd just returned from war, with none of Scarlett's
resistance, or deference to the Production Codes.

Ann was making her way up the hill hurriedly, still clapping and with a
look of pure joy, and Winter pushed Ian away, her hands on his shoulders
and said, "Oh, Rhett, no man has ever kissed me that way."

"Winter Sue," answered Ian, in the fashion of Clark Gable, "you know in
your heart that no other man ever will."

Ann had summited.a The Sun was overhead, and her long yellow hair glowed
as if she were taking all its radiance, and reflecting it, a youthful, mortal Galadriel set against a background of trees barren of leaves, a bringer of spring, bearing a message of rebirth.a That was what Winter
saw, but what floored Ian was the tiny slice of time where her mouth
opened, and her tongue extended slightly, touching her incisors as she
said slowly, with conviction, "That was one of the best things I've ever seen."

Winter considered bowing, but wanting to stay in character, instead curtseyed, and when her legs straightened, Ann took two steps toward her
and declared, "I am no man."

Winter was laughing uncontrollably, to the point of coughing, bent over
to the point that she hardly noticed Ann ribbing Ian with an elbow,
while she huffed, and puffed in an effort to get out the words, "We have
to stop watching so many movies."

As they transcended the hollow, the temperature falling even as
afternoon approached, Winter felt the magic around her, the hilltop
events succumbing to rationally explainable coincidence, and the peculiarities of the day pushed back, not forgotten, but stored for analysis, both in dreams and wakefulness, a magic that was slowly
fading, and she drank in the clean smell of the hills, reflecting on the lives of the folks who had managed to survive out here.a They weren't
here for the beauty, and had left, but the hollow they'd raced up had a name, one given by those pioneers.a Ian's ancestors on his father's side
had scratched out lives out here, but they were on a plateau, rich land, compared to these hills, where nothing could be extracted but trees and white-tailed deer, wild turkeys.a None but those and the ubiquitous squirrels had any value for their sustenance.a She guessed they'd been loggers, the men of course, but what had the lives of the women been like?

There had been alternating hand holding, with the false justification of helping them down the hill, when in reality, at least to Winter's mind,
it slowed their progress, but seeing Ann so happy, looking back
contented as Ian escorted her, guiding her steps with gestures, seeing
him point, suggesting footholds, and seeing Ann's neoprene booties land
just there; this trek was beautiful in a way that she'd have trouble describing, even to herself.a Winter wasn't indulging in self admiration
for her embracing of expansive love, even though that was the very thing that removed the obvious distraction.a It was Ann.a Her body wasn't particularly special.a No one's was, except to its inhabitant, but every step she took tugged at Winter's heart.a Her past had left her with no immunity to love-sickness, and even when they held each other as closely
as was physically possible, sometimes Winter wanted more.

With every other lover, it had been about the touching of surfaces, and
that was astounding.a There was the silky smoothness of girls, and the rougher textures of boys, all good, and all the cuddling, the spooning
with Ian where he ran his practiced hands over her body, and as good as
that was, Winter had never felt what she did for Ann.

After they crossed the creek, Ian took charge of the cleanup and
loading, and one wave off sufficed.a The *time on the mountain* was
past, and Ian was aware of that.

- - - C - H - E - F- - - - - - WinterrCOs Present
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - .
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - Bryan (Chef) Simmons












Thanks Chef! We anxiously await each new installment of your book!






I try to save all these updates, but I may have missed a few.

















Say hello to betsy for me (if she is still there). And my best regards
to your muse (John Kuth), if he is still alive.
















Keep the hate burning hot chef, and remember, YOU are our only decent
punk rock God!



























Cul Chef!








































































































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