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female hunter-gatherer

    Rod awoke with a start.  He found himself still in his suit and shoes, lying on the bed.  He staggered to his feet, disoriented.  He had had dreams about Tami before -- sometimes as a naked superheroine, saving the world in comic book fashion from evil, sometimes as a naked Olympic swimmer whom he was coaching, often as a naked Queen on her throne whom he approached in supplication, even as a naked paper girl who delivered the newspaper every day.  But this was the first time his dream-Tami had been imprisoned or abused.


        It was past seven o’clock.  He had been asleep for four hours.  Glad he was in the comforting real world again, he lurched to the bathroom and the sound he knew so well, of Tami taking one of her bubble baths.


        She had just turned the faucet off with her foot.  This was one of those old-style free-standing tubs with legs.  Lying fully submerged except for her head and her bent knees, her eyes closed, a little smile on her face.  “Mmmmm...” Despite the bubbles he could see almost her entire body, her breasts buoyant.


        She opened her eyes as if expecting him.  He told her about his dream.


        She giggled, a low, womanly giggle which made the water ripple.  Lifting her feet up to the sides of the tub and wiggling her bubbly toes, she said, “Fortunately my circumstances are not quite that desperate.”


        He put the toilet cover down and sat next to the tub.  He noticed the unadorned third toe and picked up the wedding ring she had she placed on the floor.  “I think it’s getting too tight,” she said.  “It gets uncomfortable sometimes.”


        He looked down at her.  “You don’t seem to be gaining weight.”


        “No,” she looked down at her tummy.  “The rec center takes care of that.”


        Rod watched absently as Tami’s nipples broke the surface and then submerged in the little ripples, and thought again about his dream.  “You were in a dungeon.  That was like at the pony farm, right?”


        “No, I wouldn’t call it a dungeon.  They kept us in a stable with straw on the floor but everything there looked pretty expensive.  The food was certainly better than here.”


        “Ho ho,” Rod said with a smile.  A reference to his disastrous attempt at lasagna last night.  Which Tami, with her winter appetite, ate anyway.


        “So what were you working on today?”


        “Dragging seedlings out to the campus lawn.  It was a slippery, muddy mess in that rain.  I fell three times.  I needed this bath b-a-a-d.”


        “No, not the grounds crew, I mean at Chalfont.”


        “Galvanic skin tests.”


        Rod exhaled in exasperation.


        “And,” Tami said with a smile, “we got the polymer to thread.  I made a boot out of it.  Gretchen put her foot into a puddle and said it kept her warm.”


        “Great! -- So where is this headed?”


        “Ling told me the government is interested.  They might send us some things to sign.”




        “And not only that,” Tami said, “I got an interesting gift from a visitor.  Look under the sink.”


        Rod at first did not know what this huge object was that he was dragging out of the cabinet, but as he supported it in his hands he suddenly looked at it in horror.  “God...  this isn’t...”


        “It’s not exactly what they stuck in me.  Mrs.  Wickland says it’s improved and they’re not into punishment any more.  There’s a remote there too.  Push the purple button.”


        Rod found the remote and dropped the huge tail in surprise as it buzzed.  “So now this is a vibrator?”


        “Ja.  Sehr nett?” Which meant, “Very nice?”


        Rod held it in his hands.  “I can’t believe this whole wooden part went inside you.”


        “I had had a lot of practice at the time.”


        Rod remembered Tami’s account of the huge dildos pistoning into both her holes at Chalfont under McMasters’s direction.  “It seems impossible.”


        “No, it’s possible.”


        He thought again about the old plantation grounds, the pony girl system.  That the slaves were there by choice made it in way worse.  “What a sick enterprise.  Playing master and slave.”


        “I had a dream about it once that wasn’t too bad.”


        “Oh really.  I suppose you were the lady of the manor?”


        “No, I was the barefoot Irish kitchen girl.  You were a field slave out picking cotton.”


        Rod cocked his eyebrow.  A black person and a white person would have different ideas about such a dream.


        “We would wink at each other, and one day we both escaped into the countryside, made love under the stars, and built a little hut to live in.”


        “If I was a field slave I wouldn’t get a chance to see you, much less wink at you.”


        “It was a dream, Rod!”


        Well maybe that was not so bad.  Tami sat up in the tub, water coursing from her nipples, and kissed Rod’s adorable shaved head.  He watched as she settled back in.  Her famous pubic fronds, buoyed by the water, waved to and fro like wheat in a lazy summer wind.  Plum-colored wheat, of course.


        “Got home early?” she said, sliding down some more.


        “Yes.  No work at the moment.”


        “Me too.  It’s a night for chilling out.”


        He took one last look at her submerged charms and then started out the bathroom.


        The ominous whoosh of water into a cave.  He looked back and she had braced her feet against the sides with toes spread.  He knew this well -- she was a cobra rising to pounce.  He tried to make a run for it and almost made it into the kitchen.  But fifteen feet was well within her range.  She raised her body up and a long thin squirt of bath water arced out from her womanly depths and hit him square in the back of his jacket.  The female hunter-gatherer had once again arrowed her prey.


        “Damn,” he laughed.  The only thing to do was swear revenge.

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