One of the more amusing aspects of South Shore living is the near ubiquitous presence of varied waterfowl that show little if any regard for the humans that occupy 'their' realm. It was a late August evening when we found ourselves waddling behind a family of ducks down the path behind the Platt house.

"Bird-bird... Bird-bird... Bird-bird... Bird-bird... Blow job... What? Where?"

Mama duck had stopped to look through the cellar window so we did too and sure enough, we could see the shadowy figure of a man leaning back on the couch in the Platt family rumpus room while another shadowy figure's head bobbed up and down on his lap. From the tussled mounds of hair he was weaving his fingers through we had a pretty good idea who was 'servicing' him. Not wanting to interrupt them any more than we have, we tiptoed back to the porch steps of the service door to wait them out.

"Geeze... Smells like cat pee back here..."

"That's on account of the air conditioners... Some of them run on ammonia..."

"He looks like he's about to spew... Wanna see if we can make her snarf it out her nose?"

"She's gone through enough this summer don'tcha think? Let her have her some fun..."

"Yeah... Sure seems to be enjoying herself..."

"She sure picked a winner... that's quite a hunk of kielbasa..."

"Suppose she still tries to feel it under her tummy when they start doing it for real? Wesley once mentioned that..."

"We'll find out soon enough... he's just about to flip her over..."

We never did find out. He took his time he kissing his way down form her face to her lap and was working her like a lion feasting on a freshly killed gazelle, when we heard the knob of the service door turn followed by sound of the screen door popping from the pressure differential.

"Hey... What are you kids lookin' at?"

"Hey! What are you two... in my bed! At least mom and dad's would have that 'kinky' thing...."

"But they have single beds," protested Janice.

"Yeah, well you could shove 'em together... or maybe use the couch downstairs... or... I don't know... screw in your own damn bed!"

"We had to get out of the house," mumbled a sheepish Wesley. "Janice was doing one of her pictures and she kinda stunk up the joint on account. We'll wash the sheets when we're done..."

"You better frickin' autoclave 'em! Sheesh... Take my man, wreck my bed, ruin my sheets... next thing, you're gonna want that house grampa bought for me..."

"Since you brought it up," Janice started to say only to have Wesley continue, "We were sorta wondering what you were gonna do about that now that you're getting all that money... Way we figure it... we could use the parts to put up a second storey or something..."

"But then you'd hafta match the colors," Jenny sighed, "and you have a perfectly good roof truss going to waste..."

With that idea Jenny went over to her office and threw together a concept sketch where she removed the roof and flipped it over so that it stuck up at a jaunty angle over a second story made of thin metal columns and what looked like supermarket windows.

"Since you guys like to go around nekkid, I'll throw in some privacy screens so the angry villagers don't come after you with torches a blazin'... How 'bout a nice basket weave pattern... Now if you don't mind... I wanted to get some stuff out of my closet... oh, put those away Janice!"

As Jenny rummaged though her closet for a few things we couldn't help noticing that all the snail tchotchkes in the room had been turned towards the wall. We couldn't help noticing something else as Jenny hustled us down the stairs.

"He sure looked like a keeper... Why in the hell did you let him go to Janice?"

"Don't let the size fool ya... something's wrong with a valve or somethin'... Any back pressure and it's like squeezing a wet sponge..."

"That was Scott... Anyway... that really wasn't why I lost interest in him... I'd gone up to his parent's vacation house on the lake... They get pretty skimpy with clothing there and his sister used to go around topless all the time... Now she had one of those 'Appalachian' faces... which I suppose with the right hair wouldn't be too bad but she also had these humongous boobs... again, not a bad thing but a nearly half of them things was aureola! I didn't want to take a chance on any daughter of mine walkin' around with a couple slices of salami on her chest..."

"Spoken like a true German, vass?"

"Yeah... but don't think Janice didn't check out her girls chests when she first got hold of 'em... Gloria let me have some of her old 'flapper' clothing... I was thinking of making something for you to wear at that Great Gatsby party"

Jenny grabbed a book about the Ziegfeld Follies as we passed a bookshelf on the middle stair landing and continued down to the cellar where she had the dress in question, a dark blue spangly number. She flipped open the book and turned to a picture of some named Lillian Lorraine who was wearing a 'cloche' hat with what looked like moth antennae attached.

"I found some more of this spangly material and a couple yarmulkes... had a devil of a time trying to figure out how to make the antennae... ended up spraying some glitter string with this gloss coat stuff so be careful with it..."

Jenny presented us with a spangly moth antennae'd hat each - as fancy as that Louise what's-her name. Since she still had that book with her, she turned to the chapter with the 'Dolly Sisters' in it to show to us - seems we really do resemble them. Jenny suggested we bring along an old-timey looking folding camera to complete the illusion.

We almost wish we'd had someone get a picture of us tooling through the back roads of the North Shore riding Jenny's little scooter dressed in the height of Nineteen Twenties fashion - especially since we had to stop for gas along the way on account of somebody not bothering to top off the tank when they borrowed it last. Still we made it to Glen Cove OK with only the usual number of double takes from fellow motorists and passers by.

We'd thought about Jenny's suggestion but ended up going with our standard Hasselblad outfit and flash gun since it has a pretty big 'look down' viewfinder and it's just too much of a bother working with a 'look through' camera when you have to divide picture taking duties. We could have worn an old folding Kodak for show, but our back wasn't quite ready to haul dead weight around.

Before we could ask if that meant she was definitely showing up, we got cut off without so much as a dial tone. We tried the usual movie trick of tapping the earpiece cradle a number of times as well as turning the crank a few times, but no dice, so we hung up and looked for something else to do. From the ruckus behind the wall we figured that the electricity must've gone out in the area. This was confirmed by a rap on the kitchen door by Miss Legree who came over to ask if we had power.

We told her we didn't and she asked why she could still see lights on upstairs. We replied that it was on account of the whole place ran on gas, even the icebox. She introduced herself as Verna Falkenberg and mentioned that she was getting a party ready and that the house she was using only had electrical equipment and that we would be a real lifesaver if she could use our kitchen. Actually she didn't so much as ask to use the kitchen, as tell us what she was planning to do in such a way as to give us the illusion we had a say in the matter.

So a parade of caterers trooped from behind the stone wall, which only shielded the back yard area, to the kitchen. Since Jenny's icebox was actually four iceboxes in a single housing they shoved all her cold stuff into one cubicle and took over the rest. Catching one of the caterers struggling with a tray of live snails we helpfully took them off his hand and when he went back to get something else we pitched them into a thicket of overgrown bushes behind a tool shed. When one of the chefs asked about them, we told him we tripped and that they ran away on us.

We then scootered up to the main house to tell Jenny what was going on but she'd already lit off for home to fetch the real bunny suit and to to see if Stacey could get the old steam generator the Van Der Plaats kept for power outages started up. Barring that, maybe she'd call the Electric Boat Yard in Groton to see if they could send Jeff down with enough extension cord to plug into Connecticut.

Given that servants have all the best gossip, we lingered around the kitchen to get some of the back story around the tension between the Platts and Van Der Plaats. It seems the Van Der Plaats while bankers had long been enthusiasts of mass-produced architecture, they had financed much of the cast iron buildings of lower Manhattan, and had brought the Von Platzes over from Europe to build a series of 'semi-prefab' concrete mansions along the North Shore. With the slogan 'Mass produced to your individual specifications' they were marketed to the newly affluent stockbroker set and while the exteriors were custom tailored to whatever style the owner fancied, they were built using a standardized floor plan and structure.

Ironically this meant that thirsty Glen Covers had to buy mob booze since Jenny's grandmother Dorothea had been one of the best suppliers of bootleg hooch, running it from the French colony of Saint Pierre and Miquelon on her racing yacht. Since she was doing it for the challenge and not for a living she could sell the good stuff, uncut and basically for cost. The government never suspected her and the mob didn't dare mess with her on account of one of the Von Platzes having been a germ warfare expert for the Fatherland who 'knew how to get a plague going'.

We had time to hear Gloria's side of things, namely that she didn't want her daughter to quit school just to get married, especially since she had been bright enough to get a scholarship, before Jenny arrived with Paul and Stacey in tow and bearing a couple pails of ice freshly drawn from the clubhouse ice maker. Paul and Stacey were sent downstairs while the rest of us took in the view of the Sound from the patio doors. A flotilla of motor yachts were lightering the first wave of partygoers ashore but all we could see was the day Jenny whipped that crumb cake in their general direction - with her pitching arm and a lucky skip off the reflecting pool she could've fed the sharks from here.

Speaking of sharks, it was time for us to get to work so we bid Jenny, busily adjusting her Lady Desdemona outfit to it's newfound cleavage, a hasty adieu and mounted our trusty stead to intercept the shore party. Riding down the formal drive out of the Van Der Plaat estate we tried to remember whether we should show up at the service entrance or the main gate when we got to the other side. Passing a line of what had to be the greatest assemblage of 'classic' automobiles on Long Island since the real Gatsby held court we flashed our press pass to the poor fellow directing traffic and got sent back to the side of the lodge where we'd started from.

They had a nice spread set out in spite of the blackout conditions, heavy on cold cuts and as many trays of hot food as that lodge stove could put out. Verna was a bit puzzled as to what happened to the escargot she was sure she'd ordered but let it go as she had more pressing troubles at hand. With the power down this was the only place with cold drinks at hand and just about every enterprising kid in Glen Cove with a spare Duesenburg and access to their grandparents closet had figured that gate crashing was certainly within the tradition of the Nineteen Twenties.

"Hey... Hey you! You can't park there," shouted Verna to someone on the other side of the wall.

"Oh no you can't, this belongs to... hey, I remember you! You skipped out before I could pay you."

"Yeah... well I thought I was getting a check at the end of the week and by the time I figured otherwise I figured it woulda looked real stupid coming back for it..."

"Well the servant's parking is over by the garage..."

"Oh, I'm not working here... I had the lodge for the month... Say... what's with the cooking class?"

"You had the lodge? But I was just talking to the... these..." Verna made some sort of awkward hand gestures trying to figure out how to describe us.

"Oh, those twins? Yeah, they needed a place to get their head together... Hey, I had some TV dinners in that icebox!"

"Wha... How come you're all dressed up then?"

"I always dress up nice when I'm expecting friends over... they should be over soon. How long are you gonna be with the kitchen? They should be here any minute..."

"Well you might as well send 'em over here. Everyone else in this damn town is... You'd think they'd never gone through a blackout before..."

Verna left Jenny to catch up on her reading and looked for some other problem to deal with. We wandered around to look for someone or something worth taking a picture of. Most of our first and second roll consisted of haphazardly composed images of people posing with us that finally improved by the third roll when we dragooned a fellow shutterbug to follow us around.

"Vell Peter... see how zee angry villagers have come vith their torches blazing?"

Our companion was a veritable society encyclopedia and cued us in on who had Eloise buttonholed in the hallway. It was Peter Drake, Walter's son from a previous engagement. It seems Walter had thrown Peter's mother over to keep Eloise from being sent back to the Fatherland and certain death. Something to get a picture of we figured and when we went to take the shot we got a bonus because Peter parted the folds of Eloise's dress to reveal her bare breasts. That's one loving family.

"Vell, it zeems little Peter iss looking to be ze necks Rudi Gernreich," Eloise declared to the startled crowd. "I think I shall vear ziss für zee evening."

"Hey, isn't that your brother Peter?"

"Yeah, he's my half brother... You gotta watch out with him... He's a real steamroller..."

We wanted to listen further but we got buttonholed by this potbellied middle-aged Jew that was obviously the kind that still lives with his parents and goes around saying portentous things like 'I'm the first generation of my family born in freedom'. He regaled us with his pet theory as to the 'real' reason why JFK was killed - it seems he was knocked off on account of him putting silver certificates back into circulation and the money people didn't want that to happen.

We just smiled knowingly for a moment and replied, "So... now you're telling us 'The Jews' did it..."

We drifted off before he could get out a comeback line and caught up with Peter, who'd joined a cluster of 'bird-watchers' lining the stone wall.

"Isn't that that girl from Amityville? You know the one who used to come up here when we were kids..."

"No... that's Lady Desdemona... I'd seen her playing at Lewisohn. Fun show..."

"No no..., That there is a real live Playboy Bunny! I got a picture of her right here..." Bird-watcher Number Three unrolled a copy of the latest Panorama and flipped it to the picture Jenny posed for last weekend.

Giving his hair a final touching up, Peter jauntily leapt onto the wall to better size up his prey.

"Hmm... Long streaming plumage... Vaguely Gypsy outfit... 'Gams' look OK... Nice 'rack of ma'am'... and what's that... a book? Studious type... probably not impressed by wealth," he opined to the junior ornithologists before finally declaring, "Boys... I'ma goin' in..."

Jenny ignored or pretended to ignore the pasty-pink panther as he slinked around her car looking for an opening. She was about to dictate notes to her tape recorder when he finally got her attention.

"Just so you and the Three Stooges know... Yes... Yes... and no, I was just posing for a picture..."

Craning her neck to take in the peanut gallery on the wall, she replied, "Eh... Not my crowd..."

"Well, what'd you come up here for?"

"Huh? I've been here..." Pointing back to the blue 'Lustron', she added. "That's my house over there... anyway I wanted to get some work done while the sun was out. I was figuring on making an appearance when it gets dark... Got an invite around here somewhere..."

Tipping up the book to try and get a look at the title, he inquired, "So what are you workin' on that's so important anyway?"

"Getting a grant proposal ready... for a study of ballistic resonance waves in the cranial cavity."

"Shootin' people in the head? Call me a simple country boy... but isn't that something that's kinda obviously a bad thing?"

"Well... yeah... but with Vietnam heating up... and with doctors getting better every day now... it might be nice to know what kind of damage they'll be facing. I figure if nothing else... might help to design a better helmet. Speaking of..."

Putting the mic of her tape recorder up to her face, she noted, "Might want to look at expanding study to include non-invasive head trauma injuries if we can get National Football or other sporting leagues interested in helmet redesigns... Also... contact Doctor Edgarton for confab on high speed X-ray photography. Will likely need to use cadavers to check against analog of perspex and ballistic gel. Figure injection of radioactive dye in jugular for blood vessel damage assess... I'd be a real fun date, wouldn't I?"

"I've had worse... Hey, you know Doctor Edgarton? I had his afternoon class..."

"Oh... well I didn't go to MIT... I met up with him during a tour the Jet Propulsion Laboratory. I was casting about for ideas on my dissertation... anyway I've been looking though this book for funding... most of the work in science these days is getting somebody to pony up the dough..."

"So why the sudden interest in head wounds?"

"Kennedy."

From the grimace in Pete's face she could tell she wouldn't need to elaborate.

"Peace Corps huh? I'd thought about doing that... because you know... all those places with not enough jobs to go around... what they really need is more free labor..."

Leave it to Jenny to make an altruistic act look downright selfish. This time she did elaborate

Yeah... I'm a real stinker... but I just hate it when people pat themselves on the back for bein' a 'do gooder' without thinkin' about the consequences... Back in school there was this 'wisty-eyed' girl named Aurora... you know the kind of girl who thinks their English Lit professor is sooooo intelligent... Well she'd gone and given her inheritance of a three quarters of a million dollars to some charity and even go put on the news on account of it... After the interview I told her how stupid she was for chucking it all away in one go when she could've banked it, lived off the interest and volunteered for the rest of her life... or she coulda started a business and maybe put some people to work... or... if she still wanted to give it away, she coulda done so in installments so that maybe they'd return her phone calls a week later..."

"Well... you know... Maybe she just didn't want to deal with all that dough... I got some coming to me from my old man that frankly, I don't want. You see, he threw my mom over to marry some tramp and I just don't want anything to do with him... not even for the five minutes it'd take to sign it over to someone else..."

"Yeah... I had a fight with my grandmother a few years back and stopped coming up here. She threatened to cut me off and all I could say is do you really want someone hanging around that's just waiting for you to drop dead. I mean I was pissed off at her... but gee..."

We left her to join another conversation in progress amongst some surfers we recognized from last June. One of them was talking a shark that had jumped him and had lifted his shirt to show a couple strange puncture wounds on his sides. We knew what those wounds were and couldn't resist a little ball-busting at his expense.

Making the appropriate arm gestures we opined, "Those are clasper marks... You see... the male of the shark species have these two things called claspers to mate with the female of the shark species... Looks like you got raped son..."

We let them react for a few seconds before moving in for the kill.

"So uh... what were you wearing at the time? Musta done something to lead him on... Shark goes after you like that... well, obviously you must've been asking for it..."

"Now you know how we feel," shouted some girl from behind us. Another girl made a crack about how the shark probably didn't call him the next day and another skirmish in the battle of the sexes was on. We beat a strategic retreat to continue our 'recon' of Peter and Jenny.

"....I suppose we all have prejudices. You know that Verna? You know how her face looks Chinese... I mean you go to Chinatown and you see a lot of girls with her face... but she's got English... I mean German eyes... Well I'd figured that maybe one of her grandparents, probably a sea captain - they often go for the exotic - got himself a Chinese girl. Turns out it was one of her grandmothers... Now who's gonna date a Chinaman back then and where the heck are you gonna find one in Germany? The big Oriental craze was in the Nineteen Twenties and Verna was already a kid by then..."

"I dunno," shrugged Peter, "maybe she got one from one of the embassies? Berlin was a capital city back then..."

"Yeah, I suppose... but if you're gonna date outside of your tribe and presumably you really wanna bug your parents, you'd go for virility... get yourself a nice strapping Negro or maybe an Italian or a Puerto Rican if you're only a little bit adventurous... Just can't see a girl going out for Chinese... 'specially since cream of Sum Hung Gai is only gonna leave you hungry an hour later..."

"Still... with all the Chinese in the world, they must be doing something right..."

"Maybe... but then I used to sit next to this kid named Hino in school and he talked like the rest of us 'Lawn Guylanders' so I sorta missed out on the whole Asian mystique thing..."

"I take it then... maybe your prejudice is that you judge men by whether or not you'd want to sleep with them."

"Well... whether or not I could stand having to sleep with them... I know how you guys still like to think we at least make an effort at keeping our honor..."

"Hey now... I may be a little old fashioned... but I'm willing to loosen the buckle off my bible belt every now and then. I mean... if that's what you're interested in..."

"Oh... Well you know the first rule of negotiations is to never let the other fellow know you're interested... Anyway we haven't been properly introduced..."

"Oh... well my name's Peter. Peter..."

Laughing at her panicked voice he replied, "No, it's Drake... Peter Drake..."

"Oh... That's a relief... I've got nothing against him but I used to go to school with his brother and would always hear his name being mentioned but I'd never met him in person and I sorta don't want to spoil the mystery... So... you're Walter's son..."

Jenny put away her book and tape recorder and started the engine so she could turn on the radio to listen for any news on the blackout. This meant that we couldn't hear the rest of their conversation so we went to look for a high place where we could try to lip-read what they're saying. We found a spot just in time to see Jenny peel backwards out of the driveway and down the service road, doing a bootlegger's turn when she made it to the street. Peter soon gave chase when he saw the motor scooter we'd parked by the side of the lodge.

The scooter and Jenny's Amphicar were pretty well matched in speed and he was soon at her side but Jenny still had one trick up her sleeve and as the road curved around the beach front of the estate, Jenny kept going till she careened into the water. Peter ditched the scooter and was about to whip his shirt off to go in after Jenny when he saw the churn of propellers leaving a wake behind her. She got out a few yards or so then idled the engine as if beckoning him to follow. Taking the hint, he dove in after her and was soon close enough to have to wonder about how he was going to get into the car with her.

He tried to get in from the back but the engine was already hot enough to force him back into the drink. Still game, he tried getting in from the side but he couldn't work up the inertia and Jenny wasn't about to make it easier for him by opening the door. In the end he was obliged to hang on to the side while Jenny cruised over to a small arc-shaped island in the Sound that had been the rim of a kettle lake during the Ice Age.

The shoreline around the island was too steep to drive onto so Jenny had Peter tie the car to a tree while she got out and waded ashore. Of course Peter took the opportunity to give her a total dunking which she took in good spirits till it became apparent that her bunny suit wasn't meant for swimming. She was clearly gasping for breath and struggling with the top of her suit as Peter flopped her onto the beach and tried to help her peel it down from her chest. He soon had her chest uncovered and was tugging at the panties to finish the job but stopped when it looked like Jenny could breath normally again.

It was around this time that we'd gone down to the shoreline for a closer look with the excuse of recovering the scooter if anyone asked. Nobody asked and we couldn't make out anything they were saying so we pushed the thing back to the party.

We were a little winded from the schlep and couldn't say anything as Emily, who had gotten a look at Jenny and Peter and presuming the worst, started raising DEFCON levels amongst her coven. It didn't help matters that the two were now swatting at each other on account of a squadron of black flies escorted by those stupid get-in-your-face gnats working shore patrol - we had encounter them on the mainland.

Emily did ask a question, so we looked through our camera and duly reported, "Uhm... He's got her by one of her titties and is going 'wiggity, wiggity, wiggity' with it... Whaddya mean by him being a steamroller?"

"He'll start sweet-talking you all slow and methodical and before you know it, he's on top of you tryin' to get inside and when you call him on it he makes out look like you're the bad guy..."

That was one hell of a loving family.

We started to assured her that Jenny had expert Marine training in self-defense, but finding out it was Jenny just got her more upset - presumably she had been holding out hope that this party would get the Drakes on Jen's good side. Checking our camera, we could see him doing the old 'dip and dab', running his fingers between her legs and smearing the results onto her chest. From what little we knew of Jenny 'after hours' life, that was the least of her favorite moves.

Emily tried to round up a posse but succeeded only in giving Jenny and Peter 'twilight encounter' a rooting section along the shoreline, quietly chanting 'Go! Go! Go!' as Peter mounted up and got a run going. We'd be tempted to shrug 'Kids today' but if our party hostess to be believed, the teenagers of Nineteen-Twenties Berlin financed their private sex orgies by taking in a few paying customers on the side.

While Emily, Eloise and finally Verna fretted over what to do next, Jenny and Peter concluded their little soirée in blissful ignorance, waiting for the cover of darkness to make the drive for shore. Of course the power comes on just as her car pulled up to the dock and the two of them were greeted by a line of kids holding up number cards taken from the store room next to the tennis courts - 'Eight-five', 'Nine-two', 'Eight-seven', 'Nine-four' and 'Three-six (Soviet judge)'.

Jenny had to go back to her change into something more presentable so Peter was left to take the brunt of the Emily's fury alone and what a finely tuned instrument of rage it was. Even though she was a second marriage sister, she knew all of the right buttons to push and after an an opening salvo of 'How could you?' and 'What were you thinking?', fired a withering, 'For someone with a rant against his old man's 'whoring around' you sure seem determined to follow in his footsteps!'

She was heating up a can of chicken noodle soup on the stove as the last of Verna's minions, still puzzled as to what happened to all those snails they knew they'd ordered, vacated the kitchen. Jenny made a crack about finding a tiny little diary up in the attic and wondering how it got there that fell flat - her humor is an acquired taste. We followed her to the dining and let her get in a few bites of soup before starting in on her.

"You two sure did put on a show for the kids tonight."

"Yeah... wasn't that something," she replied wistfully. "You'd think the Soviet judge would kick in with a six every once in a while just to prove he wasn't biased or anything."

"You shoulda seen the shitstorm he had to go through. Emily was screamin' rape and everything. We'd seen him hittin' you so we kinda figured something was up..."

"Rape huh? Well he was talking about how simple thing were when he was a kid. You know how if you really really liked someone you just slugged 'em. Guess we kinda got carried away... there was a buncha them bigass pond flies around. Sure was a fast operator though. Had to warm up the bullpen on his own... I don't know... Guess I'm a sucker for 'first marriage' kids..."

Any chance of the conversation continuing was dashed by an nervous sounding rap on the front door from a shifty-footed Verna brandishing a checkbook. It seems in addition to her catering duties she was now acting as the Drake family bag man. Sure enough she went into a soft-spoken spiel about how she didn't want any trouble or adverse publicity and how much would it take to make all this go away. Jenny replied that with a police car pulling into the driveway it might not be a good idea for her to be seen tampering with a witness.

Following the prowl car from inside the house Jenny remarked, 'Guess I won't be getting paid for all the propane they used up on me' as she made for the kitchen door to deal with the law. She started by laying down the law herself, reminding them that they were on a private road before asking them what they were here for in that breezy socialite's voice she'd picked up from her mother and recast as Lady Desdemona. Needless to say they'd shown up on account of what'd happened next door and were greeted in the yard by a fidgety Verna who'd pocketed her checkbook but kept a wary eye on Jenny. Eloise came over from the party side followed by a very angry Emily, who literally had Peter by the earlobe. The fun things policemen get to see on an everyday basis.

Eventually the officer got as much of the who, what, when, where and why as he could from Eloise and sauntered over to Jenny to ask if she was looking to press charges. The floor hers, Jenny considered her options a few moments but given how loathe she'd been getting to spend any more time with the Drakes than necessary, her reply was almost a foregone conclusion.

With a none-too-subtle whiff of passive-aggressive resignation, she sighed, "Now why would I want to go and do a fool thing like that?

After a long pause she added, "I'm just a little nothing from the South Shore... I know how you people close ranks around one of your own. Anyway..."

"Hey now Jennifer, there's no need to take it that way. We've always tired to make you feel welcome here..."

"Yeah and you never let me forget it, do you?" Leave it to Jenny to reject the discussion at hand and substitute it with one of her own. The officer sighed and after telling Emily that she needed to stop hitting Peter asked Jenny to tell her side of the story.

"What story? He had to pull my dress down on account of it was shrinking from the water and one thing lead to another... guess we just got carried away... Look... I could've stopped him if I'd wanted to..."

He must've taken her reply for a sort of post-attack bravado as he put his arm around her and walked her over to the other side of the kitchen wing. When they were out of view from the Drakes he pointedly asked if she'd given him her consent.

With the appropriate arm gestures, Jenny replied, "Well gee, it's not like I was at the end of the runway waving him in or nuthin'!"

Sensing he was getting somewhere, the officer firmly repeated his question.

"Alright... Granted... he was a little friskier than I was expecting... but I was gettin' around to it..."

With that, they walked back to face the Drakes. The officer told them that 'the lady' has declined to press charges. Emily was incensed enough to demand, "Can't you take him in for something? Like how about trespassing?"

"No can do ma'am... Kettle Island belongs to the Van Der Plaats."

"Well... what about indecent exposure? He had her tits out and everything!"

"Best I can do is issue an appearance ticket but frankly, you shouldn'tve been lookin' in your neighbor's yard in the first place."

Sensing a need to keep the peace the officer motioned Peter over to check his breath. Smelling the half-dozen or so beers consumed the officer 'suggested' that it'd be in his best interest to go quietly with him on a drunk and disorderly charge - a situation Peter seemed more than used to.

With Peter on his way to the drunk tank, Jenny had no other compelling reason to be outside so without any ceremony she went back inside to finish her supper. Emily, still not finished with the whole matter, traipsed up the kitchen steps after her.

Finding Jenny in the dining room lit only by the ambient glow from next door, Emily cursed the darkness and felt around the walls for the switch till Jenny finally lit up an old railroadman's lantern hanging from the ceiling.

"Yeah... when this place was built, there weren't a lot of houses around here," Jenny noted helpfully, "and electricity was hard to come by so they never got around to wiring the place... Even when they got a generator for the big house... Did you want something?"

"Uhm... yeah! We all saw what happened. We coulda gotten plenty of witnesses to back you up!"

Between spoonfuls of soup Jenny dryly recounted, "Did I ever tell you the story of two queers that met each other in a bar down in the Village? By way of introduction, the first one declares 'I'm a sadist, I derived sexual pleasure from inflicting pain on other. Well the other fellow declares 'I'm a masochist and I derive sexual pleasure from receiving pain!' The sadist then asks, 'Would you like to come up to my place? It's just around the corner and I've a brand new leather bullwhip I'd like to break in.' The masochist can't believe his luck and readily agrees top come with."

"They get up to the sadist's pad and he orders the masochist to take off all his clothes which he does. Then he orders him to lay down on the bed and he does that too. The sadist then produces a pair of handcuffs and now the masochist fellow really gets excited... this is going to be the greatest night of his life. After handcuffing the masochist to the bedpost, the sadist draws the leather bullwhip from the nightstand drawer and plants himself in a seat a little bit aways from to the bed and starts slapping the strands of the bullwhip into his palm. After a few minutes of watching the sadist toy with the bullwhip, anticipation gets the better of him and the masochist finally demands 'Well... Aren't you going to whip me?'. The sadist silently toys with the bullwhip for another minute and finally declares, 'No!'"

Emily tightened her face and made this palms out gesture of incomprehension with her arms - a pose we always have trouble making since it really only works in synchronized stereo.

"The boy's a rebel without a cause... or a clue for that matter. He was obviously looking to make a scene and now he doesn't get it... If it makes you feel any better, maybe you can tell everybody that, we figured the DA would have to drop the case for insufficient evidence... You know... because not everything is bigger in Texas.... Now... You're in my house and I didn't invite you. Please leave."

After seeing Emily to the door, Jenny drove us up to the main house where we caught a ride home with Paul and Stacey. Jenny opted to spend the night under her grandparent's roof since she was going to be meeting up with Bitsey and her friend over at the country club the next day and didn't want to tempt fate by driving all over Long Island with that leg of hers. She also didn't feel like having to deal with mom and dad right away. As 'liberated' as she might fancy herself to be, some things she still didn't feel like throwing in their face.

Not that her parents were all that squeamish about their sex life - many is the time they would ask to borrow our Polaroid camera for pictures that would never see the light of day - in our presence at least. This Sunday morning was no exception, and in return we were offered the use the Platt company's wirephoto machine to file those party pictures with Panorama. We actually ended up using the Amityville police department's machine on account of Sheriff Misener wanting to talk to us about what he'd picked up over the police radio last night. All we could say is that if she was, she was too proud - or stubborn - to admit it and if she wasn't, she was too proud - or disappointed - to admit that either.

We got home to find our camera perched merrily in the milk cooler by the driveway door, none the worse for whatever hoary imaging task it was put through. Naturally we had to spend a few minutes checking everything out and putting things back where they belong because nobody ever puts thing away like we want them put away.

As the cop dismounted Jenny finally wrenched herself from her seat and stormed off for the garage. We were telling the cop that she lived here when she emerged from the garage with a hatchet in hand. His hand reached for his gun but stopped when he saw her turn for and grab a couple logs from the wood pile beside the garage. We all looked on in wonder as she made quick work of the selected log slices, one whack to seat the blade and the next whack to finish the cut - Lizzie Borden could learn a thing or two about efficiency from her.

Having chopped all the wood she wanted, Jenny gatherer up her pile and lit off for the alley behind the house. We motioned the cop to follow us through the patio door and met Jenny as she stormed into the living room and dumped her load into the fireplace while her rather surprised parents, who were going through the Sunday paper at the time, looked on. As Jenny arranged the wood and kindling, the cop explained that he'd seen her stop somewhere outside of Jericho to get a blanket from what he'd first thought was under the hood of her car. When he pulled up for a closer look he noticed that even when she looked straight at him, from her lack of reaction, it was as if he wasn't there at all so he followed her here to make sure she got where she was going OK.

He had no explanation as to why Jenny was drenched from head to toe or in such a agitated, non responsive state. He did note that a couple months ago a girl was found over in Islip in the same sort of condition but from what he could recall, that girl was in much worse shape.

No sooner had Jenny finally managed to get a fire going, we heard another car pull into the driveway and stop. Then we heard the sounds of its occupants get out and frantically race to the front door. It was Bitsey, excitably muttering 'Oh my gaw' and this 'Helga' of a woman following behind her. You ever hear someone describe a prospective blind date as 'big boned'? Well, this is the girl they want you to think of when they're really trying to fob some Petunia Pig off on you.

Bitsey, not know where anyone was in the house, called for Jenny as she first poked her head in the dining room and then started up the stairs. Catching a look into the living room, she stopped about midway and crab-walked her way back down to join her friend who looked like someone who just realized they'd just stormed into total stranger's home without so much as a knock on the door. After briefly taking us in, she introduced herself as Brenda in one of the most fragrant Southern accents we've ever heard - the diametric opposite of the scowly, pissed off sounding, hillbilly voices we'd heard from Wesley's 'kinfolk'.

"Okay... so we get there around the time when they close the pool for grownups so all the little kids can go for a swim and Jenny's already there and she's ordered drinks for us which is cool 'cuz they still give me funny looks when I try to order something even though I'm nineteen already..."

Bitsey sucks in a double lungful of air and continued.

"Well we're making small talk while we're waiting for the drinks and Jenny say something about how the lifeguard seems more interested in making the hausfraus than looking after the kids. Then she says something about how she thought all the UN people lived around Great Neck... I explained that a lot of the governesses bring their own kids along when taking kids up to the pool but that we did have a couple UN people that go here but their kids are much older..."

As Bitsey took another breath Brenda suggested that she 'tell them about that guy'.

"Oh yeah... Well we get our drinks and... Oh and I almost forgot... Doug Montelli, you remember him? He just got out of the hospital and a bunch of his friends were a couple tables over celebrating with the Baker twins Virginia and Carolina... Oh you should meet them! Jenny used to call them the Domo and Campanile on account of Virginia is a kinda tall and thin and Carolina is short and stocky. Their mom Samira is a real Egyptian..."

Brenda used the next Bitsey breath to note that Jenny seemed to 'slink behind her sunglasses' when she found out Douglas was there.

"Oh you wanted me to tell them about that guy... well Jenny was keeping her glass up by her face like this... and this... guy... comes out from the dining room... He heads straight for our table... don'tcha hate it when guys see a group of girls and think they can just waltz right over like you were waiting for them all you life? He says something to Jenny about how he had a good time with her last night... and he was saying it kinda loud like he wanted other people to hear... Then he says he was just up to see Mister Van De Lay and he needed to ask her something important..."

We knew who that was but Bitsey had refreshed her air supply before we could say anything.

"He gets up in her face and says 'Now... everybody knows you've been sleeping with him so I got a right to know... Do you got what he's got?' Right in front of everybody! Whatta dinkus!"

"Well Jenny didn't miss a beat... she just looked at him and went 'Uhm yeah! That's kinda my thing!' and looks at us to back her up and Brenda goes... what'd you say?"

"I said we call her Jeneral Electric cuz if you stick a bun in her oven it comes out toast... Yeah... I kinda figured she wanted to give him the business..."

"Now... this is where it gets weird," Bitsey continued. "He's about to have kittens and some of the guys from Doug's table come over to tell him off... and Jenny gets this look... she must've been counting the kids all this time and found one missing cuz she gets out of her chair and goes over to the deep end of the pool... sees something in the water and dives right in with her street clothes on. Didn't even take her shoes off. We go up to the edge to see what's going on and sure enough she's at the bottom trying to get something into her arms."

"That must've been that drowning I got over the radio," noted the patrolman.

"She finally comes up and starts back paddling over to the stairs when the lifeguard notices her and he's whistling for her to get out of the pool when she flops this little Puerto Rican kid onto the deck. Now this kid was dead! He was completely dead... Not moving at all... but Jenny wasn't gonna take 'no' for an answer so she flips him over and starts slapping him on the back to get the water out of him. Then she turns him back over, opens him mouth and without so much as a how-do-you-do' gets right into his face and starts blowing air into him!"

"Rescue breathing," we clarified, "Jenny took a Coast Guard course on that."

"Yeah... she told me about that... Well everybody on the patio with kids starts lookin' for theirs and everyone else rushes over to where Jenny was but she's too busy working that kid over... Then the kid's mom runs over screaming in Puerto Rican or something right as Jenny was pushing on his chest... you know, to get his heart going? She's out of her mind and trying to get the kid away from Jenny and we're all having to hold her off... Finally the kid spits up some water... right in Jenny's mouth... he's starts hackin' and coughin' and callin' for his mama... who drags him off without so much as a thank you..."

"It's not like she had much of a chance," Brenda added. "She sat there for a couple seconds, looking at that glass in her hand and then took off for the parking lot before anybody could stop her. Jen... Jennifer... Y'all right hon?"

When Jenny shook off Brenda's arm we knew she was coming back to us.

Jenny's final return to the living was announced with a low groan, a few coughs and sniffles and finally a clearing of her throat. She flexed the fingers of the hand holding that glass before letting the glass go and mused to nobody in particular...

"You ever see in the movies when somebody pours themselves a drink or plays with a sandwich... and you're just waiting for them to finish it and they don't... or even worse they dump it out... or throw it in the garbage without even touchin' it? Always used to bother me... What's everybody lookin' at?"

Picture a room with everyone making the same palms-out gesture at once.

"Yeah... well I guess that's another place I'm never gonna be able to go to again... I sure made a spectacle of myself, didn't I?"

Bitsey and Brenda tried to be reassuring but we knew that it wasn't embarrassment Jenny was worried about. After all that happened, she was probably going to look at that pool the same way she looks at that parking spot in front of the ESB. Or not... That was a pretty nasty insult Peter dumped in her lap.

Mentioning that she was a psychology major, Brenda began informally 'debriefing' Jenny about her state of mind after pulling that kid out of the drink. She had observed that Jenny had done almost all 'command and control' movements with the left side of her body with the right side merely 'playing catch up'.

"Yeah... I tend to get like that when I'm concentrating... Like I was on autopilot or something... You know I was having trouble talking too... Say did I run a red light or something?"

The patrolman shifted his weight a little as if embarrassed to be there before mentioning his encounter with her.

"Gee... if I saw you I probably didn't recognize what you were..."

"Well... seeing as you didn't break any actual traffic laws... I think a bruised ego on my part is a small price to pay for saving a life... Anyway there isn't a jury in the world..."

He stopped in mid-sentence to peek out the window as a car pulled into the driveway followed by voices and the sound of camera equipment being unloaded.

"No.... people need some good news every now and then... just give me a minute..."

In that minute Jenny's innate sense of stage direction and how reporters like to cover a story kicked in. She sent Bitsey and Brenda out to tell their side of the story and to suggest without actually saying it outright that maybe she wasn't going to want to be interviewed. She sent us to fetch her wheelchair and a couple fresh blankets so she could do the interview from the window. Just to be cheeky we asked if we ought to slip out the back way. She merely replied that it was our call as she shook her hair down and flapped her blouse a little to air it out - both were still damp and clingy - adding that we would make for quite the curious onlookers.

The interview started on a genial note as Jenny recognized the cameraman as a stringer she'd seen at a couple stories she'd covered. He and his reporter, a Latin fellow going by the flamboyant moniker of Alberto Santos-DuMont, had been on his way to the country club like a couple other reporters were when they heard the patrolman over the radio and took a chance on getting a scoop. Upon finding out they were from Channel 7, the ABC station, Jenny mockingly spat on the ground a couple times, declaring that her mom worked for NBC and that she was a loyal 'company girl'.

Having lightened the mood for herself she was able to get down to retelling her side of the story. The detail that stuck out was that she had to pull hard to get the kid from off the drain and was worried that if she couldn't get him before she had to come up for air she wasn't sure she would've been able to find him again. When asked if she felt like a hero, she replied she was just glad she'd taken a course in rescue breathing adding that she was a 'boatie' and if you're going to be on the water you should know how to take care of yourself.

On being told that there was word that some of the club member were putting some money together for a reward she said they'd be better off giving it to the kid since he was under the water so long he was sure to have some sort of brain damage. Besides, being put in a position of being able to save a life is plenty reward enough. But certainly she'd like to meet the kid so he can thank you personally, wouldn't she?

"Oh no... I'm sure it's bad enough to have almost drowned in front of your mates and then to find out you were saved by a girl with a bum leg... that'd be too much. Anyway he's somebody else's kid and I'd never be able to stop looking out for him... so no... I don't want to see him."

Finally they asked her about the 'Surf Angel', noting that she matched the description of the girl and that she had been found fairly close to Hecksher park.

"I don't know," she sighed. "That'd be a pretty heavy thing to try and take credit for..."
Another car pulled into the driveway as she pondered the rest of her answer.

"All I have from that evening are little bits and pieces and all of them pretty scary... I had an awful summer this year... no possible good could come from..."

"Excuse me ," interrupted the nebbish of a man that just showed up, "but are you Jennifer Van der Plaat?"

"That's what it say on the birth certificate..."

Handing her a folded slip of paper he declared, "Consider yourself served," tipped his hat to her and the cameraman, bade everyone a good afternoon and turned for his car before anyone had a chance to react to him. After giving it a once over, she handed it the reporter with an 'I told you... no good deed goes unpunished'. Mis'ess Van De Lay was filing for divorce and not only was she naming Jenny as corespondent, but she was personally suing her for alienation of affection.

Naturally they asked her what she had to say about the matter and Jenny replied that obviously she was innocent of the charges and could prove it. Then she was quiet for a spell as if imagining herself on the witness stand.

"Oh, I'm in a spot," she concluded. "Tell me, what the first thing they teach you about interviewing someone in journalism school? It's the same as in law school - don't ask questions you don't already know the answer to... It wouldn't take someone all of five minutes to dope out what I've been up to in the last few months... I'm in the damn Social Register for criminey sakes... Either she's got a really bad lawyer... or she's up to something. Maybe you better come inside..."

We stood in a the most inconspicuous corner of the living room as Mister DuMont took in the tableau before him. Jenny's mum was slow on the draw, so he got a glimpse of the sick bed through the sunporch door the had been left open to get at the wet bar. Upon seeing Jenny efforts to greet him standing up, the Latin instinct for chivalry kicked in and he dismissed his cameraman and seeing that she was still shivering a little, offered his own jacket which she declined saying it would just get wet.

"The stuff I want to show you is upstairs so I'm gonna need you to spot me if you don't mind... my leg's still a little sore."

On the way upstairs Jenny spoke about how she first ran into him.

"I was working on a project that used a something that was in one of his projects but there were some differences in what was in the plans and what I'd seen built so I wanted to ask him about it..."

Once up in her work room she handed him the paperwork for her 'earthquake study' noting that he should go over her expense account as well as the supplemental report on 'Structural Changes Made to Accommodate Test Equipment' while she changed out of her wet clothes. He duly took a seat and sifted through the papers till he found the Supplemental Report while Jenny shouted something about a field reporters trick she picked up where you ask someone who doesn't want to do an interview if you could use their phone to tell your editor and while you're on the phone you casually ask questions to the fellow. She also mentioned there were some sodies in the little fridge by the cabinet if he was thirsty but warned him not to take the last Rheingold or she'd have to even the score with Mister Death - you know, like the Aztecs used to do.

Mister DuMont didn't look like someone with a deep understanding of engineering minutia but even he could figure out you shouldn'tve needed to weld gusset plates to a column and fill box girders with a high compression rated concrete to accommodate a few measly seismometers and recording instruments - especially when the floor had been cleared of draftsmen.

"How bad?"

"Into the street probably... Hey, you recording this? Cuz I can come in there... just straightening my hair out..."

"Oh... my mother taught me never to rush a women getting ready... Into the street you say?"

"Yeah... well they were still using rivets so you can never be sure... the real problem is that they'd weld U channels to make box girders and with the kind of load they were putting on them... they were already showing serious cracks..."

Jenny came into the room looking nothing like the disheveled ruin from downstairs to plea her case for Mister Van De Lay, "Look... it wasn't even his mistake. The steel fabricators couldn't do his original design and someone else in the office signed off on the changes. He builds decent housing at a price people can afford and does it within the capitalist system... If this gets out, what's gonna happen the next time some architect makes some little mistake?"

"All I've got is my word and my... well... you know... Anyway it's like the man said, you don't break either for anybody. He owned up to the mistake and even took money out of his own pocket to make things right. I'm young and I'm pretty much judgment proof... Hey where'd that come from?"

She'd noticed that Mister DuMont had been toying with a shark's tooth he'd found in little a tray of shells on her desk. Taking it from him to get a better look at, she recalled, "Oh that's right... I'd had a little 'knuckle-chat' with this rather rude... 'fish' one day... Y'know, animals never see a left hook coming. Too bad this is broken... was a perfectly good tooth when I got it. Kept in in a little pocket inside my swimsuit all summer..."

She gave it back to Mister DuMont who replied, "Sometimes a broken tooth tells a better story. So what do you want me to do about this..."

"Use your best judgment, I guess... I know what I have to do..."

"I respectfully decline to answer any and all questions on the ground that they may tend to incriminate me."

That Jenny would take the Fifth was pretty much a foregone conclusion to us and it sure as hell woke up the Foley Square old-timers sitting in the press gallery but there was a lot of footwork involved in her decision. First off she wasn't as 'judgment proof' as she thought on account of her parents having put a lot of family property, like the house, in her name for tax purposes. To be able to take care of that the family lawyer had to find a way to quash the subpoena. Luckily there was an obscure 'blue law' on the town books that made it illegal to serve civil court subpoenas on the Sabbath.

Naturally Mis'ess Van De Lay's lawyers tried to serve Jenny in the courthouse to which Jenny's lawyer mentioned that the subpoena was for 'Jennifer Van der Plaat' and while that was her name on her birth certificate, she was legally a Platt now having taken the extraordinary step during that period when she was mad at her grandmother of being formally adopted by her father. The delay in writing up a new subpoena bought the Platts enough time to transfer just about everything that was in Jenny's name over to a family owned holding company that had been set up for cousin Bitsey's twenty-first birthday.

With a liability shield even Captain Video and his Video Rangers couldn't breach, Jenny really only had to worry about the public relations front and given her 'damn the torpedoes' attitude on those matters, it was 'dead slow ahead' throughout the preliminary hearings.

Most of the other columnists stayed neutral with Albert Towley the sole anti-Jennifer voice, his articles essentially saying 'Oh gee, so you saved some stupid kid's life, by all means help yourself to any man you please. It's the least The City can do to thank you'. Still he seemed to be pulling his punches - or was being kept on a short leash by management.

By the time public court hearings rolled around the general consensus was yes, if you go and save a kid's life even though you're still recovering from not only a crippling leg injury but a near fatal heart attack, well then by all means you could have a man on the side if it makes you happy - and you'd be surprised how many women in the New York metroplolitan region mailed Jenny pictures of their husbands for her approval. By the way, each one of them got a hand signed thank-you card in return, because that's how Jenny was raised.

Any public support Mis'ess Althea Van De Lay might've had collapsed like a burning factory loft once Mister Van De Lay, who looked like he'd been rooming with General Grant, was wheeled in. Fortunately for Jenny, who hadn't wanted to face him again, she could retreat behind the dark Ray Bans she was wearing on account of a minor case of pink-eye she'd picked up from a midnight swim in N'eddie's over-chlorinated pool.

Unfortunately for Althea, being a 'high-yellow passer' with 'conked' orangey-blonde hair wasn't sitting all that well with the row of colored ladies in their Sunday churchin' best seated behind us - and we couldn't say what the white people were hissing under their breath. To be fair, it's because we were sandwiched between Chinese matrons who were of the 'Why you no take care your man?' persuasion.

Like Hiram Abiff, Jenny was asked three times on the stand to state her relationship with Mister Van De Lay and like Hiram Abiff she held her tongue. Perhaps it was her emphasis on 'they might incriminate me' but the idea soon spread amongst the crowd around us that she was taking the fall to protect someone. When Althea's lawyer - on that third try - asked her about that 'so-called hospital trip' to Jersey, well obviously she didn't want Van De Lay facing a Mann Act rap. However it was when she was dismissed from the stand only to have her good leg buckle from overuse and send her to the floor with a shriek and tears that the court was hers for the asking.

With Jenny not cooperating the next witnesses in the dugout were employees from the firm with Will Caulfield at bat and Emily in the on deck circle. This being a civl case, not a lot of care was taken to isolate the witnesses from the court proceedings and Doughnut Boy, perhaps sensing the mood of the court, or hoping to establish some sort of solidarity with Jenny, bunted the Fifth on the first pitch. Emily, who was the back of all this for signing off on that damned design change, did the same but it was Walter who has the best line observing,, 'I suppose it's the new fashion today', before respectfully declining to answer any and all questions.

Naturally Jenny was mobbed by the press during the lunch recess and even though she was still smarting from that witness stand wipeout, she still managed to field their questions with composure and courtesy but when Mister Van De Lay's lawyer asked if she could come over and talk to his client, she broke down sobbing, 'I don't want to see him... I just want to go home' - the headline for the evening.

We had sense enough to not even try to talk to Jenny as she brooded and pecked at her macaroni and cheese plate in the courthouse diner. Mis'ess Van De Lay didn't and planted herself in the seat opposite all of us, ignoring our trademark-registered Two-faced Glare of Death to give Jenny the Manacing Negress stare. After what must've been the longest minute in history, Althea curtly demanded that Jenny remove her sunglasses. Chewing her macaroni in an imitation of Bugs Bunny, she lifted her glasses, showed her inflamed eyes and dropped them back down before delivering her opening line.

"Whatsa matter? You think I've never seen a 'sunset' before?"

"I suppose Little Miss Country Club is on the best of terms with the colored help."

"Oh nooo... We had to let go of all our colored help. You see... we like to beat our servants and it's really no fun if you can't see the bruises... We got Chinamen now! The twins... now they're really lucky... They live out in cattle country so they get to use branding irons on their work-bucks when they get out of line..."

"Oh and I suppose you're going to tell me you're some great hero for the civil rights cause."

Not waiting for Jenny to answer she continued her harangue, "Lemme guess, you signed a petition on your little college campus... or maybe you even held up a sign... Tell me... what great deed did Little Miss Country Club do?"

Jenny's icy reply was the truth, a lie and a curious story all at once. It seems her 'Lady Desdemona' act - a caricature of a 'worldly woman' as imagined by some provincial hick - had a following amongst Amish teenagers on something called rumspringa. Jenny's paternal grandparents were members of the 'Jederman Brethren' a 'secular' religious organization from the old country that held beliefs similar to those of the Mennonites and she liked to 'compare notes' with them.

As luck would have it, The Aquanetters - without Janice - were doing a tour of the Old South around the time of the Woolworth lunch counter sit-ins and Jenny got the bright idea that if they filled the store with enough people, it would be that much harder for the kids actually doing the sit in to get attacked by angry locals. To that end she'd find out where the next protest would be and the Aquanetters and a retinue of Amish fans would 'just happen' to show up shortly after the protest started. They'd duly and with all politeness line up behind the protesters to wait their turn for an open seat. It must've been an impressive show of moral force and it's a shame Jenny's religious convictions don't allow her to 'boast' about it.

It was in her capacity as a Jederman that she had attended the book-signing up in Harlem that 'Herr Doktor' King was holding in support of his writings a few years ago. She had hoped to extend an invitation to speak before a meeting of 'The Brethren' but fate had intervened in the form of a crazy lady armed with a steak knife or something like that. Jenny had been on the phone with someone at Panorama news desk to call in a brief report on the event when the stabbing went down and supposedly could be heard warning someone in the melee not to try an pull out the blade. Naturally she never said anything about her possible role in the events but it had been a recorded call.

"Well... at least you're consistant," Mis'ess Van De Lay finally conceded.

"Not like you don't have my life history anyway... Whatsa private dick cost these days? Can't be as much as Traci Levigne... Yeah... if you're gonna start gossip you might want to make sure you don't start close to where somebody's mom works if you don't want them to find out. I mean really... I had friends with me and everything... Hell, the goddamn First Lady was in the cab with us!

Even though Mis'ess Van De Lay was a bit thrown by that, she still had a comeback.

"How else was I gonna get in touch with you? You never answered the door at that apartment he got for you and when I finally do get an answer someone else was living there. I had somebody run down your L.A. address and it's a vacant lot!"

"Never set foot in that apartment... Didn't need it since I had a place to stay on the Island. Dunno about L.A. There was a house there when I left. Office had my phone number on file..."

"Yeah... well I've been under the weather lately... and my contract was up anyway so I wasn't getting out of bed for office calls. Wasn't working there so what was the point? Turned off the ringer... You finally found the house at least..."

"Had to go through the Social Register to find your mother. Amityville... Slumming it aren't we?"

"Yeah, it's a teeming ghetto... a regular Hell's Cafeteria it is... but it's home sweet home. Anyway... you've got me now..."

"Fat lot good it's doin' me... I suppose you're gonna tell me you would've been more willing to sing otherwise..."

"Well... for the record I wasn't schtupping your old man... but then you already..."

"It's not the sex I care about... not that I don't love my old man... if Mister Van De Lay wants a little white girl on the side, more power to him... but... dammit girl, you sure are an expensive piece of tail! I go to pay the doctor bills and come to find out there's twenty large missing from our bank account! By that time Arthur couldn't say anything... Look, we can't afford this. Most of our money is either tied up in stocks and bonds or put back into the business..."

"Doesn't Blue Cross have to pay..."

"He didn't get it for himself, the damn fool..."

Jenny leaned back in her chair with a groan as she tried to figure out her next move. She had naturally assumed that Mis'ess Van De Lay had known or been able to find out what was going on all the time but now she wasn't so sure.

"I really don't want to say anything in open court... If you want to take it in chambers... I can live with that..."

"Under oath?"

Jenny nodded in agreeance.

Whoever said confession was good for the soul never saw the humiliated look on Jenny's face as she handed the paperwork she'd brought with her over to Mis'ess Van De Lay's attorney.

"We'd wondered about that," muttered Mis'ess Van De Lay's attorney as he pored over the expense account. Sucking air when he got to the materials purchasing list, he added, "I'm no engineer... but damn! I could've fed my grandchildren on the lawsuits from this..."

He passed it over to the judge for a look-see. We saw him shake his head and mouth the words 'catastrophic structural failure' before saying out loud, "I take it... we're going to want these records sealed..."

With that, the judge dismissed the case in chambers with a few words about how the city could use more people like Jenny and a suggestion that she should be paid a hell of a lot more than the lousy hundred a week she was getting. As everyone rose to leave, Mis'ess Van De Lay's attorney made a move to give her a pat on the back but she was already out the door and halfway to Bensonhurst by then.

We ended up bumming a ride home with Mister DuMont, who'd been waiting with the rest of the gathered press for the matinee that never came. As an offering of appreciation, we played for him a Dictette recording Jenny had inadvertantly made of that hospital trip to New Jersey - she often recorded meetings and interviews. It started with Jenny doing a 'time stamp' in the parking lot then her feet crunching gravel on the way to the door. The footsteps stopped like she'd seen something, then the microphone banged against something as she rushed to his door and kept rolling as she pushed him to the passenger side, dug around for his keys, started the car and sped off for the Lincoln tunnel.

Eerily enough we were in the Brooklyn Battery tunnel as we heard Jenny at the toll booth in a mild panic asking the toll collector to call ahead for a police escort to the nearest Jerseyside hospital while trying to comfort Mister Van De Lay through his death agony. Eventually police sirens were heard and some unintelligible shouts back and forth once they were in Weehawken.

Naturally Mister DuMont wanted to air the tape and Jenny after expressing surprise that the whole thing had been recorded - she'd stopped using the Dictette machine and had given it to us when she bought the Carry-corder - agreed to let him since she wasn't in the mood to do any more interviews. She wanted to have nothing more to do with 'them'.

Aside from making an appearance in the Burgundy room to host a private fundraiser amongst the building trades set up for Mister Van Del Lay's medical care, she kept to the Village, blowing off amongst other things, a request by N'eddie to sit in on negotiations with some Hollywood producer who wanted to make a movie out of Eloise's memoirs. She really wanted to have nothing more to do with 'them'.

She spent the rest of August collaborating with Stacey and Paul on a 'project' for the J Platt and Company headquarters. It seems Stacey had gotten hold of a truckload of escalator parts taken from a building in The City that had been torn down and thought it would be nice to try and make a 'spiral' escalator to replace the curved stairway in the J Platt and Company lobby. We didn't think such a thing was possible but Jenny mentioned that some of the first escalator patents were indeed for spiral designs.

After a weekend of trial and error they had a quarter-scale model set up and running inside a shed that used to be a fire station back in the horse and buggy days and was now Stacey's design studio. When they applied for a building permit, a reporter for the town paper took notice and by the time they got their approval, they started getting calls from the press as well as some inquiries from the escalator manufacturers - one of whom were intrigued enough to offer technical assistance. It was with that assistance that they were able to have the the whole thing ready for a proper unveiling in only a couple weeks. Stacey wanted to set the unveiling for the Thirty-first so they could have the weekend to work out any bugs but Jenny was gung-ho for that Friday arguing that this was more of a 'weekend story' and a flop would look just a great as a success.

On the Thursday afternoon beforehand we'd recalled something Jenny had said about 'breaking the spell' so we asked her if maybe she could get in touch with Nicky Schwinn to see if he might want to at least say a few words to the photography club. Jenny wasn't sure but she figured N'eddie might know, so she called the Panorama office and was told N'eddie was 'in conference'. With a smirk she relayed that to us as she dialed up the MacAlpin operator to put her through to N'eddie's suite. After a minute of small talk and apologies for blowing off that meeting, Jenny asked about how to get in touch with Nicky. After a moment's silence she handed the phone to us and we heard the sound of a receiver being passed over the rustle of bedsheets.

So we were able to book Nicky for the evening but he wouldn't be able to make The Big Unveiling on account of him having a day job and all that. The next morning was spent going back and forth between setting up with Janice's help for the photo club meeting and to helping Jenny set up refreshment tables. Everybody was getting cold cuts and finger sandwiches - if nobody showed for the unveiling there'd be all the more for the meeting - but there was considerably more hooch set aside for the unveiling as Jenny knew full well that reporters adore an open bar.

Even for a minor backpage story, being in the New York city market meant you could draw at least a couple dozen newspaper reporters with another dozen from the magazines as well as a handful of radio people with tape recorders, a newsreel stringer and a couple 'film at eleven' guys with sixteen millimeter camera. To better accomodate the latter, Jenny has set up a row a kleig lights borrowed from the High School's auditorium in the catwalk running above us. As Jenny explained to the assembly, the J P & C Building used to be two separate structures before the town widened the main drag. Because the second storeys were at different heights, the front area of the building with the lower second storeys was opened up so the Broadway façade would line up properly. Since it was decided to line up the four storey 'vertical element' facing Oak Street with the 'South' building, they also cut away about ten feet or so of the 'North' building's second floor to form a two storey 'hall of fame' - photos and models of the various J P & C projects. The exposed cross-beams were disguised as light fixtures with planter boxes on top.
Another design trick shown was a column that had been painted silver and wrapped with glass block that was lit from inside - a nice effect at night all agreed but they had come to see a curved escalator and the only thing with any curves besides Jenny was a wall of corrugated plastic paneling. With an 'oh yeah... right...' and a cue to the cameramen, Jenny produced a television clicker and with a push of a button, lighting from behind the panels shone to reveal the shadowy outlines of an escalator mechanism.

Jenny used the time needed for removing the panels to introduce her 'build team', including Paul and Stacey, workers from the Marina Del Porto yard, J P & C staff and 'some wonderful volunteers from the escalator industry'. Declaring that as the chief engineer for the project and the one to blame if this thing kills anyone, Jenny drew a key from her pocket to start the 'infernal contraption'. Almost to her disappointment it started running on the first go so she had no choice but to ride upstairs for the cameras. About halfway up it jerked to a halt and a little buzzer went off. To her delight, it turned out a dropcloth had managed to get itself sucked under the top landing's striker plate and trip a safety mechanism she'd come up with.

After clearing the obstructing dropcloth, the next half hour was spent sending press and camera men in various combinations of up the escalator and down - it was reversible. Once everyone got their traveling shots, it was time for the standup interviews so the print reporters got first crack at the refreshments.

Since we were tending bar, we got at least a million cracks about how was anyone supposed be able to tell if they're drunk from looking at us and our usual reply was to call a cab if they see just one face looking back at them. Still we were in a good mood and enjoyed the not only the scene inside but we also got the outdoor spectacle of passers by peering into the window to see what all the fuss was about. Most people would peep in for a couple seconds and move along but one fellow lingered - not a creepy guy linger but a linger like he'd seen someone he might've grown up or gone out with ages ago but wasn't quite sure.

Oddly enough, he looked familiar to us, though we couldn't place the face so we asked one othe the reporters, who said something about how he'd covered so many stories, he wouldn't know if he'd interviewed his own grandmother but yeah the guy looks like somebody.

"Excuse me... Sir... The door was unlocked. You could've gone right in... Sir?"

He stopped in his tracks but didn't turn around. That sounded awfully familiar to him.

"Sir, " she repeated, "The door was unlocked. You could've gone right in..."

Brightening with recognition he turned around to get a look at her. After letting out a 'now I remember' groan, he pulled her into a great big sloppy bear hug, quite literally sweeping her off her feet in a full three-sixty turn. It brought to mind this one time we were in The City with our brother when this stocky colored girl comes from out of nowhere, grabs Avi while squealling 'Bobby! Bobby!' and spins him around a few times before letting him go and vanishing into the crowd.

When he finally let her down for air, Jenny let out, "Gee... and here I was thinking you never wanted to see me again."

"I thought you were dead," he replied.

"Dead? I'll admit I'd been gone a while... but I'd left a note on the fridge!"

"Didn't you know? There was a big dam break up the street... Place you were staying was washed out... When I never heard from you, I just assumed..."

By that time the blonde had had enough and was out of the car and heading right for them. Seeing her coming, Jenny quipped "I see you've landed on your feet okay..."

"Huh? That's my half-sister... Lori... Hey Lori, this is that Jennifer I was telling you about..."

Breathlessly she started to introduce him only to have the reporter who never remembers a face greets him with a 'Hey.... Didn't you used to be Fast Eddie Ryerson?'. He was but that was a long while ago which it was. We remember a couple trips to The City with Jenny back in the late Forties to watch his radio broadcast. We recalled that he made maybe a couple movies but not much else more. The reporter was good enough to ask whatever happened to him and he replied that he was no longer 'labor' - he was in management now.

Remembering that she had an interview left to do, she took a second to try and compose herself and returned to her mark with all apologies. She was basically answering the same questions everybody else asked but with every answer she'd ask Eddie something.

"One of the courses I'd taken was on elevator and escalator technologies and I still had the book... So what are you in town for Eddie?"

He was in fact that producer looking to turn Eloise's serial into a movie that Jenny had blown off.

"just to be on the safe side we decided to use a chain drive in the center and mount the tread units on gimbals... So what made you come all the way out to The Village?"

Wouldn't you know he'd heard about that 'Surf Angel' nonsense and happened to be in the area to check it out. He'd stopped at some diner down by the river and they'd sent him up here for some reason. That reminded Jenny to 'reveal' that her 'ulterior motive' for this showing was to round up guest speakers for our meeting, which got a few 'possibly maybes' on account of the short notice and work schedules and besides they'd have to file and return. That in turn reminded Jenny of that story we'd had in mind about the modern day equivalent of that Nineteen-fifteen family.

Just around the time the hooch ran out, just everyone had packed their grips and left so Jenny gave Eddie, Lori and a few stragglers from the Fourth Estate the Cook's Tour of the J P & C headquarters, starting with the 'Hall of Fame'. The core business of the company was in setting up and supervising concrete production facilities for remote sites like highways, bridges, dams and even canals - they recently wrapped up work on the Saint Lawrence Seaway project upstate.

Curiously, they hardly did any work in The City, preferring to work at places they can fly into though the company has expanded its business into construction planning, insurance and compliance inspection as well as the promising sideline of engineering failure investigation. Jenny made a note to herself to ask around about that dam failure.

Trooping up the back stairs to the second storey sales and reception floor, Jenny pointed out the telephone exchange that was in effect their own private phone company. A J P & C employee can call the office from anywhere in the world to anywhere else in the world even if they were flat broke. When asked if they could call the moon, she merely replied that 'We haven't opened a field office there... yet.'

She also ducked into a room of special interest to the kids of Amityville. Her aunt Madeline was an avid collector of construction-related toys and before the renovation kept them in a room on the ground floor facing Broadway. They were put to good use as elaborate show window displays - the animated Christmas displays are said to be most memorable - that had just about every boy in town drooling with envy.

She wasn't the kind of person to hoard her collection untouched and the Platt children and their friends often appeared in the window when mother ran errands under a cutesy note saying 'mind the kids while I'm out' to the bemusement of passers by. Needless to say the Platts were very popular - especially on rainy days in the summer when there was nothing else to do.
On the third storey drafting floor Jenny noted - about the high proportion of Negro employees - that 'if this Civil Rights thing ever amounts to anything we're might as well just hand out Grumman applications at job fairs'. One of the 'secrets' to J P & C's success was its willingness to hire qualified people nobody else wanted. The 'concrete solutions' business wasn't particularly demanding so the company could pay lower salaries - generally the next lower tax bracket from the going rate - and pass the savings on to their customers.

Jenny finished her tour in the executive penthouse on the fourth storey which was all new construction - making note of how the roof canopy had been cantilevered over the original two buildings from that four storey 'carbuncle'. Seeing her dad on the terrace demonstrating the fine arts of putting to a delegation from Africa, Jenny noted that in addition to providing training to some of the developing countries, they had a 'powerhouse' company softball team on account of the fact that a lot of their engineers were ball players in college.

While the reporters that had joined the tour were each rewarded was a glass of 'the good stuff', Jenny introduced Eddie and Lori to her dad. They had met on the studio lot she had visited to see a former classmate working there - the one that wanted information about elevators. She had been peering into various windows along a line of offices to try and find the right one - the studio was a bit run down and many signs were faded out or missing entirely. Eddie was in a casting office and meaning to be helpful went outside to tell her that the door was unlocked and she could've come right in, following her as she walked down the service road.

"Well being a New Yorker... and since I'd found the office I was looking for, I gave him the skunkiest skunk-eye and went about my business. I felt bad about it later and went back to his office to apologize... and find out what was so important that he felt the need to go after me like he had."

Eddie picked up the story from there.

"I explained that I was filling in for the casting director and thought that maybe she was some lost starlet - I knew pretty much everybody on the lot so I naturally figured... Razzed her a little about how high-hatting people like she did was a lousy career move"

"That's where they had that 'transporter' bridge," we interrupted.

"That's what Jenny said," he replied. "Anyway I said that growing up there I was used to being a lot more helpful to people... Then we got to talking... mostly comparing home towns. She said she'd sailed up there with her grandfather the summer they opened that Seaway project. Seemed to like the idea of being able to live on a hillside with a view of the water."

"It's pretty flat here on The Island," Jenny noted, "and when I went to school in Pittsburgh... It's really topographic over there... good for the legs."

"I guess curiousity finally got the better of her when she asked what kind of picture I was shooting. I told her it was a horror picture where this gangster gets cut to pieces by these crazy sisters... she got this surprised look on her face and asked if we'd gotten the author's permission to film that. I told her that naturally we did but then she said that she'd written and broadcast a radio play with the same plot around five years ago."

"Yeah.. we were the sisters." We'd also saved our copy of the script.

"Now I'd like to think I was a pretty good judge of people... and she looked more like someone surprised than someone trying to pull a fast one... but one has to be careful with a half-million dollar project at stake so I asked if she had any proof of her claim. She said that she'd destroyed the recording and gotten rid of her copy of the script but she'd let the players keep their copy but she could recite lines from her version. As luck would have it, I not only had the first submitted draft but the writer actually worked on the lot over in the special effects department."

With a laugh Jenny completed the story.

"It turned out it was the fellow I'd come to about elevators. He'd saved his copy of the script!"

"Yeah... in writing class back in High School we used to riff off of each other's stories. We'd also riff off of movies. The Homme Wreckers actually started out as a riff off of that lyching movie 'Fury' where the twins planted rucksacks full of gelignite and nails in the courthouse square so when the mob has their little necktie party, it's absolute mayhem... Anyway, I gave them a heads up about showing it in Pittsburgh."

"We ended up selling the screenplay to an Isreali production company who turned the gangster into a Nazi war ciminal and filmed the whole thing in Germany. I'd gone over to help with co-production since I'd been stationed there when I was in the Army when I got a call from the studio that Jenny's house had been washed out and she was nowhere to be found... Really hit hard. Just stayed in the hotel room for the rest of the production."

"So you were in the Army," mused Jenny's dad. "I was with the Corps of Engineers back in The War."

"I didn't see a lot of action... I was a Quartermaster in Elvis' unit. I'd lost all the money I'd made on the radio and I was really only bumming around in Hollywood. I got no kick against show business but the vibe I kept getting was that if you don't keep moving up or god forbid if you should leave the business entirely, they look at you like you're a loser. When my number came up at the draft, I was actually pretty relieved. I did my tour picked up some management skills and got a nice job with Trans International when I got back. It's a nice little company that makes pictures cheap enough, that we can give new people a shot."

"They've been doing a lot of surf movies lately," Jenny chimed in. "If you still want to do something about that 'Surf Angel... I know the guy who was rescued by her. Matter of fact he was helping with the research that apparently... saved my life... Say dad, do we have anything about a dam burst in Los Angeles? Sometime around December?"

"To put it in your language.. it's kinda like being a contracter... Much of what I do is getting everything set up before filming can take. Pick out a script, figure out what kind of sets we're gonna need... cost them out... figure out a shooting order... put together a crew. Then you gotta take care of contingencies once production starts. It puts food on the table. I had enough bread saved up to buy a house for cash. Jenny was gonna design one for me."

"Yeah... I'd had the parts for that... last I heard they were going through the Panama Canal..."

Jenny gave her dad the inquisitve look and he replied that grampa had anchored the Ulitka in Gatun Lake, locked up and took a plane down to Brazil to look over their new capital city. He's currently helping out on a road project outside of Belo Horizonté or someplace like that.

At this time we'd mentioned that we had to get over to the clubhouse and Jenny decided that would be a good time to take the Ryersons on the town tour. As we were leaving, Jenny's dad quipped, I suppose you're going to want the house for the evening,' which was his was of saying he approved of Eddie. Taking Jenny's silence as a 'yes' he went through the catalog of Broadway offerings before we fled to the streets.

We'd been using Jenny's scooter to get around so we left the lovebirds to hoof it and rode Lori down the clubhouse. She used the time to ask the usual question about us and we gave the usual answers. In return we got her and her half-brother's basic biography. Her mother Doris was one of the 'Philadelphia Lawsons' and had married Eddie's father around Nineteen Forty-three after his divorce. She was born the year after and was eight years younger than Eddie - making Eddie around three years older than Jenny. Eddie had stayed with his mother but often visited with her family on the 'neutral ground' of her grandparents estate. His dad had walked off with a most of the money he'd been making in radio so the visits were kind of grudging ones at best.

"We got along fine... but then I practically had a crush on him from day one. Still do really..."

Janice had wandered out front and seeing us and Lori talking, segued into recollections about some of the more unusual people that had mistaken the clubhouse for a restaurant including a man who'd come in claiming that a waitress from the night before had spilled something on his suit jacket and naturally wanted them to pay for the dry cleaning. Knowing he was trying to pull a fast one, Jenny tossed the jacket into the creek sayin' 'it's washed now'. Then there was the restaurant critic that showed up. Everybody figured he was somebody elses dad... Weren't we suprised to find a review in the paper the next day!

"First warm day in June... a bunch of us would race all the way from school... run in the front door, strip down to our skivvies, run out the back door and dive right into the river..."

Jenny was recalling fun times from the old days too as she and Eddie sauntered across the parking lot.

"Must've been a hell of a sight for the people in that house over there..."

"Of course I used to wear a bikini under my clothes from May Day to Labor Day. Used to swim the rest of the way home..."

Jenny tugged at her collar so Eddie could get a glimpse at the bikini strap underneath.

"So how far is your house from here," he inquired as he plucked at the buttons of his shirt, their walking pace picking up a bit.

"Just past that island," Jenny replied as she untucked her blouse, "see where the river turns at that dock?"

Once he had a general direction the race was on but any speed advantage he might've had was nullified by the practiced ease in which Jenny could whip off her blouse and skirt. Simply put, there's no elegant way to remove trousers on the run. At least they weren't jeans.

"Hey Lori... you might want to take their clothes over to the house. They're gonna feel real stupid schlepping back here when Jenny realizes she'd forgotten her keys. One-twelve... just go down Ocean till you hit Ireland. Barn-shaped house on the left... can't miss it. Take the scooter, we'll hoof it home."

We didn't so much 'hoof' as 'mosey' our way home, opting to take our time in order to catch the tail end of an interview with the writer Isaac Bashevis Singer on the little transistor radio we carry around for moonlight strolls. We'd never read any of his work, but we'd seen a couple of his books on the Edelson family's coffee table and couldn't help musing if anyone in the houses we'd ambled by were also tuned in. All we could hear is the low hum of air conditioners punctuated by the sounds of televisons as they flickered behind living and bedroom windows until we closed in on that family of ducks out for their evening constitutional.

It was Lori who'd caught us on the back steps but since the waterfowl here had long since been used to people in their living room, we still had the excuse of bird watching. After fetching some bread Lori joined us on the back steps to take in the floor show.

"So... how'd your club meeting go?"

"Not too bad... mostly Show and Tell for grownups. Got a few press fotags tonight which always livens things up. Last time all we could get was a salesman from one of those Jap camera companies. They're gettin' pretty good... What'd you guys end up doing all day?"

"Oh Jenny took us out to look at where that surfer got rescued. Even in a boat that was a long trip. Can't imagine having to do that in open water... Hey you wanna smoke?"

She proffered a rather scrawny looking marijuana joint. We have nothing against the stuff but...

"Is that your only one?"

"Yeah... we're kinda squishy about sharing stuff that's been in someone elses mouth. Guess it's our subconscious' way of asserting its individuality... Whaddya gonna do?"

What we ended up doing was suck it up and pass the thing amongst ourselves till we relaxed enough to stop caring one way or the other. Lori went back to asking questions about us like whether one or both of us know when we had to go to the bathroom - we both do but we're almost the other one feels it more. Probing deeper into the metaphysical she asked what the 'cutoff point' felt like. Pressing our leg against hers we asked what that felt like. Whatever it felt like it wasn't like that.

The gates of curiousity opened, she asked if she could look at our back and we oblidgingly lifted our shirt for her. Asking how many fingers we could feel she ran one down our spines till they met though we never could feel her other finger except in a couple tiny crossover spots. After surprising us with a 'reacharound' she asked us what it was like getting boobs and did they bug us when they started squishing against each other. To that we had her pull up her top and let loose a boobie. Hugging up real close we let the side of one of ours flop against one of hers - we've done this before and got about the same 'ewwww' reaction.

We thought we had a sense of where this was going and sure enough she did ask if both or only one of us had any sensation 'down there'. We told her is she wanted to poke around for her self she was welcome to but we really couldn't return because we didn't really have a taste for the ladies what with having a stinky sister next to us all the time.

She had something else in mind. She went into a story about how when she was six she and Eddie were taking the subway up to Yankee Stadium - he was playing hooky from the recording studio.

"I always used to follow him around and he started razzing me about how he was gonna leave me up in Harlem. I got upset and climbed up on a seat to grab onto him but the train jerked and I lost my grip and landed on these... some idiot left a bag of swords..."

"Of course my ass finds them... I was screaming so loud I thought it was someone else on the train. Y'know the ones that stuck on bone hurt way more than the ones that went all the way through... Eddie was trying to stop the bleeding and keep me from wiggling around while these colored kids were pounding on the motorman's door and yellin' at him to stop the train... It was mayhem... Other thing I remember is how the colored kids were trying to reassure me that I'd be fine saying that Harlem Hospital was the best place in the world I coulda gone to because they 'get stabbin's all the time'..."

"They did the best they could with what was left but I'll probably never have kids... even worse I hafta use a dildo because the way they put me back together, I can't reach the good stuff with my fingers. Still... it was a lot worse on Eddie. Can't imagine it's fun to remember holding your little sister guts in your hand while trying to make some Hollywood starlet on the casting couch."

"He seems to be doing all right with Jenny at least..."

"Yeah... funny how things work out. Here I was planning to move out to LA with him. You see... I figured he'd be able to do better with the ladies if he had someone to gatt about town with. Anyway he'd at least have someone in the family to look after him. You know his dad was such a sleaze... when he looted his college fund he left like five dollars in it so the bank wouldn't let Eddie know the account had been closed. Didn't find out till he went to pay for college and the check bounced. I know a lot of the money went to medical expenses... but that's just low..."

Seeing that they had finished up we suggested that it'd be nice to go inside and put something on the stove for them. A belly full of 'manseed oil' always did put Jenny in the mood for a nice hot bowl of soup afterwards.