Aftercare: General's Daughter, Book 4 (20 page)

“Then I’m the Princess! HEY! King Daddy, please put me down!”

By then, Rich and Jen were clutching each other, tears running
down their cheeks from laughter. Dr. Quimby finally rested his little princess
face down across his royal lap, pinning her in place. “Oh no, methinks it is
time for the royal spanking,” he announced, smacking her bottom playfully. She
squealed and wiggled, trying unsuccessfully to escape. More laughter rose from
the others. She finally just leaned her chin on her elbows and let him continue
to smack her bottom until he got bored. That took about 15 minutes.

“Are you done now?” she asked, looking at him with an equally
bored expression.

Her father grinned. “For now. As king, I can do this anytime
I want to, without reason.”

“I want to be king,” Rich whispered. Michael elbowed him with
a grin.

“Can I get up now please, you royal pain in the ass?” she
asked. With one last hearty smack for swearing, he released her. Jen brought
him a sleeping bag to lean against and a bottle of water.

“Do you always act like this on family weekends?” she asked
him, sitting on the ground where he patted.

Dr. Quimby nodded, eyes sparkling. “Ever since we were kids. Scott
and I went everywhere together and it’s never changed. Having fun?”

“A blast. No wonder why Mike doesn’t want to stay home,” Jen
said, watching him arm wrestle with Rich. They were both straining until Sam
bit Rich’s neck, making him lose. She was over his knee for that in a second.

“My poor girl is going to be tender by the end of this
camping trip. It seems all the men use her backside as a means of enjoyment.” He
chuckled, watching the girl fight to escape Rich’s playful, but heavy swats.

Jen giggled, leaning against his arm. “Better her than me. She
must have a leather butt by now.”

“You would think. And don’t think you’ll escape either, short
stuff. Act up once and Scott will be a happy man.”

“Michael won’t let him. Will he?”

“Mike isn’t stupid enough to interfere with his uncle’s
playtime. Don’t worry,” Dr. Quimby hugged her, “It’s all in play. Unless you
really mess up, then run. I should also warn you, avoid Scott when he’s
cleaning fish. He flings guts.”

“Gross.”

“That’s Scott.”

“Tell me about Mike when he was little,” Jen asked, closing
her eyes to the sun.

Dr. Quimby pulled her closer to him to get comfortable. “He
was an amazing child. He crawled before he was five months, was walking by
eight months and talking by a year. We couldn’t keep up with him. He started
taking things apart the minute he could hold them, so we had to hide everything
that had a breaking potential. He was a little monkey too. Not only would he
mimic anything he saw being done, and do it well, but also he climbed
constantly. That’s when we discovered he was an adrenaline junky. Not as bad as
his sister, but pretty close.”

“Was he a good kid?”

“He had his moments, but for the most part, yes. His problem
was he was too smart and too curious for his own good. My wife left him in the
kitchen one day while she went to answer the phone, and when she returned, he
had disassembled the electric can opener that was in a cabinet. He was only
three and used the screwdrivers in the junk drawer.”

“How did he get them?”

“He was already tall for his age, but the stinker pushed the
stool to help. He had it in his mind he was going to do it. That’s when Scott
decided to start teaching him basic mechanical engineering. He put his first
circuit board together by four, with Scott’s help. The two of them were a
disaster together. They loved to tear things apart, but didn’t always fix them
right away. I spent a lot of money calling repairmen.”

“How funny! Did Scott live with you guys then?”

“No, he lived a few miles away, but was with us constantly. He
said he needed to stay close enough to make sure his sister stayed out of
trouble.”

“I hear she was a lot like Sam.”

“Mirror image. That woman kept me running. She would be
cracking up hysterically right now if she saw how much her daughter took after
her. Ally-Anne had a bigger mouth, though, and wasn’t afraid of challenging her
brother. She drove Scott prematurely gray.” Dr. Quimby laughed, making room for
Scott to join them. “Did you wash your hands?”

“Yes, Oh King of the Universe. Fish is marinating right now. Whatcha
talking about?”

“Michael as a child.”

“The first light of my life. Looked just like me when he was
born,” Scott said proudly.

“You had nothing to do with that.” Dr. Quimby kicked him.

“Jenkins’ gene pool. He was a challenge, though. We had no
idea what was going on in that kid’s head at any given time. The only thing we
could do to keep him controlled was to find him new things to learn. That
backfired multiple times, for sure.”

“Like how?” Jen asked.

“Where do we start? We got him a little computer to play
with. He complained it wasn’t fast enough and took it apart. He was three. We
then found him on the house computer logging into military sites. He managed to
hack into the systems without even trying. We knew we had a problem then. That
continued until he was seven and the FBI showed up at the door.” Scott laughed.
Jen’s eyes went wide.

Dr. Quimby grunted, “Scott was home babysitting and I was on
duty at the hospital. They came in and accused Scott of compromising Intel. He
knew nothing about it. You were a major then, right?”

“Yeah. One of them got cocky and said if it wasn’t me, then
who, the baby? Mike stood up and told the man that he better not say anything
bad about his sister or else he would, and I quote, ‘deeply regret it.’ ” Scott
sighed.

“He was only seven?” Jen asked.

“Hard to imagine, huh? I held up my hand and stopped them
from laughing at the kid. He was getting angry and the boy was already adept
enough in self-defense that he probably could have kicked their asses. I asked
Michael if he had been on the computer and he told me he had. The FBI jerks
didn’t believe him. So, we all went into the office and Mike demonstrated how
easy it was to break into the FBI data bank.”

“Oh shit.”

“That was my thought too. He then hacked into more sites in
front of them. Needless to say, the secure sites became more secured and, by
government orders, Mike started training in higher-level education. We had to
home school him because of his abilities and he graduated high school by 11 and
got his first college degree by 15. You know the rest.”

“Has he always been so good with his sister?”

“She was his birthday present. He loves that little girl so
much. I’m glad you two get along, because I don’t think he would ever let her
go.”

“I can’t blame him. She’s fun and I adore her. I wish I could
be so uninhibited, though.” Jen sighed.

“She’s had a happy childhood, but a hard one. She’s earned
that freedom to be herself in a household of men. Hey, you ran out and joined
us today. Was it that hard?”

“It was the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever done in my
life,” Jen admitted.

“You’ll get used to it. We only do that when we know we have
no audience. My sister used to be the first to initiate the skinny dipping. Remember,
Joe?”

“I never thought twice about it. I mean, I’d known her since
she was a toddler and she was always running around naked. She thought it was
funny to sneak into the shower with us too.”

“Sam doesn’t do that, thank God. She has a little more
decorum. She’s grown up so fast.”

“They both have. But look, we now have two more kids to
spoil.” Dr. Quimby kissed Jen on top of the head.

Jen smiled happily, “I love you guys. My father was never
really affectionate. I thought my family was close, but nothing like this. This
is genuine.”

“Yes it is. Michael? Why are you sitting on your sister?” Dr.
Quimby asked.

Michael looked up, covered with mud. “Do you really have to
ask that? She mudded me!”

“Oh, okay. Have fun.”

“Daddy!”

Suddenly, a ball of mud splattered Dr. Quimby in the chest. He
jumped to his feet, “Oh no, you didn’t!”

His daughter, having slid away from her brother and slippery
with the clay-like mud, grinned and threw another ball at him. This time it
sprayed Scott. They began to crack their knuckles after wiping mud off their
faces.

“Catch her!” Scott ordered as she fled. Rich flung balls of
mud in their direction and got tackled by both. Michael joined in to double
with his friend. Jen, joined by a mud-covered Sam, sat to watch the
mud-wrestling match.

“I thought mud-wrestling was just for women?” Jen asked.

“Marines love playing in the mud. It’s part of our MO. You
should join them,” Sam said, smearing a handful of mud down Jen’s face.

“You!”

“What? Going to get me? Come on, Jenny. Try it,” Sam teased,
ducking the swing. Jen ran over to the clay pit and grabbed a handful, throwing
it.

Sam ducked, and walked towards her. “Oh Jen, you throw like a
girl. I thought Rich was teaching you some moves. Come on, knock me down.”

Growling, Jen dove at her and ended up face down in the
slime. Sam gently turned her over with her foot, her muddy face grinning. “You
can do better than that. Concentrate, don’t get mad. Back on your feet.”

Jen grabbed the girl’s legs, knocking her down next to her. “Gotcha.”

“Good move, but…” Sam rolled so she was sitting on top of
Jen, the girl’s hair completely buried in the sticky ooze. By now, the men had
sat back to watch. None would bet against Sam, though.

“Let me go,” Jen commanded.

“Focus. Don’t let your emotions interfere with your thoughts.
How could you physically move me? Think about it…”

Jen jammed her knee between them and kicked Sam off, then
pounced on top of her.

“Very good. Problem is, you keep yourself open…” Jen was on
her stomach, fighting to keep her face out of the mud. “A tight target is hard
to hit. Am I hurting you?”

“You’re pissing me off.”

“Jen, you need to calm your mind.” Sam turned the girl back
over and stood up, holding her hand out for Jen. Jen kicked her legs out from
under her and Sam landed with a loud splat on her back. Jen jumped as Sam
rolled away. They caught each other in an arm lock, unable to keep a grip due
to the slippery mud. Sam saw Jen was seriously getting angry and called the
match to a halt.

“You did well,” Sam praised, hugging Jen. “We’ll work some
more on your moves, okay?”

“I’ll never beat you.”

“Probably not, but you can learn to have fun trying. Look at
those boys. They’re a mess.”

The four men were clapping, still covered from head to toe
with the mud that was starting to bake in the sunlight. Michael went to hug
Jen.

“This is disgusting,” she said.

“Dad, do I remember that there is a little watering hole
nearby?”

“Just over that ridge, son. About a ten minute walk.”

“We’ll see you shortly. Jen has bruises I need to fix.”

“To her ego?” Rich jested. Jen stuck her tongue out at him
and followed Michael into the woods.

“This is not going to be fun combing out,” Rich said, lifting
the matted auburn mass of Sam’s waist long hair.

Scott elbowed Dr. Quimby. “Should we tell them about the
other pool?”

“It would be nice.”

“Okay, you two, see that short ridge of rocks? Go over that
and about half a mile west. Follow the rock bed. You’ll find a hot water pool
in the middle of a bunch of boulders. You can’t miss it.”

“How do you know these things, Uncle Scott?” Sam asked,
grabbing shampoo and some towels.

“We used to bring girls up here to party. The Hootchi hut was
for, uh, times of private enjoyment.”

“I get it. Camp WannaHootchi. Did you bring Mom up here?”

“No, this was for the singles. Dad came with me the first
time when he was 17. He wasn’t much interested in the other girls, but still
had a good time.”

“Enjoy yourselves, kids. Be back before it gets dark. Scott,
no crude comments, please,” Dr. Quimby ordered, seeing his friend about to
spout forth with a suggestive remark.

Rich and Sam carefully picked their way over the ridge,
following the directions given by Scott. In no time, they found the pool, which
steamed lightly in the shade.

“Damn, this feels great. Stinks though,” Rich said, slowly
sliding in after stripping down and submerging to rinse off the mud.

“Sulfur water. Great for cleaning the pores. Mmm, it is
lovely,” came the answer as the girl joined him, floating on her back.

Rich cradled her in his arms, kissing her lips after wiping
the mud away. “Let me take care of you,” he requested, his hand slowly washing
off the dirt from her face.

“I can wash my own hair, Rich.”

“I want too. Lean back in my arms,” he commanded softly. She
obliged, relaxed against his strong body. He ran his fingers through the unruly
tangles, working carefully to remove the pieces of twigs and mud before
shampooing it clean. His fingers felt wonderful as he massaged the base of her
neck. She purred.

“There, all clean. Rest against this ledge. Don’t move,” he
ordered, lifting her hips to float. He kissed her pink flesh, trailing his
tongue down her body.

“Sulfur water doesn’t taste very good, Rich. How about, I
just sit here?” the girl asked, pulling away and wrapping her legs around his
waist. His erection was large and already seeking its target. He easily slid
into her, hearing her gasp with pleasure.

“You feel bigger than the first time. Oh my god…” she
mumbled, joining him in the slow stroking.

“Am I hurting you?”

“Not at all. It feels incredible. I want you deeper,” she
murmured, trying to draw him closer. Her muscles were tight around him,
stroking his organ with a skill he knew had to be pure instinct.