ACADEMY GIRL - Book 5: The Graduate

Chapter 19


The jerky was dry and tough, but it didn't matter. Amy felt a warm glow inside, now that the last barrier to her indefinite survival on the island, outside of enforced lifetime servitude, had fallen -- she had a source of girlmeat. She closed her eyes, chewing, running her tongue over each bite of girlmeat to bring out its flavor.

She opened her eyes again, to see the girl watching her closely, seeming as curious about Amy's presence in her current circumstances as Amy was mystified by hers.

As soon as she'd discovered her new friend was a girl, Amy had revised her age estimate upward, with no longer any need to account for the high voice and lack of a beard. While the girl didn't seem to have much in the way of breasts, she looked otherwise physically mature -- but only just. Amy guessed now that the girl was about eighteen, maybe nineteen at the most.

Exhausted, as her adrenaline began draining away, Amy sat on the ground and took another bite of girlmeat. Feeling the wet ivy under her, Amy suddenly realized it was raining again, light but steady. She wasn't sure when it had started. Rain hardly registered on her anymore unless it was especially hard or inconvenient.

The girl, companionably, sat down beside Amy, still watching closely. As she took off the floppy settlers' hat and brushed her fingers through her hair, Amy gasped. This was Amy's first chance to look closely at the girl's face, unhindered by the deep shade beneath the hat brim, and she was stunned by how beautiful the girl was. The eyes, the high cheekbones, the full lips, the coppery-bronze skin had already suggested "native" to Amy, but if all of the native women on the island had looked the way this girl did, there surely would be a lot more of them around today. Her jet-black hair, though of course not perfectly smooth in this land without combs or hairbrushes, still flowed without obvious tangles, reminding Amy of a black satin waterfall. Her eyebrows... if asked to describe them, Amy would simply have pointed out that she had known many girls who had plucked their brows and then penciled in replacements on a new line, just to make them look exactly the way this girl's did naturally.

There must, decided Amy, still be native families living here, somehow not absorbed into the settlers' culture. Amy frowned. That, she thought, doesn't explain why the girl speaks my own language. How did she learn it, if her people have stayed so well-hidden that the settlers haven't found them?

On the other hand, Amy reminded herself, the conversation so far had not exactly been wide-ranging.

Swallowing the meat, Amy finally made a choice among the thousand questions springing through her mind like heated popcorn. "How... How did you make the doggirls go away?" Surely, Amy thought, they couldn't have taken the girl to be one of their masters.

The girl frowned, looking confused. "The what?"

Amy blinked, thrown by the possibility that the girl knew even less about the island than Amy did. She pointed back in the direction from which they had come. "Them. You know, 'rff rff.' " She imitated a doggirl's bark.

The girl grinned in sudden comprehension. "Oh!! Is that what they're called? Say it again."

Amy said, enunciating clearly, "Doggirls."

The girl repeated the word. "So... they're like girls?"

Amy struggled to get a feeling for the girl's accent. Every vowel she used was shaded just a little away from the "ee" end and more towards the "oo" end, the last sentence coming out something like "Thay're loike garls". Amy told her, "They are girls. Men did that to their arms and legs, but they're really girls just like us." Amy paused as the girl worked to process that, and came back to her question. "So why did they do what you said?"

"Oh." The girl smiled. "They like you if you have the leaves."

Amy was completely lost until the girl made a gesture to indicate the leather outfit she was wearing, while Amy, at the same time, was backtracking through her tentative formula for the girl's accent to determine that "leaves" was the word she'd used. It came to her suddenly -- that was the word the girl used for clothes! Amy nearly laughed. It did seem to make sense, somehow. Covering the body in that way might well be connected up with trees covering their branches with leaves. And Amy gasped as another part of what the girl had said clicked into place -- she was telling Amy that the doggirls, though Amy suspected they still gave priority to their own master, regarded anyone dressed in leather as a friend, while anyone walking upright and naked was, like Amy, an enemy to be watched closely. Doggirls, like the men, had no expectation that a female might cloud the gender issue by wearing clothes.

Amy recalled how delighted the girl had seemed to learn a new word, moments ago. She touched the girl's leather outfit, glad to note the girl didn't flinch away from contact. "These are called 'clothes.' You're wearing clothes." Again, the girl repeated the word, flashing another happy smile.

Another thought struck Amy. She had no idea what the natives might wear these days, but this girl was wearing settlers' clothes, and Amy was positive no man would have given them to her. "Where did you get the clothes?"

"Oh." The girl nodded, looking pleased with herself as she explained, "I found them in a man's place. I watch the men to see when they leave their place empty, the place where they sleep..."

Amy didn't like interrupting, but the girl seemed so eager to learn. "Cabin. They sleep in their cabins."

"Cabins." Another grin. "I go in their cabins when they aren't there, and I take things I need. Like the clothes, food. I was going to do that again, now. And then I saw you and the doggirls."

Amy's mental translation was growing more smooth each time the girl spoke. She meanwhile noticed that each time the girl used a word Amy had taught her, she pronounced it just the way Amy did, without an accent. Or, well, Amy said to herself, in my accent, that is.

The explanation of how the girl had come by the clothes and meat seemed straightforward enough, but it occurred to Amy that if that was how all of the natives got by, the settlers would have put a stop to the marauding long ago. Something still didn't seem right. "Where do you live? Where are your parents?"

The girl looked blank. "Parents?"

"Your father? Mother? Older people you live with?"

The girl's frown turned to seeming comprehension at the last sentence. She shook her head. "The big girls went to serve men a long time ago."

Amy was puzzled for a moment, then floored as her theory of the girl's personal history took off in a completely new direction. Come on, she told herself, that is really impossible. "You grew up with... the big girls?"

The girl nodded. "They took care of us for a long time, when we were littles. Then the men took them away, and we were big girls then, and we got our own littles to take care of."

The girl had grown up in a pen at a breeding farm! It still was obvious she carried native genes in her -- perhaps her mother, a breeder, had been a full-blooded native girl -- but this girl was fully a member of the settlers' culture.

Amy squeezed her eyes shut. How in the hell... Okay, thought Amy, ask her that. "When the men came, later, when you were a big girl, and took the other big girls away... Why didn't they take you? How did you get away?"

"I ran." The girl giggled. "They always called me Runner. I guess I was always running around when I was a little. So when the men came, I did that."

Amy shook her head in disbelief. "They just let you run away?"

"They didn't mean to. But there was... kind of a thing happened. They opened up the big gate, like they did a long time before when they took the older big girls, and they had all of us start getting together. They were saying it was time to start serving them, and they started putting the shiny on us." She patted Amy's ankle cuffs. Her slave hardware, Amy understood, was "the shiny" to this girl. The girl went on, "They were putting the shiny on Laugher, and then Leaf Eater, the little who always followed Laugher around, came running up crying and tried to stop them from taking Laugher. She didn't want Laugher to go. Laugher was telling Leaf Eater it was okay, we needed to serve the men for awhile and then they'd eat us. But Treefaller, one of the big girls, started crying too. She was like me, she didn't like that we had to serve men before we could be food. She slapped one of the men when he reached for her to put the shiny on her. The other men and some of the other girls tried to hold her and get her to quiet down. There were two... doggirls by the big gate, and they came up making that 'grrrrr' sound, like they were going to bite. And then nobody was watching the gate. So I just stepped back to it, real quiet, and when I got close enough I ran. Men were shouting, but I don't know if it was about me. I guess nobody saw me. Nobody chased me, anyway."

Amy had devoted her entire concentration to following the girl's speech. Anyone from Amy's own world would have been completely at sea, and not just because of the accent, without some pre-existing knowledge of how things worked on the island. Lucky I wrote that paper, she thought to herself -- then remembered bitterly that the paper was what had got her trapped here on the island to begin with.

"How long ago was that?" Amy felt a strong need for assurance that long term survival outside the system was possible here.

The girl shook her head, looking irritated. "It wasn't long ago. I did it."

Amy didn't think they'd be able to connect on the time issue. She suspected the girl might have no way of measuring lengths of time. She decided to move on. One thing the girl had said seemed to hint at her motivation. Amy said, "So you didn't think you should have to serve men?"

"No!" The girl was suddenly vehement. "That never seemed right. When we were littles, the big girls told us all about how we are here to be food, and we always liked that. We'd listen to their stories about the long-ago, when girls saved men by being their food, and that really made us feel important." Those stories, it seemed to Amy, had been stretching the truth a little, but she was relieved that the girls on the island all learned what their ultimate purpose was. The girl went on, "Men need us to live! But..." She frowned darkly. "The big girls would tell us how we needed to serve men first, before they'd let us be food. And when I got bigger, I started thinking, that's just not right. If men need us for food, they should treat us nicer! If they take us and make us start serving them, they're making us do things they could do themselves! That's not something we should have to do. We're here to be something they can't be!"

Amy sucked in her breath. As limited as the girl's vocabulary was, as limited as her experience with life was, Amy didn't think any of history's classic speeches on women's rights had put the case as eloquently as this girl just had.

Amy realized she had been so fascinated in learning the girl's story she had overlooked the normal protocol of introductions. "So... you're called Runner?" When the girl smiled and nodded, Amy asked, "Do you have another name?"

The girl frowned. "Why would I need another name?"

Amy shook her head quickly. "You don't, I was just wondering. I'm Amy."

Runner, looking puzzled, said slowly, "Amy." After a long pause, she asked, "What does that mean?"

Amy started to say that names didn't mean anything where she came from, but a memory came back that she had forgotten. "Where I come from, it means 'friend.' "

Runner was still puzzled. "Then why don't they call you that?"

Amy said, "There are a lot of things... different, where I come from. And I need to get back there. My..." It occurred to Amy that the word "brother" would be meaningless to Runner. "I was brought here and left here, and I didn't want to be here. I need to get back."

"Can't you go back the same way you came?"

Amy shook her head. "I came on..." She hesitated. "Have you seen the... big water? The water that goes on to the end?" She swept her hand forward to indicate the expanse of the ocean.

Runner nodded eagerly, and said proudly, "I've seen the whole world! One end of it is at the water, and the other is the high ground." She made an upsweeping gesture with her hand, indicating the mountains.

Amy shook her head. "Those aren't really the ends. I live on the other side of the water. I came here on a boat -- that's like a lot of trees all tied together, and it rides on the water." Amy rushed past Runner's disbelieving look. "I can't make a boat myself. I have to go the other way, and find the people on the other side of the... high ground."

Amy saw that, despite the explanations, Runner's forehead was growing more wrinkled with skepticism by the second. Finally Runner shook her head. "There isn't anything past the end of the world."

Amy saw the trouble she might be running into. Aside from the brief unremembered time as an infant being nursed by her mother, Runner's entire life, until recently, had been confined to a small enclosure that served as her world. She had known there was an outside to the enclosure -- food, and occasionally people, came in from outside. But, now on the loose in the larger world, there was a limit to how much larger a world Runner could make her mind encompass. And Amy, knowing how strongly people cling to beliefs that are important to them, could tell she was going to encounter some resistance here. She already was.

Cautiously, Amy said, "Runner, you can see I know some things you didn't know, right?"

Equally cautiously, Runner nodded.

Amy went on, "That's because I've been in some places you haven't been. And I need you to help me get back." Amy's crucial need for Runner had been clarifying itself to her in the last few minutes. There was just no way Amy could cross the mountains by herself. Alone, she was an escaped slave. But accompanied by what appeared to be a boy, seeming to belong to him, to be his slave... "I need you to take me to the other side of the high ground..."

Runner shook her head quickly. "No! You're making a story! The high ground is the end! I don't want to go there and fall off!"

Exasperated, Amy said, "Runner, it's not like that! The other side looks just like this side, except there are more people there. And there are... places where the boats come. They don't come to this side, but they come there."

Runner gave her a caught-you look. "If the boats don't come here, how come you're here?"

Amy shook her head, foreseeing an explanation that stretched ocean-like to the horizon. "Runner, I have to go there." Amy decided she shouldn't show Runner how desperate her need for help was. "If you won't help me, I'll have to try to go myself."

Unexpectedly, Runner lunged towards Amy and threw her arms around her. "Amy, don't go away! Please don't go!" Amy was stunned to see that Runner, her face pressed tightly against Amy's chest, was crying. "Stay with me! We can be together here! You said you were a friend!"

Amy knew she had underestimated how lonely Runner had been. How much Runner missed the companionship, the sharing of lives, the girls by whom she had always been surrounded. Amy patted the girl's back, stroking her hair. "It's okay, it's okay."

For a moment, Amy considered whether to solicit a simpler type of help. Maybe, she thought, Runner could just steal me some clothes. Then I could pose as a man, instead of as Runner's slavegirl. She shook her head, then, at her own stupidity. Not a viable plan, Amy, she told herself. Aside from the minor point of Amy not being able to get the shorts on past the hobble chain, the biggest problem was that no clothing used on the island could cover up her slave hardware. Amy could never wear clothes here if she couldn't get rid of the metal first. Clothes wouldn't accomplish anything except to make her punishment worse when she was caught.

She sighed and continued stroking Runner's hair.

*   *   *   *   *

Runner grew quiet eventually, still holding Amy. Thinking about how nice it felt to have Runner in her arms, Amy realized that she had underestimated her own loneliness as much as she had Runner's. After nearly a week lacking in human contact, of constant fear of what any such contact would lead to, Amy now felt a space filling with warmth inside her that she hadn't realized was empty.

Amy jumped slightly as Runner reached down between Amy's legs with her hand to touch Amy's mound. She's used to being around girls she's known for years, Amy reminded herself. Intimate physical contact is no big deal.

Back in puzzled mode again, Runner murmured, "Why don't you have hair down there?"

Amy smiled. I'm foreign to her in more ways than I'd realized, she told herself. I really hadn't given any thought to pubic hair. "Where I come from, sometimes girls have it taken off. Some like it that way." Go ahead, Amy, she told herself, laughing internally, try explaining about laser treatments.

Runner ran her palm lightly over Amy's thigh. "Your legs too?"

"Yes. I like how it feels."

"Me too."

Just as Amy was starting to feel a tingle between her legs at the unexpected intimacy, Runner moved on to another, less personal question. "What's this for?" She was patting the vine running between Amy's legs.

"That holds up the chain when I walk." Amy lifted the chain momentarily, and Runner absorbed yet another new word. "The men put traps under some of the trees. Those are things to catch girls who run away. It catches their chains and holds them so the men can come get them. If I don't let the chain drag on the ground, the traps can't get me."

Runner gasped. "Those things that go 'kkkhhh'..." she imitated the clicking of the rods springing closed, "...when you step on them? I stepped on some of those. I never knew what they were for."

Amy nodded. "They can't catch you either. You don't have a chain."

The earlier talk about things done at home had opened up Amy's mind to a new strategy. It was a mistake, she told herself, to try to impress Runner with how strongly I feel about getting home. It's my need, not hers, and I can't make her feel it. But if I can make the mainland sound more desirable to her, make it into a place she'd really want to go... "You were talking about how women shouldn't have to serve men..."

"Women?"

Amy smiled, wishing she'd thought to bring along a magical pill that would instantly teach Runner all the new words she needed to know. "Girls grow up to be women. I'm a woman. You're a woman. We're women. You can still call us girls too, but we grew to be women." She went on, "Anyway, where I live, most people think the way you do. More and more all the time. Women are not here just to serve men, while we wait to be eaten. We can do so much more than that. Each woman has her own place to fill in the world, besides being food. Each woman has a... thing she can be, and she can choose what it is. Some women... well, have you ever been sick sometimes? You or the other girls?"

Runner nodded, her ear still pressed against Amy's chest.

"Well, where I live, women can be doctors, who try to make sick people feel better. Or they can be teachers, who take a long time to learn a lot of things and then pass them on so other people can know them and understand them."

Runner looked up at her. "You're a teacher, aren't you, Amy?"

Amy smiled. "That's one of the things I am. But there's more things women can be. They can be lawyers, and bring people together who are arguing and help them find a way to stop." Internally, Amy winced, glad nobody from home was present to take exception to that characterization. It's true though, she told herself, as far as it goes. And anybody should get a good word put in for them now and then, even lawyers.

Amy was running out of professions. Most jobs would be incomprehensible to Runner. She wasn't even sure she could explain what she herself did in a way Runner could understand. "And so many more things. Women can be what they want to be, what they feel inside them. And they can even serve men if they want to. Sometimes they do. I know a very good woman who wanted to do exactly that. For her, that's the place where she wanted to be." She had Maya in mind.

Runner sat up, an excited look on her face. "I see what you're saying! Amy, I know what my place is!" Seconds later Amy's hopes crashed and burned. "And I'm in my place! Living here, doing what I do... this is my place, Amy! I never thought about it that way before!"

Amy opened her mouth, grasping fruitlessly for some kind of response. "Ummmm..."

Runner got up on her knees facing Amy. "Stay here with me, Amy! This can be the place for both of us. You can teacher me things, and I can show you how to get things you need." She reached forward and grasped both of Amy's hands tightly in her own. "Tell me you won't leave me, Amy. Say you won't leave!" She was starting to cry again.

Amy said softly, "I won't leave you, Runner, I promise I won't leave you." It came out as words meant simply to calm the girl, but she suddenly realized that this was a promise she would have to keep, for her own good. She was blocked by the mountains, hobbled by the chain. Runner had already saved her once, and Amy knew she would need her again. The minute she left this girl, the clock would start ticking again towards her own captivity.

*   *   *   *   *

Runner's emotional balance had been restored the moment Amy had promised her loyalty. Amy watched as Runner stood and surveyed the area, hands on hips. "It's starting to get dark. We need to find something to eat. I still have some meat, but I want to save that until I can get some more." She was turning slowly. "Do you see any fruit from here?"

Amy looked around, pointed. "I'm not seeing any fruit trees, but there are lots of nuts."

Runner gave Amy the blank look Amy was growing accustomed to. "Nuts?"

Amy walked over and picked up the nearest. "These."

Runner snorted and shook her head. "I tried those once. They're too hard. My teeth hurt after I bit one."

"No, inside." If Runner had never seen a nutshell before her escape, it wasn't surprising that she hadn't discovered their food value. "Watch." Amy sought and found a sufficiently large stone, and shattered the shell with a couple of hard hits. Peeling away the remnants, she held out the nut to Runner.

Runner's eyes went wide. "Those were always in our food!!" She scooped it out of Amy's hand and palmed it into her mouth, chewing happily and swallowing. She swept her hand to indicate the ground around her. "Are those inside all the rocks?"

Amy picked up another shell. "The ones that look like this. That's a nut you're eating, and they come inside shells. These are the shells, all around here."

Runner laughed. "Okay, let's stay here tonight. Let me get my..." She searched her memory for the word. "...my clothes off, and then we can look for some more."

Instantly she peeled her moccasins off, setting them beside her hat. On her vest she undid the buttons, which Amy, from her anatomy and physiology classes, had recognized as human finger bones. Amy could hear Runner giving voice to a sentiment she must have thought a thousand times before, judging from the absence of recently-learned vocabulary, as she muttered irritably, "I don't know why they want to have leaves on them all the time." Amy smiled as an irony passed through her mind: while Amy had been struggling to deal with the vulnerability of being naked at all times, Runner was struggling to deal with the discomfort of wearing clothes for the first time in her life. And Amy and Runner had no way to trade places relative to clothing. Runner needed to pass as a boy for her safety, as Amy had already seen. Amy, with no way to hide the obvious metal signs of her gender, would be endangered by putting any clothing on, assuming she could somehow don the shorts.

Underneath the vest, Amy noticed, for the first time, that Runner had wrapped a long, narrow swatch of leather tightly around her body at chest level, tucking it in carefully at the top to secure it. Amy, half watching her and half looking at the ground as she gathered nuts in a pile, suddenly gave her full attention to Runner, and gasped as the leather fabric fell away. Amy stifled a laugh, exclaiming to herself, and I'd been thinking she was flat-chested!

Runner's breasts, now revealed, were round, firm, and as big as Megan's. At present they were crisscrossed with compression lines from the fabric, which were already starting to fade. Amy now fully appreciated how uncomfortable Runner must have been all day, with those breasts squashed that way. No wonder she was so eager to get undressed!

Runner, rubbing her breasts to restore circulation, looked up and noticed Amy watching her wide-eyed. Runner smiled. "I saw the men don't have bumps."

Amy responded vaguely, "Uh-huh." She continued watching as Runner slid the shorts down and added them to the pile. Naked now, she walked towards Amy and bent to help her finish gathering nuts. Runner's body, Amy saw, was trim and athletic, comparable with any Hanging Girl's. Her legs were strong -- obviously she'd spent her life living up to her name -- and her shoulders surprisingly broad, while her narrow waist accentuated the female hips Amy had noticed earlier.

Amy could tell that, despite the lack of access to anything resembling modern female grooming equipment, Runner would attract awed attention from any man or woman in Amy's world. Her black tangle of pubic hair occupied a small triangle with sharp boundaries in spite of never being trimmed. Her legs, never shaved, were covered with a soft, nearly invisible down that invited stroking. Even the small dark wisps of hair under her arms did nothing to take away from her femininity. If I ever get home and she comes with me, thought Amy, I'm not sure I'd want to change anything about her. She is such a perfect example of what a one hundred percent natural woman can be.

Runner had already gathered a dozen shells together. "Do I just smack them with that?" She pointed at the stone.

Speechlessly, Amy nodded.

*   *   *   *   *

Amy was developing an eye for relatively comfortable spots to sleep at night. In the fading light she spotted a fairly flat space, free of rocks, within a group of trees on a small rise of ground that should be immune to flooding. She knelt and patted the ground, feeling for traps. Their absence assured, she looked up at Runner. "Is this okay?" Runner smiled and nodded in answer.

Amy sat and untied the vines around her waist, coiling them up on the ground nearby, and stretched out on her left side, curling up and wriggling to find the best spot. Runner dropped down in front of Amy's eyes, also on her left side, her head at Amy's breast level, and Amy thought for a moment Runner wanted them to sleep with their heads between each other's legs, as Amy had often done with Megan and her other roommates. Runner, however, did not move any farther down Amy's body from where she was. She wriggled closer, and pulled Amy's left arm towards her, resting her head on Amy's upper arm, and moving her own arm to support Amy's head. When Runner moved still closer and took Amy's right breast in her mouth, Amy twitched in startlement.

Runner looked at Amy, and drew her head back, away from Amy's breast. "What's wrong?"

"Oh... Nothing. Sorry." Runner seemed so matter-of-fact about it, and Amy understood that this was how Runner was used to sleeping. Always. Until her escape. "Your... lips were a little cool."

Runner smiled once more, said softly, "Sorry," and let her lips surround Amy's nipple once more.

Amy felt Runner's forearm, upraised behind Amy's head, gently nudge her closer. Cautiously, hoping she wasn't misunderstanding, Amy opened her mouth to take in Runner's breast, completing the symmetry.

A feeling of warmth and calm spread through Amy's body. She had often sucked Megan's breasts, and vice versa, but Amy had never used this as a sleep-for-the-night position with any of her friends -- not even Linda, who loved variety above all. Amy saw now what she'd been missing all this time. The softness, the comfort...

She could only try to imagine what Runner must be feeling. How much Runner must have missed this.

Amy pictured the pen Runner had grown up in, girls living according to the common wisdom passed down through the generations, such as that when you are suddenly put in charge of a lot of cranky babies, a warm nipple is the best possible pacifier, even when it doesn't give milk.

The light faded and was gone. In the darkness, with no sounds other than the constant chirping of the crickets, Amy was left with her senses of touch, taste, smell.

Runner's breast smelled pleasantly of leather, the honored remnant of the skin that had covered an unknown woman for a lifetime. Even better, Amy tasted rainwater that reminded her of that first drink she had had on the island, a treasured memory of intolerable thirst quenched.

On her own breast, Amy felt Runner's mouth, a light, constant caress of soft lips. There was an occasional sucking, and sometimes a light brush of tongue on nipple, when Runner swallowed.

Behind the host of pleasant sensations, Amy fretted. A small voice inside her had been telling her to avoid too much intimacy with Runner. There might well come a time, perhaps in the near future, when an opportunity to escape the island would force Amy to leave Runner behind -- Amy had promised Runner she wouldn't do that, but the promise to herself that she would return to the Academy and to her mission in life took priority. And if circumstances turned out to allow Amy to take Runner with her, Amy wasn't sure Runner would even want to leave. As Runner herself had excitedly said, this was her place. Whether a separation from Runner was forced on Amy or resulted from Runner's own choice, either way Amy knew it would be hard to leave behind a girl to whom she already owed so much -- Amy would right now be the permanent property of a local farmer if Runner hadn't saved her.

As difficult as it was going to be to leave Runner, Amy knew she couldn't afford to make it still harder by developing a close physical connection with the girl. As the much maligned saying went, Can't We Just Be Friends?

Groaning inside, Amy realized it was already too late. The connection was made. Even now Amy couldn't make herself pull away from Runner, break the connection. It felt way, way too good, as starved for human closeness as Amy had been.

She continued sucking softly on Runner's breast as sleep stole over her.



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