The next hour
passed with minimal fidgeting on Scotti and Iris' part.
Amy's nipple-clamps, mini-carabiners, and taut coyote-brown cord
rig saw to that. And whatever squirming Scotti might have
attempted to relieve the discomfort of her chair-bondage was
done very gingerly (no pun intended). As for
Iris, she lay perfectly still in her stringent
four-point-spread/spreadeagle with her eyes half-closed.
She was either meditating, half-surreptitiously gazing at
Scotti's naked, chair-bound, tape gagged (with
clean-panty-stuffing), and nipple-clamped form... or both.
Between the flickering candlelight and Iris' tape-gag (with
unknown-stuffing), Scotti was having a difficult time reading
her fellow prisoner's expression.
And speaking of Scotti's nipples... as the minutes ticked by,
Scotti's resentment of the cavalier way Amy had treated them was
building towards full-blown outrage, and the damn clamps
were becoming increasingly unwelcome visitors. The horrid
things were beginning to actually hurt... or
something. Scotti and her nipples were in full
agreement that the damn things needed to go away!
However, every now and then—and on a totally unpredictable
basis—Iris flinched in her bonds, providing Scotti's
only clue that another Panty-Teaser Event was happening.
She couldn't hear the vibrator's buzz, no matter what intensity
setting the control box program was executing. Iris'
lavender-pink Hello Kitty bikini-bottom looked especially
sinister in the the dim candlelight... and Iris' pale body might
be starting to shine a little... meaning she might be trying
to sweat... but aside from the periodic wincing, there were no
overt signs of Iris' intermittent/ongoing low-grade
Was Amy being a real bitch? Yes, Scotti decided, Amy was,
indeed, being a real bitch. She couldn't wait to
be released from the chair so she could plot Amy's comeuppance
with the bitch's little sister.
Click! Suddenly, the cottage door opened and the
bitch in question reappeared. "Miss me?" she quipped, then
closed the door behind her. Click!
Oh please, Scotti thought, rolling her green eyes.
'Miss me'? Amy's snappy repartee was
pathetic. Unfortunately, her rigging skills more than made
up for the deficiency.
There's something you should know about nipple-clamps,
Gingerella," Amy said as she strolled towards Scotti and the
chair. "They pinch a little going on, but—"
"MRRRFH!" Scotti crossed her green eyes and shivered in
distress! Amy had casually reached out and—released
Scotti's left nipple-clamp! And it hurt!
It hurt like crazy... in a stimulating, rushing, thrilling
sort of way. Scotti squirmed in her bonds and
continued shivering. The aftermath of the removal was a
warm burn, and just when she was beginning to deal with
it—"MRRRRRM!"—it happened again! Amy had removed
the right nipple-clamp! Scotti continued
squirming and fidgeting, and both of her nipples were now red,
inflamed, raw, burning, and throbbing. It was...
Okay, truth be told, the clamp removal ordeal hadn't been all that
bad... in retrospect... but it had been totally and
intentionally unexpected. The least you could have
done is warn me! Scotti internally fumed as she
glowered at Amy, her green eyes angry above her
"If looks could kill..." Amy chuckled as she strolled to the
bed, leaned close, and removed her little sister's
clover-clamps... first the right... and then the left.
Iris' reaction was impressively stoic, but by her gagged
expression she was now just as angry and resentful as
Scotti. Inexplicably, the elder Dupont sibling did not
burst into flame under the prisoners' twin laser beam
glares. Go figure.
Amy strolled back to Scotti and her chair and began untying the
coffee-stained, conditioned, cotton clothesline binding the
fuming redhead to the chair.
"You should know that the clover-clamps I used on you are
unusually weak," Amy explained to Scotti. "The springs
were replaced by Archer Metals." She nodded at Iris, who
was still stringently spreadeagled on the bed and manifestly
displeased with her sister. "Her clamps were medium
strength, of course. But then, we've been playing with
such things since we were snot-nosed teenagers, so she's used to
it. And don't worry, your cute little peachy-pink nips
will be back to their normal, adorable selves by morning.
Scotti stared into infinity as her rope bonds melted away.
Her nipples were still throbbing... or maybe burning. But
at least they didn't hurt, not like at the instant of release.
Unexpectedly, Amy stopped untying ropes with at least half of
Scotti's chair-bonds still intact—and now she was kneeling
behind the chair and something hard and pokey was slicing
through the duct-tape and underlying shrink-wrap
flipperizing/mummifying her right hand. The sheath was
peeled away, exposing Scotti's sweaty right extremity to the
night air... and now Amy was slicing through her left
flipper/hand-mummy. The left sheath disappeared... and
Scotti's fingers and hands were free.
Scotti's arms were still pinned to her sides and the chairback,
and her legs were still tied together, but Amy had snipped
through the cords binding her big toes with the
bandage-scissors, the same tool Scotti surmised she'd used to
deflipperize her hands.
Then, Amy tossed the scissors on the bed, turned, and strolled
towards the cottage door. "Well, I hope you two enjoyed
the experiment." she purred. "Your research is progressing
nicely, Gingerella, don't ya think? See you at
breakfast." And with that, she opened the door—Click!—and
made her exit—Click!—closing the door behind her.
Scotti made a mental note to find a hardware store with a nice
solid throw-bolt she could install. It would have to match
the general decor, of course, but something was needed
to keep the rope-happy riff-raff out of The Cottage (or at least
slow them down). She began trying to free herself of the
remaining ropes and discovered the loops cinching her residual
bonds were already loose and increasingly so the more she
struggled. It quickly became obvious what was going
on. Amy had untied just enough of her rigging to
allow Scotti to deal with the rest... eventually... once she
figured things out. Bitch!
It took a while, something like five minutes of trial and error,
groping for almost unreachable knots, and semi-contortion... but
finally Scotti wiggled free of the last strand, stood, and was
out of the chair. She stretched her still naked body,
reaching for the exposed rafters... then turned and padded into
the bathroom, ignoring her gardening buddy Iris, who was still
mostly naked, stringently spreadeagled, effectively
panty-gagged, and being Panty-Teaser-tortured on the bed.
Scotti examined her poor, flushed, sensitive nipples in the
mirror for several seconds, briefly admired the 3D bas-relief
Microfoam-gag-profile of her lips, then peeled the tape away,
expelled the wadded panties from her mouth, and washed her
face... followed by enjoying a drink of cool, clear water.
She scowled at her reflection in the mirror for several
seconds... then refilled the water glass, stomped (padded) back
into the main cottage, and stomped (padded) to the bed.
She carefully set the water glass down on the bedside table,
then climbed onto the bed (still frowning), and slowly,
carefully peeled away Iris' Microfoam tape-gag. She then
plucked the slimy cloth stuffing from Iris' mouth. As
she'd suspected, the wad turned out to be a pair of black
panties. Whether they'd gone into Iris' mouth dirty or
clean remained a mystery, but they came out damp and
slimy. Yuk! Scotti tossed the panties away,
then focused her frown on the captive still lashed to the bed in
a four-point spread.
Iris licked her lips, worked her jaw, and blinked her big brown
eyes, the very image of an innocent damsel.
Scotti knew with high confidence that Iris was at least
partially responsible for this evening's experiment, but there
was no point in beating a dead horse... or Iris. As for
Amy, that was another matter. Scotti rolled her green
eyes, reached for the water glass with her left hand, then
cradled the back of Iris' head with her right hand so she could
drink. They managed the hydration without any spillage...
and Scotti returned the empty glass to the table.
Iris smiled. "Thank yo-uuu!" A shiver shook
her spreadeagled body and she bit her lower lip. Being
significantly closer to Iris' Hello-Kitty-bottom than she'd been
when lashed to the chair, Scotti found she could now hear the
rhythmic buzz of the Panty-Teaser pulsing between Iris' splayed
legs... barely. A ghost of a smile curled her lips, but
she said nothing. The buzzing ended, as did Iris'
"Uh..." Iris said quietly, "do me a favor and—"
"No," Scotti interrupted. "We need to discuss how we're
going to retaliate against your bitch-of-a-sister for her
"Scotti!" Iris whined.
"The sooner we get it done, the sooner you get untied, the
sooner you can say goodnight to Hello Kitty, and the sooner we
can get some sleep."
Iris heaved a sigh of truly tragic proportions, then batted her
big brown eyes. "Okay."
"Good," Scotti grinned. "Now, tell me. Is there
anything really good lurking in the Special Catalog
Storerooms we can use to humiliate and torture your big
sister? Something that I haven't seen yet?"
For the next several minutes The Great Nipple-Clamp Retaliation
was discussed, but only in the vaguest of terms. Scotti
repeated her demand for an inventory of the Special Catalog
items in the Storage Building storerooms (except #1 and #4) and
however many other storerooms anywhere in the compound
had contents that might give them ideas. Iris refused on
the grounds that it would ruin the surprises of future Research
Experiments. Scotti threatened to tickle her feet, but
Iris wouldn't budge, which was easy as her four-point
spreadeagle really was quite stringent. The
Both agreed that using the big bandsaw in the furniture workshop
to stage a classic damsel-in-distress-in-Ye-Olde-Sawmill
scenario starring Amy was out of the question. It would be
messy, requiring a great deal of cleanup, and more importantly,
Sybil/Mother would strongly disapprove of offing her firstborn
and it would almost certainly mean the end of dessert for all
Every now and then there was a brief pause so the Panty-Teaser
could do its randomly timed and modulated thing—Iris would
flinch, shiver, bite her lower lip, and pout—Scotti would
pointedly ignore what was happening inside her friend's Hello
Kitty bikini bottom—then the nonproductive discussion would
continue. (Scotti couldn't help but smile during the
torture interludes, of course.)
Finally, Scotti heaved a huge yawn, and the occupants of the bed
agreed it would be prudent for Gingerella to untie Wednesday
before she fell asleep and condemned her helpless friend to a
full night of stringently spreadeagled
Panty-Teaser-Torment. Scotti did, indeed, untie
Iris. Then, Iris removed her Hello-Kitty bottom and the
Panty-Teaser in question, and tossed them across the bedroom,
but not before Scotti got a chance to notice the elongated
pocket sewn in the thin fabric of the garment's lining at the
appropriate Panty-Teaser position. Scotti surmised the
villainous villainess bitch Amy had put a lot of effort
into her perfidious panty preparations, although the seamstress
might have been Iris.
Anyway, Iris turned off all functions on the Panty-Teaser's
control board (to conserve the batteries) while Scotti padded
around The Cottage and carefully blew out all the candles.
Then, they both settled into bed (back-to-back), snuggled under
the covers until they were comfortable (but separated by an
airgap), wished each other goodnight, and drifted off to sleep.
was made with respect to Operation Best Served Cold the next day
either. Scotti and Iris rose at the usual time (discretely
noting that they were both free of ropemarks and/or bruises) and
took turns in the shower. Scotti got dressed while Iris
made the bed, then they both coiled the jumble of coffee-stained
conditioned cotton clothesline littering the floor and returned
it all to the black nylon duffel-bag—returned the Panty-Teaser,
its control box, and the Hello Kitty bikini-bottom torture
device to the pink nylon gym bag—then departed The Cottage for
Much to Scotti's disappointment, Iris' return to The Main House
was not a Walk of Shame, despite her scandalous
nudity. Scotti accompanied her naked friend all the way to
her bedroom, where she could finally get dressed, but
the nude DuPont was totally casual and nonchalant the entire
trip. Bummer. Anyway, next stop was the kitchen and
breakfast, where they both wished Sybil/Mother a hearty good
morning and (by prior cunning plan) treated Amy as if
she was a actual normal person.
By now it was obvious to Scotti that whatever outrageous and
markedly evil things one of the DuPont sisters perpetrated on
Scotti and/or the other DuPont sister was not considered
a fit topic for meal conversation. What happened in The
Cottage or the Storage Building stayed in The Cottage
or the Storage Building. Could it simmer in the back of
Scotti's brain while everybody made nice? Of course.
But truth be told, Scotti wasn't feeling all that
vindictive. It was The Game. She still had to plot
her revenge, of course, but nobody likes a grumpy gamer.
During the Plan-of-the-Day ritual it was established that most
of the afternoon was officially cordoned off for Skinny Dipping
in The Pond... Scotti included!
"Your gift arrived in yesterday's mail so we can finally do
this," Iris explained.
"Gift?" Scotti inquired. "What gift?"
"I'll show you later," Iris explained with a smile, then sipped
Scotti remained concerned. The arrival and presentation of
an unexpected present sounded suspiciously like Gaming
Activity. "I've already got my new moccasins for my feet,"
she noted. "What 'gift' do I need so I can go
Amy smiled. "Moccasins for your feet," she quoted, "as
opposed to moccasins for your... what?"
"Shut up," Scotti huffed, then turned back to Iris.
"I told you," Iris smiled, "later."
"You'll like it, dear," Sybil said. "I promise."
And with that, cleanup commenced. It was time to start the
day... with Scotti none the wiser with respect to the looming
present presentation. She was none too happy, but hiding
it well. Given The Game, the context of "context", and the
coy way the DuPonts were treating the whole gift thing, it was
worrying... a little. At least it gave Scotti something to
fret about other than her impending first ever nude, naked, and
clothing-free skinny-dipping experience.
An hour after
Scotti returned to The Cottage following lunch there was a knock
at the door. Knock-knock!
Imagine, Scotti thought as she strolled across The
Cottage, a DuPont actually knocking on the door! As
opposed to barging in like she owns the place... which she
does... if she's Sibyl. That was unfair and she knew
it. Except for The Game, the DuPonts had always respected
her privacy. Anyway, Scotti lifted the latch—Click!—opened
the door, and—"Oh!" Scotti found herself confronted by the
DuPont sisters, both naked (except for moccasins on their feet),
and with colorful towels rolled up and tucked under one
arm. Actually, Iris was burdened by two colorful
rolled towels. Also, Amy's long, black hair was pulled
back in a ponytail enforced by a green scarf or bandana.
"Why aren't you dressed?" Amy demanded, looking up and down with
disapproval at Scotti's shirt, jeans, and moccasins.
"Huh?" Scotti responded.
"Strip here," Iris suggested, "as opposed to down at the
pond. That way you don't have to deal with bugs crawling
into your clothes while you're in the water."
Scotti's green eyes popped wide. "Bugs?"
"Gigantic, vicious, imaginary bugs that have never shown any
interest whatsoever in hitching rides in anybody's clothing,"
Amy chuckled. "But leave your clothes here. It's
"Oh." That made sense. After all, there was nobody
around for miles. Scotti turned and strolled to the bed,
unbuttoning her shirt as she went. Soon, she was as nude,
naked, and clothing-free as the sisters (not counting
"Here," Iris said, and tossed one of the terry-cloth bundles to
Scotti. "Your gift."
Scotti caught the roll and let it fall open in her hands.
It was, indeed, a towel... a very pretty towel in a
Native American blanket pattern. It was also unusually
big, possibly a beach towel. "Wow! Thanks!"
"Mother ordered it from Pendleton," Iris explained.
"Mother has good color sense," Amy grinned. "It's very
Scotti had to agree the towel's green, gold, and orange shades
went quite well with her complexion and hair. "Thank you,"
she said (blushing) as she rolled up the soft, terrycloth gift.
"Tell Mother," the sisters said in unison, then quickly turned
to grin at each other and shouted "Jinx!" also in unison.
"Double Jinx!" they added, then giggled.
"I will," Scotti promised, meaning she would, indeed, thank
Sybil at her first opportunity. She ignored the siblings'
Scotti was now ready... meaning she was naked (not counting her
moccasins), her new towel was re-rolled and tucked under her
arm, and she was ready for departure... like an experienced
The trio left The Cottage, strolled across the compound to the
trailhead down to the pond, then down the trail... past Iris'
naturalistic hillside plantings... and arrived at the pond
itself. It was a short trip.
The inflow waterfall from up the mountain was splashing, but the
disturbance faded quickly to standing ripples. The outflow
waterfall continued down the mountain with minimal fuss.
As swimming holes went, The Pond was too small for lap-swimming
but larger than the average suburban backyard pool. The
entire mountainside was one steeply angled forest, so everything
was mostly in shade.
"Is it cold?" Scotti inquired, gazing at the dark, rippling
"Freezing!" Iris answered, and her sister agreed, smiling
and nodding, "but not this time of year. Right now it's
"More like chilling," Amy chuckled. "You'll love it."
There was a modest strip of grass running along the side of the
pond near the discharge waterfall. Vegetation grew right
up to the water's edge everywhere else, and that included a lot
of moss. Scotti recognized the subtle hand of Iris DuPont,
meaning she'd almost certainly encouraged all the right species
to flourish in all the right places. Yet, the overall
appearance was totally natural.
The soon-to-be-skinny-dippers unrolled their towels and arranged
them side-by-side on the lawn. The DuPont sister's towels
were also Pendleton products. Not surprisingly, Iris'
towel was predominantly black, with tan and brown accents, no
doubt a pattern that could be traced back to the famous Goth
tribe. Amy's towel, however, was surprisingly bright
and cheerful, shades of blue with gold and orange. It
might well have been inspired by the same tribe as Gingerella's
gift. Go figure.
"This place is not suitable for diving," Amy warned as
she kicked off her moccasins, released the bandana enforcing her
ponytail and dropped it on her towel, then padded to the water's
"It's pretty deep," Iris added as she followed her
sister to the water, "but Mother insists. No diving."
And then, with jubilant squealing-shouts—"Weeeee!"—the DuPont
sisters joined hands and jumped into the pond.
Scotti watched them disappear under the surface... then
reappear, sputtering and laughing.
"That'll wake you up!" Amy exclaimed.
Frowning, Scotti dipped the toes of her right foot in the now
churning water. "Just as I thought," she muttered
"We told you that," Amy chuckled as she dog-paddled in place.
"Yes, we did," Iris agreed, then grabbed Scotti's right foot,
planted her feet on the pond's bank below the waterline, then
pulled with all her strength, really putting her arm, back, and
leg muscles into it.
"Eeeeee!" Scotti screamed as she windmilled her arms and fell
forward into the water—Splash!—and disappeared under the
Scotti and Iris surfaced almost immediately, with Iris laughing
and Scotti sputtering in distress.
"You absolute rat!" Scotti accused.
"Lighten up, Gingerella," Amy laughed, then directed a generous
splash of the frigid water directly into Scotti's outraged face.
Scotti splashed water in Amy's face in retaliation.
"Hey! What was that?" Amy demanded, and Scotti grinned and
splashed her again. From that point, things rapidly
degenerated into a full-blown conventional water-war.
Iris directed watery barrages at both of the other combatants,
favoring neither the Gingerella nor the Villainous Villainess
side of the conflict. It was unrestricted surface and
If The Pond had had an actual lifeguard—in red trunks or
one-piece tank-suit, cool shades, and a whistle on a lanyard—he
or she would not have approved.
Scotti had to
admit the water wasn't that cold. She imagined
that later in the year skinny-dipping would by unthinkable, but
right now it wasn't too bad. It certainly got
your attention when an alleged friend dragged you into the
pond's watery depths, but it wasn't too bad. Okay,
it's refreshing, Scotti decided. There, I said
it... meaning thought it.
Once an armistice was declared in The Great Splash War...
everyone paddled around and enjoyed themselves... occasionally
diving to explore the bottom... then drifted on the
surface. Most of the pond was in the shade, so eventually
everybody decided that enough was enough... emerged dripping
from the churning water... and sprawled on their towels and let
the air dry them out.
Scotti lay on her back and gazed up at the cedar branches
overhead. There were a very few alders and a willow
present, and now that the watery commotion was over, a flock of
three or possibly four songbirds began flitting about their
branches, gleaning for bugs.
"Chickadee," Iris said quietly. "Black-capped or
Mountain. We get both species."
"That was an alarm call," Amy added, "a general warning that
ugly giant bipedal monsters with unknown eating habits are in
"Should we be worried?" Scotti asked.
"No, probably not," Iris sighed... then did a half turn to face
Scotti and propped herself up on one elbow. "That reminds
me. Mother said she likes your freckles. She thinks
"Very, pretty," Amy agreed. "We were both there when she
"Uh... okay," Scotti frowned. "Remind me to thank her for
liking my freckles when I thank her for the pretty towel."
"You misunderstand," Amy stated.
"Yes," Iris agreed."
"Mother likes your freckles and therefore thinks you need more
of them," Amy explained.
"No tan-lines," Iris added, "or in your case, no freckle-lines.
No unsightly white boobs and bikini-area."
"With cute little ginger bush," Amy purred.
Scotti continued frowning. Things were getting a little
weird... or possibly ominous. And then... it happened!
Amy pounced! That is, she erupted from her blanket,
climbed onto Scotti and her blanket, and straddled the startled
ginger, pinning her on her back—"Hey!"—before Scotti knew what
was happening! "Get off me!" Amy's pale, naked body
was atop Scotti with her lower-legs and knees to either side of
Gingerella's torso and hips. Her hands were clutching
Scotti's hands (with their fingers intertwined), and pinning
them to either side of her startled, outraged, and protesting
head. "I said get off me, you horse!"
Scotti squirmed and kicked and rolled her shoulders and
attempted to buck her attacker off her helpless form, all to no
avail. Amy was just too strong (as well as naked, smiling,
and with long, black, damp, semi-tousled hair). Scotti
continued fighting, but her efforts were insufficient. She
chalked it up to Amy's countless hours of wrestling wood in the
shop. Anyway... "Let. Me. Go!"
Meanwhile, Iris had padded to a nearby bush, reached behind, and
returned to the scene of the ongoing crime with a rolled up
black plastic trash bag. Scotti assumed it was full of
coffee-stained conditioned cotton clothesline, thin brown cord
(for binding big toes), and gagging supplies, but as it turned
out, she was wrong. She paused in her futile struggles and
watched with wide green eyes as Iris reached into the only
slightly bulging bag and produced a shiny steel stake with a
bent staple at the top, a small steel ring, and corkscrew-type
turns in the base to twist it into the ground! It's a
ground-anchor, Scotti realized, the kind used to
tether dogs by their collars!
"What's that?" Scotti demanded.
"A ground-anchor," Iris explained, "the kind used to tether dogs
by their collars!"
That's what I said... mentally, Scotti thought, pausing
in her resistance, then frowned and resumed her anti-Amy
efforts. "I know what it is!" she huffed in a
somewhat cranky manner, "but what is it for?"
Then, she watched as Iris screwed the anchor into the lawn in
the general vicinity of where Amy was pinning her left hand to
the ground. Then, Iris reached back into the bag and
produced a bundle of milky-white plastic cable-ties, each about
eleven inches in length. "Oh!" Scotti gasped, and
continued watching as Iris pulled a tie free from the bundle
and—with Amy's help—pulled Scotti's left hand close to the stake
and vrrriped the tie closed around her left wrist and
through the ground-anchor's steel swivel-ring! "No!"
Scotti objected, tugging on the tie and anchor. The
anchor/stake was rock-solid, but the free end of the tie flopped
as she struggled to free herself.
"Stop that or you'll mark your
wrist," Amy scolded. "Mother would be very unhappy."
"Ohhh!" Scotti complained (pouted). She dialed back the
intensity of her escape efforts, but continued struggling.
Meanwhile, Iris had deployed three more ground-anchors, selected
three more cable ties, and—Vrirrip! Vrrrip!
Vrrrip!—Scotti was now staked out in a full spreadeagle
atop her pretty new towel! Her condition wasn't exactly
stringent, so she was able to add a little shoulder-rolling,
thigh-churning, knee-flopping, and elbow-flailing to her
repertoire of struggles. By their gloating smiles it was
quite obvious the DuPont sisters were finding her Heroic
Resistance to be very entertaining, but Scotti persevered.
It was the honorable thing to do.
"Don't worry," Iris purred. "Whenever we do this we'll use
a different appendage. Not just wrists and ankles, but
fingers and toes as well."
"That way it'll distribute the potential damage, and more
importantly, you won't get any unsightly bondage lines
interrupting your freckles," Amy added. "Mother will be
Scotti stopped squirming and stared daggers at her smiling
captors. "As long as 'Mother' is pleased," she growled,
then looked up at the cedar canopy overhead... and smiled.
"Hah!" she huffed. "Joke's on you. We're in the
"Of course we're in the shade," Amy chuckled.
"You know how easily we burn," Iris added, indicating the pale
skin of her own naked self with a graceful sweeping gesture.
"In the shade," Amy purred, "but only for now." She then
pointed to the side.
Scotti lifted her head and looked. Scotti and her towel
were third in line, and immediately to her left the pool-side
lawn was in direct sun, and a quick calculation of the relevant
celestial mechanics led her to the inescapable conclusion that
the burning (and freckle-generating) sun would be steadily,
inexorably creeping in her direction as the afternoon
progressed! "You've done this before," Scotti
accused. The conclusion was inescapable. Not only
would the DuPont sisters (especially Iris-the-gardener) be
familiar with the seasonal and daily sun pattern, but the
necessary supplies for involuntary sunbathing had already been
on hand. There was only one flaw.
Scotti focused her scowl on Amy. "What did 'Mother' say
when Wednesday"—she nodded at her grinning ex-roommate—"returned
from a skinny-dipping expedition with advanced sunburn?"
Amy reached under her towel and produced a tube of Hawaiian
Tropic® sunscreen lotion (SPF 50). "It didn't happen," she
purred, holding the tube in her pale hand for Scotti's
Come to think of it, Scotti had watched earlier as both sisters
applied sunscreen to their pale bodies during pauses in the
watery fun. I should have known sunburn isn't an
issue, she realized. At least two tubes of
potent sunscreen are available! Then, her green eyes
popped wide in alarm. Two tubes of potent sunscreen
are available! Both DuPont sisters were smiling at
her. Amy's tube was still in her hand, and as Scotti
watched, Iris reached under her blanket and produced her tube.
The threat of the involuntary application of floral-scented
solar protection to all or most of Scotti's already somewhat
freckled body by the sliding/slippery hands of the Wicked DuPont
Sisters loomed large! It was a definite possibility,
meaning a near certainty, and there was nothing Scotti
could do to stop it!
"Ohhh..." Scotti complained, pouting and staring up at Amy and
Iris' smiling faces as she weakly (meaning prudently) tugged,
kicked, and twisted, fighting her minimal but inescapable bonds.
| Chapter 8