Aftercare: General's Daughter, Book 4

by Breanna Hayse

  He kissed the side of her neck, acknowledging that she was not struggling very hard against his hold. “I really don’t know what I did, but I’m sorry. I would never do or say anything intentionally to hurt you. You know that.”

  Sam frowned, turning to look at him. “You hurt my feelings. I wanted you to stay and keep me company and you didn’t want to be with me.”

  “Honey, you know what duty is like. And you know what we are like when we’re together. I just didn’t want you getting into trouble. I’d spend every minute with you if I could, but we have to realize life and responsibility gets in the way of that sometimes. Come on, please don’t be angry because I want to protect you.”

  “Scott said you need a breather from me too.”

  “Scott doesn’t always pick the best words, but we all need our space now and then. You go into the water and no one, not even Mike, can follow you down. You grab that time to refresh yourself, clear your mind and relax. It’s no different when I need a little me time. It makes our time together better for both of us.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “You sound like a spoiled little twelve year old girl who didn’t get her way,” Rich scolded lightly. “Now, you can either kiss me and say you love me, or you will find yourself over my knee being spanked like a naughty child. Which is it?”

  She thought a moment, and then turned to him. “I love you.” She kissed him briefly, and then turned away from him again.

  “Oh no, you’re not getting away that easily. Kiss me like you mean it.” He flipped her to her back and straddled her hips, holding her arms over her head.

  She eyed his crotch. “What would you like me to kiss? Anything in particular?”

  “That’s my girl,” Rich praised, placing his lips full onto hers. She stopped fighting and returned it. His kisses always made her melt like butter on hot asphalt. He sat up, still on top of her. “Let’s take a nap. No more temper tantrums from you, okay? I don’t like them,” he said, curling next to her, his face in the back of her neck.

  “I’ll try. Night.” Sam yawned, closing her eyes.

  Several hours later, Scott and Dr. Quimby snuck a look in the room and elbowed each other. Both were sound asleep with Rich pinning the tiny girl down under his right arm and leg.

  “He’s not letting her get away very easily, is he?” Dr. Quimby observed, closing the door.

  “Good thing she’s always liked being squashed. She’s going to get a lot of that from that boy. What’s for dinner? I’m famished.”

  “Don’t you ever think of anything other than your stomach?”

  ***

  “We haven’t gone camping in ages. How about if we take a long weekend and go somewhere special?” Scott said Thursday afternoon two weeks later. He was sitting at the flag officer’s table in the chow hall with his family.

  “I love camping. I haven’t been since I was a kid,” Jen said.

  Michael nodded. “You’re right, it’s been a long time. Where would we go?”

  “Salmon fishing maybe? Do some white water?”

  “Can I do it without problem?” Sam asked quietly.

  “I’m sure of it,” Michael said reassuringly. “We’ll take a bag of minerals with us in case you feel weird and mix it with the cold water to dunk you if necessary. Your readings have been really consistent.”

  “Readings?” Dr. Quimby asked. “What readings? What have you two been up to without my knowledge?”

  His daughter pulled her sleeves up to show him the multiple tiny bruises where she had been giving daily blood samples to her brother. He grunted. “You whine and cry when I have to do this, but let him harpoon you. Who taught you how to do this anyway, mister?”

  “You did.”

  “Oh.”

  “Anyway, I was saying that we’ve been testing her ability to tolerate abstinence... OF SALINE,” Michael kicked Rich under the table, “and she has been able to go ten days now with nothing more than 1/3 submersion in cold water. I’ve changed the saline levels; she does better with Pacific minerals than Atlantic, which just takes a little longer. The temperature shift that keeps her from breathing is about 85 degrees. This means she would also be safe to go to the Keys.”

  “Dr. Michael, do you mind terribly if a real physician reviews your findings?” Dr. Quimby grumped.

  Michael grinned. “Of course, Dr. Quimby. Dr. Jenkins? My findings are also open for your review.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I want to be a doctor too,” Sam whined.

  Rich hugged her. “You will, in time. We should think about forming a study together.”

  “I don’t think the doctorate committee is interested in your sex life,” Scott commented.

  “You’re going to go for that too?” Jen groaned. “I just want to finish my bachelors.”

  “We’re a little competitive, sweet cakes, just ignore this family.” Dr. Quimby smiled, patting her hand lovingly. “You do what you want to do and we will support you.”

  “Can I quit school?”

  “No!” came the firm response from all the men.

  Jen pouted. “That’s not fair.”

  “Sit up. You are starting to act like the gremlin,” Scott ordered.

  “Why do you call her a gremlin?”

  “Do you remember Gizmo, that old movie? He was cute, until you fed him after midnight or got him wet. He then became a Tasmanian devil. She’s cute until her weak spots are touched, then boom!” Scott explained. Sam stuck her tongue out at him, hidden by her hand so no one else could see. He held a finger up. One.

  Jen giggled, leaning against Rich’s arm. “I’m so glad we found this bunch of nuts. Aren’t you, big bro?”

  “Yep. So, back to camping. Can we share tents?” Rich asked mischievously.

  Dr. Quimby nodded. “Of course. We wouldn’t have it any other way. The girls in one and the boys in another. Now, let’s make some plans…”

  ***

  The following Thursday, the six left for the trip up to Oregon. After much begging (and a sincere promise to be considerate), Sam was permitted to do most of the flying of the private plane to the little airport where they would then take a helicopter to transport them to the site. Michael quickly reviewed the charts and expertly maneuvered them through the mountain pass and down to the camp headquarters.

  “When was the last time we were here, Joe?” Scott asked, tossing the duffle bags out of the small cargo area.

  “Must be about seven or eight years. Welcome to Camp WannaHootchi,” Dr. Quimby grinned, elbowing his friend.

  “I probably shouldn’t ask, but why is it called that?” Michael groaned, watching his parents giggle like boys.

  “I’ll explain when you get older.” Scott snickered.

  “Hah hah hah. You two are weird. What’s that? I don’t remember it.” He pointed to a small hut that had seen better days.

  Dr. Quimby and Scott looked at each other and laughed hard. “The Hootchi hut.”

  “This is ridiculous. Come on, let’s get camp set up while the over-aged children stroll down geriatric memory lane. I hope they remembered their walkers,” Michael ordered the girls and Rich. Dr. Quimby and Scott were now on the ground, punching each other as they still laughed.

  “It’s not often when we see two adult men get a case of the giggles, is it?” Rich asked Michael.

  “With these two, it’s too often for my likes. Certain things set them off. You get the girls’ rig up; I’ll take care of ours. The boys,” he pointed to his parents who now were wrestling over the graveled soil, “can do their own.”

  “I love it when Michael takes control. It’s sexy,” Jen whispered, sitting down next to her friend and watching the men do the work.

  “He’s getting worse, too. Just like Scott. Great, they’re in the water now. I forgot to warn you, my family has no modesty, so—”

  “They’re stripping!” Jen blushed, looking away.

  Sam shrugged. “It’s cold. Everything will shrive
l up anyway. You might as well get used to it.”

  Rich, hands on his hips, watching the two older men, shook his head. He was joined by Michael. “Well?” he asked.

  Michael nodded. “Might as well.” The two also stripped and ran in, cannon-balling the older two.

  “That is our hint to get towels and start a fire. Come on.” Sam sighed, standing. She set up a towel rack near the water, smiling as her family splashed and wrestled each other in the deep, cold pools of the slow moving river.

  Jen elbowed her. “I know I shouldn’t look, but Rich… Wow.”

  “No arguments there,” came the return giggle. “It’s a good thing that I was familiar with well-endowed male anatomy, otherwise, I would have been terrified.”

  “I can’t believe this doesn’t embarrass you. That’s your dad!”

  “So? He’s no different than any other man. I look at him or Scott like that. It’s just them. When I was little, I told them that I was broken because I didn’t have one, and tried to make my daddy, the doctor, fix my ow.” She laughed, stacking wood onto the fire ring.

  “Did he?”

  “Do you really need to ask? He told me that it must have fallen off somewhere. I spent days searching for it,” Sam said. Without hesitation, she stripped to join them. She flew into the water, landing with a big splash over all of them.

  “Come on in, Jen. You can put your suit on if you want. No one is looking.” Michael laughed. She bit her lip, screwing up the courage to be part of them. Taking a deep breath, chin held high, she stripped and gracefully walked to the water’s edge. It was cold!

  “Jenny! Jenny! Jenny!” the family chanted to encourage her entry. She held her breath and plunged in, surfacing to cheering.

  Michael hugged her close. “I warned you about my family. You’re one of us now. No secrets!” He touched her under the water.

  “It’s way too cold for that, besides, there’s nothing left here to play with.” She touched his penis.

  “Can’t help that right now. But later… Race you across the river!” he called. The six swam to the other side, then back across.

  “Where’s Sam?” Rich asked, looking around as they got out and wrapped towels around themselves.

  Michael scanned the water. “She’s over there somewhere. She’s been down for quite a while, too. Hey, sis! Where were you?”

  “Getting LUNCH!” she announced, struggling with a salmon that was almost her size. The boys raced to help her, taking the huge fish from her hands.

  “I don’t think we need one quite this big, do you? Let it go, she’s just showing off,” Michael said to Rich.

  The girl pouted. “I caught first fish, that means I’m free from chores today.”

  “You cheated. How long were you under?”

  “About five minutes. I held my breath.”

  “Hmm, we should explore that too,” Michael commented. “The mineral content up here is a little different. Maybe—”

  “NO WORK TALK!” Scott bellowed. “Get the lines, we’ll fish for real. Fire ready?”

  “Yes, Uncle Scott, of course. Hot water is going too,” his niece said, hugging his furry, hard chest. He hugged her back, tightening his towel.

  “Go get dried off, girls, and then help us gather wood. Joe! Put some clothes on! Rich! Bring the mess bag over here!”

  “I guess the word ‘please’ doesn’t enter his vocabulary when he’s bossing us around, does it?” Rich grinned at Sam.

  She shook her head. “Hell, no. We gave up on that long ago.”

  “First one to catch dinner the right way is king or queen of the day,” Scott announced, settling on the bank and casting his rod.

  “That means the winner is waited on hand and foot for the rest of the day,” Sam whispered to Rich and Jen. “God help us if it’s Scott. He’s impossible.”

  Dr. Quimby ended up snagging the first fish, a 15 pound king salmon that gave a good run. Grumbling about cheating, Scott set to filleting it.

  “My throne?” Dr. Quimby demanded.

  Michael laughed, laying a towel upon the ground and bowing. “Your Highness, I hope it meets your satisfaction.”

  “Ah yes. Thank you, page boy. Grapes? Does anyone have grapes?”

  “I take that back, Daddy is just as bad. Here, Daddy. Seedless ones. I am not peeling them for you this time.”

  “Daddy? Dost thou call me Daddy, wench?” Dr. Quimby asked, snatching her in his arms.

  She shrieked as his fingers poked her sides. “Stop it! Michael, save me!”

  “He is the king, I have no jurisdiction over his kingdom.”

  “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 stoo
l 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.