Bats in the belfry. Rotten on the vine.

It’s past noon now, and Chrissy is still snuggled up in your lap. You’ve done about all the research you can without a properly equipped computer and a better VPN than your phone can manage, so logically you know you should head home and get to it. The problem here is that your car is a good twenty miles away, and while you could theoretically hoof it, that’s twenty miles as the crow flies. You’d either have to make your way down a busy interstate in near zero temperatures or hike overland through woods, ford two rivers, and climb a rather sizable cliff, and that’s not even taking into account the psychotic clown that’s somewhere nearby or the biker gang that may or may not be hunting for you

The thought of Mr. Happy gives you another shudder. Fucking clown knows where Chrissy lives. That worries the hell out of you. You feel that same steely resolve growing in your gut that made you want to protect Beth, and it’s extending to your other half sister now. They’re yours, damnit, and there’s no way in hell you’re ever letting anyone hurt them. Doesn’t matter if it’s the AOA or some psychotic firebug clown. You have a mission from Mom, but beyond that you also know inside that you actually care about them.

This of course brings you to logistical issues. First, you need to explain your relationship to Chrissy. This would have probably been easier to do from go, but then you likely wouldn’t have gotten as much action from her as you did. Second, you need to get her somewhere else, somewhere you can defend her. You’re pretty sure if you can get past the first part then the second part will be pretty damn easy.

You glance back at your phone, and pull up the Affection Multiplier. Time to scan her profile again to see if it gives you any insights:

Christine Amanda Anderson

Age: 33

Relationship: Half-Sister

Sexual Orientation: Pansexual

Bio: I’ve known I was adopted for as long as I can recall, and except for a brief rebellious stage in my late teens it never really made a difference. The Andersons might not have been my biological parents but they raised me. They’re my Mom and Dad. I’ve studied dance for as long as I can remember. Mom suggested it to me when I was really young and we drove to Willow River so I could take classes. By the time I was 12 I’d gone as far as I could as a student there and began to help with teaching and choreography. During that time I also discovered a love of the stage and acting. I was the lead in every school play all through High School, and it seemed only natural to continue with a fine arts education in college.

UMD was close enough to home that I didn’t feel too uncomfortable and far enough away to suit my growing independent streak. I majored in theater with a comprehensive focus and naturally minored in dance. And cocaine. That part came from a girl who I’d been getting serious with. We stayed together after I graduated with my BFA. Sadly that was in the late aughts, and nowhere around here, or even anywhere, was looking to hire a theater teacher. Fine arts programs have been getting slashed since Big Bush and while Obama and Clinton gave them a bit of a reprieve, they still haven’t bounced back. And Colombian Marching powder ain’t cheap, so I took to the stage in another way. I finally got clean a couple years back, but who the hell wants to hire someone who’s only resume entry is being a pole dancer? So the money I was no longer shoving up my nose was spent to make sure that my body stayed relevant, and eventually to buy this house (with cash! The look on the seller’s face was priceless!). I know I’m reaching my expiration date though. I’d like to quit the stage and open a studio. Really apply my talents. Maybe join a community theater.

Skills: Dancer (Professional grade, exotic and classical), Comprehensive theatrical knowledge

Current Status: Sleeping peacefully.

Statistics:

Affection: 80 (I’ve known you for less than a day, but I feel like it’s been my whole life. I want to be by your side. )

Trust: 70 (With all of my soul. )

Love: 80 (At first fuck? Who knew it was possible? Something about you makes my heart sing!)

Lust: 45* (I dunno why, but even thinking of you gets me sloppy inside.)

(*Lust has a permanent minimum of 40)

Ooookay... yeah, you can work with that. As you finish reading she starts to stir, groggily looking up at you with a sleepy grin. She playfully licks your cock and whispers, “Hey handsome.”

(A/N: Aaaaand this is freakin chapter 50. Never thought I’d make it this far. A big thank you to all of those of you who have supported me thus far. ~W)