INCOMING!

"Thanks, oh and dew be careful!" Charlotte waved, and turned towards my wife. I didn't see anything else, shutting the door and walking onto the porch. My mind was consumed with thoughts of Sapphic sex as I stepped of the porch.

It had stopped raining, but looking at the sky, I knew that it wouldn't be long before the downpour began again. I was so lost in contemplations that I nearly walked into the path of a flying arrow.

"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST ON POGO STICK!" I shouted, nearly falling as I scrambled backwards.

"Shit! Brent! You Ok?" Came the call from Helen, who stood about twenty yards away, a strung bow gripped tightly in her left hand. "Aaaand what's with the Pogo Stick?"

"No. I'm fine." I gasped out, my mind still reeling from a combination of sexual exhilaration and near ****. "Just startled me a little. And the Pogo stick has to do with my heart and my throat right now..." I waggled a finger Up and down between my chest and my neck.

I looked over at Helen as she raced up to me. She wore a white tank top, a slightly unusual choice for the weather, which partially covered a black jogging bra. She had replaced her jeans from the night before with a pair of tan shorts, which reached nearly to her knees. I noticed a small arm guard on her left forearm, and a small two-fingered glove on her right hand.

"Sorry! I didn't think anybody would be up." She explained, a look of concern on her features.

"You always start your mornings with a live-fire exercise?" I joked, turning to look at what she had been shooting at. Five arrows protruded from a paper plate that had been placed upon a small mound of earth at the far end of the dirt clearing.

"Not usually, but I wanted to get in some practice before it started raining again." She gestured to the gathering clouds.

I nodded, satisfied with her answer. For a horrible moment, the thought that the two women wanted to kill me and take MY woman had briefly surfaced from the primal depths of my mind. I chuckled at the possessive thought, turning my mind back to breakfast, and the frying pan I was to fetch.

"I'm uh, cooking breakfast," I tried, opening the sliding door to the bus. "If you'd like some..."

"That'd be great, thanks." Helen's voice took on a more calm tone.

"Great!" I called back, digging through a collection of junk that we stored in the storage space under the rear seat, before uncovering the large pan. Absently, I noted that I'd have to scrub it out, since I had enough iron oxide in my diet. There was even a penny stuck to the thing, which flicked off with a quick motion of my thumb. I turned to exit the bus, and saw Helen, standing there with an unusual expression on her face.