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Day of the murder. Wherewas I?" He smiled. "Got it!" He ran back to the cab and hadhim drive back to the Diner.The cab stopped and Elton saw Johnny's beat up car outsidein the parking lot. He paid the driver and ran into thelobby of the diner. The three were sitting there, drawingplans on a napkin. Elton ran over and stood next to hisyounger self."Hi!" he said, smiling.The younger Elton looked up. "Uh, yeah?" We had a date tonight. Remember?"He looked back down at the paper. "Not tonight. I've gotsomething really important going on." It's got to be tonight." The older Elton replied,nervously. "I'm... uh, planning on leaving town earlytomorrow morning and would really like spending time withyou." Look, bitch!" Franco said, standing up. "We don't want youhere! We got better things to do." He pushed Elton againstthe wall. "So fuck off!"The older Elton started panicking. "How about if I help?"he asked."Uh, I don't think you really..." The younger Elton said.Johnny stopped him."Yeah. You. I am proud and happy to be here, but I need just a bit of time to grieve, too."The subject of such animated discussion by the women was entirely outside the realm of John's experience. He sat on a love seat next to Mandy. She had brought his arm around her shoulder. His other arm was on the armrest. While he listened to the women talking about pregnancy, his brain was focused on all of the women before him. His gaze moved from woman to woman. He thoroughly enjoyed every detail of each one, the curve of a breast here, an especially long nipple there, a shoulder, the colour of a bush ... All this daydreaming had the expected effect on his cock. Unable to touch it, unable to will it into submission, unable to tuck it between his legs, he sat in embarrassment and fascination, watching his cock bob in time with his increasing heartbeat. Lubrication oozed out the tip and slowly flowed down the shaft.Heather, sitting directly across from John, noticed his distress. She watched his eyes.
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" And time I cooked some supper."They went through to the kitchen. Steven brought out a bottle of white wine, opened it and poured Becca a glass."Your first drop of the hard stuff," he said with a smile, "but I think you need it."She sipped it gingerly and grimaced. "It's a bit sharp," she said, "but," as the after taste hit her, "it's lovely and fruity. Watch it, Uncle Steven, I could get hooked on this." Don't worry, little one," he smiled. "You won't get it very often and even then I'll ration you." Spoilsport," she teased.Steven could not help himself. He gathered her in his arms and kissed her nose."You are a very special girl," he said. "I'm so glad I found you." So am I."Her eyes spoke love and Steven winced internally. "Stop it," he thought. "It's a girly crush and I must, must not give in to it. She really could almost be my daughter."He pushed her gently away. "You're supposed to be cooking dinner," he said.She grinned albeit slightly ruefully. "Yes, sir," she said and.

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