Date: Tue, 9 Apr 2013 18:40:43 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jerlar <jetdesk2@yahoo.com>
Subject: Porterville 3

This story contains graphic sexual scenes between males. If material of
this nature offends you then you should not read this story.  Additionally,
if you are under 18 years of age in most states you are not allowed to read
this story by law.
  This story is purely a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to person's
living or dead, or to events that may have occurred, is purely
coincidental.
  The author claims all copyrights to this story and no duplication or
publication of this story is allowed, except by the web sites to which it
has been posted, without the consent of the author.


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Mark Stevens



PORTERVILLE



CHAPTER THREE




	Britt backed his car out into the street and slowly drove to the
out skirts of Porterville. He took the highway heading east and continued
his conversation with Devon. Half an hour later Devon told him to take the
next left turn. "You remember where Porter Lake is, don't you?" he asked.
	Britt nodded. "It's been a few years, but I think I can still find
it."
	 Britt made his turn and grinned at Devon. "This probably won't
surprise you, but my first encounter with another guy was out here at the
lake."
	"Somehow I can believe that," Devon laughed. "Tell me about it."
	"Not much to tell really. I was seventeen. It was the summer
between my junior and senior year in high school. I hadn't been driving
very long. I drove out to the lake one evening just to sit and watch the
people. This guy came up, leaned against my car, and started talking to
me. He told a few dirty jokes and asked if I ever played with myself. Well,
first of all, being seventeen and full of hormones, listening to his jokes
had me hard and aching for some relief. One thing led to another, and he
was suddenly inside my car. He reached over and felt the bulge in my
pants. There was no one around us, and he suddenly reached for my
zipper. He pulled my cock out and started stroking."
	"Did you last long?"
	"Hell, what do you think? It was the first time another guy ever
touched me, and it drove me crazy. I shot every where."
	"That was really your first experience?" Devon asked.
	Britt nodded. "Yep, it was. Oh there had been several others I
jacked with. All we did however was get together, look at pictures and jack
off. And the pictures were of women. When I was a kid here in Porterville,
male pictures were unheard of. There was no place where you could buy
them."
	"Not much better now," Devon said. "Thank goodness for the
Internet."
	"Like I said, a few of us would get together and look at these
pictures and jack off. To be honest with you, it was watching the others
play with their cocks that got me off. There has never been anything about
a woman's body that could get me excited."
	"I hear you there," Devon agreed. "I will tell you, I tried it with
a girl once."
	Surprise was in Britt's eyes. "Really?"
	Devon nodded. "Yeah, just wanted to see if I could make myself do
it."
	"Well, did you?"
	"Did I what?"
	"Did you fuck her?"
	"Would you believe I couldn't even get hard? I tried. Boy did I
try, but it just wouldn't do a thing."
	"Did your date think anything about it?"
	"I'm sure she must have," Devon said. "I told her I had a lot of
things on my mind, and that I was too damn nervous."
	Britt smiled. Taking his foot off the gas pedal for a moment he
said, "Something tells me that wouldn't be the case now." He reached over
and placed his hand on Devon's crotch. He wasn't surprised at all to feel a
thick bulge there.
	"I think the same thing could be said of you."
	Britt's mouth felt dry as he said, "Why don't you check it out?"
	He felt the brush of Devon's fingers as they gently squeezed
him. Those same fingers also felt the manhood stir and give a leap. Britt
saw a place beside the road where he could pull over, and he stopped the
car. He shut the car engine off and turned to Devon. It was unclear who
actually made the first move, but before either one knew what was happening
they were wrapped in each other's arms. Britt took Devon's face between his
hands and pressed his lips against Devon's mouth. Suddenly they were
allowing emotion to lead them along.
	Finally Britt pulled away and broke their kiss. He hugged Devon to
him, holding him tightly against his chest. "God, I have wanted to do that
ever since I saw you last night in the bar."
	"Same here, Britt.  When we sat across from each other in the
booth, I wanted to pull you to me and taste the sweetness of your kisses."
	"Well, there's no doubt what your kisses do to me." Saying that,
Britt took Devon's hand and placed it on his throbbing cock and asked,
"Feel what you have done?"
	"Damn, you're even harder than you were before," Devon
exclaimed. "And thicker," he added.
	Their lips met once more, causing them both to be oblivious of
anything around them. They moaned and let their emotions run free. Suddenly
both men had their shirts unbuttoned.
	"Oh, Britt, I need to hold you. I need to feel that hard cock of
yours between my fingers. And I want to suck you, want to take your cum
down my throat."
	"I thought you'd never say that," Britt said running his fingers
through Devon's chest hair. .
	"Let's go to the cabin," Devon said. "It will be much more
comfortable there."
	"Will we be alone?" Britt asked.
	Devon nodded. "None of the help stay there unless we're
there. However, it stays ready all the time for entertaining by the folks."
	Britt started the car. Giving Devon a grin, he said, "Then I'm damn
ready to be entertained by you."
	Britt followed Devon's directions and soon pulled up in front of
the "cabin". Definitely not the average cabin, he thought.
	The two men walked to the entrance of the "cabin", and Devon
inserted a key inside the old lock of the big heavy wooden door. The two
walked inside.
	Devon closed the door behind them and took Britt into his
arms. "Come here, you. I want to feel your hot body next to mine."
	Britt did as he was asked and went willingly into Devon's
arms. They held each other for a time until Devon pulled back. He took
Britt's hand and led him up a winding staircase to the second floor.
	At the top he stopped and looked at Britt. "Are you okay with
this?"
	"I am. Are you?"
	Devon took the hand he was holding and placed it against his
groin. "What do you think?"
	"That I want to get on a bed with you, take your cock inside my
mouth and feel it shoot down my throat."
	Britt followed Devon into a bedroom where it didn't take them long
to shed their clothes and stand naked.
	"God, your beautiful," Devon said almost reverently.
	"I'm nothing compared to you, Devon McKenzie," Britt assured
him. He looked at Devon, and what he saw made him absolutely crazy with
desire. Blond headed and blue-eyed, Devon had a hot body. His eyes began
with Devon's face and trailed slowly down his chest, enjoying the treasure
trail of blondness before him. It made Britt weak with desire.
	Devon had about the same thoughts. As he studied Britt, he
discovered a firm solid chest covered with thick dark brown hair and a
treasure trail leading downward to a thick bush.
	"Oh, fuck," he said. He dropped to his knees and gently took
Britt's dick between his fingers. He worked the skin on the hard shaft up
and down slowly, causing Britt to moan with desire.
	Much later they lay on the bed, wrapped in each other's arms. For a
time neither one spoke a word.
	Finally Devon said, "Britt, may I ask you something?" He pulled the
man he was holding closer to him.
	Britt leaned into Devon and smiled. "Ask anything you like."
	"I really enjoy being with you. Do you think we can see each other
while you're in town?"
	"I'd like that," Britt answered. "I enjoy being with you as well."
Britt looked thoughtful and said, "I'm not sure about your parents,
however. I don't think they approve of me."
	A scowl appeared on Devon's face. "To hell with the folks!" he
exclaimed. "My life is none of their concern."
	"I think we both know different."
	"What I am trying to say is that I will continue working at the
plant for them, but other than that, my life is my business."
	"Well for what it's worth, I agree with you and whether they like
it or not, I would love more of you."
	Devon laughed as he looked at his naked body. "I think you've seen
about all there is to see of me,"
	"True and I did enjoy the view. Very much!"
	They talked well into the early morning hours. Finally as the hands
on Britt's wristwatch pointed to three a.m. they left the cabin. A short
time later Britt pulled in the circle drive.
	Devon turned and faced him. "I had a great time, Britt." He leaned
across and brushed Britt's lightly with his own. "Thank you."
	Britt returned the kiss and said, "I enjoyed everything about our
time together. I'll stick around as long as you will allow me."
	Devon opened the car door. As he got out he said, "Then plan on
sticking around for a hell of along time. Goodnight, Britt Williams."
	"Night, Devon. Give me a call." He fished a business card out of
his wallet. "My cell number is on here. Give me a call tomorrow."
	Devin grinned. It's today now. May I call you today?"
	"Please. You call me anytime you like. I will likely spend the day
at the Beacon."
	"I don't want to bother you." Devon shut the door and leaned inside
the window.
	Britt put his car in gear. Grinning he said, "Call me, okay? I want
to hear from you."
	"I will. Night."
	"Goodnight, Devon."




                                            >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>




	Although it was late when Britt crawled between the covers in his
bed, he was up and down at the Beacon by ten o'clock. He showered, downed
two cups of coffee and left his mother's house. He was beginning to have
doubts whether he would ever find anything that would lead to any type of
story line. Perhaps it was like his mother and others had said, there was
simply nothing in Porterville history that was worth digging up, much less
capable of leading to a good fictional plot.
	"Good morning, Alice," he greeted as he came inside the front
office of the Beacon. "How are things going this morning?"
	She returned his smile. "Kind of quiet so far," she
answered. "Still hoping to turn up something, are you?"
	Britt nodded. "There has to be something," he said. "I just haven't
found it yet."
	The smile on Alice's face suddenly disappeared. She remembered
something her mother had said the evening before. "Mother said the
strangest thing last night at dinner. I told her you were here working on a
story line, and she said, `Tell him to check out the cemetery.' She says
things like that now and then, sort of off the wall."
	Surprise showed on Britt's face. "The cemetery?"
	She nodded. "That's what she said, but whether you should put any
stock into her suggestion, I don't really know."
	"I may have to check the place out," Britt called over his shoulder
and disappeared down the hall out of sight.
	He spent the morning sitting in front of the computer, going
through file after file and still came up with zilch. Even though he was
discovering many things about his hometown, nothing reached out to him,
nothing claimed the attention of the author inside his mind.
	As he continued his research on the computer, one word kept running
around in his mind. Cemetery. At first he pushed it out of his thoughts,
but the word refused to leave his brain. Cemetery. An hour later he decided
he was getting nowhere so he closed down the computer and stood to his
feet.
	"Going to lunch?" Alice asked as he passed by her desk.
	"Later," he answered. "I may be barking up a wrong tree, but I
think I'm going to take your mother up on her suggestion."
	Surprise showed on her face. "Are you serious? You're really going
out to the cemetery?"
	Britt nodded. "I think I will. I haven't been there since my father
died. Maybe it's time I paid my respects." He gave her another grin and
headed for the door. "I'll catch up with you later perhaps."
	As he sat behind the wheel of his car Britt's cell phone
rang. Devon was calling, and he greeted him warmly. "Hey, what's up?"
	"Up?" Devon asked on the other end. "To be honest, nothing is up at
the moment. Last night, however, was a different story."
	"Yes, it was," Britt agreed. "In fact if memory serves me
correctly, I think you were `up' as you put it, at least three times."
	"So how are things going today?" Devon asked. "Have you found out
any interesting details about our little hometown?"
	"Not really. Guess where I'm headed to at the moment?"
	"Haven't a clue."
	"The cemetery," Britt answered.
	"The cemetery?" Devon's voice held a huge degree of surprise. "Why
the hell are you going out there?"
	"I'm really not certain. Just a thought that was placed in my
brain, so guess I'll check it out. Like I told Alice at the Beacon, I
haven't been there since my dad died, so guess it's about time I paid my
respects."
	"Well all right. I guess whatever floats your boat, as they say."
Devon changed the subject. "You have any plans this evening?"
	Britt pretended to search his appointment book. Finally he said, "I
believe I'm open."
	"Good. I'll be by around seven-thirty to pick you up. If that's
okay with you," he added.
	"Sure. Do you have anything in mind for tonight?"
	"I'm packing a dinner of sorts, picking you up, and we're heading
for the cabin. Any objections?"
	"Not from me," Britt assured him. "I'll see you this evening."
	Britt closed his cell phone, started the car's engine, and slowly
drove to the outskirts of town where the local graveyard was located; where
all of Porterville's past were put to rest. A few minutes later he stopped
in front of the big iron gate. He shut the engine off and got out of the
car. He didn't have a clue what he was looking for as he started off on
foot.
	The graves at the front were the remains of the early settlers of
Porterville. The markers dated all the way back to the 1800's. Britt knew
none of the people listed although one or two of the family names sounded
familiar to him. As he walked along reading each marker he came to, he was
surprised to discover that many children were out there. They certainly
didn't live long back then, he decided.
	Although Britt didn't recognize most of the names, he found it
fascinating just reading the history the stones told. As he read the dates
on the markers, the author inside him started having a hay day. Alice may
not have put much stock into her mother's suggestion, but perhaps the old
lady, may have had the right idea all along.
	Britt became preoccupied reading the markers and wasn't aware of
how much time had passed. Sometime later he was startled to hear a voice
speaking to him.
	"Well well, if it's not our well known author. Tell me,
Mr. Williams, do you expect to find something here for your story?"
	Britt looked up and was surprised to discover Elaine McKenzie
standing before him. He looked beyond her and saw her car parked a ways
behind. He had been so interested in reading the grave markers that he
hadn't heard her drive in.
	"Mrs. McKenzie, what a surprise seeing you here. Do you visit
often?"
	"I pay my respects," she answered. There was a hint of coldness in
her voice that forced a chill to travel down Britt's spine even though it
was a very warm June afternoon.
	"I'm sure that's very decent of you." The same degree of coldness
could be heard in his own voice.
	"So, to whom are you showing your respect?" she asked. She no
longer tried to masquerade the contempt from her eyes.
	"My father is buried out here," Britt answered.
	"Yes, he is," Elaine McKenzie agreed. "About four rows over, I
believe."
	"Yes, he is." Britt was trying to keep his voice respectful, if
only for Devon's sake. He was, however, finding it more difficult by the
second.
	"And you are paying your respects on this side of the graveyard
because?" she persisted.
	"Excuse me, Mrs. McKenzie, but I wasn't aware I had to account for
my whereabouts to you. The last time I checked this was a public cemetery,
one opened to anyone who chose to visit and pay their respects." There was
no mistaking the cold note in his voice this time, and they both heard it.
	"You're right, of course. Please, carry on with your `respects'."
Elaine Porter McKenzie turned on her heel and began walking in the
direction of her car. Suddenly she stopped faced him once
more. "Mr. Williams, just what is it you expect to find out about my son?
You do have an agenda, do you not, where Devon is concerned?"
	"The only agenda I have for your son, Mrs. McKenzie, is to be his
friend."
	"You are offering friendship? Just what makes you think my son
needs your friendship?"
	"Mrs. McKenzie, I don't wish to make an enemy of you, and that's
the truth. I am quite old enough, as is your son, that we can choose
whomever we wish to befriend, and however you may look at it, you have no
choice in the matter."
	"You are quite mistaken about that, Mr. Williams. Quite mistaken,"
she repeated. She turned her back once more. As she walked the short
distance it seemed her back became straighter making her have the
appearance of a much taller woman.
	Britt Williams watched as the woman drove silently from the
graveyard. He felt another chill work its way down his back, causing him to
shiver. What was it about that woman that struck him as odd? he
wondered. Something was not right, but what was it? Why was she so
determined to keep him away from her son?
	Britt's interest in the history found in the cemetery was
momentarily lost. He decided to walk by his father's grave before he headed
back to town. He walked past a few rows and suddenly found himself standing
in front of a vaguely familiar grave marker. He read the heading.

				Daniel Williams
				1937 – 2002

	His father had only been sixty-five when a sudden heart attack had
taken his life. The older Britt became, the more he realized just how young
his father had been at the time of his death. There had been no
warning. One day he had been laughing and joking about drawing his first
"old timer's check", and the next, he was gone. One of the things about his
father that was constantly on his mind was the fact he hadn't seen the man
in over two years. Now that his father was gone, Britt missed him more than
ever. There was so much he would like to say to the man.
	Britt stood silently for a few moments, entertaining several
thoughts and recollecting several memories he had of his father. Daniel
Williams had died never knowing his son was gay. Britt had wanted to tell
him, but each time he tried, it was as if his father knew what he was
trying to say, and he would put a wall up between them. Britt couldn't tell
him what was on his heart. Catherine Williams had a pretty good idea her
son enjoyed the company of other men and had kept those thoughts buried
deep inside her. It was after the funeral when they had some time alone,
sorting out things, that Britt had been honest with his mother.
	Britt came back to the present. He reached down and touched the
tombstone gently. Then he turned and walked back to his car. Something kin
to depression had settled in. Suddenly he felt the need to escape quickly.
	Britt had Devon on his mind as he drove back to town. He wondered
if he should give him a heads up about running into his mother at the
graveyard. He was quite certain Elaine McKenzie would tell her son about
seeing Britt, and he was equally sure the woman would tell her son how rude
and inconsiderate Britt had been.
	Britt thought back to their meeting. Had he been rude, he wondered?
She certainly had, and he was fairly certain he had returned a lot of what
she had dished his way. He had been entirely truthful with her, however,
when he had stated he did not wish to make an enemy out of her. Not that
she was, nor would she ever be high on his list, but he felt he owed it to
Devon to give her as much respect as he possibly could.
	As he drove into the city limits of Porterville Britt's cell phone
rang. He knew, even before he answered, that it would be Devon on the other
end.
	"Hey," he greeted.
	"So, how were things at the graveyard?" Devon asked.
	"Interesting, to say the least," Britt answered.
	"Meaning," Devon persisted.
	"Meaning I ran onto your mother while I was there."
	To say Devon was surprised was an understatement. "My mother? What
the hell was she doing out there?"
	"Paying her respects was the way she put it," Britt answered.
	"Her respects?"
	"That's right. Personally, I think she saw me there and stopped to
find out what my intentions were where you were concerned."
	"Your intentions," Devon repeated. "What the hell?"
	"She ask me what my agenda was and why I was pursuing a friendship
with you."
	"That's none of her damned business."
	"I think I said pretty much the same thing. To her, I mean," Britt
added.
	"Good for you," Devon declared.
	"I'm glad you called. I was wondering if I should give you a heads
up on this. I don't have a doubt she will say something to you about our
meeting."
	"Just let her make something of it," Devon said, anger coming out
in his voice. He was quiet for a moment and then said, "Britt, please don't
let her upset you. I think too much of you and even though we've just met,
I don't want to lose your friendship."
	"You have no cause to worry on my account," Britt assured him. "I
am not going anywhere, much to your mother's sorrow."
	"Good. I don't want to lose you."
	They talked for another moment or two, and when Britt pulled into
his mother's drive, they ended their conversation. Before he hung up Devon
added, "I'll be by for you at seven-thirty. Bring your appetite."
	Britt hurried up the walk and let himself inside the house where he
had grown up. Closing the door behind him he called, "Mom, I'm home."
	Catherine Williams was in the living room, and he joined her. He
sat in the other recliner, the one his father had liked best, and grinned
across at his mother. "How are things with you, Mom?"
	"Okay. I just got home myself a short time ago. We're trying to get
this quilt finished at the center. The girls and I stayed a little longer
than usual."
	Britt smiled thinking of the "girls" his mother referred to. There
most likely wasn't a one of them under seventy. "Did you finish it?"
	She shook her head and said, "Not quite. We're going back in the
morning. I think a good hour will see it finished."
	"Then what?" he asked.
	She shrugged her shoulders. "There's always another one waiting,"
she answered. "We're quite famous around these parts for our quilting. It
keeps us busy."
	"That's good, Mom. I'm glad. I know I neglect you and don't come
home as often as I should. I just wish I could get you to move to the
city. You wouldn't have to live with me, you know. At least you would be
close by, and I could check in on you."
	"Leave Porterville?" she asked. "I could never leave here. This is
my home. Always has been, and always will be."
	"I understand that, Mom, I do. I just hate having so many miles
between us."
	"And, if I moved to the city, near you, can you honestly say we'd
see any more of each other than we do now?"
	"I would promise, Mom, to do better."
	"You're busy, Britt," she told him. "You have your own life, your
writing. And I have my life here in Porterville. I have my friends, the
center, and my church. I am busy as well."
	"I know you are, Mom," he agreed. "Well, it's nothing that has to
be decided on now. Just promise me, though, that should the need ever
arise, you will consider it."
	Catherine Williams squared her shoulders and said, "Well as you
said, it's nothing we have to decide this very moment. So let's discuss
more important things. Did you discover anything interesting today?"
	"Would you believe I've spent the afternoon at the cemetery?"
	His mother was surprised. "Why the graveyard?" she asked.
	Britt shrugged his shoulders. Suddenly his stomach gave a twisted
churn, reminding him he had skipped lunch. He stood to his feet. "I thought
I might learn some more Porterville history out there." He headed for the
kitchen. "I've got plans for dinner, Mom, but if you've got something to
snack on, think I'll eat a snack."
	"There's sandwich meat in the frig," she told him. "What are your
plans for dinner?" She followed him into the kitchen.
	"Devon is feeding me this evening," he answered as he searched
inside the refrigerator for the "fixings" his mother had mentioned.
	"Devon McKenzie again?"
	The tone in her voice puzzled him. "That's right. Is there a
problem with the two of us having dinner together?"
	"Of course not, Britt," she assured him. "I was just surprised. I
didn't realize you knew the man that well."
	"Well, until I came back, I didn't know him. However, we've talked
several times, and we've discovered we have a lot in common. We've decided
to pursue our friendship. I hope that won't be a problem for you."
	"It won't be for me," she said. "I'm not so sure, however, that
Elaine McKenzie will feel the same way."
	"Oh, I'm sure you're right about that." Britt made him a sandwich
and poured a glass of milk. He sat down at the kitchen table. "I ran into
her today, and she made no bones about disapproving of our friendship."
	"I'm sorry, Britt," Catherine Williams said. "Elaine McKenzie is
quite a piece of work, I know, and I'm certain she will go to great lengths
to interfere with your friendship with her son if she possibly can."
	Britt took a bite of his sandwich. "Sounds as if you know from
personal experience, Mom."
	"I've known Elaine Porter McKenzie all of her life. She has always
been the way she is."
	"She does appear to be one cold individual," he agreed.
	"She wants to be in control of every thing and everyone she's
around," Catherine Williams said. Her eyes snapped as she spoke.
	Britt was surprised by her tone. "Has she ever tried to control
you, Mom?"
	"That woman has at one time or another, tried to be in control of
everyone. I certainly would not want to be in her husband's shoes, and I
especially feel sorry for her son."
	Britt saw his mother's face take on a look he had never seen
before. He wasn't sure why, but it made him feel strange. He was suddenly
reminded she had been born and raised in this town, had never left it, and
therefore, had to know about everything there was to know about
Porterville. Unlike him, she had never left the area; at least for more
than a week or two at a time in her entire life.
	"What's on your mind, Mom?" he asked as he finished his
sandwich. He drained his milk glass.
	Catherine Williams came back to the present. "I was thinking about
Donald Porter, Elaine's father. He was a cold excuse for a human being. She
reminds me of him in every way."
	"I don't guess I remember him," Britt remarked. He placed his glass
in the sink.
	"He's been gone for years. I remember he thought the entire town
should jump at his every word."
	"His daughter feels the same way," Britt smiled. "Did I mention
that while I was at the cemetery this afternoon she came paying her
respects to the dead?"
	"Did she now?"
	Britt nodded. "She was there all right. She wasn't too happy that I
was walking around looking at different markers. She ask me if I thought I
was going to find something to write about looking in such a private
place. She implied I was being very disrespectful."
	"The nerve of that woman!" There was a sharp ring in Catherine
Williams's voice as she spoke.
	"She also wanted to know what I hoped to gain from befriending her
son," Britt continued.
	"She's a pompous ass." Catherine got to her feet and walked across
the room to the kitchen counter. She opened the cabinet and took down the
bottle of wine she kept there.
	"You are upset, aren't you, Mom?" Britt teased. "Almost nothing
upsets you enough to cause you to take a drink."
	"Would you like a glass?" she asked, turning to face him. She sat
the bottle on the counter top.
	Britt shook his head. "No, thanks. Don't think I care to mix wine
with the milk I just drank. Thanks for asking." He gave her a grin and
reached out to give her a hug. "Love you, Mom."
	She returned his hug. "I love you, too, Britt." She pulled back and
smiled at him. "I'm so glad you've come home for the summer."
	"Me, too. I just wish I were able to spend more time with you. I
promise, I will do better."
	"Nonsense," she said. She poured some wine into a glass and took a
drink. "I'm enjoying having you here. Just knowing you are down the hall
when I wake up during the night is such a wonderful feeling."
	They went into the living room and enjoyed a good visit. It was a
very enjoyable time for both of them, and the time passed quickly. Finally
Britt had to get ready for his evening.
	He showered, shaved, and a little later, he joined his mother who
was in the living room. She had the evening paper in her lap but didn't
appear to be reading it. She looked up as he came into the room, and the
look on her face caused his heart to race.
	"What's wrong, Mom?" he asked. He was suddenly worried. "Are you
ill?"
	Catherine Williams silently handed him a folded piece of paper. She
didn't utter a word.
	Britt folded the paper back and read the words printed there. They
simply said, "LEAVE WELL ENOUGH ALONE BEFORE SOMEONE GETS HURT!"