Date: Tue, 4 Oct 2005 14:46:00 -0700 (PDT)
From: Lance Kyle <lokiaga@prodigy.net>
Subject: Big Game 8

Andrew Simpson woke up with an incredibly heavy feeling, and an urgency to
use the toilet.  But it took only a moment for the disorientation to pass.
The heaviness was the fact that Motumbo was still on top of him, having
fallen asleep after his orgasm the night before.  And the urgency to use
the toilet probably came from the fact that the African's massive rod was
still inside Simpson's rectum, so long and heavy that even in its flaccid
state it remained where Motumbo had left it after his last quivering spasm
the night before.

Simpson pushed up and over, and Motumbo turned onto his back, his penis
plopping out of the white man.  But the African did not awake.  Quietly,
Simpson slipped from the bed and padded across the floor out into the great
room on his way to the bathroom.  On the way he passed the sofa on which
Thatho and Mthobisi slept, having been put up there for the night in the
absence of any better lodging until further plans could be made.  Having
relieved himself, Simpson walked softly back toward the bedroom, stopping
to look at the fourteen and thirteen year old boys on the sofa.  Their
boyish good looks really were attractive, but he still had some lingering
doubts as to whether they could be employed at De Groot's.

Simpson slipped back into bed and into the semi-conscious embrace of
Motumbo.  For another hour or two he dozed, coming more fully into
consciousness as the first light of dawn crept into the lodge.  Sensing
Motumbo's gradual awakening as well, Simpson nuzzled the big man on the
face and neck.  A soft chuckle announced Motumbo's awareness of his
attentions, and powerful black arms around him pulled him in a little
tighter.

"I'm glad you're here," whispered Simpson.  Motumbo grunted and nodded,
then hugged a little tighter.  A moment passed.  "But Motumbo," Simpson
continued, "Thatho and Mthobisi....alright, they are sexually experienced.
But really, they are very young.  Blow jobs, sucking us, yes they do that
well.  But if they are the Ball Room team, they will need to do more than
that, you know."  Motumbo nodded and grunted noncommittally.  "Have they,"
Simpson continued, "have they, you know, taken it in the butt?  Can they do
that?"

Motumbo chuckled and reached around to squeeze Simpson's hard buttock.
"That way, Andrew?" he asked, and laughed out loud.  Simpson snuggled in
even closer, giving Motumbo's slowly swelling cock an encouraging squeeze.

"Yes, that way, Motumbo.  You know, it would come to that.  Maybe they have
fucked each other, but a grown man?"  Motumbo grunted again.  He paused a
moment, then pushed himself up on one elbow, turning his head toward the
door.  Simpson listened as well.  There was the sound of stirring from the
great room.  Motumbo cleared his throat and called out the boys' names
loudly.  There was more sound from the great room, a couple of low voices,
then the sound of padding feet.  The boys appeared naked in the doorway,
rubbing sleep from their eyes.

They were a beautiful sight, and once again, Simpson felt himself aroused
although he had not previously had such contact with boys so young.  Even
just awaking, the boys held their muscular curved tubes of their bodies
erect, shoulders back, slim, upturned buttocks protruding behind.  Their
morning erections made their nearly man sized penises seem even larger and
more outsized than Simpson had remembered from the night before, now
curving out and a little down from underneath sparse little patches of
pubic hair.  Their skins were a rich, deep, flawless chocolate, a color
infused with life as is so often the case with the young, a fudge color you
could eat over ice cream.  Motumbo spoke to them in their language.  They
both laughed and answered, punctuated by light jabs at one another, some
animated gestures, and at one point Mthobisi squatted down and then stood
up again quickly, which brought a hoot of laughter from Thatho.  Motumbo
turned to Andrew.

"Andrew, they say they do it with other boys, not men.  But they say, no
big deal.  I don't know, Boss....what you think?  Shall we test?"  Motumbo
broke into a huge grin.  Simpson, still reticent but now tempted nearly
beyond endurance, didn't know what to say besides smile back in wonderment.
Motumbo answered for him.  He whipped back the sheets from the bed, leaving
the two men naked on the mattress, their morning erections, now growing,
being fully apparent.  Motumbo spoke to them again in their language and
the boys, giggling with laughter, bounded over to the bed, piling into it
between the two men in a squirming mass.

For several moments the men, turning inward, cuddled with the boys,
tickling them, squeezing them, enfolding them in light bear hugs, kissing
and nuzzling their necks and ears while the boys in their turn
mock-struggled with Motumbo and took this chance to explore Simpson's
physical differences, his unaccustomed cornsilk hair and light complexion.
The boys placed their fingers on his thinner lips, and remarked on the
scattering of body hair that was new to them.  Soon, playfulness led to
foreplay.  The boys began to tease and then to squeeze the men's penises,
which brought them to full, iron erection.  The men, tickling the boys,
tickled down to their hairless ballsacks, and then grasped their mannish
dicks, now also growing fully erect.

Motumbo reached first for the lubricant, for after all this escapade was
also a working session to find out whether the boys could handle the
consequences of some of the games at De Groot's.  Motumbo flopped onto his
back and began greasing his midnight black, meaty pole that stuck straight
up, slathering lubricant on it from its wide base to the flared cockhead
now poking out of his foreskin.  Then he reached over and grabbed Mthobisi,
who had sucked his rod the previous day, and hauled the boy over to squat
above his organ, knees on the bed on either side of Motumbo's hips.
Mthobisi took his position with a grin, but cast a wistful look at Simpson
and the white man's towering organ.  Seeing what was planned, Simpson oiled
up his own rigid red shaft, but he did not have to encourage Thatho, who
was in place before the white man could direct him to do so.

Now began the time of trial.  Wincing and gasping, both boys squatted above
the men's pelvises and tried impaling themselves on the man-sized organs.
Each man was helpful but insistent; a customer, after all, would be less
gentle than this, and the boys needed to show that they could handle it.
Not surprisingly, Thatho achieved a breakthrough first: with a yelp, the
head of Simpson's organ slipped inside, and the boy slowly lowered himself
all the way down, finally settling his firm, rounded buttocks on Simpson's
pelvis.  Slowly, tentatively, still wincing but breathing hard with growing
lust, Thatho began pushing up and sliding down, up and down, on Simpson's
dick.

No such luck with Mthobisi.  A year younger than his fourteen year old
brother and a little smaller, tears started from his eyes as he tried to
accommodate Motumbo's huge organ, but it wasn't any good.  No matter how
hard he pushed, no matter how many comforting words to relax were spoken by
Motumbo, the African man's huge dick was just too large.  Seeing the
difficulty, even as Thatho was beginning to pick up his rhythm, Simpson
realized that his relatively smaller penis might work where Motumbo's did
not.  He quickly suggested that the boys switch.  Thatho objected, and had
to be half-pulled off of Simpson by Motumbo, but eventually he settled over
the African man's penis.  Mthobisi, wiping a tear but with a smile of glee,
shifted over and positioned himself over Simpson.

Now the drama was repeated, as Thatho struggled to accept the larger
African meat.  Mthobisi struggled and strained to take Simpson.  Once
again, the white man proved capable of penetrating the African boy above
him first.  With a cry, Mthobisi pushed his rectum down over Simpson's
cockhead, and then with another cry he slid all the way down in one motion,
landing now on Simpson's pelvis, shuddering and breathing hard but fully
encasing the white man's dick in his bottom now.  Not far behind, and
opened up by Simpson's dick before, soon Thatho yelped as Motumbo's fat
cockhead popped inside his anus, then moaned as he settled on the African's
pelvis, squirming at the huge sausage stuffed inside his gut.

There was a moment of waiting, of tentative movement, of each man
insistently but gently pushing up with his pelvis, and then the boys began
to swing into a rhythm, up and down, up and down, then faster, now landing
down with force so as to receive the adult dick as far up as it would go,
now rising up until the man's cockhead was only just inside the anus, then
back down again.  In the meantime, each boy's own nearly man-sized cock was
fully erect, and spraying precum as they bounced up and down.  Simpson and
Motumbo each grasped the dick of the boy they were fucking and began
pumping it in time to the boy's rhythm.  Each boy was now stimulated more
than they had ever been, their bottoms stuffed full of oversized man-dick
and their own penises being rapidly pumped.  Each man used his second hand
to fondle a hard, rounded buttock, to tweak a nipple, or to support a boy
with palm splayed flat on a chest.  Mthobisi could not take his eyes off
the brand new sight of Simpson's pale fist wrapped around his own purple
black cock, and Thatho kept looking over at the spectacle from time to time
also.

Being older, Thatho came first, crying out and spraying cum all over
Motumbo, the white splats decorating the man's dark fudge skin on his
belly, chest, and face.  Thatho's rhythm faltered as he came, shuddering
and quivering, and he almost pulled off of Motumbo entirely, but he
recovered quickly and returned to his rhythm, even faster now as his hips
pistoned up and down even as his quivering dick leaked semen as it slapped
Motumbo's belly.  A little younger, it took Mthobisi another moment but
then he, also, growled in a deep voice belying his age and tensed, As luck
would have it, he shot a rope of cum directly into Simpson's face, and
Simpson, seeing it coming, opened his mouth in anticipation, being rewarded
by a shot, and then another one, of thirteen year old African cum in his
mouth.  It was enough to put Simpson himself over the edge, and roaring,
pushing up and gripping the boy's thigh with all his might, Simpson
ejaculated up into the African boy, filling his rectum with thick semen
even as the boy was still trembling and quivering from his own ecstasy.
Finally, Motumbo came, bucking upwards and pulling Thatho down onto his
pelvis as he filled the boy with spunk, bucking again and then again.  At
the end, the boys fell forward onto the cum-spotted chests of the two men,
laying their small heaving chests against the heaving bellies and lower
chests of the men, as all four fought their way back to normal breathing.
Each man gently embraced and stroked the boy above him, feeling his beating
heart through the thin wall of muscle.

Eventually, the two men and two boys got up and showered, squeezing as many
into the shower stall as they could, the boys laughing and hooting,
everyone's penises fully recovered and semi-erect as they slapped against
the other slippery bodies beneath the warm falling water.  But there was
work to do, and they contented themselves with looking and the occasional
squeeze.  Drying and dressing, the four made their way to the main lodge,
where the boys were introduced to Thabo and the rest of the crew that was
around.  Simpson explained the plan to use the boys in the Ball Room to
Thabo, who also expressed concern for their age, but when informed as to
the demonstrations of their "qualifications" the day before and that
morning, he shrugged and, chuckling throatily, agreed that they would add a
special allure to the Ball Room.  The question had to be decided soon,
though, the next guest was but five days away and the boys had to be
trained.

By luck, Little Mandla came into the main lodge about that time.  He had
been the previous choice for the Ball Room, being smallest on the staff.
Simpson introduced the two boys to him and suggested the change in plans.
Little Mandla did not mind at all, as he would have plenty of opportunity
for other service.  At Simpson's request, he agreed to take the two boys to
the Ball Room structure and begin training them.  As they were leaving,
Motumbo whispered in Simpson's ear, Simpson nodded, and made one more
request.  He asked the boys to stay with Little Mandla in the "Prey" lodge.
Part of their training would be daily butt-fucking by Little Mandla, whose
ample but not grotesquely large penis would keep the boys loosened up but
not sore for the guest who would arrive a few days hence.  After that, the
guests would keep the boys loose and limber.  Everyone agreed to the plan
with glee, and off went the boys under the care of Little Mandla.

Thabo took himself off to attend to a project, leaving Simpson and Motumbo
alone in the offices.  The two men eyed each other quietly.  They had not
really talked since Motumbo's arrival yesterday about the question that had
been hanging over them for weeks now, Motumbo's status at De Groot's.
Simpson slipped his hand along the table at which they both sat and covered
Motumbo's hand, squeezing it.

"How is your wife, Motumbo?" he asked.

The African grinned broadly.  "She OK, Andrew.  She gonna have baby, she
tell me!"

Simpson's heart skipped a beat; he didn't know what this would mean.  "Oh!
Well, that's wonderful.  Is this your first child?"

Motumbo grinned again and shook his head.  "Nah, Andrew, I think I got
maybe two more, but them by other women.  I don't see them much no more.
This our first together, though."  He seemed filled with pride, and Simpson
could well imagine that he was capable of attracting and then impregnating
every young woman for miles around.  But the question remained unanswered,
and Simpson had to summon up his courage and pursue it.

"So, Motumbo....does that mean you will have to be with her more than at De
Groot's?  I....I just need to know for staffing....Oh, hell, Motumbo, I need
to know for myself.  I'm happy for you, it's wonderful to have a family,
but...." He trailed off.  Motumbo nodded, looking at him thoughtfully, then
slipped his hand out from under Simpson's to lay it over the white man's
hand, reversing their positions, squeezing Simpson's hand now in his turn.

"Andrew, having baby, that women's work.  She mother, she come, stay in
house, there be women things all over house.  Maybe better I stay here more
often, not all time, but more, y'know?  If you can hire me."

"Just for hire, Motumbo?"

There was a long pause.  Motumbo's face turned a little serious and a
little gentle at the same time.  When he spoke, it was in a voice almost as
soft as a whisper.  "No, Andrew, not only for hire.  For you and me,
y'know?  Not all time, I gotta go back sometimes, but, for me and you.  How
you say it?"

"I say it, `I love you,'" said Simpson.

Motumbo nodded, smiling.  "That!"  was all he said.  Dammit, thought
Simpson to himself, can he not come out and say it?  Was this against some
African rule of macho manhood to say he loves me?  Well, be content with
this small step forward for yourself, he thought, and turning his hand
upside down underneath Motumbo's, the two locked fingers, squeezing gently.

In the early afternoon, shortly after lunch, Simpson, Motumbo, and Thabo
walked over to the Ball Room to inspect the facility and to see how the
training of the boys was going.  Simpson mentally patted himself on the
back as they approached the Ball Room: it was an inspiration, if he did say
so himself.  The building was a single, large room, about the size of any
of the lodges' great rooms.  The main entrance (other than a couple of fire
escapes) was from a porch and door built halfway up the side of the
structure.  The three men walked up the stairs to the porch, and there they
found Little Mandla with an actual bucket of lubricant, greasing both naked
boys who stood giggling, penises half-erect, as they turned, bent over,
lifted arms, and generally helped in making themselves slick from head to
toe.  Little Mandla seemed to be enjoying the process as well; the front of
his trousers was tenting out in his excitement.  In a moment the boys were
thoroughly greased.  Little Mandla opened the door to the Ball Room and
ushered them in.

The Ball Room was a single huge box filled with perfectly transparent,
extremely lightweight plastic balls, each about the size of a basketball,
each rigid but full of holes and hollow.  The interior walls contained
lights at intervals, and a strong air conditioning system pulled
comfortable air through the structure.  The idea was that a person could
wriggle into the mass of balls and be suspended in space, completely
surrounded by balls.  Because they were so lightweight, and because of the
combination of lighting and air flow, one would never feel claustrophobic
or suffocated even though you were always completely surrounded by the
balls.  The visual effect was arresting, also.  The balls acted as hundreds
of prisms defracting the soft light.  If someone else were in the Ball Room
with you, it was possible to see them as a distorted, indistinct mass, and
the farther away they were from you the more indistinct they became
although one could always make out something even at opposite corners
inside the structure.

Little Mandla, clothed, and the boys entered a tiny space just inside the
outer door to the Ball Room.  The outer door was secured, then an inner
door opened, which filled that entry space immediately with the balls.
They were now inside the playing field.  The men still outside on the porch
could look through a series of glass observation ports and see what was
going on inside.  Little Mandla repeated instructions to the boys again.
They had been told in principle what would happen, but in practice they
were hesitant to push into the room.  Still, with encouragement from Little
Mandla, first Thatho and then Mthobisi pushed, swam, or flew off into the
mass of balls.  Thoroughly greased, they soon discovered how easy it was to
move through the mass of lightweight balls, how much like having wings, how
much like being a fish in the sea.  Before long the sound of whoops,
laughter, and shouts could be heard as the boys went diving, climbing,
slithering all around the mass of spheres.  Their dark brown shapes could
be made out, but indistinctly, as they moved now here and now there.
Little Mandla called out encouragement and advice to them.  In this and
later training sessions, the boys would become accustomed to easy movement
in the space.  And when a guest arrived....ah! that was the fun part.  A
guest would be allowed to enter the Ball Room a minute after the boys were
released, thoroughly lubricated and naked himself, and would swim or fly
after them in pursuit.  Catching a boy meant you could enjoy him then and
there, buoyed weightlessly in the atmosphere of balls.  It was an
attraction that was drawing lots of registrations already online.

The next few days were, Simpson realized, the only calm period that De
Groot's would see for weeks if not months.  Online marketing had done its
magic, and multiple parties were making reservations for the different
attractions offered by the resort.  A full calendar loomed, promising hard
work but also riches and fun for all concerned.  The staff was hard at work
finishing construction and training for the array of entertainment that was
offered.

And each night, Simpson and Motumbo returned alone to their lodge.  Simpson
used all his arts and cunning to woo the big African further: candlelit
dinners, soft music, the best South African wines and brandies, and of
course sex that was as full of torrid passion as it was of love and
tenderness.  Every morning they awoke in each other's arms, beginning the
day with a slow, loving waltz of love.

The evening came when Thabo drove up into the compound with the first of a
long line of guests, Felipe Almodovar, a Spaniard.  About thirty, of olive
complexion, loose black curls of hair and blue eyes, Simpson could see that
he likely charmed everyone he met instantly.  Simpson came out to greet the
guest, returning his firm handshake and frank smile, then introduced him to
Motumbo and other members of the staff who had come out to see the
newcomer.  Felipe had a good command of English, although it was moderately
accented.  Thabo escorted him to his own lodge where he would unpack and be
tested for STD's, as standard procedure.  A couple of hours later,
Almodovar, Simpson, Thabo, and Motumbo sat around a festive dinner table in
the main lodge, the guest getting to know them and they their guest.  The
games would start the next day.

It was at a reasonable hour of the morning that Simpson went to fetch
Almodovar from his lodge, where he had enjoyed a good breakfast.  The two
walked up the path to the Ball Room and climbed the stairs to the entryway
porch, where Thatho and Mthobisi were already waiting with Little Mandla.
The boys were introduced to Almodovar and they shook hands with him as if
at the start of a business negotiation, politely formal with one who was
about to do his best to catch and fuck them.  Simpson could tell by the
sparkle in Felipe's eyes that the boys had been the right choice for him.
Simpson asked the boys to strip, and then made the same request of Felipe.
The Spaniard could not take his eyes off the slim, brown bodies of the boys
that emerged from their clothing, nor could they conceal their curiosity
when Felipe's muscular, olive-toned body stood naked before them.

The boys' two nearly man-sized penises were already bobbing, semi-erect, as
Little Mandla helped them to slather lubricant all over themselves.  Felipe
gazed at them like a wolf, never taking his eyes off of their slim,
muscular, brown teen bodies.  Little Mandla opened the entry door, ushered
them inside, pulled the lever that opened the interior to them, then pulled
another lever that cleared out the entry space for Felipe.  Then Little
Mandla turned to Felipe and began lathering him with lubricant, a process
both he and Felipe enjoyed if their erections were any indication, a wet
spot showing on Little Mandla's trousers.  He opened the outer door,
explaining the rules once again to Felipe.  Before he closed the door, he
bent down and strapped a tube of lubricant to the Spaniard's ankle.  Then,
daring to slap Felipe's butt lightly, Little Mandla closed the outer door,
opened the inner door, and then went to an observation port to watch the
fun with Simpson.

Felipe's eyes adjusted quickly to the soft lighting as the inner door
opened and he entered the space full of balls.  In the middle distance,
some thirty feet away and fifteen feet apart, could be seen two twisting,
wallowing brown shapes as the boys, giggling and whispering to each other,
made their way into the ocean of balls.  Felipe pushed into the mass.  It
took him a moment to become accustomed to how it felt, to develop a
technique for movement, but before long he was swimming or flying in
pursuit of his quarry.  He decided to pursue one brown shape, not knowing
which one it was, but not really caring.  The boy could see him coming as
well, and dodged here and there, once just barely escaping Felipe's grasp.
His brother taunted the Spaniard, once sneaking up behind him and pulling
on his foot, but Felipe knew he would deal with that one in good time.
Closer and closer he came, edging his target boy into a corner, until with
one final lunge he grasped an ankle with one hand, the calf with another,
and hauled the giggling boy in.

It was Mthobisi.  Caught, he gave up willingly, joining Felipe in laughing
at the fun.  Floating weightlessly in the sea of balls, Felipe pulled the
boy to him, kissing his full, bee-stung lips, tasting the rounded soft
flesh of each lip, sucking the boy's tongue and pushing his own tongue into
the willing mouth.  Felipe pulled the boy to him tightly, his hands running
over the firm, brown flesh of the thirteen year old, cupping his buttocks,
enjoying the crisp texture of his hair, even as the boy reveled in
exploring the loose black curls of the man, in feeling the hardness of his
man muscles.  Felipe's brown dick was fully engorged now, and rubbing
against the iron hard midnight black rod of the thirteen year old.  Sliding
down the boy's frame, kissing, tonguing, nibbling nipples, licking the
abdomen, sucking on the navel, Felipe finally nuzzled the boy's small pubic
patch and then engulfed the hard dick in his mouth, sucking hard, bobbing
his head up and down while Mthobisi writhed in ecstasy, his fingers
embedded in the Spaniard's black curls.  The thirteen year old had no
control and very quickly yelped, tensing, pushing his rod deep into
Felipe's throat while he shot ropes of cum, quivering and gasping.

No sooner had Felipe drained the thirteen year old black dick dry than he
turned the boy's body in their weightless space and, reaching down to the
tube of lubricant, came up with a dollop of goo to oil up the maroon brown
anus and his own rampant lighter brown penis.  Felipe inserted one, then
two fingers into the rectum, and found that the boy relaxed immediately,
having been well fucked and well trained by Little Mandla over the last few
days.  Sliding upward now, Felipe pressed his cockhead to the anus and
pushed.  It went in easily, and the two were locked together, Mthobisi
crying out in passing pain and enduring pleasure.  Felipe immediately began
a frantic rhythm of fucking the boy, in and out, as he wrapped his arms
around the boy's thin chest, sliding his palms over the slick, thin chest
and up and down the curved belly.  The two slowly rolled in space as
Felipe's hips pistoned in and out, in and out of the boy like a locomotive,
and then with a roar he, too, came, pushing his penis hard against the
boy's rounded bottom, filling the young African with his spunk.

Felipe held the boy to him tightly for a few minutes as he recovered his
breath.  Then in a flash he pushed the boy away, pivoted to his right, and
lunged upward.  Thatho had snuck in to watch the proceedings, hoping to
remain unobserved while the Spaniard fucked his brother.  He was mistaken.
In but a moment, Felipe was upon him as the boy giggled and squealed and
Mthobisi taunted his brother in derision, shouting at him to "warn" him in
between laughs.  Thatho gave up the fight quickly and willingly, and was
soon being fondled, kissed and sucked just as his brother was a few moments
before.

This time, though, Felipe applied the dollop of lubricant to his own anus,
and then another to Thatho's straining fourteen year old purple black
erection.  The boy's eyes grew wide as he understood that he was about to
fuck his first white man.  Turning in the buoyant space, Felipe pulled the
boy up over his own belly, wrapping his legs around the thin brown back,
and guided the rigid, slick, midnight velvet shaft toward his waiting anus.
Thatho connected and, with the enthusiasm of youth, pushed with all his
might, breaking past the anal sphincter and landing himself all the way
inside the Spaniard's bottom.  Felipe groaned with the momentary pain, and
caught the boy's writhing body in a vise made of his legs, keeping him
still until the pain passed.  Then, as the two floated in space, Felipe
cocked his pelvis to push up and down on the boy's dick, and Thatho picked
up the rhythm immediately.  Clasping himself tightly to the Spaniard's
muscled chest, Thatho began pumping in and out as fast as he could.  Felipe
slipped his hand in between their bellies and grasped his own cock which
had now returned to rock hardness, the prostate stimulated by the steady
rhythm of the boy's slamming penis.  In and out, in and out the African boy
went as he clutched the Spaniard tighter, and the man's hand slid on the
coating of lubricant, precum, and sweat between their bodies while he
pumped his own penis.  Thatho had little more control than his brother, and
soon he also cried out, his body clenching and twisting as he shot his
fourteen year old cum into the Spaniard's gut, pumping and shooting,
pumping and shooting until he slumped exhausted.  A minute later, Felipe
came a second time, filling the tight space between his and the African
boy's body with his white spunk, then enclosed the thin brown body with
both his legs and both his arms, running his cum-slick hand over the boy's
back.  In a moment he felt Mthobisi slide up alongside him and wrap himself
and Thatho in an embrace.  The three floated like that in lazy ease, held
up in a pool of soft lighting and gentle, cool air, laughing and caressing
one another, gathering their strength for the adventures that would follow
that afternoon and the next day.

Outside, Little Mandla and Simpson turned, laughing, toward each other and
exchanged high fives.  From their distance, they could not make out the
events inside distinctly, but it was clear enough from the movements of the
dark brown and olive colored shapes that the Ball Room was a success.


To be continued.
Comments welcome:  lokiaga@prodigy.net