From: Boy-writer Subject: Story "Terminator" M/b/b cons Date: Sat, 22 Feb 1997 10:19:38 -0800 Organization: The Bear's Den As with all the stories in this newsgroup, the usual warnings and Disclaimers appy here. If you are under 18 years of age (or whatever the legal age is in your locale), or are easily offended by graphic stories of sexual activity between adult males and minor boys, do not download or read this story beyond this point. I am NOT the author of this story, it was emailed to me by a friend who wishes to remain anonomous. I am only posting this story for him. Happy reading! :-) Terminator ---------- Terry was happy. Well, maybe not happy, but satisfied with his life. Finally he had a steady job and a place to live, though it wasn't much - just a crappy rooming house. Truth be told, the job wasn't great, either, but after 5 years as a bum on the street asking for handouts, well, that stuff got old, and this was better. He was clean, and he liked it. He was off the booze, and for once, he didn't miss it. He *did* miss being with a woman, though, missed it badly. It was late, nearly 7 o'clock, and Terry was still there cleaning out wastebaskets. Basically, he was a gofer, low man on the totem pole - if there was a lousy job to be done in the office, he did it. But he didn't mind. It was better than life on the street. And most of the employees liked him. "Damn, Elizabeth! What are we supposed to do?" his boss yelled into the phone. He was talking to his wife, and seldom did he adopt that tone with her. Mr. Johnson was all decked out in coat and tails - black tie. "Can't you get someone else?" An inaudible response. "Well, isn't he old enough that ...?" A long pause - Mr. Johnson was getting a bit of his own back from his wife. "I'm sorry, dear, I understand, but I can't miss this dinner, you know that." More talking. Mr. Johnson glanced at Terry, who carried the wastebasket bag out of the room. "I'll call you back," he heard his boss say, as he hung up the phone. He needn't have left. "Terry!" the boss shouted to the underling, who was in the next room. He ran right in, anxious to help the man who pulled him out of the gutter. "Terry, I need a big favor. It's not part of your normal work, so you'll be paid extra for it." He paused. "How are you with kids?" "I have six younger brothers, sir. It's been a while, but I think I still get along with them pretty well." "Good. My wife and I need a babysitter for tonight. Can you do it?" "Sure," Terry said. He owed the man everything and would have said the same if asked to jump over a cliff. Mr. Johnson sighed with relief. "All right, then, you go get cleaned up, and you'll come home with me." He looked at his watch. "Hurry up. God, how are we going to make the awards banquet now?" he muttered to himself. Terry went into the washroom and cleaned his face and hands (stained with ink from fixing the copier), combed his hair, and came back out. Mr. Johnson looked at the stained coveralls. Mrs. Johnson would never go along. "We'll go by your room on the way. You have some clean clothes, don't you?" Terry nodded. They took the elevator together down to the garage and got in Johnson's Town Car. Terry got in back. Johnson drove the car like a Ferrari, ignoring stop signs, running through lights. He passed everyone. Soon, they were at Terry's rooming house, having miraculously avoided a ticket. "Just get some clothes and bring them down here, you can get dressed in back," the man said. Terry did so. They drove off at the same mad pace. Somehow, he managed to get dressed in a semi-respectable uniform of slacks and golf shirt. (The open stretch on the freeway helped greatly.) "All right, you come in with me." They started for the door. There was a light drizzle coming down. Mrs. Johnson met them halfway. "All right, Elaine, let's go," Mr. Johnson said, pulling his wife away. "Take good care of Eddie," Mrs. Johnson called out. "He will, dear, now let's get moving," Johnson said, practically pushing her into the car, then driving off at full speed. Terry was thus unceremoniously left on the lawn of the Johnson estate. He walked in through the open front door, then closed it behind him. "Eddie?" he called out. "In here," a small voice answered. Following the voice, Terry found a boy of about ten in a school uniform, eating ice cream from a gallon container. "Go get your pajamas on," the man said, taking the ice cream. "Hey!" "You can have this back when you're ready for bed," Terry insisted. Eddie walked off unhappily but came back quick as a wink, wearing some very brief briefs. "Go put your pajamas on," Terry said. "This is what I wear," Eddie said. Terry shook his head and sat down. Eddie got a blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped it around himself, then lay on the floor. Terry got up, and, good as his word, got a bowl from the cupboard and put ice cream in it. Eddie curled up in an overstuffed chair eating the ice cream, the blanket wrapped around his shoulders and covering his torso, but leaving his legs bare. Terry sat back to watch the game show, but his eyes kept moving back to those legs. "Smooth like a woman's," he thought. His next thought was, "God, it's been *way* too long since I had sex." The doorbell rang, and Terry went to get it. A boy of about 15 was standing there, soaking wet. "Damn!" he said, and walked in. Terry closed the door and stared. Eddie came running in. "Johnny!" he yelled, and threw his arms around the older boy. Johnny hugged him back. "Where are mom and dad?" the older boy asked. "They went out." "As usual," Johnny said with disgust. "Forgot to even pick me up at the airport. Where's Susan?" "I dunno. We got him." Eddie held out his arm and pointed at Terry. The blanket fell to the floor. Eddie bent over and picked it up, wrapping it around himself again. Johnny looked Terry over. "Hi, I'm Terry, and you must be Johnny." He held out his hand. The older boy took it. "I like to be called John," he said. "Only my little brother calls me Johnny." "Well, go get out of those wet clothes and put your pajamas on." John walked off. Terry and Eddie walked back into the living room. Terry sat down, and, to his surprise, Eddie climbed into his lap. The man draped the blanket over the two of them. John walked in wearing a set of cotton pajamas. He went over to the chair where Eddie had been sitting before and started clicking through the channels on TV. "Hey! I was watching that!" Eddie said. "John, put it back till the show's over," Terry said. "We can watch something different later on." "He doesn't care, he's got another game he's playing," John said, obeying anyway. Eddie just giggled; he snuggled closer to Terry. They watched the show, one of those idiotic sitcoms that just seem to blend together. John kept looking over at Terry and Eddie, shaking his head. He pulled one leg up and set his chin upon it, weaving his fingers over his ankle. The commercial came, and Eddie announced that he had to go to the bathroom. John watched Eddie walk off with a mixture of disbelief and unfocused resentment. "Like a soap opera around here," said the sullen teenager. Terry was about to ask what he meant by that but reconsidered. Teenagers like to be cryptic - almost as much as they like to complain about being misunderstood. It was best to let it go. Eddie was taking a while in the bathroom. "We could watch a movie," John said then, still not looking at Terry. The boy's hand was in his lap, but with the raised leg, Terry couldn't see what he was doing with it. He seemed to be playing with himself, but that would be perfectly normal. The kid was in his own home, after all, and he wasn't being obtrusive about it. "We have everything - we're rich, in case you didn't notice," he added sarcastically. "I know one Eddie likes." "Fine with me, as long as Eddie agrees," said Terry. "Not a very long one, though - he can't stay up too late." John smiled humorlessly. "He won't. He likes going to bed." The boy walked over to a large antique cabinet and opened the doors. The cabinet was filled with video tapes. John reached up and pulled one out, then shook his head and put it back. He looked on the bottom shelf and found the movie. "Never puts things back in the right place," he said. John brought the movie over and started to put it in the VCR. "Wait, let me see that," Terry said. John shrugged and brought the movie over. It was "Terminator 2." Terry had seen it; it seemed awfully violent for a ten-year-old. "Are you sure he likes this? Won't it scare him?" "He likes being scared." The man didn't seem convinced. "He's seen it hundreds of times, and he's not gonna have bad dreams or anything. Our Dad watches it with him." The teenager smiled strangely. "All right, then," Terry said. It was a good movie, he remembered, better than the original "Terminator," and he didn't mind watching it again. John put the movie in. "He never rewinds it, either," he said, still smiling oddly. The boy put the movie on rewind and resumed his earlier position in the chair, with one knee up, holding his ankle with one hand. The other was on the arm of the chair. Eddie came back then, walking quickly, his face obviously scrubbed, a bead of water running down his leg. He hadn't been gone long enough to bathe, but clearly he had cleaned up some. "We decided to watch a movie," John said. "What movie?" Eddie replied skeptically, stopping in the middle of the room. "Your favorite movie," his older brother answered. Eddie looked alarmed. "No, not *those* movies," John corrected; Eddie calmed down. "'Terminator 2.'" "Yay!" Eddie exclaimed. He looked at the screen. "So where is it?" "You didn't rewind it last time, dummy," his brother replied. "I was busy," Eddie replied. "I *know*," John answered meaningfully. Terry felt totally left out of this. He looked at the empty ice-cream bowl and decided to make himself useful by carrying it out to the kitchen. Eddie stopped him, taking it from his hand. "I'll do it," he said. The boy smelled of cologne. Eddie ran off to the kitchen. "Don't get any more, you've had enough," Terry called out. There was no reply. The tape stopped rewinding. John clicked the VCR off with the remote. "He's cute, isn't he?" the teenager asked. "Yes, he is," Terry replied. The boys didn't seem to get along, but he was glad to know there was some affection underneath. Of course, judging from the greeting John had gotten at the door, there could be little doubt about Eddie's affection. "Dad thinks so, too, when he's home," John answered, once more sullen. "He isn't home much, though - always involved with his business." "I'm sure he loves you very much," Terry said formulaically. "Yeah, right," John replied sarcastically. "You just be good to Eddie." He paused, looking at Terry's face. He decided the message hadn't sunk in. "Did you smell him?" Terry looked at the older boy. "Yes, I did," he said. "He puts that on for Dad," John said, raising his eyebrows as if that should make everything obvious. Just then, Eddie came back in. Terry opened up the blanket and held out his arms. Eddie laughed and jumped back in the man's lap. Terry bent forward in exaggerated pain and wrapped the blanket, and his arms, around the boy. Eddie giggled. John smiled and started the movie with the remote. As the opening credits rolled, Terry smelled the boy's cologne. He hadn't used a lot, and it wasn't overpowering. It was musk, but not strong, with a floral scent underneath, and a hint of that "springtime" scent that the perfumers has recently perfected. It was a woman's cologne, and it seemed to belong on a tall, sultry woman, sipping wine in a dark nightclub. To Terry, who had not had a woman in over six years, it was totally enchanting. If any woman at the office wore that, I'd stretch her over the desk and take her right there, he thought. Terry realized, ashamed, that he was hard as a rock, and moved Eddie forward toward his knee while he arranged a fold of the blanket so that Eddie wouldn't feel the hardon. Eddie moved back against him. Terry noticed that John was looking at him and Eddie, not the movie. A slight smile was on the older boy's face. His hand was in his lap. The opening scene began, with Arnold Schwartzenegger landing naked in an alley, lightning bolts flashing everywhere. Eddie's eyes were as big as saucers. Eddie put his arms around Terry's neck and held him tight. The movie progressed. Arnold walked into the bar, naked as the day he was born. Eddie stared. Arnold demanded a biker's clothes. Eddie looked away from the screen, hiding his face in Terry's chest, as the fight ensued. Terry stroked the boy's hair. He glanced at John, who was staring at Terry, smiling. Eddie lightened up as the movie progressed. Every time the evil terminator came on, he grabbed Terry's neck so tight the man almost choked. When the evil terminator seemed to be injured, as in the scene at the nightclub, Eddie jumped up and down. When the boy appeared, Eddie watched with avid interest. He seemed particularly interested in the scenes where the boy and the good terminator were together. John moved over and sat on the couch next to the two. As before, he was watching them rather than the movie. When the motorcycle chase began, John whispered in Terry's ear: "You better hold him real tight now, he gets real scared by this part." Terry, still looking at the screen (it *is* a very good movie, after all), put his arms tightly around Eddie. "No, *under* the blanket," John whispered urgently, exasperated. "You have to make him feel like *you're* the good terminator." Terry looked at John then, and seeing the urgent look on his face, decided to comply. Evidently, this was some kind of ritual in the house. Terry held Eddie tightly under the blanket as he jumped and twisted. Terry was still hard; the movie, exciting as it was, could not divert attention away from the enticing smell of the cologne, now mixed with the sweat of both man and boy (Terry's unscented antiperspirant had begun to wear off). At the same time, Eddie's movements emphasized his presence in a way that was both embarrassing and very sensual - the boy's arm, at times, seemed to be that of the tall, sultry woman in the nightclub, and his breath seemed to be hers. She/he seemed to be very frightened, and Terry wanted to protect him/her - it was all very confusing. The man noticed that John was playing with himself in earnest, not bothering to hide it, neither to hide the fact that he was staring, but not at the movie. When Arnold lifted the boy off the motorcycle by his pants and put him in front of him, Eddie cried, "Save him!" John laughed. Eddie jumped up and sat back down in Terry's lap, facing forward with his legs wide apart, as if they were riding the motorcycle together. The bit of blanket in front of Terry's erection was pushed aside in the process, and Eddie pushed his butt back against it, as if they were sharing a motorcycle seat. By this time, Terry had stopped watching the movie as well, looking in amazement at the boy in his lap. Eddie grabbed Terry's arm and pulled it across his chest. Terry responded by holding the boy tight with that arm, putting the other on his knee. When Arnold and friends got to the smelter and the boy ran and hid, Eddie pulled the blanket over his head and hid in Terry's lap; Terry felt the boy's breath through his slacks and shirt. John laughed again. From time to time, Eddie would peek out to see what was going on. When the boy in the movie appeared again, Eddie put his head out and watched, holding Terry's neck again so as almost to choke him. When the final climactic scene came and the evil terminator died, Eddie threw the blanket off, jumped up and cheered, dancing around the room. Terry watched in amazement, not at first noticing John, who was smiling broadly. John glanced meaningfully at the man's crotch, where the hardon, through the thin slacks, was unmistakeable. "Eddie needs to go to bed now, it's past his bedtime," John said. Terminator Part 2 Terry looked at his watch; it was indeed nearing 11 o'clock, and a boy Eddie's age should not be up, even though it was a Friday night and no school tomorrow. "Your brother's right, Eddie," Terry said, trying to sound authoritative in spite of the massive hardon he was sporting, visible to everyone in the room. "Go on up to bed now." "I'm ascared of the dark," Eddie said. "Yeah, he is," John said. "You better take him upstairs." John was stroking in earnest. Terry didn't think he should see that and didn't think that John would do it if his parents were home, but couldn't find the words to say anything about it. He took Eddie's hand and took the boy upstairs. They walked down a long hallway. Terry looked for a light switch but didn't find one. "It's okay," Eddie said, "it's not much farther." They got to the room, fortunately well-lit by a nearly full moon hanging in the window. There was only one bed, Terry remarked to himself, but then remembered that these people were rich, as John has said, and each boy would surely have a room to himself. Terry pulled back the sheets and fluffed the pillow, and Eddie jumped in, smiling. Terry tucked the boy in and smoothed his forehead. "G'night," he said. "Aren't you gonna get in with me?" Eddie asked. "Why, are you still scared of the dark?" "No," Eddie said disgustedly, rolling over on his side, facing away from Terry. Terry went back downstairs. John stared at him, speechless. The older boy's cock was as hard as his own. "What ... what are you doing back down here?" John demanded. "I put him to bed," Terry said, surprised. "Didn't he want you to stay?" John asked, dumbfounded. "No ..." "Didn't he ask you to get in bed with him?" John said, angrily. "Well, yes, but he said he wasn't scared of the dark any more," Terry replied. He wanted very much to get this other kid out of here too, up to bed. This was all getting *way* too weird. John got up and paced the room. "I told you to be good to him!" he snarled. "I was good to him," Terry said placatingly, waiting for the teenage tempest to subside. "No, you weren't! You work for my Dad, right? What do you think will happen if I tell him you were mean to Eddie?" Terry felt a pang of fear in his gut. "What did I do that was mean to Eddie?" he asked. "He wanted you to get in bed with him! What do you think?!" John yelled, then quieted himself, remembering Eddie upstairs. Given the size of the house, the younger boy might not have heard, but he didn't want to take a chance. "John," the man said reasonably, "he asked me to get in bed with him. I asked him if he was still afraid of the dark, and he said no. Maybe he's ready to go to sleep by himself now." John looked at Terry as if he wanted to kill him, then shook his head and sat down. He then looked back at the man, with something that looked like pity. He spoke softly and simply, as if he were explaining war to an infant. "Eddie likes you," the teenager said. "Why do you think he wore those underwear? Why do you think he put on that cologne?" His voice rose in disgust. "I *told* you he only put that on for Dad." Terry was about to answer, but John's face said he'd better keep quiet. "So why do you think he puts in on for Dad, huh? His Dad - *our* Dad - doesn't care if we live or die. His *business* is more important." The word came out as if it were an obscenity. John paused, not knowing how to say what he wanted to, nor knowing whether he really wanted to say it. "Eddie puts on his cologne, and he sits in Dad's lap, and Dad suddenly notices him. 'Cause Mom never notices Dad, she's having it on with the gardener, and anything else that has a prick. And God knows who Dad sleeps with, but it's sure not Mom." "John, you shouldn't talk about your parents that way." "Well, it's *true*. That's all they care about, that and money and being popular." "I'm sorry," Terry said sincerely. "I hope you realize all parents aren't like that." "Well, you can bet I won't be," John replied, calming down somewhat. "But you got to go back up there! He thinks you don't want him!" The boy pointed at Terry's cock, which was still hard. "And I know you do," he said. "So what do I do?" Terry said, suddenly feeling like he was a bum on the street again, being ordered on some errand. "Just get in bed with him and tell him he's okay," John said, tears rolling down his cheeks. He tried to be stern. "I'll tell you when our parents are coming, but they won't care anyway." The tears were falling faster. That made up Terry's mind. He started up the stairs. "You want to come?" he asked. John sniffed, trying to look brave, looking instead like a little boy trying to look brave. He seemed younger than his fifteen years. "I have to stay here and watch," he said. Terry went back up the stairs and found Eddie's room. The boy was whispering, maybe praying, but the man couldn't tell. Terry walked in and sat on the edge of the bed, with Eddie's back turned to him. "Eddie, I came to see if you're all right." Eddie didn't answer. "I know you're awake, I heard you when I came in." "So?" the little boy answered. "So, maybe you want me to stay with you awhile before you go to sleep." He paused. "You want me to get in bed with you?" Eddie turned around. He had obviously been crying too; his tears glistened in the moonlight. "Like the terminator?" he asked. Terry smiled in spite of himself. He was no terminator, surely, but one of the first purchases he had made when he got the job with Mr. Johnson was a weight set. He had gotten rid of the drunkard's paunch and put on some good bulk on his arms and chest. He feared that his legs weren't so great. "Yeah, like the good terminator." "Okay," Eddie said, putting his head in his hand. "You got to take your clothes off first." Terry wondered at that. "All of 'em?" he asked. "Yeah, like the terminator in the movie." The man didn't know what to do. Of course, it was obvious what to do - tell the kid "no" and leave. But he didn't. He couldn't look in those eyes, glistening with tears in the moonlight, and say no. He was still inhaling the fragrance of the cologne, which seemed at that time to be the most enticing thing he had ever smelled. "Just for a little while," the boy said. Terry took his shoes off, then his socks. He pulled the golf shirt, soaked with sweat thought it was scarcely hot in the house, over his head. He looked down at the boy, who was looking up at him. He undid his belt and took his slacks off. Suddenly he felt self-conscious. He got in bed and pulled his boxers off under the covers. He felt horribly guilty and wouldn't have minded had Mr. Johnson walked in then and shot him. At the same time, he inhaled the boy's wonderful scent, learning with each breath to extract it from the intoxicating cologne and the smell of his own nervous sweat - and he wanted nothing more that to be the way he was, where he was. Eddie turned around and pushed back against Terry. The boy still had the little briefs on. "You got to take my underwear off," Eddie said. "Haven't you played the terminator game before?" "No, I haven't," Terry answered honestly, but he didn't mind pulling the briefs down under the covers. His mind went back to the little butt dancing on his thigh. He took them down with shaking hands, savoring the touch as he moved over the boy's smooth hips. He imagined himself with the woman in the nightclub, pulling her panties off. He took the boy's briefs down to his knees, then kicked them off with a foot. Eddie turned around and kissed him. Terry wondered that it seemed more tender than any he had ever received from a woman. The boy reached under the bed and pulled out a jar. "Now I got to put this on your thing," he said, undoing the jar with some difficulty. Without warning, Eddie dove beneath the covers and grabbed Terry's cock. The boy expertly applied the lubricant, starting at the base, moving up to the tip. "Daddy calls this stuff 'terminator jelly,'" the boy said, reappearing from beneath the covers. He handed the jar to the man, then turned around. "Now you put it on my butt," he said. Terry, wondering, stuck a finger in the stuff, then reached down with the other hand and grabbed Eddie's cheek. He smeared the jelly all around the boy's hole. "You got to put some inside too," Eddie said. "The terminator might hurt the boy if you don't," he added, with authority. "Yeah, kid," Terry said huskily. He took a big gob on his finger, and spreading the boy's cheeks with the other hand, stuck it in. He moved the finger around inside, lubricating the canal well. The cologne was really getting to him; it seemed as if he were inhaling pure sex with each breath. At the same time, the woman of his dreams was fading away; the boy himself was a growing presence. Eddie murmured quietly, stroking the pillow as the man explored him. "Now you ..." Eddie began. "Right kid, I know what to do now," Terry said, putting his hand on the boy's smooth little hip, the head of his cock up against the waiting hole. "Hold me like the terminator," Eddie said, taking the man's arm and pulling it across his chest. Terry was only too eager to oblige, snaking his other hand (the one wet with jelly) underneath the boy and holding him tight with both arms. "Fuck yeah," said Terry, to no one in particular, as he shoved the head of his cock into the hole. Eddie winced. "I'm the terminator, kid, and your ass is mine," the man declared. "You're the terminator," Eddie said, breathing fast. "Fuckin' 'a', and I love your little ass," the man said, pushing in farther. "Yeah, now you ..." Eddie started. "I'm the terminator, I do what *I* want," Terry replied. He emphasized it by pushing in further. Eddie groaned. "Tell me how much you love my cock in your ass, little boy. My cock, deep in your little ass." Through the sexual haze, Terry realized that his was the biggest cock the boy had taken - at 8", he was the biggest cock many of the whores he had had, had taken. It satisfied him all the more. "I love your cock in my ass, terminator," Eddie said, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. Terry took his own pillow and in one hand and put it over Eddie's face - not hard, but so as to muffle the scream that came when he shoved his full length into the Eddie's butt. "I'm the terminator, Eddie," the man said, "and my cock is deep inside you. You can't do anything, 'cause I'm the terminator." "You're the terminator," Eddie repeated, his eyes closed. Terry pulled out partway and turned the boy on his back. He pushed the little legs back in the ultimate gesture of submission, then pushed back in again. "Look at me," he said. Eddie opened his eyes, seeing the man's face, ruthless with lust. "You're the *real* terminator," the boy said, his eyes wide. "Yeah, I'm the real terminator," Terry said, pulling out and shoving in to emphasize the point. He could have cum many times before now, but the feeling of dominance, for a man who had been down so long, was almost better than the sex. The boss's kid. "Put your power in me," Eddie said. "I don't know," the man said, beginning to move in and out slowly. "Maybe I could put the power in some other kid, and *he* would grow up and save the world." "Me!" Eddie said, in obvious pain that he was trying to hide. "Do it to me!" "If a kid deserved it, he would tell me how he loved my cock, how he loved it more than anything. He would beg me for my terminator spunk, to make him powerful. Maybe you're the wrong boy." Terry continued to push all the way in, then pull all the way out, slowly. "I'm not the wrong boy!" Eddie exclaimed, moving on the mattress under the man. "I love your cock, more than anything." "Maybe ..." Terry replied, moving a little faster. "Please give me your stuff!" The word evaded the boy momentarily. "Please let me have your spunk!" A tear rolling down Eddie's cheek sealed the deal. "Please?" "No problem," Terry said, "here it comes up your little boyhole." He sped up to a frantic pace and came within a few seconds. He buried himself as deep as he could get and came seemingly by the gallon. Eddie winced as the cum flowed into him. Terry noticed, however, that his little cock was hard. Terry kissed the boy on the lips, his softening cock still inside. "You're the terminator's boy now. You're my little boypunk." There was running up the stairs. "Hurry, they're home!" John whispered loudly from the doorway. Terry and Eddie didn't seem to notice. "Now I can save the world," said Eddie. "You can do whatever you want to do, kid," Terry answered. "You got my power in you." "Hurry!" John said, anxiously. He needn't have worried. Mrs. Johnson was dead drunk, as she often was, and Mr. Johnson, though he no longer loved her, felt duty-bound to take her to her bedroom in another wing of the house. By the time he got back, Terry was fully dressed and waiting in the living room. "Ah, Terry, glad to see you," Mr. Johnson said, slightly less drunk than his wife. "Where were you when we got home?" "I was just up checking on Eddie," Terry replied. "V-very good," the old man answered, steadying himself on the chair where Eddie had been eating ice cream. "I knew I could count on you." He fumbled for his wallet, then pulled out two hundred-dollar bills, handing them drunkenly to Terry. "Thanksss a lot, you really helped us out," he said. Terry thanked him, took the money and walked out. It was a long way to the nearest phone booth where he could call a cab at that time of night, but he wasn't worried. He was the terminator. THE END