Date: Sun, 12 Oct 2003 19:54:05 -0700
From: RC in Sacramento <sacwriter@hotmail.com>
Subject: Becka the Beast, Chapter 19

This is a work of fiction from a first time author. It depicts acts of sex
and sexuality between two teenage females. If such content disturbs you, or
you are under 18, get out and stay out. As always, this story can only be
reproduced by consent of the author.

			Becka the Beast
			 by Sacwriter

Chapter 19***

	Becka felt the younger girl wrap her lithe body around hers, and tasted her
tongue as it danced within her mouth.  The heat from the hand on her naked
breast caused a burning that flowed through her body and thrummed like a
base chord. It settled in the area beneath her belly, writing a song of
equal parts excitement and joy. Becka hadn't been exaggerating when she said
that Gia's lovemaking had healed her, she needed her touch like it was
medicine.
	Gia had moved her mouth down to her other breast, taking the warm pink
nipple in between her teeth. Becka hissed as Gia nipped and pulled, and then
tongued the tender flesh, all while rolling her other nipple between finger
and thumb. She twined her hands into Gia's dark locks, pulling her face
deeper into the valley of her breasts. Gia moved her thigh in between her
legs, where Becka ground herself against the soft denim of her jeans. The
faded fabric was soon dark with streaks of her wetness.
	"Oh God, Gia! I need you so bad. Hurry, Baby, hurry." Becka's urgency was
pounding with her heartbeat, demanding to be satisfied. It had been growing
all week, as Gia nursed her and slept in her arms. They had kissed and
cuddled and become closer than she had ever thought it possible for two
people to be, but they hadn't been able to make love. It was the last vital
step, the one thing she needed to get over Ralph's last rape. She had known
it deep in her bones, that only Gia's touch could close that last wound. And
this afternoon when Dr. Lorne had removed the stitches and told her
cautiously that it could happen, she had known that the nightmare was
finally over.
	She was so hot she almost came just from the ministrations to her breasts,
but she didn't want it there. Instead she pushed Gia's head down lower, past
her flat belly and down to the soft tangle between her legs. The hair was
cut shorter than the last time they had made love, Jessie Evans had trimmed
it for her after they took out the stitches that day. But the hair that was
left was still finer than silk, and the pink flesh that it revealed was now
even more sensitive to the touch. When Gia ran her fingers over it, the
sensations made her sob with their power.
	Gia didn't try to penetrate her, Dr. Lorne had advised that they wait at
least another week for that. Instead she stroked gently along the length of
her labia, steadily building her passion to a fever pitch. Becka was
beginning to tremble from head to toe when Gia finally lowered her lips and
took her clitoris into her mouth, and played the same song on it that she
had played with her nipple. Her head seemed to explode with white light as
the orgasm burst outward from her clit, and she cried out her pleasure in a
hoarse voice. Her hips bucked as she rode on waves of pulsing sensation, but
Gia had wrapped her arms around Becka's thighs and was riding her like a
boat on storm tossed whitecaps, her mouth working furiously on her lover's
sex. A second, and then incredibly a third orgasm soon followed, and each
time Becka audibly gave vent to her passions, leaving her drained. When Gia
finally crawled upwards and rested her sticky cheek on the pillow next to
hers, she lacked even the strength to cuddle.

	After a long time of floating weightless through a warm haze of gold and
silver flashes, she came back to herself enough to feel Gia's strong arms
wrapped around her. She opened her eyes and looked into twin pools of brown
that regarded her with love and adoration, and knew that hers were
reflecting the same. She reached up and stroked Gia's still damp cheek, and
then kissed her softly on the lips, tasting both herself and her lover in
the process. She savored the mixture of Gia and Becka, and knew that they
were now one in more ways than just a matter of fluids.
	After a while they broke apart, and Becka let her hand slip to the buttons
of Gia's blouse. Slowly she began to undo them, stopping only long enough to
promise with her eyes that the night was far from over.

			* * *

	Phil Cameron pulled the pillow from over his head and moaned, admitting
defeat. He sat up and turned on the light, and with a muttered curse he
began to rearrange the furniture in his room. In the morning he would get
one of the boys to help him do it right, but for tonight he would be content
with just moving the bed across the room to the opposite wall. And sometime
soon, he would have to get a curtain, or some insulation, or something else
for that other wall. Anything, just so he could get some sleep!

			* * *

The next day life went on much as before. Becka stayed home by herself and
worked on the car she and George were restoring, while the rest of the
family went off either to school or to work. A sleep deprived Phil fought
the urge to snap at his daughters, but the look of happiness on both of
their faces made him swallow the words. If a few hours of missed sleep could
bring his girls so much peace, he'd gladly get used to it. Still, he
reminded himself to stop by a store and get that insulated curtain.

	Later that morning Benny Hudson came by the dojo to talk with Phil about
the Social Services worker who would be stopping by his home that night to
talk about Becka. Her name, he said, was Mrs. Dowd, and she would be there
at five o'clock.
	"I've known Margie Dowd for years, and she's good people, Phil. She's a
widow, and has no kids of her own, which means that she's totally dedicated
to the kids she represents. She's also good at what she does, so don't try
to snow her. Just be honest, and let her know how you guys feel about Becka,
and why you want her to live with you.
	"Don't go telling her about the adoption though, not unless she asks. This
is a pretty simple case, it's just about finalizing the custody
arrangements. There's no need to complicate it unnecessarily."
	Phil agreed, and after bidding Benny goodbye he informed George and Bobby
what the lawyer had said. Both young men expressed the same concern about
the coming meeting.
	"So what did Benny have to say about the sex thing, Dad?" George asked,
unconsciously dropping his voice, even though they were alone in their
father's office. "Does he think we should keep that quiet, too?"
	"I didn't tell him about the girls," Phil replied, giving both of his sons
a look that told them they shouldn't tell, either. "I thought about it, and
it's not a good idea to hold things back from your lawyer. But I've got no
idea what our legal situation is here, and what the law might require that
Benny should do about it. We're actively allowing two underage girls to have
an open sexual relationship under our roof. If this is an ongoing crime,
then for all we know Benny might be required to report it. I'm not going to
take that chance until we know what we're dealing with. Bobby, that's your
job. You start hitting the law library this week and see what you can find
out."
	Bobby nodded. "I'm on it, Dad."
	"Good. George, you bring Johnny up to speed when he gets here after school.
I'm taking off early today to see the girls and let them know what's up. Now
let's finish rolling out those mats and setting up for the 12 o'clock
class."

			* * *

	That afternoon when Phil told the girls about the upcoming visit from
Social Services, he carefully watched their faces for their reactions. On
Gia's face he saw a tiny spark of her usual pre-battle determination, but on
Becka's face he saw only acceptance. The older girl appeared to be perfectly
calm, and no longer had any fears about her future. Phil smiled, immensely
pleased at this proof that Becka had finally accepted that she was loved,
and was a part of this family. And it didn't matter a damn what the hell the
lawyers said.
	The dojo was closed early so that the whole family could be available for
the interview. When Mrs. Dowd arrived Phil had Bobby answer the door, in the
theory that it didn't hurt to put your best face forward, so to speak. If
they were lucky, maybe his middle son would work his usual magic on her and
they could charm their way through the interview. Phil had also spent time
in the kitchen, and the house was redolent with the smell of fresh baked
bread. Out on the patio, he had Johnny practicing his guitar. Phil was a
firm believer in stacking the deck.
	Mrs. Dowd turned out to be a matronly woman in her mid-forties, with short
cut dark hair just beginning to silver. She had green eyes that were shaped
like a cat's, and a no-nonsense way of looking at you that was more than a
little intimidating. When she took Phil's hand and introduced herself, he
suddenly found himself wanting to grin.

			* * *

	Margie Dowd's first impression of the Cameron household was favorable, but
she knew from past experience how misleading that could be. She was also
savvy enough to realize just what this Phil Cameron was doing, but since
everybody tries to impress the Social Services lady, she didn't particularly
mind. Still, the baking bread was a nice touch.
	After meeting with Becka and the rest of the family, Margie asked the
father for a tour of their home. Phil had promptly agreed, and was soon
showing her the new house that the Cameron family had worked so hard to
build. The pride he felt was obvious in his voice, and Margie admitted that
it was more than justified.
	The first red flag went up when he showed her the girls' room. The room
itself was lovely, the furniture tasteful and reflecting an obvious woman's
touch. The posters were of the usual rock and roll variety, and were
actually less offensive than the ones she usually saw. The closet had been
divided in half, and the side with Becka's clothing was much more spare than
the other girl's was, but from what she knew of Becka's case that was hardly
surprising. And the clothing that was there appeared new and was of good
quality. Margie had to reach to think of any sort of probing question, but
when she did Phil's response was most interesting.
"This room is very beautiful, Mr. Cameron, but I can't help wondering
something. In a house so big, why can't Becka have her own room?"
	Phil's open expression turned evasive, and he seemed to be having trouble
meeting her gaze. As he shifted from foot to foot and stumbled over his
explanation, Margie felt her suspicions begin to rise rapidly.
	"Uh, you see, Mrs. Dowd. All of the, um, spare bedrooms are on the third
floor. And after Becka's injuries, we, uh, decided that she shouldn't be
walking up all of those stairs. So we put Becka in here with Gia, just for
now, you see. But the girls seem to get along pretty well like this, and I,
uh, I think they want to keep it this way. The arrangement, I mean."
	Margie nodded, making no comment, and then led the way back out into the
hall. She looked at the room next to it and asked Phil who's it was.
	"Oh, that's mine," he answered, and Margie again nodded, outwardly calm but
her mind was definitely not at ease. She wasn't sure just what, but she knew
that Phil Cameron was hiding something, and he had first gotten nervous when
she had asked about where Becka slept.
	When a single man wanted to foster a teenage girl, and he lied about the
sleeping arrangements, red flags suddenly turned into alarm bells.

			* * *

	Mrs. Dowd interviewed the rest of the family one at a time, in private, and
found her suspicions just kept multiplying. All three of the young men were
impeccably polite and open, and they answered her questions without
hesitation. And young Gia was an absolute delight, with her quick and
intelligent mind, and the face of an angel. But her every instinct was
telling her that they were all lying through their teeth.
	In her twenty two years with Social Services, Margie Dowd had more than
once seen true evil. She had seen small bodies with scars like roadmaps from
the many beatings they had received 'for their own good', and had attended
the funerals of too many of them. She had wept buckets of tears and fought
off despair so black she'd thought she would never see the light again. But
she had survived it, and like the saying goes, she had grown stronger. And
she had also become a fearless champion of the children who she was supposed
to protect.
	Margie didn't know too many of the particulars surrounding Becka Jackson's
case, but she was very good at extrapolating. A stepfather who had sexually
abused her for six years was now in jail for his crimes, and both the LAPD
and the DEA were pressuring her office for a quick resolution of the girl's
placement into this home. It was obvious that the police were trying to make
some sort of case against this Ralph Danning, and settling Becka here must
somehow help them to do that. Margie had no idea how that would work, but
she was sure that it was so. And she was also determined that Becka's best
interests would not be trampled in their haste to do it.
	If there was anything wrong about Phil Cameron and his family, Margie Dowd
was damned sure going to find out.

			* * *

Phil was busy in the kitchen getting dinner ready, but his attention wasn't
on the job. Instead he kept trying to look out the window overlooking the
patio, where Becka was seated talking to the Social Services lady. Phil had
kept a pleasant aspect on his face all evening, but now that this Margie
Dowd woman couldn't see him, he wore a worried frown. Things weren't going
very well for them, and he had a bad feeling about the reason why.

	Gia came up behind him and looked over his shoulder, watching the two
figures outside. She had just finished setting the table, and had found
herself drawn to the window just like her father, two iron shavings in the
grip of the same magnet. As she gazed out at the two figures, she reached up
and nervously touched her father on the arm.
	"How's it going, Dad?"
	Phil sighed. "Not too good. I think we might be in trouble here."
	Gia drew in a deep breath and bit her lip. "What's wrong, Daddy? What
happened?" she asked, in a small voice.
	"I'm not sure, hon. She was okay when she first got here, not necessarily
friendly, but she seemed to have an open mind about us. Then suddenly she's
the Ice Queen." Phil turned his head from the window, and looked squarely at
his daughter. "She changed right after she saw your bedroom."
	Gia felt a sudden cold grow inside of her. Nervousness was turning into
fear like milk curdling in her belly.
	"Do you...do you think she knows, Dad? I mean, how could she?" she asked.
	"I don't know, Gia. But she's pretty sharp, if there was anything to see in
your room then she probably picked up on it."
	Gia was silent, but she leaned against her father, drawing strength from
his presence. It wasn't fair, dammit. Not after all they had been through.
	"What are we going to do, Oso? Can she really take Becka away from us?"
	"Hey, don't go there yet, hon. She's still asking questions, we don't know
for sure what she's thinking. We could be worrying about nothing, so there's
no use turning yourself inside out over this, okay?"
	"Okay, Dad," Gia replied, and gave him a smile. But it didn't reach her
eyes, and she still found herself leaning against her father and trying to
draw comfort from his bulk.

			* * *

	"So anyway, Gia invited me over for a weekend, what with her father and
brothers being gone and all. And we had a great time, in fact it was the
best time of my life. We went shopping, and we rented movies, and just hung
out, you know? And that's when I admitted about all the stuff Ralph had been
doing to me."
	"I see," Margie said, her tone encouraging the girl to continue. She and
Becka had been talking for almost half an hour now, mostly of small things,
with Margie trying only to get a feel for the personality and character of
her new charge. She had then eased the conversation around to the bare facts
in Becka's file, trying to gently draw her out on the subject of her step
father and his alleged abuse. But all of the pussyfooting had been
unnecessary, as Becka had proved to be surprisingly open about her past.
	She talked easily enough, especially considering the painful subject
matter. Becka told her about running away from Gia after the perceived
betrayal, and of how they were reunited three days later behind her house,
and the secrets about her past that the other girl had revealed to her. She
candidly spoke about the rape with the beer bottle, and of her rescue and
subsequent stay in the hospital, where she had finally filed charges against
her abuser and even confronted him face to face. And finally she told her
about the Camerons and how they had treated her, and of how much she wanted
to stay there.
	It was an impressive story, there was no doubt about that. It matched all
of the information that she had in the girl's file, and filled in most of
the blank spots nicely. And as far as Margie could tell, the girl hadn't
told a single lie in the whole recitation.
	And yet Becka's story had more holes in it that an old knit sweater.
	Becka's experiences were horrible but, God help her, Margie had heard
worse. She had also seen the incredible lengths that abused children would
go through to survive. It was not at all unusual for a child to deal for the
protection of a lesser abuser to save themselves from a greater one. And the
coin they most often bartered with was their own bodies.
	Phil Cameron had offered this poor girl what must have looked like heaven.
This beautiful house to live in, a standard of living far greater than
anything she had ever experienced before, and most importantly protection
from her stepfather and his drug dealing friends. But had he done this from
the goodness of his heart, or was he demanding something in return? Margie
was determined to find out.
	During Becka's story Margie had noticed their audience hovering behind the
kitchen window. As nonchalantly as possible she had risen to her feet and
started strolling, leading her charge on a slow walk around the patio and
then the pool. By the time Becka had finished, they were seated on the
benches clustered around the three oaks in the back of the yard, more than
far enough away to insure their privacy. Now Margie could focus fully on the
girl before her, and maybe find out what really happened inside the walls of
this house.
	Time to do a little probing.
	"It sounds like you've come a long way in a very short time, Becka. You
must feel like you're on a rollercoaster."
	The young girl smiled wryly, which made her look even younger. "Yeah, I
know what you mean. I've only known Gia a little more than a month, and
now...well, now we're like sisters, you know? She and her family helped me
get away from Ralph and they took me in, and, well, just everything. And now
they want to make me a part of their family. I never thought that anybody
would ever want to do that, and I'm really grateful to them."
	She smiled again and Margie smiled back, but anyone who knew her would have
seen that it was brittle. Was 'grateful' just a euphemism for vulnerable?
She took her notebook out and scribbled a few words before continuing. She
noticed that Becka was eyeing the notebook warily, as if it was a snake that
might bite if she wasn't careful.
	"Becka, Mr. Cameron showed me yours and Gia's room earlier. I noticed that
it was right next door to his room."
	"Uh, yeah, it is. Is there something wrong with that?" Becka asked.
	"Oh, no, no. I just noticed something. When I looked inside, I saw that Mr.
Cameron had just put up a curtain rod across the wall separating your rooms.
The tools were still lying out, and there was a sound proof curtain there
too, still in it's box. I imagine, once that's put up, that the occupants of
one room won't be able to hear a thing from the occupants of the other. And
I imagine that is the idea, isn't it, Becka?"
	Becka looked away nervously, and Margie could almost see her swallow. There
was no doubt at all now, the girl was definitely hiding something.
	"I, I don't know. I guess so. Maybe me and Gia were talking too late or
something," Becka said, with  a touch of wariness creeping into her voice.
	Becka was being deliberately evasive now. She was sitting hunched over, as
if to draw in on herself. Margie knew that she had to be right about this.
It was time for her to lay her cards on the table, and gamble that she could
get this girl to trust her. She set her notebook aside, and reached out and
laid her hand on top of the girl's.
	"Becka, I've been in Social Services for over twenty years, and in that
time I've developed an excellent sense for when people are trying to hide
something from me. And that sense has been absolutely screaming ever since I
walked through that front door.
	"I am not here to crucify anybody, I am here to protect you. You are my
only responsibility and concern in this matter, and I need you to know that
you can trust me."

	Becka pulled her hand out of Margie's and sidled as far away on the bench
as she could go. At first she avoided the older woman's eyes, but then
rallied, and now glared at her defiantly.
	"Look, Mrs. Dowd, I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't lied to
you, and I don't think anybody else has, either. They wouldn't. I mean, I am
a liar, I lied about Ralph and what he was doing to me for years. But the
Cameron's don't lie."
	It wasn't hard to figure out what happened, and why Papa Bear had put up
that damned curtain. He must have heard her and Gia making love all last
night, that's why he looked like he hadn't had any sleep this morning. Mrs.
Dowd didn't have to be a brain surgeon to see what was right in front of her
face.
	Becka was squirming on the bench, she wanted to get up and move, to put
some distance between her and this woman, who seemed to have figured out her
final secret. This 'Social Services lady', who had the power to take her
away from her family. To take her away from Gia.
	'Oh God, she knows. She knows that me and Gia are lovers.'
	Dammit, why now? Why when everything was so good, when everything was
finally going to be alright, did this lady have to show up and ruin it all.
She was going to take her away and put her in some stupid foster home
somewhere, and tell everybody it was because she and Gia were lezbo freaks.
Dammit, dammit, dammit!
	"Look, I don't know what you're getting at, and I don't need your
protection, not anymore. I needed it for six years, so where were you when
Ralph and his buddies were using me like a cock rag, huh? That's when I
needed you!
"But the Camerons, they helped me. They took me in, and they want me to be a
part of their family. And I won't let you spoil that, so just leave us
alone!"
	Becka was shaking as she said those last words. She wanted to cry, but she
refused to do it in front of this woman, who hated her just because she
dared to love another girl. So instead of crying, instead of showing
weakness, she clenched her teeth and retreated into her anger, glaring
sullenly at Mrs. Dowd and wishing she would just go away. Preferably to
someplace very, very hot!
	Margie sighed. "Becka, when a single man asks us for custody of a teenage
girl, we look at the request very closely. We look for certain signs,
anything that might indicate that the girl is not safe in that environment.
And I'm afraid that I've seen some of those signs here.
	"Becka, I need you to trust me, and I need you to believe that I can and
will protect you. Now tell me, has Mr. Cameron ever asked you to go to his
room? Has he ever asked you to come there at night, when everybody else was
asleep? You know what I'm talking about, don't you, Becka. Has Mr. Cameron
ever made any sexual advances to you?"
	Realization hit like a slap in the face. Becka felt as if she had been
dumped off a cliff and into icy waters, her mouth hung open and her eyes
were so wide that she could feel them drying. She could only blink stupidly
at the other woman, stunned, her anger replaced by complete and total shock.
She knew she must look like a gaping fish, but she couldn't help it, all she
could do was stare in disbelief at the crazy lady sitting next to her.
	'Goddamn, she thinks I'm sleeping with Dad!'
	Becka gazed into the earnest face of the dedicated social worker, and did
the only thing that she could do under the circumstances. She burst out
laughing

	Mrs. Dowd was completely bewildered by Becka's response. Of all the
reactions that she had anticipated, laughter was definitely not one of them.
Margie was far from being stupid, so she knew that her carefully assembled
suspicions were fast falling apart like an old brick wall, only to be
replaced by the embarrassment of knowing that she had been very, very wrong.
	Becka had finally stopped laughing, and was now just sitting there,
grinning at her. The nervousness in her eyes had been replaced by a look of
merriment, a sign of humor that Margie would normally delight at seeing in
one of her charges, but not when it was directed at her. Once again she
tried to take charge of the conversation.
	"Becka, I am glad that you find all of this amusing, but I still have some
questions that need to be answered. There are issues that must be
addressed-"
	"Mrs. Dowd, I am not having sex with Mr. Cameron."
	"Well...from your reaction, I had begun to think-"
	"And before you ask it, I'm also not sleeping with George, Bobby or Johnny,
either."
	"Well, no, I wasn't going to-"
	"Mrs. Dowd, I'm sleeping with Gia."
	And now it was Margie's turn to do a fish impression.

	Becka sighed while the other woman gaped at her. She hadn't meant to let
the cat out of the bag, but it was definitely running wild now. So she might
as well go for broke. Her next words came out clipped and hard.
	"Mrs. Dowd, Gia and I are lovers. We're gay, and if you want to put that in
your little book, it's spelled G, A, Y. We're in love, and we have sex, and
we hold hands and do all the other things that straight couples do. And if
you want to split us up for that, then go ahead and try. Me and Gia have
beaten bigger problems than you."

	Margie stared at the girl who was calmly but firmly staring right back at
her. In her profession she had seen juveniles of all ages who had been
angry, enraged, determined, and even homicidal. But she had never seen
anyone who looked so...'indomitable'. Now that her secret was out, any trace
of nervousness or fear had disappeared, and she was obviously in the mood
for a fight.
	The question was, was there any reason to fight?
	Margie opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say the words she
heard another voice pipe up behind her. Both she and Becka turned around to
see Gia approaching them, carrying a tray and wearing a smile as false as
her cheery attitude.
	"Hi! Does anybody want some lemonade?"

			* * *

	Becka could only shake her head, as she held back a smile. Gia, and her
incredible sense of timing. Well, after all, they were in this together.
	Becka stood up and met Gia, taking the tray with it's three glasses from
her without a word, and setting it down on the bench next to Margie. Then
she led the other girl over to the opposite bench, where they seated
themselves across from the social worker. And then to Gia's surprise she
reached her arm around her lover's shoulders and pulled her close, all the
while staring a challenge at the older woman. She could feel Gia squirming
nervously next to her.
	"Becka...?" she asked, her voice hesitant.
	"Gia, she knows. I told her all about us."

	Gia let out a theatrically loud moan, and slumped down on the bench,
leaning into the other girl's embrace. After a while she looked up at the
blond and said, wryly, "Maybe we should just take out an ad, and get it over
with."
	Becka laughed, and then kissed her. They held it for a long moment, and
then turned back to face Margie. They sat there, waiting for the woman's
reaction, a united front against everything, even the whole world if it came
to that. There was one big question on their minds, and Gia finally put it
into words.
	"So what happens now, Mrs. Dowd?"

	Margie looked at the young couple thoughtfully for a few seconds, as if she
was weighing their future. Finally she reached over and picked up one of the
glasses of lemonade from the tray, and raising it to her lips she took a
long, slow draft of the cold liquid. She finally set it down with a
contented sigh, and then addressed the two young lovers across from her.
	"Oh my, that was good. Thank you very much, Gia, I did appreciate it.
	"In answer to your question, I will be leaving now. I will stop on my way
out and thank your father for giving me his time, and then I will get in my
car and go home. And in the morning I will file my report, along with my
recommendation that Becka be placed here with your family permanently. It
will then be put before family court and, with a little luck, ruled on
tomorrow.
	"What happens then will, of course, be up to the judge. But they all know
me down there, and it's been over five years since anyone ruled against one
of my recommendations. I am confident that your father will be given full
custody of Becka either tomorrow or Monday at the latest."

			* * *

	Back in the kitchen Phil had given up trying to spy on the conversation
between his daughters and Margie Dowd. But he had left the window open while
he prepared dinner, and as he was slicing the pot roast he almost cut off
his own thumb at the triumphant whoop that rang across the backyard.
As the big man sucked on the bleeding finger and went off to find a
Band-Aid, he couldn't help grinning. Maybe Margie Dowd wasn't such a witch
after all. In fact, maybe he should set an extra place at the dinner table.

			* * *

	Margie reluctantly declined Phil's invitation, saying that it just wouldn't
be appropriate, at least not until she had filed her report. She did,
however, give him one of her business cards and said that he could call her
sometime if he were so inclined. On the back she hastily scribbled her home
number.
	Margie was about to leave, when Phil stopped her with a question.
	"Margie, are you really alright with this? I mean, two underage kids living
in the same bedroom, and openly having sex. That isn't breaking some kind of
law or rule or anything, is it?"
	Margie chuckled, thinking briefly about the several rules it did break, and
instantly dismissing them as totally irrelevant.
	"Phil, in less than a year one of those 'kids' is going to be able to vote.
And in less than a month, the other one will be old enough to drive. I have
never seen two young people more thoroughly in love than those two, and
after all that they've been through I'll be damned if I'm going to be the
one to tear them apart."
	With that Margie took her leave, hoping that the big man with the soft
heart would give her a call. If she had seen the look Phil gave her as he
watched her leave, she would have had no doubts about the subject at all.

			* * *

That night, as Gia and Becka lay in bed with the lights out, they discussed
the events of the day in hushed but excited tones.
	"No way! You have got to be wrong about this."
	"Gia, it's true! I know what I saw."
	"I don't believe it! Not our Dad."
	"I'm telling you I saw it. When she left, he was so checking out her ass!"

	* * *

	On Friday morning, Margie Dowd turned in her report on the Becka Jackson
case. By one o'clock that afternoon, a family court judge barely glanced at
it, and then rubber stamped his approval of her recommendation. Before the
end of business, Benny Hudson had filed the adoption papers.
	And that night, Margie Dowd had dinner with Phil Cameron and his family.
(continued)