Copyright 2002 to <mijita@thetreehouse.net>. Please respect this copyright. Don't distribute or archive this story in any way except for personal use without explicit permission. No, it's not in the public domain. Ask first, okay? Thanks.

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[Image of Little Miss Naughty] Full Frontal
by Mija

The night burned with barely a hot, dry breeze.

Marine Laire blew ashore, his usual chill, a cool and icy burn. Three days trapped just off the coast hadn't improved his mood. Then, just as he landed, he heard the news about Flo and his ice cracked into sub-zero rage.

Rumor had it that Flo was at it again, pushing herself against that desert rat Santa Ana. The two of them had been, so it was said, all hot and heavy while he was trapped out at sea. Clearly, she hadn't missed him, nor had she spent these summer nights alone.

The news was a sharp sliver of ice shoved into his brain. Flo was his and it was time he claimed her once again. He flew across the port city searching for her, scanning the streets for her, drawn eastward as if by unnatural forces.

Flo had long been able to twist him around her - make him hard and solid. It made him hate her touch almost as much as he loved her touching.

The marine hated being reminded of Flo's power over him, the way she could move him at her will, hold him at bay. Sure, occasionally he called forth her moisture - he knew how to wrap her up and hold her to him - but part of her was always elusive, seeming to rise just above and outside his grasp. She would never say she loved him. Never surrender everything as he knew he had surrendered.

But not tonight.

Tonight, people Laire brushed past felt his chill and turned away.

Then Flo was there. And she was all there was. Laire hadn't considered what he'd do when he caught her and could wrap her up in himself, but suddenly she was over his lap, his hand raising her temperature to match his cool.

Santa Ana faded away, no match for the marine's fierce blows. Laire knew he was right - that this was right.

Flo struggled, tried to slip off Laire and escape, maybe follow Santa Ana, but Laire was having none of it and held her close. She raged and stormed, feeling as though the pressure in her head must finally burst.

Still he spanked on as Flo's shrieks turned to howls, then cries and sobs.

Finally it happened. At long last, in the midst of summer . . . it was raining in Los Angeles.

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