CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE:  

THE ESCAPE

	Christine walked over to the cafe's dimly lit bar 
and grabbed a handful of cocktail napkins, which she 
used to wipe off the droplets of mother's milk which 
still adorned her face, neck and chest.  She pulled her 
open windbreaker aside and quickly surveyed her upturned 
breasts.  Drops of milk still clung to her thick 
nipples.  She dabbed them away, but they quickly 
reappeared.  I can't still be full after the show I put 
on, she thought.  Well, I can't be walking around 
dripping like a leaky faucet.  Let's see if this'll work 
now...  
	She tried to ignore the cacophony surrounding her 
from the party that was still going full blast in the 
cafe as she invoked the mental discipline that she had 
used to control her extraordinary milk production since 
only a few weeks after The Accident.  Thoughts of arid 
places or a total lack of moisture, coupled with some 
autonomic commands to her pituitary, hypothalamus, and 
mammary epithelium that never reach a level of conscious 
awareness were usually enough to stop the milk.  Drier 
than dry, Chris said to herself as she went into a high 
alpha state of awareness.  The surface of the moon.  The 
cold reaches of space where any liquid flashes to 
molecules in the vacuum...  Chris completed the exercise 
and again looked down at her breasts.  To her dismay 
drops of milk were rolling off the tips of her nipples 
and running down the lower slopes of her bosom.  It 
hadn't worked.  She was sure that the Valium Jonah had 
slipped her, which had interfered the last time she'd 
tried to shut down, had long since worn off -- unless 
that crafty bastard had also included a galactogogue in 
the mix!  She remembered from all the reading she had 
done after the unexpected development of her 
lactogenesis that there were drugs available which 
stimulated milk production; they were sometimes used in 
nursing mothers when all else failed.  If her already 
overzealous glands received a pharmacologic stimulus, 
who knew what the result might be?  Evidently she was 
finding out.  Yes, she could feel the familiar warmth 
and heaviness in her breasts build fractionally just 
within these last few minutes.  She swore under her 
breath, cursing Jonah for turning her into a human 
dairy.  She had no idea how long it would take for the 
stimulant to wear off, but she didn't want to wait 
around in this place while it did.  She wanted very much 
to be back in her hotel room, reclining in the whirlpool 
tub, letting the milk stream into the warm water while 
her body slowly returned to normal.  For any other 
woman, even an actively lactating one, that would still 
be extranormal, but at least Chris's body would once 
again be under her full control.
	Chris blinked, startled by a loud rapping on the 
bar.  She looked up and found the bartender staring 
quizzically at her, waiting for her drink order.  She 
asked for a mimosa.  While she waited, she stuffed more 
napkins into her windbreaker and zipped it up, hoping 
that the makeshift "nursing pads" would stay in place 
until she was able to be alone.  She looked ridiculous 
with the wads of paper making her large bust look 
irregularly shaped, but she didn't care.  The less 
attractive she looked right now, the better.  She 
received her mimosa and began sipping absently while 
scanning the large room for either Jonah or Edward.  She 
had still not seen either of them since the incident in 
the kitchen.  It was when she stopped searching with her 
eyes and started with her ears that she was able to 
filter the unmistakable sound of Edward's booming laugh 
from the myriad of other sounds which filled the room.  
She finally spotted him standing by the table that had 
earlier showcased the twins and their stick-on toys.  
She wondered why she hadn't seen him there before.
	Chris began threading her way across the room 
toward Edward, who was talking with several people and 
had not yet seen her approach.  She was less than a 
dozen feet away when a very drunk woman stumbled and 
fell directly in her path.  Startled, Chris changed 
direction abruptly and collided head-on with a large, 
muscular man.  She started to mumble an apology, then 
realized that this was one of the woman-in-red-satin's 
henchmen.  He immediately fixed her upper arms in a 
viselike grip which no amount of struggling would break.  
He was joined by the other man Chris had seen the Red 
Satin Woman talking to just after Chris had won her 
contest with the Thai girl, who was obviously in the Red 
Satin Woman's employ.  Each took an arm and, oblivious 
to Chris's struggles and shouts for assistance (which 
were lost in the din), backed her against a nearby wall.  
There the woman in red satin joined them, the same deep 
scowl still on her face.  The Thai girl was nowhere to 
be seen.
	"Look, if this is about the money I won, take it.  
I don't care," Chris said.  "It's in my pants pocket..", 
and she tried to reach for it.
	"Hold her, boys," the woman commanded, and Chris 
found her arms gently but firmly pinned to the wall.  
She tried to kick, but her legs were also held against 
the wall by the two men's more muscular ones.
	The woman stepped close enough to Chris to be 
heard over the party.  "Screaming or spitting won't 
help, if you're considering those," she said.  "The 
people here will think it's just another kink."  Chris 
realized she was probably right, and stopped struggling.  
"Looks more like the money's stuffed in your coat."  The 
woman ripped the zipper on Chris's jacket down, and the 
napkins spilled out.  Chris's naked bosom heaved with 
her breathing, her breasts thrust out and apart by the 
way her arms were positioned.  With the napkins gone, 
her nipples once again began leaking milk.
	"What a little heifer you are," the woman said, 
only partly with contempt.  "But to business.  I don't 
appreciate what you did to my girl, humiliating her like 
you did.  I wanted to make sure you knew that."
	"Just take the money.  I meant no harm, believe 
me."
	"Oh, I know you didn't, which is why I'm going to 
let you leave here in one piece tonight.  Understand 
this -- I don't ordinarily do so, and it's only because 
I appreciate your considerable talents that I'm being 
magnanimous."
	"Then let me go so I can give you the money."
	"All in good time, dearie.  I plan on having a 
little fun first." As she spoke, the woman took one red 
satin gloved finger and traced the amazing curves of 
Chris's breasts.  Chris tried to pull away but was held 
fast.
	"Please..." she whispered, but she was not heard.
	The woman turned and gestured to a young man 
standing nearby.  He disappeared into the kitchen to 
return seconds later holding a tin can whose top had 
been crudely punctured by something other than a can 
opener.  He handed the can to the woman, who approached 
Chris with it.
	"I happen to like chocolate milk myself," she 
purred.
	She tipped the can over Chris's tits, and a 
drizzle of chocolate syrup came out.  She targeted 
Chris's nipples perfectly.  The syrup mixed with the 
milk that was dripping from them and flowed down her 
boobs and stomach to where it began to stain her slacks.  
The woman bent down and began to lick the mixture from 
Chris's boobs and nipples.  Despite her discomfort, 
Chris couldn't deny that this woman had a talented 
tongue.  She began to become aroused in spite of 
herself.  She felt a new surge of milk welling up inside 
her and soon was almost fully engorged.  The woman 
somehow seemed to sense this, for just as the drops from 
Chris's nipples turned into streams, she sucked one 
nipple deep into her mouth.  Chris's breast instantly 
responded, sending a jet of hot milk into the woman's 
mouth.  She drank greedily, stopping every so often to 
alternate breasts and pour more syrup on the swollen 
nipples.  Whenever she released a nipple, milk sprayed 
forward with such force and volume that it got the 
attention of several people standing nearby.
	"Come on, everyone, there's enough for all!" the 
woman cried.  Chris could only watch incredulously as 
people actually began lining up to have a taste of her 
chocolate mother's milk.  Two by two the people came up 
to her, waited until the woman had coated Chris's 
nipples with chocolate, and then sucked hungrily, 
getting at least a couple of mouthfuls before being 
pushed away by the people behind them.  Chris continued 
to pour forth, even after several people had drunk their 
fill.  The sensation of all those different mouths 
touching her, the different styles and intensities of 
their sucking, was getting to Chris; she could feel her 
pussy begin to get slick with juice.  She was beginning 
to fade into that familiar fog of pre-orgasmic bliss, 
even as she continued to protest with as loud a voice as 
she could muster.
	Suddenly, Chris saw the woman in red satin get 
shoved sideways with considerable force.  She flew into 
the crowd, and several people ended up in a heap on the 
floor.  Next she heard a heavy glass object shatter in 
close proximity to her head, accompanied by a wet crunch 
and milliseconds later a ragged scream of agony.  Her 
right arm was released.  She glanced up to see one side 
of the muscular man's face now a bloody pulp, pieces of 
broken glass protruding sickeningly from it.  With her 
free hand she swung to her left and punched with all her 
force at the other goon's testicles.  He let go of her 
other arm and crumpled to the floor.  Chris was free.  
Suddenly her arm was grabbed again, but this time by 
Edward, who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere.  In 
his free hand he held the bloodied handle of what used 
to be a beer mug.
	The next few minutes were a blur to Chris.  She 
let herself be half-led, half-dragged out of the 
restaurant by Edward, who threw her into the back of his 
cab and took off in haste.  Chris, in all the confusion, 
thought she even heard gunfire in their wake, but wasn't 
sure.  Maybe it had just been the cab backfiring...
	Soon the hum of the cab's engine was the only 
sound.  It was a huge relief from the constant blast of 
sound that had assaulted Chris for the last few hours.  
She sat up in the back seat and took stock of herself.  
Her slacks were a mess of chocolate syrup, mother's 
milk, and blood.  She had blood on the side of her face 
as well.  None of it was her own, she was happy to learn 
after doing a quick inventory.  Her still naked torso 
was smeared with chocolate and saliva.  The money in her 
slacks was gone.  She looked like the sole survivor of a 
Friday the 13th movie, and felt like it too.
	"Thank you, Edward.  You're a life saver," she 
managed to croak out.  Her throat was raw from all the 
shouting she had been doing.
	"You don't know the half of it," Edward replied 
over his shoulder.  "That woman, I've seen her.  She 
wouldn't have let you go so easy, not without drawing 
some blood.  I saw you just in time, I think."  He 
chuckled.  "I guess it wouldn't have been the same party 
if something like this hadn't happened tonight."
	"Where the hell was Jonah during all this?" Chris 
asked.  She was angry at not having had a chance to 
confront him.
	"Playing strip poker in another room," Edward 
replied.  "My man Jonah, he got the gambling jones.  He 
probably was so into his game he didn't hear a thing."  
He looked at Chris in the rear view mirror.  "Jees, mon, 
you look like the devil's whore herself.  Now you just 
sit back and close your eyes and let old Edward take you 
back home."
	"With pleasure," Chris sighed, sinking back in the 
seat.  "Thank you again, Edward."
	"It's what I live for, dear lady," he said, and 
chuckled again.