By Fanatic and Advocate

Important Notices:

This is a work of fiction in the genre of parody. Parody means: 1) a pair of d's; 2) a literary or musical work in which the style of an author or work is closely imitated for comic effect or in ridicule; 3) a feeble or ridiculous imitation. Personally, we're shooting for number two.

This means several things: 1) CBS can't sue us for copyright infringement as parody is clearly within the exception rule. Nah nah nah nah nah. 2) Obviously, this is a lampoon of "Survivor", the ridiculous stunt series of the summer. But, hey, it's beating 'Who Wants To Be A Millionaire' in the ratings, thank the gods above! 3) Big note: We are not going to be politically correct in this series. If you like PC humor, don't read this. If you still read this and don't like it, don't write us about it. We plan on bashing stereotypes (hey, they exist for a reason, folks) and exaggerating about as many people and places as possible. It's all in the name of humor. If it ain't your cup of tea, swim on, matey, this here is our island.

Now, just because CBS can't sue us for copyright infringement, we can and will sue you. This is an original work of fiction. Fanatic and Advocate own the copyright. (See below for the complete copyright statement.) Think about our pseudonyms, folks. Fanatic - insane, crazy, obsessed; Advocate - another name for an attorney. Add to the mix the fact that Fanatic is also an attorney …and you don't want to screw with us on this issue. Enough said.

This work of fiction is intended for mature audiences only. There are adult themes and language, nudity, sensuality, sexuality, alternative lifestyles (including depictions of homosexuality), and the like. We believe that most parents would consider these elements to be too strong (for viewing by persons less than 18 years of age). If we were a film, we would have an "R" or an "NC-17" rating.

Episode 6: The Spy Who Loved Me

Shannon and the rest of the Beta Team stood around the tribal council pit, waiting for Joan and the Alphas to arrive so they could begin their next challenge. The blonde didn't know what it would be, but frankly, she didn't give a rat's ass. All she knew was that she couldn't go one more day without knowing Ryan.

In the biblical sense.

God, how she longed to peel off that tight black tank top with her teeth; taste that luscious, incredibly soft skin; attach her mouth to a rock-hard...

"Ms. Muldoon?"

... nipple. Suckling softly at first, then with increasing pressure...


... taking in as much of that gorgeous, round breast as she possibly...


"WHAT?" Shannon roared, opening her eyes to see Pete, the cameraman, shifting nervously in front of her, a piece of paper gripped tightly in his sweaty hand. Why was someone always interrupting her?

Pete gulped but remained silent. Ever since Shannon had kicked Yun-kyung's butt, Pete had given her an exceptionally wide berth.

Smart man.

Arturo rolled his eyes knowingly and addressed the rest of the Beta Team, who had stopped their individual conversations to stare at Shannon. Well, actually they'd been staring before Shannon yelled at Pete. But she didn't need to know that.

A few more minutes of watching the young blonde -- with her eyes closed, lips parted, and breath coming in short pants, thinking God only knew what -- and Joe was going to need a cigarette to top off the experience.

"Everyone back to their business!" Arturo began making shooing motions with his hands. "Next time you see Channon's eyes closed or glazed over, and her mouth hanging open, go away until she cries out, 'God, yes, Ryan! YES!'" He thrashed his head from side to side for effect. "YES! YES!" When Arturo finished gyrating and screaming, he raised a mischievous eyebrow at Shannon. "Then we'll know it's safe to approach her."

Shannon shot the hairdresser an evil glare. "I hate you."

Ignoring Shannon's words, Arturo put his hands on his hips but his eyes softened. "You need to get over this obsession, girlfriend. I am so sorry to have to tell you this. You know that I would never tell tales out of school." At the sound of several snickers, Arturo whirled around and scolded his teammates with two quick snaps of his fingers, hissing like a snake.

Turning back to Shannon he said, "I heard your chica loca, Rambo Ryan, talking about some other woman that she loved above all others. Her name was Tina or Tammy or something like that. I am so sorry, Channon. But if it makes you feel better, and it would me, I am sure that this other woman is not a natural blonde."

Green eyes narrowed. Sure, Arturo was a bitch and all. But he wouldn't lie about this. Shannon sadly nodded her thanks. I can't believe that Ryan is already seeing someone! And to think, I was going to do things to her that are illegal in 22 states, including the entire Bible Belt! What a slut!

"What about Tanesha instead?" Arturo suggested gamely. "Surely she is cut from the same cloth as your Rambo Ryan. And with just one look, she makes me go limp almost as quickly."

Shannon shuddered, the thought of Arturo's limpness affirming her sexuality in a way that words never could.

Dismissing the hairdresser with a disgusted look, Shannon adjusted her ponytail a little higher on her head, wiping the loose strands of hair from her sweaty neck. Sure, butch chicks loved the long hair. But was it really worth the trouble? "What is it, Pete?" she finally asked, noticing the chubby cameraman was still waiting.

"I'm supposed to give you this."

Shannon looked down at the note still crumpled in Pete's hand, recognizing the paper from Rita's last message. "Keep it."

Pete's eyes widened. "But I'm not allowed to film you until after you read the note!"


"You don't understand!" Pete affected his saddest expression, the one that always made his girlfriend give him the rest of her onion rings even when she hadn't finished eating them. "I'll get fired if I don't film everyone," he whined pitifully.

Rolling her eyes, Shannon yanked the note from his hands.

Sucker! "Thanks..." Pete's words were cut off by the arrival of the Alpha Team. "Gotta go." He lifted his camera and trudged away, noticing that it felt a little lighter than usual. He sucked in his gut proudly. At this rate, there would be something other than skin and fat on his arms to show his girlfriend by the time he got home!

Shannon closed her eyes in irritation. What did Rita want now?

Dear Shannon:

OH MY GOD! Just what in the (deleted by government censor) do you think you're doing? Do you know all the trouble you've caused? Enough with the 'bedroom eyes!' You've always been able to control yourself before. And I've known you for.... Well, I don't remember exactly how long. I get you confused with that other secretary.

Shannon began cursing under her breath. Rita's other minion was a 62-year-old black man from Haiti named Anton and neither he nor Shannon were secretaries!

Anyway, you are in deep (deleted by government censor)! BTBC is now being targeted by Jerry Falwell, Oral Roberts, Pat Buchanan and Janet Reno (Although, I don't really understand that one). Especially when it's so obvious that she's as (deleted by government censor at the request of the U.S embassy) as a three-dollar bill. And don't even get me started on that crazy (deleted by government censor) with her own talk radio show. But, at least she takes bribes.

Our sponsors are up in arms. Mothers are writing in droves, afraid that their teenaged daughters will turn queer just because the girls' worthless, pubescent boyfriends don't look at them the way Ryan looks at you! (BTW, when you get home you'll have to tell me if her tits are real - I think I'd jump the fence for those.)

Bender is beside himself. Yesterday, he actually went to his real life 'girl next door' and asked her if she was a homo, too. If I have to sleep with him just to calm him down, you can look forward to wearing that home monitoring system my lawyer talked the judge into after my fourth, no fifth, DUI. You think you're on a short leash now, Missy?!

In order to save face, I'm ordering you to do something that screams heterosexual. Since there isn't time for you to marry one of the castaways and then refuse to sleep with him, I want you to have sex with one of the men... on camera. And Arturo doesn't count. We'll edit out what we can't sneak by the censors later.

Your superior (And, yes, I mean that in a philosophical way, too),


P.S. Telegrams to Bum (deleted by government censor), Asia are $11 per word. This is coming out of your severance pay.

Shannon's mouth dropped open in shock. "She expects me to do porno?!"

"Whatcha lookin' at?" Ryan peered over Shannon's shoulder.

"Jesus!" The blonde nearly jumped out of her skin. Did Ryan have to sneak up on her that way? "It's nothing," she assured quickly, wadding up the note and sticking it in her pocket. She won't understand! She's already as paranoid as Bill Clinton on Father's Day!

The survivalist's eyebrows disappeared behind windblown bangs, and her heart began to thump double time. Pale eyes went icy cold before closing tightly. "What are you hiding, Shannon?" she asked evenly, her voice giving no hint of the fact that her heart was twisting in her chest. I believed in you! You promised you weren't a spy!

"What are you hiding?!" Shannon poked her finger at Ryan's chest. "Hmm? Who is she? A girlfriend?" The writer swallowed past a lump in her throat, and her voice cracked a little when she whispered, "Or… is she more than a girlfriend?"

Ryan blinked. What the hell? "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Shannon opened her mouth, but Ryan kept right on talking. "We need to talk, Shannon. Remember that little cove we passed on the way to the second challenge?"

Shannon nodded mutely. How could she forget? It was only the single most beautiful place she'd ever laid eyes on.

"Meet me there tonight at midnight."

"Okay," the shorter woman agreed softly. Dammit. I was supposed to say no! She's going to break my heart! And I'm letting her.

"All right, castaways," Joan's voice rang out over the general hum of conversation. "Gather around the council table." The host moved to the long wooden table, subtly shifting her position to present her best side to the camera. Never the left side, asshole!

The Alpha and Beta Teams sat down on wooden benches on opposite sides of the table.

Pete, the cameramen, sat two buckets in the center of the rough wooden slab, holding his breath the entire time and praying the lids wouldn't fall off. Fuck! Joan was one soulless bitch!

"Okay, teams," Joan began, hoping there really wasn't a Hell. If there were one, she knew exactly what she'd be doing for all eternity. She shrugged mentally. Whatever. It was still better than public television.

Taking a deep breath, Joan launched into a quick explanation of the challenge. "Each team must eat all the contents of its bucket. A coin toss has determined that Alpha Team gets to select which bucket will be theirs. Don't forget, each team member must eat at least one of what's inside. The first team to consume everything in its bucket wins immunity…" Joan paused, glancing at Marva and Joe, knowing this would be of special interest to them. "…and a ten minute phone call home."

Joe leaned forward, staring at the buckets. He needed to call his son. That bastard accountant his ex-wife had married had probably taken the boy to Disney World three times since Joe had been gone. He needed to begin the deprogramming!

Marva eyed the buckets with predatory intent. There was no way she was going to give up a chance to call her little pumpkinseeds. She didn't care what was in those filthy buckets. Mama was gonna come through for her babies!

"Alpha Team, which bucket do you choose?"

"We'll take the green bucket," Molly immediately answered. "Green is the color of Gaia, giver of all life!"

"Yeah... Yeah... we'll take the brown bucket. Brown is the color of shit. Can we get on with this?" Joe asked impatiently. His eyes suddenly widened. "It's not actually shit, is it?"

Joan scowled. They'd have to bleep out both of those references. "Of course not, Joe," she said patiently. They wouldn't let us feed you shit. I checked.

The host smiled broadly and motioned for the cameras to get a close-up of the buckets. She pulled the Beta Team's lid off first.

Gasps all around.

The bucket was a third full of enormous, hard-shelled, black beetles that were crawling all over each other in a writhing, pulsing mass.

Tanesha paled. "Sweet Jesus."

Arturo turned on his heel and took off running.

"Shit!" The athletic recruiter sprinted after the hairdresser. The brothers are definitely wrong, she thought as she navigated the rough jungle floor, leaping over downed trees and tangled vines, white people can too run. They only needed to be properly motivated.

Dawn looked at Joe with round, trusting eyes. "With Desiree gone, we can do it, Joe."

The redheaded model had finally gone berserk the day before and tried to kill Joan with a coconut. It was an amazingly effective way to get kicked off the island, and the remaining castaways tucked the idea away in their brains for safekeeping. Or just for fun. Who needed TV?

Joe looked back at Dawn adoringly.

Joan fought the urge to gag. "Now for the Alpha Team's bucket." She picked up a large stick and used it to knock the off the lid.

Jason frowned. That was so NOT a good sign.

Before looking into the bucket, Ryan pulled Marva aside for a quick pep talk. Grabbing the housewife by the shoulders, she said, "Whatever is in that bucket is standing between you and your children."

Marva's eyes narrowed.

"Do you want the neighborhood kids to tease your children because their mama was too much of a wuss to do her best?"


"Then go get 'em!" Ryan pushed Marva toward the table as both teams peered into the green bucket. It was filled with huge, black, crawling spiders, whose hairy bodies were the size of silver dollars.

"Oh, thank God we got the beetles," Shannon muttered backing away from the bucket of spiders. She glared at Joan, the network whore, who was smiling wickedly.

"Go!" Joan shouted.

No one moved.

"I said, GO!" Oh no. Not again.

Joe scratched his bristly cheeks. He had lived through five years of marriage with a manicurist from Queens. Shrugging, he reached for the bucket. He'd lived through worse. Grabbing a handful of beetles, he stuffed them into his mouth all at once.

Dawn immediately mimicked him and began crunching away.

Ryan pulled out Tiffany, and stuck her down into the green bucket without looking, spearing a large spider. The survivalist pushed the enormous arachnid into her mouth, sucking down the wriggling black legs like errant spaghetti noodles.

Pete passed out.

Tanesha burst through the bushes with Arturo in tow. Shannon and Dawn held the kicking and screaming hairdresser down, while Tanesha force-fed him a single beetle.

Pandemonium broke out as the castaway's natural inhibitions fell by the wayside and they dove into their respective buckets with abandon. Marva and Joe led the charge.

Joan looked on, smiling through the horror. This was repulsive! This was hideous! This was television at its finest!

After several moments, Ryan leaned forward and stabbed the last spider. This would be another victory for the Alpha Team.

"Wait," Marty screamed, wiping a few half-eaten spider legs off his stubbly chin. "Earth Mama hasn't eaten one yet!" He pointed an accusing finger at Molly.

"Get over here!" Jason roared, sure that his last spider was trying to crawl its way back up his throat.

"I can't!" Molly whined. "My... my inner child is afraid of bugs!"

Marty grabbed Molly by the arm and dragged her to the council table. "Fuck your inner child!"

"And your little dog, too!" Jason chimed in, as he began trying to pry apart the thrashing woman's lips.

Ryan was about to administer a pressure point technique she'd learned from a Chinese spy named Ma Loa when Joan called, "TIME! The Beta Team has won!"

"NOOOO!!!!!!!!" Marty screamed, dropping to his knees.

Shannon and Dawn let go of Arturo and crawled over to the bushes to retch their guts out.

Joan smiled wryly, drawing the cameras toward the vomiting women. "Just another day in paradise."

* * *

Shannon's stomach was feeling normal again by the time she snuck out of the Beta Team's encampment and headed for the cove. She had finally barfed up the last of the beetles; at least she hoped she had. God, that was vile! She would be sure to put some rat poison in Rita's coffee when she got back to the office.

She was surprised at how easy it had been to sneak out of the camp. The camerawoman who was normally stationed nearby was missing, most likely in the jungle taking care of business.

She was gonna take care of some business too. Filled with happy thoughts, Shannon fairly skipped through the jungle.

* * *

Ryan waited impatiently. She had barely managed to sit through tribal council long enough to vote Molly's wimpy ass off the island. No, tonight was the night. She was going to get better acquainted with the little blonde or she would die trying. No, that didn't sound quite right. Ryan paused, and thought it through again. She would get better acquainted with the little blonde, or she would…


She pulled out Tiffany. Carefully opening the beautiful blade, she gazed at the stars and moon reflected on the shining metal. "You are so beautiful," she whispered reverently. "We've been together so long, just the two of us. Remember that time we were being followed by the FBI? You are so sharp, I was able to puncture all their tires and they couldn't follow us any longer. Or that time our phone was being tapped by the ATF? But you took care of that in a jiffy. Slice, slice, and nosy Uncle Sam was shit out of luck."

Ryan sighed. Was there room in her life for another love?

Especially one that was getting secret messages? Shannon had said she wasn't a fed. But isn't that what they all say? They never admitted to it. Hoover never admitted to wearing dresses and pantyhose. But that didn't make it any less true.

What would she do if Shannon were a fed?

Feds had taken her family away. Oh, sure, the police had said it was an accident. An accident, my ass! Her parents had led the fight against microwave technology. Not microwave transmissions, but microwave ovens. Sure, everyone says they're safe. But they're not. This is the same industry that had to prove it was keeping dangerous microwaves within the oven before they could sell them. Nobody cares about what they do to the food! The government is in the hip pocket of the microwave oven manufacturers.

Ryan's parents had fought against the evil industry, but had been found dead in their car one morning in Death Valley. The official autopsy report said they had been baked alive.

The government had a cruel sense of humor.

Since then, Ryan had taken her younger brothers and built a completely technology-free home in the Kentucky foothills. No microwaves, no phones (except for her modem line), no electricity (except for the small generator that powered her television - a girl has to have some vices) and no running water. Though, lately, Ryan was beginning to miss the joy of indoor plumbing. If Shannon came home with her…

Don't put the cart before the horse. Not that she considered Shannon a horse. Though horses did have long, flowing manes like Shannon.


The survivalist jumped, startled out of her thoughts. Turning, she saw the luscious blonde standing behind her, bathed in moonlight. Just as beautiful as Tiffany! "Hi," she mumbled, suddenly shy.

"What are you doing with that knife?" Shannon gestured toward Tiffany, who was still standing erect and tall in Ryan's hand. "And who were you talking to?" The writer looked around the beach for the slut, who was seeing 'her' Ryan behind her back. If it was that Marva chick, though she'd hate to do it, Shannon was going to bitch slap her silly. She could take her. Shannon had already proven it by her trouncing of Yun-kyung earlier.

Ryan looked down at Tiffany then carefully folded her up and put her away, caressing her gently as she did so. "Nothing. No one."

"I heard you talking to someone," Shannon insisted, folding her arms across her chest. Well, actually she folded her arms and pressed them up underneath her boobs to make them even more prominent. She knew it would get Ryan's attention.

"Huh?" Ryan replied, watching Shannon's boobs lift.

"I heard you talking to someone."

"No one."

"Fine. I'm outta here," the writer huffed, turning on her heel, and beginning the long walk back to Beta camp.

The survivalist stood rooted to her spot, torn between blurting out the truth and her fear of rejection. What if Shannon didn't understand about the love she had for her knife? What if she ridiculed Tiffany? What if she made her choose between the two of them? Ryan couldn't even begin to know how she would make a decision like that. Finally, as she watched Shannon walk away, she called out, "Tiffany!"

Anger flooded through Shannon at the sound of the slut's name coming from her beloved's lips. Tiffany? Tiffany? What type of candy-ass name was that? Bet the bimbo had huge, fake tits and a bleached-out brain. Shannon executed a perfect military turnaround and marched back over to the tall brunette. "Where is she?"

Ryan hung her head.

"In the sand? You have her buried in the sand here?" Shannon was like a rabid gopher, dropping to her hands and knees, scooping sand out of the way.

"I'd never let sand get on her!" Ryan bent down beside the blonde, although she enjoyed the view for a few moments before doing so.

"Then where is the tramp?" Shannon bellowed. "What do we have to do? Arm wrestle for you? Defuse a bomb? Undo a wire tap?"

God, would Shannon really do all those things for her? "She's not a tramp, she's my knife." Having revealed her secret, Ryan pulled the knife out of her pocket and presented it to Shannon. She indicated the plaque on the side where 'Tiffany' had been lovingly engraved. "See?"

"You named your knife 'Tiffany?'"

"Well, she's a girl." Why is that so hard to believe?!

Shannon shook her head, trying to rid it of all of the sarcastic comments. Ryan was already spooked enough. "That's who you were talking to? Your knife?"

Ryan didn't like the tone she heard in Shannon's voice. Pale eyes narrowed. "Yeah."

"And her name is Tiffany?"


"Are you dating someone else? I don't want to get involved in another lesbian psychodrama. Jesus! There are enough of those to last a lifetime without me contributing."

"No, I'm not dating anyone else. There aren't even any women where I live!" Only her brothers, a couple of grizzly old guys, and some livestock. The latter were good enough for the men, but she had higher standards.

Wow. A world without women? Did such a place exist? She'd never have to worry about Ryan straying there.

"Since we're laying our cards out on the table, what about that note you received? Who are you working for? The FBI?"



"No. No. Isn't NAFTA a trade agreement?"

"Don't try to confuse the issue!" Ryan growled. "Who was the note from?"

"The BTBC," Shannon confessed, getting incredibly turned on by Ryan's forceful demeanor. She hoped the tall survivalist would throw her on the ground and make love to her. Or push her up against a tree and make love to her. Or take her out in the water and make love to her. Or…

"The BTBC?" Ryan repeated. "The Bureau to Begin Cloning'? The Bankers' Total Bureaucratic Control? Ban the Burgeoning of Capitalism? Be the Best Cuban?" Damn! She had never heard of this group. They must be wily to have escaped her notice.

Shannon reached out and put her hand on Ryan's. "No, the Bender Television Broadcasting Channel. The people who sent us here."

"Why are they writing to you?"

Shannon swallowed. Time to be honest; she told you about her knife. And your secret isn't nearly as weird. "I work for them."

"You're a plant!"

"Not really. They fired me!" That was, technically, true.

"Bastards!" Ryan commiserated. "So, why do they still send you notes if they fired you?"

Shannon frowned. She hadn't anticipated that question. Think. Think. Think. She decided to go with the truth, just this once. "They want me to stop wanting you."

Ryan knew it! Soon the media companies would be ruling the world! They get inside your brain, tell you what type of car to drive, what type of soap to use, how to run your life. Thirty seconds of mental programming played multiple times every day. That was why Ryan always left the room when the commercials were on. The subliminal messages couldn't be good for her. And she had found that her aluminum foil hat didn't block out all of them.

Ryan soon focused on the important part of what Shannon had just told her. "You want me?"

"God, yes," Shannon sighed. She wanted Ryan the same way Elizabeth Taylor wanted diet pills and booze.

"Good enough for me." Ryan reached out and pulled the smaller woman tight against her body. "I want you, too." She captured Shannon's mouth with her own, once again marveling at how good she tasted. Tongues dueled for supremacy as they clawed at each other's clothing like cats in heat.

Shannon remembered something on the Nature Channel about why cats howled when mating. She really hoped her cat analogy ended with the shredding of the clothing.

Soon, naked as the day they entered the world and the time Shannon went to a Dixie Chicks concert, the two women lay down on the beach. Shannon immediately felt sand in the crack of her cheeks. She squirmed against Ryan atop her, trying to dislodge it. God, it was really miserable.

This served to further inflame Ryan's ardor, and she began licking the succulent neck presented to her. Her large hands covered Shannon's breasts, kneading them like a newborn kitten.

Shannon began purring, deciding that the cat analogy still worked. She also continued to twitch. She reached one hand under her body and began trying to wipe away the sand there.

"Oh, baby, you like it that way?" Ryan asked, her voice rough with excitement. She reached under Shannon's body.

Shannon squealed when she felt Ryan's hand join hers. "What are you doing?"

"Taking over," came the reply, before Ryan's mouth closed over her breast.

The tongue almost caused Shannon to forget about the hand at her ass. "Whoa!" she cried out, bucking up against the larger body. "Ohh…" she sighed after another moment.

"How's that?" Ryan asked.

"Don't stop! If you stop, I'll kill you!"

Ryan felt herself fall a little bit more in love with Shannon at that threat. "No stopping, I promise." With those words, she began feasting on Shannon's body the way women in Weight Watchers munch on donuts, cake and candy. Although, she wasn't moaning quite as loudly.

The slow burn Shannon had felt whenever she was in the survivalist's presence flared into a raging fire. Every touch of Ryan's tongue nearly sent her over into ecstasy. Apparently, the reason Ryan was a woman of few words, because she had much better uses for her tongue. Shannon vowed never to let Ryan speak again.

Ryan painted erotic patterns over the writer's breasts. She stopped and suckled like a hungry newborn at each, drawing the pink nipples deep inside her mouth. Shannon's skin tasted incredible. Mmm… she must be using coconut oil.

Shannon thrashed her head from side to side, but instantly regretted her actions as sand poured into one of her ears. She turned her head to drain the sand, but it didn't work. Lifting her neck, she banged her head on the beach several times to no avail.

At the movement, Ryan looked up from her position. Was this some new kama sutra kinda thing? It looked painful to her. Oh well, as long as Shannon wasn't complaining, she wasn't going to stop what she was doing.

She moved up to enjoy Shannon's mouth once more, when she felt something hit her back. Ryan raised her head and looked around, trying to figure out what it was.

"More!" Shannon complained, grabbing Ryan by the hair and guiding her back to where she had been.

Ryan willingly complied until she felt something else hit her. "What in the hell?" she growled, pushing up and once again surveying the area.

Two quick jabs to the crooks of Ryan's arms caused her to fall back on top of Shannon. "I said more!"

Ryan was about to comply, when she saw something move out of the corner of her eye. She grabbed Tiffany from her discarded shorts and lunged to the right. With her outstretched hand, she caught hold of a furry piece of rope.

"Where the hell are you going?" Shannon bellowed. She didn't care if the four horsemen of the apocalypse were headed for them, she needed to get off, and she needed to get off now. This required Ryan's participation. Tears stung her eyes. She was tired of flying solo!

Ryan pulled on the rope, only to come face to face with a rather pissed off monkey. She let go of his tail and he screeched when he saw the look in Ryan's eyes and his own reflection on Tiffany. The monkey dropped the nuts he had been hurling at Ryan and took off for the jungle.

"Apparently he thinks hot monkey sex should just be for monkeys," Ryan laughed, crawling back over to the blonde.

Shannon didn't bother with a reply. She was past words. Talking was overrated.

Ryan found herself pushed down to nestle between Shannon's spread legs. She idly noted that her new lover was a natural blonde, then slid her tongue inside the smaller woman.

"God! Yes!"

God has nothing to do with this, baby, Ryan thought smugly.

Shannon began moaning, loud and long. Ryan teased her, moving in and out, flicking across the areas where Shannon most needed her presence. The writer's hips bucked, anxious to present everything to Ryan's talented mouth. "Yes! Yes! Yes!" Damn, Arturo had me totally pegged!

With her right hand, Ryan reached up and squeezed one of Shannon's nipples, the pressure sending the woman closer to the point of no return. She continued to feast where she was when she heard Shannon's voice.

"Not … not … quite so hard on my right breast, dear…"

As Ryan's left hand was helping to support her weight, she wondered who - or what - was causing her new lover distress. A quick glance confirmed her fear. Moving quickly, she grabbed the hermit crab and threw him down the shoreline. Making love on the beach is highly overrated.

Wanting to bring this gig to a close, and, truth be told, get closer to Shannon's reciprocating, Ryan picked up her speed and soon heard Shannon's scream of ecstasy. At the sound of her piercing cry, all the birds in the nearby trees took flight, fearing an impending attack. Then the jungle went silent.

It took all of Ryan's self-control not to react to the war cry. Screw Tarzan! That yell had just made Shannon the Queen of the Jungle.

Her queen.

Ryan wondered if Shannon was always that loud. If so, she was going to have to build her brothers another cabin. Quite a distance away.

For the first time in her life, Ryan was in love with something that didn't require sharpening. Although, she wholeheartedly looked forward to oiling Shannon regularly.

<fade out>

As always, thanks to our wonderful editing team and our web designer. You guys make our lives easy and make us look good. We are indebted.

Visit the Castaway website at

© 2000 Fanatic and Advocate. All rights reserved. The Content is protected in the U.S. and internationally by a variety of laws, including but not limited to, copyright laws and treaty provisions, and other proprietary rights laws.

You are hereby granted permission to receive a copy of the Content from the mailing list or web site in whole or in part, (and, except where otherwise specified or provided by Fanatic and Advocate, print a single copy of the Content for your own personal use) but only for purposes of viewing and browsing through the Content. You are also hereby granted permission to store the files on your computer for your own personal use. All other use of Content from the mailing list or web site, including, but not limited to modification, publication, transmission, participation in the transfer or sale of, reproduction, creation of derivative works from, distribution, performance, display, incorporation into another web site, reproducing the Content (whether by linking, framing or any other method), or in any other way exploiting any of the Content, in whole or in part, for uses other than those expressly permitted may not be made without Fanatic and Advocate's prior express written consent.

Legal Disclaimer

Though this series is inspired by certain actual incidents, it is a work of fiction and references to real people and organizations are included only to lend a sense of authenticity. All of the characters, whether central or peripheral, are wholly the product of the authors' imagination, as are their actions, motivations, thoughts and conversations, and neither the characters nor the situations which were invented for them are intended to depict real people or real events. In particular, the depictions of CBS and the Survivor television series are not meant to portray the corporation, or any individual on that show, but are only used to lend a sense of authenticity to this work of fiction.