’ ‘Come and get it!’ Trixie yelled from the table. The eight of them sat at the picnic tables for the lunchtime fish-fry, with room for many mor.... Sturgill was planning to expand the business in the coming year, and his retreat was ready for it. ———————— A lazy afternoon of swimming, fishing, sunbathing and reading morphed almost imperceptibly into happy hour. By the time dinner was being cooked — thick steaks on a big charcoal grill — the whiskey was flowing freely again. The conversation. The background flickered and wavered around him."Not this time," Suraimo said, shaking her head. A bulge of protoplasm travelled down her pseudopod and folded up over his feet and ankles like a cushioned bear trap. His feet and ankles were yanked down as if he'd stepped in quicksand. Slender tentacles spiraled up and pulled down his pants.Don't panic!The control panel was a minefield. If he lashed out blindly he'd hit one of the submit options and that would be it. There was only one command. She walked back into the house, called the friend she had been about to visit, and canceled the trip. Then she ran up to her room and gathered up her Philco Hi-Fi portable record player and a stack of forty-five rpm singles. Regina was about the best dancer at Brantley High, and twenty bucks would buy her a very nice outfit. She moved the dining room table into the corner, pushed the chairs out of the way. On the table, she set up her record player with six forty-fives on the spindle.Tommy had. See? Fine. She walked to the back of the house turning on every light on her way to the kitchen. Light was good. The boogyman couldn’t get you with the lights on. In the kitchen she turned on the over head light and sighed. She needed some milk. Yes, milk. That would help her get some sleep. Mother always made her warm milk when she couldn’t sleep at night. Maybe that was all she needed. Ten minutes later she sat at the table in the kitchen sipping the warm milk. Glancing at the clock she.