The Harem on the Hill (Part XIX) (Patreon)

The drive back to your property takes twice as long as usual.  In an effort to avoid traffic and video-monitored intersections, you take so many side-streets and back alleys you should be mapping for Google Earth.  

To Tina's credit, she stays close (but not too close) and maintains radio silence as you serpentine your way out of the city.  "Loose lips sink ships," as your Father used to say--though your silent treatment towards Tina has more to do with how pissed you are than any sort of prudent strategy.  With each pedestrian you pass, or friendly resident that waves from their garden, your anger grows.

It isn't until you pass through the gate at the base of your estate that the grip on your steering wheel finally loosens.  After winding up the hill, you park in the roundabout near the main entrance.  

"Was that the scenic tour?" Tina says, clambering from Tabitha's jeep with a canary-chomping grin.  

"What the hell did you do?"

Tina glances back at the crumpled body in the passenger's seat.  "I improvised."  

"Jesus," you say, looking through the window.  Thankfully, Tabitha's substantial chest is still heaving.   "You can't improvise something like this."

"What's your problem?  Mission accomplished."

"Mission accomplished?  I just lead a kidnapping parade through downtown and you tell me 'mission accomplished'?"  You hold your arms out to the vehicle like a game show shiller.  "This.  Is.  Evidence.  We don't want it here."  

"This.  Is.  Better," Tina says, mimicking your condescending cadence.  "No vehicle, NO evidence.  Nobody will know what happened or when.  Hell, it'll be weeks before anyone realizes she's gone."  

"What if there's GPS?"

Tina looks at you as if you're stupid.  "In an '04 Cherokee?  I don't think so."   

"It doesn't matter.  This is one more thing they'll be looking for.  Only now it's got your fingerprints all over it."   

Tina stands akimbo and puffs her growing chest.  "You're just pissed you weren't in control for once."

"Fuck you, Tina."

"Fuck.  You.  Back."  Tina punctuates each word with an index finger to your sternum.  

You grasp Tina's waist and press her firm against the side of the jeep, burying your face in the crook of her neck.  She gasps and wraps her arms around you, lifting your shirt and exploring your back with her hands.  Necking transitions to deep-throated kissing and, after a quick scooch to avoid the protuberance of the door handle, you're back at it, pushing against Tina so firmly her feet nearly leave the floor.  

You run your hands up Tina's sides as hers push below your belt.  Set firm in her leotard top, Tina's nipples harden at the urging of your thumbs, while your other digits test her "more than a handful" theory.  Her soft moans encourage your mammary massage...

Until you realize it isn't Tina moaning at all, but Tabitha!  You break your lip-lock and look through the window just as Tabitha's eyes meet yours.  Hers widen while yours wince shut with her blood-curdling scream.

What do you do?