Grim Fairy Tales (c) 2001 Knave of Hearts knaveofhearts2000@yahoo.com
AUTHOR'S NOTE 1. This is the first installment of a longer story. I
had finished this part in the summer of 2001 and was well on the way to
finishing the entire saga when some crazy drove a plane into a skyscraper.
The intrusion of the real world into my fictional scenario made me stop and
reconsider publishing this, but then I realized that by altering my life I
had let the crazies win.
2. The town names in the are real but the characters bear no
resemblance to anyone that has ever existed there in this plane of
existence. Any similarity between a character and a real person is sheer
coincidence. That's why this is called fiction.
PROLOG The end of the Cold War lifted the lid on countless religious,
ideological, and nationalistic organizations that squabbled with each other
over a seemingly endless array of issues. Most of these organizations had
been held in check by the two superpowers. Most were benign but some were
nothing short of terrorists. In 2020, religious zealots from a third world
country that few Americans had even heard of decided to make their entrance
on the international scene with a direct attack against the Great Satan.
Using easily available technology and stolen military hardware, the group
constructed several small nuclear devices, dubbed by the press atomic
suitcases, and exploded them at major industrial and commercial sites
around the United States.
The low yield bombs instantaneously turned New York Harbor, Wall Street,
and the Port of Bayonne into scenes of devastation. Due to the nature of
the bombs and the method that they were exploded, the fallout was
tremendous. Lacking a consolidated Civil Defense program, local and state
authorities found themselves fighting for resources. Within days, the
dispirited populace began rioting. What was left of the cities burned out
of control.
After the New York bombs exploded, a group calling itself the Children
of the Sword issued a statement that the United States was being punished
for what its communiqué called "crimes against humanity." Police began
massive searches for members or material belonging to the Children. Most
of the material was found to have come from an American research laboratory
at Los Alamos. Police pinpointed the leader, or at least the bomb builder,
as a former grad student who had interned at the labs.
Despite knowing whom to look for, the police were still unable to stop
the terror. One week after the New York attack, four more bombs struck
Chicago's financial district. Police, with the help of National Guard
troops, fortified major cities. A cell of terrorists was killed as they
tried to infiltrate Washington D.C. Another bomb was discovered in Seattle
harbor. Despite these victories, Houston, New Orleans, and Los Angeles all
suffered severe damage.
On New Year's Day 2021, the President of the United States declared
martial law. Regular Army and National Guard units were called out to help
civil authorities control the situation, protect lives, and reestablish
services. Some areas quickly organized to provide food and shelter for
their people. Towns were fortified, defended by the remnants of their
local police, maybe a National Guard or Regular Army Unit that had been
nearby, and deputized locals.
It was almost too late. By this time, interstate commerce and power
distribution had almost ceased. The value of paper money plummeted as
people hoarded jewelry and precious metals. The law and order fell apart
as cities starved and suffered rolling blackouts. Many of the National
Guard units, their members dispersed throughout the community, failed to
report or, in some cases, mutinied when asked to deploy away from their
families. Gangs of heavily armed and desperate criminals roamed the
highways stealing and killing.
People were scared and desperate. Often, they shot first and looted the
body later. Travel between towns dwindled to a trickle. Only the bravest,
or most foolhardy, risked their lives outside of the patrolled and
protected towns and cities.
The Nation fought for its very existence.
Chapter 1: The Magic Tinderbox "Once upon a time a brave soldier
returned from the wars."
In this chaotic world, in the spring of 2024, we start our in the
Shenandoah Valley of Virginia.
Major Simon Woodsman just wanted to go home. He had spent the last few
months battling rioters and trying to help rebuild civilization in what was
left of the nation's capitol. Despite his valorous service, he had nothing
to show for the time he that had spent protecting his country except for
the uniform on his back and the 9mm pistol strapped to his hip. He hadn't
seen a paycheck in three months and the unit he had commanded had been
whittled away by casualties and desertions until the brass sent him an
email and told him to go home.
Simon had been walking for four days, ever since his HMMWV had run out
of gas. His feet were swollen and his stomach growled but he kept telling
himself that the walk down the Valley Road was therapeutic. He hoped
that the crisp air and beautiful scenery would combine to erode the
cynicism that had built up inside him during the riots.
He entered Green Springs, a wide spot alongside the road, on the fifth
day of his hike. He felt as if he'd left all the world's troubles back in
the big city as he walked along Green Springs' tree lined streets. People
sat outside their houses chatting and kids played in their yards.
Before the Troubles, people would have waved from their porches and
tossed out comments about the weather. But now things were different. The
street got quiet as he passed, as if he pushed a bow wave of silence in
front of him. Conversations paused, the women watching him while the went inside to get their weapons. Simon kept moving and the conversations
resumed, with a new topic, as soon as he had passed.
He was almost out of town when he was shocked by a friendly voice. "Hey
soldier. Been walking far?" The voice belonged to a cute who had
been edging the sidewalk in front of her small bungalow.
"About five days." Simon admitted, trying hard not to stare at her
shapely form. If she were outgoing enough to talk with him, he
thought, maybe she'd let him bunk down someplace out of the weather. Even
sleeping on the porch would be preferable to crawling under a tree for
another night so he tried hard to mind his manners.
"Where you headed to?" She leaned against the edger, stretching her
shoulders back.
Simon shuffled his feet, looking quickly at the cracked sidewalk before
she caught him staring at the tan swell of her that rose under the
old workshirt she wore.
She shot him a crooked smile that wrinkled the corners of her bright
blue eyes. "Come on up to the house. You look like you could use a cold
drink."
Simon mumbled something that he hoped sounded like an agreement and
hitched his pack up on to his shoulder as he unlatched the chain link gate
and let himself in. He latched the gate and turned to see her tight round
denim clad ass as she climbed the front steps and entered the house. He
followed her in and stopped in the little foyer, stunned by the quaint
hominess of the house.
"Is there anything wrong?" She had taken off her shoes and now silently
moved through dining room with a large glass of water in her hands.
"Uhhhh. No. . . Everything is great. I mean, this is real nice of
you." The words stumbled over his tongue.
Simon didn't want to dump his troubles on this lady. For the last six
months, he had witnessed the worst aspects of humanity - kidnapping, rape,
arson, vigilante killings, and mob violence. Everyone had shared the same
scared look, wondering when it would be there turn to be in the wrong place
at the wrong time.
But here. Now. This was completely different. Almost like the home
that he had lived in. The home that had disappeared forever.
"Still with me?" Her blue eyes locked on to his with a slight worried
look. "You look like you could use a hot meal and a good night's sleep."
Without waiting for a response, she took his arm and led him through to the
kitchen.
Taking charge, she sat him at the little wooden table. "So what brings
you to Green Springs, Major Woodsman?"
Simon's head snapped up at the sound of his name. But then he realized
that she had just read his name tag above his right pocket.
She continued as if she hadn't noticed. "Would you mind if I put your
pistol in the hallway? I don't mean to sound rude, but. . ." She left the
rest unsaid as if searching for the right phrase.
"Oh it's no problem." Simon unbuckled his gun belt and handed it to her.
He watched her hand the belt in the hallway closet. Right above the
shotgun that leaned against the wall.
"I was just passing through. Heading back to see my folks in Staunton."
Simon took another large of water. The ice cubes numbed his lips.
"I've been working up around DC."
She nodded her head sympathetically. He finished his water, embarrassed
by the silence but unable to find anything else worth saying. "Thanks for
the water." He set the glass carefully on the table and wiped his hands
nervously on his pants. "I was wondering if I could ask one more favor. I
can't pay you or anything, but if it wouldn't be any bother I was wondering
if you'd mind me sleeping on your porch. Just to spend a night under a
roof you understand."
He felt a flush of embarrassment creep up his neck. It sounded like he
was a beggar instead of an Army officer. Before she could answer he stood
to leave.
"Why not." She looked at him with that smile again, the pink tip of her
tongue playing across her lips. "But I'll tell you what." She stood and
faced him, close enough that her brushed against his chest as she
led him into the hallway. "I've got some things that need to be done
around this rat trap of a house. If you've got some time to spend on a
few odd jobs I think I can find someplace better than the porch for you to
sleep."
Simon quickly agreed and the lady, she said her name was Laura Buckley,
led him into the back yard. Pointing at a huge pile of wood, she handed
him a wood maul and showed him where to stack the wood before she
went back inside. He started splitting the wood, stacking it neatly
against the fence so that it wouldn't fall over.
Every so often he would see her watching him through the kitchen door.
It was dusk before she called him in from the kitchen stoop. Simon wiped
the sweat from his brow and collected his jacket from the fence, anxious
for dinner.
She moved his rucksack into the smaller bedroom and showed him where the
shower was. Simon couldn't believe his luck as he stood under the hot
shower. After scrubbing the grime off his skin, he stood dripping in the
shower, his skin looking healthy and pink for a change. Pushing aside the
curtain, he wiped water from his eyes as he stepped over the rim of the
tub.
Lucky or not, he wasn't ready for the sight in front of him. There,
perched on the laundry hamper, sat Laura with her legs crossed, with one
hand teasing a pert nipple. She wore nothing but her crooked smile. Her
medium sized were only a shade lighter than the rest of her tan
body. As she uncrossed her legs, he could see that the same could be said
of her closely trimmed mound.
She tossed him a small towel. Leaning back against the wall, she let
one hand lightly trace across her firm stomach to rest at the top of her
slit. Her nostrils dilated as she took a deep breath of hot humid air.
"Go on." Her voice was husky. "Dry off. I want to watch you before we
go into the bedroom."
There was no mistaking what she planned for him once they got into the
bedroom. He dried off with the towel, never taking his eyes from hers.
When he was done, she slid off her perch and pressed her body against his,
raising her lips for a kiss.
"Give the lady what she wants." Simon muttered as he bent to kiss her.
His cock swelled as their damp bodies pressed together. He ran his hand
along her spine to the cleft of her ass cheeks, pulling her tightly against
him. They stood kissing and groping each other for several minutes.
Finally Laura came up for air.
Squeezing his ass with both hands, she ground her stomach against his
turgid cock one last time before taking his hand and leading him into the
master bedroom. Simon's cock bobbed in front of him, pointing at her ass
like a divining rod.
She stood on the small oval throw rug in front of the bed and grasped
his pole with one hand. Leaning from the waist she quickly licked the
clear pre-cum from his cock head. Simon groaned with pleasure. He'd
forgotten how good it could feel.
Looking back up from his cock, Laura teased him. "If I let you now,
you've got to promise that you'll get it up again for my pussy."
Without waiting for an answer she knelt in front of him, still holding
his cock in her fist. Starting at the head, she licked and nibbled her way
from its tip to his balls. Holding his cock up against his stomach she
licked his balls, first one than the other testicle into her mouth.
Simon could feel the working its way through his cock. He felt her
finger slide under his balls and tickle the spot between his sack and his
asshole. Then she drew a line along the bottom of his pole with her hot
tongue, making him groan as he thrust his hips toward her mouth in a silent
plea for more. His balls tightened and it felt as if his cock was going to
erupt like a volcano but Laura's tight grip on the base of his penis held
him in check.
She knew what she was doing. Looking up at his face from underneath his
cock, she smiled as she popped the swollen purple cockhead into her mouth.
Bobbing her head in slow measured strokes she took all eight inches of his
tumescent meat into her mouth until he felt himself nudge the back of her
throat. She paused.
He held her hair back from her face so that he could watch her him. There was something beautiful about a woman cock and Laura
was definitely an artist at work. Her eyes were closed, not tightly but
almost as if she were dreaming. Then she pressed her head forward and let
his cock into her throat until her nose buried itself in the dark curls at
the base of his shaft.
She deep throated him for a few more strokes before releasing her grasp
on his member. Simon felt his cock explode. An cry escaped from
his lips as his seed, held back by her tight grip, now flooded her mouth in
hot spurts. Laura swallowed as much as she could, her throat working
as the torrent poured down her throat, some of it spilling on to her chin
and breasts.
Simon felt his knees weaken and he placed his hands on her shoulders to
steady himself. Laura, her lips still coated in his seed, held his
hips as she let his still cock out of her mouth. Coming to her feet,
she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him deeply. He could taste the strange
salty flavor of his on her tongue and smell it on her skin.
Breaking the kiss, she steered him backwards on to the bed. He laid
across the bed spread, his feet still on the floor and his still leaking
cock flopped over on his thigh.
"I've got another job for you to do while you recuperate" she said as
she climbed over his chest to straddle his chin.
He didn't need her to tell him what to do next. The musky smell of her
swollen vulva enveloped him. Simon flattened his tongue and used it to
plow a furrow between her smooth labia from her to her clit. Her
sharp intake of breath told him that he was doing all right. She rose on
her knees, pressing her against his face, while he concentrated on
licking and her labia, carefully avoiding contact with her
distended nubbin.
"Gahhhhdammm. That's it. Lick me. That's it baby, suck my cunnie.
That's what I want." She pushed herself against his chin as he probed her
love tunnel with his tongue. Her juices threatened to drown him but he
gladly lapped up the sweet syrupy fluid.
Pulling her off his mouth, he let his tongue lead the way up her slit
toward her clit. Flicking his tongue against her clit hood, Simon made her
squirm before he placed his mouth over her clit and in. Laura
clamped his head between her firm thighs like a vise but he maintained the
suction on her delicate nub. Her orgasm ripped through her making her
plunge and buck like a rodeo bronco.
Simon didn't release her until she slumped forward on to the bed.
Gently rolling her off his face, he climbed up to lay beside her as she
struggled to catch her breath. He brushed hair out of her eyes and quietly
held her. The lay silent for a moment and then Simon could feel her small
warm hand stroking his cock back into rigidity.
He rolled on to his back and let her caress him. Pulling her closer, he
nuzzled against her breast, a nipple into his mouth and teasing it
until it became hard. She pushed him back as she leaned over to the night
stand and fumbled with the drawer.
Retrieving a small packet, she ripped open the foil and held the condom
gingerly between her fingertips. "Would you mind?"
"Not at all." Hell, he didn't care if she wanted him to smear molasses
on his ass and dance the fandango as long as he got to put his cock inside
her.
Simon wanted to take it slow and gentle, trying to make it last but his
body got away from him. He surprised himself with his energy. She threw
her ankles over his shoulders, spreading herself for his penetration.
There was no time for endearments, the only sounds in the room where the
squeaking bed springs, the wet slap of their skin as he pounded his cock
into her cunt, and her grunts has his cock bottomed out on her cervix at
the end of each stroke. Even though they had both just and neither was
a teenager, they fucked each other into a dripping sweat. Throwing his
head back Simon cried out, his filling the rubber. Laura was only
seconds behind him, her velvety soft quivering in orgasmic spasms
against his iron hard cock.
He collapsed on top of her and felt his chest burn as he gasped for air.
She placed her hand against his chest and felt his heart hammering inside
his ribs. Simon rolled off her to let her breathe and lay on the bed as if
dead.
Letting his eyes run across the room and its furnishings, he idly looked
for clues about this woman who had taken him in off the street like a lost
puppy. Like the rest of the house, everything was neat. Serviceable but
not expensive. His gaze found a silver frame. There she was,
younger and tanner in her lacy white gown, but definitely the same woman.
In her arms was a skinny in Air Force blue.
She must have seen what he was looking at because she cuddled against
him, covering his mouth with hers, before whispering in his ear. "That
worked up my appetite. Care for dinner?"
They ate a hot filling meal before sitting on the couch and watching the
TV news. The government was claiming victory in the cities but the
countryside still had problems with people disappearing from their homes
and gangs looting small towns. Pushing the big bad world out they fell
into each other's arms, ending the evening with her riding his cock on the
couch before retiring to separate beds.
The next morning she asked about his plans once he got to Staunton. He
told her his over breakfast. Looking at him over the rim of her
coffee mug she asked, "Would you like to earn some money? Then you could
buy everything you need."
Simon stopped chewing and looked up. "What do I have to do?" He tried
to keep his voice from sounding too suspicious.
Laura didn't seem to notice as she continued. "It's nothing too
difficult. I need you to bring something back for me." She paused to see
if he was interested. Seeing that he was, she continued. "All you need to
do is follow this dirt road to the end. You'll find a small concrete
building. Open the outside door, go down the stairs, and you'll find a big
iron door."
Simon was still suspicious, but he pulled a notepad out of his cargo
pocket and started taking notes. Seeing this, she slowed down to let him
write.
"Beside the door is a button with a little indicator. Push the button
until it goes green. The Air lock will release and the door will open. Go
through this door, and the next, and then down the stairs and through the
third door." Simon scribbled quickly. "You must make sure that each door
is closed behind you before the next will open."
"What about guards?" He asked.
"No. There isn't anyone up there. Not anymore." Her voice got softer
at the end.
"What do you want me to do once I get inside?"
Holding up a shiny brass key, she said "Find the door that this unlocks
and bring me the briefcase that's inside."
"Anything else?"
"No, you can keep anything else you find. I'm sure that there will be
lots of money, plenty of supplies too."
"And all you want is a briefcase?"
"Yes. It belonged to my husband. He kept his things in there. Just
sentimental things, but worth a fortune to me you understand." Simon just
nodded his head as if agreeing with her.
He finished his meal, shouldered his pack, and set out on the dirt road.
Looking back over his shoulder he noticed a strange expression on her face
as she watched him walk away. But since he had no where else to go, he
continued up the clay road until he came to its end.
The tall chain link gate stood open. Inside he saw a little concrete
building, no larger than a storage shed, with a gray metal door. Parked
between that and a large, smooth, metal oval in the ground, was a black
Suburban. Simon looked around, but there was no one to be seen. The grass
was starting to get a little high but everything still looked normal. The
SUV looked like it had been sitting out on the clay for a little while;
spiders had started to build webs on the side mirrors and the shiny sides
had been spattered with rain and mud.
Satisfied that he wasn't walking into an ambush, he walked up and tried
the door handle. Silently swinging on well oiled hinges, the door opened
on to a concrete stairway. Passing through three doors just the way Laura
told him, Simon entered the missile control facility.
Calling out from the stairs, he announced himself. The place looked
lived in but he couldn't find anyone. The first room had a sign on the
door that read "Ready Room." An set in a corner. The other side of
the room had a small snack area with a coffee pot and refrigerator.
Everything was and shabby but neat. Even the boxes of microwave
popcorn stood in a line on the end of the counter like soldiers on parade.
Rooting through the storage cabinets he found food. The weapons rack
held a pair of brand new 9mm pistols, and plenty of ammo. He stuffed his
loot into his rucksack and felt like he'd hit the jackpot. Then he
remembered Laura's key. He tried the doors in the Ready Room but the key
didn't fit any of them. Exiting the Ready Room, he went down the metal
grill stairs and opened the door into the Control Room.
There had been a gunfight. Three people lay dead. They had been dead
for several days but the air conditioner had kept them from smelling too
bad. Unfortunately they smelled bad enough to make the room reek and
Simon's head swim. Two of the bodies wore suits; the third had an Air
Force blue set of coveralls. One of the suits lay dead in front of a door
at the far end of the room. From the way he lay, it looked like the suit
had shot into the door, trying to blow open the lock, when the Air Force
guy shot him in the back. Suit #2 had obviously shot the crewman but had
been shot in the process.
It had taken the Zoomie some time to die. A smear of blood showed where
he had dragged himself across the room toward the telephone. He hadn't
made it. Simon rolled the body over. His name tag said Bland and he
looked young. Well at least Lieutenant Bland had died at his post, Simon
thought as he mechanically patted down the body, stuffing Bland's wallet
into his cargo pocket. Making his way across the room, he quickly rifled
through the Suits' pockets. He didn't know what he was looking for but he
collected their wallets, watches and jewelry all the same.
Simon didn't know what to make of this scene. All the equipment was
still on, humming electrically under the sporadic churn of the air
conditioner. Looking at the screens he didn't see anything that looked
like an alarm and then he turned his attention to the door. Although Suit
#1 had shot at the door, the lock still held. Fishing Laura's key out of
his pocket, he slowly opened the door. Another Air Force officer, this one
older than the first, lay slumped across the desk, his blood making a pool
under his head. Suit #1 might not have gotten the lock, but he scored this
guy, Simon thought.
Without touching the corpse, Simon looked around the office. Behind the
desk sat a large black briefcase. He checked the catches. It was locked.
Simon placed it near the door and turned back to the desk. The front of
the coverall was dark with dried blood but Simon didn't need to read the
name tag to know that it would read Buckley. His stomach rolling, Simon
searched through the officer's pockets but found nothing other than a
wallet and a wrist watch. Feeling like a scavenger, Simon pocketed them
both and quickly looked into the desk drawers. They were even emptier than
the man's pockets.
By this time the smell of the bodies was making him nauseous. His
pockets stuffed with the dead men's personal belongings, Simon picked up
the brief case and swiftly left the room. He picked up speed as he climbed
the stairs, impatiently yanking on the doors as the indicators turned
green. Finally reaching the surface, he took a deep breath of clean air,
grateful to be out of that concrete tomb.
Looking down at the briefcase, he told himself that he didn't care what
was in it. He would take it back to Laura and continue on his way. He
bent over to pick it up but, before he could straighten, he heard the
metallic click of a gun's safety catch. Keeping his hands out in front of
him, Simon slowly straightened.
A voice calmly addressed him from behind the Suburban. "Don't bother."
Laura stepped out from the truck's shadow, the barrel of her shotgun
pointed steadily at his midsection. "I can manage everything from here on
out."
"They're all dead in there, you know." Simon tried to appear calm but he
held his hands up in front of his chest all the same.
"I thought as much." The shotgun's barrel jerked toward the left,
motioning him to move that way. "But I've cried all that I'm going to.
The world fell apart but he still went to work. Left me all by myself like
he always did." She choked back a sob and the barrel wavered. Regaining
control of her emotions, she clenched her hands around the stock until her
knuckles turned white. Simon worried she'd pull the trigger without
meaning to. "I followed him for 15 years and now I've got some payback
coming."
Simon slowly sidestepped to the left, watching her and the way she held
the shotgun. He waited for her to reach for the case, counting on her not
knowing how heavy it was. When she stooped to pick up the briefcase, the
barrel dropped slightly and Simon saw his opening. Without a second
thought, he drew his pistol and fired. Laura's beautiful face looked
surprised as the bullets' impact threw her to the ground, two bright holes blossoming on her chest.
He didn't look at her again, stepping across her corpse to retrieve the
case. Opening the Suburban's door, he carefully set the case and the
rucksack full of food in the passenger's footwell. Wiping the sweat off
his face with his sleeve, he emptied his pockets on the seat. Quickly
sorting the cash from the other things, he stuffed the roll into his
pockets and shut the door.
Suit #1 had been the driver, and the Government motor pool key tag told
Simon that the Suits were from the White House. He spent a second or two
wondering what the White House had wanted so bad that they sent two to
an out of the way place like this, but the truck turned over easily and,
leaving the body of the woman he'd enjoyed only a few hours before laying
on the sunbaked clay road, Simon turned the vehicle around and headed down
the road toward town.
It took almost an hour to reach the highway and another thirty minutes
to see the city limits signs. By the time he entered Staunton the fuel
warning light was on. The gas lasted him long enough to get into town but
the Suburban died in the hotel parking lot.
Dropping his rucksack and the briefcase in front of the reception desk,
he asked to register. Sweaty and dressed in a work worn set of battle
fatigues, Simon knew that he looked like hell but at least he'd bathed
recently. He told the that he only wanted the room long enough
to find his but the suspicious look that came back across the desk
told Simon that he wasn't believed. The clerk wasn't going to give him a
room and it took an extra twenty to get him the keys to a quiet room
overlooking the downtown area.
The cash from the control facility kept Simon in style for several days.
He let himself go, indulging in the best the town had to offer. The cash
and the credit cards kept the food and booze coming. He made friends
without trying and the women seemed to jump into his bed. He bought new
clothes, looking more like a prosperous office worker than a desperate
vagrant. Now he was well dressed, well fed, and well laid.
Waking one morning after a particularly good party, he untangled himself
from the two that had come up to his room and lurched into the
bathroom. The hot water pellets stung his face as he tried to wash the
cobwebs out of his bourbon soaked brain. Soaping up, he remembered the
girls' vigorous performance the night before.
They had met in a loud, dark, smoky bar. The kind where everyone sat in
U-shaped booths and no one could hear a conversation from more than 3 feet
away. Simon, looking stylish in the suit he'd just gotten from the
tailor's, was gauging his prospects as he watched the women circulate
around the edges of the dance floor. He watched her as she brushed her
long curly hair from her face, looking around the crowded room as if
searching for someone. Their eyes met.
His eyes seemed to burn away her satin dress and expose her buxom tan
curves. She returned his gaze with equal frankness, noting his healthy tan
and expensive clothes. Simon indicated the empty seat at his booth with a
flourish of his hand. Her lips turned up at the corners, a competitive
grin not unlike one worn by pool sharks as they approach the table.
A few drinks later she leaned against him, pressing her large firm against his chest. "You don't need to increase your overhead," she said
nodding at the empty bottle of champagne. "We can take this party to
someplace quieter if you'd like."
Throwing a hundred dollar bill on the table, they walked out arm in arm.
If she was impressed with his casually tossing a week's wages on to the
table she didn't show it. They climbed into the big white sedan and
settled into the seats as the chauffer drove them back towards town.
The wasted no time getting down to business and had Simon's unbuttoned before they'd cleared the parking lot. Her tight skirt rode up
and exposed the tops of her white stockings. Simon ran his finger tips
lightly along her firm thighs. Reaching her garters, he looked into her
light blue eyes and smiled.
"What's your name, again?"
Simon really hadn't heard her tell him her name, most of their
conversation has been lost is the club's thumping bass. He unsnapped her
garter and caressed the top of her thigh. She rolled onto her knees and
pressed her crotch toward his seeking hand.
"Call me Cheryl."
She had his off and was working on his belt. Fishing his cock out
of his boxers, Cheryl squeezed its base firmly, wetting her lips as its
head swelled and turned a darker plum color. She extended her tongue and
licked Simon's cock head like an ice cream cone, teasing his urethra with
light tongue flicks.
Simon held her hair back so that he could watch as Cheryl slowly took
his and now throbbing cock into her mouth. His breath whistled
through his clenched teeth as he felt his cock reach the back of her mouth.
Swallowing, Cheryl buried her nose in his pubes as she took his cock into
her throat.
Glancing up, Simon saw the driver, a female Amer-Asian, watching
them in the rearview mirror. The sign behind the front seat said that her
name was Dawn. As they waited for a stoplight, he watched as Dawn slid her
hand into her blouse and played with one of her nipples.
The combination of champagne and being watched made him feel crazy and
Simon gently pulled Cheryl's mouth from his hard cock and scooted his hips
around to give the driver a better look. He pushed Cheryl back against the
seat and unsnapped her dress. Reaching behind her back, Cheryl unfastened
her bra and unveiled a perfect set of tan breasts, nipples taut, erect, and
ready for his attention.
Cupping her breast, Simon lifted her swollen nipple to his lips and
sucked her nipples. Using one hand, Simon lightly squeezed her and
stroked her nipple with his thumb. With his other hand, Simon slid her
panties aside to give him access to her snatch. Cheryl's vulva shone
slightly, the soft glow of the dome light highlighting her deep tan lines.
Looking at her smooth beaver, Simon told Cheryl how happy he was that
she shaved since he hated getting pubic hair caught in his throat. Cheryl
giggled, spread her legs wider, and invited him to take a closer look.
Using his tongue to plow a furrow between her labia, Simon lowered his
mouth to her musky nest and tasted her thick, sweet juices. He her
labia into his mouth, lightly nipping at her swollen lips. Her juices
covered his chin and Simon shifted his attention to Cheryl's red, throbbing
clit. He covered her nubbin with his mouth, lightly scraping his teeth
across her most sensitive spot, and made her squeal.
"Unnnhhh." Cheryl pulled Simon's face from her super-sensitive twat.
"You gotta fuck me. I'm so wet."
They arranged themselves on the backseat so that Cheryl could straddle
his legs. She guided his cock into her wet and began riding him,
taking more of his length with each reverse thrust. Once she had taken his
nine inches inside her, Simon took her hips tightly and set a slow pace of
deep strokes.
Cheryl became vocal as his cock stimulated the depths of her cunt.
"Faster. . .fuck me faster. Gotta cum!" Cheryl held on to the seat's
headrest, white-knuckled in her frenzy.
Simon was surprised when he felt the car stop. Cheryl, abruptly brought
out of her reverie, quickly covered her with crossed arms and asked
where they were. The driver rolled down the privacy partition and told
them that they were in the alley behind the hotel.
Simon grinned at the driver. "Well Dawn. What did you have in mind
now?"
Returning his smile, she wasted no time in turning off the engine and
coming back to join them. Dawn enjoyed Cheryl's hungry stare as she
disrobed. Simon refilled his champagne flute as he enjoyed the sight of
Dawn's slender body. His cock stirred as the slipped off
her cotton and revealed her pale, lightly furred pussy. Dawn sank
to all fours between the seats, her small barely acknowledging gravity
as she crawled toward the pair of lovers.
Kneeling between Cheryl's legs, Dawn lowered her face to her steaming
crotch. Simon watched Dawn eat pussy, slurping and moaning as she attacked
Cheryl's sopping wet cunt. If Cheryl's erratic breathing and coarse cries
were any measure, Dawn was doing a good job.
Dawn wiggled her ass, signaling to Simon that she was ready for his
attention. Simon wasted no time rubbing his hard throbbing cock along her
slit, smearing her juices on his cock as he eased his penetration.
Dawn was so tight he had to work his cock inside her slowly, feeling his
cock head force its way down her firm, velvety passage. By the time he was
able to press his balls against her sopping wet Cheryl had already
cum. Simon bit his lip and tried to make himself last but the incredible
sensation of her grabbing and his cock drove him over the
edge. He pinned Dawn's slim hips against his own as he shot his into
her tight, spasming love tunnel.
The car stank of sweat and sex. Cheryl, lazily stroking Dawn's lustrous
black hair, smiled at him. "Got enough for a second round?"
It took a few moments to untangle themselves, in fact both ladies
discarded their after using them to wipe. They all adjourned to
his room at that point, sneaking upstairs in the service elevator, and
continued their little orgy. The fell asleep in each other's arms.
Simon, his cock nestled snugly in the cleft of Cheryl's ass cheeks, had
cupped one of her large and fell into a deep slumber.
The water's sting had brought him back to wakefulness and Simon slowly
climbed out of the tiny shower. By the time he reemerged from the
bathroom, the were gone but he didn't worry. If they came back for
that evening's party, that was fine. If not there were plenty of other
playmates, even in a little town like this. It wasn't until he had taken a
nap and decided to go out for something to eat that he realized that they
had stolen his wallet.
Shocked into sobriety, he quickly accounted for the rest of his
belongings, noting that the hadn't taken anything from his rucksack
and the keys to the Suburban were still where he left them. Rubbing his
hands across his stubbled chin he tried to force his mind to clear.
Although he still had food and weapons, he was broke and didn't think that
the hotel had started accepting barter for rent. Looking out the window,
he made up his mind.
He reached into his ruck and pulled out a small waterproof bag. Pouring
its contents on the bed, he selected two watches and a ring. He stuffed
them into his jacket pocket and pushed the ruck back onto the closet floor,
tipping over the heavy briefcase in the process. He promised himself that
he would have to figure out that case one of these days but right now he
had things to do.
Simon made a bee line for a pawn shop he'd spotted a few days ago. He'd
gotten less than a sixth of their value but the store cases were full of
expensive watches and jewelry. The cash would keep him for another few
days but then he'd have to come up with another plan.
Returning to the hotel, Simon felt the clerk watching him carefully as
he crossed the lobby. "Probably thinks I'm skipping out," Simon thought to
himself. Reflecting on this as he walked up the stairs, "And that might
not be a bad idea."
That night, Simon rode the elevator into the basement. Making sure that
he was unobserved, he quickly walked out of the loading dock and
disappeared into the shadows. Although he hadn't paid the bill, he had
left the keys to the Suburban on the nightstand. He salved his conscience
with the thought that the management could get something for it as he moved
quickly through the downtown area.
He walked across the park, careful to stay in the open. The remains of
Little League games still littered the ground but the families had gone
home for dinner. He left the park and walked up a steep hill into an residential area. Windows were lit and Simon could see people inside
watching TV, talking, and eating. He felt out of place, as if he didn't
belong to that world anymore.
Simon walked down the tree lined street until he came to the house that
had advertised a room for rent. Knocking on the door, he waited while a
woman answered the door. Even though he'd cleaned up, a frown creased her
face as she blatantly inspected him. Although she didn't like his looks
anymore than the hotel clerk had, once again cash provided all the
credentials he needed. She insisted on a month's rent in advance and Simon
tried to look casual as he paid it, but he knew that he was now living at
the end of his string. At least he got one meal a day from his landlady.
"I hope she can cook."
The days passed. He found out that his parents, who had retired and
moved to town only seven years ago, had been killed by some epidemic that
had swept through the area last winter. He had spent a quiet hour staring
at their modest head stone but it didn't have any answers for him. Simon
watched the news like everyone else. All of it was bad. The newspapers
and showed the nation continuing to slip into chaos as cities rioted and
small groups published manifestos and held rallies. People saw terrorists
in every shadow. Not all of it was imagined. Rumors of a slave trade in
refugees circulated, although the official news sources played this down.
Looking at the calendar, Simon saw that he only had one more week before
his next month's rent was due. His wallet was flat. He had to come up
with another plan. Unfortunately moving on again didn't look too good.
The news said that homeowners, worried about robberies, were shooting
refugees as they walked on the roads. He took another shot of cheap
bourbon and his empty stomach growled as the fiery liquid burned down his
throat.
Simon fished the waterproof bag out of the reservoir where he'd
hidden it and felt its weight. The only thing left was a big watch. He
had saved the silo commander's Rolex until the very end but now he wasn't
sure if it would bring a high enough price to keep him sheltered and fed
for much longer. Taking the large gaudy watch out of the bag, he held it
up to the light. Turning it over, he found a faint inscription on the back
of the watch. "Laura loves Gerald, Happy Valentine's Day"
Pushing back any feeling of sentimentality, he reminded himself that
Laura pointed a gun at him, and it wasn't to get back the watch.
Remembering that day at the silo, Simon pulled the briefcase out from under
the bed. The few times he'd bothered to look at it, he had run his hands
across the pebbled black plastic surface, probing the steel hinges and
locks for any weakness, but had given up easily. He brushed the dust off
the handle, rolling the combination locks on each clasp with his thumbs.
Idly he spun the dials to different numbers but the case remained locked.
He hoisted the case, ready to return it to its resting place under the bed,
when inspiration struck. He set it down on the desk.
"Feeling lucky?" He said to himself in his best Dirty Harry imitation.
He spun the dials to 0-2-1-4 and pushed the catches.
<<CLICK>>
Simon's heart stopped. Carefully laying the case flat on the bed he
gently lifted the lid, afraid of what might pop out or blow up in his face.
Realizing that he was holding his breath, he slowly exhaled. The inside of
the case was sleek black vinyl. The bottom of the case was filled with
what looked like a laptop and a telephone handset. Velcroed to the top was
an antenna, cables that looked like they would connect the antenna to the
laptop, and a paper wrapped package.
"Well, well, well. What have we here?" It might have been cliché but it
fit the situation.
The package turned out to be a envelope, double wrapped with heavy
brown paper sealed with strapping tape.
"Here goes." He had to use his pocket tool to cut through the tape and
thick paper. Inside the envelope was a full length photo of a woman and a
perforated piece of plastic card. Simon sat back in his chair as he
considered her. 'Good looking, probably in her 30's, looks tough,' he
thought to himself. On the back of the photo was a number written (32)
2/525.21.11.
Like a kid with a new stereo, he carefully unpacked and setup the SATCOM
phone, working on the theory that the cables went in the only plugs that
fit them. When he'd run out of cables, he opened the laptop and pointed
the parasol antenna out the window. Crossing his fingers and resisting the
urge to take another pull from the whiskey bottle, Simon pushed and held
the power button on the laptop.
"One. . . Two. . . Three." <<BEEP>> Green lights and a quiet whir
showed that the machine, at least, was on. He sat back and watched as
cryptic messages quickly scrolled across the dim screen. When something
that looked like a user interface finally appeared, Simon carefully looked
at each button and label before making the next step. Everything was green
except for the bar next to the label "Signal Strength." Moving the laptop
to where he could reach the window he set the antenna on the sill and
slowly panned it across the horizon until a green bar appeared in the
"Signal Strength" display.
Simon felt that he was playing a bigger game now. He pulled his sweat
dampened Tshirt away from his chest and rolled his neck to release the
tension in his muscles. Taking a deep breath he used the roller ball to
select the "Connect" button on the interface. He had expected to hear high
pitched, modem-like noises but the machine sat enigmatically on the desk,
calm except for the letters swirling across the interface and the dimmed
buttons turning different colors.
After a few seconds, the top right corner of the interface blinked a
confident "CONNECTED" and Simon picked up the handset. Reassured by the
normal sounding dial tone, he laid the photo upside down on the desk and
tapped the number into the keypad. He heard normal telephone sounds as the
call routed through the exchanges and then three rings but he was
disconnected before anyone picked up.
The interface still said that he was connected so he tried again. Same
result. He studied the interface, looking for a clue or message to tell
him what was happening. He found what he was looking for in the window
with all the text. The message read, in small block letters, "No crypto
synch." Looking back at the terminal, he noticed a small slot at the top of
the keyboard. He slid the plastic card in, satisfied that it only fit one
way, and hit the "REDIAL" button.
Again the clicks and whooshes of a long distance phone call came through
the handset. Three rings. Simon held his breath, half expecting to be
disconnected again, when a woman's voice answered, "Allo?"
"Yes. Hello. Who is this?" Simon gripped the handset tightly.
"This is Juliet Two Three." The voice paused. "Where are you? What do
you need?"
Deciding that the voice was his only hope, Simon told her "I'm in
Staunton, Virginia. I need a new life."
Another pause. "I'll meet you on the steps of the Catholic church
tomorrow at 1400. I'll wear white. You bring a newspaper. Acknowledge."
"Yeah. Yeah, right. Catholic church, 1400, bring a newspaper." Simon
repeated as he scribbled down the instructions. The line went dead. Simon
set the handset back in its cradle and took a healthy pull off his bottle.
Empty, it made a satisfying thump as it hit the bottom of the trash can.
He reached for the phone book. Time to find the Catholic church.
Staunton had an excessive number of churches given its population, but
it only had one Catholic church. The next day Simon timed himself to
arrive at five 'til two. He stood downhill from the long granite staircase
watching people walking by the church, wondering which of them belonged to
the voice on the phone when movement caught his eye. He looked at the top
of the staircase. A tall woman in a white business suit was descending the
stairs.
Simon left the shelter of the store front he'd been standing in and
moved toward her. He felt slightly foolish, his newspaper stuck under his
arm like a spy in an Cold War movie, but he didn't see where he had the
choice. He reached the bottom of the stairs first and waited for the
woman.
Who ever this woman was, what ever else she was, she was an eye-full.
She was beautiful and carried herself like she knew it. Her hair
was cut shoulder length, framing a narrow tan face that held two bright
blue eyes. Her skirt showed just enough to make you aware that
there was plenty more where that came from and plenty of her tan,
muscularly slender legs to make a think about getting crushed to death.
By the time she reached the bottom of the stair case, Simon realized
that he'd been staring. She looked at him as if she could read his mind
and said, "Follow me" before leading him into the brownstone office
building across the street. Simon didn't mind following her, it gave him a
better chance to watch her ass move.
They reached an office and the woman used her key to let them in. She
threw her bag on a table and her jacket across the back of a chair in two
smooth movements. d Turning to face him, she put her hands on her hips.
"All right. Just a few questions." She shook her hair out of her face.
"Does this skirt make my ass look big?"
Simon stammered, caught completely off guard. He was ready to answer
any number of questions but that wasn't one of them. He started to come up
with a reply when she laughed.
"Relax buddy. Sit down take a load off. Just trying to cut the tension
here." She indicated a chair where he should sit. "Now then. You said you
need a new life. Let's see what we've got in here."
Taking advantage of her pause, Simon said, "Uhhh. Look I don't know
what to call you."
She stopped her casual chatter and looked at him, her eyes hard and
glinting. "You're new at this aren't you? All right buddy, here's the
deal. You call me Juliet and I call you. . . let's see. . . I'll call
you Daniel."
"But my name is. . ."
She held up both hands to stop him. "I don't care. I'm telling you
that in this office, your name is Daniel. If things work out, your new
identity will have whatever name you want, but if you call me you're
Daniel. Get it? And if you give me any crap about it I'll call you
something like Hephzibah."
She waited for him to nod in agreement. "OK, back to business." She
gave him a shrewd look and leaned back into her big leather chair. "You
walk in here with a mobile base station but you're as jumpy as a virgin in
a whorehouse. New clothes but you look like three day shit. When was
the last time you ate something decent?" Her bright nails tapped
against the desktop. Seeming to make up her mind, she continued. "Daniel
wants a new life. What can you do, Danny boy? Got any experiences that
would be useful?"
"I've been in management for a few years."
"Any special field?"
"Communications. Info Tech. Network Management. Mostly in public
service kind of jobs. That sort of thing."
"Hmmm." She looked at her hand held computer screen carefully, making
faces at it and jabbing at it with the little stylus. "OK I got a lead."
She looked up at him. "Stand up and let me take a good look at you." He
complied. "Well Danny, image is everything and right now your look screams
'Run Away!' But don't worry I'll fix you right up. I've got some phone
calls to make but in six hours you won't recognize yourself. And neither
will anyone else." She smiled at her own joke.
She hit the intercom button on the phone with her dark lacquered
nails. "He's ready for you Dee."
A skinny came and whisked him out of the office. For the next
two hours he was clipped, steamed, shaved, and manicured. Then it was a
whirlwind visit from a tailor before he had his taken in different
sets of clothes. Five hours later he sat back in Juliet's office,
exhausted but excited at the transformation that had been worked on him.
Reaching into a desk drawer she pulled out a small leather-bound
notebook, the type of personal planner that some executives carry and
tossed it at him. "Study this. It's the new you."
Simon looked at the contents of the notebook. Inside were Federal ID
cards, a passport, credit cards, and a Virginia driver's license - all in
his name.
"I ran your ID. The background scan came back with a scout," she
teased.
Simon held up the ID card and looked at Juliet quizzically. "Federal
Emergency Management Agency?"
"Yeah." She had pulled bundles of used dollar bills out of her desk and
was pulling off the rubber bands. "It's management. No specific skills
required. And it gives you a car and freedom to move around." She sat back
in her chair with a self satisfied look. "Perfect. Don't you agree?"
Simon couldn't help but notice that her tan legs went all the way to a
high cut set of black panties. "Yeah. I guess so."
Part of the treatment had been a new house. Juliet dropped him at the
front door. "Your stuff's been moved over." She handed him a leather case
about the size of a brick. "Here's a new phone. We've kept the base
station. Your car's in the garage. They're expecting you at work at
eight." He got out of the car and leaned over to say goodbye.
"But. I've got to know. Who are you?
"I'm your fairy fucking godmother." She beat him to the last word. "Try
not to fuck this up."
The house was a great little 1950's bungalow with all the comforts of
home. They'd even stocked the fridge. Simon spent most of the night
wandering around the little house marveling at the snapshots and
accoutrements that Juliet's people had picked out for him.
The next morning came bright and early but Simon was ready to go.
Unable to sleep, he'd been at the office at seven thirty and found it
locked. Embarrassed by his eagerness, he found a cafe around the corner
and waited over a cup of coffee. He picked a booth where he could watch
the door and settled down for some breakfast. The local paper was full of
articles about refugees and the charities that had come to help them.
One of the groups, The New Life Chapel, had a full page ad exhorting
people to donate time, money, and unwanted items to their "Hostel". The
picture featured a pale, thin, bearded handing out clothing and hot
food to two smiling teens. Simon had just started to read the accompanying
article when he was distracted.
Two had walked into the café, chatting while they waited for their
orders. They were obviously regulars by the way the taciturn lady behind
the counter brightened when she greeted them. The skinny was Dee,
Juliet's secretary, but the other was the one that caught his eye.
She was medium height and thin, but it was the way her dark framed
her green eyes, like twin emeralds set in alabaster, that held his
attention.
The left just as quickly as they had entered. Coffee in hand they
walked into the same office building that was Simon's destination. Shaking
himself out of his reverie, Simon decided to follow them and get on with
the day.
The first day at the regional FEMA office was remarkable in only three
respects. First, as Mr. Jones the office manager took him around to meet
the other staffers, Simon was pleased to find the same beautiful redhead
that he had seen in the café. Jones introduced her as Arabella Hood, the
volunteer coordinator, a position that would require the two of them to
work closely together. After that Simon silently thanked Juliet and
decided that his life was starting to look up.
The second incident was less pleasing, however. About mid-afternoon,
just as Simon's head started to ache from reading stacks of reports, an
unannounced visitor barged into his office and sat down uninvited in a
chair. The thin was dressed impeccably and it bothered Simon that he
had seen him before but couldn't remember where. Without any preamble, the
visitor launched into a sermon on what FEMA should be doing. Simon sat
silent, shocked by the man's arrogance, unable to get a word in edgewise.
Finally the stopped talking and caught a breath.
Simon jumped in. "Excuse me. But I'm new in town and I don't think
we've been introduced."
Without standing, the extended a soft, manicured hand. "I'm sorry.
Most folks know me through my work. I'm the Reverend James Lot."
Simon came around the desk to shake the offered hand. It was limp and
cool, like gripping a boneless dead fish. "Glad to meet you Reverend. Now
that I think about it, I was reading an article about your hostel just this
morning."
Having steered the conversation back to himself, the Reverend renewed
his diatribe on all the things that the Agency should be providing him to
further his good work. Over the course of the next hour several things
became crystal clear in Simon's mind. First, the Reverend James Lot was
the biggest egomaniac he had ever met. Second, the Reverend considered his
hostel, a small that had been pressed into service as a way station
for refugees, as his own private preserve. He wanted resources from other
people but wouldn't take any orders or allow any oversight. Third, the
Reverend dismissed the state's efforts to establish a more permanent
refugee facility at the Scout Camp west of town as doomed to
failure.
"You see, Mr. Woodsman." The Reverend's hands fluttered around as he
became agitated. "The National Guard came down here, uninvited and
unresourced, to house these DPRE's."
"Excuse me. The what?"
Looking like he was explaining something to an idiot, the Reverend
smiled condescendingly, "Displaced Persons, Refugees, and Evacuees.
Anyway, as I was saying, the Guard wants to build houses for these people.
In the first place they're taking necessary resources away from my
projects. And in the second, building homes will just encourage them to
stay. Won't it?" The Reverend paused to give Simon an opportunity to
agree.
"But Reverend, I thought that housing the DPRE's was part of the plan."
"No. No. No." His head thrust forward like a fighting rooster,
Reverend James emphasized each syllable with his soft, pale hands. "We
want to help them to return to wherever they came from. Not stay here to
disrupt our lives and drain our scarce resources."
Seeing that they weren't going to make any headway along these lines,
Simon let the subject drop but closed the interview by assuring the
Reverend that he would visit the Hostel the next day.
The last memorable incident was equally frustrating. Simon stage
managed his timing to not-so-accidentally leave the building at the same
time as Arabella. As he walked her to her car they made small talk and
Simon asked her out to dinner. She turned him down so explicitly that he
wondered if he'd ever get over the frostbite.
The next day Simon drove out to the Reverend's operation. After taking
the tour, he avoided the Reverend's staffers and wandered around talking
with several of the Hostel's inhabitants. They all had the same sad tales
of losing their homes, running out of food, and the harrowing trip out of
the city. They had come to the Valley just because it sounded safer that
the city. Only, for most of them, they had had to survive a gauntlet of
bandit gangs and hostile townspeople to make it this far. Simon knew that
these people wouldn't willingly go back.
One woman insisted on speaking with Simon in private, fairly dragging
him into one of the dorm rooms. She told him that her name was Felicia
Thompson and that she used to be a corporate lawyer in DC. She begged him
for a job, offering to do anything so that she wouldn't "get sent to The
Farm."
"What's the Farm?" The way she had said it made it sound like a specific
place, rather than any of the farms that existed up and down the Valley.
Ignoring his question, she stood and brushed the hair back from her
face. She looked tired and Simon couldn't help thinking of Laura Buckley
when he looked at her frame and hair.
He tried to think of something to comfort her but before he could say
another word, she had pulled her Tshirt over her head and started
pulling at the buttons on her jeans. Simon, trying to stop her, held up
his hands and begged for her to just talk with him.
"I know I'm not the youngest thing anymore." She lifted a small soft
breast for his inspection. "But I'm not 40 yet. I'm still pretty. " Her
voice had an edge to it, almost hysteria. "I've still got plenty to
offer."
"No. . . Please. Listen, I just want to talk with you." Simon held his
hands out in front of himself, trying to come up with a way to get her to
put her clothes back on.
Felicia got a determined look on her face. Stepping out of her pants,
she knelt in front of Simon in her white cotton panties. Pressing her body
against his legs, she pinned him back against the desk and starting pulling
at his belt. Looking down at her pathetically desperate face, Simon could
see the stray gray strand amongst her honey hair and small lines
around Felicia's eyes. Lines that she had carefully tried to disguise with
makeup. Ineffectually trying to hold up his pants with one hand and
capture her hands with the other, he kept trying to get her to calm down
and tell him about the but she got the better of him.
"You've got to understand," she told him as she wormed her hand into his
boxers and captured his cock between her chilly fingers, "I've got nothing
else to trade. I cock to get in here and I'm willing to do that and
more to stay."
She finally freed his pecker from the confines of his trousers and
wasted no more time talking. Felicia swallowed his limp member, putting
the entire thing in her mouth, and then teased and it until it
started to swell and grow.
Simon tried to get more information out of her but found it difficult to
talk with her while she him so expertly. Once she'd gotten him
hard, he got to ask one more question as she stood to remove her panties.
"Tell me about how you got in here. You said you had to suck cock?
Why?"
She told him that it was common for people to "interview" with the
Reverend before being admitted to the camp. She smiled as she proudly told
him how the Reverend had commended her enthusiastic oral performance. But
unfortunately, she admitted, she was than most of the ones he let
stay and she knew that she had to look for another situation. Having said
that, she pushed Simon back on to the desktop and climbed on top of him.
She balanced herself with one hand on his chest as she guided his stiff
cock into her furry and started fucking him. Felicia forced one of
his hands to her and squeezed, calling on him to fuck her like the
whore that she was. Simon felt his resolve weaken as Felicia's wet made squishing noises as she rose and fell on his pole. Giving in to her,
Simon placed his hands on her hips and fucked her. Later, as he fastened
his belt and straightened his tie, he gave her his card and told her that
he would return for her the next day.
Getting back into his car, he was disgusted with himself. He smelled of
her and her perfume. Driving back with the window open, Simon felt
that he should have done something to stop her from throwing herself at
him, but he wasn't sure what he could have done. He left the camp and
headed toward the Interstate to observe DPRE traffic. A few miles later he
met Arabella supervising at a rest stop that had been turned into an aid
station. Figuring that he had nothing to lose, he asked her out again and
she made it plain that she was not interested in someone who was only in
town temporarily. Her second blunt rejection, couched in terms even more
pointed than the first, stunned him and left him wondering why he had such
rotten luck with women. All the way home he pondered why the women that
threw themselves at him did so because they wanted something while the ones
that he pursued wanted nothing to do with him.
He returned home and used the "Batphone" to call Juliet. He told her
that he needed two things: information on the Reverend's and some way
of getting closer to Arabella. Juliet teased him about chasing younger
women but said that she would send the information to him by courier.
The next day Simon wondered what Juliet would be able to find as he
returned to the Hostel. He searched the grounds for Felicia but was told
that she wasn't there anymore. An unctuous staffer told him that it was
not uncommon for people to come and go from the Hostel, talking about the
DPRE's like stray cats. Simon returned to Staunton with a worrying feeling
nagging at the fringes of his mind.
That night Juliet called and took him to an exclusive club outside of
town. While it looked like a cinder block bunker, she told him that it was
popular with the younger people and that they would definitely find
Arabella there. Juliet handed a card to the doorman and escorted Simon
into the deafeningly loud, dark, smoky building.
Simon stood back and took in the scene before him as Juliet spoke with a
skinny at the bar. The owners must have designed it after Boccacio's
Hell. and women hopped up and down on the dance floor, too tightly
packed to do anything else. From the booths and alcoves that lined the
walls, the smells of marijuana and opium clashed sickeningly. Just as
Juliet returned and ook him by the arm, Simon realized that the at the
bar was none other than the enigmatic Dee, Juliet's secretary.
The loud, thumping bass drowned out whatever Juliet was trying to tell
him but he followed her up a wide flight of wooden stairs into a hallway
lined with narrow doors. Some of the doors were open, revealing couples or
in some cases groups writhing around naked on ratty mattresses or
stained rugs. Some of the rooms had spectators yelling encouragement and
instructions from the hallway. Nothing in Simon's white middle class
suburban life had gotten him ready for the hedonistic revel that he walked
through.
Juliet stopped in front of a door. Since none of the doors had numbers,
the door looked like all of the other doors in the hallway. Pulling his
ear close to her mouth so that she could be heard over the techno music
blaring from the hallway speakers she said, "You sure you want to be here?"
Simon wasn't sure he understood why she asked, but he nodded his head up
and down. Stepping back, she opened the door and waved him inside. The
room looked like some weird science fiction scene. Lit by quick flashing
strobe lights, three bodies lay entwined in a chain of firm flesh on a
couch that squatted on the threadbare carpet.
Arabella Hood sprawled on the couch, her pert pointing towards
the ceiling as a knelt between her legs, busily lapping her cunt.
Her eyes were shut and her head lolled from side to side as her partner's
tongue roamed over her sensitive clit. While Simon and Juliet watched from
the doorway, another climbed onto the arm of the couch and sat stroking
his turgid cock.
"Suck my cock Red." He placed her hand on the shaft of his cock.
The leaned over and ran her tongue around the crown of his cock
head. He thrust his hips forward, balancing precariously on the couch's
arm, to give her more access to his member. Using one hand on his cock to
steady her, the slowly fed his cock deeper and deeper into her mouth.
Simon watched as her suction hollowed her cheeks and her hands manipulated
her partner's balls.
The on his knees hadn't stopped his activity, however, and the headed had to take the cock out of her mouth as her orgasm rippled
through her body. Crying out, she clamped her thighs together, trapping
the first man's head between them. She wasn't quite through the
aftershocks of her orgasm when the on the couch arm urgently stuck his
cock in her mouth. His body stiffened and Simon could see the girl's
throat working to the man's load. She turned her head away, her
cheek painted with cum.
Simon watched in awed silence as the that had frostily rejected him
twice lay on the ratty futon couch and scooped off her throat with her
fingers. Juliet turned off the strobe and shut the door. The trio, no
longer dazzled by the stop motion lighting, welcomed her to the party.
"Jules! Stop for a second Jason," she said pushing the first away
from her pussy. "Good to see you again girl."
Arabella climbed off the couch and hugged Juliet. Juliet introduced
Simon as if Arabella had never met him before. Arabella told Simon to call
her and, without apologizing for her earlier rejections, invited him on
to the bed saying, "If you're a friend of Jules, you're in the right
place."
By the time their brief introduction was over, Juliet had stripped off
her skirt and blouse. She stood boldly beside the futon in her new
costume, transformed from a well dressed business women into a bondage diva
wearing only a spider web of leather straps and chrome chains. Simon,
seeing Juliet's body for the first time, openly admired her muscular
physique and her large firm tits. Dee had slipped into the room as well.
Her pale, thin, almost boyish figure was in complete contrast to Juliet's
tan, big and muscularly rounded ass.
Jason stood and, his cock bouncing in front of him, sauntered over
to Juliet. She smiled and together they took Dee arm in arm over to the
center of the rug. After a minute or two of arrangement, soft kisses, and
fingering, the two women arranged themselves in a 69. Dee lay on top of
Juliet and reached behind her to guide Jason's cock into her pussy. Jason
slowly slid his cock in and out of the Dee's while Juliet, who lay
between his legs, alternated between licking Dee's clit and his balls.
Simon watched as Juliet dived into the orgy but was interrupted when
Arabella told him to take his clothes off.
"Get naked or get out. Otherwise it's too creepy." Tearing his eyes off
of the scene, he started slipping out of his shoes. Arabella laid
down on the futon, stretching like a cat. "And bring me a washcloth from
the table, would you?"
Simon complied with her requests, first tossing her the dampened
washcloth and then unbuttoning his shirt. Arabella, now sure that she had
his attention, turned around on the cushions so that Simon had an
unobstructed view of her wet, swollen as she took a bath with the
cloth.
Addressing the who was still perched on the arm of the couch as
Darren, Arabella set the stage for the second round of her orgy. Rolling
on to her hands and knees, she directed Darren to replace Jason between her
legs and Simon to climb up and have his cock sucked. She took charge
immediately, directing the as they progressed from oral sex to full
penetration with a vocabulary as foul as it was varied.
Simon started to lose his inhibitions as Arabella's mouth worked its
magic on his iron hard cock. He marveled at her soft, perfect skin as he
ran his hands over her muscularly toned flanks and stomach. Reaching
underneath her, Simon caught one of her nipples between his thumb and
forefinger. Pinching it lightly, he made Arabella moan around the girth of
his cock.
Darren was the next to cum, his hips jerking as he made deep grunts. After Simon came in Arabella's mouth, the switched places.
Simon rolled Arabella over and played his tongue around the rim of her
swollen love tunnel while he waited for his cock to revive. Jason perched
over her face, his cock still dripping with Dee's spend, and Darren let Dee
revive his member.
Juliet rolled onto one elbow, her chin covered in her partners' cum.
"It's too bad I can't convince you to switch with Dee," she said to
Arabella. "I'd love to show you how good it could be."
Arabella took her mouth off Jason's balls and smiled. "I know you
would. But." She looked at the cock that throbbed inches from her face. "I
don't know. I guess it just don't have that swing if it ain't got that
thing!"
They all giggled at Arabella's joke before she leaned over and returned
her lips to Jason's cock. There was a short break in the action but when
Juliet returned wearing a strap on, Simon whistled and said, "We're not in
Kansas anymore, Toto."
Around 3 AM, Juliet and Simon left the rave and returned to Simon's
house. Juliet had fucked Dee with her latex cock while he and one of the
other guys, Darren or Josh he couldn't keep them straight, had switched
places and made Arabella scream as she came for the third time that
evening. The place was still hopping when they left and Simon said goodbye
to Arabella in the parking lot.
Juliet took him back to his house and Simon invited her in for a
nightcap. After serving coffee, Simon asked Juliet if she was interested
in sleeping over but she deferred, saying that she needed to take a shower
before going to the office.
Chapter 2: The Pied Piper Spring had passed and, with summer right
around the corner, the news from the cities along the I-95 corridor was
getting worse. Riots in the cities had wrecked many radio and stations
and vandals had managed to disable most of the relay stations as they
hunted for anything that could be salvaged and sold. Although many of the
major network stations had ceased to operate, amateur radio stations had
sprung up to pass gossip and weather around the local area. Simon liked
listening to one character that went by the pseudonym "Captain Pete" and
kept the alarm clock tuned for his early morning show.
It was six o'clock in the morning and Arabella lay awake in Simon's bed
listening to the radio. This morning, the Captain had been talking about
the large, organized groups of bandits that had moved out of DC and now
controlled I-66 from Front Royal to Manassas, effectively cutting the city
off from the Valley and its food supply. Several towns had been raided.
Some had been destroyed and the status of their inhabitants was unknown.
Refugees clogged the roadways on both sides of the Blue Ridge Mountains,
coming in droves from the ruined cities to the north and east of the
valley.
Taking in all of the bad news, Arabella took a deep breath. She had
been staring at the ceiling, thinking about her friend and mentor "Granny
Safi." Granny's hometown was back in the mountains and, if Captain Pete was
right, was sure to be cut of by the bandit gangs. Arabella knew that she
had to try to talk into leaving the small rural village she lived in
and come back to Staunton, which was better protected and supplied.
Arabella flipped her auburn hair to one side of her head and rolled onto
her side. She looked at Simon across the pillow. She had thought about
things for several days now and had finally decided to leave that morning.
Arabella had packed her vehicle the night before, listening patiently to
the arguments and protests of her boyfriend, Simon Woodsman, as he tried to
talk her out of going into the now lawless mountains alone. They had
argued back and forth until bedtime.
She had become comfortable living with Simon. In fact her only
complaint was his reluctance to talk about his past. This had been at the
center of their argument. She had ties, obligations to her past while he
was charging in the future.
The moon had shown brightly when she had crawled into the bed she
shared, surprisingly monogamously, with Simon. But now dawn had come and
cast a soft light onto his sleeping form. Arabella gently removed the bed
sheet and crawled nearer to him. Taking his turgid cock in her warm mouth,
she gave Simon a leisurely wake up call. She watched him squirm as
she tickled the sensitive spot under his balls. His face contorted with
pleasure as she jerked off his slick cock, spraying hot, on to
his stomach. They made love and then she took a shower.
Simon thought that Arabella had seen reason and was starting another
routine day until she came out of the kitchen with a haversack of food and
her traveling clothes on. Instead of being a pleasant "good morning" this
only restarted the argument.
He reminded her of the dangers of the forest - highwaymen, animals, and
bad roads - but Arabella was adamant. After wishing him a good morning,
Arabella told Simon that she would be leaving for Granny's hometown of
Monterey right after breakfast. She explained that Granny, who wasn't all
that much than she was, had taken care of her after marauders had
killed her parents. Arabella felt like she owed enough to attempt
to rescue her from the violent strife that was rampant on the other side of
the forest.
Over the course of breakfast, Simon managed to talk her out of leaving
right away. He told her that he needed her help on a trip into the
mountains - someone to watch his back as he climbed up into the forest to a
small town named Swoope, where the State had established a DPRE center. He
made a deal with her that, if they hadn't received any news from by
the time that they returned he would go with her to Monterey to find and bring her back. Since Arabella was already packed, they left almost
immediately.
They got into the mountains and Simon left Arabella at an motel that
he had selected as a command post, while he went up to the forest to talk
with the town mayor. He drove quickly down the old, narrow roads through
the farmland to the Scout camp where the refugees would be housed.
Simon was startled to learn that the State had made the decision to turn
the Scout camp into a refugee camp, apparently over the objections
of the local government. The National Guard had cleaned up and stocked the
camp but were not happy with the conflicting orders that were coming from
the council. He arrived at the camp's central pavilion and gave his
briefing to the mayor, the city council, and the assembled camp staff. He
had just finished telling them his plans for guiding the DPRE's to the camp
when the pavilion erupted in a huge discussion.
The city council was worried that the refugees would bring disease and
lawlessness if they were not properly assembled, controlled, and most
importantly, moved out of the area. The mayor and most of the camp staff
shared this opinion as well.
Within five minutes, a slim Armani-clad bureaucrat and a tall in camouflage were in a heated shouting match. A city policeman actually
stood between the two men, physically separating them as if they were
likely to start a fight. The black man, obviously a member of the State's
National Guard, his bald head colored with anger, was shouting at the
bureaucrat that he couldn't finish the camp without resources.
Playing to the crowd, the smaller stared back and pulled the cigar
stub from his mouth. "Well Cuhnel Wolfe," He patronized the Guardsman with
his exaggerated drawl. "The guvner sent you he-yare. So the guvner had
best give y'all what you need. We don't want these outsiders living here."
He punctuated the last part by stabbing the cigar at the tall lieutenant
colonel. Looking around, the slender seemed to glow as his sycophants
roared with laughter. Seeing the officer humiliated, the bureaucrat smiled
broadly and told the crowd, "I told the guvner that this here idea wouldn't
work. And next November, y'all need to tell him the same thing by voting
for me. Bobby Tyler."
The Guardsman turned and picked up his beret, holding between his beefy
fists as if choking it. "The people are on their way. You," he indicated
the councilmen with a disdainful nod of his head, "can't stop them. I'm
pulling my out of this screw. When you pull your heads out of
your asses I'll be in touch."
And before the Councilman Tyler could get in the last word, the Guard
officer spun on his heel and led his staff out of the pavilion. Once the
military had left, it was the camp staff's turn to complain and they
showered the council with scorn as they pointed out that the camp wasn't
ready to handle the numbers of people that would likely arrive within a few
days.
Simon left the staff to argue with the council and headed for his car.
He drove the area's highways, stopping often to talk with everyone he met.
Singly and in groups, the refugees were spread out along the road between
Harrisonburg and Staunton, a total distance of almost 30 miles. The work
was exhausting and nerve-wracking as Simon had to convince, cajole, and
coerce many of the families into coming with him. The refugees had lost
everything in the riots that had wracked the cities after the food and
power ran out and they were hesitant to leave the main roads. The
inhabitants of the towns that they passed had often attacked them on the
road; the townspeople were as afraid of the refugees as the refugees were
of them.
After several days of non-stop work, Simon led a large column of
refugees into the camp. He reported to the camp commandant and was
surprised to see one of the county Deputy Sheriffs instead of the National
Guardsmen that he thought would be in charge. After a brusque welcome,
Simon was told that he shouldn't have bothered bringing the people to the
camp at all. The National Guard troops had left. The council had decided
to close the camp and force the people to move farther down the valley.
Simon laughed bitterly at this news, knowing that the starving and
exhausted people were unlikely to move another step further.
The surprises continued when another deputy confronted Simon and told
him that the council had fired him. Simon told him that the council
couldn't fire him.
Losing his temper, Simon stood pointing his finger in the deputy's face.
"Get this clear Barney Fife. I work for the Federal government and no
bunch of butt fucking good ole are going to stop me from doing my
job."
The deputy laughed in his face. "Boy. Mebbe you ain't heard but the
Federail guvment ain't doin' so good these days." His exaggerated accent
spread the word "Federal" over four syllables. He spat a brown
stream of tobacco juice on the ground beside Simon's feet. "Mebbe you
should be looking for another job 'steada rounding up scum offin the
innerstate." The last part raised a laugh from the other policemen who had
gathered to listen to the exchange.
Laughing and slapping each other on the back, they left Simon steaming
in rage in the parking lot. He stood and tried to think of his next move.
He had taken on a job, done it beyond everyone's expectations, and now had
it thrown back in his face.
As he moved around the camp, still working despite the sheriffs, his
only consolation was that he found many of the staff and guards were also
displeased about being forced to work at the camp. The National Guard, a
unit from the DC area, was supposed to be there to deal with the refugees
but the council's high handed manner had run them off. Now that the city
had to administer the camp, the policemen voiced the fear that there was no
one left in the city to protect their families.
Simon convinced them that the refugees could be trusted to run the camp
themselves. Since they were no longer needed at the camp, he offered to
lead the staff back to the city to demand the council do the right thing.
The camp staff saw a possible solution to their problems and exploded into
action. Over the next three days the refugees were settled into the camp's
eight campsites, each site organized with a representative to a camp
council. Satisfied that the refugees could work out the details amongst
themselves and that the sheriffs would prevent any violence, the staffers
loaded their personal gear in to their vehicles.
Awash in a turbulent sea of activity, Simon didn't hear his name being
called. "Mister Woodsman?" A chubby, chinless stood at Simon's elbow.
"I've got some bad news. It's about your Arabella."
Chapter 3: Snow White While Simon had been battling corrupt officials
and traveling the countryside saving refugees, Arabella had faced
challenges of an entirely different sort. Simon had left her with
instructions to organize the townspeople and their resources. He said that
he would need these to help the refugees that he was leading make it the
last few miles to the camp. Pointing her at an motel he told her to
use it as her headquarters and that he would return in a few days.
Arabella had taken one look at the run down, cream colored, three building squatting beside the highway in a clump of scraggly trees and knew
that she would have quite a job ahead of her. Entering the lobby she saw
that, even before vagrants and drifters had messed it up, the place had
been ratty. Trying to collect her thoughts, she cleaned the place up a
bit. After all, she reasoned, she'd be there for about a week and there was
no reason to live in a sty.
As she carted garbage and mopped floors, she became more and more
unhappy. She had allowed Simon to talk her out of going to Monterey
because he said he needed her help. And yet here she was, doing menial
labor and waiting for his return. The more she thought about it, the
angrier she became and finally she called it quits. Happily, she found
that the hot water was still in working order so she worked most of the day
throwing out trash and mopping floors. As dusk fell she decided to reward
herself and used the last of the hot water to fill a bath tub in an
upstairs room for a good long soak.
While Arabella submerged herself in the tub, seven entered the
motel. They filed into the reception area, good naturedly grumbling about
the prospects for dinner. Their good mood disappeared as soon as the
entered the lobby, immediately becoming suspicious when they saw how clean
everything was.
The kitchen sparkled; with all of the dishes cleaned and stacked in the
cabinets instead of piled in the sink. The living room, scene of nightly
drinking parties around the radio, had been swept and their beer can
pyramid removed from the corner of the room.
"Bandits!" Bel Harker pulled his .357 from its holster. "They're
probably waiting for us to go to sleep, then they'll kill us in our beds."
One of the others, a tall thin balding with a white goatee, pointed
out that bandits rarely cleaned their intended victims' homes before doing
them in. "Now Abelard. Please put that back in its holster." "Doc"
Finster's logic restored a semblance of calm to the easily excited men.
Chester Dean collapsed on the couch. "I feel like I could sleep through
any ambush." He punched the lumps out of one of the pillows and said that
he didn't plan to move until dinner.
A black man, sniffling into his handkerchief after shooting
antihistamine up his nose, agreed with the Doc Finster. "But Doc. This
place is so clean." Marcellus Howard looked at the corner that had held the
beer can pyramid. "It was normal when we left this morning. Someone's got
to be here."
"Marcellus is right. Someone is definitely here. And we need to up and find them." Doc Finster, took charge as usual. "Bel, you watch the
back and make sure that no one is out by the pool. The rest of you pair
up. We've got to search this place."
Doc sent the Barrow brothers, Guy and Earl, into the restaurant.
Marcellus, a with allergies to almost everything, and Chester checked
out the lounge on the mezzanine level, while Doc and RJ checked out the
suites on the second floor rooms. They were all armed with a variety of
weapons that they'd looted from the local Walmart but none of them had any
experience using them beyond shooting at cans on the motel's pool deck.
Bel had often remarked that he was more scared of being shot by Earl than
by any ruffians.
Doc was looking into a closet when RJ hurried back into the room to tell
him that he had found something.
"Doc! Doc! Ya gotta see what I seen!"
RJ was a short, skinny man. A natural follower. He got tongue-tied
whenever he had to speak in public and blushed a bright when the other
men teased him about women, which they did quite often.
When RJ grabbed Doc, surprising him and almost getting shot in the
process, RJ was a bright pink and almost intelligible from stuttering.
"Doc. . . Doc. . . I saw her bubbies!" RJ was so excited the words
tripped over themselves in their haste to escape his lips.
It was obvious to Doc that something was bothering his companion. "OK.
OK RJ. Now take a deep breath and tell me all about it. Quietly."
"Doc. I wuz doing just like you said and checking over ta the other
side of the room when I heard a noise coming from the bathroom. Kinda like
someone had left a radio on but I knew that no one had left the radio on
cuz I'd a heard it before." The words spilled out of RJ in a torrent.
"So I put my ear to the door and that's where it was comin from." He
looked immensely proud of himself at this point. "And then I cracked the
dawr to look in. But I couldn't see nuthin cause of the steam, so I opened
the dawr a little wider and just stuck my head in. And there she was!"
"There who was RJ?"
"I dunno. But she's a laying in the tub singing to herself. And I
could see her bubbies floating in the water!" RJ's smile his face as
he definitively stated the last part.
Doc wryly pointed out that people rarely wore clothes in the bathtub.
What was more, they rarely carried their weapons into the bath. Satisfied
that the intruder, whoever she was, posed little threat, Doc told RJ to
lead him to her.
The pair quietly approached the bathroom door but the singing had
stopped. Doc wasn't sure what RJ might have seen but now he was more
cautious. He pointed to where RJ should stand, trying to remember all of
the cop shows that he had seen on TV, and pointed his weapon at where he
thought the intruder was behind the door. Doc told RJ to open the door on
the count of three and then, holding up his fingers, he slowly counted
"one... two...three" and then stepped into the doorway when RJ pushed open
the door.
Time and space froze. Doc, still dirty from work, stood in the doorway
with his pistol gripped in both hands. Arabella, wearing nothing but a
towel around her hair sat on the toilet, wiping between her legs.
"Uh. I'm sorry. I. . .Who are you?" Doc, uncertain in this awkward
situation, lowered his gun.
Arabella, realizing that a gun wielding had just interrupted her
while she peed, pulled her 9mm from on top of her pile of clothes and
stood, gloriously naked. "I might ask the same question." She leveled the
muzzle of her pistol at the center of Doc's chest.
Doc held his hands up, trying to be disarming, when he realized that his
revolver was still cocked. Carefully re-holstering it, he stepped back out
of the bathroom. "I'm Dr. Henry Finster and this is my colleague RJ
Bollocks. We, uh, we were searching the hotel. I guess you were the one
that cleaned up downstairs?"
"Yeah." Her pistol never wavered from its target as she kept him in her
sights. "The place was a sty. "
"Well, uh. Why don't you get dressed and come downstairs with us?"
Doc was trying to keep his eyes off the girl's pale skin and coral pink
nipples. Looking to his side he saw that RJ stood beside him, jaw opened,
as if he'd been poleaxed. Once she was satisfied that she wasn't about to
be shot or raped, Arabella asked Doc and RJ to turn around while she put
her clothes back on.
Still embarrassed by the way they walked in on her; Doc and RJ turned
around and faced the other way. "I told you I saw her bubbies" RJ
whispered.
"You certainly did, boy. That's what they were."
Arabella followed them back downstairs where she met the rest of the
men. She explained that she was there to help the refugees that would be
coming through the town but Bel, as usual, dismissed the thought in his
loud and opinionated manner. He was for throwing her out, since they don't
have enough food or room but Guy piped in that there was plenty of food in
the grocery store and lots of empty rooms in the motel. The others were
simply captivated by a beautiful woman, in fact the only woman they'd seen
in months, and agreed to let her stay. Much to Bel's grumbling.
The next morning, Arabella made herself useful by helping Guy cook
breakfast for the others. Nothing seemed to dent his cheerful demeanor,
not even Bel's non-stop complaining.
The others left for work and she and Guy were alone in the kitchen
cleaning up the dishes. Elbow deep in soap suds, he happily told her how
he and the others had arrived from Richmond to gather items from the
warehouses and ship them back to the city. He didn't seem to have any
compunction about "mining" these and the self-storage units around the
Valley.
"Hell," he said in his usual cheerful way, "there's stuff in those
places that people need."
"But what about the bandits?" She mentioned how Simon wad always telling
her how dangerous the Interstates had become. "Who protects the trucks if
they're so valuable?"
"The folks that Doc contracts with give us police escort. They all get
a cut of course, but the government is very interested in moving this stuff
from the warehouses to the cities." Guy sounded very impressed with the
process in general.
Arabella dropped a slippery serving plate, splashing herself. Her
distended nipples poke through her wet shirt. When she caught Guy staring
down her shirt, she decided that there was no use in sleeping alone while
she was stuck in Swoope.
She got the ball rolling.
"Oh look. I'm all wet." She noticed that Guy blushed at this. "I need
to hang this up to dry."
Before Guy could say anything, she had shucked her and hung it on
a hook on the wall.
She stood in front of him, her braless standing firm from her
chest. She walked back to the sink and asked him if he would help her with
a personal problem.
He stuttered, "Yeah. . .sure."
Arabella sank to her knees and unbuckled his belt. "You know. I've
been working so hard. . ." Arabella unbuckled his pants and pushed them
down around his ankles. "And now I've got this itch." His underwear
followed seconds later and Guy looked down to see that Arabella had grasped
his cock at the base and was looking at it with undisguised lust. 'And
you've got just the thing to scratch it." Guy was silent. He didn't know
what to say and was too scared to move.
She gave him a rough, demanding blowjob. Swallowing his cock whole as
she sought to make it hard quickly so that he could fuck her. Once he was
stiff, Arabella dropped her pants and lay back on the counter. She raised
her knees and told Guy that he needed to make her wet with his tongue.
Guy moved in on her like a starving on a steak dinner. What
he lacked in actual talent or experience he more than made up for in sheer
enthusiasm as he licked his way around her pussy.
"Yessss. Suck my clit. That's it." She grasped his head firmly between
her hands, positioning his mouth over her clit, and ordered him to suck.
The sensation of his suction on her sensitive clit spawned a torrent of
vulgar instructions from her as she told him exactly and explicitly what
she planned to do next with him.
She tired of his inexpert slurping, Arabella ordered Guy to fuck her.
He moved quickly to satisfy her. His fucking technique was like his
cunnilingus, lots of enthusiasm without much experience, so Arabella
stopped him and climbed on top. Once she was in the position to control
the action, she slid up and down his pole, first slowly and then increasing
in tempo and depth, before finally cumming.
He was close but hadn't yet so she climbed off his lap and jerked
him off, spraying his seed on to his belly and then rubbing it into his
skin like lotion while she told him how good his cock felt inside her.
-=)0(= That evening after dinner, while everyone drank and laughed over
a radio program, the teased RJ about how he had acted when he found
Arabella in the tub. RJ got embarrassed and blushed furiously. Chester
put in a CD and Arabella, a little buzzed and willing to go along with the
crowd, started dancing a strip tease around RJ.
Arabella gyrated in front of him, pushing her together and showing
him her cleavage. Encouraged by the raucous catcalls and wolf whistles,
she shimmied out of her Tshirt and then unfastened her bra. Holding her
bra cups, she teased the now bright man. "Come on RJ. You've seen
them before. Haven't you?" She dropped her bra on the floor and held her
tits up for his inspection, the coral pink nipples pointing straight at
him. "Did you like them, RJ? You can tough them if you want." This
invitation proved to be too much for poor RJ and he ran from the room.
Arabella, now all worked up, invited Chester to dance with her. He
helped her take off her clothes and then she gave him a in front of
the hooting crowd. Marcellus, interested enough to get off the couch,
joined in and fucked her from behind. Earl, not sure what was going on,
watched them intently while jerking off. Once Marcellus had blown his load
inside her, Arabella invited Earl to put his inside her and make
her cum.
Once they'd all shot their loads, the quieted down and drifted off
to their own rooms. Left alone in the quiet living room, Arabella wiped
Earl's from her thighs and realized how lonely she suddenly felt. She
wandered the hallways looking for Doc, who had left when the orgy got
started.
He answered the knock at his door with a glass in his hand. Arabella
took it and sipped some of the warm sweet Bourbon. "You need some ice,"
she said.
"There isn't any. But come on in anyway."
They sat on the windowsill and talked. Doc told her that he wasn't a
medical doctor, just an associate professor who had lost his home and his
wife when raiders attacked the small private where he had taught
economics. He told her how he still pined away for his wife, who was
captured by bandits. He knew that she was still alive and didn't want to
have any other woman.
When she asked about why he and the other were in a little nowhere
town in the Shenandoah Valley, miles from his home. He joked about how
"Just In Time" logistics had made Swoope a gold mine but, when he saw that
Arabella had no idea what he was talking about, he just said that he and
the others would be traveling to Richmond as soon as they were done with
the Walmart warehouse. The loot would fill 3 semi trailers, he surmised,
and bring enough money for them all to retire in style. Or what passed for
style in this time.
Arabella perked up. She asked how they sold it all. "I mean, how much
money is in a truck load of camping gear?"
"We work for some important folks on the coast sometimes." His eyes
seemed to focus on something far away. He swirled his Bourbon around in
his glass. Taking a sip, he continued. "But they want weapons. Military
stuff like ammunition and missiles. We load up and drive to the coast.
They pay in cash." He emptied the glass. "But they're a rough bunch. I'll
stick to camping gear and household goods."
He offered to take Arabella with them when they left in a few days.
Arabella thanked him but refused. She revealed that she thought that Simon
wanted to marry her, but that she still needed to sow her wild oats. Doc
said that he understood but that she needed to realize that if she waited
too long, the opportunity would pass and Simon might find another girl.
Arabella left Doc gazing at the stars, his advice ringing in her head.
The next morning Bel's mood was nastier than usual, making comments
about "the whore they let stay with them" and loudly hypothesizing about
the diseases she was spreading around. The other men, instead of rallying
to her defense, stared silently at their breakfasts.
=)0(Deerfield, Virginia wasn't much more than a place to stop and grab
some groceries for most of the folks that lived in the area. Not more than
100 people lived there, farming and enjoying a simple life. It was a quiet
little village and it would never be the same again.
The sky was gray, sunrise wouldn't be for another hour or so, when the
Operations Officer turned to the Commander and said, "All units in place.
Awaiting your order." The Troubles had come to Deerfield.
Mounted in Light Armored Vehicles, the battalion of National Guard
troops had executed a textbook raid. They had set up a security perimeter
and blocked all the roads leading into the village before their commander
and the headquarters company entered the town. Soldiers rousted the
villagers out of their beds but were unable to immediately take possessions
of the town's valuable stockpile of food and fuel.
One of the platoon leaders spoke quickly into his headset. "Wolf 6.
Wolf 6. This is 2 Actual. We have an armed civilian at the general
store." His voice was flat and his words clipped. The lieutenant spoke
like an automaton. "Awaiting instructions. Over."
A burst of static preceded Lieutenant Wolfe's reply. "Stand fast 2
Actual. I am enroute. Do not engage. Out."
Lieutenant Poloski pressed the headset toggle once more, "Wilco," and
then passed the instruction to the rest of his before settling down
behind the blast shield of his .50 caliber machine gun. From the front
porch of the small general store, a grizzled angrily defied the
National Guard troops, calling them thieves and telling them to leave the
town in peace.
Within a few moments another LAV pulled up beside Poloski's and LTC
Wolfe climbed out of the hatch and stood on the LAV's front deck. Poloski
watched as the commander tried to reason with the man, insisting that
the troops were there to help protect the town but that they needed
supplies. The argument went back and forth for several minutes. Soon the
store's parking lot began to fill with people as people filtered in.
Noticing that most of the townspeople carried weapons, LT Poloski keyed
his mike again and called for help. "Red Wolf 6 this is 2 Actual. I'm
down at the general store. I need some help. The boss is talking to them
but I don't think they're buying it."
The tinny voice replied immediately. "Stay cool 2 Actual. I'm on the
way."
Switching to his platoon channel, LT Poloski reassured his that
reinforcements were on the way. The crowd started to get ugly, taunting
the Colonel as he tried to reason with them. The was named Dexter
and the people started to cheer and whistle when he spoke. The townspeople
had become angry as the shock of being rudely awakened wore off. The
soldiers, tired and hungry, seethed in frustration as they saw the very
people that they had been sent to protect turn on them.
The mood of the crowd swung back and forth. Captain Wedsel arrived with
the rest of Bravo Company and dismounted his soldiers to try and control
the crowd. Some pushing and shoving started but they hadn't started to
clear the parking lot when the situation reached its head.
Spitting off the edge of the porch, the struck a dramatic pose.
"Ain't none of us giving you anything." He pumped a shell into his
shotgun's chamber. "And all you can do is give me liberty or give me
death."
The other villagers, inspired by Dexter's bravado, cheered.
They cheered so loudly that none of them heard the tall black officer, the
one all the other soldiers called Colonel, say, "Plan B."
The five shot staccato of a machine gun burst silenced the crowd. The
old man's body lay on its back, his intestines decorating the ground beside
him. The tall climbed onto the flat back deck of an LAV and addressed
the crowd in a cold, restrained voice.
"I've taken about as much shit as I can stand. My have busted their
asses for three months to protect you. Left what was left of their homes
and families to care for you. And all you can do is spit on us and call us
thieves?" He glared at the now silent crowd.
"Well then. I've tried to do things by the book. But now we're going
to do things the fashioned way. We're going to take the supplies we
need and when we need more, we'll come back and take those too. And in
exchange we're going to keep on protecting your worthless asses from all of
the real bandits and thieves and murderers."
Bottling up his rage, LTC Wolfe turned to one of his officers. "Captain
Wedsel. Organize a detail of townspeople to upload supplies into the deuce
and a halfs." The younger saluted and began to move away. "And
Captain, make sure that it is a guarded detail."
Before night fell Task Force 126 had left Deerfield and faded into the
surrounding forest, their trucks loaded with fuel and food. Dexter
had been buried behind the gas station and with him, the town's will to
resist.
=)0(The situation around Swoope continued to get worse. One evening,
Doc got a phone call from one of the outlying farms. An organized group
had raided one of the small police stations in the area and was now well
armed. Arabella was worried that Simon, traveling alone, would be easy
prey. Doc told Arabella that he would help get some information on where
Simon was. Since he made a habit of trading for food with all of the
people in the area, he offered to take her around with him. They quickly
found out that Simon was back at the camp organizing the refugees but
Arabella stayed with Doc and the boys, telling them that she felt like
their den mother.
She accompanied him on his rounds, helping him and RJ bargain with the
farmers in the area.
Arabella and RJ sat in the van while Doc went inside a store to barter
for some goods. She stared out the window, thinking about her relationship
with Simon as had become increasingly frequent. Feeling the warm sun
against her face, she stretched her arms, her pressing against her
thin cotton Tshirt and turned to see RJ staring at her chest.
She smiled and teased him. "Whatcha lookin' at RJ?"
He blushed and quickly dropped his head to stare at his feet. She slid
across the seat until her thigh touched his.
"RJ. We gotta do something about this shyness thing you've got going."
"Please Miss Arabella."
She dropped her hand to his thigh and squeezed. "Please what, RJ?"
He pushed her hand away from his leg but she just put in back, a little
higher than before.
"I. . .I'm just not comfortable, Miss Arabella." He put her hand back in
her lap.
"Now RJ. You've already seen me without my clothes on. Was it that
bad?" Arabella leaned against him, rubbing her against RJ's arm. "I'm
not trying to you. I just think you'd be a lot more self-confident if
you could get over being so shy."
He shrank back against the van door, trying to break contact with her
warm, sweet smelling skin. "I know you don't mean nuthin'," he said,
finally looking up at her and meeting her gaze. "I just couldn't be like
you. You know. Having sex with all those people." RJ swallowed. " At the
same time."
Arabella was stung by the tone of his voice. Her eyes narrowed and her
mouth looked hard, but she took a deep breath before she replied. "I enjoy
myself on my own terms, RJ." She paused and, taking his chin in her palm,
raised his eyes to meet hers. "I like you RJ. I don't tease you like the
others. So please don't judge me or think that I'm some whore off the
street just because I don't sit in the kitchen baking cookies or reading
Harlequin romances."
Arabella could see that RJ hadn't meant to her. In some ways,
because he was so simple he was the most honest she knew. Still
holding his chin, she drew him forward and kissed him lightly on the lips.
"Now then. That wasn't so bad was it?"
"No," he stammered. "I liked that just fine."
"Then why don't you want any more. You know that I would like to."
"'Cause you don't love me, Miss Arabella. You love that other guy. The
one you're always thinking about."
"I'm not always thinking about anybody, RJ. You're just making that
up." Now it was Arabella's turn to blush.
RJ sensed that he had said something that he shouldn't have. "But Miss
Arabella. If you ever change you're mind about him, I'll be here." His
smile his face.
Arabella hugged him tightly against her. "RJ. You are, without a
doubt, a true wonder."
=)0(While the "boys" as she called them had been working to load tractor
trailers with sporting goods, dehydrated food, and other survival
necessities from the warehouses along the highway, Arabella had been
researching the medical facilities and organizing a reception station for
the refugees that Simon had promised that he'd be bringing. She returned
to the motel one evening to help prepare dinner and found a sitting on the porch steps.
The claimed to be an orphan from one of the boarding schools down
the Valley toward Roanoke. She'd stayed there for a while, since she
didn't have anywhere else to go, but moved on when the food ran out and
people started fighting. She said that her name was Randy and that she was
heading north to find her relatives. They had been in the DC suburbs, but
that had been almost a year ago. She looked to be about 17 or 18, enough to be worrying about her dress to the senior prom, not searching for
her next meal. Arabella took pity on her and brought her into the motel.
When the returned to the motel, Bel made a fuss over Randy, which
he never did over Arabella, obviously and pathetically trying to make
Arabella jealous that he was giving his attention to another woman. He
showed Randy around the motel, especially proud of the loot that he and the
others had neatly stored for shipment in the motel's ballroom.
Arabella ignored Bel and tried to make Randy as comfortable as possible.
She fixed Randy up with a room and some clothes that the had gathered
from town. Randy had picked a room and was taking a hot shower. Arabella
was delivering linen to Randy's room and knocked on the bathroom door to
drop off the towels.
Hearing Randy's voice muffled by the sound of the shower running full
blast, Arabella opened the door intending to leave the towels on the
vanity. Before she could leave, the shower stall door opened and Randy
poked her head out.
"Oh, thanks Arabella." Randy opened the door wider, framing her dripping
body.
Arabella's breathe caught in her throat. The look on Randy's face was a
clear invitation. The look of a temptress from the face of an angel.
Arabella looked over the teen's lithe body; from Randy's dime sized nipples
to her smooth shaven labia nestled in the vee between her legs.
Seeing Arabella hesitate, Randy stepped out of the shower, water
puddling around her feet, and reached for her. Kissing the redhead on the
mouth, Randy felt Arabella's lips quiver and then surrender, softening
under hers. Randy stepped back and helped the pliant redhead to disrobe
before leading her back into the shower stall.
Randy stood Arabella against the tile wall and pressed her elfin body
against the taller redhead. Arabella gasped as she felt Randy's hard
nipples poke against her ribs. Arabella's hands unconsciously came up and
cupped the teen's small firm breast.
Randy moaned, "Yesss. "
She slid down Arabella's body, using her lips to nibble and pinch the
redhead's large, erasure-sized nipples. Arabella giggled when Randy's lips
continued their journey across her firm stomach.
"That tickles," Arabella said before emitting a soft gasp as Randy
reached her clit.
Warmly kissing everywhere but her love button, Randy teased Arabella's
pussy lips until they were full and swollen. Arabella, the warm water
running over her breasts, slid her feet farther apart. She pressed Randy's
face tight against her in an unspoken plea for the teen to pay
attention to her clit.
Finally Randy complied, Arabella's clit into her mouth and
teasing it with her tongue. "AAAgggghhh." The suction of Randy's mouth
wrenched a cry from Arabella. Before she could react, Arabella's body
stiffened in orgasm as Randy sank two fingers into her buttery cunt.
"I love the way your grips my fingers," Randy said from her
position on her knees. Standing, she lewdly licked her fingers. "Now you
do me."
Arabella wasn't sure that she could actually put her mouth on another
woman's pussy. She told herself that she had been caught up in the moment
when Randy had kissed her the first time. She couldn't deny that she had
enjoyed what Randy had done to her, but that didn't make her a lesbian.
Did it?
As if reading her mind, Randy placed her hands on Arabella's shoulders
and gently forced her to her knees. "I'm not a lesbo," she said kissing
Arabella full on the mouth, "and neither are you. But that won't stop us
from enjoying ourselves."
Gently holding Arabella's head between her hands, Randy guided the girl's lips to her small hard nipple. "That's right baby, suck my nipple.
Make it hard." She pressed Arabella's head tightly to her chest. "Make me
wet for you."
When she'd had enough stimulation there, Randy urged Arabella's head
down toward her crotch. "Now lick me." Randy's voice was breathless in
anticipation of the feeling of Arabella's tongue on her slit.
Arabella's hands cupped Randy's muscular ass in her hands, staring at
the teenage that lay glistening at the end of her nose. Hesitantly
she extended her tongue and sampled the oily juice that covered Randy's
pussy lips. She found it sweet and tangy. Following Randy's example,
Arabella teased and nibbled around Randy's clit, first using the tip of her
tongue and then flattening it for broader strokes.
Arabella slipped a finger into Randy's tight. Judging from Randy's
reaction it was the right move so, after plunging her finger in and out of
Randy's twat, she added a second digit.
The combination of Arabella nibbling on her clit and the thrusting
fingers in her drove Randy over the edge. Her knees felt weak and she
caught herself against the wall of the shower. Arabella braced her
partner, keeping her from falling while the teenager's orgasm swept through
her in waves of pleasure.
Standing, Arabella held Randy close against her. "You're right. It did
feel incredible," she whispered in the teenager's ear. They left the
shower and, after toweling each other off, retired to the bed to explore
each other further. One thing led to another and the evening ended with
both of them collapsed, writhing in a torrid 69.
Afterwards they lay in bed talking about the and Arabella suddenly
realized that she was talking more than Randy. She shrugged off the
feeling, embarrassed that she was acting as paranoid as Bel.
The next morning, Randy told them all that she was going to catch a ride
to Winchester, about two hours' ride north, to see if her was there.
They all wished her well and Arabella accompanied her to the bus station.
She said goodbye to Randy, waving to her as the bus pulled away from the
curb. Arabella, remembering the look Randy gave her back when she said,
"I'm sure we'll see each other again," felt a twinge of uneasiness but
quickly shrugged it off and continued on her normal, daily routine.
That night, bandits attacked the motel. They roared around in pickup
trucks, firing automatic rifles and making straight for the storeroom of
food and looted goods. The fought back but they were not organized,
more than a little bit scared, and outgunned. Doc tried to rally the
others but the bandits' trucks moved too fast for the boys' hunting rifles
to make any real damage. In the middle of the fighting, Chester called
Doc's attention to the passenger of one of the larger pickups. He
recognized Randy as a passenger. Obviously she'd led the bandits back for
the loot.
The bandits direct their attack on the ballroom. Glass shattered and
covered everything in the room. The made their stand from the
reception area and the upstairs' windows. While the others seemed frantic
as they tried to repel the raiders with their bolt action hunting rifles,
Doc disappeared upstairs. He reappeared on the reception drive-thru's roof
dragging a cooler. The raiders finally drove one of their vans across the
pool deck and through the ballroom's double doors. A stray round hit
Arabella but RJ quickly tended to her wound. Doc, meanwhile, was throwing
napalm cocktails down on to the raiders' vehicles. The jellied gasoline
coated the in the truck beds and their screams filled the air.
The attack was over almost as soon as it had begun. Only three of the
raiders' vehicles made it away from the motel's parking lot. Bel and some
of the others made sure that the fire got smothered before it could spread
to the loot. Earl brought Doc to Arabella.
Pressing a towel against her leg, RJ gave Arabella first aid while Doc
tried to make her feel better. "You know. I learned how to make those
cocktails from a chemistry student that we expelled. How things had
changed." Arabella smiled but then passed out. After checking her pulse,
Doc sent Bel and Marcellus to fetch Simon from the Scout Camp.
-=)0(= Returning, Simon was accompanied by all of the camp staff. They
had left the deputy almost hysterical with anger but the group ignored his
threats as they drove back to the city in the camp's trucks. Doc had made
Arabella as comfortable as possible and RJ had watched over her like a
faithful hound. With a convoy of disaffected police and camp staff behind
him, Simon loaded her up in his vehicle and returned to Staunton and the
hospital.
Chapter 4: Goldilocks and the Three Bears A few days later, Arabella
felt well enough to resume traveling. Simon was still deeply entangled
with the council negotiating the care of the refugees, so he couldn't
leave. In vain, he tried to get Arabella to wait a little while longer
before she left for Monterey but she was adamant about finding and
bringing her back to Staunton. Although Simon tried once more to dissuade
her, she reminded him of his deal and prepared to leave to find Granny.
Once again, Arabella loaded up her vehicle. Strapping herself into the
compact station wagon, she accelerated west along State Route 250.
Civilization quickly faded behind her as she rode into the forest. The
winding road was in bad shape and it took her almost two hours to cover the
twenty miles to West Augusta. Hungry, she stopped by a roadside diner
hoping to pick up lunch and some local news. Sitting at one of the picnic
tables, she shared a table with a tall lean, who called himself
Wolfe. With an 'e' he kidded her.
Arabella and Wolfe traded small talk during their meal.
"Where you headed?" he asked around a mouthful of hamburger.
"Out to Monterey."
"I heard that things were getting rough out in the mountains."
"I hope not." Arabella wiped her mouth with the paper napkin. "Last
time I spoke with Granny, everything was quiet. I don't think that anyone
has even thought about going that far west yet."
They chatted for a few more minutes while Arabella finished her drink.
Wolfe, asked more questions than he answered, skillfully interrogated
Arabella about Monterey without divulging any information about himself.
He tried to get Arabella to accompany him, insisting that he could provide
protection from whatever bandits were in the forest but Arabella, thinking
of her argument with Simon, declined. She cheerfully bade Wolfe farewell
as she walked back to her car and continued down the forest road.
Wolfe watched her leave and then motioned for some of the other patrons
to follow him. He led them across the highway and into the wood line,
where their HUMMV sat under a camouflage net. Sitting in the front seat,
Wolfe looked at a map and smiled. Monterey would be perfect for his plans.
And now, thanks to little Arabella Hood, they knew that it was likely to be
undefended.
Picking up the radio handset, LTC Wolfe ordered his troops to wait until
night and then begin their move on Monterey. Consulting the scout platoon
leader about the condition of the back roads, he plotted the route that
they would use to approach the town.
Arabella, meanwhile, continued on. It had been a beautiful morning but
by early afternoon fog and rain had closed in and made the forest dark and
foreboding. She drove on and on, until she realized that she must have
taken a wrong turn. Her map was useless without road signs to guide her
and Arabella, unused to being along on the back roads, searched desperately
for some shelter. The rain begun falling harder, overwhelming her
windshield wipers and forcing her to drive at a snail's pace down the pitch
black road.
Finally she saw a small building ahead in the gloom. It wasn't much,
just a cinder block or garage, but there was smoke coming from the
chimney. Grateful for the chance to get in out of the weather, she parked
and knocked on the door.
The door swung open at her touch. She called inside but there was no
answer. Remembering Simon's warnings, Arabella drew her weapon and warily
walked into the room. Everything was silent except from the sound of the
rain as it fell against the roof. The house smelt of cooking food and
Arabella's stomach rumbled. Searching for any inhabitants, she took a
quick tour of the house, noting the spartan interior. Woven mats had been
hung from bare rafters to divide the cinder block garage into rooms.
Weary from her journey, Arabella sat on one of the chairs by the fire,
choosing the most comfortable one. Unfortunately one of the legs broke,
spilling her onto the floor. Remarking on how that made her day, Arabella
got up and searched for something to eat.
She looked into the bubbling pot that sat on the wood stove and was
excited to find some delicious stew. Quickly finding a bowl, she ate her
fill. Once sated she took stock of her situation and, feeling tired from
her day's travels, walked to the back of the house to find a place to
sleep. The beds were low wooden platforms covered in skins and worn,
tattered quilts. Choosing the largest one, Arabella collapsed, still
dressed, into a dead sleep.
The house was quiet except for the redhead's soft snores. The rain had
stopped during the night. Suddenly, Arabella was roughly awakened as
shadowy assailants grabbed her and bound her wrists and ankles together. A
light shined in her face and a rough voice demanded her name. Blinded,
Arabella made out three hulking forms arrayed around the bed.
Arabella struggled against the thin bonds, which cut her wrists. She
tried to tell the shadowy figures that she was just a lost traveler and had
meant no harm. The flashlight moved and dim lamps were lit, illuminating
the scene in the soft yellow light of a candle lantern. Arabella saw two
men, one than the other, and a woman standing over her. Their
clothes were patched but clean. Their hands were and chapped from hard
labor. She guessed that they were scared farmers ready to defend what
little they had left.
"She done broke my chair." The was large, definitely big
enough to play high school football, but his whiney voice made him sound
like a small child.
"And she's eating all the food t'was made for dinner." The woman
standing between them was tall, but not as tall as the men, and broadly
built.
The elder male looked down at Arabella and a sly smile creased his brown
face. "So ya broke our furniture. Et' all our food. And now you's laying
in my bed within wet clothes." He chuckled softly, melodramatically shaking
his head from side to side. "Well Mother. I jist don't know what we're a
gunna do."
He reached down and roughly groped Arabella's small, firm breasts. "But
I jist been thinking that we've been looking for a wommun for Eddie here."
The woman's face lit up as she caught on to what her husband was leading up
to. "What say we let this little redhead work off her night's stay?"
The others, obviously used to the man's sense of humor, readily agreed.
"Well then you go first Eddie." The said in a generous tone, "Just
remember to strip the bed when you're done. and I ain't sleeping in
your mess!"
Laughing, he and 'Mother' roughly spread Arabella's legs, one holding
her legs as the other secured the ties to the legs of the platform. Paw's
hunting knife slit her jeans effortlessly from cuff to belt. When they cut
off Arabella's and exposed the patch of atop her shaven
slit, whistled. "Why Eddie you're gonna have a real big city here." She gently stroked Arabella's labia. "Nice and soft."
Anxious to get started, Eddie lost no time in untying his belt and
climbing onto the bed, his cock thickening as he positioned himself between
her pale thighs.
"Now hold on son." obviously wasn't finished with Arabella's
twat. "You get up by her head and let her suck on you a little whilst I get
her good and wet."
"You look like you're enjoying that Mother." Paw laughed deep in his
throat as lowered her face to the redhead's shaven snatch.
Setting his knife on his chest of drawers, Paw dropped his overalls and
freed his own stiffening cock. He stroked himself leisurely as he watched
his eagerly licking and while his son clumsily poked his
cock into Arabella's mouth, making her cheeks swell and her eyes water as
he hit the back of her throat.
Before long Eddie's body stiffened. "Christ. I'm gonna cum" he cried
as he shot his load into Arabella's mouth. Pulling his still cock
from her mouth, he looked down on her as a white rivulet of sperm
leaked down her cheek. "I couldn't help it." He told his in a
pathetic whine.
looked up from between Arabella's legs, her chin shiny with juice. Climbing up the bed toward Arabella's head, she pushed Eddie back
from the redhead's mouth. "Just switch me places boy. You're young, I'm
sure your whacker will recover in a few minutes."
And she was right. After only a few minutes of watching his make
the lithe redhead suck on her big, swollen clit, Eddie cock had
regained its turgid shape. He entered Arabella without preamble, roughly
pounding his cock into her pussy. held onto Arabella's head,
securing the redhead's lips to her clit. "Easy boy, if she bites me I'll
whup ya" she said.
Both and Eddie came loudly a few strokes later. Their chests
still heaving from their exertions, they rolled off Arabella and eyed Paw.
He had been standing beside the bed, still stroking his long cock.
smiled when she saw his face. "Eddie. Grab that leg whilst I
take t'other. Yer Paw's looking for something special."
Paw smiled and quickly untied Arabella's ankles. Too tired to resist,
she groaned softly as her legs where forced back against her chest,
completely exposing her pussy. Still standing beside the bed, Paw dipped
his sausage like finger into her and liberally coated her asshole
with its syrupy goo. Arabella tensed and moaned as she divined his intent
but Paw just smiled as he reamed her anus with his finger, loosening her
for what was to come.
leaned close to Arabella's ear, careful to keep hold on the
girl's slim leg. "Yer gonna like this." Her breath was with the
smell of pussy. "I'll betcha never had one like this before."
Paw, positioned between her upturned legs, rubbed his fat cock head
through Arabella's slit before placing it against her tight brown rosebud.
"No. . .Please don't put it in there."
Gently Paw leaned forward and pressed the head of his cock into her
tight nether opening. Arabella thrashed her head from side to side and
cried out that he was tearing her.
Paw slapped her flank with his huge calloused palm. "Shut up girl. If
you'd relax, it'd go easier. But it's going in."
Paw pressed forward again, this time popping the round cock head inside
her. Slowly her worked his cock into her ass until his balls met her firm,
smooth ass cheeks. Arabella's eyes were glassy as she felt his huge cock
fill her, stretching her ass.
Paw groaned. "Mother this is the tightest ass I've felt in a long
time." He paused to relish the feeling before starting to slowly pump his
cock in and out. Soon Arabella's pain gave way to pleasure and her groans
changed timbre.
"I told you she'd like it." said to Eddie.
Paw gave a strangled cry and ground his cock against Arabella as he
sprayed her insides with his cum. "She's cummin' too," he said
triumphantly as he felt her tremors through his cock.
Looking over at Eddie he saw his son's cock twitching and regaining its
girth. "All right, boy. You can have her back," he said as he pulled his
cock from Arabella with a wet pop. "Mother and I'll sleep out by the
fireplace." From Mother's smile, she was looking forward to that.
Eddie finished a little while later, having helped himself to another
blowjob and a turn at her before passing out beside her. Filled with
cum, her face sticky from Mother's juices, Arabella collapsed for a few
hours. Paw and woke her at dawn. She felt her bonds snap and a
flashlight shown in her face. She groggily rubbed the sleep from her eyes.
Paw's rough voice said, "Gitch yer clothes on and git out."
"Our son needs a good woman. Not some whore off the road." chimed in.
Still sore from the family's attentions the night before, Arabella got
back in her car and started off through the forest. She drove most of the
day, fording creeks and carefully negotiating bridges until she came
upon a crossroad store. Stopping for something to eat and some much needed
asprin, she knew that she was close to Monterey but didn't know if she had
the strength to go on.
Chapter 5: Killing the Evil Queen Simon finally prevailed over Bobby
Tyler and the city council. They'd agreed to staff and resource the camp,
releasing a stockpile of much needed food to the starving refugees. Simon
knew that this was a hollow victory. He knew that the council would chisel
away at the amount and quality of food they would actually end up sending.
Probably lining their own packets in the meantime, he thought to himself.
Standing in his driveway, he said good bye to Juliet. In exchange for
his chaste kiss, she handed Simon a folder. Inside it were pictures and
documents detailing the Reverend's involvement in a white slavery and
prostitution ring that operated out of a to the east of Staunton.
Simon was amazed. How could the Reverend get the resources to move all the
people and hide all the activity? Flashing her enigmatic smile, Juliet
told him that half of the city council and most of the Sheriff's Department
was in on the scheme. They'd been getting rich off the sale of DPREs for
months.
After a few hours' of restless sleep, while Arabella was in the clutches
of the Bears, Simon had left Staunton to drive out to the Reverend's
operation. In the back of his mind, he was worried that he hadn't heard
from Arabella for a while. He drove through the morning trying to sort out
how he felt about her.
Every time he told himself that he couldn't afford to go soft on some
wild kid, the image of her svelte pale body crossed his mind. What
surprised him was that it wasn't her firm, coral tipped nipples or the
light strawberry-red patch of fuzz on top of her slit that he saw. It was
here blue eyes and her smile that loomed large in his inner sight. He took
another pull from his coffee cup and rolled down the window. Soldier, get
your shit together, he thought.
He had an uncomfortably stiff dick when he saw her car enter a
convenience store parking lot up ahead. Pulling next into the slot next to
hers, he noticed that she looked a bit pale.
"Feeling OK?" He had worried about her leaving so soon from the
hospital.
"Oh. I'm fine." She flashed him a wan smile. "Just a little tired.
That's all."
"Well. If you've got some time, I need to ask you a favor." He looked
at her hopefully. "I'm headed out to talk with the Reverend. It won't
take but the morning."
Simon hoped that she would say yes. Not only would spending time with
her feel good and give him a chance to talk with her some more but he had
to act and he needed a witness. Arabella agreed and got into the passenger
seat. Smiling, Simon backed out of the parking lot and continued up the
road to the to confront the Reverend.
Simon parked his car in front of what had been the college's
Administration building and charged into the Reverend's office, Simon
pulled up sharply. There, bent over the Reverend's impressive oak desk was
a teenaged boy. Behind the boy, his turgid cock half buried in the
boy's anus, was the Reverend James Lot. Holding the door closed behind
them, Simon drew his pistol as the Reverend tried to disengage himself from
the squirming boy. Simon ordered the Reverend to place his hands on the
desk but instead the Reverend pulled a small semi-automatic out of a desk
drawer.
Standing against his large leather desk chair, his wilting cock still
shiny with lubricant from the boy's ass, the Reverend demanded to know why
Simon and Arabella had intruded on his office. Arabella stood silently out
of the way, her mouth open in amazement. Simon, watching both and boy,
locked the office door behind him. It was a classic Mexican standoff.
Still covering them with his pistol, the Reverend made his offer. "I'll
cut you in" he said, "ten percent between you. And all you have to do is
keep your mouths shut."
Arabella, still in disbelief over what she was seeing, stammered on
about how wrong it was to sell people but the Reverend smoothed over her
complaints with empty phrases about helping them find new lives.
"More to the point," Simon interrupted, "there are too many witnesses."
He decided to play the Reverend's game to see where it led. "We could
agree to anything. But there's no guarantee that we'd live to see
tomorrow. Is there?"
The look on the Reverend's face told Simon that his shot had been a
telling one. The secretary yelled through the door, telling them that she
had called the police. Reverend James smiled.
"OK, Mister Woodsman. You want some reassurance. Some symbol of my
commitment to our deal." The Reverend's voice was as smooth as oiled silk.
Without blinking an eye, he turned and shot the in the head. Arabella
was shocked by the sudden brutality was unable to make a sound. Her legs
collapsed and she sat, emitting gasping squeaks, on the couch.
Then the Reverend continued. "Now Mister Woodsman. I believe that some
quid pro quo is in order." He jerked his head toward Arabella. "You can
plug her or, because I'm in a generous mood, I can have her chemically
lobotomized and then we sell her. A skinny like her always brings a
good price." He paused. "Either way I suggest you hurry up and decide
since my secretary is liable to return at any minute."
Arabella stood, aware for the first time that she was in mortal danger.
Eyes as wide as saucers, her head swiveled back and forth like a tennis
fan's looking between the two weapons.
"I guess I'll just have to shoot," Simon said.
The Reverend looked toward Arabella expectantly. The thunderclap of
Simon's Beretta filled the room. The Reverend, thrown against the wall by
the bullet's impact, lay on the floor. His mouth worked like a landed bass
as he stared at the huge in the center of his chest before slumping
forward.
Simon stepped gingerly around the desk, careful not to leave footprints
in the blood, and checked the Reverend's neck for a pulse. Satisfied that
the Reverend was currently interviewing in Hell, he reached into his pocket
and pulled out his "Batphone."
He hit a speed dial button and waited for the connection. "Juliet. I'm
out at the Farm. I need you to work some of your magic. The Reverend's
had an accident."
Simon hustled Arabella out of the office and into the car. Driving back
towards Staunton over rough roads was slow work but it took several hours
before Arabella said a word. They had left the Farm, locking the Reverend
and his catamite in the office for Juliet's team to find and dispose of,
and had headed back to town. Pulling into his driveway, Simon steered
Arabella into his kitchen and poured her a juice glass full of bourbon.
"You wouldn't have shot me?" Her eyes looked into his. "Would you?"
Simon took her into his arms and held her tight. "Don't think about it
anymore. It will all look better in the morning."
Chapter 6: Little Riding Hood The next morning, Arabella set out
again, this time without waking Simon. She knew somehow that he cared
about her, but she owed it to to make sure everything was safe and
sound. Recovering the same road she'd driven over just the day before,
Arabella quickly made her way across the Appalachians. It still wasn't
lunch time when she started down the long steep grade into Monterey.
Arabella was relieved to find everything in Monterey calm and peaceful
as she drove into the town. She parked beside the small central park,
adorned with the statue of some forgotten local hero and had walked to the
old bandstand that she used to play on, before she realized that the only
people on the street were men. staring at her. She tried stopping
someone to ask where the women and children were, but no one would look her
in the face much less stop for a conversation.
She walked dejectedly back to her car when she noticed a standing
next to it. He was rather abrupt with her, asking her name and business in
town. Arabella answered his questions politely but wanted to know who he
was in return. He showed her a cheap tin badge and called himself a town
deputy. Arabella asked about the deputy she had known while growing up and
the sneered, saying "the fool died face down in the gutter." He
then told her to follow him to the town hall where she'd get permission to
stay in town.
Believing that the deputy was merely a sign of the times Arabella did as
she was told. Along the way, the deputy told her that Monterey was under
almost constant siege and all strangers had to be checked out by the boss
before they were allowed free access to the town. Arabella tried to ask
about and some of her other friends but the told her that she
would get all her answers at the town hall.
Arabella was surprised when the deputy pointed at their destination.
The new town hall was a renovated roadside bar on the edge of town. Once a
seedy dive with raised platforms around a sunken dance floor, its new
inhabitants had redecorated it as a new age throne room. Arabella was
escorted down the aisle toward the throne. Groups of armed had settled
into the round booths that surrounded the open dance floor. They lounged
on the splitting vinyl seats, eating, drinking, and having sex with women
dressed in patched lingerie and harem costumes.
Tearing her eyes from the clientele, Arabella looked up and stopped
short at the scene on the throne, causing her escort to stumble into her.
There, on the dais set in the middle of the dance floor was the she met
at the roadside tavern. She remembered that he had said his name was
Wolfe, but the sudden remembrance of a chance meeting wasn't what made her
stop. It was the fact that Wolfe was having his cock by Safi.
Arabella's escort pushed her ahead to the entrance of the dance floor
but her introduction was delayed as Wolfe sprayed his over Granny's
face. eagerly cleaned his cock with her tongue, murmuring
endearments about how big and virile a he was. Wolfe slouched back in
his large chair and guzzled wine from a large goblet as he caught his
breath.
Refreshed for the moment, Wolfe looked at Arabella and smiled. Rings
glinting from his fingers, he carefully handed his goblet to Granny.
Sitting up he said, "I need to thank you for telling us about this
wonderful little undefended town."
"Why this was just the slice of Paradise we had been looking for. Clean
air, open spaces, plenty of food - why we've got everything we need." He
gestured at his happy cronies and their female companions. "And the
townsfolk welcomed us with open arms." A ripple of laughter interrupted him
and he looked around meaningfully. "And open legs." Roars of laughter
erupted from the and women in the dimly lit club.
Arabella asked why he had forced the local women to act as slaves, but
Wolfe assured her that the women were not being coerced at all. He told
her that the women chose their jobs.
"It's a simple exchange. Civilization at its most basic. Each to his
or her own abilities." His smile seemed to his face. "My and I
provide protection and the townspeople work in a variety of positions.
Some are farmers, some are servants, and some," he laughed and cupped
Granny's chin with his fingertips, "are companions for my men. No one is
forced to do anything against his or her will."
LTC Wolfe stood and tucked his deflated cock back into his colorful
robes. He looked like a revolutionary crossed with one part biker warlord
and one part African king. Enjoying his control over the moment, he asked
Arabella what she planned on doing for the community, reminding her that
everyone had to work or they didn't get fed. She stared at him defiantly
and told him that she certainly didn't intend on becoming his sex toy. He
laughed in the face of her self-righteous indignation and told his that
being a sex toy was all that she was qualified for. Wolfe told Arabella
that it would be far more pleasurable for her to volunteer, unless he said,
she enjoyed rough sex.
Arabella looked at her mentor, crouched at Wolfe's feet like an obscene
cup bearer, and told Wolfe that she would stay with Granny. Nodding his
head in agreement, he told to take Arabella to the harem and clean
her up. Looking up to the expectant crowd, he announced that Arabella
would be part of the after dinner entertainment. Lewd comments and wolf
whistles followed Arabella out of the throne room and into the hallway.
took Arabella to an outdoor shower and helped her bathe. explained that Wolfe wanted a show and asked if Arabella had ever
been with another woman. Arabella thought about Randy and the night at the
Bears' house but confessed to being inexperienced.
told Arabella to relax and began gently soaping Arabella's chest.
Arabella found herself relaxing and becoming aroused by Granny's tender
caresses. showed her the outline of what Wolfe wanted to see. She
explained that Wolfe liked to see a pair of lick and suck each other
before climbing in and fucking them both until all three of them collapsed.
In the three days since his arrival in Monterey, Wolfe had staged the
spectacle every night. Tonight would be Granny's first time center stage
and Arabella could tell that she was excited about it.
The idea of Wolfe collapsing gave Arabella an idea of how they could
escape. She told that all they had to do was tire Wolfe out, make
sure that he was asleep, and then escape back to Staunton in Arabella's
car. Grinning lewdly, said that she wasn't sure who would collapse
first, but she was willing to give it a try.
That evening Wolfe hosted his usual feast in the throne room. Scantily
clad women, including Arabella and Granny, moved about the room acting as
servants while the former National Guardsmen acted like conquerors. After
most of the had finished eating but before they got too drunk, Wolfe
struck the gong that sat beside his throne.
One of the started some music and a spotlight lit up the stage. On
cue, and Arabella danced down the central aisle to the cleared area
in front of Wolfe's throne. Moving around a futon bed set in the
spotlight, and Arabella did a sexy strip tease before starting to
caress, lick, and suck each other in front of the cheering men. Slowly,
with each pose moving them on to the futon, the crawled into a 69.
Granny used her tongue enthusiastically and Arabella didn't have to fake
her moans of pleasure.
Before the could make each other cum, Wolfe rose theatrically from
his throne and dropped his pants. His long, cock pointed straight at
the pair of feverishly lapping ladies. Climbing on to the futon behind
Granny's raised rump, Wolfe guided Arabella's mouth from Granny's to
his balls as he slowly parted Granny's lips with his pole. Still
straddling Arabella's face, Wolfe pulled back and forth along the
length of his dick. Arabella used her tongue to bathe and tease Wolfe's
balls and ass. Wolfe held off his orgasm until Granny's skinny body began
jerking and quivering as her orgasm tore through her.
Wolfe pulled his cock out of as she collapsed onto Arabella's
body. Gently rolling off of her, Arabella guided Wolfe's still
thick cock into her mouth. Skillfully his huge cock, Arabella
licked Granny's off of his pole. joined her and together they
sucked his cock as it throbbed in time with his heartbeat.
Revived and ready for the second round, Wolfe pushed Arabella onto her
back. She raised her knees to her chest and told him to show her what made
him the king, hoping that by making him work for his second orgasm he would
tire that much quicker. Using the most foul and direct language she could
think of, she ordered him to fuck her hard and deep.
Hearing this slender woman swearing like a whore fueled Wolfe's
lust. He didn't need a second's more thought before he sank his cock into
Arabella's sopping twat with a single thrust. She urged him on as he
slammed his cock into her over and over again. Granny's fingers teased his
balls and asshole from behind as he threw himself into Arabella. Sweat ran
from his head and chest before Wolfe finally threw his head back and roared
as he came. The three of them fell into a sweaty heap on the futon to the
roars of approval from the crowd.
Arabella smiled to herself. The first phase of her plan had gone well.
Now that the general orgy had begun, all she had to do was wait for the
gang to exhaust themselves before making her run for her car, the forest,
and freedom. The party raged throughout the night. A few hours before
dawn, Arabella silently nudged Granny. It was time to go.
The pair swiftly padded into the back of roadhouse, dressing in the
bathroom. Arabella checked outside to make sure that the coast was clear.
Waiting for the moon to duck behind a cloud, she grabbed Granny's hand and
they dashed into the parking lot. They found a vehicle; it's keys still in
the ignition and Arabella jumped in. Looking around she fired up the
engines, heedless of the noise. Gunning the engines, she raced through the
town streets, crashed the temporary gate at the edge of town and headed
into the forest at top speed. Ducking their heads they narrowly escaped
the sentry's warning shots. Arabella pushed the engines knowing that
pursuit would be following soon.
Gravel flying and engine racing, Arabella drove into the night.
Disregarding the main road as too dangerous she rocketed down the back
roads, taking the switchbacks up the mountain as fast as she dared. She
reached the other side of the mountains as the sun peaked over the Blue
Ridge. looked over her shoulder and pointed out the dust plume sent
up by the posse chasing them. Arabella accelerated, pushing the last
horsepower from the engines, hoping to lose Wolfe's gang in the forest.
Almost on to the main highway, Arabella turned a blind corner and
slammed on the brakes. The stolen truck slid to a halt against a huge log
obstacle. She stood in her seat looking frantically for a way around the
abatis but instead saw Wolfe, sitting arrogantly on the hood of his HMMV.
Casually putting down his thermos mug of coffee, he told her that she
should learn the shortcuts before she tried to outrun him.
"Now it's time to come back to town." His face looked hard in the
morning light. "Come back without a fuss and you and little Safi will only
have to spend a month in detention. Make me come get you and I'll have no
choice but to make you an example."
Desperation gripped Arabella's heart. She knew exactly what one month
in Wolfe's idea of detention would mean but the posse was closing in and
the cavalry was no where in sight. Just as she was about to surrender, a
car locked its brakes and slid to a halt on the other side of the barrier.
Arabella smiled as the door to the sedan opened and Simon stepped on to
the road. Wolfe turned to keep both Simon and the in view. His hand
went to his holster and unsnapped the flap.
Simon held out his hand and asked Wolfe to hear him out. Simon called
on Wolfe to remember that he was once a soldier. A soldier dedicated to
protecting people's freedom. But Wolfe laughed at him, jeering Simon's
high morals and telling him that the people had willingly traded their
freedom for safety.
"They want someone strong to protect them. To shelter them from all of
life's cruelties so that they can go on living their pathetic, petty
lives." Wolfe turned his back on the and pointed at Simon. "I'm
going to build a kingdom down in that valley."
Simon's hand was a blur as it pulled the Beretta out of its holster and
fired, all in one smooth motion. Wolfe looked surprised as the first shell
punctured his ribcage. He toppled backwards in slow motion, his mouth open
in astonishment.
Simon walked over to Wolfe's body. Once he'd made sure that there was
no pulse, he stood and looked at the girls. "Long live the King. This
part of the story's over."
Holding out his arms, he crushed Arabella to him, burying his head in
her hair. Looking up he said, "And you must be Safi."
smiled, "Please call me Saffron. All my friends do."
They shook hands and the three of them stood staring at each other,
wondering if their ordeal was truly over.
"What now, Simon?" Arabella's voice sounded tired.
He put his arms around her shoulders and laughed. "Hell girl. Now we
get back to work!"
And so, they laughed as they walked back to Simon's car and returned to
Staunton and to their home.
MORE to come.
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