You’ve recovered from the hangover and looking a little askance at your resolutions. Work looks like work again (dagnabbit) and the cold weather just won’t quit. Time to lose yourself in a good book. Not to fear, we can recommend eleven to start the year off right, and they’re all written by us:
Xakara
Ghost of Christmas Past, Liquid Silver Books, December 20, 2010.
Four years after being gunned down by the city's most infamous crime boss, Empath and PsiCorps Agent Torrin St. James wakes from a coma to find that he's seemingly lost everything. Entered into the WitSecPsi program, as part of his cover Torrin is believed dead by the members of his psychic Triad, Resonance Partner Riley Valin and Psi Anchor Sky Roarke--his fiancé. When Torrin convinces his handler to break protocol and let him see Sky and Riley, he discovers nothing is the way he remembers it—with his loved ones or the corps. Isolated in a safe house during the worst storm of the season, he’ll have to learn if passion, trust and love can be saved or if he’s just a ghost of Christmas past.
Christine Norris
The Mirror of Yu-Huang, Zumaya Publishing, December 20, 2010.
Megan’s dreams of a fun and relaxing Christmas holiday turn into a nightmare when the headmistress of her school strong-arms her father into hosting a huge New Year’s ball for the Chinese ambassador. Soon her secret charge, the Library of Athena, the Library is invaded, and only Megan can stop the invader from threatening the world.
Bianca D’Arc
Cat’s Cradle, Samhain Publishing, print release January 4.
As bad days go, this one qualifies as one for the books. Elaine knew being late for her jiu jitsu class could earn her a reprimand from her sensei. But the sensei’s not there. And suddenly, neither is her car. Walking home she discovers things most definitely dp go bump in the night—like Cade, an alpha Panther Noir on a mission transporting his queen to safety. Thrust into a world where the supernatural is commonplace, Elaine finds her considerable martial arts skill tested to the limit—and her ability to resist Cade crumbling by the second. But when nothing is as it seems, the last things she can trust are her own instincts.
Kaye Chambers
Blood and Destiny, Samhain Publishing, print release January 4.
For Destiny St. George, shapeshifting lioness and private investigator, her best friend’s imminent wedding is little more than a reminder of her failed relationship with vampire king Marcus Smythe. Tired of being only one of many mistresses—and dinner entrees—she’s stayed away from the vampire scene altogether. Until a missing-person case forces her to seek his help. When the case proves to be an elaborate trap to avenge a millennia-old grudge, she finds herself caught between love and instinct—while the clock ticks down on an innocent victim’s life.
Love at First Shot, AudioLark, audiobook release January 11th.
Emma Feltman of the Supernatural Clean-up Crew is a master mage in training with one minor problem: sexual frustration has twisted her ordinarily powerful magic into an unpredictable force of chaos. Sent to retrieve the body of a dead werewolf, she runs into another complication: T.J. Jackson, a coroner she’d just (ahem) die to play doctor with. Make that two problems. T.J. is immune to magic, which means there’s no way to make him forget what he wasn’t supposed to see. Stashing him away in a remote cabin, Megan opts for a more personal solution. But can a relationship born of extreme conditions survive?
D. McEntire
Purrs & Lace, Turquoise Morning Press, January 30, 2011
Angelina knows the meaning of a hardship. Desperate for a place to belong, she got sucked into a life of prostitution and addiction. But a deadly accident on an icy mountain road offers her an unlikely second chance in the form of her rescuer, snow leopard shifter Jonah Stark. The injured human female stirs something within Jonah, making it impossible to let her go. But, how far will he go when her past returns to claim her?
Jody Wallace
One Thousand Kisses, Samhain Publishing, February 8.
Embor Fiertag, Primary of the Fey Court, has faced some major challenges, but none as tough as the three facing him right now: getting reelected, capturing the rogue agents who tried to murder him, and improving his love life. The third one should be easy—except he hasn’t exactly told Court trainee Anisette Serendipity she’s his foretold bondmate. Ani doesn’t even like him, and she’s dating Torval, his chief rival. But none of that matters when Torval tries to force himself on her. Forced to flee together to humanspace with a manipulative magical cat, Embor and Ani must find the courage to reveal—and heal—their vulnerabilities before the fabric between the Fey Realm and humanspace is ripped to shreds.
SJ Willing
Dante I, Samhain Publishing, print release March 1.
Two years on the Separatist-controlled planet of Dante I, and undercover PIACT agent Tomas Valcino is no closer to contacting the underground rebellion. As if imminent mission failure isn’t bad enough, he can’t shake his lust for the prefect’s beautiful daughter, Yumi Rebyj. An assassination attempt drives Tomas and Yumi into hiding. In close quarters, all is stripped away. Secrets. Lies. And clothes. But when they uncover a new technology, they ignite new Separatist repression. Can Tomas's and Yumi's connection save the planet, or will it be too little, too late?
Sharon Cullen
Wherever You Are, Samhain Publishing, April 5.
For the one woman he’s never forgotten and a love that defies the centuries, Morgan must conquer his fears and battle his deadly enemy to keep Juliana at his side.
Jean Marie Ward
“Personal Demons” in Hellebore & Rue, Drollerie Press, spring 2011.
Rescuing children from demonic possession is a risky business, especially when the demon decides to get personal.
D. McEntire
The Watchers: Midnight Unseen, Samhain Publishing, print release May 2011
Dreams clash with reality when a Watcher mission leads Tank into a musty, rat-infested basement where blind piano virtuoso Sonya lies broken and bleeding from the attack of a Rogue vampire—and suffering the beginnings of the Change. Keeping Sonya safe from the Rogue determined to claim her is only half of Tank’s battle. Sonya must accept her new life, or his dream will become only a memory.
Enjoy!
Jean Marie
Step Into The Mists with our adventurous band of award-winning authors to otherworlds of paranormal, SF, fantasy and speculative romance. Nervous? Don't be. The creatures that live here are friendly. Most of the time... This blog is for age 18 and over only.
Showing posts with label sj willing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sj willing. Show all posts
17 January 2011
14 August 2010
A Blast from the Past!
I wasn't always the cute funny guy that everyone knows and loves. This dark little piece I wrote when I was around twenty years old. Uhm, that was like three years ago... *Crosses fingers and hides hand behind back).
It was a dark and [Stromey delete] Stormy Night
It was a dark and stormy night.
Well, it would have been if the Hollywood moguls had pulled their fingers out and splashed out a few thousand on the effects. As it was it was a bright, hot and well worn summer day. The sort of day you find pasted on the front of a cheap romance magazine—along with half-naked men and bosomed heroines.
So what can I say? There I am, sitting at the office desk filling out some paperwork. "Maddison Murducks - Private Investigator" was glistening in freshly painted gold filigree on the door glass. I'd just come through from the little door in the back of the office which housed the john. I’d finally finished my last job for the day. Then this broad walks in.
"I've caught you at last Mr. Murduck."
She speaks in this classy uptown talk and I'm hanging on each word. Spellbound. Hey, you can’t blame me. Normally this kind of chick walks past me like I'm some kinda ghoul from the latest Stephen King novel. And if they did spot me it was normally to touch me with the live end of a 6,000 VOlt stunner, or to set their precious fifi--a five hundred pound Rottweiler--on me. I reckoned this must be one distressed lady if she was willing to stoop so low as to say “Hi”.
"Here's the money we agreed on the phone." She slaps the greens on the table before me. A quick glance revealed it was one thousand smackers. Five times what I’d normally make in a month. She was one hell of a distressed lady. "The other nine I'll give you when you've found my brother and he's back home."
Wow! I mean, there’s distressed and distressed. Now this is distressed.
"Hey maybe..." I start talking, thinking it's time to come clean with her. Tell her I couldn’t do the job she wanted me to do.
Guessing my motives for opening my chow hole she bursts into a real fine blubber of tears.
"You've got to help me, Mr. Murduck." Her sobs are heavy like she’d thrown her whole soul into them. "You're the only hope I've got of getting little Tommy back from Mr. Musher's group."
"Yeah well," I shuffle uncomfortably on the chair. Like ain't nobody who ain't heard of Musher the Crusher and most of them's that did wish they hadn't.
Taking that for a “yes” the broad's tears vanished in an ingratiating smile. And just to seal the pact and stop me speaking again she planted a big Elizabeth Arden sucker on me. Having her pucker up and come down like that effectively stunned me 'til she'd got out of the door.
I picked up the thousand bucks she’d left behind and began mulling over what she'd said.
She was some kinda gal, you gotta admit. I’d only met her for five minutes and already she'd got me making plans on how and where to look for her little Tommy.
I wonder if I should have told her I was Pepe Wulp, the plumber. And Murduck had called me in a few minutes ago so I could fix the john…
SJ Willing
www.sjwilling.com
It was a dark and [Stromey delete] Stormy Night
It was a dark and stormy night.
Well, it would have been if the Hollywood moguls had pulled their fingers out and splashed out a few thousand on the effects. As it was it was a bright, hot and well worn summer day. The sort of day you find pasted on the front of a cheap romance magazine—along with half-naked men and bosomed heroines.
So what can I say? There I am, sitting at the office desk filling out some paperwork. "Maddison Murducks - Private Investigator" was glistening in freshly painted gold filigree on the door glass. I'd just come through from the little door in the back of the office which housed the john. I’d finally finished my last job for the day. Then this broad walks in.
"I've caught you at last Mr. Murduck."
She speaks in this classy uptown talk and I'm hanging on each word. Spellbound. Hey, you can’t blame me. Normally this kind of chick walks past me like I'm some kinda ghoul from the latest Stephen King novel. And if they did spot me it was normally to touch me with the live end of a 6,000 VOlt stunner, or to set their precious fifi--a five hundred pound Rottweiler--on me. I reckoned this must be one distressed lady if she was willing to stoop so low as to say “Hi”.
"Here's the money we agreed on the phone." She slaps the greens on the table before me. A quick glance revealed it was one thousand smackers. Five times what I’d normally make in a month. She was one hell of a distressed lady. "The other nine I'll give you when you've found my brother and he's back home."
Wow! I mean, there’s distressed and distressed. Now this is distressed.
"Hey maybe..." I start talking, thinking it's time to come clean with her. Tell her I couldn’t do the job she wanted me to do.
Guessing my motives for opening my chow hole she bursts into a real fine blubber of tears.
"You've got to help me, Mr. Murduck." Her sobs are heavy like she’d thrown her whole soul into them. "You're the only hope I've got of getting little Tommy back from Mr. Musher's group."
"Yeah well," I shuffle uncomfortably on the chair. Like ain't nobody who ain't heard of Musher the Crusher and most of them's that did wish they hadn't.
Taking that for a “yes” the broad's tears vanished in an ingratiating smile. And just to seal the pact and stop me speaking again she planted a big Elizabeth Arden sucker on me. Having her pucker up and come down like that effectively stunned me 'til she'd got out of the door.
I picked up the thousand bucks she’d left behind and began mulling over what she'd said.
She was some kinda gal, you gotta admit. I’d only met her for five minutes and already she'd got me making plans on how and where to look for her little Tommy.
I wonder if I should have told her I was Pepe Wulp, the plumber. And Murduck had called me in a few minutes ago so I could fix the john…
SJ Willing
www.sjwilling.com
31 July 2010
And now for something completely different
From what I originally planned.
Today's blog was going to be all about my ReConStruction program schedule, but it's not yet ready for prime time. The program posted on the site July 28 has some major inconsistencies. While the good folks running the con sort that out, I decided to take this opportunity to point everybody in the way of two very good causes.
You know about the first one: Save our SJ. The response to our campaign has been fantastic. The donations literally have meant the difference between life and death to one of the good guys. Thank you to everybody who contributed. If you haven't, here's thirteen reasons why you should.
If you have a little more good will to spread around, you might want to check out Trisha Wooldridge's blog-o-rama for the Bay State Equine Rescue. Trisha is a writer, food critic and the go-to person when it comes to horses. Believe me, if you write any kind of historical romance or traditional fantasy, you need her expertise. Once a year, to give back to her favorite four-legged friends, she sells guest blogs and advertising to raise money to provide a future for abused and neglected horses in Massachusetts. Today, July 31, is the day.
The best part is you don't need to do anything but enjoy the results. Trisha has assembled a first-rate group of guest bloggers to amaze and delight you. Just check out her blog from 9 a.m. Saturday to 9 a.m. Sunday. And if you feel like hitting the donate button...well, I won't tell you not to.
Meanwhile, I'll be hitting the refresh button on the ReConStruction site. The tenth North American Science Fiction Convention (i.e., the US version of the World Science Fiction Convention when WorldCon leaves the continent), coming to Raleigh, NC, August 5-8, promises great guests, splendid events, a grand time for all and two Samhain authors: Marcia Colette and me. Hope to see you there!
Today's blog was going to be all about my ReConStruction program schedule, but it's not yet ready for prime time. The program posted on the site July 28 has some major inconsistencies. While the good folks running the con sort that out, I decided to take this opportunity to point everybody in the way of two very good causes.
You know about the first one: Save our SJ. The response to our campaign has been fantastic. The donations literally have meant the difference between life and death to one of the good guys. Thank you to everybody who contributed. If you haven't, here's thirteen reasons why you should.
If you have a little more good will to spread around, you might want to check out Trisha Wooldridge's blog-o-rama for the Bay State Equine Rescue. Trisha is a writer, food critic and the go-to person when it comes to horses. Believe me, if you write any kind of historical romance or traditional fantasy, you need her expertise. Once a year, to give back to her favorite four-legged friends, she sells guest blogs and advertising to raise money to provide a future for abused and neglected horses in Massachusetts. Today, July 31, is the day.
The best part is you don't need to do anything but enjoy the results. Trisha has assembled a first-rate group of guest bloggers to amaze and delight you. Just check out her blog from 9 a.m. Saturday to 9 a.m. Sunday. And if you feel like hitting the donate button...well, I won't tell you not to.
Meanwhile, I'll be hitting the refresh button on the ReConStruction site. The tenth North American Science Fiction Convention (i.e., the US version of the World Science Fiction Convention when WorldCon leaves the continent), coming to Raleigh, NC, August 5-8, promises great guests, splendid events, a grand time for all and two Samhain authors: Marcia Colette and me. Hope to see you there!
###
11 July 2010
Sunday Snippets: Passages from SJ Willing's Free Fiction
Sorry I'm late with my monthly post. I was kidnapped by a man on a Harley yesterday and whisked off for a day in the sun. :)
If you haven't read SJ Willing's wealth of fantastic, funny, deliciously sexy FREE fiction, you're missing out! Check it out on his Coffee Time Romance forum.
WARNING: ADULT HUMOR AHEAD! :)
“Really girls,” Wolf chastised them. “You shouldn’t be walking around naked while a man is watching you.”
“A man…?” Fox squeaked.
“…watching us?” Lynx chirped.
Both women dashed to the balcony and dangled over it, searching for their elusive voyeur.
“He’s in here, silly.”
Still excited the two girls turned around and began searching behind the curtains and in the cupboards.
“He’s standing right in front of you.” Wolf added, exasperated.
Fox and Lynx paused to look at Wolf.
“Oh!” Lynx said at last. “I think she means Lion.”
“Lion?” Fox stuttered. “He’s not a man, he’s married.”
“To Otter,” Lynx agreed.
“Damn,” Fox flumped down at the breakfast bar, disappointed.
“Damn, too” Lynx joined her.
Lion swallowed, glanced down at his perfectly athletic body, muscles to die for, and felt about as useful as a butt plug at a gay bar.
“Well, just keep your clothes on around here, okay. The poor fellow is already having fits by the looks of it.”
Lion felt himself blush as Wolf pointedly looked at the front of his pants.
“Don’t worry about that,” Fox stage whispered, “It’s only padding.”
~From Lethal Lion
-------
She stilled as the sound of the temporary elevator started up. The wind began to rise too, thankfully. The cold desert nights were just way too hot for her recently, she was fairly stifling in this heat. She let the air move over her, becoming one with the flow, as Diamondback had taught her she could taste the storm within it.
“The wings of the wind,” he’d once told her. “The breath of Allah.”
Scorpion shivered, in spite of her flush. Diamondback had passed on over nine years ago yet, now and then, she could still feel him at her back.
Al Khayr arrived alone and Scorpion wondered that he couldn’t hear the pounding beat of her heart. The elevator came to a noisy stop and he stepped out, towards the middle of the construction where the floors were more completed and safer.
Even with her eyes closed she would have recognized him. His scent, heat, his very presence seemed to fill the world around him as she became acutely aware of everything he did. From his soft, steady breathing to the slow confident steps as he walked closer towards her.
In the middle of the floor he stopped, lifting his face to the wind as if tasting it with his thoughts.
“You’re here!”
Scorpion blinked, startled. He knew she was here? Her heart skipped and she shivered, recognizing the pleasure in his voice; understanding his excitement at finding her here with him. He turned on the spot looking for her, knowing she was present but unable to see.
“I have searched many years for you, Raging Scorpion. At last we get to meet.”
From Scorpion's Sting
-------
Wolf was beginning to sweat. Well, could you blame her, being this close to ten of the hottest men in the world, all of them, she was almost certain, sporting hard-on’s that would make a decent stallion jealous.
On top of which, a few in-flight brandies had made the in-flight conversation skew to the, uh, rather risqué.
Well, risqué, maybe not. But hearing how Alfonso, step by step, seduced his latest conquest with no censorship at all, would make any red-blooded woman hot.
And she had a feeling they knew it too. After all they’d been flying now for nearly ten hours.
It was with a kind of relief when the pilot came out and made his way towards her. Obviously with some kind of report to give.
“Madam Wolf,” he spoke softly in a French accent that, if she’d been wearing panties, would have talked them off her in a moment flat. “Is bad news, yes. The vessel taking your team to the Antarctic has it a few problems, is likely to be delayed a few weeks.”
“Damn,” Wolf whispered back. “Weeks? How am I going to delay these guys for weeks?” She sighed then shook her head. “Okay, how long can you keep the jet flying before you need to land for fuel?”
He looked at her, surprised. “Did they not tell you, Madam. This is the special nuclear powered jet. She can fly for five years without stopping for fuel.”
“Really? Oh my gosh, how wonderful.” Wolf started to think fast. How could she use this to her advantage? “It has an autopilot, yes.”
“The most efficient in the world, Madam.”
“We might need to engage that then, and pretend that you’ve had some kind of accident and can’t land the plane.”
“It is already engaged, Madam, and it—“
The airplane suddenly flipped over and back again, bouncing around in a rather large airpocket. When it straightened out Wolf found herself upside down in one of the seats, in her usual, unfortunate position.
“Is it? Could it possibly be…?” One of the HUNKs asked.
“No, surely not. She looks so different.”
“I’ll bet you fifty thousand lira it is.”
“But, she looks so familiar and so, different.”
“Ah, let me try something.”
Wolf blushed bright red as gentle fingers toyed with her pubic hair and removed the sunglasses.
“Ah, magnifico, it is her.”
-- From A Lively Lark with CTR's Angels
-----
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Furball began, looking as if he was peering around her room trying to find the dozens of naked men falling over themselves to service her every whim. Not that the thought wasn’t tempting, but she wasn’t really that sort of girl.
“No, you’re not interrupting anything at all,” she reassured him. Except for a gadzillion dollar daydream about Italy.
“Good, good.” Furball replied. “Because I need a second agent urgently for a most dangerous mission. I wouldn’t ask you normally but I can’t send Shimmering Dragon in alone for this one, and you’re the only agent I have free at the moment. All the rest are involved in a highly covert mission at the YouTube offices.”
Shimmering Dragon? Furball’s personal assistant? The One Beneath the Supreme One on Top? It had to be a very weighty mission indeed if he was sending her to investigate. This could be a very important stepping point in her PIACT career. Suddenly the interruption was beginning to seem much less inconvenient than it had.
“Of course I’ll be able to help, sir. May I know the details of the mission?”
“Too risky to tell you anything but the basics online,” Furball shook his head. “Dragon will be there within the hour and she will brief you. Suffice to say we believe it involves the Secret Party Looking to Annihilate Terra, SPLAT that is, and you’ll be hopping on over to Florence to investigate. Can you be ready in an hour?”
Jaguar held her breath as giddy waves of euphoria washed through her. Florence, Italy. Yes! Yes! YES!
So what if it also involved the most evil, despicable, deadly and corrupt organization PIACT had ever encountered. Jaguar knew she’d get time to visit the Archbishop’s Palace, the Cloister of the Barefoot, wander around the Oricellari Gardens and marvel at the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore. And then, once the mission was over, begin her tour from there ending up, finally, on the golden beaches of Capri.
“Jaguar? Jaguar? Are you okay?”
Realizing she’d been drifting in a daydream haze, and hoping she hadn’t been doing it for too long, she schooled her face into a perfectly neutral expression.
“No problem, sir.” She told him. “I’ll be packed and ready in an hour.” In less, if she had to.
“Very good,” Furball nodded. “Good luck to you both, then. And remember, the fate of the world depends on you.”
She waited until the chat window had shut down and she was certain the web cam was no longer pumping her image across the net before she leaped up, dancing towards her closet.
“I’m going to Florence, I’m going to meet an Italian. We’re going to be best of best buddies!” She sang a silly little song as she threw bikini’s, bikini wax, toothbrushes, sun tan lotion, camera’s, video camera’s, makeup, shoes, her electronic English to Italian translator, more makeup, some very skimpy panties and bras, her passport into a couple of suitcases.
Looking at the three matched sets of luggage the middle one was still empty, though she couldn’t figure out why. She thought about it as she sang again, lauding the delicious Italian who was going to fall in love with her forever in the beautifully romantic city.
Ah, clothes! Yes, she’d need some clothes! What a silly girl she was, but, oh, what a wonderful surprise!
By the time Dragon arrived she’d managed to drag all five cases of luggage—well, she really couldn’t fit all the clothes into just one—down six flights of stairs to the front hallway. And was waiting, as gracefully as one can when feeling in an excited tizzy, dressed in her Donna Karan sequined dress, her Jimmy Choo branded mirror slingbacks and her Rioni mini-on-the-go purse.
This was going to be the adventure of a lifetime, and she intended to live it.
“So, you want to take all this?”
Jaguar didn’t like the tone of Dragon’s voice as she looked at the small collection of luggage. Didn’t the woman realize just how much essential stuff she’d had to leave behind?
“These really are the essentials,” Jaguar insisted. “I simply can’t go on vaca—mission without them.”
--From Gentle Jaguar Enjoys the View
-----
Then, of course, there's the fabulous through-story SJ wrote for DunVegas.
Thank you to every who has donated so far toward SJ's much needed medication. The donation link will remain on the Dunvegas page and here on the BtV blog for as long as SJ needs it.
Carolan
www.carolanivey.com
If you haven't read SJ Willing's wealth of fantastic, funny, deliciously sexy FREE fiction, you're missing out! Check it out on his Coffee Time Romance forum.
WARNING: ADULT HUMOR AHEAD! :)
“Really girls,” Wolf chastised them. “You shouldn’t be walking around naked while a man is watching you.”
“A man…?” Fox squeaked.
“…watching us?” Lynx chirped.
Both women dashed to the balcony and dangled over it, searching for their elusive voyeur.
“He’s in here, silly.”
Still excited the two girls turned around and began searching behind the curtains and in the cupboards.
“He’s standing right in front of you.” Wolf added, exasperated.
Fox and Lynx paused to look at Wolf.
“Oh!” Lynx said at last. “I think she means Lion.”
“Lion?” Fox stuttered. “He’s not a man, he’s married.”
“To Otter,” Lynx agreed.
“Damn,” Fox flumped down at the breakfast bar, disappointed.
“Damn, too” Lynx joined her.
Lion swallowed, glanced down at his perfectly athletic body, muscles to die for, and felt about as useful as a butt plug at a gay bar.
“Well, just keep your clothes on around here, okay. The poor fellow is already having fits by the looks of it.”
Lion felt himself blush as Wolf pointedly looked at the front of his pants.
“Don’t worry about that,” Fox stage whispered, “It’s only padding.”
~From Lethal Lion
-------
She stilled as the sound of the temporary elevator started up. The wind began to rise too, thankfully. The cold desert nights were just way too hot for her recently, she was fairly stifling in this heat. She let the air move over her, becoming one with the flow, as Diamondback had taught her she could taste the storm within it.
“The wings of the wind,” he’d once told her. “The breath of Allah.”
Scorpion shivered, in spite of her flush. Diamondback had passed on over nine years ago yet, now and then, she could still feel him at her back.
Al Khayr arrived alone and Scorpion wondered that he couldn’t hear the pounding beat of her heart. The elevator came to a noisy stop and he stepped out, towards the middle of the construction where the floors were more completed and safer.
Even with her eyes closed she would have recognized him. His scent, heat, his very presence seemed to fill the world around him as she became acutely aware of everything he did. From his soft, steady breathing to the slow confident steps as he walked closer towards her.
In the middle of the floor he stopped, lifting his face to the wind as if tasting it with his thoughts.
“You’re here!”
Scorpion blinked, startled. He knew she was here? Her heart skipped and she shivered, recognizing the pleasure in his voice; understanding his excitement at finding her here with him. He turned on the spot looking for her, knowing she was present but unable to see.
“I have searched many years for you, Raging Scorpion. At last we get to meet.”
From Scorpion's Sting
-------
Wolf was beginning to sweat. Well, could you blame her, being this close to ten of the hottest men in the world, all of them, she was almost certain, sporting hard-on’s that would make a decent stallion jealous.
On top of which, a few in-flight brandies had made the in-flight conversation skew to the, uh, rather risqué.
Well, risqué, maybe not. But hearing how Alfonso, step by step, seduced his latest conquest with no censorship at all, would make any red-blooded woman hot.
And she had a feeling they knew it too. After all they’d been flying now for nearly ten hours.
It was with a kind of relief when the pilot came out and made his way towards her. Obviously with some kind of report to give.
“Madam Wolf,” he spoke softly in a French accent that, if she’d been wearing panties, would have talked them off her in a moment flat. “Is bad news, yes. The vessel taking your team to the Antarctic has it a few problems, is likely to be delayed a few weeks.”
“Damn,” Wolf whispered back. “Weeks? How am I going to delay these guys for weeks?” She sighed then shook her head. “Okay, how long can you keep the jet flying before you need to land for fuel?”
He looked at her, surprised. “Did they not tell you, Madam. This is the special nuclear powered jet. She can fly for five years without stopping for fuel.”
“Really? Oh my gosh, how wonderful.” Wolf started to think fast. How could she use this to her advantage? “It has an autopilot, yes.”
“The most efficient in the world, Madam.”
“We might need to engage that then, and pretend that you’ve had some kind of accident and can’t land the plane.”
“It is already engaged, Madam, and it—“
The airplane suddenly flipped over and back again, bouncing around in a rather large airpocket. When it straightened out Wolf found herself upside down in one of the seats, in her usual, unfortunate position.
“Is it? Could it possibly be…?” One of the HUNKs asked.
“No, surely not. She looks so different.”
“I’ll bet you fifty thousand lira it is.”
“But, she looks so familiar and so, different.”
“Ah, let me try something.”
Wolf blushed bright red as gentle fingers toyed with her pubic hair and removed the sunglasses.
“Ah, magnifico, it is her.”
-- From A Lively Lark with CTR's Angels
-----
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Furball began, looking as if he was peering around her room trying to find the dozens of naked men falling over themselves to service her every whim. Not that the thought wasn’t tempting, but she wasn’t really that sort of girl.
“No, you’re not interrupting anything at all,” she reassured him. Except for a gadzillion dollar daydream about Italy.
“Good, good.” Furball replied. “Because I need a second agent urgently for a most dangerous mission. I wouldn’t ask you normally but I can’t send Shimmering Dragon in alone for this one, and you’re the only agent I have free at the moment. All the rest are involved in a highly covert mission at the YouTube offices.”
Shimmering Dragon? Furball’s personal assistant? The One Beneath the Supreme One on Top? It had to be a very weighty mission indeed if he was sending her to investigate. This could be a very important stepping point in her PIACT career. Suddenly the interruption was beginning to seem much less inconvenient than it had.
“Of course I’ll be able to help, sir. May I know the details of the mission?”
“Too risky to tell you anything but the basics online,” Furball shook his head. “Dragon will be there within the hour and she will brief you. Suffice to say we believe it involves the Secret Party Looking to Annihilate Terra, SPLAT that is, and you’ll be hopping on over to Florence to investigate. Can you be ready in an hour?”
Jaguar held her breath as giddy waves of euphoria washed through her. Florence, Italy. Yes! Yes! YES!
So what if it also involved the most evil, despicable, deadly and corrupt organization PIACT had ever encountered. Jaguar knew she’d get time to visit the Archbishop’s Palace, the Cloister of the Barefoot, wander around the Oricellari Gardens and marvel at the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore. And then, once the mission was over, begin her tour from there ending up, finally, on the golden beaches of Capri.
“Jaguar? Jaguar? Are you okay?”
Realizing she’d been drifting in a daydream haze, and hoping she hadn’t been doing it for too long, she schooled her face into a perfectly neutral expression.
“No problem, sir.” She told him. “I’ll be packed and ready in an hour.” In less, if she had to.
“Very good,” Furball nodded. “Good luck to you both, then. And remember, the fate of the world depends on you.”
She waited until the chat window had shut down and she was certain the web cam was no longer pumping her image across the net before she leaped up, dancing towards her closet.
“I’m going to Florence, I’m going to meet an Italian. We’re going to be best of best buddies!” She sang a silly little song as she threw bikini’s, bikini wax, toothbrushes, sun tan lotion, camera’s, video camera’s, makeup, shoes, her electronic English to Italian translator, more makeup, some very skimpy panties and bras, her passport into a couple of suitcases.
Looking at the three matched sets of luggage the middle one was still empty, though she couldn’t figure out why. She thought about it as she sang again, lauding the delicious Italian who was going to fall in love with her forever in the beautifully romantic city.
Ah, clothes! Yes, she’d need some clothes! What a silly girl she was, but, oh, what a wonderful surprise!
By the time Dragon arrived she’d managed to drag all five cases of luggage—well, she really couldn’t fit all the clothes into just one—down six flights of stairs to the front hallway. And was waiting, as gracefully as one can when feeling in an excited tizzy, dressed in her Donna Karan sequined dress, her Jimmy Choo branded mirror slingbacks and her Rioni mini-on-the-go purse.
This was going to be the adventure of a lifetime, and she intended to live it.
“So, you want to take all this?”
Jaguar didn’t like the tone of Dragon’s voice as she looked at the small collection of luggage. Didn’t the woman realize just how much essential stuff she’d had to leave behind?
“These really are the essentials,” Jaguar insisted. “I simply can’t go on vaca—mission without them.”
--From Gentle Jaguar Enjoys the View
-----
Then, of course, there's the fabulous through-story SJ wrote for DunVegas.
Thank you to every who has donated so far toward SJ's much needed medication. The donation link will remain on the Dunvegas page and here on the BtV blog for as long as SJ needs it.
Carolan
www.carolanivey.com
06 July 2010
In the Spotlight: Dante I
As our way of saying thank you for the amazing, wonderful, fabulous response to Beyond the Veil’s Save Our SJ fund drive—and to give you a taste of what all the fuss is about—today we’re posting the jacket copy and an excerpt from SJ’s newest release, Dante I. Thank you again from all of us, and especially SJ!
Their love could save the planet—or blow it all to hell.
PIACT Undercover Agents, Book 3
Two years on the Separatist-controlled planet of Dante I, and undercover PIACT agent Tomas Valcino is no closer to contacting the underground rebellion. As if imminent mission failure isn’t bad enough, he can’t shake his lust for the prefect’s beautiful daughter, Yumi Rebyj. The distraction must not tear him away from duty.
Every time Tomas’s eyes find her, Yumi’s insides melt like the molten planet below them. But she’s got her hands full leading the rebels, caring for her sick father, and fending off the Separatist leader’s advances. Plus, she already knows that Tomas isn’t who he says he is. She just isn’t sure whose side he’s on.
An assassination attempt drives Tomas to take Yumi into hiding. In close quarters, all is stripped away. Secrets. Lies. And clothes.
Then the discovery of a new technology drives the Separatists to step up their campaign of cruelty to expose the rebels, once and for all. Tomas and Yumi’s connection is Dante I’s only hope—but it could be too little, too late.
Warning: Hunks, Heroines and major warfare in close quarters—and locked cells. Ahem. We won’t forget the pair of panties that bravely gave its all in the making of this novel.
Their love could save the planet—or blow it all to hell.
PIACT Undercover Agents, Book 3
Two years on the Separatist-controlled planet of Dante I, and undercover PIACT agent Tomas Valcino is no closer to contacting the underground rebellion. As if imminent mission failure isn’t bad enough, he can’t shake his lust for the prefect’s beautiful daughter, Yumi Rebyj. The distraction must not tear him away from duty.Every time Tomas’s eyes find her, Yumi’s insides melt like the molten planet below them. But she’s got her hands full leading the rebels, caring for her sick father, and fending off the Separatist leader’s advances. Plus, she already knows that Tomas isn’t who he says he is. She just isn’t sure whose side he’s on.
An assassination attempt drives Tomas to take Yumi into hiding. In close quarters, all is stripped away. Secrets. Lies. And clothes.
Then the discovery of a new technology drives the Separatists to step up their campaign of cruelty to expose the rebels, once and for all. Tomas and Yumi’s connection is Dante I’s only hope—but it could be too little, too late.
Warning: Hunks, Heroines and major warfare in close quarters—and locked cells. Ahem. We won’t forget the pair of panties that bravely gave its all in the making of this novel.
Chapter One
Yumi Rebyj closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of the man beneath her. Tomas Valcino, a special metals consultant, had arrived on Dante I a mere two years ago. He’d driven Yumi crazy every day since, simply by being around. It must be illegal the way his muscles rippled as he moved; just watching him made her shiver with lust. When he gazed at her, those pale blue eyes never failed to send a tingle running through her body. Still, none of that could compare to having him in bed. Now that was—
“Would you like me to put it in now?”
Startled, Yumi opened her eyes and peered over the railing. Lying on the floor below the catwalk, long black hair splayed against the steel floor, Tomas poked amongst the circuitry of the Secondary Mining Terminal. In his free hand he held a datacard loaded with clean datacubes. His puzzled look as he watched her made her blush. What would he think if he knew the daydreams she had about him? Not that they would be anything other than daydreams. Between running the Bolgër—the resistance forces—managing Dante I’s constant flux of mining skippers, and Tomas’s very obvious lack of interest in her, Yumi very much doubted her dreams would come true.
Suppressing a sigh she leaned back, staring up for a moment at the rock above her. Living in an asteroid circling the molten planet below had a lot of advantages, but unfortunately being able to see anything other than rock wasn’t one of them. Forcing her heart and mind to calm she looked down again.
Tomas still looked at her, expecting an answer to his query.
Yumi glanced over to the main control panel. Zshanna stood there, a curious smile playing over her lips as she waited for Yumi’s directions. Damn. Yumi knew from that smile she’d just told Zshanna far too much, given away too many thoughts. Zshanna, a Poseidian by birth, may be one of the most proficient data operatives Yumi had, but the tech’s psyche abilities could be embarrassing as well as extremely useful. Zshanna had filtered out almost all of the Separatist infiltrators who attempted to worm their way into the Bolgër. Without her abilities the resistance would have been crushed years ago. Of course, it also meant Yumi barely held a secret she could call her own.
There had been only two people Zshanna couldn’t get a fix on. Both were natural Melds with thought patterns so stubbornly fixed and immutable Zshanna was unable to single out anything but the most basic thoughts. The first, five years ago, had turned out to be a Separatist spy who eliminated several of the Bolgër cells and the Federation agents assigned to them, before he was discovered. The second was Tomas, a man with an ironclad history woven in the Ultranet. A history that was a little too perfect. There were also the odd things he did now and then, almost as if he were looking for the resistance forces. The Bolgër kept a careful eye on him, taking no chances that he might be a second Separatist spy.
Still, after one intense session where Zshanna attempted a Meld breakthrough she determined, other than personal things, Tomas’s absolute hatred of the Separatists. The images had been enough to satisfy Zshanna that Tomas posed no threat to the Bolgër. They knew too little to invite him into their fold, and enough not to be concerned about his poking around, so the surveillance on him was light. This was great, not only because of his good looks, but he’d also turned out to be one of the best damn SpecMets Yumi had ever known. In the two years since Tomas arrived he’d improved the special metals extraction and purification process by almost two hundred percent. Incidentally saving a few lives at the same time by meeting the absurdly high Separatist quotient demands. Personal feelings aside, Yumi, and the colony, couldn’t afford to lose him.
She couldn’t afford to lose Zshanna either. If the Separatists ever discovered Zshanna’s abilities the Poseidian would be in the grunge tank, brain dissected, faster than a plasma bubble burst. Yumi would die before she let that happen.
“Ma’am?” Tomas asked again.
“Yes, just a moment, Tomas,” Yumi blurted out, amazed he didn’t show even a trace of impatience. She became too easily distracted nowadays, maybe because the uprising was so close. “Zshanna, how are the multiplex Riener circuits doing?”
“Around seventy-five percent optimum,” Zshanna answered, grinning back. “They’ll hold if the Secondary burns out again.”
“Okay, Tomas, you can put it in.” Yumi almost cursed, blushing bright red again. Fortunately Tomas had slipped under the unit and couldn’t see her embarrassment. She definitely needed a break from Dante I and the oppressive Separatist culture. Time away, with someone really sexy—like Tomas.
They were rewarded when the Secondary hummed gently back to life. Yumi relaxed a little. It wasn’t a vital piece of the colony’s systems since it mainly worked as a backup in case the Primary failed. Experience, though, had taught Yumi not to delay repairs even on the secondaries.
“Well done everyone,” she congratulated them. “Repaired in less than five hours and we didn’t have to call the Techs in. Good work!”
Her own work had begun though. The Secondary had been sabotaged and she had to find the saboteur before the occupying Separatists did. She’d already set several cells of the Bolgër on the task. It certainly wasn’t the work of the underground resistance themselves. The sabotage had been sloppy and the Secondary of too little importance to destroy. This had been something personal against the Separatists, through a relatively easy target.
She watched Tomas edge out from under the terminal, and the familiar feeling of lust coursed through her. When this was all done, maybe…
“Ah, I see you have it working. Good.” Colonel Marcus Saeger walked up to her smiling. “And I have several pieces of good news for you.”
Yumi grimaced. Good news to a Separatist colonel wasn’t normally something people wanted to hear. Not that she had much choice nowadays. Ever since her father’s illness—losing the supply of Federation anti-aging drugs had finally taken its toll—she’d been called in more often than normal lately to represent him on matters of colony policy. Not for the first time she wished Father hadn’t surrendered so easily to Separatist rule. Yes, they probably would have all died trying to stem a Separatist invasion. Surely, though, it would have been preferable to dying like this, one day at a time.
With a shock, Yumi realized this was the seventh year of Separatist occupation in the Dante system. During those years she’d seen their population steadily decline despite a steady influx of workers. Only seven thousand now lived in The Rock, instead of the nine thousand there used to be. She’d heard rumors the losses were even greater on Dante V, or The Fiver, as her people called the frozen planetoid that spun in the lonely fifth orbit. All the losses, it was pretty obvious to everyone, could be traced to Marcus’s administration, his treatment and frequent execution of Dante’s colonists.
“You know I’m always interested in your good news,” Yumi lied. As she spoke she walked toward the Prefect’s office—officially her father’s office though Yumi would be inheriting it soon. She tried not to think about that too often. “So what’s happened?”
Marcus brushed a hand through his hair. The shocking red color, like the dusky red tone to his skin, had been genetically induced to increase his natural resistance to solar radiation. Marcus’s home, Stallas VI, was one of the nine foundation worlds of the Separatist Dynasty. Its people had been engineered to survive on the planet surface in the high radiation system.
“Well,” Marcus said. “We found your saboteur last night. She was trying to stow away on a shuttle flight to The Fiver.” Marcus spoke loudly, making his presence felt amongst the nervous Control Room staff. “One of your Techs, Stela Magrow, seems she had some complaint with our policies.”
Damn! Yumi swore at herself. She should have seen this happening. The policy Stela felt unhappy about occurred five months ago. The distraught Tech had filed charges against five Separatist soldiers who’d spent one night raping her—simply because they were bored. The charges were instantly dismissed by the Separatist legal system as trivial. The Separatists even refused to undergo tests to determine the father of her unborn child.
Yumi, like every other Dantian, hated the Separatist policies that left Separatist soldiers free to terrorize the colonists. She knew she’d been stupid, but now it was too late. She should have smuggled Stela out of system months ago to one of the Federation-owned safe quarters the Bolgër maintained. Then again, there’d been no physical contact with the Federation for almost five years and no radio contact for almost two. Getting Stela to safe quarters, which had more than likely been compromised, would have killed everyone involved.
Yumi was left with the task of rescuing Stela from the grunge room and hiding the poor woman from the Separatists somewhere in the belly of The Rock. Probably with the small Bolgër army she had in The Crypts. God knew how they’d managed to maintain their forces there for so long without anyone noticing.
Yumi turned into a small tube-like corridor. Here the walls were highly polished, indicating the tunnel had been cut by the V.T.M., the superbly efficient Vinder Tunnel Drill. A few more yards down and she stopped in front of the Prefect’s office. Marcus, with that damned superior smile on his face, stopped with her. Short of taking a small tank into the heart of Separatist territory there was very little she could do for Stela. Unless, and it was rare, Zshanna could find a bribable guard.
“I’m glad you found her.” Yumi smiled as the doors automatically slid open. It was a lie, of course, but she daren’t let him know how she truly felt. “We need more manpower on the ore-smelting line. She can join the other prisoners there. It won’t take more than a few days for her to regret her actions.”
Yumi walked into the outer office, passing Vhal and Melindra. The two assistants sat behind their desks busily working on the latest ore shipment and mining figures. Their desks, like most of the furnishing in Dante I, were fabricated from crushed rock obtained from the tunnel drills. Here and there within the highly polished surface of the dark-gray stone was the sparkle of silver, copper and gold.
“I’m afraid Stela can’t join the line,” Marcus said. Yumi’s stomach twisted, anticipating his next words with dread. “She died an hour ago while under questioning.” Marcus made sure Vhal and Melindra heard everything he said.
Stiffly, barely able to keep her temper, Yumi walked the last few steps to the inner office in silence. Touching her fingers to the lockpad she stepped back and let the door slide open. Once inside, with the door closed, she turned to face Marcus. Only sheer determination prevented her from shouting at him.
“I wish you would refrain from this continued depletion of our personnel resources.” She spoke calmly in spite of seething with every word. “We’re twelve percent undermanned as it is and we’ve had no replacements from The Fiver, or out of system, for over six months.”
Marcus, unruffled by her words, simply sat on the edge of the desk and looked at her. A knowing smile pasted on his face. A stupid, aquiline face she wanted to slap silly.
“The second piece of good news,” Marcus continued, “is your father has given us permission to marry.”
“Father has what!” Yumi held onto a tall cabinet next to her. Weakness washed over her. What had he done to her father! No. Doctor Lasky ranked as Second Lieutenant in the Bolgër. He’d never let a Separatist, even a colonel, near her father. Not while her father remained too ill to care for himself. Walking carefully to the desk, Yumi went behind it and sat in her father’s chair. She refused to show her fear to this murderer. “I understood Dr. Lasky’s orders were no visitors,” Yumi said. “I’m surprised he let you in.”
“Dr. Lasky is in the infirmary.” Marcus’s face held a look of, Yumi assumed, mock sympathy. “Several members of the Bolgër assaulted him last night. He’ll be lucky to survive.”
Yumi shook her head sadly. It wouldn’t be the first time Separatist soldiers had disguised themselves as resistance fighters, just enough of a disguise to confuse the few witnesses who’d see the attack.
Marcus’s men always made sure there were reliable witnesses to make the Bolgër unfavorable to the frightened colonists. “I took the liberty of assigning Dr. Krog to your father,” Marcus added. “He assured me a short visit wouldn’t tax your father too much. Just long enough for your father to understand my arguments for a strong male leader in the colony. Appreciating that, he agreed to our wedding.”
“Ah.” Yumi nodded. In other words Marcus’s men hospitalized Dr. Lasky so Marcus could install his favorite toady, Dr. Krog, in Lasky’s place. Then Marcus had the freedom to torture her father until he agreed to the wedding. It had to have been torture. Yumi knew her father enough to know he’d never go against Dante I’s deeply ingrained custom of Prefect inheritance. Neither would the workers accept non-family inheritance—which was why Marcus forced her father to approve of this marriage.
Seriously concerned for her father’s safety, and that of the colony, Yumi shuffled the papers on the desk. Trying to calm her nerves, she filed the unneeded ones in a drawer—she’d sort them later. For now she daren’t allow her thoughts to wander through dangerous assumptions. She needed to think clearly. The stakes in this deadly game of occupation and resistance had suddenly tripled.
“So when is the wedding date?” Yumi continued as steadily as she could. “How long do I have to get the wedding dress ready?” By how much did she need to accelerate the rebellion preparations?
“Three weeks,” Marcus said, looking way too smug. “My Procurer is already working on your wedding chains.” He took the remaining papers from her hand and scanned through them as he spoke. “You should be proud. General Tarug himself will be arriving on the Ultimate tomorrow. He’s decided to stay for the wedding.” He extracted a couple of the reports, folded them and put them in his pocket, then dropped the rest on the table.
Damn. She’d have to see if Vhal and Melindra could work out which reports were missing and duplicate them.
Obviously deciding business was over, Marcus leaned forward. He grasped her around the back of her neck and forced a hard, unwelcome kiss on her. Stunned, Yumi couldn’t react immediately because Marcus stepped away before she could brain him. Being out of reach and unable to cause him physical damage was, in itself, probably a good thing.
“I’ll call on you later,” he told her as he stepped toward the door. “I’m going to start organizing this colony the way it needs to be done.”
Organizing the colony? Chains? For her wedding?
Yumi shuddered. The chains meant Marcus planned for a typical Separatist ceremony. Yumi couldn’t let it happen. She refused to be given to his best men the night before the wedding then dragged to the ceremony the following day—bruised, beaten and very naked. In a true Separatist marriage the woman became little more than a slave.
Yumi gritted her teeth. Thanks to the Federation’s anti-aging drugs she’d had seventy-three years to learn how to control what her father called her hair-trigger temper. Somehow they’d accelerate the rebellion by three weeks. The only trigger Yumi intended to pull then was one that blasted a bullet through Marcus’s heart…
Ahem. Dying to read more? You don’t need to go quite that far. Simply click here to order the book from My Bookstore and More.
Yumi Rebyj closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of the man beneath her. Tomas Valcino, a special metals consultant, had arrived on Dante I a mere two years ago. He’d driven Yumi crazy every day since, simply by being around. It must be illegal the way his muscles rippled as he moved; just watching him made her shiver with lust. When he gazed at her, those pale blue eyes never failed to send a tingle running through her body. Still, none of that could compare to having him in bed. Now that was—
“Would you like me to put it in now?”
Startled, Yumi opened her eyes and peered over the railing. Lying on the floor below the catwalk, long black hair splayed against the steel floor, Tomas poked amongst the circuitry of the Secondary Mining Terminal. In his free hand he held a datacard loaded with clean datacubes. His puzzled look as he watched her made her blush. What would he think if he knew the daydreams she had about him? Not that they would be anything other than daydreams. Between running the Bolgër—the resistance forces—managing Dante I’s constant flux of mining skippers, and Tomas’s very obvious lack of interest in her, Yumi very much doubted her dreams would come true.
Suppressing a sigh she leaned back, staring up for a moment at the rock above her. Living in an asteroid circling the molten planet below had a lot of advantages, but unfortunately being able to see anything other than rock wasn’t one of them. Forcing her heart and mind to calm she looked down again.
Tomas still looked at her, expecting an answer to his query.
Yumi glanced over to the main control panel. Zshanna stood there, a curious smile playing over her lips as she waited for Yumi’s directions. Damn. Yumi knew from that smile she’d just told Zshanna far too much, given away too many thoughts. Zshanna, a Poseidian by birth, may be one of the most proficient data operatives Yumi had, but the tech’s psyche abilities could be embarrassing as well as extremely useful. Zshanna had filtered out almost all of the Separatist infiltrators who attempted to worm their way into the Bolgër. Without her abilities the resistance would have been crushed years ago. Of course, it also meant Yumi barely held a secret she could call her own.
There had been only two people Zshanna couldn’t get a fix on. Both were natural Melds with thought patterns so stubbornly fixed and immutable Zshanna was unable to single out anything but the most basic thoughts. The first, five years ago, had turned out to be a Separatist spy who eliminated several of the Bolgër cells and the Federation agents assigned to them, before he was discovered. The second was Tomas, a man with an ironclad history woven in the Ultranet. A history that was a little too perfect. There were also the odd things he did now and then, almost as if he were looking for the resistance forces. The Bolgër kept a careful eye on him, taking no chances that he might be a second Separatist spy.
Still, after one intense session where Zshanna attempted a Meld breakthrough she determined, other than personal things, Tomas’s absolute hatred of the Separatists. The images had been enough to satisfy Zshanna that Tomas posed no threat to the Bolgër. They knew too little to invite him into their fold, and enough not to be concerned about his poking around, so the surveillance on him was light. This was great, not only because of his good looks, but he’d also turned out to be one of the best damn SpecMets Yumi had ever known. In the two years since Tomas arrived he’d improved the special metals extraction and purification process by almost two hundred percent. Incidentally saving a few lives at the same time by meeting the absurdly high Separatist quotient demands. Personal feelings aside, Yumi, and the colony, couldn’t afford to lose him.
She couldn’t afford to lose Zshanna either. If the Separatists ever discovered Zshanna’s abilities the Poseidian would be in the grunge tank, brain dissected, faster than a plasma bubble burst. Yumi would die before she let that happen.
“Ma’am?” Tomas asked again.
“Yes, just a moment, Tomas,” Yumi blurted out, amazed he didn’t show even a trace of impatience. She became too easily distracted nowadays, maybe because the uprising was so close. “Zshanna, how are the multiplex Riener circuits doing?”
“Around seventy-five percent optimum,” Zshanna answered, grinning back. “They’ll hold if the Secondary burns out again.”
“Okay, Tomas, you can put it in.” Yumi almost cursed, blushing bright red again. Fortunately Tomas had slipped under the unit and couldn’t see her embarrassment. She definitely needed a break from Dante I and the oppressive Separatist culture. Time away, with someone really sexy—like Tomas.
They were rewarded when the Secondary hummed gently back to life. Yumi relaxed a little. It wasn’t a vital piece of the colony’s systems since it mainly worked as a backup in case the Primary failed. Experience, though, had taught Yumi not to delay repairs even on the secondaries.
“Well done everyone,” she congratulated them. “Repaired in less than five hours and we didn’t have to call the Techs in. Good work!”
Her own work had begun though. The Secondary had been sabotaged and she had to find the saboteur before the occupying Separatists did. She’d already set several cells of the Bolgër on the task. It certainly wasn’t the work of the underground resistance themselves. The sabotage had been sloppy and the Secondary of too little importance to destroy. This had been something personal against the Separatists, through a relatively easy target.
She watched Tomas edge out from under the terminal, and the familiar feeling of lust coursed through her. When this was all done, maybe…
“Ah, I see you have it working. Good.” Colonel Marcus Saeger walked up to her smiling. “And I have several pieces of good news for you.”
Yumi grimaced. Good news to a Separatist colonel wasn’t normally something people wanted to hear. Not that she had much choice nowadays. Ever since her father’s illness—losing the supply of Federation anti-aging drugs had finally taken its toll—she’d been called in more often than normal lately to represent him on matters of colony policy. Not for the first time she wished Father hadn’t surrendered so easily to Separatist rule. Yes, they probably would have all died trying to stem a Separatist invasion. Surely, though, it would have been preferable to dying like this, one day at a time.
With a shock, Yumi realized this was the seventh year of Separatist occupation in the Dante system. During those years she’d seen their population steadily decline despite a steady influx of workers. Only seven thousand now lived in The Rock, instead of the nine thousand there used to be. She’d heard rumors the losses were even greater on Dante V, or The Fiver, as her people called the frozen planetoid that spun in the lonely fifth orbit. All the losses, it was pretty obvious to everyone, could be traced to Marcus’s administration, his treatment and frequent execution of Dante’s colonists.
“You know I’m always interested in your good news,” Yumi lied. As she spoke she walked toward the Prefect’s office—officially her father’s office though Yumi would be inheriting it soon. She tried not to think about that too often. “So what’s happened?”
Marcus brushed a hand through his hair. The shocking red color, like the dusky red tone to his skin, had been genetically induced to increase his natural resistance to solar radiation. Marcus’s home, Stallas VI, was one of the nine foundation worlds of the Separatist Dynasty. Its people had been engineered to survive on the planet surface in the high radiation system.
“Well,” Marcus said. “We found your saboteur last night. She was trying to stow away on a shuttle flight to The Fiver.” Marcus spoke loudly, making his presence felt amongst the nervous Control Room staff. “One of your Techs, Stela Magrow, seems she had some complaint with our policies.”
Damn! Yumi swore at herself. She should have seen this happening. The policy Stela felt unhappy about occurred five months ago. The distraught Tech had filed charges against five Separatist soldiers who’d spent one night raping her—simply because they were bored. The charges were instantly dismissed by the Separatist legal system as trivial. The Separatists even refused to undergo tests to determine the father of her unborn child.
Yumi, like every other Dantian, hated the Separatist policies that left Separatist soldiers free to terrorize the colonists. She knew she’d been stupid, but now it was too late. She should have smuggled Stela out of system months ago to one of the Federation-owned safe quarters the Bolgër maintained. Then again, there’d been no physical contact with the Federation for almost five years and no radio contact for almost two. Getting Stela to safe quarters, which had more than likely been compromised, would have killed everyone involved.
Yumi was left with the task of rescuing Stela from the grunge room and hiding the poor woman from the Separatists somewhere in the belly of The Rock. Probably with the small Bolgër army she had in The Crypts. God knew how they’d managed to maintain their forces there for so long without anyone noticing.
Yumi turned into a small tube-like corridor. Here the walls were highly polished, indicating the tunnel had been cut by the V.T.M., the superbly efficient Vinder Tunnel Drill. A few more yards down and she stopped in front of the Prefect’s office. Marcus, with that damned superior smile on his face, stopped with her. Short of taking a small tank into the heart of Separatist territory there was very little she could do for Stela. Unless, and it was rare, Zshanna could find a bribable guard.
“I’m glad you found her.” Yumi smiled as the doors automatically slid open. It was a lie, of course, but she daren’t let him know how she truly felt. “We need more manpower on the ore-smelting line. She can join the other prisoners there. It won’t take more than a few days for her to regret her actions.”
Yumi walked into the outer office, passing Vhal and Melindra. The two assistants sat behind their desks busily working on the latest ore shipment and mining figures. Their desks, like most of the furnishing in Dante I, were fabricated from crushed rock obtained from the tunnel drills. Here and there within the highly polished surface of the dark-gray stone was the sparkle of silver, copper and gold.
“I’m afraid Stela can’t join the line,” Marcus said. Yumi’s stomach twisted, anticipating his next words with dread. “She died an hour ago while under questioning.” Marcus made sure Vhal and Melindra heard everything he said.
Stiffly, barely able to keep her temper, Yumi walked the last few steps to the inner office in silence. Touching her fingers to the lockpad she stepped back and let the door slide open. Once inside, with the door closed, she turned to face Marcus. Only sheer determination prevented her from shouting at him.
“I wish you would refrain from this continued depletion of our personnel resources.” She spoke calmly in spite of seething with every word. “We’re twelve percent undermanned as it is and we’ve had no replacements from The Fiver, or out of system, for over six months.”
Marcus, unruffled by her words, simply sat on the edge of the desk and looked at her. A knowing smile pasted on his face. A stupid, aquiline face she wanted to slap silly.
“The second piece of good news,” Marcus continued, “is your father has given us permission to marry.”
“Father has what!” Yumi held onto a tall cabinet next to her. Weakness washed over her. What had he done to her father! No. Doctor Lasky ranked as Second Lieutenant in the Bolgër. He’d never let a Separatist, even a colonel, near her father. Not while her father remained too ill to care for himself. Walking carefully to the desk, Yumi went behind it and sat in her father’s chair. She refused to show her fear to this murderer. “I understood Dr. Lasky’s orders were no visitors,” Yumi said. “I’m surprised he let you in.”
“Dr. Lasky is in the infirmary.” Marcus’s face held a look of, Yumi assumed, mock sympathy. “Several members of the Bolgër assaulted him last night. He’ll be lucky to survive.”
Yumi shook her head sadly. It wouldn’t be the first time Separatist soldiers had disguised themselves as resistance fighters, just enough of a disguise to confuse the few witnesses who’d see the attack.
Marcus’s men always made sure there were reliable witnesses to make the Bolgër unfavorable to the frightened colonists. “I took the liberty of assigning Dr. Krog to your father,” Marcus added. “He assured me a short visit wouldn’t tax your father too much. Just long enough for your father to understand my arguments for a strong male leader in the colony. Appreciating that, he agreed to our wedding.”
“Ah.” Yumi nodded. In other words Marcus’s men hospitalized Dr. Lasky so Marcus could install his favorite toady, Dr. Krog, in Lasky’s place. Then Marcus had the freedom to torture her father until he agreed to the wedding. It had to have been torture. Yumi knew her father enough to know he’d never go against Dante I’s deeply ingrained custom of Prefect inheritance. Neither would the workers accept non-family inheritance—which was why Marcus forced her father to approve of this marriage.
Seriously concerned for her father’s safety, and that of the colony, Yumi shuffled the papers on the desk. Trying to calm her nerves, she filed the unneeded ones in a drawer—she’d sort them later. For now she daren’t allow her thoughts to wander through dangerous assumptions. She needed to think clearly. The stakes in this deadly game of occupation and resistance had suddenly tripled.
“So when is the wedding date?” Yumi continued as steadily as she could. “How long do I have to get the wedding dress ready?” By how much did she need to accelerate the rebellion preparations?
“Three weeks,” Marcus said, looking way too smug. “My Procurer is already working on your wedding chains.” He took the remaining papers from her hand and scanned through them as he spoke. “You should be proud. General Tarug himself will be arriving on the Ultimate tomorrow. He’s decided to stay for the wedding.” He extracted a couple of the reports, folded them and put them in his pocket, then dropped the rest on the table.
Damn. She’d have to see if Vhal and Melindra could work out which reports were missing and duplicate them.
Obviously deciding business was over, Marcus leaned forward. He grasped her around the back of her neck and forced a hard, unwelcome kiss on her. Stunned, Yumi couldn’t react immediately because Marcus stepped away before she could brain him. Being out of reach and unable to cause him physical damage was, in itself, probably a good thing.
“I’ll call on you later,” he told her as he stepped toward the door. “I’m going to start organizing this colony the way it needs to be done.”
Organizing the colony? Chains? For her wedding?
Yumi shuddered. The chains meant Marcus planned for a typical Separatist ceremony. Yumi couldn’t let it happen. She refused to be given to his best men the night before the wedding then dragged to the ceremony the following day—bruised, beaten and very naked. In a true Separatist marriage the woman became little more than a slave.
Yumi gritted her teeth. Thanks to the Federation’s anti-aging drugs she’d had seventy-three years to learn how to control what her father called her hair-trigger temper. Somehow they’d accelerate the rebellion by three weeks. The only trigger Yumi intended to pull then was one that blasted a bullet through Marcus’s heart…
Ahem. Dying to read more? You don’t need to go quite that far. Simply click here to order the book from My Bookstore and More.
18 June 2010
Dynamic Drake, a short story by SJ Willing
Dynamite Drake Goes Down at Devil’s ReefIt popped out unexpectedly when Dymanite Drake opened his packet of cereal. At first he was grateful he was alone today. He didn’t think any of his bevy of lady visitors would appreciate the sight of a fat flaccid dildo first thing in the morning.
Then he realized it wasn’t a fat flaccid dildo. Rather it was a fat flaccid bratwurst.
Even more oddly it was a fake fat flaccid bratwurst. And with so many F’s in the description it could only mean one thing—Ferocious Furball was attempting to get in touch with him.
This minor fact would explain why the cute chick at the local grocery store insisted on exchanging his packet of Crunchie Crunch cereal even though there was absolutely nothing wrong with it. And it goes a lot further to explain why she changed it for a packet of Soggy Goo Goo.
Soggy Goo Goo was one of Drake’s least favorite foods which would explain why he’d had the packet now for five weeks before even opening it. (He’d basically run out of staple food supplies in the house and was resorting to last resorts.)
Of course the events leading up to his getting Furball’s urgent message five weeks late would explain it’s rather exceedingly flaccid state. Which, though normally flaccid to a certain degree it shouldn’t have been more flaccid than a flaccid wiener, if you know what that means.
Okay, so he received the top priority highly secret message from Furball five weeks late. But knowing Furball’s tendency to worry and do things way too early it probably meant he would still have plenty of time to respond. He could read the message now but it would be much clearer if he could find his specially stale weiner bun which PIACT set aside for just such an occasion as this. (This took a little while since it had fallen off the shelf four years ago and was stuck behind a rather antiquated and very heavy refrigerator which took several hours to move.)
When he had made all the appropriate preparations Drake was finally ready to listen to Furball’s message sometime well into the late afternoon. Hey, he was already late by five weeks, surely it wouldn’t hurt to have waited another five hours?
Stuffing the bratwurst into the bun he quickly stuck them both into the microwave and switched it on. After a few moments the sophisticated micro-circuitry within the bratwurst flickered alive and activated the glass paneling in the front of the microwave which burst into life just like a computer monitor.
There, in true MCY color was an old bedsheet backlit with an antiquated anglepoise lamp with something that might have been Furball’s silhouette on it. The PIACT CTR agents had taken a few financial hits since the recent sell out—probably another reason why the message bratwurst was so flaccid. He’d be willing to bet it was QQ’s old stock going cheap.
Fortunately Drake’s second job as a marital aids salesman kept him pretty much in the money and he didn’t need that huge a salary from the Angels. Not to mention the other, uh, benefits of being a door to door seller of sex toys...
“So you finally opened the package to respond to me did you?”
Oh, oh, sounds like the prerecorded message had real-time technology attached to it damn. Well, hopefully it didn’t contact base to let them know when he’d opened it.
The Furball image made an exaggerated gesture of looking at his watch.
“So, what is it? Five weeks, three days and nine hours too late to be precise. And you were supposed to have been in Jamaica no later than three hours ago.”
Ooops. Maybe spending time find the special bun did make a difference.
“Well, not much we can do to make up for your stupidity. We did, after all, make sure we chose your favorite cereal to place the message in.”
Ah, yes. Drake kept quiet about that one. He’d figured PIACT Central had become a little too nosey asking questions like that. So he’d put his favorite cereal last and his least favorite…
Hmmm. That would also help explain the five week delay. Okay so maybe that hadn’t been his most intelligent decision but Drake hated it when questions got too personal.
“Still, the damage, immense as it is, has been done. By now SPLAT have probably finished building the first stage of their ‘This is going to destroy the world’ weapon. You’ll just have to go over and pick up Formidable Fox and Lightning Lynx—if they’re still there. Maybe you’ll get lucky…
“…let me rephrase that. Maybe you’ll be fortunate enough to find a way of destroying the SPLAT base before they can instigate stage two of the destruction of the world.”
“Well, where are they?” Drake asked impatiently, after all he’d been waiting five weeks for this.
“And if you’re wondering where they are you’ll probably still find them on the Jamaican beaches near to Ocho Rios. The base is submerged over there next to the Devil’s Reef.”
“Oh, good. Sun, sand and margarit…”
“And don’t dare treat this like a vacation. If I see so much as one swim suit or margarita anywhere near you in the reports, your marital aids business will be the only thing left sticking up.”
“Touchy, touchy.”
“P.S. if they’re not out of date yet. Your airline tickets and hotel bookings are tucked somewhere beneath the innards of your Soggy Goo Goo. And this bratwurst will self-destruct when you eat it.”
Oh great. Drake sighed. The last secret message bratwurst he’s eaten had left tiny wires stuck between his teeth for weeks and gave him the worst indigestion in like, wow-ever.
Just then the microwave sparked, and burst into flames. Some quick action with a handy fire extinguisher and a wet blanket and the situation was under control. Fortunately the damage to his kitchen wasn’t impressive, and the bratwurst was a cindered lump of charcoal.
He wasn’t too sad about throwing the piece of charcoal down the kitchen waste disposal. A feeling, going by the sound of it, which wasn’t mirrored by the waste disposal unit which burped, hiccup and made a long keening dying sound.
Rummaging around in the contents of the Soggy Goo Goo box he located a small plastic bag holding several useful bits of paper. Fortunately the airline ticket wasn’t specifically dated the provisional booking still gave him another four weeks in which he could use it. All he had to do was call the airline and book a date, provided he didn’t mind traveling by luggage class—obviously another cost cutting exercise by the financially stricken CTR Angel’s offices. Whatever luggage class was he didn’t think he was going to like it too much.
Then there was the deal about what to take. Now it was always useful to take some of his marital aids as part of his cover. Not to mention he was generally welcomed almost everywhere when he took a buzzy or two—at least by the female population and since they took up about half of the world that was pretty fair odds.
He’d have to see if Lynx and Fox would like to test out his new design, the Errant William—a two tone, multispeed vibrator with just a touch of royalty. Rumor had it the shape had been cast from a particular personnage who wouldn’t be named. That’s if they had time between interviewing the locals for SPLAT activity.
Okay, that settled, he dropped the tickets into his wallet, called his shipping office and had them ship out a couple of cases of samples to Ocho Rios and then called the airline confirming his date and time of departure. He was rather surprised to find there was a seat vacant for the flight in two hours time. If he would just get there they’d make a space just for him. Cool! Luggage class must be rather classy after all if he was getting this kind of immediate attention.
Throwing a few essentials into a small carry-on bag, things like spare batteries, booze, bendy condoms, bathroom kits, bathing suits and anything else he could think of that began with a “B” he threw the bag into his souped up Volkswagen Beetle–the classy new design–and headed for *Amsterdam Airport*.
It was a sedate little ride with only about fifteen near misses with various mentally unstable drivers attempting to cross the four lanes of traffic in two seconds, but Drake eventually found himself outside the departure terminals. Handing over the keys to his precious automobile to the capable fingers of a skinny ginger haired, freckled-face kid who looked like he was almost sixteen years old.
“I’ll tak reet gud care of ‘er.” He spoke in a very good imitation of British cockney. “Don’t ‘ee worry guv.”
As the Beetle vanished in a squeal of tires and smoke Drake turned to the young lady standing behind the Cheep Flites Airline ticket counter.
“Hi.” He smiled his winning I want to go to bed with you smile. “We, I mean, I have a reservation. The names Drake, Dynamic Drake.”
“Of course Mr. Drake.” The girl blushed and simpered as two young airline baggage handlers stopped behind him and opened up a fairly large sized crate. The young girl tapped a few buttons on her computer terminal. “If you would just step in here.”
“Ooof!” Drake doubled over as a punching glove shot out from the counter and struck him in the stomach. “Unh!” he added as a wooden mallet whacked him on the head and he fell backwards into the huge crate waiting for him.
“Thank you for traveling Cheep Flite’s Luggage class.” The young lady stamped his forehead with a rubber stamp. “We hope you enjoy your flight.”
“So much for Furball’s cost cutting.” Drake thought miserably just before he lost consciousness and the lid of the crate locked shut above him.
**
It had been a wonderful flight. He was sure of it, though he couldn’t remember one moment of it. He did remember waking up in the arrival lounge of a very small airport with a bunch of hairy, smelly tourists and their squalling kids. One of whom was attempting to beat him to death with a plastic baseball bat.
“Leave the drunk alone, Matt,” His mother scolded. “Goodness knows what diseases he carries. We’ll have to sterilize your bat now.”
Groggily Drake grimaced and shook his head to good effect. The kid went screaming back to his mother who’d turned rather pale when she saw Drake move.
Not that he moved too far. His head felt like a mule had kicked him. Nah, it was just jet lag. He felt the lump on his head carefully—jet lag with a kick like a mule.
Collecting his carry-on, someone had rifled through it and dumped it on the floor beside him. A quick check reassured him that nothing was missing except the bendy condom and good luck to them if they tried to use that. He made his way to the airport exit. Fortunately he still had his wallet, and what little he had in Jamaican currency. It should be enough to get him to the Hotel Whadawhopper. A huge modern edifice named after Helios Bigdicker, Jamaican’s famous porn movie star.
He didn’t quite get as far as the taxi rank before he went on full alert. Two well endowed bikini clad women arrowed toward him from different parts of the arrival lounge. So perfect in looks and sex appeal they had to be part of SPLAT’s infamous droid clones.
As unprepared as he was, he needed to escape before they could climax him to death.
Slipping into a nearby phone booth he rummaged in his carry-on for the bouncy beard and brushed moustache. Sticking them on his face he quickly reversed direction, secure in the knowledge that no one would be able to see through his disguise.
He’d made it as far as the second taxi cab before he felt two bodies appear at his side, each one slipping an arm around his as they directed him to a less populated part of the airport.
Drake swallowed. What would it be like to be doomed to an endless bout of orgasms? Would he get a chance to take a rest between sessions? Who did these lovely androids work for? Would Furball ever forgive him? Why did his cock have to be rock hard just anticipating all of it?
“Look natural and just do as we say,” The delectable lady on his right whispered. “We think they may be watching.”
Drake watched the top of her perfect globes as they bobbled and bounced ready to fall out of her bikini top.
“Erk!” he agreed.
“Yes,” the delicious lady on his left confirmed. “Danger is everywhere.”
With about three square inches of her lickable flesh covered by bikini Drake could only nod, mesmerized, as they began to walk him away to the parking lot in a nearby goat field.
“Uhn. Uhn. Uhn.” Drake answered, eyes going up and down with each bounce of the girl’s upper endownments. He was totally and completely doomed if he couldn’t get away from these two lethal temptresses.
“UhnUhnUhnUhnuhnuhnuhnuhn.” He repeated as the first droid hopped over a small ditch, bouncing as she landed.
The sight was such a shock to his system that he failed to see where he was walking and tripped, landing face first in what smelled like a latrine ditch.
“Marvine! Oh, Marvine! There you are! Now, I warned you about going wandering off before I got here. Aren’t you lucky I found you before you’d gone too far?”
“What? Ah, yes, yes very lucky.”
Saved! Drake couldn’t tell if it was Lynx or Fox who’d come to his rescue but the raven haired beauty who was lifting him to his feet was worth every second he spent looking at her.
The two droids looked somewhat alarmed and upset to see him taken out of their clutches. Well, yah boo shucks. Tough luck. He, Dynamic Drake, aka Marvine, was outta here.
“Thank you!” Drake almost hugged his savior as she led him to a red Porsche she had tucked up around the back of the airport. “I think you saved my life.”
“You’re welcome.” She stared at him, smiling sexily. “So far they’ve taken every available man in this dump. I had to save at least one for myself. And when I saw you put on that silly disguise to try and avoid them I knew I had to come and get you.”
“Uhm, silly disguise?”
“That black moustache and white beard really don’t match your brown hair.”
“Oh,” Drake scratched his fake beard thoughtfully. “I hadn’t considered that.” Maybe he should have gone for the brown beard and moustache, but where was the fun in that?
“Here, let me take them off.” The woman reached out and gently pulled the offending articles away, somehow her touch promised a thousand sensual delights with such a simple and innocent movement.
“Ah, thank you.” Drake shifted uncomfortably trying to get something into a comfortable position. “And thank you, again, for rescuing me. My name’s Drake. Dynamic Drake.”
“Nice to meet you Drake. I’m Kitty Klaws.” She licked her lips and looked at his crotch in a way that let him know she knew exactly why he was wriggling like he was and that she knew exactly what she wanted. She looked rather pleased as she stared at the lump in his pants. “So what are you doing in Ocho Rios?”
Drake adjusted his position again, making her smile even wider. “I’m, er, drumming up business I hope.”
“Oh, what do you do?”
Drake hesitated for a moment, not too sure if he should reveal his trade under the circumstances. It had been known to have sudden effects on certain women. “I sell…marital aids.” He finally admitted.
Kitty’s eyes practically glowed. “Sex toys! Ooooh. You and I will have to have a long talk. Damn!”
That last expletive was fortunately directed to her cell phone which had begun to ring.
“Kitty here, what do you want?” She snapped.
There was a rather long monologue from the other end of the line which Drake almost could hear but not enough to understand what was being said.
“Okay, okay.” He could hear the disappointed groan in her voice. “I’ll get my scuba gear and I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
She shut down her cell phone and turned to him apologetically. “I’m afraid I have to go to work. Which hotel are you staying at? I’m very interested in your toys. Maybe we can meet up later for a little more…business?”
Drake felt everything swell bigger as she trailed a crimson nailed finger up his now beardless chin. Where she was patting him in consolation really didn’t help matters at all.
“Oh, definitely yes.” He nodded, noticing the hard bullet-shaped nubs of her nipples showing through her top. “I’m staying at the Hotel Whadawhopper, room 69a.”
“How appropriate!” She smiled, then licked her lips in a way that made his cock tingle. “I’m in room 69b. Connecting doors, hmm, we’ll have to connect later for a meeting of…minds.”
Drake nodded, unwilling to speak while it was hard… uh, he meant hard to think clearly.
“Well, here we are.” She stopped the car before a fairly modern but a little rundown six storey hotel. “I’ll send you a message just as soon as I finish with this little bit of work.”
“Thanks!” Drake stumbled out of the car, clutching his carry-on in a way that would conceal his rather delicate condition. “I’ll be waiting.”
“Good!” She blew him the perfect kiss from a pair of cherry red lipstick covered lips that looked just, well, perfect. And with that she zoomed off leaving him with an erection capable of holding up the Eiffel tower and an imagination fired up with more images of coitus excessus than he’d even been able to conjure up in his teenage years.
When he entered the hotel lobby and cleared his room booking with the reception clerk, the first thing he noticed was two hot heavy breaths on the back of his neck.
Without even looking he turned casually toward the hotel elevator and began to walk quickly in that direction. Just before he reached it he turned a sharp right and ducked into the gentleman’s restroom and ran straight into one of the empty cubicles.
He dumped his carry-on on the unused commode. There, that should throw the droids off his tail.
“At last, we have you in private.”
Drake swallowed nervously as the female thing spoke, and the door lock clicked shut behind him.
He turned to face his two fiery opponents as they glared at him angrily.
“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing driving off with the leader of SPLAT when we’re trying to get you to safety?”
“You could have been killed, raped, or just plain raped and killed and we’d have known nothing about it.”
“Hang on a sec.” Drake took his favorite blue water pistol out of his carry on as heavy ponderous steps entered the rest room. He squirted it over the two girls. One of them squealed in little yelps of protest while the other grunted heavily in surprise. The entering footsteps fled the restroom. “Hey, you didn’t explode.”
“Of course not stupid.”
“You mean you’re not one of those awful, mean, horrible, deadly female SPLAT droids?”
“I think Furball sent us an idiot,” Delectable confided to Delicious.
“More like an imbecile,” Delicious answered. “Shall we just dunk his head in the toilet and leave him?”
“Hang on, hang on. If you’re the CTR Angels…Are you the CTR Angels…?”
“Ferocious Fox,” Delectable said.
“Lightning Lynx,” Delicious added.
“Okay, if you’re the CTR Angels, who rescued me from you?”
“You don’t happen to mean Kitty Klaws, do you?” Lynx gave him the “Idiot” stare. “One of the top ten ranking SPLAT agents and key to the Devil’s Reef Death Machine.”
“You mean—“
“Kitty Klaws is the bad guy, well gal. Yeah.”
Several dozen feet tip-toed back into the rest room.
“I’m screwed,” Drake moaned. “Well, I’m gonna be screwed. She’s coming back for business tonight. She said she wanted to buy some sex toys, but I think she wants a little more than that—“
“Whohoo! He’s cracked it.” Lynx did a little dance which bounced certain things around a lot and didn’t do much for making something else go soft.
“Maybe he’s not such an idiot after all.”
“What?”
“He’s managed to make contact and infiltrate the dome within a day of arriving.”
“What?”
“Not to mention he’s half way to disabling the female droid staff.”
“What?”
“And also in a position to get into the dome and open the doors for us.”
“What?”
“And in the perfect position to have sex with the boss lady and render her helpless until the BLAST squad can come for her.”
“WHAT?”
“Huh?” Both agents turned to look at Drake as if they just realized he was there.
“You want me to do what? Sleep with the Devil?”
“Oh, no, nothing as serious as that.” Lynx grinned. “You just have to go down at Devil’s reef.”
Drake knew he didn’t understand when both of the girl’s began to laugh.
“He doesn’t know about going down.” Lynx gave him her cute look.
“Come on.” Fox unlocked the cubicle door and dragged him out, shocking half-a-dozen men standing by the urinals with their wangers out, all listening intently to their conversation. “Let’s go show you what we mean.”
Drake followed Fox and Lynx out of the restroom. If looks could kill their jealous stares would have eviscerated him.
**
Drake felt distinctly uncomfortable as he watched the young lady writhing in ecstasy on the bed. Not uncomfortable that he was watching it, but that he was watching it in the company of two very attractive women who weren’t in the least bit interested in him.
Trying to hide the effect the video had on him was proving to be extremely uncomfortable.
“Oh God, oh God, oh GOD!” The lady in question, well droid actually, removed the vibrator just at the critical moment. In spite of that she still appeared to enjoy the effects of a super-duper robot orgasm.
“She didn’t explode?” Drake who’d read a little of PIACT’s earlier reports on SPLAT remembered that detail very well.
“Kitty Klaws has been developing a female droid capable of limited orgasm.” Lynx explained. “It seems she wasn’t pleased with the effect Lethal Lion had when he went on his penetration mission. These droids are capable of taking pleasure right up to the point of orgasm. Provided they can remove the source of pleasure milliseconds before climax they fail to explode.”
“And since most of the droid guards in the undersea dome are female, and somehow protected against water, we need some way of deactivating them. We can work on the male guards because there are so few—we’ve tested all the local population.” Fox licked her lips. “And none of the males around here are droids. So we can handle the five or so down in the dome.”
“So, er, how can I help?”
Lynx pulled a wicked looking three prong device out of a suitcase. “With the use of Neptune’s Trident!”
Drake shuddered as she flicked a switch. The two outer prongs of the device began to vibrate while the middle one contorted in diverse convulsions.
“A double dong penetrating clit vibrator.” Fox elucidated. “Guaranteed by QQ to provide enough pleasure to explode even these protected droids. Included in the design are powerful electromagnets to help fasten them to the droids metal bodies. Plus you have to encourage them to use this.” She produced a tube of Sticky Lube. “The world’s first genuine feminine lubricant-come-superglue. One dab of this super slick liquid will ensure those Neptune’s Tridents aren’t going anywhere but in.”
“So you want me to…sell these to her for her droids?”
“That’s part of it.” Fox agreed.
“What’s the other part?” Drake dreaded to ask.
“You, ah, have to keep her entertained while the droids are exploding so she can’t prevent it happening.”
“Me?” Drake squeaked.
“It’ll be easy.” Fox patted his knee. “Just remember she like’s to have the O to get the big O.”
“Oh?”
“That’s right, no f/f or m/m, though she’s partial to a little m/f/m.”
“Oh?”
“Definitely O, yes, though a little C&A works too but avoid the BDSM she can get somewhat vicious with that.”
“Oh?”
“You got it boy.” Lynx and Fox slapped him on the back and marched him to the door. “So go out there, do your job and make sure she gets her O’s.”
The door slammed behind him and Drake found himself alone in the corridor on the second floor of the Hotel Whadawhopper staring at the door which had just slammed shut behind him.
“Oh?”
**
It was just past midnight several days later when the dreaded knock come on Drake’s hotel room door. He wasn’t too surprised to be greeted by two rather large men, droids of course. They said nothing, simply passed him a scuba diving set while maintaining their stony expressions.
“Hi.” He tried some pleasant conversation but they ignored him and lifted him by the elbows. It was a matter of moments for them to carry him down the hotel stairs to a small truck just outside the hotel parking lot.
Drake tried to console himself with the fact that somewhere in the shadows behind him there should be a Fox and Lynx watching everything from afar.
Though afar seemed way too far away to be safe to him.
As he was gently thrown into the back of the truck, one guard sitting on him to make sure he didn’t try to escape while the other drove to the beach, he wondered if this was a good thing or a bad thing. After all it had been three days ago now that he’d sent the job lot of Neptune’s Tridents to Kitty in the secret undersea base.
It had cost him triple to get USPS to go down eighty feet under the ocean since they generally didn’t deliver to an underwater zip code but they’d eventually agreed. With an extra ten percent charge to make sure the address remained on their secret underwater base list.
The delivery had also included a bottle of Sticky Lube for each vibrator. So Drake couldn’t believe a whole dome of women—well, droid women—hadn’t even attempted to sample one of the devices yet. Surely at least one of them must have tried the lethal dildo. Which meant this was probably his call to death by uncertain means at the tender hands of a well bosomed lady called Kitty Klaws. And he still hadn’t worked out what the Oh? factor was.
Fox and Lynx had been particularly busy over the last few days retesting all the local men to ensure they weren’t part of the SPLAT droid population. And going by the squeals and screams that came from their rooms almost constantly through the days and nights, it hadn’t been an easy or forgiving task. Given the amount of sacrifice they’d made, Drake found it hard to complain about the minimal effort he’d been asked to make. Even if it did mean going down to the Devil’s Reef itself.
Down at the beach they forced him to strip, well it was a nudist beach after all, and made him put the scuba gear on. They then proceeded to pull on giant condoms with arms over their heads which they tied at the bottoms.
Suitably attired and protected from the water, they frogmarched, literally, Drake to the sea. Alas, even with the scuba diving gear he wasn’t able to get more than a hands width away from any of them.
Devil’s reef was a half mile east of Ocho Rios and they followed the gently sloping shore and sea bed until they reached the scattered reefs Drake worked hard to avoid the staghorn coral and watched the snappers swim hastily away as he approached. It was hard to do when the only light came from a couple of flashlight that tweedle dee and tweedle dum carried with them. Every now and then the light flashed over the edge of the drop off, somewhere over there, a hundred and thirty feet down, was a sea bed Drake had no intention of investigating.
The droids took him along the edge of this drop off until…
“Well, f**k me!” Drake said.
Okay, okay so he thought it since he was eighty feet under water and it’s not too easy when you have an oxygen mouthpiece stuck in your gob. But as long as you get the impression of how surprised he was that’s good enough.
“Well, f**k me!” Drake thought with great surprise as a huge, whacking dome appeared before them. The crystalline cage lit up like a Christmas tree on Ecstasy.
As they swam nearer he could see the small figures of scantily clad women, some of them even more scantily clad than Fox. The female droids were working on some huge device in the middle of the dome which looked somewhat like a gigantic mallet with six million megawatt loudspeakers attached. Lying around the machine on the sandy floor were a hundred spongy bedrolls, the kind used in gym and exercise rooms.
There was also a very familiar figure waiting for him at what looked like an airlock of sorts, if a somewhat phallic looking airlock.
With nudges, pushes and a general grab and drag method of communication Dee and Dum forced him into the airlock’s foreskin which closed over him and began to suck the water out of the chamber beneath it.
Somehow he could imagine Kitty loving the design.
Kitty certainly seemed pleased to see him. Well, a particular part of him which couldn’t help reacting to the fact that she and all of the other female droids were now completely naked and making themselves comfortable on the gym mats.
“Come on! You’re just in time.”
She grabbed him by the aforementioned proud member and dragged him to a double sized mat close to the machine. All around them the female droids were picking up their Neptune’s Tridents and bottles of Sticky Lube.
“So, ah, looks like you gals are ready for a party.”
“Drake.” She looked him proudly in the eye. “You are about to witness the greatest moment ever for mankind.”
“I am?”
“Yes.” She pushed him backward until his lay on the mat. “And you have the honor of becoming Number Eleven.”
“Oh thanks!” Drake watched the Netpune’s Trident and Sticky Lube suspiciously. “Number Eleven what?”
“You are going to be the eleventh survivor of the entire human race!”
“You mean this machine will destroy everyone but eleven of us, and that is going to be the most manificent moment in the history of mankind?” She straddled his legs, grabbed his erection like it was a joystick and poured the entire bottle of Sticky Lube over it. “I,uh, think…”
“You think it will be a fantastic moment, yes!” Kitty sank down on his cock, penetrating herself like this moment was the soul reason for her existence.
“This orgasmatetonictron, when activated by the screams of a hundred climaxing women will send a sonic blast to the Earth’s core which will render all but a few square kilometers inhabitable to life.”
“Oh, ah, ooh, oh!”
“Later sweety,” she smiled devilishly. “I’ll have some O later.” She began a rocking motion designed to make him blast off to the moon in no less than twenty seconds flat—a condition aided and abetted by the sounds of over a hundred female droids frantically working their way up to a fevered climax.
“But only eleven, could the human race survive?”
“We’ll have children.” Kitty bucked wildly hammering her boobs into Drake’s dazed face, stunning him further. “We’ll have hundreds of children!” Amidst her screams of lust and mad dreams Drake could vaguely hear the sounds of droids exploding around him. Well, at least something worked.
“Million’s,” Drake suggested.
“Billions!” Kitty agreed. “Oh God, here I come! Don’t pull out!”
“I, er, don’t think I can…”
Around him there was a wail of orgasmic cries mingled with explosions. The orgasmatetonictron vibrated alarmingly and for a few moments threatened to slam it’s doomsday mallet into the ocean floor. Then the moment passed and Drake knew that he’d saved the day.
“You are amazing, absolutely amazing,” Kitty panted her way to a fifth orgasm. “I could live with you forever.”
“I’m kind of stuck on you too.” Drake admitted, wondering how long it would take Number Ten to collapse from exhaustion.
**
“Well, looks like you’ve been busy.”
Drake woke up to find Fox and Lynx studying him. Kitty was still straddling him and still, unfortunately, superglued to his unable to deflate manhood. Thankfully after her tenth or eleventh orgasm the evil dobadder had fallen asleep exhausted.
Around him, looking his way as frequently as they could without appearing rude were thirty or forty members of the BLAST team.
Dang, this whole thing couldn’t possibly become more public unless…
Drake closed his eyes and pretended not to exist. The Angels new owner, always one to rake in free publicity for a job well done, had brought in a half dozen YouTube publicity men. Now his half submerged never say die whanger was going to be a star on YouTube.
Move over Warrior Wolf, your day is done.
“So, er, are you going to come to Furball’s debriefing?” Fox asked pointedly as one of the camera boys zoomed in for a close up.
“Only if you wouldn’t mind getting me out of this.” Drake picked up the empty Sticky Lube bottle and tossed it at her.
“Oh?” Lynx blushed. Drake nodded, he must have used the Oh accidentally then. “Hadn’t thought that would happen.”
“So you’ve got some solvent, quick unsticker, stuff to wash it off with?” He asked hopefully.
“Uhm, well…”
“You see, it’s like this…”
“No.” They both admitted together. “But, Captain Blaine of the BLAST team here. He can take you both to QQ, I’m sure he can do something.”
“Hey, no! Wait a minute!”
Several of the hunky BLAST men picked them up. The movement was enough to wake a very sleepy Kitty. She peered at Fox and Lynx for a moment then grinned.
“Mine,” she said. “He’s simply amazing. Eleven times and he’s still ready for more…”
Drake held his breath until she fell back asleep.
“If you’re going to move us, for God’s sake give her something to knock her out. Please!”
“Maybe Captain Blaine could suggest something.” Lynx licked her lips as she looked at the six foot seven mountain of military muscle.
“Sorry Drake. Bad publicity. The Boss wants this to look good for public relations.”
“Noooooo!” Drake begged as they loaded him into the mini-submersible medical transport, two of the YouTube reporters nipping in quick so they could follow up on Drake’s treatment and recovery. “Pleeeease!”
**
Lynx and Fox watched as the last of the droids was cleared away and the orgasmatetonictron dismantled and taken to PIACT for analysis.
“Well, should we tell him about the hidden cameras?” Fox asked the question that was on both their minds.
Lynx chewed her lip for a moment thinking hard.
“Nah. Let Furball break the news.” Fox dropped her cell phone number in Blaine’s pocket. “After all, how often do you get to be the star in your own live broadcast porn movie on YouTube?”
---
SJ Willing
www.sjwilling.com
07 November 2009
Free Read! Adult Content! The Next Thrilling Instalment of the PIACT Agents
A Lively Lark with the CTR Angel’s
Well, Angel’s. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to garner the assistance of Lively Lark and rescue Prince Humbdub from the secret SPLAT base located somewhere in the South Pole. All I ask is please, please don’t show your bits on YouTube again. This is supposed to be a secret agency you know.
P.S. this dvd will self-destruct as soon as one of you puts it into the incinerator. Thank you. (Apologies for the self-destruct cost cutting procedures.)
P.P.S. I heard the other secret agency the HUNKs are trying to rescue the prince too. PLEASE don’t let that happen, as there is a sizable reward payable on his return and Shimmering Dragon has just seen this new evening dress….
P.P.P.S. In order to help you prevent the HUNKs from finding the prince first we have agree to work in cooperation with them. We are flying the PIACT jet out to Florence, Italy to pick them up, one of you will need to go meet with them. Preferably someone who shows her bits too often on YouTube, since that should be a fairly safe YouTube free mission.
P.P.P.P.S. Oh, and good luck. If any of you are captured, tortured, beaten or killed we will totally deny any knowledge of knowing you. Thank you for your continued loyalty to the agency…
“Well, girl’s what do you say? Are you up for another mission?” Wolf asked, thumbing through her thick pile of papers that had come with the mission dvd. There was definitely a lot to this mission. All five of them, no six, Shimmering Dragon was being drafted in at checkpoint chilly. There was simply too much to be done by five alone.
So there would be six, assuming Lively Lark could be persuaded to join them.
“I’m game,” Otter said.
“Me too,” Lynx added.
“Man, what a cute butt,” Fox summed up all their thoughts as she ogled the snapshots of the kidnapped prince. “Who wouldn’t want a go at that?” She looked up apologetic. “I mean a go at rescuing him.”
“Very well then,” Wolf took the dvd and dropped it in the trash can on her way to the kitchen. “One glass of champagne each to celebrate our new mission then I’ll go see if I can recruit our new lass while you all get ready to leave.”
“No fair,” Fox pouted. “You get to escort the HUNKs.”
“Trust me,” Wolf told her. “I’d much rather not have the most famous bits on YouTube.” It had become such a problem of being recognized she now, every morning, pinned a pair of sunglasses to her pubic hair to try and help disguise herself.
“Maybe if you wore panties…” Otter suggested.
Wolf shivered at the suggestion and broke out the champagne to steer the conversation towards something else. Would you believe it took ten bottles of champagne to achieve that effect?
##
Lark stood in her porch way hesitating. Her front door keys firmly held in her hand, she stared at the front door. She didn’t do this often, regardless of what the neighbors might think. But only when the door was already opened by a few inches and the smell of alcohol—the hint of a 2001 dom perignon champagne—hovered in the air too.
She hadn’t heard of too many uber rich cat-burglar, assassin, thieves lately. But one couldn’t be too careful about these things.
Putting her keys away and taking out her handy little stunner she carefully nudged the door all the way open. Yes, the waft of alcohol grew stronger, so whoever had opened the door was probably still in there. At least Lark should be able to track them fairly easily. She’d just have to see which houseplants wilted the most.
Edging her way down the hallway, Lark took a quick peek in the kitchen. Someone had made free with the coffeemaker and, by the looks of it, already drunk half a carafe of incredibly strong brew—going by the way a few spilled drops of it had curled up the edges of the countertop.
Still, the champagne smell came from a little further on, from the living room of course. If you were going to make yourself at home in someone else’s home, you’d do it in their living room, wouldn’t you?
A quick check of the other rooms proved they were empty, so it was probably just the one intruder which made things a little easier.
Hands firmly gripping the stunner, Lark made her way cautiously to the living room. Waiting outside the door for a moment she listened. A woman’s mumbled voice, no answer. Damn, maybe her visitor wasn’t alone.
Still however many there were Lark would have to deal with them.
Carefully turning the handle, Lark kicked the door open quickly. Scanned the room and focused on the sole occupant. Well, two if you considered her cat as a person, and Tootsie definitely thought she was.
“Ah, Lively Lark, I presume.” The woman had to stifle a giggle, then took a large swig of the coffee she was holding. “Hope you don’t mind. Was feeling a little light headed there. Needed something stiff,” The woman howled with laughter. “Stiff, to straighten me up,” she explained.
“Who are you and what do you want?” Lark demanded, keeping the stunner well and truly targeted on the stranger.
“Oh, oh, yes. You need to know that.” The woman attempted to sit up straighter. “Warrior Wolf at your service,” she hiccupped. “Ferrii, furrous, furryy.”
“Ferocious Furball?” Lark suggested.
“That’s him.” Wolf raised her cup and took another drink of coffee, then tipped it up, there was nothing left in it. “He sent me to send you on a mission.” Wolf pointed to a large manila envelop on the coffee table that Lark had missed earlier.
Lark stared for a moment at the PIACT agent. The woman was sitting, scarcely balanced, on the edge of her sofa. She did look slightly familiar, but years of working with PIACT had taught her to be circumspect about those she took into her trust.
Then Tootsie, her Persian, leaped onto the woman’s lap meowing, sending the woman and her cup of coffee she was holding, flying. The agent landed upside down, legs spread, lying against the sofa, her skirt around her face with no panties.
Lark put her gun away. Everyone knew the YouTube Yahoo!
“Okay,” Lark said. “About time I got another mission.” She bent down to pick up the envelop from the table.
“Could you do me once teensy little favor, before you go?” Wolf’s mumbled voice came through the skirt.
“Sure, what can I do?”
“Put me on a cab for the secret PIACT base. I have a plane to catch.”
##
The series of plane flights was uneventful, though why the farkle anyone would want to make the Falklands Islands their jump off point for any mission was a wonder to Lark. Still it was fairly near the South Pole, maybe that was the deciding factor.
“Hi, you must be Lark,” A slim young lady greeted her as she stepped from the ten seater plane. “I’m Shimmering Dragon, the CTR’s Angels are here and waiting for us a little way down by the coast.”
Lark was impressed. The First Under the Supreme One on Top was in the mission group. It must be a very important mission for that to happen. And it would be an honor to work with the famed Angels. Fortunately Lark had worn her panties today, since they were heading to colder climates. At least she didn’t have to worry about YouTube.
“By the coast?” she asked, wondering why they meet up so far away from the airfield.
“Given that we’re dealing with SPLAT we felt it would be best to make as discrete approach as possible to the target area.” Dragon explained. “A small plane like that is just so easy to shoot down.”
“Oh absolutely,” Lark agreed. Suddenly realizing just how dangerous this mission was likely to be. She shivered, it was dammed cold around here. “Don’t suppose we’ve got anything nice and warm waiting for us have we.”
“Oh, we’ll warm up soon enough,” Dragon told her, leading her to a small beat up Volkswagen beetle parked just outside the customs room. “Our assistant will bring your luggage later. For now let’s go introduce you to the girls.”
The drive to the coast, like just about anything on this island, didn’t take too long at all, and the scraggy little house they pulled up outside looked like it could barely handle the ravages of the sea weather just a few yards further, beyond the cliff.
But the rooms, and the welcome inside, were both warm, and helped to take some of the chill out of Lark’s bones.
The small glass or two of margarita helped with that too.
“For this mission,” Dragon announced. “We’re going to let Lark take the lead, since she’s the most experienced of us with work in the Antarctic.”
“Hey, hang on.” Lark protested. “I was only on a cruise ship that sailed through there once.”
“That’s more than the rest of us have done.” Dragon reassured her. “Makes you practically a veteran.”
Somehow the reassurances didn’t reassure her too much. A couple of more glasses of margaritas did the trick though.
“Okay everyone,” Dragon looked at her watch. “It’s time to head on down to the transport. Let’s Tally ho!”
It probably wasn’t a good idea to walk out into a fall night in the Falklands with no coats but, what the hell, you only live once.
Lark merrily followed behind the others as Dragon led them down a narrow path which slipped down the cliff face to the beach. It was probably only a hundred yards walk but most of them were looking rather blue by the time they hit the shore.
Blue enough that the well-dressed, heavily clothed naval personnel that greeted them just stared in horror.
“C…c…cold,” Lark said.
Instantly one of the men, a lieutenant she thought, dashed forwards and very nicely wrapped his coat around her. All about her the other sailors began to do the same for the other women.
“Thank you,” she smiled at the man. Oooh, he had those wonderful, deep dark eyes. She found herself snuggling closer…for the warmth.
His beautiful eyes popped open even wider when her poor little frozen fingers found something nice and hard and hot tucked neatly upright under his clothes.
“Ahem,” he cleared his throat. “I suspect we might be able to make you ladies a little more comfortable when we get onboard.” He suggested.
“Oh, yes,” Lark agreed, giving him a playful squeeze. “Being comfortable would be much appreciated.
That decided the sailors quickly carried them and put them onboard the small inflatable, being careful not to get them wet in the icy sea waters. She did feel sorry for the poor sailors, having to step into the freezing water to lift them into the boats. The men didn’t seem to mind though, as they all warmed up fairly quickly by sitting next to at least one of the girls. The lieutenant made sure she was by his side at all times.
One of the sailors, somehow, managed to get the small outboard motor running and navigated the small craft back out to sea. What he was thinking, Lark had no idea, though having Fox’s hand situated around his groin area and doing interesting things might have contributed a little to his rather weave-like route.
Not to mention it probably helped cause the rather large bump which indicated they’d hit the transport ship in question.
A bump large enough to tip the inflatable over and have them all tossed into the ocean.
“Not again…” Dragon moaned.
In the first few moments of hitting the water Lark noticed two very pertinent details.
A. The ship they’d be traveling in was actually a submarine.
B. If she were a man, her balls would have frozen off…
##
Well, here I am, Wolf felt overwhelmed with a flood of self-pity. Once again tossed to the side in the event of an exciting mission and given the extremely boring job of escorting a bunch of dull male types on a string of pointless journey’s just so they didn’t get to be part of the exciting mission.
Wow, gee, how much more exciting could that get.
She stood just inside the door of the jet on a small airstrip somewhere in the backwoods near Florence, Italy. The only building here looked a little like an enlarged outhouse, with windows instead of a heart shaped hole in the door.
And now she was just waiting on, she checked the manifesto, ten boring old farts to come waddling out of the outhouse and struggle up the twenty five steps it took to get into the jet proper. Then she’d have to feed, drink and—God forbid—probably even flirt with them to make them forget about joining the mission currently taking place in the South Pole.
Not to mention they were running late. Ten minutes so far. Another five and she swore she’d get out her beach gear and go fly off to the Mediterranean for a while.
The door finally opened and Wolf felt a sense of relief, thank goodness she’d be able to get started on something soon.
As her guests stepped out of the tiny building, one by one, she stopped what she was doing, staring as they crossed the airstrip and climbed the stairs up to her, walking casually into the aircraft as if they owned the place.
As she picked up her jaw and firmly put it back into place she found herself staring at the gang of movie quality hot bods. Each bod, unfortunately, covered by a suit. Damn, but wouldn’t she like to see these guys naked. They were talking amongst themselves in Italian, some of them looking at her now and then.
Hopefully they were thinking the same thing about her that she’d been thinking about them.
Oh, Mother of Mercy, she fanned herself as they began to take off their jackets and ties. Laying them down over one of the spare seats. One of them, he had to be Johnny Depp’s brother, walked over to her.
“Sorry to be late,” he apologized. “Are we ready?”
Wolf felt her herself moisten. So close she could almost kiss him!
“Yes,” she answered, struggling to breathe. “Yes, we’re ready. I’ll go and let the pilot know we can take them off…take off, yes.”
She quickly hurried away before the HUNK could question her slip of the tongue. Oooh, tongue, slip…
Aargh. Couldn’t she think straight for at least a moment. What was she doing now? Oh yes, taking them off for the pilot…
##
It was when it got into your panties that it was really icky. Fox decided. Especially after the nice navy man had gotten her so warm and hot down there, having the icy water seep into it added a kind of torturous pleasure. She was shivering within moments because of it.
“Hang on, just one second,” there was a splash beside her and something fastened around her, underneath her shoulders. In less than a minute she was up on the…the submarine! Kewl!
“Quickly, we’ve got to go down on her.” One of her rescuers said.
“You mean down with her?” Another asked.
Her first devilishly handsome, and most eminently suitable rescuer gave her a heart pumping smile and cheeky wink. “Well, that too,” he agreed.
Fox suddenly felt all warm between her legs again.
She didn’t struggle as they helped her down the hatchway and into the sailor’s quarters. And especially didn’t struggle when they dragged her sodden, freezing clothes from her. Other than to complain about how cold she felt as they wrapped blankets around her.
“I wonder if she has hypothermia yet?” One of the guys asked, they were all giving her delicious massages on various parts of her body.
“No, I don’t think so,” she said, teeth chattering. At least she didn’t think it was hypothermia.
Then looked up blinking as her first rescuer stood before her, naked and definitely flying at full mast.
“Wow,” she said. “Where did that thing come from?”
“Best cure for hypothermia,” her savior explained. “Snuggling up in blankets and soft covers with a warm, naked body.”
Fox licked her lips, her nipples tingling—from the cold, yes, from the cold.
“I’ve got hypothermia, definitely.” She looked at all the other men, noticing their harder than rock erections. She wondered just how long they’d been at sea with, ah, no female companions. “I’ve got hypothermia really, really bad,” she added.
The men surrounding her grinned.
##
Somehow she’d ended up with the Captain. Not that Lark was going to complain too much. He didn’t have quite the deep, desirous eyes of the lieutenant but when she ran her hands over his flesh, hmm, the feel of strong muscles under skin was just, yum. Something that made her body tingle.
“Are you sure this is the best cure for hypothermia,” she asked, still amazed that she’d ended up in the captain’s bed within moments of entering his cabin. Both of them naked of course. “And are you sure I was going into hypothermia.”
“Yes, and yes.” He answered confidently. “After all, look how stiff this poor little thing is,” he plucked her nipple making it ring with intensely sharp sensations. “It must be frozen, poor thing, I’ll need to warm it up.”
Lark almost screamed as his hot mouth closed over it, his tongue and teeth doing things which made spikes of lust strike through her, to reach every bit of her body.
“That looks better,” he said.
All Lark could see was that it was bigger and harder, but he was the expert in these things, she guessed.
“I, I think the other one is even colder,” she told him.
The captain grinned, obligingly warming her cold peak. This time she did give a little scream, or a squeak to be more precise. The sensations made her far too breathless to scream.
With a quick movement he was suddenly on top of her, between her legs, his erection pressing hard against her clit. Each little movement he made blinding her as her body jerked and spasmed in anticipation.
“And we mustn’t forget,” he dipped his mouth to hers, swamping them in a warm, devouring kiss.
Lark’s breath caught, frozen, as her lips continued to mesh with his, and his penis slipped slowly into her, filling her as his kiss captured her soul. Only when he was finally in, all the way to the hilt—when her sex had completely enveloped his, did the wondrous kiss end.
“We mustn’t forget,” he repeated, beginning a slow thrusting that was driving her crazy while bringing her slowly to ecstasy. “To warm you up from the inside as well.”
Relaxing, and now totally warm inside and out, Lark took a long look at the man who had saved her life from hypothermia.
“Just how long does it take to get to the target zone from here?” she asked.
“A week,” he said. “Possibly two, maybe even longer if we develop engine problems, have to do at-sea repairs…”
“Ouch,” Lark said, tilting her head to one side. “I think I just heard the engine fall out.”
The captain looked at her and grinned. “You know, I do believe you’re right.”
##
Wolf was beginning to sweat. Well, could you blame her, being this close to ten of the hottest men in the world, all of them, she was almost certain, sporting hard-on’s that would make a decent stallion jealous.
On top of which, a few in-flight brandies had made the in-flight conversation skew to the, uh, rather risqué.
Well, risqué, maybe not. But hearing how Alfonso, step by step, seduced his latest conquest with no censorship at all, would make any red-blooded woman hot.
And she had a feeling they knew it too. After all they’d been flying now for nearly ten hours.
It was with a kind of relief when the pilot came out and made his way towards her. Obviously with some kind of report to give.
“Madam Wolf,” he spoke softly in a French accent that, if she’d been wearing panties, would have talked them off her in a moment flat. “Is bad news, yes. The vessel taking your team to the Antarctic has it a few problems, is likely to be delayed a few weeks.”
“Damn,” Wolf whispered back. “Weeks? How am I going to delay these guys for weeks?” She sighed then shook her head. “Okay, how long can you keep the jet flying before you need to land for fuel?”
He looked at her, surprised. “Did they not tell you, Madam. This is the special nuclear powered jet. She can fly for five years without stopping for fuel.”
“Really? Oh my gosh, how wonderful.” Wolf started to think fast. How could she use this to her advantage? “It has an autopilot, yes.”
“The most efficient in the world, Madam.”
“We might need to engage that then, and pretend that you’ve had some kind of accident and can’t land the plane.”
“It is already engaged, Madam, and it—“
The airplane suddenly flipped over and back again, bouncing around in a rather large airpocket. When it straightened out Wolf found herself upside down in one of the seats, in her usual, unfortunate position.
“Is it? Could it possibly be…?” One of the HUNKs asked.
“No, surely not. She looks so different.”
“I’ll bet you fifty thousand lira it is.”
“But, she looks so familiar and so, different.”
“Ah, let me try something.”
Wolf blushed bright red as gentle fingers toyed with her pubic hair and removed the sunglasses.
“Ah, magnifico, it is her.”
“At last, all these months…”
“Success comrades, success.”
Wolf gulped as strong hands lifted her up, but didn’t turn her the right way up. Instead they pulled her skirt off so they could look at her face.
One of the HUNKs did a delicious slow lick from her ankle to the inside of her thigh which nearly had her dying from delight.
“We hope you don’t mind,” another HUNK said as he slowly unbuttoned her top, and freed her breasts before gently cupping them and playing with her nipple.
Mind? Wolf thought. Only if they stopped doing what they’re doing.
“It’s just, we’ve been searching for you for months. Ever since we first saw you on YouTube.”
“You are the perfect woman.” Another agreed. “Absolutely perfect.”
They began to drop their pants and shirts, one by one. Wolf noted, with pleasure, that not a one of them wore underwear either.
“So, I’m afraid we’re going to have to ravish you,” Johnny Depp look-alike apologized.
Suddenly there were tongues and mouths everywhere, feasting on her breasts, her thighs, sex, neck… the flood of overpowering pleasure, while hanging upside down, was almost enough to make her faint.
“No problem,” she managed to mumble somewhere in the onslaught. “It’s my pleasure. It’s definitely my pleasure…”
##
It was cold, and bright, too bright for weather that could freeze a soul in less than an hour. Not to mention it would stay bright for far too long this far south. Omniscient Otter looked at her traveling companion, Dragon. The First Under the Supreme One on Top had been quiet, with a huge grin plastered over her face, ever since they’d been rescued by the submarine crew.
Not that Otter suspected she, herself, looked any different. It had certainly been an, uhm, interesting mission so far.
Now the hard work was beginning, unfortunately. Armed only with stunners, a few stun grenades, a couple of powered snowboards and a lot of gumption, she and Dragon had to travel seventy miles across snow and ice to neutralize the SPLAT base’s southernmost defense system. For some strange reason it had been placed in the middle of a known penguin field.
Penguins, ugh, cute things? No way! At least not as far as Otter was concerned. She’d had way too many nightmares of the things since her little brother had dressed up as one, one Halloween, along with blood spattered chain saw and a severed head.
This was not going to be a pleasant mission.
“Come on,” she called to Dragon, activating the gps and setting her snowboard in the right direction. “Let’s get this little caper over with.”
“Right,” Dragon agreed. “But, hey, let’s try and keep away from water, okay?”
##
“What do you think?” Lark turned to her comrades as they all huddled together, lying on the snow and ice ridge a hundred yards away from the small research shack.
This was supposed to be the huge SPLAT base they had to infiltrate.
“It looks kinda small,” Lynx agreed. “Typical of a man, pretending it’s bigger than it is.”
“True,” Fox added. “But SPLAT is full of surprises.”
“Wonder how Wolf is doing?” Lynx said. “I can’t imagine what it’s like trying to keep a bunch of boring officials happy for weeks on end.”
“I’m sure she’ll grin and bear it,” Fox told her. “She’s a tough old gal when it comes down to it.”
“We’ll have to take her out on the town when this is over to thank her.” Lark decided. “Make sure she gets a chance to see some action, you know what I mean.”
“I’m still waiting to see some action,” Fox moaned.
Lark laughed. “Well, I don’t think you’ll have to wait much longer.” And pointed to the shack.
Three rather yummy looking men had just stepped out and were doing intriguing things to a large metal device a few yards from the door.
“Well, let’s go and introduce ourselves,” Fox stood up, adjusting her hair to make sure it looked “just right.” “It’ll be better than freezing our tits off out here, don’tchathink?”
Lark shrugged, having no better plan than that how could she argue.
All three women, quickly checking hair and make-up, made their way down from the ridge and walked the short distance to the, now, very interested men.
Lark was most definitely interested in the blond one. He appeared, well, very nicely developed. And it had been, what, ooh, almost twelve hours since she’d been with the captain. And a girl had to look after her needs, you know. It was a tough world out there if you didn’t.
“Hi guys,” she introduced herself when they were close enough to speak. “My and my friends well, we’re just out for a stroll and was wondering if, maybe, you might have a restroom or something?”
“Onde fêz vêm de.” Blond cast a puzzled look to his friends.
“Nenhuma idéia, mas whoa, olham quentes!” The shorter, chestnut haired one responded.
Hmm, it dawned on Lark that maybe there may be a language communication problem here. Perhaps a little sign language would be helpful. She started to mine the actions of going to the bathroom, washing her hands and so on.
“Restroom, go pee, relief…” she said, hoping that maybe at least one word would be understood in all that.
“Está dizendo-a quer quente, sexo de sopro da mente?” The dark haired man looked at her lustfully, licking his lips.
“Hey, este one' mina de s,” Blond snapped at the dark haired guy. “I' m que vai fodê-la até seu cérebro explode.” He grinned at her, offering his hand.
Bingo! The universal offer of friendship! Lark took the man’s hand, then gasped as she was suddenly pulled in for a searing, lust-filled kiss.
Fox and Lynx were similarly accosted.
“Holy molasses,” Fox ran her hand over the chestnut haired man's crotch. “I think I’ve found the South Pole.”
“Whoa,” Lynx said, feeling a similar sensation as her groin was crushed against Blondie’s. “I think we might need some protection from these guys.”
All three men suddenly stopped and looked at Lynx, then at each other. Then, grinning, all of them pulled a condom out of their pockets.
Lynx smiled, rubbing herself against her man.
“You know what, Lark? I think these guys speak our language.”
##
Caviar hors d'oeuvres and champagne breakfast was ideal. Wolf shifted comfortably, well, as comfortably as possible after, gosh, how many days of constant sex with a bunch of insatiable HUNKs.
“How many days have we been flying now?” She asked Pierre, the pilot, now naked and perhaps the most wonderfully endowed of all the men, was doing things to her nipples that would have made a nun’s toes curl.
“Twenty five days, Madam.” He gave her a sharp nip with his teeth, which sent a jolt through her that nearly made her lose all her breakfast.
Several hands gently eased her back to the floor placed all the food back on her body, and, immediately, half a dozen mouths began to munch on her again.
Oh, yes, caviar and champagne for breakfast was simply divine. Especially when she was the platter…
##
“I don’t like the look of this,” Otter said as Dragon placed the last couple of explosive devices on the defense silos they’d found.
“Don’t like the look of what?” Dragon asked.
“I don’t like the look of the way those penguins are looking at us.”
Dragon looked up as she finished her work. “They’re just penguins,” she said.
“I don’t know, they look, well, rather un-penguin like to me.”
“You know, you seem like you don’t like penguins.” Dragon said. “Personally I think they’re kinda cute.”
“All of them?” Otter asked.
“All of them,” Dragon stated emphatically.
“Even the ones with the miniature machine guns?”
“Even the ones with the…what?”
Otter looked in horror as several dozen of the ugly black and white things stood up, machine guns in hand, and started wobbling, very robot-like, in their direction.
“Maybe it’s time for us to leave.” Dragon suggested, thrusting Otter’s snowboard in her face.
“Uh, yeah,” Otter agreed, somehow managing to set the board up, switch the motor on and start it zigzagging across the snow. All around her small fountains of snow and ice shot into the air as tiny bullets peppered the landscape around them.
“I always knew I hated penguins,” Otter said. “You can never trust a bird which can’t fly.”
“Just keep sliding,” Dragon told her. “Maybe we’ll find some shelter over where those cliffs are.”
Otter saw the tall, white ice cliffs, towering over the plain, probably a distant of four or five miles. Behind them the penguins had stopped firing, mainly because they were now all lying on their tummies and paddling themselves along at a breakneck speed with their feet.
“Full power,” Otter yelled to Dragon, “or we’re never going to make it.”
Slapping her heels onto the controls she set the snowboard motor to full strength, then nearly fell off backwards at the sudden acceleration. It was working though. When she looked back, the small figures of the penguins were getting smaller and smaller.
Now, hopefully they could lose them soon.
As they neared the ice cliffs, Otter could see a fairly large cave entrance nearby. Not a perfect hideout, but it would give them some cover if they were forced to fight the penguins.
“I’m heading for the cave,” she told Dragon, sending up a sheet of snow and ice as she swerved the board in that direction.
“Roger,” Dragon joined her a few moments later.
She did wonder, for a moment, about a cave being out here, in this peculiar set of circumstances. But decided that sometimes it was stupid to question good fortune in bad circumstances.
She reached the cave mouth within minutes of seeing it and tried to brake, but the snow in front of it had become so glassy and icy that the board just skidded on taking her right into the cave and throwing her, face first, into a steaming hot pool of crystal clear water.
With a yell and a squeal, she heard Dragon follow right after.
Fortunately it wasn’t too deep, and Otter was able to stand on the bottom and still have her head above water. She cleared her eyes, blinked and looked around at the well lit cavern, and the two dozen hunky naked men sitting around the sides looking at them with both heads fully erect and alert.
“Oh no, not again,” Dragon moaned.
##
Lark was impressed with the Tardis impersonation. It may have looked like a squinty old hut on the outside but inside the complex was huge, and she wasn’t just talking about the erections.
So far over fifty men had joined them in the, what could only be described as, huge sports hall.
“I’ve got to go rescue the prince,” Otter told the others. They’d pretty much determined that no one here could speak English. “Will you be able to handle all these guys.”
“Mmmph!” Fox nodded, as much as she was able to. Lynx, she couldn’t see under the pink mass of bodies but she thought she heard a “Yes! Please!”
Taking that as an okay Lark mimed, again, to one of the men for a restroom. This time, thank heavens, he seemed to understand and motioned “out of the door right, right, left, right, left, left, right, up, one, two, three, left, right, down.”
Lark, nodded. She smiled and left the room and the hot, sweaty bodies grinding away in delicious ecstasy behind her. Nope, she refused to think about it, she had gorgeous butt, Prince Humbdub, to find and well, introduce herself too.
Actually, in spite of the fact the entire underground complex was huge and very maze-like, getting around wasn’t difficult at all. All the employees, she guessed, were currently entertained in the sports hall as everywhere she went the place was totally devoid of life.
No women worked here either, since all the restrooms she passed were specifically for men. Well, that made her job so much easier too.
She wandered past the nuclear stockpile warehouse, the chemical weapons factory and the biological warfare labs. Nope, nothing interesting to report there. She did find an odd looking tube of water based lubricant that she thought might be handy at some point. One of those that promised ultimate delights with a humming, warming, tingling ultra-sensitizing sensation. Though she had to wander around holding it since, having not a stitch of clothing on her, all of her pockets had vanished.
She also passed by a room full of, would you believe, wind up penguins. Geesh, who’d have thought SPLAT, the “we wanna kill all human life” terrorists would have a thing for toy penguins.
Maybe it was just a local thing, what with the South Pole being a near neighbor and all. It did seem downright peculiar though.
Still, putting her disconcerting thoughts behind her, she began to search the last and lowest floor of the complex.
This would be the one the Prince was on, of course. They always made it like that in the movies.
Damn, Lark had a horrifying thought. She wasn’t wearing panties…she was a prime target for YouTube!
Swearing that she’d put on the next pair of panties she could find she continued into the dimly lit corridors of the complex basement.
Somewhere in here SPLAT was holding Humbdub for devious, nefarious purposes. And Lark was going to give him his release, in more ways than one if she got her way.
She allowed herself a wicked grin as she remembered the photos of him by the palace swimming pool.
Oooh, that smooth, tasty skin just waiting to be licked and nibbled.
Something down the corridor made a little whimpering noise. Lark listened carefully. Yes, the third door on the right. That had to be the one.
And who else could it be, she thought, given that Fox and Lynx were keeping tabs, and everything else, on the rest of the men in the base.
Sneaking carefully along, making sure none of the other rooms were occupied, she listened once more outside the door.
Yes, definitely, someone inside.
Carefully she opened the door, peering inside she let the door slip open wider, staring in amazement at the view before her.
Well, she’d found her panties alright—they barely covered the huge dick that Humbdub was sporting.
##
Wolf could barely stand, walk, think…
Around her the HUNKs weren’t even fatigued, all of them still hard and ready to go. They’d oiled her, massaged her, eaten her for dinner breakfast and lunch, played an interesting sort of tag with her. In fact she couldn’t think of a single thing they hadn’t done with her.
“How long have we been airborne now?” she asked Pierre as HUNK number five began to do something interesting down there with a bunch of ice cubes.
“Four weeks now, Madam,” he said proudly. “Never before has this model flown so long without the engine failing.”
“Uhm,” a chill tingle of warning sent a tremor through her. “Engine failure, but you said it could fly for years…”
“Ah, in theory Madam,” Pierre grinned, nibbling nicely at her neck. “But the engine tends to overheat.”
A loud claxon began to hammer throughout the interior of the plane.
“Like about now?” she asked.
Pierre, pale faced looked at the other worried men.
“Like about now,” he agreed. “But do not worry Madam, we may have only five minutes until the plane destructs, but we have the handy parachutes, yes.”
“Of course,” Wolf sighed to herself. “Fate has to be what it has to be.” She reached over and snagging the sunglasses from their place on a nearby seat, neatly pinned them back in place over her mons. “Let’s go get on the YouTube again…”
##
Lark stared at the handsome hunk strung out before her. Hung from the ceiling by chains attached to his wrists, and ankle clamps keeping his feet well spread apart he was naked, except for the bright red lacy panties, and looked even more delectable than the photographs had made him.
“Nooo! Take it away, I can’t take another naked woman!”
“You’re gay!” she said. “What a damn waste.”
“That all depends, young lady, on where your own proclivities lie.”
Lark spun to face the intruder, recognizing instantly Evil Twin number eight-the gay one.
“So this, it…, Humbdub wasn’t kidnapped at all.”
“Of course not,” Number eight flicked his laser whip from one side to the other in the most evil way he could. “But his parents would never have let him come and stay with me any other way.”
He flicked the whip again, accidently slicing off his ear and nearly parting the prince from his crown jewels.
“Ow, that hurts,” he whined.
Lark seized the moment. Cupping her hand just so, she did a quick spin, flip and jab. Eight’s whine went all the way to a stunned howl as he stared at the point where Lark’s hand met his groin.
“Better start counting those pickled peppers,” she said, snatching the whip from his hands and dashing out of the door before he could respond.
“You won’t get far,” he squeaked. “My friends Mildred and Henry are waiting for you.”
Lark didn’t care, she could handle two people without any problem at all…
…though she didn’t expect to see this kind of mess back in the sports hall.
“We forgot,” fox pointed at all the debris littering the floor and walls. “SPLAT uses androids for staff, they kinda explode when they get too excited.”
“Not all of them are androids,” Lark waved her whip. “Evil Twin Number Eight told me he was setting Henry and Mildred after us.”
Lark began to worry when Fox and Lynx grew pale.
“Henry and Mildred?” Lynx asked.
“Uhm, yes.” Lark confirmed. “Should I be a little worried about that?”
Fox and Lynx began gathering their clothes and throwing them on.
“Let’s just find the others and get out of here,” Lynx said. “While we still have a chance.”
Deciding that maybe experienced heads might be wiser Lark followed suit, except, where the hell were her panties…?
It was a frantic, if pantyless dressing session but all three agents were finally ready to brave the big outside world. All of them armed with, probably useless, stunners.
“Well, duh,” Fox said. “We can always just snowboard back to the pick up site. They’ll never catch us like that.”
Feeling happier with their chances Lark led them back to the surface, laser whip at the ready and snowboard switched on and humming, ready for action.
To be greeted by a thousand armed android penguins, all with their own miniature snowboard. Two of them sporting freshly painted and gleaming chainsaws.
“We’re doomed,” Lark said.
##
It just fricking had to be here didn’t it. Wolf muttered to herself. One naked woman, moi, parachuting down into the middle of the Yankee’s new stadium in the middle of the final of the world series. Inconspicuous, not!
Goodness knows what had happened to the men. Some moments after the plane had made its own little mushroom cloud in the sky she’d been blown way off course from the rest of them and here she was, Network television all the way, baby.
Furball was never going to let her forget this. Ever.
##
“Cavalry to the rescue!”
Lark looked up, scarcely believing her eyes. Otter and Dragon were leading a platoon of interesting men into the midst of the hideous android horde.
All of them armed with Super Soakers every target they hit sparked, shorted and exploded gratifyingly. Loading up on their snowboards, catching the extra weapons the men had brought along, Lark and the others joined in the play.
“You know, I’ll never look at water pistols the same again,” she confided to Otter.
“Hot springs,” Otter sighed. “All you need is a hot spring and the International Male Sauna Olympics Decathlon Team.”
They had a team for that? Okay… Lark decided, that was not a place to go.
It took a little while for the battle to be over. Henry and Mildred managed to affect an escape by simply cutting their way through the ice to the ocean below.
When they finally achieved their goal and arrived back at the pick up site, the long summer sun of the south was just about to go below the horizon.
Lark greeted the captain of their submarine with a sense of relief, a smile and, well, something else that she saved for later. She knew it would be at least a seven week journey to get them home again.
Whatever it was, the tube of stuff was amazing.
##
They all sat nervously around the couch room, except for Dragon who’d soon appear as her famed silhouette on the screen before them.
“Hey Wolf,” Fox said. “Looks like you’ve got some serious competition here.”
“Eh?” Wolf looked over at Fox’s laptop, shocked.
There it was—her infamous entrance into the Yankees world series final.
“Wow, would you look at her,” Lynx added. “And so far she’s got twice as many hits as any of your YouTube movies.”
“Really?” Wolf tried to remain casual.
“Who is she?” Otter asked, pushing Wolf aside. “Does anyone know?”
“Just says mysterious lady making her debut at the Yankees. Other than that no one knows, she vanished before the cops could catch her.”
Wolf stepped carefully back from the couch. Maybe she would be lucky this time…
Suddenly the lights in the room dimmed and the screen was backlit. The famous Furball and Dragon silhouettes appeared on the screen.
“Congratulations ladies, very well done. Using the information you've garnered on the Prince we’ve been able to, uhm, solicit… acquire more funds from his parents—ah, government—in order to aid our mission to secure the safety of the world. For that you will all be receiving a bonus check to enable a short vacation anywhere you’d like.”
“Anywhere we’d like in the world?” Lark squeaked happily.
“Uhm, well, anywhere you’d like in Louisville, Kentucky. But I’m sure you’ll find something exciting to do there. You should all congratulate yourselves.”
There was a rather lame attempt at group applause.
“And Wolf, you have excelled. Indeed, excelled. Our friends, the HUNKs have praised you for their excellent penetration training missions and would like to thank you by offering a short stay to share your skills with other HUNKs over at their offices in Florence, Italy. I have sent the invite and relevant papers to your home. There wasn’t even a teeny little mention in there about the SPLAT mission they missed. Excellent work.”
The screen went black and everyone stared grumpily at Wolf.
“Hey, maybe I’ll ask and see if I can bring some friends along,” she offered, there were a lot of HUNKs to go around. Besides, she could afford to be generous, now she wasn’t famous on YouTube.
Wanna read more... Catch all the previous PIACT Agent missions on my Forum here...
Well, Angel’s. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to garner the assistance of Lively Lark and rescue Prince Humbdub from the secret SPLAT base located somewhere in the South Pole. All I ask is please, please don’t show your bits on YouTube again. This is supposed to be a secret agency you know.
P.S. this dvd will self-destruct as soon as one of you puts it into the incinerator. Thank you. (Apologies for the self-destruct cost cutting procedures.)
P.P.S. I heard the other secret agency the HUNKs are trying to rescue the prince too. PLEASE don’t let that happen, as there is a sizable reward payable on his return and Shimmering Dragon has just seen this new evening dress….
P.P.P.S. In order to help you prevent the HUNKs from finding the prince first we have agree to work in cooperation with them. We are flying the PIACT jet out to Florence, Italy to pick them up, one of you will need to go meet with them. Preferably someone who shows her bits too often on YouTube, since that should be a fairly safe YouTube free mission.
P.P.P.P.S. Oh, and good luck. If any of you are captured, tortured, beaten or killed we will totally deny any knowledge of knowing you. Thank you for your continued loyalty to the agency…
“Well, girl’s what do you say? Are you up for another mission?” Wolf asked, thumbing through her thick pile of papers that had come with the mission dvd. There was definitely a lot to this mission. All five of them, no six, Shimmering Dragon was being drafted in at checkpoint chilly. There was simply too much to be done by five alone.
So there would be six, assuming Lively Lark could be persuaded to join them.
“I’m game,” Otter said.
“Me too,” Lynx added.
“Man, what a cute butt,” Fox summed up all their thoughts as she ogled the snapshots of the kidnapped prince. “Who wouldn’t want a go at that?” She looked up apologetic. “I mean a go at rescuing him.”
“Very well then,” Wolf took the dvd and dropped it in the trash can on her way to the kitchen. “One glass of champagne each to celebrate our new mission then I’ll go see if I can recruit our new lass while you all get ready to leave.”
“No fair,” Fox pouted. “You get to escort the HUNKs.”
“Trust me,” Wolf told her. “I’d much rather not have the most famous bits on YouTube.” It had become such a problem of being recognized she now, every morning, pinned a pair of sunglasses to her pubic hair to try and help disguise herself.
“Maybe if you wore panties…” Otter suggested.
Wolf shivered at the suggestion and broke out the champagne to steer the conversation towards something else. Would you believe it took ten bottles of champagne to achieve that effect?
##
Lark stood in her porch way hesitating. Her front door keys firmly held in her hand, she stared at the front door. She didn’t do this often, regardless of what the neighbors might think. But only when the door was already opened by a few inches and the smell of alcohol—the hint of a 2001 dom perignon champagne—hovered in the air too.
She hadn’t heard of too many uber rich cat-burglar, assassin, thieves lately. But one couldn’t be too careful about these things.
Putting her keys away and taking out her handy little stunner she carefully nudged the door all the way open. Yes, the waft of alcohol grew stronger, so whoever had opened the door was probably still in there. At least Lark should be able to track them fairly easily. She’d just have to see which houseplants wilted the most.
Edging her way down the hallway, Lark took a quick peek in the kitchen. Someone had made free with the coffeemaker and, by the looks of it, already drunk half a carafe of incredibly strong brew—going by the way a few spilled drops of it had curled up the edges of the countertop.
Still, the champagne smell came from a little further on, from the living room of course. If you were going to make yourself at home in someone else’s home, you’d do it in their living room, wouldn’t you?
A quick check of the other rooms proved they were empty, so it was probably just the one intruder which made things a little easier.
Hands firmly gripping the stunner, Lark made her way cautiously to the living room. Waiting outside the door for a moment she listened. A woman’s mumbled voice, no answer. Damn, maybe her visitor wasn’t alone.
Still however many there were Lark would have to deal with them.
Carefully turning the handle, Lark kicked the door open quickly. Scanned the room and focused on the sole occupant. Well, two if you considered her cat as a person, and Tootsie definitely thought she was.
“Ah, Lively Lark, I presume.” The woman had to stifle a giggle, then took a large swig of the coffee she was holding. “Hope you don’t mind. Was feeling a little light headed there. Needed something stiff,” The woman howled with laughter. “Stiff, to straighten me up,” she explained.
“Who are you and what do you want?” Lark demanded, keeping the stunner well and truly targeted on the stranger.
“Oh, oh, yes. You need to know that.” The woman attempted to sit up straighter. “Warrior Wolf at your service,” she hiccupped. “Ferrii, furrous, furryy.”
“Ferocious Furball?” Lark suggested.
“That’s him.” Wolf raised her cup and took another drink of coffee, then tipped it up, there was nothing left in it. “He sent me to send you on a mission.” Wolf pointed to a large manila envelop on the coffee table that Lark had missed earlier.
Lark stared for a moment at the PIACT agent. The woman was sitting, scarcely balanced, on the edge of her sofa. She did look slightly familiar, but years of working with PIACT had taught her to be circumspect about those she took into her trust.
Then Tootsie, her Persian, leaped onto the woman’s lap meowing, sending the woman and her cup of coffee she was holding, flying. The agent landed upside down, legs spread, lying against the sofa, her skirt around her face with no panties.
Lark put her gun away. Everyone knew the YouTube Yahoo!
“Okay,” Lark said. “About time I got another mission.” She bent down to pick up the envelop from the table.
“Could you do me once teensy little favor, before you go?” Wolf’s mumbled voice came through the skirt.
“Sure, what can I do?”
“Put me on a cab for the secret PIACT base. I have a plane to catch.”
##
The series of plane flights was uneventful, though why the farkle anyone would want to make the Falklands Islands their jump off point for any mission was a wonder to Lark. Still it was fairly near the South Pole, maybe that was the deciding factor.
“Hi, you must be Lark,” A slim young lady greeted her as she stepped from the ten seater plane. “I’m Shimmering Dragon, the CTR’s Angels are here and waiting for us a little way down by the coast.”
Lark was impressed. The First Under the Supreme One on Top was in the mission group. It must be a very important mission for that to happen. And it would be an honor to work with the famed Angels. Fortunately Lark had worn her panties today, since they were heading to colder climates. At least she didn’t have to worry about YouTube.
“By the coast?” she asked, wondering why they meet up so far away from the airfield.
“Given that we’re dealing with SPLAT we felt it would be best to make as discrete approach as possible to the target area.” Dragon explained. “A small plane like that is just so easy to shoot down.”
“Oh absolutely,” Lark agreed. Suddenly realizing just how dangerous this mission was likely to be. She shivered, it was dammed cold around here. “Don’t suppose we’ve got anything nice and warm waiting for us have we.”
“Oh, we’ll warm up soon enough,” Dragon told her, leading her to a small beat up Volkswagen beetle parked just outside the customs room. “Our assistant will bring your luggage later. For now let’s go introduce you to the girls.”
The drive to the coast, like just about anything on this island, didn’t take too long at all, and the scraggy little house they pulled up outside looked like it could barely handle the ravages of the sea weather just a few yards further, beyond the cliff.
But the rooms, and the welcome inside, were both warm, and helped to take some of the chill out of Lark’s bones.
The small glass or two of margarita helped with that too.
“For this mission,” Dragon announced. “We’re going to let Lark take the lead, since she’s the most experienced of us with work in the Antarctic.”
“Hey, hang on.” Lark protested. “I was only on a cruise ship that sailed through there once.”
“That’s more than the rest of us have done.” Dragon reassured her. “Makes you practically a veteran.”
Somehow the reassurances didn’t reassure her too much. A couple of more glasses of margaritas did the trick though.
“Okay everyone,” Dragon looked at her watch. “It’s time to head on down to the transport. Let’s Tally ho!”
It probably wasn’t a good idea to walk out into a fall night in the Falklands with no coats but, what the hell, you only live once.
Lark merrily followed behind the others as Dragon led them down a narrow path which slipped down the cliff face to the beach. It was probably only a hundred yards walk but most of them were looking rather blue by the time they hit the shore.
Blue enough that the well-dressed, heavily clothed naval personnel that greeted them just stared in horror.
“C…c…cold,” Lark said.
Instantly one of the men, a lieutenant she thought, dashed forwards and very nicely wrapped his coat around her. All about her the other sailors began to do the same for the other women.
“Thank you,” she smiled at the man. Oooh, he had those wonderful, deep dark eyes. She found herself snuggling closer…for the warmth.
His beautiful eyes popped open even wider when her poor little frozen fingers found something nice and hard and hot tucked neatly upright under his clothes.
“Ahem,” he cleared his throat. “I suspect we might be able to make you ladies a little more comfortable when we get onboard.” He suggested.
“Oh, yes,” Lark agreed, giving him a playful squeeze. “Being comfortable would be much appreciated.
That decided the sailors quickly carried them and put them onboard the small inflatable, being careful not to get them wet in the icy sea waters. She did feel sorry for the poor sailors, having to step into the freezing water to lift them into the boats. The men didn’t seem to mind though, as they all warmed up fairly quickly by sitting next to at least one of the girls. The lieutenant made sure she was by his side at all times.
One of the sailors, somehow, managed to get the small outboard motor running and navigated the small craft back out to sea. What he was thinking, Lark had no idea, though having Fox’s hand situated around his groin area and doing interesting things might have contributed a little to his rather weave-like route.
Not to mention it probably helped cause the rather large bump which indicated they’d hit the transport ship in question.
A bump large enough to tip the inflatable over and have them all tossed into the ocean.
“Not again…” Dragon moaned.
In the first few moments of hitting the water Lark noticed two very pertinent details.
A. The ship they’d be traveling in was actually a submarine.
B. If she were a man, her balls would have frozen off…
##
Well, here I am, Wolf felt overwhelmed with a flood of self-pity. Once again tossed to the side in the event of an exciting mission and given the extremely boring job of escorting a bunch of dull male types on a string of pointless journey’s just so they didn’t get to be part of the exciting mission.
Wow, gee, how much more exciting could that get.
She stood just inside the door of the jet on a small airstrip somewhere in the backwoods near Florence, Italy. The only building here looked a little like an enlarged outhouse, with windows instead of a heart shaped hole in the door.
And now she was just waiting on, she checked the manifesto, ten boring old farts to come waddling out of the outhouse and struggle up the twenty five steps it took to get into the jet proper. Then she’d have to feed, drink and—God forbid—probably even flirt with them to make them forget about joining the mission currently taking place in the South Pole.
Not to mention they were running late. Ten minutes so far. Another five and she swore she’d get out her beach gear and go fly off to the Mediterranean for a while.
The door finally opened and Wolf felt a sense of relief, thank goodness she’d be able to get started on something soon.
As her guests stepped out of the tiny building, one by one, she stopped what she was doing, staring as they crossed the airstrip and climbed the stairs up to her, walking casually into the aircraft as if they owned the place.
As she picked up her jaw and firmly put it back into place she found herself staring at the gang of movie quality hot bods. Each bod, unfortunately, covered by a suit. Damn, but wouldn’t she like to see these guys naked. They were talking amongst themselves in Italian, some of them looking at her now and then.
Hopefully they were thinking the same thing about her that she’d been thinking about them.
Oh, Mother of Mercy, she fanned herself as they began to take off their jackets and ties. Laying them down over one of the spare seats. One of them, he had to be Johnny Depp’s brother, walked over to her.
“Sorry to be late,” he apologized. “Are we ready?”
Wolf felt her herself moisten. So close she could almost kiss him!
“Yes,” she answered, struggling to breathe. “Yes, we’re ready. I’ll go and let the pilot know we can take them off…take off, yes.”
She quickly hurried away before the HUNK could question her slip of the tongue. Oooh, tongue, slip…
Aargh. Couldn’t she think straight for at least a moment. What was she doing now? Oh yes, taking them off for the pilot…
##
It was when it got into your panties that it was really icky. Fox decided. Especially after the nice navy man had gotten her so warm and hot down there, having the icy water seep into it added a kind of torturous pleasure. She was shivering within moments because of it.
“Hang on, just one second,” there was a splash beside her and something fastened around her, underneath her shoulders. In less than a minute she was up on the…the submarine! Kewl!
“Quickly, we’ve got to go down on her.” One of her rescuers said.
“You mean down with her?” Another asked.
Her first devilishly handsome, and most eminently suitable rescuer gave her a heart pumping smile and cheeky wink. “Well, that too,” he agreed.
Fox suddenly felt all warm between her legs again.
She didn’t struggle as they helped her down the hatchway and into the sailor’s quarters. And especially didn’t struggle when they dragged her sodden, freezing clothes from her. Other than to complain about how cold she felt as they wrapped blankets around her.
“I wonder if she has hypothermia yet?” One of the guys asked, they were all giving her delicious massages on various parts of her body.
“No, I don’t think so,” she said, teeth chattering. At least she didn’t think it was hypothermia.
Then looked up blinking as her first rescuer stood before her, naked and definitely flying at full mast.
“Wow,” she said. “Where did that thing come from?”
“Best cure for hypothermia,” her savior explained. “Snuggling up in blankets and soft covers with a warm, naked body.”
Fox licked her lips, her nipples tingling—from the cold, yes, from the cold.
“I’ve got hypothermia, definitely.” She looked at all the other men, noticing their harder than rock erections. She wondered just how long they’d been at sea with, ah, no female companions. “I’ve got hypothermia really, really bad,” she added.
The men surrounding her grinned.
##
Somehow she’d ended up with the Captain. Not that Lark was going to complain too much. He didn’t have quite the deep, desirous eyes of the lieutenant but when she ran her hands over his flesh, hmm, the feel of strong muscles under skin was just, yum. Something that made her body tingle.
“Are you sure this is the best cure for hypothermia,” she asked, still amazed that she’d ended up in the captain’s bed within moments of entering his cabin. Both of them naked of course. “And are you sure I was going into hypothermia.”
“Yes, and yes.” He answered confidently. “After all, look how stiff this poor little thing is,” he plucked her nipple making it ring with intensely sharp sensations. “It must be frozen, poor thing, I’ll need to warm it up.”
Lark almost screamed as his hot mouth closed over it, his tongue and teeth doing things which made spikes of lust strike through her, to reach every bit of her body.
“That looks better,” he said.
All Lark could see was that it was bigger and harder, but he was the expert in these things, she guessed.
“I, I think the other one is even colder,” she told him.
The captain grinned, obligingly warming her cold peak. This time she did give a little scream, or a squeak to be more precise. The sensations made her far too breathless to scream.
With a quick movement he was suddenly on top of her, between her legs, his erection pressing hard against her clit. Each little movement he made blinding her as her body jerked and spasmed in anticipation.
“And we mustn’t forget,” he dipped his mouth to hers, swamping them in a warm, devouring kiss.
Lark’s breath caught, frozen, as her lips continued to mesh with his, and his penis slipped slowly into her, filling her as his kiss captured her soul. Only when he was finally in, all the way to the hilt—when her sex had completely enveloped his, did the wondrous kiss end.
“We mustn’t forget,” he repeated, beginning a slow thrusting that was driving her crazy while bringing her slowly to ecstasy. “To warm you up from the inside as well.”
Relaxing, and now totally warm inside and out, Lark took a long look at the man who had saved her life from hypothermia.
“Just how long does it take to get to the target zone from here?” she asked.
“A week,” he said. “Possibly two, maybe even longer if we develop engine problems, have to do at-sea repairs…”
“Ouch,” Lark said, tilting her head to one side. “I think I just heard the engine fall out.”
The captain looked at her and grinned. “You know, I do believe you’re right.”
##
Wolf was beginning to sweat. Well, could you blame her, being this close to ten of the hottest men in the world, all of them, she was almost certain, sporting hard-on’s that would make a decent stallion jealous.
On top of which, a few in-flight brandies had made the in-flight conversation skew to the, uh, rather risqué.
Well, risqué, maybe not. But hearing how Alfonso, step by step, seduced his latest conquest with no censorship at all, would make any red-blooded woman hot.
And she had a feeling they knew it too. After all they’d been flying now for nearly ten hours.
It was with a kind of relief when the pilot came out and made his way towards her. Obviously with some kind of report to give.
“Madam Wolf,” he spoke softly in a French accent that, if she’d been wearing panties, would have talked them off her in a moment flat. “Is bad news, yes. The vessel taking your team to the Antarctic has it a few problems, is likely to be delayed a few weeks.”
“Damn,” Wolf whispered back. “Weeks? How am I going to delay these guys for weeks?” She sighed then shook her head. “Okay, how long can you keep the jet flying before you need to land for fuel?”
He looked at her, surprised. “Did they not tell you, Madam. This is the special nuclear powered jet. She can fly for five years without stopping for fuel.”
“Really? Oh my gosh, how wonderful.” Wolf started to think fast. How could she use this to her advantage? “It has an autopilot, yes.”
“The most efficient in the world, Madam.”
“We might need to engage that then, and pretend that you’ve had some kind of accident and can’t land the plane.”
“It is already engaged, Madam, and it—“
The airplane suddenly flipped over and back again, bouncing around in a rather large airpocket. When it straightened out Wolf found herself upside down in one of the seats, in her usual, unfortunate position.
“Is it? Could it possibly be…?” One of the HUNKs asked.
“No, surely not. She looks so different.”
“I’ll bet you fifty thousand lira it is.”
“But, she looks so familiar and so, different.”
“Ah, let me try something.”
Wolf blushed bright red as gentle fingers toyed with her pubic hair and removed the sunglasses.
“Ah, magnifico, it is her.”
“At last, all these months…”
“Success comrades, success.”
Wolf gulped as strong hands lifted her up, but didn’t turn her the right way up. Instead they pulled her skirt off so they could look at her face.
One of the HUNKs did a delicious slow lick from her ankle to the inside of her thigh which nearly had her dying from delight.
“We hope you don’t mind,” another HUNK said as he slowly unbuttoned her top, and freed her breasts before gently cupping them and playing with her nipple.
Mind? Wolf thought. Only if they stopped doing what they’re doing.
“It’s just, we’ve been searching for you for months. Ever since we first saw you on YouTube.”
“You are the perfect woman.” Another agreed. “Absolutely perfect.”
They began to drop their pants and shirts, one by one. Wolf noted, with pleasure, that not a one of them wore underwear either.
“So, I’m afraid we’re going to have to ravish you,” Johnny Depp look-alike apologized.
Suddenly there were tongues and mouths everywhere, feasting on her breasts, her thighs, sex, neck… the flood of overpowering pleasure, while hanging upside down, was almost enough to make her faint.
“No problem,” she managed to mumble somewhere in the onslaught. “It’s my pleasure. It’s definitely my pleasure…”
##
It was cold, and bright, too bright for weather that could freeze a soul in less than an hour. Not to mention it would stay bright for far too long this far south. Omniscient Otter looked at her traveling companion, Dragon. The First Under the Supreme One on Top had been quiet, with a huge grin plastered over her face, ever since they’d been rescued by the submarine crew.
Not that Otter suspected she, herself, looked any different. It had certainly been an, uhm, interesting mission so far.
Now the hard work was beginning, unfortunately. Armed only with stunners, a few stun grenades, a couple of powered snowboards and a lot of gumption, she and Dragon had to travel seventy miles across snow and ice to neutralize the SPLAT base’s southernmost defense system. For some strange reason it had been placed in the middle of a known penguin field.
Penguins, ugh, cute things? No way! At least not as far as Otter was concerned. She’d had way too many nightmares of the things since her little brother had dressed up as one, one Halloween, along with blood spattered chain saw and a severed head.
This was not going to be a pleasant mission.
“Come on,” she called to Dragon, activating the gps and setting her snowboard in the right direction. “Let’s get this little caper over with.”
“Right,” Dragon agreed. “But, hey, let’s try and keep away from water, okay?”
##
“What do you think?” Lark turned to her comrades as they all huddled together, lying on the snow and ice ridge a hundred yards away from the small research shack.
This was supposed to be the huge SPLAT base they had to infiltrate.
“It looks kinda small,” Lynx agreed. “Typical of a man, pretending it’s bigger than it is.”
“True,” Fox added. “But SPLAT is full of surprises.”
“Wonder how Wolf is doing?” Lynx said. “I can’t imagine what it’s like trying to keep a bunch of boring officials happy for weeks on end.”
“I’m sure she’ll grin and bear it,” Fox told her. “She’s a tough old gal when it comes down to it.”
“We’ll have to take her out on the town when this is over to thank her.” Lark decided. “Make sure she gets a chance to see some action, you know what I mean.”
“I’m still waiting to see some action,” Fox moaned.
Lark laughed. “Well, I don’t think you’ll have to wait much longer.” And pointed to the shack.
Three rather yummy looking men had just stepped out and were doing intriguing things to a large metal device a few yards from the door.
“Well, let’s go and introduce ourselves,” Fox stood up, adjusting her hair to make sure it looked “just right.” “It’ll be better than freezing our tits off out here, don’tchathink?”
Lark shrugged, having no better plan than that how could she argue.
All three women, quickly checking hair and make-up, made their way down from the ridge and walked the short distance to the, now, very interested men.
Lark was most definitely interested in the blond one. He appeared, well, very nicely developed. And it had been, what, ooh, almost twelve hours since she’d been with the captain. And a girl had to look after her needs, you know. It was a tough world out there if you didn’t.
“Hi guys,” she introduced herself when they were close enough to speak. “My and my friends well, we’re just out for a stroll and was wondering if, maybe, you might have a restroom or something?”
“Onde fêz vêm de.” Blond cast a puzzled look to his friends.
“Nenhuma idéia, mas whoa, olham quentes!” The shorter, chestnut haired one responded.
Hmm, it dawned on Lark that maybe there may be a language communication problem here. Perhaps a little sign language would be helpful. She started to mine the actions of going to the bathroom, washing her hands and so on.
“Restroom, go pee, relief…” she said, hoping that maybe at least one word would be understood in all that.
“Está dizendo-a quer quente, sexo de sopro da mente?” The dark haired man looked at her lustfully, licking his lips.
“Hey, este one' mina de s,” Blond snapped at the dark haired guy. “I' m que vai fodê-la até seu cérebro explode.” He grinned at her, offering his hand.
Bingo! The universal offer of friendship! Lark took the man’s hand, then gasped as she was suddenly pulled in for a searing, lust-filled kiss.
Fox and Lynx were similarly accosted.
“Holy molasses,” Fox ran her hand over the chestnut haired man's crotch. “I think I’ve found the South Pole.”
“Whoa,” Lynx said, feeling a similar sensation as her groin was crushed against Blondie’s. “I think we might need some protection from these guys.”
All three men suddenly stopped and looked at Lynx, then at each other. Then, grinning, all of them pulled a condom out of their pockets.
Lynx smiled, rubbing herself against her man.
“You know what, Lark? I think these guys speak our language.”
##
Caviar hors d'oeuvres and champagne breakfast was ideal. Wolf shifted comfortably, well, as comfortably as possible after, gosh, how many days of constant sex with a bunch of insatiable HUNKs.
“How many days have we been flying now?” She asked Pierre, the pilot, now naked and perhaps the most wonderfully endowed of all the men, was doing things to her nipples that would have made a nun’s toes curl.
“Twenty five days, Madam.” He gave her a sharp nip with his teeth, which sent a jolt through her that nearly made her lose all her breakfast.
Several hands gently eased her back to the floor placed all the food back on her body, and, immediately, half a dozen mouths began to munch on her again.
Oh, yes, caviar and champagne for breakfast was simply divine. Especially when she was the platter…
##
“I don’t like the look of this,” Otter said as Dragon placed the last couple of explosive devices on the defense silos they’d found.
“Don’t like the look of what?” Dragon asked.
“I don’t like the look of the way those penguins are looking at us.”
Dragon looked up as she finished her work. “They’re just penguins,” she said.
“I don’t know, they look, well, rather un-penguin like to me.”
“You know, you seem like you don’t like penguins.” Dragon said. “Personally I think they’re kinda cute.”
“All of them?” Otter asked.
“All of them,” Dragon stated emphatically.
“Even the ones with the miniature machine guns?”
“Even the ones with the…what?”
Otter looked in horror as several dozen of the ugly black and white things stood up, machine guns in hand, and started wobbling, very robot-like, in their direction.
“Maybe it’s time for us to leave.” Dragon suggested, thrusting Otter’s snowboard in her face.
“Uh, yeah,” Otter agreed, somehow managing to set the board up, switch the motor on and start it zigzagging across the snow. All around her small fountains of snow and ice shot into the air as tiny bullets peppered the landscape around them.
“I always knew I hated penguins,” Otter said. “You can never trust a bird which can’t fly.”
“Just keep sliding,” Dragon told her. “Maybe we’ll find some shelter over where those cliffs are.”
Otter saw the tall, white ice cliffs, towering over the plain, probably a distant of four or five miles. Behind them the penguins had stopped firing, mainly because they were now all lying on their tummies and paddling themselves along at a breakneck speed with their feet.
“Full power,” Otter yelled to Dragon, “or we’re never going to make it.”
Slapping her heels onto the controls she set the snowboard motor to full strength, then nearly fell off backwards at the sudden acceleration. It was working though. When she looked back, the small figures of the penguins were getting smaller and smaller.
Now, hopefully they could lose them soon.
As they neared the ice cliffs, Otter could see a fairly large cave entrance nearby. Not a perfect hideout, but it would give them some cover if they were forced to fight the penguins.
“I’m heading for the cave,” she told Dragon, sending up a sheet of snow and ice as she swerved the board in that direction.
“Roger,” Dragon joined her a few moments later.
She did wonder, for a moment, about a cave being out here, in this peculiar set of circumstances. But decided that sometimes it was stupid to question good fortune in bad circumstances.
She reached the cave mouth within minutes of seeing it and tried to brake, but the snow in front of it had become so glassy and icy that the board just skidded on taking her right into the cave and throwing her, face first, into a steaming hot pool of crystal clear water.
With a yell and a squeal, she heard Dragon follow right after.
Fortunately it wasn’t too deep, and Otter was able to stand on the bottom and still have her head above water. She cleared her eyes, blinked and looked around at the well lit cavern, and the two dozen hunky naked men sitting around the sides looking at them with both heads fully erect and alert.
“Oh no, not again,” Dragon moaned.
##
Lark was impressed with the Tardis impersonation. It may have looked like a squinty old hut on the outside but inside the complex was huge, and she wasn’t just talking about the erections.
So far over fifty men had joined them in the, what could only be described as, huge sports hall.
“I’ve got to go rescue the prince,” Otter told the others. They’d pretty much determined that no one here could speak English. “Will you be able to handle all these guys.”
“Mmmph!” Fox nodded, as much as she was able to. Lynx, she couldn’t see under the pink mass of bodies but she thought she heard a “Yes! Please!”
Taking that as an okay Lark mimed, again, to one of the men for a restroom. This time, thank heavens, he seemed to understand and motioned “out of the door right, right, left, right, left, left, right, up, one, two, three, left, right, down.”
Lark, nodded. She smiled and left the room and the hot, sweaty bodies grinding away in delicious ecstasy behind her. Nope, she refused to think about it, she had gorgeous butt, Prince Humbdub, to find and well, introduce herself too.
Actually, in spite of the fact the entire underground complex was huge and very maze-like, getting around wasn’t difficult at all. All the employees, she guessed, were currently entertained in the sports hall as everywhere she went the place was totally devoid of life.
No women worked here either, since all the restrooms she passed were specifically for men. Well, that made her job so much easier too.
She wandered past the nuclear stockpile warehouse, the chemical weapons factory and the biological warfare labs. Nope, nothing interesting to report there. She did find an odd looking tube of water based lubricant that she thought might be handy at some point. One of those that promised ultimate delights with a humming, warming, tingling ultra-sensitizing sensation. Though she had to wander around holding it since, having not a stitch of clothing on her, all of her pockets had vanished.
She also passed by a room full of, would you believe, wind up penguins. Geesh, who’d have thought SPLAT, the “we wanna kill all human life” terrorists would have a thing for toy penguins.
Maybe it was just a local thing, what with the South Pole being a near neighbor and all. It did seem downright peculiar though.
Still, putting her disconcerting thoughts behind her, she began to search the last and lowest floor of the complex.
This would be the one the Prince was on, of course. They always made it like that in the movies.
Damn, Lark had a horrifying thought. She wasn’t wearing panties…she was a prime target for YouTube!
Swearing that she’d put on the next pair of panties she could find she continued into the dimly lit corridors of the complex basement.
Somewhere in here SPLAT was holding Humbdub for devious, nefarious purposes. And Lark was going to give him his release, in more ways than one if she got her way.
She allowed herself a wicked grin as she remembered the photos of him by the palace swimming pool.
Oooh, that smooth, tasty skin just waiting to be licked and nibbled.
Something down the corridor made a little whimpering noise. Lark listened carefully. Yes, the third door on the right. That had to be the one.
And who else could it be, she thought, given that Fox and Lynx were keeping tabs, and everything else, on the rest of the men in the base.
Sneaking carefully along, making sure none of the other rooms were occupied, she listened once more outside the door.
Yes, definitely, someone inside.
Carefully she opened the door, peering inside she let the door slip open wider, staring in amazement at the view before her.
Well, she’d found her panties alright—they barely covered the huge dick that Humbdub was sporting.
##
Wolf could barely stand, walk, think…
Around her the HUNKs weren’t even fatigued, all of them still hard and ready to go. They’d oiled her, massaged her, eaten her for dinner breakfast and lunch, played an interesting sort of tag with her. In fact she couldn’t think of a single thing they hadn’t done with her.
“How long have we been airborne now?” she asked Pierre as HUNK number five began to do something interesting down there with a bunch of ice cubes.
“Four weeks now, Madam,” he said proudly. “Never before has this model flown so long without the engine failing.”
“Uhm,” a chill tingle of warning sent a tremor through her. “Engine failure, but you said it could fly for years…”
“Ah, in theory Madam,” Pierre grinned, nibbling nicely at her neck. “But the engine tends to overheat.”
A loud claxon began to hammer throughout the interior of the plane.
“Like about now?” she asked.
Pierre, pale faced looked at the other worried men.
“Like about now,” he agreed. “But do not worry Madam, we may have only five minutes until the plane destructs, but we have the handy parachutes, yes.”
“Of course,” Wolf sighed to herself. “Fate has to be what it has to be.” She reached over and snagging the sunglasses from their place on a nearby seat, neatly pinned them back in place over her mons. “Let’s go get on the YouTube again…”
##
Lark stared at the handsome hunk strung out before her. Hung from the ceiling by chains attached to his wrists, and ankle clamps keeping his feet well spread apart he was naked, except for the bright red lacy panties, and looked even more delectable than the photographs had made him.
“Nooo! Take it away, I can’t take another naked woman!”
“You’re gay!” she said. “What a damn waste.”
“That all depends, young lady, on where your own proclivities lie.”
Lark spun to face the intruder, recognizing instantly Evil Twin number eight-the gay one.
“So this, it…, Humbdub wasn’t kidnapped at all.”
“Of course not,” Number eight flicked his laser whip from one side to the other in the most evil way he could. “But his parents would never have let him come and stay with me any other way.”
He flicked the whip again, accidently slicing off his ear and nearly parting the prince from his crown jewels.
“Ow, that hurts,” he whined.
Lark seized the moment. Cupping her hand just so, she did a quick spin, flip and jab. Eight’s whine went all the way to a stunned howl as he stared at the point where Lark’s hand met his groin.
“Better start counting those pickled peppers,” she said, snatching the whip from his hands and dashing out of the door before he could respond.
“You won’t get far,” he squeaked. “My friends Mildred and Henry are waiting for you.”
Lark didn’t care, she could handle two people without any problem at all…
…though she didn’t expect to see this kind of mess back in the sports hall.
“We forgot,” fox pointed at all the debris littering the floor and walls. “SPLAT uses androids for staff, they kinda explode when they get too excited.”
“Not all of them are androids,” Lark waved her whip. “Evil Twin Number Eight told me he was setting Henry and Mildred after us.”
Lark began to worry when Fox and Lynx grew pale.
“Henry and Mildred?” Lynx asked.
“Uhm, yes.” Lark confirmed. “Should I be a little worried about that?”
Fox and Lynx began gathering their clothes and throwing them on.
“Let’s just find the others and get out of here,” Lynx said. “While we still have a chance.”
Deciding that maybe experienced heads might be wiser Lark followed suit, except, where the hell were her panties…?
It was a frantic, if pantyless dressing session but all three agents were finally ready to brave the big outside world. All of them armed with, probably useless, stunners.
“Well, duh,” Fox said. “We can always just snowboard back to the pick up site. They’ll never catch us like that.”
Feeling happier with their chances Lark led them back to the surface, laser whip at the ready and snowboard switched on and humming, ready for action.
To be greeted by a thousand armed android penguins, all with their own miniature snowboard. Two of them sporting freshly painted and gleaming chainsaws.
“We’re doomed,” Lark said.
##
It just fricking had to be here didn’t it. Wolf muttered to herself. One naked woman, moi, parachuting down into the middle of the Yankee’s new stadium in the middle of the final of the world series. Inconspicuous, not!
Goodness knows what had happened to the men. Some moments after the plane had made its own little mushroom cloud in the sky she’d been blown way off course from the rest of them and here she was, Network television all the way, baby.
Furball was never going to let her forget this. Ever.
##
“Cavalry to the rescue!”
Lark looked up, scarcely believing her eyes. Otter and Dragon were leading a platoon of interesting men into the midst of the hideous android horde.
All of them armed with Super Soakers every target they hit sparked, shorted and exploded gratifyingly. Loading up on their snowboards, catching the extra weapons the men had brought along, Lark and the others joined in the play.
“You know, I’ll never look at water pistols the same again,” she confided to Otter.
“Hot springs,” Otter sighed. “All you need is a hot spring and the International Male Sauna Olympics Decathlon Team.”
They had a team for that? Okay… Lark decided, that was not a place to go.
It took a little while for the battle to be over. Henry and Mildred managed to affect an escape by simply cutting their way through the ice to the ocean below.
When they finally achieved their goal and arrived back at the pick up site, the long summer sun of the south was just about to go below the horizon.
Lark greeted the captain of their submarine with a sense of relief, a smile and, well, something else that she saved for later. She knew it would be at least a seven week journey to get them home again.
Whatever it was, the tube of stuff was amazing.
##
They all sat nervously around the couch room, except for Dragon who’d soon appear as her famed silhouette on the screen before them.
“Hey Wolf,” Fox said. “Looks like you’ve got some serious competition here.”
“Eh?” Wolf looked over at Fox’s laptop, shocked.
There it was—her infamous entrance into the Yankees world series final.
“Wow, would you look at her,” Lynx added. “And so far she’s got twice as many hits as any of your YouTube movies.”
“Really?” Wolf tried to remain casual.
“Who is she?” Otter asked, pushing Wolf aside. “Does anyone know?”
“Just says mysterious lady making her debut at the Yankees. Other than that no one knows, she vanished before the cops could catch her.”
Wolf stepped carefully back from the couch. Maybe she would be lucky this time…
Suddenly the lights in the room dimmed and the screen was backlit. The famous Furball and Dragon silhouettes appeared on the screen.
“Congratulations ladies, very well done. Using the information you've garnered on the Prince we’ve been able to, uhm, solicit… acquire more funds from his parents—ah, government—in order to aid our mission to secure the safety of the world. For that you will all be receiving a bonus check to enable a short vacation anywhere you’d like.”
“Anywhere we’d like in the world?” Lark squeaked happily.
“Uhm, well, anywhere you’d like in Louisville, Kentucky. But I’m sure you’ll find something exciting to do there. You should all congratulate yourselves.”
There was a rather lame attempt at group applause.
“And Wolf, you have excelled. Indeed, excelled. Our friends, the HUNKs have praised you for their excellent penetration training missions and would like to thank you by offering a short stay to share your skills with other HUNKs over at their offices in Florence, Italy. I have sent the invite and relevant papers to your home. There wasn’t even a teeny little mention in there about the SPLAT mission they missed. Excellent work.”
The screen went black and everyone stared grumpily at Wolf.
“Hey, maybe I’ll ask and see if I can bring some friends along,” she offered, there were a lot of HUNKs to go around. Besides, she could afford to be generous, now she wasn’t famous on YouTube.
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