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PART 12

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Louisa sat on the park bench and breathed a deep sigh before opening her phone.  Her attire today was as unflattering as she could find -- a baggy sweater, despite the 80-degree morning desert heat -- and jeans that were three sizes too big.  She punched Jared's name and heard the sound of ringing before it said "Connected."

 

"You got time for breakfast?"  Louisa asked.  "I just happened to be in the area of the Campaign office."  It was a lie, she had crossed town without a car specifically to see him.

 

"Sure.  I was just about to go out and grab a bagel," he replied.  A feeling of relief washed across Louisa.

 

Twenty minutes later, the two were sitting together on the park bench, bagels unwrapped from their papers, little tubs of cream cheese balanced on the bench as well.

 

Louisa approached her food tentatively.  Whenever she wasn't using one hand, she tucked it underneath a leg or pressed it nervously between her knees.  "Jared, I have a confession."

 

Jared put his coffee down on the ground and looked her with empathy.  "Vicky said you might call."

 

"That shit I did the other night in the gym--it felt really good at the time, even though I don't remember why exactly."  She tucked an errant corkscrew of her rich black/brown hair behind an ear, and heard Jared's breathing shallow slightly.  She met his eyes and suddenly realized that he was getting lost in hers -- dark and endless pools that had drawn other men recently into their depths.  Damn it, she thought, I'm wearing the dumpiest shit I can find and now he's getting turned on just by my face.  Men, even Jared, have no defenses.

 

"Go on," he prodded with a tremulous lilt to his voice.

 

"Killing those guys felt good at the time --  really, really good.  But looking back on it, now that the rush has subsided, I'm starting to wonder...."

 

Jared waited in silence.

 

"...I'm starting to wonder..." she struggled.

 

"It's OK, whatever it is, you can say it to me."

 

"...I'm starting to wonder..." Louisa pressed both hands between her knees.  She felt an eye betray her as it pushed an errant down her cheek.  "I'm starting to wonder if I'm a monster."

 

His arm was around her shoulders in an instant, and the comfort of his presence transformed errant tears to spasmodic sobs.  "You're NOT a monster, Louisa."

 

"Really?"

 

"Those men did awful things to you, Louisa.  And your new body must be a little bit confusing to you.  You let things get out of control -- tragically -- but I totally understand the underlying feelings.  You've got a lot of adjusting to do, you need to be patient with yourself."

 

"But what do I do now?" She sobbed. "I'm scared that if I go back to my normal life, this will just happen all over again.  Can you imagine me in a bar or a workplace?  The guys that beat a path to me won't exactly be the gentlemen.  And you heard about what I did to the first few guys that didn't act like gentlemen."

 

"Perhaps you can go back to doing something that makes you feel good.  What about the shelter?"

 

The women's shelter had become much less of a day-to-day crisis recently.  Kim had pressed her case with the mayor, or more specifically, the mayor has pressed his cock into her.  Their funding was now more than double what they had budgeted.

 

"Huh."  Louisa seemed to stop in her tracks.  "That's interesting.  Going back to the shelter is a great idea.  Maybe I should do that.  They could always use an extra set of hands." 

 

Louisa managed a crooked smile, squared her bloodshot eyes with his, and continued, “Thank you, Jared.  I was scared you would hate us."

 

"I'm not sure I could ever hate you girls."  His voice was gentle and warm, like a blanket that had been quickly wrapped around her.

 

"Buddy, you're one in a million," she beamed grabbing him and yanking him into a bear hug, bagels and cream cheese cascading to the ground.

 

She hugged him lightly, she thought, but Jared nonetheless let out an "oooff", as the collision with her unrepentant breasts knocked the wind out of him.

 

"Sorry," she demurred, loosening the hug further.

 

"It ok," he almost chuckled.  But his arms around her back were shaking. 

 

"You OK?" She asked, looking him in the eye, a quizzical expression on her tear-stained face.

 

He stared back with a look that was lost, needful, even excited.  "I'm sorry, it's just that this is the first time I've been this close to any of you -- at least, after your, uh, transformations.  And, well, my body has a mind of his own."

 

Louisa gently let him out of her arms and glanced down to see the lump forming in his crotch.  She laughed out loud, unsteadily, as she ran the back of her hand across her face to remove wetness of the tears.  "Do you really have that little control over yourself?"  She chortled.  "A girl is sobbing in front of you, but she's so hot that you still get a hard on?"

 

"I don't know what came over me," Jared confessed.

 

"I'm not criticizing.  I just think it's cool," Louisa exclaimed.

 

"It embarrassing."

 

"It doesn't have be," she said, running a hand through his hair.  "You're inferior to me.  Your body can't be expected to resist."

 

"That's pretty obnoxious," Jared retorted.  But his voice lacked conviction.

 

Louisa leaned in close, her voice teasing.  "It's kind of fun-- being obnoxious with you.  I'm enjoying watching you try to maintain some sense of control."

 

"Louisa..." Jared's voice was almost pleading as she lightly moaned in his ear and ran a hand down his chest.  She knew her scent would be irresistible to him. She pressed up against him lightly and allowed her stiffening nipple to wander across his pectorals.  She watched with clinical fascination as his eyes dilated and perspiration appeared on his temples.

 

He continued, "Louisa, I wouldn't want Vicky to hear."

 

She chortled again.  "Hear what?  As if Vicky owns you?"

 

Jared was silent.

 

"Or perhaps Vicky wants you all to herself?"  A thought crossed Louisa's mind, and her tone become more conspiratorial.  "Or perhaps, just perhaps, the feeling is mutual?"

 

Jared squirmed uncomfortably on the bench.

 

"Oh this is so cute!"   Louisa clapped her hands with glee at the discovery.  "But it must be hard to be in your shoes -- to be a fifth wheel with four of the hottest girls on the planet."

 

Jared nodded reluctantly.

 

"And Vicky can have any man she wants.  AND she's unpredictable.  Are you really going to express your feelings to her, and risk rejection -- a rejection that is all too understandable given that she is so far out of your league?"

 

Jared was silent.

 

"Oh, it's not all bad."   Louisa leaned in close, running her hot breath over his neck and ears.  "Maybe someday,"  she whispered in a giggle, "if you ask one of us girls nicely, we'll show you how superior our bodies really are."  She let off a slight moan. 

 

Moments later, her ultra-sensitive nose then detected the smell of his cum polluting his boxers.

 

 

---

 

 

It was 7am.  Ethan lay passed out on his bed, the previous night's introduction to Vicky having been more than he could handle.  She found her way to his computer, which had the electronic card catalog open, but it was impossible to figure out where to start.  Simply typing "rock" into the computer brought back everything from an article on Mick Jagger to a bad Sean Connery movie.  Typing "mineral" got a few geology books, but also books on nutrition and water quality.  This was going to take forever.

 

"Hey." Vicky poked Ethan awake.  "When can we go to the library?"

 

"Whhaaaa?"  He asked, struggling awake.

 

"When can we got to see the reference books in the library?"

 

"Uuggh..." he wiped his eyes, "I don't know.  Probably noon."

 

"Haaarrruppph."  Vicky retorted.  "That's the earliest you can do?"

 

"You know," Ethan responded carefully, "a certain somebody totaled my car last night.  So I need to file an insurance claim, go down to the police station and file some bullshit report about it being stolen."

 

"So, can't you do that later?" Vicky growled.  "I want to go to the reference section."

 

Ethan almost chuckled.  "I thought you'd be more contrite about the fact that you wrecked my damn car.  Oh, and my front door looks like it was hit by a raging bull."

 

Vicky strummed her fingers impatiently.  "I don't know what 'contrite' means.  I don't even care."

 

"OK, OK.  If you want I can stop by the library before the police station and get some books for you -- around 11am."

 

"YYeeeaaa!" Vicky squealed, giving him a peck on the cheek.

 

At 11am sharp, Vicky was walking in the front door of the library.  She had been chomping at the bit all morning, and was glad to finally be a little bit closer to the science reference section.  Her nipples hardened a little at the thought.

 

While waiting for Ethan's shift to start, Vicky had passed the time shopping for the perfect outfit-- something that would be appropriate for the occasion and give her all the access she needed.  After a discouraging romp through the department store, she finally found the perfect thing at one of the teenage-oriented boutiques in the mall: a plaid Catholic-school skirt, just a little too short to be entirely proper.  Combined with a prim white button-down blouse, a pair of thick glasses from the costume store, and a knockout pair of black high heel Mary Jane shoes, it was the perfect ensemble.  She decided to go with a pony tail rather than pig tails -- didn't want to overdo the effect.  She was especially proud of her wardrobe choices given the hardening of her nipples.  Unbothered by any bra -- bras were just annoying to Vicky now -- her thickening dark nubs under the white shirt became magnets for every pair of eyes that say her.  An electric tingle went through her body when she realized that she was commanding so much admiration and jealousy.

 

Nonetheless, as she arrived at the reference desk, she began to realize all the parts of her ensemble she had forgotten: purse, book bag, library card, pen, paper, phone -- just about anything she would need for research.  In fact, she didn't even know exactly what she was supposed to be researching.  She just wanted to get closer to the rocks and minerals section -- anything, everything to do with that subject would make her feel happy inside.  The thought of it triggered a renewed feeling of dampness between her legs.

 

"Is Ethan here?" Vicky asked the woman at the science reference desk. 

 

"No, he isn't back from the police station yet.  Are you Vicky?"

 

"Yes"

 

"He set up a reading carrel for you in the back -- said to let you know that he would pull a few basic texts for you to get started."

 

Vicky weaved her way between the stacks to the back of the library, and a tear came to her eye when she found her carrel.  "An Overview of Geology", "Guide to Rock and Mineral Identification", "An Introduction to Earth Sciences" -- the titles went on and on.  Each of these books was thick -- perhaps 300 pages, and there must have been 40 books in all.   That meant thousands and thousands of pages of textbooks and reference material!  Vicky felt an emotional lump forming in her throat.  That Ethan is such a stud, Vicky gushed to herself.  I couldn't have found a better guy.

 

Sitting down at the carrel, she opened the first book affectionately.  It was a reference guide to rocks and minerals.  The first page was Abenakiite -- chemical properties, how it forms, lists of places where it's found, structure, on and on.  The page was dense with text, so much so that the pictures and maps had been reduced to accommodate it all.

 

Vicky's eye raced across the page.  It felt good to be looking at this -- as if she was gazing at a breathtaking tropical sunset or even Ethan's gorgeous librarian cock.  Her body was flooded by a comforting warmth. 

 

Typically, Vicky had terrible memory: if she didn't write it down, it was lost to her.  But upon closing her eyes, she realized that the page was seared onto her brain in perfect detail -- every word, every formula, was coming instantly back to her.  The environment in which it forms?  That's easy, she thought, with her eyes still closed.  It's a single crystal embedded a xenolith of sodalite syenite.  The chemical formula?  Easy peasy: it's just Na26REE6(SiO3)6(PO4)6(CO3)6(SO2)O.

 

That's odd, she remarked.  Should it be that easy?

 

Leaning out of her carrel, Vicky yanked a random book off the nearest stack and opened to the first page of that as well.  It was poetry.  After a minute of staring, she had read the words but the sense and logic of the poem were lost to her.  She closed her eyes and tried to remember the words of the poem.  Nothing came back.

 

Back to the geology book, she turned to the second page -- Abernathyite -- gave it a quick glance, and recalled it all perfectly.  Seems I have a new calling, she laughed to herself.  The third and fourth pages -- Abhurite and Abramovite -- went very quickly as well -- just a quick glance and the page was flawlessly seared into her mind.

 

Vicky began to flip faster and faster, and her mind and eyes seemed to accelerate in kind.  All of the information was stored in flawless detail, with perfect recall.  What was more, she felt her connection to the other girls somehow deepening during this process, as this information was flowing amongst the four of them.

 

{{Oh jeez}} came Kim's voice over the telepathic lines.  {{I just learned the profile of ten minerals.}}

 

{{It's really weird}} contributed Louisa.  {{The facts, these images -- they feel like they are a part of me now.  I know them better than my own  phone number!}}

 

With the group's support behind her, Vicky returned to the book and began flipping pages again.  A few minutes later, she finished it and moved on to the next one.  Less than 10 minutes later, she was done with that one too, and moved on to a third.  To Vicky, the rest of the world seemed to disappear as the engrossing book -- An Introduction to Structural Geology -- consumed her.

 

 

---

 

 

"So, Ms. Tamara Walters.   What is the difference between a hypothesis and a theory?"  It was the teaching assistant in her Methods of Science class speaking. 

 

Tammy regarded him like a deer in the headlights.  "I dunno."

 

"I just covered this material ten minutes ago.  This is just a little verbal quiz to make sure everybody is paying attention."

 

"I'm sorry," Tammy demurred, looking around the room at the dozens of eyes that awaited her response.  They're picking on my cause I'm blond, Tammy thought, and blondes are supposed to be stupid.  But in my case it's true.  I've always been stupid. 

 

Tammy felt a spasm of fear consume her.  She had suspected she was too stupid to succeed at Geology.  And now it was turning out to be true.  And the grip of fear made her mind freeze, which made her even stupider!

 

She wanted nothing more than to get out of this class.  It was embarrassing to be called on like this!  It would have been one thing if the class had been geology, which she desperately wanted to learn.  But this was a stupid prerequisite-- about scientific methods and stuff.  The thought that she might never make it past this point sent a feeling of dread through her.

 

"Can you go on to someone else?"  Tammy pleaded.  "I promise I'll study it overnight."

 

Tammy was lost somewhere deep in her classroom misery when it happened.  Out of the blue, she was hit with telepathic blast of information.  The mineral Abenakiite -- instantly, she knew everything about it that she could possibly want to know.  She was an instant, world-class expert, in fact, on that one obscure mineral.  Then came two more minerals -- bam, bam! 

 

Tammy could almost feel Vicky's mind -- nearly a mile away -- as her friend flipped the page and scanned its contents, the information immediately shooting into Tammy's brain.  Within moments, the pace had accelerated -- bam, bam, bam, bam -- soon Tammy realized that she was learning the entire mineralogy of the earth, literally from A to Z.

 

Tammy had to catch her breath to contain the excitement.  In her first four years of college, and then in grad school, she had been able to learn only in dribs and drabs.  But now, as she sat at her desk and examined her fingernails, a fire hose of knowledge was effortlessly opening.

 

 

---

 

 

Louisa approached Trailer #14 with her heart in her throat.  Despite the fact that the guy inside was cruel and ruthless, she knew it was irrational to be nervous.  But that didn't stop her instinctive reaction -- didn't stop her hand from quivering slightly as she raised it to knock on the aluminum screen door.

 

She had taken Jared's advice and gone back to the shelter volunteer work.  Her first self-assigned task was, not coincidentally, her biggest piece of unfinished business.  Devlin James had beaten a woman so senseless that she had shown up at the shelter's door perhaps a year ago, desperate for protection.  The shelter had provided it, and implored her not to go back to him.  But like so many women, she did.  And now she was dead.

 

Mr. James was supposed to take a sexual violence prevention class.  He never did.  He was supposed to check in periodically with his parole officer stemming from an unrelated crime.  He never did.  Somebody needed to talk to him, before this violence happened again, but even the shelter had been reluctant to deal with it.  He didn't return phone calls, and showing up at his trailer, given his history, was unsafe.

 

Unsafe, that is, for most people.  Louisa had given herself the assignment for a reason.

 

Knocking on the door, Louisa's heart jumped further into her throat when she heard footsteps on the other side.  The door opened, but the face that appeared was not that of Devlin James.  It was a woman.  She looked bedraggled.

 

"Does Devlin James still live here?" 

 

"Yea, I'm his girlfriend." 

 

Louisa kicked herself for not visiting earlier.  Who knew that he had a girlfriend?  Now a second woman was in his crosshairs.  Louisa was also glad she had picked smart business attire -- high necked blouse, slacks and a jacket -- so as not to create the impression of sexual competition.

 

"Is he here?"

 

"Nah, he's coming back in a few minutes."

 

"Can I come in?"

 

Ten minutes later, Louisa was sitting on the couch with cup of tepid, bad coffee in her hand, looking the at bedraggled woman, who had introduced herself as Shelley.  A normal set of eyes would have missed the subtle splotches of yellow that indicated a nearly-healed bruise.  Even a trained dermatologist with an examination lamp may have missed it.  But Louisa's eyes were doing things that optic science only dreamed of, and the splotches on Shelly's face and arms were as obvious as lily pads on a pond.

 

"And was that the only time he beat you?"  Louisa continued.

 

"No, there were many others as well.  More than I can count.  Just--- this one was the worst."

 

"Shelley," Louisa implored.  "You need to leave him.  I expect you don't know this, but his last girlfriend wound up in a coffin."  Louisa paused to let it sink in.  "I'll say it again.  You need to leave him.  And not tomorrow, this instant.  Pack a small bag with mementos and critical items.   And go with me, now, before he comes back.  If you don't do it right now, you know you'll wind up staying.  And staying with this guy means curtains."

 

There was a solemn pause in the conversation as Shelly closed her eyes.  The stress of the situation on her was evident.  "OK" she said, without opening them.

 

It was just about at that moment when Louisa heard a car pull off the main road on to the dirt driveway.

 

 

---

 

 

When Vicky finally bothered to glance at the clock, it read 3 p.m.  She had be reading for four hours solid.  She had not taken a break.  She had not gotten up to stretch, she realized.  She had not even shifted her position in the chair.  And yet, she felt like she could do this for hours.  Or days.  Or months.

 

"Don't you have anything ELSE," Vicky demanded as she approached the reference desk.  Ethan stared at her quizzically.  Thankfully, he was the only one at the desk.

 

"Hi there.  You weren't happy with the stuff I found you?"  Ethan seemed a little bit hurt. 

 

"The reference books were AWESOME.  But now I'm done with them, and that's annoying.  I need more.  And you don't want me to be annoyed."

 

"Done with them?  You're funny," he smiled cautiously.  "What's all this for anyway?"

 

"I don't know," she said leaning over the counter slightly.  She took a deep breath.  Two of the buttons on her blouse to pop offering some of her cavernous cleavage to him for inspection.  "Do I need to have a reason?"

 

"Uh.... uh.... no,"  he replied, clearly struggling with his composure.  "I could show you the geologic maps, I suppose."

 

Vicky's scowl transformed into a smile that could have knocked a whole bar's worth of men off their stools.  "You're the best, Ethan."

 

The map room contained endless file cabinets specially designed for maps -- wide, long and shallow drawers capable of holding a 5' x 5' piece of paper. 

 

"Here's how they are organized," Ethan started, moving to a computer workstation.  "Once you know the geographic location you want, then you have to find the latitude and longitude associated with that location.  You can do that on this screen over here.  And then once you find that, you need to find the corresponding grid and map number, which--"

 

"That sounds silly," Vicky pouted, opening the first drawer.  "I'll just start with Drawer #1."

 

"Really?  I've never had anyone ask for that before."

 

"I'm not just anyone."  Vicky leaned way over the drawer, letter her plaid skirt hike up a bit-- a reminder of one of the reasons why she was not just anyone.  "You can go back and help the other diligent students," she beamed over her shoulder.  "I'll still be here for you."  She gave a slight wiggle to her ass to remind him what that meant.

 

"Uh, ok," he replied, nearly walking into a bookshelf.  "Sure I'll see you later?"  He asked, expectantly.

 

"If you keep helping me find this stuff," she replied.  One more wiggle and a wink.

 

Her supersensitive hearing detected the quickened thump-thumping of his heart as he returned up the stairs. 

 

Vicky glanced at the first map -- rock formations, faults, folds, geologic cross sections -- it was all there in exhilarating detail.  What a gift, she thought to herself!  And the hot dude who found me this room -- he actually wants me.  Vicky felt the involuntary dampness increase between her legs.  With each new map consumed by her voracious mind, her panties dampened further with her growing excitement.  Finishing the first drawer, she eagerly yanked open the second.

 

An hour passed. 

 

"Is Ethan around?"  Vicky's heels clicked on the linoleum floor as she approached the reference desk, now staffed by an older woman.  Two hours in the map room was all it took to page through the entirety of their collection, which was now seamlessly and flawlessly seared into Vicky's mind.

 

"He's in a department meeting until 5pm.  I can't interrupt him."

 

"Oh" Vicky said, discouragement and irritation in her voice. 

 

Grabbing an interoffice envelope, she wrote "Quiet Study Room J31" on the outside and then disappeared between the stacks.  After a quick glance around, she reached under her skirt, she pulled her soaked panties down to her feet, and then off.  Into the envelope they went, as Vicky re-emerged from the stacks and approached the reference desk.

 

"Could I ask you a huge favor?"  Vicky asked the woman, sealing the interoffice envelope and handing it to her.  "I know Ethan is tied up.  Would you please deliver this to him?   And tell him that it's.... urgent."

 

 

---

 

 

The sound of heavy, lumbering footsteps approaching the house sent Louisa's mind into a spin.  Shelley's face transformed into a picture of timidity and fear.

 

"Who are you?"  Devlin asked brusquely as he dropped a plastic shopping bag on the kitchen counter.  Whiskey, Louisa could see from the neck of the bottle jutting out.

 

"I'm the one that's come to take your girlfriend away.  Away, that is, if she knows what's good for her."  Here goes, Louisa thought.  The cards are already down.

 

"The FUCK you will," Devlin snarled at Louisa before turning to his disheveled girlfriend.  "Shelly, I am going to teach you a lesson for letting this bitch in here."

 

"You're not teaching anybody a lesson," Louisa retorted.  "Shelly, I want you to get in the car, drive up to Desert Java, and wait for me."

 

"Shelley," Devlin growled, "you will do no such thi---"

 

"NOW!" Louisa boomed.  Her voice was inhumanly loud -- the volume and reverberation of a rock concert.  A candy bowl on the coffee table shattered at the vibration.  Shelley scrambled up, stupidly putting Louisa's cold coffee mug in the sink on her way out -- keeping the trailer tidy for him, even now.  Shelley took a furtive glance at the menacing man, and then slunk out the door.

 

"Devlin, I'm from the shelter," Louisa delivered calmly, standing up as she did so.  "You need to get back on the track that you agreed to.  Sexual violence classes, for exam--"

 

"You want to see violence?  You came to the right place!"  He exclaimed, lunging at her with his fist.

 

This wasn't what I came for, Louisa thought, as she absently caught his fist in her own.  Jared is right, she thought as she blocked another punch, getting this domestic situation fixed should make me feel better.  I can't give into the temptation to beat the snot out of him, she reminded herself as watched a right hook make its way to her jaw at an agonizingly slow pace.  The impact was painless -- to her.

 

Gosh, Louisa remarked to herself, men are even slower and weaker than I remembered from last time.  But I'm not going to give into the temptation to teach him a lesson, she reminded herself as he wound up for another punch, however strong or appealing the temptation is.

 

Nope, not going to give in to that.  Although it would feel good. 

 

In fact, it would feel really good, she mused.  I promised Jared I wouldn't do that -- gotta stay on the right track.

 

Nonetheless, she continued, it would be very nice if I could beat him just a little bit.  Not so much that Jared would be disappointed in me, but just a little bit.  It would be a little treat for myself, for being such a good girl.

 

As she fantasized about hurting him, Louisa felt her nipples expand.  With every breath, the fibers of her blouse passed ever so slightly across the surface of her hardening nubs, sending a tingling of sensation throughout her body.  Maybe I could break just a bone or two -- something nobody would notice.  How wrong could that be?

 

Devlin now was now raining blows on her, but her own hands were many times as fast and every punch ended with her hand gently absorbing the blow.

 

"Dude, you are making it very hard for me to control myself," Louisa admitted, removing her jacket for ease of movement.  Devlin fired another upper cut at her chin, but with lightning speed she had grabbed his forearm and stopped him dead in his tracks.  "And the thought of what happens when I lose control feels... really good."

 

Louisa delivered an uppercut to his stomach.  She had tried to be gentle, but the blow sent him flying into the kitchen cabinets.  Dishes rained off the drying rack as Devlin lumbered back to his feet.

 

"This is bullshit!" Devlin exclaimed, stomping into the bedroom.  Given the size of the trailer, that took only about three paces.

 

Hitting Devlin, however lightly, had sent a tingle of erotic pleasure through Louisa's body.  She smiled dreamily in anticipation what she would do to him upon his return. 

 

But when he re-emerged, he had a gun in his hand. 

 

Her mind froze.  Oh SHIT, she thought.  I saw guys bruise their hands on Vicky's abs.  I felt my own legs absorb a 3-story jump off a building.  But bullets are another matter.  Human skin is so thin, we're can't be bulletproof.  Oh SHIT.

 

{{Bullets!!  Gun!!}}  Louisa screamed in her telepathic voice to the other girls.  {{What the fuck do I do?}}

 

But her "scream" was met only with silence.

 

{{Is anybody out there?  Oh GOD.}} Louisa implored, sweat emanating from her temples.

 

Devlin raised the gun, and Louisa raised her hands well, and irrational shield against the coming bullets.  "Please" she whispered, her lower lip quivering.

 

The gun went off with a deafening "pop".  Louisa watched the bullet as it sailed towards her, and she instinctively moved her hand to intercept.  She felt the tap of the impact, like someone poking her with their index finger.  The gun emitted two more pop's, and Louisa thoughtlessly grabbed those bullets out of the air as well.

 

"Holy shit," Louisa whispered turning her palms upward to reveal the crumpled slugs.  "I'm bulletproof."

 

She looked up at Devlin appreciatively, as if he had just given her a gift.  "Wow," she said absently.  "I seriously can't hold out any longer.  I am so going to love beating the shit out of you,"  she laughed.

 

Devlin was not the brightest of men, Louisa reminded herself, and he clearly did not take her announcement to heart.  He squeezed the trigger three more times, and Louisa watched in rapt fascination as the bullets sailed for her chest.  She took all three on the tits.  In fact, the impacts felt like a lover's caress, sending further tremors through her body.  The only downside was the three blackened holes now visible in her white cotton blouse, a department store garment that had broken the budget yesterday.  Darn it, she thought.

 

When the gun fired next, Louisa watched the bullet approach lackadaisically.  It was originally headed for her cleavage, but she shifted slightly to take it on the nipple.  The impact felt divine.

 

"Can you get another one on the tit like that?" Louisa purred. 

 

"What the fuck is this?"  Devlin retorted.  Again, not the brightest bulb in the box.

 

"Fine, we'll skip the tit thing," Louisa grabbed a kitchen chair and sauntered towards him.  "Sit," she ordered, placing the chair next to him.

 

He did not move.

 

"NOW!!"  she boomed, shattering several glasses as well as the mirror over the TV.   A hand on his shoulder was all it took to press him into the chair.   Louisa climbed into his lap, hooking her legs around the legs of the chair to pin him in place.  She also stretched her shoulders back, such that her shoulder blades nearly touched.  This sent her already pronounced bust even closer to his speechless face, popping a few buttons as it went.  "There we go, much sexier," she purred, "I'd hate to do this next part looking like a prude."

 

She felt a stiffness forming below her and quickly reached down to free him from the confines of his jeans.  She also ran an index finger up the crotch of her own pants, tearing a hole in her slacks and panties like they were no more than tissue paper.  Louisa settled her hungry pussy down on his shaft, and she was pleased with the result.  He was a good size, and thick too.

 

"At least you're good for something," she purred. 

 

"Oh shit, that feels awesome...."

 

"You've got a nice huge cock, lover.  No wonder that Shelley stuck around an asshole like you.  I'm glad a took the time to sample your awesome cock before we get to my favorite part."

 

"Ugh god," the knucklehead gasped in pleasure.  He should be wondering what my favorite part is, she mused.

 

"Now," Louisa softly moaned as she paused at the base of his shaft.  "You tried to kill me with these silly bullets.  Let's see if they are good for anything at all."  The slugs were still in her hand, and she popped one in her mouth like candy.  Chomping down, it offered no more resistance than bubble gum.  She worked the bullet around her mouth.  It tasted awful -- particularly the lead -- but it was fun to think of the metal being so powerless to resist her.

 

"I wonder if I can chew gum and fuck at the same time,"  she giggled.  As she slowly slid herself up and down his shaft, she worked the bullet around between her tongue and teeth.  Eventually she pursed her lips and blew a metal bubble about six inches across.  Louisa had no idea how much pressure and precision would have been needed to make this happen.  And perhaps there wasn't an industrial machine in the world that could imitate it.  But no matter -- it was easy for her.  Everything was.

 

The metal bubble popped with a loud bang, creating a rigid golden film that Louisa had to wipe off her face.  "That was cool!" Louisa noted out loud.

 

"What the fuck are you," Devlin hissed, now completely petrified.

 

"You're about to find out."   She popped three more bullets in her mouth.

 

Devlin's fists began to rain blows on her face, her breasts, her arms.  He struggled violently to escape the vice grip of her legs, but to no avail.  Throughout it all, Louisa felt her temperature rising.   His struggles were furious, but to her, they were nothing.  His life now hung on her most fickle whim.  God, she thought, he's so powerless next to me -- what a rush!

 

She looked down at his face, now beet red with exertion.  "Notice how hard your cock is, even though you're completely freaked out?  That's because I'm raping you."  Louisa's voice was glib as he redoubled his struggles.  "Don't you think it's time to get me off?"

 

Louisa's growing arousal sent tingles and shivers throughout her mind and body.  Her toes and the tips of her fingers came more alive with every stroke of his cock.

 

"Jeez, baby," Louisa panted as she felt the wave of erotic bliss beginning to overtake her.  She grabbed his hands and pressed them into her breasts, their struggles to resist only further enlivening her nipples.

 

"Oh god," she moaned.  "I'm so glad I..."  Louisa panted for breath. "I'm so glad I kept you alive this long!"  She heard him howl an objection, but she ignored it.  The sensations coming from her clit were extraordinary, even as she was distantly aware that he continued to rain blows on her.  Her erotic trance made her see stars, and the cabin began to spin.  "On man!"  she shouted, lost in her own world.  Lights, colors, darkness all spun before her eyes as the ecstasy overtook her.

 

"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit," her feminine voice moaned.  And then it hit -- an orgasm like a lightning bolt rocked her body.  The erotic electricity started in her clit and exploded outward, filling every pore of her body with bliss.

 

Louisa spent countless minutes in mesmerized nothingness.  Whether anything was said during that time --or whether she said anything --  she couldn't remember.

 

As she finally began to come down from her high, she grabbed Devlin's hair and pulled his head back, staring into his face.  "Oh good, baby, you're still alive."

 

She could see it all in his eyes -- the hatred, the exhaustion from his struggles, and the unsolicited pleasure of exploding inside of her. 

 

In her mouth, Louisa had already rolled the slugs into a ball with her tongue, and had tucked the ball between her jaw and her cheek, like chewing tobacco.  She brought her lips close to his ear and whispered in a bedroom voice, "You’re done serving me sexually, but there's one more thing you can do to make me happy."

 

"What's that?" he grunted.

 

"Die."

 

He struggled violently, but she held effortlessly held him in her iron grip.  It went on for several minutes.  She watched with fascination as anger was replaced with fear, and then fear with resignation.  It's interesting to see a man slowly give up, she noted.  They have no other choice, but it's not the choice that's fascinating.  It's the slow deterioration of their confidence.

 

As his struggles subsided, Louisa realized that the time had finally come.  Puckering her lips, she blew the ball of metal out of her mouth like a spitball in grade school.  She half suspected that, launched like this, it would simply bounce off of him, but instead, the metal ball blew a sizeable hole not only in his head, but also in the floor of the trailer.  "Damn, she thought, I guess I'm that awesome."

 

Louisa dismounted him and let his body slump over in the chair.

 

On her way out the door, Louisa saw his checkbook on the table next to the whisky bottle.  Flipping through the checkbook, her mind seemed somehow to grasp his writing style instantly.  Moments later, she was writing a note in his handwriting: "I was bad to Shelly.  And she caught me cheating.  And she left me.  Only one way to fix things now..."  Then, for good measure, she poured half the bottle of whiskey down his dead throat and threaded the handle of the gun into his dead fingers.

 

Over the coming days, the over-taxed the police department rushed through its investigation.  To them, the nature of the violent death was a foregone conclusion.  The handwritten note they found, the fact that Shelley had decided to leave him, the vaginal secretions they found on his groin evidencing the affair, the gun in his hand -- it was a suicide.  Any amateur could see that.  And besides, there were no other suspects, given the long list of people that had seen Shelley sitting at Desert Java for an hour. 

 

So, no one in this over-taxed department wasted time figuring out why none of the whiskey in his stomach had shown up in his bloodstream, why the hole in his head was too big for the caliber of the gun, or most of all, why, sitting on the ground outside the trailer, a pinball-sized hunk of metal that had tooth marks on it.

 

 

---

 

 

Quiet Study Room J31 better resembled a jail cell than a room - florescent light, cinderblock walls and a desk with paper and some office supplies on it.  The door had a narrow window, about six inches by twelve inches.

 

Even though the door was closed, Vicky detected the distinctive sounds of his footsteps from the other side of the building -- minutes before he arrived.  Having already read everything she had been given, Vicky had been passing time by lightly running a manicured nail over one of her braless nipples, and the sensation wasn't exactly making her any more patient.

 

"Did you get my memo?" She asked in a raspy, inviting voice.

 

"Yes," he said, laying the interoffice envelope on her desk with a shaking hand.  "My boss is furious at me for leaving the meeting.  But I don't care.  When stepped away and opened that envelope, your smelled wafted out.  I couldn't resist coming to see you."

 

"Good man.  Now you need to fix my problem.  I'm reading the books faster than I can page them from the closed stacks."

 

"Faster than you can page them?  That doesn't make sense."

 

"I can't wait for books to be paged anymore.  I need the key to the closed stacks."

 

"I could get fired for that."

 

"So?"

 

"You know, there are about three people in this library that would love to have my job."

 

"We can fix them later," Vicky said mysteriously.  "In the meantime, stand against the door, hot stuff," she ordered, gently pushing him by the sternum until his back hit the door with a soft thud.

 

She held him in her captivating hazel-grey eyes. "When I need your help, you need to come -- not just jogging, but running.  Otherwise, your priorities are out of whack."

 

"When I'm at work, my job needs to be my priority."

 

She suddenly crouched down like a baseball catcher and began to unzip his fly.  He was rock hard already.

 

"What are you doing?" He asked stupidly.

 

"Rearranging your priorities."

 

 

---

 

 

"He killed himself," Louisa explained as she sat down at Shelley's table at Desert Java, only minutes after leaving the trailer.

 

A stunned Shelley simply stared into space.

 

"For some reason, I am in a great mood.  You going to finish that?"  Louisa asked, pointing at the fudge brownie on the table.

 

"No," Shelley replied distantly, lost in the news of Devlin's death.  "It goes right to my thighs."

 

"That's too bad," Louisa replied cheerfully, pulling off a large piece and popping it in her mouth.  "Mine seem to look great no matter what I do."

 

"You know," Shelly said distantly, "I have to thank you.  You reminded me what was really important: I was so caught up in pleasing this jerk Devlin, I'd forgotten how to be happy."

 

Louisa felt the words sink in and tug at her.  In her mind, she saw the blood spattered all over the floor and walls of the trailer; she saw Devlin slumped unnaturally in his chair.  The memories sent a delightful, warm feeling across Louisa's body.  "You know," Louisa admitted, "I think you helped me rediscover something about myself too." 

 

Shelley silently stared into the distance.

 

Louisa grabbed the rest of the brownie and studied Shelley as she chewed.  "You going to be OK for money?"

 

"I don't know.  I was doing some house cleaning around town for cash, but it's not enough to get by.  Without his income, I'll need to find a full time job."

 

"Which houses?"

 

"Huh?"

 

"Which houses were you cleaning?  Anyone interesting?"

 

"Mostly the rich people on the other side of town.  One of the houses actually belongs to an FBI guy.  I thought that was pretty cool."

 

"No shit, that is pretty cool," Louisa replied pensively.  She thought in silence for several moments.  "Huh," she mused out loud.

 

The two women were momentarily lost in their own thoughts.

 

Louisa continued, "How about this:  I clean the houses for you for a week.  I give you the money.  You take the time to write up a resume and start looking for jobs.  Deal?"

 

"Would you really?" Shelley replied, touched.

 

"Sure.  These people you clean houses for -- they seem pretty interesting.  I can't wait to meet some of them and clean them out."