Part 18 - To the East

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Plot Synopsis Up to This Point:

Four female post-graduate students in New Mexico (Vicky, Tammy, Louisa and Kim) are living depressing lives fraught with personal and professional failures.  

One day, driving through the lonely new Mexico desert, they are commandeered by aliens.  Turns out, the aliens would like to come back one day and mine the our earthly sphere until it's Swiss cheese.  But in the meantime, they need a little help mapping the earth's geology.  And who better to help with that than a handful of local females, recruited involuntarily and then souped up with some supernatural abilities?

No one knows when the aliens are going to come back, if they ever do.  And that gives the girls plenty of opportunity to explore the supernatural abilities the aliens have given them.  In case you've never been superhuman, it involves not only absurd strength, but also being absurdly attractive, with the sexual appetite to match.  It means that whichever guy you choose to sleep with somehow finds reserves of virility and endurance that he never previously had.  It means being able to talk to your girlfriends through mental telekinesis-- no more charging those cell phones.  It means you can store a city’s worth of electricity inside of you, and blow shit up at will.  And it means you can fly.

As we leave off Part 17, Kim has recently eliminated her asshole boyfriend, Bob.  All four girls are anxious get off their cruise ship, return to Phoenix and start spending his money.  Nonetheless, during the cruise, the girls do take some time to try out their newfound flight abilities.  While doing so, Kim discovers a good-looking pilot flying his fighter jet over the Florida skies.  She decides on the spot that this Roberto can be of more service between her legs than in the Air Force, and hauls him back to the ship.

Disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction.  It is intended for adult audiences only.  No semblance between the characters described here and real individuals -- living or dead -- is implied or intended.

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"That's so stupid," Louisa groaned as she turned the volume up on the TV.  It was early morning, and the girls were almost ready to leave the cruise ship.  Louisa had been more efficient than the others: her bags were packed and sitting in a pile twenty minutes ago.  

Or maybe she wasn't more efficient.  Maybe she was just less sentimental.  Photos, souvenirs, and her favorite shirt were carelessly piled in with dirty socks and wet bikini's.  Louisa never shed a tear for damaging the objects that made happy memories.  In life, Louisa felt, shit gets busted all the time.  

As she waited on the bed, she was absently flipping through TV channels as Roberto gently stroked her back.

The two nights ago, Roberto had been treated to a menage-a-quatre unlike anything that any man had ever experienced.  After his bout in the sack, he passed out and did not wake up for about 20 hours.  It was a good thing he had been in such good physical condition.  Otherwise, after that bout, he would have been sleeping for eternity.  

The Air Force, in fact, did think he was sleeping for eternity; the funeral took place while he was snoring in the cruise ship cabin.

While their lover had recovered, the girls practiced their flight powers, slipping silently off the back of the ship, rocketing off into the distance.  They had grown more confident in their abilities, more accustomed to having only air beneath their feet.  

As part of their recent self-training, the girls learned not only how to fly better, but how to enjoy it.  On their first flights, the blistering wind had stripped them of their clothing and hopelessly knotted their hair.  But now, with subsequent practice, they found they could use their power not only to "push against" the space behind them, but also to "push" a small amount of air ahead of them.  This created a bubble of stillness around them, no matter how fast they were going.  That was great, because it meant they could fly without messing up their clothing.  They could even wear earring at supersonic speeds.

When Roberto had finally woken up, a plan had been hatched by the girls.  No longer satisfied with any air travel under Mach 15, the girls were not going to wait for a lumbering commercial airliner to take them back to Phoenix.  They were going to fly under their own immense power.  Roberto would be responsible for taking all their stuff back, including the financial paperwork from the Caymans and the thirty thousand dollars worth of clothing and accessories the girls had accumulated.  When he delivered, the girls offered, Roberto would have another shot at some super-hot lovin' in Phoenix.

Roberto, it turns out, didn't need to be asked twice.  Now, the final preparations for the girls' departure were underway.

As the girls packed, the TV chattered on.  "Families of the British rugby players are devastated and are asking for international intervention.  What started as exercise in international understanding through sportsmanship has turned into a personal nightmare for the British players involved. These players arrived in Pakistan two weeks ago for the Commonwealth Rugby Competition, with excitement in their hearts and winning on their minds.  But when authorities discovered small amounts of marijuana in the players' living quarters, the entire team was arrested.  Now, their futures are clouded in doubt.  The trial verdict was announced this morning--"

"Yea, a sham trial," Louisa complained.

"-- and the entire team was found guilty.  A sentencing hearing has yet to be scheduled.  Pakistani legal experts believe that the players could be in prison for years, or even decades --" the TV continued, "--reduced to bargaining chips in an international diplomatic conflict."

Louisa groaned and thew a pillow at the TV in disgust.  "That's not FAIR.  They're so totally INNOCENT."

"Do my ears deceive me?" Vicky asked.  "The scary badass one is standing up for justice and restraint?  You have a higher body count than any of us!"

"Thank you," Louisa replied, taking the best bow she could from a reclining position.  "But this is different."

"What do you mean 'body count'?" Roberto asked nervously.

Louisa ignored him, returning her gaze to the TV.  "There's no way they deserve to be thrown in jail.  They're totally HOT."

"You make it sound like hotness is an alibi."  Vicky laughed, deepening her voice.  "He's guilty, your honor, but we let him off -- because he's a STUD!"

"Exactly!," Louisa exclaimed, gesticulating.  "Looking at those guys makes me feel gooey and happy inside.  And if a guy makes me happy, then his life should be worth more than one who doesn't."

"Oh I see," Roberto challenged, laughing.  "Now world revolves around you?"

"It will."

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The moist ocean air whipped over the deck of the ship, gently tousling the girls' hair.  In the distance, and the lights of Miami twinkled against the black of the night.  But in the other direction, out over the ocean, the early orange rays of dawn could now be seen.

Vicky walked a few paces away from the group and breathed deeply.  Her actions created a massive air current, and below, several pool chairs quivered, shook, and even rose a few feet into the air.  

But then paused and exhaled gently, causing the furniture below to rattle and clang back onto the deck.

"I'd forgotten how much I loved this time of day," she said, turning to the girls and extending her arms.  "On the one side, darkness.  On the other, light.  They seem to struggle to control the sky.

"One always wins," Vicky continued, "but only for a time.  In less than a day, light is forced to cede the sky to darkness, then darkness is forced to give it back again.  Their struggle is infinite and endless.  Their fortunes are held in perfect balance.   Since we spend most of lives under either sun or dark, one at a time, we forget about the rotation, the struggle, the balance.

Vicky sighed  "And yet for few precious moments every day, the eternal contest of light and darkness is captured in a single firmament.  Rays of orange light and pools of inky darkness claw away at each other for control of the heavens.   That's the way of all life, isn't it?  Don't we all tip toe along a narrow beam-- just as we're standing on this ship now-- with light on one side and darkness on the other?"

Kim fidgeted with a lock of her chestnut hair.  "Let's get going.  Pablo Neruda over here usually shuts up when we get above Mach 3."

"I thought that was pretty cool!"  Tammy objected.  "My eyes are all misty and shit."

"That's just the spray from the ocean." Kim turned to Roberto, tucking her phone into her pocket.  "You got my phone number, right?"

"Yes, I'll get there as soon as I can," he replied, an involuntary lump forming in his pants.   "I can't wait."

"Cool."  Kim turned to Louisa.  "You ready?"  

The curly-haired woman was standing slightly apart from the group, a distracted look on her face.

"I dunno," Louisa responded.  She glanced toward the orange-hued east, almost longingly.

"You need some time?"  Vicky asked.

"No," Louisa replied uncertainly, "there's just something I want to do before I go home."

"We can wait."

"No, you guys go ahead.  I'll catch up with you."

Roberto was shocked to see how quiet the take-offs were, given the speeds to which the girls accelerated.  One moment they were in front of him, and the next moment they were specks on the horizon.  As he gazed over the Miami skyline, now shrouded in gray rather than black, he could barely make out three specks before they completely blinked out of view.

And turning toward the east, shielding his eyes from the rising sun, he could barely make out the fourth speck -- a black dot rapidly shrinking as it receded into the burgeoning, victorious brightness of the day.

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Chad had no idea what to expect as the prison guards led him to the visitation room.  He had been told that he had a visitor, but who?  Their lawyer had already gone home for the day, and the UK consular staff would not make any visits until after the sentencing.  The families and friends of the rugby players had been advised to refrain from entering the country, for fear that they could also suffer a sham arrest.

The woman that was waiting for him was beyond beautiful.  Even covered in a headscarf and tunic, the generous curves of her femininity were visible.  And her face, only inches from his own across the plexiglass divider-- that alone was engrossing enough to make any man's heart flutter.

"If you don't mind my asking, who are you?"

"My name is Louisa."

Her voice -- it made his lips go dry.  It was like an earthquake of desire was running through him, shaking him mercilessly.  

"How did you get in here?"

"Easy.  This prison is run by men.  And most men are... malleable.  I just ask for what I want, and I always get it."

Chad admitted with some embarrassment that she was indeed having a similar effect on him.  His pants were feeling quite tight.

"Why did you come?" he struggled to ask.

"Because I need some help around the house."

"Well," he almost laughed, "I'm not sure if you heard, but I may need to stick around here for a while."

"Oh, this?"  The woman glanced dismissively around her.  "I can take care of this.  The question is what you want."

"I don't understand," he replied.  What he wanted was to sit right here, staring at this woman forever.

"I live with three friends, and they're really hot."

"Coming from you, that means they are the most beautiful women in the world."

"They are.  Or, we are," she said quietly, a slight smile on her lips.  "We're really good at sitting around the pool and looking hot.  But we need someone to make the daiquiris."

"I see."

"And we need someone on hand, at all times, in case we feel like a quick fuck.  You're cute, by the way."

He was flummoxed.  "Thanks," he managed.

Her lips parted in a smile, revealing perfect teeth underneath.  Was there any part of this woman that was less than perfect?

"So are you up for it -- running drinks to hot chicks at the pool?"

"Wait hand and foot on hottie like you?  I do that for a decade," he laughed.  "But how in the world would you get us out of there?"

"I don't have the time to explain how.  Just trust me."  She licked her pouty, glossy perfect lips.  It wasn't a particularly suggestive gesture, but it sent a torrent of desire through him nonetheless.  God, he wanted to believe her.

"I guess I'd have to ask the other guys," Chad stammered.  It was a red herring, he knew.  He didn't want to say yes to a question that preposterously assumed she could free him.  And he didn't want to say no to a woman this mesmerizing.

She smiled.  "That's an awesome idea.  I don't want just one daiquiri dude, I want the whole team.  We’re thirsty."

Chad breathed a sigh of relief.  She had smiled.  She was happy, and that made him happy-- an impossibly pretty, sexy beacon of light in the dark gloom of their incarcerated lives.

"Thanks for visiting,"  he said.  "I hope you come to visit again.  Just talking to you is... energizing."

"If you think that’s energizing,” she smiled conspiratorially, “you ought to try the blow job.  Go and talk to your boys about whether they want to be my daiquiri studs.”

"Ok, I will."

"If the answer is yes, just say the word.  Then, hit the floor."

"How do I reach you?"  But it was too late.  The guard's hand was on his shoulder.  Visiting time was over.

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Chad wasted no time going back to speak with the team. His description of her charms was vivid. He described her proposal that the men pledge their bodies to her service if she was able to free them. The response was quick and enthusiastic. The worst that could happen, they reasoned, would be a number of futile visits from her and her lawyers, giving the team repeated chances to gaze at her across a table -- a welcome diversion from the gloom of incarceration. Even better, she might actually find a way for them to get out of there.

Chad wasted no time going back to speak with the team. His description of her charms was vivid. He described her proposal that the men pledge their bodies to her service if she was able to free them. The response was quick and enthusiastic. The worst that could happen, they reasoned, would be a number of futile visits from her and her lawyers, giving the team repeated chances to gaze at her across a table -- a welcome diversion from the gloom of incarceration. Even better, she might actually find a way for them to get out of there.

Only one problem -- her only instructions for contacting her were "say the word."  Standing in the corner of the team's collective cell, he wondered what the hell that meant.  He stared absently out of their two-inch-wide prison window.  Her beauty had been almost magical, why would her methods of operating be any less so?  Perhaps, Chad sighed, it was time to let go of the real and the feasible, and get carried away in the moment.

"Louisa," he found himself whispering quietly.  "Maybe somehow you can hear me.  Please come for us and save us.  Whatever you need from us, we'll give.  It would be fun to serve, and even if it wasn't fun, it would be better than this dump.  Just get us out of here."

Suddenly, THUMP, THUMP, THUMP -- and the view out his slit window lit up in enormous explosions, followed by concussive shock waves that shook the building to its core.  Chad jumped aside only a moment before blinding light and searing heat blasted through the small slit window, coming only inches from burning him alive. Another shock wave knocked him off his feet.  

They were being bombed by something, and bombed hard.  Chad belatedly remembered the unabridged version of her instructions: "Say the word, then hit the floor."

Chad regained his footing and glanced tentatively out the charred window.  The scene was devastation.  Guard towers and outbuildings had been obliterated in the blasts, and 25-foot wide craters had appeared in their place.  The exterior prison wall had been leveled in a number of places as well, leaving only fragmented and crumbling sections where once an impenetrable wall had stood. Thick black billows of smoke rose out of the broken structures and holes in the ground.  The destruction resembled the worst battle scenes Chad had ever seen on TV; it was impossible to think that an intact prison compound had stood here only moments ago.

The THUMPS continued, outside his field of view, for several moments more.  Each new impact made the ground shake with its immense power.  Although Chad couldn't see much, the devastation seemed to wander around the entire prison compound.  Sirens blared.  Guards rushed desperately down the hall, their language unintelligible to Chad, but their fear and panic very clear.

Then the building took a direct hit. It was probably about a hundred hards away from their cell, but the team cowered and covered their ears as the shock wave tore through the cell block, sending showers of dust and plaster down around them.  The heat came next, a torrent of scorching air that made their skin feel like it was about to boil.

It this midst of all this, Chad heard the strangest thing outside his slit window -- footfalls.  Someone, in the midst of this seeming apocalypse, was taking a walk.  Then, Chad heard a PING, and saw that someone had shot an inch wide hole in the exterior wall right in front of him.  It wasn't a bullet hole, because then Chad would have taken a slug in him.  But smoke emerged out of the hole.  Lasers?

PING PING PING.  Three more holes emerged.  

And then, PING PING PING PING PING PING PING.  Instantly, perhaps a thousand holes had been shot in the exterior wall.  When the pinging stopped, a square of wall was framed in the light of a thousand little holes.   Then, silently, that section wall fell away from them, landing with a loud thud.

She was standing there.  No burka anymore, just jeans and a t-shirt.  She was breathtaking.

She smiled-- a knee-weakening, hyperventilation-inducing smile.

"Ready to go?"

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Louisa led the team through the devastation at a casual pace.  Guards and soldiers rushed everywhere, ignoring them.  Behind them, enormous fires burned.  Fuel tanks exploded.  Prison buildings, groaned, and collapsed.  The immense force of the assault had left barely a blade of grass standing in its original place.

"Pretty hot, huh?"  Louisa laughed, noticing Chad's reaction.

"How much of an airstrike did you call in?"

"No airstrike, just little old me."  She cupped her enormous breasts in her hands.  "I carry around the power for it in these."

"In your, uh, chest?"

"That," she pointed back at the devastation, "wasn't such a big deal.  I could do ten times that.  Or maybe a hundred.  I have a hard time keeping track of the zeros."

Chad wasn't fool enough to believe this.  He continued to glance at the sky for the bombers that caused this devastation.  Nonetheless, he stopped short of contradicting her openly.  She had gotten them this far.

"This is your escape vehicle."  She opened the trailer door of a large, broken down delivery truck.  "Get in."

"This?" Chad was crestfallen.  "This won't get us down the block, let alone out of the country."

The dark pools of her eyes appraised him distantly.  For a moment, Chad felt the immensity of her will and person.  She was an inch shorter than him, but in some other way, she was a giant.

"The last people who said 'no' to me are over there," she pointed at the smoking compound, "under a pile of rubble."   Her eyes now showed a hint of dark fire.  "Get in."

In that moment, Chad decided that Louisa was not a woman to be fucked with.  And it was a decision that he never regretted.

Chad motioned to his team to board the trailer, as Louisa casually leaned against the back bumper.

"I left you some reading material in there for the trip.  Cocktail recipes, how to give awesome backrubs, and some old english guide on how to be a good butler-- just a way to pass the time during your trip."

After the last of his players was on, Chad climbed onto the rear bumper and turned to the woman.

"Are you going to drive us?"

"In a way.  Try to keep each other warm, ok?  It'll get chilly over Greenland."