Warning: This is adult literature.  If you’re not of a legal age to read this stuff, don’t.

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

--------------------

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? The aliens soup them up with some supernatural abilities and turn them loose.

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 22, Tammy has just finished hauling a disabled cruise ship in from the Gulf.  Her achievement has made her the nation's heroine, but had also severely depleted her.  While this depletion didn't affect her muscles, it did diminish her flight abilities -- as well as her ability to zap stuff.   

Noticing Tammy's distress, Vicky and Kim cut a Texas prison to shreds in order to get Tammy access to the electric chair.  The electric chair provided enough power to sustain her, but she will not be herself again until she finds a far greater source of power from which to draw.

In their assault on the prison, Kim finally got Vicky to relax and stop worrying.  Kim promised Vicky that the public would still adore the girls, not matter how much trouble they caused.  Create a mess, Kim urged, and let me figure out how to clean it up.  But today's mess was a big one: their aerial assault torn up not only the prison, but also on a bunch of grain silos, which was now smouldering like a a neglected campfire -- 10 acres wide.

--------------------

The knock on his dressing room door was unexpected.  They always came by at exactly the same time -- five minutes to airtime.  It was still eleven minutes to airtime, he saw on his watch.  Why would they be knocking now?

As one of the most widely-published weather researchers of his time, he had done plenty of appearances on the evening news.  He was their go-to expert on meteorological phenomena.  Never did they knock on his door at eleven minutes to airtime.

The door cracked open to reveal a woman's face-- flawless skin, enchanting almond eyes with flecks of green, perfectly proportioned facial features, a study in devastating beauty.  He had met plenty of pretty, aspiring weather girls in his time, but this one, holy shit...

"Sorry to bother you.  Do you have a minute?"  

"I have exactly eleven."  He found himself hoping that was good enough for her remarkable face.

Apparently, it was.  She opened the door further and swerved inside, somehow turning that simple motion into a demonstration of feminine elegance.

As she walked the few short steps toward him, her body seemed to comprehend the beauty of movement intuitively, an inviting dance that flowed from her high-heel-clad sandals through her dainty feet, and upward to the statuesque curves of her tanned, bare legs.  The clothing started at her upper thigh -- an indigo wool dress that seemed almost moulded to her exceptional dimensions.

The elegance flowed upwards through her generous hips, which seemed to sway to the rhythm of an unheard music.  The athletic curvature of her bare arms also danced to this same tune, as did a pair of full, magnificent tits.  The tits were the likes of which he had never seen.  Her dress contained a window at the bust -- a diamond-shaped opening that revealed part of her cleavage but was not nearly large enough to handle the whole task of displaying those enormous mounds.  His active imagination took care of the rest.

She leaned her butt against his make-up table, facing him, crossing one leg over the other.  Unlike the other make-up tables in the news center, his was littered with printouts -- meteorological charts, satellite photos, precipitation maps, lightning strike maps.  She picked up the last of these -- a map full of bright red splotches over Texas, dated yesterday.

"Figured it out yet?" she asked, holding the map up for his inspection.  Her voice was warm and inviting.

"Nnn...nah.." He stammered into that electrifying smile -- perfect teeth and sensuous, glossy lips.

"The media's been all over this, but nobody seems to have the answers.  Lots of lightening over a prison and some grain silos, but not a cloud in sight.  Quite the mystery."  She sighed.

Against the onslaught of her sex appeal, the return to meteorological conversation thankfully  allowed his mind to start holding some ground again.  "Without a single cloud in the sky, that lightning was certainly not naturally occurring," he almost scoffed.  "It was likely a coordinated attack on the prison, disguised to look like a weather event."

"An attack-- really?  That makes me really sad -- to see a man with your expertise resort to such explanations.  Blaming it on terrorism is easy-- and vague.  I thought scientists were supposed to investigate mysteries, not blow them off."  She tossed the map back on the table and pouted.   

He had never found the mysterious event all that interesting before.  But he found this woman exceptionally interesting.  In that moment, he wished more than anything that he could replace that pout with her previous smile.

He forced himself to concentrate.  "These are strange times," he suggested.  "Maybe it had something to do with those new supergirls who were involved in the cruise shi--"

His lips were silenced with her finger.  Her skin smelled of honeysuckle.

"Sssssshhh," she implored.  "None of that silly stuff.  You're the most respected meteorological researcher in the world.  You can't blame every weather mystery on supergirls either.  That's a cop-out.  Besides, those girls were doing only GOOD in Mobile and this was lightening was BAD."  Another disappointed pout.

"I suppose you're right," he chuckled nervously.  He didn't know what to think of the cruise ship stories, but he wanted more than anything to keep this girl's smiles coming. "Perhaps the phenomenon is just a minor mystery, for future scientists to understand."

His statement was an attempt at conciliation, but apparently it wasn't enough.  The look of greater disappointment on her face was like a punch to the gut.

She examined him quizzically as she shifted her weight from one shapely leg to the other.  She was thinking, he could tell.

"I know it's kind of nerdy, but I'm really into the weather," she announced.  She ran a hand through her hair, bangles on her wrists sliding and clattering as she did so.  The perfect circularity of the bangles brought out the curvature and taut athleticism of those arms.  Was there any scrap of this woman that wasn't a joy to look at?

She continued.  "That's why I talked my way in here.  Because..." she nervously uncrossed and re-crossed her arms again, the bangles clattering away as her arms took turns disappearing under her enormous bust.  "...because I'm actually sort of a fan of yours.  I used to watch you with my parents over the dinner table."

"No kidding?  That makes me feel a little old."

"Old means experienced and smart."

"Thanks," he chuckled.

"And smart is, well, pretty hot.  At least, that's what I think."

He tried to repeat his thanks, but his mouth had stopped working again.

"Anyways, the point is that I definitely remember you on the nature channels when I was a kid.  And now that I'm grown up..."

She cast an eye over her positively sinful curves, which made even a simple dress nearly pornographic in appearance.  His eyes couldn't help but follow.  Grown up indeed.

"... and now that I'm grown up, my interest in the weather has only become more... intense."  She leveled her almond eyes at him.  He almost felt his heart stop..  "I know it must sound silly."

"It DOESN'T sound silly," he replied, a little too emphatically.  "What do you find so fascinating about the weather?"

She crossed her arms under the fantastic swell of her chest.  "I like the sheer power it."  Her voice dropped half an octave.  It had previously been at the warm-and-playful level.  Now, it was somewhere down near fuck-me-now.  "Did you know that the typical thunderstorm has more power than the bomb they dropped on Hiroshima?"

He knew this was true, but that voice -- he wanted to hear it again.  "Tell me more," he asked.

"No matter how much we try, no matter how much technology we use, there's nothing we can do to stop a storm like that.  It will go wherever it wants, dump as much water as it wants, hurl as much lightning as it wants.  Storms are unstoppable."  She sighed, causing her already extreme bust to expand further.  "And I love things that are unstoppable."  

"I do too," he heard himself say.

"You know what my favorites storms are?  Hurricanes.  Just when you think you've seen it all, you encounter a hurricane, and you realize that it was far, far superior to any storm you endured before."  She uncrossed her arms to smooth her dress down, which only pulled it more firmly against her insane curves.  

"Are you staring?"  She asked, teasingly.

"Sorry, I..."

"Pop quiz: what was I talking about?"

What was she talking about, he wondered?  He had already lost track.

"Hurricanes," she answered with a knowing smile.  "Hope I'm not boring you.  Want me to leave?"

"NO," he said a little too emphatically.  "No, please stay."

"If you insist.  So, here's another thing I like about hurricanes," she smiled.  "Each storm has an eye, a center."  Her large nipples began to stiffen dramatically-- firm peaks starting to rise in the center of each massive breast.  "I love large masses that have a central locus, a place that captures all the excitement, a place from which all the energy seems to flow."  Her nipples expanded further to the size of shot glasses.  The thick wool of her garment offered no contest against the vehemence of their arousal.  He had may once seen a skin magazine whose pages featured nipples half that size.  But she was real.

"Are you staring again, buster?" she chided.

He stammered an inarticulate confession.

"It's OK.  Men stare all the time.  For me, being desired is as natural as breathing."  She undid the clasp that had held closed the top of her dress's diamond-shaped window.  That top section of the dress seemed to gasp in relief as it instantly separated, exhausted by the unenviable task of keeping her heavy breasts together.  "Some men even get to do more than stare.  The smart ones."

"I'm smart," he offered, before realizing what a blunt proposition that was.

"Good.  Then you can help everyone understand the lightning at the prison."

"That couldn't have been lightening.  There wasn't a cloud in the sky," he objected, pointing to the map.  "The radar says as much."

"Maybe the radar was wrong."  She leaned in close, her hot breath on his cheek, her lips grazing his ear.  "I love it how you were staring at me.  I love it how can't take their eyes off my body."

An involuntary whine of desire escaped his long-neglected lips.  The map rustled to the floor.

She bent at the knees to pick it up.  "I bet you're wondering why I'm so interested in the lightning event."

He only nodded, not trusting the machinery of his voice to restart.

"There's nothing about the event itself that really interests me.  It's the argument that I enjoy.  I like arguing for a bit.  And then I like winning.  I know that sounds silly.  But for me, it's actually something of a turn on."  She twirled a lazy finger through her her.

"Nnnnn... No, that doesn't sound silly at all," he rallied.  "That's what us scientists do -- at least, the good ones.  We win arguments based on the facts and the data."

"Well, sort of.  But I don't need facts and data.  I'm right because I want to be right."  She ran an errant finger down his chest.

"I don't understand."

"You will.  You want me in the most excruciating way, I can tell."  Her finger finished its trip down his chest and started over his abdomen.  

He gulped.

"Your mind will eventually buckle under the weight of your own desire, and you will gladly agree with me without even deciding to."

"That's insulting," he felt his willpower rallying.  "I'm not gullible enough to believe some quackery about that being lightening.  And you think that your feminine wiles will somehow charm me into it?"

"Yes."  She explored the outlines of his belt buckle with her fingers.  "You can throw me out if you like."  She flashed a smile that stirred something deep inside him.  In a crowded bar, a carelessly aimed smile like that would have been enough to set off a fistfight.

He bit his lip.  He realized that throwing her out was the last thing he wanted.

"As I was saying, your mind will eventually buckle.  You shouldn't feel threatened by that.  You're a man.  It's simply nature.  You can't control how you react to me any more than you can control which way the wind blows."  

She inhaled thoughtfully, and he could have sworn he heard threads popping across the bust of her garment.  With the sound of each "pop", he was reminded of this girl's luxurious dimensions.  He felt the threads of his willpower, too, beginning to pop and fail.

"In fact," she purred, "far more than insulted, you should feel flattered.  I don't waste time with imbeciles.  I need the challenge of felling a sizable intellect." Her expert hand descended further, now lightly caressing his genitals.  "And when it comes to intellect, you're a giant."  His genitals ached and stiffened eagerly.

"Show me what a giant you are," she goaded.  "Tell me that the skies produced that lightning over the prison."

"They couldn't," he responded deliberately, with agony in his voice.  "There was absolutely nothing on the radar.  Those discharges must have been man-made."  He ventured a quivering hand around her waist, but she brushed it away.  She withdrew her warm hand from his genitals as well.

"I have a professional reputation," he pleaded.  "Do you realize what a mockery my colleagues would make of me if I agreed to this silly stuff?  The lightning discharge was right in the middle of a high-pressure zone, without a cloud in the sky, at twice the wattage of a cumulonimbus discharge..."

Her face instantly darkened under a stormcloud of its own.  "Maybe you're not as much of an intellectual giant as I thought," she pouted.

He quickly regretted being so blunt.  But at the same time, facts were obvious.  What could he do to make her happy without giving in to this dangerously absurd notion?

He continued, "Please don't be mad at me.  Ask any scientist, and they'd laugh it out of the room.  Without a temperature differential in two colliding air masses, there is absolutely no way..."  

"Nah nah nah nah."  She placed her palms over her ears, bangles slipping to her elbows.  He tried to say something, but her body resumed swaying to the unheard music, turning her childlike denial into a rhythmic dance.  It was an elegant, hypnotic movement with such fluidity that, next to her, the best belly dancer would seem no more graceful than a construction worker.  The swell of her hips reveled in the movement, inviting his eyes to explore the perfection of her rounded ass, the lush fullness of her athletic thighs...

Her dance shifted, and the distance between his normal form and her infinitely graceful one suddenly closed.

"Don't you think it's possible," she asked, draping her arms around his neck as the unheard music continued to play, "that you just discovered a new form of lightening-- a little bit of EXTRA electricity in the air?"  

His body quivered.  The air around him felt charged as well.  But he knew he had to disagree with her, he reminded himself.  He was a scientist, and the facts supported....  Well, he didn't quite remember what they supported.  

"After all," she hissed, "an intellectual giant wouldn't look at some mysterious electrical blasts, shrug his shoulders, and blame it on some mysterious terrorism.  He would try to figure it all out."

Her rock-hard nipples bore gently into his ribcage.  He became short of breath at the knowledge that he was being caressed by a living fantasy.

"OK, maybe there's a slight possibility," he groaned and sighed, "that is was lightning.  But if that were true, it would be an earth-shattering development."

"Earth-shattering indeed." She placed her warm cheek alongside his, and the scent of honeysuckle consumed him.  "And in order to make such a HUGE discovery, you have to possess a HUGE intellect, don't you?"

Good point, he thought.  Or, he tried to think.

She pulled herself into him, pressing the fullness of her breasts against him.  "You got an analytical mind without equal," she purred.

I'd always suspected as much, he silently affirmed.

She pressed her muscular, mid-section and thighs against his.  "You've got imagination that the others lack," she whispered.

Maybe I do, he silently agreed.

His member strained against her.  She wiggled fluidly across it, seeming to delight in its desperate need for her.  "They will admire your insight, defer to your superior knowledge, follow your lead," her voice soothed.

Maybe they would, he admitted to himself.  The others would never have the intellectual discipline to ask the hard questions.  But he did.  He would get to the bottom of the mystery.  And his answers could well astound the world.

Knock, knock.  The stagehand's voice was on the other side of the door.  "Five minutes!"

"OK," he croaked.  Almost airtime.  He needed to clear his head.  He would soon be talking to millions.  He needed to get this silliness out of his system before....

Her hands wandered down his back, strong and confident in their sinuous elegance.

"So, tell me that you're open to the POSSIBILITY that was a new kind of lightening." she begged with puppy dog eyes.  Her lips were tantalizingly close, the sweetness of her breath pulling him into her.

He knew "no" meant she would frown again.  She might even turn to go.  And his body informed him that was not an option.  He entire being wanted, and needed, to say "yes".  

"Between you and me, yes," he conceded.  "It's possible..."

Her kiss was sumptuous, electrifying.  He wanted it to be endless.  

But she broke it off.  "Possible -- that's it?  That's such a short and shallow word.  I thought you'd find something deeper... more sustained..." Her lips traced trails of honeysuckle nectar across his stubble.    "...something you could lose yourself in...."

In that moment, some part of him snapped.  He had to feel her lips again -- had to.   There was no other option.  There was no life, no future, without another sumptuous kiss from this goddess.  She would kiss him again if he believed the right thing.  And the right thing was whatever she just said.  It was all so clear now, he realized, as a feeling of elation rose up from his core.  And I'm so lucky to be intelligent enough to see it.  But what was "it", again?  What exactly did he need to believe to make her happy?  He couldn't quite remember.

If the first kiss had been a dip into refreshing water, the second was an inexorable undertow, dragging him tumbling out to sea.  As the waves of pleasure rolled him over, her soothing voice was there.  

The whisper in his ear was distant, like the way an underwater swimmer hears the rumble of the waves above.  "The lightning occurred naturally."

"Of course did!" he agreed, surprised that she would think anything else.  She wasn't all that bright, perhaps.

"And you're going to go in front of the whole world to tell them that."

"Of course!"  he realized, relieved that the show was only minutes away from airtime.  He wouldn't want to sit on this news for a whole day.

"But how are you going to explain it?" her puppy dog eyes wondered.

He felt a blank feeling inside.  He knew he was right about this lightening stuff, but why?

"Here, I can help," she offered, turning toward her purse, vibrant strands of walnut hair cascading down her sinuous neck.  She removed a large make-up compact from her purse, and opened it to reveal a white power, perhaps a cup of it.

"Cocaine," she explained.

The presence of the dangerous substance brought his mind up for air after being submersed for so long.  "Enough to kill a half-dozen people," he recoiled.

"Actually, enough to kill fifty," she corrected.  

He heard her inhale, and in an instant, the deadly pile of powder was gone.  "I have several exceptional abilities," said offered by way of explanation.

"Such as overdosing?"

"I seem to be able to filter out the bad-- at a volume far exceeding what your body can tolerate--  and keep the good."  Her lips drew close.  "And I can share the best of it with you."

The third kiss blew the first two away.  It unleashed a tornado of desire and pleasure in his core.  His body nearly collapsed in ecstasy.  Bright flashes of color filled his eyes.  His spirit sailed up into the troposphere.  And his mind opened like a flower.

"Free your thoughts," she whispered like the wind.  "Unleash your full capabilities.  You already know what the answers are; now find the reasons.  You know the dance; now find the music."

He felt his mind drift and twirl through the atmosphere, among the clouds.  Convection currents, ice crystals, solar radiation, nitrogen, ozone -- particles surged through his mind like thoughts, and thoughts floated in front of him like particles.  He realized that he was not a delirium, but instead a heightened state.  He saw his own mind at work -- bold theories, and dramatic insights arced across his mental space like blinding bolts -- bolts of a new kind of lightening, a kind of lightening that can emerge out of a clear blue sky.  

He had it.

"I can see it all now," he said energetically, grasping her on the shoulder.  "Of course -- a new kind of lightening -- right under our noses the whole time-- of course it would be there-- the solar winds, the ice crystals, the ions, tropospheric convection -- it doesn't need clouds -- it could form even on a clear day -- and many times more powerful than normal lightning -- I can't believe I didn't think of this earlier!"

She rewarded him with a fourth kiss, deep and passionate.  Strong feminine arms held him up, lest his rapture carry him to the floor.

"One minute to airtime!" the door shouted.

She broke off the kiss gently, his lips finally satisfied that they had been to heaven and back.  "You're good now?  Ready for the cameras?" she asked softly.

In his mind, the flashes of light and color began to recede.  He mind stopped panting and started breathing again.  He could see it all perfectly.  And he was happy.

"Yes," he replied simply.

"Pull the hem of my dress up a bit."

He did so, almost reverently.

Reaching between, she extracted a wet finger and traced it over his eager lips.  The smell of her honeysuckle, now with a thousand times more intensity, was intoxicating.  The taste of her set him once again on fire.  

"Go," she ordered, opening the door.   "Be great out there.  And then, come back here and be great with me as well."

--------

Kim giggled to herself as the door closed behind him.  Did she really just do that?  Under the sexual pressure of her presence, did she convince this scientist that some absurd "form of lightning" could exist?  More than that, did she also so warp his judgement that he now viewed this absurd idea one of his own creation, with a whole host of absurd reasons supporting it?  She un-muted the live feed from the newsroom to hear the latest.

His on-air presentation was agitated, almost jubilant. "... I had never realized it before, but in retrospect it seems obvious.  Increased solar flare activity earlier in the month, combined with unusually high temperatures over parts of Texas, has led to accelerated convection of ion-rich gases in the upper atmosphere, producing large magnetic fields that quickly accumulate charge imbalances that can only be released through lightening of unusual intensity."

Kim laughed to herself.  What delivery, what confidence-- even she was starting to believe him!

"Does this mean that additional incidents of "blue sky" lightning are possible, at similar intensities?" the anchor asked.

"Indeed," he responded.  "In fact, my theory indicates that, under current conditions, additional incidents are not only a possibility.  They are a certainty.  The occurrence of these other incidents would be an important way for other scientists to validate my theory."

Kim giggled to herself as she slipped out the rear window of the building.  His on-air interview would last probably 8-10 minutes.  He needed to point to several additional lightning incidents to prove his theory.  What better invitation, she thought as she cartwheeled through the air, to play?

------

The landscape below turned into a dull beige blur as Kim rocketed west.  The ground's dull, blurry appearance wouldn't have helped by a slower trip over it.  Dull and beige was how it always looked in West Texas.  And she should know; she grew up here.

For most people, a trip from Dallas to here would have been a 12-hour drive. At nearly Mach 20, Kim did it in less than a minute.  It took only a moment more for her eyes -- which had more magnifying power than a sky's worth of spy satellites -- to find her old middle school.

She hated this place.  It was the place where she ceased being a wide-eyed little girl and instead became a shy-eyed teenage girl.  It was the place where all the kids went from a state of being equal to a state of the haves and have-nots.  In middle school girls either had boobs or didn't, had a pretty face or didn't, had a tiny belly or didn't, had a boyfriend or didn't, had a place with the in-crowd or didn't.   Kim had always lived life in the latter category, always last.

Well, not any longer.  Now she was always first.

From a thousand feet in the air, she could see that the parking lot was entirely empty -- not a surprise for Sunday afternoon.  Six copies of the weekend paper had landed haphazardly at the front entrance.  No one was home.

Kim circled around the building quickly, taking one last look at it.  Finally, able to resist no longer, she opened her hand as if to throw dice down a craps table.  The bolt cut through the roof of one wing like a bright tornado, leaving a gaping, blackened trail in its path.  Kim piled her power into the blinding trails of light.  Throughout the first wing, a bright yellow, like an interior sun, glowed through the windows momentarily.  Then, the wing simply erupted, bricks and debris soaring a hundred feet into the air.

"Weee!" Kim giggled as she cartwheeled through the clouds.  Pointing both hands at the remainder of the school building, more bolts of lightning shot out, ten writhing streams of braided lights emanating from ten fingers.  The dancing rivers of power wandered casually down the remaining wings of the building, tearing apart each classroom in turn with a massive BOOM.  

By the time she was done, even the goalposts on the football field had been reduced to smoldering heaps.

Kim took the time to visit some other important landmarks while she was in town.  The bridge where her first boyfriend had dumped her was now a smoking ruin of wood and concrete.  The car that had run over her childhood dog was now a red-hot puddle.  And the tiny swimming hole where she had first felt embarrassed about her body was now and fifty-foot-wide crater.  Kim checked her watch.  Only four minutes had passed.

-----

His interview over, the scientist returned to his dressing room with anxious paces.  She was probably gone.  Girls like that flirt all the time.  There's no reason she would keep such a bold promise and wait for him.

But opening the door, he felt his heart thump and extra beat.  She was there.

"I was afraid you would decide to slip away while I was on air," he admitted.

"Why would I do a thing like that?" she pouted.  "You were fantastic up there..."

She ran a lazy hand over his shoulder and kicked the door closed as she sauntered behind him.  "....you were smart ... "

Her hot breath danced up the side of his neck.  "...persuasive..."

He felt himself stiffening again as her honeysuckle tongue glanced over his earlobe.  "...and you know how much your brilliance turns me on."

Her heels clicked on the floor as she circled back around front of him, trailing a lazy hand over his shoulder and arms as she moved.  "Science is a competition, like you said.  And you were the winner -- the only scientist bold enough see the truth."

He chuckled nervously as her hand enveloped his own, her bangle bracelets tickling his skin.  The metal of her bracelets was oddly cold, as if she had been outside recently.

She gently raised his hand as she spun away from him like a dancer.  Her deftness landed his fingers on the top of her dress's zipper.  "Unwrap me," she instructed.

He pulled the zipper reverently downwards.  She wiggled and squirmed to her unheard music like a voluptuous Houndini, and soon the indigo garment was around her ankles. Only blue lace panties remained.

If given the chance, he would have nearly asphyxiated at the majesty of the body before him.  But she acted in less than a heartbeat.  Still facing away from  him, she pulled his hands up into the bottomless depth of her chest.  A thousand of his teenage fantasies, he realized, had never imagined a girl as scorchingly hot as this one.  And she wasn't just an image, but was here in the flesh, slowly wrapping his flawed body around her perfect one.

"I've never heard anyone use the word 'unwrap' before," he managed to note.

She guided his palms over her aureoles.  As her nipples hardened, they bore into his hands like the tips of nightsticks.  She flashed a lightning-bright smile over her shoulder.  "Well, as I said, science is a competition.  To the winner go the spoils."