53 Miles West of Venus
Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Romantic, Reluctant, Humor, Science Fiction, Oral Sex, Exhibitionism, Slow, Violent,
Desc: Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Poravuvu Island in the remote South Pacific is known for its lush tropical scenery and famous fertilizer mines, but what are they growing over two miles deep in a cave in far West Texas? More than a few inquiring minds want to know and their secret just might be worth killing for!
Claire, as usual, was actually both fundamentally quite right and yet technically absolutely wrong. Our mine at Hines Ranch Crater is actually 55 miles west of Aphrodite, Texas, as the crow flies and according to Google Maps. Ok, if you want to get picky, our security gate on the private ranch road measures in right at 52.6 miles from town, so rounding up the mileage math, the boundary of our property technically was about 53 miles west of Venus ... well, Aphrodite anyway. Same thing I suppose. I won't quibble about that fact. No one ever won an argument with Claire anyway.
No one else would have cared ... except for Claire. She had a thing for the 80's New Wave band The B-52's anyway and had spent most of the earlier inbound trip to Aphrodite singing "Planet Claire", over and over and over again. And rather poorly, I might add. Claire might just be one of the five greatest living experts in insect genetics and molecular biochemistry but she couldn't carry a tune to save her life. That never stopped her from continuing to try, and with loud enthusiasm.
Anyway, we hadn't even made it out of the parking lot of the Sam's Club in Aphrodite before she'd loaded into the van's CD player another one of her mix tapes, this one with a dozen alternate studio and live mixes of '53 Miles West of Venus'. The album version, the alternate unreleased album version, the extended EP version, the extended-extended dance club version, then umpteen various live performance versions ... none of which sounded significantly different at all to my untrained ears.
I sighed and kept the van pointed west, towards home and the promise of eventual auditory freedom.
After about ten minutes I was getting good and ready to mash my finger into the player's eject button and fling her mix disc out into the desert, but by then I had other distractions. For starters, Claire now had her sandals off and her petite bare feet up on the dashboard of the van and was absorbed in the process of painting her toenails some lurid shade of screaming pink. This was probably quite distracting enough for me as the driver but the added view of her sundress bunched up right up to her waist displaying the entirety of her tanned and widely spread bare thighs, and a nearly full display of her pink thong panties, made any other irritations quite irrelevant for the moment.
As for the other distraction, even Claire self-absorbed as she invariably was, noticed our tail behind us with a quick glance at her side view mirror.
"White SUV trailing behind us," she muttered at me, then bending her ankles and thighs wider apart yet a bit more to better reach and paint her left toenails. This had the additional bonus of allowing me an even clearer view of her crotch in all of its pink glory, both the skimpy panty and the very unsubtle suggestion of the shape of her delicate (and quite smooth shaven) vaginal lips beneath.
I decided not to rise to the occasion, ha ... ha ... and I tried to ignore the not very subtle hint of what she'd prefer us to be doing alone out in the desert this afternoon.
Claire, as I mentioned earlier, is a rare scientific genius but she has more than a normal blonde's share of idiosyncrasies and ditziness ... not to mention that she has the morals of a man. She likes sex... a lot ... and was aggressive to say the least about obtaining it regularly and not terribly choosy about with whom she didshe'd do it with. I was just about the only man (or woman for that matter) left that hadn't slept with her at least once. She was certainly pretty enough, petite and blonde with a more than adequate chest and being not quite yet thirty-five she was fairly close to my own age. She was also the girliest 'girly-girl' I'd ever met in my life who always wore dresses or skirts (usually pink) and never jeans, slacks or even shorts. Her voice was a bit high pitched but it had a very sweet melodic lilt to it, except when she giggled, which she was unfortunately prone to constantly doing. She's also one of the most vain women I've ever met, refusing to regularly wear her Med-Alert wrist band warning of her bee-sting allergy because she considers the bracelet 'ugly and tacky'. I guess there aren't many bees down in the bottom of old mines anyway.
So, I'd decided for the tenth time or more that I'd resist her advances. Regrettably I was her boss and I was very old-school about the written and unwritten rules concerning screwing your subordinates. It almost never works out well in the long run.
Frankly, no one back at corporate would have cared in the least if I had banged every gal at the mine ... but in my opinion it's asking for trouble. We're doing some really important and very sensitive work and ex-lovers creating drama on the job wouldn't be good for anyone. Ok, this meant that I was probably the only one not getting any regular loving ... but that's why I'm also getting nicely paid to be the project manager.
Come to think of it, Claire probably makes about five times what I do ... but then again she is one of the top five insect geneticists there is to be found anywhere. Push comes to shove – as an industrial chemist I'm regrettably fairly replaceable. Claire probably isn't ... and for me that meant look, but sadly don't touch.
Anyway, I'd seen that same white SUV follow us right from the Sam's parking lot about ten minutes ago. I'd also seen it lurking at a distance at both the post office, Wal-Mart and Wells Grocers back in Aphrodite earlier that morning. This was a deliberate tail ... and it had now occurred at least three weeks in a row.
Working in an old mine in the desert an hour away from anything resembling civilization, it's hard to get any sort of deliveries, especially enough quality grub to feed a staff of about thirty. Delivery options? Almost none, so we have to get everything perishable like meat and produce ourselves. Our job is difficult and the living and working arrangements are less than ideal so we try and compensate by having decent meals served at least six days a week by a competent chef. So every Saturday morning for the nearly last three years the senior staff takes turns driving east to the nearest substantial town, Aphrodite, in one of our three cargo vans to do the weekly shopping. Sam's and Well's are easy pickups, since our chef can do our ordering online a day or two before hand and everything can be pulled by their staff for us and is all ready to go by the time we arrive. Wal-Mart is just for all of rest of the incidentals, soap, shampoo, feminine hygiene products, the latest Xbox console games, and in Claire's case, six different shades of pink nail polish. Our only other real essential, beer, came in kegs from Wells, not to mention the odd case or three from Wally-world.
It's our weakest security link, having our senior staff driving back and forth alone in the desert every week but we'd had no problems before in nearly three years, until now ... a pleasantly surprising fact that had defied even my most optimistic expectations. Personally, I'd wagered that someone ought to have noticed us at least a year ago. Corporate's own private estimate was similar, expecting us to remain below the radar of our competitors for no more than two years. Tops.
Besides, you just can't lock people up indefinitely inside of a mine. They get a tad irritable after awhile. A day-trip into town for everyone at least once a month released the pressures and felt more like a vacation day rather than the fairly tedious chore that handling our shopping could have been.
Well, we'd managed to avoid trouble for nearly three years, until now. Production had already exceeded all long-term planned estimates and if we needed to pack up shop next month, or next week or even tomorrow, so be it.
We now had another vehicle following us back to the mine ... which had now occurred for three straight Saturday's in a row. Sure, this wasn't quite a concern for an immediate security threat, yet ... but a modicum of caution was certainly in order and this did at last confirm a few of my concerns. That's why I was with Claire on this trip. Since the second tailing event last Saturday I'd decreed that no one (even me) should go into town alone. According to the rotation list, this week would have been Claire's turn to go alone and do our shopping. The idea that petite Claire, who was all of five foot-nothing in height, needed a bodyguard was frankly laughable though. In her graduate school days she had been a gym rat and earned a fifth-degree black belt! There wasn't a guy at the mine she couldn't have taken-out fast in a fair (or unfair) fight, but rules are rules. No one, not even me, was going to step foot outside alone from now on, except for a damned good reason.
"I see it," I muttered, with my eyes more on the distinct camel toe outline of her vaginal lips straining against the damp pink (and mostly sheer) fabric of her panties than actually upon the view in the rear view mirror. "They've been following us since town, so it's not some coincidence or probably a local rancher, but I'm going to pull into Dairy King just up ahead to see if I can get a better discrete look. See if you can take pic of their plate on your cell, if they drive past but make it look like a selfie though ... be discrete." Discretion and subtlety were not Claire's strong suits.
"Sure thing, ' Claire stretched herself back up into the car seat, dropping her legs and wet toenails down to the floor board mat and with a deep sigh of feigned frustration she rummaged in her oversized pink purse for her cell phone. Dairy King was just about the last point west that received a reliably strong cell signal anyway, so she could check her personal messages again for the last time, or at least appear to be doing so if or when our tail drove past us, watching.
Dairy King on a Saturday afternoon was always crowded, with a nearly full parking lot and a long waiting line for a booth. It was the nearest restaurant for most of the counties ranchers here in the west and even the drive-through was packed with waiting trucks and cars with local families. This wasn't an unusual stop for us, and more often than not we'd make this a last stop on the way home to pick up a big take-out order of burgers and fries for everyone back at the mine. The order called in significantly in advance, of course. Right now, it would be an hour wait to get anything, even an ice cream cone, but I pulled into their parking lot anyway, parking the van near the entrance parallel with the road so that Claire could get a clear photo if our tail drove past us.
I got out and made a show of walking inside the restaurant to check the waiting time for a quick take-out and confirmed that the situation for getting a swift order in was hopeless. I then mentally counted to twenty and then turned around and left, just in time to watch the white SUV, a Chevy Suburban, pull into the parking lot behind us and keep going around to the back of the restaurant, to apparently join the queue waiting at the drive-through. I wasn't fooled.
"Did you get it?" I asked Claire through the window of the passenger side of the van.
"Sure ... which one do you prefer? Surrender the Pink?" She inquired, dangling her right foot outside the open window for me to inspect her pink painted toes, "Or this one, Cuff Me and Stuff Me?" The left foot then joined it's other outside the window so that I could contrast the two virtually identical shades of glittering wet pinkness.
The view was nice, I had to admit, and not just the cute delicate toes that were registered as martial arts lethal weapons. Her pink sundress was hiked back up around her hips once again with her crotch once again fully on display ... now without the minor coverage of the pink thong, which she was twirling around playfully in a circle with the fingers of her left hand. I hadn't realized that she had both a clit hood barbell piercing and a ring through the large clitoris head itself. That had to have hurt, but I bet that the ring made her extra hyper-sensitive now! The cunt lips were bare and moist and just partially separated like a delicate flower. She'd been rubbing herself while I was inside and was clearly aroused. If this fact wasn't blatantly obvious enough, she then smiled and licked her index finger before slowly gliding it across her clit before gently penetrating it just inside of lips to spread her labia wider to reveal the glistening wetness within.
I decided that I needed to remain strong and focused ... and obviously idiotically stupid too as well. I shut my eyes from the glorious vision before me and walked around to the driver's side and got back into the van. I tried to concentrate on other things, like getting us home safely ... and not getting a piece of the friendliest girl at the mine to complete her full amorous collection of sexual partners!
Damn, I was going to regret this ... all of the way home!
The white SUV did reappear a few minutes later after we left the restaurant and it resumed following us again, but from a bit of a further discrete distance this time. Claire had managed a quick snap of the rear plate as it had passed behind her and while it wasn't taken from a good angle, the hastily taken image appeared to show some mostly legible plate numbers. Our tail kept its distance for the remainder of our trip home and by the time we turned off of the paved county road onto our dirt ranch road for the last five miles to the security gate they were out of sight entirely, if not out of my mind.
Claire wasn't speaking to me. Annoyed beyond words that her sexual advances had been spurned yet again, she'd spent the remainder of the homeward trip in silence, not even bothering to sing along to the mix CD anymore. By the time we were indeed about 53 Miles West of Venus, we were both rather overjoyed at being home!
"Security," the rather bored sounding female voice over the intercom stated after I'd driven up to the security gate and pressed the large red 'Announce' button. There were two metal signs of note hung upon the gate, the older and larger one stating that the property belonged to Littlejohn Geo-Exploration, Ltd. It was well-weathered and rusted through and only just barely suspended from the fence by several bits of wire. The next good West Texas windstorm might just rip it off entirely. A smaller newer metal sign beneath it stated that the premises were now operated by Poravuvu Silk, Ltd ... and that was us, the relatively new operators. There was an electronic access card reader next to the intercom, but it was for show only. If you hacked the reader, you could trigger open the electronic gate ... and it would set off a series of alarms in Security. Normal access was strictly remote, handled from the security tower. No exceptions.
"It's been a long and winding road, but the sun is up, the sky is blue, it's beautiful and so are you ... dear Prudence!"
"Dave, you always say the sweetest things! Opening the gate ... just a sec!" About three seconds later the gate opened and after crossing the ubiquitous West Texas cattle-guard we drove just a bit down the dirt road and waited for the gate to secure behind us before continuing up the unpaved track on a gradual rise up to the crater rim and then down the gentle slope to the crater floor below. I stopped at the railroad track crossing out of habit but our rail pickups or deliveries were infrequent and invariably at night, so as usual nothing was visible up or down the line.
I parked at the usual spot right in front of Operations and I didn't even have the back door of the van open before one of our guards had opened up the downstairs sliding security doors to allow us to start wheeling in the groceries on a hand-cart. By us, I of course meant Claire. It was her week to do the shopping and despite the fact that I'd done all of the driving, and most of getting all of the stuff from the stores too, it was only fair to allow her to port the goodies inside to the kitchen area, which took up about half of the downstairs Operations area. She was now even more pissed off, and let me know it, but fair was fair. Besides, I really needed to have a long confab with Security upstairs right away.
I left the van keys with Claire and walked into Operations and paused only long enough there to stick my head into my corner office to check the top of my desk to make sure that nothing critical had landed there and to check that Onan was doing alright. Onan was my pet parrot, a Poravuvu Green that corporate had sent me as something of an unfunny birthday joke a few years ago. I kept him in my office in a large cage that filled up a full quarter of the room. The bird was loud and thoroughly obnoxious, and clearly had received significant professional speech instruction from a flotilla of crusty sailors, stevedores and longshoremen. Then for finishing school, the foul-mouthed fowl had also apparently spent significant time in a brothel. Like his biblical namesake, Onan was a messy bird and was always spilling his seed upon the ground. I topped off his food and water and ignored his mimicked graphic recitation of the whorehouse proffered services and the rates that would be charged. Onan's facts appeared a bit dated ... no one charged just ten dollars anymore for a simple blowjob.
My desk was still clear and my crude roommate could be safely ignored until tomorrow. Weekends were usually quiet around here and everyone liked it that way. Most of the hourly staff was off work and doing stuff with their families in the residential housing area or just tossing back a dozen or so cold ones. After spending a day with Claire, I was feeling the urge to get good and squiffy later on too and toss back a few beers myself!
Security was upstairs, reachable by either a lengthy clockwise cubical metal staircase or a small passenger elevator next to the large freight elevator that descended down into the first level of the mine. I chose the staircase today. I'd been sitting on my ass in the van since this morning and I wanted to get my blood pumping so that I could think and get my thoughts a bit better in order. It took a few minutes to make the climb and then I had to smile through the mirrored security glass of an extremely secure door and wait to be buzzed in.
Corporate takes security here very, very seriously. So do I ... and fortunately so does our Security Chief Phylicity. She'd been the one who had answered the gate intercom a few minutes ago and she'd already gathered all of her staff for a full security meeting, including our four hourly guard contractors and her two salaried deputies. The room was noticeably full of tension and everyone was noticeably anxious. Bad news travels fast, especially here in the back ass end of nowhere.
"You were followed again," Phylicity stated. It wasn't a question. We have an oral security code for the front gate, not to mention at least a dozen hidden cameras alone that watch just our gate, the ranch road, the turnoff from the local county road and all obviously vulnerable sections of barbed wire fencing along the way. Not including the three or four dozen cameras that watch over everything inside our fence. If things were normal, which they had been until recently, I'd quote some random meaningless song lyric. Maybe Dylan, or perhaps Beach Boys or Joni Mitchell or just whatever song was in my head at the moment. If there was some vague minor trouble, like a strange car obviously following us, then we were to quote Beatles – that was a Code Yellow situation. Worse or more obviously threatening potential external danger was a Code Orange warning, requiring a quote from the Rolling Stones. Imminent and immediately direct danger, Code Red meant Led Zeppelin. Security had similar but different codes of their own with various meanings, but these were ours. Since I had double quoted the Beatles, this suggested that I was nudging up the already preexisting Code Yellow alert a bit to the edge, but not quite to Code Orange status.
Phylicity would know exactly what to do. She was born mixed race, a rather light-skinned black and beautiful, but innately simmering with more than her rightful share of suspiciousness at the world to begin with. But just because she kept her long hair in 'street-sista' braids didn't mean that there wasn't a razor sharp brain underneath. It did make her resemble the 'Predator' alien hunter more than just by accident. Phyl was no more ghetto than I was, coming from a nice middle-class neighborhood just outside of Chicago. She was taller than Claire, but not by much and no one ever looked or talked down on her. She took her job seriously and didn't do anything half-assed. That was the Army Ranger School training influence (passed the qualifying school – but she wasn't a Ranger) helped to make her the best security head I'd ever had to boss. If I ever decided to break my rule against sleeping with the staff, she'd actually have been my first preferred choice. You never, ever needed to give her an actual direct order - just the vaguest hint of a suggestion would usually do the job. If I ever had to go into a battle I'd want her as my senior NCO to lead the troops. That's exactly why I hired her.
"Trip into town this morning was ok, but I think they were already waiting for us at the first stop, the post office. White Chevy Suburban, newish, not a lot of dust on it either and that helped it to stand out it from the crowd. Claire has a cell pic of the rear plates, it's not great, a better view of one of her fingers than the car, but enough to work with I think. I told her to get it to you immediately after she gets the groceries in. They also followed us back at least to the ranch road turnoff."
"They did," she confirmed, walking over to pull up for me on a monitor the digital security camera that covered the turn-off from the paved county road to our private dirt ranch road that we shared with a couple of local ranchers. "They drove past it about a quarter mile and then circled back to park right by the turn-off, staying on the shoulder of the county road. Driver and a passenger. They waited there about ten minutes and then drove back towards Aphrodite. They just left about the time you pulled up downstairs."
"Ok, twice being followed we all agreed could just be coincidence, but neither of us believed in that then ... and now three times, three weeks in a row means deliberate intent. What are your thoughts Phyl?"
"They've used a different car every week but this shows identical behavior. Wouldn't surprise me if they'd actually started to watch us a week or two even earlier. Martin had the grocery run three weeks ago and we all know that he's pretty oblivious. He probably never even used the rear view mirror once the whole trip, so they could have been tailing him and us even earlier than we know for sure. This could have been set up as a planned snatch though, a target of opportunity sort of situation if they'd seen Claire all alone in town by herself. But probably not, since they were using a late model Suburban, unless there was a second 'snatch car' waiting somewhere but not following. Too obvious and noticeable in a parking lot, especially when Claire goes all Kung Fu on them and starts breaking kneecaps." Everyone laughed, but it was an all too likely result of anyone trying to grab our cute but egotistical and manic petite geneticist.
"My thoughts too. They'd likely have had an old truck or a van for that sort of thing, if it was intended as a fast snatch and grab. Not 100% impossible though, if they thought they could manage to seize one of us with little or no risk. I'd lean then to the idea of an off-road ambush as being more likely though, maybe right off of the county road here with no witnesses in sight or sound for miles. Either way, we keep to the buddy system ... indefinitely until I say otherwise."
"Stay on Yellow, or do you want to tweak our protocols a bit?" She enquired neutrally.
"Stay. We've got good firm procedures and let's keep following them to the letter, but let's do an early quarterly review tomorrow morning anyway so that they're fresh in our minds. What I would really like you to do is have the staff conduct an updated physical security review. I mean a really comprehensive tour of every inch of the fence line and both the roadway and railroad security gates."
"Ok, we'll look around for any and all outside penetration zones and then flag and tag them. I'll get with Keo." Again, not a question. Keono, her senior deputy normally handled most of the external perimeter related security issues. He was from Poravuvu but like many of the islanders was of mixed western blood and very American in his attitudes ... and in the two years that he'd been here had further embraced the attitude and styling of the old Wild West as well. Like a modern day gunslinger he rode the fence line on a horse every morning and knew every rock in or around the crater like the back of his hand. From the saddle you'd easily mistake him for an Indian, some predatory Apache or Comanche, and he possessed exactly this sort of scouting mentality. He could sneak about in the sand and brush in the dark like a shadow, and often did, just to predict what his future enemies might try against him.
"Just leave our potential intruders a nice obvious place or two to crawl under the barbed wire from the road, but just a few. Check all of the motion and IR sensors and don't be afraid to install more, if needed. Remember, we're supposed to look mostly abandoned, neglected and relatively oblivious to security concerns. Just a legacy shell operation of some minor company of little or no interest or importance. That's still our motto, keeping our lights hidden under a bushel! My gut instinct is that our outside friends have just recently discovered us and are still trying to figure out who and what we are and what we're up to. Let's keep being mysterious!"
"So now that they know where we are, they'll then probably come and pay us a late night visit to take a closer look, sooner rather than later?"
"That's my guess for how this will escalate. They'll drive up and down the ranch road a few times late at night to see what they can from the road, but that won't be much. Everything's hidden down here on the crater floor except for the very top of the Ops building roof we're right here on the central uplift. So unless some of the ladies are sunbathing nude up there again their view of us isn't going to be very memorable!" Everyone laughed and I continued, "So they'll have to cross the wire and at least sneak up to the rim to get a decent look at anything down here. I'd expect them also to launch a drone or two, high altitude during the day but maybe flying lower at night so they can get a thermal map of the crater, showing them what buildings we use or don't. With most of the old mine structures empty, the few ones that we do use should be obvious, especially this big central one, Operations."
"What are the rules of engagement then ... if some people sneak in at night and start trying to find their way in here?" The hesitant voice came from one of the newest contract security guards, Dwayne, I think his name was. We leased them from a large security agency in Dallas for much higher than market pay for a six month employment contract, not to mention free room and board. Most liked the job enough to extend their contracts and stay with us. We were able to skim the cream of the usual rent-a-cops and our current four guards were an aggressive and dedicated bunch ... and each were all ex-military, three former Army and a Marine. If shooting was ever necessary, these four could more than handle their own.
"No change. Watch, wait and observe. If someone other than from the Collins or Falls Key ranches comes down that road you get Phyl, first. When someone crosses the fence or an internal sensor goes off, you then call for me too ... immediately! In the wild remotely unlikely possibility that you think someone is shooting at you, you hunker down and stay put and DON'T SHOOT BACK! Yes, this is Texas and it is indeed your God-given right to blast away at anyone sticking a toe across your barbed wire ... but don't. Please exhibit restraint. They want to get information about us, fine ... we need to get some information about them too, preferably passively ... at least for now. Clear?"
It was. I listened quietly while Phylicity gave her team their orders and challenged them to attempt to discover each day an entirely new and different means for an aggressor to attempt to penetrate our facilities that hadn't already been noted. We already had a pretty fat binder book full of potential physical security threats and our suggested means of dealing with each, but she was challenging her crew to get creative and discover more ... and she was even offering a cash bonus for the best simulated threats. Good thinking.
Shortly before the meeting was over, Claire arrived upstairs on the elevator and passed on the cell picture of our tail. Blown up on a full sized monitor the image looked like crap, but Phyl grumbled and thought that she could clean it up enough to run a backdoor Department of Motor Vehicles search on the plate. She succeeded, but the results were disappointing as DMV records indicated that this plate ought to have belonged to a 2008 Blue Toyota Prius. The front and back plates had been reported stolen in Waco several weeks ago. A dead end ... mostly. This just confirmed for me my fears and suspicions that our unseen nemesis had resources and far from an innocent intent.
"You want to go Orange ... I can feel it and I don't blame you at all." Phylicity muttered, giving me a casual but yet firm massage with her fingers across my upper shoulders and neck as I sat drooding.
"I do ... and corporate won't second guess me or blame me later, probably ... for slightly over-reacting. But that would mean a whole lot of extra work, hassles and protocols for everyone, none of which would guarantee we'd learn a single damn thing about the folks watching us. No ... we'll stay at Yellow caution and keep playing stupid until they do something to force us to react. No casual trips for anyone into town though, I don't care who wants to go or why. It can all wait until next Saturday, which I think also means that you're next on the grocery pick-up list but you'll need at least an extra guard. Speaking of that we should order extra stuff too, enough for at least two weeks if not three, in case the situation escalates and we think we're about to get sieged in. We've got months' worth of MRE's and other emergency stuff downstairs but none of us want to subsist on those."
"Orange also means shutting down most normal operations and cutting loose all of the hourly staff and contractors, except my four guys. That's nearly two dozen sets of potentially loose lips that could be telling some rather interesting stories to anyone paying or just listening. At that point we might just as well entirely close up shop and pack out. We're well past our quota, but quitting before we really have to would be unfortunate."
"It would, and that's at least another bridge or two further down the road that we don't have to cross today. Send in an extra advisory only notice to main corporate security though. Emphasize to them that it's 'advisory'. Some of them worry more about things than we do! Anyway, fuck it ... at least for this evening. I'll be upstairs grilling chicken on the roof, so dinner probably will be ready at about dark, as usual. I'll throw a keg into the freezer so that the beer will be nice and cold too."
"I'll be there, but first you're getting a firmer neck rub. You're totally tensed out, and not just because of the trip. Is Claire pestering you again?"
"Full court press. She even dropped her panties and spread for me. I should have pounced on it just to teach her a lesson about teasing."
"Or do what I do ... tease her back and tie her to the bed, then tease her some more with lots of starting and stopping and when she's good and hot leave her alone for an hour or two to cool down, and then start all over again. That clit ring makes her crazy sensitive and waiting helplessly is good punishment for the little bitch!"
"Oh, I'm really tempted, but since I'm the boss around here it is up to me to set some sort of positive example to the rest of you, especially the sex crazed scientists, of which Claire is only one of several rather oversexed ladies." Phyl snorted, but with amusement. It was no secret to anyone that she hooked up with Claire a couple of times a month, whenever either of them got bored or especially horny. Between them, they were said to have the two highest sex drives in the crater and each liked girls just as much as a night with a guy.
Phylicity gave me a nice neck rub and got most of tension out of my upper back too and finally let me depart to start dinner with just a final quick hug and a peck on the cheek. She'd made no secret of the fact early on that she'd share my bed sheets with me in a heartbeat, should I so much as crook a little finger at her, but she also really did understand my position. Everyone might just be sleeping with everyone else around herec, but someone (alas me) needed to be recognized not only as 'the boss', but also as an impartial one. I wouldn't play favorites or bend the rules for my playmates. Unlike everyone else, I was seen as 'fair' and unbiased, unprejudiced and independent ... except to corporate. It was a complicated mental position to keep and hold, but pretty much essential. Especially if there was likely to be trouble.
"Oh, one last thought," I muttered, turning around just before I was about to take the stairs down, "cash in any favors you might have or just plain lie your ass off and try to get a hold of any external security camera footage you can find from the Wal-Mart and Sam's parking lots. There's no outside cameras at the post office and I don't think that Wells has any either, except covering the loading docks out back. Beg, borrow or steal whatever you can find though. The idea of a second vehicle waiting along with the white suburban is now suddenly nagging at me ... let's prove or disprove that theory before things get any more complicated."
Phyl nodded, "I've got a friend at the county sheriff's office and I can have him officially get a copy of the footage Monday and then I could pay him a social visit on my day off on Tuesday. Ok for me to go into town alone? Armed, of course?"
"Sure thing. Now is he that deputy you were telling some story about a few months ago? The cop who stopped you outside a bar in town and was threatened to run you in for suspected DUI unless you let him see your tits and then give him a blow job?"
"Same one. Took me home to play 'handcuffs' with but I ended up getting the cuffs on him and then gave him all of the milk chocolate pussy that he could handle! Rode his lily white cracker ass for two straight days until he begged for mercy. Made the poor boy cum so much that he got dehydrated just from loss of splooge! Called me back the next week wanting more, but I've been teasing him since. Taught the boy a good lesson that pussy is all pink on the inside, but yeah, he's really pretty much a complete raging asshole out of bed. Too bad, he wasn't half bad as a fuck though. Ok, maybe it's time to give him a chance for a proper date anyway, if he can get us those tapes ... and then just maybe I'll let him use the cuffs on me this time!"
I had to laugh. Sometimes I just couldn't tell who was crazier and the most slutty, Claire or Phyl! I've never understood why some (many) women are attracted to guys that are obvious jerks, and even complete assholes. I've heard the "they're confident" excuse a dozen times but I'm pretty certain that this isn't the real reason. A cynic (often me) would suggest instead that many women want to be submissive and be towed about by the arm or hair and told what to do ... and usually obediently do it. I don't quite hold to that machismo philosophy myself, and being a fairly self-confident guy I'd like to believe that there's some middle ground to be found between being a raging asshole and a cringing wallflower.
So, with a somewhat lighter heart and much less neck tension, I went back downstairs to the kitchen to gather up the packages of chicken, not to mention the beans and corn, and I took the elevator up to the rooftop to start grilling dinner. The other unwritten (but understood) rule about the Saturday grocery run was that the driver was then also responsible for cooking dinner that night for everyone. It was the chef's day off.
Most folks semi-cheated or shirked the duty by either buying bags of burgers from Dairy King or else grabbing a dozen or so family sized frozen entrees from Sam's and just tossing them into the ovens. Technically, this was also now Claire's responsibility this late afternoon ... but she was a horrible cook and the poster girl for sloughing off on the duty in the past by buying random frozen crap like corn dogs or grade-Z chicken nuggets. Little Miss Priss wouldn't be caught dead slaving away in a kitchen anyway ... too likely to break a nail! By informal agreement, we now always arranged to appoint someone else to take over this duty from her whenever her turn came up. Today, it was me. Since I was the boss and needed to present a proper example, I'd bought several jumbo bags of chicken leg quarters and was going to BBQ the lot of them. We had a full staff of nearly thirty people and another double-handful of resident dependents, but with two large gas grills cooking away, supply would relatively soon become equal to demand. Not to mention an ice-cold keg of frosty brew!
I had a few beers but resisted the urge to get deliciously squiffy. My inner voice was telling me to stay sober and I even called it an early night, making it downstairs to bed not much after eight o'clock. The massage and the couple of beers had helped me relax a bit and I managed to get nearly at once to sleep ... right after enjoying the vivid memory of Claire's pierced cunt and rubbing myself off to a furious wet climax alone in bed. I was all set to sleep when the rather pleasant imaginary fantasy of Claire and Phyl writhing naked together in a wet sixty-nine lapping at each other's sopping wet cunts stirred me rock hard once more and I spurted off yet another frantic load into a tissue before my brain deemed itself ready to be turned off and ready for sleep.
The early bedtime was a stroke of genius on my part because when all hell broke loose at about midnight I was very much bright-eyed and functional for dealing with our sudden unwanted visitors!