The guy in front of her wasn’t having a good day. They were in line at her usual lunch place, waiting to pay, when he dropped his CAP card. He’d pulled his credit card from his wallet and his CAP card came out as well, landing with his name and score showing: Carl E. Brennan 7.1. The big 7.1 was impossible to miss, and Harriet didn’t miss it. Looking worried, Carl quickly picked up his card and turned to pay the cashier.
Harriet left her food at the counter, followed him out and saw him go into a nearby office building. Satisfied, she went back to retrieve her lunch and pay for it. While she ate, she considered her options. If she interrupted him at work or was waiting for him in the lobby as he left it would probably put him on edge. She pulled her notepad out of her purse.
Carl was half expecting a call from the front desk telling him that the black woman in the red top wanted to talk to him. She’d definitely seen his CAP card when he’d dropped it – why did it have to land face up? – and his score often attracted unwanted attention, especially from women. No call came, much to his relief. She’d been there though. As he left work the receptionist handed him a note:
I can’t be your concubine, but I can help you. Please call me. Please.
There was a business card attached with the name Harriet T. Scott and a phone number.
That intrigued him. Harriet, the black woman, looked in her late thirties, so she wasn’t underage or past her menopause. She didn’t seem like an ax murderer, which was one reason he could think of for that “can’t” in her note. He called her.
They arranged to meet on neutral ground, by the bandstand in Washington Park. She knew his name and, despite that “can’t”, he hadn’t wanted to make it too easy for her to discover his address. He got there first and she sat next to him a minute later. “I’ve seen yours, so you can see mine.” She got her CAP card out of her purse and held it out for him to see. A 6.3. She kept holding it, her thumb on one corner. As he looked the number changed from 6.3 to 0.0!
“I’m not eligible to go, but the card usually shows 6.3 so people don’t...” She paused, “My real score can get some very strange reactions.”
“I can understand their reactions, but why the score?” he asked.
She took a breath. “I got cancer when I was nine. I survived, but my ovaries didn’t.”
“I’m sorry.” He knew that was a cliché, but what else was there to say?
“That’s why I can help you, Carl. I did childcare in college and now I work at a children’s center. Since I couldn’t have my own, I decided to help other people’s children.”
“Then the President made his announcement,” Harriet explained. “Suddenly the older kids were adults, years before they were expecting, and most of them needed to find sponsors. I couldn’t leave them to do it on their own – without help they’d mostly have made a mess of it. So I helped them find good sponsors and concubines to match up with. I couldn’t match everyone who wanted someone, so I kept looking. That’s mostly what I do now, find concubines for sponsors and sponsors for concubines.”
“I like to think so. It’s a lot better than a five minute blowjob to decide.” He nodded agreement, she was right about that. “Which brings me to you, Carl. How many concubines have you picked so far?”
“Well ... only one, sort of. She’s a senior in college and is working in my office as an intern. I like her and I think she likes me. I haven’t actually asked her yet though.”
He’d taken his CAP test three years ago during his final year in college and he’d had a lot of offers. The thing was, the women were making those same offers to anyone with a good score. He didn’t like that; they were only after the piece of plastic, without really caring about the person carrying it. After graduating he’d moved cities for a job and had kept quiet about his score; mentioning it would only start the parade of ‘offers’ again. His family knew of course, but they were back in Baltimore. Every so often his mother would drop hints about one of her friends, or a friend’s daughter, who would make a good “companion”; she never used the word “concubine”.
He was reasonably sure that Zandra, the intern he’d mentioned earlier, didn’t know his score. She’d only asked him once, and he’d avoided the question.
“An intern?” Harriet said. “Then she probably doesn’t have any mothering experience?”
“No, she doesn’t.”
“You’ll need a mother of course. Can your intern be a boss?”
“Zandra? No, not really,” he told her. “She’s very quiet. She does what she’s told, but doesn’t try to tell other people what to do.”
“OK, then either you need one combined boss-mother or you have two, one to be the boss and one to be the mother.” She’d met men like Carl before, they hadn’t really thought through who they needed to pick.
“Erm...” Carl played for time. He knew he’d need a mother, but he hadn’t thought of taking a boss concubine. Did he want two older women with Zandra? No, that would be too much like being back in Baltimore with his mother, his aunts and their friends. “The one boss-mother I think.”
“Right. That leaves two more to find. Older, younger or about your age?” As she’d told him, Harriet had done this sort of thing before.
She laughed. “You men are all the same, you like the young stuff. How old is Zandra?”
“She’s twenty-two. I’d like the others to be younger than her, so twenty-one max.”
Carl got very embarrassed, “Uhhh ... Well...”
“I’ll assume that means ‘white’ then,” Harriet put him out of his misery. “How about Hispanics?”
“As long as she can speak English and looks good.” That really meant, ‘looks European’ of course, and he suspected that was what Harriet took it to mean. He was still embarrassed by the subject, even if Harriet wasn’t. He got on with everyone in college and at work, but in his bed was different.
“One last question,” Harriet said. “With two young ones it’s good if they can have a friend in the family. Sometimes it’ll be two friends, sometimes it’ll be sisters. Do you have a problem with that?”
“Not sisters, too little genetic diversity. Friends are fine, but not sisters.”
“How about adopted sisters, with different parents?”
“Yeah, that would be OK,” he said.
“Good. What happens now is that I go and look through who I’ve got available to find people who might suit.” She didn’t mention that she’d be checking his background as well. She needed to be sure her girls would be going to a good sponsor.
Carl nodded. Letting Harriet search for concubines was a good idea; it wouldn’t let his score out among the people he knew at work and she wouldn’t swamp him with offers from her side.
“And you need to have a talk with ... Zandra wasn’t it? Without her you’ll be one short.”
Zandra agreed. She dragged Carl back to his place and showed him exactly how much she agreed. Three times. And she agreed again in the morning. Luckily she only had two weeks of her internship left, so keeping his score quiet wasn’t difficult. She simply invented a new boyfriend to explain her big smile.
Carl hadn’t thought about children, but the good mothers all had children and they wanted to keep their kids with them. Obvious really. He figured he could cope with one or two young ones to start with; three might be too many, so he asked Harriet to keep it to one or two. There would be a lot of babies coming, but that was for later. Lacking experience he wanted to start at the shallow end.
Pat, Harriet’s first candidate mother, was twenty-nine and reminded him too much of his own mother, so he had to disappoint her. Other than that she would have made a good concubine; the problem was with him, not her. He didn’t feel it would be fair to test her, so he didn’t. They just talked and parted. He never even met her son.
Darlene was twenty-three, dyed blonde and with her tattoos and piercings, nothing like his mother. Harriet said that Darlene worked at the children’s center, which confirmed she was good with kids. She’d married her High School sweetheart, had a couple of quick kids and got tired of blowing his buddies at parties.
“I enjoyed giving BJs at school, it kept the boys happy and out of my panties,” she explained. “But once I’d grown up some it got old and I wanted to stop. Beau hadn’t really grown up, so I took the kids and left him. He was turning into an asshole.”
“Probably for the best,” Carl said. “Assholes usually stay assholes.”
“Yeah, they do,” she agreed. “So, here I am. You can have any hole you want. I cleaned out my ass before I came over, so that’s OK if you want it.”
He half expected her to have “Property of Hell’s Angels” tattooed on her butt. She didn’t, just a flower on her left cheek. Not badly done either.
She delivered on her promise about her holes, all three of them.
Darlene had two children: Francine was three and her brother, Grady, was four. She obviously had them both well under control when she brought them round to meet him. It was their first visit, so they were both on their best behavior. That wouldn’t always be the case of course, but he didn’t anticipate anything beyond the usual childhood tantrums from them later. They both seemed sensible.
Darlene’s personality was much more outgoing that Zandra’s; Carl could see that she would be able to run his new household the way he wanted. Harriet’s “boss-mother” description was right.
He found testing the younger teens difficult. A few years ago, girls that age were illegal and definitely off-limits. Now they were legal and very eager to show that they were on-limits, but he was still bothered by the restrictions he’d lived with for so long. Some of them were too eager. He was getting the same feeling he’d had in college: they didn’t want him, they only wanted his CAP card.
After Carl called her, Harriet decided to try him with one of her more difficult to place pairings. They were best friends and wanted to stay together, but the younger one was a virgin and wanted to stay that way for the moment. That was a big topic among her girls: whether to lose their cherries before any pickup, offer it to a sponsor during a pickup, or keep it for after. Sophie had decided to keep hers. She wasn’t ready for anal either, so her test drive would be blowjobs only, which Harriet passed on to Carl.
Carl didn’t mind that. Sophie wasn’t going to do anything he said for her ticket off Earth – she wanted her own input. Indirectly she was thinking about the man behind the CAP score. That was good.
The pair had met about a year ago when the Confederacy had extracted Linda’s father and family. At fourteen she wasn’t eligible to go as a dependent, so the city put her in the children’s center where she met Sophie. Sophie’s mother had died of an overdose when she was ten and she’d already been in the center for three years. The two became best friends as soon as they met and wanted to stay together.
Sophie was fourteen now and looked it. She had breasts and hips, but was obviously still developing. Carl knew he could change her appearance later, but that didn’t help him here and now. Keeping her test to just a blowjob made it easier for him not to feel so much of a cradle-snatcher; she even kept her pale blue panties on when she stripped for him. Sophie was mentally mature for her age, which helped. She knew what she wanted and why: “Like, I don’t want to go into a burger joint, order something and get my cherry popped before it arrives. I’ve got to get to know the guy some, first.”
“You know you’ll have to get pregnant soon after you’re extracted, don’t you?” Carl confirmed.
“Yeah, Harriet says conks have to get pregnant inside six months. That’s, like, long enough. I can do that for sure.”
At fifteen Linda could easily have passed for older, a brunette with well-shaped breasts, rounded hips and a waist. She wasn’t a virgin and offered the same full service as Darlene, though Carl only tried two of her holes and a very nice titty-fuck. The older teen obviously wanted to get off Earth, but not at the cost of leaving her friend Sophie behind. She wasn’t totally focused on that piece of plastic in his wallet. The only women who ignored the number on his CAP card had a good score themselves. Any potential concubine would be aware of it to some degree.
After her internship ended, Zandra moved into Carl’s apartment while she finished college. His place was too small for all of them, so Darlene, Linda and Sophie had to stay where they were.
Harriet visited him a week later, looking for information. “I’ve got details for the others, but I need next of kin, contact numbers and the like for you and Zandra,” she explained. “I’m setting you up with the Confederacy as a pre-pack. You can’t all go round together every day. With a planned pre-pack you’ll have enough notice to get together in advance, before the Marines arrive.”
Carl had heard of pre-packs, where sponsors organized their own extractions directly with the Confederacy, rather than hoping for a random pick-up. “You sound like you’ve done this before, Harriet,” he said.
“I have. It didn’t make sense to set up families and then leave it to chance for them to all be in the same place when the Confederacy turned up. There were a couple of disasters in the early days.” Harriet remembered having to comfort some of her charges who hadn’t been in the right place at the right time. Not an experience she wanted to repeat. “I’ve got a contact in the local CAP testing center and he handles their end of it.”
Harriet knew that with her CAP score, the Confederacy would never extract her. If she couldn’t go herself, then she wanted to help as many other people get off Earth as she could, especially children. The more people got away the better it would be.
Harriet called Carl with the arrangements. “Be in Las Vegas next month for two nights, Friday 10th to Saturday 11th. I think you’ll need three rooms: one for you and Zandra, one for Darlene and her kids and one for Linda and Sophie. If you all book into a suite you’ll look like a pre-pack, which could cause trouble. Buy return flights too, one-way might seem suspicious. Best if you pay for the hotel up front. You won’t be checking out and the company lawyers could come after your heirs for the money owed plus expenses.”
“They do that?”
“Yes. It’s happened before. There was this hotel in New York ... Simpler to pay the full bill when you check in. You won’t be checking out.”
“How will I know...”
“A guy name of Luca Bianchi will phone you and mention me. He’ll tell you what happens next.”
“What if he doesn’t call?”
“Then you get two days in Vegas at your own expense,” she said, laughing. “That should only be if somebody messes up and brings all their friends and family. The Confederacy wants to keep these things quiet, so if there’s a big crowd they won’t be there. If you’re the one who messes up, then you won’t get asked again,” she warned.
“I’ll be good miss,” which got him another laugh. “Do you know how much luggage we can take with us?”
“I’m not sure. It’s not nothing, but I don’t think it’s much. Something like a biggish over-the-shoulder purse should be OK. You might have to leave even that behind though. Do whatever they tell you.”
“Right,” Carl agreed. That was the basic rule for dealing with the Confederacy: do what you’re told.
None of them had ever been to Las Vegas before, so they spent Friday evening seeing the sights. Despite himself, Carl was impressed; the town knew its market and did a very good job serving that market. Zandra was less impressed, “too vulgar”. The others all loved it. Darlene had only ever stayed in a hotel once, on her honeymoon, and Sophie had only ever stayed in the wrong sort of hotel, usually when her mother couldn’t pay the rent. They all loved the bright lights on the Strip.
Her kids were over-excited, so Darlene stayed in her room with them to help them sleep. Carl started the night with his two youngest concubines. First he fucked Linda, then a sixty-nine with Sophie. She removed her panties to show her very neat, and neatly trimmed, blonde pussy which he enjoyed pleasing. She enjoyed it too. Afterwards he went back to his room where Zandra had to settle for a cuddle. He made up for it in the morning.
Carl’s phone rang as he was having breakfast on Saturday.
“Hello Mr. Brennan. I’m Luca Bianchi. Harriet should have mentioned me to you.”
“Yes, she did.”
“Excellent. We have arranged transport for five adults and two children. Please assemble your party in the hotel lobby by 12:10 today when we will start your tour.”
“OK, ten after twelve. We’ll be there.”
“Thank you, sir. Have a nice morning,” and he rang off. Luca had a definite Italian accent to match his name.
They tried to enjoy themselves that morning, but it was difficult. Too many other things were going through their heads, and there was the big elephant in the room that they couldn’t talk about in case someone overheard. They were in the lobby well before time, their bags packed. Every time a man came in through the entrance Carl’s pulse jumped. He’d have a heart attack if Luca didn’t arrive soon.
The man himself was short, wearing a dark suit and looked as Italian as his accent. “Mr. Brennan, if you’ll follow me please.”
When they emerged from the hotel Grady burst out, “Wow! Big car!” Carl just laughed. He was expecting a bus. Wrong! This was Vegas, so their transport was a stretch limo. There were three other passengers already inside, a man and two women. Luca gave the driver the name of another hotel. “We’ve got one more group to pick up,” he explained. A man and two women, one carrying a baby, boarded at the last hotel.
They all introduced themselves, being careful not to talk about things they shouldn’t. They were obviously three pre-packs, but nobody actually said so. Mostly they talked about their impressions of Vegas and how much money they hadn’t won in the casinos. Safe subjects.
Luca was talking again, “Before we go to our final destination, I thought that you might want lunch. Tacos fine for everyone?”
The Taco place was just off the Strip. The driver pulled the limo up to the entrance as if it was an everyday occurrence. Being Vegas, it probably was, they weren’t the only stretch limo on the road.
Three seconds after the limo came to a halt, a gray Confederacy exclusion field came down covering both the Taco place and the limo. Very neat, Carl thought, they’ll get the sponsors already there plus three extra.
Inside, the big Marines were getting people sorted out and removing all guns, knives and pepper sprays. The limo driver surfaced a gun which he handed to a Marine. Carefully. The two unconscious bodies on the floor reminding him to be careful.
The Marines hadn’t set up the transporter yet, so Luca suggested that they all wait at the side, away from the impending circus.
They were soon joined by a fourth pre-pack who’d been eating lunch together, hoping for the Confederacy to arrive. Brett had his wife, their three young children and Macy, a friend’s seventeen-year-old daughter and occasional babysitter. His kids played with Grady and Francine under the watchful eyes of the adults. That helped distract the children from what was happening on the other side of the room.
The driver didn’t want to join the melee, so he sat by Luca. Carl assumed he had a low score and knew he didn’t have much chance of being picked. He’d assumed wrong. A big Marine Lance Corporal came over and asked him, “Jesús Alvarez, CAP 6.5?”
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“You need to get out there and pick two. We’re not leaving you behind.”
“My wife isn’t here, so I’m staying. She’s my first pick,” the driver explained.
“Not an option, you’re going. You got kids under fourteen?”
“Two. And I’m staying. I’m not leaving my wife.”
The Marine paused slightly, then said, “OK, we’ll definitely pick up your kids. If your wife is with them then we’ll pick her up as well.”
“How will you...”
“You tell us where and when. Some time later today or tonight when they’ll all be together.”
“OK then,” Jesús agreed after a pause.
“Go pick one more. Quickly.”
The driver left in a hurry to pick his second concubine, followed more slowly by the Marine.
Luca looked pleased. “Did you plan that?” Carl asked.
“No, it was luck. When he arrived with the limo we scanned his card. A small extension to the interdiction field to make sure we included him. A nice bonus.”
From his other side Sophie spoke quietly to Carl, “See what I mean?” She pointed to a naked mid-teen girl with pink-tinged cum running down her right thigh. She was hanging on the arm of an older teen boy, so she had got what she wanted in exchange for her cherry.
“Yeah,” he agreed. Losing it in this chaos wasn’t any girl’s romantic ideal.
The lance corporal came over again. “OK, we’re ready for you. Concubines get naked. One small bag each, if your sponsor allows.”
That gave Carl another surprise. The group of three who’d been in the limo first had a woman sponsor. She kept her clothes on while the man and the other woman stripped.
Luca was shaking hands with the sponsors. “Good luck,” he told Carl.
“What do you do next?” Carl asked, curious.
“I do one more extraction here in Vegas, then I’m transferring to Peschiera in Italy. When I’ve been in one place too long, people start following me,” he explained. “They notice that the Confederacy arrives shortly after I do.”
“Yes, I’m from Salerno.”
The transporter was at the back of the restaurant by the restrooms. The concubines lined up naked, waiting to go through. Seeing his four together, Carl compared their breasts. Sophie’s were small, perky and still growing. Laura’s and Zandra’s were bigger: firm and shapely, with Laura’s slightly the larger. Darlene’s had probably looked like that once, but after two children hers were softer and sagged more. Despite that, very pleasant to handle.