Chapter 21: The Maze Match

Since returning to Norfolk after Simon disabled the Palladium, he and Arabella had been confined to the Little Creek Amphibious Base housing area. The days had been fairly calm; a few hours at work, early afternoons at the beach, and then enjoying warm nights together in the exciting city sprawl of that Norfolk and the rest of the area had become.

As martial law had tightened its grip on the massive military and industrial complex in the Hampton Roads area, what had been a collection of autonomous cities was consolidated into a single political entity called Atlantica. What had been seven cities, each with its own government, had become one sprawling metroplex under the iron fist of the federally appointed Atlantica Board.

Citing a housing shortage, the Board started a number of building projects. Huge self-contained towers, called arcologies, combined the sprawling suburbs and apartment complexes into spires that seemed to pierce the clouds. As part of the civil works programs that the government used to put people to work, elevated roadways and monorails were built to connect the spires, fashioning an ultra-modern city while the rest of the area slid into bedlam.

As he wandered the huge arcades in the arcology spires of what used to be Virginia Beach, Simon's thoughts dwelt on the future. He was still searching for a place to call home, only now he was sure that he wanted to share his future with the slender redhead that stood next to him, Arabella.

His thoughts simmered as he caught the monorail back to the apartment he shared with Arabella. He had been trying to out process the Army, a lengthy process that was further complicated by his previous desertion from his unit in Washington D.C. over a year ago. Simon plugged away at the bureaucracy, waiting in lines and filling out forms, for over a week but was finally taking a day off to help Arabella do some shopping.

Simon was part of a large number of troops that were being sent home after the end of the rebellion. While there were a large number of officers being demobilized, Simon was surprised to meet Madeline Altarby, Bobby Tyler's military aide, in the line ahead of him one day. Having seen her on television and at different briefings, he struck up a conversation. They chatted as they waited and he found her disappointed and somewhat bitter that Bobby had dismissed her so quickly after the Rebellion was over.

Trying to be polite, Simon tried to steer the conversation away from work. "Well, what about the weekend? I can't believe the city council's going to stage a Grand Prix race this soon after the rebellion."

Although the race had been the popular headline, even though it was always carefully placed below the transcripts of the Shoremen trials, everyone seemed to have picked a racing team to cheer for.

"Who are you going to be rooting for?"

"No one," she muttered, withdrawing into her shell. Simon saw her chew on her bottom lip, fighting the tears that filled her eyes. "I'll just pack and write a few letters."

Knowing that there would be a big party on base for the race Simon invited Madeline, but she continued to refuse. Finally, at a loss for words, Simon was grateful when Madeline's name was called and she said farewell.

Arabella tapped him on the arm and dragged him from his daydream. "This is our stop."

Returning his attention to the present, Simon gathered their packages and walked with Arabella to their tiny apartment. He bumped into her as she bent to retrieve a small envelope that had been slipped under the door.

Simon ignored it, letting her open the note, and walked through to the kitchen for a drink. "What's it say? Somebody organizing another barbeque on the beach?"

Arabella's brow furrowed in confusion. "No. It's weird. Handwritten on a piece of notepaper. 'I am researching the activities of Reverend James Low and would like to interview you.'"

"Anything else?"

"Nope." Arabella tossed the note and its envelope on a table. "I guess she'll call or come over."

After reading and discarding the note, Arabella stretched. Simon although he still had a worried look on his face, couldn't help noticing how her breasts pressed against her thin white cotton dress.

She swept her hair up, holding it off her neck. "Damn, I'm hot and sticky."

Simon smiled, appreciating her double entendre, but his mind was still wrapped up in worry.

Seeing that he was still in a funk, Arabella fixed Simon with a slit-eyed, smoky look. "You've been tiptoeing around me for the last two weeks." Starting at the neckline, she unbuttoned the front of her dress as she walked across the room, her hips swaying as she closed the distance with her lover. "I'd offer a penny for your thoughts, but I don't have change. You seem to have some emotional baggage and I'm ready to do some unpacking."

"Huh?" Simon tried to think of something to say.

"Bullshit. I'm a child."

Simon's eyebrows shot up. Arabella had rarely showed her temper since he'd met her and had been quiet, almost submissive since coming back from the Eastern Shore. She walked toward him, her dress unbuttoned, flashing glimpses of her firm body with each, exaggerated, hip swinging stride. Arabella stopped just out of arm's reach, her dress fully unbuttoned. She placed her hands on her hips, throwing the dress back and exposing her scant white lacy underwear.

"Bury the past. Now. Today we wipe the slate clean." Arabella saw Simon's cock raise a tent in his pants. She stepped closer. "At least one part of you agrees." Softly cupping his bulging crotch Arabella sank to her knees. "I'll just wait down here while the rest of you decides."

She looked up from his lap, massaging the growing lump with her hand. Simon knew that he couldn't stay preoccupied with problems when he looked into her big blue eyes. The furrows on his brow smoothed as he unbuckled his trousers and started unbuttoning his fly.

Arabella accepted her victory silently and licked her lips as she helped Simon pull down his trousers and briefs.

"That's it. Come to momma." She pushed him backwards, tripping him with his clothes. Quickly shedding her dress, she climbed over his lap and on to the couch.

Simon smelled the tangy musk of her pussy as she lowered her face into his lap. Looking over her shoulder Arabella smiled at him and Simon found that he was focused on her bright blue eyes rather than her petite pink pussy that was inches from his face.

She held his cock tightly by its base and licked it like an ice cream cone. "I'm going to get this all wet and then I'm going to let you fuck me. You'd like that wouldn't you?"

It was almost impossible to keep from laughing at her coy, little girl voice as she swallowed almost half of his eight inch cock in a single slurp. He ran his hands over her taut thighs and ass cheeks before leaning forward to kiss her smooth-shaven pussy. She was already wet and his tongue lapped up her sweet tasting oil from the folds of her snatch.

Simon groaned as he felt his cock nudge the back of her mouth and then enter her throat. Her throat muscles constricted, increasing the friction against his steel-hard member.

"Shit, I love it when you do that."

He softly caressed her head, pushing her hair away from her face so that he could see her work as she sucked and licked the entire length of his manhood. Her head sank again, until her nose rested against the soft skin of his scrotum.

Simon's mouth returned to her slit. He kissed it with his whole mouth, softly at first and then harder. Using his tongue he parted her delicate lips and ran his tongue through the folds of her labia, consciously avoiding her clit. While she swallowed him over and over in slow, steady strokes, he straightened his tongue and carefully licked around the inner rim of her love tunnel before darting his tongue inside her.

Arabella was forced to remove his cock from her mouth as she moaned and spread her legs wider to allow him to tongue fuck her deeper. Teasing her, Simon lifted his tongue from her snatch and flicked it across her little pink rosette. She returned to his cock, determined not to let him distract her and gain control of the steamy scene.

Arabella held his cock tightly, enjoying the throbbing feeling as she constricted the blood from flowing out of his hard pole. She moved lower and took one of his testicles into her mouth, sucking on it like a piece of candy. The intense sensation made him abandon his efforts to tease her clit and she knew that it was time to put his cock inside her.

Arabella swung her body off the couch before Simon could recover and quickly straddled his lap. With one hand, she offered him her left breast. He eagerly took the swollen pink nipple into his mouth, rolling it between his tongue and teeth. With her other hand, Arabella guided his turgid prick into her dripping love box. She was so wet that he slid into her silken passage with little preamble.

"God, I love how you fill me up," she said. "I can feel your cock all the way up to my throat when you're this hard."

She ground her pussy against him and kissed his forehead. They began moving together, urgently seeking release. Both of them were close to climax and Simon's hands held Arabella's hips as she bounced up and down on his cock, taking the entire length of his thick pole inside her with each stroke.

Simon threw his head back and bellowed her name as he felt his cock spurt, sending hot jets of cum deep inside his lover's womb. As he flooded her love tunnel with his seed, Arabella felt her pussy shudder and spasm around his pulsating member. She pitched forward, resting against him as her orgasm washed through her like a tidal wave. She felt her loins convulse, milking his phallus of their milky white cream.

Arabella lay against him and Simon felt her heart pounding against his chest. He held her gently, nuzzling her neck with his kisses until she regained her senses and moved her lips to return his caresses. Slowly, Arabella lifted herself from the couch. Simon's cock slid from her well-fucked pussy with a soft pop and Arabella quickly grabbed a tissue to dam the flood of cum that ran out of her sex. Simon rose from the couch to walk toward the kitchen when the phone rang.

"Hello," he said.

"Major Woodsman, please. Major Simon Woodsman." It was a woman's voice, soft and whispery.

"This is Woodsman," he said curtly. Dread rose like bile in his throat but he forced himself to be calm.

The voice replied in a rush. "Major Woodsman, I am Penelope Penman and I'm a reporter for Network 3 news. I am researching a story on the lives of some of the refugees that traveled through the Valley early last year. "

The hair on Simon's neck stood on end. His own past was mixed up in the lives of those refugees, a past that he had tried unsuccessfully to bury. After he had deserted from his unit outside of the ruins of Washington D.C., he had survived only because a government agent named Juliet had given him a new identity. This favor had come back to haunt him when the government had demanded that he pay them back.

"I'm not sure that I can help you," he said finally.

"I have some information that you can help me investigate the activities at a refugee hostel run by the Reverend James Low."

The name of the pederastic preacher made Simon's gut churn. He could still see the Reverend's body as it slid down the wall to lie in a crumpled heap.

The voice on the phone continued. "I know that this is coming rather fast. Why don't we meet?"

Simon worried that he was being lured into a trap. He tried to think of people who would wish him harm, old enemies trying to even some scores.

Taking his silence for agreement, the reporter continued. "I'll text you the instructions," Penelope explained. "We have to be careful. But I promise that you're doing the right thing." Without waiting for an answer, she hung up.

"What was that all about?" Arabella asked.

"Somebody named Penelope Penman wants to talk about the Reverend Low."

Arabella looked scared. The last time she had seen the Reverend, Simon had just shot him dead. "This isn't good," she said.

Simon took a deep breath as his phone beeped, signaling the receipt of a message. He keyed the phone and read the message. 'Take a walk on the Boardwalk at 2000.'

Simon stood next to the phone, his face as white as a sheet. Arabella called his name softly several times before he answered. She stepped close to him, a concerned look on her face.

"Whatever it is, I'm coming with you."

She kissed his cheek and turned to put the shopping away.

"I guess we can have dinner out tonight," Simon tried to sound cheerful.

They traveled toward the beach and joined the crowd of people that were heading toward the large brick walkway known as the Boardwalk. Simon and Arabella relaxed slightly as they walked past the bars and souvenir stands hand in hand. They had walked to the end of one stretch of walkway when they reached a crossroads. Simon paused, looking down both of the tree lined walkways.

He had turned to say something to Arabella when a man thrust a flyer into his hands. "Maze Match tonight," the man yelled in Simons ear.

"What?"

"You've won two tickets to the most bodacious night of full contact entertainment in the entire city, all courtesy of Penelope." Before Simon could ask what he was talking about, the man had faded back into the crowd.

"I guess that's where we're supposed to meet her," Arabella said.

They took a cab to the old City Arena. Entering the stadium, they let themselves be swept along by the flow of the crowd.

"I don't know why she just didn't ask you to come to her office," Arabella complained as they maneuvered through the crush to find their table on the terraces above the area floor.

Simon looked around at the crowd of screaming fans. "I don't think that she's gotten censor clearance for the story," they took their seats and scanned the stained and folded menu. "Well if it's fried they have it."

"All washed down with watery beer." Arabella smiled across the table. "You sure know how to show a girl a good time."

Simon looked around. Two tiers of steep concrete terraces overlooked the arena. The seating of the old stadium had been ripped out and replaced by benches and booths, all facing the playing area.

Simon quickly flipped through the program that they'd been given at the door. The club's special event of the evening was a "Maze Match", a "grab the flag" contest pitting two teams of gladiators against each other in a sunken maze. One team tried to get through an obstacle course to the other team's "temple" and carry off their opponent's "totem." Each obstacle was called a "combat zone" where TV cameras projected the action on to huge video panels. Both sides were armored and carried exotic-looking weapons. Even though the Simon was sure that the weapons were blunt or padded, there weren't many rules and the match promised lots of blood.

The crowd was loud and definitely ready for the show. Simon, realizing that their booth was at the bottom of the upper tier, hoped that the patrons in the cheaper but higher seats didn't feel like participating in the match. He had no desire to be pelted with chicken and rib bones when the booster club got drunk.

And they were getting drunk. Waiters and waitresses carrying beer, chicken wings, and spare ribs poured out of the stairways, flowing up the steep stairs carried in small plastic buckets that were placed on each table. A harassed looking teenaged blonde stopped in front of their table and Simon ordered the ribs and some beer. Before he and Arabella had a chance to dive in, the stadium shook from the loud speaker's announcement.