Circa 1975

We followed the lorry from the Temple of Anahita to Bombay airport, curious to see what the witches were up to. A crate was transferred to a cargo plane bound for Heathrow and we followed on the next passenger flight. We were met by a faith brother who got us through immigration and took us to the cargo village. “We need the right sort of pass to enter” he said. I showed him my pass and used it to slash the throat of the white pig on the security gate. “Hide him and take his place” I told him as we grabbed a handful of passes then proceeded to the Air India warehouse.

Using my ‘pass’ again to get us in, we were confronted by the cavernous interior. “Where do we begin?” my brother asked. “We could ask those loaders” my cousin suggested. “No. Too many witnesses. We continue. Find someone alone” I said. Keeping to the back of the building, we came across an Indian woman in a uniform. “Customs officer” my brother in-law said. No god-fearing woman would wear men’s clothes. A smart black jacket scandalously tailored showed off a buxom hourglass figure, worn over a crisp white blouse and black tie. Below this, a matching skirt fell to a good inch above the knee beneath which sheer black nylons clung to shapely calves. Although she wore black-heeled shoes, I reckoned her to be about 5’6”. She was certainly shapely with a medium slim figure and a cute face. It will be a shame to waste her. Her black hair was worn in a strange western style, puffed up on top of her head and behind, coming down to just above her shoulders and exposing the forehead. Her face was petite with prominent cheeks and a narrow jaw with a dimpled chin. The eyes were small, slender and brown with natural thick lashes, closely arched by thin eyebrows. Her nose was appealing, short, slim and slightly curved upwards. She also had a wide pleasing mouth glossed with lipstick. The complexion of her warm brown skin was good and clear. She was a temptation that was no doubt.

“Where is the freight from Air India 617?” I asked. “Those aren’t the right passes. You are not allowed in here. I have to ask you to leave” she had the nerve to challenge us. As she spoke in slightly accented English, I noticed she was slightly buck toothed adding to her cuteness. I took out my long knife. “This is my pass”. The woman moved towards a wall-mounted phone but my brother blocked her way leering at her openly. “You are not Muslim” I stated. “Hindu” she replied watching the knife warily. “Hindu women are sluts. They learn they the Karma Sutra as children” I said. She turned as if to flee but found herself surrounded by my faith brothers. “What is your name?” I asked. “Sushma” she replied. That meant “beautiful woman” also “First ray of Sun” in Sanskrit. “Well beautiful woman. Take me to the crates unloaded from the flight and Allah may let you live” I told her. Let her live while she showed us the way. There could be no witnesses.

The alluring creature led us through the warehouse. I kept watch from behind; ready to slit her throat if she betrayed us. The way her wide hips moved in a skirt so tight to outline her broad buttocks was a distraction. Also hard to ignore was the slit up the back of her skirt that gave glimpses of nylon as she walked and her full shapely calves. Finally we arrived at the cargo from the flight and found the crate. “Open it” I waved the knife at her. “I can’t. It has a cargo seal” she replied.

“Do it or I’ll slit your throat” I made the mistake of getting too close and realised my error as her skirt twitched. WHAM! “Ooooo!” I was howling in anguish. It was like a bomb had gone off in my groin as the point of her shoe hammered between my legs. My cousin came up behind the bitch and wrapped his strong muscular arms around her to restrain her. He is a big bear of a man and the slender uniformed woman looked so tiny in his arms. “Kill her” I rasped through the throbbing agony in my groin. “Now you die, evil bitch” my brother approached the captive woman and raised his knife to plunge it through her heart. To my surprise, the cute faced creature flung herself back against her captor and raised her knees high, pointing her feet towards my brother. The hem of her skirt fell back shamelessly revealing black stocking tops and a glimpse of dusky bare skin. WHAM! Shapely legs uncoiled like a spring blasting both heeled feet against his sternum. “Orrrrr!” he wailed as he dropped the knife and stumbled back.

Light shimmered off the sheen of her nylons as her legs swung back towards the ground. Twisting her lower body to one side, she drove a balled fist backwards into the big man’s groin. WHAM! “Aieeee!” he cried pitifully. The cute Hindu held onto his arm and bent sharply forwards. To my astonishment a man many times her size and weight somersaulted over her shoulder and landed heavily on his back at her feet. Immediately, the uniformed woman stepped on his neck, pulled his arm straight and bent his wrist. “Argh!” I couldn’t believe it; a mere woman was standing over a much bigger man making him squirm and squeal. “Who are you people? What are you after?” she demanded. The sight of such a pretty Indian woman asserting authority over a man stirred strange feelings. “Argh!” my cousin cried, he would never submit to a mere woman. “Stay where you are or I’ll break his arm” she warned me as I stepped forwards. “Break it. It will heal. Your neck won’t when I slash it” I said.

She had not noticed my cousin’s brother sneaking up on her. My brother who looked like he had recovered from the mare’s kick also saw his approach. “This is England and I’m a custom’s officer. Now answer my question” she said. At that moment the two men rushed her from either side and swung their fists. In the blink of an eye, she ducked like a nimble fox and punched out with both hands, small fists hammering between their legs. “Ooooouuuuu!” the twin howls of anguish shamed me. Quickly moving behind one of the men, the back of her skirt clung tight to the contours of her well-round rear as she raised her knee then stomped down upon the back of his knee. “Arghh!” he cried as his leg gave way. THUD! Her elbow swung around and struck him on the temple sending him sprawling to the floor. BAM! No sooner had he fallen than the minx blasted his jaw like she was kicking a football. His head whipped back hard knocking him out cold.

“Arghhhh!” I cried, my blood boiling, as I rushed the woman to cut her down. Somehow she caught my wrist with both hands and moved swiftly out of my path. Whipping my arm up into the air she swung it down in a circle. In horror, I found myself bowled over, spinning in the air like a top around my arm, which she held onto. WHAM! “Argh!” my back hit the concrete floor hard and I stared up in disbelief lying at the feet of mere woman. From this angle I could see right up her skirt and the sight stirred my loins. “Argh!” pain shot through my wrist as she bent it back and twisted my arm forcing me to turn onto my stomach. I couldn’t believe it; I was being physically controlled by an attractive slip of a woman. “Call your men off. Tell them to stay where they are” she ordered. “Argh! You don’t give me orders. Argh!” She pressed my hand into the middle of my back. “Tell them or I’ll break your arm” she commanded with such confidence that I knew that she could do it.

My brother threw his knife at her, she ducked and in that moment he grabbed her hands pulling her off me. “Got you, Arr!” he cried as she kicked his knee. As his leg jerked back, her fist shot towards his face. THUD! She punched his mouth solidly, jerking his face under the impact. I watched as her skirt rode up, revealing marvellous legs sheathed in sexy sheer black nylon, as one blasted incredibly high. BLAM! Her heeled foot hammered under his jaw like a rocket snapping his head back so fast there was an audible click. My manhood was rigid as my brain retained the sight of the jacketed woman with her leg raised straight in the air, looking so sexy in stockings and suspenders with her white knickers on view as her tight skirt rode up high. At the same time, it retained the horror of my brother hurtling backwards towards the ground with his head flung back at an unnatural angle.

“AIEEEE!” howling in my red rage I flung myself at the woman. WHAM! “Orrrrrr!” the cute minx looked over her shoulder and with a glimpse of shapely thigh sent a back kick ploughing hard against my chest stopping me in my tracks. Stunned by the impact of kick upon my breathing, I watched as my cousin and his brother attacked from either side. In disbelief I saw her calmly flow as if in a well-choreographed dance. Blocking my cousin’s punch, she quickly restrained him with an armlock, lent forward against him for balance and in a flash kicked back. Again my retina retained the image of her tight skirt rising up her thighs exposing her crotch and the sheen of stockings as her leg shot backwards lifting high. WHUMP! “Orrkkkk!!” her sole smashed against his throat and he made a horrible choking sound. The look upon his face as he clutched his throat has terrible to behold but the woman was like a tigress and pounced upon my cousin. Twisting his arm to force him to bend forwards. WHUMP! “Kkkkkarrkkk!” her knee shot up striking him across his throat. As he collapsed to his knees, the bitch spun. “Yah!” she shouted and stomped her foot in the middle of his back driving him face down against the concrete. “Haaaa!” she spun again and blasted a foot against the side of his brother’s head, shamelessly exposing her crotch and underwear again. I gasped as the strangulating man was knocked off his feet and fell unmoving to the floor.

The woman faced me in a fighting stance. “Are you going to come quietly or will I have to hurt you?” she asked. The sight of this attractive little woman in a uniform challenging me with three large burly men sprawled on the ground made my cock throb at the power she possessed. How could this be? A mere woman had destroyed my 3 faith brothers. A dread thought hit me like ice-cold water down the spine. “You belong to the Sisterhood of Anahita” it was a statement not a question and the slight widening of her eyes was all the confirmation I needed. “The Conclave never suspected your poison had spread so far” I told her. I roared and rushed towards her to finish her.

BAWHAM! A foot exploded in my face mashing my nose in a spray of blood as the power of the kick snapped my head back. She was so fast that I never saw it coming yet I thought I remembered the image of briefs clinging to a sexy crotch as her leg kicked. My anger flared as I clutched my face feeling the warm sticky blood flow. “You die for that bitch” I snarled but as I looked at her, her knee was raised high, shamelessly exposing her crotch. Despite my anger I was stirred to lust. “But I take you first” I cried. I tried to grab her. WHOOSH! Her lower leg cut through the air like a swinging club. I stepped back as the foot narrowly missed me. Seeing my chance I attack again expecting her to be off-balance. BERLAM! Out of nowhere, her foot hammers me around the side of my face with such unexpected devastating power. In a blaze of red and black, I feel myself tumbling bodily through the air. The image of stocking clad legs with sexy white briefs clinging to the contours of a sexy crotch and shapely buttocks. BAM! Hard concrete slams into the back of my head like a hammer and all goes dark.

By the time she had finished, I had a sturdy boner from visualising her younger self dressed in a smart uniform beating up these thugs with her Martial Arts skills. I had known ‘aunty’ Sushma ever since I was a young boy and had always thought of her as a medium-slim warm friendly homely woman. I had often seen her in her work uniform and thought that she looked quite alluring. The revelation that she was a deadly fighter was a complete surprise totally out of character from the image I had of her. I must explain that ‘aunty’ Sushma was not actually a relation in the English sense of the word but in the Indian sense of a friend of the family; my father originating from India although his ancestors came from Persia. Sushma lived nearby with her balding pot-bellied slow moving dim-witted husband, who she outshone with her intelligence and charisma. She was a frequent visitor to our home and was more like an aunty to me than my real ones. Indian aunties have a fearsome reputation for being overweight and domineering, however aunty Sushma seemed fairly timid, pleasantly built and shapely.

When I knocked on her door, she was surprised to see me but welcomed me warmly. Although grey peppered her black hair, which was now worn long and natural, and there were a few wrinkles, she looked much the same as I remembered although she must be in her early 70’s. She had probably put on a few pounds but it didn’t really show and was still quite attractive. She wore a red silk sari embroidered with silver flowers and golden interwoven patterns that emphasized a shapely figure. A red short-sleeved blouse with a low curving neckline showed off arms that were pleasant and firm looking. It came to just below her full bust leaving her mid-riff bare. Surprisingly this too looked very firm and not flabby like some women her age. Below the waist she wrapped the long exquisite material and draped the end diagonally from her waist across her chest to over her left shoulder.

I told her about my visit to my mother and the things that I had been told. She didn’t deny my mother’s accusation that she was a member of the Sisterhood and her tale seemed to confirm it. Sushma claimed she knew nothing about any memory block but the comments about a betrothal to a blonde girl arranged by the Sisterhood seemed to disturb her. “I shouldn’t be telling you this but I think it might be relevant”. As she sat next to me on the sofa and revealed this astonishing tale from her past, I had to suppress a strong urge to touch her, to feel this woman as she described how she had destroyed 4 thugs. I couldn’t believe it, but she was giving the hots. OK she wasn’t my real aunty, but she was like a family member to me and I had never thought of her in sexual way until now. I tried to focus on her tale.

“Who were these men?” I asked. “They worked for The Conclave. Silencers for the major faiths, whose sole aim is to eliminate anything that would weaken their power over the masses by contradicting their version of events. They are archaeological vandals, destroying ancient sites to cover up the existence of older civilisations; commit genocide to eradicate traces of tribes whose DNA or oral traditions are seen as a threat” she told me. “How do they fit in with the Sisters of the Covenant of the Holy Messiah?” I asked. “You’ve heard of them?” she asked with surprise. “Yes. They run the home where mum lives and I believe they were behind a fire at Cambridge that almost destroyed the Smthye-Jones diaries”. Concern touched her lovely brown eyes. “Leave it alone, James. Leave those diaries well alone. The Covenant must believe them destroyed or you will be in great danger. They also work for the Conclave. Women whose blind belief is so unshakable that killing innocent people to protect their faith is justified” she told me, leaning close. The intimate proximity to my mature aunty who had just revealed that she knew martial arts re-ignited my unhealthy interest and I began to appreciate how good looking she was for her age.