The Mar Chine Ambassador: A Steak and a Blow Job

by

Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Heterosexual, Science Fiction, Oral Sex, Spitting, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Public Sex, Workplace, Prostitution, Science fiction adult story, sci-fi adult story, science-fiction sex story, sci-fi sex story, sci-fi aliens story, science fiction aliens story.

Desc: Science Fiction Sex Story: This is a strange little sci fi tale about what happens after all the aliens show up. I did say strange, didn't I? YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

I don't know if I hate this job of mine, love it, loathe it, or can even endure it much longer, but one thing I can't say about it is that it's never boring. About as close to 'boring' as it gets is dealing with the outrage of the cop screaming in my face, trying to think of a way to threaten me into doing something about the scene across the street.

No way buddy; I've had bigger fish in the pond screaming at me in that same outraged way before. The assistant director of the FBI had been doing just that very thing to me when he stroked out six weeks ago, the Secretary General had had a heart attack doing that same thing to me two months ago, and the former President of the United States had what you might call a major break with reality not that long after the Sec General dropped over and yeah, not what most people think of when they hear the word 'boring' but this spit spraying screaming seemed like it was getting to be my daily lot in life and I was damn tired of it. I dug a cigarette out of my shirt pocket and put it in my mouth. The whatever the hell rank super cop seemed to be one of those anti smoking nuts and his spitting spraying cranked up a notch. I put my thumb under my forefinger and flipped it up. Nothing happened so I did it again. It irked me a bit and one more try and third time lucky and my thumb caught fire as I held it up in a 'thumbs up' gesture and fired up my filtered Camel. Hard to believe that I had quit smoking for twenty odd years, and fifty seven days on this job and I was sucking up a pack a day again. I drew in a grateful hit and ignored the chief of police or whatever the hell his title was while I drew in some stress relief. A couple of hits of nicotine and tar and oh yeah, that part of my job, being a target for spit spraying out of control with rage imbeciles who think I can control or influence what was going on across the street. That does get old, way old, but you can't say it's 'boring' exactly, but nothing was going to happen here no matter how much he raged and ranted and screamed. There is something about people and power that just can't accept that they are powerless and the way that usually comes out is impotent screaming at some underling that can't do anything about anything besides stand there and take it. Well, while the job isn't boring, it certain does get repetitious.

The NYPD used to be all Irish but it's become as rainbow as any other force in this country. The top cop years ago would have been some big red faced Jamison's swilling Mick but now I had this light skinned black guy who was putting on a paunch and towered over me by a good six inches. Politicians seem to be taller than the usual folks. I guess so that they can stand out in a crowd, and yeah, there was quite a crowd gathered here. I wasn't quite sure exactly where 'here' really was, to tell you the truth, but the cop cars lined up all up and down the street to keep the crowd back all had NYPD on them and it looked exactly like the pictures I'd seen in all the movies and TV shows of what New York looks like so my hunch was that it really was New York. I took another hit on my cigarette and just looked at this guy and sighed.

"Please, just dial it back a bit, would you?" I asked politely. "I've had a really, really, long day and this constantly getting spit on all the time really is the suckiest part of this very sucky job." There were twenty or thirty cops standing around breathing hard and some of them had automatic weapons in their hands. "You know there isn't one fucking thing I can do about anything the Ambassador wants to do, and it's the same scene everywhere we go and I just don't fucking care how fucking outraged at all this you are, and the screaming and spitting stuff, well, it gets way old, you know?" I pulled my pack of cigarettes out of my pocket and offered him one. He glanced down at the pack and something in his eyes told me he'd once been a slave to the cylinders. He certainly looked tempted, and if there ever was a moment when he could have used one, that moment would be right now.

A gasp from the crowd caused us both to look across the street.

"Oh shit."

"Yeah." I agreed tiredly. Watching this through his eyes, I could feel for the poor son of a bitch. I guess watching a thirty five year old naked guy with an erection dancing around with a bunch of naked school kids must be about the most button pushing thing any cop could ever see. "Just make sure your troops don't lose it." He glared at me, but the warning I'd just told him had been ignored by others before him and I really didn't want another repetition of Cairo today, or any other day for that matter: "Ricochets, you know?" He pursed his lips tightly, then nodded abruptly and turned and talked to his uniformed aide, who passed the word along to the troops to safe their weapons and holster the side arms. I took another drag on my cigarette and dropped it on the carpet of whatever hotel we were in.

"How can you stand watching this all the time?" I shrugged.

"Nothing at all I can do about it." He looked at me for another moment and nodded abruptly again.

"Christ," he said softly. I shrugged.

"Well, this is usually close to the end of it." I said, and yeah, there went the kids on the field trip, gathering around in a circle and holding hands and the shimmering glow started to appear. The blustery January wind blowing down the street had some snow in it that helped illuminate the almost dusk scene as it hit the barrier surrounding the Ambassador and his naked little friends, all dancing around in a circle around that demented naked Pied Piper with the erection. "Yeah, and there they go."

Dancing around and around the man who'd once been my identical twin brother.

"Well, the wind's going to start taking effect on this pretty soon, so I guess it's time to saddle up." A gasp from the crowd as the shimmering bubble around the kids and the crazy dancing man started to rise up out of the side walk in front of the museum and the kids and the crazy kept on dancing around in a circle, only the circle was no longer on the side walk as the bubble rose. "You got the drill, just don't fuck up, hear?"

"Yeah. We won't." Yeah, they'd try not to, but things do come unglued at times and you never knew for sure what exactly was going to go on with the craziness. I gave him a pat on the shoulder and walked out into the wind and got a few more stares directed my way. Something about a guy in a Aloha shirt, surfer jams and flip flops in the middle of winter in New York with the snow blowing at twenty some miles an hour does cause even jaded New Yorker's to look. The cops surrounding me pushed back the crowd so we could get to the Ambassadors ride. I dug out my Camel pack, but since we were outside in the wind, I figured I needed something more than tobacco to relax me from the last scene and didn't give a damn if pot was still illegal or not. The cop downwind took a sniff of the smoke and turned to me while I toked up. "Diplomatic immunity," I hissed. "Wanna hit?" He wrinkled his nose and shook his head radiating disapproval. I shrugged. This job was pretty weird, no two ways about that, but it did have its moments. While it might not meet with the cop's approval, it did get me through scenes like I had just been through with his force's capo de tutti capo.

I looked down the street. The fire department had managed to get their gear in place and had two of those telescoping ladders set up with a big net stretched between them. Good damn deal; at least the kids weren't going to wind up in the Hudson River or whatever the hell of the name of the one a few blocks away was called. The last of the bubble floated up out of the cement and the wind picked it up like a newspaper and away it went. About a minute later, there it was, right in the net, a glowing ball of naked children holding hands and dancing around in a circle, tilted about sixty degrees off the horizontal and upside down right in the middle of it, like some demented glass globe you shook and the snow would fly around in. I sighed. Colors swirled over the surface of the sphere and the snow picked up a bit and it was hard to make out what was happening down there in the next block, but I knew I had some time before whatever it was would be over. I turned to the cop next to me and figured I'd take care of my own needs while I had the chance.

"Say, where's good to eat around here?" He turned to look at me and I could read the expression on his face. "Hey, I have to eat once in a while, so where's good to grab a bit?" He shook his head. Well, this was New York, and I had heard the food's great anywhere you went. Maybe he just couldn't afford to eat uptown in this area. "Well, you know least know where I can get a hooker?"

"How can you even think of sex with something like that going on!" I shrugged.

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