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Featured Free Story of the Week: Houston: The Girl Of His Dreams, Pt. 01
Houston: The Girl of His Dreams, Pt. 01
By Saddletramp1956
Copyright ©2021 Saddletramp1956
The man woke up and looked around to get his bearings. Where am I, he asked himself. The place looked… strange. It was as if he woke up in some kind of cartoon. What is this place, he wondered. He considered the strange landscape, which looked to be some kind of weird desert. He looked up and saw two large moons in the sky. That can’t be right, he thought.
But there was another, larger question in his mind. Who am I?
He leaned against a large outcropping of purple rock and tried to figure out what was going on. He couldn’t remember anything at all – who he was, or what he was doing here. He had no frame of reference to go by and there was nothing in this strange landscape to give him any direction.
After several minutes, he heard a strange noise behind him. Turning, he looked to see several very large winged creatures flying in the air toward him. On their backs sat… something. He had a hard time making out what they were. As they came closer, he noticed they looked like large dark green humanoids with heads that reminded him of frogs.
He inched himself around the purple rock, hoping they wouldn’t see him. He watched as the large creatures they rode flapped their giant wings. As they got closer, he took in their shape. They reminded him of pterodactyls for some reason. They had long beaks and a single curved horn coming out of their heads.
The frog-men sat in saddles on the backs of the flying creatures, and seemed to control them like horses, with reins attached to the necks of the flying monsters. The frog-man in the lead pointed in his direction and shouted something. The next thing he knew, blobs of green… something… was heading his way. Damn, he thought. They’re shooting at me. But why?
He instinctively took cover behind the rock and his hand went to his waist. It was a reflex action, but it was a wasted effort as he had nothing there. He watched as the green blobs flew by him, hitting the orange “dirt” around him. He looked around, frantic, trying to find better cover. But there was nothing in sight, and he knew he would never make it in the open.
He heard the creatures get closer and saw more green blobs fly past him. He knew that unless something happened, he would probably be a dead man very soon. Then he heard something else – something that sent chills up and down his spine. It was a very loud screeching sound, followed by screams and cries. Suddenly, the green blobs quit flying past him. Taking a chance, he looked and saw another very large flying creature.
This one, unlike the others, was white and wore armor. On its back was a nearly-nude woman with long voluminous white hair that flowed behind her head almost like a cape. She held a long flaming sword in one hand, which she used to cut the frog-men to pieces, sending them falling to their deaths.
As she sliced and diced the dark green frog-like goblins, her flying “steed” opened its mouth and hurled balls of fire at the the other flying creatures, burning them and their riders to ash in mid-air. The man watched as the aerial battle made its way over his head.
Finally, all the frog-men were dead, and the woman landed her flying creature about 50 yards away from him. He watched as she seemed to whisper something to her giant “bird,” then walk to where one of the green men had fallen.
As he looked, she ran her sword into its body, then twisted it sharply, making sure the thing was dead. She bent down and grabbed its weapon. Putting her sword back in its scabbard, she looked at the man and started walking toward him.
The man couldn’t help but look at the woman as she walked. She was vaguely familiar to him, but he couldn’t quite place her. He took note of her muscular thighs and calves, which rippled with power as she walked. Two pieces of material crossed her otherwise bare torso and she seemed oblivious to the fact that her breasts were fully on display, her nipples hard and erect.
As she drew nearer to him, he saw a metal clasp where the two pieces of material came together between her breasts. On the clasp was the letter “H.” He wondered what it meant. He noticed she kept the frog-man’s weapon in her left hand. He expected her to stop at any moment and shoot him with it.
When she reached him, she looked down at him with no expression on her face, and her blank eyes seemed to glow as though burning with fire. She reached out with her right hand while holding the weapon at her side with her left.
“Come with me if you want to live, John Smith,” she said. John Smith. At least I know my name, the man thought. He took the woman’s hand and even though it appeared to be drawn, like a cartoon, he found it warm, and soft. Like a woman’s hand. She was quite strong and pulled him to his feet with very little effort. But he had more questions.
“Who are you? What is this place? What were those… things?”
“My name is Houstonia,” she said. “I am the Queen Protector of Urhart. The creatures you refer to are green corpuscles. They know you are here, John Smith. And more are on the way. Enough questions. We must leave here and return to my fortress where you will be safe. Do you know how to shoot?”
“I think so,” the man said. She handed him the weapon she took off one of the corpuscles. “I’ve never seen anything like this, though.”
“It’s easy. Press this button. That takes it off safe. Then press the trigger. With your training, you can’t miss. Put it on safe and place it in your belt. Come now, we must go,” she commanded. Training, he asked himself. What training? He didn’t remember going through any training. He made sure the weapon was safe and put it in his belt as she directed, then followed her back to her winged creature.
He watched as she deftly climbed on the creature’s back. Then she turned to him.
“Get on, sit behind me.” Once again, he followed her direction. After he seated himself, she took his hands and placed them directly on her bare breasts. He found them to be soft, warm and firm. Much like… who, exactly? “Hold on tight, John Smith,” she said. “Do not let go. You will be safe here with me.”
He watched the creature unfold its wings as Houstonia grabbed the reins. He held his breath as the giant bird took flight, but kept a firm grip on her breasts.
…
Houston sat in a chair next to the bed where her husband, John Smith, lay, tubes in his arms. Tears ran down her face as she looked at him. He was unconscious, but every so often, his body would twitch and jerk. The doctors still had no idea what had happened to him. This was supposed to be the best hospital in London, with some of the best medical experts in the UK. So, why couldn’t they figure out what was wrong with him?
She had already sent a report to her boss, Regis, also known as Alpha One, the head of Alpha Sector. He responded by telling her he was on his way. That was just over 24 hours ago. She expected him to show up any minute. She heard the door to the small room open and turned, hoping it was Alpha One.
Instead, it was Roisin Callahan, the lead agent in the joint MI5/MI6 task force she and John were assigned to as part of an exchange agreement between the US and the UK. Houston and Roisin had butted heads almost from the moment they met. Angry and frustrated by what she felt was the lack of response to her husband’s condition, Houston flew out of her chair and pinned Roisin to the wall, her arm against the Irishwoman’s throat.
“YOU!” she bellowed. “You’ve been busting our chops ever since we got here. I swear to God, if I find out you had anything to do with this, I’ll rip your heart out with my bare hands and feed it to the dogs. You understand me, BITCH?”
Shocked by the ferocity of Houston’s outburst, the blonde woman considered the face of the angry woman before responding. She could have easily handled Houston, she thought, but decided to let her vent her anger. She shook her head instead.
“I’m sorry about what happened to your husband,” she said quietly. “But I assure you I had nothing to do with this.” Just then, the door opened and Regis stepped inside. Seeing him there calmed Houston a bit and she backed off, letting Roisin breathe.
“Is there a problem here?” Regis asked, the brow over his one good eye furrowed.
“No, boss,” Houston said. “Nothing I can’t handle.” Regis nodded his head and looked at Roisin.
“You must be Roisin Callahan,” he said. “I’m Regis Carlisle, head of Alpha Sector. John and Houston work for me. What do you know so far about this attack on my people?”
“We’re still investigating it,” she said. He looked at her, hard.
“Then what the hell are you doing here?” he asked. “Especially since you let the assailants get away?” Her expression got hard and she was about to snap back, but Regis beat her to the punch. “Look, Ms. Callahan, I know all about you. I’ve read John and Houston’s reports. I’ve seen your dossier and I know you had it hard growing up in Northern Ireland. I also know about your animosity against Americans. If you don’t feel you’re up to this, just tell me now and I’ll have a word with the ambassador. I understand he and the Home Secretary are good friends. Perhaps they can find someone who’s professional enough to set aside her bigotry to get the job done.”
Roisin understood the meaning of Regis’ statement, and knew it wouldn’t look good on her record to be removed from such an important mission. She took a few deep breaths to calm down before responding.
“That won’t be necessary, sir,” she said quietly. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”
“You’d better,” he said. “Now MOVE!” Roisin nodded her head and looked at Houston.
“That’s the second time you’ve assaulted me since you’ve been here,” she said. “Rest assured, I won’t tolerate a third.”
“I think you and I are going to have a very serious disagreement before this is all said and done,” Houston told her. Roisin nodded her head and left the room.
“How is he doing?” Regis asked, looking at John. Houston shook her head.
“No better,” she said. “I thought this was supposed to be the best hospital in London. They still don’t know what he’s been hit with.”
“Be patient,” he told her. “They’ll figure it out. Tell me what happened.”
“It’s all in the report.”
“I know, but I want to hear about it from you,” he said.
“John and I had been going through all the files they would let him have access to,” she said. “We went through them with a fine-toothed comb. I helped him as much as I could, looking for any connection he might have overlooked. He found a lot of information about someone named Ian McWhorter.”
“Yes, he works in the Home Secretary’s office and he’s part of the Prime Minister’s entourage to Fort Apache,” Regis said. “They’re due to arrive there in the morning sometime.”
“John found several references to someone named Clive Barker. We were told Barker was a nobody, and not to focus on him, but John argued the point. You know how he can be when he gets something in his head.”
“Yeah, I know,” Regis said with a laugh.
“Anyway, he convinced Roisin they needed to talk to him, find out what he knows and what his connection to McWhorter is. After a while, she caved and we headed over to Hackney where he rents a small apartment. We went in, and there were two men with some kind of gun. Roisin and her men were behind us, and they left when they saw the two men. I guess they were looking for cover. John turned and pushed me out, keeping his body between me and the men.” She stopped talking as tears fell down her cheeks.
“Go on,” Regis said.
“He used his body as a shield to protect me,” she said, sobbing. “That would’ve been me in that bed and not him.” Regis comforted her as she cried.
“Anyway, I heard two muffled shots and I heard John cry out. I knew he had been hit, but I didn’t see any blood and he was still on his feet, so I helped him get downstairs. When we got to the bottom of the stairs outside, he collapsed.
“Some of Roisin’s guys had already left the scene, but she stayed behind and called the ambulance,” she said. “They knew we were coming, Regis. Someone tipped them off. And I’ll bet you it was that bitch Roisin.”
“But you don’t know that for a fact, do you?” Regis asked.
“No, not for a fact. But she and her boss have been dogging us like crazy ever since we got here,” she said. “Blocking us at every turn. It’s like they doesn’t want us to find anything.”
“I know the two of you have been at each other ever since you got here,” he said. “I’m not excusing her actions, mind you, but you should know that she had it rough growing up. And she’s not too fond of Americans. She was engaged to a Naval officer assigned to the Embassy several years ago, but broke it off after she caught him with another woman.”
“So that’s her excuse for hating us? For stonewalling us?”
“Perhaps,” he said. “I’m not condoning her actions toward you and John, but that’s what happened. Is there anything else?”
“Yes,” she said. “John is 100 percent convinced this McWhorter guy is having an affair with the new First Lady.”
“Barbara Pierce?” Regis asked.
“Yes,” she said. “He told me, but he hasn’t said anything to anyone else. Not even Roisin.”
“I’d better let the task force at Fort Apache know,” Regis said. “What else has John found?”
“He’s pretty sure McWhorter has been acting as a mule, bringing cash overseas to his contacts outside the government,” she told him. “He hasn’t been able to confirm it yet, but he’s almost certain of it.”
“That is interesting,” Regis said. “Wasn’t McWhorter one of those present at the party Legstrom invited the two of you to attend,” he asked, referring to the late Senator Franklin Legstrom of the great state of Wyoming. Legstrom had been in office for over 30 years and had a reputation as a kingmaker.
The party Regis mentioned was one in which Legstrom set up one of his aides to be humiliated and cuckolded after he had contacted the Task Force and Alpha Sector, concerned that his boss may have been involved in something illegal. After the party, Legstrom was confronted about his and his wife’s activities and given a choice – either resign or be driven out of office in disgrace. He ultimately chose the coward’s way out and committed suicide.
John and Houston were introduced to McWhorter at the party, and they wondered why a sitting Senator would invite someone from the British Home Secretary’s office.
“Yes, he was,” Houston said. “We always wondered why he would have been there. Legstrom gave an excuse, but we never bought it.”
“Hmm,” Regis said. “Alright, I’ll pass that on to the task force as well. Do you want me to arrange transport for you and John back home?”
“No,” she said emphatically. “I want to finish this assignment. I also need to find the antidote for John and I can’t do that at home.” Regis regarded her for a bit before responding. He felt more pride in her now than ever before.
“All right,” he said. “I’ll talk to Ms. Callahan and her boss. In the meantime, I’ll see what we can do about getting the results of his blood work to our labs. Maybe they can come up with something.”
“Thank you, Regis,” she said.
“You’re welcome,” he said, giving her a fatherly hug. “You know, John would be proud of you right now.” She smiled as he said that. It meant a lot to her after all they had been through. “I’ll be in touch, Houston,” he added before he left. She sat back down and held her husband’s hand. Then she leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the forehead.
“I love you so much, John,” she whispered. “Please, baby, come back to me.” She put her head in her hands and thought back to their arrival in London.
…
They had just received orders to return to London after the case involving Sen. Franklin Legstrom. Upon arrival in Heathrow, they were ferried to the Ham Yard Hotel in Soho, where they put their baggage away. Then they were taken to the Embassy, where they were briefed on the upcoming VIP visit to Fort Apache, home of the HomeFront Security Task Force. According to their brief, both the new U.S. president and the Prime Minister would be briefed by the head of the joint public-private Task Force.
As could be expected, security would be extremely tight for both delegations. The UK had sent an advance party, which consisted of an officer and a non-commissioned officer, both of whom had already been read into the situation. In exchange, the two of them were assigned to work with a task force put together by the Home Secretary’s office.
Their job was to help ferret out whatever information they could that would bring about the complete downfall of MMAS and its European offshoots. The top levels of MMAS, or the “Mutual Marital Assurance Society,” had already been brought down, and the arrest of Legstrom’s wife and others had put a serious crimp in the organization’s ability to pull off another operation. At least, that’s what they had thought at the time.
But there were some loose ends that had not yet been dealt with, primarily because all of the pieces had not yet been put together. Everyone on both sides of the Atlantic was convinced there was a link, but no one was 100 percent certain of who that link was. Security measures put in place by both the US and the UK had so far prevented the two allies from making any measurable progress.
After the fatal heart attack that ended President Skagg’s life, the Vice President, George Pierce, was inaugurated and became president. As part of the transition, he and an entourage of congressional leaders were slated to visit Fort Apache to get briefed on the activities of the Task Force. Because of recent related events that took place in England, the British Prime Minister would also attend, so both allies could be briefed on the situation at the same time.
As far as they knew, very few people knew the full extent of the meeting and no one from the press was allowed to attend, leading many to speculate on the strange joint conference. After the Ambassador filled them in on the nature and reason of their assignment, they were introduced to Roisin Callahan. Houston remembered how that went.
“You must be Roisin Callahan,” John said as she entered the room, pronouncing her name “Row-sheen,” while hoping his time on Google had paid off. The last thing he wanted to do was offend her by mispronouncing her name. He also didn’t want to come across as just another dumb-shit colonial.
“John Smith. This is my wife, Houston. Pleasure to meet you,” he added with an extended hand. Roisin ignored his offer of a handshake and gave a noncommittal grunt as she regarded both John and Houston.
“We’d better get going,” she said. “Car is this way.” They picked up their briefcases and followed her out to the dark blue vehicle that sat in the parking space. John saw a man was waiting for them in the driver’s seat. As they approached, the hood opened.
“Car?” John asked. “Why don’t we just walk on over to your office? It’s just right over there, isn’t it?”
“Yes it is, but we’re not working from there,” Roisin said. “Go ahead and put your cases in the boot.” John and Houston put their briefcases in the trunk and closed it. They got in the car and headed out. Roisin turned in her seat and regarded the two of them in the back. She shook her head in disgust.
“What’s the matter?” John asked.
“We sent you two of our best and what do we get in return? Feckin’ Ken and Barbie,” Roisin said with a snort. “You think I’m supposed to be impressed because you can pronounce my name correct without having to be told?”
“If you’re offended because I can pronounce your name properly, I’ll be sure never to do it again,” John said. “What would you prefer I call you? Bitch?” The driver snickered at that. Roisin glared at him.
“Wind yer neck in, Derek,” she told the man behind the wheel before turning back to John and Houston. John figured that was her way of telling the driver to shut the hell up. “Roisin is fine,” she said.
“I don’t know,” John said. “Personally, I like ‘Bitch’ better. Seems to suit you. Don’t you think, sweetheart?” he asked, looking at Houston, who chuckled.
“Whatever. I hope you understand the seriousness of this case,” Roisin said as she turned to them in the back. “The last thing I want to see is a story about the two of you in the tabloids.”
“This isn’t our first rodeo,” John said. “We know what we’re doing.”
“We’ll see. Speaking of rodeo, I hope you two left your six-guns back on the ranch. You do know we have laws here about carrying firearms,” she said.
“We’re well aware of your gun laws,” John said. “And for the record, I prefer to carry a Glock.” She snorted and turned back to face the front. “You have a problem with Americans or something, Ms. Callahan?” The driver of the car snickered at that. She turned around to face them both.
“I don’t have a problem with Yanks,” she said derisively. “As long as they stay on their side of the Atlantic.” She turned back around and looked out the window as they drove down what their hosts called a ‘motorway.’ To them, it was a freeway. John looked at Houston and shook his head. This was going to be a long assignment, he thought to himself.
When they got to their destination, the driver stopped the car and popped the trunk. Roisin got something out of the glove box as John and Houston got out of the car. After getting out of the car, Roisin deliberately shoulder-checked Houston, nearly knocking her over.
“What the fuck is your problem, bitch?” Houston yelled, getting everyone’s attention. She saw Roisin reach into her jacket for something and prepared herself. They were all shocked when Roisin turned with a semiautomatic pistol in her hand.
Houston reacted faster than anyone imagined, slapping Roisin’s wrist with one hand while taking the pistol with the other. For a second, she held it at Roisin’s face, then ejected the magazine. Keeping her eyes on Roisin, she disassembled the pistol, dropping the pieces on the ground as she went.
Roisin looked at her disassembled weapon on the ground, then back at Houston. Then a slight smile crept across her face.
“I guess the rumors I’ve heard about you are true,” she said.
“What rumors?” Houston asked.
“That Houston Smith may look like a tart, but she has the temper of an Irishwoman. And the claws to match. Would you please be so kind as to reassemble my weapon?”
“Your weapon, your responsibility,” Houston said. “It’s not my fault you can’t hold on to your own gun.”
“Are you two quite finished with your playground games?” a man’s voice asked from the front door of the building.
“Quite finished, sir,” Roisin said as she picked up the pieces of her pistol, reassembling it as she went. John and Houston grabbed their briefcases and the four of them made their way inside. When they got inside, the man who called out to them extended his hand to John.
“Ross Carter,” he said. “You’ve already met Roisin. She’s the lead on this team. She answers to me. Your office is in here.” He directed them into a side room with cardboard boxes stacked nearly to the ceiling. There were two small desks, one of which contained an old out-of-date computer with a 14-inch CRT monitor. John hadn’t seen anything like that since high school.
“What the hell is all this?” he asked.
“The files your people requested,” Ross said.
“Don’t you have them digitized?” John asked. “It’ll take forever to get through all this.”
“Yes, but your network access hasn’t been fully provisioned yet. Could take a while for that to happen.” If ever, John thought to himself.
“What about Internet access?” John asked. Ross pointed to the old computer. John moved the mouse and saw it ran Windows XP. Terrific, he thought to himself. Probably has an old 14.4K baud modem attached to it as well. He looked at the back of the system and saw a phone line going into the wall.
“You can access the Internet on this,” Ross said. “It may be slow, but it’ll do the job. You have access to all the Metro PD files you may need. Roisin or one of the others can show you how that works.”
“Thanks,” John said in a neutral tone of voice.
“Anyway, there’s tea out here. You can help yourself. I know you Yanks probably prefer coffee, so we have some of that as well,” Ross said. “If there’s anything else you need, just let Roisin know and she’ll pass it on to me. I like to hold team briefings every morning at 0700. Any questions?”
“Not yet,” John said, holding Houston back. Ross nodded his head and left the room. Houston was about to climb the walls.
“This is bullshit,” she said. John nodded his head as he set his briefcase down. “Look at them out there, laughing and joking like this is some kinda party or something. What are we gonna do?”
“We’re gonna do our jobs, dear,” he said. “Remember, this is their country and we’re guests here. I’ll report this to Alpha One, though.”
…
The large winged creature flew over the cartoonish landscape with ease. It took John a while to get used to the feel of flying on something like this, and he kept a firm grip on Houstonia’s bare breasts. Even though she looked like a 3D cartoon fresh out of an animated movie, he rather enjoyed the feel of her soft flesh and he couldn’t help but notice that her nipples remained hard and erect the whole time he maintained contact.
Houstonia seemed to like it as well and maneuvered her barely-covered buttocks so they were right up against the crotch of his trousers. As a result, he found himself getting hard. Careful, he thought to himself. The last thing he wanted was to fall off this flying steed so high over the ground.
As they flew, he looked at the strange landscape below. He had never seen anything like it in his entire life. One large hill looked as if it was pulsating, or breathing. He saw long red rivers winding their way through valleys. He expected to see signs of other life – houses, towns, something. But he saw nothing to indicate anyone actually lived here. They banked to the right and Houstonia pointed at a large walled compound on the top of a hill.
“My fortress,” she explained. He held on as she descended to the compound. Finally, the winged creature they rode made contact with the ground and came to a stop in front of a large set of double doors. Two scantily-clad women came out as they climbed off the large bird. Houstonia handed the reins to one of the women and motioned for him to follow her.
The doors opened as they approached. Walking inside the building, John was amazed at the sheer height of the structure. Houstonia pointed to a table that sat low to the ground.
“You need nourishment,” she said. “Wait here.” He sat at the low table and looked around. A few minutes later, she appeared, carrying a tray with two bowls. She placed one in front of him and handed him a spoon. He looked in the bowl and tried to figure out what it was.
“What is this?” he asked. She looked in his bowl and shrugged her shoulders.
“It’s… blue,” she said. “Eat. You need your strength.” He took the spoon and ladled some of the thick blue liquid to his mouth, taking a tentative taste. Strangely enough, he liked the flavor. It reminded him of bacon. He suddenly realized that he was very hungry and quickly finished the bowl. When he set the bowl down, he found that he was full.
“That was very good,” he said. She smiled as she finished her bowl.
“I’m glad you liked it,” she said. “Perhaps you would like to bathe?” He couldn’t remember when he had last taken a bath, so he nodded his head.
“Yes, that would be nice,” he said. “Please.”
“This way,” she said, standing up. He followed her up a long curved stairway to another set of double doors, which opened as they approached. She led him to a large tub that had already been filled with water. Suds from the bath soap created small hills on top of the water. He put a finger in the water and found the temperature was just perfect. He looked at her and wondered if she was going to stand and watch as he disrobed.
“Please, go ahead and remove your clothing,” she said. “It will be cleaned and made ready for tomorrow. It’s okay. You haven’t got anything I haven’t already seen,” she added with a slight smile. Nodding his head, he removed his clothing and laid it on a chair next to the tub. Houstonia snapped her fingers and a scantily-clad woman came in to retrieve his clothing.
He climbed into the tub and enjoyed the feel of the warm water. He looked up at Houstonia, and watched as she removed the two strips of material from her torso. Then she unsnapped the short “skirt” and laid it aside. The tiny thong underneath was next to go, followed by her sandals.
She stood before him totally nude. He gasped as he took in her exquisite nudity. Even though she appeared to have been drawn by the hand of an artist, she looked quite appealing. There was also something about her that was very familiar to him, but he still couldn’t figure it out.
“May I join you?” she asked.
“Of course,” he stammered. What else would he say? This was her place, after all. He watched as she got into the large tub with him.
“I love the feel of a hot bath at the end of a long day, don’t you?” she asked.
“Uh, yeah,” he said a bit nervously.
“Would you be so kind as to wash my back, please?” she asked, turning around in the spacious tub.
“Sure,” he said, taking the wash cloth she offered. He washed her back and a part of him felt that he had done this before. When he finished, they switched places and she washed his back, massaging his muscles as she did so. It felt so good and he found himself relaxing into her arms.
“You are quite strong, John Smith,” she said. “Much stronger than you appear under those clothes you wear.”
“Thank you,” he said.
“I only speak the truth,” she said as she completed her washing. When they finished, they climbed out of the tub. She handed him a thick towel and dried herself off with another. He dried himself, keeping an eye on her.
“Perhaps you should lie down now,” she said, making her way to a large bed in the middle of the room. The covers had already been pulled down, and he had to admit, it looked very inviting.
“I don’t have anything to wear,” he said a bit nervously.
“You don’t need to wear anything,” she said with a smile. “I’m here to take care of your needs. All of them,” she added, looking as his growing cock.
“You’re wearing a ring,” he said. “Are you married?”
“Yes,” she said. “My husband is the master of this realm. It is part of him and he is part of it. But he is not here and he would be very upset if I did not take care of you.”
“You do this sort of thing often?” he asked.
“Oh good lord, no,” she said. “I usually take care of myself at night. Truth is, you’re the first man I’ve had in this bed in a very long time. It’s alright. Lay down. Let me take care of you.” He laid down and found the bed to be quite comfortable. She got on top of him, straddling his hips. “Just relax. Let me do all the work.”
As he laid there, she took his cock in her hand and deftly guided it into her. She may have looked like a cartoon, but she certainly felt like a very real woman. He gasped as he entered her. All of this seemed so very familiar to him. Everything about this woman – her smell, the way she felt, everything – seemed so familiar, but he still couldn’t place it. He felt like it was right there, on the very tip of his brain, but he was unable to connect the dots.
She rode up and down on him, moaning in ecstasy as she did so. He moaned with her. She felt so good, so right. It was as if he was right where he belonged, and he never wanted it to end. Eventually, he felt the urge and apparently, she did as well.
“That’s right, John Smith,” she moaned. “Cum inside me. Fill me up. Please.” Their orgasms hit at the same time and they held each other tight for the longest time. Finally, he looked into her eyes and she stared back into his. They stayed like that for a few seconds, connecting on a different plane. Finally, she slid off him and laid down next to him.
He considered her body as she lay there. It was a bit strange seeing his semen inside her, but he felt no regret.
“Hold me,” she whispered. “Let me be the girl of your dreams.” He smiled and laid down next to her, taking her in his arms before falling asleep.
…
Houston sat next to her husband and watched him thrash back and forth on the bed. She couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in his mind right now. He relaxed for a bit and she began to breathe easier. Then she saw him start to get hard. Instinctively, she reached under the covers and under his hospital gown.
She took his hardening cock into her hand and slowly stroked it, wondering what it was that had excited him.
“Are you dreaming about me, baby?” she whispered. “That’s alright, sweetheart. Let me take care of you. Just relax. Let me do all the work.” She kissed his forehead and watched as he moaned in pleasure. She smiled and kept stroking him, gently. She looked at the door and had a wicked thought.
Pulling the covers down, she bent over and took his hard cock into her mouth. She sucked on it as he moaned in his sleep, not stopping until he filled her mouth with his seed. She licked him clean and put his softening cock back down, straightening the gown over him. She covered him back up and kissed him on the forehead.
“Sleep tight, John,” she said. “Sweet dreams.” She saw him relax and noticed the slight smile on his face. It was the smile he always gave her after they made love. She took a sip of the cold tea that had been sitting on the counter and heard a tapping on the door.
“Come in,” she said. The door opened and a nurse popped her head inside. She came inside and checked John’s chart, making notes.
“How is he doing?” she asked. “I noticed some activity on his monitor and thought I should come check.”
“He seems to be resting now,” Houston said. “Any word from the doctor?”
“We just heard from the doctor. He’s been in the lab and he’s on his way up. He should be here any time now. Is there anything you need?”
“I’m fine, thank you for asking,” Houston said. The nurse nodded her head and left the room. About a half-hour later, a middle-aged man in medical garb came into the room carrying a folder. Houston stood as he entered.
“Mrs. Smith,” he said. “I’m Doctor Jenkins. Sorry for keeping you waiting. How is your husband doing?”
“He seems to be resting peacefully now,” Houston said. “Do you know what’s wrong with him?”
“I believe so,” the doctor said. “Your husband has received a very large dose of what looks like an extremely potent psychotropic drug.”
“A what?” Houston asked.
“It’s a drug that affects the central nervous system. The problem is that it’s a compound I’ve never seen before. Because of that, we’re not really sure how to treat it,” he said. “What concerns me is the lasting affects of this drug. I’m concerned that if something isn’t done soon, your husband may never wake up. Or if he does, his brain and nervous system will be so damaged that he’ll be left in a vegetative state. It may become necessary to consider taking him off his life support.”
“That’s not acceptable to me, doctor,” she said. “Can’t you synthesize something to help bring him out of this?”
“It’s not that simple, Mrs. Smith,” he said. “For one thing, I don’t believe we have the time. For another, I’m sorry to say, the funds for that type of thing just aren’t available.”
“Then can you get me everything you have on this drug?”
“I’m not sure what good that would do, Mrs. Smith,” he said.
“The company I work for has… resources. We’ve dealt with things similar to this before. If you can email me everything you can on this drug, I can forward it on to them. It can’t hurt to try,” she said. He thought about it for a moment, then nodded his head, sighing loudly.
“Alright, Mrs. Smith,” he said. “We’ll try it your way for now. But time is of the essence here.”
“I understand,” she said, writing down her email address on a business card. She handed him the card, which he put in his pocket. “Get that to me as fast as you can, doctor. Please,” she said.
“Very well, Mrs. Smith,” he said. “I’ll send you everything I can. In the meantime, we’ll do everything we can to keep him comfortable. Let me know what you find out. Good luck.”
“Thank you, doctor,” she said. A bit later, her phone buzzed. She looked and saw that the doctor had kept his promise. She quickly composed an email message and forwarded the information to Alpha Sector’s medical facility, the researchers at Fort Apache and Regis. Hopefully, an answer could be found soon.
…
Brent Cavanaugh, the current Secretary of State for the Home Department, sat in the overstuffed high-backed chair he usually occupied when he visited the prestigious gentlemen’s club. He sipped his drink and looked up in time to see the large, one-eyed man walking up to him. He noted the man’s swagger and smiled to himself.
“Americans,” he thought to himself with a certain disdain. “They all think they’re John Wayne.”
Out of courtesy, he stood as Regis Carlisle stopped in front of him. Regis extended a hand, and he accepted it before inviting him to sit down across from him.
“Mr. Carlilse, I presume,” Brent said. “I’ve always wanted to use that line.” Regis smiled and nodded his head.
“Please, call me Regis, Mr. Secretary,” Regis said. “And thank you for agreeing to see me on such short notice.”
“It’s my pleasure,” Brent said. “Anything to maintain good relations with our American allies. May I offer you something to drink?”
“Coffee would be good, please, Mr. Secretary,” Regis said. Of course, Brent thought to himself. Americans would probably eat the stuff raw if they could. He motioned for a waiter, who nearly ran over to find out what the high government official wanted.
“A cup of coffee for my American guest, if you would please,” Brent said.
“Yes, sir,” the waiter said. “How would you like it, sir?” the waiter asked Regis, trying hard not to wince at the sight of Regis’ craggy face and large eye patch. He wondered what the large American had done to lose an eye like that, then quickly decided he really didn’t want to know.
“Black, please,” Regis said.
“Yes sir,” the waiter said. “One black coffee, sir.” The waiter turned and left.
“So, Regis, how is your Agent Smith?” Brent asked.
“I got a message from my agent, Houston,” Regis said. “The doctor said he believes John was hit with an extremely potent psychotropic drug, and they’re trying to find a suitable treatment.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Regis,” Brent said. “I hope he recovers soon.”
“I do too, Mr. Secretary,” Regis said.
“So, what can I do for you? I take it you haven’t spoken to the ambassador yet.”
“No, Mr. Secretary, I haven’t,” Regis said. Brent already knew something of Regis’ reputation, so he wasn’t surprised the man hadn’t followed the proper chain of command. So typical of these brash colonials, he thought to himself. Still, they seem to get the job done when push comes to shove.
“The truth is, Mr. Secretary, I’ve gotten some very disturbing reports from my agents,” Regis continued. “They believe they’re being stonewalled. Held back by your people.”
“I see,” Brent said as the waiter returned with Regis’ coffee. Regis considered the tiny cup on the table between him and Brent and wondered how in the hell he was supposed to hold the tiny thing. Don’t these people know how to pour a man’s cup of coffee, for crying out loud? He kept his criticism to himself as he gingerly picked up the cup and took a tentative taste.
“Well, Regis, I’ve gotten some disturbing reports myself,” Brent added. “Especially concerning your Houston Smith. According to Ms. Callahan, Mrs. Smith is abrasive, confrontational, insubordinate and exhibits violent tendencies.” Regis smiled. That’s my girl, he thought proudly. He nodded his head.
“Only when she’s provoked, Mr. Secretary,” he said.
“Are you excusing her behavior?”
“I’ll talk to her about it, Mr. Secretary, rest assured,” Regis said.
“I’ve also heard that Mr. Smith put his fist through a wall after a disagreement with one of my people,” Brent said. “I certainly hope this isn’t the type of behavior you condone and encourage in your people.”
“I’m sure John had a good reason for that, Mr. Secretary. According to the agreement between our two governments, my people were to have access to all information related to this case. They were also supposed to have access to all the infrastructure necessary to complete their job. From what I’ve seen, that hasn’t happened.”
“Your people were given all the files we had, and they were given, as you say, access to infrastructure and access to support personnel,” Brent said.
“Mr. Secretary, with all due respect, sir,” Regis said. “Where I come from, we have a saying. Don’t piss down my back and tell me it’s raining.”
“Now see here, old boy,” Brent began, his temper flaring. Regis held up a hand and cut him off.
“Mr. Secretary, my people were given nothing but hardcopy paper files to sort through. You know as well as I do that alone slowed them down considerably. They were also given no access to any digital files and the one computer they had access to was an old out-of-date machine with an operating system that barely functions and the only Internet access they had was through a slow dial-up. As a result, I have a man laying in a hospital bed fighting for his life,” Regis said.
“On the other hand,” he added. “Your people have been given full access to whatever they need, no questions asked. They’ve also been treated with the utmost respect and dignity, unlike Mrs. Smith, who says your agents have engaged in actions that could be seen as sexual harassment. Now, I’m not here to trade accusations, Mr. Secretary. As far as I’m concerned, our people are adults and they can handle their own problems.”
“On that, we can agree, Regis,” Brent said. “So, what is the REAL reason you’re here?”
“I’m not entirely sure you’re aware of the big picture, Mr. Secretary,” Regis said. “What would you say if I told you there is a conspiracy underway to completely undermine Anglo-American relations?”
“I’d say you’re bonkers,” Brent said.
“I understand, Mr. Secretary. Do you remember what happened to Elizabeth Skaggs?”
“You mean your former First Lady? The one who died of a stroke here a couple years back?”
“Yes, her,” Regis said.
“What about her?”
“She didn’t die of a stroke, Mr. Secretary. She poisoned herself. She was about to poison a federal agent, then changed her mind and took her own life.”
“Oh my God. That’s bloody awful,” Brent said.
“I agree. But there’s more, Mr. Secretary. You see, she was part of a plot to take down President Skaggs. And, she was a British subject.”
“What?” Brent asked, his eyes wide. He sat up in his chair at this revelation.
“I though that’d get your attention,” Regis said. “Her twin sister was a woman named Mona Larsen. She was an attorney who started something called the Mutual Marital Assurance Society. Originally, it was a group set up to punish husbands who stray in their marriages. Using rather barbaric means, I might add. The group turned political and set their sights on something higher. Namely, the White House.”
“There’s more, Mr. Secretary. You remember that incident in Penrith here a few months ago?”
“Yes, a rather sordid episode if you ask me,” Brent said.
“The woman involved in that, a Cecelia Greene, was Mona and Elizabeth’s older sister,” Regis said. “On top of that, we have evidence indicating that an employee of yours, one Ian McWhorter, made a number of trips between the US and the UK for the purpose of transporting US taxpayer money to Greene and her associates. Part of that was for a hit on a US federal agent. We also have evidence suggesting that he’s involved in a sexual relationship with the current president’s wife. If that’s not a serious security breach, I don’t know what is. As I’m sure you’re aware, Mr. McWhorter is in the US right now with Prime Minister Brown.”
“Bloody hell,” Brent gasped.
“Indeed,” Regis said. “Now, imagine the worst – that something might happen to either your prime minister or my president – or both – while at a secure facility in my country’s heartland. What do you think the ramifications of that might be?” Brent’s eyes grew wide and his face turned a paler shade of white. Regis nodded his head.
“That’s right,” Regis said. “Everything our two countries have built up over the last 100 years or more would be gone, like THAT,” he added, snapping his fingers. “My agents were this close,” he said, holding his thumb and forefinger very close together, “to busting the whole damn thing wide open when my man was attacked. And that was despite your people’s best efforts to stonewall them.”
“You think my people may have been in on it?” Brent asked.
“My agent – Houston Smith – believes someone tipped them off,” Regis said. “The only ones who knew they were going to Hackney were my agents and Callahan’s team.”
Brent sat in his chair, thinking about the potential ramifications and considering all his possible moves. He stroked his chin as he played political chess in his head. He finally came to a decision and looked at Regis.
“What do you need from me?” he asked.
“Well, for starters, something a bit more civilized than this crap you call coffee,” Regis said with a sly smile. Brent smiled back. Yes, perhaps this American was redeemable after all, he thought to himself.
…