Aurora - Blood Moon Tribute Pt. 04

Chuck looked around to see who they might be talking to. "Me?"

Angelique gestured with her chin in the direction of the cavernous bar. "Some men inside," she frowned, "they have harassing us."

"They think we working girls." Rachel confirmed, "They try to make us go with them."

"Can we sit with you, sir?" Angelique asked. "Pretend we friend?"

"They're not gonna mess with us, right?" Chuck asked.

"No, no," Rachel assured him, "they see we with you, they stay away."

"Well in that case..." Chuck said, "welcome, Ladies. Please, take a seat."

"Just for a while." Angelique said, slinging a small, slim leg over and sitting down on his right. "Till they go."

Rachel put a hand on Chuck's shoulder, steadying herself as she hurdled the trestle, her hem riding up to within half an inch of a spectacle. "You sure is okay?" she asked. "Maybe your wife or girlfriend is here?"

Chuck looked from one to the other. Two stunning little Orientals, black hair, brown skin, tiny tits and slim figures, their smell reminiscent of a florist shop. He looked at Bragg with an expression of disbelief, like he'd just won first prize in the lottery without even buying a ticket.

The girl to his right offered her tiny hand. "Please to meet you." she said, waiting while Chuck took her fingers in his sweating paw and gave them a squeeze. Angelique did likewise, shaking Chuck's hand, then surreptitiously wiped her fingers on her pants.

"Umm..." Chuck said, wondering frantically if he should use a false name. "The name's Ch... Ch... Chuck. Nice to meet you, ladies."

"Ohh, Mitta Chuck," Angelique rolled her eyes, "we so lucky to meet you."

"Ladies, let me assure you. The pleasure is mine."

"My name Angel."

"And I'm Rachel." Angel's co-conspirator said, vying for attention.

"Well, it sure is great to meet you, girls. And don't worry, no one's gonna mess with you now, not while Chuck's around."

On the far side of the table, ostensibly shunned but actually enjoying in the show, Bragg cleared his throat. Chuck looked at him, and Bragg gestured minutely at the women with a flick of his eyes. Then he sat waiting, as if deferring to the American yet hanging out for an intro. Not wishing to rouse even the slightest competition, Chuck nodded at his erstwhile best friend. "Girls. This is Robert."

Bragg offered his hand. The Filipina's smiled and said, 'Hello Robert.' but otherwise made no attempt to shake.

"So," Chuck said, a tremor in his voice, cock stirring inside his crumpled suit pants, "what brings you here?"

"Taxi." Rachel replied with disarming inanity. If this American took them for stupid, it would simply loosen his tongue all the sooner.

"Mm hmm." Angelique nodded. "We come in taxi."

Chuck patted Rachel's hand. She was sitting hard beside him, with one knee touching his leg. "I mean why did you come here?" he asked. "Are you meeting someone?"

Angelique wrapped her full lips around a red plastic straw, then took a long, suggestive draw. She swallowed. "Just finish work." she said, "Come for drink."

"Work?" Chuck elevated his eyebrows, hoping he knew what type. "What do you do?"

"Work in travel agent." Rachel replied.

"My," Chuck said, then picked up his beer. His hand was shaking, "that sounds exciting."

"What about you Mitta Chuck? You come for holiday?"

Chuck opened his mouth to reply but Bragg beat him to it. He looked around, checking the coast was clear, then leant over the table and in a low voice announced, "Chuck's a secret agent."

The girls' eyes flew open and their jaws sagged. "No way!" Rachel exclaimed and Chuck heaved a sigh.

"It's true I'm afraid, but it's best you keep that under your hat."

Angelique squeezed his thigh while Rachel fanned herself. "You CIA?"

Chuck pointed to the heavens as the blood surged downstairs, at the feel of the hot little hand an inch from his straining cock. "Higher."

The girls looked at each other in amazement, playing the hapless punter like a violin. "Higher than CIA?"

"Uh huh." Chuck nodded, then took a sip and licked his lips. "Spec ops."

"See?" Bragg said, playing his part, that of a spare organ at a wedding, "He's a secret, secret agent."

"Nooo," Rachel said, one hand out of sight under the table, stroking the inside of Chuck's thigh. "That too dangerous, Mitta Chuck."

"Umm..." Chuck said, as a last gasp of lucidity shouldered through the arousal, "You're sure you girls are travel agents, right? I mean, I AM special ops. This isn't a honey trap or anything?"

Coming upright, the girls whipped their hands away to Chuck's instant regret, then conferred in rapid-fire Tagalog. "Here!" Angelique said, clearly affronted, ratting through the handbag on the table in front of her, "I show you my ID."

Chuck hastily declined. "No, no girls, that's not necessary, honest. I'm sorry. It's just that... you know... a guy like me can't be too careful."

"Nor can a lady!" Rachel glared. "We trusted you."

"No, no, you're right." Chuck nodded, gesturing them down. "Bob?" he said, reaching into his jacket and fishing out his wallet. "Go and get these ladies a cocktail. And two more beers. This time they're on me."

Bragg nodded, taking the fifty US Chuck proffered over the table. Shoulders stooped, back slightly bent, he scurried off like a faithful minion while Chuck sat back, hoping his indulgence might lure the hands back. Smoothing their ruffled feathers, the 2 Filipinas relaxed, one elbow each on the table, one hand each on Chuck's thighs.

Two hours on, watching the girls weave their magic, Bragg sat marvelling at the American's bladder control. They'd had his whole life story, from spec ops in the war- though he was not at liberty to say which one- commanding an elite squad of assassins, in a unit so secret not even the President knew of it. Hitting HVTs- High Value Targets, he went on to elaborate- deep in enemy territory. The odd hot extraction. Chuck at the controls of a hijacked enemy helicopter, low level at night, on Night Vision Goggles, dodging ground fire, flying his grateful squad to safety. Then there was the time he seduced the gorgeous young wife of a hated Eastern European despot, and turned her against him, fomenting a revolution before spiriting her away, in a stolen mini sub, only to have her die in his arms once they'd reached his luxury villa... brain haemorrhage or something... while they were making love. Not only that, but he'd once fought his way, single-handed, through an enemy blockade, to rescue some kids, a couple of hundred of them, before leading them and their teachers to sanctuary over the mountains. Where they survived an avalanche, before escaping down a river on makeshift rafts. And then there was that time in Africa. During an outbreak of Ebola. When he was parachuted in with a secret vaccine. And by the way, had anybody here ever fought off an Anaconda?

And all the through the performance the Filipina's looked on in awe, never once breaking character, playing the part of lovestruck schoolgirls, enthralled by their idol's tales. "Hey, Rob!" Chuck suddenly said and Bragg looked up from his phone. "Show me where the men's room is, willya?"

"Huh?" Bragg said, "Why sure."

Chuck extracted himself then roughly rearranged the contents of his boxers. While a raging erection had kept it in check for half the night, he was busting for a piss, and desperate for the sage advice of his faithful old pal.

Once in the toilet, they stepped up to the stainless-steel trough side-by-side. Chuck fumbled his fly. In spite of the back-pressure caused by his tumescence, he was pissing before his cock even set eye on the urinal. "Holy shit!" he huffed, as Bragg narrowly dodged an arc of hot pee, "How about those babes?"

"Rachel and Angel? I reckon they're hot for you."

Chuck seized Bragg in a brotherly headlock, loudly peeing onto the metal in front of him. "Do... do... d'ya think so, Bob? Really?"

"Hundred percent." Bragg replied, the very portrait of sincerely, "I'm totally serious. I tried to attract their attention once or twice, but they're totally rapt. Can't you smell it?"

"Smell what?"

Bragg looked around for eavesdroppers. "Wet pussy! Man, I tell you they're hot. For you."

"Wh.... wha.... what do you think they'd say? If I asked them back to my room?"

"Both of them?"

"D... d'ya think it's possible?"

"Depends." Bragg hedged, still in a loose headlock, shaking the last drops from his own deflated dick, "They might be too scared."

"Scared?" Chuck frowned, "Of what?"

"What do you think? You're a stone-cold assassin, Chuck."

Chuck turned, still peeing, almost hosing his best buddy's thigh. "No, no, no. Not any more. That sort shit's all behind me."

"Well what are you doing here? They'll wanna know."

"I told you, I'm just a scout. For a very rich and secret employer."

"You're not here to whack anyone?"

Chuck shook his head as the lively stream died to a trickle. "Honest."

"Well... If you can just explain what you're doing. So they feel safe."

"Of course they're safe."

"Well there you go. They might just be up for it."

"B... b... both of them?"

Bragg shrugged. "Be a pity to only take one. And who would you choose? They're both goddam babes."

The two of them, in his room. Chuck's cock began to stiffen at the very idea. He'd never been overseas before, let alone faced the prospect of an international threesome. Letting Bragg go, he dropped his chin to his sternum trying to jam the misbehaving member back in his pants. "So what do I do?"

Bragg lay his hands on the American's shoulders. "Just act natural, man, show 'em your gentle side. And be honest, tell 'em what you're really doing. These girls are smart, don't try to bullshit them. And keep 'em in drinks. Nothing opens legs like an evening of cocktails."

The girls were sitting side-by-side when they returned, Chuck could swear they were kissing, but they quickly shuffled aside to make room between them. "Well ladies," he said with a grandiose sweep of the arm, "I guess you've both been wondering. What Chuck's actually doing over here?"

The girls nodded, wide-eyed, and Bragg parked his elbows on the grog-puddled table.

"My b... burrrp... boss is a multi, multi -billionaire." he said dramatically. "And he's coming to meet the king."

Angelique shot up. "No way!"

"What his name?" Rachel asked. "Is he a movie star?"

"Sorry." Chuck raised a hand. "Not allowed to say."

"Well what sort of billionaire is he?" Rachel persisted. "I mean, how did he make his money?"

Chuck arched his eyebrows. "Drugs."

The girl's jaws dropped again and Chuck hastened to explain. "Not 'drugs' drugs. Not bad ones. Medicines."

"Like big pharma?" Bragg asked, sensing the time was right to join in. With two little hands on his cock, its own tiny brain in total control, Chuck had just kissed his better judgement goodnight. `"Not just big pharma." Chuck nodded. "Huge. Massive."

"Pfizer?" Bragg asked. "Johnson and Johnson?"

"Nuh." Chuck shook his head.

"Come on Mitta Chuck!" Rachel glared, "We trust you, why you no trust us."

Sensing a threat to this once in a lifetime chance, Chuck heaved a sigh. "Look. His name is Gideon Woodrow-Munt. Ever heard of him?"

Three heads shook in unison.

"Right. Nobody has. He's one of the most secretive characters on Earth, and one of the richest. He's a genius. Virtually created the market for dietary drugs and supplements- the fatter the world becomes the richer he gets."

"That is so awesome." Angelique breathed.

"So why is he meeting the king?" Bragg frowned, "Is he on a diet?"

Chuck dismissed Bragg through a mouthful of beer. "No no no..." he said, "that's got nothing to do with it."

"Well what is it then?" Rachel asked, leaning into her victim. "Something secret?"

Chuck looked around in a quandary. The mere thought of these 2 hot babes, lying naked on his hotel bed, was enough to make his heart race, yet he'd been sworn to secrecy by the boss's PA, who would have been here himself, had he not been banned from the country for a previous indiscretion. "Look," he said, then took a fortifying mouthful, "I didn't tell you this, but there's this thing..."

His enthralled audience exchanged glances. "What sort of thing?" Bragg asked.

"It's like a great big fuck-party... excuse me girls... a great big exclusive party. On the king's private island. Every couple of years. It's like a tradition. By invitation only... one hundred of world's richest and most powerful men. But they must bring a gift. And in return..." Chuck leant in towards the centre of the table, drawing the rest in with him, "in return they get to have sex. For ten whole days. With the world's most beautiful women."

Rachel gestured at her own petite body. "More beautiful as us?"

Chuck looked from one little stunner to the other. "At least!" he said earnestly, while Bragg looked on, momentarily gobsmacked. An orgy on an island, rich and powerful men bearing gifts? His boss was going to the Blood Moon tribute.

"What sort of gift is he bringing?" Angelique asked. "To be given such an honour?"

"Diet pills?" Rachel suggested, batting her big, dark eyes.

"Oh no," Chuck shook his head, "not diet pills." Chuck, who'd consumed far too much already, slugged back another mouthful of delicious, cold beer. He looked around, then reconvened the huddle. "Ever hear of telomeres?" he asked.

Rachel knitted her brow. "Television?"

" 'Lo-meres'." Chuck corrected. "It's, like, a gene thing."

His audience exchanged nonplussed looks.

"They're like these things." Chuck explained, "On your chro... chroso... chrosomones. The older you get the shorter they are. Until they get so short..." Chuck looked around, "you diiiie!"

The girls pushed back from the table. "Nooooo!"

"Uh huh," Chuck nodded, "that's what happens to most people. But if you can stop them getting shorter, you can actually live forever... well, hundreds of years at any rate... and my boss has found a way he can do that. And he's giving it to the king. The new treatment."

"In return for a few days of sex?" Bragg frowned. "With the sort of chicks he could just order in?"

"What? No. In return for a place to set up a lab. That's why I'm here. Doing the spade work... talking to developers and landowners and what-not."

"Why here?" Bragg asked, genuinely interested.

"The laws are different." Chuck said airily. "That's how this place got so goddam rich."

"I thought it was the oil." Bragg said.

"As well as the oil."

"But why doesn't he set up in the States or wherever?" Bragg pressed. "Or Europe? Ab Aldafra seems like an odd place to choose."

"Well," Chuck said, and swilled his beer, "here's the thing. The... 'authorities'... in the west won't let him operate."

"Why ever not? A deal like this must be worth millions."

"Billions." Chuck corrected. "Trillions."

"Then why here?"

"Like I told you. The laws."

"There are laws against making a fortune?" Bragg frowned. "In the west?"

"Well," Chuck said, and heaved a belch, "here's the thing. It's on account of the ingredients."

"What about them?" Bragg asked.

Chuck leant in further, tightening the huddle. "They have to be taken from babies."

"Babies?" Angelique grimaced.

"Foetuses," Chuck nodded, "Uh huh. Problem is they have to be alive. When they're harvested."

"Harvested?" Angelique shrilled. "You mean the babies?"

"The stem cells. From the babies."

Rachel screwed her face up. "Does it hurt them?"

"Not sure," Chuck shrugged, "but I don't think so. In any case they all die."

"Die?" Rachel cried and put her hand to her mouth. "The babies?"

Chuck blanched, wondering if he'd just gone and blown it. It had all sounded so straight forward the way they'd explained it- surplus humans, facing short, brutal lives. And absolved, in the process, of Original Sin. "Well they're not really babies, not technically speaking. Just... foetuses."

Angelique sat with a hand to her mouth. "But that... that... that... that's murder!"

"Hey hey hey!" Chuck hastened, "No, no. It's not like that. All these kids are aborted. Look. You're Christians, right? Aren't you girls?"

The dumbfounded females both nodded.

"Well there you go. They don't use Christian babies, only non-Christian. So the kids they use were going to Hell anyway. This way they might even get into heaven."

Angelique looked at Bragg, her eyes wide with horror. He narrowed his own eyes a pinch, reminding her they had a deal.

"And it's not like they need hundreds of them either. Just a couple per day, four or five. The king told my boss lots of guest workers here get pregnant. Out of wedlock. Which is illegal."

Angelique leant past him and commenced talking to Rachel in rapid-fire Filipino. Then, as one, they slung their legs over the trestle seat and got to their feet. Chuck looked around in dismay as they turned their backs and set off, arm in arm, hips swaying, tight asses jiggling defiantly. Chuck watched them go over his shoulder. "What the... did I just say something wrong?"

"Shots!" Bragg said, extracting himself. "Brilliant idea. They're going for shots. Chuck! You hold the fort and I'll go give the girls a hand." Reaching out he patted Chuck's shoulder. "If you ask me Chuck, you're in."

"I am?"

"When they go for shots. That's the secret sign."

"Oh..." Chuck frowned, then his face lit up. "Oh! Do you mean it?"

"Face it man, how could they resist. Wait here."

Bragg caught the pair, just as they reached the hunting ground in front of the bar. Rachel had already acknowledged a registration of interest when Bragg grabbed her hand and pulled her to a stop. "What are you doing?" he pleaded and Rachel flicked back her hair.

"That man is a monster." Angelique said haughtily, going for her handbag. "Here. Keep your money."

"He's not a monster, he's an idiot. His boss is a monster."

Rachel curled her lip. "Work for a monster, you become the monster."

"You know how those guests-workers get pregnant?" Angelique demanded. "Mostly rape. By their employer. So is he breaking the law?" She shook her head. "No. In this horrible country, she is."

"We might be business girls," Rachel added, "but we still have our honour. Mister Roger. I will not have anything to do with that animal."

"Girls!" Bragg pleaded, "Girls!" He looked around desperately, then shepherded them into the shadows. "Look! I'm as disgusted as you are, but you bailing out isn't gonna change anything. You really want to stop this? Stop his boss setting up shop?"

The girls conferred with a glance. "What you say?"

Bragg licked his lips. "I might know a way we can stop him. Or at least I can try. But first things first, what we need is information." Like, how to score an invite to the Blood Moon Tribute. "And the best way to do that is... well... using your talents."

The girls looked at each other, weighing it up. No expatriate was safe from the laws of the land, the low-paid and poorly educated least of all. Every female guest-worker walked a knife-edge day-by-day, easy money one side, years in jail on the other. Or worse. And they all knew someone who'd fallen foul of the culture.

"I'm serious girls." Bragg pressed, knowing he'd touched their sense of decency. "I think I know a way I can stop this, but I'm gonna need your help."

"If I didn't know you." Angelique said, then left it hanging.

"What do we have to do?" Rachel asked.

"You don't HAVE to do anything. But if you want to, we can get a few shots into this idiot then get him back to his room. I'll need his documents... passport, visa, that sort of thing. Plus travel itinerary and anything else I can find. It'll be in his safe. All I need is the combination."

"Oh," Rachel said, arching her eyebrows. "I thought you meant something difficult."