Breathless Ch. 01byEvil Alpaca©
This story is a bit wordy and fairly long, so if you are looking for immediate gratification, you might want to look elsewhere.
The following story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between these character and events and any real person or events is strictly coincidental . . . and pretty darn impressive seeing as it is a science fiction story. Do not reproduce or copy this story without the consent of the author.
This story is based in an alternative universe, where history took a different course than the one we are used to. In this world, the creatures which we now believe to be legends have walked alongside man for the duration of our existence. Vampires, werewolves, wizards, witches, sorcerers, and a host of other beings share our world.
The following story contains, in one chapter or another, lesbian and heterosexual activity in different proportions.
"Cheeseburgers in paradise, heaven on earth with an onion slice, not too particular . . . crap!" Sadie glanced down and noticed that her 1972 Dodge Ram pickup was really low on gas. It didn't help that she was lucky to get fifteen miles per gallon with strong tailwind while going downhill, but she would be damned before she gave up her truck. She'd put more money into maintaining it than she'd bought it for, but it was all worth it.
"C'mon babe, just a litte further," she said, eyeballing the exit ramp that lead to the holiest of places for travelers: the Truckstop of North America station. Gas, nachos, and the sixty-four ounce mega-gulp of Mountain Dew were just a hundred meters away. Her stomach growled, but she wasn't sure if it was from anticipation or objection. She didn't care. The taste buds want what the taste buds want.
The truck coasted up to the pumps and happily came to a stop, letting Sadie pop out and stretch her legs. It was the middle of the night, which always made for interesting quick-stop encounters. She saw a dozen motorcycles parked on the dirt across the access road, a couple dozen semis off to the side, and a smattering of cars in the lot and the pump area. The few people who were outside couldn't help but look her way.
First, the truck itself had a vibe about it . . . an aura. Perfect pitch-black paint job and shiny silver trim, metalic-silver flat hard-cover on the back, and black-tinted windows. The coup de grace was the silver ram's head hood ornament that she loved so very much. Most people wouldn't realize it, but it was actual silver, and it had been magically adhered to the hood so that it would be easier to steal the whole truck rather than try and rip off the ornament.
But if the truck was the left hand, then Sadie Hewitt was the right: she was a genuine knock out. Standing only five and a half feet tall, she had an impish face and crisp, light-blue eyes, full lips adorned lightly with peach colored lipstick, and it was all topped off with wild blond curls that reached down to her belt. He had a denim vest stretching to its limits to contain her more-than-ample bosom, also leaving her rock-hard abs exposed. Tight blue jeans encased those lightly curved hips, toned muscular legs, and firm butt. A lot of attractive women played coy and reeked of false humility. Not Sadie . . . she was hot and she knew it. She'd spent a long time working on that body, and she would be damned if she wasn't going to show it off every chance she got.
She finished filling up and grabbed her receipt, glancing over to the storefront. Three bikers were hanging out front, and two of them seemed to be glancing her way an awful lot. She noticed their jackets read "El Diablo" . . . she knew of them. Not a bad group actually. They tended to get into a lot of bar fights, even for bikers, but she'd crossed paths with them several times and had enjoyed many a drink in their company. Those two started towards her and she finally got a good look at third, and she suppressed a grin.
'This is gonna be fun,' she thought.
"Hey sweetness," the first one said. He was young, but already had a head start on his beer gut. Both he and his friend had that cocky swagger of people who'd just gotten the training wheels off their bikes and thought that made them hot shit.
"Where you from and how looooooong --" the other one started, grabbing his crotch, "you planning on sticking around?"
Sadie opened her eyes as wide as she could, let her "blondness" creep from her hair into her brain and made her voice as high as possible. "I . . . I just came to get filled up," she said, making herself look as nervous as possible and proud at setting them up the way she had. "I don't want no trouble."
"We ain't looking to give you trouble," the first one said.
"But we can help you get filled up," the other one said. The two bikers grinned at each other.
'Don't be too proud you morons,' Sadie thought. "I GAVE you that innuendo!'
"I . . . I just need --"
"I'll bet you do," biker number two replied. "But I think I've got all you need --"
"Right there?" Sadie's eyes went from vacant to wanton. "It looks so big," she said, then thought, 'For a cocktail weiner.' "Much bigger than those assholes at the club had. How's a girl supposed to make a living grinding her ass against teeny tiny little dicks?" She let loose her best bimbo-giggle.
"A stripper hunh?"
"Exotic dancer!" she replied, putting her fists on her hips, trying to look indignant.
"Sorry, sorry. Exotic dancer." Biker number one pulled out his wallet. "So, how much for a private dance?"
She lowered her eyelashes and bit her bottom lip. "One or both of you?"
The second bikers was looking like he'd just won the lottery. "Both!"
She reached out both hands and touched them on the leg just below the crotch. "Hmm . . . a party like that would run about --" Her hands cupped their crotchs softly.
"Yes?" both men groaned at once.
Her grip tightened and she lifted both men a foot off the ground, holding them there as her fangs extended and she said, "-- about a billion dollars more than either of you will earn in your now very short lifetime!"
"Oh God oh God oh God!" one of them screamed in significant pain and fear.
"A damn vamp!" the other one screamed, trying desperately to push against her hand and make her release her vice-like grip.
She released her grip, letting both men fall to the pavement where they curled up and clung to their private parts. The third biker had walked over to watch and was in the process of laughing his ass off. This guy was in his early forties and built like a bull. Any extra weight he carried was more than compensated by his massive chest, and he had legs and legs like telephone poles.
"Frankenstein, how long were you planning on letting me play with the newbies before you did anything?" she said, chuckling herself. Frank "Frankenstein" Smith was one of the leaders of El Diablo, and her preferred drinking buddy whenever they crossed paths. Ten years earlier, they'd even had a brief fling before parting ways as friends.
The big man was crouching down, struggling to find breath as he slapped the ground in a symbol of utter amusement. "You . . . (gasp) . . . you should have seen your face! Oh dear Lord, have you been practicing?"
"I HATE being vapid for that long! And yes, I've practiced. I actually had to go undercover for a while in a strip joint down in Dallas. Girls there weren't hired for their brains, but damn they were good eye candy." She felt her blood stir a little. "Tell ya, I worked there a week after we'd caught our guy just 'cause of the way some of 'em relieved stress on their breaks."
Frank stood up and clapped her on the shoulder before giving her a big hug. They took turns picking each other up off the ground. Frank was good people.
"What the fifteen hells are you doing here?" she asked.
"Leader of the local chapter got wrapped around a telephone pole, so I came up to help pick the new top rider. Better question is, what are YOU doing here? Last time I heard, you were still in Texas! And I'd heard something about an incident in Austin --"
"We are NOT going to talk about Austin!" Sadie made a zipping motion across her lips when Frank tried to speak . . . then again and again until he finally threw his hands up in surrender.
"Okay! We don't talk about Austin! But that doesn't answer what you're doing here?"
"I finally got transferred to Midian! The West coast is now officially my turf!"
"You transfered to Midian? On purpose?"
She glared at him. "What's wrong with Midian? It's just caused there's more darkworlders there, isn't it?" When Europeans settled North America, the humans mainly settled the East coast while a smaller band of humans and a lot of the darkworld races kept going. When they found that magical land of forests, mountains and constantly overcast skies, they new they'd found a place to set up shop. Midian had the highest non-human population in North America. Unfortunately, that DID tend to lead to friction, and Midian was also home to the highest crime rates in the civilized world. Every manner of creature that could cause trouble seemed to migrate to the Northwestern American province and into the shadows of Midian.
"Have you ever actually been there?" Frank shook his head, still smiling. He knew well enough that there wasn't a damn think on Earth that this vampire lady was afraid of. But it didn't stop him from kidding her. "A troublemaker like you in Midian? Damn, didn't your Boss in D.C. once tell you that sending you to Midian would be like sending a dragon to an oil field and then wondering why there was so much smoke? What changed his mind?"
Sadie dug the toe of one of her tanker boots into the cracked pavement. "Austin. Which --"
"We aren't talking about," Frank finished.
"Fuck it Frank," one of the other bikers said as he regained his stance, still gingerly cupping his testicles. "Why --"
"Boys, you gotta learn sometime to watch out for vamps. Didn't you see the window tints on the truck? Those suckers are high-grade UV shields that'll stop just about anything but visible light. Bed's designed to be totally light resistant, not that Sadie here minds much, but some of her quarry might. Hell, she's got a bumper sticker that says 'Bite Me' and the whole damn thing is black as hell. Muck with a driver of a rig like that and yer likely to get yourself hurt."
Sadie took a little pity on the poor boys. Frank had encouraged them to hit on her knowing full well what would happen. She kissed each one on the cheek in rapid order. "Don't feel bad boys. I've been pulling that one on smarter folks than you since before either of you were born. And just to show there's no hard feelings, I will let you stare at THIS ass," she said, pointing towards her butt with both hands, "all the way into the store." And then she strutted her stuff over to the door with Frank right next to her. But before she could go in --
"Yes?" she replied, looking over her shoulder.
"It was worth it!" Both bikers broke into smiles, accepting they had been had.
She looked at Frank. "There's hope for them boys yet. Now YOU owe me some nachos for making me late."
"Will do. Nice tan, by the way."
"I like it." Vampires as a rule didn't like sunlight, but they could tolerate it for periods of time based on sensitivity. The highly allergic broke out into a mean rash after about ten minutes of exposure and could actually burst into flame after half an hour. Sadie had a high tolerance for daylight, meaning she could stay in it long enough to do what only a few vampires could do . . . tan. It helped confuse a lot of people into thinking she was just a human girl who couldn't be more than twenty years old. Little did they know.
Sadie got her ridiculously unhealthy nachos and soda, but though she might want to get something a little more nutritional. She looked over at the cashier, who had been checking out her rack since she got there. "Hey, got any Plasma-ade?"
"Thuh . . . third window next to the bathroom," he stammered
'Poor boy's probably going to have an erection just because I talked to him.' She grabbed some over her favorite flavor and headed to the counter. The other bikers had come in and were getting ribbed by Frank. Then one of them noticed that when Sadie pulled her walled out, a flap came down that had a shiny gold badge on it.
"Damn Frank, she's a cop?!"
Frankenstein tried to look innocent. "I'll explain later about how to watch out for Federal Arbiters.
"Bitch is an Arbiter? No offense ma'am."
"None taken." Arbiters were a different breed of cop. While they were assigned to districts and the control of local police forces, they had the authority to make arrests anywhere. An Arbiter's word was as good as gold in court too, so getting into their ranks took a hell of a lot of work. But all that authority tended to make people edgy.
Frank walked her back to her truck and gave her a hug before she climbed in. "I've missed you. I take it you won't be hard to find?"
"Nope, but give me the name of a local hangout I can reach you. Once I get settled in, I may need a good drink"
"Let's see . . . a place you might like. Hmm. Oh yeah, there's the Cat Scratch Lounge. If you can't find something you like there, you ain't breathing. Figuratively, of course." He rolled his eyes. "Forgot you don't actually breathe."
Sadie laughed as she closed her door, revved the engine and cranked up the Jimmy Buffet before tearing off down the road at seriously unsafe speeds.
An hour later . . .
She pulled into a "visitor" spot at the Midian Precinct Thirteen station house, figuring it might not hurt to check in with her new supervisor before getting a good day's sleep. The pavement of the parking lot had potholes big enough to require bridges, and there were steel plates where the windows used to be. It looked more like a fortress than a precinct. Sadie smiled. "I think I'm going to like it here."
She walked inside, earning a few more stares and cat calls from local badges and criminals alike. The girl at the front desk was a total goth chick, complete with nose-ring, black clothes, lipstick and eye-liner, as well as a general sense of "oh-cruel-world" that permeated the surrounding area.
'But she's cute,' Sadie thought. She wondered how long it would take to establish a good booty-call list? Vampires were the only of the races who could not actually breed by sexual intercourse. They needed a blood-sharing with another humanoid race to make more vampires. Once reproductive success is removed as a factor in sex, then it becomes all about pleasure, regardless of who the partner is. The majority of vampires were bisexual, participating in sex just for the sensations and for the fun, and Sadie really liked to have fun.
"Hey," the girl grunted.
"Howdy . . . Melissa," Sadie said, beaming her brightest smile. "I'm here to talk to Captain Grom."
"The Captain is very busy," Melissa responded in a monotone that would make a zombie proud. "If you would like to leave your name and a brief message," the girl added, pushing a yellow sticky note pad over the counter, "then I'm sure he'll get back to you soon."
Sadie decided right then and there that she and Melissa were going to be friends. She didn't know why, but she didn't question the desire. This was a common thing for her. And if she knew ONE thing about goth chics --
"I'm sorry, I guess I didn't explain myself," she purred, leaning forward and letting the desk push her breasts up a little. "My name is Arbiter Sadie Hewitt, and the Captain is expecting me."
The girl, much to her credit, remained relatively cool. Her eyes did go wider and Sadie could sense her blood pulsing a little faster. The girl's eyes were drawn upward, slowing as Sadie's beautiful cleavage came into view and then continuing on to her face. The girl was looking closely at Sadie's slightly-parted lips. The vampire extended her fangs just a bit, and she heard Melissa moan ever so softly under her breath.
'Yep,' Sadie thought. 'Goths dig vampires.'
"I'll check to see if Captain Grom is available," she said calmly, with just the faintest hint of trembling in her voice.
"I'd REALLY appreciate that," she murmured, licking her top teeth slowly but not making it to obvious. She took delight in watching Melissa swallow a breath and then hurrying into the maze of desks, heading towards the Captain's office. About then, she realized that about a dozen people had stopped to stare at the little encounter. "What?" she said, faking being angry. The crowd rapidly dispersed and left her to smile. 'This is gonna be fun!'
Melissa returned to her desk and her previous stoic calm. "He's over there." She tipped her head.
"Thanks Mel!" Sadie said, taking the girl's hand and kissing it. "You are a consummate professional, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise."
She walked past, glancing out of the corner of her eye. The goth chick was just staring at her hand, wondering what the hell that was about. Finally, she wiped the hand off on her jeans. Sadie navigated the desk maze and stopped to try and wipe a smudge off of the brass nameplate that so succinctly said, "Captain Grom."
Captain Grom's office was, to put it nicely, tidy. Sadie normally would have gone with "anal," but she decided to give the man the benefit of the doubt. There was a wand rack on one side of the chair behind and a staff rack on the other.
'Wizard," Said thought. 'Could be worse.'
There were three categories of magical practitioners, regardless of gender. Wizards focused directed energy into staffs and wands or other similar devices and used them like weapons. Witches needed casting circles, cauldrons and components, but could effect a wider variety of spells over a wider area. Sorcerers needed nothing but their own will, but the lack of foci to take the weight and the sting of spelling slinging off their shoulders, they didn't tend to throw anything too big.
"Miss Hewitt," the Captain said, standing and offering her his hand. She ignored it and gave him a back-slapping hug. When she withdrew, she saw that he had closed his eyes and was counting to ten.
'Great,' she thought. 'He's got personal space issues.'
"Please, don't do that," he said, settling back into his chair. Captain William Grom was in his early forties, but seemed to be holding up rather well. Salt-and-pepper neatly groomed hair over a square face and even squarer chin. Sadie pegged him as being former military . . . he just had a way about him. "Nothing personal," he continued. "I just prefer to maintain a certain sense of decorum. No one else does, but I do."
"No sweat Grommie," she said, leaning back in one of the guest chairs and kicking her heels up on his desk. After being glared at for twenty seconds in absolute silence, she slowly lowered her feet back to the floor. "Sorry."
He looked at her, then at the file on his desk. "I'm a little surprised to see you in. You must have made good time. How was your trip?"
"Good. Rained like hell coming up the coast, but I guess I'd better get used to it."
"I must admit that I'm surprised that the Feds would send and Arbiter, but I'd be lying if I said we didn't need it. We've got a lot of people out citywide, so having someone to help tow the line will be a blessing. And a vampire to boot. Of course, there are parts of Midian that really don't care for vampires, but many of them don't care for humans either." He flipped a couple of pages on her record. "Seems exemplary," he muttered. "So you've been an Arbiter for --"
"About twenty years," she said.
"Twenty years?" He looked at her through the tops of his eyes. "Impressive." Then his brow creased. "I see that you have a large number of . . . altercations, but they all seem to be in order." He stopped, staring at a color photograph.