Chronicle - Mel and Chris Ch. 02

Mel snorted. She'd removed the old button down shirt of his she'd had on when they left in the cool air, leaving just a tight, white tank top which only managed to cover enough of her round breasts to avoid arrest along with Chris's favorite short blue skirt, comfortable for the lack of air conditioning in Chris's car.

"Married by Elvis?" Mel read the sign as a question. She went silent again, watched the collection of themed wedding chapels, budget hotels, strip malls and the like that occupied the road before the 'Strip' began.

"Here we go," Chris said, "'Circus Circus,' start of the Strip, more or less. Want to eat lunch at a casino buffet? You can't gamble, but they'll let you eat."

"No... fucking... way...," Mel said.

"Good," Chris said with a chuckle, "I have a better idea."

He continued past a few more of the casino-hotels and at Tropicana Avenue turned left away from cranes and a large complex, the newest entry nearly completed now behind them.

"That new one is the Arista, they're calling it. See that one," he pointed to his right as Mel nodded, "big fire a few years ago, some people died. They rebuilt it."

"Ouch," seemed about to cover it.

"This is new, to me at least," Mel said as Chris pulled into a fast food place with a clown head sign, but not 'the' clown.

"From California," Chris explained as he parked, "not made it even to where we live yet. I need to piss, we'll get some food and go, I have a place we can eat that isn't all asphalt and strip malls!"

"Sounds good to me."

The sign read 'Sunset Park' as Chris drove into a large city park. He followed the road around to an area near a playground, empty in the heat of a school day afternoon, and parked under some trees near a scattering of shaded picnic tables. They carried their food and drinks to a table and sat down.

"Can you smell those things," Mel pointed past the trees at two pairs of soccer goals on worn side-by-side grass fields, "that why you know this is here?"

"You know I can't smell things...," he started.

"Yeah," she interrupted, "that's why I only need to take a shower once a week!"

"Hah! That's why no one likes to hang out with us," it was his turn to get the protruding tongue, "no, they sing to me. Like that myth about the sirens."

"If you run out there and start humping one of the soccer goalposts," she sniffed, "I'm taking the car and going. I'll tell them you're in jail for being a pervert."

"I'm not the one with air conditioning nipples," to emphasise he caressed the left one softly with fingertips. He sometimes wondered if she could will them that way.

"Save it for Escondido," she said, grabbed his hand and kissed his fingers, "now, let me eat in peace!"

"I know this park 'cause we played a tournament here, last year," Chris explained a few minutes later as they ate, "it sucks to be in Vegas if you're not 21. Can't do shit except walk around. Not that I saw much that interested me. But our goalkeeper from then has even worse memories!"

Mel tilted her head as she chewed and raised an eyebrow.

"He dove and made a save, was on the ground, one of the opposing players claimed he was trying to kick the ball, walloped him in the side. Ruptured his kidney and spleen. Almost two weeks in the hospital, intensive care, everything. Transferred out after the end of the school year, said he was done playing."

"Shit... Ref red card the player or anything?"

"Hah. Nothing. But, you heard that word, karma?"

Mel nodded.

"The player that hurt him, his ankle got broken later in the game," Chris's voice had left his ever-steady smooth soft near-baritone for a growl that lacked his usual kindness, "fancy that."

Chris's realized he was staring across the empty soccer fields when he felt Mel's hand on his thigh, she'd slid to sit next to him. He couldn't quite read her smile. He put his hand in hers.

"First time back in Vegas since then," he said, "stretch our legs a few minutes then get out of here?"

Mel kissed him quickly then slid back and lifted her left leg over the bench but stopped and set her foot on the bench. Chris smiled broadly as he looked down.

"Nicely trimmed. So who's going to jail?"

"I'll be fine. I'm just an innocent eighteen year old girl, held in thrall by a raging sex maniac," she declared.

It was Chris's turn for a protruding tongue as they stood and dumped their trash in a nearby bin. She agreed to hold his hand while they walked a path through shaded areas of the park. Just as they got back to the car Chris handed Mel the keys but at the door she stopped and looked over the roof at Chris.

"Where's 'Area 51' from here?"

Chris stopped, rotated his head to orient himself, then turned and pointed away from the car and over a point between the Strip and downtown.

"That way, more or less. We'll go back to the freeway and head south again, if we kept going straight it would be one of the ways to get there. But. You can't get close and anywhere you can go you can't see anything."

"Think they took the bodies there?"

"It's basically just an air base, did all the nuke tests nearby, but they test secret planes there. It's isolated as hell, so good a place as any. Remember that yokel Bart Shell had on about 'unmarked trucks?'"

Mel snorted.

"And they have serious signs about not trespassing. Like, they're allowed to shoot you."

Mel nodded and backed out of the parking spot.

"Oh, the road to Area 51 is also one way to go to get to Pahrump, you turn left instead of right after a bit. Ya know, where Bart Shell lives and has his station."

"No shit?"

"None. Now, turn left at the road, then left when we get to the freeway. Then just keep going about six more hours. The scenery will be impressive, if you think driving through sagebrush desert is exciting."

"Well, it's not like driving for six hours through wheat and oil fields I guess..."

Chris laughed to concede the point as Mel drove.

"Turn in here," Chris said as he looked up from the map, "this is it, 'The Ranch.'"

Mel navigated past the wooden posts holding the sign announcing the name of the place. It appeared to be a number of cute single-level cottages built amongst the pinyon pines and oak trees in some low hills between Escondido and Mt. Mallomar.

"Just past six, made good time thanks to me knowing how to drive," Mel said as she parked in front of the cottage with the 'Office' sign in front of it, a large picture window facing the parking lot, a low wooden porch with a roof overhang covering it. There were only a couple of other cars in the gravel parking lot, with Labor Day come and gone prime vacation season had come to an end.

"I'll go deal with the manager," Mel said and retrieved her backpack from the back seat, "since the room's in the name of the leader of this expedition..."

"No," Chris said as he slid the map book into his pack, "it's in your name."

"The astronomers at Mallomar know who the brains are...," she did a leap to land halfway across the porch, one more step and Chris heard the tinkling of a bell as she opened the door, her 'hello' clear and happy. Chris had just made it to the door when Mel skipped back out.

"Thanks, Mrs. Anderton, this is Chris," Chris waved through the door at a friendly face topped by well-trimmed white hair, her skin had obviously spent too much time in the sun in her youth. She waved back as the door slowly closed itself.

"Number 12," Mel said as she looked at a piece of paper, then up and to her left as she stood at the edge of the porch, "that way, at the end, then behind cottage 6! Here, I'll meet you there."

She handed Chris the car keys and strode purposely toward cottage 12. Chris went to the car, backed it and pulled it the hundred feet to the edge of the parking lot, as close to 6 as he could get. Mel had disappeared so he locked the car, shrugged on his backpack and got the suitcase out of the trunk. He saw cottage 12 about 40 feet away, with the front door propped open by Mel's backpack. He heard a clear joyous 'they did it!'

He carried the suitcase and stepped through the door, heard the toilet flush and Mel walked out of the bathroom.

"Look," she said, pointed toward a desk in a corner behind Chris, he turned. There was a clear glass bowl, about four inches high and similarly in diameter, full of red Emms candies.

"There's a spa tub in there," she pointed behind her, "not quite a balcony, but a back porch."

Chris put the suitcase onto the bed, slipped off his backpack as Mel retrieved hers and let the door close. She walked over to the bowl and tossed a couple of the Emms into her mouth.

"Hmm," she said as she surveyed the bowl, "no obvious brown ones... Oh! Look!"

Chris looked at what she was holding. His mouth dropped open a bit as Mel squealed.

"Two day passes to Castleland! Holy shit!"

Chris smiled as she put them back on the desk, he walked to the back porch and opened the door and stepped out.

"This is pretty nice," he said, he heard Mel follow him to stand at his side, her hands on the wooden railing. He stepped behind her and cupped her breasts as she reached behind and put one hand just behind her to rub his stiffening cock, the other behind his hip to pull him close.

"I can't believe they gave us Castleland passes and the Emms thing," she cooed, rubbed the length of his cock slowly, "but now they did you better hope there aren't any brown ones..."

He reached down to the hem of her tank and lifted it to expose her tits, she put her arms straight up and he took the hint to lift the tank completely off, she returned her hands to their duties as he cupped her breasts then used his fingers to pinch and pull on her nipples as she very deliberately stroked the length of his cock.

"There's no one next to us," Mel purred as her voice dropped a note, "but one past that. Also there are paths out there."

She released his ass and guided his hand to the zipper on the side of her skirt, he pushed it down and moved back slightly to let gravity take care of removing it, left her naked save her shoes and socks. He felt her hand work his snap and then his zipper, gravity needed an assist from her hand to work his shorts past his tumescent prick. She grabbed it, her fingers worked the swollen head.

"How about a quickie," Chris said as he pressed his erection vertically between her ass cheeks, his hand found her clit which was awake and attentive to the situation, "then a little run on one of these trails and then dinner somewhere and we'll go over our notes for tomorrow."

"Mrs. Anderton said there's a nice cafe just a couple miles down the road," Mel purred as she encouraged Chris's fingers to work her clit, "closer than back into town. And lots of trails."

She turned him a bit so they were sideways to the railing to allow them to kiss slowly, with increasing depth and fervour, hands at each other's most sensitive spots. He grunted once when she pressed tightly against his faded but still colorful chest.

"I keep saying that a good boyfriend wouldn't strip me naked on every porch he gets me on," Mel whispered as she kissed his cheek and nibbled his ear, "and make me fuck him."

"And I keep telling you to feel free to find that good boyfriend... But so long as you haven't...," Chris turned Mel and shifted to allow her to brace her hands on the railing and bend over, he slipped behind her and felt her hand reach between her legs to pull his rampant cock toward her now-wet opening. She adjusted the aim and he pushed forward slowly, both of them exhaled as he buried himself as far as he could reach, felt the touch of flesh at the tip of his prick. He pulled back as her fingers found her excited button and pushed home again. Chris saw what might have been the color of clothes in the distance through brush, trees and leaves and in response he pulled back and pushed himself forward, once, twice, as he gained speed on each stroke.

After showers Mel had worn a dress that was translucent in bright light to the cafe, a place whose dim lighting denied their fellow diners too clear of a view. Returned, they sat naked on the bed and reviewed their prepared notes for the Friday press conference. Mel stood up and walked to the bowl and gathered up a handful of red Emms, then used her other hand to swirl the mass of candies a bit.

"Oh, shit..." Chris heard the joyous exclamation and looked up. Mel held a single brown-shelled spheroid chocolate candy.

Meet the Press

"Caldicott, Bajevic," the Mt. Mallomar morning receptionist looked a bit guardedly at the couple at the front desk, "yes, I'll call Dr. Hauptmann. He'll be right down. Have a seat."

Chris sat down gingerly, the sling holding his left arm uncomfortable. Mel wore the slinky, blue, button-down dress that she'd bought that first weekend, a push-up bra, strategically open buttons showed the requisite amount of cleavage, enough bottom buttons undone so each step confirmed thigh-highs and not panty-hose. Her high vacuuming heels completed her outfit along with her office-mode light touch of makeup and brushed hair. Chris had his one offering to formality, a blue sport coat over his button down shirt and new jeans.

"Heh," Mel's very soft laugh as she reached and undid a button on Chris's shirt and pushed apart the cloth, the tip of a still-ugly bruise in the gap.

Two men came through a door at the far end of the room, one just over six feet tall, cropped brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard, his black rim glasses emphasized his wide eyes. The other man a couple of inches shorter and slightly heavier, clean shaven with a short, darker brown ponytail, both appeared to be in their forties and were wearing jackets similar in style to Chris's. They both stopped short when they saw the young couple as the pair stood up from the couch.

"Dr. Hauptmann," Mel said cheerfully to the bearded man as she nudged Chris to step forward with her, "I have one of your papers in my pack!"

"Um, yeah, Bernard Hauptmann," he said, his German accent obvious but his English clear and clipped, "yes indeed. This is Dr. Harold Joyce."

Mel stepped forward and shook first Dr. Hauptmann's hand then Joyce's.

"I'm Melanie Caldicott, call me Mel," she said, Chris put his free, right hand forward, "this is my drudge Chris Bajevic."

"Your eye," said Joyce with a clear Yankee accent, his eyes flashed to Chris's chest but moved quickly away, "Mr. Bajevic, um, your arm. Recent?"

"Chris, please," the younger man said, "ah, it's nothing. Last night."

The two astronomers' eyes went wide, then quizzical expressions formed.

"Well, sirs," Melanie said, "we didn't think you'd actually do the Emms in a bowl! But since you did, you, um, there was a brown one in there..."

She kissed Chris's cheek just below the black, blue and red of his swollen and bruised left eye and patted the arm in its sling.

"He failed to properly convey my unique needs," she said with a husky certainty, "did he not warn you?"

Chris saw two mouths fall open as they developed looks of utter, soul-numbing terror. He tried to summon a tear or two from his good eye.

After a few seconds of their audience's mouths moving but failing to form words, their hands wanting to do something, Chris could no longer contain himself and broke into a laugh. Mel broke into a grin, her eyes glittered. She pulled a tissue out of her pocket and ran it through the makeup on Chris's cheek to expose a finger's width of skin.

"Got you," she said as Chris extracted his arm from the sling, the young couple shook together as they tried to stifle their laughter. After a few more seconds Joyce broke into his own smile.

"You two would fit into here," he said as he chuckled as well, "so perfectly!"

Hauptmann smiled but clearly wasn't quite as ready to join in the amusement.

"Let's go," he said, "the conference is 1:30, we have some coffee, pastries, we'll go over the material we've discussed."

"Just need a moment to clean this," Chris said with his smile, "unless you want me to keep wearing this? By the way, the chest is real, but that was from soccer."

Joyce's mouth a silent 'O' at that, he pointed to a marked door just ahead on the left, but stopped, his mouth opened into a feral grin. Chris glanced at Hauptmann, whose face went from surprise to resignation.

"Can you redo that," Joyce asked Mel, "and put the sling back?"

Mel's smile took a few seconds to widen before she nodded and opened her purse. Chris chuckled and reworked the scarf as Mel pulled out her makeup case and touched up the eye.

"My grad assistant, the one you emailed with, Sandy, is in the conference room. She and I did the Emms and I told her 'what could happen with one brown one.' We have so many of those bloody candies here now... Anyway, like I said, you two will fit right in."

As they walked Mel told Hauptmann which paper she had, he asked a couple of questions and she told him she slightly disagreed with one of his points. Joyce put his finger to his lips and motioned for Chris to delay. He smiled as he nodded and stopped.

Hauptmann led them in, Mel followed and Joyce trailed.

"Team," the New Englander said, "this is Melanie Caldicott, but you know the drill. Trust me, don't get on her wrong side."

Mel stepped forward and introduced herself to the first two, both male grad students from area universities, the last one introduced herself as Sandra, Sandy, a mid-twenties woman with light brown hair and a plain face but with sharp, querying eyes, an astrophysics PhD student from U Mass but without Joyce's clear regional accent. Her dark slacks and blouse were well fitted to her thin frame, her socked height close to Mel's but her soft-soled flats lagged Mel's heels.

"You're the one who did the Emms, Dr. Joyce told us," Mel said to her, a joyful lilt in her voice, "but you missed a brown one. Did my drudge not make that point clear enough?"

Chris chose that instant to trudge into the room with their packs in his free hand, his eyes in what he hoped was a rictus of agony, he tried to remember the slouch like his injured goalkeeper had been forced into after his injury in Vegas. He saw the quirk in Joyce's lips as he tried to maintain form and Hauptmann's resigned disapproval.

"I can believe he didn't," Mel continued, "I'm sure he does this intentionally because he LIKES what happens when he disappoints me..."

The three grad students went from smiles to questioning confusion and finally to horrified understanding. He saw the woman's, Sandy's, expression on him and then her eyes and mouth flashed with anger as her gaze went to the beaming Mel.

"Now, drudge," Mel said with a shrug, "I need my pack. Let's get to work."

For just an instant as Chris trudged toward the table with their packs he thought Sandy might actually take a swing at Mel, she seemed so intense, her body rigid and shaking.

"Enough," said Hauptmann, as Joyce's reserve broke into soft laughter, "Miss Caldicott, please be kind enough to remove Mr. Bajevic's makeup."

Chris stood straight and released his arm as Mel pulled a bottle and some prepositioned cotton pads out of her pack. The grad students swung their glares from Mel to their laughing boss.

"Don't worry," Joyce said finally, "they came in like this. Had the two of us going. They're perfect fits!"

Chris looked out of his one opened eye as Mel used her makeup remover on his other, he was pretty sure Sandy wasn't quite ready to let things pass. But she didn't say anything, her mouth a tight line.

"One thing that has to be clear," Joyce said about 45 minutes later, "no aliens. No mention of aliens, no use of the 'a' word, no mention of who else might've built the anomalies."