Fairy Chess

I shrugged. Not that I minded being hit on, but it was time to cut this off. "I'm on duty, I'm afraid." I tilted my head Val's way. "I'm her bodyguard."

Her eyes widened, and she said something in Italian. Then she said, "Sorry to bother you," and moved away. I caught her glancing back nervously.

I sighed and resumed my "surveillance" of Val. Heck, I had gotten a couple weeks of bodyguard training, so this was a chance to hone those skills. One thing you're supposed to look for is people paying untoward attention to you or your subject. The problem with that was that Val was such a good dancer she automatically became the center of attention.

That said, I think I spotted one actual bodyguard. He stayed on the sidelines, had the right size and wore a jacket, even in the sweaty club environment. He ignored me, and vice versa. I couldn't tell who his subject was; sunglasses are useful for concealing your gaze. I'd have worn some myself if this were a real job.

Val left with me an hour later, flushed and smiling. She didn't look back, and her arm curled into mine companionably as we waited for the valet. The cool night air felt good after the stifling interior of the club.

Apparently Val agreed; she took us on a late-night drive around the city, windows open, just soaking up the atmosphere. Though she said little, she was acting even more charged-up than usual. When we got on the highway toward home, she sped up alarmingly. Smiling, she grabbed my hand and pulled it to her crotch.

It was kinda the inverse of the rock video fantasy. I mean, normally it's the coked-out guy getting a blowjob on the freeway, right? I could drive, even stick, and had - but in a handful of emergencies only. Picture what would happen if I jerked the wheel sharply, or slammed on the brakes. After seeing the way Italians drove, I wasn't even the least bit tempted.

So I slid closer and worked my digits under her panties. Engine and wind roaring, scenery blurring by... made quite a backdrop. I couldn't hear her if she made any of her usual noises as I slid my fingers in. I was jerked around once or twice as she whipped across lanes to dodge slowpokes, but she compensated.

In the end I wound up using my field to do most of the work. Cramped quarters, awkward angle, etc. She had to have the seat jacked forward all the way s she could reach the pedals. I pictured flowing waves and gentle bumps and the occasional extension. She bucked and rolled her hips, then let out a cry of triumph as we zipped along.

Saturday morning three workmen came to tackle the damage to the kitchen counter; they were getting something like quintuple pay to come in off vacation. Val and I drove back in to Milan and caught the new Bond movie. We couldn't help but laugh at the preposterous firefights. Even the way he held his gun was wrong. At the end, though, when he dropped the bomb on top of the paranormals threatening the Mujahedin, it sobered us up a little. Later, sitting at a café, I broached the subject.

"Think it'd be that easy?"

"No, certainly not," Val said, shaking her head. "The one they call 'Kinship'... I do not know if he can die."

I sipped on a latte. "I hope Thame doesn't... overreach."

"Would you go there, if he ordered?"

I looked up to the sky, judging. "I'd want to hear the plan. All about it."

"You can become disintegrato, you know!"

"I know I'm not invincible, believe me." I shrugged. "But that doesn't matter if you're not where the disintegrator expects you to be. I haven't seen Thame be stupid about strategy yet."

Val sniffed, but let the subject drop.

The next day we took a drive up into the mountains. The Lombardy region around Milan had everything from the plains I'd seen, to hills, to a section of the Alps. Our morning picnic looked out over a broad valley, then we went skiing in the afternoon. Especially with the cooler summers Europe was having, there were still slopes open in August.

I was barely more than an amateur, but she led me straight to the steep, advanced slopes and I got a lot of experience - quick. Val reached some truly terrifying velocities, and even I had my moments. But then, it's easy to take 'risks' when there's no chance of even a bruise, much less a bone fracture.

I had to pay for broken skis. Twice; the rental guys shook their heads in amazement that I wasn't dead, though I faked a limp. Technically it was a bit risky to stand out like that; Val was able to spin a story about God blessing fools with luck.

We spent the night in a high-end room in the lodge, partaking of the hot tub and the large bed. In a strange way it felt almost familiar. We mostly lived out of hotels anymore.

Stretched out on my back, fingers laced behind my head, Val riding me, facing my feet - that's the image that stands out. So far as I could tell, she could flex each muscle in her pussy individually; she sometimes played my cock almost literally like a flute.

God, swimming was weird now. The water couldn't actually touch my skin, so when I dived under it was like my whole body was coated in Saran Wrap; cool, but not wet. Yet I floated in it, as though gravity had been temporarily suspended. It felt... humid, like a cold mist. And since I was so strong, water offered about as much resistance as a cold mist when I waved my arms and legs around. I could swim faster than any normal.

Not as fast as Val, though. She shot around like a damn dolphin. I could at least hold my breath a bit longer - her metabolism had some pretty high oxygen requirements.

We'd gone almost a quarter mile out, finding a place to cut loose a bit where we wouldn't draw dumbfounded stares. Val did a Shamu move, popping up out of the water and doing a flip ten feet above the surface.

She emerged near me, laughing. "You cannot do that!"

I gave her a haughty grin. "Can you do this?" I rolled onto my belly and pushed the field out around my hands and feet. Air rushed in to fill the voids and I rose out of the water. Within moments, I was up in the air, little dents in the waves under my extremities, perched like a water strider on the surface.

She laughed and clapped. "Che prezioso!" She paddled closer, then suddenly gave me a shove on my side. I flipped, practically frictionless, and fell off-balance into the ocean.

I came up gasping, but she'd darted out of range. I sneered arrogantly and laid out on my back. I pushed the field out below me, all along my back surface. Not more than an inch or so - didn't want to rip my swimsuit - but I was floating again. Felt kinda like laying on an air mattress.

Val dived under. I kept an eye open, though I didn't deign to acknowledge any threat. Long seconds passed, then she exploded out of the water a few yards away, rolled in the air, and slapped down straddling my belly.

It probably took a lot of her skill to balance there, with me being so slippery and all. She showed no sign, if so. Instead she leaned forward and gave me a kiss. Slow, lingering.

She wasn't wearing a top, which was no big deal here. She slid around, turning on top of me, and eased my trunks down. Still facing away, she untied one side of her bikini bottom, then the other. She drew it out from between her legs - making a production of things - swirled around to face me again, and laid it gently across my eyes.

'Blindfolded', I felt her glide backward, her belly and chest laying on mine, her pussy lips coming to rest against my cock. Her legs scissored together, and my prick was enclosed, enveloped in the space at her crotch. She flexed her hips up and down, and I groaned.

She didn't tease me long, impatient as always. All in one smooth motion she sat up and onto me, taking me inside her, beginning the rhythm.

It was a bit like doing it on a waterbed. Albeit outside, in broad daylight, if the waterbed were big enough to support real waves. I'm in a position to say that it's not literally the motion of the ocean... but it doesn't hurt.

My concentration faltered as I came. We sagged into the water, from my waist down. A wave washed over her hips and my belly. Thankfully, we didn't go under, and I was able to push us back out, seconds later. Val was unperturbed; by her smile, revealed as she retrieved her swimwear, she even seemed to take it as a compliment.

We smooched for a bit, then made for shore. It was quick work.

I muted my strokes as we got closer to the sand, and finally stood and walked out onto the beach. The warm air felt good on my cool - but dry - skin. The area was packed. I'd thought everything was closed before. Today was some religious holiday that was the center of 'vacation month' around here, and hardly anybody was working today.

Val drew a glance or two from some of the people we passed; as I said, I had more actual cloth on than she did. Of course, this wasn't particularly unusual around here. She was just an attractive female getting the normal due attention.

Our towels and bag looked undisturbed. Both of us kept our eyes moving as we approached. We'd selected this spot next to a low, half-buried concrete wall for several reasons. The wall could provide some cover. We had a good view of the surrounding area; it would be hard to sneak up on us. If we had to run, we could be off the beach and in one of several nearby alleys in moments.

You get a different perspective on things, being a mercenary. All these considerations were automatic. It gets hard not to see the world in terms of threat and response. We hadn't needed to say anything to each other when we'd set our stuff down; we just knew we wouldn't have been comfortable anywhere else.

There were no signs of trouble I could pick up. I sat down on my towel, but Val remained standing.

"I shall get us some gelato," she said, spying a stand in the distance. I watched her walk off for a moment, bemused.

I lay back on the towel and searched for the atomizer in the bag. I couldn't apply sunblock the normal way - my field would keep it from sticking, just like the water. The trick was to spray it in ultrafine droplets that didn't trigger my defenses. I'm totally stumped how my field 'decided' what to let through and what to reject, but there it was.

A few sprays and I lay back on my elbows, enjoying the sun, the beach. Familiar in some ways - the cries of birds, the sound of kids playing. Different in others - the briny smell of the ocean, the architecture of the city. Minnesota had a ton of lakes, but no salt water.

A passing trio of girls gave me six new reasons to be thankful for the delightful European habit of going topless. One of them favored me with a flirtatious smile, to my astonishment. I'd never been a jock; I kept forgetting how muscled I'd become. With a shirt and pants on, I just looked fit. Wearing only swim trunks, it was obvious to anyone that I was exceptionally well-trained.

But that thought triggered my nervous habits. Once they'd moved on - I didn't want them to think I was showing off for them - I did another quick round of isometrics.

I was doing some stretches when Val got back, to her thinly-disguised amusement. She could give most contortionists a real challenge. Not in Jesse's league, naturally... but she could literally lick her own pussy. Only on a dare, however; it wasn't a particularly comfortable undertaking.

At that, I was a lot more flexible than you might suppose. I could stretch hard, right to the edge of pain, and my field wouldn't let me get injured. I'd just hit the safe limit and stop. I wasn't ready for ballet, but I could do a creditable high kick now.

Anyway, the gelato coaxed me away from my conditioning - straciatella, the Italian version of chocolate chip. Not as creamy as ice cream, but sweeter. Good stuff.

We licked and slurped it up. Although the drips just ran off me, Val's face got a little messy. I manfully volunteered to help clean her up, and we invited public scandal with a make-out session that may well have broken even European laws.

The sun was making its lazy way down the sky when we packed up and found our car - the little Fiat this time, no enclosed parking at the beach. I melted into the passenger seat, sun-drunk, and just stared out the window. Pop music, half-heard, came out of the radio. Not paying attention, it took me a while to realize we weren't headed for home. I squinted at Val, but she just smirked and said nothing.

Imagine my surprise when we pulled up to the club we'd gone to a few nights before.

"It's gonna be closed," I noted. "It's four in the afternoon! On a holiday!"

She parked and pulled me out of the car anyway. She knocked at the door; after a few moments, a greasy young man opened the door and peered at us.

Val spoke in rapid-fire Italian, and the boy nodded and pushed the door open to let us in.

I followed her cautiously, blinking into the gloom. She made for the dance floor, not looking back. Before I'd gotten there, lights were coming on and music started playing. Some other guy was in the DJ booth, making adjustments.

Val waited, right in the center of the floor, watching him work. The first guy who'd opened the door joined the DJ, they wrapped up, and gave Val a wave. Then they walked away, out some back door, lighting up cigarettes on the way.

"They shall leave us alone, until we need more music," Val yelled over the throbbing of the speakers. "Come, dance!"

I stepped out onto the floor, head swiveling. "You set all this up? For me?"

"For me, also," she grinned. "I do wish to dance with you, you know." She waved vaguely around. "I have money to buy privacy. It does me no good in a bank."

We practiced. She was surprisingly patient with my missteps. I sure as shit was no Baryshnikov, and had only a vague sense of rhythm. I kept at it, though. By the time we had to leave, I was doing all right. And Val relished the chance to stop holding back. Imagine the best acrobat you ever heard of, with quicksilver reflexes, able to jump twenty feet in the air - dancing for fun. She was marvelous. She used me like a set of monkey bars, fluidly twirling around and over and under me.

There were things about my life that completely sucked. Yet, sometimes, it had its compensations.

Val curled up next to me in the bed at her house. "This has been good, our holiday, yes?"

"Damn right. And we've still got two more days." I smiled a dreamy post-coital smile. I wasn't going to let myself fall asleep, but a little dozing rest sounded good.

"What if we had more time?"

I snorted. "You feel like asking Thame for another week?"

"And what if we did not ask?"

I sat up out of her embrace. I wasn't dozing at all now. Or smiling. "Are you still on that?"

She wasn't smiling either as she got up on one elbow. "You enjoy to be shot at, blown up?"

"Hell, no. But we'd get shot at either way!"

Val's frown was very determined. "We have money now. We could go somewhere, away. Argentine. I Phillipines."

I can't tell you how good it sounded. Just sitting on a beach somewhere, or on the side of a mountain. Somewhere far away from artillery, let alone the risk of getting turned inside-out or brainwashed or flash-fried. And yet... "Thame found you early, before anybody else got organized. It's not like that now. Anything strange, you get checked out."

"But with care, we could..."

"One of us, maybe. Maybe." I shrugged. "Us both, together, though? Kinda distinctive. A fitness nut and a small, pretty, hyperactive woman." My mouth crooked. "That money can be a way to trace us, too."

A sudden, horrible suspicion struck me - maybe Val was just grooming me. If she ran, it might be nice to have a powerful ally come along. One she could lead around by the dick - even better! How much of our relationship was calculated? And how could I know?

If Val suspected my suspicions, she hid it well. Either way, she shifted tactics somewhat.

"We should have such plans anyway. What if Thame were to die?"

"Huh." That gave me pause. "Good point." If Thame were gone, Scylla would be gone. We'd need to cut and run. Having something ready would boost our chances a lot.

I thought about it. Val was unusually patient as I processed. Making plans would mollify her some, anyway... "If we do it, we gotta do it right. Y'know, smart, careful." I looked up at the ceiling, thinking. "Money. Safe house. Good identities."

"Houses."

"Fair enough." The more I thought, the more complicated it got. "And don't take this wrong, but we should probably have some backups we don't talk about."

A brief hesitation, and she nodded. "That is so." She knew it as well as I did. If one of us were captured... Torture. Blackmail. These days, maybe even mind reading. You can't spill what you don't know.

It made too much sense. Nevertheless, it's hardly the most romantic thought in the world. Val got up a little later, and padded out the door. Though I'd been dozing before, it took me a long time to fall asleep.

Phone ringing, disturbing my slumber. I rolled over; let Val get it, I thought. I heard murmuring in the other room, began segueing back to dreamland... and then she burst through the door and turned on the lights. "Andiamo, lazy. Up, it's Thame."

I fuzzily sat up, but reached for the phone carefully. No adrenaline to polish my coordination now. I looked at the clock; a little after three a.m.

"H'lo?" I mumbled as Val picked up the extension in the living room.

"Be at the Milan airport by 05:30. A plane is prepping now. Incidentals only, you'll get anything you need when you arrive."

So much for our vacation. "Arrive where?"

"Briefing on arrival," Thame said with a shade of reproof. I felt embarrassed; of course he wouldn't say any more right now, the line wasn't secured.

"Uh, okay. Sorry."

Val said "Si," and Thame hung up.

So, by mid-morning we were in a hangar by the Liverpool airport, introducing ourselves to Nigel Gatwick, one of Thame's people in Britain. He'd be our handler for the duration. Very rapidly we got whisked into the back of a van. It was a surveillance unit, with a bank of TV screens and a diverse set of radios. I could hear muted police chatter as I sat down. Val was inspecting the weapons locker and procured a couple pistols for herself - P226's, it looked like. She normally preferred Berettas. The van lurched forward, forcing Gatwick and I to grab onto our seats. Making a graceful wriggle with her legs and hips, Val barely swayed. So far as I could tell, it was completely unconscious.

Gatwick was pulling sheets out of a folder as we got onto the main concourse. "Our subject is April St. John, a student at university." He pronounced it the British way; 'sin-jun'. A picture of a slightly mousy, brown-haired girl was passed around. "She's targeted by the Security Service's paranormal division, been on the the run for four days. Thame wants her, so we're running an exfiltration op." I cocked my head in silent question. "We don't know exactly what her paranormality is. She killed one of the agents sent to retrieve her, though. The reports are vague on exactly how."

A nod to Clyde. "He's been monitoring MI traffic for us. They think she's in this area. Believe she's linked to some sort of rash of counterfeit money, so far as we can determine." At our befuddled frowns, he shrugged. "It would seem she's managed to pass off strips of newspaper as twenty-pound notes."

That made me nervous. I recalled the scene in Firestarter where a guy with the power of 'mental domination' made a cab driver see a one dollar bill as five hundred dollars. I did not want to be fucking with anyone who could screw with minds or cast illusions or whatever.