Finding Solace at the Owl Bar

Belinda could feel the sweat dripping down her torso as she gave her presentation. She had been expecting that she would be teaching the local Aerojet engineers and their manager at their branch office in Socorro, so she had dressed appropriately for a formal training seminar in a venue with functional air conditioning. Her skirt and matching blazer with a demure blouse normally enhanced her professional image. Her wardrobe couldn't really obscure much less conceal her womanly charms, but dressing modestly could deemphasize them. Unfortunately; the Aerojet people had belatedly informed Belinda that she would have to meet with them in this Hell hole. Now she was burning in the inferno.

The White Sands missile range was only a fifteen minute drive South on Interstate Twenty-Five then East on Highway Three-Eighty from Socorro. Belinda had been teary eyed all morning. Today was her son's twenty-first birthday. Today was the first anniversary of her son's death.

Belinda had been confronted by two formidable looking guards at the main gate. Both of the guard dogs had been particularly attentive to the view down her blouse. She was almost certain that they hadn't been checking for weapons concealed in her deep cleavage. A young lady steeped in the Me Too Movement would have become irate. Belinda might have been flattered and amused by the young men taking an interest if they hadn't reminded her so much of her lost son. In spite of her grief, their attention had reminded her to button her blouse up to her clavicles and button her jacket.

Unfortunately; the Global Positioning System in the rental car had gone insane. The navigation system had misdirected her to a confusing maze of dirt roads that were little better than goat tracks. Belinda had finally realized that she was truly lost when she passed an old adobe house then a few miles further, noticed the obelisk in the middle of a crater that marked ground zero of the Trinity nuclear weapons test.

Belinda understood the concept of exponential decay. She had taken Freshman Calculus, Chemistry and Physics during her aborted college education. She could still derive the equation that related half-life to decay rate. Although she had understood intellectually that the most intensely radioactive isotopes had the shortest half-lives and that the residual radioactivity of the fission products and any remaining Plutonium was trivial, the Trinity site had terrified her on a visceral level.

Belinda's decision to indulge herself by renting a Range Rover Evoque had been validated. The all wheel drive convertible wasn't as capable as her Subaru Forester, but it was far more elegant. The little sports car had handled the goat tracks at high speed. The Evoque had even enabled her to drive a few miles cross country whenever the goat tracks seemed to take her in the wrong direction. She had used the rising sun rather than the car's confused and catatonic navigation system to drive due West until she had escaped from that purgatory to find a paved road. The drive had convinced her that this barren wasteland had been the perfect location to test a nuclear weapon. She had found herself wishing that they would nuke the place again.

The steel building that looked like an oversized Quonset hut had actually been a welcome sight when Belinda finally found it. Unfortunately; she had soon discovered that the corrugated steel panels that formed the arch and end walls were uninsulated. Even worse, the wood framed, twenty foot by twenty foot cubicle inside the cavernous building that was their classroom was also uninsulated. Four-hundred square feet was too small a space to accommodate two dozen warm bodies. The little air conditioning unit set in a window labored like Sisyphus. Unfortunately; the laws of thermodynamics made its efforts to cool the uninsulated room almost as futile as the mythical Greek king's efforts to defy gravity by rolling a boulder up a hill.

Belinda once again considered taking her jacket off. However; she knew from experience that while her white blouse was far from indecent, if she removed her jacket the attentions of every man in the room would be fixated on her breasts rather than the anachronistic chalk board that she was writing on. As her husband often assured Belinda, motherhood had enhanced her. Her decision to wear one of her lacy white bras without a slip in deference to the heat made removing her jacket especially inadvisable. The men in her audience were obviously some of the smartest people that she had ever met. They literally were rocket scientists. However; men were men, even if the men were nerds. The sensation of the sweaty fabric of her blouse clinging to her curves forewarned her that her white blouse had become translucent. She dare not take her jacket off.

The class was interrupted yet again when one of her students received a text message. He was polite about interrupting her presentation yet again, but Belinda knew better than to object. She stood aside as the nerd herd stampeded for the door lest she be trampled under their thundering hooves. She might have tried cowering in the building again, but the previous tests had proven that attempting to hide would be futile. The noise would not have been so terrifying if it hadn't revived memories of her murdered son. She grabbed the earmuffs that they had issued to her and followed the nerd herd outside again. She waited at the building while her students climbed into half a dozen Humvees for the ridiculous quarter mile drive to the monster.

The monster resembled a tank, but Belinda had overheard the engineers referring to it as a "Paladin" and a "howitzer." Her students milled around the monster as the crew prepared for the next test firing. She noticed that everyone, military and nerds alike, seemed to defer to an enormous black man. They seemed to be respectful rather than intimidated by his formidable physique. She idly wondered who he was to command such deference.

Once again the noise of the explosion was so loud that Belinda could actually feel her entire body reverberating. One of the nerds had explained the concept of "overpressure" to her. He had then suggested that they might invite her to their next nuclear simulation so she could experience the glorious detonation of a thousand tons of Ammonium-Nitrate and fuel oil. They always set up bleachers and portable toilets for spectators and even had a beer truck on hand for refreshments.

One of the nerds had assured Belinda that it wasn't just her imagination. Once again, she could actually see a black dot as the projectile emerged from the muzzle of the cannon to fly down range. She could also see other, smaller specks. The nerds had refused to answer her questions, but she had overheard them using the words "saboted," "hypervelocity" and "precision guided munition." Googling had been informative.

Belinda had also overheard the nerds mentioning the name of the impact area. Google maps had revealed that the target was over fifty miles away! The nerds had been too excited to conceal their success. They had actually hit a moving target in spite of the localized jamming of the Global Positioning System!

Belinda presumed that this latest test was over, but ten seconds later the monster belched fire again. The cannon fired again ten seconds later, again and then again and again, and yet again. She could actually feel her bones vibrating in response to the overpressure. She could also feel her breasts undulating so wildly that one escaped from her bra! She suddenly understood why the nerds had wanted to invite her to a nuclear simulation.

The most alarming aspect of this latest test was that Belinda could actually feel moisture seeping from her sex. The firing of the monstrous cannon had aroused her! She finally understood why so many men enjoyed shooting big guns. Even the vicarious power was exhilarating. She was ashamed of her disappointment. The canon had ceased firing before it could bring her to orgasm. It reminded her of her husband's increasingly frequent failures.

When she was confident that the test was over, Belinda walked to her rental car. She was once again grateful that her boss had given her permission to splurge on the Range Rover Evoque convertible that had saved her from being stranded in this burning Hell. She would not have found her way back to what masqueraded as civilization in a normal car.

Belinda checked herself in a mirror. Her red hair and makeup were doing as well as could be expected. She tentatively unbuttoned her jacket and took it off to cool herself. The mirror confirmed her fear that the damp fabric of her blouse had become translucent. She could actually see her nipples through the lacy fabric of her bra! Even worse, her nipples remained prominently swollen to reveal her lingering arousal.

Since the nerds were still conversing excitedly over at the monster, Belinda unbuttoned her blouse to expose her deep cleavage and one exposed breast to the hot, desert air. She understood the process of evaporative cooling. She began to feel a bit better as the hot breeze dried her exposed flesh. She lifted her other breast out of its bra cup to maximize the cooling. After the breeze had evaporated the sweat, she readjusted her bra so that her breasts were once again nestled in the lacy fabric of the cups.

The dampness between her thighs reminded Belinda that the monstrous cannon had inflamed her lusts. She could actually smell her own arousal! Her husband was going to once again be somewhat ambivalent about her homecoming. They had been struggling in recent years to cope with the reality that her libido was peaking just as his virility was waning. Viagra had not been the panacea that she had hoped for. The prolonged absences imposed by the resumption of her career had just made it more difficult. The loss of their son seemed to have triggered her maternal instincts, inflaming her almost desperate lust. Although her husband was a generous lover, his tongue was no substitute for his often uncooperative penis.

Belinda vacillated for a while before deciding what to do. There was a menacing motorcycle parked beside her rental car. It was as big as a Harley, but tall rather than low to the ground. The knobby tires suggested that it was designed to be ridden off road as well as on pavement. She read the insignia. "BMW R 1200 GS Adventure" seemed to fit the formidable machine. It would afford her some semblance of privacy.

Hiking up her skirt to hook her thumbs into the waistband of her pantyhose, Belinda pushed the sweat and sex soaked garment down over her hips. She then sat down in her rental car and took her shoes off so she could slide her pantyhose down her legs and remove the garment. After stuffing her damp pantyhose in her overnight bag, she perused her bare legs. They didn't look bad for a forty-something mother of three, no two, teenagers. The nerds might notice that she was bare legged, but they would have no clue that she was going commando unless she was careless. The fact that her lust inflamed sex was naked under her conservative, knee length skirt could remain her guilty secret.

The sound of diesel engines warned Belinda that the convoy of Humvees loaded with nerds were returning. She quickly put her jacket back on, but the heat dissuaded her from buttoning it. She did button a few buttons on her blouse, but the heat dissuaded her from buttoning it up high enough to fully conceal her cleavage much less up to her clavicles. She then ushered her nerd herd back to the impromptu classroom.

Belinda noticed a few bulges in trousers that attested that the firing of the cannon had been just as arousing for the engineers as it had been for her. She was almost ashamed of herself for noticing that none of the bulges were particularly impressive. None of them were impressive enough to compensate for the fact that they were either married or unsuitable. There was not one red head in the nerd herd. Then she reminded herself that she had an excuse. The firing of the cannon had inflamed her own lust. Men certainly took notice that her breasts were impressive even when they obviously had no intention of doing more than just admiring her. She need not be ashamed of herself for appraising the nerds, especially when her appraisal didn't inspire her to go beyond a casual perusal.

Appraising the engineers reminded Belinda of her husband. Brad wasn't as impressive as that uncircumcised stud that she had so shamelessly surrendered her virginity to on the night of their Senior Prom. Her husband was certainly not as impressive as the guys that she had met during a Spring Break trip to Florida either. However; her husband wasn't as unimpressive or unsatisfying as the guy that she had dated during her Freshman year of college. Her husband was merely average.

Of course Brad had always been a considerate lover whose eagerness to pleasure her with his tongue made it easier for her to accept his frequent failures to fully satisfy her with his penis. More importantly; Brad was a loving husband who had always understood that her intelligence quotient was not inversely proportional to her bra size. Brad was also a devoted father and even a doting uncle to their nieces and nephews. She would not have become so dissatisfied with him if the ticking of her biological clock hadn't been provoking a craving for what it seemed he could no longer give her.

Belinda was grateful that there were no more live fire tests to interrupt her presentation. Thanks to her getting lost combined with the interruptions of the cannon tests, the seminar continued as the afternoon became evening. She was distressed to notice that the rocket scientists who had seldom needed to ask questions and had never repeated a question were suddenly having difficulty concentrating. She then realized that she had left her jacket unbuttoned and her blouse partially unbuttoned to expose her cleavage. The sight was obviously not only distracting them, it was undermining their assessment of her intelligence while degrading the functional intelligence of these rocket scientists to that of normal adolescent males.

Belinda might have become angry, but she was getting to tired, to hot, and to sweaty to care what the nerd herd thought of her much less if they learned anything. Since their eyes were already fixated on her cleavage, belatedly buttoning up her blouse and jacket would be futile. She might as well be more comfortable, so she took her jacket off. The expressions on the nerds' faces were priceless. Although she should have been embarrassed about her nipples being visible through the damp fabric of her blouse and lacy bra, she found it amusing to tease them. She rationalized that it was okay for her to tease the nerd herd because their lusts would remain unrequited.

When the training session was finally over, Belinda gathered her things and trudged out to her rental car. She could feel the heat radiating from the graveled parking area and surrounding boulders. She was to late to make her flight out of Albuquerque so she went on line to change her flight reservation. All of the available flights Saturday that could get her home were overbooked. She would have to risk being on stand by in the hope of maybe being able to spend Sunday with her husband and daughters.

As Belinda contemplated her options, she checked her Emails. The seminar that had been tentatively scheduled for next week had been canceled. The thought of being able to spend an entire week with her family was appealing. However; her twin sister was going to be coming to Albuquerque then Socorro Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday with her twin daughters to tour the University of New Mexico and the New Mexico Tech campuses. Their parent's first grandchildren were going to attend graduate schools, one to become a doctor and the other to get an advanced degree in astrophysics! During a vacation a few years ago, the quartet of big breasted red heads had amused themselves by going out bar hopping so that they could shamelessly and viciously tease the men that they had no interest in.

Belinda texted her husband. About fifteen minutes later, she got a reply. Brad had reaffirmed his blessing for her to spend an impromptu vacation in New Mexico to be with her twin sister and one of her nieces. Of course the lingering tingling of arousal reminded her that the extra time away from her husband would prolong her sexual frustration, but she had become accustomed to frustration. Perhaps prolonging her absence would inspire Brad to be more attentive?

The thought that prolonging her absence might even boost her husband's sperm production inspired Belinda to count the days since she had last menstruated. It had been almost exactly a week. Her cycle had always tended to be a few days longer than average and she had become somewhat irregular in recent years. Women in her family also had a tendency to fire on both ovaries anyway. There was a good chance that she would ovulate after she got home Friday.

After reaching a decision, Belinda Emailed the bed and breakfast in San Antonio to extend her stay a few more nights. She removed the pins that held her long, red hair in a severe bun to let her crimson tresses flow freely. While her rental car had air conditioning, she had rented it because it was a convertible. She decided to drive to San Antonio with the top down.

The navigation system in the sports car had regained its sanity. No doubt now that the tests with the monstrous cannon were finished, they had ceased jamming the Global Positioning System. Another set of anonymous but formidable looking soldiers were guarding the gate. These guard dogs were even less professional than the first group as they inspected Belinda, paying particular attention to her completely exposed cleavage. She was once again bemused because she was literally old enough to be their mother, but their resemblance to her late son once again evoked her grief.

As Belinda's bemusement morphed into mourning, she contemplated her son who had been about the same age as the guards when that forever war in Afghanistan took his life. His death had been all the more tragic and enraging because he had been murdered by one of the allegedly moderate Muslims that he had been training. She began to cry as she headed West on Highway Three-Eighty towards San Antonio.

Belinda's grief was exasperated by guilt because she was once again regretting nagging her husband into getting a vasectomy after their youngest daughter was born over a decade earlier. While having another baby could not replace the son that had been taken from her, it would be a reaffirmation of life. In spite of the painful complications that he had suffered from the original procedure, Brad had reluctantly volunteered to submit his testicles to a surgeon's scalpel again. Unfortunately; the surgery to reverse his vasectomy had not been entirely successful. Brad's sperm count was no longer near zero, but it remained far below normal. Their efforts to conceive had yet to be successful.

They had explored alternatives. The one attempt at artificially insemination using sperm surgically extracted directly from Brad's testicles had been unsuccessful. Brad had been unwilling to endure the procedure a second time. Belinda had rejected adoption. She had also been skeptical of artificial insemination with sperm from some anonymous donor.

In recent months, Brad had begun to half seriously tease Belinda by suggesting that since she traveled on business so frequently, he would have no way of knowing that she hadn't personally selected an appropriate sperm donor to inseminate her naturally. Although they had like many married couples occasionally indulged in pillow talks alluding to the wife having sex with other men, she had been insulted by the insinuation of actual infidelity. However; Brad had appeased her wrath by suggesting that it wouldn't be adultery if she had his blessing.