Jessamy Beech Ch. 11: Penzance

"Thankyou, Lupita," Jessamy father called in a quavering voice, "for bringing her home safe."

"I've got so much to tell you both Dad, I don't know where to start," said Jessamy. She propped her bow against the wall and perched on the lumpy sofa looking around, "where is ..."

"Um, Jess ..."

"What?" something in his voice drew her full attention. Trepidation, as if John Beech needed to impart some terrible news but was uncertain how to proceed. She'd already noticed there was no sign of either of the family dogs. Even if they'd still been alive they would have been ancient.

"I know you've been looking forward to seeing us both again for so long but ... the thing is ... I don't know how to tell you this ..."

"What Dad?"

"No-one's seen your mum since the day of the first strikes," John sat next to her and gripped Jessamy's hands in his own. Her father had always had relatively soft hands but she noticed now that they were rough and calloused as if used to hard, manual labour, "... I'm sorry, I didn't want to tell you and Ross when I put you both on the train years ago. I went to where sh-she worked afterwards but ... it was chaos. They c-couldn't tell me anything. She'd just vanished, so ..."

"M-mum's dead?" Jessamy stared at him, stunned.

John Beech nodded mutely. Jessamy had been half expecting bad news so it didn't come as the crushing blow that it might have otherwise. It was a surprise, a blessing after everything that had befallen the planet, that at least one of her parents was still alive.

Mpenzi silently placed two mugs of unsweetened coffee on the low table and took her own out into the garden to give them some privacy..

"Have you been in touch with Ross?" John asked quietly.

Jessamy took a few seconds to answer, "Er ... yes."

"A-and? Is he well?"

Jessamy took a sip of her coffee before continuing, taking a moment to summon up the courage to give her own bad news, "We met up in Oban."

She could never, ever, let her father learn of the nature of the relationship she'd had with Ross and Merida. It had been a mistake, a misunderstanding. But she doubted that her father would see it that way.

"W-we travelled south together as far as Cumbria ... Threlkeld. Uh, we got separated. I j-joined the army ..."

John sat back, grinning, "The army? My Jess, a soldier?"

"Please Dad, let me finish. It was months later we heard that Reivers had invaded Cumbria from Scotland ... it was too late to go back, I ... I'm sorry Dad, but Ross is dead."

. . .

Jessamy went to bed alone that night, in her old room up under the eaves. The walls still decorated in pastel shades of pink and purple, the bookshelves still holding some of her books, the pine chest of drawers some of her clothes. The cold wind rattled the old single glazed windows as she lay awake under a damp smelling duvet and thick blanket. Her mum was dead. Or at least her dad had given up hope of ever finding her and assumed she was dead.

Jessamy didn't think it was appropriate yet to announce that she and Mpenzi were in fact lovers, so after an evening meal that none of them really felt like eating, her friend had been given Ross's old room across the landing.

John Beech had explained to Mpenzi while they picked at their food that he had been a graphic designer, working from home for much of the time, while Jessamy's mother Vicky had worked as a personal assistant and driver to the officer commanding the naval air station at Culdrose. With Thanatos and the collapse of the UK's infrastructure, government and society, the village of Madron had become more of a community than it ever had been before.

The villagers banded together and somehow survived. Through disease, famine and the terrible winters when all the sky was blacked out by ash clouds for months at a time. Through the tsunamis that had swamped the lower ground along the coast virtually cutting them off.

John Beech had become a highly respected member of the village council, toiling in the fields like everyone else, going on scavenging expeditions in the village's scruffy collection of pickups, and manning the barricades to guard against intruders.

Though physically unchanged, Madron was a much different village to the one Jessamy had left aged eight. So many people had suffered and died along the way on her journey back here - her mother, Ross, Merida, Seoras, Alison ... to name but a few. Jessamy herself had changed in ways she wouldn't have believed possible. But she was home. She was finally home.

But now what? Bromden's laminated list of names was still carefully folded in her jacket pocket. A list of the few individuals who could supposedly gain access to the bunker hidden in Gloucester Cathedral that controlled the planet's network of defence satellites. In nineteen years by the scientist's reckoning, Thanatos would drop from the sky and wipe out all life on Earth.

She could prevent that. She had the knowledge and the necessary skills to hunt down the remaining names - if any of them still lived - and stop it from ever happening.

But how was she going to explain to her dad that she was leaving again?

"Shit," Jessamy swore quietly. She stretched on the too narrow bed then ran her fingers hesitantly down over the taut skin of her stomach under the covers, remembering the featherlight touch of Mpenzi's fingertips. Her mind was in turmoil and, if she could only get a decent night's sleep, she considered it might be far easier to make decisions in the morning.

Jessamy swallowed hard and slid the fingers of one hand inside the elastic waistband of her panties while she gently squeezed the bulge of her right breast with the other. She sucked in her breath and stiffened as a fingernail brushed the tip of her clitoris.

Jessamy knew of only one foolproof remedy for sleeplessness.

She shuddered, twisting her young body as paroxysms of pure pleasure surged through her. Jessamy dragged herself up into a sitting position and stripped off her t-shirt, wanting to be naked. She closed her eyes, increasing her fingers' pace while her mind replayed the sweet memory of the night she and Mpenzi had spent together.

"Lupita," Jessamy shivered as she recalled the sensation of Mpenzi's fingers pressing at her slick crevice. She moved her hand from her breast and, delighting in the goosepimples her touch left in its wake, flopped backwards on the bed to secure easier access for her own probing fingers.

She began to pump back and forth within the pliant walls, drawing her legs up, clenching her internal muscles around her thrusting fingers. Thoughts of Mpenzi were replaced with fleeting images of Ross, kneeling above her with a pearlescent drop of moisture oozing from the swollen tip of his beautiful cock. She pushed deeper into her own slippery depths, remembering Merida and Alison Nethybridge ... then gave herself up to the orgasm building within her.

The bedroom door opened.

"What the f -" Jessamy hastily tugged the duvet and blankets up to cover her nakedness. Surely if her dad had wanted to talk some more he could have waited until the morning? Or at least knocked?

But it wasn't her dad. Mpenzi stepped into the room and quietly closed the door behind her. The candle she was carrying made flickering patterns of black shadow and golden light across her ebony skin, "Are you okay?"

Jessamy nodded, embarrassed and a little angry. She'd been so close.

"I couldn't sleep," Mpenzi sat on the edge of the bed, "do you need to talk?"

Jessamy didn't answer, her eyes glued to the thick candle Mpenzi held in her right hand, stuck to an old saucer with wax. Like Liskeard, Madron had no electricity.

Mpenzi asked again, "Jess, do you need to talk? A lot's happened. Talking about it might help."

Jessamy sat up, the covers falling away revealing her nakedness. She leaned forward and pecked Mpenzi on her full lips, "Let me show you what I need."

She encircled the candle with her thumb and forefinger, slowly stroking the waxy shaft as she gazed meaningfully into Mpenzi's dark eyes. Then she quickly wetted her fingertips with her tongue and snuffed the flame out.

"You dirty bitch," whispered Mpenzi knowingly. She removed the candle from its saucer base and rolled it vigorously between her hands to warm it, then shuffled closer to Jessamy until their faces were mere inches apart, "you need a little relief to help you sleep, is that it?"

Jessamy looked at where she thought Mpenzi's face was. In the darkness neither of them could see a thing, "I'll make it up to you some other time Lupita."

"Like fuck you will. I enjoy watching you squirm," Mpenzi reached behind Jessamy and rolled the candle over the swell of her hips, "lie on your side."

Jessamy shivered as she did as she was told, drawing her legs up. Mpenzi pulled the covers over them both, spooning, before drawing the candle down into the crease of Jessamy's buttocks where she deliberately ran it back and forth, teasing the little puckered knot of muscle there with the extinguished wick.

"Ohh ..." Jessamy arched her back, urging Mpenzi to continue, squeezing her own breasts, delighting in how easily her nipples reacted. She wanted to be penetrated, filled, and she no longer cared where.

"Ssh, your dad will hear us," Mpenzi stroked the candle between Jessamy's thighs. Her breath came in short gasps as the black woman finally parted her labia with it, circling the entrance to Jessamy's vagina with the stubby tip, thoroughly coating it with her secretions. With a sudden impatience, Jessamy covered Mpenzi's hand with her own, and guided the substitute cock up inside herself.

She stiffened, letting out a long, throaty moan as it surged upwards into her. Mpenzi drew the candle out again until only the tip remained inside.

"Please, don't tease Lupita. I need to cum,"Jessamy hissed impatiently. She snatched the candle from her friend and pushed the full length back inside, as behind her, Mpenzi pushed her own panties down.

Jessamy bit her lip and squeezed down hard on the candle, enjoying the sensation of the cool wax as it filled every inch of her. Mpenzi's fingers went to her own clitoris, kneading and squeezing it free of its hood until it quivered in answer to her attention, "That's it girl. Fuck yourself ... chukua yote. Make yourself cum."

Jessamy began to withdraw and thrust the candle into herself, matching every stroke of Mpenzi's pumping hips behind her, imagining it was Ross. She started to groan, her heart rate increasing with her excitement. Despite the chill of the air, perspiration stung her eyes as she flicked her long blonde hair out of them and clutched at herself, forcing the full length of the candle in as deeply as it would go.

"Chukua yote Jessamy ..."

"Uhh," she leaned back, feeling Mpenzi's dreadlocks tickle her neck when the first throes of her orgasm overcame her, her womb contracting wildly and expelling the candle with an audible plopping sound. Jessamy dimly heard Mpenzi's cry of satisfaction as she too reached her climax and collapsed into silence beside her.

Some minutes later, when she began to feel cold, Jessamy reached for her discarded t-shirt. Mpenzi kissed her shoulder blade, "I think I better get back to my own bed."

"No. Please ... stay," Jessamy turned towards her friend and nestled down against her warm body.

"Oh well. I don't think I'd be able to light the candle anyway."

. . .

The following morning, they breakfasted on out of date freeze dried noodles that had been scavenged from the local branch of Lidl and strong black coffee.

Jessamy couldn't comprehend why absolutely no one at her mother's place of work had known of her whereabouts on the day of her disappearance.

"All their records were digital," John explained. Jessamy noticed he'd been looking at her and Mpenzi rather oddly and hoped they hadn't made too much noise in the night, "as they were evacuating, a lot of their equipment was getting unplugged and packed up. Nobody kept paper records back then."

"Didn't your wife keep a diary or anything?" asked Mpenzi.

John shook his head but walked through into the kitchen and returned half a minute later, "There's just this. I ... don't know why I've left it up there."

He dropped a faded calendar on the table open at the month of AUGUST 2021. The picture showed the impressive skyline of Auckland in New Zealand, "From your mum's kiwi pen friend."

"August twentieth," Jessamy read, from the last highlighted date on the page.

"That was the day of the first strikes, when the Russians fired their missile at Thanatos," said Mpenzi.

"... CAPT DF - CAMBORNE RAIL," Jessamy continued, "AUDI - COP ... what does it mean?"

John Beech shrugged, "I don't know and there's nobody left to ask. We drove over that way a few years back to look for fuel and spare parts. The entire base has been abandoned."

Jessamy traced her fingertips over the slight indentations made by the words. Her mother's handwriting, "Could it be she was driving someone with the initials DF to Camborne to catch the train?"

"COP could mean close of play, the end of the working day," Mpenzi suggested.

"That's what I thought too. But Jess, Camborne was basically wiped off the map later that evening by a huge meteorite strike. If Vicky ... if your mum was there ..." John Beech took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes tightly shut.

"Oh fuck Dad, I'm sorry," Jessamy blurted, laying a hand on her father's.

He looked up, astounded, "Jessamy Sandra Beech, where did you learn language like ..."

It was the first time Jessamy had sworn openly in front of either of her parents. But John Beech laughed, "Sorry Jess. You were just eight the last time I saw you. You must be, what? Eighteen, now?"

"Nineteen, Dad."

"Nineteen ... well, I think this morning would be a good time to give you both a guided tour of our little community. And for me to finally introduce everyone to my daughter. What d'you say?"

Jessamy nodded, and quickly drained her coffee mug.

John turned to Mpenzi and held out a hand, "Miss Mpenzi?"

Mpenzi rose to her feet and smiled, "Please Mr Beech, call me Lupita."

Something was bothering Jessamy as she shrugged her coat on. If Vicky Beech had driven someone to meet a train in Camborne at the end of the working day, she would have been well on her way back home to Penzance by the time the first meteorites had struck the town. Was it possible instead that some individual was to blame for her mother's disappearance?

Jessamy vowed right there and then on the lives of everyone she held dear that if she ever discovered that was the case ... the individual responsible would pay.

THE END OF CHAPTER ELEVEN

Nineteen years later, in Berwick Upon Tweed's old Barracks building ...

"Listen. I know ye're probably no' up tae any overly energetic bedroom high jinx. But if ye just lay back I'd gladly go down on yer lady bits frae couple hours JB."

Jessamy lowered the road atlas she'd been studying and glanced across at Hamnavoe, scarcely able to believe her ears. It was late. And after a hectic day of being given a guided tour of the town by Merida and Ross, Jessamy wanted to rest, "Your unique approach is probably a little too subtle for my poor country bumpkin brain to fully appreciate," she said, her voice marinated in sarcasm, "but ... are you trying to seduce me by any chance, Mr. Hamnavoe?"

Hamnavoe punched his pillows and lay back, "Sorry lass. Ye cannae blame me for tryin' ..."

"No ... wait a second," Jessamy swung her long legs out of the bed and studied him. These weren't precisely the circumstances or surroundings she'd envisaged but now seemed somehow ... right. The candlelight sent dancing shadows lunging and flickering across the whitewashed stone walls, "you once promised me the best fucking ever. Do you want to put your money where your silver tongued mouth is ... or are you just talk?"

"I ... uh, realise ye're no' healed up properly yet lass. I don't think it would be appropriate."

Jessamy stood, gingerly clutching the dressing covering one side of her chest, "Appropriate bollocks. I'll just be careful."

Casting about the room for a few seconds, Jessamy snatched up a couple of fresh rolled bandages that Mrs Taber had left to redress her wound.

"Wh-what are ye doin' lass?" Hamnavoe asked nervously.

"Something I should've done weeks ago. But I'm too fucking stupid to see what's right in front of my eyes," Jessamy gripped Hamnavoe's right wrist, "do you trust me?"

Hamnavoe nodded hesitantly.

Wordlessly, Jessamy tied Hamnavoe's wrist securely to the metal bedframe.

"Mind tellin' me what ye're up tae?" Hamnavoe asked, casually trying to catch a glimpse down the front of Jessamy's t-shirt as she leaned over him.

Jessamy ignored him and tied the other wrist.

"Ouch. I hope ye're no' as bloody tight as these knots! If ye're gonnae be bouncin' up an' doon on ma wully it'd be nice to ha' ma hands free," Hamnavoe tugged against his restraints, "ye ken? To steady yer delectable tits?"

"Which tits would those be?" Jessamy asked. She pulled her t-shirt off over her head, "... these ones, by any chance?"

"Bloody hell JB. Ye'd give even a dead man a stiffy wi' mams like that."

Jessamy roughly pushed Hamnavoe's legs apart and knelt on the bed between them, "Let's see if you're right."

Sure enough, Hamnavoe's cock was already hard as Jessamy delicately fished it out of his underwear. She studied it, the way the veins pulsed along its impressive swollen length, the way the candlelight danced on the bead of moisture oozing from the wide glossy tip.

"Are ye just goin' to look at it all night?" he asked.

"It's a nice one," Jessamy admitted.

Hamnavoe shrugged, "Nice? Well I don't like to brag lass, but I've never had any complaints ... SHIT!"

Without another word, Jessamy took the glistening tip between her lips. She allowed him to slide all the way in, and let her throat relax. Then sighed, relishing the salty taste of the warm flesh filling her mouth. He was only the third man she'd ever gone down on in her whole life she realised.

The first, her brother Ross, had been back when she'd only recently escaped Tobermory. Ross - then an amnesiac called Ewan - and Merida, had turned a shy eighteen year old virgin into an amorous young woman. But with nineteen years apart, their lives had moved on and they couldn't possibly ever return to the relationship they'd once had.

The second had been Jiff. The father of her two daughters in Cornwall and one of the most gentle, sweet natured men she'd ever met. The kiwi had been her soulmate. With him, Jessamy had experienced the kind of love she wouldn't have believed existed, until Jack Aubrey and his HMS Poseidon had torn their family unit apart.

Jessamy wondered if that was what she was feeling now. Love, for the foul-mouthed old Scot ...

But before she had a chance to examine the way she felt, Hamnavoe raised his hips seeking to push himself deeper into her mouth. Jessamy firmly shoved him back down against the lumpy mattress, "Tsk, hold still will you?"

"How the fuck ... do ye expect me to hold still JB ... with yer lovely lips wrapped aroon' ma ... OHFUCK!"

Jessamy slid her mouth downwards, past the glans, deeper until his cock butted the back of her throat. She could feel the heat of blood pulsing through the thick veins along its length against her lips, and immediately felt her body respond with a heat of its own.

She resisted the almost overwhelming urge to straddle him and impale herself on Hamnavoe's long beautiful member and instead placed a hand beneath the lowest point she could accommodate, and began to gently twist on his shaft while she drew a deep breath and bobbed, sucking hard as she came up.

"Oh fuck JB ... ye really know how to ... mmm, show a fella a good time."