Life as a New Hire Ch. 27

I could so nail every single (over 17 year old) babe in this place and come back for seconds. But Noooo. Those sadistic monster were Muspelheim-bent on squashing my libido until I exploded. Death by sexual denial...I wondered how Virginia would put that in her report. Since I was covered in dried blood and sand, Caprica decided I had to take a shower.

Funny, I thought we were rationing water (it had to be toted up from the springs). Funny, I could have sworn one of those tunnels had showers in it. Funny, I recalled a joking conversation last night about me using the communal showers while behaving. Funny, I found myself in the flimsiest cloth contraption every designed by capricious three year olds, showering outdoors.

I had visions of M*A*S*H - the movie - except the shower curtain coming down was redundant. My 'screening' was made of cheese cloth that immediately began to disintegrate when it made contact with water...you know, like a shower. On the upside, they were helpful. By that I mean, Amazons were tripping over themselves to offer me things I hadn't even dreamed of asking for...or knew even existed.

Did you know there is a special stick you use for killing scorpions? It was completely different from the beetle spearing stick. I was supposed to eat the beetles. I ask that they point me to Anya Amasova (Barbara Bach - she was married to a Beetle). I could also eat the scorpions as long as I avoided the tip of the tail. Pamela had already cautioned me that some of their venom could be hallucinogenic.

I reminded her I didn't need 'bug juice' to make me delusional. Instead of the Scorpions, I asked if I could have a go at Halestorm, since their lead singer was a young, hot American lass named Lzzy Hale from a place called Red Lion (how cool is that?), not some aging male Teutonic metal-head from Hannover.

They assured me they had no idea what I was talking about. 'Trust, but verify'? Who in the fuck could I trust out here to verify anything? I was learning something new all the time...the symmetry of the Camp Amazons being helpful and the electron bomb in my head giving me helpful, unsolicited combat maneuvers wasn't lost on me.

For all my fellow, sex-hungry males, don't let you giving a bad first impression, or a girl thinking little of you, make you give up the hunt. Once she has low expectations, it is far easier to impress her. Don't run straight for the Stanley Cup. She's put you in a Pee-Wee House League so aim for the 'Juvenile' (that's the 18 to 20 year olds) Roster.

That way, if you slip up later, you have left yourself room for improvement. Do that and she is enchanted with what she might have started off considering an 'average' performance. Girls like it when you 'work for it' in the same ways guys get off on their lady dressing up so that they have the best looking babe when the two of you enter the club, or party.

Caprica had assessed me to be a 'Ginormous pain in her ass' before I ever set foot in the desert. Her attitude had infected her command. That meant, every little step I made toward their healthy enjoyment of me treading in their environs was magnified by their original notion that I was a lowdown, bossy, vile step-above a satyr. I had some good fortune too.

Sophia had been a big help, treating my gymnastics and comedy routine as amusing distractions instead of disrespectful behavior. The post-campfire song combat episode was a combination of Rachel and Pamela winning without throwing a blow. That helped me by the 'rule of four' - Amazons and their careful choice of companions.

My worth was elevated by having clever cohorts in the same way the Fatal Squirts basked in Aya's company. To a horse-culture like the Amazons, my treating my mount as an equal in the hunt, seeing to her needs before my own and Peppermint's clear acceptance of my behavior was critically revealing.

The Amazons held to the truism that a good measure of a person's basic human empathy was exhibited by how they treated their domesticated animals. Peppermint had been chosen for me because of her gentle disposition. That didn't explain how she melded with me when we chased down that javelina, how she came when I gave a gentle summons, and how we travelled as one.

A rider's posture was as important as the horse's gait. When the two meshed, you could cover many more kilometers between rest stops. Contrary to some modern feminists' way of thinking, being compared to an animal wasn't demeaning to these ladies. The Host religion had always been only a few grades advanced beyond shamanism/totemism. Horses?

The initial Amazon flight had been over the Caucasus and onto the Pontic Steppe. There their chariots were outmatched by the local Cimmerian peoples. It was the Scythians that came to their aid. The Scythians were constantly warring with the Cimmerians and their noblewomen rode into battle beside their men.

The Scythian noblewomen 'adopted' the Amazons and the Amazons adopted the Scythian horse-born lifestyle. Internecine warfare wasn't what the miniature Host wanted. With the Scythians pushing west, the Cimmerians were displacing to the south to pillage the old Amazon homeland, eradicating their roots from history as well as destroying their erstwhile Hittite allies.

The Amazons, with their new steeds and battle tactics, vacated the new Scythian lands, migrated to the Western Pannonian Plain and ended up with the Second Betrayal. Important to my tale was the growth of an unsophisticated horse-spirit worship into the veneration of the Celtic Horse-Goddess Epona and making it a pivotal part of Amazon spiritualism.

Only in Africa did the bond waver. Asiatic horses sickened and died in the alien ecosystem, leaving those houses to revive the original Amazon 'Runner' style of combat. Lesson: horses and hunting...bravery, solidarity and sisterhood. They were finding excuses to set aside their old gender ideology, keep me in close proximity and not feeling on edge.

I still wasn't one of the girls. For some reason, I continuously found myself shirtless - vest-less too if they could make up an excuse. Whiskers were a new sensation they had to sample. Poor Miyako, Virginia and Delilah were inundated with requests to explain the how's, why's and wherefores of my sexual potency. Miyako took to 'hiding in plain sight' the pestering got so unremitting.

Virginia loudly proclaimed 'we had never had sex', only to become viewed as non-credible and selfish for her unwillingness to share. Delilah had already figured out she was in 'virgin' territory. Not 'virgin' as unsexed. No...'virgin', as in "Harlequin what?", "You mean 'Fifty Shades of Grey' isn't about color-coding?"

Who was Lady Chatterley, was being a 'Lady' a power position and in what condition did she keep her lover? Delilah was a perverted nāgī in the Garden of Eden. Besides the plethora of porn imbedded in her memory, she also felt a feminine obligation to educate the erotically illiterate.

Night two - how to make a man give acceptable cunnilingus and why they should never settle for less.

Night three - fellatio with an advance course on what hoops to make your designated playmate jump through before rewarding him with some deep-throat action. Delilah was virtually the female 'me'; helpful and educational while being petty and selfish (except I was never petty.)

Night four's agenda was training your male in proper breast play, identifying your pleasure points and ensuring he memorizes every last one of them.

Night five - kissing? Man, was that ass-backward.

I didn't worry overmuch. Aya and her Squirt squad hung out with Pamela and me. We scaled a chimney path to the mesa top - the Squirts and my first time. Pamela and my Miyako Monkey had made the journey earlier in the day. We watched our mesa's shadow reach out across the broad valley until it cloaked the closest mesa to the west. We might not have been overlooking the Painted Desert, but this was our own private portion of paradise.

There was a bit of a traffic jam on the way down. The Amazons posted snipers along the top of the mesa at all times. Three watched over the camp while the other two took shelter in blinds that allowed them to watch the other approaches to our haven. Goddess Paranoia was alive and kicking.

Rachel proved true to her word. I was unable to wrangle a single moment of 'alone time' with Miyako, or Delilah. I was sure that Delilah would have jumped at the chance as this testosterone/estrogen cocktail was an incredible turn on for her. Pamela hinted that Miyako was biding her time.

(Midnight in the Grotto of Good and Evil)

We were in one of the underground pools at the bottom of the mesa. Our tour guide had informed us there were nine known caves and the complex had never been fully explored due to the remaining waterways being totally submerged. It was well past midnight, all my little friends had crashed out and I had wisely ditched my security after Miyako silently woke me up with her hand over my mouth.

She pulled my hand to her lips and sucked deeply on two of my digits. I took this to be an indicator to me she was in dire need of loving. The grotto was my idea. I was inspired by my desire to see her naked and I couldn't risk a light source any place but underground. The tool shed and garage lacked a certain appeal. The fuel depot and septic tank were also ruled out.

[Nipponese] "Is the chaos in your mind still raging, Cáel?" Miyako asked with enough worry to doubly enhance her cuteness.

[Nipponese] "Which of the twenty-seven unexplained languages rolling around in my head do you want me to answer you in?" my toothy grin barely visible in the darkness.

Around half way through my sexual enlightenment in college, I had a revelation. The two guys I had gone road-tripping with took me to a bar in Portsmouth. I caught a woman looking us over. I already had my one-night stand lined up and she was looking most agreeable to my nefarious skullduggery (i.e. she had come with some other guy who preferred beer and darts with his buddies over keeping his attention on what mattered).

And then my awakening.

"Nah, she's too fat," he remarked. For one thing, my friend who said that could have stood to lose ten to fifteen kilograms himself. Next, we were dressed like middle class college kids - jeans, shirts that were most likely clean when we picked them out of the laundry basket, light jackets and the shoe thing.

This girl was dressed up for a good night out. Nice makeup, her clothing choices were - eh - not stunning, but this wasn't a stunning nightclub/bar. She looked fun, she smiled and yes, she was overweight. It dawned on me that not only did I not care - I never cared. I was a sexual omnivore and that meant any lady interested in sex with me was fine in my book.

So, I turned the tables on him.

"If you can score her number, I'll give you my watch," I dared him. The wristwatch was really nice ... one of those $500 handmade German ones. One of my Exs' great-granddad had swiped it off some Nazi pilot in World War II...and the same girl gave it to me twice. See, by accident, as I was exiting the (thankfully) first floor window of the Natural Sciences building, she threw a pitcher at me.

It had been sitting in an ornamental display case close by. I caught it, nodded to the flabbergasted female professor-type gawking at the semi-naked me, handed her the projectile, then fled like the responsibility-dodging coward that I was. It turned out that that bit of crockery was from the mid-1600's; the woman I'd surprised was the item's owner.

That older lady wasn't a teacher. She was a major benefactor in charge of one of the school's larger endowments. Had it shattered, the Ex most likely would have been expelled. Instead...after watching me round the Chancellor's residence, the mature chick turned to the totally naked chick leaning out the window, still screaming at me.

"Is he on the track team?" she inquired as she handed the artifact back. They talked, agreed I was a miserable human being, a cad and had firmly developed buttocks. Well, I guess that makes me a pig with nice hams. The next day, I showed up to return the watch - it was just an excuse for one more round of sex.

She explained the whole incident to me, took back the watch and sent me on my way. I hurried back to my dorm room, changed the sheets and picked up a bit. An hour later she was quietly knocking at my door. Rather epic make-up sex followed, she gave me the watch as a keepsake and I swore off intercourse in classrooms for two whole months. I'm a tower of resolute willpower, I know.

Back at the bar, my buddy snorted, made some comment about her being obviously desperate and promised me he'd nail in her in one of the back rooms. They talked a little, he got 'friendly', then said something that really hurt the girl's feelings. She looked our way, steadied herself with a shot of bourbon and came over to me and my other bud.

"Did you tell that guy you would give him fifty bucks if I put a lipstick ring on his cock?" she confronted us.

"No, I told him you were too good for him and if he could get your phone number, I would give him this watch," I showed her the watch. The girl's face flashed back to 'cautiously curious'.

"Is it a nice watch?" she asked.

"It is a family heirloom. My great-grandpa brought it back from World War II after taking it off some high ranking kraut officer," I embellished. "I knew he didn't have a chance with you."

"Thanks," she grinned. "I agree. Let me get my sister and we can get a bite to eat." Sex.

Two guesses of who her sister was. If you guessed the girl I had been cultivating since I got there, you would be right. I am too damn lucky. Lads, the next time you blow a sure thing - blame me for sucking all the good karma away from you...and nine of your friends. I got a three-way. The guy I made the challenge to got his revenge. He bailed and I had to hitchhike back to school. You know, female truckers...oh, back to Miyako.

After stashing our clothing and weapons (all of mine anyway), I took a small fluorescent lantern and slipped into the water. Cold, but doable. Miyako joined me and then, by moonlight, we swam to the point where the guide had said we'd find a passage to a secluded grotto. Down we went. My motivation wasn't sex.

That was coming no matter what. Seeing my Nipponese sweetie completely nude directed my course of action. Security protocols meant no lights after 11 p.m. My solution was to cut on a light that couldn't be seen from outside - the grotto. We felt our way along the rather wide submerged passage emerging well before air became an issue. I raised the lantern and cut it on.

Our tour guru had forgotten to mention that the algae patches along the sides and bottom as well as the quartz veins on the roof and walls reflected the light over what must have been an eight by ten meter cavern. Gorgeous. We glided to a shelf that met our needs, climbed up and shared a high school 'nervous virgin' moment. She broke the spell by pulling herself out of the water and, standing on her tippy-toes, touched one of the roof veins.

I drank in every inch of my little ninja babe's lithe, finely tuned body. Once she got over the newness of my voyeurism, she became playful, giving me a variety of silhouettes and poses. I stripped and returned the favor, which earned me a giggling fit. As I took a minute to sit down and stare into the tranquility of the still surface, she snuck up on me.

She said it all with her eyes. I tried to speak, but she put a forefinger to my lips. 'Hold me forever,' her eyes relayed her intentions. 'Love me for all eternity and think of no one else but me.' My elbows were locked, supporting my upper torso as she hovered over my lap. She was a lone feather falling upon the unyielding stone.

With one hand behind her, she guided my cock into the wet, luxurious vice that was her cunt. We took it in increments. A sigh more at home in whispered Nirvana than on mortal tongues escaped her lips as she nestled all the way down. We didn't fuck. We rocked back and forth in a timid motion.

As Miyako became accustomed to me once more, she would lean farther back with each pulse until an in and out rhythm was achieved. I took the occasion of her victory to pluck her left nipple into my mouth. Experience had taught me that was her more sensitive one. For several seconds, she fought it before knowledge caught up with instinct, then she loosed her passion.

After her vibrations subsided, she rested her body tightly against mine. I still impaled her and she was returning a fraction of that warmth.

[Nipponese] "Do you ever think you will find true love?" she whispered into my ear. I was drawing my finger through her damp hair as it trailed down her back.

[Nipponese] "As in love one over all others...no," I confided. "Even if I did, I could never admit it."

[Mandarin] "Why not?"

[French] "My life is a mad race through the forest and I don't know if I am a hound or the stag. I don't dare slow down until I know, and that is no way to repay such devotion."

[English] "When do you think the race will end for you?" she moaned softly.

[Nipponese] "I would really like to hold a child of mine. I don't regret my life's path up until now, yet I leave so very little of me behind if it ends soon," I muttered and then chuckled. "It used to be at the first sign of a pregnancy test, I would panic. The World turns very rapidly."

A minute passed as she went from warm to heatedly sensuous.

[Nipponese] "Less talk - more babies," she sacrificed her emotions for my well-being with her oh so naught Baby Metal band voice and questing fingers. How could I say 'no' to that?

[English] "I don't think it works that way," I teased.

[Nipponese] "Let's find out."

Sometime later, I was lying on my back, Miyako's body extended over mine so that not one precious inch of her touched the cool slick rock surface. Considering our position and location, it took me a bit longer to notice the intruder. I thought she was all kinds of strange. Twin memories and perception joined forces for once.

The woman moved through the water, yet she was only hip deep in a place I knew the bottom was three meters below. As she entered our isolated love nest, I noticed she had sent forth not a single ripple in the water. Memory filled in the rest. Her eyes, when her gaze met my own, had that void that comes from a tortured life punctuated by horrors you witness as well as ones you are forced to perform.

That was from "me". The electron swarm inside my mind provided another crucial piece of the puzzle. Utukku - phantoms...dead denied entrance to the Nether Realms, trapped between, until some sin had been lifted. The spirit gave me a look of shock, then turned and fled.

[Nipponese] "We are in danger," I hissed to Miyako before cutting off the lantern.

I dove in, angling for the tunnel we'd entered by. I was close enough not to jab my fingers into the stone surface as I clawed my way through. I didn't burst noisily to the surface on the other side. My approach was that of an alligator - slowly letting my head crest the surface so I could look around. No one was in evidence. Miyako was soundless at my side as we scramble to the hiding place of our gear.

Miyako held my hand back until she was sure our belongings hadn't been booby-trapped. I had to make quick judgment call: how time critical was this? I went the 'clothes and weapons' route.

"What is going on?" Miyako spoke quietly.

"Back there, I saw a feminine Asian ghost and the last time I witnessed such a pained, hopeless look, I was confronting the Seven Pillars," I told her. "Their slave had that same doomed stare."

"There are only two things here of value," Miyako made her assessment. "You and the children. You are far more accessible in New York City, so it must be the children." We pressed ourselves tightly to the cave sides when we heard the sound of footsteps coming our way. It was Charlotte, my minder for evening, with her bow notched and ready.