One Night in Las Vegas

Everyone shuffled into place, Worley tapped his wrist pad and heard a beep in his earpiece. He gave a thumbs up.

"The other one is this way, toward the pyramid. There were only single sensors so it doesn't seem anything moving through, likely crumbling walls or ceilings. Once you confirm, let me know, then come meet us and we'll go see the inside of the pyramid. It's quite the sight even ruined."

A Mostly Successful Mission

Worley followed the directions in his ear that told him when to turn right or left and quickly led his team out of the lit area. Without orders three head-mounted lights went on but they slowed their strides to dodge obstacles and note landmarks to avoid total dependance on the map to get back.

"Bingo," Worley said softly after a few more turns as their lights illuminated a pile of rubble that blocked half of the hallway, the right side of the wall collapsed, "guess Mason was right about the sensor. Jacques, you have the lamp?"

"Yup, hold on," he said and suddenly a tiny lamp provided a twenty foot circle of soft, yellow light. He set it on a small block of the rubble.

"I'm going to check out that intersection," Anderson said as she slowly walked further in the direction they'd been travelling.

"Ok," Worley said as he toggled his mic, "no further. Mason, we've found it, bit of wall collapsed, but ceiling seems ok. Will recalibrate. Over."

"Roger, Worley," in his ear, "good job. See you in a few. Out."

Jacques walked the way they'd come and shined his head light down a side hallway.

Worley tapped on his wrist pad as he used the codes Mason had given him to convince the hidden sensor that it had a pile of rubble as a new neighbor. Suddenly he heard a shout from Sandy Anderson.

"Kids! There are kids...," she shouted, Worley turned, she was just at the edge of the illumination, but he saw her head light beam dance in floating dust as she faced to his right, "they're..."

Suddenly his earpiece screamed, he bent at the waist and his hand flew up and tried to remove it, his fingers scrabbled at his ear as his legs went soft and he sank to his knees. It went silent and he shook his head to clear the fog the sound had left in his brain, a siren continued in his right ear.

"Report," he croaked, "Jacques, Anderson..."

"Fuck, fuck...," the sound caused Worley to look quickly to his left, saw the crew's radioman like him, on his knees and cursing, but seemingly no worse off.

"Anderson..., Sandy," he said, looked the other way as he rose. Nothing. She wasn't in the hallway. He used the control to open the mic on his radio but nothing.

"Goddammit," he muttered as Jacques came and stood next to him, likewise tapping his brutalised ear, "your radio dead?"

"Yeah. Where's Anderson?"

"I don't know. Get the lamp, c'mon," Worley led them to the intersection, the hallway did a ninety-degree turn to the right. Their crewmate was nowhere to be seen. He looked down, saw in the dust a single set of bootprints that went about thirty feet and at the next, left, turn they merged into what were apparently a large number of footfalls that had disturbed the dust.

"What do we do?" Jacques asked.

"Shit... shit... shit... Where the fuck did she go? Ok, damn," Worley took a deep breath, his throat complained about the dust but he held it and exhaled slowly, "we follow if we can. The map Mason gave me covers this area to get back but I don't know if it'll work with the radios dead. But the Chief's way the other side. By the time we find her and get back who knows what shit Anderson might be in."

"Did she say 'kids,'" asked Jacques, "before the radios went haywire?"

"Turn off the lamp," Worley said as he motioned them forward, it went off, "yeah, 'kids.' What, children? Here? How? There are more sensors, why didn't they trip?"

A Flash of Green

'How the hell are those little brats so fast?' ran through Sandy Anderson's mind as she tried to follow but kept losing them. 'How can they SEE?'

She had to limit her speed to avoid rubble, gaps in the floor, hanging debris. The kids just kept going and she swore they laughed as they ran. She knew she was being teased because they'd get out of sight around a corner and when she arrived at an intersection she'd seen their broad grins and ridiculously green eyes shine at the far edge of her lamp light before they'd turn and run again.

"Stop," she'd said more than once, "I can help you. I won't hurt you!"

Her radio was dead, it had screamed but the sight of children had fired her with adrenalin that had kept her erect. Their pale skin and green eyes shocked her. Their smiles though, they'd seemed amused more than frightened, but they'd turned and fled. Children. Well, maybe ten, eleven, years old, they all looked like girls, hair dark brown, braids, ponytails, short and long. They were in t-shirts of various colours, blue jeans, rubber-soled shoes.

Five of them? No, six.

The game had been played again, she waited and tried to slow her breathing, the dust wreaked havoc with her throat. She looked back, hoped to see lights, none. Shit. She'd lost count of the turns, knew going back there would be choices to be made, hoped she could follow disturbed dust. She took a few fast steps but as she approached the intersection she slowed before she reached it, turned.

"Little fuckers," her mood had shifted as they took off again, laughter clear now as the roar in her tortured ear lessened. She took a step then stopped, twisted her head to put her undamaged left ear forward. Voices? Yeah. Lots of them. Laughter? But other sounds, mechanical chirps? Bells?

"What the hell is going on?" She unsnapped the security strap on her holster and fingers danced lightly on the pistol grip. She was worried for the children but there were clearly more people here. With her head turned she saw a glow coming from the next left turn. She reached up and turned off her head lamp then waited a few moments to let her eyes adjust.

She walked forward and just before she reached the gap she heard sibilant speech, a conversation in a language she couldn't recognize, she stopped. She peeked, then stepped into the opening, her mouth open.

The children looked up at two, tall, adult women who looked down, their skin pale like the children's, their hair dark and done up in fancy, curled hairdos. The women were backlit through the dimly-lit passage where muted sounds of gaiety originated. The children pointed in her direction and the women looked up.

The women nudged the children to the side, they laughed gaily and ran to Sandy's left through a doorway. With clear views, she saw the women were tall, taller than her five-seven, their large breasts barely covered by their silvery, clinging, plunging halter-necked gowns, long slits showed their pale but shapely legs, feet in high, high silver heels. They could be sisters, even twins. They both had green eyes.

They looked at her and smiled broadly. They were unarmed and the gowns were too clingy for weapons to be hidden she thought. She kept her fingertips lightly on her pistol grip but made no further move for it.

"Hello, Explorer," the woman on the left said now in English, albeit in a strange, flat tone, "we hope the children haven't caused you trouble. It's their birthday."

Sandy's brain tried to process that.

"What..., who, who are you? How are you here?" A croak.

"We're... visitors," the woman answered, they looked quickly at each other then back at Sandy, "this is Las Vegas. Visitors have always come here to celebrate. Come, you look tired and sweaty. We have baths and food and games."

Sandy heard something to her left, turned, saw two bouncing points of light. They sped up when they saw her.

"It's a party, Tom," her shaky voice said to Worley and Jacques as they approached, she couldn't see their faces yet. They hit the intersection and followed her eyes as she turned. They stopped, their mouths dropped open as the two young men saw the beautiful women in their slinky evening gowns.

"I am Jane," said the woman on the left as she gestured at her chest, she gestured to her own left, "and this is Anna."

Their audience stared.

"Come, Explorers," Anna said, her voice slightly deeper than Jane's but similarly flat, "the children have their birthday party and we adults have our own party. Come join us."

Partying

The two pale women half-turned and gestured 'follow us.'

"What do we do, boss?" Sandy asked Worley softly, he didn't react, she nudged him to turn his other ear to her and repeated her question. He pursed his lips then nudged Jacques to move his left ear close as well.

"We follow, see what's past there, they have children here, we need to know what else," he said softly, but the twitches in the women's smiles seemed to indicate they'd heard. Hell, he could be yelling, what with his ear still ringing.

"We're coming," he led his little team as the two women walked smoothly in their stilettos through the opening. As Tom and the others neared the opening they felt a slight electric charge as they walked through it and the sound doubled.

They emerged onto a broad, round balcony that surrounded a gaily, if dimly, lit casino floor. The sounds were from a hundred, two hundred people at slot machines, blackjack and roulette tables, they walked the aisles and carried drinks, laughed, conversed. The women had turned left and gestured the trio should follow. Many of the party's attendees were like the women, tall, pale, dark-haired, but others were the expected mix of people, all shades through browns and blacks, blonde hair, brown, a few reds.

Regardless of their height, gender or any other factor, no one on the floor wore clothes less revealing than Anna and Jane. Many of the women were topless, many men and women naked but for a scarf or shoes, many women in heels, men in slippers. What clothes were worn were usually transparent. Robotic wheeled carts carried drinks and food.

One constant seemed everyone was attractive, if not beautiful.

"English," Jacques said, "but not just. Other, words... What?"

"The women," Sandy said, "were talking to the children in some language I've never heard. Ever. The children ran into that doorway to the left, just before this place."

Tom nodded, looked around.

"Guards," he said, his companions looked at the tall, over six feet tall, solidly built men with dark hair in crew cuts, and women, their hair in tight buns. Dark suits, white shirts, wrap-around sunglasses, one behind them now just the other side of the entrance, four others spread on the balcony, others near openings on the casino floor. Their attention seemed directed outward but he felt their presence.

"They're paler than the children... and these women," Sandy said, then they followed their guides down a sweeping staircase wide enough for all three to walk abreast. On the casino floor they made a quick left and pushed through a set of curtains flanked by a male and female 'guard,' slight head movements their only reaction.

"Oh, wow," Tom was the only one who seemed able to speak. They faced a marble-tiled swimming pool, directly opposite them a beautiful, naked blonde woman sat on a towel on the edge with her legs spread wide, her head thrown back, her eyes closed, her large breasts jiggled as a brunette woman's face was buried in her crotch. The brunette turned, looked at them and smiled, then returned to her task. Elsewhere in the pool couples, trios, most naked, kissed, fondled each other or apparently fucked.

"Come," Jane said, "you can clean up in here, we have clothes you can wear, if you must have them."

She led the Explorers into a spa room, a bank of showers along one wall, a ten, twelve foot round gurgling whirlpool bath the other end. Two men, only their heads visible above the bubbling surface, kissed and fondled each other, a man and woman next to them did likewise.

A woman a few inches shorter than Sandy emerged from behind a curtain at the far side, her curvaceous body visible through the shimmery transparent shift she wore, her pubic area shaved and her nipples prominent.

"Marie," Anna said to her, "please help our new guests get cleaned up and find them some clothes if they want them."

"Um, what," Tom looked at Anna, then at Marie who smiled softly at him and stood erect, her nipples pressed against her shift. He felt himself reacting.

"You're quite handsome," Marie stepped to Jason, he was a few inches taller, she caressed his chest with her fingers, moved to the top button of his shirt.

"Um, I'm Jason," he stammered, Marie smiled, her blue eyes glittered.

"You won't need your weapons," Jane said, firmer and sharper than their previous words, before she relaxed her tone again, "we disabled your radios. Had we desired you dead instead, you would be."

Tom's attention on Jane, Marie began to unbutton Jason's shirt, at some point a man, clad only in transparent loose pants, had approached Sandy. Her eyes were locked on his, her mouth open.

One of the guards approached, stood just behind and to his side. Jane spoke to him rapidly in that unrecognized language.

"We can't let you leave until morning," Jane back to English, "you'll get your weapons and equipment then. No one here can get pregnant tonight, so please indulge as you will."

"Oh," she looked at Sandy, "I cannot speak for your lovely companion."

"Wha...," Sandy's gaze moved glacially from the eyes of the beautiful man unbuttoning her shirt to Jane, then back, "um, I'm fine. Covered."

"I'm Sandy," she said, her fingertips against his firm chest.

"We... can't... do...," Tom started, but then he stopped, Jane's head tilted at him. He wasn't used to looking up at a woman's eyes, but with her heels he had no choice. He looked at his companions, both rapt with their attendants.

"Shit...," he said slowly, he looked at Jane, then at the guard, he carefully worked his weapons belt off, not wanting to surprise anyone, "guys, c'mon, off with 'em."

Sandy and Jason followed suit, handed them to the guard.

"Your calf," Jane said to Tom, his eyes widened for a second, then he smiled shyly. He kept his eyes on hers and squatted down, lifted his pant leg to unsnap the scabbard from his calf. He handed it over.

The guard retreated, left the room.

"Our only rule," Jane said in a tone that drew three heads to look at her, "you can ask for anything, of anyone. And they can ask of you. But. At anytime, you can say 'no,' they can say 'no.' They will respect that. So will you."

"Now, Tom," said Anna in a husky, if slightly weird, flat tone, "you need help undressing."

She stepped forward and put the fingers of her left hand under his chin, tilted his head slightly up.

"Let me help you," she pushed her lips softly onto his, her kiss was tender, her mouth slowly opened his, her tongue probed the insides of his each lip, before it pushed further.

Sustenance

Jane's rule was familiar to Tom, to all three, the generations in the holes had needed to strictly control reproduction but most used universal birth control and free sexual mores, in the hopes people burned off energy while confined into high-tech but tight and spartan quarters. Freed to return to the surface the former restrictions relaxed but the latter had held up. His and Sandy's approach just after meeting had been mutually acknowledged but tabled until back in Henderson, the tradition to avoid entanglements during short missions.

His last sight of Sandy after their assisted showers had been her wearing nothing but a translucent scarf as her 'attendant' regaled her with choices of heels, high, higher and 'you're fucking with me here.' That same attendant had brought her to a shuddering orgasm as he'd scrubbed her skin and hair, Sandy's legs had gone weak and she'd needed to be held up. Tom knew he'd never done that to any woman. Ever.

But he had little room to cavil at Sandy, the blast of cum Anna had drawn from his rampant cock moments later during his own shower gave him no quarter.

"Come, sweet, let's get you some food, real food, not that packaged stuff," Anna cooed into his ear, her feet back in her 'you're fucking with me here' stilettos and her huge chest wrapped in the long, red scarf, that started around her neck and finished tied around her waist to fall from her right hip to leave her closely trimmed pussy in the clear. She'd put him into a pair of those clear, loose pants and soft slippers. Their arms around each other, he wondered where Jason was. He was at first nervous about his visible three-quarters erection but he also couldn't hide his pride in how it compared.

"But first," Anna whispered to him, "I have someone for you to meet."

She turned him to their left and he was face to face with the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Five-three, five-four, year or two older, maybe, her loosely curled hair that cascaded past her face and onto her shoulders was similar in color to their uniforms. Her face was perfectly balanced, her golden eyes flecked with the ubiquitous green, her lips full and naturally red. Her skin was smooth and just a shade lighter than her hair. She was wearing the same kind of scarf as Anna, it wrapped but didn't hide her breasts, not as large as Anna's but seemingly so on her more petite frame, with perfectly round, dark pink areolas and erect nipples. Her uncovered pussy was mostly shaven, with a landing strip the same color as her hair, her perfect legs ended in another pair of the 'you're fucking with me here' sort of heels.

"Herbert Thomas Worley," Anna said as Tom's eyes were locked, "meet Carole Ann Miller. Carole, call him Tom."

Tom saw Carole's eyes flash down his body, three-quarters no longer sufficient description of his state, then back up to lock on his, her smile broadened by a degree. She extended a hand.

"Pleased to meet you, Tom," her hand was warm, soft. But firm. Strong. He felt bad at his calluses and already worn skin. How? Where did these people live?

"Me too, Carole," Tom summoned every fibre of concentration, he only reluctantly released her hand

"Why don't you show our guest the buffet, Carole," Anna said as she took a half step away, "what's a trip to Vegas without a buffet? Besides, you two have a connection."

"Come on, Tom," she slipped her right arm around his left, whispered into his good ear, his mind whirled, "this way."

It suddenly dawned on him that he'd never told Anna his real first name. Not even his Explorer crew knew it. The flashed sight of Jason Jacques, his left arm around the shoulder of a short, curvy woman with long, brunette hair, his right around the waist of a man with closely cropped brown hair just taller than him. Tom smiled as his correct intuition about their radio operator, the smell and feel of Carole next to him and the sudden aromas of real food, not vacuum-packed mush, drove any other thoughts from his mind.

Real food. No one starved anymore, but for generations in the holes and the couple of decades since food meant basic food, creative use of spices, nothing like this. Real meats here, not vat grown. Even today, real meat was a special occasion treat. Fresh vegetables, sugar! Chocolate. Fucking chocolate. He felt Carole's fingers slide along his stiff shaft and he was determined to not eat himself into a coma.

They talked little as he ate, he savoured every bite, chewed slowly. Carole said she'd eaten, caressed his back, shoulders, thigh as he ate. After, he put his plate, actual ceramic, into the tray Carole pointed to.

"Your name," Carole asked as the strolled, "Herbert? Archaic."

"Yeah," Tom laughed, went serious, "my many greats grandfather. Got his son into an arcology outside LA just in time. He didn't get in. So every eldest male gets Herbert. But we also get a second name we can use."