Orion Origins

"As I said, my interests are wide, and, I like strong women, so a sexy superheroine naturally interests me."

"How do you know she's sexy?" Sheila asked, not even trying to keep the challenge out of her eyes.

"The campus papers aren't the start of my research, just a continuation."

"And?"

"I've talked to several of the crime victims..."

"You talked to a rape victim?"

"A victim of attempted rape, and I made it clear I only wanted to ask about her rescuer, plus several victims of attempted muggings. From their descriptions, this masked crimefighter is skilled in martial arts, moves with the grace of a dancer, and apparently is quite alluring to the men. At least her backside was. They were preoccupied until she had finished, and she was taking her leave, but they definitely remembered the view as she left."

Sheila hoped her blush wasn't showing. She did think her ass was her best feature, and liked to fantasize about the right man grabbing and holding it, whoever the right man might turn out to be. She had bigger worries though. Jason seemed well on his way to creating a profile of her secret identity. Just then the papers arrived, and he took them and went back to the table. He took his time, not just skimming them, but thoroughly reading them and taking notes. She was finding it hard to concentrate on her work, so she locked his ID in her desk and headed for the restroom.

The library had nice restrooms, and she sat down on the bench that served as a makeup station with its oval mirror. Not that she was wearing makeup, but she needed to sit down away from the view from this Jason. There was a tingle of danger in that he was unknowingly investigating her by researching Orion. That made every exchange of conversation a tightrope walk, so she didn't give anything away. He didn't seem to have ill intent, but that didn't mean that he couldn't expose her to danger without realizing what he was doing, especially if this was an obsessive quest on his part.

He was handsome, she had to admit with a barely suppressed smile. And he was certainly different from any man she had ever met. She looked herself in the eyes trying to imagine what he had seen there when his eyes hadn't budged off hers for so long. On her part, she wasn't sure what she had seen in his eyes other than intelligence and curiosity. Well, maybe something else, but she wasn't sure what.

She lifted her head and took inventory of herself. She wasn't sure what men saw when they looked at her, but she knew she was attractive enough to draw a certain amount of male attention, especially if she tried. She decided she needed some glasses to complete the "sexy librarian" look, so she could whip them off and shake her hair out of its topknot. She giggled softly, imagining herself doing such a thing and then realized she hadn't giggled since she was 12---very strange.

The situation was tempting. She doubted Jason needed much encouragement. He certainly seemed rather sure of himself. Part of the attraction was probably the danger of the situation. She didn't need to be a psychologist to know that a good deal of the lure of taking on her crimefighting persona was courting danger. That was as Orion though, with a cowl to protect her identity. Was she ready to play with fire as Sheila? She shivered a little, sucked in a deep breath, and got up to leave.

It was four o'clock by the time Jason had brought back the latest set of the campus papers.

"Only a month and a half to go," she remarked.

"It will wait until tomorrow. I need a break."

"See you tomorrow then."

"Unless I can tempt you with dinner tonight. What time do you get off?"

She silently looked at him for a second. The last question seemed very much to assume the answer to the first one. "You're rather sure of yourself."

"No, just hopeful. It's not every day I meet an intelligent, beautiful woman."

She smiled, lowered her face slightly but raised her eyes to keep hold of his. "I get off at 5, but I'll have to go home to change."

"You look great right now. Please don't tell me you're one of those girls who needs to go home and put unnecessary makeup on just to go out with a poor country boy."

"I highly doubt you're a poor country boy," she laughed.

"So I'll pick you up in front of the library at 5 then?"

God, Jason was something else, smooth, insistent, but not crude or obnoxious. This was like a strange man pulling her out on a dance floor and skillfully leading her in a Tango.

"I'll be here," she said, trying to forget the image that had just leapt into her head.

He was just outside the decorative arch that marked the transition from the library entrance to the concrete path that fronted it. She had taken her hair down when she left her desk, and she smiled to herself as she saw him look her up and down with his eyes as she walked towards him. He was far enough away to not make it obvious, but she could tell. He seemed to like what he saw. "Well, Jason, you are a man after all, aren't you?" she thought to herself.

"Where are we eating, Mr. Poor Country Boy?"

"I thought Thai food, if that's OK. It's about 6 blocks if you don't mind walking."

"Sounds good to me. I like to walk."

After they had gone a ways, she asked, "Did you have a backup?"

"Chinese. And Italian as a last resort, but I figure you for the adventurous type, and Chinese restaurants are everywhere."

"You're so calculating Jason Francis Taylor!"

"What else did you get from my license Miss Smartypants?"

"Everything. As you said, I don't miss much."

He reached around and held the door open for her. When the hostess walked them to a table in the center of the restaurant, he politely stopped her. "Can we have the table in the corner instead?"

After they sat, she said, "Not holding the chair for me? I'm disappointed."

"Not as disappointed as you'd be if I tried it. No matter how many old movies I've watched I could never get the knack. I'd just end up knocking your knees into the table leg or worse."

"How did you know I wouldn't be offended by your holding the door for me?"

"All women like having a man hold a door for them. But if they don't like the man, it just makes a convenient excuse for putting him in his place right off."

"So, you're saying I like you?" she asked smiling, with a twinkle in her eyes, "And just how much experience have you had with women?"

"Enough with rejection to begin to see the patterns."

"I would have thought you're the one doing the rejecting."

"Sometimes," he smiled.

"OK, so now I want to hear the secrets that men don't divulge. If you do the asking, what makes you decide on doing the rejecting?"

"You can't tell everything by just looking although you can tell a lot, but you get the idea pretty quickly once you've made the first move."

"And I haven't made the reject pile yet?"

"At this point I'd be heartbroken if you did."

"Really? And you've sized me up that well already?"

"I've already told you," he replied, taking the cue and all too obviously visually sizing her up, running his eyes from hers down her plain white but tight-fitting blouse and slowly back up, "I like smart, sexy, adventurous women."

"And all women like flattery too," she said, turning her head slightly, "but I know there's more than that."

"All right, you asked for the secrets men don't tell. If you were someone just out for free drinks and partying, you would have wanted to see my car before going anywhere with me. If you were just interested in a roll in the hay, you would have done more than just let your hair down, you would have undone a button or two on your blouse and shaken your hair out when you came outside. Doing it when you leave a building seems innocent enough to not be obvious."

Sheila laughed. "So that's why you met me outside the library. You're so devious Mr. Taylor!"

"You asked me to be honest with you, so no fair holding it against me now that I've given you my man secrets."

"Most men don't have secrets. Men are simple. They go for what they want. If they don't, they're broken. It's how they go for it that's different."

"I suppose so," he said thoughtfully, "but then women are just as dedicated to the same thing. They're just more subtle at it."

"You seem to have us figured out pretty well."

"One survives by learning."

Their food was gone, and Jason sat with his perfect hands calmly layered on top of each other on the table in front of him. She couldn't help imagining her own hands lying comfortably under his, gently trapping them in a chaste embrace. Who was this man?

"Do you practice martial arts?"

"Not any more. Too tall to go too far. What made you ask that?"

"You don't fidget. There's a stillness and comfort with one's body that only comes from a lot of practice."

They were both surprised when the waitress told them that it was closing time.

"Should I drive you home?" he asked as they reached the library.

"It's not far. I'll walk. I always do."

"Would you like company? I'm afraid I've kept you out rather late."

"Not necessary. As you said, the crime rate in this neighborhood is way down."

"I suppose it is," he said, and a strange look of regret and sadness crossed his face but quickly disappeared. What exactly was that about?

"Somehow this whole day doesn't seem normal. I feel like we're in a book," she said.

"A good one or a bad one?"

"Good so far."

"So you're going to keep reading?"

"Not stopping yet. I'll be here tomorrow. Now I need to get my beauty sleep." She reached her arms up around his neck and kissed him. Their tongues wrestled gently, deliciously for just a few seconds until she broke it off.

"Always leave them wanting more as they used to say in Vaudeville," she said, twirling her loose skirt around her as she gracefully turned and walked away as un-selfconsciously as she could manage. She did smile as she heard the sharp intake of breath that came in response.

#

Sheila walked a few steps away from Jason and dropped her skirt to the floor, revealing her Orion costume. She turned away to face the wall and bent over, putting her palms out to the wall to hold herself with her ass jutted out towards him seductively. She turned her head to him, letting her hair float gently around her face. "Like what you see?"

Jason silently strode up to her, standing right behind her, put one hand around each of Sheila's thighs and pulled them back towards him, pulling her ass tightly against his flat stomach and making the tips of her fingers on the wall the only thing preventing her from falling flat. Well that, and those firm hands holding her thighs tightly. She squirmed, and then woke up.

"Oh boy!" she thought, covering her lips with her hand and inhaling sharply. What the hell was that? This didn't happen. This was not happening. She was 24, not some love-struck teenager meeting Elvis. He did have that seductively deep voice though. "Shut up!" she told herself. She needed a cold shower to get herself ready for work.

Jason handed Sheila his request card and ID as soon as she sat down. "And how are you this morning?" he said with a soft tone in that deep, smooth voice of his.

"Very good, thanks, and thank you for dinner last night," she added, smiling. Strangely she felt like she was letting out an embarrassing secret like they had actually slept together last night. Must be the dream, she thought.

"Tell me about this collection of yours. Surely they have you in charge of more than just newspapers."

"It started with Dr. Lloyd Eaton donating his huge personal collection of pulp magazines, fanzines, and first editions of early SF. We've added comics, graphic novels, and when Bob Rogers donated his vintage pulp mystery books, correspondence, fanzines and film noir DVDs, we expanded into mystery as well. It's the largest collection in the world."

"So I'm guessing you're very familiar with the collection?"

"Well I still haven't explored it all. It's more than 100,000 books and almost as many fanzines, but I do enjoy the collection myself. It's one of the perks of my job."

"So, in the mysteries and comics, what's your favorite type, the Good Girl, the Femme Fatale, or the Damsel in Distress?"

"Would it shock you that I like the superheroine?"

"Of course you would," he laughed heartily, "What else could it be? Although you do realize that the superheroine frequently ends up the Damsel in Distress."

"Yes, but then she rescues herself. There's no reward without struggle."

"And I would expect no less!" and this time they both laughed.

The papers had arrived, and the "stacker" handed them over with a surprised look at the pair's badinage.

It only took Jason 2 hours to finish his task, and he reluctantly handed over the last set of papers and asked for his ID.

"So, is your research complete?"

"This phase is, but I have one more phase to do, although I'm almost tempted to skip it, and start a new pursuit with another part of your collection."

"That doesn't sound like you," she replied, holding his ID in her upraised palm instead of handing it over with her fingers.

"Well, sometimes there are extenuating circumstances," he said, taking hold of her fingers and flipping her hand over, so the ID fell gently to the desk. He lifted her hand and planted a courtly kiss on the fingers he curled over slightly to receive the gesture.

She smiled and blushed, "and can you live with yourself if you leave your quest undone, or will it haunt you?" she asked. Then, after she said it, she remembered that his current quest was finding everything there was to know about Orion.

"We've known each other for too short a time for you to know me that well, but you're probably right," he added with a hint of sadness as he picked up his ID and replaced it in his wallet. "Of course some quests come to a dead end, and that takes the sting out of abandoning them to leave it for someone else to find and eventually take up.

"On to the last phase of my quest then. You won't see me for a week or maybe two. If, after two, I'm not back, rest assured I will never forget you," he finished and turned to leave.

"Wait, what? Is it dangerous?"

"Only to my peace of mind," he said as a parting shot and was gone.