A Note on Continuity:
This tale includes characters from four (or more!) different comic-book universes. As such any discussion of continuity is problematic. The author has tried to use the "classic" versions of characters that may have gone through radical (if usually temporary) changes in the recent past.
Specifically:
This is Eric Luke's Ghost, before she was ret-conned into banality by Dark Horse.
This is pre-Byrne Wonder Woman, perhaps after Messner-Loebs was through with her.
This is Busiek's Scarlet Witch, but before she started to wear the fan-dubbed "gypsy-whore" costume.
This is Fairchild before she was Skywalker-ed, finding her father and learning that her close comrade was actually a sibling.
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(I) THE SPIRIT OF ARCADIA
This may be the worst idea I've ever had, Wanda thought to herself as the zeppelin came in over the city of Arcadia. But I need help. She adjusted her overnight bag and rose, heading for the gangplank. Inside that bag were a couple of tops, an extra skirt, and one very special set of clothes: the crimson leotard, boots and gloves that marked Wanda Maximoff as the Scarlet Witch.
But Arcadia was a strange city, possessed of a spirit all its own, and she had decided it was unwise to come here openly. There was no telling what sort of attention an Avenger could attract. And for the same reasons, she had left behind most of her usual gypsy clothes for a simple but professional black cotton suit outfit, with a long pleated skirt and white silk blouse. She wanted to reveal nothing about who, or what, she actually was.
"Miss Frank?"
She was daydreaming. Wanda smiled at the porter and walked off the disembarkation ramp.
The day passed quickly. She had barely enough time to check into her hotel before darkness, and the long tendrils of moonlight, claimed Arcadia. There were low-hanging clouds and the air smelled of industry. The taxi driver had been sullen, but the hotel staff friendly enough. They should be, she thought, for the money I'm paying. Then Wanda scolded herself. It was as if there was a spirit of anger in this city, of frustration and petty discord. She felt it between her and every person she met, talked to. She suspected that those who had seemed friendly were just putting on a public relations show.
But the city could be beautiful, looking out from her balcony in the upper reaches of the air. The river was not far away, and the great bridge that crossed the harbor. Above was the slow, meandering zeppelin that was the symbol of the city. Its propellers looked tiny on its vast length. Something about it hypnotized her, and she watched it for she didn't know how long.
Then the time came to get to work. In the half-light of the hotel room, Wanda stripped off the silk blouse, skirt and bra. The air was cold on her naked skin, but she nonetheless lingered. Sitting on the bed, she unsnapped her stockings from the black garter belt she wore, and rolled the black lace hose down the length of her slender leg. She liked to dress up, but there seemed no one to do it for anymore. For years she had done all she could to get back into Avengers uniform; now she couldn't wait to get out of it.
The garter belt unsnapped too, and she pulled down her lace panties until she was completely nude. Padding in bare feet, she went to her overnight bag, zipped it open, breaking the silence, and pulled out a rose-colored body stocking. Sitting again on the bed, she started with one foot, then the other, pulling it all the way up her legs before she stood and finished the job. She ran a hand along her arm, smoothing out the skin-hugging fabric.
She liked the costume, she always had. Ever since she was a girl, joining the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants. The tight stocking made her feel sexy, made her feel confident and dangerous. It was silly, she knew, but no matter how old she got she never tired of it. A red leather one-piece fit over the stocking, with plenty of support for her generous breasts. A lot of the younger generation had surgery, but Wanda was all natural.
Boots. Gloves. Scarlet cape. That left only the headdress. She'd taken a lot of flak from the Avengers over the years for that particular costume accessory, especially from the Beast. And she'd bowed to pressure while she was a member of Force Works. But no more. They could call it a leftover from the seventies, but it was her trademark, and she was going to keep it. Everything old seemed new again.
But she wouldn't be able to hide it, so for the moment she let it go, and pulled on a long black peacoat, tied it tight. Her cape could barely be seen out the bottom, but it looked very much like a red dress, and with the collar a little up she felt very anonymous. Her hair seemed rumpled and unkempt without the headdress, but she would have to make do.
Throwing the headdress into a scarlet purse, and the purse over one arm, she shut the door behind her.
The rain was so light and ever-present that it was more like a thick mist, clinging to the cold stone on the outside of the hotel, the steel of the passing cars, and the skin of Wanda's trenchcoat. A cab, yellow and staring with wide-eyed headlights, slid silently up to her, and she entered.
Within, she sank into aged vinyl and the aromas of twenty years. The driver's eyes, reflected in the rear view mirror, were curious and alive. "Where to, miss?" he managed, around a stereotypical cigar.
"4th and Daytona," she replied.
"You got it," and he pulled into traffic. There was pregnant silence while Wanda got comfortable in the back seat. Then, "See'n a show?"
"Pardon?"
"Daytona and 4th street, that's the Footlight Playhouse."
She smiled, "Oh, yes. I'm meeting someone."
The back of the man's head bobbed up and down, so she assumed that meant he nodded. There wasn't much talking after that. It took seventeen minutes to get downtown, seventeen minutes driving through tall, foreboding granite watchtowers, over concrete monsters bridging the lethargic river, and past a rain-soaked park of livid, prehistoric green.
"Lucky fella," the man said, as she paid him the fare and stepped out. He met her eyes and chewed his cigar blankly.
Wanda gave him another smile. "Thank you very much," she said, grateful for the compliment, and stood straight as the cab pulled away.
Behind her was the Footlight Playhouse, lights burning as couples flocked inside seeking shelter from the rain. But Wanda's actual destination was two blocks away. Tucking her hands deep inside the warm pockets of her coat, her long legs ate up the darkened sidewalk.
Around the corner of 4th, the street was deserted. This late at night, the shopping was all closed and the tourists gone home. Drenched with rain, the street looked utter black, and the lamps twinkled with drops of false dew. There was no motion, and sticking to the shadows, Wanda moved farther into the abandoned city.
She counted addresses softly to herself, and finally paused before a narrow storefront, its sign hanging out front, perpendicular to the wall like a medieval tavern. In swirling letters the placard read, "Leaves of Grass. Slimon Rood, proprietor." It was the bookstore for which she had come so very far.
Her throat was tightening; she felt out of her element here and therefore excited. As the Scarlet Witch, Wanda had faced menaces beyond space and time, erstwhile conquerors like Kang and nihilists like Ultron. But here, forced to break into a simple bookstore and rifle it for clues, she hesitated. It didn't seem right to investigate this place as plain old Wanda Maximoff. She took off her thick, wool coat, and at once the breeze caught her scarlet cape, unfurled it in the alien Arcadia night. It took only a moment for her to nest her headpiece around her face. A glance in the window glass told her that she was again who she claimed to be: the Scarlet Witch.
The window glass would be alarmed, as would the door. Fortunately, she had a little help. From her purse she took a small, purple rectangular box. Hawkeye had smiled in that devilish way he had when she asked him for something to bypass an alarm, and of course he had asked her what she wanted to use it for. But when he realized that she would not tell him he took it in stride.
"Okay, Witchy" he'd laughed, "you win." Throwing the jammer to Wanda he gave a final warning. "Don't do anything to embarrass me!"
Fortunately, she thought to herself, that doesn't exclude much. Pushing a button on the side of the box, she saw a green light gleam on the gadget's side. Assuming that they worked on standard technology, all alarms and cameras in a hundred foot radius would be scrambled for five minutes. She had that long.
The door was locked. With a flick of her fingers, Wanda released the smallest hex she could muster, and the heavy oak wood swung open. No alarm. So far, so good. Inside the walls were covered in dark wood bookshelves. A paneled counter could be made out at the far end. Was that…?
Wanda's eyes opened wide as she realized that someone was lying on the ground behind the counter, their open hand lying palm up just within her field of vision. With a hex at the ready, she crept around the perimeter of the store's interior, until she could see a single man face up, his eyes wide open and his face frozen, contorted in pain.
Quickly, she moved to the man's side, but as she did she realized that he must be dead. The man, tall, lanky, wore an old shirt that was still smoldering. A large round burn mark as big as her outstretched hand marked his torso, and had turned much of his chest cavity to a black, smoking hole. But the body was still warm.
It was only her years of experience as an Avenger, trained in countless exercises with the likes of Captain America and the Black Panther, that kept Wanda from being incinerated in the next instant. She heard a noise, the faintest whirr and click of a mechanical device behind her, and she rolled to the side.
A gout of brilliant white-hot energy intense enough to flush her face even from this distance filled the air where she had crouched next to the dead man. The counter, body and floor were black and smoking. But now she could see her enemy.
The man, and she assumed it was a man from its form, stood nearly seven feet in height, and was encased in a suit of black battle armor not unlike that worn by Iron Man. One of his massive gauntlets was still pointed in Wanda's direction, smoking and steaming with just-released power. She could already hear the armor's systems whining their recharge.
"Damn!" cursed the man, with an accent not yet distinguishable.
"You only get once chance with the Scarlet Witch," Wanda offered, and wove her fingers into an interlaced hex pattern. Instantly the green helix formed and, surrounded by a sparkling nimbus, shot through the air at her foe.
It struck him, and the effect was profound and immediate. The whine of his plasma charge faltered, fluttered. The white lights emanating from the figure's eyeslits flickered on and off. The man froze for a moment, then jerked suddenly backwards, froze again.
"Power failure!"
Wanda got a foot underneath herself, and rose cautiously, building another hex with delicate hand gestures. "My hex powers have taken down Arsenal and Ultron, whoever you are. I think they can take you down, too."
The armored form staggered for only a moment longer, then seemed to stabilize. The whine was still gone, but his movements were fluid once more, and the lights from his eyes constant. "Overconfidence is unseemly in one so beautiful," the man said, and before Wanda could react he plucked a disc-like shape from his belt and tossed it almost casually to the floor.
There was a blinding light, and Wanda raised a hand over her eyes, but it was too late. She saw nothing but spots. Frightened, she let the hex loose before her, hoping to stop the man's certain assault. There was a crash, and she felt debris clatter and blow about her. In an instant she had another hex ready in her other hand, but her straining ears could detect nothing. Slowly her eyes cleared.
The bookshop was a shambles. Her hex had taken out half the roof, and the cold, clear night sky of Arcadia shone above. The armored figure was nowhere to be seen. But something else was.
A woman, wrapped in a full and flowing cloak of white, tossed in an ethereal wind, floated slowly down through the hole. The first thing Wanda noticed was that she wore high heels, then leggings of the same white material as her cloak. A white, tightly-laced bustier covered not even most of her full breasts, and a hood partially obscured her features. But what Wanda did notice was the twin Colt .45s, one in each white-gloved hand. And they were pointed right at her.
"You're new here," the woman said, "so I'll say 'Welcome to Arcadia' before I send you straight to hell."
Wanda backed up against what was left of the bookstore wall. A ghost of a breeze caught the edge of her cape, ruffled it around her. A hex still rippled and pulsed in the hand at her side. Her other was raised before her. "Wait," she asked. "I didn't kill this man."
Wanda saw the woman, the very beautiful woman she realized suddenly, tighten her fingers on the triggers of her twin silver guns. "I'm sure," she said, her voice calm and pitiless.
Suddenly, Wanda's eyes grew wide. No. It couldn't be. It had been so long. Surely…
"Elisa?"
And as suddenly, the pistols lost their firm aim on the Scarlet Witch. The barrels tipped. The woman, her black waves of hair bobbing in the ghostly hood, looked at the crimson-garbed stranger with new wonder.
"You… you know me?"
Wanda's face erupted in a smile. "It is you! Elisa!" She took half a step forward, her hands reaching up, hex long forgotten, when the peal of a siren cut through the still, damp air. It trailed long and lean, like a hungry animal, heading this way.
When Wanda turned back to Elisa Cameron, the young woman's eyes were narrow and suspicious. The pistols were resolute once more, the spell broken. "You'd better start explaining," she said warily.
This was no time to get caught up in red tape. "I've got a room at the Arms," Wanda offered in a rush, "number 602."
There was a moment's hesitation, but then Elisa nodded her head and lowered one of the guns to her side. "I'll be there," she confirmed. "You'd better have some answers."
Then she watched as Wanda ran for the back of the store, and the huge smoking hole where the back door had been.
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(II) ENCHANTMENTS
For the next few hours, Elisa Cameron was a nervous wreck. What did the strange woman in red know about her? Did she know how Elisa had died? And what did she have to do with the break-in and murder at Leaves of Grass?
She tried to calm herself by staying out of sight and eavesdropping on the police. They found a purple, metallic box about the size of a cigarette pack on the outside of the bookshop door, and a woman's coat, presumably belonging to the scarlet-clad woman, inside on the floor. The bookstore was a complete loss, but Mr. Rood wouldn't be collecting any insurance. He was dead with a six-inch diameter hole burnt into his chest.
A girder in the roof had somehow collapsed under its own weight; it was that that had attracted Elisa's attention in her nightly patrol of the city. Her city. She didn't know who this woman was, but if she wanted to run around in Ghost's town, she had better play by the rules.
Elisa let the cops wander around and take lots of pictures, while she ghosted into the evidence van and made off with the box and the coat, in addition to Mr. Rood's wallet and the small address book he had kept on his person. Metal boxes and walls didn't mean much to a woman who was just a spirit.
After that, she just floated over the city, found places to hide, and hesitated. What if the woman in red really did know her? Was she ready for that? Was she actually ready for answers?
Even if she wasn't, she knew she had to find out. Silently, but now purposefully, she soared against the city wind towards the Arcadian Arms.
She floated through the wall on the sixth floor. No one would see her unless she wished it and, right now, she didn't wish. In moments she was standing before room 602.
Fear seized her for a pregnant instant; she thought about knocking but then recanted. That's the way of the living, she chided. And it's not my way. Stepping forward, her body slid seamlessly through the door and into the room.
"Ogod!"
The woman in red--still in red, Elisa noticed, though the full cape was hung on the door--held a hand to her breast and caught her breath in the characteristic look of a person who has just been suddenly surprised. Then her face broke into a smile, and her hand lowered. "Elisa," she said in a familiar tone, "you nearly scared me to death!"
"I'm a regular Casper," she said in reply, her eyes narrowed. This woman seemed to know her, but… She held out the coat taken from the crime scene. "Yours?"
The woman nodded. "Yes. Thank you." She took it, laid it over a chair.
Elisa held up the purple box. "And this?"
The woman blushed a little, hard to see in the poor light of the dimly lit room. Only a reading lamp was on, just over the bed, but the curtains were open and the room was bathed in the ephemeral green lights of the Arcadia streets and buildings.
"Borrowed," she admitted, and Elisa gave her this, too.
As casually as she could, Elisa lightly rested her hand on the pommel of her pistol, as if her arm was tired. But the woman noticed it, and hesitated. "Now then, about that break-in. And the dead man, Mr. Rood."
Her host's brow furrowed in frustration. "That was Rood? Then I've completely bungled this mission. I may have to go to Doctor Strange next. Maybe he can sort this out."
"Do you mind telling me what's going on?" Elisa suggested, and the woman returned her attention to the matter at hand.
"Of course. Elisa, don't you recognize me? Wanda. The Scarlet Witch."
"Wait a minute. Aren't you a superhero or something. In New York?"
Wanda's eyes lit up, and she smiled a beautiful smile. "Yes!"
"Never seen you before tonight. But I do read the papers."
Now the woman was again perplexed. "I don't understand. Did you suffer an accident or something? Loss of memory? We spend a lot of time together a few years back."
"How many years back?"
"Four, almost five."
"That would explain it then."
"Explain what?"
But Ghost shook her head. "Nope. It doesn't work that way. You first."
Slowly, Wanda nodded, trying to understand Elisa's paranoia. She turned and made a pass by the bedstand, where she picked up a cup that was still steaming there.
"Tea?" she offered.
"No, thank you."
With a nod, the Witch curved back and settled into a chair. Seemingly in no rush, she crossed her legs and took a sip from the tea before continuing. Elisa was struck by her beauty, her thick head of curly, auburn-colored hair and athletic, graceful figure. She had to keep in shape, Elisa admitted, if she was going to wear a costume like that. Though it didn't have the laces of her own bodice, the Scarlet Witch's uniform wasn't much bigger than her own. Less, if you didn't count the rose body stocking that covered her arms and legs.
The woman gestured, with a red-gloved hand, across the small table to the other chair. "Why don't you take a seat. If you don't remember me, some of the things I'm going to say might surprise you."
"All right," Elisa answered, and silently slid into the chair. One hand continued to rest lightly on the handle of her automatic.
"We met years ago, when I was on the West Coast. My marriage was a wreck, and my children… well, my children were gone. You interviewed me for the paper…"
"What was it about?" Elisa interrupted. Could this have been the story that had gotten her killed?
Wanda paused, unused to being cut off, but then recovered. "Strictly a fluff piece. Nothing important. Life of a Famous Superheroine, that sort of thing. You were still looking for your big break."
She paused again, sipped from the tea. Elisa fidgeted. This woman knew how to keep a person in suspense. But she was talking, so she kept her temper in check.
"We…" a pause for words, "…hit it off. You asked me to coffee. I needed a friend and you were happy to get out of Arcadia, at least for a little while. We went to the theater. Spent time together. Then the West Coast Avengers fell apart and I joined a new team. Things were crazy for a while. We lost touch."
Again with the tea. But by now Elisa wasn't frustrated so much as confused. The way this woman was talking. Hit it off. Spent time together. How big of a bush was she beating around? In her mind's eye, she could picture herself, laughing, walking arm in arm with this beautiful redhead, the theater marquis flashing bright overhead. But was it a memory, or just her imagination? Elisa couldn't tell the difference.
"I tried to find you again, a few months later. I finally got your editor on the phone, and he told me you were dead. I-I got pretty upset at that. Leading Force Works wasn't easy. I could have used a friend that wasn't involved with the superhero scene. Or at least didn't seem to be. Was your editor lying?"
Elisa shook her head soberly. "He was telling the truth. I did die, but I can't tell you how. I barely remember my own family. My death, and the reasons for it, are a total blank. I've been searching for the answers to that question for the last three years."
The other woman's eyes were soft. She really cared for her, this woman that Elisa didn't even know. Wanda reached out to touch Elisa's arm, but she stood abruptly, faced away towards the mirror. She could feel herself tearing up. This was not the time.
Behind her, Wanda stood, crept closer. Tried to put her hand on Elisa's shoulder, but passed right through.
In the mirror, Elisa saw her face tighten for a moment with concern. "I'm not a danger to you," she said.
Elisa nodded, and now when Wanda felt for her shoulder it was there. She stroked it gently, ran her hand down Elisa's bare arm. "Your skin," she whispered, with lips so near to Elisa's ear that she could feel the hush, "is cold."
With a flutter and a sting, Elisa's eyes closed. She wanted to remember so badly. A friend! Someone that she knew, had confided in, shared things with. Laughed and smiled and said silly things to. And from somewhere deep inside her she thought she felt something. A deep welling up of love and emotion, rising quickly to the surface. But was she remembering a love that she had always had, or just creating it out of her own wishful thinking?
It didn't matter, not right now. Wanda bent her head and kissed the pale, smooth skin of Elisa Cameron, and the desire boiled up and out of her. Elisa's body shivered; she let out a sigh that shook slowly to a falling halt. The hair on her neck, her skin, everything trembled, and as Wanda wrapped her arms around Elisa's body, she gripped them in return with the vigor of a drowning victim. Some of the things I'm going to tell you might surprise you.
She turned in Wanda's arms, and their lips found each other, searching and probing, tentative. They kissed, each trying to remember the woman they had known before, neither sure that they had found it. But the kisses continued, as Wanda swept one crimson-gloved hand into the other woman's thick, dark hair. Elisa wrapped a hand around the gypsy woman's slender waist, fingers feeling their way slowly up Wanda's back, sliding over the strong but soft muscles there.
The Witch slowly lathed her tongue in circles down Elisa's neck, starting under the ear and winding down to the shoulder, bringing a long and audible exhalation from the woman. A faint smile flickered on Elisa's lips, and her eyelids were gently closed. She clenched Wanda to her, felt her warmth, slid her hands back down along her back, down to her firm ass. There, her hands lingered, and she rubbed Wanda's rear slowly up and down, pausing to squeeze with her fingers.
"Mmmm," the Witch gave in response, groaning into Elisa's ear. She withdrew just an inch, and the two women rested their foreheads against each other, breathing each other for three long moments. Wanda seemed hypnotized by Elisa's crystal blue eyes. "I've never known a woman more beautiful," she said.
"Did I love you?" the Ghost asked.
"You said so, once, and I believed you."
"I want to feel that way again."
In response, Wanda just pulled her mouth close, and their tongues slipped along each other. Wanda's hands, fingers spread wide, moved along the tight white corset that Elise wore, probing for a zipper or hooks. It had to come off somehow! She felt up Elisa's sides, felt the curve of her perfect breasts swelling out of the too-small garment. Then suddenly the corset seemed insubstantial…and it was. With a flick of a wrist, Elisa tossed it onto the back of a chair. She had ghosted it off of her own body.
For a moment, Wanda could not help but stare. She had always considered herself to have a good--no, a great--body. But Elisa's was without flaw. Perfect shoulders, pale skin, round full breasts that rose and fell slowly with her breathing, and taut stomach muscles all down her belly.
"I've seen that look a hundred times from men," Elisa said suddenly. "It's never turned me on before."
The Witch smiled. "You're a vision," she said, and then paused at her own choice of words. But Elisa did not seem to notice. She sat up on the table, and pulled Wanda to her round tits. The Witch responded, suckling them with relish. One of her gloved hands cupped the left one from underneath, the thumb pressing in firmly, while she kissed, sucked and nibbled with her mouth. Her other hand was wrapped around Elisa's pale, trembling body, holding her to Wanda's needy lips with a grip that would not let go.
Slowly, as Wanda's rising moans into her soft tit drove her higher into a frenzy, Elisa knitted one hand into the gypsy's thick red curls, and the other cupped her own right breast. The alternating heat and cold prickled her nipples, flushed her skin, and heightened her sense of feeling so that is seemed Wanda had taken her whole breast inside her panting mouth. The graze of Wanda's teeth left Elisa gasping for more, and every heaving breath arched her back again, driving her shaking bosom against Wanda's glistening tongue and lips. Her long leather-clad legs wrapped around Wanda's waist, angled pumps coming to rest on the woman's perfectly-shaped ass, still clad in the red uniform of the Scarlet Witch.
"Oh god, Wanda." Elisa bit her lip, shut her eyes fiercely. "Mmmmm." Inch by inch she began to recline backward, as Wanda turned her ravenous kisses and liquid tongue down the underside of Elisa's breast to her muscled stomach. In a matter of moments, Elisa lay completely on her back atop the table, her bent legs hanging in the air, and she panted and writhed as the Witch probed her navel with the delicate pink tip of her tongue.
Wanda's gaze turned upwards, giving one hungry glance between Elisa's heaving mounds before she knitted her hands into the white leather pants Ghost wore and pulled. The skin-tight clothing hardly budged, and Elisa was barely able to concentrate enough to let them fade into intangibility, so that Wanda tugged lightly and they fluttered through the dark shadows of the hotel room, briefly lit by the flashing cyan lights of Arcadia far below.
Between Elisa's gleaming, moonlit thighs was a thick triangle of short, black hair, and Wanda descended to it with eyes fluttering in lust. Elisa felt the tickling at once, small tender manipulations of her overheating cunt, as Wanda stroked and kissed her with the tip of a pointed tongue. She looked down, between her sweating, heaving busom, and saw a mass of red curls hovering above Wanda's deep green eyes. The gypsy was staring up at Elisa, locking her gaze with Elisa's own, as if she dared the Ghost to give in to the emanations flowing up and down along her writhing body.
It was impossible for her to do otherwise. Elisa's body arched and twisted; she thrust her hardened nipples towards the ceiling and groaned. By quivering inches, her own gloved hands slid along her smooth skin to the roundness of her breasts, which she cupped and lifted. One of her fingers slid up against a nipple, paused at the brink, then slipped over it. Between her legs was an overflowing ocean of summer, heat moving in wave after wave until it filled her whole body like an empty vessel. The brush of Wanda's hair along the insides of her thighs was the fluttering of wings. Everything went golden. Her breath heaved, struggled into her lungs one final time, then erupted with the rest of her as she cried out in pure joy.
It dwindled, but faded only slowly, as her starved body struggled for breath. Her hands tingled. She felt a long warmness slide up between her legs, wrap its arms around her. "Wanda," she managed, opening her eyes again and meeting the other woman's smiling gaze. "Oh my god, Wanda."
The Witch pulled her close to a kiss, tender at first but then, in an instant, smoldering again. Wanda's wet lips moistened Elisa's parched ones, and the Ghost tasted herself on the woman's tongue. Gloved hands ran through thick curls, ensured that the women could not easily part. Their bodies fit together like missing pieces, one leg between the other's thighs, one woman's generous breast in the hollow of the other's. They were working each other, and Elisa felt herself longing to experience every inch of this red-headed stranger she imagined she knew.
With a moment's concentration, she rolled up from the table and took Wanda with her, ghosting across the room. The gypsy's eyes widened, but Elisa pulled her close and kissed again, their ethereal lips no less hungry. They coasted on a midnight breeze till they settled on the expansive bed.
Elisa rolled to her knees, gazed down on the scarlet-clad enchantress between her legs. Wanda reached one hand up to Elisa's breast, cupped it and gently lifted. It felt fabulous, the glove caressing the underside of her cooling flesh. Elisa ran her own hands along Wanda's waist, up the side of her ribcage, over her shoulders and up to her luscious pool of auburn hair, spilled out over the coverlet. She ran a finger along the edge of Wanda's uniform, tracing the round lines of her cleavage. Wanda's cape was still attached somehow, but it only took a moment's concentration to ghost them apart. Elisa hooked her fingers underneath the red one-piece suit, and gently pulled, slipping it into intangibility and lifting it off of Wanda's supine form. The woman's eyes closed as she squirmed on the bed, feeling the strange sensation of clothing passing through her body.
Wanda's flesh was lightly tanned, her breasts well rounded with nipples hardened into points. She smiled with red lips as Elisa caressed one naked tit, traced a line down her taut stomach to the pink tights she still wore. "It's cold," the gypsy said, and she pulled Elisa down to cover her with her body.
Their curvaceous forms slipped seamlessly together like puzzle pieces, breasts pressed. Their wet lips kissed as they moaned in mutual delight. They had all the time in the world and they reveled in it; Wanda sucked on Elisa's pale throat while the Ghost's hands ran along the tense muscles of Wanda's shoulders and back. The Witch meowed with pleasure as she felt Elisa's strong fingers dig into the muscles of her naked body, pulling the two women even closer together.
Then Elisa's hand guided Wanda down onto the bed again, lying on her stomach. Her face in the pillow, she felt Elisa slide her hands down along her waist and hips until they came together on Wanda's heart-shaped ass. The pink tights fit like a second skin; a wet spot was clearly noticeable between her legs. Elisa caressed her trim, slender thighs, felt the muscles trained by countless hours in workouts and exercises. They narrowed to long, delicious calves sheathed in red leather high-heeled boots. A woman with fashion after her own taste, thought Elisa.
Her hands went back up to Wanda's hips, and with a tug she pulled Wanda back, up onto her knees, though her head still lay on the surface of the bed. Now that perfect ass gift-wrapped in pink was presented to her, and Elisa could not help but enjoy herself with it. On her own knees now, she kneaded Wanda's ass with both hands, massaging the thick muscles of the gluteus until she could smell the scent of the Witch's arousal. Wanda cooed and ahh'd into the pillow, clenching her fists as Elisa rubbed and caressed her ass. Suddenly, the lower half of Wanda's body felt a tingle, like a winter breeze but all through her, and then the air was cool on her butt and legs; Elisa had taken off the tights, but the boots remained.
"Oh god, Elisa, I need you to do me. Please."
Elisa eyed Wanda's glistening cunt. "You want me to eat you?"
"Mmm, better. Look in my bag, over there."
Elisa floated where she was pointed, to Wanda's sturdy black duffel.
"Side pocket."
She opened it; inside was a long dildo, complete with straps. Elisa's eyes rose. What had the person at the x-ray machine thought?
"Bring it over. Put it on.
She was hesitant; she couldn't remember doing anything like this before. It didn't seem wrong, it just didn't seem particularly right, either. But when she looked over, she saw Wanda on her hands and knees, pointed right at her. The Witch's eyes were half-closed, and her tongue moistened her crimson lips. Her breasts heaved with deep breaths, and her ass rose behind her, an invitation she could not ignore. "I need you to fuck me," Wanda whispered. "Please…"
In a moment, Elisa floated behind the Witch, and she hooked the straps around her waist and thighs. One hand guided Wanda's legs farther apart, the other took a grip on the Witch's taut ass. "Wait," Wanda said in a hush, and she bowed her head, reaching back between her legs. There was a flash of green light.
"What was that?"
"Just a little something to make it more pleasurable for you."
And Elisa felt something; a light touch along the edge of her pussy, moving back and forth. But it was covered by the strap… "How are you doing that?" she breathed, but then she looked down and saw that Wanda's fingers were tracing lightly back and forth on the length of the shaft, and somehow Elisa was feeling it on her own flesh.
Wanda guided Elisa's new cock into her eager cunt. It slid in easily, not quite all the way, and Elisa felt her own cunt enveloped in a hot liquid bath. Is this what it felt like to fuck someone? Her breath escaped her in a long drawn out sigh as she settled all the way in to the edge of Wanda's tunnel. "Ohhh…"
The Witch groaned beneath her, closed her eyes and brushed the soft skin of her cheek against the silk surface of a pillow. "Elisa," she managed.
Elisa had a double handful of perfect ass as she slowly pulled out, then rocked back in. Each motion she felt in her own cunt, now molten with desire and unique sensation. She settled in a bit father than she had the last time, as she loosened Wanda up. But the Witch's cunt was still tight around her shaft, gripping it as she slid inch by inch back out, then paused and returned in gradual motion back in.
"I don't believe this," Elisa managed, as she pulled Wanda's sweat-slicked ass towards her this time, filling her cunt with Elisa's pulsating cock. "But it's fantastic." She reached around Wanda with both hands; one slid up to cup a lovely breast, the other inched backwards to finger Wanda's stuffed pussy. Wanda let out a long, langorous moan.
"You know what to do," she whispered, giving a sloe-eyed sidelong glance to the woman positioned behind her ass. Elisa massaged Wanda's breast, reveling in the feel of the soft, luxurious globe of flesh in her hand. Then Wanda's own hand slid to cover hers, and the two women cupped the round tit together. They squeezed it gently, in time with their rocking rhythm, as Wanda nestled time and again into Elisa's crotch, sliding back along the inches of her long cock.
"Oh, fuck me Elisa," Wanda said, gripping the pillow and rocking along Elisa's length. "Fuck me like the last time; fuck me!"
The pressure built inside Elisa, began to rise within her, and she pulled Wanda's quivering ass to her more forcefully this time, ramming her cock into the Witch's pussy until it disappeared completely. She slid one hand down to Wanda's back, gripped a handful of the woman's curly red tresses, pulled on them like a leash.
Wanda's back arched as her head came up, "Oh, yes!" she cried, pounding into Elisa's crotch again and again. One arm managed to prop her up; she reached back between her legs with the other to circle around Elisa's shaft. She felt it thrust into her time after time, and Elisa felt it too, one more sensation adding to the ecstasy that she was already feeling.
Elisa pulled Wanda into her with tugs on her hair and a guiding grasp on her ass, and now their tempo had accelerated to jackhammer speed. Every hushed syllable she managed punctuated her thrusts. "Ah… Ahh… Ahhh… Oh… goddd… Wanda… oh… I'm… going to… come…"
Wands tossed her head, clenched her eyes shut and slammed her ass back, back, back. Still propped up on arm, she pulled her hand back out from between her legs and reached around to grip her other ass cheek. Her back arched, and her tits thrust out. "Come for me, baby," she pleaded. "Come on… fuck me like a whore!"
"AH! AH!" Elisa's body arched, taut, delicious breasts thrust out and head thrown back as her hips bucked into Wanda's cunt. Her hands gripped the Witch's ass, pinning Wanda's own hand beneath her own and spreading her cheeks. Wanda's body spasmed; she thrust back as Elisa froze in climax, letting out her own inarticulate groan of release. Orgasm swept through both the women, rebounded as Wanda slid along Elisa's glistening cock once, twice, three final times, beat their bodies into submission until they both collapsed, exhausted and covered in salty sweat to the bed.
Elisa's body, flat on the bed, arms extended, steamed slowly in the chill as Wanda curled up between her legs. Long fingers with red nails touched the strapped-on cock, trailing down its length. Elisa shuddered, her stomach muscles tightening, relaxing into a flat plate again. A sigh slipped past her lips. Wanda wrapped her own around the stiff rod.
The spell had not been broken. Elisa felt the sensation on the inside, along the walls of her vagina. "Oh!" A bitten lip as Wanda sank slowly down, taking the slick shaft down her throat. "Nnng." Wanda wrapped her hand around its thickness, and bobbed up and down on it; Elisa writhed underneath her. A hand ran through Wanda's thick red locks, pulled her head down to suckle the eight-inch pole. The Witch's eyes fluttered shut, lashes flickering, as she sucked.
Head tossing, Elisa arched her back off the slick sheets, cupped her heaving breast with one hand. She slid her hand along the length of her body, down her stomach and across her hip, then back up to her other breast. She rolled the nipple between her fingers, gasping at the sensations surging through her. Her other hand was still firmly planted on Wanda's head, pulling the redhead in with rhythm, forcing the Witch to suck her rigid cock.
Wanda worked with relish, her tongue slipping along the underside of the shaft as she pumped it, cheeks indented with suction. She groaned now, "Mmmmm," getting herself hot on the rhythm, and Elisa felt it as a vibration running all over the inside of her melting cunt.
"Ahhh… oh shit yeah."
One of Wanda's hands continued to slide up and down with her lips as she got her knees underneath her and rose into a crouch. Now her perfect ass was up in the air, rocking back and forth with the motion of her head and hand. She paused suddenly, deep throated, then slipping her lips back along towards the round head her eyes fluttered open and she met Elisa's wild stare, gazing longingly along the terrain of her own glorious, stretched out body. As Wanda crept back inch after inch of the glistening shaft was exposed and she gave a long, slow, hedonistic groan. Her lips bulged out as the head emerged, and she paused. Brushed her pursed lips over and around the tip, withdrew, kissed again. Her tongue lathered it up from beneath now, and Elisa spread her legs wider.
Finally, Wanda took the shaft into her mouth again, sinking it down her throat slowly, inexorably, until her face was buried between Elisa's shaky thighs. When she had reached the base of the massive tool she nestled in for a moment, then began to withdraw faster than before. Down her head came again, her lips embracing the length of the shaft all the way to the base, then back. Forward, this time with Elisa lifting her hips and grinding the cock into her mouth, then back and both rocking forward again.
Elisa was begging her now, begging for it as she lifted her hips and pulled Wanda down onto her. "Oh Wanda, please. Yes. Oh, yes. Again. Yes." Her pleas were echoed now by Wanda's own moans but the woman did not relent, continuing to take Elisa down her throat again and again, sucking on her with ruby lips, until she began to feel the shaking, the sudden tense quivering. Her eyes closed again as she bobbed her head up and down, up and down, until Elisa cried out, hands clenched, hips bucking as she fucked Wanda's face. The redhead continued to suck and pump a dozen times as Elisa cried out, finally slowing and then letting the wet head slide from her tired lips. She crawled up to the pillows and Elisa, her body still shaking, curled up atop her to rest.
====
(III) GHOST IN THE MACHINE
Afterward, the Ghost lay curled with her head on Wanda's bosom, one hand absently making circles on the woman's cooling stomach. "This is crazy," she said.
"Elisa, I married an android and bore two children that turned out to be figments of my imagination. This is nothing." Wanda's hand slipped around to finger the silver key hanging from Elisa's throat. It had done a lot of bouncing and flying around during their lovemaking, but had never come off. "A key?" she prompted.
"The key to the city," Elisa answered her. "I found a purpose here; it helps."
Wanda nodded. "I feel the same way about the Avengers; it's good to be back."
"Are you going to tell me what this whole thing is about."
"You mean the bookstore?"
"Mm."
"Have you ever heard of something called the 'Spear of Destiny'?"
"No."
"It's supposed to be the spear a Roman legionnaire used to impale Christ on the cross. As the weapon used to kill God, it is reputed to have incredible mystic power. It reappears in Arthurian myth as a symbol of potency, the male equivalent to the female Grail. Hitler sent teams of Nazis all over the world looking for it in World War II."
"Didn't I see this movie?"
"Laugh if you want to, but the Nazis guarding the Spear were among the last of the pockets to be destroyed by the Allies in Western Europe. They lasted longer than Hitler's bunker."
Elisa propped herself up on her elbows, plump breasts sliding along Wanda's stomach. "So you believe the stories they say about this thing."
"Rood contacted me at Avengers Mansion a few days ago, claiming that the spear had resurfaced and was about to fall into 'nefarious hands.' His words. I thought it was worth checking out."
"And when you showed up to meet him, he's dead."
"And his killer was still there."
"What?"
"You didn't see him. It was just before the roof caved in. He wore a suit of battle armor, and fired some kind of plasma burst. Normally my hex bolts are very effective against technological devices, but there's always a certain amount of unpredictability and…well…he got away. He might have had some kind of back-up systems. When he blinded me, my hex bolt took the roof down. I think that's when you saw me."
Elisa smiled. "My lady in red."
The smile echoed, and Wanda put her hand into the other woman's thick, short black hair. "More than you know."
Then the smile vanished, and Elisa was skeptical again. She sat up, her pale skin lit by the cyan lights of the city. "Wait a minute. If you were supposed to meet with Rood, why the break-in? Or was that your mystery man, too."
Wanda pulled her body up against the headboard, waved a hand impatiently. "No, no. That was me. When I tried to check out Rood's history, I learned that he had a criminal record. Book theft, scores of them, some worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. Stole over a dozen illuminated manuscripts from the Metropolis Museum of Art without anyone catching on. Finally turned himself in when a number of the books were later stolen, and he wanted help finding them. No jail time, just a big fine and parole, and the books were all in perfect condition, but I didn't trust him. I was to meet him tomorrow, but I decided to try and search his store tonight in the hope of finding the spear's location."
"And any more books he's stolen."
"They're bound to be there."
Both girls smiled at the unintentional pun. Elisa groaned. "They'll turn up now anyway, when the insurance companies go over his store."
"Yes, but we're still without a lead on the spear."
"We?"
"I…I could use some help on this one, Elisa. I'm not an investigator. You can see where my tactics have led me."
"What about your pals on the Avengers, Earth's Mightiest Heroes. Shouldn't you call them?"
"Why? Why can't I ask you instead?"
Seconds passed, as Wanda met Elisa's bitter, suspicious gaze, but eventually the Ghost's features softened and she whispered, "you have the most beautiful green eyes, you know?"
Another whisper. "Thank you." An outstretched hand. Soft fingers. The green lights of the city made sine waves on their rocking bodies.
Later, Elisa slipped out of the satin sheets, walked barefoot to her discarded uniform, and took from a hidden pocket a small brown notepad. Wanda looked up with languid eyes, enjoying the curves of Elisa's tight bottom.
"Address book," Elisa offered with a wave of the weather-beaten, old little bundle of paper. She began to leaf through it. "Library, museum, Ms. Cynthia Daniels Rood Beaumont. Ex-wife, probably. Ah, e-mail. Passwords? This may be interesting."
"Do you have somewhere we can log on from?"
Elisa smiled over her shoulder. "You mean like a Ghost-cave? No. But I do have someplace a bit more…public. If you want to get dressed."
Wanda rolled over in bed, sat up with a groan. Red curling tendrils curtained off her breasts till she ran her fingers along the surface of her scalp, pulling all away from her face. She arched her back. "Don't you ever sleep?"
"Sometimes, when I miss it."
An hour later they mounted the steps of the main Arcadia Public Library. Wanda was in her long coat, bronze turtleneck just barely visible beneath the collar, while Elisa braved a chill she did not feel in a pair of Levi's and a black body-hugging top. Their heels clacked as they passed art deco guardians in feathery marble. Then the noise vanished, swallowed up by the thick carpet and a library's stillness. Elisa led Wanda through to another hall, where two dozen sunless teens sat at computer terminals as lights flashed on their faces and strange sounds piped.
"The Ghost-cave," Elisa whispered, but Wanda did not answer. They found an empty terminal, sat, and Elisa pulled out the notebook. Her fingers flew over the keys.
"We're in." Seconds. "alt.bibliophiles. May be juicy but it'll take time. Let's try his web page." More seconds. "Login. Password. Yes. Search. S-P-E-A-R. 128 entries. Wanda, any of this look familiar?"
"I'm not sure what I'm looking at."
"Conversation transcripts, articles from magazines and radio, other web sites."
"I talked to Rood four days ago."
"Right. Let's check for dates. That narrows the field a bit. Only three items, all transcripts of conversations. 'bwitched', is that you? Cute. You talked to Rood on-line?"
"To set up our meeting."
"That's what this is. Then two conversations with 'spirchkr'."
"Spear-chucker? Our mystery man?"
"Maybe. Let's read. Spirchkr: heard you contacted marvel about spear of destiny. You have serious lead on whereabouts?"
"Roodman: Perhaps. How did you learn about contact?"
"Ears all over. Searching for spear. Prepared to make serious offer. $500,000."
"For info or spear?"
"Spear. For location: $50,000."
"If I had the location I would get it myself."
"Then why don't you?"
"Don't know where it is."
"$50,000. You have 24 hours to think it over."
"Said I don't know where it is."
"Don't believe you. 24 hours."
"spirchkr has left. What about that last one."
"Let's see. Yes. More of the same. Roodman: could tell you anything, take your money, but swear I don't know where the spear is located."
"That's not what you told bwtiched."
"How do you know about that?"
"Ears everywhere. Your phone #: 555-5679."
"How did you find me?"
"Unimportant. Tell me where the spear is before it is too late."
"Spear represents untold power. Cannot reveal location."
"Know what spear represents. $50,000 going once."
"How will you know I'm not lying?"
"If spear not where you say it is, will kill you."
"I do not know where the spear is."
"$50,000 going twice."
"Do not know who you are, how you found me, but swear I do not know. Please."
"$50,000 going three times. My money or your life. You choose."
"Roodman has left."
The two women were silent, staring at each other, catching their breath. Finally Elisa turned back to the screen. "This is it. We find spirchkr we find our killer. I'm going to print off everything I can from this site. We have to find out where the spear is located."
"Is there anything I can do?"
"Just be patient."
Within a half hour, Wanda was asleep in her chair. The printer went on and on and on.
====
(IV) STACKED DECK
"LexAir 122, you are cleared for approach on Runway Seven."
"Roger that tower. Beginning our approach." Captain Stern and co-pilot Jansen, both old hands, went through the landing procedure methodically, with certainty.
Suddenly, Jansen pointed out the cockpit shield. "Holy cow. Look at that!"
Beneath them, skimming the surface of the water and easily keeping pace with the huge passenger jet, were five figures. Each stood atop their own flying platform in the shape of giant playing card. Their uniforms were mostly white, but with multicolored jackets and vests of red, yellow and black. Two wore crowns, most had weapons.
"Is that who I think it is?"
"Hell, Mike, you always paid more attention to those costumed types than I did. But I think we better alert the tower and pull up."
"You got it. Tower? Tower? This is LexAir 122. You're about to get a visit from the Royal Flush Gang."
"I don't know, Caitlin. I mean, you've changed so much."
Caitlin Fairchild hugged her legs closer to her chest and nodded, her eyes drifting out across the bay to watch the airplanes as they closed in for a landing. "I suppose I have, Matthew. I'm sorry, I guess I shouldn't have come. I just had to get away for a few days and, well, I'm sorry."
The young man sitting next to her picked at bits of sand on his pants. "Hey, it's not your problem," he said, "it's mine. I mean, when I had my eye on you back in high school it wasn't just 'cause you were smart and sweet, but also cause nobody else seemed to notice you. And that was my good luck. I'm not into competition, and I hang with guys who've done some pretty low shit when it comes to other people's girls. But I figured I'd have you all to myself."
"And now you think that's changed?"
"Shaw. Lookatcha! No, you've still got the elite under there, I can hear it in your voice, but now it comes with this whole package that I think would just screw up my life royal. I'm not the kinda guy who has a babe for a girlfriend."
Another slight nod. "I understand. Well, thanks for talking with me. I haven't watched the planes come in for years." Caitlin got her legs under her and stood.
Matthew looked up into the late afternoon light, saw Fairchild looming above him. Long, well-muscled legs in jeans that looked painted on, rounded in the calf and taut in the thigh. Narrow waist, chiseled abdomen beneath the cropped bottom of her tank top, the biggest, most perfect set of tits he'd ever seen, shoulders that looked like they could lift a truck… yeah, she was a bit too much for him to handle any more. She must have taken a truckload of steroids to get that build, and those breasts had to be fake. There was no other way. Then he noticed that her brow was furrowed, as she peered off into the distance.
"What is it?"
"That plane. It's sure pulling up fast. I hope nothing's wrong."
"I'll bet it's cool. You want me to drop you off some place?"
There was a loud chopping noise as a helicopter approached from the direction of the city, heading right out over the ocean.
"No thanks, Matt," Caitlin said. "I think I found a ride." Then she crouched low, gathered her strength, and sprang a hundred feet into the air towards the copter, grabbing its landing strut with one outstretched hand. She didn't have time to look behind her to see Matt's face; she could only imagine what it would look like.
"What the hell?"
"Jesus Christ!"
Caitlin climbed onto the strut, settled into a crouch. "Relax, everyone, I'm just along for the ride. Is there something wrong out at the airport? I saw that plane." There were three inside the helicopter, counting the pilot. One had video equipment in his lap, the other a radio headset. Reporters, Caitlin assumed. Perfect.
"Well, it could be the Royal Flush Gang. We're still checking on that. Who are you?"
"Just a good Samaritan. You don't mind if I tag along?"
The pilot let out a laugh. "Well, something tells me I can't do much about it, so hold the hell on!"
He pushed the stick forward, and the copter picked up speed. Caitlin held on tighter as the wind blew her short carrot-red hair around her face. They crossed the water quickly, closing in on the airport. Before long, the reporter gestured. "It's them all right."
Caitlin pulled some hair out of her face, brows knit in concentration. "I see them." Closing fast, she could make out only three of the Gang, standing on floating card platforms hovering a few yards above the water but otherwise unmoving. Two of them were missing, but she couldn't tell which two. Their costumes were too much alike, especially at this distance. What were they doing just standing there?
The pilot shouted out the door. "How close do you need to get?"
"Not much more."
"Good!" There was motion out there; two of the Gang were turning towards them, skimming over the water and climbing steadily. "Any time, girl!" the pilot shouted. "The Flushers may be losers, but it wouldn't take much to take down this crate."
Caitlin nodded. Funny, how she'd fought so many menaces but seldom faced "super-villains" in the old-fashioned mode. Here she was facing theme villains at last. Next thing you know, she mused, I'll have my own Rogues Gallery. They were close now. Both men. One had a sparse costume, basically just a white body-stocking, a single spade on his chest, another on his forehead. Ace. She still couldn't make out the other. He had a long staff in one hand, a sword by his side. Probably Jack. Ace was closest; she tensed her legs underneath her and launched herself through the air like a rocket.
The copter rocked beneath her, offsetting her balance, and instead of hitting the man she skidded into his transportation. There was a shout of alarm that she barely heard, then she was scrambling for purchase on the featureless surface of the card. One of her hands clamped down on an edge, but her momentum kept the rest of her body going until it swung off the side. Cursing, she got her arms underneath her, started to pull herself back up. Well, she thought, that could have gone better.
The man on the card, who had kept his feet despite her impact, turned towards her with a twisted grin. He was lean but well-built, with a pistol strapped to his thigh, a knife on his boot and a utility belt around his waist. "Well, well," he said with a note of humor. "This is a surprise. Are you some super-chicky out of costume?"
Caitlin wasn't one for snappy banter in a fight. She had just about got a knee under her when the man kicked her hard, right in the chin. It was a tough kick, well placed, and it shocked her for a moment, but didn't really hurt. Fairchild had taken hits from some heavy hardware; a little kung fu wasn't going to slow her down much. He backed up in surprise as she climbed onto the card. She had him now. There wasn't a lot of room on this thing. Nowhere for him to run. Then she'd figure out how to fly it and go after the others. She gave Ace her most determined look; he didn't seem to notice.
Her ears were deafened by a loud blast; she fell forwards from a tremendous impact on her back, landing on her hands and knees. A grunt of pain escaped her lips; she shook her head. "Ace, get the hell out of the way," she heard from behind. "She's more dangerous than she looks. That's got to be one of the Gen Actives." Jack; she should have been paying more attention. Whatever it was he hit her with, it smarted.
A turn of her head, and she saw Jack floating not far off. The staff he carried was leveled at her in two hands, one end of it smoking. "Okay," she muttered, "I've about had it with you two." Her hand snapped out at Ace, and he lunged backwards, but her fist clamped down around his belt and she hurled him with all her strength right at Jack. Ace let out a "Hey!" but controlled his careen with skill, even as Jack fired his staff again, this time down onto the surface of the card.
The costumed villain blasted into the air, launching over the intervening distance and came down feet first right at a wide-eyed Caitlin, who managed to roll to the side and avoid the blow. This guy's good, she thought as she got to her feet. "Hey, I thought you Flushers are supposed to be losers."
The man sharing the platform with her had a multicolored jacket of red, yellow and black, a sword at his side and a hood over his face. One eye peered at her through the right side of the hood, but the left side was completely black. "Keep thinkin' that, kid," he said, and then he spun into a leg-sweep. Caitlin tried to leap up, out of the way, but he was too fast for her, had struck with too much skill, and her feet went out from her again. Even before she hit the flying card, there was another blast of the staff and she felt the kick from it right in her head. She was dizzy, stunned. Where was he? She got her balance and managed to focus, just in time to see a small, round object being flipped at her.
There was a bright explosion. She couldn't see. Her eyes were on fire. "God damn it!" she cursed. "Who the hell are you!"
"I'd focus on stayin' alive if I were you," was the response, and as she had hoped it was close enough for her. She lashed out, remarkably fast, and felt a glancing blow. A running step, her arms wide, and she managed to get a grip around the man. But in an instant she ran out of playing card, and the two of them went over the edge. Three seconds of nothing to hold onto, no ground beneath her feet, flailing wildly, then the sudden embrace of chilly water all over her body.
Her eyes cleared; she was underwater, Jack not far away, one hand to his mouth. She swam towards him with strong strokes; the staff turned towards her again and she braced for impact. It flashed, but it hadn't been aimed at her. The force blasted Jack away from her, pushing him through the water effortlessly, his arms at his side and legs tight together. There was no way she could catch him now. They both broke the surface.
Jack's flying platform was returning to him, dropping until it hovered just inches above the water. He dragged himself up as she swam closer. "What is this all about?" she shouted. "What are you after?"
"Cash," the man answered, and dropped another grenade-sized object into the water not far from her. At first, nothing happened, but then there was a blazing electrical shock, and the water lit up for an instant. Every one of Caitlin's nerves were on fire; her body locked up. Another cry of pain escaped her. Bobbing in the water, she tried to regain her breath. Jack was floating closer, Ace hovered not far off and King was still over where he had been all along.
What was that? There was a small flash of light up in the air. Now a human-sized figure was hurtling towards Caitlin, a streak of red and yellow. Could it be… she'd heard the WildCATs had met Superman, was this her chance? Wow. Superman.
Jack lowered his staff, noting her glance behind him and to the side. "Gimme a break, kid. I've seen that trick pulled by pros before you were born. I'm not gonna fall for it." There was an audible whine of power as the staff built up an enormous charge. Caitlin closed her eyes… turned her head… Then there was a loud thud and a splash of water as the new arrival slammed into Jack from the air, and Caitlin opened her eyes to see her savior at last.
"Wonder Woman?!" The Amazon Princess was in her traditional uniform, the one that made the bathing-suit costume famous: star-spangled below, red and gold above, with a wide golden belt and matching tiara marked by a single red star. Her face was noble, her build strong. Caitlin could not help but be awed by her. Even if I am taller, she thought.
"Careful," Diana said, reaching down for Fairchild's hand. "He's out there somewhere."
"Didn't you paste him?"
A curt shake of the head, and her thick black curls waved in the sunlight. "He rolled away at the last instant. Are you all right?"
Caitlin nodded. "I'm Fairchild." Her chest is as big as mine, she thought. How does she keep from falling out of that thing?
"Wonder Woman. We heard of the Gang's appearance up at the satellite. Normally Arthur would take care of a situation like this, but he's busy with an oil spill in Siberia."
"Arthur?"
Was Wonder Woman blushing? Must be the light. "Excuse me, Aquaman. Watch out!" Caitlin ducked to the side as bullets rang out, and she stared as, too fast for the human eye to see, Wonder Woman deflected the rounds with her metal bracelets. Ace hovered thirty yards off, firing burst after burst at the two women. The air was filled with pings and squeals, ricocheting bullets thumping into the water, bouncing high into the sky. Again, Caitlin found herself wide-eyed like a novice. Wonder Woman had no super-speed powers; how could she move so fast! Diana had taken a stance in front of Caitlin, apparently thinking she needed protection from the bullets. "Get down!" she ordered, "He's got to run out of ammunition eventually!" But that didn't look like it was going to happen soon.
"No, it's okay. I can take bullets. Go get him and I'll take care of Jack." Caitlin stepped out from behind her bodyguard, and three rounds immediately bounced off her face. "Ouch! That stings!" There were parts of her anatomy that were softer than others, and this guy seemed to be shooting at many of them. She turned around and raised an arm protectively over her face. In the few moments respite that Wonder Woman had, the Amazon took to the air, streaking through the intervening space towards Ace, bracelets before her.
The white-clad shootist grit his teeth, chewing on a toothpick which jutted from his lips. Carefully he took aim, fired a burst, then another round. There were more ricochet sounds, ending in a cry of surprise and pain. At that Caitlin turned back around. Wonder Woman was nowhere to be seen. Ace blew the smoke from his pistol. "Oh, yeah," he growled, and gave Fairchild a grin.
Then the water erupted underneath him, as Diana toppled both card and crew into the water. She paused above the waves, blood streaming freely from a cut above her eye. Her face was grim, set with purpose.
"Aw, don't be a spoilsport, toots," Ace replied from the water below. "It was a great shot, and you know it. Who else could have hit one of their own ricochets with another bullet, knocking it back into you? That was one in a million. Looks like you got away with a scratch though."
Diana's voice was cold. "Yes, you are indeed a lethal man. And that is why I will have little regret when I do what I must."
Ace gestured with one hand. "Come and get it, honey. I've killed you tough bitches before, and you may have super-strength, but you're all soft for the right guy."
Wonder Woman's face turned into a grimace. "You vile little man."
Caitlin turned back to her own problems. She scanned the surface of the water. Jack was nowhere to be found. She was pretty sure that was some kind of breathing device he had in his mouth the last time they went underwater. He could be anywhere. A quick scan of the surface of the playing card didn't tell her much. There were plenty of dents in it from Ace's bullets, and a few foot-sized depressions where she assumed the pilot was supposed to stand, but how did you steer the thing? Hesitantly, she stepped into the soft pads and leaned forward.
The card shot off like a rocket, and she heard a yelp from underneath it. Jack! She smiled. "You better buckle up, old timer," she shouted over her shoulder. "I only got my license last summer!" A slight lean to the side--these things were really responsive--and the card banked to the left. There was King, and the rest of the Gang had shown up at last! Fairchild spared a glance behind her, saw Jack crawling out from under the bottom of the card.
How to go down? She crouched, only an inch or so, and sure enough the card began to skim closer to the water. Must be the change in weight distribution, she mused. There was cursing and swearing from Jack, who was holding on for dear life as he was made into an impromptu rudder, leaving a wide, turbulent wake.
She was closing fast on the other Flushers. King was easy to make out, he was the only man, and in his arms he held a long bundle in a canvas sack. The woman in the gold crown must be Queen. The other woman, with white hair and costume, had to be Ten. King gestured towards Caitlin with his bundle; Queen rocketed towards her in response. The woman was in the same white body-stocking as the others, with a colorful jacket, but she had no obvious weapons or tools. Didn't one of the Queens have mind control? Or was that her scepter?
There was a metallic sound behind her, and she turned to catch Jack prying a panel off the top of the playing card. Shit! He let the panel fly off into the air, and his hand came back up with one of his electrical charge grenades. If he shorts out this thing I'm a sitting duck again!
Fairchild turned back to handle Jack, but apparently she was still steering the craft, because it immediately snapped to the left in a hard curve. Quickly Caitlin tried to readjust, but the controls were very delicate. The surface of the card tipped and she was careening through the air now, out of control. Queen slipped past her far beneath; Jack was still holding on to the back of the platform.
"How do you steer this crazy thing?"
Then the angle got too much; she lost her footing and began to topple from the card into the open air. Her hand seized on the edge; the card was flying almost vertically now, and Jack was gripping the other side. She wished her teammates were here. Roxy could have brought these guys down with no trouble.
Queen swooped into her field of vision, pointed at her, and cut loose with a blazing bolt of energy from her hand. There was nowhere for Caitlin to go. "Argh!" Her fingers dug into the metal. This was crazy! Another bolt sizzled through the air, striking her in the side. "Ahhh!" Suddenly, her grip on the card edge began to feel hot. She looked up, and saw Jack slapping a thermite grenade onto the back of her hand.
"Shit!" POOM! That hurt, and her hand let go in reflex. She began to fall towards the ocean far below. Queen circled her, firing blast after blast of accurate fire, knocking Fairchild around the sky. A shot to the back, the head, square in the chest. She started to feel dizzy, lost sight for a moment, had she hit the water yet? She should have hit the water by now…
A final strike pummeled her head, and Caitlin went blissfully unconscious.
"Come on, toots, come a little closer."
Wonder Woman shook her head. "I don't think so. You aren't going anywhere." Airborne again, she seized the playing card platform in one hand by its edge, and thrust a terrific punch into it with her other hand. The metal deformed hideously, and her hand went clean through the center, sending bits of plastic and other hardware through the air. "That ought to make sure you don't follow me, while I take care of your teammates."
"Aw, they're all pussies. I'm man enough for you."
"I'm sure."
"Hey, one last thing."
"Yes?"
She barely even saw the toothpick as it flew through the air with uncanny precision, knocking her golden tiara loose from her head. Before it had even hit the water, the man called Ace had swum beneath it and caught it in one gloved hand. Diana turned in the air, eyes wide, quick enough to see him hurl the tiara, too, at her. The razor-sharp edge of the thing cut her lasso from her, and arced back into Ace's hand. The lasso went "plop" as it fell into the sea.
"Great Hera!"
"Yeah, I know, I'm pretty amazing."
Diana did not pause to hear. At once she dove into the water after her golden lasso. A gift from the gods, she could not afford to let it be lost. The water was cold, all-embracing, but the light of the lasso shone out in her vision and she swam towards it. It dropped slowly, and she caught it quick in an outstretched hand, then turned back to look for Ace. Nowhere to be seen. Ah, the shadow of another playing card. One of his allies come to rescue him. Wrapping the end of the lasso firmly around one hand, she kicked back towards the surface. If only Arthur was here.
Arthur. Aquaman! She ought to keep thinking of him as Aquaman. Keep it professional. She felt such a kinship for him; where others saw arrogance she saw nobility. Where others saw weakness, she saw strength and courage. And what more fitting mate for an Amazon Princess than the King of the Seven Seas?
Wonder Woman narrowed her eyes, returned to her focus. With a mighty kick she erupted from the sea, flying at once, rising above the surface of the water too fast for her enemies to react. Ace stood on the card piloted by Queen, and on another card nearby was Jack and a woman all in white, with ten spades adorning her body-hugging white leotard.
"Where is Fairchild?" Diana demanded.
Queen gestured widely. "Somewhere out there. We left her to drown. If you want to save her, you'd better start looking. We're not here to fight you, Wonder Woman, it's best if you let us go."
"If you think you are going to get away with your scheme, whatever it is, you're wrong."
The woman wearing the crown made a conciliatory gesture. "I'm serious. We don't want to fight you. And just to prove my point. Ace?"
The grin on Ace's face turned to a scowl. "Aw, you ruin all the fun," he said, and flipped the golden tiara he had in one hand back in Wonder Woman's direction. She caught it easily.
"Now," Queen continued, "I think you have something better to do than battle us, don't you?"
"You will regret this day, I promise you," Diana said with grim resolve, before turning aside and plunging once more into the water to search for the tall, beautiful, redhead.
====
(V) FROM HERE TO ETERNITY
The four members of the Gang rendezvoused with their last member, King, who was still holding a long bundle in a canvas sack. He graced them with a broad smile. "Excellent, my Queen! A skillful avoidance of undesired conflict. Our bundle is secure, time to begone."
Queen simply nodded in acknowledgment, but Ace pointed a finger back at the Amazon Princess, now plunging underwater in her search for the other woman. "I'm tellin' ya, this could be our chance to take out a member of the Justice League, seal our rep."
"This is not about 'rep', my erstwhile ally," King replied with disdain. "No, there will be no killing of a superhero today. Rare is the hero who would try to kill one of us, and so long as we play by those rules we are safe. Kill one of them, and they will stop at nothing to secure our apprehension, or worse. That is one of the reasons why I insisted you should not reveal your prior identity."
"I'm not ashamed of killin' that ninja bitch."
"I'm sure," King said with a frown, "but that is simply not what the new Royal Flush Gang is about. We are being well paid to secure this ancient artifact, let us return to base and collect our fee. Unless the rest of you feel as Ace does?"
Ten tossed her white hair with one hand. "I'm into the snatch-and-grab, King, not killing. Slipping into that sub was a cinch thanks to Queen and these new phase modulators we got from our employer. We didn't even need the back-up plan. I say it's Miller Time. Jack?" She gave the one-eyed man beside her a suggestive glance, and laid a delicate hand on his bicep.
But Jack just nodded and kept a watch out for Wonder Woman, who had not yet surfaced. "If we keep standing around, we'll use up all of that good luck you're supposed to have, Ten."
"Well said," King noted. "Glad I am to have a seasoned professional such as yourself at my side, Jack. Truly, this is the finest incarnation of the Royal Flush Gang!"
Ace pulled a new toothpick out and stuck it between his teeth. "Ain't sayin' much," he whispered.
Queen gave him an eye. "What was that?"
"I said I'm achin' for lunch."
Quickly, quietly, the five of them sped away, skimming the surface of the sea.
The feathery touch of air on her face brought Caitlin Fairchild back to consciousness. She was being held in strong arms, her skin chill. Her eyes fluttered open.
Wonder Woman held her up, one arm around her waist, the other cradling her head, as the surf rolled and tossed around their legs. Diana's hair was heavy with water, it clung to the tanned flesh of her chest. Her eyes were deep, enveloping blue, her lips soft and red.
"Are you all right," she breathed in a hush. "You swallowed quite a bit of water. I had to…do mouth to mouth."
Caitlin reached up, touched her lips. Still warm. "You…saved my life." She couldn't take her eyes off the Amazon, didn't want to stand up, didn't want Diana to let go. She had an urge, stopped herself. Where did that come from? She'd never even thought of another woman like that!
But Diana just kept holding her up, and looking down at her with those big blue eyes. Her arms were so solid, so comfortable, and she didn't seem eager to let Caitlin go either. "You were very brave," Wonder Woman offered gently. "I remember when I was as young, and as reckless, as you."
There was something encouraging in those eyes, and before Caitlin could stop herself she answered, "I'll show you reckless," and raised her head to kiss Diana's lips. It was not a long kiss; she suddenly felt self-conscious and fell back again, but Wonder Woman's eyes were closed and she opened them only slowly.
"Ambrosia," she said.
Taking that as a good sign, Caitlin rose her head again, and lingered. She felt Diana's soft lips along her own, her warm breath, and then the delicate tip of her tongue as it touched her own. A hot flash went through her body. This didn't make much sense, but Caitlin didn't care. Perhaps it was her recent rejection on the beach, maybe the heat of battle, perhaps even a little hero-worship, but there were needs in her that she wanted this Amazon to fill. Her arms reached up as Diana lowered her down, and they held each other on the sandy beach, the water flowing around and over them.
Only tatters and rags remained of Caitlin's clothes; cotton tendrils stretched across her breasts and her shorts were singed and marked with holes. It took only moments for Diana, kneeling above her, to rip the remnants off and lower her mouth to Caitlin's chilly, protruding nipples. Fairchild groaned in unaccustomed delight, closing her eyes and letting her head roll back onto the sandy turf. "Mmmm…that's nice." Diana seemed to know what she was doing, sucking gently on the full, soft tit and letting her teeth rub the nipple oh-so-gently. It didn't hurt, Caitlin could never feel pain from such a slight sensation, but the barest touch of Diana's bite sent thrills through her chest and brain.
She opened her eyes, looked down, to see Wonder Woman--Wonder Woman!--lying between her spread legs, black hair splayed out like some wet medusa, licking the salt from her skin. Diana's arms embraced Caitlin's thighs, lifting her legs high, and Fairchild let her eyes linger on the Princess' star-spangled shorts, tight over a muscular ass. The Amazon was working down to her stomach now, tongued the depths of her navel, and Caitlin ran her hands along her own big, round breasts, squeezing them together and reveling in the soft flesh. A long, slow, languid heat was rising in her, unlike anything she had ever experienced. Was this what it felt like to be made love to by a woman? Women didn't rush into things like men did. A man, even an older man, would be too focused on jumping into things and getting the hump on. But this… "Mmm…"
Diana rocked Caitlin's legs back wider, and began to lick and stroke the folds of her cunt. She was rewarded with a slight squirm. So beautiful, Diana thought. And it has been so long since Paradise Island, so long since I loved anyone. She wanted to make this last, make this something special. She looked up, along the geography of Fairchild's lush young body, to see the girl slowly rocking her head back and forth, rubbing sand into her bright red hair. She has probably never had someone pleasure her before, Diana thought. Her eyes fluttered back shut as she returned to her business, licking up the young woman's pussy to the accompaniment of low, but steadily increasing, moans.
A flow of the tide sent a thin sheet of cold, salty water over both women, and Caitlin cried out in shock and delight. Waves of heat and cold rocked her body as Wonder Woman nibbled on her warm pussy, and now she felt the tide receding, the water slipping back off her body, back into the briny sea. Oh, this was heaven. The low roar of the sea was in her ears, and a growl escaped her throat, as she spread her legs wider and stretched her hands down to take thick handfuls of Wonder Woman's thick hair.
Another rush of the water, rolling up over them both, and Diana let out a groan of pleasure and longing, rocking into Caitlin's cunt with the rhythm of the sea. Fairchild's back was arched, and she thrust her crotch up even as she pulled Wonder Woman's face tighter into her. The water sluiced back off again with the ebb of the tide, and she let herself cry out. "Ahh! Oh, yes. Yes!" She bit her lip, thrashed her head to and fro. "Mm hm… Mmmm… " There was urgency now in her lusty moans, and the hot waves growing within her body thrust back the chill. "Oh…oh, Diana…yes. Oh, yes! Yes! Aah!" She thrust her cunt up as her Amazon lover suckled, again, and one more time as an electric rail ran pulsing from her vagina through the top of her head. "Oh yeah! Ng… Unh… Yes…oh, yes. Ohhh…ohh…" So warm, so warm, and her body collapsed, spent, to the sandy shore as Diana slid up between her exhausted, shaking thighs. She slid all the way up, covering up her goose-pimply flesh with the sleek satin of her red uniform, the golden plates of her double W colder even than the sea, than the naked air. Their lips met, soft and embracing, and she felt Diana's hands on her neck, on the back of her head, holding her kiss long and fervent.
Diana rose up, kneeling now around Fairchild's stomach, and she reached behind to unclasp the golden belt that embraced her waist. It came off, revealing a narrow strip of well-tanned flesh between the top of her blue shorts and the bottom of her red bustier. With a toss, she flung it up, beyond the reach of the water, and saw Caitlin waiting breathless beneath her.
"I never thought I'd be so nervous about seeing a woman get undressed."
The Princess gave no reply, just reached behind again and unhooked her top where it fastened between her shoulder blades. The second and third hooks came undone, and she…almost shyly…removed the red and gold top from her muscled body.
The redhead stared appreciatively.
"Do you like what you see, my little fair child?"
Her eyes came back to Diana's, a smile on her face. "Caitlin. My first name is Caitlin."
Diana rubbed her hands along Fairchild's body, up from her stomach to cup the high curves of her breasts, then over the top of them and all the way to her shoulders. "Caitlin," she whispered, trying it out. "Caitlin."
Fairchild put her hands on Diana's waist, felt the well-toned flesh, the ripple of the woman's ribcage and muscles strong enough to tear a tank apart, yet still vulnerable. Suddenly her eyebrows knit in concern and she rose a hand to Diana's face. "Your head, I forgot. You're wounded."
A shake of the head, a slight smile. "Its nothing. Barely worse than a skinned knee. But perhaps I ought to lie down."
Caitlin laughed. "Perhaps you should at that." They rolled over, leaving a deep impression in the sand behind them, all the wider for Caitlin's anxious shifting.
Diana closed her eyes, and instantly the thought of him came to her mind, as he so often did these days. Arthur might even be nearby, alerted by his JLA communicator that the Gang had been sighted. It was so easy to imagine him, walking up out of the sea, the water dripping off his broad torso, drops clinging to his long hair, beard, mustache. He could be watching them right now.
She rose to her hands and knees, as Caitlin slid her hands along the top of the star-spangled shorts. Slowly, with relish for the moment, she slid them over Wonder Woman's perfect round ass, then down her thighs to the back of her knees. Lightly at first, she ran her hands over the twin cheeks, now kneading the muscles. Diana groaned and arched her back, leaning back to grind her ass into Fairchild's crotch. Caitlin's fingers slid along the tense muscles of her back, up to the neck, then back down.
Diana reveled in the attention, breathed in deeply as Caitlin reached around from behind to cup both breasts, lifting and caressing. Her breath escaped her slowly in a drawn-out sigh, as she imagined Arthur, leaving his clothes on the beach, standing before her even as Caitlin now crouched behind. Oh, Arthur. She didn't dare say it aloud. She reached out, to touch his long, erect shaft with one delicate finger. Smiled slyly. "Mmmm." He shuddered at her touch, put his hand into her wet, tangled hair. But she resisted. Not yet. Don't be greedy. You're King of the Seven Seas, remember?
She felt Caitlin slip the blue shorts out from under Diana's knees, pull them back along rounded calves and long, red boots. A glance behind, and she saw the gorgeous, full-breasted redhead lying back down on the sand, positioning herself underneath Diana's smooth, rounded ass. "I'm not sure what to do," the young woman confessed with an embarrassed look.
"Write the alphabet with your tongue," Diana suggested, then turned forward again. She took Arthur's shaft in one hand, very gently, as if it were fragile, and held it still as she nuzzled it with her cheek, kissed the soft skin with her lips, let the draping lengths of her hair feather over and around it. With the tip of her tongue, she traced the bottom of it, let her lips slide along the length then back towards the tip. His hand kneaded her drenched hair; cool tendrils of it clung to her face. Her hand was more firm now; she slid it down and then back up, down and up, her lips only a fraction of an inch away. The pressure of his hand increased. Oh, how he wanted her. She looked up, let him see the proud look in her deep blue eyes. Who was in control here?
She felt the nuzzle of Caitlin's efforts from behind, spread her legs wider and lowered her cunt onto the young woman's active attentions. "That's good. Mmm…very good. Ah!" A quick intake of breath as Caitlin's tongue stroked her clit, and she smiled, opened her mouth, and took Arthur's cock down her throat. "Mmmm…" A long, slow moan as she sank down, so he could feel it through his shaft. He groaned aloud. She met his glance again, looked up his well-muscled body, saw the sun glinting off of drops of water that clung to his chest, stomach. An incredible man.
Her lips slid slowly, ever so slowly, backwards, till the tip of his cock was all that remained in her mouth, and she sucked it like candy. Her hand still caressed it, moving around it as well as back and forth, as she sank down along it one more time. Her tongue caressed the underside, and she began to suck more fiercely, quickly thrusting down and back, down and back, until she began to taste the salty taste of him on the walls of her throat. She slowed, her hand still moving with her lips, brought him back from the edge and gave another long moan into him. His legs shook, and she slipped the cock out of her mouth to smile her vixen smile up at him. Not so fast.
There was a smile hidden behind his mustache and beard, and his hand stroked her hair. She kissed the soft skin again, along the edge of the head, then let her mouth envelop him in her warm liquid softness, deep-throated him while the young goddess behind her tongued her hot cunt. Caitlin's hands kneaded her taut ass, and Diana could not help but flush as the combined delight of both lovers stirred her to passion. She was having trouble breathing, especially with Arthur's thick shaft down her throat, and she could feel the sweat on her body that once had been chilled by the breeze and the water. Her body rocked slowly back and forth, and Caitlin rocked with her, mouth, lips and tongue working furiously. She clenched Diana's ass, her nails scoring the skin. Arthur thrust his cock into Diana's mouth, and she took it all, nearly nestling her face into his crotch. Her hand continued to pump with her tight mouth as she sucked on him, each slide along his length driving the both of them closer to orgasm.
She let his cock slip from her mouth, as she gasped for breath, but her hand continued to pump it. Behind her, Caitlin was fingering her own cunt with one hand, fingers buried in her red bush, legs spread wide, as she continued the tongue-lashing. Wet sand clung to the redhead, spotting her arms and legs, her feet were buried in it, and water gleamed off her taut skin. Arthur pulled Diana back around, back onto his thick rod, and at once she began to feel the climax building within her, as she sucked furiously on the golden man before her. There was no stopping now, not this time, as she let his pole fill her throat again and again. One hand continued to slip up and down the slick surface tightly with each movement of her mouth, but she slid her other hand to cup her own overflowing breast, rolling the nipple as she tasted his come in her mouth. All her muscles were clenched, and she felt him pulling her in as he thrust forward, fucking her face, and he began to explode into her mouth, sending her mind reeling in ecstasy, her cunt and mouth bursting at the same time, twin bursts of delight, as she rocked back and forth, back and forth. Oozing cum slipped from her lips but most of it she swallowed lustily, whimpering into him, frail in the tender manipulations of her two lovers. She gulped for air, licked her lips, slurped it down, fell forward into the sand, felt the soft, muddy mixture coat her chest, stomach, massive breasts. "Oh," she managed, "oh, goddess. Oh, Caitlin. Come here, child." Fairchild crawled into her arms, hot too from her exertions, lips tasting of Diana's own cunt, fingers sticky with her own, and the two women curled up in each other's embrace, keeping out the growing chill.
Later, almost afraid, Diana opened her eyes. "Arthur?"
Caitlin, curled on her chest, face nestled between her breasts, looked up and smiled. "Arthur? You mean Aquaman?"
Diana looked around. There was no trace of him. If there had been, the wave and the water would have washed it away. Real or fantasy? "I…I must have been dreaming."
Caitlin gave a low, throaty laugh. "I'm sure." She burrowed closer against Diana's flesh. "Mmm. This is good."
"Enjoy it while you can, but soon we have to find out what the Gang was up to, and track them down to their den."
"I don't mind, as long as I can go with you. I've never known a real superhero before."
Diana laughed. "Is that 'known' in the Biblical sense?"
The redhead blushed. "Diana!" The Amazon smiled. The girl was so young, so innocent despite her strength. Perhaps that was what drew her to her. Who knew where this might lead, once the current emergency was through? But, what about her feelings for him, for Aquaman?
Again, her eyes scanned the surf and the choppy waters, looking for a sign, but there was none.
====
(VI) FRIENDS IN HIGH PLACES
"I think these shorts are toast." Caitlin had barely managed to squirm herself back into the tattered fabric, but her shirt was reduced to scraps. She was temporarily topless.
"They'll last long enough for us to get you something better. Do you have a uniform?"
"Yeah; I left it back…" with Matthew "…on the beach."
"Well, let's see if we can find it. Come." Without effort, Wonder Woman hefted Caitlin into her arms again. They exchanged smiles. Being carried like this, now it meant something. Reaching up, Caitlin brushed a curl of raven hair away from Diana's cheek.
A voice called out to them, from the road some distance off. "Hey there, ladies!" It was a red convertible, top down, with a single driver. He waved his hand. "Before you take off!"
The two women shared a glance. The beach was low, behind a slope, it was unlikely that anyone driving by had seen them. Just a passerby? "Stay here," Diana advised her mostly-naked companion. "Perhaps he needs the assistance of Wonder Woman." She set Fairchild's feet back down in the sand. "I'll be right back."
Fairchild crossed her arms over her breasts and watched as the other woman padded lightly through the sand, towards the car. God, I feel so mortified, she thought. I hope he didn't watch us.
Diana neared the car. Behind the wheel was a man who was old, but not unhandsome, with a surprisingly good build and short brown hair in a military cut, turning to white over his temples. An eye-patch covered one eye, and she could smell his cigar quite clearly. "Evenin' Wonder Woman." He flashed a badge. "Colonel Nick Fury, commander of SHIELD. If you and your partner there are ready, we'd like to brief you on what just happened, and work to track down what was stolen."
Wonder Woman extended a hand; Fury's shake was firm. "Colonel Fury, this is excellent timing and, I assume, no coincidence."
"A security alert told us of the Gang's theft, then it was just a matter of finding a spy satellite in the right spot for a looksee. By the way, I met your ma once, back in the war. She was a classy dame."
"Thank you Colonel, I'll be sure to pass that along to her the next time I see her."
"It's sure lucky for you that I clocked into that satellite feed before anyone else did, cause some of that stuff ain't fit for little children."
The Princess kept her cool. "Well, no little children were watching. Were they?"
Fury shook his head. "Naw, just one old man with a bad heart. I swear, I had to take some medication. But it's all erased now. So go getcher friend and we'll head on out. Oh, and here." He threw a heavy leather coat her way out of the back seat.
Caitlin bit her lip as she watched Diana return. "Who is it?"
"SHIELD. They want to work with us on this mission."
"Did he see…you know."
Diana shook her head. "It's fine. Really. Trust me. Put this on and we'll get you some more appropriate clothes."
Back at the car, Fury was puffing away. He hadn't quite been telling the truth, of course. He had kept one copy of the satellite feed. He wouldn't show it to anyone, at least not yet. But maybe the next time Rick Jones got married or something Fury could show up, and he'd have one hell of a stag film. The magnification on those satellites was just amazing.
"Ah, you must be the Fairchild girl."
"That's right, sir. Did you work with my father?"
"Can't say that I did, why."
"Oh, it just seems that everyone I meet over forty worked with my father at some point."
"I'm the exception. Get in, we've got a lot of work to do." Fairchild climbed in the back seat while Diana took the passenger, and soon Fury had the little sportscar humming along the road.
"Back along the beach, if you don't mind. I have to pick up some clothes."
The Colonel chewed on his cigar. "Sure, sure, I got loads a time. Not like the world's in danger or nothin."
They went on a short way, until crowds once again began to appear. People playing volleyball, breaking out the campfires, oblivious to what had happened. None even noticed Wonder Woman, since her costume was almost impossible to see within the car.
"There it is. My bag." Fury pulled the car to a halt and Caitlin jumped out, ran for her duffel bag.
"Nice set of legs on that filly," he remarked.
"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that, Colonel."
Fairchild walked back, and zipped open the bag in the back seat. "Can you put the top up? I'm going to change."
"Girl, no one's going to be looking down on you where we're goin'." Fury pushed a button on the stick shift, and the audible clicking and whirring of mechanical devices began to be heard.
"Oh no," Caitlin whispered. "It's not." She looked over the edge of the car, to see all four wheels lying horizontal, turbines whirring inside their hubcaps. The Colonel pulled up on the wheel, and the car rose, began to bank off towards the sun.
"Absolutely. The patented SHIELD flying car."
Caitlin laughed, the wind in her hair. "These things are great! They're so…retro, you know? So…comic-booky."
"Yeah, well, they also last forever and we have a contract with Stark for spare parts, so they ain't goin' nowhere. Now putcher shirt on and fast, cause we're gonna be within LOS pretty soon."
"LOS of what?"
Fury turned around, gave her a skeptical glance. "What the hell do you think? Sheesh, kid." He pointed with his cigar out the front window, as the broad horizon was suddenly interrupted by the appearance of a massive gleaming aircraft. "There's only one'a those."
As the cloaking field blew away on the wind, the SHIELD Helicarrier suddenly became not only visible, but audible. Suspended by dozens of high-powered turboprops and supplementary jet engines, the Helicarrier was an old ship outfitted with whatever new technology it took to keep her flying. It was enormous, so big it was impossible to tell that it was moving. Other, smaller aircraft buzzed in and around it, coming in for a landing or taking off for parts unknown. A row of tall, square windows were prominent in front, and Caitlin hunkered down in the back seat, quickly pulling on her Gen13 jumpsuit.
"Impressive, Colonel," Wonder Woman admitted. "I've heard of SHIELD of course, but never had the honor of actually working with them."
"That's why you two get the royal treatment. It's not often we get to welcome someone as high profile as yourself to SHIELD for the first time. And I promise to be on my best behavior."
"No more fillies?"
He gnawed on his cigar for a moment. "Sorry, moment'a weakness. Just wanted to see how you'd jump."
"And?"
"You didn't."
Caitlin came up in the back seat. "Wow, this thing is amazing! Are those Lex-Fujikawa turbines?"
"You got a good eye, kid. They're based on'em, but there were a few improvements we could make on the design. I think Lexcorp designed'em with flaws on purpose. More lucrative repair contracts that way. Anyhow, hold on, landings can be a little bumpy."
Buzzing in like a bee on a giant elephant, the flying car whizzed into the enormous main hangar, dropped suddenly beneath an emerging troopship, and then lifted to avoid a work crew loitering on the deck. The far wall was approaching fast, but Fury didn't seem concerned; he keyed the stick shift while pulling the wheel back with his other hand. The car began to climb, then stalled, threatened to fall, then the engines caught it and the convertible settled comfortably a few inches above the steel floor.
"Whew!"
"Yeah, damn things threaten to pull my lunch out my nose every time. But I can't seem to make myself stop flyin'em. Come on." Fury leaped out of the car, and strode quickly down an accessway towards the center of the giant aircraft. Wonder Woman and Fairchild followed, the latter feeling much more confident now that she was in her familiar green leotard and boots. Soldiers saluted Fury, and he snapped quick responses, but he was already talking. "About an hour ago an archeological relic was stolen while in the process of being transferred to a classified US storage facility. In order to maintain the utmost security, and to minimize the chances of interference from Marvels, supervillains, Genactives or whatever ya wanna call'em, the decision had been made to transport the artifact by sea. Underwater."
"You mean in a submarine."
"That's right. There's a lot less a you costumed types underwater, and the ones that are there we can usually keep track of."
"Why didn't you ask Aquaman to transport your cargo, or at least to keep watch with the sub?"
"That guy's got a serious attitude, Princess. He's worse than Namor. No thanks." Fury led them to a large briefing room, and a punch of a few buttons on a computerized keyboard brought up a holographic map of the Bay area. "Anyhow, everything was fine until the sub got here, off the California coast. Then the Royal Flush Gang attacked."
"This was a new Gang, Colonel," Wonder Woman asserted. "King is still their leader, but the other members are new. Not the same men and women who made up the team in either of its previous incarnations."
Fury nodded. "That would jive with the other data we've received." He keyed another couple of buttons, a report appeared on screens around the room. "The crew of the Atlanta reported that the artifact was stolen by two women, whom we now know to be Queen and Ten. They entered the sub by going intangible, passing through the water and the hull of the sub. Queen stayed that way, shots went right through her, while the other one nabbed the cargo. A seaman says he saw Ten put some kinda device on the object they were stealin', then Ten took Queen's hand again and they floated up and outta the sub easy as you please. The sub barely made it; Queen put some pretty serious holes in its side with some kinda energy blast. Oh, and she could fly, too. Now take a look at this. This is the technical data we got from that flying card platform you busted up. The Gang left it behind. A couple of our frogmen retrieved it, and we've spent the last half-hour going over it. Now some of the hardware in that thing you can get off the shelf, but most of it is a lot rarer. Not many people could provide it. Stark, Lexcorp, Star Labs, AIM, Hydra, a few others. The usual short list."
"I see. So whoever is behind this not only has a lot of money, which they used to hire the new Flushers, but also has impressive technological resources."
"That ain't the half of it."
"There's more?"
Fury nodded. "See, those parts could'a come from a dozen places, but they didn't. We haven't had a lot of time to look at it, but our best guess is that it was constructed custom made by certain legit companies who all have one thing in common: they have, or had, ties to the Nazis."
Diana's eyes went wide. "Nazis!"
"You've got to be kidding. Are there any Nazis left?"
"Sometimes I think there's never an end to'em," Fury admitted. "But there's nothing showing that the Flushers are backed by Nazis, just that their hardware was built by someone with Nazi connections."
Wonder Woman was skeptical. "That sounds like an awfully thin limb to be out on, Colonel. Something tells me you aren't done yet."
More chewing on the cigar. "On the money, sister. You're probably wondering what kinda old museum piece could be so important that the US Navy would use a nuclear submarine to move it from one pad to another."
Fairchild let an eyebrow raise, the hint of a grin. "I just assumed you'd get to it eventually."
"Funny. Either of you ever hear of something called the Spear of Destiny?"
"The spear that was supposedly used to stab Christ on the cross," Caitlin answered at once. "It figures prominently in many of the later Arthurian myths."
"Very good. I'm impressed. I'll bet yer a real bookworm. That's it all right."
Diana sat on the edge of the table, crossed one muscled thigh over the other. "So this spear is an artifact of great mystic power."
"That's what they say. Me, all I know is that crackin' the old German castle where that thing was kept back in '46 was tougher than fightin' all the way to Adolf's little pillbox. Those Germans fought like fanatics. We lost way too many good kids diggin' em outta there."
"And now someone has stolen it."
Fury just nodded.
After a moment, Fairchild asked, "I'm not sure I believe that this thing is actually anything more than an old spear, but it's good enough for SHIELD, so I guess it's good enough for me. But what do we do now?"
Nick Fury touched a few more buttons on the terminal, and a new, larger map appeared. "We lost the Flushers off the Oregon coast. Some kinda cloaking field. They were heading north, but could be anywhere, land or sea. We've got limited resources; I've put a cordon around South America in case they go for any of the traditional Nazi hangouts, and we can monitor Hydra and AIM pretty well, but we're not experts on hunting Germans. Not any more. Hell, they pay their UN bills better than the Americans do. Its embarrassing."
Wonder Woman's eyes roved over the map, as if by simply studying it she could determine where the criminals were hiding. "So," she asked, "who do you recommend we consult."
Fury blew a smoke trail away from the automatic fans. "Silver Sable International. They're the best Nazi-hunters in the business. Their databanks have information we haven't even begun to crack yet. Not that we're tryin', o'course. Sable's a businesswoman, which would make me suspicious of her, thinkin' she might keep secrets from us for cold cash, but chasin' down Nazis is kindof a family business for her. It's personal. She'll help us."
Diana remained quiet, but Fairchild was anxious to get started. "When do we leave?"
"Well, ya see, there's just one catch." He met Diana's eyes. She had been waiting for the catch. "Sable runs her mercenary outfit outta Symkaria. Hell, she's practically the only source of income for the whole damn nation, cept maybe for some tourists who don't mind flyin' near a Serbian war zone. And once a year she has a little political shindig with her number one most dangerous neighbor. Which would be Latveria."
Wonder Woman stood. One hand went reflexively to her lasso. "No, you don't mean…"
At last, Fury ground out the stubby remnant of his Cuban. "That's right Princess, there's only one person that can help us, and right now she's having dinner with Doctor Doom!"
====
(VII) WHAT BEAUTIFUL TEETH YOU HAVE
"A splendid meal, Victor, as always." Silver Sable, president of the international corporation that bore her name, lifted a glass to her host. She was a woman in her late twenties, a platinum blonde with full, curly locks framing an elegant face, one perhaps a bit too strong thanks to the inheritance of her father's chin. As was her custom, she was dressed all in silver, and the fact that she managed to pull off this feat and not look like a circus performer or a figure skater was a testament to the distinguished power of her personality. Tonight her choice was a body-hugging gown almost gunmetal grey, yet with a sheen which seemed designed to attract not only light, but the eyes of those who beheld it. Around her neck was a brilliant diamond pendant, one of the crown jewels of Symkaria. "You do my nation honor," she said, "and I speak on behalf of King Stefan when I say I hope the warm relations between Latveria and Symkaria continue long into the future."
Across the table sat perhaps the most dangerous man in the world. Doctor Doom needed no further introduction. He raised his glass in answer. "The honor is mine, Silver."
"Yes, this is much better than last year," Sable suggested, with the raise of a delicate white eyebrow, "when I was chased all over Castle Doom by your evil doppleganger and his Doombots."
Doom's glass was returned precisely to the table. "Is it necessary to bring up such uncomfortable memories?"
A downcast look. "Of course not, Victor. I do apologize."
Doom rose and, accompanied by the barely audible magnetic whine of his armored limbs, walked the short distance to the open window, where moonlight and the fresh Latverian air blew in. He gazed down for a moment on the scene below, then returned his eyes to the beautiful woman at the table. "Come." He held out one gauntleted hand. "To the window."
She rose. Sable was not particularly tall, but her body was a splendid mix of classic beauty and concealed strength, her limbs thick with developed muscles yet still soft and rounded. The tight corset of the silver gown relaxed into a long, clingy length slit daringly up the center. Most men would not have allowed themselves to miss her walking towards them across the dining hall, wineglass in hand, but Doom's gaze returned to the scene below.
As she joined him there, Sable looked down to see the crowd that had gathered round the base of Castle Doom. There were hundreds of them, and the exotic music of their celebrations rose up to greet the ears of the two aristocrats in their high tower. "It is the gypsies, come to Latveria." Doom's voice was almost a whisper. "They do honor to your visit."
With her keen vision, Silver could make out the festivities in detail: the bonfires and dancing, storytelling and other entertainments. Ah, for the pleasures of a simple life, she thought to herself. But such is not the destiny of the Sable heir. She felt Doom's eyes upon her, and she lifted her head to meet the gaze. His brown eyes were not unkind, though remote and analytic, always calculating. The same thing, she knew, had been said of her. "Regret, my dear Silver?"
"People in our position have no time for regret, Victor. Or self-pity."
"But though we carry the weight of nations, time must remain for personal happiness."
Sable could not help but raise an eyebrow again in surprise. "Happiness? Victor von Doom, when have I ever heard you discuss such a thing."
His glance returned to the celebrations far below. "The happiness of my subjects is among my chief concerns, never far from my mind."
"The world calls you a tyrant."
"And so I am. But the skill of any ruler is measured directly by the happiness of those whom he rules. This is the first law of the tyrant. And common people value happiness over freedom. This is the second law. They are laws your King Stefan has forgotten."
A cloud passed over her face. "Politics in Symarkia have been more…divisive than usual."
"The Serbian conflict again threatens your borders?"
She shook her head in frustration. "Does it ever do otherwise? With tourism down and work hard to find for my own corporation, Stefan has been forced to reduce the size of the armed forces. This has led others to suggest that he is weak, and rival parties are threatening to tear our nation apart. If we are not careful, we will become as weak as they say, and nothing will keep out that butcher, Milosevic, and his Serbian troops."
"Latveria, of course, is always ready to support our ally with funds, or even troops."
Sable was suddenly aware of the imposing nearness of the man with whom she spoke. This was no idle political debate; here she struggled for the lives of millions with a man who had nearly dominated the world on more than one occasion. Her mind spun. How do you say no to Doctor Doom? She stalled for time, moistened her lips with the pink tip of her tongue. "Indeed?"
"Indeed. My robotic army and vast technological advantage would ensure that there would be virtually no loss of life…among our own forces."
Best to be direct. He would see through anything less. "No, Victor, I do not think so. I cannot allow that kind of entanglement with Latveria. It could have unfortunate repercussions."
The steel head lifted a little. Her comment had stung. "Silver, we both know that Symkaria continues to exist only at my indulgence. The army of which I speak could just as easily be turned against another, with no risk at all to the people whose happiness I so urgently protect."
Slowly, she walked away, put space again between them. The back of her gown was cut dramatically low, exposing her sculpted musculature, the gently curving line of her spine. Let him look at that for a moment. "Respectfully, Victor, I suggest otherwise. Latveria benefits enormously from its partnership with an independent Symkaria. Trade with us allows you to circumvent UN sanctions for the nominal price of a small border tax." Delicately, Sable returned her wineglass to the oak table, taking her leisurely time. It was important to avoid adrenaline when confronting Victor. "Further, I know that you would never conquer Symkaria outright and oust Stefan's dynasty, unless he directly threatened you."
"And how," the Lord of Latveria asked, "do you know that?"
She turned to face him, and paused with words on the tip of her tongue. Doom's broad metallic form, garbed in the medieval green tunic he had always worn, was half enveloped in the shadows of the ancient hall. Firelight from the gypsies far below flickered in from the window to play across his steel mask. But although his exterior was impervious metal his limbs, stance and body language were that of a man, a confident man who was his own master. Who answered to no one. Sable felt an almost forgotten flame of passion arise in her, as she appraised this man who she felt she knew better than any other. "Because you have respect for tradition, for the old ways," she managed at last. "You appreciate Stefan's right to rule. Symkaria is Latveria's sole political ally. I venture to say that you need us, Victor. You need me."
"Bah. Doom needs no one."
A smile, gracious. Beautiful, and she knew it. "Forgive me, a poor choice of words. Benefit from." With careful steps she began to return to him. "Doom, I am not your enemy. Indeed, I think if anyone on this planet is your friend, it is I." Back to the window; she could see again his eyes, deep and brown, never flinching from her. "We have a kinship, you and I. Where the leaders of other nations see a dictator, I see a leader who bears the weight of a nation on broad, armored shoulders. Where the champions of America see a conqueror, I see a hero. Where others see only the metal skin, I see the man."
She shifted, slid closer. He stiffened but did not withdraw. Sensing the weight of this moment, wondering where it would lead her, Silver rose one hand to Doom's chest, let it lie there, met his gaze with one of her own.
"There is chemistry between us. Or are you," she said in her low, breathy voice, "above such things as companionship. Have you left that part of you behind."
With the faint accompaniment of mechanical motors, His gauntleted hand took hers by the wrist. "There is no space in Doom's world for companionship."
"I speak not to Doctor Doom, but to Victor."
"They are one and the same."
"No, Victor is hidden." She withdrew her hand and he allowed her, to touch his metal face. "Behind here." She spread her hand over its breath, felt the seams along its edge, found a grip.
His eyes were electric. "You know not what you do."
"I know this man," she said, urgently, "I would see his face."
From far below, fires played on the steel helm as magnetic clamps were released, connections came undone. Her left hand lifted the mask away, held it facing the window, as she felt his arm wrap around the slender arc of her waist. There, framed by the window, the upheld mask hiding the touch of their lips, they kissed. Shouts of congratulations and delight arose from the crowds below. The names of the pair were chanted loudly, wafted up on the hot breeze, and still they kissed. Her arm clung desperately to his back. As the lauding of the crowd began to fade, they separated, the mask was affixed in place, and she faced Doom once more. Doom, but still a man.
Silver could not breathe. She leaned on his impervious height. "Perhaps," she panted, "we should withdraw…from the window."
With a final glance at the celebrating, vivacious gypsies below, Doom followed her away into the candlelight mystery of the dining room. She spun, rested her firm body against the edge of the table as he neared. She raised her arms behind her head, as if to release the clasp of her tight corseted gown, but then her arms rose higher and the gesture became a languid, luxurious stretch into empty air. She smiled. His left hand encircled the wrist of his right, and with the barest touch of a concealed switch he lifted the armored gauntlet off, revealing a muscular forearm with walnut brown skin. A toss, and the metal weight landed on the table with a clatter.
She gasped as he closed the distance to her in a single step, encircling her waist with his left arm, and she raised her hands to press a token resistance on his unyielding torso; but he raised his now naked right hand slowly, delicately, and touched the buoyant curls of her shining hair. Her cheek brushed his hand, and her eyes slowly closed, opened again, as he threaded the white locks between fingers that so rarely felt even the simple pleasure of open air. And how long since they had touched the soft hair of a luxuriant woman? He ran his hand full into it, along the surface of her scalp, until his fingers were completely submerged in that layered softness, and he inhaled deeply of her unique perfume, the scent of her close body.
Her hand rose to the cloak he wore, and she pushed it aside a little to nuzzle the juncture of his articulated neck and shoulders. The metal was warm, and she kissed it with tender lips. She moaned again as he pulled on her hair, and she arched her body, letting her head roll back. The clinging tightness of her dress put every curve, her erect nipples, in sharp relief. His metal hand ran along the ridges of her ribs, up her side, and around to cup Silver's full, ripe breast. Her body shook as he lifted and caressed the round globe.
Now her hands did reach behind her neck, and pulled the velvety gunmetal sheath down around her waist. Her breasts were naked, and she shivered as his hand outlined the curve beneath. The blush of the aureole puckered as if with cold. His hand pressed deeply into her skin, reveling in the soft firmness of her flesh, along the contours of her muscles. Her legs spread as she slid her pelvis up against the steel of his thigh. Doom's panted breathing echoed from inside his helm. Her hands slid along his arms, hands, back up to his shoulders, gripped handfuls of his green cloak when his firm touch massaged the slope of her bare shoulder.
Suddenly she was all against him, leaning her entire length on him, encircling his broad chest with her arms. She slid with tantalizing slowness down his body, along the sloping panes of his armored torso, abdomen, thighs, pressing her firm tits and tight stomach into him until she crouched at his feet on her high-heeled silver shoes. Raising her head to meet his gaze she graced him with a lascivious smile, and began to rise again as slowly as she had descended. His hands pushed the gown she wore down as she rose, peeling her like some precious cloud-colored fruit, until she was all the way up and the dress dropped completely to the floor, revealing a white garter belt of fine, intricate lace supporting white stockings with a bold geometric pattern down their delicious length. Pressed against him, she suddenly fell back, letting him catch her in his arms, and her hands smoothed over his middle until they met at the broad belt that encircled his waist. Her silver-nailed fingers unhooked the leather strap, let it fall to the ground, and as he pulled her close again her hands slid under the simple tunic he wore and gripped his rigid metal back desperately.
"Tell me," she whispered, "that your mask isn't the only piece of this armor that comes off."
"It is not."
With one forceful hand he spun her, and she turned to collapse breathless on the dining room table. She panted as he fastened his left hand on her hip, ran his right over the shining silvery silkiness of her tight panties. His fingers slipped beneath the straps of the garter belt, along the upper hem of the stretched stockings, and she cooed as he traced that hem along the inside of her taut thighs. Her legs were straight, knees locked, as she bent over the oak table, her ass presented to him, and she cried out when he finally gripped the panties in one hand and pulled fiercely, tearing their clasps and releasing the silver wisp of silk to fall to the hard ground.
There was an almost inaudible mechanical sound, and then she licked her lips as she felt his fingers spread her. He was tall; it was only the height of her silver pumps that allowed her to spread her rigid legs enough to accommodate him. When the tip of his cock began to slip inside she realized that he was big, not just big but really big, and she groaned in a mixture of pleasure and pain as he took her hips in both hands and slowly slid himself all the way down her liquid hot tunnel.
"Oh…oh Victor…" Her eyes closed and her head dropped to the surface of the table. She moaned as he filled her up, pressed on the end of her tunnel, relaxed and began to withdraw. "Slow…" she managed. "It's been a long time, and you're so big."
Doom's hands slid along her round ass cheeks, over the tightly-strung delicate lace of the garter, as his cock slowly lubricated her in and out. "A long time? For a woman so magnificent?"
"Oh yes, that's good. Mmm." Sable arched her back to get more penetration, and now Doom was moving steadily, fucking her with his long, thick shaft, and she was rocking forward, back, forward as he pumped her. One of his hands snapped the taut strap of her garter, stinging her tight ass, and another series of quiverings shook her rhythmically rocking form. She felt his bare hand slide up to the small of her back, press into her undulating muscles, slip over to her side and lift her up. She rose a little as he continued to push into her cunt, and his hand slid around to her tight stomach, finally moved up to cup her breast. She was too large for him; the flesh bulged between his fingers as he squeezed it, and as his gauntleted hand did the same thing to her clenched bottom.
He massaged the fullness of that breast for a moment, reveling in its perfection, until bringing his hand back down between her legs. As soon as she felt his touch on the closely trimmed white triangle guarding her clit she felt her breathing increase, her shoulders tighten up. Her hands sought purchase on the flat expanse of the table. Doom obviously sensed her excitement; his middle finger slid inside the folds of her cunt and began to rub in time with the relentless pressure of his pumping cock.
Now with every breath that escaped her a little cry came too, and in the back of her mind she gloried in the fact that it was her, Silver Sable, who had seduced the most dangerous man in the world, and that no other man would do for her now. She would have Doom, or she would have no one, and she tossed her head of platinum curls as she climbed to orgasm, her body erupting between the combined machinations of Victor's precise finger on the lip of her cunt and his thick pole pounding deep inside her time and time again. She felt his fingers clench on her hard ass, felt the steel gauntlet grip her with a strength that would leave a hand-shaped bruise later, as he drove into her his full length, and she cried out in ecstasy. He exploded into her again, and her fist pounded the table furiously. A third time, a fourth, the plates rattled and her wineglass toppled, spilling. Now both his hands were on her hips, grinding her into him as his cock emptied into her, and the tension suddenly bled out of her, leaving her whimpering and weak, squirming on the oaken surface as Doom shook, overcome, the last of his seed overflowing and mixing with her own juices to drip in a single line down the inside of her leg to the hem of her pure white stocking.
Her smile was one of pure contentment. "Mmmm." He lifted her back up with one hand and slipped out of her, running his touch over her moist, slickened skin. His other arm came up too, and she reveled for a moment in Doom's protective embrace. She felt his breathing warm on her neck, the unyielding strength of his steel frame pressed against her backside, and she nuzzled farther back into him. She had been ashamed of some of her lovers, but no one would ever accuse her of going beneath herself this time. No, indeed.
"You have awoken something in me, Silver Sable," he whispered into her ear. "And neither one of us," he warned, "can know how it will end."
She turned, languid, put her arms around his neck. "I am not a schoolgirl experiencing my first crush, Victor," she admonished with her private smile. "And every day my life is in danger. I am not in the habit of planning far ahead. But however it ends we will always have this night. This incredible night."
The bare fingers of his hand rubbed the slope of her back. "I thought my admiration for you had risen as high as it might, but I see now that I was mistaken."
She was unsure whether to comment either on what else might be rising, or on the fact that the legendary Dr. Doom might be mistaken, when there was a knock at the door. He wrapped his arms around her naked torso as the door opened. It was an old man with a formidable white beard.
"What is it, Boris."
The old man kept his head averted in respect, but nonetheless shuffled in agitation. "Forgive me the intrusion, master, but it was either I or your two visitors, whom I could not dissuade."
"I see. Show them up, Boris. The long way."
Nodding, the servant withdrew, and Doom opened his grasp to let Silver slip the tight corseted top of her gown back over her breasts and clasp it behind her neck. "I must correct myself, Victor," Sable said with a smile. "Boris, too, should be counted among your friends, as well as myself."
Doom locked his right gauntlet back on his hand with a slight clamping noise. "I dare say that my childhood guardian would not be called upon to perform the sort of services you might."
She laughed. "Victor! Was that a joke?"
His eyes were warm. "Doom does not joke."
Her renewed laughter was still echoing when the door opened, and a woman in red, gold and blue stood outlined by the brighter light outside the dining room.
"Wonder Woman. Only one such as you would enter Castle Doom unbidden."
"I would, and not alone." The amazon gestured, and an even taller and more muscular young woman, tightly clad in green and purple, stepped into the hall.
"Ah, the Fairchild daughter." Everyone was watching everyone. The tension was thick. "Out of hospitality for my guest," Doom said, gesturing to the silver-clad woman at his side, "I will allow you to withdraw without arousing my temper."
"In fact," Wonder Woman said pointedly, "it is your guest that we have come to see."
Suddenly silent, Doom turned slowly to cast his gaze on Sable, who placed her hands on the back of a tall chair at the table and returned the stare. "I assure you, Victor, I have never met either of these two ladies before and did not invite them here."
"Nonetheless," Wonder Woman pressed, "we have come. It concerns a matter of grave, even world-threatening import. You must speak with us." After a moment, she added, "alone."
"That is out of the question. If you wish to secure my services you may contact my appointment managers in Symkaria or New York City."
Fairchild broke in, her face tight with concern. "We have reason to believe someone with Nazi connections has stolen the Spear of Destiny. We need you to help us find them."
For a moment the infamous Silver Sable lost her complete composure. "The Spear!" Then she clamped down hard on her alarm. "I see," she went on, more coolly. "This does change things. I will be happy to speak with you tomorrow morning."
Caitlin's eyes went wide in shock. "What? Tomorrow morning!"
"Yes. You should be thankful; I'm booked up for two months."
"But…but this is important!" Fairchild took a step towards the small woman. Another. "If you don't take these guys seriously they will…"
Her anger was cut short by Sable's commanding voice. "Miss Fairchild, you have no conception of my obligations. I am engaged in a critical matter of state. But I will be eager to assist you. In the morning."
The redhead took two strides closer to Sable and knelt to pick a pair of silver panties up off the floor. "I can see what you're engaged in."
SMACK! Sable's slap echoed off the stone walls of the hall. "That is enough," she said in a frigid tone. Diana stepped up to her companion, put one hand on the woman's bicep.
Fairchild was stunned, furious. "Why you little…pipsqueak!" She loomed over the little mercenary. "I could snap you in half."
"Caitlin…"
"I suggest instead," Silver continued, "the two of you journey to Castle Sable, where you will be well tended to until the morning. Then our hunt for the Spear can begin in earnest."
Wonder Woman rose her voice to interrupt. "Fairchild! Caitlin. Come, let us withdraw."
There was a tense moment as Fairchild looked from Diana to the woman before, to the immobile but watchful Doom, then stepped backwards. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right. Sorry. It's just…she slapped me."
"Miss Sable, we will await you in Symkaria."
"I look forward to seeing you there. Goodnight."
With a nod from Wonder Woman, the two intruders departed.
Slowly Doom returned his eye to Sable, who slipped the silk panties into a small clutch purse that had been resting on a chair. "Dessert?"
She smiled. "That would be splendid."
To Be Continued…