Supergirl Breaks The Mold
or
Supergirl and the American Way
The police had the place surrounded. Inside the building were thirty plus Cuban refugees. They were mostly men, but some of them were families. That meant little to the police, because the Cubans were not supposed to be here in America, and they were armed. A mother in the house sent a letter to the Daily Planet last week to be printed in the editorial section, penned in Spanish. The letter said:
"To the people of the United States:
"We came here because we have no place else to go. We will do any job for any pay, because we did not come here for your jobs or for money. We came here because Castro wants us dead. We found a house that no one was using, and so we moved in. We stole some food because some of us were starving, but we won't steal anything else.
"The police told us that we had to give up our guns, and then they would discuss whether we had to return to Cuba or not, but we know that most of us would have to leave. So we won't give up our guns, and we have to defend our home.
"Antonia Rodrigo"
The letter was never printed, but I saw it when I visited the Daily Planet last week. Jimmy Olsen told me "the Planet never prints letters unless they are written in English," but his eyes betrayed the ugly truth.
For the next few days, I kept a super-eye on that house. I didn't know if I was being overly suspicious. I wanted to feel foolish for not trusting the police. But I knew that popular opinion was against the Cubans. When a few days had past, and the police hadn't come, I began to relax and think again of America with optimism. Someone in charge must have had an attack of conscience, I reassured myself. America was welcoming the Cubans into its bosom, and the name "America" secured its place in my heart.
What were those words on the Statue of Liberty? Give me your poor, hungry and wretched ... something like that. America had adopted me when I was poor, wretched and all that, and I was truly grateful. I was happy to fight for "truth, justice and the American way," and for the red, white and blue.
But today, those grand words seemed empty, and the only colors I could see were shades of grey. Today, the police surrounded the Cubans' home, and the Daily Planet printed an editorial about a wave of Cuban terrorists invading American shores. My heart sank. The American people didn't have x- ray vision, so they couldn't see the suffering in that home. They didn't have super ears, so they couldn't hear the fear in the children's voices. The media were supposed to be the eyes and ears of America, but strangely no one seemed interested in the Cubans' story. Even Clark had described America's immigration policy as a "necessary evil." Now, as ready fingers leaned against triggers, and as tear-gas launchers were prepared for the first stage in this small war, I had to choose between "truth and justice" or the "American way."
"It's all right, Supergirl," said the female police officer in charge as I swooped down beside her. Her voice sparkled with excitement. Apparently this was her first command of a serious police operation, and she was anxious to prove herself in action. Maybe she thought I was here to rain on her parade. When I looked at her, I almost felt like I was looking into a mirror; like me, she was nervous; like me, she was preparing to be baptized with responsibility. "We have matters well in hand," she said, and then she looked away, perhaps hoping I would leave.
"You mean you'd rather kill them than let me resolve this without guns?" I asked. My mouth filled with a bitter taste. I felt dizzy, and my heart raced.
The officer looked amazed. "No, of course not. We're going to fill the house with tear gas and force them out.
"Let me go in," I said, "and try to talk with them. Maybe we can fix this peacefully."
The officer shook her head, "The time for discussion has ended. Now is the time for a show of force. We need to show the world that we take our borders seriously."
"Why don't you just tear down the Statue of Liberty, then?" I said, as I set my posture. My will was hardening. "These people came here in desperation, and you are just going to turn them away?"
Her eyes opened wide. "What are your intentions, Supergirl."
"I am here," I said slowly, thinking out the words before I spoke them, "to ensure the safety of the refugees."
Several officers were now gathering around me. One of them said, "Do you mean that you are on THEIR side?"
"Yes," I said. "They only want to survive. And I can't allow you to hurt them."
"This really isn't your decision to make, Supergirl. America has decided, and we are only doing what America wants."
I didn't know what else to say. According to the media, America did seem to want the Cubans removed, but I knew the media wasn't telling America everything. Even if a fully informed America supported the police action, I couldn't ignore my own conscience.
I walked to a spot directly between the police and the Cubans' house, and I raised my right hand in a "stop" gesture towards the police officers.
Then, suddenly, I felt a sharp pain. I didn't expect anyone to shoot at me, so when the bullet bounced off one of my teeth, I stumbled backwards and covered my mouth with my hand. Most people know that bullets cannot injure me, but they don't know that Superman and I are very sensitive to pain -- that's the price of our super-senses. We try to hide this weakness, and we usually brace ourselves when we expect to be shot. But this time I was surprised, and the pain that exploded from my tooth was excruciating.
"Superdyke!" yelled a young officer with the smoking pistol. "Why don't you go back to Krypton?"
I composed myself, and I sneered at him. I was almost thankful to the bastard for making my decision easier. Now the anguish in my heart was eased, and I felt assured that what I was doing was right.
Before they knew what had happened, I disarmed all thirty officers. As they searched for their weapons, I transformed into Linda Lee and just walked away as a pedestrian.
Reporters flooded the area, and a crowd was gathering around the confused law enforcement officials. I looked at my reflection in a store window and straitened my brown wig. I smiled mischievously, as I looked over my shoulder in the window and saw the confused police officers.
A hopeful young man offered to carry my large bag of "groceries". I smiled at him and shook my head. I couldn't let him see what I really had inside the bag -- besides, I already had a date for the evening.
Hidden beneath a canopy of treetops and beyond an assortment of bushes was a four room, brick house. It sat in a quiet neighborhood about a mile from the crowded campus of Metropolis University. Linda thought it was the perfect place for a woman who protected many secrets.
Or for two such women.
Carol Lee and Linda Lee had little in common besides the same last name. Carol had small breasts and skinny legs; but she had unblemished white skin, the perfect face of a doll, and shiny black hair.
She greeted Linda at the door, and glanced in the bag. She licked her lips when she saw the guns. "Looks yummy," she said with a smile. Her smile shone like a diamond in the black satin of her hair.
"I had a problem with the police," Linda said, while placing the bag on the kitchen table.
Carol smiled even brighter. "I mean you. You look yummy," she whispered into Linda's ear, as she slid the wig from Linda's head. Linda smiled, as Carol's touch exorcised her worries about the police and an irate America.
Linda closed her eyes, as Carol ran her fingers through Linda's blonde hair.
"I've been hungry all day," Carol whispered in Linda's ear, "and I think its time to eat."
My life has changed since I met Carol a few months ago. I had never really thought about sex with another woman before, but heterosexual relationships had too many problems for me. Men thought I was frigid because I wouldn't go all the way with them; they didn't know that my restraint was for their protection. Then, if I took the chance and trusted them with my secret, they couldn't handle it, and the relationship disintegrated. One of the men even became violent with me, strangely thinking it was a man's duty to subdue his woman. He was much more gentle after breaking his fist on my jaw, but he also lost all interest in me.
And then there was Sam . . . but that's a whole story in itself.
I was Linda Lee when I had met all my male lovers. Most of them felt betrayed when I revealed that I was Supergirl. They couldn't see that the gentle and vulnerable Linda Lee was real, or that I truly cared for them. They couldn't see me as anything other than a woman whose mere existence undermined the traditional concepts of men. I was grateful to them for promising to keep my secret. But I was devastated, as anyone in love would be.
My love affair with Carol was different. Not only was she a woman, but she was attracted to the real me.
Actually, she was interested in Superman at first. Even now, she sometimes joked that I was really her second choice. Occasionally, when we made love, she would yell out "Oh! Oh, Superman!"
She had always been fascinated by the subject of Krypton, and she had tried for years to meet with the Man of Steel. After graduating Metropolis University two years ago, she had become a reporter for the Daily Planet. The Planet had had a reputation for always getting the scoop on Superman. For some reason, Clark had felt his identity was compromised, so he had made sure that the only hero Carol would ever meet was me.
So I saw Carol time and again, as I stopped a gunfight, prevented an accident, or just made a statement to the press. She quickly became my favorite reporter -- someone who never asked a barbed question, and who was just a familiar, friendly face among her aggressive colleagues.
The rest of the story is kinda boring. Over the past six months, we've grown closer, and eventually we found that we loved each other. So we became lovers, and Carol Lee moved in with me. We told everyone that we were sisters, which was easy to pull off since we both had the name Lee. (By the way, this wasn't a coincidence: Clark actually was thinking of Carol when he gave me my Earth name.)
Carol was a little crazy. She had a fascination with power. She thought the combination of power and weakness was very sexy, and she loved to play games in which the participants played both roles. We never had ordinary sex. We always played a game, and Carol always invented the game. Her favorite sex games involved themes of S&M and rape, but strangely mixed with tenderness. She had a wild and almost frightening imagination, but somehow sex with her was always intensely satisfying.
Today, she wanted to play a variation of what she called the Superslave Game. This was a two part game in which first I am tied up, and my master has her way with me -- then she unties me, and I must pay tribute to her body. She would tie my hands and feet to the bed with rags treated with a small amount of Kryptonite. The Kryptonite wasn't painful, but it numbed my skin where it touched me, and after about a minute, the numbing traveled throughout my arms and legs, paralyzing my limbs. After a little more time, the effects reach my mind, and I feel a high-- something like the high people get from pot. Sometimes I wondered how safe this game really was, but we've already played it several times, and the effects wore off as soon as Carol untied me.
Carol seemed anxious today. She locked the front door, and then she led me to the bedroom.
"Don't you want to know about my problem with the police, Carol?" I asked, feeling we should talk about it. She was a reporter, after all, and she should be interested.
Carol shook her head, and said, "Love before business."
"But..." I started, when she stuffed my wig in my mouth. So I dutifully dropped myself on the bed, and let my master tie me up.
When we first tried this game, Carol was tentative about the rags, constantly asking me how they felt and whether I was OK. But now she really got into the role, tying the knots tight and staring at me with apparent cruelty. After securing both hands and feet, she left the room to change, while the Kryptonite worked on my body.
I laid back and tried to relax. I was tense from my encounter with the police, and worried about public opinion of me once the police told their story. Then waves of tingling crawled down my arms and legs, and a sense of peace swept into my brain.
Carol returned wearing a very naughty black teddy, and holding a black bag that I couldn't see into even with x-ray vision. She had surprises in store for me. She climbed onto the bed, and kneeled between my legs.
Just then I realized I was fully dressed. For this game, I was supposed to wear clothes that were easy to strip. "I'm sorry, Carol," I said. "Untie me and I'll..."
The first surprise Carol had in store for me was a gag. She wrapped it tightly around my head. It was just an ordinary piece of cloth, and I could bite it off if I wanted to.
"I hope these clothes don't mean much to you," Carol whispered in my ear, "'cause they won't won't be worth a nickel when I'm through!"
She could have unbuttoned the blouse, but instead she tore at it violently, spraying buttons in the air. She struggled with my skirt; apparently the fabric was tougher than she thought, but her determination defeated the skirt in short order. All that remained now between Carol and my flesh was the blue and red uniform.
"I'm sorry," she whispered into my ear. "I'll make you another one."
I tried to complain through the gag, but Carol again whispered, "Shhh, shhh. It'll be OK."
She reached into the black bag and pulled out a razor blade.
I fell silent.
She demonstrated the blade playfully, like a child discovering a new toy, and then she lowered the new toy towards my uniform. Very slowly she began to cut my uniform away, between my breasts, with the blade pressing into my skin. The pricking sensation was so acute that I expected to see blood, but my skin wasn't even marked.
After traveling only a few inches, she paused. Then she moved the blade over my left nipple, and began to cut a hole in the red and yellow "S". I squirmed from the sensation, which was a little painful and a little exciting. When the erect nipple was revealed, Carol tried to excite it further with her tongue. Then, in the midst of pleasuring me, she unexpectedly bit down hard on the tip. I gasped, and my whole body shook. Carol kissed my cheek and consoled me, "Shhh. It's OK." She proceeded to cut another hole around my right nipple, and my body tensed as she began to suck on it. She glanced up to meet my eyes, and she smiled mischievously. I shut my eyes and prepared for her sadistic treat, but she just suckled on the nipple, as her hand massaged my other breast.
Carol must have sensed me relaxing. I was not allowed to relax. I felt the razor now slicing into my side, tantalizingly slow, to enhance my pain or pleasure. I watched as she butchered the suit beyond repair. Carol kissed each inch of my skin, as she exposed it.
She began to cut the other side. Eventually, she had cut enough, and she just tossed the remains aside.
Then she stared at the skirt, concentrating on the hidden and not the revealed. Her lips twisted in apparent anger, as she heaved away at the elastic waistband, and the red cloth tore away easily. She smiled at the thin cotton threshold to the prize.
I opened my eyes wide as she raised the blade again. What was she planning? She hovered the blade between my legs, pretending to consider a slash, or maybe a slow, penetrating incision. I almost sighed when she merely cut the panties away at my hips.
Finally, with a wave of her hand, and a gape of wonder, the rest of me seemed to disappear. I was my pussy. Carol paused and just stared at it, and so I just stared myself. Maybe it was the drugging affect of the kryptonite, or maybe it was Carol's act of awe, but I was fascinated by my own pussy. The yellow hairs were tipped with red, like the puff of silk on a fresh ear of corn. With my legs spread, the lips parted slightly, like a mouth readying for a kiss. And I felt the heat building, a movement of blood, like a passionate blush.
Carol would usually touch it by now, or perhaps taste it. Once she shocked me by biting it. But now she paused and just looked. Then, with a smile, she reached into the black bag.
And out came an empty mineral-water bottle. Carol had removed the label, and had lubricated the surface to a shiny glean. It was just a glass dildo, now. The outside of the bottle had ridges, as though it was designed for this purpose.
Carol touched the cold tip to my thighs, which were too numb to respond. But as the tip moved nearer to the center, I began to quiver. She began to kiss my nipples again, as the bottle peeked inside me. She moved up to my face, and removed my gag with her free hand, as the bottle probed a little deeper. I closed my eyes, and we kissed, as Carol rotated the bottle. I felt my muscles compress slightly, and a worry crossed my mind. What if the bottle should break?
I tried to talk, but Carol's lips were pinned to my own. If the bottle broke, what would I do? It wouldn't cut me, but what an irritation! I tried to speak again, but she just pushed the bottle in deeper. Then I stopped trying. I was at the dawn of an orgasm, and suddenly nothing seemed to matter. I arched my head back, as Carol nibbled on my neck. My whole body shook under her harsh, knowing touch. She did not slow until my body relaxed, and my heart leaped into the sky.
At the height of my climax, as I was beginning to moan, and rushing towards a second climax, the sound of glass shattering stung my ears. For an instant, I felt certain that the bottle had broken. An awful sensation grew in my abdomen. I opened my eyes to see shards of glass on the bed and even on my body. But the suspected bottle lay innocently between my legs, whole and without a crack. Carol had leapt off me and stared in shock at the broken window beside the bed. I was stunned, but not just from surprise. I felt an immediate pain strike my stomach. In about five seconds, I had gone from ecstasy to the desire to puke!
Andrew had been tense all day, but he was just beginning to relax when his cellular beeped.
"Damn you," he whispered into it, as he walked down the street, trying to look casual, like a successful business man or something. "This better be good."
"Sorry Andy," the little box almost seemed to yell back. "But some jokers have just started down the street, and they are bound to attract some attention. We'd better circle round again."
"Where are they at?" Andy asked, now more concerned than angry.
"They are nearing the house," Ernie replied.
"No, no, I mean the subjects."
"Oh, they are getting near the end, I think. Ted can barely see them, but he thinks our opportunity is beginning to pass. Maybe we should reschedule."
"No quits," Andrew said with as much authority as he could. "How many days in a row will they keep up this game? No, it's now or never. You don't get that many chances with these people."
After a pause ... "Ted thinks you should walk faster, then."
"Damn," Andrew grumbled, as he increased his pace. He whispered again into the phone, "Don't call me back, no matter what." And he dropped it back into his belt.
He started counting down the houses in his mind. Eight to go.
He tightened his grip on the heavy little book in his left hand. It looked like a hard-cover novel, but it weighed 35 pounds. Andrew wondered how conspicuous he would seem to someone watching, as he struggled with the heavy book.
Four houses left.
He fingered the catch on the "book", just to be sure it would open. Then those guilty little thoughts edged into his mind. What if I'm wrong? they asked. Why am I really doing this? But Andrew never paused or wondered if he would go through with it. He learned to live with those voices a long time ago.
Paul was walking the other way, all grunged up and wearing an earring. He was holding a book like Andrew's, just in case.
Ernie wore a MU sweatshirt, and he carried a MU back pack, inside which slept the cellular phone.
Andrew relaxed a bit. They looked perfect -- just a couple of random guys from the University, strolling the town. And with this feeling of confidence, he turned down the front walk, under the canopy of trees, towards the little house. He knew Paul and Ernie were pausing to chat behind him. Andrew turned the book in his hand, and flipped it open, revealing a baseball sized green stone. With a quick wind-up, he pitched it through the bedroom window.
Ernie ran up past him with a gun that looked like a small cannon, and he blew away the front door's lock. Paul crashed the door down with his shoulder an instant later.
In about five seconds, all three were in the bedroom of the Girl of Steel, who lay naked on the bed. Andrew, Ernie and Paul all stopped in their tracks and paused. Andrew took a deep breath, amazed that the plan went without a problem. He gazed almost blankly at the pussy which almost seem to stare back at him.
"What the hell are you doing here!" Carol screamed.
Andrew was shaken from his trance, and he glanced at Ernie and Paul, who smiled with evil intent. Andrew thought about it for a moment, and he understood. Not many men could say they were in this position, standing before the most powerful woman in the world, who lay helpless to their whims. But that wasn't why they were here.
"Paul, take Miss Lee -- uh, Miss Carol Lee into the next room. I don't want these two together." Andrew said, almost yelling to get Paul's attention. He pulled a blanket over Linda's naked body, and then his eyes met hers. She was overwhelmed with pain. Andrew spoke more quietly, "Ernie, snap out of it and call in."
"Stop it!" Linda cried, clenching her teeth and struggling against the rags that held her tight.
The kryptonite stone was on the floor, less than a foot from the bed. Andrew slid the stone a little further away with his foot, and saw the pain on Linda's face loosen its hold a bit. He moved it yet a little further: Linda's muscles went limp, as she breathed deeply in relief.
Ernie whispered to Andrew, "Are you sure that's a good idea?"
Andrew waved his hand in dismissal, as he sat on the corner of the bed and slipped a cigarette from his shirt pocket. He stared at the suddenly vulnerable girl of steel with intense regard. No, Ernie, he wasn't sure it was a good idea. Who knew exactly what affect the magical green stones had on these magical people. Who knew how effectively those rags binding her suppressed her powers. Maybe even crippled she could destroy them with her x-ray eyes. But he didn't feel right torturing her. They weren't here to punish her.
Linda met Andrew's stare directly, but Andrew could tell that she was overwhelmed.
Finally, she asked, "What do you want?"
Andrew lit his cigarette before replying. "Not much, really. We never really wanted much. But you've gotten out of hand."
Linda smiled slightly, apparently amused by his comment.
Andrew nudged the stone slightly nearer with his foot, and Linda noticeably tensed. He didn't like that she felt comfortable enough to smile.
"We've been watching you, Linda, and you haven't lived up to the standards we demand."
Linda's eyes turned to steel, as she retorted, "Who gives you the right to judge me?"
Andrew puffed casually. "The American people. Congress created our secret little group shortly after Superman first amazed the world. You could call us the Superhero Intelligence Agency. People don't trust power blindly, and our job is to know everything about you, should a problem arise."
Linda frowned, "What do you know?"
"Oh, more than you people ever imagined," he replied with a prideful grin. "Superman and his childhood in Smallville. The secret location of the Bat Cave. The many wonders of the Fortress of Solitude. But we never felt compelled to tell the world of the secrets. We were not anxious to make enemies of people with your abilities, especially when you were fighting for what we believed in."
Linda shook her head, "So what changed? Why are you here."
Andrew's face grew solemn. "YOU'VE changed. Heroes have to follow some standards if they want to be seen as heroes. Superman still lives by the motto of 'Truth, Justice and the American Way.' Batman, while a bit moody, never lost sight of the people he served. But you don't seem to care for American law. You don't champion American morality. And just today you undermined a police operation, making our officers look like fools in the process. You forced our hand."
Linda looked away from Andrew, trying to decide how to judge herself. "I don't know, maybe you are right. I did break the law, and alot of people don't like what I say and do."
Andrew sighed and said gently, "Maybe with time, and a little reassurance from you of a change ..."
Linda interrupted with a little flame in her voice. "I'm not apologizing! I was just admitting that I am not the world's favorite Kryptonian. I may have broken the law, and I may have made the world uncomfortable, but I have NEVER gone against my conscience."
Andrew shook his head. "I don't know, Miss Lee. America is a country of laws and principles. And we demand an even greater standard of our heroes."
"Are you telling me to follow a law that's unfair?" Linda pleaded for understanding. "I can't just watch people suffer when I know I can help, just because of some law!" She closed her eyes, and fought back tears, "And if I offend someone, don't I have a right to free speech? I want the same right to pursue happiness as everyone else."
Andrew snuffed out the exhausted cigarette on the sole of his shoe. Linda's voice had echoed the voices in his mind that had bothered him throughout this mission. "It's tough being a hero, isn't it? Seriously, I'm trying to understand. I'm sure you aren't always just saving some kid from falling out of a tree. It must be tough deciding on people's guilt or innocence, or whether you are helping or just interfering."
Linda paused, and then just said, "You don't need to ask me."
With a nod and a smile, Andrew pointed at her and whispered so Ernie couldn't hear, "I want you to know that I've always kinda admired you."
Linda couldn't contain her surprise.
"No, really," he continued, as he drew another cigarette from his pocket. "You've had a much tougher life than Superman had. You're a bit of a maverick, and that's why America is scared of you. But secretly everyone admires a maverick."
Linda shrugged, "Thanks, but I need more than your admiration, now."
Andrew rolled the cigarette back and forth between his fingers, and looked out the broken window. A van was turning onto the main road, and heading towards the little house. He wished that he had more time to think things through.
"I'm letting you go. I hope I'm doing the right thing." He said as he put the cigarette to his lips. "And I hope you won't hold all of this against me."
Andrew reached for his lighter, when suddenly his cigarette lit apparently by itself.
Andrew glanced at Linda, who smiled weakly up at him. He felt a little shaken, but he smiled back.
Now I felt that I really understood what the Cubans went through in that house. Now maybe I truly understood the American Way. To America, the Cubans and I were the same. Cuban aliens and aliens from Krypton. Tear gas and Kryptonite. Communists and Lesbians. America had no sympathy, no due process, and no respect for human rights. When those three agents forcibly entered our house, I felt that America had betrayed me. When they stared at me, naked and suffering and completely at their mercy, I saw their thoughts in their eyes -- the desire to rape, to conquer, to plant the good ol' American flag in my womb.
Thank God for Andrew, a man with some sense and some heart. Apparently he was also a man with some influence. The three agents left as quickly as they had come, and Carol and I were able to continue our lives with the same privacy that we had had before.
But I could not forgive America merely because of the conscience of one man. America and I were in a state of cold war. Every day, the media attacked my character and my support of the Cubans. I went on strike, refusing to be Supergirl, refusing to help the powers that be. I disappeared into an anonymous college life, and I could frequently be seen among the revolutionary crowd. But no matter what I did, I still felt dead inside. It was so depressing, hating my country and my country hating me.
Carol was much more forgiving than I, and she tried to help me see the good side of America. She reminded me constantly of the great humanitarian efforts, the Marshall Plan, and Welfare system. Blah, blah, blah. It was all so abstract.
Then Carol tried something kind of desperate.
I returned home from a class, as depressed as ever. My depression sank even deeper when I thought that Carol wasn't home. Sad and lonely. I went into the kitchen and made myself a sandwich. I wasn't hungry, though, and I just left it on the table. I decided to just go to sleep and hide from the world.
When I opened the bedroom door, Carol was standing there, holding one hand high over her head. She was wearing a Statue of Liberty costume. I couldn't suppress a smile.
"Oh, I'm so happy to see you, Carol."
Carol pointed at me and whispered with inviting lips, "America needs you."
I moved into her embrace and kissed her lips. Carol abruptly slipped out of her robe and spread herself on the bed. "Its time you explored this great land of yours, America the Beautiful!"
I smiled and eagerly fell into her fantasy. I donned the appropriate dress for such an exploration, and I climbed up over her.
The first stop on the tour was the delta of her neck, where the rivers of hair on her shoulders and breasts met the vast ocean of hair above. I sailed along the delta with my lips and explored a little under the ridge of her ear. I could feel the tremors from a sensitive, subterranean fault. I decided to test this fault further by sailing to the delta on the other side.
Carol mischievously poked a finger between my legs.
"Hey!" I said, smiling. "That's breaking the rules. I'm the explorer."
"Its just a curious little Indian, checking out the new visitor to the land," she replied. The little Indian knew exactly where to rub.
I moved out of the Indian's reach, and headed for the heartland. I settled on the little hill in the north-east. At the top of the hill was a basket of fruit, and it seemed like a good spot to settle. While I sucked on the fruit and stroked it with my tongue, I sent my hands exploring the world on the other side. They quickly traveled from the mesas to the plains, then diligently land-formed the southern mountain range.
The little Indian, frustrated by being dislocated, resettled in an area around my cheek.
Eventually, I decided to move on. I became a pioneer, and I slowly left trails of saliva across the vast desert of her body. I momentarily paused at an oasis, dipping my tongue into the well. The oasis was just a glimpse of the promised land to come.
Soon, I found myself on the edge of what seemed like the Everglades, except that the forest was removed. It was a hot, moist place. I knew there were alligators in the Everglades, so I detoured around it and decided to explore the leg of Florida first. But I never traveled far from the Everglades. I hovered nearer and nearer, tasting the moisture as I neared the border. At last, I nuzzled the rich, fragrant flower. At last I found the Fountain of Eternal Youth. Like a good explorer, I explored the channels with my tongue, and sought out every nook and cranny. I sucked on the tiny swellings and nubs, while my nose squeezed into the canals.
Eventually, the natives got restless, and all ten of them urged me into the waiting cavern, to drink from the fountain. I opened the cavern wider with my fingers, and dove my tongue into the spring within, while massaging the cave walls with my nose. The fountain refilled the spring as fast as I could drink from it. Eventually, when the spring was empty, I spread her lips wider, revealing the full glory of the cavern walls, and allowing me to explore even deeper and wider. Eventually the natives got so restless, and the firmament shook and moved so rhythmically, I moved to the source of the fountain's power, and handled it with expert care. The whole world seemed to shake and moan, as my tongue circled and dove, faster and faster. Finally, it was the Fourth of July, and I kept circling and diving until the last roman candle lit the sky.
It was all over too soon.
With the expedition complete, I climbed up and laid beside Carol, who looked over to me and smiled. "America is greatly in your debt."
I smiled, and said, "Those natives were awfully pushy."
Carol rolled on top of me. "Now its time to explore the uncharted terrain of Krypton."
I laughed and closed my eyes, surrendering my body to America.