The session continues…
Our two lovers, still within the throes of passion, continued burning through the lust that evaporated off them. The steam their beating bodies produced, condensed onto the wood and glossed paperback surfaces Anissa’s slender stomach was pressed on. Drayke was in control now; her face turned to the side in a futile attempt to watch him as he worked, her back gently arched – lumbar muscles contracting with beautiful tone. Her ass elevated up slightly off the desk, which, despite its fullness, was being completely suppressed by his powerful hands – no movement allowed if not by his design. So rare was it for her to submit to him, he took special pleasure from such primal positioning.
“Are you ready?” He questioned, as though not already making the warm opening between her squirming legs pulse with each stroke. The way he expanded her soft entrance with slow pelvic movements, made her crazy with heat – she moaned, wanting. Knowing what was to come, she responds with a look of cautious appetite.
“Yes…” Drayke filled his palms with the flesh of her posterior, gripping her hard enough to hurt; the deep relentless pounding of her wet intimacy began simultaneously. The sensations he could feel around and along the length of it, where driving him to addiction and he mercilessly drove every inch of himself into her repeatedly. His stamina almost endless, Anissa wasn’t sure how much more she could withstand. However, she loved the duality of internal ache and climax perpetuating pleasure. The tingling sensations were like wild static charges frivolously erupting from the brief spaces between them. “Don’t stop! Deeper! Harder!” She screamed in complete defiance of the authoritative force behind each of his thrusts. Drayke knew from how rash her breathing had become, and the way she was struggling to keep herself on her toes, that she was close to another orgasm. Although, his pride did take exception to the ability she had – unlike all others, to tolerate his full length, breadth, and sexual aggression, his need to please her thoroughly came before his own ego. And knowing every erogenous crevasse on her body, he slowed down his tempo, and switched tactics.
Releasing her blood warm left cheek from the archaic grip of one hand, while keeping one enslaved in the other, his change in pace had brought her back from the edge. Now she was staring over the cliff face, starving for the explosion of gratification that the climactic fall would bring. Nevertheless, Drayke held her back from it; her private parts were weeping and trembling – imploring him with every deliberate entry. Left hand, channeling desire into his mind by manipulating it’s voluptuous captive into revealing more…His other hand scheming to gratify her naughtiest pleasures, found it’s thumb roaming – she knew it’s destination. Thus presenting it to him obediently and unashamed, waiting impatiently, coveting the multiple sensations. He proceeded to satiate every need welling up inside her as vigorously and completely as she could handle, causing her fatigued spirit to helplessly scream in ecstasy. Finally, he let her fall – her body crashing into the aftermath of desires. Seeking his own completion, he unloaded his lust; their primeval tones synced and echoed erotically through the aisles of this large room of learning. Their breathing gently returned to normal as he kept himself inside until she went still.
“For God sake they’re at it again…” One of the men from the General Support Staff says to his female colleague – who can’t help but laugh childishly as they walk past the Star Chart Observatory entrance, on their way to the Chamber of Rest and Recreation. In another room two tiers up, a far more important conversation was taking place. Dr. Jasmine Samoy was having a holographic video communication with one of a party of three corporate grade individuals, who’d invested heavily into the voyage to Slaver’s Moon. Her office was sparse, clean, and clutter free, just like the plain unbranded attire she wore on her lightly tanned skin. Most paper materials had ceased production after the global blight of 2050 ravished Earth I plant life. Any wood based products found in the solar system now came from Earth II and only to those with very deep pockets. Surrounded by bespoke, pale yellow coloured walls, she sat, legs crossed, on her slender aluminium stool as the conversation unfolded.
“Doctor, have you been able to verify the origins of the sample we sent you?” the voice says impatiently through the static interference.
“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you before, we must be travelling close to a solar storm. Yes I have Sir, but the results are unexpected. I would like a few more days to retest the sample against the ‘Nouveux’ elements.”
“Impossible Doctor, my associates and I have to report your findings back to the president of Black Tech industries tomorrow morning in person.”
“I understand that Sir, but I am putting my career at risk just by possessing this sample. If the Captain knew I had it on board, let alone the real reason we were going to Omega Seven, he’d probably stick me in a cell.” Dr. Samoy’s tone was elevated and laced with genuine fear of the multitude of potential consequences that lay ahead.
“Didn’t you say that you’d be able to handle him?” Dr. Samoy paused… “Listen, it’s too late for cold feet, our time is fast approaching, and we all have to be ready for what Black Tech are going to do with Slaver’s Moon.” Dr. Samoy knew this to be true, and narrowed her focus away from the doubts and towards what was necessary.
“I understand Sir, it will be taken care of.”
“Good, I’ll let you get back to work, send me a holocom transmission of your final report on the organism within the hour.” Before he could click, the holocom closed, Dr. Samoy quickly speaks,
“Father, one more thing – do you have any objections with me removing Princess Anissa from the situation?” Her father, Vincent Samoy – galactic entrepreneur and former Earth II government official, responds cautiously…
“If it doesn’t affect the mission, deal with her anyway you see fit.”
Captain Drayke D. Hamilton’s vessel, The Trafalgar 7 – built from the finest interplanetary alloys, glided through the darkness of space, navigating fringe science like it were the bedrock of it’s existence – neared it’s destination. Unbeknown to both, there was a deep sickness growing within its vast interiors. A mutinous affliction eating away at all facets of engineering aboard the ship, and at its centre, a once mild-mannered woman stood, the conductress in front of her ensemble of dissenting voices and disgruntled characters. From here – Chamber 207e, she garnered the infection.
“You’ve all seen the way she favours him! We all know what they get up to in the Captain’s private quarters!”
The gathered white coats and hard hats roar in agreement.
“Not even the decency to keep their relationship professional in front of the crew, kissing on the bridge like they’re the main characters of some tacky sci-fi erotica! But I ask you? When was the last time any of you kissed your loved ones?! Didn’t the Princess say that this would be a simple six-month diplomatic voyage? But now, I’ve been told by the only person who deserves your respect and loyalty – that when we’re on Slaver’s Moon, the Captain will impose a complete blackout on holocom transmissions! And whose idea is that?? His royal concubine’s!”
Groans of derision saturate the air.
“She is on this ship to look out for our best interest! The interests of her hand-picked, non-military crew. But no…she’s up there, servicing the Captain with the same mouth she needs to be sanctioning the dim-witted mercenaries when they abuse you, Tom, for having a stutter, or sexually assault you, Jane! In this room, we have some of the highest intellects on Earth II, yet we’re treated like 19th century mineworkers! WITHOUT US! THE SHIP GOES NOWHERE!“ She screamed, the woman’s face red with the design of anger as her once blonde hair thrashed wildly around, it’s new dark sullen tones of brunette and purple danced in the indistinct fluorescent lights as she gesticulated frantically.
The horde of once civilized workers fed off her vehement protestations, yelling back angrily in affirmation of her message. If the sound could escape these walls, then civil war they would have signalled.
With her concert of manipulation completed, the conductress left the engineering tiers to return to her room. At the same time, far away in their own private circle of reflection and deduction, Drayke and Anissa discuss the mission and the progress of their journey towards it.
“How much longer until we arrive?” She says, as her mind wanders back and forth from focus – still having flashbacks to their session in the Observatory.
“The Solar storm is a bit of a nuisance, but Trafalgar can handle it. We’ll increase our velocity once we’re passed this system of planets.”
“How long Dray?”
“Ten days” he answers avoiding eye contact. Anissa was the only woman able to bring out such boyish guilt from the Captain.
“You said it would only be a couple more days, and that’s what I told my crew.”
“Your crew? I thought I was the Captain”
“Maybe when I’m not wearing underwear”
“Funny – but I’ve told you to stop thinking of the crew as your personal responsibility, you treat them like they’re your own kids.”
“I can’t help it…anyway, I don’t want to have this argument with you again. Just give me some good news I can tell the ship.” As concerned as he was about this maternal sense of hers, it was also one of her more enchantingly softening traits. It made him want to say the three words to her he’d caged inside his chest.
“Tell them that they’ll get an extra 100 (think of new currency) for each extra day that we’re overdue.”
“Can you afford to do that?”
“No, but our investors can”
“I don’t think they’ll be happy with the cost of this voyage increasing again before we’ve even arrived”
“They’ll be happy with what I tell them to be happy with.” He responds, a layer of disdain palpable in his words, as if recalling an unpleasant history with one or more of them.
“And you?” Drayke swiftly changes the subject.
“Have you thought about what you’re going to say once we arrive? The people of Omega are not known for their empathy…”
“I’ve been thinking about it more and more the closer we get, but it’s nothing I’m not used to – hostile negotiations are my specialty,” she says with an assurance born from the many power-obsessed dictators she’s verbally wrestled away from office and country. However, the situation they were moving towards was mutating rapidly into one unrecognisable from the mission brief they’d received upon departure.
“I know they are,” he replies with a flirtatious smile. “But, when dealing with the Omegians, I find preparing for the worst becomes prerequisite.”
“Yes I can tell from the charming group of mercenaries you’ve brought along.”
Drayke and Anissa continued their discussion for a further hour, sitting close and taking in enough pheromones to propagate attention-stealing affections. Despite this, their un-clarified relationship status took a back seat to the importance and responsibility of the task.
Far beneath them, the wheels of fate turned continuously, and one of its cogs was circling at the same pace our conductress was walking, heading patiently towards her residence. Once there she noticed the sliding door was already unlocked. Unfazed, she slid it across and walked in. Inside, the room was set to a brighter lighting arrangement than she’d left it. Knowing what this meant she speaks out into the room.
“Already making yourself at home I see” In response, a women steps out from the bathroom, jet black hair, long and heavy with moisture. Her face was smiling in expectancy, the rest of her body taut from the fresh chill of conditioned air flowing around them. She steps forward, exposed parts moving accordingly, and says.
“Blaise, how did it go?” the conductress always loved it when she said her name; there was a tone to it that suggested a hidden sentiment behind the formalness. The naked woman before her, though unassuming in her appeal, had found a way to lure out parts of her she never knew existed. Unlike the immature male suitors, she had during her formative years in a New England suburb. Blaise, missing the strength of character she’d just displayed to over fifty people, responds sheepishly.
“It went well babe” the words, blushing out of her. She was shorter than her lover, and was never more aware of this than when giving a report back to her. She was wearing the white and black engineering department uniform of overcoat, one piece and sturdy shoe, she played with the buttons on it subconsciously as she continued. “They’re definitely with us, the bit about the Captain not allowing holocom transmissions was a just perfect, and they behaved exactly like you said they would.”
“Of course they did, have I ever lead you wrong, Blaise?”
“Never babe, but…when are we going to go to the next stage of the plan? If we leave it too long, some of them might find out that not everything I’ve been saying is the truth…”
“Don’t worry about that for now, I’ll let you know when the time is right “
“Okay then, but I should probably go back to work though, it’s still a couple of hours before lunch and need to lead from the front.”
“Oh definitely, I don’t like slackers. However, before you go, can you help me get dressed?” the chill in the air suddenly changes to something warmer, something seductive. Blaise, pleased to no longer have to wait to touch her replies,
“Is it the purple underwear the Doctor is wearing today?”
To be continued
Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh
© Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh – Storyteller, Poet & Intern at Wordsmith Inc 2015. Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh – Storyteller, Poet & Intern at Wordsmith Inc with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
Got a very cool competition for you guys & gals!
Text/private message or comment with any question you have regarding me, my writing, the creative process or anything insightful, and I will do a video blog answering them all!
The person with the best question will become a character in one of my next short story installments!
I’m a very honest and open person, so don’t feel shy to ask me anything!
Deadline for questions is this sunday night. Can’t wait to start creating! (happy face)
Figures slender and dark shift shape, contorting to the needs of the terrain. They are wary of the bright eyes that search these warm nights, inauspicious glares looking to reveal the truth of those seeking emancipation. No matter the decade, country, city or town, young boys from this continent always fear the price of forgiveness.
The price this evening is True Gold – mother’s gold…and having escaped the inept watch of a least favoured uncle the run begins. As thin legs and flat feet beat the ground perpetually, they effortlessly navigate the uneven, cracked dirt road of their rural province. The purple twilight is a canvas for a dying flame and its air feels calming; cooling the heat of guilt that often emanates from the brow of sinners and delinquents alike. Whichever title more relevant is an after thought, and the only information concerning the youthful mind is the search for the forgiveness held inside mother’s True Gold.
All Dialogue Translated from French
-“Yaya hurry up! You’re so slow!”
-“It’s not fair you’re older than me!”
-“If your skinny legs make us not get back in time, I’m blaming it all on you and I’ll laugh as I watch you get beaten with the belt.”
-“Well Mummy said that I’ll be faster than you one day!”
-“Not if I eat all your meat! Now hurry up, we have to get back before she arrives!”
The boys, using shortcuts tamed over years of juvenile adventuring, are nearing their destination, a great river that separates two cities with a colonial history akin to sibling rivalry. It was at this location earlier that day that the first of several bad decisions was made…
-“Eight, nine, ten, eleven, TWELVE!”
-“See I told you I could do twelve.”
-“Yes you are so strong on pushups…but can you do a cartwheel?” As Yaya watched Julie the love of his very brief life effortlessly spiral across the riverbank, he could not enjoy her grace as it were meant to be, because all he could think is of outdoing her with another more audacious feat of his own. But just as he was about to interrupt her gloating, his eye flicking subconsciously to his brother. He was standing several meters away with another, engaging deeply in what appeared to him as the kind of heated discussions they’ve had about which character of their animated fantasy show was stronger. He was not very good at reading teenage body language…because second later his brother and the other were kissing. In his shock he quickly looked at Julie and exclaimed
-“Can’t you see? They’re kissing”
-“What? You’re so silly, you’re obviously just making excuses because you can’t beat my cartwheel, see – I am the best!”
-“NO, watch this!” After ten more minutes of their blow-for-blow battle of physical aptitude, Yaya began to tire. As he did awkward silence befell them, not even the vehicles passing on the dirt road behind them could shatter the mute sphere they found themselves in. He attentively observed her slowly catching her breath, and for a fleeting moment something sparked in him, a slight, supple bolt of pubescent sexual awareness. However before the onset hormone shift could take place the feeling was gone, and he noticed her facial expressions of boredom. Worried that she would soon leave, he rummaged through his cluttered mind for anything interesting. And in a corner reserved for secrets and guilt he found it. “Julie I forgot to tell you, I found something amazing.”
-“It’s a magic artifact…”
-“What’s an ar-ti-fact?”
-“It’s something that looks normal but has special powers.”
-“What kind of special powers?”
-“Erm like making you fly, breath under water or run really fast.”
-“Hahaha I don’t believe in things like that.”
-“Why not? They’re real, even my mum says so, you know my uncle even has some he said the doctor gave him to make strong with women.”
-“Strong with women?? Maybe you need that because you can’t even beat me in a fight.”
-“I don’t need to because I have True Gold.”
-“Yes but you can’t tell anyone about it…even my brother doesn’t know that I have it.” Yaya walked towards Julie, reached into the abnormally deep pocket of his dusty shorts and pulled out his closed fist. Inside was the treasured artifact. Was he was trying to build suspense, or maybe just attempting to prolong her company…either way she wasn’t a patient girl and demanded to see the so-called True Gold.
-“Let me see it then?”
-“Yes but be careful, I found it hidden in my mum’s room…she keeps it hidden because she says that if she takes it to work, it will reveal her secrets”
-“So its power is revealing truth? That’s rubbish; I thought it would be something cool like the power to run faster than a cheetah.”
-“It is cool, just look at it.” Yaya opened his now sweaty palm, exposing the True Gold to the elements and watched Julie’s face as her eyes absorbed its latent sun colored gleam. She took a second before reacting, and then looked up at Yaya smiling with deep maternal warmth far beyond her years.
Now back at the same place a different tone fills the night…
-“Have you found the True Gold yet??!”
-“No, not yet!”
-“Look harder, Yaya!
-“Why did you even take it? You know how important it is to mother, she is going to kill you if you don’t find it.”
-“I know, I know, but I swear I put it back in my pocket after showing her.”
-“Why even show her?? You want to impress her? Didn’t your twelve push-ups do that?? Would have been easier to just kiss her.”
-“No, that’s disgusting, she’s my friend.”
-“Well if you don’t find it you won’t live to see her again. Lets check by the bushes by that river edge.”
Two spirits connected by the psychological chains of blood and history search the topography of their surroundings for salvation…so desperate, they kneel in the moist earth, plunging fists into its loose top soil hoping to feel the familiar shape and texture of the lost treasure. The search was prolonged and intense, to the point that fingers were beginning to cramp under the previously soft resistance of the land, and without the sunlight to aid them, eyes were functioning at below optimum capacity. Surrendering to their fate seemed inevitable, like the exposing teardrop of the melancholy first blink. However just before the acceptance of all that could befall them, Yaya’s mind twitched…
-“Hey, stop digging in the dirt like a dog, I have a thought…”
-“You know…I think that girl you’re so fond of has probably taken it…maybe to give to her boyfriend.”
-“Shut up, she doesn’t have a boyfriend, and anyway I don’t believe she would take it.”
-“Yaya I don’t think you can take that risk…” Begrudgingly he had to accept that there was great validity to those words, and so he stood up, covered in dark mud like a child role-playing a Navy Seal’s secret incursion onto foreign land. After taking a few moments to mentally map out the route to Julie’s house, he began a slow defeated jog towards his new goal.
Thirty minutes later he arrived at the edge of the city center… The city lights that were like small, glowing fireflies at a distance had now become clear beacons of commerce and life. Cars of varying size and make zoomed by while food vendors proclaimed the excellence of their barbecued poultry, and shop retailers the complex quality of their fabric; the night was saturated with the intent to sell. Most in his proximity ignore him, after all what use is a child with no money here? Tired from his travels, the young boy walked slowly across the wide concrete road onto the pedestrian path.
-“Be careful Yaya! If one of these cars hit you you’ll end up looking like yesterday’s goat.”
-“I know, I’m not blind.”
-“Yeah yeah…so where does your pretty thief live?”
-“Whatever, she is a good girl, I’ll show you…Just follow me”
-“When do I not little brother…”
Finally outside the place he was told she lived at, and it looked very different then he’d imagined, the large stone building of modern design was somber and less inviting than he felt it should be. Not letting that peculiarity slow his mission’s progress, he rang the doorbell. Temporarily forgetting his age and place he was oblivious to how this situation looked. Before that knowledge could grace him, the front door opened…a mountain of a man stepped forward into the night-light.
-“Boy, why are you ringing my door bell?
-“Sorry sir, but can I speak Julie?”
-“Who?? Listen I don’t need lost street boys waking me up for no reason! Please go away.”
-“I’m not a street boy, I have a house and it’s nice, we even have a big TV.”
-“What are you talking to me about your TV for? I need to sleep. If you want money go and polish some drunk business man’s shoes”
-“Sorry sir I just want to speak Julie Mokemo, doesn’t she live here? She told me she lives here.” The large man kissed his teeth…scanned him thoroughly and said
-“Boy, I don’t know any Julie, but there is Charlotte Mokemo who runs the house of ndúmbás across the road over there”
-“House of what?”
-“Don’t worry you’ll see when you get there, plus I remember hearing that Charlotte had a daughter so maybe that’s the Julie girl you’re looking for”
-“Ah thank you mister!”
-“Yeah, just make sure you at least wash your muddy hands before you go in their, now go away” Yaya barely hearing the man’s advice rushed across the road to where he had pointed. Directing his older brother to keep up, he arrived at the open door in a pant, still blissfully unaware as only a child can be of how wrong it was to run around a city centre covered in mud stains. He locked onto the first person that looked his way and said.
-“ Excuses me, madame, have you seen Julie Mokemo? I need to ask her something important!”
-“Slow down young one, you can’t speak to a lady like myself without introducing yourself first like a gentlemen.”
-“Sorry, My name’s Yaya and I lost something, and really need to find it. I think Julie might know where it is, can you please get her for me?”
-“Okay, well firstly my name is Genevieve and it’s a pleasure to meet you, even if you look like you just crawled out of a river. Secondly, if you’re referring to my boss’s daughter she obviously isn’t here. This is no place for young ones.”
-“But, I have to find the True Gold or…”
-“True Gold?? What is that?”
-“It’s special gold that has magical powers, it reveals the truth of your heart.” Yaya heard his brother’s voice in the back remark, “So that’s why you wanted to show it to that pretty thief”. Ignoring it he continued his pleas.
-“Madame, please help me find her, she’ll know where it is. The man across the road said that she might be here.”
-“Calm down…What I can do is ask Charlotte too come and see you, in fact we’re not that busy at the moment just go up the stairs into her office. Just don’t get any dirt on the walls!”
-“Okay, thank you”
As the answers to all his questions approached like a stranger in the dark, he hoped they lead him to the truth and thus the forgiveness he ultimately sought. As he ascended the slim creaky stairway, he remembered the door lady’s words and kept himself as far from the walls as three-dimensional flesh and bones allowed. As he reached the first floor he saw Charlotte’s office door in front, and on either side the hallway extended further than his expectations of the building’s capacity. He was pleased to be getting closer to Julie, however loose of a thread that sentiment was. He tried to wipe his hands clean, but the mud has dried and without the softening caress of water would remain so. Giving that up he raised his hands to knock on the door, preparing in his mind what he’d say to Julie’s mother. Just at the moment a familiar voice calls out in a loud shrill from down the left hallway.
-“Yannick!!, what are you doing here??” The boy turned to his left the see an anguished face appear from between a door left slightly a jar. “What are you doing??” The woman ran out grasping her soft lacy gown tightly, grabbed Yaya by the shoulders and shouted at him, “ Why are you so filthy?? Do you know what time it is?? Why are you not at home?! I told my useless brother to watch you!”
-“ Mummy…do you work here? Is this the restaurant? I couldn’t tell, sorry but I came to find Julie.”
-“Charlotte’s daughter?? Why would she be here?? Why are you not at home? Start explaining yourself Yaya, or I’m going to get very angry!”
-“I’m so sorry mummy but I…I accidently took your True Gold, I didn’t mean to and then I think I lost it…” His voice started to quiver like the soft vibrations in the air before a downpour, he used all his strength to hold it back.
-“Accidentally?? Did you take my wedding ring from my room Yaya, and now lose it?! Do you know how much it’s worth??”
-“I know it’s special, you always say…I’m sorry…I will find it!”
-“How will you find it out at night like this?! You can’t even tie your own shoe laces.”
-“That’s why Simon is helping me find it, he came with me, and even helped me dig for it.” The boy’s mother paused, taking several seconds to regain control of her emotions, then knelt down to eye level and with a deep empathy saying quietly”
-“Yannick, are you seeing your brother again? I thought that had stopped?”
-“Why does he have to stop? He’s my brother he’s always with me mummy.”
-“It’s not good…I know how much you loved him, he and your father were my world too…but we have to be strong and move on…they’re not here to help anymore, we can only rely on each other.”
-“But…I like him being here…he’s the only person that plays with me anymore…” Yaya couldn’t hold back the tears anymore…any thought of letting the spirit of his brother go broke his small, fragile heart. Seeing the hands of despair begin to reach across her son’s mud-patched face, she stopped her suggestions. Grabbing his hand passionately his mother stood up.
-“Stop crying Yaya, we’re going to find my ring, ‘C’est du vrais Or’ so we can’t just let it vanish, can we? Yaya looked up at his mother, his tears breaking a path through the dry earth on his face.
By Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh
© Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh – Storyteller, Poet & Intern at Wordsmith Inc. 2015. Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Alpha Maurice Cidade Cauwenbergh – Storyteller, Poet & Intern at Wordsmith Inc. with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.