Ursula Parkheart, P.I.: The Case of the Lucky Loser Chapter Two: Ursula Uncovered By Forrest Curran Ursula and JT land in Taxebura and meet with excitement in the airport. Afterwards, they head to the hotel pool to discuss the events of the day while JT oils down his MuscleBossLady's bikini-clad body in the afternoon sun. Time slows down during several moments in life: just before a car accident, walking down the aisle at your own wedding, and now: customs inspection at an airport. We were dead last in a drafty line, but BossLady Ursula took it in stride, humming a tune, wraparound sunglasses concealing her gaze. Always the object of attention wherever she went, it was no different here-- a six-foot-five-inch tall woman in a tiny tank top with a pair of friendly showgirl hips, a pair of breasts Jayne Mansfield would trade-up for in a heartbeat, all capped off with Sunday Treat Torso of prehistorically-big musculature that could melt the reserve of a saint. I was busying myself with a local paper, grateful there was one in English among the many in something just short of Sanskrit. But almost no one who passed us as they went about their duties could help but slow down and gape at the magnificent Ursula Parkheart. Women of bold dress, to say nothing of granite physique, were unheard of in this part of the world. Although we didn't know it, we were the first of the contestant's group to land, and I wondered what they would do when a planeful of such wonderful ladies arrived in a day or so. Ever the entertainer, Ursula smiled big and hit a hot muscle pose for them all; a heaping double-biceps for the mustachioed pilot who grinned all the while as he stumbled past; a maddening most-muscular for the grandma who glared unapprovingly with just a touch of bewildered fear behind her spectacles. It was grand to watch the show, and the responses from the peoples as they went past, reacting to huge ladymuscle exploding uproariously, deltas of prominent veins going electric beneath the mahogany flesh. Expression ventured from pleased to horrified. Ursula liked both... For me of course, it was cause for a raging erection, and Ursula knew it. Between exhibitions she looked over at me, tossing her hair like a movie star, glancing at her biker-chick black leather jacket I held before me, smiling at what she knew was happening beneath. Ultimate power, sexual power, unquestioned power... My Daily Tattler vibrated in my grip, and I acquiesced to her come-hither flexes with a sigh, and looked worshipfully at the inflated splendor of her thick left arm at her side, the sinews sizzling, plumped with attention and hot blood and a schmo's hopeless adoration... I'd tasted the sweet flesh with my tongue only half an hour ago, dear reader, but I wanted to do it again, right there, on line at customs, consequences be damned... But I knew MuscleBossLady would not allow such misbehaviour... * * * * * * * * * "Interesting locals," Ursula said minutes later, her elbow nudging me away from a three-day old Doonesbury I'd already read in the states. Three figures in middle ages cloaks went past us, their faces concealed from view. They passed by our line, ignoring the customs agents as though they did not exist. I looked back to Ursula, who merely shrugged a pair of mile-wide bare shoulders. "Passports?" came a terse inquiry behind me. I turned to find that we had drifted to the front of the line by then, and I was anxious to escape the efficient oppression of the airport terminal. Ursula produced them from her shoulder bag. The agent, a woman of elder years and unhappy demeanor, eyed them unhappily. "Business or pleasure?" she demanded of me. "Little of both," Ursula interceded from above. The grey woman glared. "Presumption amongst females is rampant in your country. However, you will find such behaviour unwelcome here." "I've found," Ursula Parkheart said plainly, without challenge, as she lifted her glasses for a moment, "that I'm welcome just about everywhere I go, soon or later, ma'am..." There was no reply... "You are carrying nothing of illegal nature?" she demanded. I shook my head. "And the uh, female?" she indicated with a pointed finger. "Just this great big bod o'mine. I've been told it's illegal, specially when I'm in a bikini," Ursula kidded, faking a haughty Mae West shrug with a massive shoulder. The effect was such that her big breasts wiggled in her skin-tight top, and her fat nipples locked my eyes. But if ever a witticism had fallen short, it was now... "Our suitcases are following us," I offered, "on the next flight..." Sourly, the agent folded the passports and gave them to me. "Next..." "A load of laughs at a cocktail party, that one," Ursula joked in an aside, as we made our way down a long and lonely hallway full of dark. I looked up at the Flexing Detective and grinned.. "Terminal 16, JT," she reminded me with a tug, but I already had a map at the ready. But terminal 16 was at the end of a hallway that looked ominous from any perspective. A glass wall at it's far end conveyed nothing but night on it's other side. "Are you sure, 'Sally?" I asked her. But never one to theorize or obfuscate, Ursula was marching towards the double doors at the end of the shadowy tunnel, a hundred yards off. I double-timed to catch up, my much-shorter legs double-timing. "Why did we have to leave our bags back in the states anyway, Bosslady? It'll take another day to catch up..." I was whistling past a graveyard, trying to make conversation about something we'd already discussed. "Cause I like to travel light, my dear secretary, you know that. We'll have 'em delivered straight to our rooms this way, saves us the hassle. Besides, my sweet little secretary, you know your MuscleBoss doesn't' have a helluva lot of need for clothes, eh?" she winked. Ursula was talking but she was clearly thinking, and listening, on something else. Behind her ray-bans, the eyes were sparkling, alert; expecting trouble and, if I was any judge of ladymuscle, almost savoring it... We made our way through the shadowful passage, and Ursula reached for my hand and gave it a confident squeeze. "Don't worry, my little JT," she seemed to be saying, "big Ursula's here." I squeezed back, feeling juvenile and wonderful all at once. I'd slipped her big coat on while we were waiting, and it hung on me like a leather circus tent; a condition that only added to my feelings of smallness. I gulped nervously but looked up and smiled worshipfully. It was with reassurance that I noticed that her thick arm was once again flexing hard and steely, and that it was that way only when one of two conditions was present: danger, or worship. She'd just had one, and now it seemed, it was time for the other... A scuffle of shoeleather echoed in the corridor and Ursula brought us to a stop, listening intently. Then another scuffling noised leaked towards us. "JT honey," she said without looking at me, "your BossLady's hungry...." "Huh?" I began. But before I could finish, she continued, her strong jaw locking tight... "...go get me a Nutro-Bar from the machine we passed. Do it right now..." "But ma'am," I protested, "it's all the way..." Ursula slid her sunglasses into her pocket. "There's money in the pocket of my jacket..." The challenge came from the darkness. The candy bar had just dropped into my hand when I heard the grunt of someone charging. Ursula was half a football field away from me by then, so there was little I could do at first but watch while I trotted back to her, utterly unsure of what I would do when I got there. I saw the ensuing scuffle in half-shadow... The first attacker lunged amateurishly at Ursula, and she sidestepped him easily. Quickly, she grabbed him by the hood of his robe with one hand and the waist with the other, and shoved him hard into the wall. No more was heard from him. It was all so primal, this powerful woman standing with her broad rippling back to me; a wall of V-shaped muscle that seemed to roar even above my panting as I jogged towards the scene. I should have felt guilty to be so aroused at the spectacle, and perhaps, had I caught my own reflection in a long mirror as I went past, I would have. "Ursula's Uniform" as she called it, did not give me much dignity, and her jacket gave this small man an absurd look. But I didn't care at the moment. I was running to be at the side of the Gigantic BodyBuilding Amazon Detective I loved... The second attacker came from the side. Ursula reacted just a second too slowly, and the two became entwined, falling into shadow with a muffled thud. A third cut across the grey shadow and joined them. "'Sally!" I shouted, re-doubling my steps to a gallop. But if I was worried, I shouldn't have been; one of the robes now went airborne courtesy of Ursula's brawn, and he sprawled back into shadow on the far side of the hall. A moment later, the third retreated, joined by the previously fallen pair of accomplices who had risen like springed dolls, the fight taken out of them...I saw nothing more of Ursula... When I got to the site I saw nothing, peering about in the darkness. "Sally?" I inquired. "B-Bosslady?" "Shoulda eaten yer carrots like yer Mommy told you, JT," came her invisible voice. "I'm down here." I peered and stepped close, producing her lighter from a pocket. Ursula was laying on the floor, unperturbed by the attack that had only ended seconds ago. She was using one of her assailants' robes as a pillow as she tried to tie a torn shoulder strap of her delicious little tank top. "MuscleBossLady, are you alright? I was worried sick and..." Ursula ceased fidgeting with the cloth and let it fall. Instantly, the cloth retreated down her chest, revealing most of a bulging breast. "...takes more than that to slow me down, Little Man," she replied. She got to her high-heeled feet with a grin, this Woman Invincible, seemingly enervated by this sudden attack. Not a mark, as far as I could see, was on her... "You look adorable in that jacket, Sweetness. But I'll need it back, I'm afraid," she said, nodding to her bared breast, its nipple hard and purpled. We were at the hotel's deserted poolside and my mind was a blank. You asking why, dear reader. That's because Ursula Parkheart had just taken my breath away, that's why... One minute ago, standing in the quiet of an afternoon, Ursula had caught up to me here, stepping towards me in high heels, the lush magnificence of her massive figure concealed in white floor-length terrycloth. I sat up and watched as she began to remove her long beachrobe. The curtain fell off her frame like an unveiling of a masterpiece, and it was. The beachrobe puddled at her feet and revealed a testament to Hardbod Woman Gone Wild. The flesh it revealed, the muscle it exposed, the hungriness, almost hurt, it instilled in me! The terrycloth got kicked and MuscleBossLady stretched her huge arms up to the sun as though in worship. The bikini was a thready little incident, no more. Spectacular curves and crushing muscle debuted, brown, thick, curvaceous, hard, smooth, soft, harsh, sweet... all of these things, and more. My eyes savored her frightening shoulders; their hard-won scope, the arms massive, veins popping. Her belly was flat and runged, the legs like fleshy cyclotrons, complex, awe-inspiring. Playmate curve met six-and-a-half-feet of muscle in one electricfying display for the ages... Her hair was pulled high into a carefree ponytail, her eyes shuttered by Ray-Bans, her smile fixed and slight. She knew I was ready to faint with animal desire. Adjusting the strap of her bikini top seemed ludicrous as there was very little of it to start with; certainly not enough to cover her F-cup bosom, but she did it anyway, the better to madden me. The tiny top was rendered to a dainty afterthought, barely covering her areola. She hummed a Latin tune and pretended not to notice. "They weren't very professional, at least...." I sat down in the opposing lounge; and tried to focus even as Ursula moved with a cat-like sensuality to a chaise lounge next to mine, laying upon her stomach and wiggling as though to find just the right spot to deposit her awesome near-nudity... "But who would want to scare you, 'Sally?" I asked. "...Rules are different in these maverick competitions, my lad," she informed me. "Anybody with a grudge can take a shot, I suppose. Remember Tonya Harding? And I am in marvelous condition, n'est-ce pas?" she inquired. I stammered my agreement as I watched that awesome package of female muscularity begin to braise in the sun... "Apply," came her friendly order. A bottle of baby oil extended up to me, and I took it, shuddering at it's already-warmness, knowing how her skin would be as I anointed her musclebod with the shiny stuff. I coughed in preparation. Her wonderful she-hunk bulk awaited my ministrations and I obeyed eagerly. Pouring a small pool of J&J's formula into my palm, I went to her astounding back gently, trying to control my breathing as I began attending to the brown skin of that Continental Shelf. My fingers became one with the hard layers of she-muscle that lay before them, and I was instantly hypnotized.... "..I got a good guess they were hired to intimidate, not hurt," Ursula said sleepily, as though it barely mattered. It was the first thing she'd spoken about the incident. Through the short cab ride from the airport, she had refused to answer any of my questions, merely "shushing" me with a finger to her lips but once. Whereupon, in return for my obedience, she had taken my trembling hand in hers and held it for the ride's duration. It was then, while savoring her presence so close to mine, that I'd noticed a small scratch on her boulder-sized bicep and pointed it out to her wordlessly. But Ursula had only shrugged, preferring to wait until we got checked in and out in the hot sun before she'd refer to the incident. Instead, she merely winked. "Taking good care of my muscles as always, huh, JT?" she whispered. I only nodded with a blushful grin... "You were so adorable back there, JT," she congratulated me in a soft baby-girl voice that edged out from under her arm. "Coming to your big BossLady's rescue. What would you have done if I'd really needed your help when you got there?" I breathed a soft hymn to the thickness of a Female Bodybuilder's back and tried to speak. "Whatever you needed, ma'am," I rasped, throat constricting as I continued this wet-worship. My task took me to the small of her back, and my hands slid on the oiled muscleflesh down to her perfect powerful buttocks, bared by the butt-floss bikini bottom. I spent some moments painting them with my fingers until they took on the appearance of mirrors, my pale face revealing my own desperate excitement... "Ursula," I whispered unconsciously. I saw myself in my imagination, as a slave in some prehistoric era, attending his Queen beneath an equatorial sun. My blood pounded in my head. My heart ached. My loins met the emotion and magnified it many times... Her upper torso needed the same slavish attentions, and I was honored to answer the call. "Shoulder, shoulder gleaming bright," came a wandering thought, as I made sure her thick deltoids matched the slippery shine of her gladiatorial back, the bulk hot in my slim fingers. It was while I was snaking two eager hands about her massive arm that I noticed the scratchmarks once again, light, barely having broken the skin. But Ursula was napping by then, so I merely made a note that it would need to be covered before the show. Once again, I let a second-coat cascade of thick baby oil pour down onto the perfect buttcheeks. The sun-warmed stuff oozed into her nether regions, deep between the neat cleft. Ursula moaned quietly in her afternoon dream and shifted her weight. And I began again...