Purple Haze #1: Soft Landing
by Unknown
Man meets giantess in an off-world bar
Update: 20/10/1997 to giantess


Dan Peters entered the lounge in the Gerania Inner-Planetary Hotel.  It was
late afternoon and the place was nearly empty, which suited him fine.
After the long haul on the Stellar Liner, he wanted uncrowded space and a
cold Lixturn beer.

As with most space lounges, the actual bar was a trapezoid island centered
in the room.  Each side served a different quadrant.  While the bar surface
was level throughout, the floors were staggered two to fifty feet below the
bar to accommodate galactic travelers of almost any stature.  As an
Earthling, Peters fit most comfortably in Section C, which bordered Section
A - home of the largest creatures, and Section D - an area reserved for the
diminutive.

Peters had come to Gerania to scout locations and contract local suppliers
for his next production.  Despite a boom twenty year ago, the local economy
had fallen on hard times.  Peters believed that bringing the key players
here and farming out the rest locally would reduce expenses by 18% or more.
Tomorrow, he would begin screening crews.  For now, he wanted to review
his notes and enjoy the beer.

"Mr. Peters?"

He looked up and found the woman who belonged to the voice.  He was glad to
discover that she was a fellow Earthling.

"Mr. Peters, I am exactly the person you're looking for."

The woman sat at the corner of the bar, about twelve stools away.  She was
attractive, auburn-haired and in her late twenties.  She wore an oversized
black jacket over a lose black pullover which combined to reveal very
little of her figure.  It never goes away, he thought. No matter where you
are, people in the Biz always have to dress in black.

"That's amazing," he said. "Even I don't know who I'm looking for yet."

"You may not have a name - mine's Casey Lott by the way.  But if you're
planning to shoot a production here, you need someone who knows the local
players.  And if you don't want to get burned, you've got the only name you
need to know."

He smiled.

"Is that so.  Okay, tell me a good place to eat"

"Depends," she said.  "You looking for pricey, casual or rowdy?"

"I'm looking for good, Ms. Lott.  You hungry?"

The question caught her off-guard, but she managed to get out a "Sure."

"Great.  I know it's early, but I'm starved." He rose and settled his tab.
"You pick the place."

"You're sure about this," she asked.  A wide grin crossed her face.

"Hundred percent," he replied.

"You're on," she said. "Before we go, though, I have something for you to see."

She gestured for him to come over, and, as he moved toward her, it finally
registered.  She wasn't sitting on his side of the bar;  Casey Lott was
seated at the corner of Section A.  By the time he reached the railing
dividing the two vastly different sections, her grin had become an
uncontained chuckle.

"Ta da," she said.

She spread her arms in mock ring-master fashion, then rose. And rose. And
rose. Peters was not only looking up, he was leaning back by the time she
reached her full height.  He could only speculate at how many feet she
added up to.  Fifty?  One hundred?  She was beyond tall.  He stepped back
to regain his balance, then took a step forward and peered over the rail.
The floor of Section A lie far below him.  At least thirty feet down, he
guessed.  And yet - he looked in the direction of Casey Lott - his
six-foot, two-inch frame barely reached above her knee.  Her knees were
lowering, though, and the scene before him was giving way to a descending
wall of black as her skirt fell into view like a stage curtain lowering at
the end of a play.

"Actually, what I wanted to show you is this."

The curtain kept descending and started to gain definition.  Riding on top
was the long neck and big-screen face of Casey Lott.  She had knelt down,
and was pulling open one side of her jacket.  The figure that wasn't
revealed before became monumentally apparent.  Peters now faced her
breasts, or at least part of a breast, because what bulged from beneath her
pullover was considerably larger than his entire body.

"I never thought to bring a sleeve pouch," she said. "You won't mind riding
in here, will you?"

Peters stared at her breast. Yes, he thought, it's probably possible.

"No," she said. "Over here."

He turned.  Her hand was pointing to the inside pocket of her jacket.

"You know," he said, "maybe it would be better if . . ."

"Oh, no.  I definitely intend to take you up on dinner."

A flesh-colored field passed quickly through the wall of black.  He felt
something tighten around his body, holding him from knee to chest.  There
was a slight tug as his feet left the ground, then the floor began falling
away.  The black curtain seemed to be in motion again, passing beneath his
view to reveal Casey Lott's smiling face.

"And I have a feeling you're going to enjoy it."

Peters was too distracted to respond.  He was looking down at the thick
barkless logs pressed across his chest.  No, he realized, they were the
fingers of an enormous hand, and they were transporting him toward a sea of
black.  The pressure around him suddenly released and he slipped off the
hand landing on uncertain ground.  Only the fabric behind him kept him from
falling back.  Peters turned to examine it.  It couldn't be, he thought.
Was he actually standing in her pocket?  A moment later, he felt himself
sway and had his answer.  He was in complete darkness, but there was no
mistaking the enormous mass pressing against him.  It was Casey Lott's
softly heaving breast.


#  #  #


(Will Peters be up for the count?  Find out in Part 2.)