"Hello?" a woman's voice on the phone asks.
"Uh, can I get in touch with Kevin or Moira?"
"Don't know. Who are you?"
"MMmm," the woman says, "the woman who wrecked their couch." The woman is dressed in a threadbare dark brown cloth coat that reaches down to mid-calf. A pair of shiny red boots, peeking out just below the coat, contrast sharply with the shabby coat. The woman has a scarf covering her head but a few strands of blonde hair peek out from the front and two golden pig-tails hang down the woman's back. The woman appears to be about 20 years old and has a nicely-tanned face (a contrast given the gloomy mid-January weather in the city that used to be called New York). She had been given this phone number by someone who knew them both - it was hidden in the same clothing she is wearing now.
A few seconds later, a man's voice comes over the phone, asking, "Kathryn, lass, is that you?"
"Yes, Kevin!" the woman says, overjoyed at being able to find her friend. "Where are you?" A slight sense of desperation seems evident in her question though her expression shows nothing.
"I'll meet you outside our old apartment, say around noon?"
"Okay, Kevin, I'll be there!" the woman replies with a shaky voice, hanging up the phone. She's obviously relieved about contacting this Kevin person. Moments later she's moving briskly along the crowded New Danzig sidewalk toward one of the old neighborhoods on the Upper West Side. She walks quickly with a smile on her face, looking straight ahead, not at the ground before her. She's so happy to have found her friend that she isn't aware that someone in the crowd has singled her out for further observation. She's too *not right* for this operative of the Gestapo. The new red boots, the futile attempt to cover her blonde hair, the way she walks (not like people around her who, after years of German occupation, have a beaten, downtrodden manner). Can this be the strange American terrorist that headquarters wants so badly? The Watch Commander said to be alert for disguises . . .
* * * * *
"One of the agents has reported a possible sighting of a strange blonde, Herr Brucker!" the agent says, bursting into the office of Karl Brucker, chief of Gestapo (secret police) in New Danzig.
The athletic man behind the desk quickly rises to his feet and moves to join his operative. Brucker, a Beta from the planet Aria, basks in the glow of his successful search for the Velorian Protector who calls herself Suprema. "Be sure the agent does not reveal himself to her or any members of the American Republican Army! Have him track her and watch her closely for any, uh, any strange behavior," Brucker, also known as Ja-ber, tells his man. "The rebels may be watching her and watching for people following her. Go, schnelle! Warn the agent!"
The Gestapo man quickly leaves the room to warn the field agent. Ja-ber turns and begins to consider the benefits and risks of contacting his local boss, Gauleitier Karl Messner, an Arion Prime warrior named Kar-lem. Politics! Since the fight yesterday between the two Valkryies and the two Velorian Protectors, Kar-lem has been breathing down Ja-ber's neck for information on the whereabouts of the two Velorians. Telling Kar-lem of this possible lead might get the vicious Prime off his neck, Ja-ber reasons, but it also might make the powerful Prime jump the gun by either micromanaging the Gestapo or by-passing them to send Arion Marines (all Primes) out into the city after the Protector. Du-kem, the commander of Arion forces in the Sol system said he was behind Ja-ber but . . .
"Bastard can wait until I get more information myself," Ja-ber concludes, returning to his desk. "Besides, I want to get more than just this Protector if I can," he continues, to himself. "With any luck I will capture a group of human terrorists as well as the two Protectors! Patience will be its own reward."
* * * * *
As the blonde woman walks the final few yards toward the front stoop of an old apartment building on the city's Upper West Side, her heart leaps when she spots the friendly face of a man standing outside the building's front door. "Kevin!" she cries out, breaking into a run toward the man. In seconds she covers the distance between herself and the steps and seems to almost fly up the eight steps to the man at the top of the steps.
"Sure is good to see you again, lass!" the man says, a broad smile slashing across his face. "We didn't know if you would be back and Ian had us move, just in case . . ."
"That's not important," the woman says. Known to humans as either Kathryn Fairchild or as Suprema, the Velorian Protector, she has been on the run from Arions for the past few weeks, ever since she was accidently sent to this planet from another dimension. "I need to get off the streets, Kevin," the woman says, moving close to her friend and wrapping one arm around one of his arms. "I was out on the west coast for about a week. And I found another Velorian! We need to get her under cover, too!"
"Another . . . another one of you?" he says, incredulously. "can she . . .?"
"Time for that later, Kevin!" the woman hisses. "For now, we need to get off the street!"
"And you do need to do that, macushla," the man says in his Irish brogue. "Come along, we're about three blocks from here!" Together they descend the steps of the old tenement house and head west.
Moments after they cross the bottom of the steps, a wiry little man half a block away moves away from a burning barrel (a source of heat for the many out-of-work people just standing around on the street corner on this cold January day). One or two of the people still hugging the fire marks the stations of the cross as the little man moves off - someone's in for a very bad day and night, they know. The man reeks of police or Gestapo. As the man rounds the corner in pursuit of the couple, another person moves away from the burning barrel and heads toward a nearby tavern to make a phone call.
In moments, both the Gestapo and the American Republican Army receive reports about the movement of the blonde super heroine.
* * * * *
"Kevin, Moira Conroy, this is my friend Sharon Best," Kathryn Fairchild says, two hours later. "She's from the planet Velor in this dimension. She's here to observe this planet's development. I brought her here to document the Arion infestation. Maybe we can get the Ancient Ones to take action against the Arions after what they've done to this planet."
The Conroys each, in turn, shake hands with the blond newcomer. She's wearing a one-size-too-small pair of blue jeans, a white t-shirt, a brown leather jacket and a baseball cap (with the logo for the Hatsuharu Hornets). Like Kathryn, Sharon has a tan that is in marked contrast with the pale skin of most people here in New Danzig.
"Welcome to our house," Kevin says grandly like a lord of the manor. "All we have is yours, darlin'."
"Th-thank you!" Sharon says, smiling, slightly choked up with feelings of happiness at how easily these strangers welcome her into their home. She had left a very safe and comfortable home in Colorado when she followed Suprema back to the East Coast. Sharon steps forward and her hands grab the top of each of Kevin's wrists in a traditional Velorian greeting.
"Kathryn says you have some things to bring in?" Moira asks.
"Yes, they're in a box on the roof," Sharon replies, smiling at the slim human. Using her super vision, Sharon had watched Kathryn and Kevin. When they entered this apartment building, she flew here, carrying her box. Hundreds of people probably saw her fly but the speed with which she landed on the roof might have hidden WHERE she landed from the sight of people on the streets below. She of course quickly scanned other rooftops but saw no one looking for or at her.
"Kevin, can you go up there with her and help her bring them down here? She and Kathryn can share the spare bedroom, for now," Moira says. As Kevin and Sharon move out of the apartment, Moira grabs Kathryn's hand and drags the super woman to the sofa. "Two beautiful blondes!" Moira clucks, "in an Irish working-class neighborhood, no less! Girl, do you know how much you'll stick out now?"
"I do, Moira," Kathryn replies, "but what else can we do? We need papers, a place to live, disguises maybe!"
"I don't think we CAN hide the two of you here," Moira says. "Two blondes . . ."
"We can wear disguises," Kathryn suggests helpfully. "Can we get some brown- or red-haired wigs, for example?"
"Hmm, maybe. Let me look into that while you help Sharon settle."
"Christ, that woman has an entire dumpster up on our roof!" Kevin mutters as he and Sharon re-enter the apartment. Both have bundles of clothes in their arms; Sharon also has several boxes balanced precariously on one hand. Sharon laughes at Kevin's reaction. "Wait till we have to move the heavy stuff!" she jokes.
"Ah, Sharon, we don't have room here for a lot of stuff - just a few clothes that you can put in a closet with Kathryn's stuff, okay?" Moira asks as she rises and moves toward Sharon. "Let's go see what you brought down," Moira continues, "and maybe later we can take a look at what you have left in your box on the roof."
As the two humans help Sharon with her belongings, Kathryn also rises from the couch and casually looks outside with her super vision, scanning for signs of trouble. Few people are on the sidewalk this late in the afternoon - suddenly she notices one small wiry man who, upon reaching the end of the block, turns and begins walking back the way he came. He doesn't look Irish, either. When he reaches the other end of the block (out of sight from the apartment - for anyone without Velorian super vision, that is), the man pulls a small object from his coat project. Kathryn focuses her vision more tightly and watches the man move the box up to his lips. She can see him speaking into the box, then listening to it after placing it against his ear. Her eyes focus on the man, her super vision taking in his cell structure and internal organs. He isn't an Arion. Nonetheless . . .
"We've got trouble," she decides, turning to face the others. "There's someone outside, on the street. He keeps looking at this building and is talking into some kind of radio or phone."
"Some of Ian's boyos, no doubt," Kevin suggests, moving to stand beside Kathryn to look out the window. "I had Ian send some people along to watch our get-together. Just in case, mind you." As the man outside again comes into range of anyone looking out the apartment's front room window, Kevin says, "Hmm! That's not one of Ian's lads!"
"C'mon!" Kathryn says, grabbing Kevin by his arm, "we'd better get out of the building, just in case! If he's followed by Valkyries or Primes, or even a bunch of Betas, you could be hurt!"
"Not to mention what could happen if a bunch of his German friends came here," Kevin says, laughing. "Looks like we got your stuff in here just in time to leave it behind, Sharon," Kevin says, smiling at the confused Scribe. "No worries - we've been in a dozen places in the past few weeks ourselves. Our lives are more valuable than our clothes. Father Mike will have more clothes for us, I'm sure."
"But I need my journals, my photos!" Sharon gasps. Kathryn and Kevin are halfway toward the door already and Moira is slipping into a long cloth coat. Instantly Sharon races into the spare bedroom and only a moment later returns to the living room, holding several boxes in her hands. "These are a year's work observing this planet!" she says defiantly. "I'm not leaving without them!"
Suddenly the door to the *flat* crashes open and several men in civilian clothing crowd the doorway, pointing pistols into the living room. "Kevin!" Tim Feeny hisses, "get out, lad! The Gestapo will be here any second!" In moments the Conroys, the Velorians and five members of the A.R.A. hustle down the back steps of the apartment building. As the sun starts to settle in the western sky, they file out into the alley and flee. Before they reach the end of the alley, Feeny halts the small group and two men lift a sewer cover. The group quickly descends into the fetid tunnels under the city and as the last man pulls the manhole cover over the sewer entrance, German trucks enter the ends of the alley and disgorge grey-clad Wehrmacht soldaten - German Army troops - who move to cover the backside of the building formerly hiding the Conroys. In front of the building, several more trucks and staff cars bring more soldiers and black-coated Gestapo agents to the street. The men leap off their vehicles and while some assume defensive positions covering the front of the building, most of the Gestapo men rush the stairs.
Two hours later, the last truck-load of men pulls away from the now-empty building. "We took fourteen families down to Gestapo headquarters for *questioning*," one of the agents reports to Ja-ber (still in his Karl Bruckner disguise). "No sign of the blond terrorist bitches or the man Kurt followed here, Meinherr!"
"KURT!" Ja-ber barks at the field agent, "are you sure that they stayed in this building and did not just pass through on their way to another?"
"Jawohl!" the man barks, snapping to attention. "I watched them enter the building and go up the steps. I can assure you sir that no one left the building!"
"And are you sure they did not go out the back way?" Ja-ber asks the agent? The man suddenly flinches and his face pales.
"N-no, Meinherr, I - I was not aware there WAS a back way!" the man says, quaking in his boots. "I was alone here!"
"I should kill you here and now for your carelessness," Ja-ber says, staring intently at the Gestapo agent, "but you are right. You were alone here, there was no way for you to cover both the front and back entrances unless you stood outside their apartment door. But you didn't know which apartment they entered, and in any event, you would have been seen - no, don't interrupt, I know these terrorists - you would have been seen and they would have escaped anyway. If they even had been in any of the apartments, that is. But so far we've seen nothing to indicate their presence."
"Meinherr!" one of the agents cries as he rushes out of the building. "On the roof! We found something!"
* * * * *
The after-action report went to Kar-lem at the same time it was flashed to the Arion flagship, CS-1121, hovering over their base on the dark side of the moon.
"And this is confirmed?" Du-kem asks the Communications Officer, another Arion Prime.
"Yes, Lord," the man tells the leader of Arion forces in the Sol system, "I immediately had the Beta verify his report. He did so."
"A Scribe!" Du-kem says, walking away from the Commo Officer. "No wonder we haven't seen her before. She's not a Protector like the other one but rather someone who hides in the shadows and just watches.
"But Velor in the past would send out more than one Scribe when they sent out a Protector." He walks across the deck to the work station of a young female Beta who has been successful at tracking the Protector. "Check our archive files and see if there are any other signs in the past year of flying Scribes, such as you have reported when tracking the Protector," the Fleet Lord commands the lowly technician. She had detected a certain heat signature associated with Suprema in flight. Du-kem pats the tech's shoulder warmly and says, "you have done well so far, woman. For a Beta, especially a female, you are more useful to me now than a Warrior Prime. See that you do not become useless to me," he concludes, tightening his grip on the woman's shoulder until she has to bend and wince from the pain he's inflicting on her collarbone.
"I-it . . . it shall be done, Lord!" the woman hisses between her teeth, trying to stifle her urge to cry out in pain. Du-kem quickly releases his grip on her shoulder and moves away from her station. The technician has raised her status on the Command Deck. Now, if only she can find something in the archives of planetary scans made by Arion satellites!
* * * * *
The basement was dark and dank. The small light bulb bathed everyone in a harsh light. But for the moment at least, all were safe from the prying eyes of the Gestapo. "Kathryn," Ian O'Brien, head of the local cell of the American Republican Army says to one of the stunning blondes, "we might have found some place to hide you, but two of you? And you insist on staying together! We can't do it, lass!"
"Every time you're around us, we lose another safe house and risk a battle with the Krauts!" Tim Feeny interjects, venom dripping from his voice. "Why don't you just go back to the west coast? Sounds like the Germans didn't hunt you out there."
"Tim, a little charity . . ."
"Charity be damned, Father Mike, and you'll excuse me tone, but Suprema - Kathryn - here has disrupted our work against the Krauts ever since she arrived, what with havin' to rescue her several times, hide her, help her make a raid, and for what? She won't lift a finger against the Krauts or these so-called Airy-ons. And have we even seen one of 'em or are they like the little people back on the heaths of Ireland?" Feeny stands with legs slightly spread, arms crossed across his chest, his chin jutting forward. Several other men in the basement nod silently in support of his position.
"What about her help in the raid in Neuhafen?" Kevin asks. He'd like nothing more than punching out Feeny's lights. The wee Irishman is a chronic complainer and slacker - but he is Hell on wheels in a firefight.
"HAH! We had to cart her back here after that one, too, if you'll remember, Mr. Con-roy!" Feeny says triumphantly. "She was useless after they hit her with that ray beam."
"But she did help free those people from the Gestapo," Father Mike says.
"But that did nothing to help OUR people here in New Danzig, Father," Feeny replies. "I say send 'em away so we can get back to our own business!"
"I may have an idea," Josh Kelly says meekly from a dark corner. "I think I know where we can hide both of the women."
"Speak up, man!" "Where?" "What's this, then?"
"I've done some work for a woman named Kyle - Selina Kyle," Josh says. "She runs a cathouse . . ."
"And exactly what work did you do for her, MISTER Kelly!?" Josh's wife Mary says in an indignant voice, arching one eyebrow.
"Just some forgeries for some of her gels, luv!" Josh says, moving back from his wife, his hands up in mock surrender.
"But a house of ill repute!" Father Mike says with disgust in his voice. "How can that help these two lambs," he says, waving his arm toward Kathryn and Sharon. "Are ye saying we should ask them to trade their bodies and their holy souls for protection from the Nazis, then?"
"No, no, Father," Josh replies hastily. "See, Selina - Ms. Kyle, has about 40 women at her place. It's huge! Three stories and a basement, and who knows how many rooms. Now, there must be at least six blondes among the 40 girls in the house, not to mention brunettes, redheads, niggers, gooks, you name it! What's two more blondes in that mob? And I'm sure we can persuade Ms. Kyle to shelter them, not use them!"
The eight men and three women in the basement think about Josh Kelly's suggest. Each TRIES to find a flaw in the plan, but . . .
"Since you know this woman, Josh," Ian says, "approach her, see if she'll hide two women, say they're sisters, who we're trying to help resettle. Leave it at that and stress that the girls are not to be used for sex, or we'll be down there for a *visit*, and make sure she gets my meaning!"
"Uh, what is a cathouse?" Kathryn asks meekly. "I'm not familiar with the term."
"It's an evil place . . ."
"Father Mike," Kevin Conroy interrupts, "she needs the truth, not the Church's party line, if she's after making a good decision. It's a place where men go to have sex with women they don't know or love, darlin'. For money."
"How sad!" Kathryn replies, a shocked look on her face.
* * * * *
"Ms. Kyle, I'd like you to meet Kathryn and Sharon Fairchild," Josh Kelly says, waving one arm at the two women at his elbow. "They've had some . . . uh . . . problems with the Gestapo and until we can get them someplace safe, we thank you for giving them shelter."
"Yesss, Josh," Selina Kyle responds. The 6 foot tall brown-haired woman is dressed in a shiny black PVC catsuit, thigh-high black boots with four-inch stiletto heels and elbow-length black leather gloves. She smiles as she looks at the two blondes, their bodies covered by their calf-length cloth coats and scarves - looks at them from their faces down to their shiny boots. One eyebrow arches at the sight of the boots. One red pair, one blue pair - not the usual black or brown boots one might see occasionally on the streets of New Danzig and certainly not the non-descript *flats* most women wear. Maybe these women are also *players* Selina wonders to herself. Perhaps they might be interested in more than just shelter here . . .
"Your two friends are welcome here, Josh," Selina continues sweetly. "And they won't have to deal with our customers. Just having two more stunning blondes in the grand salon . . ."
"Uh, that's another thing," Kathryn interrupts. "Josh says you might be able to disguise one or both of us - wigs, makeup, whatever. It's important that no one associate us as being, as you say, 'two stunning blondes'. It might give the wrong people ideas . . ."
"Oh, of courssse," Selina answers, smiling seductively, "I can *hide you in plain sight* with no trouble at all, my dear."
As Josh is virtually pushed out the back door of the brothel, Selina leads her two new guests up the back stairs. "Let's get you disguised, first," she tells the two blondes, "then we'll find places for you to sleep, then I'll introduce you to the other girls and boys working here."
"Boys?" Sharon asks.
"There are three young boys - teenagers - living here, as well as a number of attractive women. Some of my clientele - mostly older German businessmen," Selina explains as they pass the second floor, "have . . . shall we say, more exotic tastes than simple sex. I'm just glad no one has asked for a sheep or cow!" As the trio continues up the narrow back stairs of the brownstone, Selina notes appreciatively that neither blonde is winded. They act as if walking up the steep staircase is no more strenuous than lifting a china tea cup to their lips. These women are in good health, the madam decides.
"Have you always been in charge of a - a . . . what did Josh call this place?" Sharon asks.
"Cathouse," Kathryn replies. Thus far, she and Sharon have basically just gone along with the A.R.A. plans. In her heart, she knew that she and Sharon - rather, Suprema and Power Woman, were lightning rods for Arion attention. The A.R.A. was correct in worrying about their presence, especially since Kathryn has not yet decided whether to help them free their country from the Germans (and, ultimately, the Japanese). Now they have become a lightning rod for someone else's home - or rather, house.
"No," Selina replies. "Oddly enough, before I started this place, I used to be a burglar!"
"Burglar?" Kathryn asks. She'd heard the term back on Velor but it's meaning was lost to her.
"I used to rob people, dear," Selina says, reaching back to grab and squeeze the blonde's shoulder. As she squeezes, she gasps inwardly - the woman's shoulder is as tight as steel! Fingers barely dented the flesh! And why didn't she know what a burglar was? From the way the two talk, you can detect a slight accent - European, maybe. Definitely not Irish!
"Oh," Kathryn replies. "Do you still do that?"
"Not normally," Selina says, smiling back at the blonde. "More profits here and the risks are lower. I was almost caught when I robbed the main museum three years ago. Stole a batch of golden artifacts from someplace in Africa that I fenced to help pay for this setup. I barely got out of the place with my life. That's when I decided to retire. Now, the Germans know about this place and as long as a few key men get freebies, I'm left alone."
"But your women - and boys - they sell their bodies for sex," Sharon asks, "isn't that a sin?" She isn't religious, nor is she offended by the thought but as an observer; she just wonders why this woman is so proud of her activities.
"My staff and I make SCADS of money, honey, from our guests," Selina answers, laughing. "Believe me, my girls and boys can leave any time they want - some have, in the past, and I've had no trouble finding replacements, either. This is good money, easy money, unless you get a freak who likes to beat up people."
Both of the blondes suddenly became more interested in Selina's patter. "Beat up people?" Sharon asks.
"Yeah, every once in a while some high-ranking Nazi will come here, rough up one of my girls or boys," Selina says. "No one has been killed but a few - mostly blondes, now that I think about it, have wound up in hospitals after just a few minutes with one of these bastards. I try to screen my clients, ask them for referrals, talk to the referrals before I let new people into the salon, but I don't always get good answers fast enough.
"Well, here we are," Selina says, pointing to a small room. The three enter and see a small, windowless room filled with wigs, mirrors, makeup tables, and what can only be called costumes. "The dinner crowd should be here in about two hours - that leaves us just enough time to change your appearances and get you settled in. I think what we'll do is let you two parade around the grand salon downstairs - maybe you'll whet some appetites for my other girls. If anyone asks for either of you specifically, tell them to talk to me and I'll put a very high price, something like $5,000 on you, and say you won't be free for several hours. Maybe that will keep the wolves away from your doors, so to speak.
"Now, girls, it's time to take off those coats and let me see what you look like!" Selina says. As the two Velorians remove their coats, Selina sees the old print dress of Kathryn and the blue jeans and a loose t-shirt on Sharon. At the madam's insistence, the two blondes begin disrobing. Each can hear Selina's audible gasp when the madam gets a good look at their bodies. The two Velorians had removed all of their super costumes except their boots before leaving the A.R.A. headquarters, so all Selina can see is two magnificent blondes wearing nothing but boots. Selina is awestruck by the musculature of the two women - they don't have an ounce of fat on their bodies, their breasts seem to defy gravity, and the way they touch each other as they undress suggests that they are more than *sisters*.
"Sharon," Selina finally manages to say, after controlling her lust for the two women, "try on this wig - it should fit over your short hair very nicely." Sharon slips on the black wig and long curly hair cascades down her back, half the distance to her butt. Half an hour later and despite reluctance on the part of each of the blondes, the trio leaves the makeup room and Selina takes each woman to the room she will use while staying here. Each is put in a room with another whore (and on separate floors) to lessen their chance of detection.
* * * * *
"Welcome, Mr. *Smith*," Selina says, still in her black PVC outfit, as a man enters the grand salon of her Lower East Side brownstone. "Have a drink and relax. Gretchen will be with you in a moment."
As the businessman moves toward the bar, his eyes savor each of the eight women lounging or working the room. The two young boys he ignores, as a matter of course. The Asian, the blonde, even the two Black women are attractive but are those NEW women he spies? One raven-coifed woman walking around the room, serving drinks from a tray, is dressed in a small, a very small black-with-white-trim maid's apron, black fishnet stockings (with rifle-shot-straight seams on the backs of her legs), high-heeled white shoes and little white gloves. A black thong-like strip of fabric between her legs seems to be her only underwear. The straps of the apron barely cover the aureoles encircling her nipples and seem to be squashing her breasts against her chest (causing them to *spill out* on either side of the strap). Finally, she has a small white maid's cap on her head and a white choker around her thin lovely neck.
As *Smith* mentally wipes the drool off his chin, he turns to examine the redheaded beauty sitting with one of the Black women. The busty woman is dressed in a kind of Nazi uniform - gray tunic and slacks, black boots with a mirror-like finish reaching up to her knees, black leather gloves and a garrison cap. Rank of Hauptman or captain, he notices. Iron Cross with Oak Leaves and Swords, he muses - nice touch, as if she's some kind of a hero. Or was the medal for her performance in the bedroom!
"Selina," the man says, turning to his hostess, "I wonder if I might exchange Gretchen for one of your new girls?"
"New girls?" Selina replies, acting as if she isn't aware of the new women. "I don't have any new . . . oh, you mean Hannelore and *Axis Sally*!" she gushes. "Well, Hannelore is just my new maid, my assistant, Herr Smith - she doesn't go upstairs. As for *Axis Sally*, well, a friend asked me to keep her here until he clears up . . . well, marital problems, you know. Anyway, *Axis Sally* isn't for rent, at least not until I see that her benefactor isn't going to arrive. Then I might let you have her for, say, $10,000."
"WHAT!?" the man gasps, recoiling in horror from the dominatrix, "you must be kidding!"
"By now you must know that I wouldn't be caught dead making a lie, Mr. Smith," the mistress says, smiling at the client. When Gretchen joins them moments later, the businessman heads upstairs with his *regular girl* and quickly forgets the two new husts downstairs.
* * * * *
Arions, especially Arion primes, especially MALE Arion Primes, have enormous sexual appetites. The male Primes seem to be almost continuously in a state of *almost aroused* - in more crass terms, they're always horny. Sometimes a Prime can snag a Beta for some punishingly-hard sex. The two female Primes among the Arion invasion force, the Deputy Commander of the Force and one of the Marine officers, has sometimes even wound up in the bed of a Prime. Mar-vel has shared the bed of the Force Commander for several years and on occasion has taken a male Prime to her bed when Du-kem was too busy to fulfill her needs. Bel-kem, the Commander's sister, likewise has a more or less permanent relationship with the Marine force commander and, like Mar-vel, will sometimes take another Prime to bed to fulfill certain unmet needs. So for all intents and purposes, the two female Primes with the force are not normally available to the other 39 Primes in the Sol system.
But there are many female Betas among the almost 160 Betas. Unless a female Beta is actually doing her job, a Prime can grab her and take her away for an afternoon of unrestricted sex and need not worry about her complaining. It's part of her job description. The arrogant Primes, of course, don't care what effect this has upon the morale of people who are, theoretically, comrades in arms. 'A Beta does what a Beta MUST do' has long been a silent motto for Arion Betas.
To help meet the sexual needs of the Primes, a number of human females are regularly brought up to the base on the far side of the moon. In a day or two (however long it takes until their first and only Prime has sex with them), their dead and mutilated bodies are unceremoniously shoved out the air lock. No human can withstand a Prime's sexual assault, even if he's not trying to be cruel (rare). He has strength far beyond those of mortal women, a body as hard as steel, and ejaculation that hits a woman's vagina ten times harder than the most powerful sandblasting.
A Beta *supply officer* - one each in Europe, Russia and the U.S., has responsibility for finding women for the Arion Primes. Each week, a dozen candidates are sent to the moon from each supply officer and each week the officer must scout the streets and back-alleys of the great cities controlled by German. Any women who seem unattached and who might be cleaned up (once) for a Prime are then snatched and ultimately sent into space - because they have *the Right Stuff*!
* * * * *
A sudden thaw in New Danzig has turned the streets into small rivers of slush and icy water. Alleys and open fields are awash in mud and who knows what detritus of a modern civilization. As a fastidious man, the Beta supply officer for Westland (the eastern half of the old U.S.) looks with disgust at the slush and gunk on the street outside the Staadthall or city administrative center. "I think today I'll check out the whorehouses," he decides, hoping that he can keep his expensive clothes and shoes clean and neat for another day. "Come along," he barks at the four soldiers accompanying him and they move down the steps, cross the sidewalk and board a large truck. The truck quickly enters traffic and heads uptown toward the first of many houses of ill repute.
* * * * *
"Herr Kerber," Selina says, smiling at the latest man to enter her house. "I haven't seen you here for a while. Trying to recruit some of my girls for your friends in Europe?"
"Ja, Fraulein," the Beta known as Ken-ber to the Fleet, replies to the madam. "My friends back home want some more of those tall, corn-fed Midwestern girls who work for you. As usual, they will pay top dollar for the girls' contracts. Und we guarantee they will not be there more than a year - each gets a return plane ticket when she signs a contract with one of my friends overseas."
"Well, tonight's kinda quiet, Joachim," Selina says, slipping her arm around one of his arms, her PVC catsuit crinkling as it slides around the man's arm. "Let's go into the main room and you can see if any of the girls are interested in your offer." *Kerber* gets the start of an erection just from the woman's scent and her provacative costume - reminds him of Deputy Fleet Commander Mar-vel and her LeatherEx © costume. What fantasies he could have with this woman . . . But back to business!
As the pair enters the grand salon, Kerber suddenly stops at the sight of the *woman soldier* on the far side of the room. After sitting in the grand salon for several hours now, Kathryn, still wearing the costume of a German Army captain, has unbuttoned her tunic. While a German soldier would have an undershirt on under the tunic, she has nothing. Nothing but a large and barely-restrained pair of breasts - creamy, slightly-tanned beauties. Her legs are crossed and the tight gray slacks highlight the shapeliness of her thighs.
She CAN'T be Arion, he muses to himself, but if her hair were darker she might almost pass. "Who IS that woman?" Kerber asks. "Regular Army? Gestapo?"
Selina laughs softly. "Sorry, Joachim, but she's not one of yours. She's not even one of mine. She's staying with me while a friend cleans up some marital problems. Would you like to be introduced?" When the man vigorously nods his head *yes*, Selina takes his arm again and leads him toward Kathryn.
As soon as each new person enters this salon, both Sharon and Kathryn scan the person's body, looking for the dense cell structure common to Arion Primes and Betas. Each woman went on alert when Kerber entered the salon - as he starts moving across the room toward Kathryn, she tries to remain relaxed despite his approach. She even manages a seductive smile when Kerber and Kyle stop near her chair.
"Kate," Selina begins, "this is an old friend, Joachim. Works for the Trade Ministry downtown. He just HAD to meet you. I've already told him that you belong to Joshua and are here as a guest until he resolves his marital problems but Joachim insisted on meeting you."
"Fraulein," Kerber says, almost clicking his heels together. "I compliment you on your looks and your costume. You are quite memorable! Here is my card," Kerber says, handing the woman a small business card, "and if you have any desire to leave this Joshua person, I have associates overseas who are always looking for fresh faces. Work for them for a year and you can return here with significantly more wealth than you might get here, even with Mistress Kyle here."
"Thanks for the offer," Kathryn says, every fiber of her body screaming *DANGER*DANGER*DANGER*. She takes the card and slips it into one pocket on the tunic. After smiling at the man a few moments, she relaxes when the Beta and Kyle turn and walk toward the bar. "Thank Rao he doesn't have super vision!" she thinks to herself, relaxing her muscles and trying to regain her composure. Neither she nor Sharon look like blond Velorians so the man obviously has taken her for a normal human woman.
"And who is this mädchen?" Kerber asks as Sharon passes him on her way back to the bar for more drinks.
"Hannelore," Kyle says, beckoning Sharon to return. "Joachim, this is my new assistant, Hannelore. She just came up here from my kin down in Georgia - uh, that's, oh, what do you people call it? PrinzEugenland!"
"She, too, is very lovely," Kerber says to Kyle, pulling another card out of his pocket. Turning back to the sexy *maid* he says, "Should you ever decide to, uh, become more directly involved with this business, we can guarantee that in less than a year you will no longer have money worries, Fraulein Hannelore."
Kerber lingers in the grand salon for another hour and finally leaves. One of the Black women working for Kyle leaves with him, lured by his tales of vast wealth and travel. Only the two super women notice that after the Beta and the Black leave, the Black woman and her luggage are hustled into the back of a large Army truck and she is quickly cuffed and manacled to other women in the back of the truck.
"You see that?" Sharon says as she brings a drink to Kathryn. Both women look out the window - their super vision showing the scene in full detail regardless of the dark night outside. "I'll bet you a deep massage that those women are not going to some high-priced brothels in Europe."
"Yes," Kathryn agrees, "I agree. Even in my dimension the sexual appetites of Arion Primes is well known. But are the women going to service the Arions here in New Danzig, or at their main base (whereever THAT is), or at some other base?"
"Wanna find out?"
"Let's!"
After making excuses to Kyle, the two women head upstairs to the rooms they've been assigned. Moments later, they meet in the hallway and rush up to the roof. Fortunately, no one notices the sudden appearance to two women dressed in odd costumes - that's almost the rule in this *house*.
The two Velorians take turns flying from the top of one building to another, keeping a distant tail on the German truck with their super vision. As the evening wears on, it makes two more stops and collects three more women. Eleven are now chained in the back of the truck. As the truck heads back toward the Staadthall, the two super women meet atop a tall building.
"What do you think, do we free them before they go inside that building or what?" Power Woman asks Suprema.
"I - I'm not sure," Suprema replies, unsure about the best course of action. Her blue, red and yellow costume marks her as the Planetary Protector but she's had almost no experience in the job. Sharon, or rather, Power Woman is a veteran Scribe and has been on this planet for a year now. A year with almost no contact with Germans and none with Arions.
After quickly scanning the imposing administrative center, Suprema says, "I count over forty humans and six Betas inside. I can see several Arion weapons, as well." A few moments later, Suprema says, "They've put those women in cells down on the first sub-level - see?" After Power Woman nods *yes*, Suprema continues, "We can't linger around here - a Prime or a German patrol might spot us. But there's too much stuff between Selina's place and here for our super vision to be used to keep an eye on the women. I just don't see how we can keep track of them until they lead us to an Arion base - a real base, not this human building."
"Maybe we could get the A.R.A. to help?" Power Woman suggests. "They certainly have the manpower and the skills necessary to keep an eye on these Nazis."
"We'll ask them tomorrow, Power Woman, but I'm sure they won't be interested," Suprema says. "Let's get back to the house before the sun rises. We have a lot to do tomorrow and we must get someone to watch this place before they move the women."
"You know, there is one other way to keep an eye on the women," Power Woman says slowly, "if one of us joined them."
"YOU'RE KIDDING!" Suprema gasps as the two super women rise into the air and head back uptown. "Willingly join an Arion harem!"
"Well, hear me out," Power Woman continues as the women fly slowly over the city. "You call that Kerber fellow and say you'll take him up on his offer. He puts you among the women. They will be restraining HUMAN women. I'm sure they won't notice that your red hair is fake, it's very realistic-looking actually. When you have a good idea where they're taking you, just before you get to the base, you break free and bring the women with you. No Primes will be around. This is menial work, suitable for a Beta, not a Prime."
"Hmm," Suprema mulls over the plan, "I hate to admit it but your plan just might work. And we don't have to bring the A.R.A. in on this, either.
"I'll give Kerber a call later this morning."
* * * * *
Shortly after noon, a stunning redhead wearing high heels, a long dress and a fur wrap leaves the plain brownstone building and enters the back seat of a large black sedan. As she settles into the back seat, her raven-haired friend watches from the window on the first floor. The two women wave at each other as the car pulls away from the curb. At the end of the block, the car makes a sharp right turn and the woman known as Kate slides across the seat and almost falls onto Kerber's lap. As expected. Kerber pulls a small white cloth from under his butt and presses it across the woman's face. He turns his head away as the woman struggles in his grasp.
Chloroform! The woman's eyes flutter briefly then shut and her breathing slows markedly. Her magnificent breast slowly rises and falls as she drifts into unconsciousness.
Kerber smiles. Twelve women. All extremely lovely. "This should satisfy those arrogant bastards!" he decides. "I have until sundown before the women have to be at the airfield. Maybe I'll have time to *sample* the wares before then," he says to himself.
Lying on his lap, faking her unconsciousness, Suprema is disguised as a normal Terran redhead. She struggles to slow her body to that of an unconscious human. Or what she supposes is one.
"Airfield," she thinks. "Probably going to fly us somewhere. I'd like to tell Sharon but it will have to wait until I get myself and those other women away from these pigs." She sighs audibly, for the Beta's benefit, and sags against his lap. Even when the man begins pawing her breast, the Velorian Protector does nothing to reveal that she's fully alert and coiled like a powerful spring, ready to snap.
The sedan continues on to the Staadthall as the late afternoon traffic begins to build.
* * * * *
"Worried about your friend - er, *sister*?" a silky voice says, startling Sharon. The Velorian turns away from the window abruptly and sees Selina Kyle standing in the main doorway of the grand salon. The madam is dressed in a white silk blouse, soft tan leather jodhpur pants and gloves, and knee-high English riding boots (similar to the clothes Sharon wore when she rescued Suprema in the New Mexico desert a week ago).
"Y-yes," Sharon replies. "She's taking a great risk."
"Well, come upstairs with me and let's see if we can take your mind off it," Kyle says, smiling at the Velorian. She walks over to Sharon and boldly takes the woman by one elbow. Selina gently pulls Sharon away from the window and the two head upstairs.
The pair enter the madam's bedroom and Selina helps Sharon take off the plain blouse and skirt she's wearing. "Come on, Sharon," Selina says. "I find that trying on new clothes gets my mind off everything else, so let's explore my closet and see what you can wear. You won't fit in any of my clothes - you're about four inches shorter than me and have a larger chest, but I have some, uh, things left here by other visitors and if anything fits you . . ." Again, Selina inhales sharply when the naked Velorian reveals her taut body. She has on white panties but no bra - none is needed given her perfect breasts.
"You're in magnificent shape," Selina gushes, finally unable to resist herself. She moves to stand facing Sharon and as one hand traces lightly down the Velorian's back, Kyle's other hand slides up to cup one of Sharon's breasts. When the blonde does not protest, Selina leans forward and lightly kisses Sharon on the lips. Her heart skips a beat when the blonde returns the kiss, with tongue as interest! The blonde steps closer and rubs her nearly-naked body against the madam's, pushing her back half a step.
"Mmmnn," Sharon moans as her breast is cruelly squeezed by Selina - would be cruel if Sharon was an ordinary mortal. As it is, Selina's powerful grip only heightens Sharon's pleasure. Sharon responds by wrapping her arms around Kyle - one to press their chests closer together, the other to cup Selina's taut butt and squeeze it.
Mere moments pass before the two women are in a kissing/cuddling/squeezing frenzy, moaning as each touches the other in an ignored erotic area. As Selina's hands explore Sharon's body, the Velorian rips open Kyle's shirt and quickly unbuttons the woman's pants. The two separate briefly so Selina can remove her boots and the rest of her clothing and Sharon can kick off the *mules* on her feet. The taller human then pushes the shorter Velorian up against one wall of the bedroom and again the two women resume caressing each other's body while their tongues fence. Selina becomes more and more dominating as the moments pass, as her hands roam over Sharon's body and her tongue savagely attacks Sharon's tongue.
Sharon considers resisting the human's attacks, then decides to play the submissive role. She lets Selina push her down onto her butt. When Selina thrusts her hips forward into Sharon's face, the blonde's tongue darts out and begins teasing Kyle's nether lips. When Sharon's tongue begins to touch Selina's clit, the tall woman moans and leans forward, pressing her pussy against the blonde's face, begging for more. After but a few moments of energetic tongue work, Kyle arches backward, her hands holding onto the blonde's head, as a powerful orgasm rips through her body. "YYYESSSS!!" she gasps as wave after wave of pleasure hit her body. And still Sharon's tongue continues to work its magic! "D-don't ssttooopppp!" Selina hisses as her body shudders from the long-running orgasm.
Finally succumbing to the pleasure, the madam slides downward to settle on Sharon's lap. She bends forward and again the women kiss each other, their tongues eagerly trying to dominate the other's. Again Sharon lets the human gain the upper hand. She's rewarded a moment later when the human rises and pulls the Velorian to her feet. Kyle guides Sharon's body over to the bed and forces the blonde backward onto the bed. Instead of mounting her, Kyle kneels at the side of the bed and leans forward, her mouth enveloping one of Sharon's breasts as two fingers tease the blonde's nether lips and the other hand drags fingertips across her washboard flat abdomen.
As Sharon's fingers entwine in Selina's long brown hair, the Velorian moans softly from the effect of Kyle's lips and fingers. The experienced madam soon transports the Velorian to unreached heights of sexual pleasure - the woman's body arches high off the bed and she screams as mighty orgasms ripple through her super body like a machine gun. She has five orgasms in less than a minute, each more powerful than the last. The room floods with the scent of honey and wild flowers, driving both women to a more intense sexual frenzy.
Some time later, both women lie half asleep on the large bed, wrapped in each other's arms. They are drenched in sweat and their hair lies across each other, entangled, like brown and yellow spaghetti tossed together. Sharon's eyes are closed while Selina's are open only a crack.
"Mmmm," Sharon says, "that was AMAZING! I've NEVER been so . . . well, I've never had such powerful orgasms before, with a man or a woman!"
"YOU were amazing," Selina replies languidly. "I'd swear is saw you levitate off the bed several times! And you're no slouch in the *giving orgasms* department, either, my darling."
"I could lie here all day!" Sharon says, completely forgetting that Suprema has gone into the lion's den, alone.
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