Comments to imagineer47@yahoo.com
Valerie eyed her charge with concern. "Are you okay? You look uncomfortable."
"I am not uncomfortable. I am in pain."
That was too bad. He was kind of handsome. Like a Hong Kong action star.
And she was horny. Going halfway with Mr. Porsche Turbo had gotten her revved up, and she still wasn't cooled off. And two furious solo sessions had been fruitless. But she was afraid if she attacked Max with her usual verve she'd kill him. And as much as she needed release, she felt she owed him for getting her out of a jam. Not that she couldn't have taken care of herself, but she would have made a much bigger mess of it.
But more than that, he'd taken a bullet for her. Which was ironic. And just a little sad.
"What troubles you, my little spider?" She'd been fidgeting all morning. When she wasn't pacing every room of the office space in the abandoned pasta factory.
"Don't call me that. I hate that fucking name." My, she was a feisty one. He could see why the sapphires had chosen her over the smaller girl, who underneath the bravado seemed little more than a sweet and sheltered princess. Valerie, on the other hand, was clearly not in the habit of taking crap from anyone. "Who's the idiot that came up with the name 'Black Widow,' anyway? Another person to add to my permanent shit list."
"It is a fitting name."
"It's not like I set out to be that way. Not in the beginning. It just sorta... happened."
"As does the basis for most reputations. And legends."
"Well, I still hate it. It puts a lot of pressure on me, ya know? I just want to be left alone."
"Not much chance of that now, I'm afraid. But that isn't what troubles you."
Valerie was silent. She tried to think of anything else. Even the image of her bloody fingers struggling with a pair of needle-nose pliers to dig the bullet out of his leg. She'd tried to convince him to go to a hospital, or at least leave the bullet in, but he insisted, mumbling something about expelling foreign bodies.
But even that gruesome image didn't douse the flame.
"You don't understand."
"No, I do understand. Perhaps you need to work on your self-control."
"Hey, I don't flip it on and off like a switch."
"I meant control of your ability."
"What's to control about having invisible body armor?"
"Your other ability."
"If you mean my... urges, I'd call them a disability. An unpleasant side effect." His eyebrow raised at the word 'unpleasant.' "Anyway, I didn't have any trouble controlling them until these little stones came along. They're some kind of aphrodesiac side-effect. It's not like I get off on the violence or anything; anything more than a little light bondage or D&S roleplaying always turned me off. But these stones just don't let up, and once I get going I can't stop."
"And yet you have been stomping about like a petulant child when a willing vessel is already ensnared in your web, unable to flee."
She bristled at the arachnidian metaphor, but let it slide. "So then I guess my self-control isn't really an issue."
"Ahh, but once you get started..."
"Look, you're injured. And I guess I owe you. Though if you knew so much about me I'm a little confused about why you'd take a bullet for me. It's not like I need it."
"None taken," Max smiled at her unintentional slight.
"Oh, Sorry."
"Last night's events are not worth such brooding. It is good enough that I have found you. And that I can help you. And you me."
"Anyway, I appreciate the, um, 'offer.' But I really don't need it."
"Your disposition says otherwise."
"Look, I don't want anything to happen to you, okay? If you're here to help me like you say, it wouldn't do to kill you."
"So let me help you. If you do kill me, I'm obviously of no use to you. Consider it a test." Damn he was persistent.
"Look, I like you, okay? There, I said it."
The flash of emotion took Max by surprise. She'd known him but a few hours, half of them spent in fitful sleep. Did the sapphires have more than a physical aphrodesiac effect? Was this the amulet at work? Or was she simply vulnerable, desperately clinging to a kind hand in a stressful time?
It didn't matter. Max felt a tugging of his own. Seeing this scarcely-dressed lissome creature before him now, a feminine-yet-strong young thing who'd nursed his wound with a compassion at odds with her outward nature, the man could hardly be blamed for his body's response. But he felt another force pulling him toward her, a force beyond simple physical lust, more than any Nightingale effect. The amulet on his chest trembled with excitement.
"So let me help you." His eyes penetrated hers with a sudden sincere lust that she could not ignore.
"But... your leg."
"It is not my leg that you need." Any other man at any other time would have received a withering retort, but his words were so without guile, and Valerie's mind so suddenly without will, that she dropped all further thought and came to him as if in a trance.
She shoved aside the blanket, exposing his naked lower body to the cool morning air. But his staff did not waver. She positioned herself gently over him, careful not to put any weight on his bad leg. It was a gentleness he hadn't sensed in his absorption of any of her previous conquests.
And then she enveloped him.
What he'd experienced in brief flashes through the memories of others now hit him with the full force of the first person. And as it did so, to his attention came a pinpoint of bright light hovering in space above her head. Max blinked, but the pinpoint remained. What was this?
The warmth radiating from her immediately soothed his wound. Her touch was narcotic, blissful and addicting. As she increased her pace, he found himself thrusting his hips up to meet her.
But he kept his mind clear. The pinhole of light above her head grew, bright swirling arms of light.
Valerie was working furiously now, a sheen of perspiration glimmering in the ethereal halo above them. Max felt himself in awe of her perfect form as she rode him, pulling him and squeezing his very soul. An angel sent to be his queen.
Max's heart pounded in his chest. His lungs struggled to keep up with the pace his Siren had set. His muscles ached. He longed for the unconditioned endurance of his youth. But he pressed on, watching the curtain of light pulse and spit with their own frenzied activity. Holding back in spite of his rider's urging, her body's almost wicked ministrations . . .
Until he could resist no more.
His body took leave of him, pistoning and gushing and spasming and gripping, leaving his ill-equipped mind to watch, disconnected from the spectacle in order to appreciate it. Valerie arched and shivered and trembled atop him, screaming in blessed release. And the light dimmed and retreated to its pinhole, winking out as he drew his first breath as himself again.
Max was overwhelmed.
And yet it was not enough. He could sense there was more. Much more, if he could reach the light, pull the light to him, around them both. It was the portal. The means to his ascension.
As Valerie disengaged and lay to snuggle at his side, he was at once sated and left with a new desire.
One he knew only the remaining sapphires could serve. And only then after rebuilding his own derivative power.
Bzzzzt! The guard opened the razor-wire gate by remote. Gerald Bates slowly stepped through. He was a free man.
Rubio straightened his tie. Showtime.
"The State has determined that Gerald Bates has paid his debt to society. It is the job of the police department to ensure that Mr. Bates is afforded the same opportunity to live a safe and normal life as any other citizen of Oak Valley. While we have no information of any specific threat made against Mr. Bates we consider it prudent to escort him to his home, where his own privately-funded security personnel are waiting, and we will continue to work closely with them to ensure his safety."
"Detective Rubio, Gerald Bates was a notorious crime lord who counted prostitution among his many criminal endeavors. Do you think the Black Widow will consider him a target?"
Rubio was caught off guard, but he recovered quickly. "Gerald Bates has been accused of many things and was convicted of a few, but I don't think anyone believes he ever took money for sex," he deadpanned. The other reporters and camera crews snickered. "The Oak Valley Police Department has a duty to serve and protect all of its citizens, including Mr. Bates. That's all I have to say; good day."
Ramirez switched the TV off. "That grandstanding son-of-a-bitch." This was no doubt a slap at Ramirez for reassigning the Asian Assassin aspect of the Black Widow case to someone else. But Ramirez couldn't help but smile. Rubio was taking some of the heat off the Black Widow case, if only for a day. And he was implicitly responding to the complaint that had started the Black Widow / Avenging Angel ball rolling in the first place: law enforcement's duty and ability to protect all of its citizens, including the recently-rehabilitated. He wasn't a perfect cop, but at least he understood image management. Something Noel Aquino never took seriously. Maybe they'd rub off on each other before this handbasket ride to hell was over.
A devious smile played across Detective Miguel Rubio's lips as he watched the replay of his statement on the news.
No one in their right mind would go after Bates now.
But after what he'd seen Bates do to Valerie in those two hours before he'd been arrested, Rubio was sure that Valerie wasn't in her right mind when it came to Bates.
In fact, Rubio was counting on it.
"But despite the release of Bates, the focus of Oak Valley residents remains on the Black Widow killer. Last night's brutal massacre of five East Valley High School football players has left area residents shocked and angry."
Clip: "The schools aren't doing enough to protect our children when they're not in school."
Clip: "If the cops stopped harassing motorists maybe they'd have time to catch real criminals like this Black Widow [censored]."
Clip: "If the police can't protect us, who can?"
"Detective Miguel Rubio, lead investigator on the Black Widow case, had only this to say:"
Clip: "I will not rest until the Black Widow is behind bars."
"And so the manhunt continues for this man [QuickMart surveillance still] and this woman [artist sketch], who police now believe have been working together on what has become the fifth highest summer murder total attributed to a single person or organization for the Oak Valley Metropolitan area since 1960, and the second-highest since the legendary Apple Fritter Gang poisoned the city's donut supply in 1986. If you have any information as to the identity or whereabouts of these two dangerous individuals, call the Oak Valley Police Department Special Crimes Task Force at 801-867-5309."
Angela switched the channel on the TV tucked behind the counter. She knew it had been the Hunter and not her who'd murdered those young men, but she still felt responsible. If she hadn't crossed their paths, they wouldn't be dead. Indeed, the blood of the Black Widow victims was surely on her hands as well. If she hadn't carelessly lost half her sapphires, there would be no invulnerable sex-vampire taking out angry vengeance against symbols of male oppression.
She couldn't set things right, but she could stop them before they did any more damage.
Or at least she could try.
Black Widow didn't scare her. Maybe she was taller, maybe she had more experience with life on the streets, maybe she even had some kind of martial arts training. But at least Angela understood her power, for it was a power they shared. That meant Black Widow would have the same weakness. All Angela had to do was take advantage of it somehow. Maybe if she sprung on her at just the right moment as Black Widow was consumed in another of her deadly mating rituals. Or maybe she didn't even have to do that. After all, Angela was well-practiced at using her gems for self-defense. And offense. Black Widow wore her sapphires around her neck; surely she couldn't exert force the same way that Sapphire could. And without shoes like hers Black Widow couldn't fly. No, the challenge with Black Widow was finding her at the right time, while Sapphire's own gems were still well-charged. Actually subduing her evil counterpart would be easy. Past record against non-superpowered adversaries meant nothing -- Angela had her gems under control now, and she had the advantage.
The Hunter was a different matter. Angela shivered at the memory of her first encounter with the mysterious man. He didn't have any sapphires to protect him, but somehow he could turn her own power against her... in a most humiliating way. And he seemed to hold sway over others' minds; how else to explain the passive, almost catatonic behavior of Mrs. Ramsey? Did it work on everyone? It hadn't worked on Angela herself, though that was little consolation given what he *could* do to her. She knew so little. She felt vulnerable in a way she'd never felt before.
Still, even as a part of her shuddered in release at the memory of what this tall, handsome stranger had reduced her to, Angela did not look forward to meeting him again.
But ready or not, she was a superheroine and she had a job to do. And if she didn't have any idea where to look, she now knew of someone who did. Detective Rubio. She couldn't exactly ask him for his notes -- after all, as far as he was concerned, she and the Black Widow were one and the same -- but following him for a while might lead her to places she hadn't thought to look, and give her information she couldn't get from the news or random patrols. And since she knew things about Black Widow that no one else did, maybe Angela could do what the police couldn't do on their own.
That was how it worked in comic books, anyway. And what else did she have to go on?
"Hey, Margaret? The store's pretty dead. Mind if I take the rest of the day off?"
"Hey, Jimmy."
"Ricky. What's up?"
"Check out this website I found. I mailed you the link."
"Hang on, let me save my game. [pause] So what's this link about?"
"I think it's self-explanatory."
"I'm not looking at it yet. It takes a while to bring up mail."
"I thought you had two computers."
"Yeah, but the other one's cracking."
"Oh." Jimmy ran in circles Ricky wasn't sure he wanted to know about. Until now.
Jimmy was ready. "Okay, I'm pulling it up now."
"So what do you think?"
"Dude, this isn't exactly my cup of tea."
"I know, but look at it anyway."
"Look, I don't care how many wide-open pussies you make me look at, I'm not switching teams."
"That's not what this is about."
"So what's it about then?"
"Did you even read the URL?"
"Yeah. Sapphire Exposed dot com. So what?"
"That's so not cool."
"What, you don't think it's really her?"
"Come on, Jimmy, you met her. Does she seem like the type?"
"She dresses the part."
"Yeah, I know, but that's not the same."
"So let's say it isn't her."
"It's not."
"Okay, whatever. It's not her. So some greasy fat guy with a camera, a computer, and a copy of Photoshop crops and retouches and manips his way to riches. Whatever makes it squirt. It's of no interest to me. And I mean it's *really* of *no* interest to me."
Ricky was frustrated. How could Jimmy not see the problem?
"Jimmy. Jim. It's slander."
"Ricky. Rick. It's porn. And it's a free country."
"I can't believe you don't have a problem with this after what she did for you."
"Woah, hold on there big fella. I know Sapphire saved my ass. What she does with hers is none of my business."
"It's not her."
"You sound like you know from experience. There something between you two?"
"No! That's not it. I know who it is."
"Well, I haven't seen the members area, but from what I see on the preview page the model's face is always obscured. Or do you have
"They're not all the same model. But the main one is Angela."
"Oh, you dirty dog, you! And playing in the big leagues, too. No Junior Varsity for Mr. Aquino."
"It's not like that."
"So how do you know it's her then?"
"I'd rather not talk about it."
"Look, Ricky, either you're finally getting some -- about time, too -- or you're getting into obsession territory."
"Just take my word for it."
"Okay. So your senior -- excuse me, high school graduate -- er, she did graduate didn't she?"
"Yes. I helped her with math, but she wasn't stupid." Not a genius, but not stupid. What was Jimmy's point anyway?
"Okay, so your older female friend, whom you may or may not be shtupping, posed for some pictures, and you with your eye for detail happened to recognize them. Congratulations, you know a girl who posed for some dirty pictures. When someone gets *you* to pose, let me know."
"Look, this is serious. I don't think she knows they're on the Net."
"What did she think she was posing for?"
"I don't think she was posing. Look at the shots, they're all candid hidden-camera looking."
He heard Jimmy clicking. "Yeah, okay. That's fucked up. If it is her."
"It's her."
"You're gonna have to tell me how you know that eventually."
"It's a sensitive subject. I'm not even allowed to see her anymore."
Jimmy whistled. "It's a regular Romeo and Juliet. Put down the dagger." He laughed.
"This is not the kind of support I expected from a friend."
"Okay, okay, sorry. But keep in mind you did call your gay friend to talk about (1) straight porn, and (2) a girl. Two subjects about which I am far from expert."
"Sorry. I don't think my straight friends would appreciate the problem."
"Frankly, I'm struggling myself."
Ricky breathed a heavy sigh.
"And yeah, I guess I've got a 'thing' for her."
"Who, Angela, or Sapphire?"
Ricky stumbled over the question. "Both, I guess. Well, I mean I really like Angela, even if I don't exactly understand her, and even if she has, um, changed, I still feel like I should watch out for her. As a friend. And Sapphire, well, I owe her for what she did for me. You too. And she is pretty spectacular. Not that she'd be interested in somebody like me, but you know, I admire her from afar."
Jimmy chuckled. "Boy, you breeders sure do get confused. So why don't you ask Angela about the pictures? If she doesn't want them used she can sue. Maybe make a lot of money."
Ricky gasped. "I can't do that. Anyway I don't need to. There are a lot of things I don't know about her, but I know she wouldn't do this. Not to Sapphire."
"Guess you've got a point. I wouldn't want to piss off a chick who can level a football team either."
"So, I need your help."
Ricky could practically hear Jimmy grin. "Yeah? What'd you have in mind?"
"Hack the site."
"You mean crash it? Take it down?"
"I was thinking take it over."
"Like change the home page? Hijack the domain name?"
"That's why I'm talking to you. You're creative. You can help me realize my vision."
"Your *vision*?"
"Look, I know you and your friends can take down the pictures of Angela without breaking a sweat."
Ricky heard rapid-fire typing. "Actually, I'm already working on that. I wouldn't want the whole Internet horning in on my best friend's girlfriend. You don't need the competition."
"Gee, thanks."
"Well, she is a hottie."
"Jimmy! Are you finally coming around?"
"Hey, I don't have to play the game to rate the players." More typing, then a dramatic smack of the keyboard. "There, it's done."
Ricky refreshed the sample page. The myriad semi-nude thumbnails had been replaced by a single sentence in bold blue type:
SAPPHIRE WAS HERE - SCUM OF OAK VALLEY BEWARE!
"Now that's why I called you. I think we're already on the same page."
"Piece of cake. Server's hosted by the same company that hosts a bunch of gay porn boards. Really lax security. I hack free access for people in exchange for favors."
Ricky didn't dwell on what kind of favors; what Jimmy did with his ass was his business.
"I updated the MX record to point to a server controlled by a friend of mine," Jimmy continued. There was an awkward pause; clearly Ricky didn't know what he meant. "That means all the site's mail gets intercepted," Jimmy explained. "We can use a bot to filter out any complaints so the owner won't know anything's wrong unless he checks the site himself. All the layout's really generic so it's probably self-published, no professional webmaster would put up such crap. In fact, I bet we can check the logs and... hold on a minute..."
Jimmy was off and running.
"Yeah. So far all the site updates were posted from one IP address. It's in the address range that CBC uses for 'premium' DSL."
"So you know who runs the site," Ricky put in.
"No, that would require some packet sniffing to figure out, or breaking into CBC's business records. That's over my head and beyond my desire to go to jail, but it's the long way round anyway. I checked the domain name registration, but it's just a business name, and it's not showing up anywhere, probably a brand-new DBA. All of the email contacts are at the hosting company. If we really cared who it was we'd just dig through the web hosting company's customer list and match them up to the account."
"Can you do that now?"
"I know this isn't my crusade, but what we're doing is probably more important than who we're doing it to at this point." Less typing, more clicking. "Anyway, whoever it is will have no idea anything's even wrong from his own system. I put his stuff in a different directory and told the web server to feed that directory to his IP address. He could be surfing and updating his page for days and as long as he doesn't check it from somewhere else he'll have no idea we've stolen his precious pussy. Er, your precious pussy."
Ricky ignored the lewd comment. "Man, you're good. I didn't think you could do all this on the fly."
"Ordinarily, no, but I've spent a lot of time poking this particular web hosting company, and like I said they have really lax security. Either they're really really stupid or somebody on the inside is fucking the company. If it was almost anywhere else it'd be a lot harder, and I'd have to call in a lot more favors. Which I don't mind doing for you, but it would substantially cut into my free time."
"Thanks, Jimmy."
"No problem. I could use the workout. So now that your girlfriend's honor is restored-"
"She's not my girlfriend."
"So sensitive! Okay, so now that dear maid Angela's honor is restored and we basically have a blank canvas, tell me about this Vision."
"I want to build a website dedicated to Sapphire."
"We just took one down," Jimmy teased.
"No, I mean one that sets the record straight."
"How does this grab you: 'Sapphire is not a whore, she's a tease.'"
"Very funny. You're just begging for an ass-kicking, aren't you?"
"Not a *kicking* exactly."
"You know, Jimmy, I'm not switching teams either."
"Yeah, I know. So anyway..."
"So anyway, she's gotten a lot of bad press lately."
"That's an understatement. Not that there's a good way to spin multiple homicides."
"Come on, Jimmy, that's not Sapphire. That's the Black Widow."
"Her evil twin?"
"No, they're nothing alike. It's Black Widow who's killing bad guys in Twisted Oaks."
"I dunno, Sapphire seems to have a bit of a man-hating streak."
"And yet she bailed you out."
"Haven't you heard? Gay men are practically girls."
Ricky grunted in frustration. "Just trust me, okay? They're not the same person. They don't even look the same. Black Widow is taller. And Sapphire is, well, bigger. Up top."
"You mean she has bigger tits. Say what you mean. So you've been studying this quite a bit, have you? Checking out bra labels and inseams while they excuse themselves to wash up?"
"Funny. Not everybody's a slut like you."
"Don't go there, honey."
"Like you're not proud of it. I could do with you being a little more private about your private life."
"I don't tell you anything."
"Let's keep it that way."
"Okay, so you have some secret incontrovertible evidence that Sapphrie and Black Widow are two different people."
"And then there's the Chinese guy."
"What Chinese guy?"
Ricky forgot; Jimmy was not exactly a steady news consumer. Still, who hadn't heard?
"The Chinese guy who killed Dirk at the QuickMart night before last."
"No shit. And he's related to Sapphire and this Black Widow how exactly?"
"The Chinese guy who killed *Dirk* at the *QuickMart* night before last."
"Okay. I guess that's a connection."
"You really didn't hear about it?"
"Dude, I've been at Climbers Camp spelunking for the last two weeks. I just got in yesterday, and I guess I got some kind of bug, because I spent the whole day sleeping. I only got up at 2 this morning, and I had to get some gaming in. I've still got sixty emails to read."
Weird; they'd both slept all day yesterday. What's up with that?
"Wow, you really have been living in a cave."
"Now that you mention it."
"By the way, I thought the proper term now was 'caving.'"
"It is, but I like the way 'spelunking' sounds better. So what's this about Dirk?"
"Damn, so you don't know about the football team."
"What about 'em? Any new tight ends I should know about?"
Ricky lowered his voice. "They were killed yesterday."
"I thought they didn't start playing until September. Who beat 'em?"
"No. The five guys who held you hostage to get to Sapphire. They were killed yesterday. In the locker room."
Jimmy exhaled sharply. "What... what happened?"
"Nobody really knows. They think it's the same Chinese guy that killed Dirk."
"Damn."
"And the police think he's working with the Black Widow."
"The police also think that Sapphire and the Black Widow are the same person."
"I thought you've been gone for two weeks."
"I have. I'm just speculating. If they didn't think Sapphire and Black Widow were the same person, you wouldn't have such an axe to grind."
"I don't have an axe to grind."
"And yet you want to replace a pay-for-porn site in a great timely niche with a public-relations campaign."
"I didn't say that."
"Yeah, but you can be so transparent sometimes."
"We just think alike."
"Except for the part about making hot love to Angela, we're pretty compatible."
Ricky flared at the comment. "Nothing happened, all right?"
"Man, sucks to be you. Sorry, I couldn't resist. You romantics are such easy targets. Especially obsessive romantics."
"I'm not obsessed."
"Okay okay, sorry. Let's get back to the part about us thinking alike. What am I thinking next?"
"You want to post the facts about Sapphire, set the record straight."
"I don't know about this setting straight business."
"You never quit, do you?"
"That's what all the boys tell me. Anyway, yeah, okay. And I suppose I want to set up a discussion board to encourage people to share information."
Great idea. "That's why I'm talking to you."
"Damn. I was almost hoping you'd want me to do something interesting, like see if we can tap into some private security webcams and monitor exterior shots to keep tabs on Sapphire and the Wonder Twins ourselves."
"Private webcams? I thought the point of a webcam was to put the feed on the web. That's why they're called webcams."
"Naw, lots of companies use them internally. It's cheaper to jack $100 webcams into the existing Ethernet infrastructure than it is to maintain old-fashion broadband surveillance cameras. Nobody seems to mind that the quality sucks. And they're so happy they can replace a bank of monitors and proprietary switchboard with a couple of leftover desktops and a D-Link, they don't care if the occasional outsider gets through the firewall and uses the default passwords on those consumer devices to sneek a peek."
"You can do that?"
"No, but I met a guy at camp that can. It'll only take a couple of days. It's practically legal."
"Wow." This was better than Ricky had hoped.
"So you'll provide the artwork for this bold new beacon of justice, right?"
Ricky looked at his wall. "Yeah, I think I can whip something up."
Andrew sat glumly, watching an old Road Runner cartoon. He identified with the Coyote. Except that he no longer cared for the chase. He just wanted the anvils to stop falling.
"Oh, fuck. Andy."
Andrew was in no mood to see more auto accident photos. Chuck had been surfing the DOT database all night.
"Yo, Andy, I just got a message from upstairs."
Here comes another anvil.
"Boss is flying out tomorrow morning."
He didn't even have a parasol.
Much to Max's relief, he hadn't completely drained himself as he'd feared; though less than it had been, he still felt a warm intensity whenever he directed his thoughts at another, and he still seemed to hold sway over others' minds at will.
Indeed, he was capable of more than he expected. Unlike Sapphire, he found Val's mind almost as pliable as any other. Most of the time, anyway. Sometimes she was as impenetrable as solid rock, particularly when she set her mind to something. Apparently there were certain thoughts and feelings so deeply entrenched in her mind that nothing, not even the power of the amulet, could affect her. Ahh, the mystery of the female mind, he mused.
Now was one of those times.
Moments ago, Max had been enjoying the instinctive as well as the mysteriously-medicinal benefits of a coupling with his personal nurse and sex-kitten. They had both been completely naked for the first time -- except for her sapphire choker and his amulet necklace, of course -- and she'd just settled into a very satisfactory rhythm, her perky little breasts mesmerizing him as they jiggled up and down with the rest of her.
Then someone's body part hit a button on the TV remote. (He wouldn't have even put batteries in it, but his new houseguest had insisted; not here a whole day and already nesting.) And the little TV boomed to life just as a reporter uttered the name Gerald Bates.
Val seized up as if struck by lightning, suddenly stiff and lifeless. Max searched about the tattered old couch for the remote as best he could considering the limited movement afforded by his position. As the news reporter droned on -- Bates was released on parole under heavy police protection due to his infamy -- Val gradually returned to life; her eyes blinked, her face reddened, her features angled, her lip quivered. Her body remained motionless, but her hands began to clench. As did other things. Max felt her flex around him; at first he assumed she was trying to get back in the mood, perhaps with a more tantric technique, but as she continued squeezing more and more tightly he realized this was not a function of pleasure.
"Valerie," he protested. "Valerie." Still she clenched; her eyes far away and hateful. Max shook her. "Valerie!"
She looked down at him, blinking twice quickly to regain focus on the present. "I have to go. I have to get ready." She pushed off him roughly; Max felt a little chill, as if she'd taken a bit of him with her. He stood and followed her out of the converted meeting room and into the reception area. She was getting dressed.
And now Max found himself trying in vain to reason with a woman possessed.
"Where are you going?"
"You needn't concern yourself, Max."
"You are my concern."
"That's... sweet." Every movement was abrupt. Angry.
"Who is Gerald Bates?"
The name locked her up for a moment, but she finished slipping on her shoes and began stalking the offices, looking for something.
"Who is Gerald Bates?" Max repeated, following her to the corner office.
At the doorway, she turned on him suddenly, her face inches from his. "Gerald Bates is a wicked Fuck who's going to Hell," she spat, turning back to her search. "And I'm gonna make sure he gets there on time."
"This is not wise," Max cautioned her. But Valerie was having none of it. She pushed past him to the hallway, pausing to scan the contents of each small office. She was growing frustrated in her search.
"You will find no weapons here," Max offered.
"I'm looking for a phone book," she called back. And then she found one.
"Perhaps if you told me what this Bates did it would help me understand."
"You don't need to understand."
She thumbed to M - Museums.
"Perhaps it would help you choose a more effective response."
"Believe me, my response will be effective."
Her index finger underscored her prize: Oak Valley Military Museum.
Max gave her an inquisitive look.
"This isn't Texas. You can't just walk into any gun shop off the street and walk out with a pair of Nines. TJ used to brag about selling 'found' pieces to this docent named Charlie at the museum. If he buys, he sells. If not, I'll convince him to make an exception."
"If your intent is to inflict maximum damage, perhaps a .45 caliber Model 1911 would be more appropriate." Max himself rarely had occasion to carry, and when he did his needs tended toward small concealed-carry weapons, but his formal training had given him a basic working knowledge of what he would expect to find in the field.
"I've never fired anything but a .22 revolver and a Glock 17. I need something I'm comfortable with."
Valerie ripped out the page, and flipped to R - Restaurants. A second later she had the ad for GB's in hand. Max presumed the GB stood for Gerald Bates. Valerie made her way back out to the reception area, with Max in tow.
"With your... 'gift', it seems odd that you should want a gun."
"I'm just looking to get in the door with a minimum of hassle. More people understand the business end of a handgun than these." She flicked her bejeweled choker. "As for Bates, I intend to kill him with my bare hands."
Max recalled the image of Bates on television. He was not a small man. Max knew that even with the gemstones' fortification, it would take a good many blows from the lightweight Valerie to inflict lethal damage on a man of Bates' ample stature. And that was probably the point. There was no question she could do it. All that was uncertain was whether she would be given the chance. Barging in on Bates in public with a full complement of personal security and a police escort, as her whirlwind fury clearly intended for her to do, would hardly give her the luxury of a great deal of time alone with him.
"Let me go with you. I can help." If he couldn't control her, at least he could try to control those around her long enough for her to take her revenge.
"This isn't your thing." She picked up her purse.
"What is your trouble is mine." He blocked the outer office door, forcing her to stop. After all, she carried precious cargo. He needed to protect it. He tried not to think of his concern as anything more than that.
Valerie gave him a look of equal parts pity, annoyance, and appreciation. "Did I black out during the wedding?" she quipped.
She made a half-hearted attempt to push past him, but stopped when he did not relent.
"You will need me," Max insisted. Valerie paused. Something in his eyes convinced her he might be right.
"Fine. You can drop me off. Hurry up and get dressed." She walked out of the reception area across the warehouse floor to the rollup door and yanked hard on the chain. "I don't know how much good you'll be to me beyond that with that bum leg of yours..." she trailed off as she recognized that Max's leg was unbandaged and only a small dark scar remained. And he appeared to have lost his limp.
"My leg is fine. You are a very good nurse." He winked as he pulled up his pants.
Moments later, Max was behind the wheel. Valerie still seethed with barely-controlled rage.
Max pushed at her mind as hard as he dared. "Why will you not tell me what Gerald Bates did to make you this way?"
"Some things can't ever be told."