Chapter 31 - Arlene Part 10
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Copyright 2003
****
Section 10 - I Meet the Senator
"I really admired how you handled yourself last night in the contest," said
Kelly, "The way you helped the other girl was nice. You deserved better than a
beating."
"Those seem to come with the territory if you're a Pagan girl," I responded.
"You know Amazons don't have to put up with things like that. Ken wouldn't
have the nerve to touch one of us. If we did, we'd slowly cut his balls off and
shove them down his throat."
Kelly emphasized her point by reaching over to touch the bruises and bite
marks on my breasts. I felt my body tingle when her fingers brushed my nipple. I
sensed an unusually strong attraction between this Amazon vixen and myself. I
had a definite urge to get to know her better. But at the moment, I was too sore
and in too much pain to do anything but lay there. Still, for the first time in
a lifetime of searching for cock, I wanted a woman and her name was Kelly.
"What's your favorite food? Where do you shop? What kind of shoes do you
really love? What form of oral sex gets you off the quickest, the strongest?"
were some of the questions I wanted to ask. I held off not wanting to rush
things. For the moment, I was satisfied just to lay their naked beside her in
the warm sun.
The two of us along with other Amazons and Pagan girls were lying on the dock
at the Pagan's camp on Lake Winnipesaukee. We'd gone for a nude mid morning swim
and were now taking advantage of a sunny late August day to improve our tan.
We'd caught the attention of several boatloads of fisherman who drove over to
check us out. Some of the girls encouraged the fisherman by waving to them then
putting their heads between the legs of the nearest girl to simulate (hell,
Amazon's don't simulate) lesbian sex. We had some laughs teasing the men. And
they'd gotten a story they could tell even if they didn't catch any fish. When
the fisherman got close enough to see that there were guards on the dock
equipped with automatic rifles, they hit the throttle and sped away.
It was a little over two months since I became a female member of the Pagans.
The previous weekend Kurt informed me that next Friday night there was a
business meeting up at the Laconia camp and I was to come along. I wasn't
invited to attend any of the meetings. I assumed the agenda concerned the usual:
crime, drugs, prostitution, drugs, murder, drugs, and other felony crimes
related to drugs.
I didn't have any illusions why Kurt invited me to attend. I was there to
service his cock. Of course, if Serge needed a piece of my ass that was okay
too. Actually I assumed that since I was officially a member, any Pagan who had
a spare moment could mount me and relieve his tensions. But things were unlike
my previous trips to the camp. I could sense there was a different air about
this weekend's doings even before I arrived. Even for Kurt, the meeting must
have been serious because he refrained from his usual practice of swallowing
several packets of Crank before we drove up to Laconia. He didn't give me any
Crank either so I was in something of a funk as we rode up in the Lincoln
Navigator with the stereo blaring one of his favorite country music CDs. The
decision to take the SUV and not as we biker's called it, "two wheel it" told me
that sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll was not going in their normal top spot on the
program.
Friday night after we got there, I was introduced to the President of the
Pagans, Brady Summers. "Introduced" is perhaps not a wholly accurate term. Kurt
informed me that he and Brady were trading whores for the evening.
I was also introduced to the other half of the swap at dinner. I suppose I
should have felt flattered. A tall redhead named Simone who worked in Brady's
chain of strip clubs was going to be sleeping with Kurt while I did Brady.
Simone had a body that reminded me of one of those Vivid girls, you know the
ones who are considered actual porn stars and make a lot of money. Simone even
had those tiny barbells inserted through her nipples and labia just like Kurt's
favorite Vivid girl, Jenna Jameson. Watching porn, by the way, was about the
only reason that Kurt had a sixty-inch television in his bedroom. There were
XXX videocassettes and DVD's stacked everywhere. I'd spent many an afternoon
doing to Kurt exactly what Jenna was doing on the giant screen. One of the few
complements, Kurt ever gave me was "You suck cock just like Jenna."
I have no idea why Kurt and Brady decided to swap girls for the night. They
didn't consult me on their decision. It may have something to do with Kurt's
natural competitiveness.
"You're sleeping with Brady tonight," was all Kurt said.
"Who's sleeping with you?" I asked. Occasionally, for completely irrational
reasons, I got jealous over Kurt. Maybe it was the thought of another female
impaling herself on Kurt's glorious nine-inch cock that made me envious.
"I think her name's Simone. She works for Brady."
"Why the swap?"
"Since when do I need to give you a reason? You're Brady's tonight. Just fuck
his brains out"
I already knew that Kurt was the heir apparent for Brady's job should he
decide to retire or more likely be killed or sent to prison. I was never sure
how one became President of the Pagans. I know there is an election but I
gathered everyone voted for the person they were most afraid of.
Friday night was strictly social but subdued. Unlike your normal Pagan event,
it didn't get crazy. No one was riding around on their Harley drunk out of their
mind. The Pagan girls were not down on their knees sucking every cock in sight.
If you didn't know better, you have thought the senior executives of General
Electric had gathered for their annual strategic planning session.
I had briefly been introduced to Rhonda Powers, the President of the Amazons.
I'd describe Rhonda as brunette, tall, very tall actually, built like one of
those female weight lifters, and quite attractive. The word "striking" applied
to Rhonda's looks. Her body, which I saw the next day, when all we girls went
skinny dipping in the lake, was bronzed and ripped. Physically, she resembled
Cory Everson, the woman who won so many bodybuilding titles years ago.
At that time, I thought highly of Rhonda. I could tell from her body language
and the way she conducted herself, that she was not just a fuck toy like me. She
was a leader and the guys treated her like she was in command, which she was by
the way. Even Brady deferred to her.
There seemed to be a full turnout of Amazons. Everywhere you looked there was
some woman in Amazon leathers and tiger stripe fatigues toting what I learned
was a German made fully automatic submachine gun. When it came to weaponry,
money was never an issue for a Pagan or an Amazon. While I was chatting with one
of the Amazon guards, she showed me her Heckler & Koch Model MP5N. Later, at the
H&K Web site, I learned it was the same weapon used by the US Navy Seals, hence
the N in MP5N.
I concluded the meeting must be deadly serious. Perhaps the DEA had hired a
new "get tough" regional director.
There was one other thing that seemed odd Friday night. Earlier, when I was
outside enjoying the cool mountain air, I heard the sound of chainsaws coming
from about two hundred yards from the Main Lodge. Not having to suck anybody's
cock at the moment, I wondered over to discover about ten Pagans clearing the
trees off a good acre of ground. A bulldozer was ripping stumps out of the
ground then smoothing dirt over the hole left when the stump was removed. Serge
seemed to be in charge. I put on my "whore looking for a fuck" countenance and
approached him.
"What's this for?" I asked.
"Landing zone," was Serge's reply. I remember that Serge was in the Marines
and terms like "landing zone" were in his vocabulary.
"That's too small to land a plane."
"It's for a helicopter," said Serge with a look that implied I was a couple of
IQ points short of being an imbecile.
"When's the party start?" I needed to communicate that I really didn't care
about the Landing Zone. I just wanted to know when the Pagans would be ready to
fuck me.
"No party tonight, this is a business meeting," replied Serge. I guess there
is a sober side to Pagans.
Amazingly, a caterer's truck showed up with a nice dinner from one of the
local Laconia motel resorts. Everyone behaved in a most un-Pagan like manner. We
even had cocktails from an open bar. Cocktails, now that was shocker. The last
time I was at the camp, most of the Pagans who were not swilling beer out of
bottles were drinking from quarts of Jack Daniels or Jim Beam. When I saw Kurt
with a mixed drink in his hand, I looked out the window to see if any pigs were
flying by.
As I mingled with the small crowd, I picked up a lot of talk about the
activities of the DEA. There was also serious conversation about the increasing
difficulties of acquiring sufficient quantities of the ingredients needed to
manufacture methamphetamine. I gather some of the chemical ingredients are
highly corrosive and dangerous to handle. Pagans occasionally mention the names
of members killed when a manufacturing lab exploded. I guess "bigness" brings
its own set of problems.
There were also more than the usual discussions about members of rival gangs
being spotted in Pagan territory. When you have a drug business worth hundreds
of millions of dollars, it's only natural that competitors will attempt to gain
some of the market. However, the Pagans had not read Adam Smith's Wealth of
Nations, and did not believe that competition was good for the economy. They
were more than willing to kill to maintain their monopoly. The Pagans certainly
had their competitors in the drug trade. I had heard them mention Mongols, Hells
Angels, Banditos, Nomads, and Satan's Slaves plus others I can't remember. The
most serious rival was the Mongols who were a LA based Latino club that
supposedly had plans to move east and challenge the Pagans on their home
territory. I sensed a drug war was in the immediate future.
We all ate dinner without anybody getting sucked off under the table or a
single knife being pulled. Afterwards, we're sitting in main lodge having after
dinner drinks (believe me it felt so weird to see the guys from The Side Car
with a brandy snifter in their tattooed hand), when Brady decided matters were
too tame. Maybe he was trying to put Kurt in his place. Just when I had decided
someone had transformed the Pagans into the Boy Scouts, Brady made an
announcement.
"Let's have a cock sucking contest, Simone against your girl, Kurt." I was
used to the Pagans not remembering my name. There were guys at The Side Car I
fucked in ever hole I had four times over who couldn't remember my name.
"How about we start with a blowjob, then I'll ride the Hershey highway?" was
their opening gambit. I would have preferred "Arlene, how about a blowjob?"
Everyone thought a contest was a super idea. I wasn't sure my competing
against Simone was fair. I was an amateur blowjob artist but Simone was a
professional. She got paid to suck dick, lap dance, and fuck. She was also an
exotic dancer with an incredible body. Still, as usual I didn't have a choice in
the matter. My going along with the competition was a given.
The rules were pretty simple. Two teams of five guys would be selected on the
basis of drawing the five highest and five lowest cards from a deck. Someone
would yell "go" and the first girl, Simone or myself, to swallow five loads of
jism was the winner. Just when I thought I was doing this for the glory, Brady
tossed $3,000 on the table as a prize for the winner.
Personally, I think I won because I was lucky to get Pagans who were younger
and came quicker. On the other hand, I do give one hell of a hummer. I'd been
sucking cock since I was fourteen and it was something I really liked to do.
I've read several articles in Cosmopolitan about how to give the best head
possible. I might add I genuinely like it when a man has an orgasm while his
cock is in my mouth. Guys have told me that I have an incredibly hot mouth. Lots
of married guys have compared me very favorably to their wife, not favorably
enough, however, to offer to divorce the little lady and marry me instead.
A strong positive for me is that you can't really tell when a guy shoots cum
in your vagina or asshole. But in your mouth, you can definitely feel (and
taste) the male ejaculation. I like to experience the guy's cock jerking those
final pre-cum moments followed by the presence of body temperature cum flowing
into my mouth. Somehow it makes it all real and final when you swallow down
their essence.
Some of my college roommates hated the idea of a guy cumming in their mouth
and only allowed it when they were drunk or trying to impress the guy with what
a hot piece of ass they were. These were the kind of girls who sucked their
guy's cock until they got him to the altar then announced on the honeymoon that
they don't do that anymore.
In my case, I find the taste enjoyable. It's creamy with a salty flavor and
rather mild. Some guys have stronger tasting semen than others but compared to
other bodily fluids like piss, semen is downright yummy. For those girls who
consider cum in their mouths, a big deal, I can only say that the most even the
biggest stud ever squirted in my mouth was a couple of tablespoons. On average,
I'd say the normal guy produces two teaspoons. So what's the big deal with
imbibing that small amount of liquid, especially since guys consider girls who
swallow something special? When I was in high school and later college, I seldom
lacked for a Saturday night date; because the guy knew that if he took me to
dinner and a movie or dancing, I was going to drain his pipe just for starters.
They cleared a small area in the middle of the lodge for the contest. Even the
Amazons who aren't supposed to be interested in guy sex hung around. Maybe they
fantasized that instead of a cock in my mouth, it was their clit. Who knows?
That was the first time I noticed the little pixie blonde named Kelly that I
later fell in love with. Some of the Amazons were bi-sexual so I wasn't
surprised when she took a seat nearby. Before we got started, I was kneeling
down getting ready to soak my tonsils in cum when I looked over at her. She
smiled and I smiled back. If you can believe in love at first sight under those
circumstances, you're definitely a believer.
Each set of the five guys got naked and sat down on two couches across from
each other. The guys started stroking themselves. Let's face it, most guys love
to play with their cocks and having a crowd watching really encourages them to
handle their privates.
Simone and I stripped. Simone being a natural performer wanted to put on a
little pre-contest show so she wrapped her arms around me and we executed some
very torrid lip locks. We sucked each other's nipples. Simone's boobs were
augmented and felt heavy and unnatural to me. But when was the last time, you
saw a nude dancer with the tits God gave her?
Simone slide down to her knees and licked my cunt while I obligingly held my
labia apart so she could tongue the parts that did the most good. As soon as
she stood up, I knelt down and obliged her with several minutes of mouth-on-clit
action.
There were lots of hoots and hollers as I performed a muff dive. Pagan men
(and I would assume the Amazons) like to watch females perform homosexual sex.
It's very much a part of being a Pagan girl. I've only seen Pagan guys perform
homosexual sex on one occasion and that was under very unusual circumstances. In
fact, it was the very next day but I'll get into that several paragraphs down
from here. When Aunt Carol first mentioned that I would be expected to do a
certain amount of rug munching, as she put it, I had been repelled by the idea
but at the same time determined to do whatever it took to advance my career at
the newspaper. However, over time and having eaten more pussy than I could
remember in the last six months, I discovered that a woman's mouth on your cunt
is a very good thing. Being a woman, she knows exactly what feels good. I might
also add that for the most part Pagan men are too fucking lazy to eat pussy. In
all the times, we fucked, I think Kurt kissed me down there once and that was
probably a mistake.
Simone and I got in position between the first guy's legs. If we couldn't get
a guy to shoot right away, we could skip to the next guy and return later to
"Mr. I Can't Drop My Load". Brady yelled, "go" and we opened our mouths and took
in the first cock.
Without going into a lot of detail, I won quite easily. Simone's third guy was
her problem. I thought that my Number 4, whose name was Ernie might be slow to
shoot since he looked to be about eighty pounds overweight with a tiny cock
protectively hidden by a large roll of belly fat. However, Ernest surprised me
by painting my tonsils in about the time a thirteen-year boy would pop for the
school's head cheerleader. When I had my fifth contribution of man paste resting
securely on my tongue, I looked around to see that Simone had transferred her
mouth to Number 4 but Number 3 and Number 5 were still seated on the couch.
A cheer from the crowd signaled my victory to Simone who looked up from Number
4. I don't think losing the contest meant much to Simone. Three grand wasn't big
money to a girl who probably cleared several thousand tax-free dollars each week
from tips and prostitution. Simone smiled at me and extended her hand for a
congratulatory handshake. I wrapped my arms around her and gave her a snowball.
The crowd got real quite as Simone and I let semen coat our lips and cheeks as
we passionately kissed. I broke the embrace and made an offer.
"Let me help you finish."
Simone responded by kissing me again. She returned to Number 4 and I went to
work on Number 5. Number 5 was a quick shooter and I finished him just as Simone
got a mouth load of Number 4. We did some more highly visible semen swapping.
The crowd had gotten into the action. Scattered about the room were Pagan girls
with their holes filled. Some of the Amazons had dropped their jeans and were
busily working their clit.
Kelly had pushed her combat tiger stripes down to her knees. Two fingers of
one hand were spreading her labia while fingers of her other hand were doing a
360 around her clit. There was a bottle of Astro-Glide sitting on the table
beside her. I remember thinking how beautiful and sexy she was with her pants
down to her knees and her little love button poking out.
I let me eyes linger on her lovely body. We made eye contact and I guess it
was lust at first sight. Kelly, the only woman I ever loved (well maybe I love
Denise a little) and the one who turned out to be my undoing.
That left Simone's Number 3 sitting there looking highly embarrassed. I guess
there is a risk for males in that kind of contest. Number 3's name was Ben and
he was a Side Car regular. I'm not sure why Simone hadn't gotten him to pop. Ben
had screwed me several times and I didn't recall a problem. Maybe he was tired
or had the flu. Boys have their moments when they just can't force their little
soldiers out into the world
Feeling a certain loyalty to the group that collected at The Side Car, I
nudged Simone and said, "Let's do him together." Simone proved to be my kind of
girl. We pulled Ben off the couch onto the carpet where we both could work on
him.
We lifted his legs up so we could lick his asshole as well as his cock. Men
love it when you tongue fuck their butt. Ben relaxed his sphincter and opened
right up so we could take turns. Simone bent his legs back to where he could
practically kiss his knees. That allowed her to tongue his asshole from the top
while I worked up from the bottom.
Two wet tongues lashing his anus reversed Ben's inability to get hard. After
thirty seconds of being the recipient of a dual rim job, he had a boner that
looked about to burst.
We made him eat some pussy just as a way of showing his appreciation for the
additional effort we were going to. Ben had a full beard so that tickled and got
Simone and I laughing as we licked his ass and nuts while one of us deep
throated his now very hard cock. In a matter of moments, Ben served up a nice
load of jism that Simone and I once again shared for the benefit of the crowd.
For the finale, Simone pushed me on my back and went down on me. I climaxed long
and loud then returned the favor by slowly eating Simone to orgasm. I was laying
there in recovery mode when Brady spoke up.
"Big day tomorrow, let's turn in," announced my club president. He was
probably unhappy because Kurt's entry in the cock-sucking contest won. I quickly
dressed and grabbed my $3,000 off the table and stuck it in my pocket. That was
equal to a month's take home pay.
I looked at the clock and saw it was only 11:00PM. Wow, I remember thinking,
maybe the Pagans are going corporate.
I followed Brady to his cabin where all he wanted was a blowjob. I suspect a
guy with a chain of nude dancing clubs could actually get bored with sex. He
finished quickly. As I was about to curl up in Brady's king size bed (rank has
it privileges) there was a knock on the door and a tall black haired Pagan stuck
his head in the door.
"Brady, can you send her my way when you're done," said Brady's head of
security and second in command, a Pagan named Ken who had a nasty reputation
especially when it came to women. I'd never actually met Ken but some of the
girls had told me what a prick he was.
"I'm done now, take her," replied Brady. Being a Pagan girl is definitely not
for a woman who needs re-enforcement of her self-esteem. You are a fuck-toy and
nothing but a fuck-toy. I climbed out of bed and re-dressed. What I didn't know
was that Ken and Kurt liked each other about as much as those pit bulls that
Kurt liked to watch kill one another.
Ken saw the opportunity to get his hands on Kurt's woman of the moment and
cause her pain. I guess he figured that would piss Kurt off. It wouldn't make
Kurt mad because of me but because slapping me around showed you weren't afraid
of Kurt Lambert. I know that doesn't sound right but it's a male ego thing and
women never quite understand how that works.
I got dressed and followed Kurt. There was a golf cart right outside. He
motioned for me to get in and we drove a half-mile to a cabin that was set off
from the others. As it turned out, the reason he took me there was that he liked
to hurt women during intercourse and it was far enough away from the other cabin
that no one would hear my screams. As I discovered, Ken especially liked to hurt
a woman that was for now considered the property of one Kurt Lambert.
Of course, I didn't figure any of this out until the next day. I am so damn
stupid, especially about men.
We walked in and Ken began our lovemaking by punching me in the stomach. It
was a full force right in the gut blow that slammed me up against the wall.
"I like it rough," snarled Ken as she pushed my tank top up above my tits and
grabbed my nipples between his thumb and forefinger for a vicious twist. He put
his knee against my mid-section to hold me upright while he tried to rip my
nipples off. You'd think after several months with the Pagans I'd be used to
violence for foreplay. I'd been spanked so many times during intercourse I
almost considered it normal. The truth is you never get used to being slapped
around and beaten like a dog.
My body was focused on bring some air back into my lungs. One hundred percent
of the air previously occupying them had been forced out when my diaphragm
snapped upward in response to Ken's fist. My nipples were on fire and I didn't
have any air to scream with.
I had a moment when I mentally questioned whether Ken's definition of "rough
sex" allowed me to slam a knee into his balls. I discarded that idea figuring it
would result in my immediate death.
I finally got enough air back to scream and then start pleading for him to quit
hurting me.
"Don't hit me again," was all I managed to say before an opened palm slap rang
my bell. I got dizzy and almost lost consciousness. I could taste blood in my
mouth.
Ken threw me on the bed and ripped my jeans off. He straddled me and started
slapping my face as I cried and begged him to stop. I took a couple of straight
punches to my boobs that hurt so badly I wanted to die. Being punched in a tit
by a two hundred pound muscular biker makes a girl wish for a double mastectomy.
Ken took a break for a minute to strip his clothes off. Then he climbed between
my legs and pushed inside my dry hole causing me to scream in pain. He had a big
cock and he had put a very nasty French ticker on while I was busy trying to
breathe.
The Pagans are into French ticklers. I'll even admit they can be fun if
you're in the mood, already been fucked a couple of times and need a little
extra sensation to get you off. I've had some very explosive vaginal orgasms
when those little rubber nodules are stimulating the walls of my cunt. But there
are ticklers used for pleasure and there are another kind that come from Mexico
(or so I am told) that are intended to cause excruciating pain to a part of a
woman's body that is the last place you want it. Reno told me that the Mexican
Federal Police had them made to aid in the interrogation of prisoners.
I thought someone had stuck a buzz saw in my pussy. I reared up so far when I
felt my vaginal walls being scoured that almost managed to throw Ken off me. He
responded by slapping my face again. I saw stars and almost passed out. It felt
like he had wrapped his dick in a Brillo Pads. The next morning when I woke up,
I found the damn thing on the floor. It was covered in sharp one-inch spikes of
hard rubber. It was also covered in my blood.
So what does Arlene do while Ken is fucking her with a tickler made in hell.
She screams, pleads, writhes, chokes, cries, sobs, and begs for him to stop. And
just in case, my cunt was not causing me enough agony, he kept delivering the
occasional slap or digging his fingernails into my nipples and twisting them to
see if they were removable.
I tried to fuck him to take his mind off beating me to a pulp. I pulled him
into me and started pumping his cock although it hurt like hell. Being punched
does not get me lubricated so his rubber clad cock felt like sandpaper as he
went into me. He spent some time chewing (and chewing is accurate and
descriptive) on my breasts. They were covered with bite marks the next day. For
the next few minutes, he repeatedly slapped and punched me as he fucked my
pussy. Finally, he finished, rolled off and went to sleep. Every part of my body
was on pain. I lay there and sobbed myself to sleep.
When I woke up it was after 9:00AM. Ken was gone, Thank God. I staggered back
to Kurt's cabin where my luggage was stored. Kurt was leaving as I arrived.
"What happened to you?" asked Kurt.
"Ken," was all I replied.
Kurt looked real pissed. I could see that the good Kurt was giving way to the
psycho Kurt. I remember thinking, rather hoping that Ken was a dead man and
that Kurt would take his time killing that bastard. If Kurt would hold Ken down,
I would have been more than happy to slice Ken's nuts off with the K-bar that
Kurt used on those solemn occasions.
I gingerly climbed into the shower. Simone wondered in and sat on the commode
to take a piss. She took one look at me and shook her head.
"Ken do that?" asked Simone, somehow she knew. Simone may be an exotic dancer
who lived off her pussy but she wasn't stupid.
"Yes," was all I managed.
"Bastard, he loves to hurt women, he put my friend Suzy in the hospital. He
knocked out all her front teeth and broke her jaw."
On that basis, I suppose I was lucky. I took a nice long hot shower. Simone
joined me in the shower stall and we fooled around a little. Outside of a few
bruises and contusions, I wasn't really injured. My boobs felt the worst but no
one was going to stick anything in my pussy for a while. Fortunately, unlike my
mother, I don't bruise easily. Simone gave me some painkillers and that helped
me get my day started without too much soreness.
So there I was half asleep lying on the dock in the warm mid day sun when I
heard the sound of helicopter approaching. I came up on my elbows and watched
as the large twin rotorcraft descended onto the Landing Zone that Serge's crew
had cleared last night.
"Jesus, who's that?" I was genuinely curious. I'd never heard that the Pagans
had a helicopter. And this wasn't some little two seater. It looked like the
kind the President flies to Camp David.
"I'm not supposed to say," whispered Kelly who was lying right beside me. So
far, all we'd done was rub sun tan lotion over each other. Of course, that got
us both worked up. But Kelly was on guard duty and couldn't leave the dock area.
Otherwise I suspect we'd gone to a cabin for some serious girl sex.
I must have looked disappointed because Kelly immediately went on.
"You promise to tell no one."
"Cross my heart and hope to die." Sometimes when we girls are naked and it's
just us girls, we like to be silly.
"I could get in real trouble if anybody found out I told you."
"Mum's the word." I did the key thing indicating my lips were locked and
sealed, even sillier girl stuff.
"That's Senator William's helicopter."
"I am such a big fan of hers. I'd love to meet her," I said working to hide my
intense curiosity why a US Senator would attend a meeting of one of the
country's most notorious criminal organizations. When I think of all the things
I'd done to become a Pagan and the compromises and changes I undergone just to
learn whether there was a connection between the Pagans and the Senator, it was
amazing that I controlled my urge to jump up and shout "Eureka". I kept my cool.
"You won't be able to get near her. Rhonda would shoot you for even trying."
"Well, maybe some day, I'll meet the great lady. By the way, Kelly, I really
like you. Maybe we could have dinner some time."
"That would be great. I'll call you next week." I gathered from her reply she
was just as interested in me as I in her. The fact that I had decided to take my
time and not rush things with Kelly proved how serious my interest was in her.
If she had been someone I was just attracted to sexually, I would have said,
"let's go find a cabin and eat pussy," but from the start, Kelly was different.
Someone announced lunch and we wandered over to the picnic tables where a
really scrumptious lunch was laid out. Normally, the Pagans idea of lunch was
hamburgers and chilidogs. But the main dish was a fresh Salade Nicoise and there
were little finger sandwiches plus fresh brewed ice tea. I decided the presence
of the Senator and the Amazons was responsible for the change in faire.
After lunch, we all went back to sunbathing and most of the girls fell asleep.
Because I was slightly bruised and the word had spread that Ken had beat the
crap out of me, Kelly insisted I sit in a chaise lounge while all the other
girls were lying on the hard wooden surface of the dock. I tried to go to sleep
but Simone's painkillers had worn off and I was hurting too much to nod off even
in the warm sunshine. I was trying to read a Daniel Steele novel but I was too
sleepy to read and in to much pain to sleep. Kelly was sleeping right beside the
chaise. I kept looking down at her body wondering what it would be like to kiss
those beautiful thighs. Suddenly, something out on the lake attracted my
attention.
The lake had been pretty empty, mostly sailboats gliding by in the final days
of summer. School starts early in New England so things were quiet. I watched
four powerboats come into view. Even though they were over a half-mile away, I
could hear their engines, as they appeared to be moving at full throttle across
the center of the lake. I decided they were probably some kids water-skiing. I
did some water-skiing years ago on that very same lake so I decided to take a
look.
Rita, one of the Amazon guards had left her binoculars on the edge of the
chaise. She had decided that the heavy Zweiss field glasses were a little too
much to lug around on a warm summer day when nothing was likely to happen.
Casually, I picked them up and focused on the speedboats.
As I brought the field glasses to my eyes, I realized the powerboats had
gotten much closer and seemed to be heading right at us. I watched them a moment
before I raised the glasses. It took me a minute to focus the glasses in the
right direction. When I managed to get the glasses trained on the lead speedboat
I saw that it was full of men with guns and that two men were on the forward
deck aiming a machine gun in my direction. It was a real machine gun. The kind
that sits on a tripod where there's a metal box with a belt of ammunition
sitting beside the machine gun.
"Kelly, are we expecting some people to arrive by boat?" I didn't want to
panic and make a fool of myself. Kelly raised her head and looked out at the
boats that were getting closer. She sat up and took the field glasses from me.
"Fuck, " was all she said as she dropped the glasses and jumped up grabbing my
hand to pull me up.
"Run, Arlene, we're being attacked, everyone get in the trees," shouted Kelly.
All the sleeping women started to move. Amazons and Pagan girls know that when
someone yells, "run"; they'd better get their asses in gear. I heard a far off
chattering sound and saw the wooden decking of the dock begin to disintegrate.
Several women screamed as bullets tore the boards to shreds. Kelly and I ran
naked toward the woods as bullets buzzed around us. For those of you, who've
seen the first ten minutes of "Saving Private Ryan", I can only say that's what
it was like. A good half dozen Pagan and Amazons girls did not make it off that
dock alive. Another half dozen were wounded. I was running for my life when I
passed a wounded Amazon sitting on the deck holding a handful of her intestines.
Just as I reached her, a bullet blew her head apart showering blood and brains
all over my right side. I screamed and ran faster.
As Kelly and I were about to reach the shore, Simone who was running in front
of us, stumbled and fell as the deck exploded in front of her feet. I fell right
over the top of her and rolled. When I looked back, there was Simone screaming
and holding her leg. There was a piece of wood embedded in her thigh. I grabbed
Simone and pulled her upright but she couldn't stand on the wounded leg.
Instinctively, I threw her over my shoulder in a fireman's carry and ran the
final few steps off the dock and into the trees where I found a large pine tree
that we could both hide behind. Bullets were splattering tree bark and I was
temporarily blinded when some got in my eye. Thank God I was able to clear it
although it left me a nasty scratch on the cornea that took days to heal.
Kelly reappeared wearing only a Kevlar vest and carrying her MP5N. There is no
sexier sight on earth sexier than Kelly clad only in a bulletproof vest carrying
a submachine gun. I can still get wet remembering her dressed like that. I
heard gunshots coming from the direction of the main lodge followed by some loud
explosions.
"DEA," I yelled to Kelly. I just had the thought that I might be on the wrong
side in a shootout between our nations law enforcement and the Pagans. Therefore
I would either die in the attack or spend the rest of my life in prison for
being there.
"No, not DEA, Mongols, I think," replied Kelly shaking her head as she aimed
and fired her H&K.
"I got one," squealed Kelly after she squeezed off a short burst, "Shit. I'm
almost out of ammo."
Kelly and three of the Amazons plus some armed Pagans were engaged in a
firefight with several dozen of the Mongols. Shattered pine bark and tree limbs
were raining down on us. I was naked trying to comfort an equally naked Simone
who was in a lot of pain. I had to stop her from getting up and running away.
"We can't hold them here, fall back toward the lodge, I'll cover you." I heard
someone shout. I turned around and there was one Rhonda Powers firing a very
large machine gun with a belt of ammunition wrapped around her shoulder. She
tossed a bag of 9MM clips to the Amazons who reloaded and went back to firing
toward the dock. Rhonda looked like something out of one of those Men's Combat
magazines except she was female and lesbian. Rhonda's long burst of machine gun
fire silenced the attacking Mongols for the moment. Rhonda gave you the
impression that holding and firing a fifty-caliber machine gun was nothing out
of the ordinary.
Kelly told Simone and me to get started back toward the lodge. She and the
Amazons would cover us but only for a few seconds.
Simone could now walk if she leaned on me. We left the protective giant pine
and ran for our lives as bullets whizzed past us. Whether it was because I
didn't know the camp's terrain as well as I should have or it was the result of
being scared out of my mind, Simone and I got separated from the others.
Luckily, after a while, we seemed to be moving away from the firing.
Simone announced she couldn't go further so we slipped down in a muddy gully
to rest. I decided to stay there until I had a reason to move. I tried to use
some of the water from the stream at the bottom of the gully to clean the blood
off me but I only succeeded in making matters worse.
It sounded like a war was being conducted around the lodge. I heard several
loud explosions. The firing from the direction of the lodge would intensify then
drop off. I had no idea how much time passed before the shooting became
sporadic.
I began to thing seriously about two questions. Was it over and who won? If it
was the Mongols and they eventually found us, we were good as dead. Simone
wasn't bleeding all that badly. I decided not to try and remove the wooden
splinter. According to the ER doctor, that was a very good decision on my part.
While I wondering how two naked women covered with mud were going to fare in
the woods, I head the sound of someone running in our direction. I put my finger
to my lips to tell Simone to stay quiet as I poked my head out of the gully.
"Shit." There were two Mongols running directly toward us. They were stopping
at odd intervals to fire back at their pursuers. My first thought was that if
the Mongols were on the run that was a good thing. My second thought was that if
they happened upon Simone and I hiding in the ditch, they'd shoot us.
Right as the Mongols reached our gully, I heard the chatter of a submachine
gun and the Mongols tumbled in right on top of us. One Mongol was obviously dead
since most of the back of his head was missing. That really freaked Simone out.
She let out a screech and fainted dead away. The other Mongol was perforated in
several locations but still moaning. I reached down and grabbed the gun out of
his hands in case he decided to take Simone and I with him to Mongol heaven.
I heard a noise above me and looked up to see a tall blonde dressed in
fatigues and wearing a baseball cap cradling an MP5N in her arms.
"Don't shoot, we're Pagans," I shouted dropping the gun I'd taken from the
wounded Mongol.
"I gathered that," said the blonde as she jumped in the ditch.
"The Mongols wore clothes," she said as she took the wounded Mongol's head in
her hands and snapped his neck. She did it so effortlessly and with such
casualness, it sent a chill down my spine.
I detected a slight movement behind her in the ditch. I looked past Blondie
and saw a Mongol aiming at her back.
"Look out," I screamed and pointed.
In a blur of movement, Blondie whirled around and blew him away. It was
inhuman how fast she moved. The Mongol died with a look of shock and surprise on
his face.
At that moment, Rhonda Powers and four Amazons arrived.
"I wish you wouldn't run ahead, you know we can't keep up," said an out of
breath Rhonda.
"I didn't want any of them to get away," said Blondie.
"We found five vans and a pickup truck down near the cutoff onto our road.
That's for those that came in from the highway. We took care of the drivers,"
said Rhonda.
"Thanks, Candace Williams" said Blondie looking at me and extending her hand.
I managed to get my act together enough to mumble, "It was just an involuntary
reaction. I'm Arlene Fairchild. That's Simone."
"Well, Arlene, Let's get you and Simone back to the Lodge," said Candace.
"Simone's got a piece of wood in her leg, it's from the dock," I replied.
"You must have been sunbathing when this started," replied Candace.
"Yes, I managed to get off just in time."
"Lois, Tina, give Arlene a hand. Take them back to the Lodge. Rhonda and I are
going to do a final sweep of the area."
Candace and Rhonda took off at dead run with two of the Amazons. The other two
helped me get Simone out of the ditch. We had to take turns carrying her back to
the Lodge.
When we got there, the place looked like it was a war zone. Wounded were
screaming for help. A Pagan was walking around putting a bullet in the head of
the dead Mongols just to be sure. There were four cabins nearest to the Lodge on
fire and no one was trying to put them out. The front porch of the Lodge was
shot to pieces. There was blood all over the patio deck. They had just managed
to put a fire out in the Lodge itself. There were bodies everywhere. As we
approached the Lodge, we came upon a large group of dead Mongols. I quit
counting at twenty.
A couple of the Pagans were EMT's and others were trained as corpsmen in the
military so they were taking care of Pagan and Amazon wounded on the patio right
outside the Lodge. I spotted Kelly in the distance. I was glad she was okay. She
had found some fatigue pants but her upper body was clad only in a bulletproof
vest and you could clearly see her breasts. That's another hot image I keep in
my mind and only take out when I masturbate.
The fact that Simone and I were buck-naked didn't seem to matter. Let's face
it, Simone stripped for a roomful of men several times each day. And every Pagan
still alive had watched me suck off a burro and screw a couple of Dalmatians two
months ago when I joined.
I left Simone with the wounded and ran over to my cabin. It hadn't burned but
the front windows were shot out. There was broken glass everywhere and I had a
tough time getting into the bathroom without slicing up my feet. Since I was
covered in mud and blood, I had to shower. No one had shot a hole in the hot
water tank therefore I was able to clean the half inch of caked dirt off me in
record time. I dressed in jeans and a tank top and ran back to the main lodge.
Except for one cabin, the fires were burned out and it appeared some order was
being brought out of the chaos. Brady Summers was seated in a patio chair with
his arm bandaged. He looked like he had been through hell. I saw Serge walking
away and ran after him to ask about Kurt.
"He's pretty badly shot up. They're arranging to get him to a hospital along
with the other wounded," said Serge who was walking away from the Lodge toward
the Landing Zone. I could see the big helicopter sitting there looking
untouched.
"Where are you going?" I asked Serge.
"Get the Cat to dig a hole for the fucking Mongols."
I realized the "Cat" was the big bulldozer, I seen him ridding last night
clearing the stumps off the Landing Zone.
"Where is Kurt?" I repeated my question. All right, Kurt was criminally
insane, a psycho killer who let anyone who wanted me climb aboard but he did
have a nine-inch cock that could get harder than steel and he and I were in some
kind of relationship. Sometimes, I think the greatest weakness of women is their
willingness to stand by their man regardless.
"He's in the Lodge with the rest of the wounded. He's probably not going to
make it. I'm going to kill every fucking Mongol in the world for this."
I ran back to the Lodge where I found Kurt lying beside the other wounded.
People were screaming in pain. There was Rita, the Amazon whose field glasses I
used, with her hand blown off sitting in the corner holding a tourniquet around
her upper arm. She had the bloody stump elevated on a footstool. Ever so often,
she used her good hand and teeth to loosen up the tourniquet to let some of the
blood flow. Amazons are one tough group of women.
Kurt was laying on the floor unconscious. He had been shot in the chest and
both legs. He was deathly pale. Someone had bandaged his wounds but there was
blood seeping through the bandages.
"Arlene, can you go with the wounded? We're short handed." I heard a voice
behind me that I recognized. When I turned I saw Rhonda, Brady, and Senator
Williams looking at me from across the room.
"Sure, Kurt needs to get to a hospital or he'll die," I said as I hurried
over.
"Agreed, you're in charge of the wounded. We're going to send you with them to
the place we use. I just contacted them and they're expecting you. Here take
this and give it to Doctor Adams when you arrive. Tell him, we'll wire transfer
the rest," said Brady handing me a large canvas bag.
"Serge said you were smart and could be trusted. You helped Kurt take care of
some business a month ago," said Rhonda. Now the coded phrase "takes care of
business" or "TCOB" as the Pagans liked to abbreviate it, meant that you had
participated in some heinous act of murder or torture or both where the Pagans
had extracted revenge for some wrong. I suppose they were referring to the
murder of Rose and Tony Petrillo. Yes, I'd help Kurt take care of business.
Pagans can get a "T.C.O.B." tattooed on their arms after they kill someone for
the club. Kurt had it tattooed on his shoulder.
A half hour later, I was taking my first ever helicopter ride. In my lap was a
canvas bag containing $1million in bright new one hundred dollar bills. I was
seated up front right behind the two pilots, both Amazons. Rita, the Amazon with
the missing hand was on the floor beside me with her stump resting on my thigh.
I had one hand wrapped around her making sure she stayed upright. My clothes
were already covered with blood from helping load the wounded onto the
helicopter. Even though it was a large helicopter, every spare inch was crowded
with people leaking blood on the carpeted deck. Outside of the pilots, I was the
only non-wounded person aboard. There were moans and the occasional scream
coming from the wounded when the helicopter hit a pocket of rough air.
We flew northward for about an hour. I can read a compass. The hour gave me
time to think about my situation. I had just witnessed possibly the largest and
most deadly shootout ever between rival motorcycle gangs. At the time, I
suspected upward of fifty people died.
Later, I found out the death toll was eighty-seven Mongols, nineteen Amazons,
and twenty-one Pagans. As far as the Pagans knew, all the Mongols had been
killed or captured. Seven Mongols including two Mongol girls who drove the vans
had been captured. While I was in the Lodge getting the wounded ready to leave,
I saw the captured Mongols on the other side of the room.
They had been stripped and tied up. Male Pagans were busy screwing two of the
Mongol men in the asshole. That was the only time that I ever saw Pagan males
engaged in homosexual acts. I suppose it was their way of showing the ultimate
in disrespect.
They were tied across two coffee tables in a way that left their assholes easily
accessible.
The other three male Mongols had their hands cuffed behind their backs. There
was a strand of piano wire looped around their balls and the other end of the
wire was attached to a beam in the ceiling. The length of the piano wire kept
them standing on their tiptoes. I figured that by Sunday night, those five guys
would be castrated and dead. I learned afterwards that the Pagans suspected
that the Mongols had a traitor inside the Pagans who tipped them off about the
business meeting. It was Rhonda's job to interrogate the captives to see if they
knew whom the traitor was.
Based on my own later experience, I can only imagine how horribly they died.
One of the guys at the Side Car later told me that he had watched Rhonda peel
all the skin off the Mongol girls. I gather it was done in front of all the
Pagans and Amazons who were there at the time of the attack. It was the club's
form of a quasi-public execution. I remember how he described it.
"It was very interesting. I didn't know you could peel the hide off a human
just like it was a rabbit or a chicken. Rhonda used the same type of skinning
knives that the Indians used to skin a captive. She started up a gas grill. That
kept the knives red hot. She would use a knife till it cooled off then switch to
a hot one."
"The Mongol bitch was scared shitless when the Amazons brought her out and
hung her up to a ceiling beam. She had big titties and a fat ass. She and the
other Mongol cunt had been fucked all night. The Amazons had worked on their
holes with special toys. Her twat and asshole were bleeding. Rhonda started with
two long cuts down each side of her spine from the top of her shoulders to the
crack of her ass. Every time that hot knife began to peel her hide off, she
screamed like a banshee. The cuts weren't deep. Rhonda used a special flat knife
to scrape the skin off. She worked from back to front, slowly taking the entire
hide off but keeping it in one piece. Rhonda did the same with the legs. She
made a vertical slit that stated at the bottom of her wide ass and went all the
way to the soles of her feet. Rhonda has a talent for that sort of thing."
"You could see all her muscles and the blood vessels. People look strange
without their skin. When Rhonda was finished, there wasn't an inch of hide or
hair left on that girl. The skin that covered her pussy peeled away from her
hole. I never saw a skinned pussy before. It was awesome."
"Rhonda cut her face off so she couldn't close her eyes. Hair and scalp came
off real easy and natural like. Eyelids went right with the kisser. She
carefully worked the hide off the Mongol bitch's tits. Nipples came off and you
could see the glands that produce milk for babies. She looked like one of those
posters you see at a health club showing where all the muscles are located. I
guess she'd had a baby recently cause her tits were huge and the glands were
full of milk. You should have heard her scream when that hot knife touched her
and the skin came off. Tits look especially weird when the skin's gone. Ever
time, Rhonda peeled off anther strip, that girl would yell lungs out. Rhonda
kept a half dozen of these long bladed skinning knives heating in the charcoal
brazier. They were red hot when she pulled one out. The skin came right off. It
was something to watch."
"When Rhonda was done, the girls hide was in one piece. Everybody applauded
Rhonda's work. Rhonda put the skin in one of those Rubbermaid barrels full of
some kind of preservative. I was told that a couple of days later after the hide
had cured, they stuffed it full of those little Styrofoam peanuts they use for
packing boxes and made kind of a doll out of it, like they were doing taxidermy.
Gina saw it and said you could still recognize the girl. The skin was covered
with Mongol tattoos. Rhonda had them put it in a cardboard box and FedEx to the
Mongol's clubhouse in Los Angeles. I'd love to have been a fly on the wall when
the fucking Mongols opened that box."
"What happened to the other girl?" I asked not really wanting to know.
"Rhonda brought out a power washer and started it up. It peeled the hide right
off her. It was educational to compare how the Indians used to skin someone
versus what you could do with a power washer. Technology can certainly make a
difference. Inside of fifteen minutes, there wasn't a patch of skin on the
second Mongol girl. Rhonda then gutted the two of them like a deer. They were
still alive looking down at their guts hanging out. They died after a while."
I didn't ask what happened to the captured male Mongols. I didn't want to
know. I did hear that Rhonda took them somewhere for an extensive interrogation.
I bet they welcomed death by the time Rhonda was done with them.
I don't think they ever found out whether there was a traitor. I doubted there
was one. Pagans are incredibly loyal to the club. I thought it more likely they
had been observing the camp waiting for the right weekend to attack. After we
arrived Friday night, they took until Saturday afternoon to get organized for an
attack. Kurt made an observation about the Mongol's timing.
"Stupid Mongols should have waited until dawn Sunday. They would have
slaughtered us."
An issue I put aside was what I was going to tell the newspaper about this if
anything. I saw the possibility of a Pulitzer Prize. I also saw the possibility
for dying an agonizing death like the captured Mongols. I shoved the Manchester
Union Leader out of my thoughts for the moment. I had agreed to stay at the
hospital with the wounded for a few days. I'd call David on Monday to tell him I
needed to take the week off to be with a relative who was being operated on. He
grudgingly agreed I could take it as vacation. I had to promise him that I would
get a blood test while in the hospital. When I had the results proving I was STD
free, he would come over to my apartment for an afternoon of sex.
"I miss pissing in your mouth and fucking you," was the way he so gentlemanly
phrased it.
The strange thing was that I was beginning to feel more loyalty to the Pagans
than the newspaper. Hell, I now had a pretty exciting life. It certainly beat
pounding out obituaries and wedding notices for the paper.
As it turned out, I didn't get back to my place for a week. The hospital was
right across the border in Canada. It was a private hospital that over the years
had developed a relationship with the Pagans. If a Pagan or Amazon was seriously
injured and the club wanted to keep the police from becoming involved, they
shipped the wounded Pagan to the Adelphia Hospital in the city of St. John,
Province of Nova Scotia.
Adelphia was a first class private hospital that was outside of Canada's
national healthcare system. As a result it was expensive as hell. It was also
well staffed and equipped with the latest medical technology. Only one of my
fourteen died. It was Ben; the guy that Simone couldn't get to cum. Ben had
taken a bullet in the brain. Doctor Adams showed me the damage on the X-ray. He
traced the path from the hole behind Ben's left ear to where it ricocheted
inside his skull causing his brain matter to look like it had gone through a
blender. There was really nothing to be done. Doctor Adams and I decided to take
him off life support. I hope he's in some Pagan heaven remembering the great
blowjob that Simone and I gave him.
Kurt lived to continue to be a menace to society. He walks with a slight limp
that even intense sessions of physical therapy couldn't correct. I consulted
with Doctor Adams on all aspects of each patient's care just like I was their
closet relative. The $1million turned out to be only an initial bribe to the
good doctor himself. The Pagans had to wire several million more dollars to the
hospital's account to pay for patient care.
I talked to Rhonda each day about her Amazons were progressing. She was
something of a mother hen where they were concerned.
"Make sure they have fresh flowers in their room every day, and get them
anything they want to read, magazines, books, and if they don't like the food,
have whatever they want catered if the doctors say its okay," were among the
many instructions that Rhonda gave me.
Money was no object when it came to getting them the best medical care. Rita,
the one who lost her hand was transferred to a clinic in Dallas, Texas that was
the leading facility in the world for fitting prosthetic devices. I had to
arrange for an ambulance to take Rita to a nearby airfield where a private jet
picked her up.
Doctor Adams gave me the VIP treatment. He should have. Hell, I'd just handed
him $1million in cash. One of the nurses took me to a guest suite normally
reserved for the relatives of sick rich people. I took my role as the one
charged with caring for the wounded seriously. I borrowed a clipboard from
Doctor Adams' administrative assistant. I wrote down each patient's name, room
number and kept a running account of his or her status. I visited each of the
thirteen live patients at least three times a day.
When Rhonda called, I would go down through the list patient by patient.
That first night I didn't get to bed until 2:00AM. All I had gone through that
day finally hit home and I collapsed as soon as my head hit the pillow.
During the week I stayed at Adelphia, I did manage to meet my goal of screwing
a doctor. In fact, I wound up in bed with Doctor Phelps, the head of surgery who
operated on Kurt, a cute Indian anesthesiologist named Doctor Rajit (who was
marvelous at eating my pussy) and a nurse practitioner named Lisa Motherwell
that made me think of Kelly. But not all at once, I behaved myself and acted
like a lady. I also let Doctor Adams screw me several times on the couch in his
office. He was too busy to ride the elevator up to my room. Hospital sex was
pretty good and one can do some interesting things with those beds you can
adjust. Even Kurt was well enough to want a blowjob before I left.
By the following weekend, only Kurt and an Amazon named Kendra were still
there. Kendra had been shot in the abdomen and several important organs were
punctured. Kurt was supposed to stay for at least another week. Kendra was going
home the following week. I gave Kurt a final blowjob and promised to return the
following weekend.
When I'd gotten on the helicopter that Saturday night, Senator Williams handed
me $10,000.
"For out of pocket expenses," was all she said as she stuck the money in my
purse. I did have to buy clothes and a plane ticket home plus flowers,
magazines, meals, and an ambulance ride for Rita. But when I got back to my
apartment the following Sunday, I had over $3,000 left. A week later, I got a
FedEx letter containing another $5,000 and a thank you note from Rhonda Powers.
Later at the Side Car, I learned that Serge dug a large pit with the Cat then
filled it with gasoline and dead Mongols. They burned the bodies for several
hours before they covered them up. The fiberglass powerboats were too badly shot
up to do anything with. Terry salvaged the engines and he and Serge buried the
hulls. The bulldozer certainly came in handy that weekend. The Mongols vans
were driven to Terry's Automotive and cut into spare parts.
I was amazed that something involving the death of over a hundred humans could
be kept out of the media. Families of Pagans and Amazons were given anywhere
from $500,000 to $2million to ignore the fact that their loved one was never
coming back from their weekend in Laconia. Of course, if you're related to a
Pagan or an Amazon, you long ago accepted the fact that one day they wouldn't be
coming home.
I suppose the bereaved were told something like the following.
"Here's $1million to help you grieve over your lost. By the way, if you open
your mouth about this, you will be joining your loved one."
You would have thought the disappearance of so many Mongols might cause a
ripple but not one I ever heard. All the Mongols I saw looked Hispanic. I
suppose they just weren't missed.
I decided to say nothing about the weekend's events to the Manchester Union. I
thought it strange that David hadn't asked for a progress report for several
weeks. Maybe the paper was losing interest in Senator Williams. David did get
his STD free fuck. I passed the blood test with flying colors so I could spend
an afternoon drinking his pee, sucking his cock, taking it up my ass and eating
a cold hamburger and greasy fries. Wow, what a great job I had.
When I got back to my apartment, there was a message on my answering machine
from Kelly. I called her back and we set up a dinner appointment.
When I returned to work in Monday, I did a search on "Mongols". Not
surprisingly all over New England, they were being hunted down and killed. Two
had been shot dead in Pawtucket, Rhode Island the previous night. A gang war was
in progress. That was obvious. When I pulled up to the Side Car that night,
there were several Pagans out front with shotguns.
I was given some minor credit for foiling the Mongol attack. Simone and Kelly
had told everyone that I was the one that first spotted the incoming powerboats.
Simone as it turned out wasn't hurt badly but the presence of a small scar
pissed her off mightily. The powerboats were supposed to arrive just as the
Mongols who came by van were to attack the main Lodge. Everyone agreed that the
Mongols hadn't counted on the presence of so many Amazons.
"Stupid bastards didn't figure that the Senator's body guards would be there.
And then of course, there was the Senator herself," was what Reno told me when
we were having a beer at The Side Car.
"I saw Senator Williams kill three Mongols, she seemed incredibly fast," I
replied. The idea that a US Senator and a female could kill like that fascinated
me.
"Arlene, you don't know the half of it. She's something beyond human. I bet
the Senator sent twenty-five of the dead Mongols to Hell all by her lonesome.
Somehow she got behind the bunch attacking the Lodge and blew most of them
away."
"How could she do that? Was she trained by the CIA or something?"
"Damned if I know. Terry thinks she's one of those genetically modified
people. Remember that old TV show, The Six Million Dollar Man. He thinks that
some secret government agency created her and that she has superpowers. Of
course, there's another rumor why she's so fast and strong."
"What's the other rumor?"
"She sleeps with the devil. Satan himself is her daddy and her lover. When Old
Nick's not around, he sends her freaks to play with. I heard she screws this
crippled soldier at the VA Hospital who hasn't got a face but does have a
fifteen inch cock."
At that point, I had a difficult time not breaking into gales of laughter.
Pagans are given to believing in UFO's, alien abductions, and crop signs. Your
average Pagan considers crop signs as proof positive there are aliens all around
us. Some of the New England Pagans are also into the occult. I had to remind
myself that we were only about fifty miles from Salem, Massachusetts and Wiccan
is possibly the next most predominant religion after "no religion" among the New
England Pagans.
I decided that while the Senator's reflex are faster than average the Pagan
male had trouble admitting that a woman might be able to fight better than a
man. Therefore rather than admitting that women are good for something other
than a fuck toy, they ascribed the Senator's capabilities to some weird
government project or the supernatural. The male ego is a fragile thing.
One final note, Ken didn't survive the attack. There was some mystery how he
was shot in the back of the head while firing toward the Mongols. It was
probably a ricochet, too bad.
