Here's some more from Chapter 17. It's about 6,000 words. It's rough. It's being posted way-before it's ready. Enjoy!
EIAAOIFs
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Chapter 17c
Vivian's eyes darted, alternating between the amber and green symbols glowing from her Tac-com's display and the winding driveway to which the gadget's readings led. Her stomach churned-- sour, dull, insistent. The ill feeling radiated from deep in her belly to every part of her body. The clothing around her waist and under her arms was soaked with dank sweat. The chilly dampness shocked like ice against her skin whenever she moved. It began after lunch. For hours, she hoped the sickness would wane. Now it was worse. She used every tactic she could remember from months of training, to wrest her weakness and agony, struggling to keep them undetectable.
Barry's voice interrupted her concentration, “Put the 'com down, Viv... Just follow the driveway.”
Her mouth tightened. Another convulsion wrung her insides. She gave a little nod, acknowledging the foolishness of her awkward actions. “Sorry, sir. I just...” She started, too embarrassed by her own stupidity to continue.
In her peripheral vision, she saw a warm smile from the Director. “It's okay, soldier. I understand. You've had your eyes glued to that thing for over an hour. Those little blips start to feel like friends.”
She felt the corners of her mouth rising a little. Director Schon always said what she needed to hear. It was his greatest talent-- to persuade anyone into smiling.
She guided the truck up to the largest building of the complex, slowing and then stopping just next to a small door set apart from the high loading docks. Barry had already slid from the truck and was walking to the building. Vivian snatched her Tac-com from the dashboard and pushed her door open. She slid from the seat. Her boots hit the pavement with a thud. The sudden movement left her dizzy.
The screen of her Tac-com glowed with fine orange vectors, assembled to represent the outline of the great building. A sharp green symbol winked above the precise amber geometry, indicating the location of the blind sister's wheelchair, far away, in the rear of the largest building.
“They're in the back?” Barry was at the door, holding it open, gesturing her approach.
Vivian nodded. “Looks that way, sir.” She circled the front of the truck and held up her Tac-com, showing the readings to Schon.
He nodded toward the door. “Ladies first...”
She turned her eyes down and smiled. “Thank you, sir.”
Schon's hand caught her shoulder as she started through the doorway. She looked up. His forehead was wrinkled, head skewed to one side. “You... don't look so good, soldier. Lunch still bothering you?”
Vivian smiled again. She shrugged. “I'm fine.”
Barry removed his hand from her shoulder and peered into the building, nodding. “Okay, then. Let's go.”
They traversed the gaping warehouse, passing through the receiving area, weaving around towering stacks of pallets scattered between the rows of burly steel shelves that flanked the aisle. They reached a door at the other end and entered, finding a long, narrow, door-lined corridor which stretched to the rear of the building. They proceeded, Barry looking ahead, Vivian's eyes glued to the screen of her Tac-com. Suddenly, the device chirped a soft sequence of tones.
“I think they're in there, sir.” She pointed to the door just ahead of them. “In the rear of that room.”
Barry stepped over, pulled the handle, and swung the door open. “Josh?” he called through he doorway. No reply. Barry shrugged and said, “Ladies first...” He nodded toward the room, smiling. Vivian returned the little grin and stepped through the doorway.
It was dark inside. Above her head, a red blur plunged from the darkness. She ducked and spun in place. The red whisk arced as she revolved, passing inches from her face. She reeled back and swept her right arm up to halt the weapon. Her fingers locked around the handle the handle of the ax. She jerked it from her attacker's grip, cast the weapon aside, and whipped out her pistol. “Freeze!”
She stood, legs bent, arms extended, chest pounding, eyes narrowed, aiming the dull black heft of her forty-five at the outline of a frozen figure cloaked in shadow.
The lights came on. Barry's hand receded from the switch next to her attacker's shoulder. She kept Joshua Berman's forehead in her sights, heart still bumping her ribs, chest rising and falling with deep, rapid breaths.
Barry's voice entered her ears, calm and soothing, “It's okay, soldier... You can put your weapon away.”
Berman stood still, palms shaking, raised above his shoulders. His mouth quivered into a sheepish half-smile. “S-sorry. I-I didn't know who was... The uniform... I'm a little jumpy.”
Vivian lowered her pistol. She bent at the waist, resting her hands on her thighs. Her breaths slowed. Tiny beads of sweat bubbled through the pores of her upper lip. Her head was floating. Her eyes labored to focus. They became fixated; entranced by the irregular form of her own shadow as the floor swayed beneath.
She heard the two men talking to each other. Their words knotted into a muddy tangle. Her ears failed further. Their voices disappeared. Quiet. Then, a small sound, a sonorous little drone growing louder from the back of her mind. It was a single note, familiar, sweet in timbre, crooning irresistible comfort. Her shadow moved. Gravity seemed stronger, urging her to settle on the floor, pulling down on her eyelids.
Bottomless black. The pressure of the floor vanished. She floated, tethered by the presence of the only feature left-- that single, sustained note. It was smooth and round, bright along its edges from fleeting hints of consonant overtones. The sound was beautiful, feminine, like the lowest voice of an ebony flute, excited by constant and limitless breath. She could see it, petal-white, stretching to infinity, either end shrinking into the limitless black. The pitch stayed the same, but the line of its shape began to waver and twisted in soft, lazy curves. It drew closer from all sides, coiling around, caressing her skin with tingly warmth wherever it touched. She could feel its movement, sliding around the contours of her invisible surface-- a living, flat ribbon of glowing silk. She could smell it; wet, sweet, organic, soothing, familiar-- She gasped. Her eyelids crept open.
She looked to her right. Her pistol lay on the floor, just beyond the reach of her fingers. She looked down. Her arms hung down from her shoulders, limp. Her torso rested upright in perfect balance. She was seated, cross-legged on the floor. She looked to her left. In the foreground, a flaccid hand dangled level with her brow. A wheel-- bound in thin metal spokes-- filled the background.
“What did she tell you?” came from her right. A woman's voice. “What did she tell you!?!” the voice asked again. An angry woman, shouting.
Vivian blinked. The quilt of unconditional calm was slipping away, leaving her exposed to ache and sickness once again. Her eyes darted to the floor, searching for her gun. It lay beyond, between the toes of dark brown shoes. Penny loafers. She could feel the floor again. She leaned toward her gun, reaching. She snatched it, and spun against the smoothness of the floor, laboring to direct her torso toward the loafers and the person who stood in them. Her eyes climbed, following the person's height. They stopped at the woman's face. Its bitter scowl began to melt, sagging into a mask of fear.
It was one of the sisters. The one with the long hair-- Heather Osterholm, the medical specialist. Vivian's eyes darted down alarmed by movement.
The loafers retreated-- one slow step each. Vivian looked up again, sighting along the barrel of her gun. Heather's palms were raised. Her head shook. She said, “I-I'm sorry... Please, don't shoot.”
Vivian kept her aim on the woman's head as she rose to a standing position. Her legs quaked. Her boots skidded and settled. The floor swayed. Her voice was gravelly, as if riled from a deep sleep. “You're going to tell me what just happened.” She struggled, lifting the weight of her left hand to rest on the top of her forty-five. She gripped and cocked the slide, sending a sharp clack into the stillness. “Now!”
Heather stammered, palms still raised, backing further away. “I-I don't know. I asked you... because I... I don't know. I'm sorry.”
The walls and floor weaved, their motion slow and sickening. Vivian closed her eyes, guarding against the nauseating sight. She heard Heather's voice, “You should s-sit down. We both can-- Together.” Vivian nodded, eyes still shut. Her legs folded. Her left hip and shoulder hit the floor together, followed by a thud from the left side of her head.
#
Simone remained a few paces behind. She followed her sister through the tree-lined avenues of the neighborhood where the Ace and her husband lived. She glanced to each side, wary of threats, finding nothing but quiet, orderly rows of lavish homes to either side. Their windows were dark or soft yellow with lamplight, some tinged with the flickering white of television. The residents settled into their evenings, safe and secure behind their sturdy, locked doors.
Simone spoke softly, the first words that she had uttered since they had stashed the Lambda blocks away, “So this Sarah... She’s doing pretty well for herself?”
Silence elapsed for a few steps. Claire replied, “You could say that.”
Simone's jaw tightened. She held a silent wince at the tone of her sister's voice. The Genius' pain was obvious. Simone continued in silence, a meter behind her sister, scheming to lift Claire's mood. The Genius' melancholy was a danger to them both. After another fifty paces, she cleared her throat and asked, “How much further is it?”
Claire pointed ahead, indicating a cross street marked with an elegant metal sign hanging from a wrought-iron post. “About two thousand feet.”
Simone grinned to herself. She seized the opportunity, reaching out with a compliment, “Your precision is breathtaking, Genius.”
Claire's head shook. She continued to look forward. “That’s not precision-- It’s accuracy.” The words were tight, but a little more animated.
Simone recognized the opening and pushed into it. “Well, then what’s precision?”
The Genius' shoulders rose from the slow inflation of a deep breath before she answered, “Two thousand three hundred and nineteen feet would be precise... About two thousand is merely accurate.”
Simone broke into an uncontrollable smile. She had reached her dear Genius sister. “Aki finds that adorable, I'm sure.”
Claire shrugged. “I guess.”
Simone stepped a little faster, reaching Claire’s side as they proceeded. She glanced over, finding the remnants of a melting smile at the corners of the Genius' lips. “So, what's eating you, sweetey?”
Claire's hands swung at her sides, matching the rhythm of her legs. Her fingers fanned a little as she started, “I'm rotten. Always have been. I'm weak.” Her tone was brighter than Simone expected.
“You do what you need to... in order to survive. You're obeying the law of nature. It's--”
Claire interjected, “And society has a code of laws that supersede nature... For good reason-- To protect honest citizens from people like me... Us.”
Simone chuckled. “Listen... Sweetey,” she started. “You've been gulping pure adrenaline for almost a day straight... And you chased it with a liter of Russian depressant--”
Claire snapped. “That doesn't excuse what I did!” She turned to Simone, face taut with anger.
Simone maintained her smile, shaking her head. “No. It's not an excuse... But it explains why you feel so down. Your body and brain need rest.”
Claire's shoulders sank. Her expression softened and then sagged. She resumed her forward gaze and sighed, “You're right.”
“You see? I'll bet you're feeling better already, just knowing that.”
“I guess,” Claire replied, grinning ahead. “Considering I just stole some poor guy's car, ruined his evening, caused his insurance rates to go up... I'm doing just peachy.”
Simone snorted, “Come on... It's his fault for owning such a sexy little machine. He has to expect that it'll get stolen... You don't think that someone who could afford a car like that could afford a rate-hike for his coverage?”
“For all we know, he could barley pay for it. Maybe it was a dream of his, to own a Lambda. Maybe he's dying, and dumped every cent that he has on one last chance at happiness. We ruined it.”
“You're being a tad melodramatic--”
“What if that was my car? And someone stole it? Would you be all 'she can afford it' then?”
“No, I'd just get you a new one-- It is just a car, sweetey.”
“To you... and me... Maybe for someone else, it was a dream come true.”
“If that's their dream-- owning a racy theft magnet-- then they got what they deserved.”
Claire huffed, “What about the airplane? Did the person who owned that get what they deserved?”
“I-I don't know Claire.” Simone backed-off a little, cursing herself for going too far. This was delicate business, helping the Genius. “I'm sorry... Let's just drop it.”
“What about all the people you've killed? Did they deserve what they got? And their families-- Did they have it coming too?”
Simone remained quiet for a few moments. She stared down, watching her boots progress next to Claire's, trying to match her sister's steps, fighting the incursion of her emotions with each stride. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes. She drew a breath and they retreated. She uttered, “Checkmate.”
Claire stayed silent, giving only a nod to Simone's admission.
“Claire, I-” Simone stopped and then restarted, “Claire, You're a good person...”
Claire huffed.
“I'm making you do evil things. I should keep a distance from you... For your sake. I'm--” Simone could not find the words to finish.
Claire sniffled. She raised a hand to her eyes and pulled it aside, flinging a little stream of liquid to the road. “You aren't evil. We're all guilty of something...” Claire sighed, “My list just got a little longer today.”
They walked another several hundred feet, drawing closer the street of Josh and Sarah's home. Simone fought the distraction of welling emotion. She took a few deep breaths, focusing on her situation and surroundings more with each. She needed to stay sharp. They were both far from being safe. She said, “You really should try to perk up, you know.”
Claire huffed, “Why?”
“You're being selfish... That's why.”
Claire sneered. “Am I bringing you down? I'm so sorry. You're right, I should be all smiles and giggles when fleeing the murderous arm of a shadow government.”
“Cut the shit. Okay, sweetey?” Simone narrowed her eyes a little. “Am I the only one of us who's thinking about her? ...You're going to be with her soon. She's going to be so happy to see you, and you're going to ruin it. You'd rather sulk around-- punishing yourself for a bunch of crap that she won't know or care about once she's in your arms.”
Silence elapsed.
Claire chuckled. She smirked, saying, “You're right, of course.”
Simone jutted her chin a little, cupping her ear, grinning. “Hmm? What was that, sweetey?”
Claire grinned. “You're right. I need to cowgirl-up. I'm being selfish. It's not her fault that I'm a degenerate. I'm going to be happy to see her. She needs to know that. She's what's important-- I love her.”
Simone felt herself cringe at the Genius' last sentence. She closed her eyes, swallowed her emotions, and forced herself to ask, “You love her?”
Claire nodded. “Yeah. I do.”
Simone gulped again. “Did you ever tell her?”
“Not really. I've been kind of afraid to admit it.”
Simone reached to Claire, resting the tips of her fingers on her sister's shoulder. “Y-You should tell her, sweetey.”
Claire looked toward Simone, giving a small smile. “I will.”
Simone slid her fingers from Claire's shoulder and slipped them back into the pocket of her trench coat. She remained quiet, continuing next to Claire for another hundred feet before asking, “Have you learned anything? Since you found out that you're special? Since you found out you're the Genius?”
“Yeah, a few things.”
“Tell me.”
Claire paused before responding, “I’ve watched too much TV.”
Simone chuckled, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Ideals... The way that they’re sold to us... It’s wrong.”
“Sold?”
“Humans see things. When they see something that other people have, then they want it too.”
“That's nature, sweetey.”
Claire shook her head. “What if people are bombarded with an unnatural number of unrealistic, unattainable ideals? The human brain still has that basic avarice... But it can't properly deal with the amount of perfection. We're left longing for things that can never exist... Think of all the advertisements that have the perfect couple, on the perfect beach, having the perfect life together, saying perfect things to each other... It's tripe. It's poison. The result-- Everyone's unhappy all the time, and no one seems to know why. Humans aren't equipped to deal with that much constant, unreachable, perfection, all at once.”
“We aren’t human, though.”
Claire shrugged. “Maybe not, but we’re still programmed to expect too much from life.”
Simone smiled. “I don’t expect anything unrealistic.”
The Genius tapped her chest. “I do... At least I think that I’m honest enough with myself to know it.”
“This is about her, isn’t it?” Simone raised an eyebrow. “She looks like your perfect match to me...”
Claire shook her head. “This is about us.”
Simone turned away. “We should shelve that idea, sweetey.”
Claire sighed, “Us as in the Endeavor.”
“Oh.” Simone resumed her forward gaze.
“And us as in you and me.”
Simone stopped, reaching across to snag the Genius’ shoulder, halting her as well. “Listen, sweetey... Your ideal is waiting for you at that vineyard.” She forced a sweet smile. “Don't fuck that up.”
Claire’s face sharpened. Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not going to fuck-up anything... And you’re going to lose that phony smile-- Now.”
Simone's eyes narrowed. She met the attitude by reflex, “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
“Your commander.”
Simone looked down, realizing the irrefutable truth. She replied, “Yes, you are.”
Claire’s voice softened. “And, I'm your sister...”
Simone nodded, still looking to the damp pavement between her boots.
“And you-- You're my best friend.”
Simone looked up. She the corners of her mouth stretched into an involuntary grin. “Thank you.”
Claire nodded, giving a tight, firm smile before turning back toward the direction of the Berman home. She stepped away, leaving Simone to catch up.
The Spy scurried, stepping up to Claire's side, rejoining the journey.
The Genius turned to her, asking, “So, where's your ideal?”
“Don't have one.” Simone shrugged. “Never will.”
“You don't think you'll ever find the right person?”
Simone gave a small grin toward the pavement. “Oh, I'll find her. Then she'll come to her senses and leave. They always do.”
Claire's head shook. “You've got it backwards... The right one'll be the one who stays.”
Simone reached, taking Claire's hand in hers. “I love you, Genius.”
The Claire's fingers squeezed tight for a moment and then relaxed. She nodded, blushing, looking away. She whispered, “Same here.”
Their arms swung together until they reached the base of the steep driveway of the Berman home.
Simone slipped her hand from Claire's and reconnoitered the property. After a few moments of scrutiny, she declared, “Looks safe... Let's go.”
#
Claire applied her ingenuity and tools to pick the simple lock of the garage door. Her sister muscled the door up far enough to allow both of them to slip underneath. Once inside, they made their way to the rear of the garage. Claire reached for the knob of the interior door which led into the home. It was unlocked, allowing her quick entrance into the Berman home. She led the way and stepped into the hall.
A high-pitched sound squealed from the other end of the long corridor. Claire spotted a glowing alarm system panel set into the wall and dashed for it. She tapped a few spots on the little square screen and the electronic shriek stopped.
The Spy's voice came over her shoulder, “Good thing you've been here before. We don't need the cops showing up.”
Claire turned to Simone giving a smirk. “I just punched in Sarah's birthday-- zero-four zero-three zero-three... It was a guess.”
Simone's eyes rolled. “Thank Goddess that you're smart-- and they're idiots... A birthday-- Real secure.”
Claire rolled her eyes. “No kidding.”
“I'll bet they haven't changed it since they moved in either.”
“I doubt it.” Claire pointed over her shoulder. “Josh's office is behind us.” Claire smiled as a notion entered her head. “I'll bet we already know his BigNet terminal's password.”
Simone snickered and turned to enter the room behind them. Claire followed.
“Let's find out the address.” Claire dropped into the leather swivel chair behind the glass-topped desk. She rolled the seat closer to the table and began leafing through invoices, searching for an address.
“Just call them, sweetey,” Simone said from the opposite side of the cluttered room.
Claire looked up from the pile of yellow and pink papers. “But, we'd give away where we--”
Simone interrupted, “They're on the lam-- They could have split already.”
“Wouldn't Cecilia let us know?”
“Assuming she has the strength... You remember how painful it is when she does that? It hurts her a hundred times worse.”
“I-I didn't know.”
Simone smiled. “That's why I'm telling you, sweetey. Use that terminal to call them.”
Claire nodded and set the stack of papers back onto the desk. She swiveled to face the machine and started typing. “Last time I was here, Mike showed me how to spoof BigNet address IDs,” she said, fingers busy at the machine's keyboard.
Simone looked up from a trinket in her hands. “Who's Mike?” She set the brass and glass item back onto the desk.
Claire continued to type, eyes remaining fixed on the pale glow of the display. “Aki's brother. He's a top-notch cracker.”
The Spy smirked. “I see...” She picked up the stapler next to Claire's right hand and unfolded it's base. “Did you know that there are five ways to kill someone with one of these?”
Claire glanced away from the screen, regarding Simone. “Not surprising... Coming from you.” She gave a little grin and resumed her work on the terminal.
Simone clicked the stapler a few times, sending tiny forked missiles across the room before closing it and returning it next to the keyboard. “I'm kidding, of course... Staplers are pretty harmless... Tape dispensers, though-- They're another story.”
Claire grinned and snorted in amusement. She finished typing and leaned back in the chair, folding her arms, looking to the screen as her call to Josh's M-lync established.
#
Josh filled with dread as he heard the chirp of an incoming call emanating from his waist. He reached down and unclipped his M-lync, turning it toward his face, forcing his eyes to examine the unit's display for the identity of the caller. His brow wrinkled at once.
“Who is it?” the Healer asked, looking up to Josh from the floor, Vivian's head resting in her lap. She looked down again and blotted the soldier's forehead with a damp white cloth.
Josh's brow furrowed. “It's... I don't know. There must be a glitch.”
Barry stepped closer. “Glitch? What does it say?”
“It's saying that I'm calling myself.”
The unit chirped some more.
“You'd better not answer it.” Heather looked up again from her unconscious patient. “It's probably a trap or something.”
Schon leaned closer to Josh's side, joining him in the examination of the display's strange contents. He shook his head, keeping his eyes on the display. “That's fucked up, man.”
The unit chirped again.
Josh asked, “What if it's Sarah? Or Claire? Maybe they're trying to warn us.”
The unit continued its shrill little chirps.
Barry sighed, “Just answer it. We can probably deal with the consequences.”
“Probably!?!” Heather's eyes widened. “Your storm trooper is out cold! We can't deal with anything!”
Barry looked to the Healer. His mouth spread into a warm smile. “Please, Ms. Osterholm... We're going to be fine. Just let me handle this.”
The phone chirped again.
The Healer blurted, “You're going to get us all killed, you stupid ape.”
Barry held his smile. He replied in a gentle, authoritative tone, “Ms. Osterholm, please calm down. Goddesses don't resort to primitive name calling... It's beneath them.”
Josh snorted, “It's not beneath that one.”
The Healer's face twisted with rage. “How dare you, you--”
“See what I mean?” Josh rolled his eyes.
Barry's smile faded. He pointed to the M-lync. “It's a moot point now. It stopped ringing.” He walked over to where the Healer sat cradling Vivian's head in her lap. He crouched and reached out to touch the soldier's face. “How is she?”
The Healer grimaced. “Her fever's dropping.” She looked down and blotted Vivian's face and neck.
“What's your diagnosis, doctor?”
Heather's lips curled in. She drew a breath and answered, “Food poisoning... If what you told me was true.”
Barry nodded. “Is she going to be okay?”
“Maybe.”
“Should I get her to a hospital?”
“If it means you'll leave and take her with you, then yes.”
Barry's eyes narrowed. “Ms. Osterholm, do you even know why you're free?”
Heather stayed still for a moment and then shook her head.
“My superiors wanted to sell you and your sisters. I didn't want that to happen. Neither did Lieutenant Teixeira. We came here to help you.”
Heather looked down again to the washed-out weakness resting in her lap. She patted the cloth along Vivian's hairline and sighed. She looked back to Barry and whispered, “Thank you.”
Barry started to stand, grinning to the Healer. “Don't thank us yet... We're all in deep, hot water. Someone's going to turn up the gas soon--”
Josh's M-lync started chirping again.
Barry turned to the sound, saying, “Just answer it, man.”
Josh nodded and opened the cover, answering the call. His face relaxed as he recognized the calling party's face. “Claire!”
“Hey, Josh,” Claire's voice buzzed from the unit's speaker. On the screen, her face settled into visible relief. “Where are you guys?”
Josh lowered his voice a little, replying, “At my vineyard. Sarah and Aki and the other one are heading for my house.”
In the display, Claire's face tilted a little. “You got split-up somewhere?”
Josh sighed, “I didn't want them to go.”
“I don't understand--” Claire's voice and the image of her face tightened with agitation.
“Aki though that you'd be at my house. Sarah's driving her and the other there right now. Where are you?”
Claire's lips stretched into a broad grin. “At your house.”
Josh returned the smile. “They should be there any minute. When you see them, tell Sarah that we'll be there soon.”
“Sure. So, what's the deal? How'd you get everyone free?”
Josh shook his head. “I didn't. It was Sarah... And Aki. They convinced a friend of mine to release them.”
Claire nodded. “Listen, we'd better drop. See you soon.”
“Okay.” Josh smiled. The screen of his communicator blanked.
Barry knelt next to the Healer. “I'll take the Lieutenant to the truck. You and Josh can help your sister.”
Josh moved over to Cecilia and unlocked the wheels of her chair. “Where're you parked?”
Barry groaned as he stood, lifting Vivian's limp body, shifting for balance. His words were short with exertion, “In the front.”
#
With the Genius taking a shower, Simone snooped through the cabinets of the kitchen, searching for coffee and filters. She loathed the idea of drinking the dirty brown water, but knew it would help to boost her sagging energy. She removed a promising plastic cylinder from one of the cupboards and popped its lid free. The aroma made her smile. She pulled a filter-pillow bulged with coffee from the tube and placed it into the brewer on the counter below. She sat by the machine, listening to the little rumble of its pressure tank charging, waiting for the first scalding jet to sprinkle into the carafe. She glanced at the green numerals glowing from the nearby face of the ultrasonic oven. The Ace and her party still had not shown. She decided to check on her sister, leaving the brewer to its task.
She headed from the kitchen into the hallway. The door to the bathroom was open. She continued on and stopped outside the closed door to Josh and Sarah's bedroom. She called out, “Claire? You in there?”
“Yeah... I'll be out in a second,” came from the other side.
“What're you doing?”
"Nothing... I-I'll be right out.”
Simone sighed. “Come on, sweetey, I put on some coffee.”
“Do you promise not to laugh?”
”Huh?”
Claire's voice echoed through the wooden door, insistent, “Promise me that you won't laugh.”
Simone rolled her eyes. She sighed, “Fine. I promise.”
The door crept open. Simone watched Claire take a few wobbly steps onto the plush carpet that lined the hallway.
She took a few more careful steps, teetering in a pair of expensive-looking shoes; glossy black leather pumps with thin, high heels. A pair of smoky stockings stretched around the curves of her legs and disappeared beneath a dark hem at mid-thigh. The outline of her hips and chest pressed into the supple black fabric of an ill-fitting designer dress. The pale skin of bare her arms and shoulders led the Spy's gaze to the Genius' face. Her lips were caked in red and her hair was combed back, still damp from the shower.
Claire gave Simone a timid half-grin. “Please don't laugh.”
Simone shook her head, scanning Claire from bottom to top once again, drawing a deep breath. “Y-You look... Wow, I mean...”
Claire turned away, blushing, lowering her eyes.
Simone gulped. “Goddess, Claire.”
“I look stupid, I know.”
Simone shook her head, unable to verbalize a retort.
“I-I'm going to find something else...” Claire turned to re-enter the bedroom.
“No,” Simone said, reaching out, her fingers clamping the heat of Claire's bare shoulder. “Stay like that.”
“It's not me.” Claire shook her head.
The Spy smirked. “No, it's not...” She slid her hand from her sister's shoulder. “...But you want to look good for her, right?”
Claire nodded looking to the floor with her arms across her chest.
Simone forced her eyes closed, shielding herself from the alluring collection of fabric and shapes standing inches from her. She uttered, just above a whisper, “Mission accomplished,” and then walked away, toward the kitchen.
#
Aki followed Sarah through the front door. She set her bags down on and wriggled free from her sneakers and jacket. Natalia followed suit and they carried the fruits of their last-minute shopping from the foyer and into the living room. Aki dropped her bags. She froze at the arresting sight that awaited her. “Nushi?”
Claire stood in front of the fireplace, her hands clasped together, danging in front of her abdomen. She smiled, looking down, stepping closer, her ankles wobbling from the impractical height of fashionable shoes. Her square hips bobbed as she went, their angles hugged by a sleek black dress. Her lips were caked with a heavy smear of scarlet, her chin-length hair was free from its usual messy ponytail, now parted to one side and combed straight and neat.
She stopped a meter away. Her eyes rose from the unsteady shoes to meet Aki's astonished gaze.
“Y-You look so--” Aki started, inching closer. She forced her eyes from Claire's slinky, feminine outfit, bringing them to hold the Genius' pupils. “For me?”
Claire closed her eyes and nodded, smiling. “I look stupid--”
Aki snatched Claire's wrist and yanked her across the room toward the sofa. She pushed the Genius toward the couch with all of her strength, sending Claire backwards onto the cushions before pouncing on her prey.
She wedged her body in between Claire's thighs and groped her way up. She pressed her lips to the Genius' in a deep, hungry kiss. She tasted sweet vodka and tobacco. Her glossed lips glided against the wet, sticky rouge coating Claire's. Through her T-shirt, she could feel strong hands running the length of her back, forcing her closer, pressing her mouth tighter. Aki parted her lips reaching to lick the velvet red paste on Claire's, wriggling her tongue between them, begging entrance.
Claire's mouth opened. Aki pushed her tongue inside, sliding against Claire's before calming within the delectable captivity of soft lips and gentle suction. Aki moaned, setting aside the aggression of her lust, surrendering to the tender, nibbling vacuum that cherished and savored the tip of her tongue. Claire's hands slide down the small of Aki's back. The Genius' fingers slipped beneath the elastic of Aki's panties and groped further to cup her bottom.
Aki snaked her arms between the sofa and Claire's shoulder blades. She hooked her fingers around the hard muscle of the Genius' shoulders using the grip to pull herself closer. Claire continued to tickle and tease, suckling, squeezing, pulling and kneading.
Suddenly, Claire's mouth retreated. “We cant...” she panted, “Not here... They're in the kitchen.”
Aki's own breaths were rapid and deep as she responded, “I don't care.” She forced her lips against Claire's once again. Her fingertips curled into the Genius' shoulders, her short nails digging into the supple, toned musculature.
Aki slid her mouth lower, smearing Claire's chin and then sliding down to her neck. She nuzzled the sensitive skin and drew in a mouthful, sucking, noshing, biting, her insides tingling at the vibration of a deep moan from the Genius' throat. Powerful legs twined around hers, locking their bodies together. Claire's hands continued to fondle and claw from behind.
A sudden noise from the kitchen caused Aki to jerk upright, gasping, panting. “Guest bedroom,” she said between heavy breaths. She wriggled free of Claire's limbs and started a brisk walk to the hallway which led to a more private atmosphere.
She looked back to see Claire padding down the hall in twisted stockings and a crumpled, sweat-dampened designer dress.
Aki stopped at the doorway to the bedroom. She pointed. Between gasps she managed to say, “Bring those shoes, nushi.”
Claire stopped and broke in to a sudden grin. She scurried back to the sofa and then returned to the hallway with a ravenous look in her eyes and a thin black heel clutched in each hand.
TBC in CH17d