III
Nelson, British Columbia
April 1, 1997
“Howard Jones does not do acoustic! Where the fuck did you get this?” Amy looked at the compact disc jewel cover.
“It’s called Live Acoustic America…” Gerald explained.
“Yeah, I can read.”
“I know you can read.” His skin took on a pink blush. “He recorded it in Los Angeles last year. It’s really cool listening to his old stuff done without the synths.”
Her eyes widened as she considered his words. “I guess it would be.” Looking down at the books on the kitchen table in front of her, she shook her head. “Not sure it’s the best idea to try studying while listening to a new album, though.”
“No, of course not. We study first and then listen later while we…” His voice trailed off.
“While we what?” She pushed her straight brunette hair back over her shoulder.
He blushed deeper and looked out the window that faced onto Kootenay Lake. He loved the blue of the lake beneath the white-capped mountains surrounding it but always felt a pinch of sadness for having run here.
A car accident had taken Howard and Helen Moss from him, midway through grade twelve. Their car, it appeared, had an accident with a semi-truck and killed both instantly. The truck’s driver fled and was never found. Knowing the enemies his parents had, the story never sat right with Gerald even without any hint of proof that any intentional foul play had occurred. Regardless of his requests, the police washed their hands of the case and refused to look deeper once deemed accidental.
At the time, Gerald was heading towards a full science scholarship at the University of Southern Saskatchewan. He had dreamed of completing his studies and even working with his parents.
That January day in 1995 changed everything.
When the scholarship offer came, he turned it down. His impressive educational record and pedigree caught the eye of science faculties from St. John’s, Newfoundland to Honolulu, Hawaii to Oxford, England. He turned down all the offers.
He sent out one application to a tiny school, East Kootenay University in Nelson, British Columbia. The application listed his want to explore a major in English Literature with a minor in astronomy. The school, being tiny, offered a partial scholarship that was enough to assist his move west, into the Canadian Rockies. By his second year Gerald was on full scholarship.
“Isaac Gerald Moss, are you suggesting we have sex while listening to this music?” She held up the jewel case and shook it at him for emphasis.
“Suggesting, no.”
“Oh,” she said with obvious disappointment.
“Demanding, yes.”
Lips pulled up into a bright smile. Even her freckles blushed a darker shade.
He grinned back. “It’s my birthday. I was hoping for at least some heavy petting.”
“Okay, then. You really sure you want to study first?” She stroked his inner thigh.
“No, I’m not sure.”
“Good answer.” Leaning forward, she locked her arms around his neck to embrace for a long deep kiss.
Gerald’s hands grasped her hips first, but began pulling at the fabric of her Heart concert T-shirt to get it untucked and up over her head. Tossing it aside, he then reached around to fumble with the peach bra.
“You want help with that?” Amy groaned.
“Give me a sec. I’m going to have to learn how to do this.”
“Oh, so I’m practice, am I?”
He grinned. “The bra is practice, not you.” Kissing her again, he found success with the first eyehook of the bra and moved on to the second one.
Laughing along, Amy tugged at his plaid lumberjack shirt. With quick realization, she found it would be much easier to simply unbutton than pull it over his head and it took her less time than his releasing her breasts from the tyranny of the bra. Then Amy moved on to his pants, unbuckling, unzipping and tugging down on his briefs. Bending forward into his lap, she took his penis in her mouth.
This action made it much easier to get the last eyehook on her bra off now that Gerald could actually see it. After all that effort, he sighed and leaned back to watch her devouring his cock. A hand pushed her hair aside so he could watch the actual penetration into her mouth, and he smiled with enjoyment.
She stopped to stand and pull her jeans off. “You owe me,” she said slipping back to her knees between his legs.
“Owe you what?”
“I’m the one doing all the work.”
He nodded and put a hand on the back of her head. “All the work so far.” He pulled to encourage her to continue.
Her eyes remained locked on his as she returned to her masterful fellatio work.
“You’ll get your turn.”
IV
Winnipeg, Manitoba
April 1, 2007
Gerald thrust hard enough to send Amy’s straight brunette hair almost horizontally forward.
Her resulting gasp suggested that his cock had pushed all the air from her body.
He followed this with a solid spank on her left ass cheek. There would be a mark. It would be one to help her remember him while he was traveling.
She looked back over her shoulder at him with a giggle.
The roar of crowd applause rose over the truck speakers before the Foo Fighters kicked off a live-recorded show with “Razor”.
Leaning forward, Gerald whispered into her ear, “That’s my good girl.” He followed the words with a nip of her earlobe and another solid spank on the other cheek.
The sleeper berth of the truck cab was tiny. It was large enough that Gerald could kneel on the bed, fully erect, while he jackhammered into his girlfriend’s pussy from behind. Being it was the first time the mattress beneath them was being used, it was solid as well.
This had seemed an appropriate way to christen the vehicle before he took it on his first haul. Driving full speed with no stops would take him from Winnipeg to Chicago in twelve hours. However, the WonderMart brass insisted on safety, so the schedule would have him there and back in three days.
Speaking of long, he reached forward and grabbed a handful of brunette hair. Wrapping it around his hand, he tugged back and brought her head up with it.
“Look at you, my handsome man,” she whispered up to him. “Love when you get all dom on my ass.”
“I’m no dom,” he corrected.
“I know. Just my favorite top.”
“At least I’m your favorite.” He laughed and thrust again, this time even harder. His eyes caught a flash of light through the corner of the closed blind.
It would be the car of one of the WonderMart workers, no doubt, passing in the parking lot.
Gerald wondered if the cab was rocking. Might they be watched by whoever the early worker arriving was? This question made him even harder and based on Amy’s grunts following she sensed the excitement in him as well.
Later, the car was still parked nearby, but the early employee was nowhere to be seen.
Gerald slid the MP3 plug into the truck radio console. A touch of the play button brought a roar of crowd applause before the Foo Fighters kicked off the show with “Razor”.
Glancing out the window, he saw Amy waving up at him. Her brunette hair blew out behind her and her long black skirt whipped at her knees. His eyes lifted up to the large red “WM” of the WonderMart warehouse.
Amy’s teaching studies had brought them to Winnipeg. The first full-time offer she ever received was from Adam Century High School, in Winnipeg’s downtown core. Being Gerald was only taking odd jobs while writing, he was happy to move with her into the small apartment. It was still close enough that he could get back to visit the only cousin he had a relationship with. Cousin Pete was currently doing time in a maximum-security prison in the town of Gerald’s birth, Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan.
“I love you!” Amy called, just loud enough that to be heard over the engine of the big rig.
Kissing the tips of his fi
ngers, he blew it back at her. Turning forward, he pulled the stick and shifted into gear. “Let’s get this story started,” he said with a grin.
A push of the accelerator and the engine roared with glee as the big rig began to roll.
Gerald could still smell Amy’s scent. It had begun as a joke that she would stay the night with him in the sleeper cab, but once his tongue hit her clitoris, it became an actual happening. He had nearly drowned in her juices as he made out with her pussy over and over until he couldn’t tell if his tongue belonged in his mouth or her vagina.
There were no complaints from Amy, who christened the big truck by squirting against the back wall as they erupted into laughter and embraced until Gerald could continue his oral examination of her.
He never climaxed that night. It was all her in the cool Manitoba air as he brought her to orgasm after orgasm before they collapsed asleep.
V
Chicago, Illinois
April 1, 2017
“We haven’t seen the woman since that night.” Nigel shook his head and lifted a brown long neck to his lips.
Gerald mimicked the action with his bottle. “But you had seen her before, you bastard.”
The condo filled with sounds of Rush performing “Dreamline”.
Lifting a hand, Nigel pointed as though reading a story in front of him. “It was December. I picked Sheila up from the airport and Savannah was with her.”
“Right.”
“The two of them had a fuck session in the back seat on our way home that was epic.”
“Nigel?”
“Yeah, Gerald?”
“You’re a cool deejay.”
“So they tell me, but thanks for sayin’.”
“You know better than to use words like ‘epic’.”
“Do you fuckin’ want to know about this girl Savannah or criticize my language? I’m speaking the Queen’s English here.”
“I’m not the Queen,” Gerald said with a wink and an offer of his bottle’s neck for clinking.
With a laugh, Nigel accepted the offer and tapped his own against it.
“Is Rush going to do another album?”
Nigel shrugged. “I doubt they need the money.”
“True.”
“Besides, I hear they’re done touring. The fortieth anniversary was their goodbye.”
Gerald sighed. “I didn’t get to see them, dammit. The one band I still would see if I had the chance.”
“That’s why they have live recordings, my friend.” Nigel slapped Gerald’s shoulder. “So you can watch them live without having been there. More importantly, though, are you gonna accept the job?”
Gerald’s shoulders slouched. “Did you know I’ve been driving for WonderMart for ten years, as of today?”
“Not like you have to give that up. Would just be helping me to write my book during your spare time.”
“There’s no reason to keep it. Amy’s been gone four years now.”
The two men fell quiet for a moment.
Gerald continued, “I still remember that day like it was yesterday.”
Nigel sipped his beer and waited to see if Gerald would want to go down a sadder path now or not. He knew that Amy and Gerald were engaged at the time she died, but he knew nothing of her death. One day he expected Gerald would tell him.
That day was not today.
“Believe it or not, today is my fortieth birthday.”
“Shit, seriously?” Nigel’s mouth fell open.
“I shit you not,” Gerald said and offered the bottleneck again.
A quick clink followed before Nigel scolded, “Speaking of phrases and words we shouldn’t be using, I think ‘shit you not’ falls into that.”
Gerald chuckled. “You know what else today is?”
Nigel sighed. “No, mate, what is it?”
“The day I start writing your bio.”
“Outstanding, that’s what I wanted to hear.” Nigel slapped him on the shoulder. “Can I refresh that drink?”
VI
Darwin’s Sword
March 17, 2018
Savannah could not sleep...not as if she needed to. She was, after all, Emmi and not human. Emmi, unlike humans, did not require to go fully unconscious to rest and recharge. The human form she had taken on for this assignment left her wanting sleep that only humans experienced.
Even the light rocking of Darwin’s Sword, as it shut down systems in recharge mode, did not assist her attempted relaxation.
Her mind returned to the smoldering pile that she had stood upon a few weeks prior. That pile had once been Detroit, Michigan, which had fallen to the same fate as all the other communities on the planet. If the project were hers, Savannah would have sent excavators to begin siphoning off the atmosphere by now.
The memory of smoke and haze as they lifted from Earth that last time was hard to shake.
Gerald’s naked body rolled and cuddled against her.
Her eyes glanced down at the stumps just below his knees. He had once been taller than she was but, thanks to Graven, that was no longer.
Gerald’s wheelchair sat in the corner of the cabin mocking her. She had scavenged it on that final fuel stop before leaving Earth.
With all she had taken from Gerald, it seemed the least she could do. Her thoughts then turned to Nigel and Sheila, the shock-jock and lawyer husband-wife team that had introduced her to Gerald the second time. They had only half believed Savannah’s stories of her being extraterrestrial.
“We knew you were alien,” Nigel had said, “Sheila found you in Canada.”
Savannah grinned and hugged Gerald close.
These humans were supposed to be just prey and nothing more. She was not supposed to fall in love with one. Love was not an emotion that Savannah had anticipated experiencing, nor planned for even as an off chance. Prior to these events, she was convinced it was an emotion that no Kettelgian could feel.
Gerald knew she felt it. The music on the speaker changed to Peter Gabriel crooning “More Than This”.
Listening to the words, Savannah allowed the music to flow through her thoughts. The beat brought calm rhythm to her breathing and led her to sleep.
VII
Chicago, Illinois
December 12, 2016
“You’re listening to WNUT, and this is Nigel in the morning! Back in two nuts!” the radio squawked and went to commercial.
Savannah grinned and sipped her beer. It was an odd feeling knowing that she had slept with Nigel and his wife, Sheila, only a few nights prior. Her warrior training said she shouldn’t care, but there was something playful knowing her friends were well known.
It was Nigel’s celebrity that had kept her from killing them.
On the ride home from the airport, Nigel had played voyeur while Savannah and Sheila had played in the back seat of the SUV.
Savannah had felt the warmth of Sheila’s energy but had held short knowing that killing either of these two would cause questions. These questions would not ever point to Savannah, but it would put people more on guard and shrink Savannah’s potential hunting pool.
It was a good thing that Sheila had told Savannah about Nigel’s profession before she met him, or she might not have held back.
Chicago was an odd city. It was massive, yes, but it had a smaller town feel than the likes of London, New York, Los Angeles, or Toronto. If she had made another error like she did in El Paso when the press had begun following her activities, Chicago citizens would become alerted and close the city to her. There were other big cities, of course, but Savannah had enough trouble learning English in her training, and the cute foreigner routine wouldn’t work well anywhere for long.
Her mind returned to a recent trip to Zurich and caused a smile.
Another reason she was glad not to have killed them was that she felt affection for Sheila and Nigel. She had little in common with any human, of course, but she understood Nigel and Sheila. These were two rebels taking responsibility for their ow
n fitting in.
There had been no training for Savannah on how to deal with people she liked. Her first idea was simply not to kill them. Not that she was aware, but the feelings wafting through her when thinking of Sheila and Nigel were similar to a teen’s first crush. This was the same feeling she had of the truck driver, Gerald, when she thought back on her landing in Winnipeg.
“Winnipeg. Snowing in fucking June,” she growled and felt a shiver through her. She glanced out the massive condominium windows at the snow falling in the dark morning skies over Chicago.
She had returned to Winnipeg in search of Gerald. During this search, Savannah met Sheila and, due to Sheila’s kindness, followed her home to Chicago.
“I’m a fucking puppy.” A giggle was followed by a longer slurp of beer before she crushed the can and reached to pick up another.
The commercial ended and Nigel’s voice returned, “Two weeks before the slutty old elf flies in to invade our homes with more corporate gifts to hook your young’uns on consumerism. I hope you’re all ready. It’s seven-twenty-two in the A M, and traffic is shyte.”
An air horn sounded over the radio.
“Hey! I’m British; I can say shyte!”
Canned laughter followed.
“We’ll have a report for you in five after you answer this morning’s question.” He paused.
Savannah was shocked by the anticipation she felt just wanting to know what this question was. She was not supposed to feel anything about celebrity, but there was something here she felt listening to Nigel that she could not explain.
“Even after all these years, I’m not certain why. Could one of you tell me why, exactly, does Peter Gabriel want to be my sledgehammer?”
The song was new to Savannah, but she laughed after listening to some of the lyrics. Gerald, the Winnipeg truck driver, appeared in her mind brightening her smile even further. Her eyes found a pile of dust on the floor that had been the condo’s owner until two hours ago. “At least he had a great orgasm.”
Darwin's Sword: Savannah - Book Two Page 3
