“What? Am I wrong?”
Gerald wheeled away from the console and went to the dispenser at the back of the bridge.
“No, but we said no more beer while you’re piloting.”
“You said! We’re going in a straight line, Shava…”
“Savannah,” she corrected.
“…it’s not as if we need to turn.”
“We almost hit a meteor.”
“We did not!” Zed argued.
Gerald wheeled back with three long neck bottles in his lap. “Would you two stop bickering. Here.” He placed two of the bottles on the console.
“But…?” Savannah said, but stopped with Gerald’s raised hand.
“You told me you two weren’t affected by alcohol as I am.”
Her shoulders slumped.
“Okay, sit down. Seems I started telling you one of my stories a few days ago. Thought I might continue.” He pulled a computer pad from that had been tucked between his left leg and the armrest of the wheelchair.
Savannah sat.
Zed turned green.
XI
Moving In
December 8, 2013
The Herald was declaring the world would be ending shortly due to the latest political scandal. A far-off conservative governor of some fantasy land had sex with someone who she should not have, and this liberal rag decided that it was the first sign of Armageddon.
Maria sat at the table with the newspaper laid out before her while the wall clock above ticked its annoyance at the news.
The clock had much to be annoyed at. The grimy white walls of Maria’s tiny fourth storey apartment, for one thing, as they clashed with its pewter face and black hands. A clock of such stature deserved a much more grandiose existence than this. Another was that it had an alarm that was about to go off. What other wall clock had such menial tasks put upon it as an alarm?
Maria picked up her mobile and found five unread messages.
The first was from Bill just asking how she was doing. The second was, again, from Bill reminding her that today was move-in day. The third, however…
The blood drained from Maria’s face.
Harry – Hi Maria. How are you?
Until now, Harry had not messaged her since he left. After her car accident, he had stayed until she was walking again. He was unable to deal with the biggest side effect of the accident; her visions.
The alarm caused Maria to jump. She first dropped the phone on the table and lowered her head, supporting it on her fist. Finally, the realization of what the alarm meant returned and with that returned her smile.
Fifteen minutes notice to open up the props garage so that the theatre’s first production could move in. A local group would be the first to use the refurbished theatre for their production of “The Stolen Car”, based upon a tune by Sting.
Finishing her coffee, she made her way down to the WGT office. As though she were a ballplayer coming out of a stadium tunnel, she looked at the pictures of each of the previous theatre managers that lined the stairwell wall and touched each as she passed.
Davis Grant was first, followed by Joseph Word, Marvin Tompkins, Julio James, Craig Angelos, Gregor Houston, Megan Thomes and finally Maria herself. The history of the theatre began in 1854 with Davis Grant running it. Then a ten-year break between Marvin Tompkins and Julio Jones after a fire in 1905 and being rebuilt in 1915. The second burn down and rebuild shut it down again from 1960-65 before Gregor Houston took over. Houston stayed on as manager over the 1974-75 closure after the tornadoes had taken the roof off as well.
Maria glanced at her own picture. She was fascinated to see how only one of the previous managers had lasted less than ten years. Joseph Word, she recalled, had turned out to be a con man that lasted only two weeks on the job…yet his picture was still there as part of the history of it.
A sound came from the stage area, as though something heavy had fallen.
Turning from the pictures and stepping to the floor, she immediately had an image of sandbags…not that there were sandbags being used for counterbalance these days. A couple of jogging steps had her at the stage door and out to the wings…where she saw them at center stage. Immediately, she knew who they were.
Gena Chrome was a porn actress who tried to make the transition to stage…and failed. Brady Violini was the nephew of then theatre manager, Megan Thomes.
February 5, 2006
Gena’s red hair fell over both her shoulders as she leaned forward grinding her hips into him. “Oh, yeah, that’s the spot.” Her breasts bounced with her riding pace.
Brady, flat on his back, grasped her hips. The look on his face suggested he was merely trying to hold on, never mind believe that he was experiencing this.
Gena was a good ten to fifteen years older than the man she was riding. Although, she seemed to have more energy than Brady.
“This is the best birthday gift ever,” he said through breathless gasps.
“Yeah, not many get fucked by a porn star for their birthday, now do they?”
He shook his head and continued to look panicked.
“I’m amazed we can’t hear the cheering.”
“Cheering?” Brady raised his head and was distracted from the original subject as he watched his erection penetrating the gorgeous porn star.
“The game across the street.”
“Um…we’re not that close. Across the street is a slight exaggeration.”
She shrugged, mid-thrust, and continued. “At least, my husband is at the game. Keeps him busy.”
“Lucky for me,” Brady said, grasping her hips, he thrust his own up hard with an audible smack against her.
December 8, 2013
The wrapping at the warehouse door took Maria’s attention away from the couple. She quickly made her way back out and grinned seeing the waiting cube van, ready to unload props and performers.
For three hours she assisted unloading the truck and organizing the storage in the warehouse. Finally, she was prepared to offer access to the stage. She walked back out for one final check.
The couple was still there but, this time, a tall man in a Seattle Seahawks football jersey was standing over of their crumpled bodies with a smoking shotgun.
To Maria’s horror, the man looked almost exactly like Harry.
February 8, 2006
Printed in morning edition of The Herald
Two bodies were found in a dumpster across the street from the Waldorf Garden Theatre yesterday morning. As of yet they are unidentified, but police suspect foul play.
XII
Darwin’s Sword
February 28, 2018
“Yes, can you feel the thrust?” Zed turned a shade of blue.
“Yeah, that’s cool.” Gerald’s wheelchair was at the centre of the bridge in Zed’s regular spot.
Zed floated behind him keeping watch. “We don’t want too much acceleration.”
“Could that rip the ship apart?”
“Not at all. It could rip you apart, though. We aren’t certain what it would do to a human body.”
Gerald pulled his hands from the console and backed his wheelchair away. “Maybe I should just let you drive.”
Zed gurgled. It was his attempt at laughter and, so far, it was a failure.
The door from the bridge slid open, and Savannah stepped on the bridge. Her eyes showed concern but softened as they settled on Gerald.
“You okay?” Gerald turned his chair towards her. Being he was over six foot tall when he had legs, it was odd always to be looking up at her.
“Yeah, think we’re catching up with him.”
Gerald nodded.
She looked away. “I could use a distraction, though.”
Gerald blushed. “The handcuffs?”
“No, silly man. Could you tell us another of your stories?”
“Oh, that?” He turned his chair and pushed over to a computer pad. A few taps and he had the next story ready. “I assume you want me to stay with th
e same series?”
“You said it was your own favorite,” Savannah reminded.
“I’m invested,” Zed agreed.
Savannah and Gerald exchanged glances at this phrasing.
Invested? Gerald mouthed.
Savannah shrugged.
Gerald’s eyes found the spot on the pad. “Okay, where was I?”
XIII
Stolen Car
December 14, 2013
Maria stood at the very back of the theatre and watched as the curtain lifted. Her heart lifted with it as the music began to swell and the lights came up.
The first performer was the main character, the car thief in his all black outfit and mullet hairstyle. He began to sing the opening stanza as the show opened.
She was a bit disappointed in the audience as the place was only half full. For an initial performance, it was not bad, but she had still hoped for more. As she scanned the audience, movement caught the corner of her eye.
Two young men, both with close-cropped brown hair, were seated in metal chairs in the very back corner. One blonde woman, on her knees, was in between them.
Maria recognized the men, but not the women.
Joseph Word and Marvin Tompkins were manager and assistant manager at the WGT in September of 1894. There had been rumours about some of their antics. In fact, Joseph would later be dubbed as “The Yellow Boy” when he returned to Chicago after being fired from his managerial job after only a few weeks. Marvin, upon replacing Joseph, seemed to have learned his lesson and lasted through the first time the theatre burned down in 1905. The arsonist in 1905 was never found and Marvin did seem to live rather large for some time after that.
But nothing there was proven.
Maria now saw proof of one of those rumours.
September 9, 1894
“This was a brilliant idea,” Joseph whispered to keep from the few in the audience hearing him.
“You bet it was.”
“So with six dressing rooms, we keep two for the shows.”
“Right,” Marvin agreed in more groan than voice as he watched his erection disappear into the woman’s mouth.
Joseph kept his eyes on the woman’s mouth still working Marvin as well. He was enjoying that she was stroking his own erection at the same time. “Then we can work two girls out of the four rooms left.”
“Perfect.”
“Sally? Would that work?”
Sally kept Marvin’s erection in her mouth as she nodded.
“Good girl.” Joseph briefly glanced up at Marvin. “We’ll be living large before we’re twenty.”
“Absolutely. But Joe, one problem.” Marvin allowed his hand to slip down and take a handful of Sally’s blonde hair.
“What’s that?”
“What if two girls are sharing a room both bring a guy back?”
Joseph looked up at the stage and thought. “Curtains. We split the rooms with curtains.”
“Oh yeah, that’ll work.”
“We’ll have to try out all the rooms with Sally first, of course.”
This time, she did release the cock she was devouring. “Yes, please, sir.”
Marvin, having been pleasured enough, ejaculated onto her face. His white semen sprayed onto her cheeks, forehead and even into her hair.
She grinned. “Thank you, sir.” Her tongue flicked out as some rolled from her cheek onto her lips.
Joseph chuckled. “Good girl. Now come here and give me some of that.”
She shifted over on her knees to give Joseph his turn in the warmth of her mouth. Before starting, she unscrewed the top and took a quick shot from a flask that had been on the floor beside her.
It was not long until Joseph’s cum was mixing with Marvin’s on her face and in her mouth.
“Thank you, darlin’,” Joseph said. “Now we gotta get you cleaned up.”
December 14, 2013
Maria felt her mouth watering. It had been too long since she had been with someone. She also loved the taste of semen and wanted that again specifically.
Being unable to deal with Maria seeing ghosts, Harry had left her long ago…at least he had stayed to nurse her through after the accident, though. The accident which gave her the ability to see the ghosts…that then chased him away.
Her shoulders slumped. Man or woman, it did not matter, she was horny.
September 10, 1894
Printed in morning edition of The Herald
Last night, Joseph Word, manager of the Waldorf Garden Theatre was arrested after the body of a known street-walker was found behind the theatre. Although Mr. Word’s involvement is not yet known in the death, it is believed that alcohol was involved in her death.
XIV
Darwin’s Sword
February 28, 2018
Gerald looked up from his pad.
Savannah sat in one of the bridge chairs, gazing out at the stars. Her eyes weren’t the red they got when she would flash, but they seemed to be trying to burn through something.
He glanced over at Zed.
Zed, back in the usual pilot spot, stayed the shade of unripe bananas.
“Another, then?” Gerald looked back at the pad.
XV
That Party
December 22, 2013
The music thumped hard against her ears as Maria lifted her drink and sipped. The place was packed, and yet she sat alone, tightly between two people who were each having a conversation with the person seated the opposite direction from Maria. It was unusual for theatre staff to be invited to a wrap party for a show, but this was the first show the WGT had in over five years and the cast and crew of this production felt obliged to invite Maria.
It was held at a church-turned-nightclub called The Whetted Whistle. The interior was the original stonework with some new metal scaffolding to support lights and speakers. The bar ran along the east side of the building, mostly lit by lights behind it and giving a blue-ish tinge to all the staff. The west side sported a line of nondescript tables in front of a poorly upholstered bench and many horrible wooden chairs that would loudly scrape the wooden floor when moved, were they not drowned out by the dance tunes the DJ was currently spinning.
This was not Maria’s crowd.
Then again, what crowd was?
She had even dressed for the occasion in her little black dress that barely covered her legs to the top of her stockings, black pumps that took her from five-foot-nothing to five-foot-two, and a white patterned wrap to top it all off. With her straight black hair falling past her shoulders and the severe bangs on her forehead, her goth image was safe this evening. Even in her own modest way she felt that she was smoking hot, though this was aided by the fact she was commando.
“The Stolen Car” had been a relative success for a community written and performed show. The cast and crew, 42 strong, were pleased with their small crowds and the review they had in the Herald. Then again, most were more pleased with the cheap drinks the establishment was serving now that the show was over. As a group, their roar was almost drowning out the DJ’s spin of Robin Thicke Blurred Lines.
Maria did not think that was a bad thing as she detested the song. With a finishing gulp of her drink, she tried to numb her mind and remind herself as to why she was here.
The man on her left bumped into her shoulder as he got up to get another beverage.
Rather than being buffeted around further, Maria got up. Her intent had been to make her way to the coat check and then out, but she decided a quick visit to the washroom was in order first. As she was washing her hands, the bass thump changed from Thicke’s idiocy to Sting doing We’ll Be Together.
Being their show was based on a Sting tune, the crowd out in the dance area cheered.
Better choice of music for Maria, one she appreciated much more, but still it was time to go…until she heard the moan from one of the bathroom stalls behind her. She pushed on the stall door and was surprised that it was not latched.
The couple behind it was even
more surprising. These were live people, not spirits.
No matter, Maria still recognized Devon Phillips and Vanna Sanderson.
The man was tall, wearing a red dress shirt that had the last three buttons opened showing off his belly button, six-pack abs and a hint of pubic hair. His black slacks were down to mid-thigh. The view of his genitalia was blocked by the brunette bent over in front of him with her black skirt hiked up over her ass. Her curls bounced, and the moan came with each of his thrusts. Both their eyes went to Maria, but neither stopped.
Maria left the stall door open and backed away to lean on the wash basin counter. Her hands lifted her own skirt, and she quickly had the fingers of her right hand inside her as she watched the couple.
The man slowed his pace. “I think we need to help our friend,” he said to his lover.
“How so?” the brunette asked.
“She looks hungry.”
The brunette stood up and stepped out of the stall. “I’ll share.”
“Perfect.” He also stepped forward and helped the brunette down to her knees. “This is Vanna, by the way. I’m Devlin.”
“Maria.” She came towards them and lowered to her knees. She looked into Vanna’s green eyes over the top of the length of Devlin’s erection as her tongue began to slip from her mouth and reach for it. The salty taste was exactly what she was craving…that plus the first penetration of the erection into her later as she bent over to lick Vanna’s pussy that was propped up on the counter in front of her.
Later, Maria walked along the snowy street with a goofy grin on her face. They were not finished when she left, but she needed to go home, drink some water and sleep off the alcohol…so she had left them back in the stall, once again. Under street lights she danced a little and playfully kicked the snow while singing to herself, “Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow…“
Darwin's Sword: Savannah - Book Two Page 7
