Going Places Above And Below

This is fiction. Any resemblance between the content of this story or any of the characters depicted herein and real persons or events is highly unlikely and purely coincidental.

"Billy, this is a disaster." The speaker looked out the limousine window at the World News Network studios, angry that he sat impotent on East 41st Street in New York while his daughter embarrassed him. "She's as useless as her mother was." He sat back into the engulfing backseat. "I never should have let her go to school or take that job in California."

"Reverend," his assistant, Billy Wesley, started a defense. "She did not expect to be forced to fill in for-"

"Do not make excuses." The reverend's voice growled with anger. "Her faith should have carried her through in that den of iniquity." He beat his chest with an open hand. "Where did I go wrong? Why must my child be so weak?"

Billy knew from experience that when Reverend Hayden Powers smote himself while calling upon God, wise men stayed silent. He admired the man he served. Every time the good reverend seemed to come out ahead, just like Job, the devil would attempt to strike him down. His wife had died. His son was disappeared. Now, his daughter had failed him.

Billy's phone rang. "Wesley here." He waited for a response. "Tony, Reverend Powers instructed you to return with his daughter, your fiancé." There is a short response. The reverend had selected Tony for Marsha due to the ease in manipulating the boy. "Then if they won't let you onto the set, wait by the door." 'Boy' was a very good description of Tony. Billy wondered if he would have to teach the boy what to do on his wedding night.

"What's the delay, Billy?" the reverend asked very calmly.

Being blunt and informative was the best course of action. "Tony is not being allowed entry onto the set. He cannot retrieve Marsha."

"I'm beginning to have doubts about whether my potential future son-in-law is strong enough to tame Marsha." The reverend turned again to look at the headquarters of the World News Network. After unclenching his fists, he sagged back down into the backseat. "Exactly when am I scheduled to address the Council?"

Billy checked the schedule on his iPhone. "The Evangelical Council of Christian Churches is expecting you at 3:45 PM. They are meeting in the Gold Room at the Javits Center. We are approximately 20 minutes away." The time on the iPhone was twelve twenty-three.

The reverend began to smooth his silk suit. "Marsha is my hope to find someone to carry on."

"What of Michael?" Billy regretted the question even as he uttered it.

The reverend glared at Billy. For a moment, Billy thought he saw regret in the other man's eyes. "He chose to defy me. Until the demons that possessed him are driven out, he cannot be my son." The reverend closed his eyes.

Billy's mistake had been trying to bring comfort to his mentor. Marsha was weak; Billy made a note on his iPhone to create a list of stronger personalities to replace Tony. He knew down deep that the reverend still loved his children. There was an email from the Madison River Sanatorium, containing a prognosis update on Michael's treatment. Billy could see that the reverend had read this email.

Tony wanted nothing more than to push this pretend policeman out of his way so he could grab Marsha. The last thing he wanted to do was appear weak in front of the reverend. His fiance had put him in a difficult position. She had fallen for the same tricks that these Philistines used on countless others. Eventually, their charlatan antics would crumble and the truth would become known.

A ding signaled. The elevator down the hall from Tony opened its doors. Two men in tailored suits with their cell phones pinned to their ears emerged. Onlookers crowded down the hallway toward the studio. The suit in the lead took two steps, then stopped and uttered a command. "We need through."

That prompted the wannabe cops to act. "Move folks! Make a path! Make a path!"

Tony had stationed himself beside the door leading to the set. He was one of the few people who could not move. When the wannabes stepped forward to assist the suits, Tony experienced inspiration. Once the path was clear, but before the wannabes turned back toward him, Tony pushed the door open. He stepped through and to the left. Tony's hand was all that could be seen from the hallway while he held the door open.

Once the suits passed through the doorway, Tony let go of the door and followed them. As they wound their way along, everyone yielded and let them pass. He opened his cell phone and mimicked the two guys in the suits. Tony was wearing a suit also.

He followed them straight to the set. One of the suits went straight for Marsha and the Confederacy colonel who stood next to her. The pictures he had seen of these Confederacy Marines did nothing to prepare him for what they looked like in reality. Tony had worked with a few born-again professional wrestlers the previous summer. This colonel would dwarf them.

The colonel raised his index finger and shook it back and forth in front of the suit. What happened next surprised Tony. When the colonel tried to sidestep the suit, the man put his hand up to stop the colonel. Tony moved closer to see what would happen.

"Did you ever read Marvel Comics when you were growing up?" the colonel asked the suit.

The suit did not answer the question. "There are details that need to be worked out before you leave." The term zealot popped into Tony's mind. He had to admit the suit appeared determined.

"I could spell out a quote for you." Stepping to his right the colonel tried to maneuver himself and Marsha around the suit. Once again, the suit stepped in front of them in an attempt to impede the colonel. The huge man spoke a series of nonsense letters. "S-N-I-K-T."

The speed at which the suit moved his hand back impressed Tony. What the word meant, he had no idea. He looked at the suit who now acted even more animated than when on the phone. Tony turned to look at where Marsha had been. She was not there. Looking down the hallway, he noticed Marsha was being escorted away by the colonel.

"Stop!" Tony cried. "Stop!"

Marsha looked back. When she stopped walking, her companion turned with her to face Tony. While striding to where they stood, Tony fed his bravado with the flames of righteous condemnation.

"Take your hands off my fiancé." The colonel's response to Tony's demand was for the colonel to place his free hand softly onto Marsha's hand, which was in the crook of his other arm.

"Tony," Marsha said, her voice full of resolve, "I have decided that I am going to take a CAP test. Philip is my escort to the testing center." Marsha started to turn away from Tony.

"Do not turn your back on me." Tony raised his voice and spoke with all his authority. Marsha seemed to waver but never stopped. They started walking away. "As I am your future husband, you must obey me."

The colonel stopped. He turned and looked at Tony. "I will make one comment." He moved to stand between Tony and Marsha. "The lady has made her decision. Since she's over the age of eighteen and we are in the state of New York, your demands are pointless." He locked eyes with Tony. Tony looked away. "Good afternoon sir."

Marsha walked away with the colonel. Tony's blood began to boil. It wasn't until they were two cross-hallways down that Tony made his decision. "Jezebel! Though you are acting the harlot, I will still take you back with me." Tony charged the pair.

He charged across the first cross-hallway. He almost knocked over some idiot in his way. Sprinting for all he was worth, he approached the second cross-hallway. A large brown wall suddenly filled his vision field. He smashed into it and fell back flat.

Technical Specialist Corporal Schmidt knelt down next to the crumpled figure in the hallway. He had admired the AI's sense of timing. He used his concealed palm stunner to make sure this guy did not follow the colonel. Several other people came running up. Corporal Schmidt never smiled, but he knew that the accident that just happened was caught on three different security cameras.

"Is he okay?" A security guard was checking the man's pulse.

Corporal Schmidt looked up at the growing crowd. "He was running down the hall. I didn't see him." Corporal Schmidt tapped the side of the brown valise. "This thing weighs two hundred pounds and I top the scales at two forty." Corporal Schmidt was satisfied with the care the downed man was receiving. He offered an observation. "He seems to be breathing."

"He has a pulse and is breathing," the security guard said as he patted both sides of the man's face. "He is not responding." He grabbed the mic attached to his radio pack. "I need someone from First Aid. I'm on Floor One, Set Three, at the intersection of the central hallway and the associate producers' office hallway."

Corporal Schmidt slid out of the way, allowing access to the first aid brigade. With everyone paying attention to the stunned man, he walked out the exit. In just a few moments, he would cross over to 42nd Street and transport back to the base.

Adelaide Schein heard the phone ringing. It obviously belonged to the unconscious man who Security and First Aid were treating. She picked up the phone and answered it. "Hello," she said, pausing.

"Tony?" She did not recognize the voice.

"I'm sorry but I think Tony has been rendered unconscious," Adelaide responded. "I think they're going to take him to the hospital."

The voice on the other end asked a question. "Is his fiancé Marsha Powers there?"

"Ms. Powers walked out the north entrance with that yummy colonel from the Confederacy." Adelaide had watched how the two had reacted to each other during the entire show. "She told the unconscious guy that the colonel was taking her over to take a CAP test." She wasn't going to tell this guy on the phone, but as far she could tell, Marsha had somebody new. The beeping sound signified that whoever was on the other end had hung up.

Two paramedics were wheeling a stretcher down the hall. Adelaide pressed the power button and turned the phone off. It took a few minutes to get the man stable and attached to a backboard before they placed him on the stretcher. As they started to wheel him away, Adelaide stepped forward.

"This is his phone." She put the phone into one of his pockets. Then she watched them roll him toward the exit.

The Reverend R. Hayden Powers felt both of his temples throb. Of all the days for this to happen, why today? Nothing was going the way it should. If this got out, it would ruin his chance for controlling the interfaith response to the Confederacy. The reverend had to think. Billy had ordered the limo to rush to the nearby testing center. The reverend began to formulate contingencies.

The car came to a sudden stop. Reverend Powers looked at the testing center. It was in a ground floor corner shop. Letting himself out of the limo, he strode to the door. Billy was right behind him.

"Reverend, are you sure you want to go in there?" Billy inquired.

Reverend Powers opened the door. Turning, he made a declaration. "I shall be like Daniel." Then he stepped inside. He walked up to the counter. A very tall woman waited there for him. "I have come to retrieve my daughter."

"Is your daughter fourteen or older?" Her voice was pleasant and non-combative.

"The age of my daughter is irrelevant." The reverend leaned toward the woman. "She does not have my permission to engage in this farce."

"Please give me her name?"

"My daughter is Marsha Powers."

"Sir," the woman said, her voice remained calm, "you do not have the right to stop or interfere with her testing."

"As her father, I possess a divine right to instruct my daughter what to do until the day I give her to her husband." The reverend's face had turned bright red.

"In this building, you do not have the authority to exercise - any - such - rights." The woman emphasized the last three words.

"Trollop, just because you spread your legs for any male who passes by," the reverend shouted, "does not allow you to defy a man of God. Do as you are told, woman!"

The woman stood up; she took two steps and peered down the hallway. "Pete, if this one here decides to test, put me down for a six-pack on a score of 'not-above-three'." She returned to where she was. "As you can see, all you have managed to do is make yourself red in the face."

The reverend stood up straight and raised his right hand, "Harlot!" The hand started to descend.

The woman's left hand shot forward like a rattlesnake. It connected with the reverend's right shoulder joint. That knocked him back into Billy. Together they ended up sprawled on the floor. She stood up and came out from behind the counter. With one hand, she grabbed the reverend by his belt near the seat of his pants. She lifted the man and carried him behind the counter, down the hall, and into the first room.

By the time she returned, Billy had taken a seat in the waiting room. About fifteen people had witnessed the exchange.

"I'm sorry folks. Sometimes emotions can run a little high." She picked up a clipboard from behind the counter. "Aimed Ali," she looked up into the waiting room. A young man who looked Persian raised his hand. She motioned for Aimed to come up to the counter. He walked over to where she was. "Down the hall, testing room seven, good luck."

Marsha woke up to find Philip still in the room with her. He was holding her CAP card. Tentatively she took it from him. She saw the number 5.9. A wave of relief washed over her. Marsha knew she could never be a warrior. It was then that grief flooded in and almost overwhelmed her.

"I guess this means I have to try and find a pickup." Admitting that pushed the grief down. Where this newfound strength to choose arose from, she didn't know. Exercising it did make her feel more whole. "Part of me wishes that I could have volunteered and worked with you." Tears began clouding her vision.

Philip reached out and lifted her chin. "I can arrange for us to work together." He looked into her eyes. "The rules of testing state that every year a person can retest. My concubine Tonya retested at 6.7 last Wednesday." He smiled at Marsha. "If you want, you can take her place."

Marsha reached out and grabbed hold of Philip. She buried her face into him. She didn't move until the tears stopped. Sometime without her remembering, he placed his arms around her. He was swaying ever so softly.

Marsha leaned her head back to look up. "How do I join you, Philip?"

"It's a simple two-step process. First, I ask you, Marsha Powers, do you wish to be my concubine?" Philip leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. "Then, all that you have to do is say aloud, 'I accept to be Philip Reynolds' concubine'. Since we are in a testing center, there is an AI monitoring."

Marsha began nodding her head. "If I said that?"

"Then as Earthat AI, I would acknowledge and record your choice." This disembodied voice was different than the one on the ship.

Marsha caught her lower lip in between her teeth. Her hands begin to trace down toward Philip's hips. "If this was a real pickup, would I get to do dirty things to you?"

"Is that what you'd like to do?" Philip slipped his hand down to cup her breast hidden in her power suit.

"I think I need to do it that way, Philip." She stopped moving her hands. "I've always been able to have things done the easy way. I've always had my choices made for me. I think, no, I know that I need to do this before I accept."

"Well, Marsha, since you want to be considered for extraction as a concubine, you need to show your potential sponsor your body." Philip stepped back. "Strip, but don't turn around."

After shedding her shoes, Marsha slipped out of her jacket and started unbuttoning her blouse. Each shed layer made her feel freer. Once she was down to her bra, she removed her skirt. For some reason, she decided to step out of her pantyhose first. Looking up at Philip, she reveled in his smile. At this point, she removed her panties. She tossed them toward Philip. Her bra was not a front release design.

"Come here, let me help." Philip called to her. She crossed over to him. "Turn around and I will unhook it for you." Marsha turned quickly and lifted her hair from her back. Philip's fingers slid under the edge of the material. She could feel the garment constrict as he freed the loops from the latches. Then he pulled the straps apart. Once clear of her ribcage, he pushed the garment forward. She dropped her hair and helped him slide her arms free. His hands covered both breasts. He kneaded and lightly pinched both orbs and her nipples. "Once I let go," he ordered kissing the top of her head, "you need to turn around, then undo my belt, and loosen my pants." The manipulation changed in intensity. "I've slipped out of my shoes. Any questions?"

"Should I kiss anything?" Marsha tried to sound playful.

"Are you in a hurry?" Philip stopped the massage.

"No."

He kissed the top of her head again. "Then undress me."

Marsha spun to face Philip. Deciding it would be more exciting for her, she dropped to her knees. The belt was not an obstacle. Philip had to help with the seal holding his pants closed. Marsha just couldn't seem to push, twist, and release it from that angle. After its release she said, "Let me pull your pants down part way and then you sit on the chair."

"Can I ask why?"

Marsha looked up at him. "Well, as an officer, it is not good if you go around with wrinkled clothes." When she had his pants at mid thigh, she pushed him gently to sit. Marsha then slipped his pants off by pulling the cuffs. She folded them once and draped them over a nearby chair. Next, it was time for the boxers.

"It might be safer for us for me to stand back up." Philip stated. He tugged at the waistband. "These can be wrinkled; they're not part of my uniform."

After he stood, Marsha grabbed the waistband at each hip. The outline of his cock was obvious as it strained to be free. As the waistband descended a few inches, she wondered if she would bend him the wrong way.

"Just pull the waistband out further as you go down."

Philip's instructions worked. Once it was free, it seemed to bounce. The color seemed to be a little bit darker than Philip's face. It was nestled in the bed of heavy dark curly hair. She continued pushing the boxers all the way to the floor. He stepped out of them. Marsha handed the boxers up to Philip. Her attention was elsewhere. Marsha took a little time to look at the testicles that hung before her.

"Marsha, it's time to learn my scent. Put your nose next to the base of my cock." He slid a finger along the erection until it touched his groin.

Marsha moved in close. Hair tickled her nose as she pushed into his pubic hair. This is what a man smells like, she thought. This is what her Philip smells like.

"Use your tongue to taste my balls." Philip was lightly stroking her hair. "I have to admit, I'm a little sweaty, and they're probably a little gamy."

Pressed into Philip, she could only see his waistline and navel. Using her tongue, Marsha had to search and find the testicles. Once she found one, Philip spoke again. "Be gentle, the 'boys' are easily damaged." He trusted her. Marsha began to caress the 'boys'. She realized Philip was right: there was a hint of saltiness. If gamy tasted like this, she could learn to like it. The soft moans and grunts coming from Philip hinted that he liked it also. Why was one hung slightly lower? Marsha would ask Philip later.

"Marsha, start sucking my dick."

She pulled away and looked at the appendage. "I don't think I can get it all in."

Philip used a finger to cause Marsha to look up at him. "Make your fist around the base, if you have to use your other hand that's okay too." Philip put two fingers of his right hand around the bottom half of his left thumb. "You want to leave about one of your fist length uncovered. That's the part you suck."

Marsha understood and got her second good look at Philip's penis. No, he also called it a dick and a cock. There was a big clear globule gathered on the end.

"It's a lubricant, some people call it precum." Philip's voice sounded instructional. "This is something a concubine is expected to taste."

Her tongue told her the globule was salty, a little acidic, and very viscous. Whether or not she ever really liked it didn't matter. The fact that Philip shivered when she engulfed him told her everything she needed to know.

"That's it, Marsha, slide your tongue under the head." Philip then mumbled something unintelligible.

Marsha kept nursing. Philip started calling for her to be faster. She could feel him fighting not to thrust deeper into her.

"Marsha," Philip panted, "press the back of your tongue hard against the roof of your mouth. I'm about to shoot."

Philip pressed forward. He made a guttural cry. Her mouth was flooded with his essence. Marsha lost count after the fourth pulse. Each pulse was smaller than its predecessor. Marsha remembered something her college roommate told her once. "Men keep girls that swallow." Marsha swallowed Philip's offering. He pulled away and sat on the chair.

"Philip, do you still want me?"

"Do you have to ask?"

"AI, I want to be Philip Reynolds' concubine."

What the AI said next made Marsha feel free. "Acknowledged, Marsha Powers is now the concubine of Philip Reynolds."

Marsha helped Philip back into his uniform. She still could not master the main clasp.

Philip stopped her when she started to pick up her clothes. "Concubines in the first few weeks stay nude." He reached down and helped her stand.

Philip still held her underwear. She realized he was looking at the attached mini-pad. He squeezed it between his fingers. Marsha felt her body burn with a flush. "Are you about to start your period?"

Marsha could only shake her head 'no'.

"Concubines must always be truthful." Philip closed the small distance between them. "Then why a pad?"

The flush from her body centered between her legs. Marsha had a suspicion that if Philip was asking this question, he probably had an idea of what the answer was. "Back on the ship, I think my body was reacting to how I was beginning to think about you." She pointed at her underwear. "I realized what was happening and tried to hide my body's reaction."

"Are you still having a reaction?" Before Marsha could answer, Philip slid his right hand down her stomach. His fingers slipped over her pubic hair. One of them parted her labia, charged across her clitoris, and found her pooling excitement.

Marsha's response was a combination of a grunt and a wanton sigh. Reaching up, she grabbed Philip's arm, not to push him away, but hold him steady. Subtly Marsha widened her stance, giving Philip's fingers more access to her treasures.

"Do you like this my dear?" Philip teased.

Marsha could barely utter, "Uh-huh."

Philip used one finger to coax the heated slickness along her slit. "I think your little bump here likes being played with." Marsha didn't care, as she found that she could move her hips and intensify the sensation. Without ignoring or abandoning her clitoris, Philip lengthened his strokes, letting one fingertip dance across her maidenhead.

Marsha looked up at the man pleasuring her. "Philip, can I help you take your pants off again?"

"That is something we'll do in my bed."

Marsha didn't want to argue. She had his assurance that what she wanted would happen later. He bent down and kissed her. She felt his tongue slide between her lips. She decided to meet it with hers. This served to further her need to be submissive to him. Without warning, euphoria exploded from her loins. It caused her to shake and she dug her fingers into his arm. Her head fell back. There was a need to press onto his fingers, those fingers that still tried to coax more from her. Marsha rode the wave, even as it crashed.

"You are a surprising little minx." He pulled his fingers away from her. The long one that had explored her was covered in her slickness. Philip licked one side clean. He held a finger before her. "You need to taste yourself."

Never looking away from Philip's eyes, she sampled the finger. She couldn't quite place the taste. The look of pride and approval in her man's eyes was all her senses could process.

He held out his hand and she took it. "There is a transporter pad in the back of this testing center. To get there, we will be walking by several rooms. The doors will be open, everyone will get to look, but for now only I will touch."

Marsha decided to look back towards the front entrance as she followed Philip into the hallway. She thought she saw Billy Wesley, her father's right hand man, looking at her. He didn't matter. She proudly followed Philip towards the back. Three quarters of the way down the hall, she decided to check how firm his butt was.

"And I thought you would be docile and frightened." Philip didn't turn back to look at her. Marsha decided since there was no rebuke, she could feel those muscles with her fingers as he walked. "I'm so glad that next week has a light schedule."

Billy Wesley didn't realize that the woman who had decked the reverend was tapping him on the upper arm. He looked up.

"Mr. Wesley," this time she shook him slightly. "Mr. Wesley."

He finally realized she was talking to him. "I'm here."

"Mr. Powers is starting to regain his senses." She nodded her head back toward the room where she had deposited the reverend earlier. "We think it would be best if he was escorted out quickly. According to the Javits Center website, he is scheduled to sit on the dais at a meeting this evening." The woman easily pulled Billy to his feet, and she led him to the reverend.

The opening ceremony she referred to was to night. The reverend still had to meet the steering committee in about an hour. His boss sat on the floor, partially drawn up into a ball. "Reverend," there was no response. "Reverend," Billy knelt by him, "it's me, Billy." A hand reached out to touch Billy, as if to verify he was real. "I need to get you out of here. It's about 2:45. We need to get rolling."

His boss looked up at Billy. "Get me out of here, son."

Once he got up and on his feet, the reverend had to put one hand on the wall. Seeing that he had steadied himself, Billy took the opportunity to survey the reverend's attire. "Nothing looks dirty or badly out of place."

"I can walk, Billy," the reverend pushed himself off the wall. "Take me to the limousine."

As they passed from the hallway into the waiting room, the reverend turned to look at the woman behind the counter. Billy could see his boss's earlobes turning crimson. The woman behind the counter put both hands on her hips and smirked as they passed. The reverend did not stop walking until he came to the limousine.

"Sir, we just have enough time to make it to the convention center." Billy wanted desperately to redirect the reverend's train of thought to the address he would be giving in about an hour.

"We've let the beast onto our shores." The reverend looked at Billy. "Think about these cards. You have to have one, it's required. It feels like the prophecy of John, Revelations 13. It is the start of the forty-two months."

Billy grabbed one of the chilled water bottles. He loosened the cap, breaking the safety seal. "You need to take a drink and rehydrate." He pushed the bottle into his boss's hands.

"I lost her, didn't I Billy?"

"I'm sorry sir; I saw her walking to the back of the building with that criminal colonel." Billy decided to omit Marsha's lack of dress.

"I need to pray for the rest of the drive."

Billy was of the school that believed that sometimes the greatest miracles are the result of providence. Almost every light was green. The driver also took parallel paths and avoided at least two fender benders.

At the Javits Center, Billy found himself following the reverend into the building. With each step the sense built that something monumental was about to occur. The reverend seemed to be taller, the air was electrified by his presence. When they came to the Gold Room, the reverend stopped. "Billy, I need to just speak with the other ministers privately."

In about three minutes, other aides and associates left to join him in the hall.