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Message-ID: <48211asstr$1087049405@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Virgosun" <virgosun@internode.on.net>
Subject: {ASSM} Saskia's Pride 3/4 {virgosun} (mf rom slow mutant)
Lines: 620
Date: Sat, 12 Jun 2004 10:10:05 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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<1st attachment, "saskiaspride03.txt" begin>

Saskia's Pride (Part 3 of 4)

by virgosun (c) February 2004

***

Alighting from the train, I expected to grab my single 
small case and wait for a cab. Dicot this was not - an 
unbroken sweep of sky, hot maybe but not humid. 
Depending on how much of ENCOMM I got to see this time, 
I was planning the new article as a much more intimate 
look at Enabled life, an insider's view of dwelling 
within the organisation.

I hadn't expected anyone to meet me, so I almost walked 
right past him with urban tunnel-vision as he uncrossed 
his legs and stood - it was his height that alerted me. 
I also have a slight visual problem and have difficulty 
seeing to the right. As I stopped short, my heart did 
this silly little explosion of girlish pleasure.

"Mart...Mr. Stone! What are you doing here? I thought 
you'd have sent Allen." I ironed the flash of 
startlement from my face and thrust out my hand.

"Saskia," he smiled, his voice sending a thrill down my 
spine. "You always called me Martin in our letters." He 
took my hand in both his. Now he had taken me completely 
off guard as, with a laugh, I answered the gesture so 
that we shared a generous double-handed handshake. 
Instantly, I was reminded of how vast a difference there 
was between friends-at-a-distance, and friendship close 
by. His nearness was doing things to my body that purely 
platonic affection shouldn't.

"Martin, sorry, Martin, excuse me!" Now I felt truly 
silly, and while he asked politely how the journey had 
been, I struggled to get my pulse, breathing and common 
sense back under control. He admitted he had been 
looking forward to my return, and offered to carry my 
bag, "if that doesn't offend any of your New Woman 
sensitivities?"

"And what's wrong with being a New Woman?"

He just looked at me, a small smirk tugging at the 
corner of his mouth. "Perhaps this time you will have 
the opportunity to meet my sister. Until now, she was 
the newest woman I knew of, and I assumed her mutation 
had everything to do with her attitude. You, however, 
may prove me wrong. Excuse me." With a negligent tug, he 
tweaked the bag from my hand - I would have needed both 
hands to hang on to it. "For all your eloquence with the 
written word, in person you have more thorns than a 
porcupine. This way."

_Oh, nice!_ But I held my tongue. I know I'm upfront, 
but that's gotten me where I am. Life isn't always kind 
to those who are soft.

_Always give good face, girl,_ said my stepfather. To 
this day I can hear his voice coming from the bedroom, 
echoing along the stark corridor of the apartment we'd 
moved into. He was distant, yet kind, and never 
mistreated me. He knew where Mum and I had come from. 
Mum was soft and passive and he was happy to care for 
us. He was decent, and wanted me to be able to go on 
defending myself. Mum had never been able to do that.

I was never allowed into the bedroom until he gave his 
permission. They wore those innocent faces that all 
parents wear as they finished dressing, lacing shoes or 
finding warm jackets, tucking hankies in pockets. I 
remember Mum offering me an insincere smile as she 
untied a silk scarf from around her wrist on one 
occasion. Which seemed a strange way to wear a scarf. 
They were often stored, a rainbow of silk, tied about 
the bars of the bedhead.

"How could you say that you know me in person?" I 
challenged Martin, as he unlocked the tailgate of a van 
painted in ENCOMM's blue and white livery. "Although we 
have exchanged letters, we haven't had the pleasure of 
much in-person company."

He eyed me with that measuring stare of his again. "I'm 
a keen judge of human nature. I work with it all the 
time. Isn't it part of the political profession?"

"Doesn't 'assume' run the risk of making an ass of u and 
me?"

Martin grinned wolfishly. "It doesn't if you verify 
everything you assume with raw facts."

"Facts? What facts do you have to back up your 
assessment that I'm a regular porcupine? Have you been 
through my luggage?" 

He did the gentlemanly thing in opening the passenger 
door for me. "Just listen to yourself, and note your own 
stiff-necked bearing. On your last visit to ENCOMM, I 
recall you making disparaging comments about men's 
expectations of women." As he eased into the driver's 
seat he smiled. "Would going through your luggage find 
cuddly dolls and gingham, or whips and leather?"

"Neither!" I protested, and he chuckled. "All right, I 
can be prickly, but at least I do circulate and have 
friends."

"Touche. I will contradict you by saying, however, that 
I also have friends, just not the time for them. As I 
sit in my boring little office while you gallivant 
around the world, no doubt you think yourself far 
worldlier than I in spite of your tender years." We 
turned onto a broad, leafy boulevard that pointed almost 
directly at ENCOMM's tower. I couldn't help but admire 
that spectacular iron column, so incongruous in a 
country town, soaring far above the silos.

"We're of a kind, Saskia. We're both very proud people, 
with prestige and high achievement to back us." He 
gestured through the windscreen. "There isn't a place 
within twenty miles where you can't see the tower. It 
represents those special people who are humanity's 
finest flowering. I am in charge there. By necessity, my 
eyes must watch inward to see that the organisation runs 
smoothly and to greatest effect. Your eyes are ever on 
the outside, greater world. Together, we could make a 
formidable team."

That ripped my attention from the tower. I turned and 
stared at him. Not looking my way, he maintained his 
enigmatic smile as he watched the road, and explained. 
"It's not often I admit to less than capability, but I 
am somewhat deficient in matters of the greater human 
society. In that sense, I need a specialist advisor. The 
object of your visit here remains the completion of your 
follow-up article, but I ask you also to consider 
working in my direct employ, for ENCOMM. Remuneration 
can be discussed, and this offer is yet unofficial, but 
I'm not making it lightheartedly either. Think it 
through over the coming days, and we can discuss it in 
greater depth before you leave, if you're at all 
interested."

"That is an intriguing offer, Martin, thank you - I'm 
flattered you regard my work so highly. I will keep that 
in mind. But I thought Allen was your media officer," I 
added carefully. There had been everything about Allen 
to suggest antagonising him would be a mistake.

Martin shook his head. "And so Allen shall remain. While 
you would still write articles about the Enabled, 
though, your main role would be as professional advisor 
to me on foreign matters. You would become my outward 
gaze. You would travel the world and gather intelligence 
for me and thus the Enabled. There are Enabled in other 
countries who would benefit from localised 
establishments like ENCOMM. My ultimate dream would be 
to preside over a worldwide network of Enabled."

"A refreshingly honest admission of megalomania," I 
noted. Martin threw back his head and laughed, a rich 
music that stirred my blood. His expressionless face lit 
up with a warmth that I guessed was rarely glimpsed by 
outsiders.

"Saskia, the precise application of power is natural to 
me."

I watched the tower as we navigated the streets. "I 
thought I'd be getting a cab to check in at the motel, 
rather than you finding the time to pick me up in 
person."

"I have arranged your visit to best suit my staff. As to 
my collecting you, I wished to mention my job offer. If 
you have any objections, please discuss them with the 
manager." He touched his chest.

"At least I have a direct line to him," I smiled. "What 
have you planned for me, then, Managing Director?"

"I've arranged for you to meet several of the Enabled, 
some with age and experience, others young, and some of 
the technicians that have married into the families. The 
Polymorph is inspirational to listen to, he's an elder 
held in great esteem."

"And your sister?"

"Yes," he sighed. "You do keep trying to bring this back 
to my private life all the time, don't you? She's 
available to talk to you this afternoon, and intriguing 
as one of our more mutated Enabled."

"If I'm to work with you on a permanent basis, I should 
get to know you," I said smugly. He favoured me a 
sidelong glance as we slowed to approach one of ENCOMM's 
high wire gates.

"That cuts both ways. I'll be frank with you, Saskia. 
You're the first woman beyond the Enabled that I've met 
with such spirit. I want to know why. What it is that 
drives you. You intrigue me."

I was speechless, caught by his eyes and the low vellum 
of his voice. He may as well have run his hand down my 
back for the thrill I felt. Was it safe to conclude our 
attraction was mutual, after all?

The wire gate rolled aside and Martin drove us into 
ENCOMM. 

***

It was Allen who kept me to Martin's schedule. The Boss 
returned to his own office. With him gone from immediacy 
I was able to concentrate on the fascinating characters 
I met that afternoon, in a plain office space Allen had 
set aside. There was the Polymorph, a charming and 
humorous fellow who had no solid skeleton beyond his 
skull - he moved and flowed like a vastly-magnified 
amoeba. I met an engineer who had co-designed the 
geothermal powerplant that ran ENCOMM, gaining a 
tantalising glimpse of the power of their industrial 
secrets. A doctor born to an Enabled family but not 
himself Enabled, whose primary duty was to assess the 
newborn for their degree of mutation, also spoke with 
me.

Last of the day was was Georgie Slater, and yes, an iron 
will would be required not to gape at her in sheer 
astonishment, even hostility for her remarkable looks. 
Her skin was pale and bluish, her eyes like nuggets of 
coal beneath hawkish brows. Her teeth were the sawteeth 
of a cannibal fish, small, serrated and wickedly sharp. 
She was known as the Venom, and all over her naked 
skull, small white tentacles the size of fingers rippled 
and shifted, their tips tinted with blue and mauve like 
a sea anemone.

Georgie laughed as we sat and talked about how she'd 
handled her Enabled ability through her growing years. 
Early on, she understood the only way she was going to 
find a husband would be by going on the hunt. She had 
every reason for her assertive nature. _Give good face_. 
Nature had not given Georgie a good face, so she had 
made her own arrangements.

So in spite of looks, Georgie was married, and mother of 
a baby son who looked normal, but was still being 
assessed for less obvious abnormalities. She was frank 
about the drawbacks and advantages of having body fluids 
with a paralytic quality. "Being my lover is stimulating 
in a way most men could only dream of," she said with a 
wicked wink. "Jeff would never stray, even if a beauty 
queen beckoned." Then she cast me a discerning, sidelong 
look. "Is there something wrong with your right eye?"

"My eye?" I echoed, feigning incomprehension.

She shrugged. "I have an eye for paralysis states, given 
what I can do with my Enabled skill. Anyway, as I was 
saying..."

I enjoyed Georgie's company immensely, finding her 
upfront manner refreshing. When Allen came to transfer 
me back to town, she batted her hands at him. Her long 
black fingernails were like claws. "Oh don't worry, 
Allen - I'm going to pop down the street after this 
anyway, so I'll take Saskia with me."

"She has an appointment at seven-thirty tonight - please 
do not forget that, Ms. Limarre."

"Relax, Allen, I've got it marked," I assured him. "And 
you really can call me Saskia, it's only fair."

He made a flustered face, rolled his eyes and walked 
off, Georgie barking laughter. She punched my shoulder 
lightly. "Come on. We'll go to the School and pick up 
the boys, I've got to do some shopping for them. I'm 
looking after Simon tonight while Martin goes out - oh 
yeah, you're going to that do as well, aren't you?"

Tonight on my schedule - dinner at a local club, an 
exclusive hangout for the Enabled, who would be 
celebrating a birthday. Martin had cleared me to attend 
so that I could observe the Enabled at play. "You're not 
going?"

She made a face, uncoiling her long black tongue in 
distaste. "Too many toadies for my liking. Since 
Martin's going he'll be surrounded by sycophants. 
Opportunities for them to schmooze with him are few and 
far between."

ENCOMM's School functioned also as a creche for the very 
young. Georgie's little boy was pretty, with his uncle's 
deep blue eyes and a ready grin. It was while we chatted 
with the family elder who ran the creche that Martin's 
son wandered in from his primary school tutelage in the 
room next door.

Simon, by definition, was not Enabled, although he was 
malformed. His arms ended in short stumps a few inches 
from his shoulders. In no way did his lack of arms cramp 
a considerable boyish confidence. He tossed tousled 
brown hair, a cocky roll to his gait.

"Well, Simon, aren't you going to kiss your Aunty 
Georgie?" Mrs Ingersoll chided.

"Why should I?" Simon grinned. I could only guess he 
looked more like his mother. "Dad don't dish out the 
mushy stuff." He looked me up and down frankly. "This 
must be Sa...um, Ms. Limarre, Dad said you were gonna 
visit. It's always good to get a letter here from you, 
it puts Dad in a good mood. So, Aunty George, we gonna 
do this stupid clothes shopping or what?"

_Give good face_. I liked this kid already.

***

 From the department store it was a short distance to the 
motel, so I walked on from there although Georgie had 
offered to drive me over. In the cool solitude of the 
room, at last there was time to organise myself and my 
thoughts. A fat wad of notes awaited transcription. I 
dug out the foolscap notebook, ready to eke an outline 
out of my earliest impressions.

Somehow, my mind kept straying to Simon, then, beyond, 
to places I seldom cared to visit anymore.

_I'm gonna be Enabled soon enough,_ Simon had declared 
after I asked how he found living without arms. _I've 
got artificial arms, but they're nuthin' compared to the 
robot arms they're building for me in ENCOMM. I can't 
have them yet, not until I stop growing, but when I do 
I'll become the Cyborg Enabled. So it's really cool, 
when I think about that. It'll be great. My robot arms 
will be nearly as strong as Dad's._

And then, in my mind's eye, I saw my mother. She's 
healthy and able-bodied, clever with brush and pen. But 
she can't bring herself to leave the house. She won't 
take on a career because she would have to venture out. 
My stepfather cares for her. She doesn't give good face. 
She can't. In every other respect, she's a normal human 
being. Who are the disabled, and who are the Enabled?

I stabbed my pen down, frustrated, unable to 
concentrate. A burning line of light was spearing toward 
me, between thick curtains, the gold of late afternoon. 
A run would settle me. Running always helped. My 
nostrils flared as I dug out my training clothes, 
expecting the remembered stench that had haunted me for 
so long. But there was only fresh accommodation to 
smell. It was all right.

Footfalls on hot concrete and smooth lawn, striking a 
rhythm with pulse and breath. Bodily synergy. Safe and 
sane and full of life. I returned to the room refreshed.

When I had tugged my clothes out of the case, something 
else had toppled out, and I laughed. My faithful 
travelling companion, dark red and gleaming, ever ready 
to serve was lying on the guest towel on the bed. I even 
called him Plastic Martin.

I considered. After the run was often the time. But 
tonight, I would be in the company of the real thing. 
"I'll need you later," I murmured as I took him in hand. 
Still, it was nice...to close my eyes and nuzzle him 
into my crotch, even though I was still fully clothed. 
For a time I stood that way, breathing deeply, escaping 
in the simple pleasure of rubbing the dildo against my 
sex. 

***

I could not get back to writing, and the self-pleasuring 
did not last. By the time I showered and dressed, I was 
still early for the party. Nonetheless, I fronted up, 
exploring the establishment before entering the function 
room. Ordering a lemon squash, I sat at the bar, warning 
farm hicks away with my stare and watching for the 
Enabled to arrive. I noted where the tubs of faux 
greenery were placed, the booths, the jukebox, the 
kitchen. Casing the joint, if you will - there are 
places where conversations can be overheard and gems of 
information gleaned.

The Enabled and their kin arrived in small groups. As 
the elite of their kind, they carried themselves with 
arrogant elegance, attired in rich clothing and 
impeccable "face". They were safe in number, greeted 
respectfully by the staff. _Toadies_, said Georgie in my 
memory. Allen was in their midst, wearing a pale pink 
suit, ruffled shirt spilling from his sleeves and 
collar. He was all smiles and laughter, the portrait of 
genteel. No matter the community, be it biker gangs or 
theatrical companies, the jostling at the top is 
universal.

Those who can read the game, master it. Martin arrived 
alone, greeting everyone in turn, distributing his 
favour as each player required. He took my hand and 
touched it to his lips in gallant style, eyes playing 
with a smile even as he remained sober-faced. He did not 
give his smiles away to all and sundry. The irrational 
in me fluttered at his kiss, wondering how his lips 
would feel elsewhere; but it was a small voice in the 
background of the intrigue and internal politics spread 
before me.

I circulated, engaging in light chat, speaking with some 
that I had met earlier. It was preferable I faded into 
the background, to unobtrusively take mental notes. 
However, Martin introduced me formally, taking my hand 
in his.

"If you have all done your reading homework, you will be 
well aware of Saskia's contributions to the public 
profile of the Enabled. I encourage you all to make her 
welcome. Have no doubt we will see more of her in times 
to come."

There was polite applause, over which eyes gazed, from 
genuinely pleased to disinterested to hostile. It took 
some time for me to fade from view again.

An excursion to the ladies' room bought me a break. I 
made my way back to the action slowly, via the boltholes 
I'd identified earlier. While standing behind a screen 
of fake foliage I picked up on Allen's voice, in 
conversation with ENCOMM's security chief, Laing. 
Georgie had mentioned Laing's urbane mask rode uneasily 
over the amorality of a shark.

"...she's Aravlasi, you see, they're all like that. 
Certainly got Martin's eye, have to hand her that," said 
Laing.

"Women like that are too proud for their own good. What 
she needs is her knickers off and her ankles up around 
her ears..."

Icewater flooded my veins. I whipped the nylon herbage 
aside, able to glare straight into Allen's fishy eyes. 
"Get used to me, Allen," I said sweetly. "We may need to 
work together. Excuse me, Mr. Laing." As I stalked 
across the room, Laing gently chuckling behind me, I 
checked the women again. Allen's wife was a dumpy, 
orange-haired woman in a kaftan, her fingers encrusted 
in gemstone rings. Laing's wife was Enabled, a startling 
albino beauty with waist-length silver tresses and odd-
coloured eyes, red and blue, like a chinchilla cat. She 
carried herself like a movie star. Odds on, I wagered, 
Allen was porking her on the side.

"There you are." Martin's voice stopped me, and I turned 
to find him gesturing toward one of the more secluded 
booths. "Come on, let them perform for us. Can I get you 
something?"

"Time I joined the ringmaster rather than playing with 
the clowns," I sighed, releasing an unsteady breath. I 
needed time-out, time to calm down. Sometimes giving 
good face hurts like hell. A vague headache was 
gathering around my right eye socket.

Martin passed me a champagne flute, then poured himself 
a red. "Giving you a hard time, were they?"

"Nothing I can't handle," I replied, steady-eyed. I've 
had to deal with much worse in my life. "You've managed 
to escape attention at last?"

"They know when I've had my fill. So tell me - Dicot, 
eh? What possessed you to go there for your latest 
adventure?"

As we chatted, my anger ebbed. Martin's face relaxed, 
falling more easily into a smile as he lounged in his 
seat. His eyes, though, revealed a vigour his posture 
concealed, and kept touching and holding my attention. 
He was studying me, on every level. Our conversation 
eventually drifted back to Allen.

"Allen was born of Enabled blood, but he has no 
mutation, no special ability. He has to feel important. 
He is good at what he does, but jealousy is a harsh 
mistress," he observed, gazing into the ruby depths of 
his wineglass.

"You threw me in here tonight to see how I'd fare?"

"No," he mused, running his fingertip around the rim. 
Then his gaze flicked up to mine. "I wanted to see how 
they fared, not you. They are whispering about us 
already."

"Talk is cheap." I looked down, at the glass in my hand. 
The scarlet of his flesh made a long, deep red image. I 
realised I had been fidgeting, running my fingers up and 
down the hard surface. He had noticed, by the gleam in 
his eye and the faint smile that tugged one corner of 
his lips.

"Enough of talk, then." He sat up straight, then stood, 
a hand extended. "Shall we dance?"

"Now that will set tongues to wagging." His smooth, hot 
hand captured mine. The games of the earlier evening 
were swept away.

Up close, his physical power more than matched his 
political strength. He moved gracefully for a large man, 
with the very light touch of someone who understood his 
own strength. I kept looking at his open shirt, its deep 
blue fabric contrasting the rose of his chest. His 
cologne was understated musk. He swept me into a dip 
with no effort, and was amused by my startlement when he 
did so. He was scoring points off my unflappability - 
and I didn't mind at all.

The movement of his body beneath his suit coat was 
enchanting, and we drew closer by mutual, unspoken 
assent. I could feel the radiant heat of his thighs, and 
thought of Plastic Martin awaiting at the motel suite. 
My lips were burning, so close to his face, yet so far.

Enough of torment. As the music ended, I glanced around. 
The party was slowly breaking up, so I thanked my host. 
"I had better call it quits, there's a pile of work 
ahead of me tomorrow."

"I cannot tempt you to linger?" A flirtatious sparkle 
lit his eyes.

I wasn't about to admit that he could. "It's not exactly 
the Starlight Room at the Kastangha Palace."

"Hmm, all the glamorous places in the world she's seen, 
and she ends up here in Far Kennarthen. May I at least 
summon you a horse-drawn cab?" He offered his arm, a 
sardonic twist to his grin.

"You may." I said my goodnights while he called a taxe, 
then Martin escorted me out to the street.

"Truth be told," he conceded, "I will be making some 
excuse to leave shortly. I have an arrangement with the 
Brain whereby he phones me at eleven if I have not made 
good an escape by then. Urgent administrative matters, 
of course. Some of the party crowd will kick on until 
the wee hours."

I looked up at the heights of the tower. Small white 
lights dotted the circumference of the observation deck, 
and a red light pulsed at its tip. Martin followed my 
gaze.

"Could you learn to love it?" he asked softly. "Enough 
to keep coming back? I cannot leave, but you can."

He was standing close behind me, so that when I turned I 
had to look up into his eyes. "Maybe Allen was right," I 
whispered.

"Allen?" he asked, lowering his face toward mine. I 
lifted my arms around his neck as he gathered me up. His 
lips were a gentle flicker of flame, a taste of red wine 
dark as his flesh. We lingered even when the cab 
arrived, a flash of headlights little distraction. I did 
not want to let him go, nor did his powerful arms loosen 
to free me. We broke only so that I could take a 
shuddering breath.

"If you would know me," he breathed, "then I must know 
you, Saskia."

"There's...not much to tell," I said faintly. He shook 
his head, smiling, brushing the tip of my nose with his.

Far below, my loins were on fire, answering the hot 
hardness I had pressed myself against. I had never 
wanted anything so much, any man, any moment. The taxi 
was waiting to take me away.

Gently, but firmly, Martin set me back, stepping away, 
holding me with his eyes as he sidled toward the cab. He 
opened the back door. Speechless with need and the 
passion knotted in my chest, I lowered myself into the 
car, expecting him to shut the door in my face. Instead, 
he slithered in after me, never taking his eyes from 
mine.

"ENCOMM, please, 23 West Street."

***  
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