REMAINDERS
Pt. 1: Baby Come Home!
by and © the hungry ghost
(nc, f/f, sf)

Tagline: Women find themselves trapped by a weird and mysterious force that seems to control their minds and bodies by putting them together  in positions and groupings ideal for storage.

This is a totally weird story, but one I’ve enjoyed writing. Enjoy! 

Part 1

	The excitement in the parking lot came to an end. One punch and that was it, pretty anti-climactic after the shouting, swearing and pleading. And now all that was left the bloody-lipped loser, dazed about why he was involved at all; the muscle-bound, still crazed boyfriend, whose face, thick neck and arms were still hot and flushed with adrenaline; and the embarrassed girlfriend who was fed up with everything, especially angry at having been the unwilling cause for it all.
	Shannon glared across the hood of her car at Mike. His hands were still opening and closing with every anabolically charged beat of his heart. He was ready for more, and looking for it. At that moment, without having to see anything more,  Shannon had had enough of this guy, this whole part of the country, everything.
	“Where’re you going?” he shouted. 
Shannon slid into her car and turned the engine by the time he made it to the driver’s side. 
“You leaving now after I fixed what you started? What the hell’s your problem?”
	“Listen asshole – you’re the one the who dragged that guy out here, you’re the one who pushed him around looking to start something, you’re the one to throw the first punch, and now you’re the one the cops are gonna find standing here in this parking lot like some big dumb farm animal. 
“It’s not my problem.” 
	The sudden rejection, a sniff of impending trouble, confusion over somehow doing wrong but not knowing what, swirled over Mike’s face. His confusion lasted long enough for Shannon to gun the car backwards, spin it around in the gravel, and take off. Without looking in the mirror, Shannon stuck her arm out the window: later – !
	The night was dark and humid and the air poured through the window as she drove. Shannon wondered briefly if she were just being a little coward, leaving the scene, cutting loose because it got a little tricky. But that disintegrated pretty quickly. Ok maybe, she had been a fool to travel half way across the country to be with this guy, but for the six months after they met at training camp, especially when he was cut from the team, anyone would have been fooled into believing Mike was an ok guy. He behaved like one. He got cut from the team because he was the one who would come pick her up after practice, swearing, believably, that he was fine staying out all night with her, fucking like horses until early morning. But when he was cut, even his stoicism was attractive.  But the disappointment and bitterness must have gradually gotten to him over the next few months after he left Phoenix. He came back here, his home town,  found some work as a bouncer while she’d stayed behind in Phoenix while she was deciding whether to move up with him. When she did, it was only to find a completely different guy waiting for her, loony with resentment, anabolics, and a little soldier who never came to attention any more. 
Well this sorry chapter is done with, she thought. 
She counted all the way back through her life and see it all blowing behind her: She met him only because she was living in Phoenix, and she was living in Phoenix only because that was where she landed the Cardinal cheerleading gig. And before that the stupid lap dancing thing during college, where  someone told her about professional cheerleading after graduation, which sounded ok as a last resort. The only reason she was a lap dancer anyway was because a girl in cheerleading at college had told her how to make more money than waitressing. Come to think of it, the only reason she was a cheerleader at college was because she had been one in high school, and the only reason she ignored her own advice about how stupid and worthless cheerleading was, was because her gymnastics coach threw her off the team. Not from anything she really did but because by the time she was a junior, her body had quit growing up and decided to grow out. Her hips and thighs thickened, her calves stayed the way they were, and her breasts got heavier and rounder. 
“Shannon, honey, really, it’s not you or your lack of drive,” her gymnastics coach explained, “it’s that God wants you to be dish, not a pixie.”
And the reason she even went into gymnastics, apart from the fun, was to prove her mother wrong. That she could be an athlete instead of walking down another runway or sit for another stupid department store modeling gig, activities her mother forced on her when she was five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten years old. And each time it was smile prance giggle then sit and be bored and hot under the lights and suffer headaches and nausea. 
It had come to this: she was in this car speeding into the inky, starless night principally because of a totally muddled, harebrained, insipid childhood her beauty-pageants-over-brains mother had led her through.
A wonderful, rare feeling struck – total self awareness. She was finally in charge. Just driving, under a big moon, speeding up, hitting the curves – liberating. 
She didn’t have to do anything. Not a thing, not for anyone. The permed long hair (“make it like a lioness’ mane”) blowing all around her head – she didn’t need to spend hundreds of dollars on it. Cut it off! Yeah … short, really really dyke short. She noticed the purple nailpolish on the fingers gripping the steering wheel  – stupid, bimboesque. Same with the frosted lips with the liner that Mike liked. And the hoops in her ears, the skirt, the top, the platform sandals(!) … 
“Take it all off!” she yelled into the wind.
She hated to admit it, but the feminists were right. Accessorizing, prettifying, this was just code to the people around her all these years and she could just as easily wear something else and still be the same person.

	The road beyond her headlights was dark; the stars were gone. Slowly the radio reception crackled and disintegrated. Before she could find a place to turn around, she felt something hit her car, or actually, her car hit something soft, as if she’d just run onto sand.
	“Fuck! What is wrong with you?” she asked the car. The engine didn’t start either, it just groaned and choked until even turning the ignition produced nothing. Shannon looked all around her: there was nothing but fields, a forest off in the distance and no more road. When did the road end? There were no signs.… She got out of the car and stood there. There’s got to be a farmhouse or something nearby, and for a moment she thought about a huge white farmhouse with a yard and tire hanging from a tree, a big old barn, a porch. She turned around again and thankfully saw a light, or a series of lights in the distance, and decided that stupid girly panic she had was the reason she didn’t see it before. She reached into the car, grabbed her purse and headed off, still in heels, across the fields. 
After only a few steps, the air began to smell funny and she thought she might have stepped in something. But no… it tasted like … she couldn’t put a finger on it, but it was like lemon and sugar. Ok, lemon meringue, but not so ….  
Suddenly she gasped, unable to breathe. Something got caught in the back of her throat, up and back in her nose like a big gob of snot. She could barely wheeze her way through a breath and then just like she felt the gob loosen in her nose and slide down her throat. She even felt it slide down her intestines and into her stomach where it dropped and then dissipated. It took her breath away for a moment. She panted a while, catching her breath, and when she could, there was still something in the way. 
Allergies. 
Shannon swallowed a few times and the taste was still there. But it didn’t keep her from heading off, tromping through the fields, swinging her purse, keeping her heels balanced in the ruts, towards the farmhouse or whatever it was.

*	*	*

	“It’s my turn to pick a cd.” 
Stacey reached down to the floor of the car and rummaged through black nylon bag. 
	“Fine – just no more boy bands, ‘k?” Mallory looked back to the road in front of her. Sunshine everywhere. Beautiful countryside. If everyone had the balls to blow off work for a three-day weekend, there’d be a whole lot less trouble in the world, Mallory thought. Which reminded her of what Stacey had just been saying. 
	“So really – you should see how you feel after this weekend. After a couple rounds of massage, some mud baths, some tennis, it won’t matter so much whether Scott moves in, or doesn’t, know what I mean?”
	Still bending over, Stacey looked up at her friend. “That’s where you’re wrong. I want it to matter, Mal. Because I don’t really want anything else except to think that Scott’s so committed to me that he’ll move in.” She went back into the bag. “I know that sounds pathetic, but I don’t care.”
	Mallory turned back to Stacey, trying and then giving up on a punchy response. Once again, she stepped right into the same closed, non-verbal space: lately, it seemed, she could look at her friend and boom - she would be startled at what she saw. Pleasantly, fluterringly startled. Stacey was not that big; in fact, she was tiny. But she seemed so broad and swaggering, with her wide shoulders, and those, well, alright, really robust breasts, and the hips and thighs incongrously long and sleekly muscled. Lots of times it happened when they were walking together. Mallory found herself dropping her end of the conversation simply enjoying the way Stacey walked. Like a lot of dancers, her steps were a graceful combination of stride, step, and prance. 
Luckily, Stacey seemed to be completely unaware of how she came across, almost every minute of the day, no matter what was going on. Handed an ice cream cone, the lips and tongue worked the ice cream with abandonment. Told she looked great, the eyes lit up, her back straightened and for several minutes, Stacey was royalty. Tell her she took a wrong turn on the turnpike, there was that whole plucked eyebrow diamond faced princess pout that could quickly turn into derision. Being told how wrong she was sometimes made Mallory’s stomach flutter.  
She long ago figured out that Stacey didn’t have a clue how forward or commanding she could be, because mixed up in the whole package was this yearning for … what? Well now it seemed that, deep down, all Stacey wanted was a little … pity. Underneath almost everything she did, that’s what seemed to pull Stacey along, as if being this crystal particle of prettiness was too much to bear. 
There in the car, looking at her friend while she rummaged through the bag of cds, Mallory realized something and then decided to accept it as a secret: she was – fuck it – attracted to Stacey, time after time. And the secretiveness about it was even more attractive. Like a little poison pill she willingly swallowed. Her attraction was an addictive self-negation, because Stacey was gorgeous, sexy and so very un-Mallory. Mallory knew she would always give Stacey the pity she wanted and keep the adoration to herself. 
	And then, weirdly, that very notion was proved to her. Stacey handed Mallory the cd. She smiled at her best friend. “I know you’re always looking out for me, Mal. that’s why I can say these things.”
	Before Mallory could respond, even with a smile, Stacey added, “Oh look – there it is.” Looming before them was Rancho Caldera Resort, a sprawling three story white palacio with orange tile roof and gardens in front. “Oh, it’s beautiful,” Stacey said. They had somehow, somewhere turned onto the gravel drive and within seconds were turning into the carriage drive that would lead them to the front door. But before they could actually pull up, and before Mallory could figure out precisely how they got here without following the directions she memorized the night before, her attention was pulled to the car. It came to a chugging, choking gradual stop. 
“That’s weird,” Mallory muttered, trying to restart the engine and failing. There was no one around, either.
	“Yeah – well, at least we’re here,” Stacey said. “Let’s go in.”
	They walked to the open, arcaded entrance, heads turning up and around, taking everything in, especially the smell and feel of the air. Stacey thought of flowers, a heady, sugary odor. She smacked her lips slightly. “You can even taste the air, Mal.” She took in a deep breath but suddenly felt something thick and syrupy run into her nose and down her throat, gagging her. Her eyes opened wide with panic, saw Mallory watching her, her face turn to concern and then managed an instinctive relaxation that allowed whatever had run down her nasal cavity and throat to continue down, into her chest and make its way down her intestines and finally into her stomach. She opened her mouth for more air, and found at last she could breathe. Not so easily, but enough to lessen the panic.
	“I thought I was gonna choke,” she said to Mallory. “It’s still all over my tongue.”
	“What is?”
	“The smell, I guess. The air’s pretty thick with it. Can’t you smell it?”
	“Yeah…lemony. But you looked like … you were almost in convulsions there, Stace.”
	“Yeah, intense.” She headed up the steps. “But I’m ok.” Mallory followed.
	A brilliant blue tiled fountain sparkled in the center of the courtyard that was ringed with rose bushes and stone benches. They had yet to see a single person, and only in the courtyard did they recognize how silent this perfumy place was. No breeze, no cars, no telephones, no paper, and the rustling of the fountain itself seemed numb. Without being told or knowing exactly how they knew, they headed to the opposite end of the courtyard where they came to a large oak door. Mallory reached for the handle, pulled the door open, playfully bowed to Stacey who happily courtsied in return and inside they went. The door closed behind them and they never found it again.

The vestibule was dark, but maybe ten feet in front of them, hazy sunlight illuminated a stonefloor hallway. To the left was a counter. A young woman, dressed in a white, open neck blouse, her blond hair piled high with professional hospitality stood behind it, looking not at Mallory, not at Stacey, but straight ahead, across the hallway. She hadn’t turned when they came in, though she must have heard them. 
Then again, Mallory realized there still wasn’t anything their ears could latch onto. They walked up the counter, to the side of the woman. Still she didn’t move. Stacey curiously leaned to the front of the woman  and once there, the woman’s face came to life.  Her awakened body became languid and welcoming. Mallory had the feeling they tripped a switch or something that told the woman she now had visitors, and looked at Stacey to see if she noticed anything peculiar too. Stacey was already looking at her and in the way she shifted her eyes between Mallory and the woman, she was indicating, “Too bizarre….”
	The woman placed both hands on the tile countertop. Three bracelets slithered down her arms. Her blouse was rakishly unbuttoned just so, revealing a flurry of gold lace  beneath. Her skin was smooth and lightly tanned. “I’m so glad you could come,” she said to both of them with the most honest-to-god welcoming white smile either had seen. “We hope you will be comfortable. Please wait in there.” She lifted up a prettily manicured hand and pointed to another room behind them, a large sunny room with other guests inside. No request for names, no questions about bags, no howdy-dos formal or informal, just please step that way. Mallory shrugged, and if Mallory shrugged Stacey went with it too, and they both turned to go into the room. 
“Is this what they mean by Old World charm?” Stacey muttered sotto voce, but Mallory wasn’t completely listening. She was watching the reaction of the other guests who, having noticed the two of them walking towards them had got up from their couches and were waving them away, their mouths saying no, go back, without a sound, as though they were behind glass. But Mallory and Stacey had stepped forward far enough to feel a wash of something push across their faces, over their heads and shoulders, and down their backs, as if they’d walked through a viscuous satiny wall of gelatin. And just like that, they were in the room with the others, and they could hear everything again.
	None of the women were glad they were there. 
“Dammit!”
Someone to the side moaned, “Not more …” 
Someone else said, “Didn’t you hear us?” and another woman answered, “She couldn’t see us, Bev —”
	A woman, slightly taller than Mallory, who was better than five eight, walked up to her and said, “Couldn’t you see us waving either?”
	Mallory didn’t know what to say. She was still taking in the really strange situation building up all around her and Stacey and it was becoming clearer that something was going wrong, irretreviably wrong. “Yeah, we … I … what’s the matter?” 
	“What’s the matter?” the woman replied. Mallory fastened quickly on her blue, intense eyes and saw how incredulous they were. “You’re stuck here now, that’s what’s the matter.”
	 “Susan, calm down.” An older woman, slight and thin and confidently together stepped forward and offered her hand to Susan’s arm. “You can’t undo any of this.”
	“Well, I’m sure as hell not going to sit back and do nothing,” Susan replied.
	Mallory took a quick look around her: a comfortable, pleasant hotel lobby, with a few seating areas arranged around coffee tables, plants, small unthreatening paintings, unused fireplace, and maybe nine or ten women. An older, Hispanic woman and a pretty, thin Indian girl near the window; three high school aged girls huddling close to a middle aged woman, who looked like a mom or a coach, sittingquietly, ferociously, protectively, but unbelieving and on the verge of hysteria. There were three weary-looking hitch-hikers sitting on the floor and a blonde with that bimbo-lioness kind of permed hair Mallory hated, teetering nervously on lucite platform sandals. All of them looked distressed, anxious, waiting, or just observing the commotion between her, Susan, the older woman, and Stacey, who was now calmly asking “Can you tell us what’s happening?” 
Stacey turned to some of the other women behind and to the side of Susan. The less intense ones, the ones she instinctively felt safer with. 
No longer the new girl here, Shannon didn’t feel so dumb any more to get caught. She had spent the time sitting in the corner, staying to herself, evaluating, removing the nail polish and the earrings, remembering she was in charge. Now she watched the petite girl, who was already beginning to look scared, scan the room. Shannon decided to step forward and speak, for the first time. Everyone turned around. “We’re trying to figure that out, too. We don’t know what’s going on. We just got here too.”
“You’re all a group?” Mallory asked.
Shannon and Susan and the older woman behind Susan, and a couple of others in the room answered separately but at the same time, “No.” There was an awkward pause. And just then all these little social clues came together for Mallory. As if they were all in an elevator that suddenly went dead. No one was in charge, a few thought they were, some pretended not to notice the situation, a couple were counting on the politeness of others, and the rest just wanted to get out. But no one was coming forward with an explanation.
No one’s helping these girls, Felicia Octavio thought to herself. She got up off the couch and headed towards the stronger of the two.
“Listen, none of us knows really what’s going on. We all have been coming in to this … building here… over the last, I don’t know, how long’s it been?” She looked around.
“Seems like days,” the woman behind Susan answered. Mallory could look at her now. She was dressed in formal business: a gray skirt, black shiny pumps, stockings, dark blue blouse with wide collar. Thick black bob, with a few lines of silver, handsome lines under some pretty green eyes. A grown up, non-hysterical, a boss, mother of teens, someone quietly in charge, thank god.
“Sandy, Jenka, Allison, you were all here before me? And you four…” she indicated the quiet high school group in the corner and only one girl slowly, politely nodded in response but that was all. Three of the girls were still in uniform, cheerleading uniform, with light jackets on over the top. An older woman was with them, unlucky to have been driving carpool today, Mallory thought. They’re way in over their heads. Sandy, Jenka, and Allison, the three hitchhikers, nodded too. One was fair and stout as tree, one tall and Nordic, one a curlyheaded brunette, soft and shy. 
It was Jenka, tall and Nordic, who realized that Marnie was once again stepping forward to help out because everyone else was panicking. Marnie. Jenka felt a warm memory waft past her, a memory of one of the dreams she’d had and it felt good. To hell with it, it felt good. Inspiring. She wanted Marnie to know she was there to help. 
Jenka spoke up. “And there were some here when we got here, too. But they’re …  well, they are gone now.”
	“Damn right, gone,” Susan muttered.
	“What do you mean gone?” Stacey asked.
	Susan wheeled around towards Stacey, poised to lash out, wanting to, tasting the anger and liking it, and wanting to speak so straight that the girl would just die. And then it was gone. Her anger didn’t matter. Setting the girl straight didn’t matter. They were all here, they were all fucked, and the need to be held was so great it overwhelmed her. She retreated back to the window, and realized she was moving in this direction because Felicia was there. She heard Marnie begin to explain things to the new girls and felt all eyes were off her now.
Susan moved close to Felicia, trying to disregard the swarm of thougths and emotions inside herself. Of all times to begin falling in love with a woman.  And when she had only entertained the idea as a kind of mental game of curiosity before. She was straight as an arrow, able to look men in the eye and enjoy it, a player among pros, and never slutty, always in charge. But here, in this … trap … it was like she was sick. She was not in charge, she was losing her grip on her sexuality, and she was falling for a woman who wasn’t, well – if she was ever going to have sex with a woman, it wouldn’t be a middle-aged, robust, suburban real estate agent. But even that little bit of irony got her warm. Suddenly a lingering, spicy taste on her tongue came back. And just then felt Felicia’s eyes on her. Standing next to her, Susan reached out and touched Felicia’s arm.
“You’re going to hate me after all this,” Susan said. “I’m not making a very good impression, I know.”
	Felicia didn’t know how to answer Susan cleverly. Her heart was beating and it was melting now that Susan had come near her. Each quietly indulged in a moment they knew the other understood. Felicia felt almost giddy with relief that Susan wasn’t afraid to talk to her after all, because it had already been a long, awkward while since they brought together.

Earlier, Felicia had retreated anonymously to this corner to think things through. The agitation in the room was getting too much and the desperation inside each of them only increased the more they talked. What good was all this talking, Felicia had thought, so she went her own way. They all want to get out of here, but they can’t. They can’t physically leave here, they’ve tried everything. She sat on an empty couch in front of something that looked like a window, a window that couldn’t open, couldn’t be smashed, and made only dull thumping sounds when you smacked it. She was sitting next to the India girl, Rana. Both smiled uncomfortably.  
Rana spoke. “This is a terrible situation.” Felicia smiled at what was essentially a conversation starter. 
But what else do you talk about here, Felicia decided. At least she was kind enough not be hysterical. 
“Yes, it’s very bad,” she answered. But Felicia couldn’t find it in her to keep the conversation going. Rana sensed this and politely leaned back into the couch. This is a terrible situation, Felicia repeated to herself, but it fell flat.
They were all being so angry and argumentative, even poor, mighty Susan. Especially Susan. Felicia had watched her in action, urging everyone to think, to break this situation down, to think like their captors, whoever they are, and come up with a solution. Watching her, Felicia found herself retreating inside. The urge to fight was disintegrating into something vain, futile. She followed Susan as she began pacing in the middle of the room, but she was drifting back into memory. Or rather, memory was taking her away.  To the last time, the time with Susan…  
There was the floating. The sudden, shedded nakedness. The freedom that came from being naked, and the caressing of black emptiness on her skin.  There was the involuntary movements of her limbs, as if being placed into position by an unseen, methodical dancing instructor. Her knees slowly bent. If there was a floor, she’d be on her hands and knees, but it was empty space so her arms simply hung from her shoulders. And while her body belonged to something else, her mind was still hers. Or at least, she had access to it, watching, in her mind, how her body behaved to an impulse separate from her brain. She could see herself. In position, floating, naked, on her hands and knees. And see herself feeling it all, in a thick current that brushed along her skin. 
Her ass responded to an urge: Open more.The command worked on her body rather than her mind, though. It slowly creept downwards, more and more, until it reached …. It reached a place she had always felt disgusted and yet on the verge of loving…. Yes, open, open wider… yes. Here is my ass, she thought. It was wonderful. Like some wanton whore. Give it to me, she was thinking,  lewdly, giving in to a need she didn’t know was there but giving in entirely by sticking her ass up high and opening it from her hips. Who wants it? She asked herself. And tried to wiggle it. She wanted to wiggle it, but couldn’t, it was not part of the position. But then she received an answer. The one to get it would be Susan. In her minds eye Susan was coming to her. Pale, sinewy Susan, already on her knees, thigh muscles straining because she was leaning back, her stomach muscles straining too, maintaining balance. Her knees were wide, and her neck muscles strained because her head was reaching forward, at a severe right angle. Her face was lewd too, grinning like the devil, eyes focussed with hunger, and through the grinning lips, a pink tongue wagged languidly. Susan's arms were held out in front of her, bent at the elbow, fingers splayed, as if were about to catch a big ball. I know what she’s going to catch though, Felicia mused, the happy bitch. A happy bitch like me. Bring her. 
Frozen in this extreme position, Susan slid towards Felicia. And once Susan was aligned behind Felicia, Felicia knew what would happen next. The coupling would commence.Felicia  too was frozen, on all fours, her head hanging down between her shoulders. She could see Susan’s knees and thighs appear below her. The whiteness of the taut skin around her knees actually had a yellowish highlight. Not a pink white, Felicia thought. Slutty. like me. Susan’s shins glided  through Felicia’s palms and Felicia’s heart jumped at the touch of Susan’s splayed hands once they met Felicia’s generous ass and hips. Take this big round ball, girl, Felicia thought and that sealed it. She felt the orgasm begin, even before the coupling was completed, before Susan could finish having her face, frozen with expectation,  brought right into the dark musk of Felicia’s ass and her shoulders slipping under Felicia’s big thighs, before Felicia could reach her own head down further and bury it in the tangled blackhaired forest of Susan’s pussy. Even as the orgasm caught Felicia, she could still see the two of them in her mind, Susan on her knees, bent backwards, white hands grasping Felicia’s tawny hips, Felicia bent over Susan’s shoulders, her own hands with wine colored fingernails grasping that tight white ass.
Frozen.
In the silence of space, their two voices: Take this big round ball girl. 
Gimme that ass, Susan growled.
 
Sitting on the couch next to Rana, Felicia shook out of her reverie. She spied Susan listening to Marnie and the new girls. Felicia looked around the room. She had been coupled with four girls so far and each one was deeper descent into this madness that Felicia knew she would have to give into soon. A couple of the girls were already gone, but afew were still here. Allison – in which they had both sat on their knees, breast to breast, arms tightly wrapped around each other, lips sealed together. Marnie – they laid together, spooning, hands joined together buried in each other’s pussies, a little awkwardly because they were different sizes. But there was also Katie, Susan’s friend, before she was taken away. The most beautiful girl she’d ever seen, Katie’s smooth thighs straddling her face, while up above her, Katie’s own face was buried in some girl who sat on her shoulders. 
Felicia started to feel a little remorse. Not just for Susan who was mostly upset at having lost Katie, but because, listening now to Susan insist that there was a way out, Felicia found herself thinking, There probably isn’t. So why fight it? 
She didn’t want to fight it. There was something exciting about this, not just as a mystery, confusing, even dangerous to some degree. But deep inside Felicia, the urge to fight on was giving way to wanting this. No thinking, no worrying, only wet, juicy pleasure was happening and though she’d never had a single sexual thought about women, this was the most thrilling situation she’d ever been in. At that moment, while Susan was arguing over the two new girls, Felicia scanned the room. Who would she next? 
Susan gave up and walk in her direction. “You’re going to hate me after all this,” Susan said. “I’m not making a very good impression, I know.”
	Felicia didn’t know how to answer Susan cleverly. Her heart was beating and it was melting.
	“You’re upset, I know. You’ll find Katie.”
“Maybe. Maybe,” Susan replied, not believing herself. She took Felicia’s hand, meaty and warm, but with fingers that were long and strong. Susan knew right then that she was slipping, but slipping into something inevitable and … really good. She led Felicia off the couch into a corner nearby.
“I want to tell you… “ Susan began. She looked down into Felicia’s big brown eyes. They weren’t the same height, but it didn’t matter to her. If she was going to be made into some big dyke, someone’s prisonbitch, well then this woman was more than capable of making it good. 
“What I want to tell you is – ” She stepped closer, and suddenly felt the urge to whisper in Felicia’s ear. So she did. “If there’s another one of those of dream times, I want you.” 
Felicia melted again. Despite herself, despite her husband, despite her kids and her mother, despite her religion and the expectations that she should be wanting to escape this situation, not embrace it, Felicia leaned around to whisper back to Susan. As she did, she happened to make eye contact with Jenka. They both blushed, self consciously but Felicia still placed her brown, fleshy, elegantly manicured hand on Susan’s wrist, just for a brief, secret, indulgent moment no one else paid any attention to. “I hope so – too.”
Susan gave in and brushed her lips on Felicia’s temple. She’d never felt this sexy, this uncontrollably randy before. “If only we  knew when it was coming again. Or how our partners were picked. Or where our partners go to …”
Her voice trailed off.  

	Marnie moved closer to Mallory. “Listen – I’m sorry, what’s your name? I’m Marnie.”
	“Sorry. I’m Mallory. This is Stacey.”
	“Listen, Mallory. None of us knows what’s really going on here, or what this place is. There’s not a whole lot of information available.” Mallory was touched by her soft attempt at irony. At least there’s a little bit of life to her, Mallory thought. “But …” Marnie reached her arm out to Stacey to escort the two of the them to another part of the room. “But I want you to be aware at least of what we do know. Which is nothing. We haven’t figured any way out yet. And we don’t know who’s holding us. Except –”   
 	Mallory was listening but watched Marnie sink a little only to pull herself together again. “Except that they single out one or two or even more and take them to another part of the building and they undergo something that changes them, brainwashes them, I’m not really sure….”
“Brainwashed?” Stacey’s voice trembled.
Mallory felt Stacey’s fear, as Marnie, all five foot six in heels, squared up her shoulders. “Stacey, this is very important. I’m not telling you this to alarm you or worry you. Now is not the time to get frightened, do you both understand? We need your help, you need our help, we all need to stay focused, because there’s a lot going on here that’ll throw you off. We’re either being tested, or prepped, or something because there’s a lot of hallucinatory events taking place that will … oh, shit.”
	It was Susan. “Oh, jesus, no. Katie!”
	Everyone turned around. Into the center of the room strode two women with a third behind them. Mallory immediately recognized the waspy blonde from behind the counter. She stood behind the other two without any discernable intelligence or animation, shoulders square, eyes unmoving, maybe not even breathing. The other two, more aggressive, resolute, held little black boxes as if they were weapons. Their backs were incredibly straight, stiff, their legs unfurling in jackbooted confidence with every step, their heads scanning the room slowly, one redheaded, freckly, the other chocolate skinned, sleek and lithe. It seemed weird just then to notice not that they were robotic or tranced and ready to dispense shit, but that they were dressed so normally for the dispensing: the redhead in gray flannel slacks, black buster browns, and white t-shirt; the dark girl in black cotton slip-ons, mid-length hunter green skirt, black mock turtleneck. Earrings. Silverpolish finger and toenails. Like they were straight out of the office.
But it was Stacey who was in a better position to see their faces: unyielding, strong with emptiness and yet total enthrall, eyes open, bright, and only letting the light of purpose out, not in. They wore recognition, not welcome. It was a sight she had never seen before, and realized quickly there would be no chance she could beat them. Their unfeeling directness and emptiness of cognition lit into Stacey who didn’t want  them to look at her, but also knew she wanted them to, knew that to give in to them would somehow mean benefiting from them. She saw their power. Felt it even without being confronted by it, and for the first time in her life knew that she would never stand a chance if she had to. And once she accepted that, she underwent the dreadful indulgence of subservience: Kill me, take me, give it to me. Whatever you want. I don’t care. The quicker the better. She hooked a finger in Mallory’s jean pocket and held on. 
Mallory dropped her hand onto the small clutching one oh her friend. Then they held hands. Then they looked at each other. Stacey was so frightened, she seemed gone already.

	Susan saw immediately what was going on and left Felicia. Both women turned towards her, in unison, aware of sudden threat. Susan stopped in her tracks, giving space but determined to reach her friend. “Katie… Are you ok?” 
Sensing no more threats, both women turned away and took three steps. In the center of the room they turned, left, right, left again, looking or scanning. Mallory watched Susan try to get her redheaded friend’s attention, and failing sadly. 
 “Katie. Katie can you hear me?” She looked at Katie’s face and saw only a single, unnamable purpose. Her eyes were focused, unblinking, and unseeing. The lips, still lined with the lipstick color they bought before winding up here, were not sealed tight, just resting and for the first time Susan noticed how pretty those lips were, in fact how, pretty Katie was, withdrawn, unblinking, determined. 
Katie, obviously in charge, was observing the high school group.
The other girl spoke up. “You – “ she raised a dark hand and pointed to one of the girls. The older woman rose with anger and fear. “Don’t you touch her you cunt – get away – keep your filthy hands off her – ”
Susan heard the tinkling sound of Katie’s bracelets and watched her automatically raise her hand, holding a thin black square as if she were offering it to the enraged woman. And with horror watched Katie’s thumb tense and a shrill high pitched tone burst forth and a green light strike the eyes of the woman who now was suddenly quiet. Her mouth was open, her posture still leaning forward protectively, her eyes still boring straight into Katie’s. But the anger evaporated. She was tranquil. The black girl said, “Sit,” and the woman did.
Katie lowered the weapon to the girl they wanted. “Come,” she said. 
	At first Linda couldn’t believe they were pointing at her. Why are they picking me? She didn’t have anything they wanted. She wanted to go home, she was tired of this, this was all stupid and scary and she was beginning to hate Ms. Southern for being so overwrought and hyper-protective. A small part of her was relieved she’d been silenced like that and for a second wondered if that was all that needed to be done. Maybe they’d go away. But it sunk in: the weapon was aimed at her. The nightmare picked up again.
	“Why me?” she asked. There was no answer. 
Linda had always admired professional women. She loved their confidence, especially their clothes. That’s what I’m going to be like, she thought. When Katie had been conscious and in this room with the rest of them,  Linda listened to every word Katie had said as Katie worked on a hunch – there’s something controlling the environment of this building, something at work here, you can almost sense it. 
But then there was that weirdness, the floating, the sex with another girl who wasn’t even here any more,  the nurse. Where had she gone? For the first time in her life, Linda had felt what she guessed was intimacy, or was it ecstasy? She’d never had sex before, well, maybe kissing Danny was sex, but there was never anything big about it. And then driving back from cheerleading,  Mrs. Southern taking a detour around road construction, getting lost, coming here, finding a bunch of women  in this room and the next thing she knew, she was floating. And she was naked. Not in complete darkness, because there were little Christmas light things off in the distance, and she could see other women involved with each other. Floating too. And suddenly she was being flown towards Anita, the nurse, who was lying on her side, all naked too. Linda found her arms reaching out, and her legs reaching down, her toes pointing, and she came to a stop on top of – along side of? – Anita who seemed so glad she was there. Anita’s pudgy arms were also stretched upwards, and her legs and toes were pointing and Linda couldn’t believe it but her face slid right up Anita’s legs to her feet. And there she was staring at this girl’s short, little toes, and without thinking about it, Linda pursed her lips and in slipped Anita’s two big toes, rock hard with pointing, at the same that her toes suddenly felt warmth and wetness and a sucking feeling. A girl was sucking her toes, and she started sucking on Anita’s. That’s when she exploded.
The next thing she knew, she was back in the room. Anita was gone. And four girls came in and took Katie and the black girl.
And now… 
They were here for her. 
“Rise,” Katie said. To Linda.
“Why?” Linda asked. She choked up. “Why me?”
She looked at her friend Beth. Beth’s face was wet with crying and searching for a clue. Beth’s mom had been stunned and now Beth was simply overwrought. Cassie and Dierdre had pushed themselves into each other alternately hiding behind and protecting each other. 
Suddenly Linda felt a little brave. Resigned. From somewhere inside of her she accepted  this: they weren’t dead, they were just brainwashed. Alive at least. And in control. And yet not. It seemed scary and too inevitable to fight. She stood up. 
	“Linda no, don’t…” On her left Beth pulled on her sweater. “Don’t go…”
	“It doesn’t matter,” Linda answered. And as she walked towards her keepers, they turned and led her without touching her. Linda knew all the women were looking at her. “It’s ok. Maybe I won’t remember a thing.” 
	Marnie said, “Good luck, sweetheart. You’re very brave.” Linda kinda liked that. She turned her attention to the two girls in front of her, and suddenly noticed a third, waiting for them. It was the girl from behind the counter. 
	Mallory noticed her too. She had left the counter and was now standing there, not really watching, not really responding to anything, except for a wispy little expectant smile that centered on nothing and no one. The teenager, who was also blonde was brought forward. She stood before the counter girl and Katie said, “Embrace.”
	The counter girl, in her pleated black skirt and white blouse and alligator heels stepped forward, her head and back straight and stiff, aristocratic face bright with a smile that didn’t correspond with anything. She stepped right up to Linda until the billow of her shirt brushed Linda’s highschool lettersweater.  The sudden invasion of the girl into Linda’s immediate space led Linda to lean back warily. The counter girl raised her arms which in any other circumstance would have been graceful and lithe, but she seemed to have no control over their inherent gracefulness any more because she embraced Linda awkwardly,  as if she’d just been shown how to embrace someone and her movement  still needed practice. Linda’s earlier resignation turned on its head – she had no idea what the hell was going on, leaned as far back as possible keeping her eyes on the girl one moment then quickly, secretly scanning the room for help. No one moved. 
The counter girl was smiling still, fully responsive and yet waiting. Mallory could see the mental processes at work in side the brainwashed counter girl: now that she had the subject in her possession, she awaited the next procedure. Mallory saw the procedure arrive: tilt head slightly. The counter girl, whom no one here seemed to know or feel at all obligated to protect, tilted her head and her arms tightened around Linda. Pinned by the counter girl’s embrace, Linda had no choice but turn her face to one side as the smiling counter girl slowly lowered her face into a nuzzle at Linda’s neck. Poised like this in the middle of the room, everyone reached the same conclusion: they were both the same height. 
“You will fit together,” the black girl announced.
When they broke the embrace, Linda was red with fear and embarrassment. Katie turned then and pointed the weapon towards the window. Susan saw this and yelled, “No!!! Katie no!” But Katie didn’t fire at Felicia. The shrill green light struck the timid Indian girl, Rana, who had been trying to disappear behind Felicia, stunning her unexpectedly. She staggered back as if she’d pushed. But she didn’t regain her balance by herself. Whatever she’d been hit with seemed to instantly penetrate and take over control of her body. Her arms dropped to her sides and her whole expression collapsed to open eyed, open mouth blankness. Susan’s head swam confusedly partly with relief it wasn’t Felicia being taken away, and partly with a new awe and respect for the capabilities of her friend, or what used to be her friend but was now a kind of a tool. Susan felt a sudden plunge in her stomach – an arousal for the unfeeling power and precision her friend was now wielding confused Susan with the urge to surrender. 
	“Come,” she heard Katie say, and the girl stepped around Felicia and approached. Her eyes were fixed on Katie. 
	“We will couple,” Katie said.
	“We will couple,” Rana replied.
	Susan leapt forward. “No – Katie stop!” But both the black girl and Katie turned in her direction and fired. The green lights burst and reached their target, Susan’s eyes. Susan stopped in her tracks, eyes wide, mouth open. Felicia gasped and moved to Susan. She held her, and was about yell, “You bitch,” but caught herself. Stunned, immobile Susan stood in her arms.
	Mallory watched the black girl, the counter girl, Linda, the Indian girl and finally Katie head toward a wall. One of the teenagers, Cassie couldn’t help herself. Terrified for herself and for whatever would happen to her friend, she screamed “No! Linda!” Surrounded by her captors, unable to stop, Linda turned around. Her bravery was gone, her eyes watering and locked onto Cassie and Deirdre who were both standing, hands covering their mouths, even more vulnerable-looking in their cheerleading skirts and sweaters. Just like she was. She felt cold and her bare legs made her feel vulnerable, too. Her mouth opened slightly to let something out, a plea, a reassurance. But she was quiet. Cassie watched Linda vanish through a wall and blackness beyond it. The wall rippled behind them like a curtain closing and then regained its solidity. Cassie gasped and started to sob. Deirdre stumbled backwards into Ms. Southern, hoping be held or something. But Ms. Southern was still stupified. A pretty, wondering expression on her face. She had not seen or experienced  any of the last several minutes or could comprehend that the daughter of her best friend, her charge had just been taken from her. 

So it seemed to Mallory. She looked at Marnie, Marnie looked at her. Marnie was worried, expectant. She said, “That won’t be all.” Even as she spoke, her voice seemed to slow and an upsurge grabbed a hold of Mallory, like a sudden wave. The contours of the room seeped away, the floor disappeared beneath her. Panic slammed inside her as she felt her body rise. Blackness fell. Everything was dark and in the far off distance, she heard the faint startled screams of a couple of the women. But for her, the blackness and the upsurge, and a gentle enveloping of something rolling around her like a thick, turgid river of molasses, settled her. She tried to move, but it was difficult. And then there was complete silence. So silent, the thoughts in her head were howling.
Gradually she could make out tiny lights, like stars. All around her, but far far away. Like little party lights, flickering. She thought, I’m in space. Outer space. She had no sense of her weight and the sudden weightlessness made her stomach bounce. She turned giddy for a second and tried to move around, to float on her own and enjoy it. But she couldn’t. 
She didn’t move for several moments, just stayed in place, her feet or hands not touching anything. And then slowly, she began moving. The empty space had taken shape all around her. Not on her own, but she began drifting inside something languidly, as if floating on a fat lazy river. Or inside a river, because she could feel a current wash all around her. The uncontrolled movement made her feel nauseous. She could make out vague shapes passing her floating in different directions. Bodies. And then she was aware of voices, soothing, dreamy, loving, conversational.  Not to her directly but to one another. In pairs or groups forming all around her, a muted, illegible cocktail party in the dark. Lull, murmuring, soothing. 
As she was carried, a current moved through her hair, and into her mouth, and around her breasts over her butt and down her legs. I’m naked, she realized, and a tiny reassuringly present part of her brain realized this all felt like she was really really high. And this time, it was ok to give into the high, not to worry. Just give in. So she did. And when she did, her floating began to feel good again. This isn’t so bad. She even began to feel curious about where was being taken.    
	More light began to seep through the dark river, like whisps of flowing satin. And then she came upon the first group. Next to and slightly below her on wavering cloud of whispy light, was Jenka. Jenka was stretching her long pale body out with dreamy relaxation, so glad to be lying on this soft pillow of light, naked. Mallory wondered briefly where her clothes went, but it was a difficult thought. She couldn’t hold it and instead gave in to how delicious Jenka’s thighs looked tensing while she squirmed, juicily, ready. That she was feeling attracted to a girl like this somehow made sense, in a self-defensive way: If I’m supposed to feel this, then so be it. 
Slowly maneuvering above, Mallory could see Jenka notice something and her arms lifted delightedly, her fingers wiggling with expectation. She closed her eyes in reverie as the full, brown body of Felicia hovered up from Jenka’s feet. The brown, stout Hispanic woman  did not seem heavy or unshapely. She was curvy, thick, and her size diminished into small wrists and tapered hands on one end and thin ankles and narrow feet at the other. Mallory had never thought a woman like this would ever be attractive or sexy, but in whatever  spell Mallory was finding herself in, Felicia was all of that, like a roast. Her body was in a half crouch, as if she were on a motorcycle. Felicia’s expression was dreamy, satisfied with floating. Her eyes closed then opened, then closed. As if to display her approval with not just the floating but her steady approach to the long, lean Jenka, whose wiggling also betrayed her complete joy with the moment and the impending Felicia, Felicia’s thick tongue slipped past her lips with hunger and readiness. Felicia was carried above Jenka so that they faced one another,  their tongues waggling at each other but not touching. Still crouched, knees bent and legs open, Felicia’s body spun slowly without moving a muscle, or her tongue stopping. When her head came above Jenka’s blonde pussy, her body lowered, slipping between Jenka’s eager arms and came to rest on top of the creamy skinned hiker. The moving of Felicia’s lips and tongue were timed to meet Jenka’s downy lips without stopping as did Jenka’s. Both bodies pushed gratefully into each other and Mallory lost sight of their faces. Jenka’s hands grasped the rusty brown globes of Felicia’s ass that opened wide at her touch and realized, as Jenka pushed her head in slightly, that she had just thrust her face forward into the warm spicy humidity of Felicia’s ass, advancing with her own long pink tongue deep into the older woman’s dark passage. Mallory saw them and thought,  it’s a perfect fit, and noted with subdued, soporific relief that she was still awake and thinking. But the thinking ended there. She suddenly heard Felicia’s voice, as if from right next to her, coaxing Jenka: “Slide it deep into my ass.” But Felicia hadn’t moved. She couldn’t have spoken, at least audibly, because she was buried between  Jenka’s cool thighs. But Mallory heard her and she heard Jenka squeal without actually removing her face from Felicia’s stupendous ass and declare joyfully, thankfully, “I can feel your tongue inside me!” 
They remained this way for several seconds, one comment prompting the other.
“Slide it deep into my ass.” “I can feel your tongue inside me!”
There was one final adjustment: both women slowly bowed their legs to open their ass and pussy even more and brought the soles of their feet together behind the heads of their partner. It seemed involuntary, every part of their bodies touch another part. A closed circuit. A sweet, tender position, and with their soles together, they seemed like they were praying. 
Their passion was building. Mallory could see it. Their tongues and lips worked over and over  - Felicia on Jenka’s budding clitoris and Jenka inside Felicia’s deep asshole.  Their bodies pushed against each other, their hands clasped thighs and hips more strenuously, barely holding on. Felicia’s husky Hispanic “Slide it deep into my ass” dropped into a deep emptying moan. Jenka’s naive contralto, “I can feel your tongue in me!” convulsed into an anxious “oh…oh…oh…” as if she slipping down the edge of a cliff. They weren’t making love,  they weren’t just fucking. They were driving each other on, faster and faster, recklessly, heading not just into an orgasm, but smashing into it. Through it. And it frightened them. Mallory could hear it in their voices. But they never broke contact. They couldn’t. They were connected by tongues and could not break free, not even to scream until they shot into orgasm. When it struck, it was blasting, searing, mindless.  
And that was it. No more movement. No slow relaxation. They were frozen in orgasm. Thigh muscles tensed extending down their calves and into their feet. Jenka’s small purple polished toes were  clenching and pointing, Felicia’s brawny toes splayed at the balls. Their backs were tightened, arm muscles popping, necks straining, hands grasping, tongues reaching desperately. Frozen. Inside their minds, the white heat and white noise of orgasm screamed on. Time had stopped at the peak of orgasm. 
But their voices continued emanating, echoing. 
Slide it deep into my ass 
I can feel your tongue in me
Repeating without end. Captured in orgasm.

	Mallory was still floating, moving slowly as their union took shape, giving in and accepting peacefully her own nakedness. It suddenly seemed inevitable that she would be coupled. She didn’t know where that realization came from. It just landed softly in her conscious. And then she felt herself conveyed on.
The invisible current lifted her. A vague outline of bodies wavered  in the distance, in positions different from Jenka and Felicia. Slowly she could make out the shape of the bodies, four of them and one of them coalesced into the familiar shape of Stacey. Naked too. Mallory’s first reaction was panic, protective and embarrassed for Stacey, but she found that the quickening pulse of the panic turned another direction. Longing? For a moment she thought of her and Stacey naked together and a clear hope opened inside her: let me be with her. 
But she couldn’t dwell on that sweet, secret transgression because she was still moving forward and Mallory struggled to shake her lapsing into drowsiness to see more and more clearly. As the current brought her closer, she began to concentrate on finding Stacey’s face, looking hopefully for her eyes to make some contact, even if it was a brief, silent “We are in deep shit” moment.  But the closer she came, the more she saw and heard: Stacey’s face was deeply embedded into the grateful, tiny, tense ass of Marnie. Her  compact, curvy dancerbody was bent at the waist, and the top half was thrust forward, her tiny hands not only gripping Marnie’s modest hips but also working to stop her from heaving forward even further. Marnie herself was fixed in the pretty, dainty pussy of Beth beneath her. Beth’s creamy legs stretched past either side of Marnie’s head to a muscle tensing toe point and her arms were clasped around Stacey’s waist, her thick adolescent, lips fastened like a goldfish over one of the tits Mallory had always thought were big for such a petite, gymnast wannabe. Both Marnie and Stacey were bent at the waist, their legs stretching down over Beth, toes pointing in a frozen moment of ecstasy. They had already come. Not one of them moved,  and the voices Mallory heard were:
	Beth: Such a fat nipple
	Marnie: So sweet and young
	Stacey:  Anus gripping my tongue  – my love
	My love. It took a few reiterations of the voices repeating for Mallory to hear the meaningfulness in Stacey’s voice. It was disturbing, contradicting everything she knew about Stacey but also arousing a luscious kind of jealousy that Stacey was giving herself away so completely. But the jealousy dropped her deeper into a savory mini-annihilation. 
She passed over Stacey’s motionless body, mesmerized by Stacey’s loss into the ass of another woman. She tried reaching to her hand down to touch her friend she felt so inferior to. Mallory extended her arm as far as she could, her fingers wiggled but just missed. There was more blackness.
Stacey was gone, and she wanted to carry that with her as long as she could. Until she saw, to her left what looked like Allison and Ms. Southern. They were sitting as though they were in each other’s laps in a succulent embrace pussy to pussy, arms and legs wrapped around each other’s waist. Something glistened between their pussies: a black phallus, a rubbery tube connecting the two of them. Their two bodies pushed tightly together, they would have been sealed had they been kissing, but instead, Ms Southern had her face pressed to the wrinkled, cupping soles of her daughter’s friend Deirdre and Allison the long, tapering soles of Susan. Tightly together, Susan and Dierdre stretched above them like a dagger, ending in an immortally still kiss, their arms raised, hands together as if in meditation, another sleek black phallus connecting them. 
Susan capitulating to Deirdre, You are so sweet my feet are kissed
Dierdre giving in to Susan, You are so strong, love me 
And beneath them: 
Allison’s soft country voice, Let me die this way please, so good
And Ms. Southern, wet lipped and ecstatic, Sweet delicious Deirdreflesh, thank you.  
Mallory flowed past them without stopping, their voices trailing gradually behind her in murmuring babble, Let me die this way please so good my feet are kissed you are so sweet delicious Deirdreflesh so strong love me thank you so good my feet are kissed die this way
It was then that Mallory began to accept these frozen, living symmetries with complete understanding. Women combining in womanly shapes. That was correct. Women embracing, charged with passion, women clutching each other as if they were going to die, fall apart, explode. That was good. Women clutching, focussed, eternally single-minded. So important. 
She was giving in, she knew, but only because she was helpless on her way for her own rendezvous. It should have frightened her. She realized that. And weakly tried to raise some kind of anger, some fight. But she couldn’t. There was something coursing through her, she could feel it as a separate, guiding consciousness. It was a consciousness that was bigger and broader than anything she’d ever experienced, as if she were hanging like cherry from a stem that was attached to a branch that led to the tree. Having all of her sense and faculties hugged close to her but disconnected from the part of her brain that moved muscles and acted on impulse did not bother her. She was being brought to something good.
And there it was. Her skin tingled as if touched. She saw Shannon, golden tanned, voluptuous, glittering bimbohood at fingertip and toetip, on her back, thighs raised up, legs bent at the knees, toes pointed. A human stair. As that thought defined itself, Mallory found her own muscles tightening within her, without her coordination, commanded from outside herself. She felt a foreign energy draw her thighs in, bend her legs at the knee. It slithered and pulsed through her calves, tugging on her Achilles’ tendon to stretch her own long feet out to a quivering, intense toe point. How she would wind up made itself perfectly, rapturously clear. A little release, just when there should have been one in the early stages of arousal, quivered below her stomach and through to her pussylips. She was losing to arousal and wanted more. As she drifted over Shannon, Mallory thought she had never seen a more beautiful woman before.
 
Shannon too had drifted through the black, she had seen women coupling, in positions weird and outrageous. The drifting frightened her. She wasn’t in control, she didn’t know where she was going or why women were  being coupled or grouped up, or how she had come here and why she was supposed to be a part of this. When her movement halted, even that felt ominous. She felt herself deliberately, but carefully, spun backwards, then forwards slightly. Once she was  brought to lying flat, on her back, she had stopped. Anticipation raced through her. She couldn’t move and her fear built up uncontrollably as if she were going to go insane. 
Fear of paralysis peaked when she tried to scream, but couldn’t open her mouth. It stuck in her lungs.
And then it lifted off of her. Just like that. Fear lifted away like a cape pulled off her, and all was quiet. She was lying on her back, felt her hair hanging down from her head, legs straight, arms comfortably at her side. She felt suspended, and after years of being the dish, the looker, the hottie, the sixth sense of being on display clicked on. 
What now? She wondered. She took a deep breath, as if she were testing her composure. She focussed above her. There was only a black emptiness, an emptiness with shape, her instincts told her. There was something above her, like space, but how much or how deep, she couldn’t say. Now that it was quiet, the voices filtered into her ears, some were soft whispers, others exuberant bursts of truth, others beckoning to something other than herself. 
And then it happened. A short internal burst. Something moved inside of her. Another mind handling the muscles in her body, a separateness that, using what was left of her own mind, she recognized as the same feeling that came the moment  she was unexpectedly lifted out of the hotel room where  she and the other women  had been. It was a feeling of being taken under control. Recognizing that separateness was important, it was the difference between herself alive and something taking control. Remember this,  she thought. You can be in charge. 
And then it passed, the urge to remember. She found her focussed on nothing. No thought. Just feeling. Because that was the direction the separate entity, the impulse had given her: FEEL.
I feel.
It was a response to a objective. Her whole body opened to feeling, her mind processing each feeling. Legs lift. Legs raised back. Legs bent at the knees. Make angle. Perfect angle. More perfect. They are like stairs. Feet point. Arches grip. Toes tightly curled. More. More. Legs at tightest clench.  Good. Chest relax. Stomach soft and relaxed. Tits round and relaxed. Shoulders relaxed. Arms want something, hands feel empty. Body feels beautiful.
That was all. It seemed she might stay this way forever, whatever that meant.  
The poise she felt lingered a long time. 
It changed when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw an object float towards her. She turned her head. It was one of the girls from the room. A surprise just for a moment, but subsided into a distant familiarity. An inevitability even, and satisfying. She’s for me...  
Mallory, pale, frecklish, girlish hovered over her, her body bent and shaped just like Shannon’s. Her knees were bent perpendicular, her thick adolescent legs straining behind her, feet pointing, muscles stretching. Her shoulders back, arms crooked forward, back curved. That the girl was shaped exactly like her gave  Shannon an unexpected, jolt of arousal. So beautiful, Shannon thought. Captive, like me.
 Their eyes met for a second. Mallory knew she was lost in something bigger than she was and felt herself give way to it. The second she did, she heard Shannon say You’re so beautiful. Without speaking she felt a thought gather in her head and then drift outwards from the top of her head and seep into Shannon’s. 
She said: I’ve seen the others. I know what is going to happen.
Shannon replied, Yes. 
Mallory said, I’m so glad it’s you.
Shannon heard the thought and felt a rush: I am too. And in a voice not quite hers, she thought, Let’s begin.
Mallory felt her body turn and descend so that her own stair stepped body joined in the notch of Shannon’s waist. It felt weightless and free, this need to join. Her arms moved out slightly so that her upturned hands slid beneath Shannon’s feet, palm to sole. She felt Shannon’s own hands slide across the bottoms of her feet, simultaneously. And when their thighs came to rest against each other, and Mallory’s breasts rested on Shannon’s shins and her face glided over the smooth golden insteps Mallory found there was only one remaining muscle movement left and her mouth gushed with wet anticipation. Her lover’s toes were pointing just for her. Without needing it, the energy pushed her head forward and down so that Mallory’s lips opened and settled over the long, fleshy pearly tipped toes of her forever lover. When her lips settled around the tense knuckles, a thought appeared to her and drifted towards Shannon: I am locked in now. 
Shannon was losing to the inevitability of the moment. The girl had slid in perfectly, her body warm and inviting, and the young girl’s own long, white feet slid into Shannon’s hands and push up onto her chin, the girl’s toes clenching tightly, her white wrinkled soles blushing pink with the strain. The wrinkles and the tender curve of the curled toes inches away broke Shannon’s heart in hundreds of ways. This girl was her lover. And she was the girl’s lover. The lovely logic of the moment made Shannon swoon…
I’m going to suck her toes… She gave in and the feet passed her lips. The filling, perverse sensation settled and then her mind erupted –  
My lover’s toes are in my mouth!
She felt the girl swoon too, as the girl, simultaneous with Shannon, lowered her mouth over Shannon’s toes. I am locked in.
The moment lingered. Both mouths drew long luxurious sucks. 
A new thought gathered inside Mallory, a thought she did not recognize as her own, though it used her mind’s voice to express it. It went out to Shannon:
I have always wanted to suck toes 
It made Shannon privately swoon, even when a part of her didn’t know why. It didn’t matter. She moaned, her tongue gliding over the tight ball of toes in her mouth. 
At that moment, Mallory was aware not only of the feel and taste of Shannon’s toes and of the submersion of her own toes into the hot mouth of her lover, but also that the two of them were part of something more. Couples, threesomes, small groups of five, six, seven women all around her. There must have been thirty or forty such groups all floating and bobbing like her in this quasi-dark infinity. She and Shannon were joined with them, she felt it, and their voices joined the others, like a low parade of whispers. There was something else. A center to all of this, a divine force directing, establishing this union of captivated bodies and voices, and just then Mallory realized she was not just enveloping Shannon’s thick toes and sucking them with the full drawing of her throat, that it wasn’t just for her or Shannon. It was in service to the force at the center, to satisfy its wishes. Forever. The forever pushed her over to the edge, her body tensed once more…. 
… As they experienced a final impulse. Still deeply impaled on each other’s feet, each raised one hand from the feet of her lover. The fingers curling into a fist. Except for one. Their hands drifted towards the velvety center of their lover, and when they arrived, the extended fingers ran lightly over the lips. The touch alarmed both of them,  each sensing the magnitude of the shared orgasm that awaited them .
I have always wanted to suck toes Mallory thought again, desperately
My lover’s toes are in my mouth! Shannon declared.
And together they plunged their fingers in. 
White searing light blasted them and they jolted together. 
Then snap. Thought evaporated. Nothing but a suspended moment of connection and bliss.

***

Mallory didn’t wake up so much as begin to feel gravity again. She had a body. Her first moment of consciousness was a wave of relaxation that poured through her body, her tense muscles relaxed, but she didn’t dare move. She didn’t want to break from anything. She started breathing, too, and then realizing she was coming to, willed herself to open her eyes, not daring to move. 
It was hard to focus, but it looked like she was on a bed of some kind. When the soft light of morning registered, she felt a pressure in her mouth, the realization her mouth was completely full. She wiggled her tongue trying to feel what it was. Without remembering, without really thinking, it came to her. About seven of Shannon’s toes were tightly wedged in her mouth, thick, unmoving, straining to point. Still deep under control of the dreamtime she felt a slight rush of relief, of gladness, and started sucking languidly, reaching with her lips, drawing down with her throat. She suddenly remembered: I’ve always wanted to suck a girl’s toes. It was like she shouted it, and it made her blush. Embarrassed but true, though she couldn’t really remember ever thinking that, in fact hadn’t ever even thought about girls other Stacey before. But it didn’t matter so long as she felt connected this way. She was changed, she knew it.
On the other end of the bed, Shannon also stirred awake to the sensation of her mouth full, but Mallory’s toes were wiggling slightly. Shannon was also surprised and embarrassed to find her mouth full of some girl’s feet. She remembered too. She had given in body and soul to an urge that she’d never had before but which felt heavenly, pure, ravenous. Like Mallory, she was still very deep in dreamtime. The strong, high, white arches made wrinkles on the soles in her grasp, and now that she was conscious but still very much hungry and very much aroused by the warm wetness of her toes buried in Mallory’s mouth, she began to suck as deeply as Mallory. If this was the rest of her life, so be it. 
It was too much. Shannon moaned, overwhelmed.  The absence of gravity which had kept them weightlessly symmetrical had gone away and they fell to their sides. But didn’t let go. They lay side-by-side, continuing what felt like a mutually sacred act that was also sending them back into orgasms. Both women squirmed, both groaned, their hands held tight to insteps and ankles, their hot, aching pussies grinding against hipbones and stomachs. They climbed together, worshiping, lapping, sucking, grinding, wiggling, the embarrassment of being caught sucking toes giving way to the excitement that the other girl was getting off just as much. Until finally Mallory slipped and nearly died in orgasm. Shannon quickly followed.
They were not permitted the pleasure of a subsiding orgasm before, and both of the relished the feeling. The tide pulled them out and then ever so gently brought them back again. Nothing supernatural about this orgasm. 
And they were still conscious. It took a while to regain herself, but Mallory finally caught her breath. She lifted her head up to slip her lover’s toes out of her mouth. They were red and soaking wet. Saliva pulled away with her lips and ran down the instep of Shannon’s foot. She watched Shannon’s toes come slowly back to life with a shy wiggle. Mallory had never felt so good, so drained, so much in love. What the hell am I going to say? She wondered. All she could do was lay back in wonder, petting and stroking her lover’s feet and legs with quiet adoration. 
	It was Shannon who finally spoke. “That was amazing.” Then she wondered. “I’m sorry, but what was your name again?”
	Mallory laughed. And then Shannon laughed. Mallory swung around to lay next to Shannon, both girls still giggling. “It’s Mallory.”
	“Shannon.”
	Both said: “Hi.” 
	There was a long pause. Shannon tentatively started to caress Mallory’s shoulder and Mallory responded with a thankful kiss on Shannon’s neck. “I don’t even know where to begin understanding what’s happened here,” Shannon said.
	“I don’t know anything either. I just … I just got here… wherever… this is.” Her voiced drifted off as everything began to change. The high was wearing off. Another long, uncertain pause settled in. 
	Shannon said, “We’ve been kidnapped, I think.” 
	“Hmmm. But by who. Do you remember anything that happened … before?”
	Shannon looked at Mallory, maybe for the first time. Full, even pouty lips. Dark brown eyes, high cheeks, still a little flushed post-cum. Black bangs. Tomboyish, but blossoming into another kind of woman.  She realized she was now holding this girl with both arms, and the girl had moved one of her legs up to caress Shannon’s thighs and nuzzle her pussy with her knee. Shannon forgot the question. “How old are you?” 
	“Twenty-two.” 
	God, thirteen years younger. Maybe that’s good. “I remember being in a room, a nice room, kind of like a hotel,” Shannon answered. “I remember other women, too. And a few had just been taken away by, I don’t know. By …”
	“Robots. Or slaves. Mindless slaves.”
	Now Shannon felt even older. Girl’s got a vivid imagination.
	“Yeah, well, whatever they are, I don’t think they’re on our side.”
	Another long pause. Jockeying for position and understanding. Mallory finally stated what was bearing down on her. “We’re on the same side, right? I mean, I have a friend here with me, but I don’t know where she is. We have to get out of here.”
	Shannon nodded. “Yeah. I don’t think there’s anything really to be afraid of. Yet. I mean, it’s not like we were just tortured or anything.”
	Mallory nodded her head eagerly. Her eyes were big, pleading, but strong and that reassured Shannon. Still, though, she’s totally out of whack, Shannon thought. She’s never been in love. “We can’t let this get in the way of getting the hell out of here,” Shannon said. “I mean, I don’t know about you, but I’ve never in my life had… oh shit – ” Mallory watched the focus in Shannon’s eyes disappear as her voice trailed off. The caressing, which had never ceased even as Shannon was trying to regain some solid, autonomous, footing stopped. Still in her arms Mallory felt Shannon simply go away. And then the wave started again. She felt it rush like a shiver of electrical current move up her body until it reached her mind which suddenly felt like her head had been opened and her brain removed. 
	Shannon said. “We must go now. The others are waiting.”
	Mallory said, “Yes we must. The others are waiting.
	Both women got out of the bed. Mallory knew a folded pile of Shannon’s clothes sat on a table opposite the bed. Somehow there was room for a small questioning observer inside Mallory. How do I know what to do? Still she plucked the pile up and walked to Shannon, who stood arms at her side, still, waiting, patient, queenly, unregarding Mallory. Just as it should be. 
	“I will dress you,” Mallory said. 
	“Begin.”
	Mallory raised Shannon’s arms and slid her blouse over them. Next, she lifted one leg then another into Shannon’s skirt, and zipped it up in the back. Mallory felt her head swim between the memory of the lovemaking, the nearness of her lover’s muscular ass, and the call to be obedient. When it came to slipping her lover’s feet into the clear, four inch sandals, Mallory began to feel a tearing inside her. A rebellion. Inches away, she became fixated on Shannon’s toes, how they splayed with magnificent power under the weight of Shannon’s body. Beautiful, mighty, and controlling. Mallory felt she was on the verge of  giving in totally to a divine force that was telling her she belonged down here. On the level of these magnificent toes. 
This was different. Before, she knew there was something directing, compelling her to reach for Shannon’s body and to please not jut the body but the entity that was ordering her. But now, there was a foggy, frightening need to sneak in her own capitulation. She wanted to worship these feet because they were more beautiful more powerful than she was. Only, there was nothing pushing her to do this. Except herself. That much she was aware.
Shannon towered above her, remotely. She was held in the command of the moment, waiting to be dressed. On her hands and knees, buckling the last strap, Mallory felt herself mesmerized, but all on her own. And wanted to do something with it, to show Shannon what she felt. She opened her mouth, sending her tongue to the place she longed for, between the toes and the platform. It slid wetly over the dry sole of the shoe, under the fleshy salt of toes. 
It was an infraction. 
Shannon was aware of the waiting, aware that she was once again being led by a force outside of herself, thrilled to be obeying. At her feet, she felt the timid but desperate tongue touch the underside of her foot. It electrified her but threw everything into doubt. This seeking tongue tip defiantly cut through her obedience and sent her back to the ecstasy she felt earlier. The obedience was being shattered and she struggled to ride out the transgressions, but would not move to alter anything. To move meant disobedience, but to disobey meant … she knew then what disobedience meant now: love that a girl would be reverently worshiping her. 
Shannon’s rigidity turned Mallory on even more. She licked harder and reaching her hands to hold the extended foot from the heel, she tried to force her entire mouth onto the shoe and foot. 
	“You must stop,” Shannon intoned finally, stretching her back straighter. “There must be no more of this.” The obedience had returned. 
	Mallory cried in her throat, unwilling to stop, aware of her own disobedience but also aware of her need to reach into the heart of this monumental woman and prove her own worthlessness. Make her come again…
Her vigorous submission was all Mallory owned or even wanted, and she wanted to tear it up, eat it, spit it out, roll in it and wind up on her back, naked and open. At the feet of the commanding Shannon.  
But that single impulse, created all on her own and owned by her simply because she was aware of it, even gloried in it, began to be pulled away from her. As if a parent was removing an annoying, distracting toy. Mallory felt the focus of her reverence dissipate with the order, There must be no more of this, before she had time to react. And then it was gone. Emptiness settled like dust. 
She was on the floor. Disobeying. She withdrew herself and stood up. She faced the woman companion she had coupled with, who, in heels stood four inches taller than she did, barefoot. And she could see in the woman’s  empty but penetrating stare more willful obedience than she could ever achieve. 
	“We must go,” Mallory conceded. Shannon’s body animated itself. She walked around Mallory to fetch her clothes and dressed the young girl. When they were dressed, they stood still again, waiting. Both staring at each other, regarding the other, but little more. They felt the impulse of direction and headed out of the room silently, side by side.

/continued

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