========
Path: news.primenet.com!nntp.primenet.com!news.cais.net!newsfeed.internetmci.com!in2.uu.net!netnews.worldnet.att.net!ix.netcom.com!news
From: tooshoes@ix.netcom.com (tooshoes)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: *SG3 Supergirl Breaks The Mold (repost in ascii)
Date: 10 Jun 1996 23:40:14 GMT
Organization: Netcom
Lines: 689
Message-ID: <4pibou$cjm@dfw-ixnews7.ix.netcom.com>
NNTP-Posting-Host: frm-ma3-15.ix.netcom.com
Mime-Version: 1.0
X-NETCOM-Date: Mon Jun 10  6:40:14 PM CDT 1996
X-Newsreader: WinVN 0.99.2
Xref: news.primenet.com alt.sex.stories:160793

Sorry about the encoding problem in the previous posting; here is the story :)
-------------------------------------------------
If you are under 18, and you are reading this . . . well,
you probably know what you are doing, and there is nothing I
can do to stop you, anyway. But I should warn you that these
stories deal with sexual situations intended for mature
audiences.

In other words, they are very naughty :)

These stories also feature characters created by DC Comics,
so they will not be available for sale or profit.

You may copy these stories freely, so long as no money
changes hands and due credit is given to the author.

Now, on with the story :)
---------------------------------------------------------

                  Supergirl Breaks The Mold
                             or
               Supergirl and the American Way
                              

     The police had the place surrounded.  Inside the
building were thirty plus Cuban refugees. They were mostly
men, but some of them were families.  That meant little to
the police, because the Cubans were not supposed to be here
in America, and they were armed.
     A mother in the house sent a letter to the Daily Planet
last week to be printed in the editorial section, penned in
Spanish. The letter said:
     
          "To the people of the United States:
          "We came here because we have no place else to go.
     We will do any job for any pay, because we did not come
     here  for your jobs or for money.  We came here because
     Castro wants us dead. We found a house that no one  was
     using,  and so we moved in.  We stole some food because
     some  of  us were starving, but we won't steal anything
     else.
           "The  police told us that we had to give  up  our
     guns,  and  then they would discuss whether we  had  to
     return  to  Cuba or not, but we know that  most  of  us
     would have to leave. So we won't give up our guns,  and
     we have to defend our home.
                                        "Antonia Rodrigo"

     The letter was never printed, but I saw it when I
visited the Daily Planet last week.  Jimmy Olsen told me
"the Planet never prints letters unless they are written in
English," but his eyes betrayed the ugly truth.
     For the next few days, I kept a super-eye on that
house. I didn't know if I was being overly suspicious. I
wanted to feel foolish for not trusting the police.  But I
knew that popular opinion was against the Cubans.  When a
few days had past, and the police hadn't come, I began to
relax and think again of America with optimism.  Someone in
charge must have had an attack of conscience, I reassured
myself. America was welcoming the Cubans into its bosom, and
the name "America" secured its place in my heart.
     What were those words on the Statue of Liberty?  Give
me your poor, hungry and wretched ... something like that.
America had adopted me when I was poor, wretched and all
that, and I was truly grateful.  I was happy to fight for
"truth, justice and the American way," and for the red,
white and blue.
     But today, those grand words seemed empty, and the only
colors I could see were shades of grey. Today, the police
surrounded the Cubans' home, and the Daily Planet printed an
editorial about a wave of Cuban terrorists invading American
shores.  My heart sank.  The American people didn't have x-
ray vision, so they couldn't see the suffering in that home.
They didn't have super ears, so they couldn't hear the fear
in the children's voices.  The media were supposed to be the
eyes and ears of America, but strangely no one seemed
interested in the Cubans' story.  Even Clark had described
America's immigration policy as a "necessary evil."  Now, as
ready fingers leaned against triggers, and as tear-gas
launchers were prepared for the first stage in this small
war, I had to choose between "truth and justice" or the
"American way."
     "It's all right, Supergirl," said the female police
officer in charge as I swooped down beside her.  Her voice
sparkled with excitement. Apparently this was her first
command of a serious police operation, and she was anxious
to prove herself in action. Maybe she thought I was here to
rain on her parade.  When I looked at her, I almost felt
like I was looking into a mirror; like me, she was nervous;
like me, she was preparing to be baptized with
responsibility.  "We have matters well in hand," she said,
and then she looked away, perhaps hoping I would leave.
     "You mean you'd rather kill them than let me resolve
this without guns?" I asked.  My mouth filled with a bitter
taste. I felt dizzy, and my heart raced.
     The officer looked amazed. "No, of course not.  We're
going to fill the house with tear gas and force them out.
     "Let me go in," I said, "and try to talk with them.
Maybe we can fix this peacefully."
     The officer shook her head, "The time for discussion
has ended.  Now is the time for a show of force.  We need to
show the world that we take our borders seriously."
     "Why don't you just tear down the Statue of Liberty,
then?" I said, as I set my posture.  My will was hardening.
"These people came here in desperation, and you are just
going to turn them away?"
     Her eyes opened wide.  "What are your intentions,
Supergirl."
     "I am here," I said slowly, thinking out the words
before I spoke them, "to ensure the safety of the refugees."
     Several officers were now gathering around me.  One of
them said, "Do you mean that you are on THEIR side?"
     "Yes," I said. "They only want to survive. And I can't
allow you to hurt them."
     "This really isn't your decision to make, Supergirl.
America has decided, and we are only doing what America
wants."
     I didn't know what else to say.  According to the
media, America did seem to want the Cubans removed, but I
knew the media wasn't telling America everything.  Even if a
fully informed America supported the police action, I
couldn't ignore my own conscience.
     I walked to a spot directly between the police and the
Cubans' house, and I raised my right hand in a "stop"
gesture towards the police officers.
     Then, suddenly, I felt a sharp pain.  I didn't expect
anyone to shoot at me, so when the bullet bounced off one of
my teeth, I stumbled backwards and covered my mouth with my
hand.  Most people know that bullets cannot injure me, but
they don't know that Superman and I are very sensitive to
pain -- that's the price of our super-senses.  We try to
hide this weakness, and we usually brace ourselves when we
expect to be shot.  But this time I was surprised, and the
pain that exploded from my tooth was excruciating.
     "Superdyke!" yelled a young officer with the smoking
pistol. "Why don't you go back to Krypton?"
     I composed myself, and I sneered at him.  I was almost
thankful to the bastard for making my decision easier. Now
the anguish in my heart was eased, and I felt assured that
what I was doing was right.
     Before they knew what had happened, I disarmed all
thirty officers. As they searched for their weapons, I
transformed into Linda Lee and just walked away as a
pedestrian.
     Reporters flooded the area, and a crowd was gathering
around the confused law enforcement officials. I looked at
my reflection in a store window and straitened my brown wig.
I smiled mischievously, as I looked over my shoulder in the
window and saw the confused police officers.
     A hopeful young man offered to carry my large bag of
"groceries".  I smiled at him and shook my head.  I couldn't
let him see what I really had inside the bag -- besides, I
already had a date for the evening.

     Hidden beneath a canopy of treetops and beyond an
assortment of bushes was a four room, brick house.  It sat
in a quiet neighborhood about a mile from the crowded campus
of Metropolis University.  Linda thought it was the perfect
place for a woman who protected many secrets.
     Or for two such women.
     Carol Lee and Linda Lee had little in common besides
the same last name.  Carol had small breasts and skinny
legs; but she had unblemished white skin, the perfect face
of a doll, and shiny black hair.
     She greeted Linda at the door, and glanced in the bag.
She licked her lips when she saw the guns.  "Looks yummy,"
she said with a smile.  Her smile shone like a diamond in
the black satin of her hair.
     "I had a problem with the police," Linda said, while
placing the bag on the kitchen table.
     Carol smiled even brighter. "I mean you. You look
yummy," she whispered into Linda's ear, as she slid the wig
from Linda's head.  Linda smiled, as Carol's touch exorcised
her worries about the police and an irate America.
     Linda closed her eyes, as Carol ran her fingers through
Linda's blonde hair.
     "I've been hungry all day," Carol whispered in Linda's
ear, "and I think its time to eat."
                             ***
     My life has changed since I met Carol a few months ago.
I had never really thought about sex with another woman
before, but heterosexual relationships had too many problems
for me.
     Men thought I was frigid because I wouldn't go all the
way with them; they didn't know that my restraint was for
their protection.  Then, if I took the chance and trusted
them with my secret, they couldn't handle it, and the
relationship disintegrated. One of the men even became
violent with me, strangely thinking it was a man's duty to
subdue his woman.  He was much more gentle after breaking
his fist on my jaw, but he also lost all interest in me.
     And then there was Sam . . . but that's a whole story in
itself.
     I was Linda Lee when I had met all my male lovers. Most
of them felt betrayed when I revealed that I was Supergirl.
They couldn't see that the gentle and vulnerable Linda Lee
was real, or that I truly cared for them. They couldn't see
me as anything other than a woman whose mere existence
undermined the traditional concepts of men.  I was grateful
to them for promising to keep my secret.  But I was
devastated, as anyone in love would be.
     My love affair with Carol was different.  Not only was
she a woman, but she was attracted to the real me.
     Actually, she was interested in Superman at first. Even
now, she sometimes joked that I was really her second
choice. Occasionally, when we made love, she would yell out
"Oh! Oh, Superman!"
     She had always been fascinated by the subject of
Krypton, and she had tried for years to meet with the Man of
Steel. After graduating Metropolis University two years ago,
she had become a reporter for the Daily Planet.  The Planet
had had a reputation for always getting the scoop on
Superman. For some reason, Clark had felt his identity was
compromised, so he had made sure that the only hero Carol
would ever meet was me.
     So I saw Carol time and again, as I stopped a gunfight,
prevented an accident, or just made a statement to the
press.  She quickly became my favorite reporter -- someone
who never asked a barbed question, and who was just a
familiar, friendly face among her aggressive colleagues.
     The rest of the story is kinda boring. Over the past
six months, we've grown closer, and eventually we found that
we loved each other. So we became lovers, and Carol Lee
moved in with me.  We told everyone that we were sisters,
which was easy to pull off since we both had the name Lee.
(By the way, this wasn't a coincidence: Clark actually was
thinking of Carol when he gave me my Earth name.)
     Carol was a little crazy. She had a fascination with
power.  She thought the combination of power and weakness
was very sexy, and she loved to play games in which the
participants played both roles. We never had ordinary sex.
We always played a game, and Carol always invented the game.
Her favorite sex games involved themes of S&M and rape, but
strangely mixed with tenderness. She had a wild and almost
frightening imagination, but somehow sex with her was always
intensely satisfying.
     Today, she wanted to play a variation of what she
called the Superslave Game.  This was a two part game in
which first I am tied up, and my master has her way with me
-- then she unties me, and I must pay tribute to her body.
She would tie my hands and feet to the bed with rags treated
with a small amount of Kryptonite.  The Kryptonite wasn't
painful, but it numbed my skin where it touched me, and
after about a minute, the numbing traveled throughout my
arms and legs, paralyzing my limbs. After a little more
time, the effects reach my mind, and I feel a high--
something like the high people get from pot.  Sometimes I
wondered how safe this game really was, but we've already
played it several times, and the effects wore off as soon as
Carol untied me.
     Carol seemed anxious today. She locked the front door,
and then she led me to the bedroom.
     "Don't you want to know about my problem with the
police, Carol?"  I asked, feeling we should talk about it.
She was a reporter, after all, and she should be interested.
     Carol shook her head, and said, "Love before business."
     "But..." I started, when she stuffed my wig in my
mouth. So I dutifully dropped myself on the bed, and let my
master tie me up.
     When we first tried this game, Carol was tentative
about the rags, constantly asking me how they felt and
whether I was OK.  But now she really got into the role,
tying the knots tight and staring at me with apparent
cruelty. After securing both hands and feet, she left the
room to change, while the Kryptonite worked on my body.
     I laid back and tried to relax.  I was tense from my
encounter with the police, and worried about public opinion
of me once the police told their story.  Then waves of
tingling crawled down my arms and legs, and a sense of peace
swept into my brain.
     Carol returned wearing a very naughty black teddy, and
holding a black bag that I couldn't see into even with x-ray
vision. She had surprises in store for me. She climbed onto
the bed, and kneeled between my legs.
     Just then I realized I was fully dressed.  For this
game, I was supposed to wear clothes that were easy to
strip. "I'm sorry, Carol," I said. "Untie me and I'll..."
     The first surprise Carol had in store for me was a gag.
She wrapped it tightly around my head. It was just an
ordinary piece of cloth, and I could bite it off if I wanted
to.
     "I hope these clothes don't mean much to you," Carol
whispered in my ear, "'cause they won't won't be worth a
nickel when I'm through!"
     She could have unbuttoned the blouse, but instead she
tore at it violently, spraying buttons in the air.  She
struggled with my skirt; apparently the fabric was tougher
than she thought, but her determination defeated the skirt
in short order.  All that remained now between Carol and my
flesh was the blue and red uniform.
     "I'm sorry," she whispered into my ear. "I'll make you
another one."
     I tried to complain through the gag, but Carol again
whispered, "Shhh, shhh. It'll be OK."
     She reached into the black bag and pulled out a razor
blade.
     I fell silent.
     She demonstrated the blade playfully, like a child
discovering a new toy, and then she lowered the new toy
towards my uniform.  Very slowly she began to cut my uniform
away, between my breasts, with the blade pressing into my
skin.  The pricking sensation was so acute that I expected
to see blood, but my skin wasn't even marked.
     After traveling only a few inches, she paused.  Then
she moved the blade over my left nipple, and began to cut a
hole in the red and yellow "S".  I squirmed from the
sensation, which was a little painful and a little exciting.
When the erect nipple was revealed, Carol tried to excite it
further with her tongue.  Then, in the midst of pleasuring
me, she unexpectedly bit down hard on the tip.  I gasped,
and my whole body shook.  Carol kissed my cheek and consoled
me, "Shhh. It's OK."  She proceeded to cut another hole
around my right nipple, and my body tensed as she began to
suck on it. She glanced up to meet my eyes, and she smiled
mischievously.  I shut my eyes and prepared for her sadistic
treat, but she just suckled on the nipple, as her hand
massaged my other breast.
     Carol must have sensed me relaxing. I was not allowed
to relax.  I felt the razor now slicing into my side,
tantalizingly slow, to enhance my pain or pleasure.  I
watched as she butchered the suit beyond repair. Carol
kissed each inch of my skin, as she exposed it.
     She began to cut the other side.  Eventually, she had
cut enough, and she just tossed the remains aside.
     Then she stared at the skirt, concentrating on the
hidden and not the revealed.  Her lips twisted in apparent
anger, as she heaved away at the elastic waistband, and the
red cloth tore away easily.  She smiled at the thin cotton
threshold to the prize.
     I opened my eyes wide as she raised the blade again.
What was she planning?  She hovered the blade between my
legs, pretending to consider a slash, or maybe a slow,
penetrating incision.  I almost sighed when she merely cut
the panties away at my hips.
     Finally, with a wave of her hand, and a gape of wonder,
the rest of me seemed to disappear.  I was my pussy.  Carol
paused and just stared at it, and so I just stared myself.
Maybe it was the drugging affect of the kryptonite, or maybe
it was Carol's act of awe, but I was fascinated by my own
pussy.  The yellow hairs were tipped with red, like the puff
of silk on a fresh ear of corn.  With my legs spread, the
lips parted slightly, like a mouth readying for a kiss.  And
I felt the heat building, a movement of blood, like a
passionate blush.
     Carol would usually touch it by now, or perhaps taste
it. Once she shocked me by biting it.  But now she paused
and just looked. Then, with a smile, she reached into the
black bag.
     And out came an empty mineral-water bottle. Carol had
removed the label, and had lubricated the surface to a shiny
glean.  It was just a glass dildo, now.  The outside of the
bottle had ridges, as though it was designed for this
purpose.
     Carol touched the cold tip to my thighs, which were too
numb to respond.  But as the tip moved nearer to the center,
I began to quiver.  She began to kiss my nipples again, as
the bottle peeked inside me. She moved up to my face, and
removed my gag with her free hand, as the bottle probed a
little deeper.  I closed my eyes, and we kissed, as Carol
rotated the bottle.  I felt my muscles compress slightly,
and a worry crossed my mind.  What if the bottle should
break?
     I tried to talk, but Carol's lips were pinned to my
own.  If the bottle broke, what would I do?  It wouldn't cut
me, but what an irritation!  I tried to speak again, but she
just pushed the bottle in deeper. Then I stopped trying. I
was at the dawn of an orgasm, and suddenly nothing seemed to
matter. I arched my head back, as Carol nibbled on my neck.
My whole body shook under her harsh, knowing touch. She did
not slow until my body relaxed, and my heart leaped into the
sky.
     At the  height of my climax, as I was beginning to
moan, and rushing towards a second climax, the sound of
glass shattering stung my ears.  For an instant, I felt
certain that the bottle had broken. An awful sensation grew
in my abdomen.  I opened my eyes to see shards of glass on
the bed and even on my body.  But the suspected bottle lay
innocently between my legs, whole and without a crack. Carol
had leapt off me and stared in shock at the broken window
beside the bed.  I was stunned, but not just from surprise.
I felt an immediate pain strike my stomach.  In about five
seconds, I had gone from ecstasy to the desire to puke!
                              
                             ***
                              
     Andrew had been tense all day, but he was just
beginning to relax when his cellular beeped.
     "Damn you," he whispered into it, as he walked down the
street, trying to look casual, like a successful business
man or something. "This better be good."
     "Sorry Andy," the little box almost seemed to yell
back. "But some jokers have just started down the street,
and they are bound to attract some attention.  We'd better
circle round again."
     "Where are they at?" Andy asked, now more concerned
than angry.
     "They are nearing the house," Ernie replied.
     "No, no, I mean the subjects."
     "Oh, they are getting near the end, I think.  Sam can
barely see them, but he thinks our opportunity is beginning
to pass.  Maybe we should reschedule."
     "No quits," Andrew said with as much authority as he
could. "How many days in a row will they keep up this game?
No, it's now or never.  You don't get that many chances with
these people."
     After a pause ... "Sam thinks you should walk faster,
then."
     "Damn," Andrew grumbled, as he increased his pace. He
whispered again into the phone, "Don't call me back, no
matter what." And he dropped it back into his belt.
     He started counting down the houses in his mind. Eight
to go.
     He tightened his grip on the heavy little book in his
left hand. It looked like a hard-cover novel, but it weighed
35 pounds.  Andrew wondered how conspicuous he would seem to
someone watching, as he struggled with the heavy book.
     Four houses left.
     He fingered the catch on the "book", just to be sure it
would open. Then those guilty little thoughts edged into his
mind.  What if I'm wrong? they asked.  Why am I really doing
this?  But Andrew never paused or wondered if he would go
through with it.  He learned to live with those voices a
long time ago.
     Jim was walking the other way, all grunged up and
wearing an earring. He was holding a book like Andrew's,
just in case.
     Ernie wore a MU sweatshirt, and he carried a MU back
pack, inside which slept the cellular phone.
     Andrew relaxed a bit.  They looked perfect -- just a
couple of random guys from the University, strolling the
town. And with this feeling of confidence, he turned down
the front walk, under the canopy of trees, towards the
little house.  He knew Jim and Ernie were pausing to chat
behind him.  Andrew turned the book in his hand, and flipped
it open, revealing a baseball sized green stone. With a
quick wind-up, he pitched it through the bedroom window.
     Ernie ran up past him with a gun that looked like a
small cannon, and he blew away the front door's lock.  Jim
crashed the door down with his shoulder an instant later.
     In about five seconds, all three were in the bedroom of
the Girl of Steel, who lay naked on the bed. Andrew, Ernie
and Jim all stopped in their tracks and paused.  Andrew took
a deep breath, amazed that the plan went without a problem.
He gazed almost blankly at the pussy which almost seem to
stare back at him.
     "What the hell are you doing here!" Carol screamed.
     Andrew was shaken from his trance, and he glanced at
Ernie and Jim, who smiled with evil intent.  Andrew thought
about it for a moment, and he understood.  Not many men
could say they were in this position, standing before the
most powerful woman in the world, who lay helpless to their
whims.  But that wasn't why they were here.
     "Jim, take Miss Lee -- uh, Miss Carol Lee into the next
room. I don't want these two together." Andrew said, almost
yelling to get Jim's attention.  He pulled a blanket over
Linda's naked body, and then his eyes met hers.  She was
overwhelmed with pain. Andrew spoke more quietly, "Ernie,
snap out of it and call in."
     "Stop it!" Linda cried, clenching her teeth and
struggling against the rags that held her tight.
     The kryptonite stone was on the floor, less than a foot
from the bed.  Andrew slid the stone a little further away
with his foot, and saw the pain on Linda's face loosen its
hold a bit. He moved it yet a little further:  Linda's
muscles went limp, as she breathed deeply in relief.
     Ernie whispered to Andrew, "Are you sure that's a good
idea?"
     Andrew waved his hand in dismissal, as he sat on the
corner of the bed and slipped a cigarette from his shirt
pocket.  He stared at the suddenly vulnerable girl of steel
with intense regard.  No, Ernie, he wasn't sure it was a
good idea.  Who knew exactly what affect the magical green
stones had on these magical people. Who knew how effectively
those rags binding her suppressed her powers.  Maybe even
crippled she could destroy them with her x-ray eyes. But he
didn't feel right torturing her.  They weren't here to
punish her.
     Linda met Andrew's stare directly, but Andrew could
tell that she was overwhelmed.
     Finally, she asked, "What do you want?"
     Andrew lit his cigarette before replying. "Not much,
really.  We never really wanted much.  But you've gotten out
of hand."
     Linda smiled slightly, apparently amused by his
comment.
     Andrew nudged the stone slightly nearer with his foot,
and Linda noticeably tensed.  He didn't like that she felt
comfortable enough to smile.
     "We've been watching you, Linda, and you haven't lived
up to the standards we demand."
     Linda's eyes turned to steel, as she retorted, "Who
gives you the right to judge me?"
     Andrew puffed casually. "The American people.  Congress
created our secret little group shortly after Superman first
amazed the world.  You could call us the Superhero
Intelligence Agency. People don't trust power blindly, and
our job is to know everything about you, should a problem
arise."
     Linda frowned, "What do you know?"
     "Oh, more than you people ever imagined," he replied
with a prideful grin.  "Superman and his childhood in
Smallville.  The secret location of the Bat Cave.  The many
wonders of the Fortress of Solitude. But we never felt
compelled to tell the world of the secrets.  We were not
anxious to make enemies of people with your abilities,
especially when you were fighting for what we believed in."
     Linda shook her head, "So what changed?  Why are you
here."
     Andrew's face grew solemn. "YOU'VE changed.  Heroes
have to follow some standards if they want to be seen as
heroes.  Superman still lives by the motto of 'Truth,
Justice and the American Way.'  Batman, while a bit moody,
never lost sight of the people he served. But you don't seem
to care for American law. You don't champion American
morality. And just today you undermined a police operation,
making our officers look like fools in the process. You
forced our hand."
     Linda looked away from Andrew, trying to decide how to
judge herself. "I don't know, maybe you are right.  I did
break the law, and alot of people don't like what I say and
do."
     Andrew sighed and said gently, "Maybe with time, and a
little reassurance from you of a change ..."
     Linda interrupted with a little flame in her voice.
"I'm not apologizing!  I was just admitting that I am not
the world's favorite Kryptonian.  I may have broken the law,
and I may have made the world uncomfortable, but I have
NEVER gone against my conscience."
     Andrew shook his head.  "I don't know, Miss Lee.
America is a country of laws and principles. And we demand
an even greater standard of our heroes."
     "Are you telling me to follow a law that's unfair?"
Linda pleaded for understanding. "I can't just watch people
suffer when I know I can help, just because of some law!"
She closed her eyes, and fought back tears, "And if I offend
someone, don't I have a right to free speech?  I want the
same right to pursue happiness as everyone else."
     Andrew snuffed out the exhausted cigarette on the sole
of his shoe. Linda's voice had echoed the voices in his mind
that had bothered him throughout this mission.  "It's tough
being a hero, isn't it?  Seriously, I'm trying to
understand.  I'm sure you aren't always just saving some kid
from falling out of a tree. It must be tough deciding on
people's guilt or innocence, or whether you are helping or
just interfering."
     Linda paused, and then just said, "You don't need to
ask me."
     With a nod and a smile, Andrew pointed at her and
whispered so Ernie couldn't hear, "I want you to know that
I've always kinda admired you."
     Linda couldn't contain her surprise.
     "No, really," he continued, as he drew another
cigarette from his pocket. "You've had a much tougher life
than Superman had.  You're a bit of a maverick, and that's
why America is scared of you.  But secretly everyone admires
a maverick."
     Linda shrugged, "Thanks, but I need more than you're
admiration, now."
     Andrew rolled the cigarette back and forth between his
fingers, and looked out the broken window. A van was turning
onto the main road, and heading towards the little house. He
wished that he had more time to think things through.
     "I'm letting you go," he said, as he put the cigarette
to his lips.  "I hope I'm doing the right thing."  He said
as he put the cigarette to his lips.  "And I hope you won't
hold all of this against me."
     Andrew reached for his lighter, when suddenly his
cigarette lit apparently by itself.
     Andrew glanced at Linda, who smiled weakly up at him.
He felt a little shaken, but he smiled back.
                             ***
     Now I felt that I really understood what the Cubans
went through in that house.  Now maybe I truly understood
the American Way.  To America, the Cubans and I were the
same.  Cuban aliens and aliens from Krypton.  Tear gas and
Kryptonite.  Communists and Lesbians.  America had no
sympathy, no due process, and no respect for human rights.
     When those three agents forcibly entered our house, I
felt that America had betrayed me.  When they stared at me,
naked and suffering and completely at their mercy, I saw
their thoughts in their eyes -- the desire to rape, to
conquer, to plant the good ol' American flag in my womb.
     Thank God for Andrew, a man with some sense and some
heart.  Apparently he was also a man with some influence.
The three agents left as quickly as they had come, and Carol
and I were able to continue our lives with the same privacy
that we had had before.
     But I could not forgive America merely because of the
conscience of one man.  America and I were in a state of
cold war.  Every day, the media attacked my character and my
support of the Cubans.  I went on strike, refusing to be
Supergirl, refusing to help the powers that be.  I
disappeared into an anonymous college life, and I could
frequently be seen among the revolutionary crowd.  But no
matter what I did, I still felt dead inside.  It was so
depressing, hating my country and my country hating me.
     Carol was much more forgiving than I, and she tried to
help me see the good side of America.  She reminded me
constantly of the great humanitarian efforts, the Marshall
Plan, and Welfare system.  Blah, blah, blah.  It was all so
abstract.
     Then Carol tried something kind of desperate.
     I returned home from a class, as depressed as ever.  My
depression sank even deeper when I thought that Carol wasn't
home.  Sad and lonely.  I went into the kitchen and made
myself a sandwich.  I wasn't hungry, though, and I just left
it on the table.  I decided to just go to sleep and hide
from the world.
     When I opened the bedroom door, Carol was standing
there, holding one hand high over her head.  She was wearing
a Statue of Liberty costume. I couldn't suppress a smile.
     "Oh, I'm so happy to see you, Carol."
     Carol pointed at me and whispered with inviting lips,
"America needs you."
     I moved into her embrace and kissed her lips.  Carol
abruptly slipped out of her robe and spread herself on the
bed.  "Its time you explored this great land of yours,
America the Beautiful!"
     I smiled and eagerly fell into her fantasy.  I donned
the appropriate dress for such an exploration, and I climbed
up over her.
     The first stop on the tour was the delta of her neck,
where the rivers of hair on her shoulders and breasts met
the vast ocean of hair above. I sailed along the delta with
my lips   and explored a little under the ridge of her ear.
I could feel the tremors from a sensitive, subterranean
fault.  I decided to test this fault further by sailing to
the delta on the other side.
     Carol mischievously poked a finger between my legs.
     "Hey!"  I said, smiling. "That's breaking the rules.
I'm the explorer."
     "Its just a curious little Indian, checking out the new
visitor to the land," she replied.  The little Indian knew
exactly where to rub.
     I moved out of the Indian's reach, and headed for the
heartland.  I settled on the little hill in the north-east.
At the top of the hill was a basket of fruit, and it seemed
like a good spot to settle. While I  sucked on the fruit and
stroked it with my tongue, I sent my hands exploring the
world on the other side. They quickly traveled from the
mesas to the plains, then diligently land-formed the
southern mountain range.
     The little Indian, frustrated by being dislocated,
resettled in an area around my cheek.
     Eventually, I decided to move on.  I became a pioneer,
and I slowly left trails of saliva across the vast desert of
her body.  I momentarily paused at an oasis, dipping my
tongue into the well.  The oasis was just a glimpse of the
promised land to come.
     Soon, I found myself on the edge of what seemed like
the Everglades, except that the forest was removed.  It was
a hot, moist place.  I knew there were alligators in the
Everglades, so I detoured around it and decided to explore
the leg of Florida first.  But I never traveled far from the
Everglades.  I hovered nearer and nearer, tasting the
moisture as I neared the border.  At last, I nuzzled the
rich, fragrant flower.  At last I found the Fountain of
Eternal Youth.  Like a good explorer, I explored the
channels with my tongue, and sought out every nook and
cranny.  I sucked on the tiny swellings and nubs, while my
nose squeezed into the canals.
     Eventually, the natives got restless, and all ten of
them urged me into the waiting cavern, to drink from the
fountain.  I opened the cavern wider with my fingers, and
dove my tongue into the spring within, while massaging the
cave walls with my nose.  The fountain refilled the spring
as fast as I could drink from it.  Eventually, when the
spring was empty,  I spread her lips wider, revealing the
full glory of the cavern walls, and allowing me to explore
even deeper and wider.  Eventually the natives got so
restless, and the firmament shook and moved so rhythmically,
I moved to the source of the fountain's power, and handled
it with expert care.  The whole world seemed to shake and
moan, as my tongue circled and dove, faster and faster.
Finally, it was the Fourth of July, and I kept circling and
diving until the last roman candle lit the sky.
     It was all over too soon.
     With the expedition complete, I climbed up and laid
beside Carol, who looked over to me and smiled.  "America is
greatly in your debt."
     I smiled, and said, "Those natives were awfully pushy."
     Carol rolled on top of me.  "Now its time to explore
the uncharted terrain of Krypton."
     I laughed and closed my eyes, surrendering my body to
America.


                                         tooshoes@ix.netcom.com

