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Journal Entry 00259 226 000 Between a Hard and a Rock Place
Between a Hard and a Rock Place
Journal Entry 226 / 00259
Noren, Narquel 15, 00259
"G'night, you two. P'rose, don't keep him out too late!" P'nyssa said
as she headed out the door. "I'm going to be over at Cutter's for most
of the evening working on a burn case."
"Mom, you work too hard!" P'rose insisted as the door closed behind
P'nyssa's retreating back. "She does, you know."
I nodded. "There isn't much I can do about it," I insisted. "I just seem
to live here at everyone else's whim, P'rose."
"Bull. You live here because everyone here adores you, and besides, your
contributions to the world can't ever be returned, technically." She
sighed. "I just worry about her."
"Tell me something, P'rose. What was it like, growing up with P'nyssa
and T'Fia?"
She smiled. "Well, Mom, I mean, you know, P'nyssa, was always busy. She
was trying so hard to master this new skill that so few people had before
the Tindals, and she was also trying to earn a physical medical degree
at the same time. She knew I needed a mother, so she made an agreement
with T'Fia. They both raised me."
"It sounds... mechanical when you say it that way. 'Agreement.'"
"Well, you weren't a part of it," she replied. "They were both wonderful
to me, and both of them did everything they could to raise me. They did
a good job." I was about to compliment her when she glanced down at her
watch. "OhMiFah! I'm due on stage in less than an hour! I can't believe
I let the two of you keep me here so long! I told you to warn me when
I had to go!"
I looked at the wallclock and agreed with her. "Well, you didn't ask
Dave, and none of us really keep track of the time. Besides, half an
hour is plenty of time... isn't it?"
"No, no, no!" she said, standing up. "Come on. If you're going to listen
to me play we have to get moving. I have to do my hair, and my eyes,
and... Come on!"
"Coming, coming!" I said, laughing. I had promised P'rose earlier that I'd
come listen to one of her concerts. "Shouldn't I, like, dress for this?"
"You'll be backstage. You don't have to dress up like the kids out in
front. Come on!" She grabbed my hand in her mitten and hauled me towards
the door. I was surprised by the strength in her grip and said so. "Years
of guitar," she insisted as we half-walked, half-ran down the hallway
towards the SDisk.
We reappeared in a darkened town on a dirt road. "P'rose!" someone shouted
from the edge of the SDisk. "We waited for you. The AI said you'd be here.
You're late!"
As my vision resolved, I saw a young, black Felinzi on a stylish,
forward-swept motorcycle painted in gleaming red. She held a helmet
under one arm. "Heya, K'Nady. Do you have room for him?" P'rose asked,
pointing her thumb back at me.
"Can do. March?"
"I can carry him. Who is..." Another motorcycle, this one much wider in
the middle, more 'muscular' looking, pulled up alongside me. "Vatare'! It
would be an honor if I could escort you to our show." The driver was an
apparently short Mephit.
"Cut the 'honor' and it's a deal," I said, straddling the back of his
bike. Springs whispered softly under the added load, and the engine
gunned. I couldn't make out his species since he was wearing a helmet.
"Got a helmet for me?"
"Attached to the rear," he said. I picked up the small box he pointed to,
pulling out the cloth within. A touch of a small on one corner of
the small box and the cloth immediately hardened into a fully functional
helmet. I pulled it on. "Set," I said.
"Let's ride!" the Felinzi shouted.
"Yieee!" I shouted as the Mephit gunned the engine and the rear wheel
spit dirt and grit backwards. The bike vibrated insanely, but he seemed
to have it completely under control.
P'rose's bar, The Rose, is currently a "hot" place on Pendor. I guess
being a stick-in-the-mud kind of guy has set me a little behind the times.
But P'rose's latest song is skyrocketing in demand; the AI that keeps the
charts says that replays of her song have been in the top-five rotation
slot for nearly seven weeks now. I don't really understand that; to
me it sounds like just another popular rock song. Her progress up the
charts has given her enough friends that she persuaded them to build
her a nightclub, complete with all the fixings. She didn't build it
from scratch, but instead took it over from someone who, she had said,
had grown tired of the therapy business and was going back to school to
study history instead.
The two bikes soared through the town, which an AI inquiry in my head
identified as Ramdal, a curious name by any measure. The Mephit handled
his bike as if he had been born driving it, an attitude that reassured me.
The wind whipped past my leather jacket as the bike cornered tight
around a two-story building and pulled up into an alleyway. A couple
of rats ducked as the lights of two internal-combustion beasts growled
their way to a door. "Here we are." He got off the bike, and so did I,
returning the helmet. "Thanks," I said.
"Thank you," he replied, grinning. "If I can calm down enough, I'll
really be in the mood to rock tonight!"
"Come on, March," P'rose said, grabbing him by the shoulder. "Let's
get dressed!" Just as she had done with me earlier, she hauled him in
through the dark doorway out of sight.
I followed, curious, and apparently invited. Inside, there was a madhouse
of two mels and four fems hurriedly dressing, getting ready. A tall
Uncia came back and shouted "P'rose! Ten minutes!"
"I'm ready, I'm ready!" she shouted back. I retreated into a black
hallway that led to the stage, taking cover. Out on stage, two mels were
assembling the gear the band would be using to play. It was nice to see
that people still used unsynthesized electric guitars, animal-skin drums
and brass saxophones. The fact that I found that interesting shows just
how out of the mainstream I am when it comes to music.
The crowd outside was mostly youthful-looking, with a few people showing
that carriage that comes with maturity. I estimated most of her fans were
less than fifty years old, and it showed in their dress and the noise. Oh,
the noise! Unbelievable! P'rose was going to try to play over that?
They came running by me, slowing only as they reached the edge of the
stage, walking out into the view of the audience calmly, waving. I
admired that professionalism.
And then they began playing. A wall of noise rolled over me as the guitars
began screaming and the bass drum began thudding. The beautiful human
girl with the saxophone was belting out notes on that thing so high they
threatened to make my ears bleed. But as I stood there, watching them,
my body began responding to the rhythm all on its own. I found myself
bouncing back and forth, enjoying myself.
The crowd, of course, ate it up. That's what they were here for. To
listen to what was now the most popular band on the Ring. I watched and
listened, to the lovely bodies on stage interacting with the equally
lovely bodies down in the audience, wondering about all the rumors that
surrounded this musical kind of hero worship.
At the intermission, P'rose walked straight towards me, accompanied by
one of her other bandmembers. "Rosy, who is this?"
"Meet Minda, my keyboards. That over there is V'Drow, my lead guitar.
That's Tim on string synth."
"And who's this?" Minda asked.
"I hope you recognize Ken Shardik, Minda."
"Ohmifah! I'm sorry! Ohmifah, it really is you! Rosy, how do you know
him?"
"Be serious, Minda," the lead guitarist said. "Rosy's is P'nyssa
Traken."
"Ohmifah, I'm such a vacuum! I'm sorry."
"It's okay, Minda. Go get something to drink, would you?" P'rose shuffled
Minda out of sight, then turned to me. "Great musician, not a great
thinker. So, what do you think?" she asked.
"It's... um... powerful," I said.
"It's not your kind of music," she said.
"I listen to Iron Maiden once in a while, okay?" I laughed. "It's just
been a long time since I listened to anything played live. That sounded
really wonderful," I said.
"Glad you like it," she said. The Uncia who had come by earlier came by
again, placing a pitcher into her hand. "Water. Thank Fah," she said,
raising the entire jug to her mouth and draining what looked like half of
it. Then she glanced up at me, smiling. "I should be careful saying things
like that around you, shouldn't I?" she asked. "Mom warned me about that."
I shook my head. "Be yourself around me," I said. "That's all I ask."
She nodded. "I gotta go back on." She kissed me on the mouth, which
surprised me. "Wish me luck."
"Luck," I said, still recovering.
"HELLO OUT THERE!" P'rose's voice screamed over the speakers. "ENJOYING
YOURSELVES?"
From the expression on her face, the roar of the crowd was giving her
orgasms. She looked wonderful, just like her only with more muscle.
"Good!" she said, lowering the volume a little. "By the way, I want to
point out a very special person in the audience tonight. Most of you out
there can tell who my is, right?" she asked, pointing to her eyes.
I groaned. P'rose, I begged silently, don't do this. The audience cheered.
"Well, she's not here, she's too busy. But we do have Ken Shardik in
the audience. Mac, gimme the spotlight on Vatare'!"
"Ack!" I said as the light panned across me. The audience just went
berserk at that point. I tried to put on an indignant chin, glaring at
P'rose. She stuck her tongue out at me. So I stuck mine right back at her.
The audience ate it up.
"Okay, enough humiliation for the man. Let's rock!"
The band exploded in another wave of feedback and I ducked back behind
the stage again, my heart beating loud in my chest. I hate being pointed
out like that. It drives me crazy. I seriously thought about how I would
get back at her.
Finally, though, the concert was over and the nightclub went back to being
a club, serving drinks and clearing out a space on the floor for dancers.
I waited in the back room for P'rose to come out, and finally she did.
"What did you think?" she asked.
I grabbed her by the arm and hauled her out into the alleyway, just
as she had hauled March and me around earlier this evening. The door
slammed against the brick wall as I threw it open, then slammed shut
into the doorframe, vibrating on its hinges as I closed it. I turned her
around and shoved her up against the brick wall of The Rose. "What kind
of crazy stunt was that?" I asked.
Her expression fell. "Well... I just thought..."
"You could embarrass me in front of all those people?"
"Oh, come on, Ken! They love you. There's nothing embarrassing about
that."
"I was embarrassed!" I said. "I don't like being..." I have the hardest
time in the universe holding onto anger. It dissipated right there and
then. "Sorry. You just had me going for a moment there."
"Look, I'll never do it again," she said, raising her eyes to me. Her face
is so much like her mother's, with the white rings around her dark yellow,
almost orange, eyes. She was imploring me, and I couldn't hold back.
A light drizzle began to fall on us, out in the alleyway. A single
lightglobe, high on one corner of the building, illuminated us, the
two motorcycles, and the gritty, glistening blacktop. Droplets were
misting on her upturned face. I leaned over and slowly placed a kiss
on her lips. Her mouth opened slightly, just enough for a breath, as I
straightened back up. Her eyes were closed. "You're forgiven."
She fluttered her eyes open again. "Ken? Do that again."
As I leaned over, I heard music coming through the walls. The entire
building I was pressing her against thumped with the recordings of bass
guitars and monstrous drums. And as I kissed my step-daughter, I heard
the words. They were playing her most popular song.
Baby, can't your heart dance? Can't you give me one more chance?
You came into my life, now all I do's about loving you.
Her kiss grew more passionate. Between the music and the cool of the mist,
we were generating more than enough heat for two. Her mittens reached
into my jacket, touching my chest through the cloth of my shirt. I ran my
hands down the sides of her body, covered in a tight latex corsetry and
miniskirt decorated in garish pinks, blues, whites and reds. She moaned
under my caresses, seemingly being turned on just by my smallest progress.
I remember the first day that you walked into my dreams, You were the
most handsome creature I thought I'd ever seen, And I thought I was
the kind that someone like you'd never want.
"P'rose?" I asked as I managed to get a pause for breath.
She looked up. "I'm sorry... do you not... want me?"
I laughed. "Oh, P'rose, you have no idea. I'm just a little surprised
by your forwardness."
She smiled. "I just thought now was a good time. I've always been a
little excited by the idea of making love out here, in an alley, where
I could get caught. Please?"
"Make love out here?"
"Sure!" she said. She took my hand and led it between her thighs. "It's
a short skirt. See?" She grinned.
Like a flame we joined and loved and tore each other in two, And I'm
left with nothing but anger to remind me of you, And it's in my dreams
or are they nightmares that you're the haunt.
My fingers did indeed "see," as I felt the wetness slowly spreading from
her slightly swollen lips. I pressed her up against the wall, my mouth
finding hers again as my fingers slid between her nether lips, caressing
her already very hard clitoris. She shuddered. "Gently," she sighed.
I slowed down slightly, and her mittens found the buttons of my fly,
pulling them open with an easy tear. She reached in. "You don't wear
anything underneath."
"Not usually," I said.
"Good. Makes this so much easier." She knelt down onto the hard pavement
and fumbled momentarily with my pants; a second later she had my erection
in her mitten, and a second after that in her mouth. I gasped as she
swallowed my cock smoothly. I reached down and ran my fingers into her
hair. She moaned as I held onto her, trying not to grab at her large ears.
Her tongue pressed hard against the underside of my cock, teasing the
head as it swirled around and around. "Easy!" I gasped.
She eased back only enough to inhale deeply through her nose, then attempt
to the whole thing. I felt my cock curve gently against the back
of her throat and downwards until I felt the warm wetness of her lips at
the very root of my cock and looked down to see her nose pressed into my
fly. Gods, she was incredible. She slowly backed off and began stroking,
slowly, making sure my cock stayed hard as a rock. My hair was standing
on end from the pleasure. "Oh, P'rose."
She released my cock and stood up, pulling my head down until I kissed
her lips. But she still pressed down further, until I got the idea and
dropped to my knees before her. She spread her legs wide as I pushed up
the plastic hem of her almost nonexistent skirt and pressed my mouth to
her labia.
It was her turn to moan in pleasure as I spread her lips with my fingers,
digging my tongue against her lips and caressing her surprisingly large
clitoris... much larger than her mother's. I sipped the juices that were
almost running down her legs as she held my head against her cunt. She had
no qualms about holding me in place! The smell of her filled my nostrils
and the sweet taste of her flowed along my tongue as I flickered it
against her beautiful, blue-furred cunt. She moaned, "That's it. That's
it, Ken. A little more... a little harder... yes! YES!" Her body bucked
as she came, her mittens tight against my head. "Oh my fah, yes!"
I smiled as I looked up at her. "Now," she gasped. "Fuck me, Ken."
I looked around and found a small beam of wood, once part of a cargo
pallet. I kicked it into place. "Stand on that," I said. "I'm taller
than you are."
She smiled and stood on it. "How's this?" she asked.
"Perfect," I said, approaching her. My cock, even to my surprise, had
not softened at all. I pressed up against her, aiming my cock between
the wet lips of her cunt. I slid past the the first time, but the
second time I thrust it felt like her opening grabbed me and pulled me
in. "Yes," she moaned again.
"Uh-huh," I sighed, kissing her. Even with my jacket, the heat had leeched
from my body long ago; the sensation of her warm enveloping my cock
felt wonderful. I grabbed her tens right below the mittens and pressed
them up against the brick wall, thrusting deeper. She spread her legs
further apart, and I began a slow, rhythmic fucking. The hard part was
staying inside her.
We managed. I found it hard to breathe in the cool night air as the mist
fell around us. We panted as I thrust into her, holding her hips. We
were watching each other, occasionally taking side-glances to look down
and see if anyone was watching us.
Then the door to The Rose opened. "P'rose, where are you... Oh." It was
her Mephit drummer, March. I glared at him, and she did too. "This can
wait." He closed the door hurriedly.
She giggled. "We'd better hurry this up," she sighed. "Not that I
want to."
"I understand." I slid out of her.
"I didn't want to... whoops!" I grabbed her by the waist and turned her
around, facing the wall. With a brusque pull I had her skirt up again,
and slid my cock back into her willing cunt. "Oh..." she gasped. "Yes."
I grabbed her hips and began thrusting harder. She held onto a drainpipe
and bent over further, pushing her ass out to meet my thrusts. "Yes,"
she groaned. "Like that."
"I'm close," I gasped as the tickling in my groin said the same thing.
"I'm really... YES!" I pushed into her, hard. My cock pulsed come into
her, and I heard her groan.
"Yes..." she sighed. "Oh, yes."
I slid my erection out of her. It jutted up into the cold night air,
wilting slowly. "That was wonderful," I sighed.
She grinned wildly, kissing me on the cheek. "I enjoyed myself." We both
laughed as I dug my black handkerchief out of a pocket and wiped myself
off. I handed the kerchief to her as I put my shrinking cock away and
closed up the button on my jeans.
"Nearly zipless," I commented.
"Come on," she said. "I'd like a drink of something cool."
"Me too. And you have to find March and find out what he wanted."
She giggled. "And probably apologize to him, too." She reached up for
my cheek, pulling me down towards her, kissing me. "Thanks."
"You're very welcome," I said. Like the perfect gentleman that I sometimes
pretend to be, I held the door open for her and followed her back into
the club.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
The Journal Entries of Kennet R'yal Shardik, et. al., and Related Tales
are Copyright (c) 1989-2000 Elf Mathieu Sternberg. Distribution limited
to electronic media not-for-profit use only. All other rights are reserved
to the author.