Supernova
This can’t be happening, Carol thought, and for once Belivet didn’t seem to be picking up her thoughts at all. The intoxicated alien having crawled all over her, Carol was laying on top of the table right next to Abby. Occasionally their temples even knocked against each other, which wasn’t exactly the way Carol had imagined her first time with Belivet would turn out to be.
“God, Abby, they’re drunk out of their alien minds…” she gasped as Belivet was busy unbuttoning her shirt with her heated hands.
“I DON’T CARE! I DON’T CAAaaarrrr….” Abby exclaimed her voice soon muffled by Cantrell’s voracious mouth. Right now she was obviously impervious to any kind of second thoughts.
Belivet’s not herself, Carol thought frantically. And I am not drunk enough to let this happen like this… WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME? Right now Belivet’s fingers seemed to be channeling explorer Roald Amundsen seeking the North West passage to the polar region - they were placed on her right thigh. God, this feels so amazing… Carol recognized her better judgment slowly losing its fight to her acute bodily needs. I want this and I won’t deny this… wait! Rindy’s alone in the motel room… Who’s Rindy again..? Get a grip, Carol! She opened her eyes to see – a bouncer standing next to them.
“Everything okay here?” the man asked trying hard not to pay attention to all the details of the bold incident. Carol appreciated such tactfulness and she nodded, hoping her acknowledgment that everything was as it was supposed to be would put the man’s mind at ease. “It’s just that your carefree display of… ahem, affection… has stirred quite a response here, and I wouldn’t want any of you ladies to get in trouble later on…”
What the fuck is he talking about, crossed Carol’s brain as she felt her backbone bounce painfully against the table. Affection? “We’re fine, thanks for askiiiiNGGGG!” Carol replied not expecting Belivet to rip her panties off right that minute. Even though Belivet was a minuscule woman by any standards, Carol had trouble breathing her frame so overwhelmingly pressed against her chest.
“Oh… well, if there’s anything I can do, let me know,” the bouncer mumbled averting his eyes from Abby and Cantrell who seemed to be reenacting a scene from a wildlife documentary devoted to the mating rituals of spotted hyenas. Abby’s head kept hitting Carol every so often, and it did have considerably to do with Carol's slight uneasiness as far as getting into the right mood was concerned.
As much as Carol wanted Belivet to pleasure her and vice versa, the scientist mother in her was reminded of the dangers of unprotected hot fusion. Since she couldn’t access Belivet’s thoughts at all at the moment, she had to do all the thinking for all four of them. If we all go full circle right here and now, it may prove fatal for both Abby and me, flashed across her brain. The alcohol has compromised their reason.
Carol’s thought processes were very clear – even surprisingly lucid although Belivet was getting friskier by the minute. I’m literally only inches away from being fucked by a gorgeous alien, and I’m actually hesitating!? How would she ever be able to explain her reluctance to her colleagues at NASA? They had always been told to be ready to take one for the home team. Only now Carol learned what the phrase she’d mistakenly taken as a platitude really meant. With Belivet on top of her, Carol was closer to taking it than ever before.
Close your eyes and think of NASA, she exhaled determinedly. This is not for me, this is research. Before she had time to finish her thought, the feverish movement all over her body ceased altogether. Belivet’s hand drooped down hitting Carol’s thighs involuntarily. Her whole body went slack, and for a fleeting moment Carol was reminded of her last evening with Harge. Did she die as well? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME???
“Fuck…” Abby groaned painfully right next to Carol, “Something’s happened to Cantrell, she’s not moving anymore…” Carol couldn’t quite see from her compromised position what was going on with Abby and her alien, but the information was enough to convince her that the sudden, simultaneous standstill couldn’t be coincidental.
“Belivet’s oddly passive as well,” Carol admitted, “I think they’ve passed out.” The brunette alien lay all over her like a sack of potatoes.
“Cantrell’s so muscular I can’t move her…” Abby gasped, “You’ll have to help me… she’s weighing on me like a ton of bricks…”
Carefully Carol wiggled herself free from Belivet’s inanimate hold. She helped Abby to get on her feet as well. Two aliens still lying face down on the table they took a moment to think what would be their wisest move right now.
“I’m really hungry,” Carol said. “I think we can just let them be while we eat.” She tapped the menu impatiently.
“We can’t move them any way when they’re like that,” Abby replied, “so we might as well eat something.” She waved to their waitress.
“Are you ready to order or would you like to sample our James Bond Specials?” Gwen handed an additional printout to both Abby and Carol.
“I’ll have the Pussy Galore…” Abby started apprehensively. She couldn’t make up her mind if she wanted it to come with Béarnaise sauce or just plain mayo.
“How would you like it done?” Gwen inquired impatiently.
“Medium rare,” Abby decided handing the menu back. Meanwhile Carol was still undecided.
“Is the Octopussy wild or farmed?” she asked Gwen. The waitress stared at her nonplussed. “I mean does it come from an environmentally sustainable source?” More or less shaking her head, Gwen rolled her eyes at Carol’s question.
“Whatever… I’ll have the Goldfinger…” Carol contented, “…with the Curly Beaver Fries.”
Gwen took a look at the two spaced out aliens slouching apathetically against the table. “Will they be having anything?”
“She’ll have the World Is Not Enough with the Fabergé Egg side,” Carol decided gesturing towards Belivet, “and for the other one… ahem, make it the Moonraker with the side of Thunderballs.” Gwen wrote everything down and turned on her killer heels.
“Cantrell’s going to be pissed she didn’t get the same as Belivet,” Abby pointed out. Her alien had started to show the first signs of recovery.
“Oh, please,” Carol scoffed, “they can share their meals if they like…” Belivet was also twitching in her stupor.
When their orders came, Belivet and Cantrell were more or less conscious again. Both of them seemed somewhat embarrassed by what had just happened – Cantrell didn’t even complain about her food. They ate in silence, and it suited Carol just fine. Too much alcohol could literally kill you, she mused hoping Belivet would catch her passing thought. Or it could kill me. Belivet raised her head and looked at Carol. Her green eyes were filled with such profound sadness Carol regretted she had thought anything at all. She laid her hand right next to hers on the table, close enough for them to brush against each other should Belivet need it.
Cantrell had perked up considerably after a couple of Busy Beaver mocktails and kept yapping telepathically. Belivet, however, remained quiet all the way back to their motel. Rindy was still sound asleep, as Carol was about to undress for the nightly recharging. She closed the door to her adjoining room and slipped between the covers. Belivet took her time in the bathroom.
Are you okay? Carol transmitted through the closed door.
I am ashamed of my behavior, Belivet replied humbly, what I did could’ve put you in great danger, Carol-2015.
Come here, Carol mused warmly. It’s time to recharge. Finally approaching the bed, Belivet looked very pale. For some reason, she still had her clothes on.
Carol got up from the bed suddenly very aware of her own nakedness. She took Belivet’s hand and pulled her close. Slowly she undressed the brunette alien taking time to be very gentle with her all the way through. May I? she asked Belivet before touching her collarbone. Belivet nodded. Smiling, Carol let her eyes linger on Belivet’s jawline. May I? she asked again fearing Cantrell’s alarm. The green eyes shone brightly at her. I take that as a yes.
Carol kissed her neck softly once, then again and again, and when she felt Belivet yield to her touch, she led her to bed. Let me adjust our bodies, Carol breathed in Belivet’s ear, nuzzle against me and feel my dreams… of you. Belivet looked at her, and the affection of her open gaze pierced Carol like million tiny comets shooting through her inner galaxy.
Dream Mode. Now.
They left for Wichita and Kansas City very early next morning. Rindy sat on the back seat between Abby and Cantrell. Carol had thought it best, given that Rindy was still a minor and didn’t really need to witness endless calibration right under her very nose.
“You can do it at each stop,” Carol argued with Cantrell who was not only hung over but also in a very bad mood. “It’s not like you have to stick your hands under her shirt all the time,” she pointed out emphatically.
“Maybe not but it helps me to focus,” Abby protested listlessly. Whatever had happened over night at their motel room had done very little to recharge her in any way.
“Where are we going? And why am I here?” Rindy questioned when they had finally left the suburbs of Oklahoma City behind. “I should be at school… has anyone informed Mrs. Robichek of my absence?”
God, Rindy’s school! Carol had forgotten all about it. “Abby, can you call Rindy’s school’s principal and make something up? Tell him it’s a family emergency or something…”
“Why do I have to make all these calls?” Abby complained grumpily. “I’m not Rindy’s mother!”
“No, you’re not, but you’re the only one who’s not driving or strictly communicating telepathically,” Carol replied slightly aggravated.
Abby had a lovely chat with Rindy’s principal who happened to be Mrs. Frittenhoff’s son, Samuel Frittenhoff. Having recognized Abby’s name, principal Frittenhoff had been so delighted to talk to one of her mother’s decent colleagues, he’d given Rindy a four-day-leave just like that. Her mother was still deeply traumatized by the Tartgate as the incident had been named at NASA.
“How do you feel, Rindy?” Carol asked glancing at her daughter through the rear view mirror. She wasn’t sure if she fully believed in Cantrell’s Thrust Method.
“I’m fine, why do you ask?” Rindy shrugged the question off her shoulders as if it were an irritating fly.
“How’s Tommy? Did you see him last night?” Carol continued sharply. Here comes the moment of truth…
“Who’s Tommy?” Rindy asked staring unenthusiastically back at her mother. To Carol’s great surprise, she seemed sincere. Glancing at Belivet, Carol noticed a sly smirk on her lips. I’m not going to think about this now, she sighed.
After four excruciating hours of driving the entire backseat fell asleep. It took Carol a while to get used to Cantrell’s loud snoring that seemed to fill up their cramped space. Luckily Belivet was awake and ready to keep her company.
I enjoyed our recharging last night, Carol-2015, she transmitted kindly, I’ve never experienced anything quite like it. Not even with Sister Alicia.
You’ve slept with your Supreme Commander? The thought startled Carol more than she expected.
Yes, when I’d first been hatched, Belivet explained. Sister Alicia had the jus primae noctis, after all.
Jus.. what? Carol asked hoping against hope it would have something to do with juicing.
The right of the first night, Belivet specified, she slept with all the individually hatched Terezians. It was an important part of our education.
I bet it was, Carol scoffed trying hard not to imagine what it must have been like to bed all the hatchlings of Mount Vulva.
It was tough work for Sister Alicia, Belivet answered Carol even though her thought hardly needed a reply. Every night a new virgin… most of them fortunately far more beautiful than me. I still shudder when I think what she must have thought entering my humble abode.
Humble abode… is that what they call it these days, Carol nearly snorted out loud. Belivet looked at her nonplussed but left it at that.
So… Sister Alicia and the weekly hot fusion, that doesn’t sound very active, Carol commented. Somehow the massive weekly gathering didn’t bother her too much – it was needed to provide energy for the entire galaxy after all.
Oh, the weekly hot fusion was just the collective, ritualistic side of our community, Belivet corrected, the supernovas symbolized the more private aspects of our lives.
Supernovas? Carol blurted out involuntarily regretting almost immediately her question.
After Sister Alicia all girls visited each other in strict order, Belivet went on, we called these meetings supernovas because of the core collapse that inevitably followed during the visit.
I’m going to think of something else so I don’t have to think about this, flashed through Carol’s mind. Like credit cards, laundry or Margaret Thatcher or… sex… FUCK!
Is something wrong, Carol-2015? Belivet asked her thought seriously concerned.
Okay – out with it! How many… supernovas did you have on Planet Terez?? The mere idea of Belivet’s core collapsing on some other space babe’s lap was enough to drive her nuts.
Give or take… 6,000… individuals – with several repetitions, of course, Belivet counted, after all, one round took only about 16 Earth years if you had just one encounter per day.
Suddenly Carol didn’t feel so slutty anymore. Compared to Terezians, she was pure as mountain snow. Somehow it didn’t make her particularly cheery – on the contrary, Carol felt defeated.
How am I ever going to measure up to the first 6,000?