City of Angels

Janet saw that George neither wore nor carried a hat, unlike many of the similarly suited men in the bar. Her mouth quirked almost imperceptibly as she recalled mention in one of the printed light entertainments. The country's current, young, handsome president, their leader, did not favor hats, in opposition to long tradition for men here. He was a hero from one of the recent mass frenzies of violence they called 'wars' and had replaced another, a much older, war hero. He had a lithe, beautiful mate at his side. All of that meant that he was of much influence on the men and women he led.

This had rippled through society, the entertainment had said an entire industry was threatened, sides had been taken.

George had declared his side

"It's the new Janet," Marsha said with a chuckle, "turned over a new leaf."

"Yes, George," Janet said as she watched his right eyebrow quirk up, the old Janet had refused his first-name offer, used 'Mr. Elliott' to force distance. That was no longer a concern.

He smiled broadly, his gaze thick with, what? Yes, with... he wanted to mate with her. That would be good. She would like that.

But not tonight. After she'd fed. After she better understood the body she'd taken, could control it. She wanted the pleasure, not the offspring. He took a long, slow swallow of his drink, emptied the contents. He set the glass down, put his arm on the bare skin of her arm.

"Well, new Janet," he said, "you'll have to do me the honor of dinner one of these nights."

She glanced at Marsha, saw the muscles of her face constricted. A challenge, but a careful one. This George mot so easy to frighten off. She didn't want these two to fight to have her. George was not of immediate use. Marsha was.

"Some night, George, I'm sure you'll see me around," she hoped that would reassure Marsha without upsetting George, he smiled, removed his hand, pushed his chair back, stood. Marsha's face relaxed. He nodded to each of them, turned, worked his way through the crowded bar to the exit.

"Married goddamn men," Marsha's sotto voce, "second kid on the way..."

"I'm just teasing him," she hoped she used that correctly, it was a concept in old Janet's mind, that she'd reject it meant it might be appropriate, "but I'm hungry. Any ideas for dinner?"

Marsha smiled, apparently mollified.

"Let's grab a cab," she said, "my treat. I know a place near my apartment. You can buy dinner."

She understood why humans drank wine, she could tell what the old Janet would've felt. She smiled as she stood next to Marsha with another glass of it in her hand, she sipped. She liked the taste, but it didn't affect her as it would've Janet.

Marsha rubbed her back through her shirt as they stood on the roof of the taller woman's apartment building. The planet's star had just hidden itself below the western horizon.

"Look, Janet," she said softly, but with a deeper tone than she usually had, "the sky is the same color as your hair."

Marsha had explained that since this building offered beautiful views from its hillside perch, the tenants had contributed old furniture and built a covered shelter on the roof. In one direction, Marsha pointed out the sprawling Griffith Park and its Observatory, the large, white letters that appeared in so many photos further up the mountain. In the other direction, the tall buildings of downtown Los Angeles, then Santa Monica and the vast expanse of human construction that stretched as far as even her improved eyes could see, but not even they could further penetrate the dusky, muddy haze that hovered over all of it.

"Smog," Marsha called it, "we're breathing that, you know."

Marsha laughed softly, but without much amusement, she could detect a difference. She mimicked the taller woman and leaned against the thin woman who responded by pressing harder on her back. She set the wine glass on the small table in front of them. She reached up and undid the top button on her blouse, moved to the next one. Marsha's face turned toward her, her eyes slightly tightened in wonder.

"Warm out tonight," she worked the remainder of her buttons with both hands, she looked Marsha eye to eye, "I like being naked. How about you?"

Marsha took Janet's hands with hers, held them, leaned in and put her mouth on Janet's. The long, wailing scream of horror, of anguish was audible only inside of her own skull, the sense of shame, of wrongness was palpable. Marsha pulled back when she felt what she thought was complaint but it was Janet's laughter.

She stopped, mouthed 'sorry', pushed her mouth back onto Marsha's and pressed her body against the thin, tall woman's. She held her mouth open but still, let Marsha's lips, tongue, breath guide her, she mimicked, tried to vary slightly. Marsha seemed happy, satisfied. She felt tingles in her nipples, her crotch. She wanted this woman naked. She released her hands from Marsha's, reached around her waistband until she found the zipper, undid a button, pushed the zipper down, felt a stutter in Marsha's breath in her mouth. Then Marsha pulled her mouth away, but close enough she still felt Marsha's breath on her skin.

"That's the way it'll be," Marsha said, reached to find Janet's zipper. They moved slightly to each allow the other's skirts and slips to drop. The red haired woman saw Marsha's stockings were connected to her panties, she'd seen the same in Janet's drawer, didn't like them when she'd tried some on.

"I need to see these," Marsha said as she kissed Janet's chest, reached around her back and unhooked her bra, Janet slid her blouse off and bent her arms as Marsha removed the bra, a rapid intake of breath held as she tossed the bra onto the table.

"Oh, my," Marsha cupped the large, right breast, leaned over and wrapped lips around the nipple. It was her turn to gasp, she put her hands on the back of Marsha's head and pressed. Marsha pushed back, moved to the other nipple.

"Oh, wow, uh...," she didn't have words for what she felt, she'd shut the old Janet's screams down, didn't care. But Janet had no words for these feelings, beyond the understanding of 'pleasure'. Marsha pushed a hand down her abdomen, sweat had just appeared, pressed over her panties between her legs, pressed the spot she'd found herself the previous evening. The thin woman rubbed with precision, with skill, Janet closed her eyes, moaned, Marsha's mouth and fingers pushed her onward.

She removed her hands from Marsha's head, put them to the waistband of her panties, pushed them down, she had them over the straps of her stockings, had determined that was most efficient. Marsha pushed them off.

"Lay back," Marsha said, her voice rough, nudged her so her back was to the sofa, it was slightly rough material, aged, color bleached to ecru by the sun. Marsha pushed her legs apart and kissed down her abdomen. It was the new Janet's turn to almost scream when Marsha's lips met the sensitive bump at the top of her opening, she'd pushed the hair apart and Janet heard the sucking sound. She felt fingers slide between the folds of her opening, push into her body, press against either side, the solid flesh inside at the top.

This was so far beyond what she'd felt with her own fingers to be almost a different experience, a different body. Her head fell back onto the arm of the sofa, her legs jerked, one hand pinched her own nipples, the other pressed Marsha's head.

Tightened abdominal muscles flexed, her legs flexed, she suddenly jerked her hips up and moaned audibly and loudly as waves of pleasure shot from her crotch. She felt moisture flow freely, heard Marsha's sucking sound, felt her mouth go still, her fingers held their place. Janet's breathing was fast, it finally slowed as she raised her head and met the eyes of a broadly smiling Marsha as she did the same.

"I've never felt anything like that," she said, on behalf of both new and old Janets, "I need more of that. But, I want to see you. Please."

Marsha snorted, kissed Janet's sensitive spot quickly, stood. She quickly unbuttoned her blouse, removed it, reached behind herself, unhooked her bra, removed it in a smooth motion. Janet saw her breasts were much smaller, had slight sags, but her nipples were dark, red, not pink like hers, almost as large. She looked down Marsha's body, then back up to catch her eyes. Marsha smiled.

"I don't like wearing those...," Janet said as she sat up a bit and Marsha slipped her fingers under the waistband and pushed her combined garment down.

"You don't like pantyhose?" Marsha asked.

She smiled, despite having them in her drawer Janet hadn't seemed to have a word for them. She stood as Marsha slid the pantyhose off, had already kicked off her leather pumps so stood barefoot on the rug the tenants had placed on the roof. Janet had her garter belt, stockings, her own heels still on. That was good, they were now all but the same height, she reached, their mouths met, she slid her hand onto Marsha's crotch, knew she'd found Marsha's flesh when she felt the woman exhale into her mouth. She continued to rub as she mimicked Marsha, kissed down the thin woman's chest, felt the bones more clearly exposed, found and sucked into her mouth first one then the other nipple.

"Lie down," she said, smiled at the symmetry, she liked symmetry, it felt right. Marsha tilted her head, spoke.

"You sure?"

Janet nodded at the question, pushed lightly at Marsha's upper body, the thin woman obeyed.

Marsha's pubic hair was darker than her hair, almost black, the redhead used her fingers to spread the hair and moved her face close. Both Janets saw for the first time a human woman's pubic area up close. She pushed the pink lips apart and slid her fingers up to find the sensitive spot at the top of it. She used her fingers to further open Marsha's body. The light was faded, nearly gone, muted streetlights allowed a soft glow. But it was enough for Janet to see, she moved close, put her lips and mouth onto the slitted gash, licked the length of it with her tongue.

"Ah, wow, pretty good... for your first time...," Marsha said, speech choppy. She could feel the woman's essence, could not get at it though, her desire grew. She used her tongue and mouth on the sensitive spot, felt it grow, heard Marsha's voice make sounds but no words. She mimicked Marsha's fingers and compared Marsha's response to her own body's as she pushed, licked, sucked. She felt Marsha's hips buck, a gush of liquid from her body, she moved to suck up as much as she could, to taste and feel it. She liked it.

Marsha's body went flaccid, she lay on the sofa, one leg on the rug, the other straight along the backrest. Her mouth was open, her eyes closed.

Janet knew this was her chance.

She rose quickly, moved forward, Marsha felt the movement, her eyes opened momentarily as Janet's face rose to meet hers, a fall of red hair surrounded both faces. Marsha's eyes closed, she welcomed the contact of Janet's mouth on hers.

Then Marsha's entire body jerked, eyes wide as all of Janet's weight fell on the taller, thinner woman, she wrapped her with arms, legs, she fed. She was suddenly hungry, famished, desperate. She pulled from Marsha everything the woman had. Rapidly, without immediate preservation. The dark-haired woman's limbs flailed but couldn't get purchase, Marsha humped her hips but Janet's legs nudged Marsha's, prevented the woman setting herself to lift. Marsha ineffectually punched, then pulled at the long red hair.

Marsha's grip failed, her hands fell onto Janet's back, her left arm slid, fell alongside the sofa to hang, her hand listless on the rug.

Janet stayed motionless, her mouth on Marsha's, for a further three, four heartbeats, she rose slowly. She breathed slowly and deeply, each breath held for a heartbeat. Her eyes were closed, her hands rested on Marsha's small breasts.

She opened her eyes and looked down. Marsha's dark eyes were open, black pools in the faded light, her mouth open, her breath shallow, her body utterly flaccid.

Janet's mind and body reeled. The world spun for a few moments before she mastered herself. She took a deep, deep breath, held it as long as she could, let it out slowly. She could not swoon here. Needed her lair.

For the first time she felt from Janet a sense of, what, of, satisfaction. That what had just happened was right. What a confused woman was this Janet. She'd screamed in horror at pleasure with Marsha, and now, for something she couldn't understand? No matter.

A cab. As Marsha had used to bring them here. She stood, looked at the dark-haired woman, alive but not alive. Janet pulled her slip, skirt, blouse quickly on. Marsha had left her lair unsecured, Janet carried her undergarments, walked quickly to the door to the stairs off the roof. She'd get her purse, she'd get one of these cabs, she'd give it her lair's coordinates. She had money in her purse. She smiled as she pulled the roof door closed behind her.

Tomorrow she'd go to the library.

First Presleyterian Church of the Divine Pompadour

She sat on the inside aisle position of the pew in the First Presleyterian Church of the Divine Pompadour's local church. She'd realized that Janet had chosen the location of her lair not because it was convenient to work but because this building was an easy stroll from the lair. Such a strange, strange woman was Janet. Five days a week she made the trek on a hot, crowded bus to be able to earn the money she needed to live so that for Sunday, one, single, day she was close to this building, which offered, well, she hadn't yet figured that out. Marsha's choice seemed much more efficient, to have her lair much nearer the place she went to five out of seven days. She would think more on the subject later. The next hours would be difficult.

She'd arrived early and had asked to meet with the Reverend, he was the authority figure here. The world history book had indicated that 'religion' was a major factor, she was still fuzzy on it beyond a being or beings called 'god'. These religions contradicted one another as to the number or nature of these beings, what they wanted or did. There were familiarities to ideas she'd encountered in the past but none had seemed so deep, so intertwined with the society and culture.

She'd found the Bible that Janet kept, had read that. If that book had indeed been given as guidance to these humans by some being then no wonder they enthusiastically slaughtered each other while at the same time they denied their essential physical needs and put so many rules around mating.

No wonder Janet denied herself.

But that all made this place perfect for her plan, her beacon.

As soon as she'd met the Reverend she'd known why Janet denied herself any other mate. She wanted him.

What was more, he wanted her. That was obvious, even with her still-limited knowledge of these humans. She could not understand why these two hadn't simply taken one another. He'd agreed immediately when she asked for a special moment after the service, she wanted to stand up and 'bare testimony'. He'd taken her hands and promised it would be so. She'd smiled, squeezed his hands, thanked him, told him she hoped they could spend some time together.

And she knew him for what he was. The young man in the library the previous day had been good, but not perfect. This Reverend was perfect.

She'd had to shut Janet completely down early this morning, her overwhelming horror, shame and anger at what was to happen was so strident it was distracting. She'd simply willed her into silence. She'd become used to access to Janet's emotions to assist her, and because they amused her, but she couldn't let her interfere. Not in this.

"Amen," said the Reverend, it was echoed by the whole of the humans attending. People began to stand.

"Your patience," the Reverend said, everyone went still, "but a couple of special requests for today."

Quiet words around the room, Janet stepped out of her pew and walked to the front of the rows of pews, it was not the largest of churches with just over 20 rows of pews each row split in two by a central aisle. As she stood so did an older man, stout, grey, thin hair, a grey mass of hair below his nose. He put his arm out and Janet slid hers into it, they walked to the front, up a couple of stairs onto what for some reason was called the sanctuary, a dais on it next to which stood the Reverend. The man released Janet, stepped to the dais.

"Folks," he said in a firm, clear voice, Janet knew he often did readings, was used to this, "I have a special offer for all of the young people here today. As you know, my ice cream shop is just a few blocks away. I'd like to invite every family with young people for nickel ice creams, if they're under fives it's free. It's a hot, hot day but my ice cream is very cold."

A cheer went up, despite plenty of expressions that showed this wasn't proper decorum, but no one cared. The Reverend stepped to the man, shook his hand, stepped to the dais. Janet had met him just before the service, she'd promised him a 'favor' for him doing her this favor. He'd agreed quickly once she'd kissed his cheek.

"I'd like to ask all of the single adults and couples without children to stay, to witness the testimony of one of our best, but shyest, congregants. Don't worry, after, we'll all get our treats too!"

He half turned, nodded to Janet, she looked at him, smiled softly, then looked down, hoped that was the right expression. The light, clear cheer seemed to confirm that. Her studies told her that the involvement of children would turn what she hoped would be seen as an exotic and undesirable event, but one that would almost amuse people and reports of it spread widely, into an event of horror. As a beacon either worked, but if it was the latter she worried the authorities would investigate much more deeply, any and every church member would be investigated.

"Now," the Reverend continued, "if the families will follow Mr. Basbin to his shop, we'll move on."

Another cheer, the organist played a cheerful marching tune as Mr. Basbin led the families out. Once the last had exited, leaving just over half of the formerly near-full congregation, the Reverend caught eyes of a couple of men, who walked and quietly pulled the doors closed as the organist switched to a slow, low tune, She saw a number of faces quirk at this second, unusual number, but it held everyone still.

"Janet...," the Reverend said, she took his hand in both of hers, squeezed, looked him in the eyes. She released him and stood beside the dais, in full view of the remaining attendees. She wore a broad, decorated hat, as did almost every other woman, and a button-down green dress that nicely accentuated her figure. Her unconstrained nipples had become erect and were visible through the cloth.

She saw people fan themselves, men who had ties loosened them, they shed jackets and worked the collars of their shirts.

She smiled broadly, she carefully set her hat on the dais, reached and slowly undid the top button of her dress, then the next one. She heard the rough breathing of the Reverend behind her, his feet shuffled as he closed the distance.

She undid a third button, edges of her large breasts just in view. Couples reached for each other in the pews, she saw one woman rub her hand against the crotch of the man next to her, men rubbed women's backs.

She undid another button, glanced sideways, as if pulled the Reverend came to stand behind her, he was half a head taller, she pulled his hands to pull apart the cloth, completely exposed her large breasts, guided his hands onto them, taught his fingers to pinch and pull her nipples. She released his hands and he set to his task. She felt his erection under his robes press against her ass.