Terran Times 18 - Emerald Envisage Read online

  On the morning of August 24, 79 AD, the town of Herculaneum by the Sea ceased to exist. By the 26th, Pompeii was gone, too. Titus, who had only been Emperor since June 23—when Vespasian died—did what he could for the people of Misenium and the rest of the Neapolitan area, but nobody ever tried to go back to Pompeii or Herculaneum.

  After a while, people forgot that there had even been two towns there. The memory became a legend, not really believed anymore. Almost two thousand years passed.

  * * * *

  Then, one day, somebody found something. Soon, others were digging around. Eventually, people remembered that there were stories about two cities that perished long ago when Vesuvius displayed her wrath.

  First Pompeii, then Herculaneum, the archaeologists dug, sifted and marveled at the preservation of the towns.

  Paolo and Gina, two young graduate students from the university in Padua were sifting through the ruins of a house in Herculaneum, helping with the excavation. There were erotic frescoes on the walls. Another room had broken mirrors on every wall and broken glass scattered about, but no windows. They found two well-preserved bodies in the courtyard. They appeared to be in a final embrace.

  It was a little bit embarrassing. It appeared that they had been making love when they were overcome by the disaster.

  “Oh my God!” Gina whispered. “Look at this Paolo.”

  He liked looking at her more than he did looking at dead bodies, but he tore his gaze away from her nicely rounded ass to look at what she was showing him.

  A brilliant green stone glinted in the sunlight. It was set in a ring on the hand of one of the bodies, presumably the woman. It looked like a woman’s ring, at least.

  “I’ve never seen an emerald that big,” she said. “Not even the Bishop’s is anything like this.”

  “You know you can’t have it.”

  “I know. But it sure would look nice on me.”

  “Oh, no.” he said. “I’m not getting involved with anything like that.”

  “Oh, please, Paolo. Nobody ever has to know. I’ll keep it hidden and after we’re married…”

  “You think I want to marry a thief? A grave robber at that?”

  “Oh, please, Paolo.”

  * * * *

  Soon she was kissing him. The next thing Paolo knew, their shorts were off and they were rolling in the dust and ash next to the two mummies. He had to admit it was a beautiful stone. It was hard to resist her charms when she seduced him this way.

  “Oh!” He was coming.

  * * * *

  Gina knew she could always get her way with him. Her firm body enveloped him as he pumped his love juice into her. They embraced and rolled away from their gruesome companions. They were covered with ash and dust. It was not unusual for the helpers on the dig to get dirty, but most of the others knew these two were engaged to be married and would fool around any chance they could.

  They walked slowly, back to the camp where they were staying. Paolo was troubled. Gina had the ring on her finger. They had carefully documented and photographed the find just in case. Paolo insisted on it.

  In the end, Gina couldn’t go through with it either. They turned it in to the professors. The old men gave them a stern look when they saw the brilliant emerald ring on her finger, but they were so delighted to have found it that any thoughts of chastisement for the two youngsters was soon forgotten.

  * * * *

  Somewhere, the souls of Lavinia and Cirillo looked down on the two grad students.

  “I think she should have kept it,” she said.

  “Nah,” he said in his gruff parade ground voice, “I gave it to you. I wish they hadn’t found it.”

  “Well, I would let her have it.”

  Saint Peter stood behind them.

  “Thank goodness neither of you have any say in the matter. Now go on, and let those young folks be. I’ll call you if we decide to let the mountain blow up again. It’s been a while. Maybe in another hundred years or so.”

  LOLA

  Alexis Anthony

  Lola reclined on the top of the concert grand piano. Her ample bosom threatened to escape the low cut, emerald green gown she wore. She smiled at the audience as the Larry Eden quintet played Peter Gunn. The lights were low, but her beauty was unmistakable and hard to ignore. With her free hand, she brushed back an errant lock of her fiery red hair. As they transitioned into Take Five, she squirmed and let her left leg emerge through the slit in her sparkly green dress.

  The patrons sitting at the tables in the little cabaret listened to the music, munching on hors d’oeuvres, drinking and chatting. The musicians launched into The Unsquare Dance. Lola sat up slowly and seductively. Her eyes lowered, she shook her head and her hair tumbled over her bare shoulders. Slowly, she dropped one long slender leg to the floor, then the other and stood up. Her hand reached for the microphone and removed it from the stand.

  Suddenly, the room became as quiet as a library.

  She began to snap her fingers. The rest of the musicians joined in. They were joined by the audience. You could hear a pin drop if you wanted to. Lola began to sing Fever in her low husky voice. Sex and sensuousness oozed from her body as she strolled around the stage. Harold put down a foundation on the stand-up base and Billy punctuated with the drums, everybody snapped their fingers.

  “Fever, in the morning. Fever all through the night.”

  Her tall lovely body moved to the music as she crooned, softly.

  “What a lovely way to burn. What a lovely way to burn.”

  Her voice slowly faded out. The applause was muted, but unanimous.

  The tall fiery redhead looked over the small crowd.

  Rolling her hips, she began, only slightly louder than a whisper, to sing Sway.

  She swayed to the Latin beat as she sang.

  They were entranced, and she knew it.

  She sang the songs in her set and just hummed along to the instrumentals, standing in the middle of the stage—the center of attention. At the end of the first set, she let the applause subside as she looked around.

  “Thank you. Thank you. We’re going to take a little break now. We’ll be back in fifteen minutes. Don’t go anywhere, we’ll be right back.”

  The band put down their instruments and exited the stage. They went to a little table in the back, in a dark little corner. A waitress brought them each a drink and placed a basket of pretzels on the table. Lola sat in the middle of the back, away from anyone who might want to bother her.

  They talked about the music they had just played, critiquing each other. They discussed the next set. They sipped their drinks and ate pretzels. They talked to the few patrons who wanted to say hello and comment on their music. Then it was time to go back on stage and play the next set.

  Lola started with The Song from Moulin Rouge.

  The way she sang and the way she moved around the stage demanded rapt attention. Everybody listened. Everybody watched. Her body, her voice, her lovely features, piercing green eyes and lustrous hair all complimented each other. No one could look anywhere but at her.

  Song after song, she sang her way through the set, still the center of attention during the occasional instrumental. Lola was sizing up the audience. It was one of the best they had played for in a long time.

  During the last break, she sat quietly. The waitress brought her an envelope. She opened it, a pensive look on her face. Smiling, she leaned over to whisper into Larry’s ear. “I’m going to do the Special tonight.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  Lola nodded her head. Her serious expression changed to a glorious grin, showing him the envelope. It contained a note and five crisp hundred-dollar bills.

  “They won’t know what hit ‘em when I get through.”

  She excused herself and went to the ladies room, returning with long, white gloves on her hands that reached above her elbows.

  Leaning over, she whispered to Larry, “I’m Ready.”

  The ba
nd took the stage for the last set. It was 2:00 in the morning.

  Peter played Pipeline.

  Lola sang several songs leading up to her grand finale.

  Billy laid down a pulsating beat on the drums. Harold joined in on bass. Peter and Larry brought up the melody on guitar and piano.

  The Stripper!

  Lola strutted across the stage. Her marvelous hips rolled in time with the jungle beat of the drums. Her left leg showed itself up to her thigh through the slit in her emerald green, sparkly dress. Her torso moved seductively in a little shimmy, then she turned around and shook her hips, spreading her legs as far as the dress would allow.

  Turning back to face the audience, she strutted across the stage to the beat of the drums, slowly removing those long, high gloves. As she removed the first one, she threw it to the side, then she worked on the other one, all the time, strutting back and forth.

  After throwing both gloves to the side, she bent over at the waist to display her cleavage. Her lovely juggs jiggled just a little to get everyone’s attention.

  Back and forth. Back and forth.

  The audience was raucously applauding her.

  “Take it off! Take it off!”

  Somebody whistled.

  Eventually, she stopped, right in front of the drums, in the center of the stage. turning around she faced Billy. Reaching around behind her neck and slowly untying the straps that held up the front of the dress, she winked at Billy. Her arms stretched up over her head, holding the straps, letting first one, then the other down and back up, pulling her breasts up and down.

  Half turning to the right, she let the strap down, revealing the side of her breast. Then turning the other way, she did the same thing. Turning back to Billy, they smiled at each other. He pounded on the drums with a savage beat. Lola turned back to face the audience, repeating the strap drop a few times, strutting back and forth, then stopping and to face Billy again. She licked her top lip.

  The straps dropped, freeing her breasts as the top of the emerald dress fell to her waist. She shimmied a little before cupping them and turning to face the crowd again. Lifting one, then the other, she revealed just a little more each time, but kept her hands over the centers. Back and forth she strode again as she showed more and more of her voluptuous body. Then she turned back to face Billy, giving the audience her back again.

  Her breasts hung free as she reached behind her back to slowly unzip the low cut dress. Her hips swung in time with the music. She spread her legs to hold the dress up, but slowly let it drop as she rolled her hips from side to side. Finally, as Billy crashed the cymbals mercilessly, she let the dress drop to the floor and she stepped out of it. Standing there, back to the audience, clad almost only in a G-string that revealed everything from the back and barely covered her fiery red pubic hair in the front, her body swayed from side to side.

  She turned back to face the audience, still holding her breasts in her hands. Strutting back and forth one more time, she bent over at the waist and dropped those marvelous breasts free as she leaned over the edge of the stage, revealing two tassels attached to little pasties covering her nipples.

  With the crash of the cymbals and the thunder of the drums, she stood up again and twisted from side to side, swinging her breasts to get them twirling in counter-rotating circles. The tassels swung in circles, each in different directions, as she moved her whole body. Round and round went the tassels. The boys in the band watched as they had many times before. Jeez, she was talented. It took a lot of practice to do what she did and it was sexier than if she just stood there naked in front of all those people.

  Back and forth, she walked as she twirled the tassels, stopping to give Peter a little kiss. She walked to the other side of the stage and kissed Harold. Sitting next to Larry at the piano, she leaned back to kiss him. All the while keeping those tassels twirling as her breasts jiggled in just the right way.

  Finally, she stood up and placed her foot on the piano stool. Slowly, she removed the single, emerald green garter she wore on her thigh. Holding it high, she continued to twirl those ubiquitous tassels. With a grin and a shout, “Here you go boys,” she threw it out into the audience.

  As they rushed to grab it and two of them fought over it, she moved in front of Billy’s drums again, back to the audience. Bending over, she slowly removed the G-string, giving the men a full view of her lovely assets from the rear.

  As hands reached for it, she threw it out to the audience, too. Now, clad only in her tassels and emerald green stiletto heels, she bumped and grinded her way to the back of the stage, twirling her tassels in a frenzied swirl. Approaching Billy from behind, the tassels framed his face. Lola leaned over and kissed him, then enveloped his head between her breasts. He continued to pound the drums.

  For the grand finale, she pulled the tassels and their pasties loose and flung them both out into the audience.

  She made one more pass across the stage and back, then she climbed up on the piano and laid down. Stretching over, she gave Larry one last kiss, then she hid her head under that mass of red curls.

  The band finished The Stripper with a rousing crescendo.

  The audience was on its feet. They wouldn’t stop. Lola had to get up and strut across the stage again, one more time, but she leaned over, picked up her dress and exited the stage, making a run for the ladies room.

  The band continued to play for a moment, but Larry finally took the microphone and said, “Thank you. Thank you.” They continued to applaud. “Thanks again. That’s all for tonight folks.”

  Finally, they calmed down. Larry took the microphone again, at a signal from the bartender, “Last call. Last call. If you want anything more from the bar, last call.”

  That ended the performance. After a while, Lola emerged from the ladies room wearing the emerald dress. She snuck back to their little table in the corner where the rest of the band sat munching on some peanuts. They had already packed up all their equipment and had it in the old station wagon they used for transportation.

  “Anybody up for breakfast?” asked Larry.

  Nods all around.

  They left the almost empty bar and crossed the parking lot. There was a bright moon above and the stars peeked out from behind a few wispy clouds.

  Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting in a booth at the Waffle House.

  BATTLE IN THE BEDCHAMBER

  Jojo Brown

  “Take it off.”

  “Why?” He stood at the side of the large canopied bed and watched her, in confusion.

  She turned away from him and slid from the satin sheets. The sheer robe she drew around her slender shoulders did nothing to hide her perfect form. The mere sight of the shiny, spiked scales along the length of her spine aroused him to distraction. As she walked across the softly lit room, the scales rippled and shifted sensually. When the tip of her magnificent tail slithered from below the trailing hem of the thin garment, it seemed to beckon to him.

  He knew the agility of that wondrous appendage. He knew that she could easily make use of the bulbous, mushroom-shaped tip of that tail to satisfy herself. She’d delighted the night before with a demonstration of just how well it worked. Unashamed, she’d splayed herself in the centre of her large bed—positioned to give him the best view possible.

  He’d fought against the restraints that held him tightly on the observation board as at least ten inches of thick, rigidly vibrating shaft impaled her repeatedly. Her guards had securely bound him with what, to the naked eye, looked like thin vines. In fact, they held more strength than any metallic strip on any ship in his former fleet. With his hands, shoulders, legs and torso firmly held to the cool solidity of the shiny board, his straining sex pointed at her. It throbbed and bounced softly with the pulse of his heart as well as his need. Without a touch from either of them or the dozen guards scattered against her chamber’s walls, his hot seed exploded violently to spatter the stone floor at his feet.

  His memory of her quive
ring, undulating body as she joined him in solitary release filled his mind all through the hours since.

  “Zandria, why do you want me to remove it?” he gazed at his hostess’ extraordinary beauty. Granted, she did not have the peaches and cream most human males associated with beauty. But after so many years spent in travel throughout the galaxies, Captain Adam Walker could appreciate a myriad of different levels of beauty.

  This ship had left Lacertilius as the final safe passage before their sun’s explosion annihilated the entire solar system. With their reptilian qualities, they had not found another habitable planet in all their travels. This one last ship was their home. They kept to the furthest outskirts of any inhabited solar system to protect themselves and their way of life. It was by sheer accident Adam had stumbled into their space. Actually, it was more from sheer terror. He never should have bedded one of the king’s thirty wives on Tandeel and he wouldn’t have had to make a run for it through the meteor belt without supplies. When Zandria’s crew caught him in their shadow beam, he was so weak and malnourished the end was very near.

  Zandria’s voice tore him back from his memories, “Because, Adam, if I wanted a simple slave in my chambers I would send for one. You are a guest in my home and in my bedchamber. It has been eons since I have had the pleasure of bedding an earthling. The last misguided shuttle to pass close enough for us to contact was more than a century ago. I remember the feel of his soft flesh—the crispness of the curly hairs on his chest—the insistent probing of his single sex organ. I remember it all very well and desire to experience it yet again. Therefore, remove the Lacertilian suit and come to me as you truly are.”

  Adam looked down at himself. For just a moment, he felt a sad sense of loss at her insistence that he remove the suit. It was so much more than simply a suit—it was truly an extension of him. As it smoothed against his skin, it became one with him. He had not removed it since he arrived on Lacertilius II a month earlier and really didn’t want to now.