Closest Encounter (2 page)

“They weren’t in a car. Just in the parking lot.”

“All right then.”

“Mila and Tanisha were found doing things in a car, though.”

“I’ll be honest. I’ve actually lost count at this point.”

“Yeah. I don’t even remember all their names anymore. But they’re all gone now for one count or another of inappropriate behavior while on duty. Maybe it’s from that thing we got in the warehouse that you’re here to see, or maybe there’s something wrong with either our water supply—

“Or your human resources department.”

“Either way, they’re gone. I’m all that’s left.”

“Interesting,” she said. “So what’s wrong with you? Are you a eunuch? Did you have your genitalia torn off in a tragic bull fighting accident or something?”

She felt a little bad as soon as she had said it, but Brad did not seem to take offense. He smiled broadly, looked down at his feet again and said, “No. I just never found myself that attracted to anyone here… Until now, I mean.”

It occurred to her then that maybe he wasn’t looking at his feet. She followed his gaze to the pronounced bulge in his pants. He was no eunuch—that was for sure.

“Oh God,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” he said, shifting a bit on his long legs.

“Oh don’t be,” she said, taking a small step forward. What happened next was confusing enough to her as it happened and even harder to make clear in the numerous reports and forms she would have to fill out and file later.

She placed her hand upon the impressive bulge in his pants, felt the substantial fleshy shaft straining against the fabric then undid his belt and pants, releasing his cock. She was not disappointed. It fairly sprang from its containment, a droplet of pre-cum already forming like dew at the tip. The palm of her hand ran across the bulbous head, spreading its ready lubricant across the soft skin.

“I think we should get this out of the way,” she said into the hot skin of his neck. “For the sake of the investigation…”

“All right,” he croaked, unbuttoning the seven buttons of her blouse with admirable efficiency.

“Otherwise I’ll just be thinking about this the whole time I’m supposed to be investigating,” she said, running her hand loosely up and down the length of him.

“Agreed,” he said, his hands sliding across her skin, cupping her breasts, letting her stiff nipples slip into place between his fingers. His palms felt good and real and warm to her. They belonged there. But they belonged a lot of places.

She arched her back, pressing her torso against him as she wrapped her hand more firmly around his cock now, sliding up and down as his soft lips grazed her forehead and the bridge of her nose, before finally finding her mouth.

His tongue slipped between her lips, slid gently across her teeth and tongue while his fingers continued to caress and knead her breasts with a perfect combination of gentleness and intent.

Her own tongue found his mouth warm and perfect. Immediately she loved the taste of him, the feel of his skin, the faint bristle of his chin, the hot curiosity of his hands. One of those hands left her breasts, slid farther down across her ribs and belly, across the soft brush of her pubic hair, to split at last the hot, wet lips that had been waiting—not quite patiently—for the touch of some part of him.

His fingers opened her. She sighed hard against his neck, pushed him gently away, but not to stop him. Not exactly.

She fell to her knees, teased her tongue across the head of his cock for a moment before sucking the whole of him into her mouth. She felt him gasp. She felt it in his flesh, in the hands that clenched into her hair, in the hot air that surrounded them.

Already there was the saltiness of him on her tongue. Already there was the tenseness of his entire body, the cords of his muscles twanging like steel. He would not last long like this, and though it was tempting to feel his cock explode in her eager mouth, to taste his cum and feel his convulsions of ecstasy in that way, she greedily wanted more. She wanted the crush of his hard body against her. She wanted the sensation of his cock plunging deep inside her as she wrapped her legs and arms around him and pressed the heat of her mouth into his.

So she pulled away. Felt the shiver of delayed satisfaction run through him as she rose back to her feet, kissed him hard against the mouth, and tore the last of the encumbering clothes away from them both.

“Fuck me,” she said. Had she ever said it quite like that before? Not so forthrightly, she was certain—and never with the same sincerity and urgency of need.

She stepped back, away from him. His body was hard and glistening with sweat and shimmering with desire, his handsome face a mask of lust.

She lay down on the floor of the hallway. The gray linoleum tile was cold and smooth and felt oddly good against the heat of her skin. She opened her legs for him and he did not need to be asked more than that. He lay upon her, and she wrapped her legs around him. The head of his cock found her pussy, pressed against it for a tantalizing moment or two before pushing forward, opening her lips around him, plunging deep inside her.

Beth August had fucked before. She had fucked well enough and often enough. She had fucked men she had loved, men she had only thought she had loved and men she liked well enough at the time. And she had fucked herself, when necessary or preferred. But never had fucking felt quite like this. Never had a cock filled her so thoroughly and correctly. Never had the skin against hers felt so right. No part of her wanted this to be over, and every part of her wanted this to reach its pounding logical conclusion where it had to end.

Was she screaming? She may have been. The sounds that escaped her as Brad the Handsome Security Guard pounded into her were so much a part of the air, so much a part of the roaring of their flesh and blood, that she could not tell or remember afterward if she had made a noise at all, though it would seem that the echo of those possible screams and moans might follow her through the rest of her life.

He came. She could feel him releasing inside her. The heat of him made liquid, filling her as his muscles tensed and trembled and her own orgasm came tumbling after. She saw lights, sparks flying from her nerve endings. Her fingers pressed hard into his shoulders, her hips lifted, pressing hard against his own hips trying to wring out the last of every sensation. Her breath exhaled in a forceful sigh and her body relaxed beneath him, every part of her feeling it was melting into the floor in spent satisfaction.

He kissed the sweat from the bridge of her nose, pulled himself out of her and rolled to her side.

She sat up now. For now, at least, her mind was clear, the tingling sensation she had felt coursing through her body lessened for the first time since she had gotten out of her car.

Beth reached for the nearest article of clothing and put it on. It was only an ankle sock, but it was a start.

“We’ve got work to do, Brad,” she said.

Brad sat up, smiling like the Cupid who had just nailed Psyche.

“At your service, Agent August,” he said, reaching for his pants.

Chapter Two

They had placed it in the center of a cavernous room of arching corrugated steel. Yellow caution tape squared off an area twenty feet on all sides. Inside the area had been set up half a dozen tripods, topped with varying sensors whose functions, origins and specifications Beth August was not familiar with. This troubled her a bit. Supposedly she was the first agent from the Department of Ufology to investigate this, but somehow it had already been surrounded with equipment more sophisticated than anybody she had been dealing with should possess. Were there other players involved already? Had the Feds started gumming up the works before she had even got the chance to take a peek? It would not have been the first time.

“Where’d all this come from?” she asked Brad, indicating the unfamiliar equipment with a sweep of her hand.

“Isn’t that from you guys?”

She shook her head.

He shrugged and she gave him a quick once-over from the corner of her eye. He looked good still and the tingling was starting to return, but she pushed that down and tried to consider the matter at hand. If the Feds were already here, wouldn’t the object be gone or the area closed off to her? Wouldn’t people higher up than the governor have already made all the necessary calls to cancel the state investigation—or at least severely restrict it? But here she was, alone with the object, and just one lowly security guard—albeit an exceptionally fit, handsome and well-endowed one—to stand in her way. And so far, he hadn’t been standing in her way much at all.

And what of the object itself? Beyond the caution tape and the mysterious monitors, the thing was fairly unimposing. Smaller than a car, it was matte black and mostly spherical, but with one side worn away to create a flat section about three feet in diameter. And that was it. It did not glow or hum or shoot off death rays, but somehow someone knew it to be from somewhere beyond this world and all that, too, was somehow troubling.

She ducked beneath the yellow caution tape line. Her very blood felt hot, coursing through her veins, and the telltale shimmering sensation behind her face began to return in full force.

Brad stayed several feet back. She glanced behind her to check on him and saw the bulge in his pants once more making itself profoundly known. A fleeting image of enveloping his cock in her mouth flashed across her eyes with the vividness of a film projection.

She swallowed hard.

“Are you okay?” she heard Brad say from what now seemed a hundred miles away.

She thought she had answered yes, but it was hard to know for sure. Her pulse was like a hammering machine in her head and the very air roared like crashing waves.

Without being fully aware of her own movements, she found herself at the object, her hand reaching outward of its own accord. Some force was drawing her, overriding her caution, her intelligence, her training.

The tips of her fingers had just grazed the cool surface of the object when a shock of something like electricity went through her. Electricity, but something else too, akin to a rush of warm, unseen water flowing through her—a flood of sensations, emotions and images, some of them from her own past, some of them completely alien to her. And alien in every sense of the word. She saw, in these fleeting images that were more like instantly implanted memories, the strange, almost gelatinous forms of creatures she did not recognize but knew the black spherical objects suspended in their centers like black stones in Jell-O.

Graceful and pulsing, they swam and entwined in the thick air of another planet. Beth felt both the desires and sensations within and outside of herself simultaneously. As translucent tentacles enveloped her, penetrated her…

She became aware that her eyes were closed and she tried to open them, but with limited success. They fluttered, flickered like the shutter of a projector, creating two separate images blending in front of her. The black sphere that sat upon the floor of a warehouse merging with a memory of creatures long gone, their dark centers still vital within their nebulous forms.

Who am I? What am I?
She could not tell. She was Beth August, Special Agent for the Department of Ufology, and also this other thing, this translucent creature of numerous holes and appendages, all of them wanting to fill and be filled, all of them alive with a million alien nerve endings.

But the actual feeling she knew. It was universal. It was lust. The creatures in her new memories were fucking and she was one of them. The writhing appendages filled her with a tingling heat, probing parts of her that had never been touched, mostly because they were parts that had never actually existed.

With great effort she opened her eyes completely, struggling against this waking dream or memory
. I am Beth August. I am Beth August. I am Beth August.

Who was she?

She was Beth August—more or less.

Where was she?

She was in a warehouse, standing in front of an object of unknown origin.

A voice was saying from somewhere behind her, “Are you okay, Agent August?”

She swallowed hard and was relieved to feel the sensation as the swallowing of a regular human throat.

She spoke and hoped that her voice came out at least half as calm as she intended. “We fucked on the floor of a warehouse, Brad. I think that earns you the right to call me Beth.”

“Thanks.” She heard him say.

She turned away from the object and toward the handsome security guard. This was real. This was her world.

“Did you just say ‘Thanks’?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Yes.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. Her knees were weak from the memory of what she had just felt. She walked quickly back to the perimeter of the caution tape, ducked under it where Brad was still waiting for her.

“Well?” he said.

“It’s something, all right,” she said.

“Yeah, I kind of suspected it was at least a noun.”

“But a noun not of this earth, I think.”

“Ah-ha,” he said. “I was wondering if that might be the case.”

Beth took a moment to ponder the security guard in a different and more reasoned light. Her head was clearing now. Her brain and body were completely her own again. Even the tingling sensation she had felt since arriving at the warehouse had ebbed into a distant distraction. “You know, Brad,” she said, “you seem awfully bright for a security guard.”

“Thanks?”

“Also exceptionally well built.”

“Now you’re just trying to make me blush.”

“You can blush if you want, but what I’m getting at is that maybe you aren’t just a security guard, Brad.”

“You’ve seen my badge. And is anyone
just
a security guard, Beth?”

“Yeah, well you definitely seem like something more—like maybe someone who works for the same people who set up all these monitors that you’re pretending not to know anything about.”

He smiled, perhaps for the first time since Beth had met him. At any rate it was a smile that seemed a degree or two more real. A certain sharpness had come into his eyes—not a meanness but a something else that Beth cold not immediately pinpoint. Awareness? Sincerity?