ElyriasEcstasy (24 page)

Walking the street together, with no one else within
earshot, Virge at last said, “What the hell was that about?”

Yola shared a mischievous smile with her and murmured, “You
think my only talent is painting faces?”

“I suspect you’ve got
lots
of talents,” Virge
replied.

Yola turned her wavy-haired head. “Oooooh, I like that.”

Virge felt the heat of a blush brush her cheeks. She ignored
it for the moment. “Come on, tell me.”

“When we’re inside.”

They were indoors a few minutes later. Yola lived in a
hulking, aged building that had long ago been divided up into many separate
living units. Yola’s was on the top level, at the end of a hallway floored with
a ragged strip of carpet. The door creaked when she closed it behind Virge. It
was a single room, neatly kept, despite the stacks of jars and containers that
lined the walls. Yola removed her dark cloak and hung it from a hook on the
back of the door.

“Okay,” Virge said. “Now
tell
me.” Her
inquisitiveness hadn’t abated. Surely this girl had had a purpose in accosting
that Guard.

Yola smiled. “Don’t you want to have a look at yourself
first?” She gestured toward a full-length mirror on the far wall. The glass was
chipped here and there, but its surface gleamed in the fading light falling
through the window. It was late afternoon. The fruitless search had taken much
of the day.

Virge wouldn’t have thought she could be diverted.
Nonetheless, curiosity about her appearance overrode other concerns for the
moment. She stepped up to the mirror. And stopped. And stared. And could barely
believe what she beheld.

“Fuck,” she finally breathed after a moment. Her eyes stood
wide. No amount of staring, it seemed, could quite make her brain accept the
reality depicted in the mirror.

Behind, Yola tittered. “Ah, another success,” she said,
pleased.

The image Virge saw was and was not her. At first the
alterations had seemed extreme, even outrageous. She simply hadn’t recognized
herself—at all. Now, however, she was starting to appreciate the subtle
artfulness that had gone into the process of transformation. Her nose was
different, but it was only that the bridge had been changed, made wider. Her
whole jawline appeared reconfigured, but the prosthetic piece molded over her
chin accounted for that. Minimal application had been used to maximum effect.

Drawn lines somehow elongated her eyes. Dark freckles
mottled her forehead. As Virge continued to study her reflection, she realized
that there was no single adjustment she could pick out which would explain how
total the metamorphosis was.

She continued to gaze at the stranger who was herself. It
was no wonder nobody had recognized her.

“Done admiring your lovely self yet?”

Virge’s eyes shifted, saw Yola in the mirror.
“It’s…amazing.”

“Thanks. I have to agree. But that’s just what you look
like. Don’t you want to know who you
are
?”

Virge turned, frowning. Yola held up a laminated rectangle. A
picture was imprinted on it, along with some official-looking text—as well as
the classic symbol of the Guard, a white circle on a black background, meant to
represent the Safe.

“What—” Virge started to ask.

“Guard ID. Your new name is Cawd Delfel. That’s a dreadful
name. But it’ll do.” Yola handed her the identity card. “Take a look. Tell me
that’s not you—or it will be after I make a couple more adjustments.”

Finally understanding why Yola had paused to chat with that
Guard, Virge looked at the photo. She and Cawd Delfel did have similar
features. Same basic cast of eyes, almost identical cheekbones. Virge’s new
freckles didn’t match, but those could be easily removed, she assumed. In fact,
with a few minor changes—ones she was confident Yola could effect—she would
bear an uncomfortable resemblance to this female Guard.

Although, her hair…

“It’ll have to go,” Yola said with some sympathy, as Virge
raised her hand unconsciously to touch her lustrous locks.

She looked mournfully at the younger woman. “But—but—” Her
eyes fell to the ID again. “She’s practically bald.” Maybe that was overstating
it a bit, but only a bit. Cawd Delfel had a typically severe Guard haircut.

“You’ll just have to live with it,” Yola said. “Or without
it, actually.” She had already lifted a box from the floor and was rooting
around among several different pairs of scissors.

“Wait a minute!” Virge said. She loved her hair, its
fullness and shine, but that wasn’t foremost in her mind just now. “Tell me
something first. Why exactly do I want to look like this woman? You
pickpocketed her with something specific in mind, unless I miss my guess.
I—what?—I’m going to
infiltrate
the Guard. Is that the plan? Toward what
end? Why—”

“To get you out of town,” Yola said flatly. “Who can travel
as they like? The Guard. Staying here isn’t safe for you. I’m good at what I
do, true. But your makeover won’t stand up to indefinite scrutiny. Sooner or
later someone is going to recognize you. I don’t doubt the Guard have a reward
out for your ass by now.”

Virge was shaking her head even as she tried to absorb it
all. “I know the Guard have freedom of movement. But they’re an organized
force. They have etiquettes and code signs and all that shit. I don’t know any
of it. Somebody’s going to ask me what unit I belong to. And what about my
clothes?” She swept her hand to indicate what she was wearing. “The Guard don’t
dress like this.”

“Don’t worry about that. I can get a uniform.” Yola gave the
scissors in her hand a fast, neat snip. “Shall we get started?”

With frustration in her voice, Virge said, “You haven’t
heard a fucking word I’ve said.” From the floor below voices rose, then
quieted. Beyond the wall behind the mirror she could make out the sounds of a
male and female grappling in passion. An old building, probably not originally
constructed for mass residency.

Yola lowered the scissors and took a step nearer. She raised
her hand and brushed her fingers over Virge’s cheek. “I hear you, Virge. I do.
But this is the only way. You can’t hide here, though—I don’t mind saying—I’d
enjoy your company. Somebody would hear you in here eventually, questions would
be asked, and it wouldn’t end well. I know it will be difficult to bluff being
a Guard member. But having this ID and matching the picture on it ought to give
you a serious advantage. You’re smart. You’re resourceful. And if you don’t let
me kiss you right now I think I’m going to stick these scissors into my thigh.”

Virge’s eyes went wide again. Her breath caught momentarily.
Then she felt a smile play over her lips. She leaned forward and put her lips
against the girl’s mouth.

Her mouth was warm, inviting. Her lips moved in a sensuous
manner beneath Virge’s. The kiss was slow, even languid. Despite the urgency of
these circumstances, there was still time for this. So Virge told herself as
first Yola’s lips, then her own, parted. She met the younger female’s tongue,
accepted it, explored it. She took the taste of Yola’s mouth into her own,
savoring it.

When the kiss broke Virge shivered at the tickle of breath,
which touched her wet lips. Yola’s pixie face hovered before her. Fingers
grazed Virge’s cheek again.

“Want to come to bed? I can fix your hair and do the makeup
alterations in a matter of minutes. And you probably shouldn’t make your move
until nightfall.” The sun was sinking in the sky beyond the window. But it
wasn’t down yet.

Virge gave the woman a nod, feeling a rush of excitement and
expectancy.

They didn’t have far to go to reach the bed. It fairly
dominated the small room despite being jammed into a corner. Virge shed her
coat on the way. Yola started peeling away her own clothes, revealing her
slender but exquisitely proportioned body. Her limbs were narrow. The tautness
of her modest musculature was evident. She had a small, firm ass, inevitably reminding
Virge of ripe fruit. Her breasts were maybe a measure larger than she would’ve
expected, though they didn’t look ponderous.

With a series of quick tugs and unfastenings, Virge Temple
stood naked, then hurried toward Yola and the bed.

They tumbled together onto it, mouths gluing to one another
again. Virge pulled the lighter woman on top of herself, crushing those breasts
upon her own. Yola’s tongue swirled in her mouth and her hair rained down over
Virge’s face. Virge’s hands roved the taut back, sliding over the pronounced
spinal ridge. Her hands groped lower, caught at the sweet swells of her ass.
Yola’s limber form bucked atop Virge as she sank her fingers into the flesh.

The girl ground her crotch against Virge’s pubic mound,
making a rhythmic humping of it. Already the scent of aroused femininity was
upon the air.

On the other side of the wall, Virge was vaguely aware of
the sounds of sex still going on. She heard a man’s bass grunting, a woman’s
answering cries. And the smack-slap of impacting bodies.

Yola’s face rose, lips glistening. Her eyes were ablaze with
excitement. “Those two go at it practically every hour,” she rasped.

Virge’s breasts lifted and fell. Her heart was beating a
fast tattoo. “Must be entertaining,” she said inanely.

A smile dimpled Yola’s cheeks. “Gets me insanely horny
sometimes. Or else just makes me lonely.” She paused to skim one of Virge’s
stiffened nipples with a fingernail then closed a hand over the mound. She said
with sudden solemn frankness, “I wanted to fuck you from the first moment I set
eyes on you.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing?” Virge asked, her hands still
roaming the younger female’s bare flesh.

Teeth appeared in Yola’s smile, making a grin of it. “Not
quite,” she said. “Here—let me shift—lift your leg—”

Obviously she had something specific in mind and Virge
complied, the rising urgency in her body insisting she go along with whatever
this girl intended, so long as it resulted in orgasmic fulfillment.

Yola was now lying in the opposite direction on the bed.
Their legs were spread, interlaced, their pussies flush against each other.
Fullest possible contact. Virge felt Yola’s carnal heat, her promising wetness.
Virge’s own cleft was seeping and slick.

It wasn’t the most familiar female-to-female sex she’d had,
though surely she must’ve tried this method at
some
point, probably when
she was younger, like around Yola’s age. The ten or so years Virge had on the
girl seemed to make no difference. They both wanted this.

She watched as Yola’s hips moved, a tight, deliberate
swiveling, as fluid and practiced as the gyrations of a professional dancer.
The move rubbed her pussy hard against Virge’s and the shock of pleasure was
incredible. There was a wonderful exposure to this act, a vulnerability, even.
It was straightforward, utile.

Virge returned the grinding pressure and the two women fell
immediately into a conducive tempo. Virge’s clit was stimulated again and
again, and when she came into direct contact with Yola’s own swollen needy bud
it ignited a jolt of sexual energy that jumped from one woman to the other and
back.

Yola seized one of Virge’s scissoring legs. Virge pushed off
from the wall above the bed, so to increase the pressure of contact. Somewhere
behind the full-length mirror, male and female were yowling their way to what
certainly sounded like mutual crises.

Virge didn’t envy them, not a bit. A great, frantic rapture
was rising within her. It was almost frightening in its promised intensity.
Yola was wriggling wildly, smearing and burnishing herself deliriously against
Virge’s flowing folds. She made no effort to be quiet about it. Rather, she
out-cried the couple in the next room, howling her climax for all to hear.
Maybe there was a little retaliation for all the sex she’d had to listen to in
that triumphant shriek.

And Virge was adding to it, calling out in the same maddened
language, wordless, ecstatic, as the pleasure finalized, taking her, wringing
the bliss from every part of her, pouring out juices to mingle with those of
the younger female.

Eventually, limply, they came stickily apart and sat up on
the bed, and smiled and kissed.

“I never asked,” Virge murmured, “but are you a…mage? Are
you with the Maji?” Bongo had mentioned the name before.

Yola sighed a soft laugh. “Do I believe in magic, in all
those little rituals? No. Never saw any evidence of magic. Even if I did I
might not believe. I’m just not wired that way. But,” a grave tone crept into
her voice, “I do believe in resistance. In fighting the Guard, the Lux. Even if
just in small ways.”

After a time Yola got up to fetch the scissors. Virge
nodded, prepared now for the surrendering of her hair.

* * * * *

The news came to him at a bad time. Not that there could
have been a good time to receive such dissatisfying information, but this moment
in particular was ill-suited.

Aphael Chav had granted an audience to a trio of highly
ranked members of the Order of Lux. In truth,
granted
might, for once,
be overstating it. These three had fairly demanded to address the Toplux. He
could have refused. Such was the prerogative of power. But the Lux had power of
its own, independent of its topmost figure. The three present in the long,
columned chamber had substantial financial holdings. All controlled important
industrial enterprises. Collectively or even separately, they could make things
difficult for Aphael if they wanted to. After all, Topluxes had been overthrown
in the past. It was, essentially, how he himself had taken the paramount
office.

He had been successfully maintaining a cordial and attentive
manner. Though his guests weren’t dressed in the ridiculous finery of a
conclave, they still exuded airs of importance. They had grievances to vent and
Aphael Chav listened. They were upset about the recent Guard activity in the
Lux city, as well as with the handling of a few other less immediate matters.