by Jaide Fox
He snorted. "God, no. I got them at the gourmet grocer on Main Street." He reached across the bed, his arm brushing her legs as he retrieved something she could only guess at. "But I did get this at Lavish Love."
A soft tantalizing touch brushed her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. "What is it?"
"You tell me." He swept the unseen instrument down her arms, across her breasts, and over her stomach.
"A feather?"
"A long one," he said, stroking the crease at the top of one leg, then moving around to stroke the inside of her thighs. He lingered there, teasing. "Open your legs," he breathed.
She obeyed.
"Wider."
She did that too, quivering as the feather touched her again. Her inner muscles contracted, sending a faint glimpse of bliss shooting through her body. Clark ran the tip of the feather over her swollen folds, then played it over her tight nub. The sensation was too fleeting, too light. She groaned, as the coil in her belly tightened.
The feather vanished. Her hips moved, wanting it back. The ocean music from the CD player surged and receded. Then the laptop’s Velcro parted again, and her body went on high alert. What was coming next?
She heard Clark moving around--undressing, she thought. After a moment, he settled back onto the bed, down near the end. His warm hands lifted her feet and cradled them in his lap. His bare lap.
Blossom caught her breath. He was naked, in her bed. She wanted very much to see him. So what if he didn’t have the body of a superhero? He had the heart of one. And he wanted her. She was beginning to discover what a turn on that was.
He began massaging her foot. He wore some kind of glove on one hand. It was slightly scratchy, but not unpleasantly so. Like a loofah sponge. "What are you wearing?"
He laughed. "I think it’s called a bath glove. It’s purple."
"Really?" She tried to imagine Clark, sitting on the edge of her bed, wearing a purple glove. And nothing else.
Her mind boggled.
He worked his way up her legs, his gloved hand leaving a tingling path in its wake, his bare hand soothing over the same path almost immediately. He avoided her breasts, and the slick, sensitive folds between her legs, moving close, teasing, then retreating without satisfying. The ocean music surged and ebbed in the background, a floating accompaniment to his attentions.
As he moved up her body, she reached for him, exploring him with her hands like a blind woman. He was surprisingly firm muscled. Not bulky like the superhero posters on her walls, but not soft, either, as she expected a geek to be. He must get away from that laptop occasionally, she thought.
Her hands slid across his flat belly and dipped between his legs. He sucked in a breath as she gripped his cock. Her fingers ran the long, firm length of it, all the way down, then all the way up again. The head was wide and warm. She cupped it in her palm, squeezing a little.
His breathing went ragged. He groaned a little as he leaned in and kissed her.
"You took off your glasses," she said. She tried to imagine it.
"Yeah," he said. "I can’t see a thing."
She laughed at that. Her arms went around his neck, holding him tight. "Are we really going to do this?"
"If you’ll let me."
"Do you have condoms in that black bag?"
"Only a couple dozen."
She smiled against his lips. "We can always go out for more later."
He levered himself away, until they were no longer touching. She thought she heard him strip off the glove, then tear a foil packet. She waited for him to return, but the seconds ticked by and he waited, not moving, not speaking.
"Clark?"
No answer. She lay still, waiting, listening. She couldn’t hear anything beyond the ocean music--no movement, no breathing. Had he left her? Why?
The seconds ticked by. Blossom lay still at first, not wanting to break the magic of the game. But when endless moments passed and still he didn’t return, she sat up, her hands reaching for the ties on the blindfold.
"Leave it on," Clark said.
Her hands stilled on the laces. "I thought you had gone."
"No," he said. "I’m here, watching you."
"Why?"
He gave a wry laugh. "I don’t know. I guess I just like looking at you, knowing you can’t see me. I’m not sure you would be so eager to make love if your eyes were open."
A glimmer of shame flashed through her. "My posters bother you, don’t they? I’m sorry. I know it’s silly of me, obsessing about superheroes. About men who don’t exist."
"No," he said. His voice sounded strange. Uncertain. "It’s not that. It’s just..."
She wished she could see his face. "What?"
"I’ve dreamed of a woman like you," Clark said.
Blossom gave a shaky laugh. "You’ve dreamed of woman with freckles and frizzy red hair, who didn’t want to date you because you drag a laptop around?"
He shifted on the mattress. "Well, not that, exactly. I’ve dreamed of one who trusted me enough to let herself go in my arms."
Blossom kept her voice steady. "And you think I could do that?"
"I know you can," he said.
"I wish I could believe you," she said. "But the truth is, I’m not sure it’s possible for me. I’ve never had an orgasm. I can’t even imagine it."
In lieu of an answer, she felt his lips on her stomach, her breast, her neck. His body moved, fitting itself to hers. She parted her legs, cradling his arousal.
And then he was inside, filling her, stroking, moving. "You know what I’m imagining right now?" he whispered in her ear.
"What?" she whispered back.
"The two of us on a beach, alone. Doing this." He thrust in.
"Someone would see us," she said. He eased out.
"No. We’re alone. On a deserted island." He surged forward, harder than before.
Blossom sucked in a breath. "Are there palm trees?"
"As many as you want," he said, his hips flexing under her hands. "All around us. Swaying gently in the warm breeze."
"What does the ocean look like?"
He quickened his pace. "Pale green and sparkling. You can see clear through the water to the sand."
She felt herself slip toward something she desperately wanted to reach. "The sky. Is it blue?"
"It’s brilliant." He was loving her hard now, with long, deep strokes, mingled with the scent of his sweat and the ragged sound of his breath in her ears. She opened her mouth on his shoulder and tasted the salty, slick flavor of him.
"The sand is warm," he murmured. "Warm and soft. You can feel it beneath you."
His hands ran along the backs of her thighs, lifting them as he angled her body for a deeper thrust. She knotted her hands in the comforter. So close. She could feel the moist breeze on her face, smell the salt in the air.
"Let go," Clark breathed. "Now. Do it for me." He gripped her hips and surged forward.
Shattering light burst inside her. She felt her body fling outward, as if exploded into a million, glittering pieces, each one an eternal fragment of bliss. She clung to Clark’s shoulders as his body pistoned against hers. She felt him go even harder inside her.
He cried her name as he came. His orgasm triggered aftershocks of her own release. They pulsed like the ocean, waves and waves of bliss, carrying her gently back to earth. When it was over, she melted into the warm sand, her mouth seeking Clark’s lips. He kissed her deeply, his breath slowing until it matched the rhythm of the ocean in the background. A soft spray of water misted over her.
Wait a minute. Sand? Water?
She jackknifed to a sitting position. Her head hit Clark’s chin.
"Ouch!"
She tore off the blindfold.
And glimpsed wide ocean and white sand. The sparkling sunlight forced her eyes shut again. She wasn’t in her bedroom. Oh my God. "Clark?" Her voice wavered.
He grabbed her arms and yanked her to her feet. "Hoooo-yaaah," he yelled, swinging her around. Her bare fee
t fought for balance on the soft sand. "We did it!"
She cracked her eyes open and focused on his face, struck by how handsome he was without his glasses. "Did what?"
He shoved a springy dark curl out of his eyes and grinned at her. "We teleported."
"That’s impossible."
He laughed and swung her around again. This time, Blossom had the presence of mind to be embarrassed. They were both naked, for God’s sake. Out in the open.
"Look around you," Clark said. "We’re here. It’s possible." He dropped her hand and punched a victorious fist in the air.
She couldn’t deny he had a point. "But how?" she asked. "What did you do?"
"It wasn’t me," Clark said. "You did this."
"No, I didn’t."
"Yes," he said, "you did." He caught her hand and tugged her back down on the sand. "Let me explain."
By the time he had, she was stunned, bewildered, and seething mad. And wishing she had some clothes to put on. It was beyond awkward sitting here on the beach, naked, while Clark explained how he’d been acting under orders to talk her into bed.
"Let me get this straight," she said. "You’re some kind of psychic superhero secret agent. I needed an orgasm to turn me into a superheroine. And you volunteered to give it to me? So I could help you save the world?"
He looked away. "Yeah. Something like that. You know, I think that’s why you’re so visually oriented. It’s part of your talent. You have to see where you’re going in your mind in order to teleport there."
Tears stung her eyes. She blinked hard, willing them not to fall. She’d thought she’d attracted Clark on her own. She thought he cared for her. Now she’d discovered she was nothing but an assignment to him. She scrambled to her feet and started marching across the sand.
"You can just take your save-the-world problem and shove it, Clark. I’m not helping."
He jogged up behind her. "What do you mean? You have to help. Or else everyone in the world, including us, will be dead in--" He checked his bare wrist. "Shit. I left my watch in your apartment."
She came to a halt. "Can’t some other superhero stop Lex Loser?"
"If that were possible, Heroes Incorporated would have handled it by now." He shook his head. "No. The fate of humanity rests in our hands. You have to get us into Lex’s lair. I’ll do the rest."
"How am I supposed to do that? I don’t even know how I got us here." She bit her lip. "What if I can’t get us back? We could be stuck here for weeks. Naked. With no food."
"There are coconuts, probably," Clark said. "But that’s beside the point. You can get us back. I know you can. Just picture it."
Blossom sighed. "Okay, what do I have to do?"
Clark blinked. "I don’t know. What were you doing when you teleported us here?"
Blossom frowned, trying to remember. "Nothing special."
"Thanks a lot," Clark said.
Blossom blushed. "I mean, I was just picturing the beach you were talking about, then, when I came, here we were."
"Okay," said Clark. "We can work with that. I’ll describe HI headquarters, give you a mental image. You grab my hand, concentrate, and we’ll be there."
"Uh, Clark."
"Yes?"
"There’s only one problem."
"What’s that?"
"We can’t go to headquarters."
He gave her a puzzled look. "Why not?"
"We’re naked, remember?"
He looked down. "Oh. Yeah. I forgot."
Blossom rolled her eyes. "Geeks."
Chapter Eight
Saturday, 3:52 p.m.
Eight hours, eight minutes, and counting...
They landed in the bathtub, limbs tangled.
Clark lifted Blossom over the rim of the tub, trying not to get distracted by all the soft skin in his hands.
"That’s strange," she said. "I was picturing the bedroom."
"That’s not good," Clark told her. "We could have rematerialized in a wall or something. Or in mid-air. Your father was killed by an error like that."
Blossom shivered. "Oh, God. I had no idea."
Clark strode into the bedroom. "Ideally, you should practice. Do some safe, little jumps. Get the hang of it." He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "But there’s not time for much. We’ve got to get to headquarters as soon as possible." He grabbed his clothes, then scooped up hers and tossed them to her.
She caught them and dressed while he placed a cell call to Captain Marvelous. He updated the Captain as to Blossom’s... uh... progress.
The Captain chuckled. "Good for you, son. I knew you had it in you."
Clark stood a little taller. "Thank you, Captain."
Blossom practiced teleporting from the bedroom to the kitchen several times, then into the hall. First alone, then with Clark in tow.
"I can never get to the exact spot I want," she grumbled.
Clark wasn’t too thrilled about that, but he didn’t want to alarm Blossom by telling her so. She was already freaked out enough as it was.
"We can’t delay much longer," he said. "The Captain wants us to report ASAP. Lex’s bomb is set to blow in--" He checked his watch. "Six hours, forty-nine minutes, and counting."
* * * *
Saturday, 5:17 p.m.
Six hours, forty-three minutes, and counting...
Blossom grasped Clark’s hand, closed her eyes, and tried to teleport into the HI ready room.
They landed in the dumpster behind the fake sub shop.
"Great," Blossom muttered, pulling unidentifiable muck out of her hair. "Just great. At this rate, all I’m going to do is get us killed."
Clark lowered his laptop to the asphalt, then jumped over the side of the dumpster and offered Blossom a hand. "No, you won’t," he told her, but she could tell he was worried. "You’ll do just fine. You’re only a little off. The briefing room is directly below us."
"How far?"
Clark hesitated. "Thirty-six feet."
"Oh, God." Blossom’s knees buckled.
Clark caught her before she could hit the ground. "Your long-distance accuracy is improving, you know." He steadied her on her feet, keeping one hand on her elbow and the other on the handle of his laptop case. "Come on. Try again. Thirty-six feet. Straight down." He described Captain Marvelous’ briefing room.
Blossom sighed. "Hold on." She shut her eyes and pictured it.
They landed right outside the door. "Not bad," Clark said, but Blossom wasn’t so sure. There was more to this teleporting business than one would think. It required a heck of a lot of concentration.
Clark guided her across the threshold. The room was small, just big enough for a round table and a few chairs. A tall, elderly man with a shock of white hair rose to greet them.
"Clark. You’re right on time, son. Good work with the ... ah ... recovery of Ms. Breeze."
Good work. Sheesh. Blossom rolled her eyes. As if taking her to bed had been some kind of chore.
Her stomach twisted a little. Maybe it had been.
After all, Clark was a superhero. Oh, he may be a little on the underdeveloped side physically, but a lot of women wouldn’t care about that. They’d be looking for the prestige of dating a superhero. Clark probably slept with a different woman every night.
Her stomach twisted some more. She didn’t like thinking about that.
"Ah, Blossom," Captain Marvelous was saying. "Good to meet you, my girl." He wrinkled his nose. "What is that smell?"
"We had a small mishap, sir," Clark explained. "Nothing to get alarmed about."
"I see. Well, get cleaned up. The faster you get into Lex’s lair, the safer the world will be."
* * * *
Saturday, 6:22 p.m.
Five hours, thirty-eight minutes, and counting...
"I don’t know if I can do this," Blossom told Clark. They were standing in the middle of a very closed Megalopolis Museum of Natural History, in front of an enormous Tyrannosaurus Rex skeleton. "I was supposed to land us next
to the Triceratops."
"That’s only a few feet away," Clark pointed out. "And it could have been worse. You might have teleported us into the men’s room."
She frowned at him. "Don’t joke. We’ve been practicing for hours, and the best I’ve done is three feet from the target. According to the Captain, Lex Loser’s underground lair is a twisting maze of narrow passages. I’ll never hit one. We’ll materialize right in bedrock."
"His central lab is a large room. We’ll go for that."
"And lose the element of surprise," Blossom grumbled. "He’ll see us coming and blast us before you get a chance to defuse the bomb."
"Jeez," said Clark. "Are you always this pessimistic?"
"I don’t know," admitted Blossom. "I’ve never done anything this important before."
"Welcome to the wonderful world of superheroes," Clark said.
* * * *
Saturday, 8:30 p.m.
Three hours, thirty minutes, and counting...
"Ready?" Captain Marvelous asked.
Clark glanced at Blossom. She didn’t look the least bit ready, but unfortunately, their time had run out.
"Ready," Clark said.
"Go," the Captain said.
* * * *
Saturday, 8:33 p.m.
Three hours, twenty-seven minutes, and counting...
Well, the good news was, Blossom didn’t teleport them into bedrock. The bad news was, Clark had no idea where they were. They’d materialized in a narrow channel enclosed by rocky walls. He raised his flashlight and shone the beam first in one direction, then the other. Nothing.
A drop of water splashed onto his nose. He sneezed. The sound echoed like a thunderclap.
"I hope Lex didn’t hear that," Blossom said.
Clark unzipped his laptop case and powered up the machine. If he could get a satellite signal, he could triangulate their location with his GPS receiver. He punched in the required keystrokes. "Come on..."
A "no service" message flashed onto the screen.
"Damn," Clark said. "I guess we’re on our own."
"Not what I wanted to hear," Blossom said. She’d found out during her practice sessions that if she didn’t know where she was, it was much harder to get where she wanted to go.