The Chalupa Conundrum

by Lyle Christie

  After two brief clashes, I had managed to get a feel for his fighting style and various strengths, and now I had a fairly good idea how to defeat him—assuming I managed to keep the syringe out of the equation. He threw another kick, though this one was a roundhouse, and he followed it up by attempting to jab me with the syringe. Having blocked the kick by jamming my left elbow into his thigh, I shot my hand up and caught his right arm, thankfully stopping the end of the needle with hardly a centimeter to spare before it would have penetrated my jugular. As I held on to his wrist with my right hand, I threw a left inverted palm to his groin that buckled him over and allowed me to reach under and behind his arm and take hold of the syringe and slip it easily out of his hand at the weak point where his thumb met the forefinger. He realized his mistake and glared at me angrily, but I, however, purposefully smiled in the hope that it would make him pause for thought. It worked, and he looked at me curiously, allowing me an opening to use my closest weapon, my right leg, to deliver a quick front kick up into his stomach. He buckled as the wind was knocked from his lungs, but he managed to stay on his feet.

  Now, he had moved up from angry to extremely angry, and his strikes were going to get more desperate as the realization sunk in that I wasn’t an easy mark. He squared off and started shifting his weight back and forth, hopping lightly from one foot to the other. It was a sparring habit of Tae Kwon Do practitioners and was, in my mind, a weakness in their offense, because they almost always attacked immediately after the fourth stance shift. I watched him move and counted each little hop—one, two, three, and then, when he completed the fourth one, he attacked. It was a well orchestrated left axe kick, but such a technique, even thrown by the best of them, left the kicker vulnerable because it raised the center of gravity and decreased balance. All I had to do to counter it was to move forward at the right moment, and so, as the kick approached the top of its arc, I stepped in and threw a left punch to his face. He was balancing on one foot while the other was high in the air, and my punch sent him spiraling backward into the nearest lavatory door. He took a moment to recover, and, when he looked up, blood was trickling from his nose.

  I thought I had already seen his extremely angry face, but apparently it was just a warmup for the expression he now sported, which was his super extremely angry face. His cheeks were red, his pupils were dilated, and his breathing was rapid as anger and adrenaline coursed through his body. At that exact moment, Tina appeared from behind the curtain, and her expression instantly changed from shock to fear as she realized all was not well in the land of the lavatories. The Latin menace ignored Tina’s presence and came forward and threw a series of violently erratic punches at me, and I managed to parry all except for the last, which made it through and nailed me in the ribs and would have caused me to double over had I not controlled my breathing and exhaled at the point of impact.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Tina asked excitedly.

  “My latin menace here is a little upset and, like most men, he’s only capable of expressing his feelings through anger and violence.”

  “Wait—seriously?” Tina asked.

  “Fuck you!” my Latin menace said.

  “See what I mean,” I responded.

  At that point, he threw another punch towards my ribs, but I was quicker and managed to shoot my left hand into the crux of his elbow in order to stop the blow in its tracks. This allowed me to jam my right elbow into his solar plexus then land a left modified ridge hand to his neck. I say modified because I struck with the back of my bent wrist rather the fragile bones of the index finger. Martial arts had a lot of traditional strikes, and, while some of them looked nice, tradition often lost out to the physics of real world anatomy, and, at the moment, I wanted to make sure I inflicted more damage on this fucker than I incurred upon my own body. The strike landed perfectly on target and invoked the barrow receptor reflex, which traumatized the nerves in the neck and tricked his brain into lowering blood pressure. This left him a bit dazed, and, as he wobbled on his feet, I decided I had the perfect opportunity to give him a taste of his own medicine—literally. To my surprise, he managed to throw a right roundhouse, but I knocked it aside with my left hand then brought the syringe around and drove it deep into his neck and pressed the plunger, sending the clear liquid into his system and causing his eyes to close as he finally went night-night and slid to the floor.

  “Jesus Christ, what the fuck was all that about?” Tina asked excitedly.

  “Face it, bad shit always happens around the lavatories.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Dirty Jobs Done Dirt Cheap

  TINA WAS STANDING there in shock, and I was taking a moment to recover, but our attention was soon diverted by the sound of one of the flight attendants speaking to one of the nearby first class passengers. The passenger in question was asking for an extra blanket, so the odds were pretty good that the flight attendant would be coming this way in order to reach the little storage closet just beyond the lavatories. We therefore needed to hide the Latin Menace or risk freaking out the flight crew.

  “Shit, we need to move this fucker,” I said, to Tina.

  “Where—back to his seat?”

  “No—not with the flight attendant coming this way.”

  “OK, so that just leaves the lavatories.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Is he dead?”

  I checked his pulse and discovered he was merely unconscious.

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “Thank God,” she said.

  “Well, don’t worry too much about Professor Snape here, as he was about to inject me with one of his fucking potions.”

  “Any idea what it was?”

  “I’m guessing it’s Ketamine, so he’ll be perfectly fine when he wakes up, but, in the meanwhile, we really should get sleeping beauty here into a lavatory.”

  We reached down and lifted him by his armpits and dragged him into the nearest lavatory and propped him up on the seat and closed the door. At that very moment, one of the female flight attendants came around the curtain and paused when she saw us looking a bit harried.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, did I interrupt something?” she asked, with a questioning smile.

  I gazed at Tina and realized that we looked as though we had been up to something a lot more fun than dragging the drugged out Latin Menace into an airplane lavatory.

  “Us? Of course not,” I responded.

  “Mile high clubbers—there are always a couple of you on every flight.”

  Tina and I both laughed uncomfortably as the flight attendant smiled and accessed a closet on the other side of the room. There, she grabbed a blanket then walked back past us and gave us a questioning smile before disappearing back into the first class compartment.

  “Well now, that was exciting,” I said.

  “Yeah, it was. Do you have any idea why the hell Snape attacked you?”

  “Not really, but I guess my scrot-sense was tingling for a good reason.”

  “I will never again question your scrot-sense.”

  I opened the lavatory door and started searching Professor Snape’s clothes and pulled out his wallet and passport. His name was Hector Gomez, and he was a Costa Rican citizen, and, as I looked more closely at the documents, I realized they were legitimate.

  “These are real,” I said.

  She took them and looked at them closely under the light.

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Trust me. I can spot a fake ID when I see one, and these are real.”

  “Really, and how would you know that?” Tina asked.

  “Because I used to work for the CIA.”

  “Ha! I knew it!”

  “OK fine, my secret is out, but remember if you tell anyone, I’ll have to kill you.”

  “Seriously?”

  “No, but it sounds really cool, and seriously now—it probably is better for both of us that you don’t go telling a bunch of people.”

  “Not a p
roblem,” she said.

  I went back to searching Hector and soon found another passport.

  “He has another passport?” Tina asked excitedly.

  I flipped it open and almost shit my pants.

  “Yeah, only this one’s mine. He must have lifted it when we crossed paths in the lavatory earlier.”

  “Why would he steal your passport?”

  “Normally, it would be to discover my identity, but why would he risk it when he obviously already knew who I was.”

  I thought for a moment and smiled when I realized the answer.

  “It makes perfect sense. This fucker was trying to make it harder for me to get into Costa Rica.”

  “By stealing your passport?”

  “Yeah, as I would look pretty suspicious when I woke up from the Ketamine dose without a passport. They’d have to take me into custody and call the American Embassy, and it would take at least a few days to identify me and get everything cleared up.”

  “Who would want to do that?”

  “That’s the real question here, and I can’t help but suspect it might have something to do with our missing friends.”

  We both sat there and quietly ruminated until Tina spoke.

  “What do we do now?” she asked.

  “Nothing. Brush our teeth, pee, and go back to our seats—unless you need to take a shit or something.”

  “Definitely not.”

  We each went into a lavatory then emerged a few moments later feeling a little fresher and several cocktails lighter. We returned to our row to find Todd already passed out cold, as the day, the booze, and the bad news had probably caught up with him. Tina and I converted our seats into beds, and, with the cabin lights now off, it was relatively cozy. I rolled onto my side and got comfortable and tried to clear my mind, but I kept thinking about all the recent events and especially the timeline, as it was the most interesting part. Estelle called me last night from the jungle in Costa Rica, and today, less than twenty-four hours later, some asshole stole my passport then tried to knock me out. The entire scenario hinted at a person or persons with substantial resources, especially considering that the latin menace had managed to travel so quickly to the Bay Area and be booked on my same flight. None of it made a lot of sense, but it did make it harder to sleep, and so I rolled over and tried to get comfortable on my other side.

  “Can’t sleep?” Tina asked.

  “No, I keep thinking about all this shit.”

  “Me too. I’m not used to all this spy drama and intrigue.”

  “Neither am I, apparently, and I still can’t get my head around the idea of a bunch of scientists mysteriously disappearing and then someone coming after me less than twenty-four hours later.”

  “Do you know much about Chalupa?” she asked.

  “Not a thing.”

  “Well, from what little Thomas told me, it’s just a thousand year old ruin.”

  “So, what the hell could be so important about the place?”

  “God only knows.”

  We again lay there in the quiet, with both of us stirring and neither apparently sleeping. I looked at my watch and realized ten minutes had passed, and I wasn’t even close to dozing off.

  “Still awake?” Tina asked.

  “Totally.”

  “You have any special spy techniques left over from your CIA days that help you sleep?”

  “Other than masturbating, not really.”

  Tina laughed a little uncomfortably.

  “Actually, it’s a little embarrassing, but all this excitement has me a kind of turned on,” she said.

  “Adrenaline can be a powerful aphrodisiac.”

  “No doubt, and now it’s got my labial-radar tingling.”

  “Anything I can do to help?” I asked.

  “How are you at pleasuring a woman?”

  “Not sure, though what I might lack in experience I make up for with enthusiasm.”

  “Somehow, I get the impression that you’ve had plenty of experience.”

  “I don’t know about that, but I do have plenty of enthusiasm.”

  “Well, since you’re apparently a dashing spy, do you think you could kiss me and make me melt like the heroine in a Bond movie?”

  “Depends on where I kiss you.”

  She smiled.

  “How about we start with my lips and take it from there.”

  “Deal,” I said, only to have her lean across and kiss me.

  Meow! This plane ride was definitely looking up. We finished up our kiss with a subtle, though enticing, hint of tongue action, and, as I gazed across at Tina, it seemed as though her eyes looked a bit unfocused and dreamy.

  “Any James Bond melting action?” I asked.

  “Hard to be sure after just one kiss, so I’ll need more input to make a more accurate judgement.”

  She leaned across, only this time we met in the middle, and, as my lips touched hers, the spark of arousal instantly traveled down into my loins. It was always strange and exciting kissing someone for the first time, and the opening moments were all about getting to know the other person’s respective kissing style and particular nuances. Tina was actually quite a dilettante, and her use of tongue was skillful, and her movements were subtle—one moment pressing forward, the next retreating. It was alluring to say the least, and with each passing moment, I found Tag Junior swelling up and growing in my pants. Tina, probably calling upon her labial-radar, sensed the presence of a predatory penis in her territory and moved her hand up my leg and began running her fingers over my throbbing trouser beast. To hell with it! She had officially opened up the barn door, so I decided it was time to head out to the pasture and do a little grazing. I reached across and ran my fingertips up her stomach and over her very hard nipples, and Tina looked over and smiled.

  “You’ve been admiring them since the first moment we met, so I was wondering how long it would take for you to finally reach out and touch them,” she said.

  “Sorry, I’m a firm believer in personal space.”

  She squeezed Tag Junior and smiled wickedly.

  “Well, feel free to invade my personal space as much as you’d like.”

  Sweet buttered ball bags! Tina now had Tag Junior begging to be released from my pants, and I found myself wanting to climb over the divider between our seats, so I could more properly pursue my very sexy travel companion. As if Tina could read my mind, she lifted the seat divider and pulled me over and between her open legs, where my genitals were now pressing against hers, and the only thing keeping us from actual penetration was our clothing. Our kisses were growing more heated, and I suddenly felt the need to move on to her neck, though, for the moment, I abstained from going any lower .

  “No need to stop there,” she said, as she reached down and pulled open her shirt, which conveniently had snaps.

  Her breasts were now fully exposed and they were lovely—not too big—not too small, and to quote Goldilocks—they were just right. I ran my tongue around each areola before teasing their substantial tips.

  “A man could get lost in breasts like these,” I said.

  “You know what they say. If you get lost in the mountains, keep going down.”

  “Then I’m off to find civilization,” I said, as I slid my lips down her chest and knelt before her on the floor.

  Thankfully, she was wearing a skirt, and I peeled it up and slipped my fingers into her thong and slid it aside to reveal her enticing lady fruit. At that moment, Todd stirred and mumbled, and I felt a brief moment of panic about our coupling in such a public space. A moment passed, and he rolled his head over in the other direction and continued snoring.

  “It appears Sleeping Beauty is still asleep, so feel free to continue what you were doing,” Tina said.

  “Hi-ho, hi-ho, it’s off to work I go,” I said, before giving Tina’s thigh a playful bite.

  I continued on to her garden of pleasure and made a gentle pass over her clitoris, and she involuntarily flexed her pelvi
s and let out a moan of pleasure that made Todd stir. We shared an awkward smile, then I returned to her clitoris and began moving my tongue in purposeful circles. As I increased the intensity, she began to writhe, and it wasn’t long before her breasts were rising up and down with each heavy breath. It was a lot of visual stimulation, and Tag Junior was now fully engorged and fully extended down my pant leg in his bid for freedom. That would have to wait, however, for Tina was on the cusp release, and to that end, I slid two fingers into her opening and intensified my efforts with my tongue. Her pelvis abruptly flexed, and her vaginal walls tightened around my fingers as she climaxed and arched her back, all the while doing her best to stifle her moans. It wasn’t an easy feat, but we eventually managed to reach the other side of bliss, and I withdrew my mouth.

  “OK, this is officially the best flight I’ve ever taken, and I must say that everything’s better in first class—even cunnilingus,” she said, as she pulled me up and kissed me.

  Her tongue arrived a moment later, and, as we did the dance of seven veils with our mouthes, Tina was stroking Tag Junior, and getting dangerously close to bringing about sweet release. This was, annoyingly, making me start to worry about the logistics of ejaculation, as male release was a messy prospect, least of all in our unusual surroundings.

  “Shit, things are about to get messy,” I said.

  “Yeah, so I think we should have sex,” she said.

  “Here? Now?”

  “Obviously. When will I be in first class with James Bond again?”

  “I think you mean his lowly American counterpart Tag Finn, and the answer might just be that you’ll see him on the flight home.”