by Maya Anders
The Secret of the Pink Ray
By Maya Anders
Published by JMS Books LLC
Visit jms-books.com for more information.
Copyright 2018 Maya Anders
ISBN 9781634866972
Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com
Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.
All rights reserved.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published in the United States of America.
* * * *
The Secret of the Pink Ray
By Maya Anders
Chapter 1: Turmoil in New York
Chapter 2: Sapphic Super-Science
Chapter 3: The Stolen Plans
Chapter 4: Lady Blade
Chapter 5: The Locked Room
Chapter 6: The Temple of Purity
Chapter 7: Psychic Secrets
Chapter 8: The Evil Mastermind
Chapter 9: Epilogue
Chapter 1: Turmoil in New York
It was a hot, sunny morning in June 1939. A large crowd had gathered in Battery Park to await the arrival of the Sea Dragon, the latest superfast flying boat designed by top British engineers. A little over twelve hours earlier the huge plane had lifted off from the murky waters of the River Thames, just a few hundred yards from the fog-shrouded Tower of London. It had crossed the Atlantic non-stop and was now fast approaching New York. There was a buzz of excitement—Sea Dragon was the shape of things to come. The new design would revolutionize transatlantic air travel.
The park was packed to overflowing, everyone gazing expectantly upward into the clear blue sky. Many of those present were city workers from the financial district, taking an early lunch break. People jostled each other for the best views across the river.
Tiffany Hazard mingled with the crowd, keeping a sharp lookout for trouble. Pickpockets, bag snatchers, backside-gropers—you could expect all those things in a gathering this size. Not on Tiffany’s watch, though. A rich young heiress, she also happened to be one of New York’s top lesbian crime fighters.
Tiffany made an imposing figure: a powerful, six-foot-plus amazon, her immaculate skin tanned a deep bronze, her long, copper-bronze hair gleaming in the sunlight. She was dressed in a skin-tight, slightly translucent jumpsuit which clung to her phenomenal figure, accentuating the perfection of her full, round breasts and the athletic muscularity of her thighs and buttocks. The overall impression was dazzling; it was easy to see why the press called her the Bronze Goddess.
As she strode through the crowd, she attracted admiring glances from both men and women…and lustful glances too. That was hardly surprising, since—Tiffany being a shameless exhibitionist—her jumpsuit was open at the front all the way to her navel, displaying a generous quantity of firm, tanned flesh. From certain angles you could even sneak a peek at the shiny-smooth areolas of her braless breasts. Tiffany belonged to the “If you’ve got it, flaunt it” school of fashion…and she certainly had it.
“Extra! Extra! Mad scientist says Government stole his death ray!” The cry came from a newspaper vendor. Having observed the crowd gathered in the park, the youngster had clearly decided it made business sense to direct his sales effort in that direction.
The ploy worked, at least as far as Tiffany was concerned. She had a professional interest in mad scientists and death rays. She purchased a copy of the paper and glanced at the headline: Tesla accuses Government of stealing Death Ray.
“Tesla’s a textbook paranoid,” the newspaper vendor observed. “In his younger days he was a prolific inventor, but he lost the plot. This talk about a death ray—it’s sheer madness. He knows nothing about modern physics.”
Tiffany gave the vendor a second look. They weren’t the sort of words she expected to hear—certainly not in the cut-glass British accent with which they were spoken. With a start she realized it wasn’t a boy, as she’d thought, but a young woman—with short-cropped hair, almost a crew cut, and no make-up. On second look, though, she was really very attractive, her slim waist and feminine thighs accentuated by the tight shorts she was wearing. Her equally tight T-shirt showed every contour of her conical, braless breasts. At five-seven she was tall for girl, but still a good six inches shorter than Tiffany.
“Tesla knows nothing about modern physics?” Tiffany echoed. “And you do, I suppose?”
The girl returned her gaze solemnly. “Correct. I’m a grad student at Central College. Kimmerleigh Fox is the name, but you can call me Kimmy—everyone does.” She tapped her bag of newspapers. “Don’t let this fool you—it’s just an easy way to make some extra money. I’m a physics whiz. I understand all of Dr. Einstein’s work, which is more than Tesla does.”
Tiffany raised her eyebrows. “So you don’t believe he really built a death ray? I thought he demonstrated something like that to the military a couple of years ago.”
Kimmy waved her hand dismissively. “He may have put some phony gadget together to fool those idiots. But Tesla doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He’s no match for Einstein—or for me.”
There was a sudden buzz from the assembled crowd, as if the incoming plane had been spotted. They peered up into the sky expectantly, but there was nothing there. It was a false alarm.
There was a snort of disgust from a gray-haired old man a few feet from Tiffany and Kimmy. He was leaning heavily on a cane and wheezing. “The whole thing’s a hoax,” he grunted. “Probably no such thing as the Sea Dragon. You can’t trust those British bastards anymore.”
It wasn’t an uncommon sentiment. Americans weren’t naturally anti-British, but a bubbling undercurrent of such feeling had built up over the last few days. There had been a series of incidents which, in the eyes of many Americans, appeared to be audacious attacks by the British against U.S. targets.
Two days earlier, a senior American diplomat had been knocked over and killed by a taxicab in London. The previous week, a U.S. Navy plane had crashed into the sea after flying over the British base on Bermuda. There was no clear evidence pinning the incidents on Britain, but that didn’t stop people like this old gentlemen from voicing their suspicions.
Hearing the man’s outburst, Kimmy carefully edged away, beckoning Tiffany to follow. When she was sure the man wouldn’t hear her British accent, she spoke again.
“You’re Tiffany Hazard, aren’t you?” Kimmy eyed the statuesque figure critically. “The one they call the Bronze Goddess? You’re one of those famous lesbian crime fighters, like Lady Blade.”
Tiffany grimaced in distaste. “Lady Blade is a deranged vigilante. People like her give lesbian crime fighters a bad name. She kills her victims in cold blood—I make sure they’re rehabilitated into society. I would never intentionally hurt a fellow human being.”
Kimmy nodded sagely. “Me too. I’ve always had a sneaking desire to be a lesbian crime fighter myself.
” She frowned in thought for a moment. “The Sapphic Super-Scientist, or something like that.”
Tiffany gave the girl an appraising look, lingering on her bare, slightly chubby thighs, the tight cotton shorts, with the hint of a camel-toe cleft at the crotch, and the pert, button-like nipples pushing through the fabric of her T-shirt. The sight made Tiffany’s juices flow. “That could work,” she said. “I’ve always wanted a teenage sidekick.”
“I’m not a teenager.” Kimmy put her hand on her hip defiantly. “I’m twenty-one—almost twenty-two.”
“Oh, well, in that case…”
There was another cry from the crowd—and this time it wasn’t a false alarm. A sparkling object had appeared in the bright blue sky over the upper bay and was rapidly approaching. It was the Sea Dragon, all the way from London. A streamlined shape of shining aluminum, its enormous wings carried no fewer than six powerful rotary engines. They made a pulsing drone as the plane came in to land on the Hudson.
Suddenly there was a blinding flash of pink light, and the engine sound cut out. The plane’s course dipped abruptly. There were screams of horror from the crowd.
“It’s going to crash!” The plummeting aircraft nose-dived straight into the Statue of Liberty. There was a huge collective groan from the onlookers as the statue’s head was knocked clean off.
The groan was followed almost immediately by angry mutterings and oaths—all directed against a single target. “Those damned British bastards…” The old man was shaking his cane at the sky in fury.
There was another scream from the assembled masses as they realized the horror wasn’t over yet. One of the six giant engines, now detached from the plane and in flames, was heading straight for the Battery.
“It’s coming this way!” Kimmy gasped.
The crowd around them rapidly dispersed in all directions. Only the old man remained, rooted to the spot in horror.
Tiffany grabbed him with her powerful arms, lifted him bodily, then sprinted for safety. Kimmy paused just long enough to snatch up the man’s fallen cane, then followed.
It wasn’t a moment too soon. A fraction of a second later, the flaming engine crashed onto the very spot where they’d been standing.
Tiffany put the man down. The sudden burst of physical action had disarrayed the upper part of her jumpsuit—something that always seemed to happen in these situations—so that her magnificent breasts were now completely out in the open.
Bewildered, the old man gawped at those firm, bronze-tanned mounds, then addressed them in a wavering voice. “Th-thank you so much. You saved my life.”
“Think nothing of it, old boy,” Tiffany replied in her best impression of a British accent.
“All part of the service, old bean,” Kimmy added, handing the cane back to its open-mouthed owner.
Tiffany was already walking toward the water’s edge, frowning thoughtfully. Kimmy ran to catch up.
“There’s something very odd about this,” Tiffany said. “I saw a bright pink flash, shooting up from ground level, immediately before the engines stopped.”
Kimmy nodded. “I saw it too, but it wasn’t just any pink. That wavelength is characteristic of ionized nitrogen. It was the first phase of something bigger—opening a channel for…for something.” She continued muttering to herself for several minutes. Most of it went over Tiffany’s head, although she did make out the name “Tesla” several times—as well as a number of coarse profanities that sounded out-of-place in Kimmy’s cut-glass accent.
They pushed their way through the chaotic crowd to the edge of the Hudson River. Tiffany scanned the shore to their right. “It came from further uptown—I’d estimate just over a mile away. You can’t see it from here.”
She closed her eyes, trying to visualize the pink flash in her mind’s eye, and reconstructing the direction from which it must have come. She performed a quick mental triangulation. “My best guess is the end of Vestry Street—probably one of the old riverside warehouses there.”
She turned back to Kimmy, whose earlier mutterings were just beginning to sink in. “What was that you were saying about Tesla?”
“I might have been wrong about him,” Kimmy admitted grudgingly. “I suppose it might be possible to create an ionization channel through the air, using a projected beam of some kind, and then activate the vacuum lambda field. That’s part of Einstein’s theory—it’s what my thesis research is all about. It never occurred to me it could be used this way. I’d need to think some more about it.”
“Then let’s head back to base—A.K.A. my luxury penthouse apartment on the Upper East Side.” Without further delay, Tiffany led the way to her powerful, two-seat sports car parked nearby.
Chapter 2: Sapphic Super-Science
Eighty percent of the floor area of Tiffany’s apartment was taken up by a single vast open-plan room, filled with expensive artworks, fashionable décor, and professional-level gym equipment. Ignoring all these things, Kimmy’s eyes immediately lighted on a huge assortment of electronic gadgetry piled up in one corner.
She went over and began to inspect it eagerly. “There’s some cool stuff here—where did you get it?”
“That’s from my last case,” Tiffany explained. “Cedric Gibson—the one the papers called the Radio Fiend. He’s behind bars now. But don’t waste time with that—we’ve got work to do.”
She found a map of the city and spread it out on a table. “The pink flash came from around here.” She indicated a point on the map. “Just as I thought—an old waterside warehouse. Bad guys always seem to favor such places. We’ll check it out as soon as we can. But first—we need to understand just what it is we’re up against. Explain it to me again—slowly this time and in words I can understand.”
Kimmy tore herself away from the pile of electronics. “Tesla’s basically a tinkerer, not a scientist. He works by trial and error, without trying to understand the theory. Sometimes that pays off, in ways that wouldn’t occur to a theoretician. What he’s done here is to tap into Einstein’s cosmological constant—a huge reservoir of energy that permeates the universe.”
Tiffany frowned. “Sounds highly dangerous.”
“It is and it isn’t,” Kimmy replied. “Yes, he’s built this so-called death ray—but ultimately it’s useless as a weapon. All you need in order to neutralize it is a counter-ray of the opposite polarity.”
“And you know how to build such a thing?”
Kimmy waved at the pile of electronics. “I guess most of the stuff I need is here. I can’t start right away though. I need to work out the design spec first. That calls for a deep thinking session.”
“Go ahead—make yourself at home.” Tiffany indicated a comfortable-looking leather couch.
Kimmy flopped onto the couch, then hesitated. “I ought to explain something,” she said sheepishly. “To an outside observer, one of my deep thinking sessions can look a lot like a masturbation session. My brain only hits genius level when I’m on brink of orgasm.”
Tiffany shrugged. “Like I said, make yourself at home.” She folded her arms and watched as Kimmy pulled off her T-shirt, revealing a nice pair of pertly jutting breasts, tipped with smooth, pale-pink nipples. Tiffany couldn’t help licking her lips at the sight, as a sudden wave of horniness swept over her.
Kimmy wriggled out of her too-tight shorts and spread her legs, her hands dropping to a small pubic triangle as short and stubbly as the hair on her head. She started to frig herself vigorously with her fingers.
Tiffany felt a creamy wetness spring up between her own legs. Watching another woman masturbate was her second favorite thing, after sex. Then again, why should she settle for second best? She coughed politely. “Can I help you with that?”
Kimmy, her eyes already glazing over in pre-orgasmic bliss, looked up blurrily. “What? You’re not really my type, you know. I prefer my women small, curvaceous, and blonde, like Emma Storm. I masturbate over her all the time.” Emma Storm was a popular British movie actress. “B
ut go ahead. It might be fun.”
“Believe me, it will be. The Bronze Goddess is highly skilled in the pleasure-giving department.” Tiffany slipped quickly and easily out of her jumpsuit. Underneath, she was completely naked.
Kimmy’s eyes widened at the sight of that magnificently muscled, bronze body, with its neatly trimmed triangle of copper-bronze pubic hair. Her eyes grew even wider as Tiffany went over to a side unit, revealing as she did so the most perfect buttocks Kimmy had ever seen—except maybe on the statue of some Greek goddess.
Tiffany paused a moment to switch on the radio, tuning it to a highbrow channel playing modern, avant-garde music. The she opened a closet and searched briefly inside, before emerging with a large chrome-plated object of blatantly phallic appearance. She took it over to Kimmy, who perceived that it was cylinder of about eight inches in length and two inches in diameter. One end was smooth and rounded, the other end bore a control knob.
“It’s a battery powered vibrator,” Tiffany explained. She positioned herself between Kimmy’s wide-spread thighs and began stroking the tip of vibrator over the English girl’s small, slender pussy lips. They quivered delicately in response, opening up like a flower. Kimmy moaned in ecstasy, spreading her legs even wider. Tiffany twisted the knob to give the vibrator more power, then ran its buzzing tip up and down the length of Kimmy’s labia, occasionally tickling the stiff little protuberance of her hard-swollen clit.
“Ooh, that feels good.” Kimmy closed her eyes blissfully. “Stick it right inside.”
“I hope you’re remembering to think,” Tiffany said sternly. “Don’t forget there’s work to be done.”
“Oh, I’m thinking all right,” Kimmy assured her. “In fact that gizmo you’re using has given me one good idea already. It will make an excellent housing for the counter-ray.”
Tiffany rolled her eyes. “Then I’d better hurry up and use it for its intended purpose, before you start taking it apart.”