Vengeance of Sukesh: John Mason (Legend of John Mason)

by Barbara J Robertson

  Mason woke them up early, outfitted in their hiking boots and shorts, and they flew away on the speedster. He took her to several of the Mayan pyramids and their surrounding city complexes. They climbed the pyramids, and enjoyed the spectacular jungle views. Leaving the pyramids, Mason sped to a village, bought sandwiches, water and wine, and sped off again. They rounded a rock cliff. There it was: the magnificent waterfall. Mason crisscrossed up the mountain to the waterfall, falling into a large pool, surrounded by large flat rocks. At the back of the waterfall was an alcove, cool and out of the hot sun.

  After parking the speedster against the side of the mountain, Mason unpacked their gear and led Rachel to the alcove behind the waterfall. He broke a branch off a nearby tree and swept the debris away. He tied their bottles of wine and water together and carefully lowered them into the cool waters of the pool. Mason took off his boots and showed her how to stuff her socks correctly to “keep the creepy crawlies out.” He stood quietly, scanned the area as he listened, and then took off all his clothes, rolled and stuffed them in a plastic bag.

  It took several minutes of cajoling, but Rachel gave in and stripped her clothes off, put them into the plastic bag with his, and the bag was zipped closed. Mason dove under the waterfall into the pool, and she sat on a large rock. She didn’t want to get her hair wet.

  “Sure you do!” Mason said, and pulled her into the water with a scream, followed by laughter. They swam together all around the pool. He stopped at a large rock and waited until she came to him, kissed him, and took him inside her. Their freedom of motion in the cool water enhanced their lovemaking tremendously. Mason watched the look of pleasured abandon on her face when she reached orgasm, in complete ecstasy with him. It was paradise.

  They swam over to one of the larger flat rocks near the waterfall. Mason pulled himself out of the pool, and helped her onto the rock. He went to their gear bag and returned with big towels and sunscreen, and they massaged the oils into each other’s bodies and lay together.

  “This is the most natural and free I’ve ever felt, John. Thank you for bringing me here,” she said. They sunned the rest of the morning, ate their sandwiches, and drank one of their bottles of white wine. He was caressing her, and then suddenly stopped. He rose up, stood, and put his finger to his lips for her to be quiet.

  Rachel heard men’s voices. Mason covered her with his towel and motioned for her to keep her head down. As the voices got closer, female voices were heard as well. There were two couples who looked like tourists and one Indian couple, their guides to the lover’s waterfall. The men nodded at Mason, and the girls laughed. The couples stripped and jumped into the pool, at the far end. Mason took Rachel’s towel off her and said, “It’s okay. They’re here to play.”

  The young couples swam and splashed, and soon started having sex. Mason lay in back of Rachel so she could watch them. He stroked her back slowly. “John, they’re making love!” She whispered, amazed at their audacity.

  “The Indian couple is making love, Rachel. The others are having sex,” he corrected.

  After several minutes, Rachel turned her head to whisper to him. “John, they switched girls! Oh my God!” She tried not to look but couldn’t help herself. The young couples didn’t care if the others watched them having sex, so why should she? “John! The girls are kissing each other! Oh my God, John, they’re…they’re…”

  “Enjoying each other’s bodies.”

  “Obviously! The boys are just watching them. Now they’re doing 69, John!” She whispered, blushing deeply. “Oh my God, look!”

  Mason rose up to look, and saw the girls part breathlessly. The boys came over and sat down next to them, and the girls gave them oral sex. Rachel didn’t miss a trick.

  Mason caressed the length of her body, and touched her breast. “John, I don’t want them watching me!” She said nervously. He got on the other side of her to block any view of her body, and resumed his foreplay with her. She timidly responded at first. He stroked and caressed her until she was more than ready.

  “Let’s show them how it’s done,” Mason said, as he rolled her onto her back. He kept his head next to her so she could not see them. Rachel relaxed and made love with him, and Mason’s bionic hearing heard the kid’s remarks:

  “Look how he moves his body, like waves rolling in. Can you move like that?”

  “Watch her raise up to meet him. Look how she moves her hips.”

  “It looks like a dance. They look so beautiful together.”

  Rachel exploded into orgasm, and Mason followed, stretching his head and neck up and back in ecstasy. As they lay there panting, she asked, “Did they watch us, John?”

  “You bet they did. Now they know.”

  “Know what?”

  “They know how much better it is to make love than just to have sex. They have seen the difference love makes, Rachel.” She turned and went into his arms, holding him tightly. She definitely knew that difference, and she had felt it with him every time. He was all she wanted, all she needed, and all she craved.

  Soon they agreed it was time to leave. They dressed, and Mason gave the kids their other bottles of wine and water. They left on the speedster, running above the path between the trees, following the mountain slope down. In less than ten exciting minutes, they were making the turn into the resort’s driveway. It was another perfect day.

  During the night, Mason woke up, and took his com tablet to the balcony to study the technical diagrams of the long range fighter he would be trained on next week. As a man who required little sleep, he had time most every night to study. The moon was nearly full in the cloudless sky, illuminating the ocean waves with its silver beams. Mason sat in the chaise lounge, naked in the silvery moonlight, completely absorbed in the hydrogen fuel cell-powered propulsion engine’s schematic diagrams.

  XI

  “Beep-beep! Beep-beep!” The infernal noise from Mason’s wrist comm link was driving Rachel crazy. He’d left it on the bedside table, and not worn it on his morning run. Instead of covering her head again, she picked it up to see who was calling him every ten minutes, and the little screen said “Sarah.” Who was Sarah? Why did she keep calling? Rachel got up and went to look out the window for John. She saw him running up the main driveway of the resort.

  “Someone named ‘Sarah’ has been calling every ten minutes, John. I’m taking a shower,” she said, handing the comm-link to him. He toweled off his face and stepped onto the patio.

  “Sarah is my sister on Mars Colony III,” he explained.

  His comm-link beeped. It was Sarah. “Johnnie, where’ve you been? We’ve great news!”

  Sarah told Mason her husband Dave was promoted to the Finance Minister for Mars Colony III, a big promotion for him. Then she shared her other good news.

  “Johnnie, I’m pregnant again. We’re so excited! It’s a girl. The URE passed a special resolution last year that any couple who contracted to stay for ten years or more on Mars could get a third birthing license. The in vitro insemination worked on one of my frozen eggs. Isn’t that great?” Sarah said. They talked for a while, then Dave gave him other interesting news.

  Dave said, “Johnnie, something else. Do you know anything about a Colony IV? They’re digging foundations, putting in utility towers; even looks like they’ve added a landing site. A pretty big one, by the looks of it.”

  “No, I don’t know anything about that,” Mason answered.

  “Find out, if you can. And Johnnie, Omar will be calling you tomorrow. He’s got a new investment for you. I already put ten grand into it. I’ll let him explain everything to you.”

  “Thanks for telling me.”

  “Bye, Johnnie. I love you,” Sarah said.

  “Bye, Babe. Love you,” Mason ended.

  Mason was now curious about a fourth colony on Mars. Dave was not the type of man to exaggerate; if he said they were building foundations and installing utility towers, it was happening. But Colony III wasn’t even half full under
their giant plex domes, and there was plenty of room to grow. Why would the URE go to the expense of building another? Unless—maybe it was military only; another space base. Why not?

  The original Mars Colony was old and small, and used only for experiments now. Mainly droids, bots, and a few scientists worked there. No one lived there full time. Colony II was for the workers and designers building space ships in the closed space station in orbit. But Colony III was a shining gem, a real prize. She was a beautiful glass city encased inside giant plex domes. Families lived their lives there in comfort and with all the luxuries of Moon Base. What would Colony IV be? Rachel did not know anything about a Mars Colony IV, either. She was an Admiral; she lunched and dined with the big boys frequently. Either something secret was going on, or something clandestine, using the appearance of constructing a new Colony IV while actually building something else entirely. He was determined to find out.

  Mason showered and dressed, and they headed downstairs for lunch. He asked their concierge if Cap’n Jax was still open, and got a wink and a hearty, “Yes, it is, Mr. Mason! And tonight is samba night. I’ll make reservations for you and your Mrs.” Rachel did not correct him this time; she just smiled at Mason.

  After lunch they went upstairs and changed for pool time. Mason rented a private cabana for them, so they could relax and have private service. After an hour in the sun, they moved under the cabana, and she fell asleep. Mason sent a text message to Colonel Tyrone about a possible Mars Colony IV.

  A light rain began to fall after a while, and Mason took them to their room. Rachel continued her nap, and he sat on the patio, watching the rain. He planned a surprise for tomorrow or Friday. The ring was in the hotel safe, waiting for him to work up his nerve and pop the Big Question. Would she accept a lowly Second Lieutenant as her husband? A boyfriend was one thing; a husband was something else entirely. She was an Admiral, after all.

  His new career as an officer had not even begun. He had little idea of what a “Special Liaison Officer to the Joint Chiefs” did, but his black ops briefing from the Commandant told him he was the newest expendable asset. Whatever they assigned to him, he would complete his mission and do it with excellence. He wanted to fast-track his first few promotions, if possible. Mason hoped the Joint Chiefs wouldn’t send him away from Rachel for the long assignments. Mason tried to relax, but to no avail. He decided to do tai chi, then yoga. When he bent down to touch his toes, he fully extended and placed his palms down flat on the floor. He could feel the burn in that stretch. Rachel was on the couch watching him.

  “How long you been there?” He asked.

  “When you touched your toes,” she answered, smiling at him. “What time is it?”

  “It’s almost time for us to go to Cap’n Jax for dinner and samba.” He sat down next to her. “I’m your Samba Master, Samba Master, Samba Master. I’m your Samba Master, you’re my Samba Queen!” She laughed out loud at him, and he tickled her. “Go change into your samba pants. Let me see that flat tummy!”

  “You wear your white pants, too, John,” she called out to him. She’d picked out white linen-type pants for him after she’d bought her samba pants, so they’d “match.” Mason didn’t like white pants. A full-grown man shouldn’t wear white pants, he’d decided. If he got excited, everything would show. Rachel thought white pants looked great on him. She was used to the Space Forces medical officers wearing white pants all the time.

  They were dressed and on their way to Cap’n Jax on the wharf, riding the speedster. She was a pro on it by now, and enjoyed riding. Mason remembered exactly where the restaurant and club was, and parked the speedster outside.

  Cap’n Jax was there when he was a boy of sixteen, on his first visit. He was tall and looked like an adult, and they let him in. Girls bought him drinks and they all learned to samba. He remembered having a great time at the club, and especially afterwards; it was his first night with two girls in bed. His old man gave him hell the next day in front of his mom, but winked at him after his tirade, when she stopped looking.

  The place was the same as Mason remembered; white walls with ships’ fittings mounted, and sea photos; wooden tables and chairs as old as he was; the wooden floor covered in fine dust for dancing; and the band area next to the small stage. He ordered Mai Tai’s for them, and the announcer said, “Welcome, my friends, to Cap’n Jax. Tonight is samba night. We will entertain you, teach you, and make you ready for love! Please welcome our samba dancers!”

  Eight scantily clad dancers took positions on the floor, then the house lights dimmed and the spotlights focused on the dancers. The drums began softly, as if they were far away. The bass joined in, and the dancers began to raise their arms and move their hips. The routine was about twenty minutes, and the crowd went wild with applause.

  “Here we go,” Mason said to her, his eyes lighting up. Two dancers came to their front table and took them on the dance floor. Mason watched Rachel with the muscular black male dancer. She was almost getting it, but not quite.

  Mason stepped in and held Rachel, and put his hands on her hips. “You can do anything with your hips, you sexy Samba Queen, I know that for a fact. Come on!” Mason took her close to him, and she got it. All of a sudden it clicked for her, and a new Samba Queen was born. At first she was good, then great, and then she was lethal.

  They danced the entire night. After a couple more Mai Tai’s, Rachel smiled her sexy smile for him, and danced close to him. Very close. “Rachel, now don’t do that to me here,” he whispered, self-conscious of his growing cock and those damned white pants. But she turned around, still in step, and backed into him. He put his arms around her, and she ground her ass into him, feeling his hardness, laughing. She knew exactly what she was doing to him.

  “You’re killing me, Rachel. How am I going to get out of here now?” Mason pleaded with her. Rachel took his hand and led him outside through the rear door. She turned and kissed him with fiery passion, then led him in the back, out of the lights. She knelt, unzipped his white pants, and gave him intense pleasure, enjoying her new freedom since their waterfall experience, brought him to orgasm, and then laughed.

  “I took the Samba Master, Samba Master, Samba Master. I took the Samba Master, I’m his Samba Queen!” She sang to him, and they both laughed. They went inside, and finished their drinks. They enjoyed the last slow, sensual dance, holding each other tightly. When the bar closed, they rode the speedster away from the harbor to the ocean.

  Mason took them along the surf, riding just high enough to feel the delicate spray of the cresting waves. He stopped the machine on the empty beach and took her. He kissed her over and over again as the cool sea breeze gently caressed them. It was magic; they felt electrified.

  Their trip back to the hotel was exhilarating. After their showers, Mason carried her to bed. Rachel said, “Good thing you’re fixed, John. I think I’m ovulating now.”

  He asked, “What’s that mean?”

  “It means that I’m going to keep you up all night, lover.” And she did, loving him, holding and teasing him. Mason kept up his erections and pleased both of them all night. Rachel couldn’t get enough of him. She was unstoppable. She was insatiable. She was divine, Mason thought. He was in heaven. Sometime in the early morning, she went to sleep, both of them satiated to the extreme.

  Mason awoke later to the beep of his comm-link; it was Omar. “What’s up?” He asked quietly; he got a robe from the bathroom, and went onto the patio. The sun was as bright as a plasma burst in his eyes. Omar was his financial advisor, recommended by Dave, of course.

  “Hello, John. The URE has approved another company to become a full public corporation, the seventh one. I wanted to see if you’re interested in buying some shares of Hyundai next week, when it goes public. It’s $50 per share, inclusive of commission,” Omar answered. “Want the analysis?”

  “I know Hyundai. Give me 1000 shares and another 100 shares each in the accounts for Sarah’s kids, Angela and Johnnie,” Mason i
nstructed. “I’ll be transferring more to you in a few days, Omar. I’m working on something now that may change things for me. Let’s talk in a few days, okay?”

  “I’ll have Kira send over the authorization for your print later. Have a great morning,” Omar clicked off.

  Samba and stocks. He was hungry. He went to the bedroom and asked Rachel if she was hungry. “I want to sleep,” she said. Better not order room service. His Samba Queen needed her sleep. Mason showered and dressed, then went downstairs to the coffee bistro. He bought her a café au lait and a croissant, and a mocha latte and a scone for himself. He enjoyed some of his mocha latte, then took her coffee and put it beside her on the bedside table.

  He sat on the patio, then noticed a data message from Colonel Tyrone. “Re your inquiry. All info restricted. TS 3. Tyrone.” So, something clandestine was happening on Mars. Maybe not a fourth colony after all. He searched the Earth Command data files for “Mars Colony IV,” and nothing came up.

  Then, on a whim, Mason searched for news on Titan One. Thousands of results popped up. The Titan One space station was all but abandoned; only a handful of Space Forces personnel there, according to the blogs. Rumors were the base was closed for refurbishing, and no ships could dock there. Refurbishing? Titan One was less than fifty years old in the main central hub, and the docking stations were replaced when he was stationed there fourteen years ago. When the Esmeralda first stopped there, everything was fine. It didn’t make any sense.

  “The coffee’s delicious, John,” Rachel said, coming to join him. She covered her eyes against the bright sun and sat down next to him. Mason handed the bag with its goody to her. She tore the croissant into pieces, and dunked them in her café au lait. “What time is it, anyway?”