Before The StormChapter 2 free porn video

Two weeks after the rescue mission and once again donning the mantle of Miss America, Madeline found herself at a meeting of the Invaders, held in their secret headquarters inside the Big Ben clock tower. In addition to the team that gone into Germany the previous month, they had been joined by Union Jack II and Bucky and Toro, the teen sidekicks of Captain America and the Human Torch.

“Well, that just about covers any urgent business,” Steve Rogers said as he shuffled the small pile of papers in front of him. “Unless anyone has anything else, I think we can call it a morning.”

Captain America paused a moment as he looked around the table at each of the Invaders, giving them the chance to add anything if they wanted. As meetings went, this one had gone pretty well, considering that with the divergent personalities involved, many gatherings turned into arguments.

“I have a question,” Namor said, the tone of his voice showing that he was obviously angry at something.

“Fire away, Namor,” the blond haired leader said, wondering what might’ve set off the volatile amphibian this time.

“I would like to know how long we are going to let ourselves be subjected to the ridicule of the so-called press,” Namor said, obviously making reference to something he had read in the newspaper in his hand.

“I wasn’t aware that we were being ridiculed,” the Captain replied, thinking that Namor often took umbrage at things that no one else gave a second thought to.

“I find that surprising as you are one of the two parties that some reporter’s comments have been directed at,” Namor went on, still holding the paper tightly in his fists.

“What exactly are you referring to?” The Human Torch asked, wondering how anyone could find anything negative to say about Captain America. You might as well try to degrade the flag itself, so closely did he live up to the ideas it represented.

“This,” the fleet footed Invader said as he tossed the paper on the table, open to the article that had bothered him so.

All eyes tried to read what had been written in the tabloid, but only the few on the right side of the table could make it out. Captain America was one of them and what it said caused a broad smile on his face.

“Namor, this is a gossip column,” he said, trying not to laugh.

“It is a column of lies,” Namor retorted.

“What’s it say?” Bucky asked his senior partner as he wasn’t in a position to read it himself.

“It suggests that there is something immoral between the Captain and our guest, Miss America,” Namor answered.

“What?” Miss America said, entering the conversation at the mention of her name.

“It merely suggests that there might be a romantic link between us,” Rogers quickly clarified, not wanting Madeline to think it was anything worse. We’ve seen this sort of thing before, it’s nothing to even pay attention to.”

“Unless it’s true,” Toro said under his breath, but loud enough for the sharp ears of most of those around the table to pick up.

“Which it’s not!” Captain America said in a strong voice of command, causing the junior Torch to blush in embarrassment.

A month before, Miss America had joined the Invaders on a temporary basis at the request of the War Department’s Press Office back in Washington. It had been brought to their attention that the only female Invader, Spitfire, was a British subject. It would be a great idea, they reasoned, to have an American as well. Someone millions of American women could identify with.

With her sudden appearance in their ranks, coupled with her sharing with Rogers a red, white and blue image, the rumors had begun to generate almost from day one. That Madeline was his girlfriend, come to England to be with him, was the least offensive of the stories. The Captain had simply ignored such gossip, never thinking that anyone would give it much credence in the first place.

The younger Invader had obviously thought otherwise. Truth be told, Cap’s own partner, Bucky had also entertained a few thoughts in that direction. That Madeline was beautiful was obvious, even to anyone who had only seen her in the costume and skullcap that left only her face uncovered. What she might look like out of that costume was also a question he’d considered. What teenage boy could look at that body and not think such thoughts, especially given the quite impressive bust that strained against her form fitting uniform.

“I hadn’t realized that anyone took this seriously,” Captain America said, more as a sop to Namor’s ego than anything else. “In light of it, perhaps we should change the line up for the personal appearances we have scheduled for this afternoon. Instead of Madeline and I appearing at the Ladies Auxiliary in Dartford, it might be better if Jacqueline goes with her instead. I’ll take Spitfire’s place at the parachute factory up over in Maidenhead. Any objection?”

The two female Invaders looked to each other, then back at the Captain. With Miss America the newest Invader, they had been making it a point to have her appear with one of the other members, rather than the solo appearances the rest made. That way the photos that went out on the wire services would clearly identify her as one of the Invaders rather than one of the lesser groups she had previously been associated with.

“No problem here,” Spitfire quickly replied, thinking it would give her and Madeline a chance to talk afterward. Something they had little time to do in the two weeks since they returned from Germany.

Miss America didn’t say a word, a silence the Captain took as acquiesce. Considering the matter settled, he brought the meeting to a close, reminding his fellow Invaders how much these personal appearances meant both to the people who attended these events, as well as the people who only got to see newsreels of them in the movie theaters or read about them in the papers and news magazines.

With that reminder in mind, the Invaders split into small groups that would spread out across the British Isles. Namor would use his airship to drop off those without the ability to fly, while the Torch and Toro would get to their destinations under their own power. The destination now assigned to Spitfire and Miss America was in London itself, within easy driving distance.

Aside from a not small measure of disappointment from the mostly female lunch time crowd at the absence of Captain America, the appearance of the two Invaders at Dartford was an unqualified success. After the standard speech the Ministry of War had supplied, highlighted by a few details that the crowd could identify with, Miss America and Spitfire agreed to pose for some photographs and answer a few questions.

Most of the questions were pretty routine, the sort of thing reporters usually asked. Then, just as they were bringing the impromptu press conference to a close, one of the female reporters asked the question that had led to the change in the appearance schedule in the first place. Madeline was sure that if Captain America had been here as originally planned, no one would’ve had the nerve to actually ask it.

“There’s been a lot of rumors about a relationship between you and Captain America,” the woman said, much to the surprise of some of her colleagues. “Would you care to comment on them?”

Thankfully, the question had been so much on Madeline’s mind over the last few hours that she had an answer ready to go. Even so, Spitfire could almost feel Miss America tense up before answering.

“Of course I have the greatest admiration for Captain America, as I’m was sure that everyone here does,” she replied, making it as short and to the point as she could, “but any relationship between the two of us is purely professional.”

The answer didn’t seem to satisfy the reporter who quickly asked a follow up question. This time, it was directed to both heroines, inquiring if either of them found it possible to have a love life out of costume.

This time is was Jacqueline who stepped forward to answer. With a knowing smile that had charmed the Press many times before, she simply ignored the question totally and said, “Thank you all for coming.”

The rest of the reporters gave them a round of applause as Miss America and Spitfire took a long moment to wave goodbye to the people who were standing behind the press. Then, they stepped behind the large backdrop that had been hung at the rear of the makeshift stage and disappeared from sight.

With a speed that none of the reporters, or anyone else who might care to follow, could match, the two women moved a few blocks to a building that served as a USO center. After entering through an open second floor window, they found a deserted room and changed into more non-descript clothing.

Jacqueline had been a member of a volunteer Civil Defense unit back when she first became Spitfire. Since that time, Winston Churchill himself had commissioned her an officer in the Women’s Royal Naval Service. It was into that Navy blue suit that she now changed.

Madeline wasn’t actually in the American military, but the Army-Air Force had supplied her with a cover identity that she could use when out of uniform, assigning her on paper at least to the Eighth Air Force. Being able to fly without the use of a plane seemed to qualify her to wear it if nothing else did.

In a city filled with representatives of the armies of a half dozen nations, there was no better way for them to simply blend in as they walked down the stairs and into the USO Center. The two young ladies drew a great deal of attention from the men that filled the large ballroom. Attention not unusual for women that looked like they did. Declining a few offers to dance or otherwise spend some time with the men in uniform, they quickly made their way to the street. Madeline seemed to just want to get past the crowd and out into the open, while Jacqueline obviously enjoyed the surge of interest.

“Would it really have hurt to dance with a few of them?” Jacqueline asked Madeline once they had reached the open sidewalk and walked down the block a ways.

“I’m really not that comfortable around a lot of men,” the American replied in a subdued tone.

“Well they’re no Captain America,” Jacqueline joked, “but some were pretty cute.”

“I hope you aren’t going to start with that now,” Madeline said defensively.

“It was a joke,” Jacqueline said, wondering why her friend was taking it so seriously. “Look, we’re been on the go almost non-stop for the last few weeks. Why don’t we find a nice restaurant, have an early dinner and relax?”

“Okay,” came the reply.

Jacqueline remembered that there was a marvelous restaurant only a few blocks way that her brother and she used to go to before the war. It was close enough to walk to, leaving her car parked where they had left it. The owner, John Carlson, remembered the daughter of Lord Falsworth and quickly led the two of them to his best table. It was situated in a backyard garden that afforded them a small measure of privacy so they could talk without being overheard.

“Madeline, is something bothering you?” Jacqueline asked after the restaurant owner had walked away to see to their order. It occurred to her that appearances to the contrary, the American hadn’t fully recovered from her ordeal.

“Why would you think that?” Madeline asked in turn.

“Well, the way that you seem to respond when anyone brings up the subject of you and Cap for one thing,” the British woman answered.

“For the last time, there’s absolutely nothing between me and Captain America,” Madeline said with an unexpected irritation in her tone.

“No one has said that there was,” Jacqueline responded, “but the way you answered even that simple question from a friend makes me wonder what else is wrong.

“I guess I’m just tired, that’s all,” Madeline said as the food arrived, bringing a temporarily halt to their conversation.

The food was as good as Jacqueline remembered it being, which was surprising since she knew that even the restaurants had to deal with rationing. Still, the resourceful old man had seen his business through the worst of times and would undoubtedly see it prosper again after this war was finally over.

“Is there kind of friction between you and Cap?” Jacqueline asked halfway through the meal, thinking that maybe a problem in that area was causing Madeline’s anger.

“None at all,” Madeline answered, this time in a calmer voice.

“Or is it that you want there to be something between the two of you?” Jacqueline inquired, changing her thought.

“There was a time when I thought I might have wanted that,” the American said, a reply that her British counterpart thought might be closer to the core of her problem. “I mean, what woman wouldn’t be interested in a man like that.”

Jacqueline had to agree with that assessment, remembering her own initial infatuation with the American Icon.

“But, as I’m sure you know as well as well I do,” Madeline continued, “Cap is married to the Flag and to suggest that he would be unfaithful to that would be as ridiculous as to say that President Roosevelt, or even General Eisenhower, would be unfaithful to their wives.”

“More’s the pity,” Jacqueline mused as the memory of her own fantasies about Steve Rogers caused a rush inside of her. “Just think of the kind of lover he’d be.”

“Actually,” Madeline said, “I’m pretty sure that Steve’s a virgin.”

“You’re kidding,” Jacqueline said in disbelief.

“Well I can’t be totally sure,” Madeline replied, “but from what I know about Project Rebirth, Steve was the original 98 pound weakling before the super-soldier serum. I don’t think he had any girlfriends.”

They finished with their dinners and were about to order a dessert to go with their coffee when Madeline asked Jacqueline if she could talk to her about something. Jacqueline assured her that she could talk to her about anything.

“It’s rather personal,” Madeline added.

“What I said still goes,” Jacqueline insisted. “Whatever you want to say goes no further than the two of us.”

“You might even find it offensive,” the auburn haired woman added.

“Whatever it is, I’m not going to be offended,” Jacqueline insisted even stronger.

Madeline hesitated a few long heartbeats, causing a pause that Jacqueline didn’t think it would be a good idea to break. Whatever was bothering her teammate, she would get to it on her own good time.

“What I said before, about me and Cap really wasn’t true,” Madeline admitted with some reluctance.

“There is something between the two of you?” Jacqueline said in surprise.

“No,” Madeline corrected. “What I mean is that I’ve never felt even the slightest attraction to him at all.”

“Well there’s nothing wrong with that,” the blond said, wondering why Madeline thought that admission so distasteful. “Perfect and gorgeous as he might be, not every woman has to go to pieces over Captain America. And since he’s made it abundantly clear that he’s not interested in a relationship with anyone, well then you’re probably better off than the rest of us who can only lust and dream about him.”

“You don’t understand,” Madeline said. “Any normal woman would at least have some interest in Steve Rogers, even if they knew there wasn’t the slightest chance of anything coming of it.”

“I think you’re overreacting,” Jacqueline interjected.

“And it’s not just Cap,” Madeline went on, ignoring the blonde’s remark. “Over the last few years, even before my accident, I’ve lost what little interest in men that I originally had. Look at the rest of the Invaders. I tried to justify not feeling anything about the Torch, telling myself that he’s not really human. And the Sub Mariner, well Namor is Namor. I told myself that I couldn’t imagine him being interested in any surface woman.”

Jacqueline knew her fellow Invaders a little better than Miss America. The Torch had once told her that when he had first tried to make war on the surface world, Namor had been held in check by a New York City Policewoman that he was enamored of. But now wasn’t the time to mention something like that.

“Madeline, I really think you’re making way too much of all this,” Jacqueline repeated, seeing that the woman across from her was again becoming agitated. “You probably just haven’t found your type yet.”

“Oh I’ve found my type,” the woman in the Army Air Force uniform said, having held back what she wanted to say for too long to stop now. “I’ve known my type since I was thirteen but I’ve done everything I could think of to deny it. Even including losing my virginity before my eighteenth birthday and having several affairs in college.”

Jacqueline sat silently, letting Madeline get it all out.

“When Lady Lotus had me last month, I actually enjoyed it,” Madeline continued. “Not the aspects of being a prisoner, but having her touch me. Of having her tell me she loved me.”

“She’s a telepath,” Jacqueline assured her. “She can put false thoughts in your mind and make you think anything. She made the Torch think he was in love with her and even turned him against us.”

“Jacqueline, the whole incident has made me realize what I can’t deny anymore.” Madeline said as she said the words that she wanted to for years. “I’m attracted to women, and always have been.”

Stillness filled the air as both women looked at each other. Madeline was sure that now that she had bared her most terrible secret, Jacqueline’s face would display the disgust that she most assuredly felt, perhaps even leaving in disgust. Instead, the blond merely smiled.

“So, is that so bad?” she asked in the softest of tones.

“Is that so bad?” Madeline repeated, her tone anything but soft. “It makes me some kind of freak.”

“So says the woman who can fly to one who can outrun a locomotive,” Jacqueline quipped.

“It’s not the same thing,” Madeline replied, not seeing the humor in the situation.

“You think you’re the only one who has ever felt that way?” Jacqueline asks.

That answer gave Madeline pause.

“Obviously, the schools is the States must be a lot different than the ones here in England,” Jacqueline said. “At least the ones I went to.”

“You?” Madeline asked, seeing where the conversation was going.

“I’ve been having sex with other girls since I was 14,” Jacqueline smiled, choosing her words carefully as to leave no doubt as to what she meant. “It was the odd girl who hadn’t at least tried it once.”

Madeline has heard stories about some of the upper class British schools, but they had always been about some of the male students. She never imagined that they held true for the female ones as well.

“Look, this isn’t really the best place to discuss something like this,” Jacqueline said. “I know a place about an hour’s drive east of here, out by the Channel, that’s a lot more private.”

Filled with a profound sense of relief over the knowledge that she wasn’t alone in her feelings, Madeline quickly agreed. Jacqueline left a few coins on the table to cover their dinner and the two of them got up to leave.

In the last year, traffic had been made twice as bad by the large number of military vehicles that filled the streets and it took almost twice that time to reach their destination. An eternity to one who could fly. When they finally pulled up into a carefully manicured garden, Madeline found themselves in front of a large building that reminded her of one of the many gentlemen’s clubs that had been pointed out to her when she had first come to London.

As they walked up the flower-lined path to the front entrance, Madeline remarked on the resemblance. A comment that made Jacqueline laugh since, she explained, the edifice in front of them was pretty much a very similar place, and just as old. Reaching the front porch, she pointed out a small plaque by the door that read - Lady Jane’s - established 1887. Before Madeline could ask about what it meant, the large metal trimmed door opened from the inside.

The interior of the building was as expensively decorated as the outside grounds. The furnishings all dated from Victorian times, most of it priceless antiques that reflected the elegance of an earlier age. An age of innocence, that in reality was not quite so.

“Miss Jacqueline!” a dark haired girl who had met them at the door exclaimed when she recognized the familiar face. “It’s been so long since we’ve seen you here.”

“Hello Daphne,” Jacqueline replied with a smile as they stepped inside. “It’s nice to see you again.

Daphne Ward was a short, plump, round-faced nineteen year old with an infectious smile and a large bust barely contained by the traditional maid’s uniform she wore. Normally, she tried to always maintain the proper decorum, but felt herself on the verge of throwing her arms around the new arrival.

Jacqueline felt no compunction about breaking traditions, and seeing the younger woman holding back, threw her own arms around Daphne’s stout form. As she hugged her, the daughter of Lord Falsworth gave the serving girl an affectionate kiss on the cheek.

“This is my friend, Madeline,” Jacqueline said as she indicated the woman who had entered with her.

“Hello,” the young woman said as she slipped out of their embrace. “A friend of Miss Jacqueline is always welcome.”

“Is Lady Penelope in residence today?” Jacqueline asked as Daphne closed the door behind them.

“Yes Ma’am,” Daphne said. “I know she will be equally happy to see you. Shall I go and find her for you?”

“No, thank you,” Jacqueline said, “I’m sure I’ll have no trouble finding her myself. I know you have a lot of other guests to take care of.”

The girl gave the older woman one last smile, then hurried off to take care of her duties.

And of those guests Jacqueline mentioned, there appeared to be many. Scattered across the open rooms of the first floor, Madeline estimated were over a hundred people. Given the size of the nineteenth century house, that number could easily triple. Even more remarkable was that they were all women.

Women of every possible size and shape, ranging in age from their early twenties to even a few in their late seventies. Many of them were in military uniforms, something not really uncommon in wartime London, but interesting nevertheless.

“What does the plaque outside mean?” Madeline asked as she remembered wondering about it.

“Well the club had to be called something,” Jacqueline said as she searched the crowds as they passed through several rooms. “And something not too obvious. It was originally called something else, but they changed it to Lady Jane’s a few decades ago.”

“Who was Lady Jane?” Madeline asked.

“She was the daughter of Professor Archimedes Porter, one of your countrymen actually, who went off to Africa around the turn of the century. The story goes, if you can believe it, that she met some sort of ape-man over there and stayed to be his wife. The rest of the tale is even more unbelievable, people claim that this ape man was really an English Lord.”

“You know, there was a time that I would’ve said that was a crazy story,” Madeline noted. “But after all that I’ve seen the last year or so, I don’t know.”

“I think I’d have to agree with you there,” Jacqueline said as she continued her search. “But it seemed an innocuous name, much better suited than the previous choice.”

The look on Madeline’s face made it obvious that she couldn’t wait to hear what name was. Jacqueline didn’t disappoint her.

“Victoria’s Secret,” she said.

Now the look on Madeline’s face turned to confusion as she thought that name made even less sense.

“Back during the reign of Queen Victoria, a few years before the club was founded,” Jacqueline noted, “they brought a law for her signature that outlawed homosexuality. The language of the bill was quite specific, applying to both men and women as far as same sex relationships. The Queen, however, couldn’t bring herself to believe that women were capable of any such thing. So before affixing her signature, she crossed out all references to lesbianism. So in effect, male homosexuality was a crime, but lesbianism was still perfectly legal.”

“That’s some story.”

“There was quite a bit of support for the name, some even suggesting that old Victoria might’ve had an ulterior motive in striking out those passages,” Jacqueline concluded, “but calmer heads prevailed and the name was finally discarded as being both too provocative and perhaps too close to the truth about the club’s membership.”

That truth finally hit Madeline with the force of one of the six by six army trucks that they had passed on the way here. It was enough to leave her speechless for a few seconds.

“You mean all the women here are...” she finally said, hesitating to even say it.

“ ... just like you,” Jacqueline completed her sentence.

Madeline took a slow, long look around the room, seeing it again in a different perspective. The American rarely forgot a name or face, and as she looked at those around her, she was amazed at how many of the people she recognized. Most of them had been introduced to her at various functions since she’d come to England. A number of which, she remembered, were conspicuously married.

Only a dozen feet away were two women she recognized as being members of Parliament. With them was a Congresswoman visiting from the States. On the other side of the room was a reporter for one of the major New York Papers, one whose column appeared in a dozen papers nationwide. There was even one older woman who Madeline remembered being introduced to at a reception as a cousin of the King.

Aside from the more famous people, the American visitor was also taken back at the number of ordinary people as well. She barely took note before of the number of young women in uniform that were scattered around the building. After all, Jacqueline and herself wore them and there were few places you could go in the city and not see uniforms.

Now on closer examination, she realized that aside from the mixture of nationalities, there was also a broad mixture of ranks as well. Something that you didn’t normally see. Many of the women were enlisted personnel and they mixed with the officers as natural as could be. Some of these faces were recognizable too, a number of them being clerks and secretaries on the staff at Supreme Headquarters.

It was at that moment that Jacqueline finally found the object of her search. Or to be more specific, she found her as Lady Penelope waved to her from across the crowded room and quickly made her way to them.

The woman making her way throw the crowd, stood five foot nine with thick brown hair, done up in an elaborate styling. The low cut, and quite revealing, blue dress she wore had come from the finest shop in Paris before the war. The body that filled that dress was one that in another age, men would fight duels over. Her every movement signaled grace and dignity.

“Jacqueline, how marvelous to see you,” the tall brunette said as she leaned forward and gave Jacqueline a not so chaste kiss. “I was overjoyed when Daphne told me that you had joined us this evening.”

“It’s nice to see you too,” Jacqueline replied, the emotion in her voice quite evident.

“And who is your lovely friend?” Lady Penelope asked as she cast an appraising look at Madeline.

“This is Madeline Joyce,” she said as she smiled in the younger woman’s direction.

“It is a genuine pleasure to meet you, Madeline,” Lady Penelope said as she took the American’s hand and softly held it in her own. “The only nice thing I can say about this horrible war is that it has brought so many lovely ladies as yourself to our island home.”

“Thank you,” Madeline said, feeling the warmth both of Penelope’s touch and her smile.

“Penelope and I went to school together,” Jacqueline explained. “In fact, we were roommates. For a while, our parents thought she might marry my brother, Brian.”

“Something that thankfully didn’t come to pass,” Penelope laughed. “No reflection on my dear Brian, of course.”

“Of course,” Jacqueline laughed as well.

Watching the interplay between the two, Madeline was sure that in school at least, Jacqueline and Penelope had been much more than just roommates.

“I do hope that you will be joining us for dinner,” the Club Mistress said. “As you can see, we have a full house tonight, but I’m sure that we can make room for two more.”

“Actually, there is something I’d like to talk to you about,” Jacqueline said in a low tone. “In private.” she added.

“Of course, Jacqueline,” Penelope replied as she indicated a small alcove off the main room.

Telling Madeline she would be right back, Jacqueline left her to make small talk with some of the other guests and followed her old friend into the niche. Madeline watched her until she passed out of sight, then accepted a glass of wine from one of the serving girls and began to listen to a discussion going on among a group of women.

“Now what can I do for my most loved of friends,” Lady Penelope asked as she turned around in the alcove. “Could I dare hope that you’ve come back to rescue me from my lonely nights?”