Intemperance Volume 2 Standing On TopChapter 16c
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SamChapter 16C free porn video
I felt a lot more confident about things when I had the dirt and diesel fumes washed off. We brushed our hair and while Neeka applied her makeup, I adjusted mine to 'party' level, with more color in more places and highlights on the parts of my body that I planned to show.
I clipped on my new charm-chain onto my rings so that it hung in a shallow arc between my breasts, with the tiny silver dragon I had bought right in the middle of it. A blue halter-dress with a wide plunging neckline showed it off very nicely. I even put on the tallest pair of heels I thought I could wear without embarrassing myself, so I would look sophisticated — and taller. If I was going to be standing next to Steve most of the night, I didn't want to look like a munchkin.
After seeing me all decked out, Neeka went to her room to see if she had brought anything suitable to wear. She came back in a slinky form-fitting green dress and matching shoes.
"This was not in that closet before," she said. "I don't have anything as bold as this."
The dress had thin straps and a scoop neck cut so low that she would fall out of it if she bent over too far. In the back the straps crossed to hold the top up and the middle on, but otherwise was low enough to show a pair of dimples that normally couldn't be seen. A green scarf around her neck set off her red hair perfectly.
"I don't think you need three guesses where that came from," I said.
"There is a label in it, but it's in French and I don't recognize the name. Do you think I should wear this? Isn't it too much?"
"No, take it off. It's just too lovely. You'll upstage me terribly and I can't have that."
"You brat! Just for that, I'm wearing it anyway."
We cheated and took the little elevator down to the first floor, so the only stairs we had to negotiate were the ones down to the family room. When we started down, the sound of conversation and laughter floated up the stairs to us. When we arrived at the bottom, there was a very gratifying silence, disrupted after a few seconds by a long wolf-whistle from Bud.
"Sorry," he said, when several heads turned to give him a reproachful look. "That just popped out. But, wow! You two look great!"
"You certainly do," Steve said to me, although I noticed that he gave Neeka a thorough once-over first. I stepped to his side and put my arm in his, some to be stylish and affectionate, but mostly for support. He noticed that he wasn't looking as far down as he was accustomed to and he made a short bow to check out my high-heels.
"Am I tall enough?" I whispered to him as he escorted me to the sofa.
"You are perfect at any height," he replied, and I felt a foot taller right away.
Neeka sat down with Jim and Bud on either side of her, and I wasn't the slightest bit jealous that she had two men to my one. Well, maybe just a little, but I wouldn't have traded with her, anyway.
Mom had drinks poured and she served from a tray what I was grateful to find was ginger-ale and not something alcoholic. She and Mrs. Morgan had real drinks in their hands. I could smell the bourbon from ten feet away.
Everyone got comfortable - Jim and Bud negotiated silently for who got to put his arm around the ravishing redhead — I sacrificed my preferred spot on Steve's lap for a more genteel position at his side — and Mom and Mrs. Morgan cozied up discreetly but comfortably on the love-seat. I noticed that the TV was on, but with the sound turned all the way down. The local news was on and they were running the aerial footage of the battle on Highway 17.
This was the first time I had seen it and I was surprised at how close the long lens on the helicopter's camera made everything look. When Neeka dropped me off in back of the tank, the camera zoomed in tight on my face and stayed there a few seconds before pulling back quickly to a wider shot of me climbing up. It was amazing how effective my animated make-up looked on the TV screen. I looked very carefully, but still could not make out my own features under the Dragon's moving image.
"See?" Steve said, pointing at the screen as the small figure stood still on top of the big vehicle; looking around casually, as though the tank were my personal tour bus. All I needed was a camera around my neck. "That's when I knew it was you. You had me totally fooled up to that point, but one look at that and I said, 'that's Sam'."
The part where I tried to open the hatch, then slapped and stomped on it, looked more heroic than it felt at the time. When I jumped off to land far enough away so if I fell I wouldn't be run over, the TV camera lost me and didn't pick me up again until I was running back to the demolished patrol cars. I looked like I was moving a lot faster on TV than it had felt like I was when I was doing it. The camera jerked a couple of times while trying to track me, so the camera operator widened the shot again and kept it that way while I rooted through the pile, looking for something to use as a clapper for the bell-on-treads.
The image of me hitting the tank was informative. It clearly showed the tank shaking under the force of each blow and jumping back on its springs after the last one. That explained my impression that I had knocked it backwards. It was still very impressive to see me whacking away at the thing and making it stop in its tracks.
I didn't want to watch the man come out of the driver's hatch and fall to the ground again, but I couldn't help it. The body language of the small figure on the screen was clear. It turned away, visibly bothered by the sight. I expected the camera to zoom in on the tank-jacker on the ground, but it continued to track me and then the two of us on the bike as we sped away. From the high angle, the kiss I blew to the men from the Armory looked more like a salute, which really fit the situation better and I wished I'd thought of doing that instead, especially since the last thing you could see before the bike got too far away and the copter started chasing it, was one of the deputies at the road-block raising his hand to his cap palm-down as we streaked by.
The rest of the footage was just the occasional glimpse of us through the branches of trees and they cut that mercifully short. The talking head that came on after shared the screen with a still frame of me standing on the tank — fortunately looking better than goofy in the freeze-frame they picked — with a banner under it saying, 'She-Dragon Stops Stolen Tank'.
"That's sexist!" I said. "If I were a boy, they wouldn't call me a He-Dragon!"
"You're going to have to get used to that, honey," Mom said. "From these pictures, they can tell just two things about you, that you have the face of a dragon and a female figure."
"A very female figure," Bud said, laughing. Steve smiled at me like he had wanted to say that, but wasn't sure if it would be rude in the present company.
The TV had gone to a screen with a 'Live' banner across the bottom. When I saw Sheriff Foster step up to a podium, I pointed and said, "Turn that up please. I'd like to hear this."
Bud raised the clicker and ran the volume up just in time to catch the obligatory 'please hold your questions until the end' request that would doubtless go unheeded. When the camera flashes subsided and the noise level dropped Sheriff Foster read a short statement from a piece of wrinkled paper.
"By now you all will have seen the footage and heard the reports of the remarkable events that took place just a few hours ago on Highway 17. A man who we are presently trying to identify broke into the National Guard Armory compound at approximately 2:15pm and stole an Abrams M1A1 Main Battle Tank while it was undergoing routine maintenance. We have ascertained that the tank was fully-fueled and that it was carrying live ammunition for its cannon."
A voice from off camera shouted out, "Was he a terrorist?"
The Sheriff frowned at the interruption and said, "The suspect is currently being treated at County General Hospital. As he is unable as yet to answer questions, we are working to identify him through fingerprint records. We have no information at this time about whether he is a terrorist or not. He did drive the tank through the security fence at the Armory as well as causing some damage to the main building. He did try to run over two officers of the State Police who attempted to detain him. While they were able to escape unharmed, he did destroy their vehicles as well as some right-of-way lights on the highway. When it became apparent that there was imminent danger to lives and property, the Sheriff's Office, in conjunction with the Highway Patrol and the National Guard, requested the assistance of an individual who has ably assisted local law enforcement on previous occasions when extreme circumstances have required her unique abilities and skills. Because of considerations of security, I am unable to give you any information about her other than that she is known as The Dragon and that we all owe her our heartfelt thanks for dealing so effectively with this danger to the citizens of our county.
"Thank you for your patience and I will now be happy to answer any questions I can. Yes."
"Sheriff Foster," a voice shouted, drowning out the others, "What we saw today was nothing short of incredible. The strength of this Dragon—person is phenomenal! Surely you can tell us more about her?"
"Sorry, under the agreement this office has with the Agency she works for, I cannot give you any further information about her."
"He knows that's not true," I said.
"But it gets him off the hook for withholding the information," Mom said. "Everyone will assume, just as he did, that you work for some super-secret government agency."
After more shouted demands for details about me, the Sheriff responded, "If there is a breach of secrecy, we might lose her assistance in the future. I don't want to risk that." He pointed to another reported, saying, "Yes — in the seersucker coat."
"Sheriff, is it true that this maniac was driving the stolen tank toward a school when he was stopped by this Dragon girl?"
"He was heading north in the direction of Southside Elementary and Ringling Middle School. Both are along that stretch of road. As are the Grantland and Ricefield subdivisions."
Off camera, a woman's voice could be heard shouting, "My daughter goes to Southside!" At that, a number of people in the room voiced similar exclamations about their connections to the area. It took several seconds to restore order before the next question could be taken,
"You said The Dragon has helped with other situations in the past. Can you tell us about those?"
"No. Sorry. To do so would compromise a valuable asset that we are not prepared to lose. I will say that she has assisted in several cases in a variety of ways. In each situation, she was able to bring about a quick and satisfactory resolution. Although, quite frankly, I was as surprised as any of you when she revealed for the first time that her abilities are far greater than any of us had thought. Now if that's all, you'll have to excuse me..."
Sheriff Foster left the podium under a barrage of questions that he ignored and the screen went back to the news studio, where they started playing the tape again. Bud muted the sound, but left the TV on.
"'Not prepared to lose'," Mrs. Morgan quoted, "That's good to hear. He sounds like he's committed to keeping your identity a secret."
"More importantly," Mom said, "he's telling the other law enforcement people what will happen if they don't go along. Did you notice the part about 'in conjunction with the Highway Patrol and the National Guard'? He's sharing the glory with the State people. They probably asked most of the same questions that the reporters did."
"You mean I might start getting calls from them, too?" I asked.
"Honey, I wouldn't be at all surprised if you get calls from the Governor himself."
"Wow!"
"Yes, it's a good thing graduation is coming up. You may have a busy summer ahead of you. Now I think we'd better leave for the restaurant so you kids can be back by bedtime. I think they'll hold the table for us, but it would be rude to be late."
"We'll need to go in two cars," Steve said. "I can take someone in mine."
"You can take me... anytime," I quipped.
"Gladly! Anyone else?"
Neeka wanted to come with us and Jim came along with her. That left Sara and Bud with Mom and Mrs. Morgan. I wondered who would be chaperoning whom.
"Hey, Steve!" Jim said, holding out a familiar package as we climbed the stairs. "I guess you can carry this tonight."
Steve took it and turned the thick pad this way and that. "OK, I give up," he said. "What is it?"
"It's my booster-seat," I said. "I sit on it when we go out so I can sit at the table like an adult, instead of peaking over the edge of the table with my chin in my plate."
"Oh, of course. Sorry, Sam. I just don't think of you as being short."
I wanted to drag Steve down on the couch and have my way with him right then and there. I settled for squeezing his hand, which I would let go of only when forced to do so. I thought of several possible reasons for that comment. One, he was dumb as a post, which I knew wasn't the case. Two, he was making nice and paying me a compliment. Three, he was perfectly serious and the difference in our heights wasn't something that he thought about much, if at all. Either way, it gave me a warm feeling
"Judge me by my size, do you?" Bud squawked, in a poor but recognizable imitation of a famous movie character. He almost messed up my good mood by comparing me to a short, ugly green Muppet and he was about to recite the entire speech when I reached out a hand and mimed choking him. His smile turned into an expression of stark terror when Neeka's hand tightened on his throat from behind at the same instant as I closed my fingers on air.
We all laughed like hyenas at Bud's reaction. When he recovered from being startled, he did too. My good mood returned. Neeka and I had done a perfect illustration of how the speed of thought can make a great team into an unbeatable one. When he quit laughing, Steve looked suitably impressed.
"I see how this works," he said. "Four eyes, four ears, four arms, one brain. Who does the thinking?"
"If it's a tactical situation — me," I said, as we got into his car. "If we're making a plan or trying to work something out, it's whoever has the best idea. It just looks like we're not discussing it, because it happens so fast."
"Also," Neeka said, "we're so in tune that whoever thinks of something first, that's usually what we do. We never argue. Well, almost never. Sometimes Sam will want to do something that I think is way dangerous, but since it's her skin, and she always manages to pull it off, I would have a tough time talking her out of it."
"Like the tank business," I added. "I had an idea, but I didn't know it would work until I had checked out the tank. When I hit it with my hand and heard the sound reverberate inside, I thought I had a chance if I could smack it hard enough with something heavy."
"Getting him to turn and follow us was just luck," she said. "I didn't really expect him to follow the bike, but when he lost sight of Sam, I must have been his most tempting target. Nice car, by the way."
"It's boxy, but it's a classic," Steve said, patting the dashboard. "I got it used, of course. But the resale should still be high when I'm ready to trade up in a couple of years. And it runs good, too."
"You drive it very well," Neeka said, "If a little slowly. You need to speed up if you want to keep up with Mrs. Reynolds."
"Don't listen to her," I said. "She thinks anything under a hundred is poking along."
"Yes, I know. I saw her shoot the gap between those patrol cars. Neeka, you can sure handle a bike." Steve sounded genuinely impressed and I felt a brief flash of jealousy at hearing my boyfriend compliment another girl.
"Thanks!" Neeka replied. "You have no idea how glad I am to hear someone say that. Usually all I hear is 'Oh my God! Slow down!' and some loud screaming from the back of the bike. It's really annoying."
"Careful there," I said. "Next time, I might just take a taxi."
"Ha!" she laughed sharply, "And I'll be there a half hour before you, telling everyone how you were too chicken to ride with me."
"Riding with you is a religious experience. I pray every time. Of course, all I ever pray for is to get there in one piece."
"OK! OK!" Jim shouted us down before we got rolling. I was a little disappointed, to tell the truth. Neeka was giving as good as she got and that was both unusual for her and a good thing, as far as I was concerned.
"Oh, let them go on," Steve said. "Having them slag each other off is better than listening to them complain about my driving."
"You drive just fine, sweetie," I told him.
"Yeah," Neeka said, giving Jim a poke in the ribs to keep him quiet. "If we run too late, we can always order a pizza to be delivered at the next intersection."
Steve fell far enough behind Mom so that I thought for sure we had been left behind. It was a surprise to me when he pulled into the parking lot at The Olive Grove. Apparently he had known where we were headed. I guess that was just one more thing that had gone on without me knowing about it.
By chance, Steve parked the car very close to the spot where I had taken down the guy who tried to kidnap Sheriff Foster. I was looking at the car parked in that spot, remembering that night when Steve surprised me by running around and opening my door for me. I was briefly embarrassed at the possibility that he thought I was waiting on him to do that. I was certainly capable of opening my own door and I wasn't one of those girls who get huffy if a guy doesn't try to anticipate every little thing I want them to do for me. When he reached out a hand to assist me in getting out of the car, I tried to be gracious about it and took it, leaning on it as though I needed the help. It cost me nothing, but to Steve it meant his courtesy and assistance was appreciated.
I was learning that in a relationship, it isn't how you feel about each other, but how you make each other feel. Not in the big obvious ways, like making love, or telling someone you love them, but in little ways. Sometimes, the small things matter the most. One moment of unthinking pettiness can undo ten moments of tenderness. Rudeness and discourtesy are corrosive. They eat away at relationships until they fall apart.
As soon as I stepped out of the car, I found that all my philosophizing was beside the point. Walking across a gravel parking-lot in heels while trying to look sophisticated is impossible. I held onto Steve's arm and gratefully accepted all the support he could provide. We strolled casually across to the front door and you would never have guessed that he was carrying most of my weight. By the time we got onto firm footing again, I had retracted any bad things I may have made about big lunks with bulging muscles. They can sure come in handy when you need them.
Once inside, I found that Connie had been reassigned from Waitress to Hostess duty. She was holding the door and welcoming everyone as they came in. I was the next to last in line and she spared the hunk behind me only the briefest flirty smile before she wrapped her arms around me and hugged me like I was her long-lost sister.
"Sam! How are you? Oh, I'm so glad to see you!"
The 'Mr. Morton' dress I was wearing was more drape-and-hang than cinch-to-fit. It wasn't designed for enthusiastic hugs. When she let go, I had to check to see if anything had popped out.
"I'm great, Connie. How have you been?"
"Wonderful! I'm so glad you came tonight. I've been wanting to call you, but I've been so busy I just haven't had time. After that fantastic party and the pep talk you gave me, I was so excited, I couldn't wait. I checked with the college first thing Monday and they have a summer session that will be starting in a few weeks, so I enrolled in it. It's remedial stuff, mostly. Designed for borderline students like me, I'm afraid. But I can use it to get my average up and get back up to speed before the Fall semester starts."
"So if the summer session hasn't started, what have you been doing to stay so busy for the last three days?"
"Studying! I went back to the textbooks I didn't read before, and I sat down to read them without thinking of them as coursework. It's made a world of difference! I keep finding out interesting things that I want to know more about. I've been haunting the library like Banquo's ghost."
"Like who?"
"A product of a guilty conscience. That and a new interest in freshman-level Shakespeare. But nevermind that. I'm so glad to see you again. Thank you for getting my head turned around. I feel like a new person."
"You're welcome, but you're the one doing all the work. Is this why you're not waiting tables?"
"Indirectly. Uncle Sergio got mad when I was late for my shift, but when he found out where I had been and what I had been doing, he made me the Hostess. It's easier and I get to leave early so I can go home and study some more after work."
"But no tips?"
"Oh, we don't get to keep our own tips. They go into a pot and everyone gets a cut. This is a family business, remember. None of us is going to starve."
"Well, I might, if I don't get some food pretty quick."
"Oh, I'm sorry. You're in the back room. It's this way. I'm just so glad to see you. I had to tell you all about it. I've been so into my books that I even missed the excitement this afternoon. Did you get to see any of it?"
"You mean The Dragon and Ace fighting the stolen tank? I missed seeing it on TV until just a little while ago. I must have caught the umpteenth rerun." The media didn't know Neeka's nom de guerre, as she put it, but I figured it would do no harm to drop it. If it spread as I hoped, it would become something that 'everyone knew', but no one knew how they knew. If anyone traced it back to me, I could always claim to just have heard it somewhere else.
"I had no idea people like that even existed, never mind one living here! Everyone who's come in tonight has been talking about it. It's the most exciting thing to happen around here that I can remember."
"Really! Does anyone think they know who she is?"
"No! No one has a clue about either of them. They're just a mysterious pair of superheroes who appeared out of nowhere and vanished before anyone could talk to them. We had to move Sheriff Foster into the same private room as your party to keep people from pestering him."
"Foster is here?"
"Yes, I hope you don't mind. There is plenty of room. The room seats twenty. He and his wife came in about forty-five minutes ago. They should be on their dessert by now."
"No, that's fine. I'd like to say hello to him."
I got my chance right away. When Connie showed us in, Sheriff Foster was standing by his table holding his napkin in his hand and chatting with Mom. A cup of coffee and an untouched dish of tiramisu sat at his place on the table. He must have been asking after me because Mom gestured at me and I walked right over.
"Good evening Sheriff," I said. "How are you tonight?"
"Just fine, Sam. Just great. You remember the Mrs?"
"Yes. How do you do, Mrs. Foster?"
"I'm doing very well, thank you. It's good to see you again." She reached out her right hand to me and I clasped it with my left. She held on well beyond the brief grasp and release that usually passes for a handshake between women in polite society. I got the impression she wanted to tell me something, but not here and now.
Her slight emphasis on 'again' could have meant 'since this afternoon' or it could have referred to our earlier encounter in the parking lot. I couldn't tell which. I smiled and nodded, trying to acknowledge whichever she meant, as well as her familiarity. I broke her gaze and she released my hand at that. I turned to her husband, whose normal down-home charm seemed to be worn thin by all the attention he must have received. I felt sorry for him, but he chose public service, and the public life that went with it. I just wanted to remain anonymous.
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