Author: Thinking Horndog
Title: Shopping Around
Part: 1 of 6
Universe: The Swarm
Summary: A side jaunt before a pickup nets a Confederacy Marine a hidden jewel

Keywords: MF M+F Mf oral anal noncon reluc exhib ScFi

Shopping Around

Copyright © 2007 The Thinking Horndog

Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyrighted with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. Reproduction for profit is
forbidden.  Any distribution must include this note and the author's email
address. Don’t be caught attempting to make a buck off me!

Warnings and disclaimers:

This is adult entertainment!  Be warned!  If you’re not into graphic
depictions of sex, this is the wrong story for you!  If you’re too young to be
legally reading this, move along!

This is a work of fiction.  It is not intended to reflect any particular
person or persons, and the incidents portrayed exist in their current form
solely in the writer’s imagination.  You get the idea.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 1

	There were things you just couldn't get in the colonies; while
replicators would replicate just about anything, by definition, you had to
have an original to start with.  So here Pete stood in a card shop, feeling
mildly foolish.  On the other hand, the old flowers and candy and 'If you love
me, why don't you buy me a huge diamond?' culture was by the wayside in the
colonies -- the stack of a half-dozen unsullied cards in his hand was going to
make him a popular guy and probably get him laid several times...

	The older woman at the counter stepped aside as he got there, and Pete
found himself pausing to examine the replacement.

	She was big -- tall, that is, but sized to match -- and although she
was probably in heels, her height was close to his.  Since CPL Pete Taylor was
the regulation augmented Confederacy Marine Corps two meters tall (that's six
feet six and three-quarters inches for those of you not yet on the metric
system...) it was quite a height for a woman.  The thick, shoulder-length hair
was blonde, but in a shade that just might be natural.  There was a nice bit
of high, soft cleavage there, discreetly displayed under a plain, white blouse
-- very understated and businesslike.  The hands that reached for his little
collection of cards were smooth, long-fingered, and meticulously manicured;
Pete was pretty sure it wasn't a French manicure, but rather clean nails under
clear lacquer -- very nice!  And they also sported no rings...

	The face held a neutral expression that managed to convey a bit of
wistfulness; her downcast eyes said she had seen him and would have liked to
initiate something, but she knew that it would only bring another rejection.
She would stick to business and not make a fool of herself putting herself out
there...

	That wasn't what Pete thought about the whole thing.  The little red
dots and acne scars under the carefully applied makeup were the only flaws in
sight -- and he knew that they, while they left even bigger emotional scars,
no doubt, were NOTHING...

	Dockers and a golf shirt weren't going to hide who and what Pete was
-- but he watched that realization come secondary to her already poorly
concealed attraction when he opened his wallet.  Pete froze, thinking
furiously; apparently, there was more to be had at the card store than cards,
if he had the balls to move on it.

	Pete's CAP score ran just over seven -- but he was alone.  The pair of
mall rats he'd been saddled with at extraction had been worthless for just
about everything -- including fucking; shopping was not a highly prized skill
in the colonies.  On the trip out to the colonies, he'd passed up several
offers to trade, despite his dissatisfaction with his concubines, because what
was being offered SEEMED to be less than what he had -- but he'd regretted the
whole thing later.  When he got his assignment -- a long cruise with the
squids to recon worlds deep in Swarm territory -- he'd dumped the silly
bitches on the Civil Service rep, hoping that maybe he could get something out
of them; at least they would be under supervision -- which they required,
constantly.  Personally, he hoped that all three of their holes had been worn
right out and they had thirteen kids apiece, now...

	Nadia, the platoon camp-follower, had been nice, but a bit too sharp-
edged.  Occasionally, a squid would hand out his steward -- usually to punish
her for fucking up in some way -- which was a fuck, but not exactly
emotionally ideal.

	When they got back after seeing some pretty tired and tattered planets
-- the Swarm sucked a world dry -- he came home to his empty pod for a week's
shore leave.  There was a lot of extremely willing pussy to be had at the
Civil Service crèche, but it was either pregnant or willing to do anything to
get out, or both -- and it usually had issues of some type, or it wouldn't
have been parked in the crèche in the first place...  Pete's inquiries about
his late possessions yielded the information that some platoon had shipped
with them as camp-followers; Pete figured they'd probably been the subjects of
an experiment in observing the effects of hard vacuum on a human body...

	After a week, he put in for reassignment and got a tour doing pickup
cruises -- and he'd learned a lot.  Pussy was fairly easily had during
extractions and he'd watched and learned from the mistakes of multiple others,
but not gone looking for replacements.

	Not until today, anyway...

	When she reached for his universal credit card (all Confederacy
citizens had what amounted to an unlimited drawing account) he withdrew it,
placing his hand over hers.  "I'm not finished, now that I think of it.  These
things," he waved the cards, "are like gold -- but I really need to make sure
I get the most mileage from them.  Could you help me pick out something really
special," he examined her nametag, unable to keep his eyes from sliding left
to examine the deep soft valley between her breasts, "...ummm, Maureen?"

	"Um, certainly, Sir."  The tone was businesslike and respectful -- but
she turned a beautiful pink color.  "Edith?"

	The older woman glanced around the store and stopped checking the
contents of a box of new cards.  There were perhaps two other customers, and
the man already had eight or ten cards in his hand.  "Go ahead, Dear."  The
undercurrents didn't really penetrate to her.

	Pete didn't let go of Maureen's hand; instead, he used it to lead her
around the counter and toward the racks.  "They have to be romantic -- oh, I
could probably get some birthday cards, too, but primarily they should
probably be for lovers."

	"Wives?" Maureen asked.

	Pete shook his head.  "That's not the new way..."  It was a
declaration that he was DEFINITELY a citizen of the Confederacy -- as if
several other things hadn't made that same announcement...

	"I'm sure we can find something..." Maureen said through a dry throat.

	Pete handed her his original collection.  "What do you think of
these?"

	Maureen checked through them; obviously, this outing with her was an
afterthought -- otherwise, these would have probably just been window-
dressing.  These cards weren't a random selection off the rack -- they were
targeted per his description, and showed good taste.  So why was she here?

	Pete took the opportunity to step back and take her in from behind.
The knee-length grey skirt was flared enough to allow her to squat and work on
the lower shelves without difficulty, yet perfect as business wear -- and
softly framed a nice, plush ass.  The heels were -- as predicted -- two inch
-- and sturdy, not spindly eveningwear.  And they framed nice ankles that led
upward to nice calves...

	Pete took too long -- Maureen was looking at him over her shoulder.
"Ummm..."  She licked her lips.  'He couldn't be...'

	Pete stepped up beside her and indicated the stack of cards with his
left hand -- while his right circled her waist.  "Well?"

	"They're, uh, fine..." she croaked, thinking, 'Omigawd!  He IS!'

	"How about helping me pick some more?" he asked.  "Stuff like this is
hard to come by where I come from -- you can't imagine how much it is
appreciated..."

	"Sure..."  Maureen covered herself by pretending, at least, to examine
the cards in front of her.

	Pete didn't know where the nerve to be so incredibly fresh was coming
from -- maybe he'd seen enough to know that the old rules just didn't apply.
But he felt somewhat light-headed as he leaned over her shoulder, deliberately
pressing his erection against the crack of her ass...

	Maureen gasped.  Okay, she'd had a couple of short relationships --
more like one-night stands.  She knew what sex was.  But nobody -- NOBODY --
had EVER done THAT!  Her hands shook as she pawed the rack, pretending to be
looking for cards, thinking furiously.  Okay, she knew what he was -- or did
she?  This was the chance of a lifetime -- or a REALLY cruel joke...
Hesitantly, she pressed back...

	Pete let out a huge sigh.  "Find anything?" he asked, leaning further
forward and sliding his hand around her waist.

	"N--no..." Maureen stuttered.  Desperately, she hunted around,
snatching a card and reading the contents quickly.  "What about this?"

	"Let me see..."  Pete leaned up where he could breathe in her ear and
examined the card.  "Mmmm, that's not bad..."

	Maureen glanced around.  "W--why are you doing this?"

	"What?" Pete acted innocent.

	"T--teasing me..."

	"I'm not," Pete insisted.  "I’m serious."

	"About cards?"

	"No.  About you."  Pete grimaced.  "Well, about cards, too, but that's
suddenly secondary."

	"Are you what I think you are?" Maureen asked, locking her eyes to
his.

	"I'm a Marine, if that's what you're asking."

	"Don't you have...?"

	"No," Pete said shortly.  "I... made mistakes in selecting them, so I
sent them to others.  I have a couple of open slots."

	"Why are you here?"

	"A pickup -- why else?  Oh, and for the cards; they really ARE
appreciated, you know."  Pete smiled.

	"A pickup?  Here?"  Maureen looked around.

	"Not here," Pete shook his head.  "Close by, a little later.  I'm
doing some shopping in advance."

	"Why me?"  Her eyes bored into his.

	"Instinct," Pete replied.  "I like what I see -- a lot!"  He flashed a
grin, then sobered.  "But I don't want to get stuck with a pig in a poke..."
Maureen's eyes flinched.  "I didn't mean it like that!" he added hurriedly.

	"So, what DID you mean?" Maureen accused.

	"I meant I need to see more."

	"Here?"  Maureen asked, incredulous.

	Pete glanced around.  "It's quiet..."  There were maybe two other
customers -- and no children present.  The racks shielded them from the mall-
side entry.

	"What do you want?" Maureen asked, guardedly.

	"For starters, I want inside that blouse," Pete replied.

	Maureen bit her lip.  "Okay."  She started unbuttoning it.  Pete
started pulling the tails out of her skirt.

	When it was unbuttoned, Pet whispered, "Do that thing you girls do --
take off your bra."

	"I'm wearing long sleeves," Maureen objected.  "It won't work."

	Pete sighed.  "I tried.  Do it the hard way, then."  Maureen glanced
around furtively, then undid the cuffs and pulled off the blouse.  Pete undid
her bra and she slipped it off her shoulders and put the blouse back on.  "Now
face me," Pete directed.  Holding the blouse open, Pete feasted his eyes.

	'Oh, Lord...' he thought, gazing on her exposed torso.  Her breasts
were too big NOT to sag a bit, and they pointed outward a bit, but they were
fat cones mildly deformed by gravity capped by tightly crinkled areolas under
stiffly erect, brownish-pink nipples.  Below that, a deep belly button rode
the gentle swell of her belly.  Pete schooled his features and managed to
sound nonchalant.  "Not bad..."

	But Maureen had seen a flash in his eyes; confidence began to come to
her.  She moved her shoulders, causing her breasts to sway.  Pete couldn't
help himself; his eyes tracked the target and he drew a quick breath.  Maureen
smiled.

	Pete grimaced.  "Okay, you caught me.  But I'm not buying without a
test drive."

	Maureen's eyes popped.  "Here?"

	Pete nodded.  "Here.  Do you give head?"

	"I -- not very well, probably.  Only a couple of times."  Maureen
looked down at her feet, back on uneven ground.

	"See what you can do.  Are you wearing panties?"

	"Well, yes..." Maureen knelt, looking both directions, and began
fighting with Pete's zipper.

	"You REALLY never expected to get a break, did you?" Pete asked.  "Can
I see your CAP Card?"

	Maureen stopped and looked up at him.  "It's in my purse..."

	"You aren't some kind of religious nut or anything are you?  You DO
have a card?" Pete demanded.

	"Oh, yeah, I've got one..."  Maureen looked unhappy.

	"Is it that bad?"

	"Well, five point nine..."  Maureen mumbled at the floor.

	Pete rubbed his jaw.  "Stop.  Button up your blouse and go get the
thing.  I need to see."  Maureen bit her lips, but stood and buttoned her
blouse, then tucked it in.  "Don't let her see anything that will get us
trouble from her later," Pete admonished.  "I'll be waiting right here..."

	Maureen moved very carefully while going to get her purse; the least
little bounce caused a jiggle.  While she was digging through her purse, Edith
came over.  "Is he finished?"

	"No, we're still looking."

	"He just wants to toy with you," Edith groused.  "Men!"  Ever since
this alien thing, men had been getting bolder and bolder.

	"If he buys a dozen cards -- and it looks like he's going to -- isn't
it worth it?" Maureen replied.

	Edith looked flustered.  "I guess."

	Maureen turned carefully away from the older woman and headed back
into the racks, holding her CAP card.

	Pete took it and whipped the reader he carried onto it.  The results
were, well, more or less spectacular, when matched with what he was looking
for.  Sweet, even tempered, self-reliant, hot, shy... and five point nine, as
advertised.  "Okay, where were we?"

	"I was making a fool of myself," Maureen muttered, and turned away.

	Pete caught her arm.  "I don't think so.  Look, I've seen, well, a lot
of scams -- a lot of fakes, a lot of quick hook-ups that crashed and burned.
You are too good to be true, so I keep looking for the down-side."

	"Isn't that score enough?"

	"Clearly, you can't read the sub-scores.  I can -- and they're VERY
nice!  A five point nine is NOT an ugly score -- it's above average!  It's
just not quite good enough to get you out of here on your own -- and that's
where I come in..."  He pulled her back to him by the grip he had above her
elbow.  "We were road-testing..."  With her in front of him, he pressed down.

	Maureen reluctantly went to her knees.  Pete let go of her arm and
waited while she looked up at him for a moment, then bent to work on his
zipper again.  "I don't know why I'm doing this," she mumbled as she reached
into his fly -- but she was lying; she knew EXACTLY why she was doing it.
Frankly, it was the most any man had ever asked of her -- and once she was
beyond the embarrassment, it was the most EXCITING thing any man had ever
asked of her!  When her hand closed on his erection, all thought of stopping
vanished.  The tenor of her previous encounters had been abortive; the acne
that scarred her in her teens virtually destroyed any hope of dating in
school.  There had been drunk guys in bars -- and not many of them -- and
feel-up sessions in the seats of cars in the dark.  And NOBODY had presented
her with the hot, stiff length of flesh she wound up wrestling with to get
free of his underwear and slacks!  "Oh, my!"  It kept getting bigger...

	"Something wrong?" Pete asked.

	"No..."  She leaned in and inhaled; it smelled like sweat -- and sex.
Her mouth opened automatically, to pant...

	Pete leaned forward and put his hand on the back of her head -- not to
pull her in, but to brace himself while he reached down to collect a breast.
The things were just incredible...

	That put her in position to kiss the swollen head -- and once she'd
done that, sucking it in came naturally.  "Mmmmmm..."

	"There you go..." Pete gasped.

	Maureen locked her lips around the head and washed it with her tongue,
tasting his musk.  This cock wasn't the same as the others she'd experienced.
It was cleaner and less sour and bigger and it dribbled slick fluid into her
mouth...  She continued to lave it with her tongue, collecting his flavor.

	Pete took this for a while, but the urgency started to get to him.
"Take some more," he urged.  "Bob your head."  He pressed against the back of
her head, surprising her and causing her to take in a couple inches more...
"That's it," he muttered when she recoiled, "Now back down..."

	This went well for about five strokes; predictably, Pete demanded too
much and gagged her.  Maureen popped up, coughing and gasped out, "It's too
big!"

	"No, it'll be all right..." Pete insisted and hauled her onto him
again -- but she hadn't recovered and was scared and started fighting him.
Pete backed off, but wouldn't withdraw his cock totally, "Easy, easy!  Settle
down!"

	"Mm!  mmph!  I caa..." Maureen grunted around his cock.  She flicked a
glance to the side -- and froze.

	Pete followed her gaze, to find a narrow, forty-something, somewhat
prune-faced brunette in a pantsuit eyeing them, lowering her reading glasses.
'Here it comes,' he figured.

	He figured wrong!  The woman stepped over and knelt beside Maureen.
"You're going at it wrong, Dear -- you need to straighten out your throat!
The woman demonstrated by craning her neck, then pressed on the top of
Maureen's head, "Get it down a bit so he has a straight shot."

	"I's oo igg," Maureen got out.

	"Nonsense, Dear.  May I?"  She glanced up at Pete, who nodded,
somewhat bemused.  He let go of Maureen and the woman pulled off her suit
jacket, revealing another surprise -- the modest round-necked panel in the
front of her blouse was translucent -- but the area below it as it was
uncovered was anything but, being an open-weave fishnet that exposed a couple
of sunny-side up egg shaped breasts with spiky nipples.  Pete just stared...

	Actually, maybe it shouldn't have been that much of a surprise; the
summer after Average Joe came out was the summer that never ended, as far as
the fashion world was concerned.  Women wore less and less -- and when winter
came, a good many of them didn't back off.  The major fashion houses,
realizing that skin was in and likely to stay that way, started shooting for
shock value.  The result was the kind of thing this woman was wearing;
technically, she was clothed by just about any city's local codes, but what
was at first glance a demure, long-sleeved silk blouse exposed what was
probably the woman's best feature very clearly.  "Do you wear that to work?"
Pete asked.

	The woman smiled up at him ruefully.  "With the jacket.  You never
know when one of you guys is going to show up, and I need all the help I can
get.  You ARE a Marine, aren't you?"

	"Yes, Ma'am."

	The woman grimaced slightly: she would have preferred it that he was a
bit more interested and a bit less respectful.  Well, she had control of his
cock; she would change that.  For confirmation, she prompted, "The Confederacy
type -- not the local guys, right?"

	"Right," Pete grunted as she slid his cock into her mouth,
deliberately pouting her lips around it.  Maureen watched, her green eyes
wide, as the woman took in several inches, backed off, did it again, backed
off again, took a little more, backed off again -- and then proceeded to bury
her nose in Pete's pubic hairs!  "Omigawd!" she gasped.

	"See, Dear?" the woman backed off, clearly pleased with herself.  "It
CAN be done -- you just have to know how and have a little confidence.  How
many blowjobs have you given?"

	"Three," Maureen replied, flicking a glance at Pete, "Not counting
this one.  The other guys weren't so..."

	"Big?" the woman smirked.  "This is definitely an above-average penis.
Mind if I share?"  She shifted Pete's cock toward Maureen's mouth.

	"No."  Maureen sucked it in.

	"Do I get a vote?" Pete asked sarcastically.

	"Not if you want me to teach her to deep-throat," the woman replied
calmly.  "You can't just go jamming, you know -- you'll scare her to death and
she'll NEVER get it!"  She robbed Maureen of his cock using her grip on the
base of the shaft, "Here Dear -- make sure you use your tongue right here,
see?"  She swiped the base of Pete's frenum with her tongue.  "That spot is
arguably the most sensitive one on his entire cock.  You play to that and
he'll be happy.  Here..."  She pushed it back, and Maureen began obediently to
lick at the indicated spot.  "The other thing to remember is that he isn't a
girl -- you need to move on him, not just work a single spot or two.  You'll
never get a boy older than thirteen off by just licking him.  Think about what
he's going to do in your pussy -- if you're lucky -- and make your mouth do
that for him.  Basically, a man wants to fuck your face -- that's how you got
into trouble, here.  You need to know that and work with it."  Maureen,
listening closely, her eyes flicking from hers to his, obediently bobbed on
Pete's erection.

	"Who ARE you?" Pete asked.

	"A woman who knows.  My name is Debra," the woman replied.

	"What are you?  A madam?"

	"Old maid schoolteacher, more like," Debra replied.  "I've had over
forty years to realize that this face and these don't make me top drawer," she
added, indicating her breasts.  "If you want sex, you need to develop some
other draw..."

	"Has it worked?"

	"It's been a mixed bag," Debra shrugged.  "I have two grown sons --
but I'm currently divorced, probably because I tend to be regularly sarcastic.
May I?" she asked Maureen, and popped Pete's erection into her mouth.  Maureen
watched the demonstration closely.  Debra took Pete through five strokes --
two of which were deep -- before handing him back.  "It's a rare woman who can
go deep constantly -- and from what I can tell, it isn't worth it to the guy.
It's much better if you switch up,"

	Pete felt that he needed a distraction.  "Can I see your card?" he
gasped.

	Debra dug in the purse she was carrying and proffered her card.  Pete
snatched at his card reader and applied it to her card, trying to decipher the
results via glazed eyes.  Six even -- with some interesting sub-scores that
were good for her profession but held her back.  She'd been hurt a lot, too --
early -- and it led to diminished expectations, at best -- it was there in her
psych profile.  Debra nudged Maureen and she passed control of Pete's cock to
Debra, making Pete's task even more difficult...

	"Okay!" he croaked, "I'm testing HER!"  Debra's deep-throat was just
too effective; Pete's balls were boiling!  Debra passed him back to Maureen,
grinning -- and Maureen had no problem finishing him off!
"UUUUHHHHNNNNGGG!!!" Pete grunted, doubling over and tucking Maureen against
him.  "Damn!"

	"What on Earth are you doing!  My God!"  Edith was standing there,
looking horrified.  "You can't do that in here!"

	"It's done, actually," Pete gasped, catching his breath.

	"Well, you can't continue!  Maureen, you should be ashamed of
yourself!" Edith ranted.

	"Well, I'm not!" Maureen replied.  "Did I do okay?"

	"Yeah, just fine," Pete agreed.  "You aren't a dead fuck, are you?"

	"I don't think so..."

	Meanwhile, Edith turned on Debra.  "My God -- a woman your age
cavorting around like this..."

	"I HOPE to be cavorting around when I get to be a LOT older!" Debra
replied flatly.  "Where you'll be and what you'll be doing is subject to
question!"

	"Well, I never!"

	"Probably not!" Debra jibed.

	"Out!  Both of you!" Edith insisted.

	"But I'm buying cards!" Pete protested.

	"It looks to me like you're just seducing salespeople!" Edith
retorted.

	"Let me check out," Pete replied.  "It's the LEAST I can do..."

	Edith grimaced, but nodded.  "What about you?" she asked Debra.

	"I'm leaving -- it's stuffy in here," Debra replied.  Turning to Pete,
she asked, "Can I... meet you outside?"

	"Yes."  Pete nodded tightly.

	Meanwhile, Maureen got back into her blouse.  They all headed for the
sales counter, where Edith stood scowling while Pete checked out.  Pete said
to Maureen, "If you can find any more in the next few minutes, I'd like to
have more."  He eyed her significantly.  "You need to go on break to the
bakery store down on the end at ten-thirty -- and not ten-thirty-one, either,
if you get my drift.  Please come alone..."

	"Yes, Sir."

	"Bye, Honey."  Pete swept out, his dozen cards tucked in a paper bag.

	Debra was there at the door.  Pete eyed her.  "I make no promises.
I'd go get some coffee at the bakery shop if I were you."

	"Thank you."  Debra's eyes were wet, her voice humble.  She kissed him
on the cheek and toddled rapidly off toward the bakery café.  Pete followed
more slowly.  He hoped that Maureen would manage to get loose -- but he
couldn't let it mess with his timetable.

                         --------------------

	The bakery café was one of the better sites Pete had ever selected for
a pickup.  They offered a selection of baked pastries and breads, baked on-
site, and relatively inexpensive coffee --plain and fancy -- and other drinks
and juices.  The lunch and dinner crowd could get California-style fancy
sandwiches and probably pizza and calzones.  The place was cozy and offered a
fireplace and some couches for atmosphere -- and it offered free wi-fi.  The
crowd, therefore, was eclectic -- everything from teenyboppers in abbreviated
shorts and skirts and tank tops over no bra to business people gathered over
laptops looking at product presentations.  A group of almost a dozen old women
-- obviously regulars -- had just cleared out when Pete stood in the short
line and collected his bagels (one toasted on a plate, and one of each variety
offered in a paper bag) and coffee and settled at a small table with his
partner.

	"You're late," CPL Rick Evans observed.

	"Not really," Pete argued.  "We have ten minutes.  I got held up."  He
tossed his bag of greeting cards on the table.

	Rick rifled it and snorted.  "The man from Hallmark!  Why don't you
get your own pussy -- and stop bartering for other people's women?"

	Pete shrugged.  "Maybe I will.  In the meantime, this gets me a lot of
variety and gratitude."

	"It's a pretty slick scam, I have to admit," Rick agreed.  The
simplest things made colonial sluts happy; gone were the days of, 'If you
loved me, you'd buy me a big, shiny rock!'  Rings could be replicated in a
heartbeat -- but few women in the colonies were married, by the old
definition.  Most were property, pure and simple -- and the ones who weren't
had their own men in the same boat.  But everyone has favorites, and it was
easy to barter something in short supply to use as a unique gift for his
favorite to a guy for a shot of leg from one of his other girls -- or two or
three, for that matter...

	"I get by," Pete replied, and bit happily into his toasted cheese
bagel.  "Is the wall generator up?"

	"Yeah.  I greyed the field so everyone would get the idea," Rick
replied.  "It would have been more fun to make it purple, but..."  Usually,
teams used an interdiction field, but this place was in a shopping mall.  The
field generator would have had to have been brought inside to block off the
door, and would have been too obvious, so Pete and Rick had stuck a couple of
wall-field generators on either side of the door, one facing inward and one
outward.  It was a bit more complicated, but less obvious.  They were small --
each of them wore one, mounted in a ring -- so Rick had found it a fairly
simple proposition to stick one to the wall on either side of the door.  The
café's small patio would be interdicted in the usual manner -- a field
generation pod floating on antigrav, high enough up to be effectively
invisible.

	Pete and Rick sat watching the ebb and flow and counting the minutes.
Their targets, a group of four techs from the local government contractor a
block over that made radar and sonar installations for naval vessels, usually
popped in to pick up coffee and a bagel and some chat at around ten-thirty.

	Ten-thirty-five came -- and no techs.  "What's up?" Pete groused.

	Rick gave him a look -- Pete wasn't usually this edgy...  He fished
out his scanner.  "They're late, that's all.  In fact, it looks like it's
gonna be Christmas -- there are six of them coming -- and three more targets
of opportunity in the room."

	"It's gonna be a day at the zoo, not Christmas," Pete groused.
"Welcome to the monkey house."  He wondered if Rick had ever read any
Vonnegut...  The real cause of his upset, of course, was that a certain blonde
was among the missing...

	"Well, the show is about to start," Rick rumbled as the outside door
popped open and a crowd of a dozen or more shuffled in jabbering animatedly
among themselves.

	"Let 'em get in line and start getting their stuff," Pete directed.
"We have time.  Just don't let anyone leave."  He'd kissed Maureen goodbye,
mentally; it was time to go to work -- but when he checked the mall entrance,
she was standing there with a bag in her hand, looking uncertain -- and she
was still obviously braless; her nipples made little pink shadows where the
pressed against the fabric of the demure white blouse.

	"Well, hel-lo..." Rick murmured, following Pete's gaze.  "That's a
lotta woman..."

	"Get your own," Pete replied, raising his hand to get Maureen's
attention.  Maureen caught the movement, looked relieved, and made for the
table.

	Rick's eyes popped.  "You primed the pump!"

	Pete grinned.  "I saw something I just couldn't pass up."  Maureen
arrived and he changed tones.  "You're late!" he barked.

	"I'm sorry... Sir!  Edith did everything but tie me up!  She actually
lowered the store's anti-theft barrier!"

	Pete blinked.  "What did you do?"

	"Well, she's older -- and I'm bigger...  She's locked in the stock
room," Maureen replied.  Her look said she didn't know whether to be proud or
penitent.

	"Very resourceful," Pete nodded, "but almost too slow.  Sit."

	Rick raised an eyebrow.  "Is this one for the general pool?"  He eyed
Maureen.

	"You've got your quota," Pete replied.  "If she is an anywhere near
decent fuck, she's taken."

	"And you're gonna find out -- how?" Rick asked.

	"I'm gonna take her over to that booth, lay her back on the table, and
road test her while you run this circus -- that's how," Pete replied.  He
watched Maureen while he made the announcement; Rick snorted, and she looked
momentarily surprised, but she didn't go anywhere.

	Rick was eyeing the selected booth.  "You mean over there where that
shriveled-up looking bitch is sitting?"

	Pete chuckled.  "That shriveled-up looking bitch is named Debra and
she gives head like a vacuum cleaner.  She's also a school teacher --
something we could use -- and you should see the blouse she's wearing under
that jacket!"

	Rick looked dubious.  "You got blown in a card store."

	"Yep." Pete replied.  Maureen nodded solemnly.

	"I gotta hang out in card stores more."  Rick shook his head.  Then
his scanner beeped.  "Uh oh -- one of the fish is escaping.  Show time!"  He
hit a button.