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Subject: Pat Savage in "Bronze Lust" (Ch. 3 of 8, MF)
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THE PULP HEROINES IN PERIL SERIES, EPISODE ONE

PAT SAVAGE IN

"BRONZE LUST"

by

A Pulp Fan

Chapter Three
Bronze Huntress

    Like a colossus, the skyscraper towered over the City of Manhattan.  A
gleaming spike of steel and brick over one hundred stories tall, topped by
a dirigible mooring mast, it dwarfed the structures around it into
insignificance.

    On the 86th floor of this impressive building, an elevator door opened. 
Her face flush with excitement, an entrancing Venus stepped out.  Walking
towards the end of the corridor, Pat Savage approached a door on which a
bronze colored panel said simply, "CLARK SAVAGE, JR."  Before she could
reach it, it swung open automatically.

    The 86th floor of the skyscraper--the top floor, the remainder of the
structure's height being composed of the mooring mast--was the headquarters
of the Man of Bronze and his aides.  Or, at any rate, their headquarters
when they were in New York.  That they were absent from the Big Apple did
not pose any problems for the bronze man's cousin; in fact, it made her
task much easier.

    The door's opening mechanism had been activated by a radioactive token
carried by Pat in her purse.  Doc and his crew all carried such tokens and,
somewhat grudgingly Pat had felt at the time, Doc had given Pat one as
well.  Entering the reception room of Doc's HQ, Pat swiftly turned off the
traps which Doc had set for any unwary and unwelcome intruders before
continuing on into Doc's laboratory.

    The Man of Bronze was one of the world's greatest inventors, and in his
86th floor aerie he maintained a laboratory which had only one equal--a
secret lab contained in his Fortress of Solitude in the North Pole, to
which he would periodically retire.  Here, high above the city, Doc Savage,
sometimes working alone, sometimes working with Monk and Long Tom--who were
among the world's leading experts in chemistry and electricity--had
designed devices decades ahead of their time.  Although many of these
inventions had been created for peaceful uses to benefit mankind, a number
were destructive in nature, and it was for these that Pat had come.

    Following the car chase, Pat had returned to the salon to find that, while
some windows had been blown out in the blast, the damage was minimal. 
Melissa was relieved to find Pat unharmed, as the airwaves were full of
reports, not only on the explosion, but on a running gunfight, which
Melissa had deduced involved her thrillseeking lover.  As of yet, the radio
had offered no explanation for the destruction of the building, and there
had been no mention of anyone being kidnapped--notwithstanding that Pat had
seen a handcuffed man forced into one of the sedans.

    Pat spent some time at the salon arranging for repairs to be made.  Then,
leaving her capable young assistant with further instructions regarding the
establishment, Pat left for her apartment.

    Reaching home without further incident, Pat had taken a quick shower to
unwind a bit before planning her next moves.  Then, dismissing a skirt and
blouse as impractical for the task at hand, she put on pants and a shirt. 
Tucked into her pants, the shirt was pulled taut over her impressive chest,
molding itself to her proud, jutting breasts, and she had turned more than
one head as she had left her building late afternoon and caught a taxi to
her cousin's hangout.  As far as Pat was concerned, the fun was just
beginning--trouble had reared its head and with Doc out of town, there was
no one to stop her from jumping into it feet first.  She loved it. 
However, when looking for trouble it was best to be prepared, and Pat knew
just where to go to solve that problem.

    In Doc's laboratory, Pat made a beeline for some storage cabinets.  On her
way there though, she paused for a moment, a devilish grin lighting up her
countenance making her even more radiant, as she spied a table in the lab. 
She wondered to herself with a silent laugh what her esteemed cousin would
think if he knew that not more than three weeks ago, she had lain stretched
out on that very same table, half-naked, while Monk rammed his hard cock up
her tight wet pussy.  Stopping by the lab to see Doc, he had briefly been
called away, leaving her alone for a short while with her lover.  The idea
had come to both her and Monk at the same time.  Clothing flew.  In a
matter of moments she and Monk were enjoying a spirited fuck, the sexual
sensations heightened by the forbidden location of their romp.  Long
bronzed legs wrapped around her lover, Pat had quickly and noisily cum as
Monk plumbed her depths with his thick dick, pinning her ass down against
the hard desk as he slammed into her wet and willing body.  With a roar,
Monk had deposited a load of jism deep into her dripping pussy a short time
later.  They had just straightened everything back up when her cousin
returned.  Pat had barely kept from succumbing to an attack of the giggles
as she had talked to Doc, speculating to herself about the look of shock
that would have crossed his impassive face if he had known that not only
had Monk's cum just filled her cunt, it was now beginning to slowly drip
out of her moist slit and down the inside of her muscular thighs. 
Fortunately, she had left his lofty abode with the Man of Bronze none the
wiser.

    With a sigh, Pat continued on through the lab--now was no time to
reminisce!  Opening a storage cabinet, Pat withdrew several items,
including one of Doc's equipment vests.  These vests contained an amazing
array of devices which had gotten Doc out of any number of jams.  Slipping
the vest on over her shirt, Pat immediately felt a great deal more
confident about her planned course of action.

    From the cabinet, Pat crossed over to a secret compartment.  This
compartment concealed a pneumatic passenger tube which Monk had nicknamed
the "flea run."  Once inside the passenger car, the contraption plummeted
earthwards with blinding speed past 86 floors, down into the sub-basement
of the skyscraper.  The Man of Bronze had spent a fortune designing and
implementing the system, only one of several ways he had constructed of
exiting his headquarters secretly and in haste.

    Entering the car, Pat hurtled downwards but instead of stopping at the
bottom, the tube curved, shooting its occupant westward under the streets
of the city.  Above, the life of New York City went on, pedestrians and
drivers alike bustling about their business, street vendors hawking their
wares, completely unaware that beneath their feet a pneumatic tube was
carrying a passenger through the metropolis at a speed they could only
dream about.  Finally, the passenger car slowed and came to a stop.  It had
reached its destination on 34th Street by the Hudson River.

    Exiting the car, Pat found herself in a cavernous warehouse.  If one had
been travelling with the bronze beauty and had ventured outside, he would
have seen a gigantic construct of red brick, with no windows, bearing the
sign HIDALGO TRADING COMPANY.  It would not have looked terribly
impressive.  Inside, however, the warehouse was filled with a bewildering
array of vehicles, ranging from various types of aircraft, including a
dirigible, to an assortment of boats and ships.  The Hidalgo Trading
Company was wholly owned by Doc Savage, and the warehouse housed the
incredible mix of vehicles--many of his own design--which he had assembled
to assist him in his fight against crime.  It was here that Pat had come to
obtain the final piece needed for her plan.

    Moving stealthily through the yawning structure, Pat reached her
destination, an autogyro.  Swiftly she stowed the gear she had obtained
from Doc's headquarters, before doing a quick once-over of the vehicle to
make sure there weren't any problems.  For obvious reasons, Doc maintained
his fleet in tiptop shape, but for once in her life, Pat decided to err on
the side of caution.

    Intent on examining the autogyro, Pat was taken by surprise when a loud
voice suddenly cried out, "Who's there?  Don't move!"  Startled, Pat lifted
her head and banged it into the metal of the vehicle.  With a few colorful
curses which would doubtless have caused the bronze man to turn red, she
put a hand to her head and turned around.

    Before she could answer, the beam of a flashlight stabbed her, the owner
of the flashlight walking towards her.  Blinking into the light, she
shielded her eyes from the glare and, squinting, tried to see who was
approaching, but all she could make out was a blurry figure.  As the owner
of the voice got nearer, the shape resolved into that of a man, carrying
not only a flashlight but also a gun, both of which were pointed at Pat.

    "Chuck, is that you?" asked Pat.

    "Oh, Miss Savage!" came the reply.  By now the man was near enough not
only to recognize Pat's voice but to see her clearly as well.  Having eyed
her voluptuous figure, there was no mistaking her identity.  "I'm sorry, I
didn't see it was you."  So saying, the man holstered his firearm.  "What
are you doing here?"

    Charles Howard--or Chuck as Pat had termed him--was one of the watchmen
who Doc Savage employed to safeguard the warehouse.  As such, Pat had met
him on several occasions when she had visited the location with Doc.

    Years ago, Chuck had been a crook.  Crossing paths with Doc Savage, his
life had changed forever.  The Man of Bronze did not turn over to the
police criminals who he captured during the course of his work.  Instead,
they were sent to a sanitarium which he operated in upstate New York  
Here, at Doc's "Crime College", a delicate brain operation was performed
which wiped out all memories of the criminal's past.  The College's
"students" were then retrained in a productive field and, graduating, were
returned to the world where they became useful and law abiding members of
society.  The treatment was highly effective, and not one of the former
criminals who had undergone it had ever returned to a life of crime.  Chuck
was one such graduate of the Crime College, and after he had been released
he had, like several of his fellows, been employed by Doc.

    "Oh, nothing much," answered Pat, flashing him a winning smile.  "I just
need to borrow one of my cousin's vehicles for a while.  Nothing to trouble
yourself about," she finished in an offhand manner.

    As Pat spoke, a stricken look came over Chuck's face.  He gnawed his lower
lip worryingly.  "Awww, Miss Savage...I'd love to help you...but I don't
think you're allowed to do that.  Doc gave me instructions--only him or his
men..."

    "But Chuck," breathed Pat, stepping closer to the watchman, tossing her
bronzed tresses with a slight flick of her head.  One slender hand drifted
out, almost aimlessly, and began toying with the front of his shirt.  "I've
gotten involved in lots of Doc's adventures.  It's like I'm one of his
crew--and even more, I'm his cousin!"

    Blushing furiously, Chuck stammered as Pat's wandering fingers ignited his
skin, seeming to burn his flesh wherever they alighted.  "G-g-gee, Miss
Savage...I just don't know!"  The last was said with a bit of a yelp as the
tall, stunning vision moved closer to him and began to run the manicured
fingers of her other hand through his hair.  "Maybe you're right--but I
just don't know."

    "Well, why don't you think about it for a few minutes," whispered Pat
seductively, a glint in her golden eyes.  "Think real hard about it..." she
sighed, slowly wetting her full, crimson lips with the tip of her pink
tongue.  As she spoke, one hand slid down Chuck's trembling body and
squeezed his erection.  "...while I see what sort of weapon you're hiding
here.  We don't want you to hurt anyone with this, now do we?"

    Pat slowly dropped to her knees before the amazed watchman, running her
strong hands along his thighs before beginning to unbuckle and unzip his
pants.  Scarcely crediting his eyes, Chuck stared in shocked amazement at
the tableau unfolding before him as his dick sprang free of its enclosure
and bobbed eagerly in front of the young woman.

    "Miss Savage...Pat...I'm not sure...OH JESUS!" Chuck exclaimed, as the
bronzed haired beauty leaned forward and, opening her luscious lips wide,
slowly sucked his hard cock into her hot mouth.  The wet, velvety feel of
her tongue as she slowly swallowed his length was incredible.

    Reaching the base of his throbbing erection, Pat slid her mouth nearly all
the way off of him, leaving his prick shining with her saliva, before
beginning to bob her head up and down, sucking on his cock.  As her lips
slid along the shaft, her agile tongue licked along it, paying particularly
loving attention to its head as she began each downstroke, licking little
drops of pre-cum from its slit.

    Chuck was stunned as he watched the bronzed beauty's luscious red lips
envelop his steel hard cock, felt her talented tongue teasing and caressing
him, felt the hot, wet suction coaxing him to come.

    After one upstroke, Pat momentarily lifted her mouth off him, batted her
eyes at him and asked coyly, "So, do you like my sucking on your cock?"

    "Oh God, yes!  Please, Miss Savage...I mean Pat...please suck me some
more!"

    Pat eagerly got back to the task at hand, causing Chuck to groan in
pleasure.  The sensation was incredible.  Pat loved to give blowjobs and
she was an expert fellacitrix.  Her busy mouth elicited moan after moan
from the unbelieving watchman, whose hands had gently gripped her head as
it bobbed up and down on his cock.

    The sight of Doc's cousin with his dick buried in her pretty little mouth,
and the sensations it was causing, soon proved too much for Pat's willing
victim.

    Chuck managed to gasp, "I...I...I'm cumming!" as he shot off into her
mouth, ramming his cock down her throat, coating her tonsils with his
creamy spunk.  Spurt after spurt of his hot cum was swallowed eagerly by
the kneeling young woman, tongue lapping up each jet as it ejaculated
forth, fingers playing with his sac to coax more out of him.  Pat loved the
taste of cum, loved to swallow it as she felt a cock cumming in her mouth,
paying frothy tribute to her oral skills.

    To Chuck, his orgasm at the mouth of the suckling young woman seemed to
last an eternity.  Finally his balls were emptied and with a soft "plop!"
his softening dick slid out of Pat's mouth.  Grinning, she gazed up at him,
a trace of his cum glistening on the outside of her lower lip.
    "So Chuck, what do you think?  Are you sure I can't just borrow my
cousin's autogyro for a little while?  I really need it--and I promise to
take tender loving care of it."

    Slightly embarrassed, Chuck hurriedly zipped up.  "Well, seeing as you're
Doc's cousin and all, and practically one of his men--I mean crew!--I don't
think Doc would mind.  He never said you, specifically, couldn't use his
stuff.  If he'd thought of it when he was talking to me, I'm sure he would
have okayed it."

    "Thanks, Chuck, you're a doll!"  exclaimed Pat, rising to her feet and
giving him a quick peck, causing him to once more blush furiously.

    "Awww...Miss Savage...that's okay," he managed to choke out, nervously
shuffling his feet.

    Considering that she had just sucked him off, Pat thought it was kind of
sweet that he still called her Miss Savage.  She decided to leave quickly,
before the guard could change his mind.  Climbing into the vehicle, she
called for him to open the hangar doors.  Taxiing out of the warehouse, Pat
sent the craft leaping skyward.  While not quite as expert a pilot as Doc
and many of his men were, she was a more than capable flier.

    Pat swiftly sped over the darkening city, the twilight pierced by the
blaze of streetlights and headlights, by light poring out of building
windows, as the pulse of the teeming metropolis beat into the early night. 
Within a matter of moments she reached the intersection where she'd crashed
into the truck during the chase.  There she donned a set of bulky goggles
and threw a switch on the autogyro's control panel.   Immediately, Pat
could see a glowing blue trail, beginning where she'd hit the fleeing
vehicle with the bullets from the supermachine pistol, and continuing
faintly down the street.

    Flying high above the metropolis, the bronzed huntress followed the
spectral trail of her quarry.  The supermachine pistol had been loaded with
a special drum of bullets, designed by Doc Savage, containing a mixture
which was invisible to the unaided eye but which marked its presence as a
glowing blue when lit by the ultraviolet light mounted to the bottom of the
autogyro and viewed through special lenses.  The substance left a trail in
its wake which would, however, soon dissipate--after a day or so under
normal conditions, sooner if there was rain.  To help him locate Pat if she
ever got in trouble, Doc had given the supermachine pistol and its special
ammo to Pat and explained its use.  Though seemingly nearly omniscient, it
is doubtful the Man of Bronze could have foreseen the results of his
action.  Instead of helping to protect her from trouble, his device was now
leading his adventure- loving cousin deeper into it!

    Whirring away, the autogyro followed the course of the fleeing vehicle out
of the city, east toward Long Island Sound.  Several miles out of the city,
in the deepening twilight Pat saw the bluish trail leave the roadway and
turn onto a gravel drive.  Following above this path, which twisted through
and was often obscured by forest, momentarily breaking the glowing trail,
Pat suddenly came upon a clearing in which were parked two sedans--the same
two sedans which she had pursued earlier that day!  Although the light was
almost gone, Pat could see a warehouse-- together with a dock--on the
Sound, not far from the cars.  Tethered to the dock was a boat.  In the
dimming light, from her altitude Pat couldn't see anyone on the ground,
though there were lights on in the house.

    Swinging the autogyro eastward, Pat headed along the shore, searching for
a clearing large enough to land her craft in.  Luck was with the female
Savage, as she found a suitable landing site after only a few minutes. 
Circling a few times to try to see if the ground was level enough, Pat
finally brought the autogyro in for a landing.  As the vehicle touched down
smoothly, Pat smiled to herself, pleased.  Not even her famous cousin could
have bettered that landing, she felt!

    Disembarking, Pat put a few more items into the utility vest she had taken
from Doc's and holstered one of his superfirers.  Glancing around one last
time to memorize the location of the clearing, Pat stepped into the
darkened forest and was swallowed up into the night.

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