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  o    Kristen's collection                                         o
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  This is the Super Hero Archive. These stories were sent to me by
  friends. I did not write these stories. 

  Many have no author name attached. If you are the author of the
  enclosed work please let me know and I'll remedy the situation.

  This story, and all the stories in this archive are meant to be
  free. They where sent freely and should remain public domain.


           Supergirl and the American Way
           By Author Unknown

  
     The police had the place surrounded.  Inside the
building  were thirty plus Cuban refugees. They  were
mostly  men,  but some of them were  families.   That
meant  little to the police, because the Cubans  were
not  supposed  to be here in America, and  they  were
armed.
     A mother in the house sent a letter to the Daily
Planet  last  week  to be printed  in  the  editorial
section, penned in Spanish. The letter said:
 
     "To the people of the United States:
      "We came here because we have no place else  to
go.   We will do any job for any pay, because we  did
not  come here for your jobs or for money.   We  came
here  because Castro wants us dead. We found a  house
that  no one was using, and so we moved in.  We stole
some  food because some of us were starving,  but  we
won't steal anything else.
      "The police told us that we had to give up  our
guns,  and then they would discuss whether we had  to
return  to Cuba or not, but we know that most  of  us
would  have to leave. So we won't give up  our  guns,
and we have to defend our home.
                                   "Antonia Rodrigo"
 
      The letter was never printed, but I saw it when
I  visited  the Daily Planet last week.  Jimmy  Olsen
told  me "the Planet never prints letters unless they
are  written  in English," but his eyes betrayed  the
ugly truth.
      For  the  next few days, I kept a super-eye  on
that  house.  I  didn't know if I  was  being  overly
suspicious. I wanted to feel foolish for not trusting
the  police.   But  I knew that popular  opinion  was
against  the Cubans.  When a few days had  past,  and
the  police hadn't come, I began to relax  and  think
again  of  America with optimism.  Someone in  charge
must  have  had an attack of conscience, I  reassured
myself.  America  was welcoming the Cubans  into  its
bosom, and the name "America" secured its place in my
heart.
      What were those words on the Statue of Liberty?
Give  me your poor, hungry and wretched ... something
like  that.  America had adopted me when I was  poor,
wretched  and all that, and I was truly grateful.   I 
was  happy  to  fight  for "truth,  justice  and  the
American way," and for the red, white and blue.
      But today, those grand words seemed empty,  and
the  only  colors  I could see were shades  of  grey.
Today,  the police surrounded the Cubans'  home,  and
the Daily Planet printed an editorial about a wave of
Cuban  terrorists invading American shores.  My heart
sank.   The American people didn't have x-ray vision,
so  they  couldn't see the suffering  in  that  home.
They  didn't  have super ears, so they couldn't  hear
the  fear  in the children's voices.  The media  were
supposed  to  be  the eyes and ears of  America,  but
strangely  no  one seemed interested in  the  Cubans'
story.     Even   Clark   had   described   America's
immigration  policy as a "necessary evil."   Now,  as
ready  fingers leaned against triggers, and as  tear-
gas  launchers were prepared for the first  stage  in
this  small  war, I had to choose between "truth  and
justice" or the "American way."
      "It's  all  right, Supergirl," said the  female
police  officer  in charge as I swooped  down  beside
her.   Her voice sparkled with excitement. Apparently
this  was  her  first  command of  a  serious  police
operation,  and she was anxious to prove  herself  in
action. Maybe she thought I was here to rain  on  her
parade.  When I looked at her, I almost felt  like  I
was  looking into a mirror; like me, she was nervous;
like  me,  she  was  preparing to  be  baptized  with
responsibility.  "We have matters well in hand,"  she
said,  and  then  she looked away, perhaps  hoping  I
would leave.
      "You  mean you'd rather kill them than  let  me
resolve this without guns?" I asked.  My mouth filled
with  a  bitter  taste. I felt dizzy,  and  my  heart
raced.
      The  officer looked amazed. "No, of course not.
We're going to fill the house with tear gas and force
them out.
      "Let  me go in," I said, "and try to talk  with
them.  Maybe we can fix this peacefully."
      The  officer  shook  her head,  "The  time  for
discussion has ended.  Now is the time for a show  of
force.   We need to show the world that we  take  our
borders seriously."
      "Why  don't  you just tear down the  Statue  of
Liberty, then?" I said, as I set my posture.  My will
was   hardening.   "These   people   came   here   in
desperation,  and  you are just going  to  turn  them
away?"
       Her   eyes  opened  wide.   "What   are   your
intentions, Supergirl."
      "I  am  here," I said slowly, thinking out  the
words  before I spoke them, "to ensure the safety  of
the refugees."
      Several officers were now gathering around  me.
One  of them said, "Do you mean that you are on THEIR
side?"
     "Yes," I said. "They only want to survive. And I
can't allow you to hurt them."
      "This  really  isn't  your  decision  to  make,
Supergirl.   America has decided,  and  we  are  only
doing what America wants."
      I  didn't know what else to say.  According  to
the  media,  America  did seem  to  want  the  Cubans
removed, but I knew the media wasn't telling  America
everything.    Even  if  a  fully  informed   America
supported the police action, I couldn't ignore my own
conscience.
      I  walked to a spot directly between the police
and the Cubans' house, and I raised my right hand  in
a "stop" gesture towards the police officers.
      Then,  suddenly, I felt a sharp pain.  I didn't
expect  anyone  to shoot at me, so  when  the  bullet
bounced off one of my teeth, I stumbled backwards and
covered my mouth with my hand.  Most people know that
bullets  cannot injure me, but they don't  know  that
Superman  and I are very sensitive to pain --  that's
the  price of our super-senses.  We try to hide  this
weakness,  and  we  usually brace ourselves  when  we
expect  to  be shot.  But this time I was  surprised,
and   the  pain  that  exploded  from  my  tooth  was
excruciating.
      "Superdyke!"  yelled a young officer  with  the
smoking pistol. "Why don't you go back to Krypton?"
      I composed myself, and I sneered at him.  I was
almost thankful to the bastard for making my decision
easier. Now the anguish in my heart was eased, and  I
felt assured that what I was doing was right.
      Before  they knew what had happened, I disarmed
all  thirty  officers.  As they  searched  for  their
weapons, I transformed into Linda Lee and just walked
away as a pedestrian.
      Reporters  flooded the area, and  a  crowd  was
gathering   around  the  confused   law   enforcement
officials.  I  looked  at my reflection  in  a  store
window   and  straitened  my  brown  wig.   I  smiled
mischievously,  as I looked over my shoulder  in  the
window and saw the confused police officers.
      A  hopeful young man offered to carry my  large
bag  of  "groceries".  I smiled at him and  shook  my
head.   I  couldn't  let him see what  I  really  had
inside  the bag -- besides, I already had a date  for
the evening.
 
      Hidden beneath a canopy of treetops and  beyond
an assortment of bushes was a four room, brick house.
It  sat in a quiet neighborhood about a mile from the
crowded  campus  of  Metropolis  University.    Linda
thought  it  was the perfect place for  a  woman  who
protected many secrets.
     Or for two such women.
      Carol  Lee and Linda Lee had little  in  common
besides  the same last name.  Carol had small breasts
and  skinny legs; but she had unblemished white skin,
the perfect face of a doll, and shiny black hair.
      She  greeted Linda at the door, and glanced  in
the  bag. She licked her lips when she saw the  guns.
"Looks  yummy,"  she said with a  smile.   Her  smile
shone like a diamond in the black satin of her hair.
      "I  had a problem with the police," Linda said,
while placing the bag on the kitchen table.
      Carol  smiled even brighter. "I mean  you.  You
look  yummy," she whispered into Linda's ear, as  she
slid  the  wig from Linda's head.  Linda  smiled,  as
Carol's touch exorcised her worries about the  police
and an irate America.
      Linda closed her eyes, as Carol ran her fingers
through Linda's blonde hair.
      "I've been hungry all day," Carol whispered  in
Linda's ear, "and I think its time to eat."
                         ***
      My  life  has changed since I met Carol  a  few
months  ago.   I had never really thought  about  sex
with   another   woman   before,   but   heterosexual
relationships had too many problems for me.
      Men thought I was frigid because I wouldn't  go
all  the  way  with them; they didn't  know  that  my
restraint was for their protection.  Then, if I  took
the  chance  and  trusted them with my  secret,  they
couldn't    handle    it,   and   the    relationship
disintegrated.  One  of the men even  became  violent
with  me, strangely thinking it was a man's  duty  to
subdue  his  woman.   He was much more  gentle  after
breaking  his  fist on my jaw, but he also  lost  all
interest in me.
      I  was  Linda Lee when I had met  all  my  male
lovers.  Most of them felt betrayed when  I  revealed
that  I  was  Supergirl. They couldn't see  that  the
gentle  and vulnerable Linda Lee was real, or that  I
truly  cared  for  them.  They  couldn't  see  me  as
anything  other  than  a woman whose  mere  existence
undermined  the traditional concepts of men.   I  was
grateful  to  them for promising to keep  my  secret.
But I was devastated, as anyone in love would be.
      My  love affair with Carol was different.   Not
only  was she a woman, but she was attracted  to  the
real me.
      Actually,  she  was interested in  Superman  at
first.  Even  now,  she sometimes joked  that  I  was
really her second choice. Occasionally, when we  made
love, she would yell out "Oh! Oh, Superman!"
     She had always been fascinated by the subject of
Krypton, and she had tried for years to meet with the
Man  of Steel. After graduating Metropolis University
two  years  ago,  she had become a reporter  for  the
Daily  Planet.   The Planet had had a reputation  for
always  getting  the  scoop  on  Superman.  For  some
reason,  Clark had felt his identity was compromised,
so  he  had made sure that the only hero Carol  would
ever meet was me.
      So  I saw Carol time and again, as I stopped  a
gunfight,  prevented  an accident,  or  just  made  a
statement  to  the  press.   She  quickly  became  my
favorite reporter -- someone who never asked a barbed
question, and who was just a familiar, friendly  face
among her aggressive colleagues.
      The rest of the story is kinda boring. Over the
past  six  months, we've grown closer, and eventually
we  found  that  we loved each other.  So  we  became
lovers,  and  Carol Lee moved in with  me.   We  told
everyone that we were sisters, which was easy to pull
off  since  we both had the name Lee.  (By  the  way,
this   wasn't  a  coincidence:  Clark  actually   was
thinking of Carol when he gave me my Earth name.)
     Carol was a little crazy. She had a fascination
with power.  She thought the combination of power and
weakness was very sexy, and she loved to play games
in which the participants played both roles. We never
had ordinary sex.  We always played a game, and Carol
always invented the game.  Her favorite sex games
involved themes of S&M and rape, but strangely mixed
with tenderness. She had a wild and almost
frightening imagination, but somehow sex with her was
always intensely satisfying.
     Today, she wanted to play a variation of what
she called the Superslave Game.  This was a two part
game in which first I am tied up, and my master has
her way with me -- then she unties me, and I must pay 
tribute to her body.  She would tie my hands and feet
to the bed with rags treated with a small amount of
Kryptonite.  The Kryptonite wasn't painful, but it
numbed my skin where it touched me, and after about a
minute, the numbing traveled throughout my arms and
legs, paralyzing my limbs. After a little more time,
the effects reach my mind, and I feel a high--
something like the high people get from pot.
Sometimes I wondered how safe this game really was,
but we've already played it several times, and the
effects wore off as soon as Carol untied me.
     Carol seemed anxious today. She locked the front
door, and then she led me to the bedroom.
     "Don't you want to know about my problem with
the police, Carol?"  I asked, feeling we should talk
about it. She was a reporter, after all, and she
should be interested.
     Carol shook her head, and said, "Love before
business."
     "But..." I started, when she stuffed my wig in
my mouth. So I dutifully dropped myself on the bed,
and let my master tie me up.
     When we first tried this game, Carol was
tentative about the rags, constantly asking me how
they felt and whether I was OK.  But now she really
got into the role, tying the knots tight and staring
at me with apparent cruelty. After securing both
hands and feet, she left the room to change, while
the Kryptonite worked on my body.
     I laid back and tried to relax.  I was tense
from my encounter with the police, and worried about
public opinion of me once the police told their
story.  Then waves of tingling crawled down my arms
and legs, and a sense of peace swept into my brain.
     Carol returned wearing a very naughty black
teddy, and holding a black bag that I couldn't see
into even with x-ray vision. She had surprises in
store for me. She climbed onto the bed, and kneeled
between my legs.
     Just then I realized I was fully dressed.  For
this game, I was supposed to wear clothes that were
easy to strip. "I'm sorry, Carol," I said. "Untie me
and I'll..."
     The first surprise Carol had in store for me was
a gag.  She wrapped it tightly around my head. It was
just an ordinary piece of cloth, and I could bite it
off if I wanted to.
     "I hope these clothes don't mean much to you,"
Carol whispered in my ear, "'cause they won't won't
be worth a nickel when I'm through!"
     She could have unbuttoned the blouse, but
instead she tore at it violently, spraying buttons in
the air.  She struggled with my skirt; apparently the
fabric was tougher than she thought, but her
determination defeated the skirt in short order.  All
that remained now between Carol and my flesh was the
blue and red uniform.
     "I'm sorry," she whispered into my ear. "I'll
make you another one."
     I tried to complain through the gag, but Carol
again whispered, "Shhh, shhh. It'll be OK."
     She reached into the black bag and pulled out a
razor blade.
     I fell silent.
     She demonstrated the blade playfully, like a
child discovering a new toy, and then she lowered the
new toy towards my uniform.  Very slowly she began to
cut my uniform away, between my breasts, with the
blade pressing into my skin.  The pricking sensation
was so acute that I expected to see blood, but my
skin wasn't even marked.
     After traveling only a few inches, she paused.
Then she moved the blade over my left nipple, and
began to cut a hole in the red and yellow "S".  I
squirmed from the sensation, which was a little
painful and a little exciting.  When the erect nipple
was revealed, Carol tried to excite it further with
her tongue.  Then, in the midst of pleasuring me, she
unexpectedly bit down hard on the tip.  I gasped, and
my whole body shook.  Carol kissed my cheek and
consoled me, "Shhh. It's OK."  She proceeded to cut
another hole around my right nipple, and my body
tensed as she began to suck on it. She glanced up to
meet my eyes, and she smiled mischievously.  I shut
my eyes and prepared for her sadistic treat, but she
just suckled on the nipple, as her hand massaged my
other breast.
     Carol must have sensed me relaxing. I was not
allowed to relax.  I felt the razor now slicing into 
my side, tantalizingly slow, to enhance my pain or
pleasure.  I watched as she butchered the suit beyond
repair. Carol kissed each inch of my skin, as she
exposed it.
     She began to cut the other side.  Eventually,
she had cut enough, and she just tossed the remains
aside.
     Then she stared at the skirt, concentrating on
the hidden and not the revealed.  Her lips twisted in
apparent anger, as she heaved away at the elastic
waistband, and the red cloth tore away easily.  She
smiled at the thin cotton threshold to the prize.
     I opened my eyes wide as she raised the blade
again.  What was she planning?  She hovered the blade
between my legs, pretending to consider a slash, or
maybe a slow, penetrating incision.  I almost sighed
when she merely cut the panties away at my hips.
     Finally, with a wave of her hand, and a gape of
wonder, the rest of me seemed to disappear.  I was my
pussy.  Carol paused and just stared at it, and so I
just stared myself.  Maybe it was the drugging affect
of the kryptonite, or maybe it was Carol's act of
awe, but I was fascinated by my own pussy.  The
yellow hairs were tipped with red, like the puff of
silk on a fresh ear of corn.  With my legs spread,
the lips parted slightly, like a mouth readying for a
kiss.  And I felt the heat building, a movement of
blood, like a passionate blush.
     Carol would usually touch it by now, or perhaps
taste it. Once she shocked me by biting it.  But now
she paused and just looked. Then, with a smile, she
reached into the black bag.
     And out came an empty mineral-water bottle.
Carol had removed the label, and had lubricated the
surface to a shiny glean.  It was just a glass dildo,
now.  The outside of the bottle had ridges, as though
it was designed for this purpose.
     Carol touched the cold tip to my thighs, which
were too numb to respond.  But as the tip moved
nearer to the center, I began to quiver.  She began
to kiss my nipples again, as the bottle peeked inside
me. She moved up to my face, and removed my gag with
her free hand, as the bottle probed a little deeper.
I closed my eyes, and we kissed, as Carol rotated the
bottle.  I felt my muscles compress slightly, and a
worry crossed my mind.  What if the bottle should
break?
     I tried to talk, but Carol's lips were pinned to
my own.  If the bottle broke, what would I do?  It
wouldn't cut me, but what an irritation!  I tried to
speak again, but she just pushed the bottle in
deeper. Then I stopped trying. I was at the dawn of
an orgasm, and suddenly nothing seemed to matter. I
arched my head back, as Carol nibbled on my neck.  My
whole body shook under her harsh, knowing touch. She
did not slow until my body relaxed, and my heart
leaped into the sky.
     At the  height of my climax, as I was beginning
to moan, and rushing towards a second climax, the
sound of glass shattering stung my ears.  For an
instant, I felt certain that the bottle had broken.
An awful sensation grew in my abdomen.  I opened my
eyes to see shards of glass on the bed and even on my
body.  But the suspected bottle lay innocently
between my legs, whole and without a crack. Carol had
leapt off me and stared in shock at the broken window
beside the bed.  I was stunned, but not just from
surprise.  I felt an immediate pain strike my
stomach.  In about five seconds, I had gone from
ecstasy to the desire to puke!
 
                         ***
 
     Andrew had been tense all day, but he was just
beginning to relax when his cellular beeped.
     "Damn you," he whispered into it, as he walked
down the street, trying to look casual, like a
successful business man or something. "This better be
good."
     "Sorry Andy," the little box almost seemed to
yell back. "But some jokers have just started down
the street, and they are bound to attract some
attention.  We'd better circle round again." 
     "Where are they at?" Andy asked, now more
concerned than angry.
     "They are nearing the house," Ernie replied.
     "No, no, I mean the subjects."
     "Oh, they are getting near the end, I think.
Sam can barely see them, but he thinks our
opportunity is beginning to pass.  Maybe we should
reschedule."
     "No quits," Andrew said with as much authority
as he could. "How many days in a row will they keep
up this game? No, it's now or never.  You don't get
that many chances with these people."
     After a pause ... "Sam thinks you should walk
faster, then."
     "Damn," Andrew grumbled, as he increased his
pace. He whispered again into the phone, "Don't call
me back, no matter what." And he dropped it back into
his belt.
     He started counting down the houses in his mind.
Eight to go.
     He tightened his grip on the heavy little book
in his left hand. It looked like a hard-cover novel,
but it weighed 35 pounds.  Andrew wondered how
conspicuous he would seem to someone watching, as he
struggled with the heavy book.
     Four houses left.
     He fingered the catch on the "book", just to be
sure it would open. Then those guilty little thoughts
edged into his mind.  What if I'm wrong? they asked.
Why am I really doing this?  But Andrew never paused
or wondered if he would go through with it.  He
learned to live with those voices a long time ago.
     Jim was walking the other way, all grunged up
and wearing an earring. He was holding a book like
Andrew's, just in case.
     Ernie wore a MU sweatshirt, and he carried a MU
back pack, inside which slept the cellular phone.
     Andrew relaxed a bit.  They looked perfect --
just a couple of random guys from the University,
strolling the town. And with this feeling of 
confidence, he turned down the front walk, under the
canopy of trees, towards the little house.  He knew
Jim and Ernie were pausing to chat behind him.
Andrew turned the book in his hand, and flipped it
open, revealing a baseball sized green stone. With a
quick wind-up, he pitched it through the bedroom
window.
     Ernie ran up past him with a gun that looked
like a small cannon, and he blew away the front
door's lock.  Jim crashed the door down with his
shoulder an instant later.
     In about five seconds, all three were in the
bedroom of the Girl of Steel, who lay naked on the
bed. Andrew, Ernie and Jim all stopped in their
tracks and paused.  Andrew took a deep breath, amazed
that the plan went without a problem.  He gazed
almost blankly at the pussy which almost seem to
stare back at him.
     "What the hell are you doing here!" Carol
screamed.
     Andrew was shaken from his trance, and he
glanced at Ernie and Jim, who smiled with evil
intent.  Andrew thought about it for a moment, and he
understood.  Not many men could say they were in this
position, standing before the most powerful woman in
the world, who lay helpless to their whims.  But that
wasn't why they were here.
     "Jim, take Miss Lee -- uh, Miss Carol Lee into
the next room. I don't want these two together."
Andrew said, almost yelling to get Jim's attention.
He pulled a blanket over Linda's naked body, and then
his eyes met hers.  She was overwhelmed with pain.
Andrew spoke more quietly, "Ernie, snap out of it and
call in."
     "Stop it!" Linda cried, clenching her teeth and
struggling against the rags that held her tight.
     The kryptonite stone was on the floor, less than
a foot from the bed.  Andrew slid the stone a little
further away with his foot, and saw the pain on
Linda's face loosen its hold a bit. He moved it yet a
little further:  Linda's muscles went limp, as she
breathed deeply in relief.
     Ernie whispered to Andrew, "Are you sure that's
a good idea?"
     Andrew waved his hand in dismissal, as he sat on
the corner of the bed and slipped a cigarette from
his shirt pocket.  He stared at the suddenly
vulnerable girl of steel with intense regard.  No,
Ernie, he wasn't sure it was a good idea.  Who knew
exactly what affect the magical green stones had on
these magical people. Who knew how effectively those
rags binding her suppressed her powers.  Maybe even
crippled she could destroy them with her x-ray eyes.
But he didn't feel right torturing her.  They weren't
here to punish her.
     Linda met Andrew's stare directly, but Andrew
could tell that she was overwhelmed.
     Finally, she asked, "What do you want?"
     Andrew lit his cigarette before replying. "Not
much, really.  We never really wanted much.  But
you've gotten out of hand."
     Linda smiled slightly, apparently amused by his
comment.
     Andrew nudged the stone slightly nearer with his
foot, and Linda noticeably tensed.  He didn't like
that she felt comfortable enough to smile.
     "We've been watching you, Linda, and you haven't
lived up to the standards we demand."
     Linda's eyes turned to steel, as she retorted,
"Who gives you the right to judge me?"
     Andrew puffed casually. "The American people.
Congress created our secret little group shortly
after Superman first amazed the world.  You could
call us the Superhero Intelligence Agency. People
don't trust power blindly, and our job is to know
everything about you, should a problem arise."
     Linda frowned, "What do you know?"
     "Oh, more than you people ever imagined," he
replied with a prideful grin.  "Superman and his
childhood in Smallville.  The secret location of the
Bat Cave.  The many wonders of the Fortress of
Solitude. But we never felt compelled to tell the
world of the secrets.  We were not anxious to make
enemies of people with your abilities, especially
when you were fighting for what we believed in."
     Linda shook her head, "So what changed?  Why are
you here."
     Andrew's face grew solemn. "YOU'VE changed.
Heroes have to follow some standards if they want to
be seen as heroes.  Superman still lives by the motto
of 'Truth, Justice and the American Way.'  Batman,
while a bit moody, never lost sight of the people he
served. But you don't seem to care for American law.
You don't champion American morality. And just today
you undermined a police operation, making our
officers look like fools in the process. You forced
our hand."
     Linda looked away from Andrew, trying to decide
how to judge herself. "I don't know, maybe you are
right.  I did break the law, and alot of people don't
like what I say and do."
     Andrew sighed and said gently, "Maybe with time,
and a little reassurance from you of a change ..."
     Linda interrupted with a little flame in her
voice. "I'm not apologizing!  I was just admitting
that I am not the world's favorite Kryptonian.  I may
have broken the law, and I may have made the world
uncomfortable, but I have NEVER gone against my
conscience."
     Andrew shook his head.  "I don't know, Miss Lee.
America is a country of laws and principles. And we
demand an even greater standard of our heroes."
     "Are you telling me to follow a law that's
unfair?" Linda pleaded for understanding. "I can't
just watch people suffer when I know I can help, just
because of some law!"  She closed her eyes, and
fought back tears, "And if I offend someone, don't I
have a right to free speech?  I want the same right
to pursue happiness as everyone else."
     Andrew snuffed out the exhausted cigarette on
the sole of his shoe. Linda's voice had echoed the
voices in his mind that had bothered him throughout
this mission.  "It's tough being a hero, isn't it?
Seriously, I'm trying to understand.  I'm sure you
aren't always just saving some kid from falling out
of a tree. It must be tough deciding on people's
guilt or innocence, or whether you are helping or
just interfering."
     Linda paused, and then just said, "You don't
need to ask me."
     With a nod and a smile, Andrew pointed at her
and whispered so Ernie couldn't hear, "I want you to
know that I've always kinda admired you."
     Linda couldn't contain her surprise.
     "No, really," he continued, as he drew another
cigarette from his pocket. "You've had a much tougher
life than Superman had.  You're a bit of a maverick,
and that's why America is scared of you.  But
secretly everyone admires a maverick."
     Linda shrugged, "Thanks, but I need more than
you're admiration, now."
     Andrew rolled the cigarette back and forth
between his fingers, and looked out the broken
window. A van was turning onto the main road, and
heading towards the little house. He wished that he
had more time to think things through.
     "I'm letting you go," he said, as he put the
cigarette to his lips.  "I hope I'm doing the right
thing."  He said as he put the cigarette to his lips.
"And I hope you won't hold all of this against me."
     Andrew reached for his lighter, when suddenly
his cigarette lit apparently by itself.
     Andrew glanced at Linda, who smiled weakly up at
him. He felt a little shaken, but he smiled back.
                         ***
     Andrew glanced at Linda, who smiled weakly up at
him. He felt a little shaken, but he smiled back.
                         ***
     Now I felt that I really understood what the
Cubans went through in that house.  Now maybe I truly
understood the American Way.  To America, the Cubans
and I were the same.  Cuban aliens and aliens from
Krypton.  Tear gas and Kryptonite.  Communists and
Lesbians.  America had no sympathy, no due process,
and no respect for human rights.
     When those three agents forcibly entered our
house, I felt that America had betrayed me.  When
they stared at me, naked and suffering and completely
at their mercy, I saw their thoughts in their eyes --
the desire to rape, to conquer, to plant the good ol'
American flag in my womb.
     Thank God for Andrew, a man with some sense and
some heart.  Apparently he was also a man with some
influence.  The three agents left as quickly as they
had come, and Carol and I were able to continue our
lives with the same privacy that we had had before.
     But I could not forgive America merely because
of the conscience of one man.  America and I were in
a state of  cold war.  Every day, the media attacked
my character and my support of the Cubans.  I went on
strike, refusing to be Supergirl, refusing to help
the powers that be.  I disappeared into an anonymous
college life, and I could frequently be seen among
the revolutionary crowd.  But no matter what I did, I
still felt dead inside.  It was so depressing, hating
my country and my country hating me.
     Carol was much more forgiving than I, and she
tried to help me see the good side of America.  She
reminded me constantly of the great humanitarian
efforts, the Marshall Plan, and Welfare system.
Blah, blah, blah.  It was all so abstract.
     Then Carol tried something kind of desperate.
     I returned home from a class, as depressed as
ever.  My depression sank even deeper when I thought
that Carol wasn't home.  Sad and lonely.  I went into
the kitchen and made myself a sandwich.  I wasn't
hungry, though, and I just left it on the table.  I
decided to just go to sleep and hide from the world.
     When I opened the bedroom door, Carol was
standing there, holding one hand high over her head.
She was wearing a Statue of Liberty costume. I
couldn't suppress a smile.
     "Oh, I'm so happy to see you, Carol."
     Carol pointed at me and whispered with inviting
lips, "America needs you."
     I moved into her embrace and kissed her lips.
Carol abruptly slipped out of her robe and spread
herself on the bed.  "Its time you explored this
great land of yours, America the Beautiful!"
     I smiled and eagerly fell into her fantasy.  I
donned the appropriate dress for such an exploration,
and I climbed up over her.
     The first stop on the tour was the delta of her
neck, where the rivers of hair on her shoulders and
breasts met the vast ocean of hair above. I sailed
along the delta with my lips  and explored a little
under the ridge of her ear.  I could feel the tremors
from a sensitive, subterranean fault.  I decided to
test this fault further by sailing to the delta on
the other side.
     Carol mischievously poked a finger between my
legs.
     "Hey!"  I said, smiling. "That's breaking the
rules.  I'm the explorer."
     "Its just a curious little Indian, checking out
the new visitor to the land," she replied.  The
little Indian knew exactly where to rub.
     I moved out of the Indian's reach, and headed
for the heartland.  I settled on the little hill in
the north-east.  At the top of the hill was a basket
of fruit, and it seemed like a good spot to settle.
While I  sucked on the fruit and stroked it with my
tongue, I sent my hands exploring the world on the
other side. They quickly traveled from the mesas to
the plains, then diligently land-formed the southern
mountain range.
     The little Indian, frustrated by being
dislocated, resettled in an area around my cheek.
     Eventually, I decided to move on.  I became a
pioneer, and I slowly left trails of saliva across
the vast desert of her body.  I momentarily paused at
an oasis, dipping my tongue into the well.  The oasis
was just a glimpse of the promised land to come.
     Soon, I found myself on the edge of what seemed
like the Everglades, except that the forest was
removed.  It was a hot, moist place.  I knew there
were alligators in the Everglades, so I detoured
around it and decided to explore the leg of Florida
first.  But I never traveled far from the Everglades.
I hovered nearer and nearer, tasting the moisture as
I neared the border.  At last, I nuzzled the rich,
fragrant flower.  At last I found the Fountain of
Eternal Youth.  Like a good explorer, I explored the
channels with my tongue, and sought out every nook
and cranny.  I sucked on the tiny swellings and nubs,
while my nose squeezed into the canals.
     Eventually, the natives got restless, and all
ten of them urged me into the waiting cavern, to
drink from the fountain.  I opened the cavern wider
with my fingers, and dove my tongue into the spring
within, while massaging the cave walls with my nose.
The fountain refilled the spring as fast as I could
drink from it.  Eventually, when the spring was
empty,  I spread her lips wider, revealing the full
glory of the cavern walls, and allowing me to explore
even deeper and wider. When the natives got so
restless, and the firmament shook and moved so
rhythmically, I moved to the source of the fountain's
power, and handled it with expert care.  The whole
world seemed to shake and moan, as my tongue circled
and dove, faster and faster. Finally, it was the
Fourth of July, and I kept circling and diving until
the last roman candle lit the sky.
     It was all over too soon.
     With the expedition complete, I climbed up and
laid beside Carol, who looked over to me and smiled.
"America is greatly in your debt."
     I smiled, and said, "Those natives were awfully
pushy."
     Carol rolled on top of me.  "Now its time to
explore the uncharted terrain of Krypton."
     I giggled and closed my eyes, surrendering my
body to America's will.
 
-TooShoes@AOL.com