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Archive name: jillian3.txt (MF, rom, v, oral, sci-fi)
Authors name: Marcia Hooper (marciaR26@aol.com)
Story title : Jillian Saves the World - 3

--------------------------------------------------------
Copyright 2002 - As the author, I claim all rights under 
international copyright laws. This work is not intended 
for sale, but please feel free to post it to other 
archives or newsgroups, keeping the header and text 
intact. Any commercial use of this work is expressly 
forbidden without the written permission of the author. 
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Jillian Saves the World (MF, rom, v, 1st, oral, sci-fi)
by Marcia Hooper (marciaR26@aol.com)

***

Part Three: Discovery
Thursday, April 17, 2003
8:20 A.M. 



"Come here, you," Jill said. 

Sitting on the edge of a kitchen chair, legs widespread, 
she busily trimmed her hair. Below on the floor, copious 
amounts of hair fanned out. "Gotcha," she said, taking 
another swack. 

Awakening at first light, Jill had sat up in bed, 
wondering where she was. It was long seconds coming back. 
When the terrible truth hit, she returned to the bed, 
burying herself beneath the covers. "No," she had moaned, 
repeatedly. "No, no, no." 

For the next two hours, pillows high on her head, Jill 
kept out the world.

The sound of a bird roused her. 

Sitting up and rubbing her eyes, Jill looked remorsefully 
at the burned down candle, then climbed out of bed and 
went to the window. She peeked out the blinds. In a tree 
in the side yard sat a bright red cardinal. It sang, 
merrily. In the distance, another cardinal answered. 

Raising the blinds scared the Cardinal away. 

Disappointed, Jill raised the blinds the rest the way. 
She opened the window. Then she smiled. The sight of 
another living creature had at least bolstered her 
spirits.

Finding a pair of blue jeans in the bottom dresser 
drawer, Jill battled her way in, finally resorting to 
that time-tested method of laying on the bed to get the 
zipper closed. Going into the kitchen afterward, she 
rescued the Walkman from its corner, and retrieved the 
batteries. The back had opened on impact. 

"Later," she said, placing the Walkman and batteries on 
the table. 
She had other things to do. 

First taking a long drink of water, Jill went to the back 
door and looked out. Then she unlocked it. Going outside 
on the stoop, she stood in the cool April air and 
luxuriantly stretched. Her back popped in a dozen places. 
She farted, making herself giggle. Then she stepped off 
the porch. 

So far, her stomach had behaved. She only needed to pee. 

For moment she considered doing it right there, but the 
memory of being watched returned. 

She felt watched, even now. 

Shivering, she retrieved the bucket and walked it over to 
the shed--the wet grass tickled her feet--and dumped the 
contents on the ground. She looked at it for a moment, 
crinkling her nose. "Yuck," she said. 

Returning to the house, she went inside and locked the 
door.

"Now, we're gonna do something about this bush."

Removing her iron-clad jeans and then her panties, Jill 
first urinated in the bucket, then washed herself with 
soap and water. She dried herself with a clean towel. 
Then she took out the scissors and began to whack away. 
She kept up a running commentary.

"This is the grossest thing I've ever seen."

"Looked in a mirror lately?"

"Shut up."

"I like your new boobs."

"They're breasts," she corrected. "Don't call them 
boobs."

"Well, la-de-da-da. Boobies was fine, yesterday."

"That was then," she said. "This is now. I consider them 
breasts."

"I hate political correctness."

"I am not politically correct."

"You are if they're breasts."

"Shut up."

"I can't wait to get them sucked."

"Shut up!"

"I'm horney, Jill! I can't help it."

"You're a slut."

"Look who's talking."

Once closely trimmed, Jill found a broom and a dustpan 
and cleaned up her mess. Then she went in search of a 
razor. Beneath the bathroom sink she found a bag of Bic 
disposable razors and a can of Lady Gillette. Jill 
preferred her own razor, but a Bic disposable would do. 

"You be careful," she told herself. "There's no 911."

Returning to the kitchen with two clean towels, she 
filled a Tupperware bowl with water, then lay out one of 
the towels and sat down on the chair. She slid out over 
the edge. She had never shaved like this before; not in a 
kitchen, not without hot water. It made her very nervous. 

"Relax," she said. "You'll do fine." 

"Why are you doing this?" her inner voice asked.

"Because it makes me feel normal."

"Nothing will do that," her voice answered. "Ever again."

Pressing the button atop the can of Lady Gillette, Jill 
filled her palm with foam. She lathered herself up. Then 
she began to shave, rinsing the blade vigorously and 
often. Within minutes, the remainder of her hair was 
gone. 

"There," she said. "Clean like a baby."

"Who is going to see?"

Drying herself with the towel, she answered, "No one's 
seen before." 

"Not true."

"Well, yeah," she said. "Krystal. Jenna and them."

"They never saw you like this."

Jill grinned, feeling slightly embarrassed. "What?" she 
objected.

"You know what."

"I don't think I do."

"You shaved it all off," her inner voice said, 
emphasizing the all.

"Leave me alone."

"I'm surprised you didn't shave that other place too. You 
know you wanted to."

"Shut up!"

Her inner voice laughed. "You really need to get fucked."

"For Christ sake!" Jill exclaimed. "I do not!"

"Oh, yes you do. And badly."

"Tell my mother that," she said, without thinking.

Despite what her mother suspected--and what Krystal 
teased her relentlessly about--Jill was a virgin. Within 
her circle of friends, she was the only one never to have 
touched an erection. Truth was, she had never seen one 
before. The farthest she had gone was allowing a hand up 
her blouse. Once.

"Dennis Kenealy," her inner voice said.

"You don't need to tell me," she replied. "I know who it 
was." She removed her tee shirt and raised her right arm. 
"Besides, he only touched my bra."

Her inner voice snorted. "Some distinction."

"It's enough. Yuck," she said. "This is so gross."

"What about your legs?" her inner voice asked.

"I'll get there."

"You look like a lumber jack."

"I smell like one too," she laughed.

"I know."

"Shut up!"

After trimming both underarms, Jill soaped herself and 
began to shave. She nicked herself only once. Then she 
began her legs.

"This--this is so gross! Look at that stuff!" her inner 
voice complained.

"Shut up."

"I've seen less hair on a hog!"

"Lay off, I said!"

"And softer, too!" her inner voice teased.

Will you stop that! she started to yell, and then came a 
sharp crack of wood. Shrieking, Jill spun around and 
grabbed her tee shirt off the floor. She yanked it down 
over her head. She didn't care that it was inside out and 
backwards. Pulling on her panties and jeans, she ran to 
the kitchen window, just in time to see a jean-clad leg 
and white tennis shoe disappear behind the shed. 

Not only had she been seen completely nude, and doing 
something completely private, but he'd listened to her 
talking to herself.

"Son-of-a-bitch!" she screamed.

Flying to the back door, Jill threw it open, then went 
out on the porch. Beneath the kitchen window was a wooden 
crate. The top was caved in. 

Jill screamed, again: "You son of a bitch! How dare you 
spy on me!"

There was sound from behind the shed, a rustle of 
branches, and the snap of a twig. 

"Who the fuck are you!" she bellowed.

A boy answered: "Neil Bartley."

"What the fuck are you spying on me?"

Neil didn't answer.

"Did you get enough?" she yelled. "Wanna see me pee in a 
bucket?"

Jill realized he might already have. Her face turned 
brilliantly red.

"I'm sorry," the boy said, falteringly.

Jill got herself under control.

"Come out where I can see you."

After a moment, Neil came out. Eyes cast down, he stood 
there a moment, then moved forward in front of the shed. 
"I'm sorry," he said, again. "I--"

Jill cut him off. "You certainly are! I could just kill 
you!"

The boy shrugged. 

In his late teens, he wore faded blue jeans and a torn 
white shirt. His clothes looked forcibly aged. He had 
unruly brown hair, held back in a pony tail. It was tied 
with a length of yarn. He wore glasses and had a face 
full of freckles. He wore a scruffy beard. Underneath it 
all, Jill thought he looked like Martin Short. 

For a time, neither one spoke. Finally, Jill said, "You 
survived."

The boy nodded.

"How?"

Taking a deep breath, the boy started to explain. "I had 
just come home from school--"

"Where?" Jill interrupted. "Where do you go?"

"Northwestern," said Neil.

Jill grunted, "Okay."

The boy started over. "I had just come home from school--
"

"I know you came home from school," she said, 
impatiently. "It was three o'clock in the afternoon!"

Neil looked up. His eyes were a striking blue. "Do you 
want to hear or not?"
Miffed, but trying not to grin, Jill said, "Go on."

Neil went on. "My mom had my little sister down on the 
kitchen floor. She was naked and mom was beating her with 
a metal ruler out of her book bag." He winced, 
remembering the scene. Jill commiserated. She remembered 
her own beating.

"I asked her what the hell she was doing, and she looked 
at me with these crazy eyes. My sister's ass..." Neil 
shivered. "Let's just say she was crying pretty hard."

Jill nodded. "My mom went crazy too. All of the mothers 
did. You wouldn't believe what I saw."

Neil's expression said otherwise. "Anyway," he said. "She 
came after me with the ruler and I wrested it from her 
hand. I got her down and tied her up with my belt, then 
called 911. That's when the ship arrived."

Jill said, "I'm not dreaming, then? That's the ship from 
Independence Day?"

"Looked like it to me," Neil said. 

"But how can that be?" Jill objected. "It was a movie!"

Neil shrugged. "I figure someone in Hollywood, I don't 
know how, knew about their plans in advance. Thought it'd 
make a great movie."

"I guess they were right," Jill grumped. "Talk about 
chumps."

Neil said, "How could we know? It wasn't like anyone took 
it seriously."

"They do now," Jill said.

There was an extended silence. "They didn't wait, did 
they?" she said. "And there was no fire."

Neil had a ready answer. "What's more dramatic, you 
think? A huge wall of fire? Or something you can't hardly 
see? And in the movie, they needed time for Jeff Goldblum 
to get to Washington to save his wife. Think they'd give 
us nine hours in real life? I don't think so."

Jill looked thoughtful. "You seemed to have thought this 
pretty much out," she said. "I barely made it through the 
night. It was pretty rough."

Neil looked momentarily away. He said. "When that thing's 
hanging over your head all night long..." He indicated 
the sky.

Jill looked at him blankly.

Neil's mouth dropped. "You haven't seen?"

"Seen what?"

Neil pointed up. In the far western sky, just visible 
over the tree line, was the nearly full moon. Jill stared 
at it a moment, was about to say, "So what?" when her 
eyes found something else. A smear of white, about a 
quarter the size of the moon, and two fist's distance 
away--it was the mother ship. Jill inhaled sharply. 

"Tell me it isn't so!"

Neil shrugged. "Sorry."

Jill stared at the apparition. "My God. It's not real. It 
can't be real."

"Sorry," Neil said, again.

"It was there all night?"

"All night," Neil confirmed. "Bright as the moon."

"Holy shit," Jill said. She felt cheated. If anyone 
deserved to have seen the mother ship, surely it was she. 

"Tell me about it," she said. 

Neil said, "Well, it has those two big tusks--power 
drives or whatever they are--and the docking ports for 
the destroyers. I counted them," he said. "Got out my 
telescope and counted the holes. There were thirty-six of 
them, empty. Out of fifty-six. Know what that means?"

Jill said, "I'm not sure I want to know." 

"Either we're not worth the trouble to launch the rest, 
or they couldn't."
Jill shook her head. "That can't be right."

Neil said, "Why not? They must have a weakness. Everyone 
has a weakness."

"Of course, they have a weakness," Jill said, 
sarcastically. "They let us blow up their ship."

Neil laughed. "In the movie."

Jill said. "You don't think we could?"

Neil shrugged. "Figure it out for yourself."

Jill fought a grin. "I don't think I like you," she said.

It was two hours later and they were headed for Neil's 
house. 

Jill had finished shaving her legs--in the bathroom, in 
private--and Neil had trimmed his beard. Rather, Jill had 
trimmed it for him; Neil had never before shaved. Then 
she found a backpack in the children's bedroom, and 
packed in it the remaining bottles of water, the candles 
and matches, the flashlight and batteries, and the yellow 
Walkman. She wore a blue windbreaker she had found in the 
closet.

"Must have been pretty rough," she said. "Sorry." 

Bisected by the wave, his mother and younger sister were 
on the wrong side of the house. Neil had buried their 
remains out back. 

"It's okay," he replied. 

They walked around a maple sprouting from a crack in the 
sidewalk. 

Jill said, "Mine was running away the last time I saw 
here." Tears filled her eyes. 

Neil nodded. He shared her pain.

"That was a weird thing you were doing," he said, after a 
time.

"What?"

Neil said, "This morning," and Jill became red.

"Obviously," she said, "you've never been a girl."

"Obviously."

They walked on in silence.

Leave it to a guy, she thought, to say something like 
that.

"I hope I don't puke," she said, aloud. They had eaten 
Chef Boyardi macaroni out of a can. It was three years 
out of date. 

"You won't," Neil said. "There's enough preservative in 
those things to last a hundred years."

"That's just about right, then," Jill said, looking 
about. She shivered. Though it wasn't cold, she wore the 
windbreaker zipped all the way up. The sway of her 
breasts was still visible.

"I was fourteen," Neil told her. 

"So was I."

"My sister was only eleven."

Jill thought of her own two sisters, Rachel and Angie, 
ten years old and eleven, and felt a hole in her heart. 

Neil said, "What the hell did she ever do?"

"Nothing," Jill assured him, "Not to deserve that. None 
of this was our fault." 

Then she remembered her friends fleeing down the street, 
leaving her with Mrs.Hart, and tried not to judge them 
too harshly. They were, after all, only fourteen.

Her mother was not fourteen.

"You were lucky," she said. "Millions of others weren't."

"You were lucky too."

"I very nearly wasn't."

Giving a truncated version, Jill explained her afternoon. 

Neil whistled. "Some things I saw," he admitted. "Turned 
the guy in me on."

With all the naked young girls running around, Jill could 
imagine.

"Sorry," he said.

"It's not your fault."

"Are you okay?"

Jill shrugged. "I guess."

They walked on in silence. 

After a time, Neil said. "I'm sorry for what I did, this 
morning. I'm not usually sneaky."

Jill blushed. "You are not forgiven."

Neil laughed. He said: "I wasn't peeking at you for a 
thrill."

"What were you doing?"

"Making sure you were okay."

Jill was about to ask why she wouldn't be okay, when 
suddenly she froze. To their right, crushing an entire 
block of houses, was a tremendous slab of gray-black. 
Huge striations ran down its length, and either the 
explosion, or impact with the ground, had opened fissures 
in the side. A jagged break-line ran along the top. It 
looked like a cliff-side of rock. 

"What is that?" she gasped.

"That," Neil said, almost proudly, "is a piece of the 
ship."

"No way," Jill exclaimed. "Really?" She made off toward 
the slab.

Neil ran up beside her. "We owe our lives to this thing," 
he said.

Jill remembered the flash of light and the falling 
debris. "I know. The wave parted around it."

Neil said, "I think it had to. It's not allowed to affect 
the ship."

Jill looked at him, sideways.

"I'm convinced the ship is alive."

Jill said, "Come on."

"Well, look at it," he said. "Doesn't it look grown?"

Jill had to admit it did. 

They stopped at the sidewalk before the first crushed 
house. Jill was amazed. The slab was easily a thousand 
feet long and one hundred feet high. It extended fifty 
feet to their left, the rest tapered off into the 
distance. The thickness of the hull, where it showed 
through the breaks, was not less than ten feet. 

"Is it safe to go inside?" she asked.

Neil shrugged. "It didn't kill me."

"You were in there?"

Neil snorted. "Of course!"

Jill felt envious. "What's it like?"

Neil shook his head. "Like nothing you've ever seen."

Jill started forward. "I want to see."

"Hold up!" Neil said, sounding suddenly protective. He 
put a hand on her arm.

"I can take care of myself."

"I didn't say you couldn't," he said. "It's just that..." 
He stared at a crack in the slab. "There's things you're 
not aware of."

Jill put her foot atop a splintered, two foot tall 
section of hull. "Like what?" she asked. 

Neil looked at the fallen slab. "There's people inside." 

Shaken, Jill removed her foot. "What?"

Neil gulped. "They must have been doing experiments on 
them," he said. "Or something. They're in glass-fronted 
cases. Vessels of some kind. And, well, they have 
things..." He shivered. "It's very creepy."

Jill suddenly frowned. "Men and women, both?"

Neil shook his head. "Women only. From what I saw."

Jill's mind filled with images of torture and rape. "What 
is it with these guys?" she asked, disgustedly. "Are they 
just perverts, or something?" She stepped forward, again. 
"I'm going in."

"Okay. Just be prepared."

Going up to the nearest fissure, Jill looked inside. The 
chasm rose clear to the top, but was very narrow in 
width, especially near the mid-point. Shrugging off the 
pack, she removed the flashlight and set the pack on the 
ground. 

Looking unhappy, Neil said, "You're sure you want to do 
this?"

Jill shook her head. "I'm not sure of anything," she 
said, touching the broken hull. She snatched her hand 
back. 

"Gross, isn't it."

Jill looked at her palm. "Feels wet." But there was no 
moisture on her skin. "And it's warm," she said, looking 
at the surface more closely.

Neil said, "I know."

The hull looked composed of a form of epoxy resin, within 
which were embedded bundles of fiber. And it smelled bad.

"How long were you in there?" she asked.

"About an hour."

"Were there any..."

"Aliens?" Neil shook his head. "Not unless they look like 
us."

Jill stepped up into the break. The hull vibrated. She 
gave Neil a look.

"Yeah," he said. "I know."

Keeping her hands and every other part of her body away 
from the sides, Jill navigated through the opening. Where 
the fissure narrowed, she had no choice but to turn 
sideways and slip between the sides. Both her front and 
backside's touched. Her face tightened. "It feels like 
it's groping me," she said. 

Neil said, "It knows we're here."

Jill said, "And it objects."

Neil laughed, cheerlessly. "I feel the same way about 
it."

At the end of the fissure, Jill and Neil stood, looking 
about. The room was huge, though not a room by any human 
standards. The walls contained not a single straight 
surface, and in many places, followed a floor rising and 
falling many dozens of feet. Holes in the wall--doorways, 
she guessed--lead out to undulating corridors. Consoles 
erupted from the floor and from the walls, covered with 
what might have been controls. One such "console" lay 
close enough for Jill and Neil to inspect. Jill stepped 
out of the gap and made her way over.

"This is fucking weird," she said.

The controls, if that's what they were, gave evidence to 
Neil's theory of a living ship. Centered among the dials 
and switches was a triangular array of screens, roughly a 
foot each in diameter. Each had a diaphanous coating over 
the top. They looked like fish eyes, Jill thought. Light 
pulsated and changed color within.

"That's new," Neil said.

"What is?"

"The colors. Last night, everything was dead." He looked 
uneasily around.

"Well, they're alive today."

The lights pulsated more strongly.

"Did you see that?" Jill said. "What's going on?"

"We should get out of here," Neil said. "Before it 
decides it likes us."

"I think it already does." 

To her consternation--and trepidation--the lights grew 
brighter with her every word. Controls on the console 
face began to move: switches (they looked like bony 
fingers to Jill) flipped by themselves and dials 
registered movement. Beneath their feet, the vibration of 
the deck changed.

"I don't like this," Jill said, backing away.

Neil backed away with her. "We need to get out of here. 
Now."

They stopped at the fissure, and slowly, as though doing 
so with remorse, the console's activity faded.

"This is way too creepy," Jill said. "That thing knew I 
was there."

Neil looked at her, concerned. "I know why, too."

Jill met his eyes.

Neil's eyebrows raised.

"Come on! Because I'm a girl? That's ridiculous!"

"Nothing like this happened last night," he said. "And 
the only ones affected by the ship's arrival were women, 
you said so yourself. Doesn't it stand to reason..." His 
words trailed off. "I need to tell you something."

"What?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "There's an awful lot of women 
aboard."

Jill's stomach tightened. "How many is a lot?"

Neil said, "Lots and lots. Thousands, maybe."

Jill's stomach dropped. She blurted: "That wasn't 
important to tell me?" 

Neil held up his hands. "I didn't want you freaking out," 
he said.

"Freaking out!" She grabbed the front of his shirt. 
"Neil! This is freaking out!"

Just then a shudder ran through the deck and they both 
stumbled sideways. The console had returned to life. The 
coverings over the three round screens had drawn back 
(just like an eyelid, Jill thought, crazily) and light 
pulsated strongly within. The colors had stabilized, one 
to each screen. The colors were red, blue and green.

"Jesus!" Neil cried. "Primary colors. What the fuck is 
that?"

"I don't know," Jill cried. "And I'm not staying to find 
out!" She spun about and jumped into the fissure, then 
jumped immediately back out. She emitted a shriek. 

"What?" Neil yelled. "What is it?"

"It's closing!"

The sides of the break were indeed, melding together. The 
epoxy-like substance flowed freely into itself, and the 
torn fibers somehow rejoined. The damned thing was alive.

"We've got to get out of here!" Neil cried. Grabbing 
Jill's hand, he ran for the opposite wall. 

"Where?" Jill cried. "Where?"

They both stopped dead. The fissures ahead were closing 
as well.

Jill pointed at the nearest doorway. "What about there?" 
she said. "Those are corridors, not breaks in the walls. 
They must lead somewhere!"

"Yeah! Farther into the ship!"

"Not in that direction!" Jill insisted. "It's only fifty 
feet!"

Neil's face lit up with hope. "And it broke right down 
the middle!" he exclaimed. "It sure as hell can't fix 
that. Come on!"

Running flat out, they entered the closest doorway and 
raced down the corridor. It had undulating walls, 
ceilings and floor, and was embedded with consoles. Every 
console registered activity as they passed, either with 
flashing lights or with chattering clicks. The first 
console had no function for sound, Jill realized, or it 
hadn't gotten there yet. Then they entered the next room 
and ground to a halt. 

Jill stared about in dismay. 

Following the curvature of the wall, rising and falling 
with the floor, were hundreds of vagina-shaped vessels. 
Stacked ceiling to floor, they completely filled the 
room. Each vessel held a woman.

"My God," Jill breathed. Her heart felt stopped. Her 
breathing had. "There must be a thousand of them," she 
said, "Just in this room!"

"I'm afraid so," Neil panted. His voice was full of ache. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" Jill whispered. 

Neil said, "I did."

She stared at the cases. "No," she said. "You did not."

Moving almost reverently to the nearest enclosure, Jill 
stood before it. She could almost not look. The occupant 
was a woman in her late twenties to early thirties, full 
bodied and looking radiantly healthy. She had no hair. 
She was horribly impaled. 

Embedded in her mouth, her vagina and presumably her 
rectum as well, were cables the thickness of Jill's 
wrist. They pulsated obscenely, and were crosshatched 
with something resembling veins. They were even blue in 
color. Jill backed away.

"Are they alive?" she asked. 

"I don't know," Neil said. "This one might be."

Jill closed her eyes. She controlled her anger. She 
opened her eyes again. She leaned very close. 

The front of the case was some kind of transparent film. 
It was definitely not glass. She touched it and snatched 
her fingers away.

Neil gulped, loudly. "I swear to you," he said. "They 
were not alive last night. None of them were. They all 
looked like her."

Jill followed his pointing finger. Thirty feet up, and 
off to their right, one of the cases had a fractured 
cover. It was barely half-filled; leaving the occupant 
slumped forward against the front. She was lifelessly 
white. Jill noticed other broken cases.

"They all looked like her," Neil repeated. 

"Well this one is alive," she said. "And so are most of 
the others." She found Neil's eyes. "This is not an 
experiment, Neil. These women are part of the ship." She 
waved her hand about the room. "And they're doing 
something now. Or having something done to them."

"Yeah," Neil said. "And you know what started it up."

Jill said: "Me."

Neil did not disagree.

"What should we do?" she asked.

Neil said, "Get the hell out of here."

"And leave them behind?"

"We can't take them out."

"Why not?"

Neil indicated the pulsating cables. "There's no telling 
how deep these go," he said. "Or what they're attached 
to. For all we know, they could be wired directly into 
their brains. You want to take that chance?"

"Fuck!" Jill shouted. "This is just fucking mad!"

Neil's eyes opened wide. "Take it easy," he cautioned. 
"Look."

Jill turned and found that the nearest console had 
screens which held steady; a constant red, blue and 
green. They were almost preternatural in their intensity. 
She backed away. "It's watching me," she said, her voice 
tremulous.

"No shit, Sherlock."

She stopped at Neil's side. "Okay, so what do we do?"

"Get the fuck out."

Jill said, "I'm all for that!" and spun around and ran.

They had just reached the edge of the broken deck and 
were preparing to leap, when they both heard the sound. 

"Now what?" Jill shouted.

"Look!"

High overhead, flying in tight formation, were hundreds 
of fighter aircraft. They were headed west.

"What are they doing?" Jill wailed. "Are they crazy?"

"They're all going to die," Neil said. "Every damned one 
of them. Didn't they learn anything from the movie?" 

Jill groaned in misery. They certainly had not. 

When the last of the aircraft disappeared from sight, 
Jill lowered her eyes. Then she looked up again. Tucked 
into a cavity high up on the wall, was the prow of an 
alien ship. 

"My God," she said. "Is that what I think?"

Neil shaded his eyes. "Sure looks like it to me."

"What's it doing there?"

"Better question than that," Neil said. "Is does the 
damned thing work?"

Jill looked at him, askance. "You're not serious!"

Neil said, "I most certainly am. You ready to climb?"

Jill continued to stare.

Neil laughed. "Know what our Victory Dance will be 
though, right?"

Jill was momentarily confused. Then she grinned. 

"I am not smoking your cigar," she said.

Continued in part 4...

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Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of
the hands of children. They should be outside playing
in the sunshine, not thinking about adult situations.

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Kristen's collection - Directory 19