Aurora Blood Moon Tribute Pt 03

Sunrise over the Bird House, number 4 by Beck's calculations. Unable to sleep, she'd spent an hour or so watching the lights of maritime traffic- kero-lanterns on the wallowing dhows, the running lights of tankers and bulkies, the zippy beacons of military RIBs, protecting the palace. Flat on her back in the emperor-sized bed, gold silk nighty shucked up to her hips, she focussed inwards. Local time had to be about 6 a.m., so what time that make it at home? Around lunchtime by her ballpark estimation, 1 p.m., siesta time on Aurora.

Never planned nor discussed, much less written down, days under sail revolved around a comfortable routine; Sunup sex to celebrate the end of the night-watch, and to welcome Aurora, Goddess of the dawn. Then breakfast, before Beck took the watch and her old man got some shuteye. Best time of the day, best time, in fact, of her whole tempestuous life- all alone at the helm, steering by hand, plotting and navigating, trimming the sails, reading the sky and the sea.

Then lunch- green fish curry and rice or barbequed cray, washed down with a glass or 2 of French Champagne, with a little puff of weed if the conditions were kind. Then the highlight of the afternoon, siesta sex, and a quick recharge in preparation for the night watch.

Eyes closed, Beck brought her knees up and flopped them out to the sides. Such a girl thing to do, she smiled to herself, a primal gesture as old as the species. Lying in that strange bed, in a strange land, surrounded by strangers, she could almost feel the slow pitch and heave, the thumps and shudders of Aurora making way. She could almost hear the hush of water sliding over the hull. Smell the salt and the diesel, the metho stove, the sweet, heady perfume of sex.

Beck's hand caressed the mound of her pubis, middle finger dipping into flesh turned to liquid, hot and wet, slick, slippery, and yielding. The scene morphed and in her mind's eye, she saw Roger Bragg, looming over her, arms outstretched, his huge, fleshy battering ram breaching her defences. With Tanny beside him, up on her hands and knees, cheering them on, the old boy behind her going for broke.

A tear welled in her eye, then set off zig-zagging over her temple. Beck's hips began to hump, heart galloping and chest heaving as her breath began to quicken. Her skilful little fingers picked up the tempo, strumming the hard little bead towards a gushing, muscle straining crescendo. As unwelcome as it was, the gold bracelet banging side-to-side on her wrist, was no match for the upheaval in her belly.

Beck arched her back, biting her lip, rerunning another loop of well-worn vision, a layover in Singapore. In the hotel. Maya lying on top of her, face-to-face, her old man doing them both at the same time, out of one and into the other, over and over without missing a beat. She could almost feel Maya's skin, smooth as silk and slippery with sweat. And her sweet little bubbies, mashed hard against Beck's scant breasts. They were sucking face, Maya's hard, lithe body bouncing back and forth, while she squeaked and squealed on the brink of-

The door flew open and the lights came on, startling Beck out of her frenzied self-service. The doctor, Khan, appeared at her bedside, hair out, almost unrecognisable in a bathrobe. She had a stethoscope round her neck, and a blood pressure cuff in her hand. "What's going on?" she demanded breathlessly as Beck's handler, the Filipina, Floraliza, stepped up beside her.

"What?" Beck panted.

The doctor threw the coverlet back, then grabbed Beck's wrist and placed two fingers lightly on her skin. Staring into space, she estimated the radial pulse. 159 beats per minute. "Oh my god," the doctor breathed, "tachycardia. You must be having a seizure."

Beck wrenched her wrist free and struggled upright, hair awry, her face all hot and bothered. "For crying out loud," she glared, "I'm not having a seizure."

The doctor turned her arm over to study the golden bracelet. "But your monitor definitely showed-"

Beck shook her head. "That frikken' monitor..."

Fists on hips, the doctor shot her a glare. "We're you stimulating yourself?"

Caught wet-handed, Beck huffed and puffed with faux indignation. "How bloody dare you!"

The doctor wagged a finger. "Self-stimulation is strictly forbidden! Not just by law but by decree of the Herald himself, may god keep and protect him."

"I wasn't 'self-stimulating'." Beck said crossly, catching the Filipina's eye. They exchanged a knowing glance, a hint of a smile playing on the young maid's lips. "If you must know I was exercising." she said haughtily, raking her hair back. With her dry hand, the one that didn't smell like wet puppy.

"Exercising?" the doctor frowned. "What for?"

"Well, how else am I meant to stay in peak condition? For certain... you know... physical activities? You've kept me cooped up in here like a battery hen for god-knows how long. I need to walk. I need to run."

"That is not possible. You are not permitted outside. The heat would kill you."

"Then at least let me go to the gym! Look at me, I'm wasting away."

"Gym?" Khan frowned.

Floraliza cupped a hand to the doctor's ear and whispered.

"The exercise room?" the doctor demanded. "You? A girl? Who ever heard of such a thing?"

Beck slung her legs off the bed and got to her feet, then straightened her gold silk nightdress and swept back her hair. "If you wish me to remain in the very best physical shape. Doctor Samia. I demand it."

"I will have to seek His Majesty's permission." Khan muttered, fidgeting with the blood pressure cuff. Dealing with these Western upstarts was always a trial. No idea of etiquette or decorum.

"Well you do that. And while you're at it, find out what happened to my mate. My sister, Alana. You promised two days ago you'd make some enquiries. I've been worried sick about her."

"Why do you worry?"

"Because the last time I saw her she was being dragged away by the cops."

"Escorted, Miss Rebekah, not dragged away. I don't know how they do things in your country, but over here we have laws. Even if she did transgress she is in no danger. She might have been cautioned at the very worst."

"Yeah? Well I want to see her. I want to talk to her. And I want to talk to my boss. I want to clear up this little misunderstanding."

"I'll see what I can do."

Beck raised her arm and shook the golden Fitbit. "And can we please get rid of this frikken' body-hack?"

The doctor shook her head. "That is not possible, I'm sorry. All the girls have to wear them, to ensure the health and safety of His Majesty."

********************************************************************************************************

Tanya, in her inimitable style, was waiting at the gate. Having berthed Aurora at the nearest marina, they'd jumped the first available southbound flight and emerged one-by-one from the aerobridge, straight into a breast-mashing embrace. Hayley first, then Maya. Then the old man, who fell into a rocking clinch while the girls looked away. Hands on his shoulders, Tanya held him at arm's length. "I'm so sorry, Damon, that we had to drag you back for this."

Of all the old man's fears, this had been the most persistent- that Beck and Ally might somehow run foul of forces beyond their control. In some far-flung, god-forsaken part of the world- and heaven knew there were plenty to choose from. Where the rule of law was either fickle or non-existent, subordinate to the whims of tyrants and despots, whose absolute authority was based some meaningless pedigree. "Any news?" Watson asked, hoping against hope.

Tanya shook her head. "Roger's pulling all the strings he can, but we've never had much presence in that neck of the woods."

"Have you seen the footage?"

Tanya nodded. "Rodge emailed it to me."

"Can I see?"

"Wait till we're in the car, Darling."

"It's great to see you Tanny." Hayley said, "In spite of everything."

"Sorry you had to cut your sailing holiday short."

"Hardly your fault. And I'm just as worried as anyone."

Turning slightly, Tanya draped an arm over Maya's shoulders. "Poor Maggy. First the plague, now this."

"At least there's a vaccine for the virus, Aunty Tan. There's still no treatment for blatant fuckwittery unfortunately. Do you think the girls are okay?"

Tanya roughed her up with false bravado. "Beck and Alana?" she chuckled. "I'm expecting ransom negotiations to commence directly. The locals wanting to know, how much will we demand to take them back."

Downstairs at baggage collection, when Watson and Maya stepped up to the conveyor, Tanya held Hayley back. "Well?"

Hayley looked left and right checking the coast was clear. "You know, if there's one thing I hate about you. You're always right."

"Really? So did you do the do?"

Hayley rolled her eyes. "Did we ever."

"And?"

"Like I said, you were right. It was awesome." Hayley took Tanya's hands and leant into her. "You know," she said in Tanya's ear, "the other day when you rang, he was doing me doggy style while I was eating out Maya, and right when I came, he shot his load into me and nearly knocked my socks off. And I wasn't even wearing any. And I was just about to ask if next time he could cum in my mouth. Something I never dreamed I'd do."

"Not a fan?"

"Well it was the same thing with fucking, remember? It's just the idea I didn't like. But when I ate his cum out of Maggy, you know, it wasn't half bad."

Watson returned, slinging the strap of his war-weary duffle bag over one shoulder. Forming up, they followed Tanya like a mother duck out of the terminal into the parking station, where Caddy's gunmetal Maserati sat waiting. Bringing up the rear, Watson did his best to ignore the perfection of her firm round ass, shown off to excellent effect by well-worn, contour-hugging jeans. "Does Caddy know you've stolen her car?"

"She's in London." Tanya said, helping Maya load her luggage, her clothes and Hayley's all bundled into the one utilitarian backpack. "Mum's over there. The poor old girl thinks she's in Melbourne and can't understand why there's so many foreigners. Guys. If I ever get like that, promise, you'll kill me."

"Fuck dat," Maya scoffed, "I'm gonna have some fun. Put a radio collar on you, then drop you downtown. Post your wanderings on the internet. Sort of like Pokemon. Here, Comet, mind if I sit in the back with Damon?"

"No, sure." Hayley shrugged, a little miffed. She'd been right on the brink of asking herself. "What do you think? Maybe there's room for three."

"What is this?" Tanya scowled, "Am I a frikken Uber or something? One of you can sit up front and keep me company."

"Sorry Tan." Hayley said, roundly chastened.

"I should think so. What's so good about Damon anyway?"

"He's got a cock." Maya muttered under her breath.

'And he knows how to use it.', Hayley mentally added.

"Girls, girls," Watson said wearily, "no need to fight over me."

"But don't let that stop us." Maya said wryly. "Am I right?"

Tanya spun the wheels and fishtailed towards the boom gate. "Oops," she giggled, "forgot I was driving the Mas. Here," she said, passing a phone to Watson, "just hit play."

Heads down, the old man and Maya bent over the phone's display. The first clip opened with the GulfStream taxiing into frame, all lit up like a fair-ground with landing and nav lights, anticols and strobes. The nose dipped and it came to a halt, nosewheel planted precisely on the apron marker. The lights went out and in the very next frame the door opened. "Did a bit of an edit." Tanya explained, feeding a card into the trembling exit stand. "Otherwise we'd be here all day."

Watson's heart skipped a beat as Ally emerged, followed by Beck.

"They were supposed to provide a marshaller," Tanya went on, "and someone to greet them. I just hope they don't send us a bill, cos' I ain't gonna pay."

The perspective jumped, showing the arrival from a different angle.

"See that massive aeroplane in the background?" Tanya said. "It's the royal runabout. It landed just before them."

"What is it?" Watson asked, not looking up.

"Airbus A-three eighty. What else would you use for a sixty-k trip between palaces?"

"Where did you get the footage?"

"Can't reveal my sources." Tanya said, loftily. "In other words Kev. Remember our IT guy? He cracked that phone."

"How could I forget?" the old man muttered.

The perspective flipped back to the first field of view. "What you're about to see is a certain prince's mini-Mardi-gras." Tanya said, piloting the Maserati through the labyrinth. "They never go anywhere without the maximum fanfare. Makes them feel important. See what I mean? Armoured car... SUV... SUV..."

"How many times have you watched this?"

"Enough to know what happens next. See the girls?"

How could he not? The unmistakable profile of his beloved Rebekah, seen from behind, in shorts and a T and her lucky gold Connies. And Alana, just as distinctive, with her bubble butt and gunfighter's stance.

The convoy came to a halt in a blaze of brake-lights. Then, as Watson watched, the doors of the 2 rear black SUVs swung open. "Contractors." Tanya said.

"Why did they stop?" Maya asked, as Hayley craned her neck, trying to catch a glimpse of the action.

"Can I have a look when they're finished?" she asked.

"Of course you can, Darling." Tanya said and patted her arm. "Not sure Maggie, but if I was a betting woman."

"What?"

"I'd say his royal lowness just saw something he liked."

"Which particular lowness did it happen to be?" Watson asked. "Do you know?"

"Just some prince," Tanya replied, "that's all we know. They'd make a much bigger song and dance for the king."

An animated exchange was unfolding on the screen. The girls, clearly agitated, the goons visibly belligerent. The cavalcade moved off, leaving the girls and the goons behind.

Maya put a hand to her mouth. Watson slapped a hand on his forehead and slumped backwards, then bent over the screen again. "You know what just happened, don't you?"

"I think it's pretty obvious." Tanya replied.

"Ally just spooled up. You can see it from here."

"When he just took her phone?"

"Jesus Christ," Watson cried, "Ally... no no nooo!..."

"Well you better brace yourself," Tanya said, "because it all goes downhill from here."

Several police cars slewed into frame, under flashing reds and blues. Cops piled out. Several grabbed Beck and dragged her away, while several more tried to take hold of Ally. She went off, kicking and punching, then finally broke free, making it on-foot as far as a neighbouring field of view. Then a car cut her off, almost running her over, whereupon three burly cops crash-tackled her to the ground. She still didn't take the hint, and Watson watched her kicking and biting until the batons came out.

Insulting a royal, resisting arrest, escape from custody, assaulting police. The fearless little honey badger who knew no retreat had just sealed her own doom. "Well at least we know where she is." Watson groaned.

"Ally?" Maya asked in a frightened little voice. The old man and Tanya both nodded. "Where?"

"Jail Maggie." Tanya sighed.

"What about Beck?"

Tanya shrugged. "That's still a mystery. But as long as she went quietly, with a bit of luck they might not have given her much of a hiding."

"Or even thrown her in jail." Watson said hopefully. "Who knows, she might get off with a warning."

Tanya's hands wrung the wheel and she stared straight ahead, saying nothing.

"Mightn't she?"

Tanya rolled her shoulders. "Stranger things have happened I guess."

"You know, I've never heard anything so unconvincing."

"Well..." Tanya hedged, "it's just that..."

"Go on."

"Look, I don't want to worry you any more than you already are, but..."

"Go ahead, Tan. You might as well tell me."

Tanya shook her hair back and looked at Watson in the rear view. "Well... It's just that... these particular royals have a bit of a reputation."

"Let me guess... Something to do with western women?"

"Got it in one." Tanya nodded. "I looked them up. They have well-known appetite for white meat, apparently. Something of a tradition it seems, going back centuries."

"Tradition?" Watson growled. "Sounds like an excuse to me."

"You don't need an excuse." Tanya said. "You don't need anything when you rule by decree. When you literally own the whole country."

"They still do that? In this day and age?"

"Why not? The population seems to fall for it, and by all accounts they're well looked after. It's a fact, the best form of government is a benign dictatorship. The royal family itself is mind-bogglingly wealthy. Oil and gas of course, what else? All the locals are well taken care of. Free medical, free education, a free house when you get married. The whole thing propped up by a slave-class and expats. The king, meanwhile, likes his enemies beheaded and his women foreign and young. And preferably blonde."

"How old is he?"

"In his seventies."

Watson sagged with relief. "Well, he can't be that much of a threat, surely? Not at that age."

The 3 females exchanged startled glances. "I can't believe you just said that." Maya breathed. "You of all people."

"No," Watson blustered, "that's not what I mean. What I mean is... Becky's just a pilot, right? And he's a king."

"So what are you saying?" Tanya demanded. "She's not worth it?"

"Of course she is." Watson said, sitting back, looking flustered. More than anything he wanted to believe his little runaway was just too humble. Too common. Far too lowly to catch the eye of a filthy-rich monarch, "It's just that..."

"You know," Hayley said, "personally. If I was a king, I'd start a bloody war to get my hands on that girl."

"Me too." Maya said.

"Uh huh." Tanya nodded.

"Awesome!" Watson said, crossing his arms. "That makes me feel so much better."

"So you want us to bullshit you?" Tanya glared.

"Well what are we gonna do?" Watson pleaded. "Maybe we should go the government."

They all looked at Watson aghast, and only line-assist kept the Maserati confined to its lane. "Did I just hear you right?" Tanya gasped. "You? The most rabid antiauthoritarian this side of the black stump?"

"I'll convert." Watson cried. "I'll even wear a suit and tie. I'll do anything, Tanya, anything."

"Well, even if they wanted to the government couldn't do jack. And even if they could it could still take months. And I'm not sitting on my ass for that long. Not while the girls are missing."

Watson sat staring at the cellphone display. The footage had long since run out and the screen was black, just like his hopes. "Well, what about Roger?" he said. "What's he gonna do about it?" What was meant to be a question, sounded for all the world like an accusation.

"Everything he possibly can." Tanya said frostily. "What do you think?"

********************************************************************************************************

On his way back from the corner convenience store, Bragg studied the passers-by from under cover of his gold-mirrored wrap-arounds, the sun beating down like a club on his head. He'd always loved this part of the world, for the unrestrained cut and thrust of the business culture. A land full of thieves and liars where everyone was a swindler, Bragg himself a champion among them. The no-holds-barred, cashed-up free-for-all had a sort of purity to it, a subtle equality, yin and yang- if you weren't screwing someone you were being screwed. Not like the west with all its false decorum, the handshakes and back-slaps and all that 'trust me' eye-contact. Over here, look a local too long in the eye, and you missed the hand going for your wallet. Everyone knew- as long as you pledged fealty to The Herald and his message, everything else was open slather.