The Meeting Point (12 page)

 

 

Mae and Lena left Angelo at the staff entrance, hidden behind some bins near a chicken coop. He was to wait until Katja finished her shift at dawn when she'd come to fetch him. That was the plan anyway. Lena was ill with nerves as they checked his hiding place from all angles to make sure he couldn't be seen. Luckily, the chickens seemed to be used to disturbances and didn't even offer any sort of protest squawk.

“Good luck, my love,” Lena whispered back into the gloom as Mae pulled her on.

When they were almost at the turn to the entrance Mae stopped. “Do we look good enough for this place?” she asked, apprehension croaking her voice as she smoothed out her rumpled robes.

Lena remembered how Marcus and Deborah had practically held their noses when she'd arrived in their room and brought out the tiny bottle of scent they'd given her, clearly understanding more than she, how her traveling companions would smell. “We look fine, you just stink of bonfires and sex. Here...” Lena doused her in the citrusy perfume.

“Well, my dear, you may
smell
the part, but you look like you've been dragged through a hedge backward into a shagging den,” Mae retorted, plucking twigs and leaves from her lover's hair. Her face became uncharacteristically grave. “Can we leave this for another day?”

Lena smiled. “I'm not sure whether we have a choice. It's now or never.”

One last shake down and check and the women linked arms, affecting a confident gait as they entered through the ornate doorway.

Once inside, they flashed their bracelets at Katja and Lena winked. “That's the one who's helping us,” she whispered to Mae who beamed broadly at the woman.

“You never told me she was so cute,” Mae whispered back, and Lena rolled her eyes. The bloody pheromones must be taking effect already—as if Mae needed any help. “Come on, you said we needed to hang around for a while to make us less suspicious. Take me to one of these bars you talked about.”

Lena had been warned about inhaling the oxytocin by Deborah, but as they peeked into that room with blissed-out women sprawling and lolling about the place, Lena felt the same devil that made her a voyeur, creep in. It would feel good to be the one showing Mae something for once, not just following her lead.

“Fuck it, come on.” After all, she reasoned, they had a couple of hours to kill, what was the worst that could happen?

Ten minutes later, with a with a black rubber mask stuck to her face, Lena realized she may have been a little hasty. She stared over at Mae who was reclining on the opposite sofa like the cat who'd well and truly got the cream. Mae was relishing the role of VIP, and the pheromone gas was working its magic on both of them. A thrill buzzed down Lena's back as Mae opened her robe to reveal her stiffened nipples then edged her thighs wide to show the dampness that was spreading through her crotch. Lena's body responded and she let her legs flop casually as her eyelids fluttered closed. This was good stuff. She felt like she was floating on a cloud of building ecstasy which centered right in her sex. Heat pulsed through her abdomen and the unbearable peaking and yearning in her breasts made her want to tear off her clothes and fling herself at her lover, pussy first.

Somewhere through the fog of lust, her conscience called to her. Lena reluctantly pulled the mask from her face and shook her head. She could have sworn she saw wisps of glittering arousal disperse away as everything cleared.

“Oh my God, Mae, snap out of it!” Lena leaped at Mae who had her eyes closed and her hand thrust at her pussy. “Come on, we must have been here for ages.” She gave her lover a sound slap on the cheek and had to admit how good it had felt to do that.

“Hey.” Mae pouted and put her hand to her heated face and rose, pressing herself into Lena. “That felt nice, Ms Lee. Wherever did you find your dominant streak?” Lena rolled her eyes again at the sex-drunk Mae who continued with her seductive tone, “I like it.” Mae's hand wound around Lena's hips and on to her backside, pulling her close.

It was all Lena could do not to sink into the embrace and let herself be fingered right there in the bar. Her pussy was practically begging her to allow entry to the hands which were now gathering the fabric at her ass cheeks from behind and gently scrolling it up her thighs. It would only take a second, she was so close to coming already. Their breath mingled as their lips barely met, feathery kisses allowing static to cross the tiny gap between them. Her skirt was now up over her ass and Lena was swaying with deep, hypnotic arousal. Her pussy was dripping and she parted her feet, hoping the stance would give Mae's fingers enough of a gap to slide into her from behind.

“That's it, my little angel. Open that wet cunt up for me. That's it,” Mae purred.

Lena fell forward, resting her head on the seductress's shoulder and breathed in deep. Underneath the citrus perfume, pheromones and campfire was the essence of her. Her Mae. The sexy, domineering woman who made her feel so divine and so dirty all at the same time. Lena felt such deep and overpowering joy at that moment, she thought she might cry. The heat building between them was intense, and just as she felt a sob leave her lips, fingers from each of Mae's hands separated her buttocks fully and scooped into her heaving pussy.

“Oh yeah, baby, you're so wet. So fucking wet. Just like you always are. I love you so fucking much, Lena. You have no idea.”

And right there, in the bar in full view of the other horny customers, Lena cried and came at the same time. It was an incredible release and her chest and pussy walls heaved together with the magnitude of everything about the here and now.

“I love you too,” Lena whispered as Mae's fingers left her and her skirts fell back into place.

“Good. Now let's get moving. We've got a lot to do tonight.”

Lena smiled. She'd never keep up with this woman, always one step ahead. Always seeming to be completely abandoned to the moment, but always so in control of everything.

They nodded their thanks to the bartender who had clearly witnessed worse and waved back in a friendly way.

“Now what?” Mae had shaken off the oxytocin experience as if it had never happened, and Lena couldn't help but be amazed yet again.

* * * *

“Are you serious? A shower? Of course I want one.” Mae had already stripped and turned on the taps full blast before Marcus could come over and shake her hand.

Lena shuffled with embarrassment at her lover's lack of social grace and started to pick up the clothes that Mae had discarded on the floor. “Sorry about that,” she said meekly, nodding to the corner of the room where squeals and rushing water were coming from. “I guess she…” Lena was going to say something about what a long way they'd traveled and how Mae was probably just tired and dirty, but these people were about to become their new companions. She owed it to them not to lie. “She's always like that.”

They all smiled and Lena was relieved. The sooner people got used to Mae's ways, the less time Lena would have to cover up or make excuses for her behavior. It felt good to give up that responsibility. After all, they were all adults and perfectly capable of looking after themselves.

“Does Angelo know where to come once he's inside the building?” Marcus asked, and Deborah's face fell. Nausea grew in Lena's belly.

“I thought your friend, Kat what's-her-name was going to bring him, wasn't she?” Lena looked from Deborah to Marcus who were clearly both anxious.

“Shit,” said Deborah, her fists balled and pressed to her sides. “I forgot to give the instructions.”

“What are you talking about? The woman will bring him, won't she?”

Marcus shook his head. “Fuck,” he hissed through closed teeth. “It's a time lock system and a clocking out thing. She has about twenty seconds to get out and lock the door with only a few minutes to make it over to her living quarters in the next field. They've got quite strict about things over the years.” He and Deborah exchanged glances which told of a deeper story.

“I was meant to give you directions.” Deborah grabbed her hair and squealed quietly as she bent at the waist and knees. This was a far cry from the cool, unflappable dominatrix that Lena remembered from the prison.

“What shall we do then?” Suddenly Lena's stomach rumbled outrageously. “Sorry, I must be hungry.”

Deborah smiled with a look of relief to accompany it. “Listen, you've still got the bracelets, haven't you?”

Lena pulled her sleeve back to show the beaded braid.

“Good. We need to take them...well, one of them at least, back to Katja before she finishes her shift anyway. Do you think you could pass her one and find your way back here without getting caught?”

“Of course we bloody can.” Mae came up behind her and rubbed her hair vigorously with a threadbare towel, pressing her damp body into Lena.

“Mae, you're soaking wet. Stop it.”

“Come on, Lena, this will be easy. And didn't I hear you say you were hungry? There must be food down there in the bar or something, surely?”

Deborah nodded. “Yes, there's food, but please be careful.”

“Don't worry,” Mae said with her usual breezy confidence while she pulled on her clothes. “Going undercover is my specialty, isn't it, Lena?”

Lena could only nod.

“Good.” Deborah came forward and took both women's hands. “We're counting on you. All of us. Please be careful, and don't be tempted by the oxytocin, it really messes with your sense of time and place.”

“Sure does,” Mae whispered into Lena's ear while pinching her bum lightly with her free hand.

Lena saw stress rise in Deborah and Marcus's expression. “Please, be assured, we'll do everything you ask. We want this to work too.” The image of Angelo crouched in behind the bins suddenly seared itself into her mind. Her heart began to thump a little harder, but Mae was right by her side chattering about clothes and makeup and asking for perfume to hide the smell of the great outdoors.

Marcus was at a desk scribbling away, and by the time the women were ready to leave, he had folded up whatever it was and crushed it into Lena's palm.

“Katja will do her best, I'm sure, but here is a simple map for him to follow. Deborah will try and meet him as close to the staff door as she can, but it just might not be possible depending on what happens.” His eyes were like big dark pools of pleading and Lena found herself gazing right into their depths. It was almost hypnotic, just like the oxytocin. His hand squeezing her upper thigh snapped her attention back. “Now go, get some food, act natural, and we'll see you back here before dawn.”

Before dawn? That was a good few hours away yet. Lena wondered briefly how they might fill their time, but another pinch to her behind made her realize there would be plenty to do with Mae about.

 

 

Angelo pressed his back hard into the stonework, trying to stretch out his numb legs as much as he could without breaking cover. Of all the places to be hidden...stuck between a chicken coop and bins. He had been aware of being hungry at first, but the foul smells around him had staved off any pangs. “Count your blessings,” he murmured while wrapping his fur around himself a little tighter. It really was cold at night when you weren't under the cozy blankets of sleep.

He'd tried his best to close his eyes and rest, but his heart and mind were racing. What if his lovers had been caught? He would simply surrender. How could he carry on without them? Or should he find this oasis they were planning on going to then come back for them? He was ill with
what ifs
and
hows
. He'd simply sat there in silence while his legs numbed with his ears pricked for any sign of his rendezvous. Every now and then the staff door would open briefly and he heard the shuffle of people slipping out into the darkness. The effort to remain still was incredible—he was sure his breathing was ricocheting all over the place. And as for his heartbeat, more than once he thought he might burst a blood vessel with the sheer stress of keeping quiet. It had been a while since anyone had left the building and Angelo dared to relax a little.

With a shrill whistle, the dawn chorus suddenly began and Angelo realized he could see around him. When had that happened? How could it be so dark, almost pitch-black, and then light? Just like that. He smiled as more and more birds joined in the morning din. It was a relief to know that night was over. As quickly as his hope for the new day arrived, it disappeared again, leaving panic in its wake. Wasn't the woman supposed to come for him at dawn? She was late. Angelo began to shiver, his stomach tightened into a tangle of knots and worry. How long should he give it before fleeing? He'd be no good as a hero if he just stayed there to await his fate.

“Fuck!” he whispered as angrily as he could at low volume and picked up two handfuls of dirt, intent on throwing them hard at something—preferably living. He lifted his fists and eyed the chicken coop.

“Pssst.” A voice made him almost pass out with fright and he let the dirt fall out of his hands. “Angelo?”

“Yes,” he said, but no sound came out. He cleared his throat. “Over here.”

“Shh!” A fairly violent hiss made him feel stupid.

He pressed his back into the wall again and pushed up on wobbly legs. As the blood rushed in, pins and needles spread through his limbs, making him stumble. He held onto the bin for support and at last saw his savior.

A dark-haired, worried looking woman was holding open the door and motioning for him to come. “Quick! Quick!” she whispered, sheer panic in her eyes. “I don't have time.”

As she ushered him roughly inside the door, she passed him a folded up note and tightly rolled garment.

“What's this?” he asked, but she'd already pulled the door to behind her.
Thank you
, he called silently as the tiny sliver of morning light disappeared and the door clicked shut.

He tucked the wrap under his arm and unfolded the paper which was warm and sweaty. It felt so delicate in his fingers, as if it could just fall apart. It was very dim inside the building and he had to squint to make out the smudged handwriting.

It was a map of sorts, or more accurately, a series of lefts and rights and instructions to remain in the shadows. If Angelo had felt nervous outside, it was nothing compared to this. His hands were trembling and sweating, and he knew he would put himself in danger unless he managed to memorize the sequence of twists and turns. Holding the paper into pools of light along the way was not a sensible option. He took a moment to visualize the route and calm himself before stowing the paper carefully in his robes.

He placed his right hand on the wall to trace his path and make sure he didn't miss any hidden openings. It felt dirty, as if he were in a basement or disused tunnel. Two rights then a left. His fingertips led the way and his eyes began to get used to the shadows. The place was completely deserted, and he allowed himself the luxury of hope. As he kept moving, it became clear that he was now entering a labyrinth of hallways with doors leading off them. He continued, trying to remember if it was the eighth or ninth door he had to reach. By now sweat was dripping off his nose and forehead and adrenalin had surged through every vein. At the end of the corridor was a sharp turn to the left. Angelo was confused for a moment, unable to remember anything about this in his directions. As he slowed his pace and crept toward the turn, muted squealing came from the door he was passing, and it made him jump. He would recognize that sound anywhere. Eighth it was.

He took a huge breath, wiped his brow, and dusted down his tatty clothing as best he could before lightly trying the handle. The instructions had been very clear on this point—do not knock. Simply try the handle and peer inside. If it wasn't the correct room, he was to close it quietly and try again. It seemed that whoever it was who wrote the instructions was very confident that he wouldn't disturb any sleeping occupants.

Of course, this was different. The person or people behind this door were not asleep. He turned the handle and held his breath for the point of no return.

He walked through and stared at the scene before him. Four sets of wide eyes glowed in candlelight.

“Angelo?” It was Mae. Angelo almost slumped to the floor in relief as she came bounding over to him and caught him in her arms. “You made it!”

Helping him over to the others, Mae was shaking. Everyone had been tense. Lena came up to him and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. She took his face in her hands and smoothed away the tears from his cheeks with her thumbs. He hadn't realized he'd been crying.

He kissed her sweet mouth passionately and breathed in relief.

When the three of them had composed themselves a little, Deborah came over and held out her hand.

“Good to see you again, Angelo. I hope you can help us.”

Angelo, caught up in the emotion of the moment, embraced her warmly before turning to the last person in the room. Something, a sensation, loomed deep in his chest and he breathed hard to keep it at bay. The male was older than he. Strong looking and striking.

“Hello.” Angelo tried to sound manly, but it was a pubescent squeak that filled the gap between them. Before he could clear the air and try again, the man was laughing warmly and shaking him by the hand.

“I'm Marcus,” he said, squeezing Angelo's hand so tight that Angelo thought he'd better do the same. “Hey, steady on, that's some grip you've got there.”

“Sorry, I…” Angelo snapped his hand away quickly. “It's just...well, I haven't met another male before. I'm not quite sure what I'm supposed to do.”

“Don't worry. It must be pretty strange for you. I can't imagine what it must have been like, locked away your entire life.” He looked around the candlelit room briefly and spoke again. “Well, I can almost imagine, having been here these past few years. But to be without a childhood…”

“Oh, it wasn't that bad.” Angelo didn't want to feel pitied. They all had their stories and sacrifices. It was time to look forward. “So what now?”

* * * *

Jets of warm water beat down on Angelo's already throbbing head. He'd listened carefully to what the four had told him and looked at the vicious electrodes he was supposed to disarm on Marcus. The pressure was unbelievable. Maybe he should just take his women and leave. At least then he wouldn't be responsible for Marcus's heart exploding if he couldn't disconnect the device properly. On the other hand, was it better that the man would be left to rot here, forever? Perhaps alone, if his partner couldn't take it anymore.

He screwed his eyes shut and balled his fists into the sockets. A hand reached in through the spray and stroked his shoulder.

“It's all right, Lena,” he called quietly. “I just need a moment to gather myself.” He realized the weight of the hand was too much to be Lena's and as the fingers began to knead into his tight muscles, their strength told him this wasn't the touch of either of his lovers. “Marcus?”

“May I join you?”

Angelo jumped in fright and flattened himself against the tiled wall.

“I-I…” he stammered, taking in the naked human who seemed like a giant compared to anyone else he'd ever seen.

“Don't worry, I'm not going to do anything. I just want to talk privately. The water should muffle my words.” Marcus took a sponge and lathered the pine scented soap into it. “I don't want Deborah to hear what I'm about to tell you. Turn around.”

Angelo turned and faced the wall, placing his palms on the smooth surface at shoulder height, hoping the stance gave him strength should he need it. Every muscle stiffened as Marcus smoothed the soapy sponge over his back and down his arms. Angelo's jaw clenched as Marcus leaned into his ear.

“Please, just relax. I have a lover. I only want to talk.”

Trying his very best, Angelo exhaled and sank a little, loosening his knees and hips.

“That's better. Just close your eyes and enjoy.”

Angelo did.

Marcus squeezed out the suds onto his skin and massaged them in with his long, dexterous fingers. “I want you to know that I will not hold you responsible for the outcome of my escape.”

Angelo tried to twist his head to look at Marcus, but was stopped by the man's large frame pressing into him.

“Just stay there. I have written as much in the last few pages of a notebook that belongs to Deborah. I am going to give it to you for safekeeping. Should the worst happen, please look after her and give her the book when you feel the time is right.”

Angelo shivered as both the words and hands touched him, causing a sob to leave his lips.

The man rested his head on Angelo's shoulder and continued. “I will walk across the boundary whether you fix it or not.”

The way Marcus spoke left Angelo with no doubt; the man wanted out no matter what the price. He'd been there too long. He didn't sound sad, defeated, or even angry. He was just stating a fact, and it gave Angelo some peace to know Marcus was taking the responsibility as his own. Angelo pressed his head against the tiles, letting his tension go. Marcus slid his powerful hands down to Angelo's flanks, making him squirm a little as he rubbed. It felt good to be scrubbed, and Angelo let all his anxiety go as exhaustion and relief won over. He began to drift away as the hypnotic, circular massage continued down his body over his hips, thighs, calves, and shins. It was heavenly.

He woke with a start when the attentions came to an abrupt end. The shower went off and he was thrust a thin, already damp towel.

“You fell asleep standing up.” Marcus smiled, guiding Angelo from the shower and tutting at his pruned fingers.

“Sorry, I'm just so tired.”

Angelo gasped when he saw the empty bed in the middle of the room. “What the hell? Where are they?” he hissed, and Marcus hushed him and led him to the bed and crouched down.

“You all have to squeeze in under here I'm afraid.”

Angelo ducked his head to see the three women all huddled together sleeping soundly.

“There's no rigid schedule for when the staff bring me food or check on me, so this is the best I can offer you while keeping you safe. Well, if you can call it that.” He passed Angelo his clothes and wraps as he crawled in beside the women. “You don't snore, do you?” he asked, a hint of humor in his voice.

“I leave that to Lena,” he whispered, smiling back, and a heel swung backward kicking him in the shin.

“I heard that,” said Lena in a sleep-thick whisper. Angelo slipped in behind her and she drew his arms about her.

“At least you'll get a couple of hours rest before anyone shows up.”

Angelo sighed into Lena's hair and closed his eyes to the rising morning light, breathing in the scent of his lovers.

* * * *

Keeping still and quiet as breakfast was served above them was excruciating. Angelo's ears seemed to magnify every tiny movement or breath. He wrapped his arms more tightly around Lena and lay there frozen.

“You look a little better,” an unfamiliar voice chatted away breezily to Marcus. “I really ought to change your bedding. It's been a while now, hasn't it?”

“No,” Marcus said, a bit too abruptly, and Angelo flinched as a pair of feet landed stoutly just close to his scalp. “I mean, It's fine. I'm still rather wobbly and really can't be bothered with the fuss, you know?” His voice was much gentler now and the attendant seemed to take his reasoning okay.

“All right,” she said. “But I will definitely be sorting this out tomorrow. Your doctor has suggested perhaps you might be up to a few light duties soon?”

The feet disappeared up and the springs suddenly bounced low just missing Angelo and the women.

“Please, just a few more days. You can sweet talk the doc, can't you?”

Angelo could sense Deborah stiffen at the flirtatious tone her lover was conversing in. He reached over Lena and Mae to squeeze her shoulder in reassurance. Marcus was only doing what he had to.

“Since it's you,” the attendant said, and Angelo could have sworn her voice had risen half an octave, “I'll tell her you're not quite ready. Anyway, I think she might be away on her rounds for the next little while. The clouds have been taking their toll in the valley. We're lucky we're on higher ground.” The trolley began to clatter backward. “I'll be back in an hour. I sneaked you extra toast. I know how hungry you are these days.”

As the door closed, four sets of lungs exhaled dramatically and everybody scrabbled out to grab some food.

“Oh my God, I am starving!” squealed Mae, but Lena slapped her hand away from the plates.

“No, Mae. We ate last night upstairs in the bar, remember?”