Wednesday, 16 February 2011

My Novel -- Freedom Fighters of Earth in the Year 2088

Chapter 14: The Unintended Betrayal of Peter

Georgia stood up off the bed and walked over to the mirror, aware that they were still watching her every move. Although she felt more scared of them than she did of the potential for Pirates of the Caribbean 4 to ruin Johnny Depp’s career, she showed no emotion as she put on the earrings her grandmother had made for her. Grandma had been a gifted craftswoman, and Georgia couldn’t help but admire the way that the beads glistened against the chandelier above. She never felt stronger and more empowered than when she wore these earrings, which were styled to look like a pair of chickens giving birth.

“Georgia? Are you there?” came a rumble in her inner brain-wave, indicating that Peter had returned from his mission and was now in the mood for a dalliance. She knew that she should show no sign of his arrival in her ears, but a tremble in her lip was all it took. One of the Corporation’s probes flew past her window, casting a backwards look at her before it went to megaspeed with news of her careless lips.

“Damn it,” she whispered to herself. She had been careless, and now they would know about Peter’s survival. If only she’d been more care FULL, she could’ve saved him from torture. Now he would doubtless be drilled within an inch of his life.

Georgia took off her bra to reveal a smooth pair of carefully-rouged breasts, firm in all the right ways but big too. Some women have breasts which look like they are welded at the top so they can’t dangle, but Georgia worked out three times a week at the gym and her chest-cannons were plump in all the ways that men liked. Peter certainly liked them, and she thought back to the way he used to tease her nipples.
Her breasts had been compared in the past to those gummy cherries you can buy at a pick n’ mix sweetshop. There was a cautionary shimmer to her nipples, which were not erect at this time but could prick outwards at the first sign of arousal. Sometimes she iced them up and went out for walks around the hotel, enjoying the admiring looks she got from strangers as they pressed tightly against her silk tank-top. In the light of the room, they looked to be bright red, but the reality was that they had more of a light-tan colour to them. If you saw her nipples detached and sat on a scientific desk, you’d be unable to tell if they belonged to a white woman or a latino.

Of course, she was white. The latinos had been sent off in search of off-world activity all those years ago. She sighed at the very thought of all those dudebros flying off to parts unknown. How she wished she’d taken the chance to have one of them visit her parts unknown before they’d left the planet. Her tick-list of ethnicities would always remain incomplete.

Georgia considered putting on a lacy green bra, before eventually setting for her favourite blue cushion-smuggler. She spent one last moment admiring her perfectly-sized and equally-spaced cans, before forcing the blue straps over her shoulders and restraining them. They put up a fight: she’d expect nothing less from those freedom-seeking jugs. But, after a few minutes, she had the bra on and followed it with a dressing gown.

Time was slipping away. Peter was in trouble because of the dystopian society Georgia knew and hated on a daily basis. She had to find the army of hope, and ask them for help in saving her paramour. With one quick tweak of her beautiful left nipple, teasing it into a place where it would have maximum allure, she picked up her gun and left the room.

No comments:

Post a Comment