The Gunfighter and The Gear-Head (23 page)

Something about Gieo’s posture irritated
Fiona. She positioned her legs outside Gieo’s forcing them in
together, creating an added edge of tightness and resistance to
thrusting the strap-on into the pilot. To prevent any further gasps
or moans of pleasure from being lost into the muffling bed, Fiona
grasped the back of Gieo’s collar and pulled it back, yanking her
head up. Gieo gasped at the rough treatment more in pleasure than
discomfort. Forced to let every sound of her bliss float out into
the air, Gieo found she was more vocal than she’d ever remembered.
Hazy memories of the peyote night filtered back—she was a screamer
when it came to Fiona. The delicious, filling thrusts of the
strap-on pressed down against her g-spot, sending shockwaves
through her system with every hard push Fiona made. Gieo was
screaming, barely able to mix Fiona’s name into the jumble, begging
for more, begging for harder, begging for faster. Fiona, to her
credit, met every request by redoubling her efforts until Gieo was
dead certain she would never walk right again, and wouldn’t even
care to try. A rolling orgasm, weeks in the making and fucked right
out of her with astounding energy, buckled her knees and sent an
undulating twinge down her legs.

Fiona, satisfied with her handiwork, lay
across Gieo’s back, leaving the strap-on fully buried inside her,
to kiss Gieo lovingly on the back of the neck. She released her
hold on the collar, letting Gieo’s head drop to the bed in an
exhausted flop. Gieo focused on the sweet hereafter, determined to
remember everything about the moment with Fiona’s breasts pressed
against her back, feeling ridden hard and put away wet, all with a
deep satisfaction on more than just the sexual level.

“This might just be because I’ve never been
fucked like that, but I think I’m falling for you,” Gieo said. She
felt something cold and wet drop on her cheek. It took her a moment
to figure out it was likely a tear.

“If one or both of us doesn’t make it back
after tonight, I want you to know, ever since I met you, you’ve
made my life worth living,” Fiona whispered.

Gieo reached out to find Fiona’s hand on the
bed beside her head. She interlaced their fingers and gave her hand
a hard squeeze. The dire need and speed of the night’s events
prevented true processing of exactly how dangerous of a proposition
it all might end up being. In the contemplative moments after
earth-shattering sex, all the doubts and fears came rushing in.

“We both have to make it,” Gieo said with
steely determination. “You have to do this to me at least once a
day for the next twenty or so years. I’ve already mentally
scheduled it.”

Fiona slipped from her. The absence of the
strap-on inside her and the gunfighter on top of her felt a little
lonely to Gieo; she immediately wished for the return of both. She
rolled onto her back and pulled up her underwear. She stared up at
the ceiling with a little smile playing across her lips—she was
going to be deliciously sore tomorrow, and looked forward to the
physical reminder of their night together.

Chapter 15:
Dust-up disrupted.

It had taken
Mitch and Bond-O so long to get the truck moving that Gieo was able
to catch up at a slow jog mixed with a brisk walk. She climbed
aboard and hooked herself into the gun platform ready to spin the
gyroscopes atop the boiler on the bed of the truck should the need
arise. She didn’t imagine anyone would attack the truck with the
enormous quad gun manned; besides, the thing’s engine sounded like
the thunder of the gods, belching steam and smoke to match. Bond-O,
wearing a leather apron of his own, thick work gloves, and goggles
worked the bellows and pumps required to keep the engine at top
performance while Mitch drove, shouting directions out the back
window to keep the easily distracted chef on task. Bond-O waved up
to Gieo when she scrambled onto the truck—the two empty fingers on
the glove of his left hand waggling comically with the wave.

The sun had long set by the time they rolled
up to the old high school. The hastily built ramparts, gun
platforms, and barriers around the dusty brick buildings spoke of
an anticipated attack from all sides. The horses had been moved off
the playing fields into the gymnasium to give them an iota of
protection. A few of the Ravens directed the truck into a position
in the dead center of the primary firing line. The cultists would
be on foot, coming from just about anywhere, but the hunters would
need something flat and smooth enough to drive over. Gun Club Road
would be the only entryway for them, funneling them right into a
hornet’s nest of firepower with Gieo’s quad gun at the center.

Gieo unhooked herself from the turret and
hopped down to find Veronica waiting for her. Veronica gently
cradled Gieo’s face in her soft hands, smiling brightly to her.
Before Gieo could ask what was going on, Veronica was hugging her
tightly. She smelled of strawberry candy and clean linen. Her arms
were strong, but the hug held the softness only inherent to hugging
another woman; Gieo rested her head on Veronica’s shoulder to savor
the sensation she had almost forgotten existed.

“You’re so brave to join us,” Veronica
whispered to her. “We won’t forget this.”

“I can’t fight,” Gieo said.

Veronica pulled the hug back to arm’s length
and cocked an eyebrow.

“I can shoot the gun,” Gieo said, “but I know
I couldn’t shoot at people.”

“Then I won’t ask you to.” Veronica smiled
and touched Gieo’s cheek. “Does the bartender know how to operate
it?”

“No, and it wouldn’t work to teach him
anyway,” Gieo said. “The turret has to hook into clothing, and the
dress I’m wearing is the only clothing I have with me that will
work.”

“Clever way to keep the Slark from using any
of your salvaged weapons since they don’t really wear clothes,”
Veronica said with a smile that shot pride right through Gieo. “Can
you teach Stephanie how to fire it?”

“Of course, but I don’t want to just sit idly
by while…”

“Don’t worry about that,” Veronica said. “I
know just the thing for you. Find Stephanie, get her situated, and
then come see me at the top of the front steps.”

Finding Stephanie was an easy proposition.
Many of the Ravens had dyed hair, but Stephanie seemed to be the
only one in the area who favored pink. She was standing a post at
the edge of the rampart with two other Ravens who were doing more
chatting than guarding.

“Hey, Gieo,” Stephanie said as Gieo
approached. “Good to see you again.” The affected smile Stephanie
wore said it was indeed good to see her, but the blank stare in her
eyes said she couldn’t care less.

“How are you at handling big guns?” Gieo
asked.

The other two women in Stephanie’s guard duty
snickered a little under their breath.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I handle them
just fine,” Stephanie snapped. “I don’t know what you heard, but
there are other reasons someone might choke on…I mean, you throw up
on one guy and suddenly…”

“No, not at all what I meant,” Gieo said
quickly cutting off any further explanation. “The gun pod on the
back of the truck.” Gieo pointed to it looming above the firing
line. “Veronica wanted me to teach you to use it.”

“Oh,” Stephanie said, still letting the
information sweep away her indignation. “OH! I’d love to!” She
grabbed Gieo by the hand and dragged her toward the truck.

“There’s just one problem.” Gieo eyed the
revealing outfit Stephanie was wearing with a creeping sense of
doom. “We have to switch clothes. The turret is something you have
to hook into to operate.”

Stephanie stopped pulling her, turned to get
a good look at Gieo’s outfit, and smiled her approval. “That’s a
cute dress,” she said, “no problem.” Stephanie shifted directions
and began pulling Gieo toward the school buildings. One of the
trailer classrooms sitting a bit apart from the main body of the
school was being used as a changing room by many of the Ravens who
apparently had been pulled from work without being given a chance
to change clothes. The beautiful flowers of women who entered
exited in military fatigues and body armor. Gieo’s spirits rose
when she realized she would be wearing desert camouflage instead of
Stephanie’s chemise.

Once inside, Stephanie quickly slipped out of
her outfit. The crisscross front lace chemise with attached garters
and opera-length stockings came off with practiced grace. She
unzipped her platform-heel go-go boots as well and held out the
skimpy outfit for Gieo to take.

“I thought I could wear one of the uniform
things,” Gieo said, eyeing the outfit with disdain.

“You’re not a Raven,” Stephanie said.
“Uniforms are only for members.”

Gieo weighed the options of shooting cultists
and hunters with the quad guns or dressing in prostitute wear—it
was a close one, but she decided the chemise would be less
traumatizing long term. She and Stephanie were exactly the same
size and nearly identical dimensions, which was no doubt why
Veronica had chosen her.

“Okay, fine.” Gieo unzipped her dress,
realizing more than a few eyes around the makeshift dressing room
immediately drew to her. The visual attention and knowing smiles
only increased from the other, half-dressed women after Gieo had
shimmied into the black, lace chemise, stockings, and boots. She
was fairly certain her nipples were visible through the dainty
material and her cotton panties had seemed a little bigger when
they weren’t the primary thing covering her lower half.

“Do I need the collar too, do I?” Stephanie
pointed at the spiked collar Gieo was still wearing.

“Not, that’s…something else.”

“Oh, I completely understand—I wore one for
awhile too. You look great, by the way,” Stephanie said, her eyes
finally smiling with her mouth. “Let’s go get that gun
rolling!”

Back at the firing line and the truck, more
eyes followed Gieo with more smiles and even a few snickers. Gieo
pushed it out of her mind and focused on teaching Stephanie how to
hook herself into the turret, which clasps went to which hooks on
the clothes and how to use her feet to rotate the gyroscopes for
elevation and lateral movement. Stephanie was a quick-study,
picking up precise targeting movements with near mastery in just a
few tries. Gieo surmised that Stephanie might have been lousy at
blow-jobs when it came to big guns, but she was shaping up to be
Annie Oakley when it came to firing them.

After Stephanie was fully situated, Gieo
found Veronica at the top of the main entry steps at her makeshift
command post. Veronica was the first to actually laugh at Gieo’s
clothing; the infectious laughter quickly spread through the rest
of her officers. Gieo felt like crawling out of her skin in
embarrassment, and seriously considered storming off. As though
reading the furious blush and antsy feet, Veronica quickly snagged
Gieo’s hand and pulled her into the midst of the officers.

“I didn’t know whether or not Stephanie was
going to haze you,” Veronica said. Her affectation, the polished
southern belle minus the accent, had completely vanished as though
it had never even existed. In her normal speaking tone, she
actually sounded a little Creole or Cajun although drastically
faded with time, distance, and willful effort. “I know it might not
feel like it, but this is a sign of respect and interest.”

“Interest…?”

“Have you been getting smiles and friendly
glances?” Veronica asked.

“Yes.”

“That means the ladies approve of Stephanie’s
choice to invite you in,” Veronica said. “If your hazing wasn’t
welcome, someone would have told you off by now. I promise, I
really thought she would just give you one of our uniforms—she’s
normally such a truculent little thing. Our sumptuary customs are a
little backward from what you might think; you’re wearing the true
uniform of the Ravens right now, and, I might add, you’re wearing
it very well. You could change, if you wanted to, but I’d think of
it as a personal favor if you didn’t right away.” Veronica gave
Gieo’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Gieo’s embarrassment dissolved under the
compliment. The officers smiled and nodded their agreement, only
adding to her blush. She felt a strange sense of acceptance that
she’d only really ever felt at science and math summer camps.
Growing up, she was too much of a lesbian to fit in with other
Orange County Asians, too Asian to fit in with other Orange County
lesbians, too smart to fit in with the weirdos, and too weird to
fit in with the braincases; such was the otherness created by her
race, sexuality, eccentricities, and 200 IQ. She found acceptance
at science and math summer camps for the extremely gifted. Most of
the other outcasts there were just happy to be free of the
oppression they lived under during the rest of the school year that
they couldn’t care less that Gieo was a lesbian—they all had their
own idiosyncrasies born out of their genius and her sexuality
wasn’t even that odd by comparison. She’d counted on college to be
the next chance she would have at recapturing that acceptance, but
that was all six years and an alien invasion removed. Standing in
the midst of so many beautiful, talented, intelligent women, it
felt like the power structure that had once been so oppressive had
been flipped on its head, leaving Gieo to stand on the top, finally
able to see the sun.