Kelanie Gets Recruited
She slipped out of the theatre, hidden in the middle of the crowd. They were all in pairs, laughing amongst themselves, quoting the wittier lines from the play they'd seen; she'd considered asking Gaeren if he'd accompany her to this farce, but he said that he couldn't risk being seen there, and reassured her that after she'd seen this play, she would understand their cause. He was right.
It was allegedly a comedy, but she had not found anything at all amusing about the situations portrayed on the stage; they reeked of singular, aloof elitism, people who knew, inherently, that they were much better than their associates, who they treated like objects to humiliate and, occasionally, have sexual intercourse with. She felt an unusual emotion stirring within her; anger. She patted the rolled-up posters hidden up her left sleeve, felt the outline of the spray-glue gun in her pocket, and knew then, she had joined the AnarchArtists.
She found the ideal spot: it was a blank wall two blocks away from the theatre, directly across the way from the NoSanNoOs Directorate Office. The wall was marked by the faint rectangles of posters which had been hastily put up and torn down even more quickly. She glanced up and down the street, saw no-one else, and turned to a section of wall that was hidden by the shadows between street-lamps. She withdrew the rolled-up posters from her sleeve, tapped the plastic seal, which popped, the plastic sheets unrolling uncontrolably. She dropped some of them, and bent to pick them up with alarm; if she was caught with this material, she would be in serious trouble.
She took the spray-glue gun out of her back pocket, a cylinder like a large pencil, pointed it at the wall and pressed the end. A thin jet of bright yellow glue shot out, writing squiggled hieroglyphs on the blank ceramic surface. She drew a rough rectangle, fractionally smaller than the poster she held in her other hand, which she then slapped up against the wall. The poster slid down a few centimetres, and, cursing, she slid it up again with the palms of her hands. The wall had been treated with some new chemical designed to resist this sort of thing; the glue she had been given was a new invention of the techs that worked for the AnarchArtists, and was supposed to counter the frictionless wall-coating placed by the NoSanNoOs. The poster slipped again; she snarled, and hit it with her flattened palms. There was a sharp crack, she felt a searing heat under her hands, and the glue had set, activated by the impact. "Ahh!" she smiled, and then realised that her hands were stuck to the wall as well. "Oh!"
She tugged again; her palms and outspread fingers were fixed solidly, as if the bones in her hands had been melded with the slick ceramic bricks. She tried once more, ineffectually, to tug her hands free, moaning in frustration. The spray-glue gun rolled away from her feet. Glancing nervously over her shoulder, she wondered if one of her contacts with the AnA would happen along before one of the Militia did. She tried to compose herself for the tenuous mental contact that she'd once attained with Genesis, but he was probably asleep at the moment. She focused on the part of the poster that she could see between her splayed fingers:
While she was trying to establish the link, she failed to hear footsteps coming up behind her. She was shocked out of her semi-trance when a hand slipped around her waist, another cupped a breast and a familiar voice murmured, "Well well well well. How are we this evening, Miss Camden?"
Kelanie swallowed, tried to force a degree of calm into her voice, and replied, "Hello. Did you see the play?" It was Mileva Barker, the closest thing that she had to an enemy; leader of a gang of AV thieves that Kelanie had run with when she was younger. Mileva had once made it obvious that she found Kelanie attractive; and now, she had found an opportunity to express her feelings unimpeded.
"Oh, Kelanie... my dear...you know that I'm not the patron of the arts that you are..." she sighed, running her hand down Kelanie's side, tracing the outline of her hip, lifting the side of her short pleated skirt to rest the palm of her hand against the top of Kelanie's thigh. She sighed in Kelanie's ear, hugging her closely.
"Uh, Milly... is this really the right place to -"
She was cut off abruptly as Mileva hooked her foot around Kelanie's ankle and sharply dragged her back so that she was spread-eagled, hands up against the wall, as if she was being searched for weapons. "Ahh, yesss... this really is the right place to." Kelanie tensed as she heard a familiar snick sound; Mileva had extended the thin polymer blade that she had mounted underneath the nail of her little finger, and was using it to slice away Kelanie's underwear. The shredded remnants of her panties dropped to the ground next to the spray-glue gun and the other posters. Her eyes opened wide as Mileva ran a hand down her back, over her behind and between her legs. She hugged Kelanie close, kissing her neck as a pair of Bythian Militia stalked past, weapons and ammunition belts clinking.
One of them glanced at the pair, and said, in the harsh metallic tones that were generated by a NoSanNoOs translator, "Keep it clean girls." They passed by without noticing the poster. Kelanie found herself holding her breath, which she released in a sigh when the Militia had gone around the corner. She gasped as Mileva pinched her nipples, giggling. "I should have asked them to join in! Now, let's see, what is this stuff..." she picked up the spray-glue-gun, examined it. "This looks like a variant on the old Spheloidal-quad-linked syndiotactic ParaMylar... what we need to do is get some moisture underneath your hands."
"And just how do you propose that we achieve that?' Mileva's reply was to slip her hands underneath Kelanie's blouse-top and press her hands to Kelanie's breasts, gently circling the nipples with her index fingers. Kelanie sighed, closing her eyes, as Mileva wrapped a leg around her own, turning Kelanie's head around so that they could kiss, one hand straying from its position at Kelanie's breast to slowly slide down towards her hip. This hand explored the curve of Kelanie's behind, the tensed muscles of her thigh, and as their tongues met in the warmth of their lips' caress, darted in behind and under, to stroke the lips of her cunt. Kelanie shuddered, arched her back, exposing herself to Mileva, who caused her to bend back further until her head was thrown back, her throat exposed to Mileva's mouth, kissing and occasionally inflicting tiny bites on her neck and shoulder- muscles which stung deliciously.
One of Mileva's hands was gripping Kelanie's left breast, kneading the soft flesh and alternately pinching and soothing her nipple, while the other was easing three fingers in and out of the wetness that they had solicited at the juncture of Kelanie's thighs, which were quivering. Mileva lifted her right hand up to press it flat against Kelanie's, spreading her fluids over her fingers. Kelanie felt her hand move slightly, and then it slipped free. Mileva spun her around, embracing her, pressing her breasts against Kelanie's as they slowly ground their lips together, insistently moving her knee up and down between Kelanie's thighs, one hand pressing Kelanie's freed right hand to her crotch, the other kneading the muscles of Kelanie's shoulders and back, eventually arriving at her clitoris, her knuckle pressing the outer lips apart, rubbing up and down against her wetness, until Kelanie was sufficiently aroused to shudder into a drawn-out orgasm, her hand clutching Mileva's, her scream being subliminated to the level of a tiny squeak through their kiss. Mileva brought her left hand up, pressed it against Kelanie's (which was painfully twisted around and above her head), and within moments she had been freed to collapse, weak-kneed, at the base of the wall. Mileva joined her there, on the grass, in another intimate kiss. Eventually, Kelanie was able to stand, and taking Mileva's hand, she said, "Come with me..."
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