0 comments/ 8939 views/ 0 favorites An Island Reemerges By: AmeriRam After three days one would have thought the jet lag had worn off. However, they remained once again inert on top of the mattress, unable to muster the effort to shake the covers off. It was a dry yet warm August day, and Fumiko's eyes blinked rhythmically in order to ward off the sleep. Her bed was a circular mattress with lavender colors and they were covered in a velvety purple blanket. "Baby, we eat now?" she asked in her gentle tone to the figure lying prone to her right. The shock of jet black hair moved and Fumiko once again viewed the delicate dark features of Sonya, pencil thin eyebrows, a small nose, lips curved upward in a sleepy smirk, and those pools of dark irises. The two ladies finally rose and Fumiko walked over to the window to open the blinds, oblivious to the fact that she was standing stark naked, her thin wiry frame clearly visible against the now well-lit beige walls. She and Sonya pulled on their underwear and bras and threw on kimonos. They walked down the hallway of the Shinjiros' one-level house, one following after the other, and entered the kitchen. There stood Fumiko's mother, Ai, a shorter woman in her mid-fifties with short hair in a ponytail wearing a button down shirt and suit pants. The older woman was standing over a pan making a fish fry for breakfast. Fumiko and Sonya had decided to use their spring break period to visit Okinawa Island. Already firmly cemented together in Oklahoma, they were now eagerly exploring the full aspects of eachother's dimensions. Fumiko had been queasy on the plane thinking about the type of reception she would receive from her family. But those doubts had been dispelled upon Sonya's charming first encounter with her parents. Although her father had by now become mostly indifferent to Fumiko's whims, Ai gladly took to her daughter's companion, amused at how unfamiliar yet curious she was toward Japanese etiquette. She quipped once on the first day that it was like raising a whole new daughter. "What are you thinking of doing today?" Ai asked her daughter. "I think that Sonya isn't adjusted yet to our complete way of life. We might go to the base district and try to enjoy some of their entertainment." Fumiko was referring to the area of town closest to where Americans were stationed, a recreational district full of soldiers and the Okinawans and Japanese who catered to their off-duty needs. Ai glanced up. "You want to go there? That seems a bit rowdy. She isn't at all curious about the north beach?" Fumiko frowned. Her mother, like many locals, was wary of the excesses of the off-duty Americans, who were known to get hammered in town. Also, even daylight hours weren't always safer, as servicemen tended to receive round the clock hours for their days of leave. Military cops commonly walked the beat there so as to mop up any sailor, airman, or soldier who was making a fool out of himself and wearing out the welcome among the locals. Nevertheless, every year or so there would be some scandal wherein a service person was arrested by Japanese police for some indiscretion. "No, mother, I think we'll be all right. Besides, we're only going to the Kempei Lounge," she said reassuringly. This particular bar was less risky than others, because it was favored by higher-end civilian clients as well as commissioned officers and career servicemen. After breakfast, Fumiko and Sonya gathered a backpack that included mp3 players and some magazines they'd both picked for the ride over. The bus, as usual in this country, arrived at the exact time listed, 11:20 AM, and the girls ascended stairs and sat with their backs to the front. Along the way Fumiko mentioned to Sonya whenever they passed a place of interest. The places they passed included a public park, a luxury hotel, and eventually an industrial district, but finally they alighted in a district with flashing digital signs advertising many tourist products. Fumiko and Sonya walked hand in hand over to a rather unfurnished building with an extinguished sign that showed a martini glass with an olive placed in a V shape adjacent to a highball glass. In script letters the caption "Kempei Lounge" appeared under the image. Upon entering they were greeted by a rather subdued scene, although even at this daylight hour the bar was rather well packed with patrons. At one pool table played two airmen dressed in work overalls, probably members of a ground crew, and six of their buddies observed. Other tables were occupied by diverse groups of Japanese and American personnel. One table even had a group of full-blown Japanese motorcycle punks, "bosozoku" as they are known, whose wheels were parked outside and displayed rising sun flags on their tails. The booths in the bar were elevated blue velour lounge seats. In an isolated booth sat a black woman, probably also American, in a blue blazer with skirt to match. Sonya's glance lingered on this lone customer. Her presence seemed completely out of place, yet she could have been waiting for someone. Nevertheless, although she had caught Sonya's eye, she could have been a regular based on the lack of interest from other patrons. Fumiko led Sonya by hand away from that end of the bar once she recognized a couple of familiar faces of people she'd contacted. The two who greeted them were a couple, Yoshiro, an islander, and Keiko, the daughter of mainlanders. Fumiko explained to Sonya that they'd grown up and spent many days on the sunny beaches together. "Oh, so y'all are a bunch of beach bums, huh?" commented Sonya. Fumiko widened her eyes at the unfamiliar expression, and Sonya had to explain to her what it meant, which also was repeated to Keiko and Yoshiro. The three Japanese spoke in excited tones for a while, reviewing old times and catching up on lost ones. Sonya found herself growing bored and feeling left out. It was naturally refreshing to be able to order alcohol in a bar, whereas in Oklahoma she would've had to wait another fifteen months. Even though she felt it would appear pretentious, she amused herself by asking the cocktail waitress to bring her certain mixed drinks she'd heard about but never had a chance to try, such as a Pimm's Cup. The alcohol helped her space out and ignore the incessant Japanese chatter going on around her. At one point however, she began to notice that the bosozoku gang had moved a few tables over and was now playing pool at a much nearer table, while others were amuzing themselves on a pachinko machine. Fumiko and her friends remained oblivious to everything, as they cheerfully talked about a topic that was totally obscure to Sonya. Occasionally, they would address a question to Sonya in halting English, and this was far less intelligible than Fumiko's. However, the rowdy behavior of the bosozuku was beginning to truly distract Sonya. They were shouting at each other, and it didn't take someone with a working knowledge of Japanese to know that most of it was vulgarisms. At one point Sonya glanced up from her drink, and to her consternation realized that the group of motorcycle punks was throwing casual glances their way. She furrowed her brow, and decided to continue ignoring their irritating behavior. But this was of no relevance; finally one of the group sauntered towards them and sized up each one. Although of above normal height for a Japanese, Sonya estimated him to be of only about five feet nine inches. He wore a leather jacket emblazoned with all manner of gang symbols, and his hair was smooth and at lower neck length with blond highlights. The punk spoke slow and taunting spouts of Japanese, apparently toward Yoshiro. Fumiko, and Keiko stared back and forth between the two men, and Sonya had a helpless look on her face, completely unaware of what was going on. Yoshiro sputtered a series of curses back at the punk and motioned for him to leave, but by then the rest of the bosozoku, four in all now towered over their table. They beckoned Yoshiro to stand up and confront them. "Sonya, there is a problem," commented Fumiko, as if there was any need. "We must run if we get a chance." But before they knew it Yoshiro had leaped up and was charging at the lead motorcycle punk. The two grappled on the floor. The lanky and passive Yoshiro clearly had no prospect of winning, even against the first man he had attacked. Yet he was still able to get his hits in, and even succeeded in stunning the first man with a haymaker while they grappled on the floor. However, the other three were able to grab him, and they dragged him crudely toward double doors that lead to a restroom. The three girls jumped to their feet and scurried after the thugs, Keiko screaming after them to release their friend. They rounded a corner and were in time to see the bosozoku slamming Yoshiro up against a profile mirror, hitting it at an odd angle. The mirror fractured with an ugly and ungraceful crunch, and a piece cascaded to the floor, while a spiderweb pattern developed on another part where Yoshiro's elbow had hit. While one of the hoodlums held him at bay holding a straight razor against his neck (handguns are rare in Japan, a result of relentless police scrutiny), the other three turned around and began to creep up toward the girls. The narrow corridor now afforded the attackers with an opportunity to corner at least one of the girls, and that's exactly what happened: Keiko, who was on the extreme left of the three, stuttered the words, "run, run! Get moving Fumiko!" But her friend was frozen in place, only turning when it was too late, and then buckling when Keiko ran straight into her. Ironically, it was Sonya, who didn't understand Keiko's plea, who was able to sprint off and return to the main barroom. She glanced from side to side, and realized that she offered very little help to her companions. Even if she could find a cop, she would have no capability of conveying the urgency of her predicament to them. She glanced in the direction of the dwindling crowd of American military men on leave, and she felt a glimmer of hope. But before she could call any of them, a blur of black and blue stepped in front of her. On the face of this person was a determined glare. "What sorta trouble you in, sugar?" inquired the woman in the blue blazer. Sonya's visceral reaction to this question was one of irritation. Who was this bitch and why was she even interested in what was happening. But her gut quickly digested a hunch that this woman could be exactly who she needed to extract her and her friends from this predicament. "You gotta follow me back. Lord knows what they're up to over there." The blazer lady followed her walking with confidence the heels of her shoes thumping on the floor with great resonance.They bounded with purpose back down the narrow hallway in time to see the punks drag Keiko back past the bathroom door. The blue blazer lady appeared to remove something for the matching blue purse on her arm and charged in. Sonya, on her heels, saw a brief flash, and then one of the bosozuku, tall, skinny, and emo with the look of one of those cartoon characters that made up the Gorilla fall to the pound writhing in pain while screaming. The punk holding Yoshiro to the mirror now widened his eyes and bellowed at his companions to corner the interloping woman. Sonya glanced at the woman's right hand and saw a crackling electrical device that she now saw was a taser. In her left hand, she held an open wallet. "Y'all see this?" she called out at the attackers. Sonya craned her neck to see what was in the woman's hand. It was a badge with a military police insignia on it. "It means you've two minutes to bounce until your own cops get here. I've already told a bartender to phone them." The punk with the blond highlights continued to sneer defiantly at her. One of his companions, with long spikes in his hair and a tight leather jacket, turned back and stuttered a rough translation of the cop's warning. Enraged, the blond punk flung Yoshiro off the wall towards Fumiko and Keiko, who were huddled in a corner, and charged the cop bowling into her and shoving her down. Although stunned and falling over, she was able to deliver a well-placed kick to the back of his knee, buckling him and allowing her to get to her feet before his friends could gang up on her. It was at this point that the blond highlight punk yelled a rash of obscenities, and the three of them scattered out of the bathroom, while their tasered friend remained prone on the bathroom floor. The policewoman and the four victims now were giving chase, not wanting them to escape before the police could show up. But the scene outside dispelled their fears. Two squad cars, Hondas, were parked out front at strategic positions, and the bosozoku had their hands raised above their heads. A policeman was entering the bar, and the bartender directed him toward the bathroom, saying that the remaining suspect could still be there. Sonya turned toward the policewoman, a look of relief obvious on her face. "Wow, I don't wanna think what woulda gone down if you weren't here," she stammered. The female cop turned toward her, grinning in excitement. "Truthfully, I was kinda surprised myself. The usual troublemakers here are drunken boys from the base." Yoshiro was leaning heavily on Keiko, and Fumiko was haltingly translating their statements of thanks. They all limped over to a booth near where the group had sat before. The next hour and a half were a long drawn-out conversation between the Japanese cops and the victims, so it was all a meaningless frenzied blur for Sonya. Once the series of inquiries had ended, Fumiko finally stared fully at Sonya. She had obviously been crying before, as her eyes were red and puffy. "I promise . . . I would never have brought you here if I had seen this before." Sonya's lip quivered as she tried to find the words to reassure Fumiko that she understood it, that it wasn't even a mistake in the true sense of the word, but she couldn't emit anything. Instead her hand reached out and she took Fumiko in a one-armed embrace. They stood there locked together, with Sonya furtively caressing Fumiko's back and staring toward the entrance where squad cars remained parked. The two were shaken out of their reverie by the sound of a throat clearing. Sonya made a whole revolution on her feet to face the source of the interruption. It was the black female cop. And she was obviously not a local one. "Oh, I'm sorry, I guess I haven't thanked you. And come to think of it you haven't introduced yourself." The cop's lips upturned in a dismissive smile. "I'm Sergeant Nikki Baker, Air Force MP. I was here to keep tabs on any rowdy American servicemen. Instead I found an American victim; pretty uncommon in my experience." Sonya sputtered a reply. "Well what I'm asking is what are the chances some locals would mess with us in a bar full of soldiers." Sgt. Baker shook her head. "That's a pretty big illusion. With all of the incidents that have happened over sixty years of our work here, we've put all of the effort into encouraging our boys not to get involved in local affairs. Not that they were paying attention anyhow." Her expression seemed to soften to a degree when she took in the somber looks of the four victims. Although as a military cop she was used to seeing all manner of complicated situations, she still could have some sympathy for four youngsters whose day on the town had been ruined. "I'll tell ya what," she said. "I'm not on call this evening, so I guess if y'all are up for it we could do something to make up for this tragic mess." The proposal was unexpected coming from someone who until then seemed to be all business. But Fumiko's face seemed to brighten after a second, and then Sonya smiled as if it had reflected off of her own face. "What do you say, girl? Are you up for it?" she asked Fumiko. Her friend nodded in return. "We'll talk to you sergeant," answered Sonya. "Hey, I'm Nikki when I talk to civilians", she replied. Since discovering Sgt. Baker's job, Sonya had somewhat suppressed her first impression of her when she'd walked into the bar. Although very professional looking, Sgt. Baker had a very nice figure, rising to five feet nine inches, maybe a breath shorter than Sonya, and packing an athletic figure with a firm bust. The group exchanged numbers, and then the three girls aided Yoshiro as he walked to a park bench outside of the bar. There they waited until an old brown Nissan station wagon arrived driven by his older cousin, whom they had contacted while the cops had been taking their testimony. Once Keiko and Yoshiro had boarded the car, Fumiko and Sonya walked to a bus station to wait for their own transportation, which was in a totally different direction. ======= Sonya stared out of the bus window for maybe the first five minutes of the trip back. "Lovegirl? This was how most of Fumiko's questions to Sonya started, but when it came out Sonya was startled. They had both acted since the incident like they were stuck in their own little bubbles. "Yeah, baby?" She turned to face Fumiko who had a perplexed look on her face. "You really want to go meet up with Sgt. Baker tonight?" Sonya did a double take. "Yeah, I . . . um ... think so. Why not?" Her lover blinked lightly at her question being answered by another question. "Well, maybe we spend that time with each other instead." She put her hand over Sonya's knee. It was good bait. But Sonya didn't want just bait. They'd been more or less confined to Fumiko's residence since their arrival, and Sonya wanted to see more of this isle. "You should show me more of your hometown, girl. I thought we were here so you could do that. Now I'm sure we can go somewhere where we can have our thing and also see other things." Fumiko looked ahead for a second. "There is a place, lovergirl. I've always felt like it's my place . . . in our sense. But I don't know if she would like it." She whispered a couple of sentences into Sonya's ear. Sonya smiled in appreciation. "Oh, she better start liking it, because I know that's where I'd want to go". The two discussed the time they would like to go and what they would wear. They also agreed that they would only go there if only Sgt. Baker was coming with them. It was obvious to them that Keiko and Yoshiro would not add anything to the mix, so if they insisted on going out they needed an alternative place to go. Upon alighting from the bus it was almost 6:30, Fumiko and Sonya trotted with anticipation back to Fumiko's house and shut themselves in her room in order to prepare for the night. Twenty minutes after their return Fumiko's phone rang and Keiko informed her that she and her beau were in no mood to go out again that night. This threw half of the plan into the swing, since both Fumiko and Sonya were resolute that now, no matter if the sergeant was coming or not, they would follow through on this. They then took a nap for about an hour and a half, as Sonya fought off the urge to have a nice preview session with Fumiko. The whole time they lay there she was passing images through her mind of Nikki Baker. Sonya had some hang-ups since entering a relationship with Fumiko. To begin with, she had found herself stuck in the role of the more dominant partner, and this was something she didn't gel with. Sonya was happy with her orientation, but she was resolutely more comfortable behaving in a more traditional, feminine way and dressing up. But Fumiko's passive and submissive behavior totally threw her off balance, and made her feel at times out of her normal role. Nikki Baker, on the other hand, may have been just what both of them needed. Although not a complete bulldyke (they didn't even know if she was in their corner to begin with), Nikki seemed very assertive. An Island Reemerges The two girls unfurled their evening attire: for Fumiko a white short-sleeve dress shirt with a black scarf as a tie and a shiny black skirt that extended halfway down her waist along with long white stockings and oxfords, and for Sonya a strapless sheer evening dress and high heels. They knew that this made them seem slightly mismatched, but they weren't planning on being together at all times during this evening. Fumiko always liked the traditional schoolgirl look and Sonya wanted for once to go for an elegant vibe. After the finishing touches were done, they exited the front door hand in hand. ====== Nikki Baker pulled up to the Glass Palace in the car she was assigned by her unit, a Mitsubishi Lancer that was one of the only Japanese vehicles owned by the US military on the island and was only used in order to deter soldiers from knowing that they were being observed by their police colleagues. She exited the car dressed in a simple jacket with a short skirt and a black blouse underneath. Even though she was at a recreational setting, Sgt. Baker didn't know how familiar she should behave with the two women she had met earlier that day. At the door of the Glass Palace stood two men of medium height, both dressed in leather jackets with crew-cuts. They sported Ray-bans that they wore on the crowns of their heads despite the late hour. To Nikki they seemed to be bouncers, although their appearance seemed to suggest that they were watching for police as well; small fry Yakuza gang members. Nikki knew that on average there was little to fear for the average citizen from these organized criminals; they operated almost like Rotary clubs in Japan, even using official letterhead. One of them barked a question at Nikki in Japanese. She shot back a confused look, and they stared at each other, apparently each one more sheepish of their English than the other. One of them made a rectangular shape with both thumbs and index fingers, and Nikki understood this to mean they wanted ID. She withdrew a wallet from her purse, and flashed her MP badge and the local ID card that included Japanese translation of her information. The two bouncers scrutinized it and one ran his finger down the local ID until reaching the row that said "Sex: Female" in English and Japanese, whereupon one grunted and smiled at her. "Verrry good." He pointed at a poster that was pasted at the right of the entrance door that showed the Venus symbol and below it the symbol of a men's bathroom encircled with a line through it. "No man party. Good time!" He flashed a sleazy grin. Nikki mused to herself that these two were probably being used to their maximum potential doing bouncer duty here. She sauntered past them as one held open the door in a sarcastic display of chivalry. Nikki was dazzled at the interior which was decorated in the style of Swinging London in the 60s with mostly outdated British pop tunes blaring over the speakers until it switched to regular club music around 11:15. The club probably contained a little more than seventy people, and the mood was lively if not raucous. She quickly noticed also that the composition was very much up to the specifications of the doormen: wall to wall females, most of them dressed in retro style miniskirts, some of them dressed masculinely in sweaters and pants. The only men in sight seemed to be associated with the bouncers outside, as they were dressed similarly, and among their number was a woman dressed smartly in a ladies' suit with her own pair of glasses in her hair. Nikki was one of only a few non-Japanese women in the room; the others appearing to be a small group of tourists yelling over the music in German at each other and a go-go dancer who was black and of unknown origin. This made her stick out and allowed Sonya to spot her with ease. "Enjoying the scenery?" she commented upon seeing Nikki's bemused glance at the bar. "Not as much as her," replied the cop and she gestured with her neck backward toward a thirty-something local dressed in a solid black T-shirt with a neck-length hair cut pleated slacks who was standing next to the bar. The woman was obviously tipsy and her stare was obvious. "I guess they're not used to the variety around here." "Variety's good enough for me here," mused Nikki. This meant that for all it was worth, she was at least having a good time and not simply tolerating sitting in a dyke bar. Nikki ordered a vodka and cranberry juice and joined Sonya who was already sipping her vodka and Red Bull. They discussed their backgrounds for a few minutes. Sonya described her childhood growing up on a reservation in Oklahoma while having brief periods living with her mother in Virginia and Pennsylvania. Nikki's past was a lot more varied. "Until I was twelve we grew up as military brats. My dad was an Air Force ground crew guy. If I had to give a hometown it would be San Diego. But it might just as well be our old bases in Italy and Puerto Rico. Then he was discharged and we settled back in San Diego for four years, then Santa Fe, where I graduated. I enlisted maybe a month after my eighteenth." The pair continued on the topic of where they most enjoyed their time. It was clear to Sonya that although she could get used to traveling, Stillwell and the reservation would probably remain her home in her mind. "Would ya be in any trouble if they found out you're here?" she said switching topic Nikki raised an eyebrow. "If who found out?" "Ya know . . .," she smirked. "The brass." Nikki gave a muffled chuckle under the drink in her mouth. "Me? I'm one of eight MP's on duty on the island. The others are mostly guys. I think they'd be more excited at hearing about this than eager to rat me out." "I'm glad we're not getting you into any trouble." "Just tell me if anyone's pointing a camera my way." Nikki broke off her comment upon seeing Fumiko on the floor gyrating with two other girls, both dressed in a way that reminded her of costumes from Sailor Moon, a cartoon that was on when she was a kid. "This ain't your friend's first rodeo here, isn't it?" she asked Sonya. "That's why I trusted her to pick our nightlife destination," replied Sonya ruefully. "Mmm. In your place I'd get jealous. Maybe those costumes mean they're DTF girls, if I could use a Jersey expression." Sonya gave another look toward the floor. Fumiko and the duo were screaming the lyrics to an Usher song. "Seeing her do that let's me know she's still got some urge. If she's clingy, that means she's going cold, at least that's what I think. I don't know if it's a lez thing, or what. I couldn't relate to what a straight girl thinks." Nikki stared at the scenery for a second. "I guess there's a real basic difference. My only boy was back in Santa Fe, Miles. He was a real preppy, a lacrosse player from St. Michael's. Always tried compensating for being black. I saw the way the white bitches drooled over him. The jealousy got old really quick; I realized I didn't enjoy being with him that much." Sonya coughed in reply. "I dunno. I can't relate to being jealous for a guy. I wasn't into them and never tried to get into it." She made a flourishing gesture with her arm. "This isn't like that at all. I feel like all the bitches in here are under the same roof at all times. Sure, you get jealous ones once in a while." Sonya felt her mouth curl up in an inviting smile. "But not in my experience." She caught herself. Was she trying to recruit? It wasn't fair to jeopardize a person's career just in order to satisfy her curiosity. But before she could change course, the track changed on the speakers. It was now playing Jennifer Lopez's "If You Had My Love". Nikki grabbed Sonya's wrist and yanked her to her feet. "C'mon, they hardly ever play this." She proceeded to pull Sonya toward the dance floor. Sonya started to swing to the beat, but she was not used to dancing to anything not on her headphones. Nikki, on the other hand, seemed perfectly in place, and was soon holding an inviting hand out toward two younger local girls who were dressed in short shorts. The three started to dance together in a close circle along with Sonya, and soon they began to feel each other up. Watching Nikki mouth the words to the song caused Sonya's heart rate to accelerate. The locals were also providing their own spectacle, and had been caressing each other since before joining the outsiders. With this song and the succeeding one, Rihanna's "Disturbia", Nikki was whipped into a frenzy, and was easily becoming intertwined with the two locals. Sonya was also keeping beat, but she felt she was clearly more conscious of the situation. Nikki had also had two and a half drinks at the bar and was completely fueled by it. The tracks continued, and Sonya was getting more fluid in her movement after consuming a glass of Sapporo. Upon returning to the dance floor she and Nikki were joined by Fumiko and one of the Sailor Moon girls she had met before. For the next track Fumiko and her new friend began to focus their attentions on Sonya, and this ignited her passion even more. The two hours they had spent in the dense atmosphere had worked up her pulse, but the scenes around her, not just of Nikki, Fumiko, or their immediate partners, but in general, had produced a moisture between her legs. During a pause, Sonya was snapped from a reverie where she was staring at Nikki and the two local girls by Fumiko's hand clutching her elbow. "Are you feeling alright?" She mouthed, perhaps a bit loud seeing as the music had died down. Fumiko gave a short glance toward Nikki. "I think she likes Glass Palace," she said. "And you like Glass Palace more, because of her," she said with a glint in her eye. Sonya stared back with a blank face. The issue had come up, and the talk of jealousy with Nikki before also seemed to be surfacing. "I wouldn't do anything if you had a problem." Fumiko shook her head and smiled. "This isn't a club where you do, what would they say in America . . . window shopping?" Fumiko turned towards the Sailor Moon girl who was sipping a tall drink through a straw. "I'm not window shopping." Her hand reached out and grabbed Sailor Moon's. "Uh huh," said Sonya slowly. Fumiko was very different from the girl who had walked her back to her dorm so many months before. Back in her element, her confidence was in full form. And Sonya decided that she should follow suit. She walked over to Nikki and approached her ear. "Hey, we're about to take off." In the parking lot, the four women stood by Nikki's car. Fumiko and the Sailor Moon girl conversed softly in Japanese in between making out. "So they're about to go back to Fumiko's house. What do you wanna do?" Sonya had brought up a problem she hadn't foreseen. Nikki blushed briefly, but quickly recovered. "I've got a solution. We use a number of apartments in the area to interview witnesses when they refuse to come to the base. One of them is vacant right now." The group decided that since Nikki had the Lancer, she would drop off Fumiko and her girl at the house. This took very little time, as the route that Sonya and Fumiko had taken by bus was more circuitous than the return route. Both "couples" held hands during the drive, but Sonya was already feeling more adventurous, seeing as Nikki had already pulled back her blinds and was plainly inviting her over for more than just conversation. Nikki's skirt had been hiked slightly upward and Sonya sighted the opportunity. She flexed her hand, and Nikki released it, but instead of relaxing it she advanced down under the hem of the skirt. She slowly searched upward on Nikki's inner thigh, and felt her muscles tense up. Their eyes met, and Nikki smiled first, although obviously her nerves weren't yet settled and she had accelerated the car first. "When we get there, Ima show you what teasing gets you," scolded Nikki mockingly. "Oh, I hope you follow up on that," replied Sonya. "But I'll make it worth your while if I'm already at it." She poked a finger upward and touched the front edge of Nikki's lace underwear. She was pleased to feel that her own weren't the only ones that had moistened throughout the night. When no resistance occurred, she inched closer and began rubbing the wet fabric. It was appropriate that by then they had reached Fumiko's house. The two Japanese girls giggled rather than give a departure greeting. Fumiko nevertheless gave a breathy shout at the door. "Sonya, come back soon." Okay, it seemed like it would be a nice evening for her too, concluded Sonya. The drive to their next destination continued for maybe three miles, but the duration seemed to last an eternity. Sonya placed her hand firmly under Nikki's skirt, but now moved it back and forth on top of her panties. The heat from the friction caused the humidity underneath to increase noticeably. "Ohhhh. You are so asking for it," Nikki moaned. The feigned irritation did nothing to mask her obvious anticipation. They finally pulled up to a long two story block. Sonya calmly exited the vehicle. She was clearly in the zone now. Nikki was far more jumpy, as if they had switched roles from where they had been on the dance floor. They entered the building lobby, and Nikki guided them, holding her hand up the stairs and four doors to the right. She scrambled to retrieve her key from her purse, and inserted it into the lock. She cursed under her breath as she remembered how difficult it was to jimmy the mechanism, but at last the door swung open. "After you, laaady," she offered Sonya. The other marched in prissily and lay her purse on a glass coffee table. She turned around and gestured toward herself with her hand, and Nikki walked slowly forward and they embraced, with Nikki's tongue parting Sonya's lips and advancing inward. Their lips intertwined, Nikki guided Sonya towards the bedroom, which was made up plainly. The scene on the whole was very sparse, the apartment clearly used only for the purpose she had told Sonya before. They collapsed on the bed breathing heavily. Sonya's brow furrowed for a moment. "Is this where you want it to go?" she inquired in her last gasp of apprehension. "Shut up and let me go there," snapped Nikki in mock derision. She reached down with her hand and under Sonya's short skirt until she was cupping her vulva. She could feel that the wet fabric was lace. "I think I'd like this off," she said in a soft yet domineering tone. "Then take it off," challenged Sonya. She rose up and hooked her hands under Nikki's blouse, raising it up in a fluid but slow motion above her head. "Here's how it's done." Once the blouse was off Nikki was crouched over her in a black underwire bra that closed on round and fleshy C cups. After a brief pause to absorb this vision, Sonya proceeded to peel the skirt off of Nikki's waist and now she stood fully erect her coffee brown skin glistening under the weak light. Nikki rose to her feet and gripped the hems of Sonya's skirt, and dragged it downward, until slick black lace was all that remained on her.She then pushed Sonya down into a supine position and unhooked her bra. "Your move." Sonya was frustrated by this, but at the same time it fired her up, and she paused for a moment, contemplating whether to strip herself or to undress Nikki, who answered her by slipping her hands under the front of her bra and slid it up. "How fast can ya draw?" Soon both of them were flipping their braws upwards exposing bare breasts. Sonya compared her own, which had a dark tint, to Nikki's, which made hers rather pale. Her grin was wide as she slipped her fingers under the side straps of her panties and pulled them down while her eyes were locked on Nikki's own hands that were mirroring her action. They each now walked to the huge floor length mirror that was balanced against one wall without a frame and Sonya reached out to lightly grasp Nikki's hand. With Nikki Sonya took in the whole image of her own body, the shoulders now shiny with perspiration, breasts glistening and providing a focus for the light reflecting of the mirror, the flat belly without so much as a hill on it, and finally the smoothness of her loins. She loved the look of it when it was completely shaved and she felt aroused, the wetness seeping around to irrigate the valley. Maybe it was somewhat narcissistic, but that was Sonya's motivation to seek out others in order to bring her joy. Even on the reservation she had lingered at the showers in her high school longer than other girls in order to exhibit what she felt were her best gifts from that decrepit place. They returned to the bed and Nikki laid her down and spread her legs, mounting her with her own vulva. They began to rub up against one another, Nikki's mouth moving along Sonya's neck and savouring the flavour emitted from her pores. Nikki was surprised to feel the sensation of fluid releasing from her lower regions and mingling with her partners. "Unhh, I didn't think you knew how to kiss like that," remarked Sonya slyly, "and synchronise it --" But she was cut off as Nikki's lips engulfed her own and her tongue was overwhelmed. They made out like this for several minutes, while Nikki continued to trib on top of her. Sonya soon broke it off, saying "I like to cash in early." She flipped Nikki over and lowered her head between the coffee legs. She studied the valley in front of her; the soft but modest lips, the crevice in between, and the promontory at the top, which is where she focused her attention, pausing at first to sniff the aroma of excitement radiating from it. Then she began to cover it with her lips and tongue as if it was the mouth of a drinking fountain, first the opening and then the clitoris. The shaking soon began to reverberate throughout the bed, and Nikki had to fold her arms across her breasts and massage herself in order to maintain stability. Within two minutes she had attained release, and had begun to bellow her appreciation towards the fan observing them on the ceiling. "Oh, oh lord," what she really wanted to ask was why she had never sought out this release before. They relaxed for a few minutes with Sonya cradled in Nikki's arms. Then Sonya guided Nikki in returning the favor, making her start slow the way she liked it and building up the pressure until release. After that arrived, and Sonya had retired into tranquility, they lay there exhausted. "I think you could make a good habit out of this," remarked Sonya cheekily. "There's a lot of room for this in your line of work." "Hey, I'd rather serve civilians than the old maids that stay in the service," retorted Nikki. "I could get used to more leave time if this is how it goes." As Sonya retired into a tranquil sleep in Nikki's arms. They both wondered secretly what Fumiko had been doing in their absence.