Critical Mass

The remainder of the afternoon was a dizzy blur. We drove around Vegas aimlessly, smiling at landmarks and swapping stories of previous visits. I was looking forward driving the machine I'd rented, but the beautiful Heidi was more than capable behind the wheel of the white Challenger, slipping smoothly through slow moving traffic and heading out on some old desert blacktop. Smiling, she held the big Hemi wide open, it's mechanical symphony inhaling oxygen and miles at a rate that would terrify most citizens, especially those who would fantasize about such a situation. I sat back, zen-like, still riding the post orgasmic rush, as the desert hurtled by beneath us, not a single car on the road other than the one which was being propelled to some unimaginable vanishing point by the Goddess beside me. Eventually the pavement gave way to hard packed dirt, and she slowed the Dodge to a stop outside a very official looking, but unmarked fence that stretched for miles in either direction. We both got out of the car, Heidi firing up a fat spliff as we gazed off at the orange sunset sparkling down towards Los Angeles. I took a deep draw, the first weed I'd ever smoked in Nevada...

Sunday was a spectacular day, the weather perfect for the finals out at the speedway. I spotted Heidi and her husband out in the stands, neither of them really paying attention to anything but each other. It was some of the best drag racing I'd ever seen, but somehow it didn't mean much; my customers were kicking ass, which would mean more orders and more cash. Once I surmised who the day's winners would be, I wandered back out to the parking lot, and decided that the after race gridlock would be time I'd never get back...

I'm not a guy that drinks much, I'm simply not into the buzz, and that's it. That being said, there are certain places or rare Scottish spirits that I will make an exception for, and Frankie's Tiki Room on West Charleston in Vegas is the most prominent name on that short list. I love the vibe, it's dark as hell, they play the coolest music and video in the background, and the bartenders there are fucking alchemists...I truly savor the wicked concoctions they take great pride in formulating. Being Sunday night, it was not all that busy, but it was still early...

I was nursing my drink, enjoying the warm rush of expertly crafted libation as a rare self indulgence. I was seated in a corner, watching the couple seated at the bar shamelessly making out, the bartender wiping the bar around them with indifference. Some out of towners sitting a couple of tables over speaking European French...sounds like at least one of them is a tattoo artist. I stand up, feeling the booze as I make my way across the bar. The walls of the washroom are covered with album covers, tiki and exotica...fuck, I have most of these albums...

I had hoped I'd run into her again, and she had mentioned that an evening at Frankie's was on her must-do list...I make my way back to my table and there she is, at the table next to mine with her husband and their whole entourage. She doesn't notice me as I sit down, she is focused on something...gets up to go get in the middle of the make-out session still going on at the bar. While at first surprised, the couple quickly welcomed her in, the two women immediately falling into a full on, tongue wrestling kiss as the man ran his hands up under Heidi's t-shirt. Her husband glanced over at her, taking out his phone with bored resignation when one of the members of his group asked if he had a picture of his car... seemed as though his speed shop crew was swapping pics with the French guys. Phones got passed around, and since I was sitting in the corner, they got passed to me...I could have told you pretty much what the speed shop guys had before even seeing the pics; '68 big block Nova, '69 Camaro, '70 Chevelle. The Frenchmen, stylish as hell with a very cool early lowrider style '54 Buick and a severely evil Harley Ironhead café racer. Heidi's husband...Fuck. The meanest looking early 60's Cadillac I have ever seen. Funny thing was, there was nothing radical about it at all, other than it's low and built for business stance, acknowledging a complete respect for the brilliant GM design studios of the Sixties. I passed his phone back to him after staring at this thing for way too long, and let him know that his Cadillac was fucking perfect. He looked me in the eye, somehow radiating more of a Hunter S. Thompson vibe than he was on Halloween, and shook my hand.

"Thanks, man, I'm Greg."

"Nice to meet you, Greg. I'm Mike."

"Yeah, I know. Glad to see that you got that catalogue issue sorted out. That could have been a problem..."

I sat there, my mouth hanging open for the second it took to realize this guy was the Greg who had contacted me within minutes of a catalogue error going online a couple of years back that could have cost me a fortune. It was a clusterfuck that was narrowly averted, and made me realize that you can never be too careful.

"Jesus, Greg...I fucking owe you one, I mean, how the fuck did you catch that when I didn't?"

"Lucky, I guess...depending how you look at it." He looked at me completely matter of fact, as if being able to spot a missed decimal point among thousands of numbers was as significant as being right handed.

"Either way, I owe you, buddy. Hey, we have some really trick pieces in the skunkworks for those big Cadillac engines...help yourself to whatever you want...come by the shop anytime, let me know when you want to come out and I'll set you up with plane tickets."

He sat across from me, a wry smirk crossing his face as he looked me in the eye.

"Those are great engines, and trust me, I know that the work you do is cutting edge...but, ummm, I've kind of moved beyond making horsepower like that, for my own stuff, anyway...but, you know, I am using something you've designed... I'll definitely take you up on the shop tour though."

He flicked his phone on and scrolled to a picture of what sat beneath the hood of his Coupe DeVille. I don't know how long I looked at it in disbelief but I knew exactly what I was looking at, and felt the hair on the back of my head stand up...fuck, it looked as if it were fabricated in an aerospace shop... part of me just wanted to call bullshit...but there it was, a device that shouldn't exist, a real world incarnate of the machine at the center of Ayn Rand's "Atlas Shrugged"...and somehow I knew it was the real deal. I was fucking speechless.

It could have been so easy to just be a jealous twat and hate this guy. Not that there was anything personal, fuck, he'd saved me huge cash and hassle and hadn't asked for a dime or a thank you. His wife had given me the most amazing fucking blowjob I'd ever had, and he probably knew about it. But every thinking gearhead since Tesla has been trying to figure out how to unlock this particular electromechanical secret: being able to tap into the limitless electrical current created as the earth spins within it's magnetic field...and now I'm looking at video footage of the speedometer of this guy's Cadillac being rendered useless as the red needle disappeared far to the right of one twenty, without a hint of engine noise, the howl of the air being sliced through by this cold war era ground missile eerily seductive...

"So, Mike, rumor has it, you partake...care to step outside and smoke some weed?"

"Umm, yeah, for sure..." My head was spinning, I could definitely use a breath of fresh air. I found myself squinting as I stepped out of the darkness of the bar, even though it was night time.

The weed was sublime, the same strain as Heidi had fired up out in the desert the night before. The buzz crept up on me, unrolling a complex pattern of questions I had never even contemplated. We smoked nearly the whole joint before I finally worked up the nerve to ask.

"Feel free to not answer...but how?"

He smiled, and wrote a disturbingly simple equation on the dust coated rear window of a Dodge Caravan in the parking lot. It sank in, burning itself into my memory for about ten seconds, and then the questions started answering themselves...

We headed back into the bar, my bladder suddenly screaming for release as Greg went to grab us a couple of drinks. I stood in front of the urinal, wondering if this was all some kind of dream...I thought of the equation left on the window of the van outside, a jackpot of immeasurable value just left laying out there for anyone who understood it. Suddenly I heard moaning from inside the toilet stall beside me, stepping back I was able to see several pairs of feet behind the door which sat slightly ajar. Peering inside, I see Heidi on her knees, alternately licking the pussy of the woman who had been making out at the bar, and voraciously sucking the cock of her boyfriend...

I made my way back to the table and sat down, the speed shop entourage having totally underestimated the potency of their drinks and now completely hammered, their tall tales getting more ridiculous and predictable, their wives getting louder. I notice as Greg put his phone down that his screen is another one of the most familiar photos of my youth; a black and white photo of a dancer in the desert, her body taut, arched backward, a mushroom cloud billowing behind her. I wondered how the hell this guy wound up in a hot rod shop somewhere making Camaros and Mustangs go fast...

I watched as Heidi stepped out of the washroom with the make out couple, the cocky look of satisfaction on her face a hysterical contrast to the look of orgasmic incapacitation on the faces of the man and woman. She noticed me as she approached, smiling broadly as she licked something from the corner of her mouth.

"So, I see you two have met", she said as she gave us both a peck on the forehead, putting aside any question as to whether she'd told Greg about her Saturday. She was fucking radiant, in an almost surreal way, as if she had some sort of pheromone fuelled torch inside of her. I glance at the look on Greg's face as he tries not to be dragged into some boring fucking Chevy/Ford debate...the look on Heidi's face about the same as the speed shop wives start comparing regrettable tattoos. I start to think we should head elsewhere...

I mentioned earlier that I own or have owned companies that sell "hot rod parts", among other things. Well, it's those "other things" that have been what has made me the most money, and has made purchasing high tech production equipment possible. Long story short, there are things I manufacture for the government. That has allowed me to have access to some really interesting historical research data, items and equipment...trust me, when you say that you can build something that's 'bomb proof'...you had better know exactly what that means. Deciding to do an on the fly adjustment to my Vegas itinerary, I sent a text message and a minute later, received the pass code to "The Warehouse". No one in the bar had even noticed we'd left...

We piled into the cab, not really giving a damn that the driver was taking a pretty scenic and convoluted route to our destination. We chatted politely, even though my mind was still trying to wrap itself around that elegant fucking equation written in the dust back in that parking lot...and wondering what the hell I could have possibly designed that Greg had put to use on that miracle Coupe DeVille of his. Adding to the distraction was the fact that Heidi's pussy and breath filled the cab with the thick, raw smell of sex. Everything that rolled off of her talented tongue was a slick double entendre, and I noticed that the driver had his mirror adjusted so that he could keep an eye on her spectacular tits, fighting to get out of a threadbare Ed Roth t-shirt...illuminated by the overdose glow of the strip...

"The Warehouse" is exactly that. No Area 51 security, no real reason to notice it. A few bays of an industrial strip mall in a quiet neighborhood. Inside, the vast majority of it is declassified records and data. As well as a few things that are a little too, unsettling, for display at the very public friendly Atomic Testing Museum...

Though I speak to someone here at least once a week, it had been a couple of years since I'd last been here, so I had no idea what the caretakers of the place had sitting out. Clicking on the lights, I could not have imagined a more intimidating display...

"Holy Fuck...are they real?" Heidi dragged her finger the entire length of the beautifully machined metal cylinder, which sat in a row of a dozen identical cylinders.

"Yeah. Real. De-commissioned, obsolete. A best case scenario, if 'God forbid we ever have to use it' is part of the design protocol. The stuff of a billion nightmares, and none of them came true." I watched as she walked, feline primal, between the rows, suddenly imagining them being re-activated by her mere presence, in spite of having been permanently stripped of plutonium fifty years ago. I was rock hard, and it was obvious that Greg was as well...

"That woman is a fucking Goddess, Greg..." I couldn't think of anything more coherent to say about her as she sauntered deeper into the warehouse, peeling off her clothing, her body flickering like a flame past rows of objects that had faced the full fury of our clumsy efforts to enslave the atom for our own crude abuse.

"Hmmm, you have no idea..." The tone of his voice was curious, as if I had properly deciphered a complicated geometric problem with a lucky guess...I glanced at him, and the look on his face mirrored the tone of his voice, sending a shiver down my spine...

We followed her down the long aisle, the smell of her overheated body drawing us along helplessly into her ripe wake. I had never been so intensely aroused, my cock tortured by the confines of my jeans, yet at the same time, my mind sharper than it had ever been; the mysteries that had been laid out before me in the last few hours suddenly making sense with profound ease and clarity...

She stood facing us at the end of the aisle, the light on the wall behind her casting a shadow which we had no choice but follow...her mantra-like fuck moans growing in intensity as she drove her fingers deep into her pussy...sinking her blood red nails into the flesh of her swollen breasts...turning away from us, she bent at the waist, spreading her legs wide, pulling her ass cheeks apart, her cunt radiant and glorious, thick, clear fluid dripping from it like honey. Greg dropped his pants, taking her by the hips and slowly driving his thick cock into her...she moaned like an animal, turning to me and licking her lips as I unzipped my jeans...

I watched as the two fucked in front of me, primal, profoundly focused...the way they would fuck whether they were alone or in front of a thousand people, their bodies in this perfect state...something beyond synchronization or harmony, something that shone arrogantly upon the rows of household and domestic items atomically violated seventy miles from this spot sixty odd years ago...

I found myself standing in front of her, my cock aching, dense...I could swear that her eyes were illuminated from within as she stared into my soul, drawing me toward her open, hungry mouth as her husband fucked her into a state of orgasmic delirium...

Her lips felt like silk as she drew the head of my cock into her mouth, every cell of my body fighting madly to keep from blasting my load into her throat, the sound of her incredible tits slapping against her body...the smell of her sweat dripping from her pores making holding back nearly impossible...

She fell to her knees in front of us, admiring the metallic hardness she had bestowed upon our cocks as she took one in each hand, stroking them and alternatively licking the head of each one, enslaving us both from her submissive position. My head spun, any trace of booze or weed in my bloodstream was long gone, vaporized by the potent intoxicant dripping from this...Goddess. Once again I felt a chill run down my spine as I remembered thinking that word the moment I saw her...as she drew both of our cocks into her mouth...

Whether I could hold back any longer was up to her, the incredible intensity of the moment, cradling this overwhelming sensation of imminent orgasm, it began to creep into every particle of my being, every thought that had ever crossed my mind...things I had seen as my life's priorities began to wither into insignificance, others which I had seen as minor details bloomed into the only things that truly mattered...she pulled our cocks deep into her throat, her carnivorous moans of satisfaction causing both of our bodies to shake and throb as she toyed with us, knowing she could have her mouth filled with our cum any time she wanted.

She looked up at us, her face dreamy, and let our cocks slip from her mouth, coiling her long tongue around them like a serpent as she did. She held a prick in each hand as she stood, squeezing them hard before turning and slowly walking around the corner, her hips swaying seductively...

I looked at Greg, the intensity of his face temporarily interrupted as he cracked a smile, glancing around at the artifacts surrounding us.

"Vegas...a very interesting place..." Again, the tone of his voice held something much deeper than the obvious comment...at that moment, however, the sound of Heidi's desperate moans of desire were the priority.

We walked around the corner to see her sitting beneath an enormous aircraft engine, her legs spread wide, intertwined in the steel supports that held the nuclear scorched monster above her. She had her fingers buried deep in her pussy, holding it open wide enough to expose the overheated crucible within her, churning out a steady stream of her essence as her eyes trapped us in their light...

"Both of you. Naked. Now." She watched as the two of us stripped off our remaining clothing, staring at our cocks as she returned to her feet. Taking me by the hand she sat me down in the puddle of herself she had left, turning her stunning ass toward me and straddling my legs, slowly lowering herself down onto my aching prick...the sensation was overwhelming; the impossibility of holding back my boiling load any longer was unbearable as she clamped down hard on my tormented cock, drawing it deep into her body as she drew Greg's prick into her mouth, instantly releasing another torrent of fluid from her steaming cunt.

There was an entire life I had lived before that moment. Then, there has been my life since, a very different life. Suddenly I felt a rush, intense as the venom of a hornet's bite, as something flowed into my body through the flesh of my cock, like some exotic sexual hallucinogenic. Instantaneously, it was as if I had access to my entire mind after years of seeing the universe though a black and white television screen. Everything was suddenly real, intensely and genuinely, and the level of pleasure I felt was unfathomable as her cunt clamped down like a vice, my prick hardening to the point of agony as she twisted her body down into it, her screams of pleasure muffled by her husband's cock...

I felt her nails dig into the flesh of my prick as she clawed at her pussy, pulling at her labia and frantically stroking her distended clitoris. She let her husband's cock slide from her mouth, her body leaning back and slipping over the entire length of my prick. Greg pulled her legs apart, locking them in the steel supports, as I took her arms and pinned them behind her back...her body shook as Greg pulled at her nipples, her moans becoming more desperate as she ground herself down on my cock...

Suddenly, she was silent, and I could feel Greg pressing the head of his cock into the tiny opening below Heidi's clit. She was completely still, her heartbeat the only sound in the cavernous space...her body began to tense as Greg pushed his prick into her already overstuffed pussy, her arms and legs hopelessly struggling as she began to beg her husband for what she wanted so fucking badly...