Lady Justice: Cult of the Moche

Dumbstruck, Daniel did not move. Only after his two escorts gave him a nudge, did he close his slack jaw and approach the two beautiful women waiting for him at the front of the stage. They kissed and cried, totally ignorant of Daniel's approach. When he finally reached them, he gave them each a passionate kiss, and told them how beautiful they looked.

The ceremony was graciously short. Their vows had been written by Alanah in the style of Earth tradition with some personal flair. Myna led the ceremony, and shared some brief praises and hymns of her people.

Finally the moment came to conclude. Kiss the bride seemed a bit reductive. Instead, in the Moche tradition, Myna pronounced, "May you share in one another's blessings forever." At that, the three lovers embraced passionately, trading kisses and furiously tugging at their clothing.

Alanah had one arm wrapped around Daniel with her tongue shoved down his throat, as she deftly pulled out his throbbing cock with the other. "This thing has been distracting me the whole time." He pulled one of her breasts free from her loose gown and began nursing at her tit. Her jerking quickened, and Daniel spent his load within moments, splashing thick streams of cum against her delicate blue gown.

Justice fumbled with the straps of her corset, anxious to get in on the action. Once Daniel began unleashing jizz onto their mutual wife, Justice gave up on the corset and dropped to her knees. She grabbed his dick and swallowed it while it continued to spurt. She groaned with relief to taste him once again. She pulled it out, spending the rest of it across her heaving cleavage. She rose to her feet and embraced Alanah, sharing Daniel's as their tongue's met.

Daniel moved behind Justice to assist with the straps of her corset while she and Alanah kissed. After a moment, he lifted up her golden dress, sliding his thick cock inside of her while he worked. Justice removed Alanah's soiled gown, and slid her hand down between the girl's thighs. Soon they were all three cumming for the delight of the guests and onlookers.

The ceremony ended, and guests began filing out, but Daniel, Alanah, and Justice continued at the foot of the stage. There was a faint whirring, and a gust of wind. Then suddenly, the three lovers disappeared. Immaterializing before the eyes of the amazed crowd. When Daniel entered Justice again, it was on the command deck of the TARDIS.

Alanah looked around surprised.

Justice simply grinned. "I thought we could use a little privacy," the Time Lady offered. And besides, we can return to the party in an instant. Our wedding night can last a decade if we'd like."

"I'd like that," Alanah admitted.

"I'm thinking we need to skip ahead to the honeymoon," Daniel teased.

"I'm not skipping one single instant," Justice said. No one could argue.

They spent days and weeks together, celebrating their love on the TARDIS, only to return briefly to the wedding reception at the moment they had left. Desperate to hold on to those moments, they would retreat to their time machine. Over and over. Months and years passed in one single, beautiful night. The guests may have noticed their hosts aging, but they would never say. They lived that night for as long as they could. They took a honeymoon; several even, but all before the last bottle of wine was drank, and before the final reveler was put to bed. Only then did Lady Justice and her companions return to their quiet beach house on the Sea of Moche to watch the twin suns finally rise.

"What are we going to do tomorrow?" Justice wondered out loud.

***

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***   Epilogue

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Carl's attention was more focused on Kate Upton's bikini than it was the series of monitors at his desk. He glanced around to make sure he was alone, the older scientist slipped a shaky had down his pants. He studied the blonde's generous curves as he pounded at his cock. Within minutes, his seed splashed against the glossy pages of the magazine, leaving a large dollop on the beautiful girl's photographed face. Before he could clean himself up, an alarm began to howl at his desk. He stuffed his withering cock away, leaving streaks of sticky fluid across the front of his fly. The rest of Kate's spread would have to wait until later.

The sensors in his lab were tuned to several different frequencies that he had been tracking over the course of the past two years, all centered around the greater Boston area. He had been working on his third Master's Degree at MIT when he had first discovered the anomalies. He didn't think of himself as a UFO hunter, or an Area 51 conspiracy type, but whatever he had uncovered two years ago had certainly painted him that way.

Carl had spent long hours replaying the data. It was a series of phenomena that had interfered with telecommunications and left fossils in the electromagnetic spectrum. Of course he had never seen anything, but that didn't stop his friends and colleagues from teasing him about being abducted. When the CIA came to his lab, however, the jokes died. They had confiscated most of his data, but rather than making him disappear, as he had feared they would, the agents had encouraged him to continue his research, while promising to support him however they could.

Carl had cashed the checks, but he had been able to offer very little in return. Most of his days were spent beating it to pin-ups in the corner of his server room. That was, until his date with Kate Upton.

Within minutes, the lab was overrun with special agents. They replayed the disturbance over and over. No one knew what it meant, but they had triangulated a location. Agents were en route.

*** Roger's gentle demeanor had disappeared. He screamed obscenities at the 911 operator, as his wife Lily sat despondently on the front porch of their house.

"No God damn it! You listen to me! Let me speak with Detective Price, he's the investigator on our case. I have new information for him. It's a fucking emergency! My baby! They took my baby again!" he wept. "Please help us!"

As if answering his prayers, a series of black sedans pulled up to the front of the house, blocking the road. Lily did not even flinch, but Roger slammed the phone down and flew outside.

"Thank Christ you showed up, I was just explaining-," he started, but he was met at gunpoint by a series of black-suited officers and a cadre of soldiers holding scary, black rifles at he and his wife. The man instinctively dropped to his knees with his hands on his head. Lily lay next to him on the porch, never even lifting her head.

"Both of you on the ground, now!" one of the soldiers shouted. Roger complied, while trying to force his wife's shattered face onto the floor of the porch.

"Sir, my name is Agent Smith. We're with the federal government. We're investigating suspicious activity in your neighborhood. You wouldn't know anything about that would you?"

"Actually, sir. Yes, sir."

***

Agent Smith stood opposite the interrogation room, evaluating the satellite images they had just received. His staff had been working over the father for a few hours now, but were coming up short. He claimed his young daughter had vanished several years ago from her college campus, only to reappear under suspicious circumstances at the same time his team of eggheads had discovered another anomaly. If the man's story held water, then the first of these anomalies had appeared at almost precisely the same time his daughter had disappeared in the first place.

There were no coincidences in his line of work, but it did seem to work out a little too cleanly. Could this man's young daughter be responsible? That was doubtful. If their intel was accurate, she was studying law at the time, not science. This dad, Roger, said the girl was accompanied by two others. They had claimed it was some sort of sex trafficking ring. His contacts with the FBI were not being very cooperative on that matter.

Smith studied the images again. They were grainy and out of focus. They hadn't exactly focused their advanced satellites on some random suburb. They had the man's testimony: his daughter, a young blonde, accompanied by a young man, and a tall red-head both approximately in their late 20's. What had he said? "Buxom". He wasn't wrong there. Even with the piss-poor photography, he could see the exaggerated curves on the red-head. Roger had provided some pictures of the blonde daughter, Alanah. She was quite a piece herself. The sketch artists were working hard on the other two based off this guy's testimony, but they had likely exhausted themselves with this Roger fella. He didn't know anything. They had searched the neighborhood a hundred times. They tracked the frequency of the disturbance to a patch of land across from the couple's house, but had turned up empty-handed.

Agent Smith entered the interrogation room and slapped the satellite pictures onto the table in front of the distressed father. "Is that her?" he asked coldly.

Roger began to weep. "Yes! Oh god! That's them! There's Alanah, and the other two I've told you about. Please, can you help her? Can you find her? We want her to come home, we don't care what kind of trouble she's gotten herself into, we just want her safe at home with us."

"That's the problem, sir. We do care what kind of trouble she's gotten into. We care very much. I can't promise that your girl is innocent, but either way, I want dirt on these other two. If you see or hear from her again, I need you to promise me you'll contact us. Nothing will happen to your baby. We just need answers," Agent Smith explained.

Smith had another interrogation being conducted down the hall. This was with a Detective Price from Boston Metro PD. He had investigated Alanah's disappearance two years ago at the request of the girl's parents. He had had a few conversations with Price so far, and none of them had ended well.

"I'm still fuzzy on the details of your investigation, Detective," Smith said. "You investigated the disappearance of another kid, this Daniel, all around the same time, but you never pieced it together that the two could be related? For Christ's sake, Price, they knew each other. They shared classes."

"It's not what you think," Price stammered, trying to remember why he had abandoned the case when he had been so close to cracking it. "This Daniel, he reappeared shortly after. He was clean."

"Clean?" Smith was flummoxed. "What evidence do you have that he was clean? Where had he gone? When was the last time he saw the girl?"

"I don't know," Price struggled.

"Did you even talk with him? It sounds like he's the number one suspect here, Detective!"

"I don't know." Price started to cry. "I think I did. I can't remember! I don't know what happened. One minute I was investigating it, and then I just kind of forgot about the whole thing. I can't explain it. I don't know what's wrong with me." He began bawling.

Smith had two other agents drag the detective out. He looked at Price's files. There was a picture of this suspect, Daniel. It was too hard to tell from the satellite image. The sketch wasn't any better. He fought for a moment before deciding to show it to Roger.

"Is this the guy?" Smith asked coldly. The reddening in Roger's face told him all he needed to know. "He went to school with your daughter. They knew each other. He's just some kid. Disappeared around the same time." He left Roger with the kid's file. Maybe there was something there he could make sense of. Maybe not. It really didn't matter.

It was the woman. The red-head. She was the only piece of it that didn't add up. He studied the fuzzy curves from the satellite image and the outline of her swirling fiery red hair.

"Who the fuck are you, lady?"

***

The End

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