Night Brings the Hunter Pt. 02

"Things got hot in El Salvador, CIA got caught, couldn't do no more.
He's got diplomatic immunity. He's got a lethal weapon that nobody sees.
Looks like another threat to world peace for the envoy.
Send the envoy. Send the envoy."
-Warren Zevon, "The Envoy"

"Is your roll," Propappou said to Helena, walking over to turn off the kettle on the hot plate. When his back was turned, Helena palmed two of the white stones from the backgammon board and slipped them in her home tray, then picked up the dice cup.

They were in Troy's parents' garage, which had been converted into a small rec room. A foosball table and a pool table also graced the room, and an old Doctor Who pinball game stood against the wall by the workbench, where Propappou fixed the cocoa before bringing it back to the table. Helena had rolled a 2 and a 3, but lightly nudged the 2 to get double-threes.

"Here yours," Propappou said, handing the cup across the game board to her. With his other hand, he slid a couple of black stones up the sleeve of his red velvet smoking jacket. As he picked up his own cup, he casually slid the stones into his own home area. Helena smiled and ignored the obvious cheat; partially because she'd been cheating too, but mostly because it wouldn't be a proper Greek game of backgammon without it.

"Efharisto, Propappou," she said before sipping and finishing her turn.

"Perikala, Petalouda," he replied. "You Greek always been good, you do fine there. Meet good Greek boy like Troy. Hey, he got cousins there, you want I call them, meet up with you and Julie?"

"No, thanks. I had the perfect Greek boyfriend and I couldn't make it work."

The old man tried for a moment to get up, but he'd just sat down and his old joints weren't ready for effort again so soon, so he opened his arms and said "Hey, elah tho." Helena got up and walked around the table and into a big hug with him, nuzzling his long bushy beard.

"I'm sorry you and Troilus no stay together. You two was cute, and I would be proud to have you as my diesngoni OR my kori."

"I wanted that so much too. I know his heart isn't with me, though. And those fucking adoption people!"

"Eh, them malakas don't know what make REAL family like you and me." Helena bristled at the word "family." Propappou felt it holding her. "Hey, hey, you got every reason to think family bad word, but this is not it. Of not to cry."

"I'm not. I don't anymore. Sometimes, I think my dad beat all the tears out of me."

"Well, this you special night, you graduated the high school and it's your Name Day too. You and Julie got you trip after summer; you should be out partying with boys over at their place, not sitting in garage playing backgammon with old man."

She squeezed him tighter. "I'm right where I want to be, Proppapou. It's St. Helena's Day, I get to do what I want, remember?"

"Neh, this is for that," he said patting her head as she let go and went back to her side of the table. "Well hey, I got you something." Propappou reached into the pockets of his smoking jacket, searching for it.

"I don't need anything, Propappou. You and Troy are the only ones who really care about Name Days."

"Hey, you kids give me little things all the time. I no ask how you get money all the time, I figure you or Julie or Troilus knows a guy. Or maybe not; Troy, he good with money; get good maths grades. Like I tell him: Presidents, Congress, lawyers; all just be looking to steal. If you really want to steer the world, steer the money. Eh? Make them come to YOU for PERMISSION to steal! Here, Happy Name Day."

He found the item he'd been searching for and tossed it into the middle of the backgammon set. The small, black leather drawstring pouch landed with a rattling thump. Helena picked it up and opened it, pulling out the loop of coral beads on a string. Helena's eyes widened as a big smile spread across her face. She picked up the worry beads and started fiddling with them. Propappou pulled a string of his own from off of his left wrist.

"Ok, Helena, you see me use these for years. Now Propappou show you how to do it."

* * *

Contessa Helena de San Finzione woke with a start as the plane hit a pocket of turbulence. The worry beads that she'd been toying with as she nodded off clattered to the floor of the empty First Class section; empty except for her and one of the stewardesses.

Apart from the crew and herself, the sixteen soldiers of San Finzione's elite Squadra de Ultimados troops that she'd met at the airport before takeoff and were now waiting back in Business Class were the only passengers. She'd offered to let them sit up in First Class with her, but their commander, a man named Capitano Ramirez, insisted that he and his men would give La Contessa her privacy.

At this moment, though, solitude was a bad thing for her. This was the part of her life that she hated: Solitude meant nothing to do but sit and worry about Maria and Stavro and try to will the plane to fly faster.

Stavro had been a bit less of a worry, as she'd been able to get some word while in flight. They'd found him at the scene unconscious and badly injured. One of the soldiers and the pilot had died in the crash, Stavro and the other had tried to fight off their attackers. The soldier had been killed, but Stavro had no weapon and fought with his hands, so they only beat him and left him at the scene. Still, the doctors said from his injuries that he'd fought off several of them before they overpowered him. He was still unconscious, but expected to make it. After Helena had called the Generalissimo, she informed Ramirez and his men of the loss of their comrades before returning to her seat and sitting in silent contemplation until she'd nodded off.

She thought about telling the stewardess to bring the drinks cart and leave it and polishing off every little bottle on it, but that would just lead to worrying about Maria AND being too wasted to do anything. She pulled a cigarette out of the pack that rested on arm of the seat and lit it. At the beginning of the flight, one of the stewards had told her that there was no smoking on the plane. She didn't feel like doing her thing to the man, so she simply pulled out her diplomatic passport with her free hand and flipped him off with the one holding the lighter as she lit the cigarette, and that had been the end of all discussion on the subject.

She swung the little video monitor that each seat had in this part of the plane and brought up the menu. All the movies were ones she'd either seen or she didn't want to sit through the "edited for airplanes" version. There was an option to view the plane's flightpath and information and she brought it up. Three hours left til they landed in Uongo.

Helena looked over at the stewardess, a tall, slender redhead with an Irish lilt whose nametag had read Colleen. ("Of course that's her name," she had thought when she saw the tag.) They hadn't really talked at all since Helena had asked for a hot cocoa after takeoff, and the rest of her co-workers were in back taking care of the Ultimados, so she'd been reading most of the flight. Helena couldn't see the title, but the cover was the "Fabio or a guy who looks like him about to rip the nineteenth-century maiden's bodice open" universal symbol for trashy romance. From the look on the woman's face, she'd gotten to one of the good parts. She looked fun, and fun was what Helena could use about now. When Colleen looked up from her book for a moment, she saw Helena make eye contact. She set her book down and walked over to her.

"Excuse me, Countess," she said in her musical Irish voice. "Is there anything I can get for you?" Colleen looked down at Helena's phone and gasped at one of the pictures of the crash site that'd been sent to her and was still on the screen. She looked at all the burnt and burning bodies and said "Oh, Is that..."

Helena cut her off. "Dolls. The food, water, medicine, and supplies were being delivered by the military convoy. She wanted to bring something for the children. She could have gone with them and had a full escort, but she'd never seen Africa from the air."

The stewardess hadn't been told why the government of San Finzione had commandeered the plane or why they were flying the Countess and what appeared to be a small invasion force to Africa when they'd been bound for Boston.

"I'm sorry, Contessa. Is there anything I can do to help?" Generally empty words, however, Helen WAS bored and needed a distraction.

"Sure, what were you reading over there?"

Colleen smiled and blushed a little. "Oh, just something I bought in the terminal before coming aboard. It's really...um...nice."

"It looked like you were at a nice part," Helena said with a little grin. Colleen's face was almost the same shade of red as her hair now. She looked up into Colleen's eyes and slowly stood from her seat. "Hey, don't be embarrassed. We're both girls here, nobody around to bother us. We can talk about stuff like that. What'd you think of it?"

The stewardess straightened up. "I thought it was really sexy. I was getting a bit turned on this last chapter. The rugged young hero was just ripping the peasant girl's clothes off for the second time when I looked up."

Helena slowly circled her, checking her up and down as she did. "You do that a lot on long flights? Pick up a trashy romance and get yourself all hot and horny while serving the passengers? Be honest."

"Aye. Sometimes, if it's a really good one, I'll touch meself a little in the lavatory or where nobody else can see. Dunno why I'm telling you that."

"We're just girl-talking here, Colleen. And I have to admit, I do something similar on slow days around the castle. So, while we're both being so honest with each other, are the rumors about stewardesses true? Are you in the Mile High Club? Not counting Barbara Cartland and your fingers, of course."

"Oh, no, ma'am. Er, Countess. Not worth me job."

"But you're not AT your job right now, are you?" Helena asked, running a hand down the girl's back and making her shiver. "I've commandeered this plane and I'm aboard, that makes this San Finzione One now; MY plane." Her hand reached Colleen's firm ass, and she gave it a little squeeze. She jumped a little, but remained in her spot. Helena whispered in her right ear.

"In fact, that makes this entire plane MY territory. My 'lands,' if you will. You know, I'm a Countess; a noblewoman, right? Some might even say an EVIL noblewoman. A good number of people have, actually."

Helena's hot breath on her ear was making Colleen shudder. As the Countess circled her, Colleen found herself unable to move, feeling as if she were presenting herself for inspection. Every time Helena passed in front of her and Colleen saw the Countess' predatory eyes, the feeling became a certainty. The best response she could muster was to stammer out an "Oh, aye?"

"Aye," Helena breathed. "Your family doesn't have lands and titles, do they, Colleen," she asked with no mockery. The stewardess shook her head no. "That's ok, I didn't always, either, and we live in a civilized age. But one, two hundred years ago? Someone of my station would have called you a commoner; maybe even a peasant girl.

Helena circled in front of Colleen again, staring into her eyes as she walked around. "Do I make you feel like a peasant girl, Colleen?"

"Ah...a bit, yeah."

"I know I don't look like the man on the cover, Colleen, but do you read the ones where girls do things with each other? Tell me the truth now."

Colleen nodded before breathing out the words sharply. "Sometimes, aye."

"Mmm... me too. Those ones are my favorites, Colleen. I like the usual ones with the men, but the ones that are all girls? Oh, those send ME to the lavatory! Don't they do that for you too, Colleen?"

"Oh, jaysus fook, yes," she hissed. The way the noble Countess kept saying her name again and again made her feel so wonderfully... she'd never felt it before... "OWNED" felt like the right word.

"So, tell me, Colleen, what happens in the GOOD ones when the evil noblewoman meets the peasant girl?"

"She steps down from her horse. She... she chastises the girl; for trespassing on her lands. The g-girl t-trembles with fear. She knows this powerful, b-beautiful woman can and will deliver on the punishments she th-threatens the girl with. Sh-she is completely at her m-m-mercy!"

Helena stopped circling. Now she stood behind Colleen, putting her hands on the girl's shoulders and whispering to her again.

"That's right. And the evil noblewoman appraises her beauty and drinks in the scent of the girl's fear, and another scent that the girl wasn't even aware of before now, the scent of arousal. Naughty, forbidden, but undeniable arousal. When the noblewoman lays her hands on the girl..." Helena started rubbing Colleen's shoulders. "The trembles of fear quickly turn to trembles of excitement as a wave of passion, barely recognizable through the fear, but soon unmistakeable, washes over the girl. And the noblewoman says..."

They said it together. "I believe we can come to some sort of arrangement." Colleen whispered the words, lightly moaning the last word as Helena's hands found her breasts. Helena closed in, pressing firmly up against the girl's back.

"And what happens next, Colleen?" Colleen's breathing was getting faster now, approaching panting.

"She...she rips the peasant girl's blouse off." As soon as she said it, Helena ripped Colleen's uniform shirt open. She pulled the blouse and jacket off as Colleen continued. "Exposing the peasant girl's naked breasts to the cool morning air."

"Hold that thought a second, Colleen. Those peasant girls don't usually wear bras. There we go. And then the noblewoman strokes and caresses her breasts, touching and squeezing her bare flesh. Softer, gentler, more knowledgeable than any brutish man's hands could ever touch her body. The peasant girl never even knew such feelings were possible until now, and now she can't help but want to feel more, can she, Colleen?"

Colleen moaned out a "Noooo," and took hold of Helena's hand, guiding it down her stomach, past the waistband of her uniform skirt, under the fabric of her panties, and down into the waiting wetness below. Helena rubbed the girl's slit as her other hand sought to drag the rest of her clothes down her legs.

Helena spun the girl round and kissed her deeply. Colleen began fumbling to remove Helena's clothes as Helena grabbed her ass and steered them back toward her seat.

She could have carried the fantasy further, made the girl believe that the two of them were in a shaded grove or aboard a pirate ship, but that would have been more effort than Helena wished to expend. For now, though, she had something to do besides worry for the rest of the flight.