Archive-name: Fantasy/karene2.txt
Archive-author: Jim and Meg Norris
Archive-title: Karen Eliot's Excellent Adventures # 2


     Karen sat at her bar in the small pool of light cast by a desk 
lamp.  She keyed the remote and was immediately jolted by the 
intense volume in her headphones.  She quickly adjusted to the 
digital rock'n'roll.  She extracted one of the two sugar cubes from 
the small ziploc and dropped it into the clear water which about 
half filled the blue crystal glass.  Karen watched the thin tendrils 
and bubbles climbing upward from the dissolving cube.  When only a 
vestige of the cube remained, Karen stirred the water.  The painted 
Emperor penguin atop the glass stir stick turned and spun.  Clasped 
lightly in Karen's regal fingers, it completed the ceremonial 
preparation.  Karen raised the glass and drank the water in several 
unhurried swallows.  With a phrase, she invoked her hypnotically-
installed interface metaphor and prepared to enter the always open 
playground of her mind.
     Karen closed her eyes.  As always, the first effect to hit was 
the intense joy.  Beyond euphoria, she was lit by the electric 
pleasure of cognition.  The acceleration of her awareness took 
Karen's breath away.  She was filled with a sense of vibrant energy; 
restless, resisting confinement, awaiting purpose.  Karen waited, 
still and receptive, enjoying her most powerful and balanced hit of 
L+ yet.  Her face was transformed by a wide grin.  Everything that 
she experienced seemed hilarious.  The boundless soul laughed at 
every aspect of its voluntary earthly confinement.  The joyous 
feelings mellowed and Karen could feel the visual effect hitting.
     She opened her eyes.  Her will twisted the perspective of her 
view.  With slight effort, she could see the framework of points 
underlying her previous perspective.  Karen loved to come to the 
grid of brilliant spectral colors pulsing on a background of the 
deepest black.  She shifted her perspective further into the grid.  
The perception of her immediate surroundings become masked by the 
perspective switching.  With the underlying grid mostly in violet 
with some green, she could see her world alongside.  With the grid 
shifted to yellow and blue, her world became a fading afterimage.  
The final displacement was to orange and red grid lines.  The 
delicate flows between the white node points connected by the grid 
lines were clearly discernable.  Karen relaxed, her mind still.  
When she felt totally cleansed, Karen twisted her perspective back 
to her physical circumstances.
     The point framework faded, but the clear joy remained.  Karen 
tamped the last of her Mendocino purple kush into the bong bowl.  
She smoked several hits of the famous one-hit shit.



     Karen piloted her 16-valve yupster through the thickening early 
morning traffic.  She drove to her favorite regional park, 
occasionally playing with the shapes of the fluffy clouds to the 
sounds of blasting rock'n'roll.  The promising gusts of wind earlier 
had picked up to a steady breeze.  
     She was easily able to fit into the street side parking space 
left by a suit driving a boat that didn't quite look like his 
father's Oldsmobile.
     Karen removed the two bags with her gear from the car and set 
off on foot.  Her favorite visual hallucination was immediately 
operational; the clouds were false colored.  The resolution improved 
as she watched.  Horizontal and vertical movement was highlighted to 
the degree of magnitude.  Movement tails were plotted against the 
latlong grid on the sky that suddenly appeared.  Her left eye 
displayed additive color mixture and her right showed subtractive 
mixture.  She blinked rapidly several times before establishing gray 
scale; positive on left, negative on right.  With several more 
blinks she tested the binocular gray of her shaded object view mode.
     She switched the tactical overlay on and enjoyed the instant 
replacement.  Dense monochrome axial and edge lines defined the 
plotted objects in her wireframe view mode.  She blinked rapidly and 
switched the representation color; red, orange, yellow, green, blue, 
violet.  Trees moving in the breeze appeared as fractal fluff.  She 
toyed briefly with switching visibility of the hidden lines before 
halting on the small hilltop that she'd walked to.  The position was 
ideal for kite flying; an unobstructed hilltop with a comfortably 
calm lee side.  Karen willed the visual hallucination suite off.
     Once Karen had unpacked everything that she needed, the special 
components of her custom kite were arrayed about her in small 
unitary bags.  Moving lithely, she fitted the machined alloy tubes 
through the fabric.  With some flexing of the frame tubes, the 
assembly locked into position.  The dihedral looked perfect to her 
practiced eye.  She quickly attached her toys to the kite.  This was 
to be the final test of the digital camera.  The stoner-friendly 
components were a cinch to connect and test.  The kite ready, Karen 
swiftly connected the signal processor and the display to the power 
pack.  Her nipples hardened as she stood facing the oncoming chill 
wind with the black shark kite.  Once she released the two meter 
long kite, it tugged aggressively to achieve altitude.  The ratchet 
on the reel of line stopped clicking at full extension.  Karen 
hooked the reel to a concrete-anchored barbecue grill.  The kite 
would easily stay aloft all day, given wind.
     Karen plugged her goggles into the display plate.  She tested 
the trackball controlled lens movements.  The stabilized lens mount 
really cut down on vertigo.  She switched through her visual 
hallucination series satisfactorily with the remote device.  The 
view was centered downwind from her position.
     Karen started looking at her surroundings in an expanding 
spiral from the duck pond directly below the kite.  She tarried 
briefly while watching the city maintenance crew loafing near the 
lake's pump housing.  Only a single weather-beaten Pinto occupied 
the nearest parking lot.
     Karen spotted a boy walking purposefully toward the junked out 
ovenmobile where an equally weathered man sat eating a burrito in 
it.  The boy had the eager, slightly feral look of someone exposed 
to particularly harsh realities of life at too young an age.      
     The lad leaned in the passenger side window and apparently 
spoke with the driver.  As he walked away he stopped and seemed to 
meet another person whom Karen hadn't noticed.  The kid and the 
woman walked together toward the Pinto.  Both crowded at the window 
briefly.  Karen twiddled the controls to get maximum zoom and the 
best angle.  She watched something pass hands from the woman to the 
driver.  
     Then the woman and the boy got into the car.  They crowded 
together in the middle of the car making detailed observation 
impossible.
     After a few minutes the woman and boy got out of the car.  It 
occurred that the similarities in appearance and expression 
suggested a familial relationship.  Had the kid set up a deal for 
his mom?
     Spiraling wider, Karen took in the surrounding neighborhood.  
The immediate view was a jumble of air conditioners, fireplaces, 
antennae, and dilapidated roofing.  The yards proved to be barely 
more interesting, with the usual domestic animals and uninspired 
gardening.
     Still, things were not without potential as the viewing 
mechanism came to rest and Karen watched a woman stroking herself 
with tanning oil.  Almost as if she had willed it the elegant 
woman's hand was dipping into her scant bikini bottom.  The woman 
gave herself over to the pleasure of it and Karen absently licked 
the fine sheen of perspiration above her lips.
     Peripheral motion caught Karen's attention.  The Smith's 
Department Store delivery van stopped at the curb in front of the 
woman's house.  The driver walked up to the porch and waited.  
     Karen scanned back to the poolside.  Apparently in oblivion, 
the woman had just found the extended nub of her clitoris.  Karen 
read her lips, "Oh...fuck...fuck me, Jim...oh...God! Fuck meee...".  
Waves seemed to engulf her as she sank her hand deeper into her 
cunt, making her shudder with orgasm.  She relaxed on the lawn.  
     Apparently she hadn't noticed the delivery man standing on her 
porch watching her.  Karen knew that she had something here that was 
better than soap operas.  If this followed the hallowed script line, 
the coy bitch would play kinda hard to get, yet a hot wench once 
coerced into putting out.  Karen watched the woman get up and face 
the delivery man.  The cups of her halter dangled, her proud breasts 
displayed openly.  The look on her face as she whipped the guilty 
hand behind her back was priceless.  She shook her tits and rolled 
her pelvis enticingly while upholding the verbal pretense of 
fighting off an over-eager admirer.  He approached her and ran his 
hand over her breasts.  She raised her pubic mound in horny 
response, "No, please, don't.  I'll give you money."  His immediate 
reply was, "Keep it.  I'll do it for free!"
     Skip and Barbara introduced themselves once they were satisfied 
that they were committed to fucking by the rules of the mating 
ritual.  Skip finger fucked Barbara briefly before helping her out 
of her sodden bikini.
     Barbara freed Skip's erection from his jeans and began stroking 
it.  She kissed and licked his cock lightly and insisted that he 
fuck her.  Skip knelt over Barbara, slipped his massive hardon into 
her sloshing cunt, and proceeded to pump furiously.
     Karen noticed what must have been neighbor kids atop the wall 
at the back of Barbara's property.  As she watched, two boys jumped 
down and ran away.  The others, a boy and a girl of about the same 
age, stared unabashedly at the rutting adults.
     Karen turned her attention back to Barbara and Skip.  Barbara's 
thrashing was either seizures, or she was coming big time.  Just a 
moment later, Skip began jabbing his pelvis against Barbara's crotch 
with severe determination.
     Following their mutual orgasm, Barbara began protesting 
vociferously.  Skip didn't seem deterred and Skip began licking 
Barbara's tits and belly.  Karen looked back at the kids on the 
wall.  The kids who had run away were back.  They passed something 
rather large to their friends on top of the wall.  It was a 
videocam! They got it going just as Skip started licking at 
Barbara's pussy.
     While continuing to lick and suck Barbara's drenched box, Skip 
straddled her, positioning his dong above her mouth.  Barbara 
greedily mouthed his meat with abandon.  Karen watched the two 
lovers perform for the juvenile audience.  Eventually, both came 
again, but this time they collapsed afterward in exhaustion.
     The sex apparently complete, Karen continued her widening 
spiral scan.  Karen was still hot from her shameless voyeurism.  She 
unzoomed and tried to chill out.  It was some time before her 
consciousness expanded to perceive the coverage area fully, without 
effort.  After a period she lost track of watching and just watched.  
She felt the cold edges of eternity as the individuality of her 
perception faded.
     Thoroughly refreshed, Karen took off the display goggles and 
arose.  The ultra-stable shark wasn't as thrilling to fly by hand as 
most kites, but was fun nonetheless.  She unhooked the reel from the 
barbecue and stood on her local hilltop, anchoring the peeping 
shark.  Karen was starting to become bored with the kite when she 
noticed a young man approaching.          
     The smiling face of don Genaro was pasted over the approaching 
stranger.  She hated it when that happened.  The Castaneda clan, who 
considered her to be some kind of witch, invaded her lofty highs 
periodically.  Karen had to wait out the limited power of the ally 
which was reduced by ignoring it.  Meanwhile, in a thought bubble 
over her head, an icon-sized Yaqui sorcerers apprentice scribbled in 
his hilarious notebooks.
     "Happy Earth Day, Karen", Genaro said.
     "Piss on that", Karen said as she continued to fly her kite.
     "What?", Genaro smiled.
     "Happy Earth First! day", Karen replied.
     "What's it matter what you call it as long as we act together 
to save the planet?"
     "You sound like the environmental president.  Let's link arms 
across Amerika and pretend.  Let's pretend that someone else will 
fix things.  Save it for the yuppie swine."
     "Okay, what're you doing?"
     "Well, let me see.  I'm shipping a crate of special tree 
spikes, writing to imprisoned Firsters, and planting trees.  And 
that's today."
     Unsure of the man's exact identity, she posed an insider 
question, "How's the titty project"?
     "Beautiful! The tiny turbofan was incredible.  We got much 
better performance from the zeppelin than expected.  And quiet? 
Almost inaudible at altitude.  How's the vid?"
     "It's perfect.  I taped some haus frau fucking a delivery man 
in her back yard over there", she said, pointing to the subdivision 
next to the park.  "And I wasn't the only one.  The kids next door 
are going to make her a local celebrity."
     Still, don Genaro could have been one of several men.  But, 
which one?  Another insider question, "And the navware?"
     "Haven't heard, but that was the easiest part.  I'm sure it's 
go", Genaro responded.
     With the realization that she was speaking to Roger Wilco, the 
airframe contractor, the don Genaro face disappeared, leaving 
Roger's craggy, but handsome features.  The figure in the thought 
bubble paused and looked up before vanishing.
     "I've got a solid lead on the fundy mentalists", Roger 
announced.  "A church that they gather at before descending on 
clinics.  An OR organizer flew in for a meeting tonight."
     Used to the short notice which was often involved in 
monkeywrenching, Karen pressed for details, "What's their security?"
     "Jesus and the parking lot lights."
     "What're you doing?", Karen asked, her interest piqued.
     "Placing caltrops.  There should be a nearly full parking lot, 
and we have enough for all.  There's even enough for the helpful tow 
trucks and supportive friends."
     Without reservation, Karen agreed to the date.  She traded 
turns with Roger hauling in the peeping shark.



     Karen negotiated the suburban streets according to the 
instructions that she'd received.  She found the health spa with 
little effort.  She'd passed on several previous occasions, but had 
been unimpressed by the lack of business that was evident.  If the 
grounds were any indication, the spa wasn't doing any too well.
     She parked under the shade the nearest tree to the door.  The 
information desk was right inside the door.  Karen was pleased to be 
recognized when she introduced herself to the pretty brunette.  
During the time that she waited for her masseuse, Karen watched the 
swimmers in the olympic pool beyond the plate glass.  Several men 
and a woman played hide-and-seek games enthusiastically.
     Dena, who would her masseuse, was not what Karen had expected.  
She was a short, plump, Latina with a kindly but deferential manner.  
Dena led Karen to a private massage room.
Once the door was closed, she withdrew a small pipe and her stash of 
Humboldt skunk from her purse.  As she loaded the pipe she explained 
to Karen, "It's an excellent high.  No seeds".  The women sat calmly 
and puffed the bowl to dust.
     Karen roused herself from her mental fog and stood, gracefully 
pulling the pinafore dress over her head.  Her tits jiggled 
delightfully when she shook her hair out.  Almost as an 
afterthought, she slipped her bikini panties off and stepped out of 
her sandals.  She dropped all three articles of clothing on the 
chair which she'd just been sitting in and and lay face on the 
prepared table.  Dena waited, warming the oil in hands that had 
sturdy, practiced fingers.  Karen hadn't taken note of Dena's covert 
appreciation of her gorgeous body as she disrobed.
      Starting with a sweeping arch that took in Karen's shoulders 
and the upper portion of her back, Dena began.  Her fingers worked 
in concert to slowly knead the areas that offered resistance.  Karen 
felt the tension retreat as Dena worked her flesh with warm circular 
pressure.  Dena used delicate touches to relax Karen's neck and 
scalp before turning her attentions to Karen's lower back.  
Captivated by the gentle curve of Karen's sweetly freckled ass, Dena 
cupped and rubbed the lovely buttocks.  Karen automatically spread 
her legs apart as Dena stroked her upper thighs.  Dena thoroughly 
rubbed Karen's shapely legs.  As she proceeded toward Karen's ankles 
she was overcome by the perfect picture of split tail.  
     Dena bent Karen's legs up at the knees and began a detailed 
study of her feet.  Her fingers traced every detail of Karen's toes, 
arches, and heels.
       Karen rolled over at the easy touch.  Dena intertwined her 
fingers between Karen's toes and lightly sucked and licked between 
them, the while rolling her fingers along the tender arch.  Karen's 
erect nipples testified to her growing excitement.  She arched her 
back involuntarily and moaned excitedly from the wonderful sensory 
overload.  Dena's expert hands kneaded Karen's calf.  She massaged 
Karen's upper thigh and knee.  Karen's legs gradually spread further 
apart revealing her moist and puffy pussy.  Dena rubbed the other 
leg from the thigh to the knee and ankle.  Finally, she gave Karen's 
left foot equal treatment.  While Karen relaxed, Dena moved around 
to Karen's side.  She made several applications of oil to Karen's 
chest, manipulating her breasts gently.
     Dena lost herself briefly playing with Karen's firm and shapely 
tits.  The well oiled mounds conformed to the constantly changing 
pressure from her hands, but immediately returned to their pert 
contours when released.  Dena concentrated her efforts on each 
breast in turn once Karen's nips came up; one hand shifting and 
sliding, the other tugging and twisting the sensitive nipple.  When 
she could tear herself away, Dena bent over and lightly kissed each 
of Karen's coral-colored nips.
     Only the slightest pressure was required to prompt Karen to 
reposition herself on the table.  From slender feet to tapered 
calves to slim thighs, Dena relished the view of Karen's shapely 
legs dangling from the table.  She felt nothing short of adoration 
for the flower of womanly flesh nestled in Karen's downy pubes.
     Dena dabbed special spice-scented oil on Karen's swollen mound, 
rubbing gently around and around.  She brushed the fleshy inner lips 
and saw the first drops of translucent dew.  With practiced strokes, 
Dena manipulated the lubricated labia.  She caressed the clitoral 
hood with one hand while easing the index finger of the other into 
the snug pussy.  She tantalized the hardened pea and the delicate 
labial fold.  Dena added more oil and began screwing her finger in 
and out of Karen's cunt; slowly at first, but faster and faster in 
tempo to Karen's bucking hips and inarticulate moans.  When she got 
the track of Karen's approaching orgasm Dena carefully synced her 
motions, until the orgasmic waves from Karen's clit and G-spot 
cascaded over her repeatedly.
     Dena slipped the amyl capsule from her stash while Karen 
relaxed, laying back, breathing raggedly.  As soon as Karen was 
desensitized, Dena lowered her mouth to Karen's crotch and exhaled 
warmly.
     Dena reamed the point of her delicate tongue into the puckered 
rosebud of Karen's asshole.  Karen moaned gently and rubbed an erect 
nipple between forefinger and thumb of one hand while she played 
with Dena's glossy mane with the other hand.  Aroused by the musky 
femininity, Dena began licking the length of Karen's slit with 
fervor, occasionally tugging her pussy lips gently, or nuzzling her 
swollen clit.  As she licked gentle circular patterns, Dena prepared 
to crush the capsule.  She carefully led Karen to the edge of 
orgasm; hips gyrating, rolling her pussy wantonly, crazed.  Karen 
had just started her hard climax when she smelled the medicinal 
odor.  Instantly, the vasodilator hit and Dena jammed a finger in 
her ass.  Karen rode the forever acceleration of rocket-boosted-
orgasm nearly to seizures before it faded.  She lay back, spent and 
exhausted.
     Dena slowly arose and walked to Karen's side where she leaned 
over and cuddled the redhead gently.  They snuggled briefly before 
Dena patted Karen's sweet ass and stepped away to prepare the 
shower.
    Karen got up once she heard the water running.  The shower was a 
freestanding pipe in the corner with a massage shower head on a 
hose.  A tile sill provided a shallow basin around the drain.  Karen 
was captivated by the radiant smile which Dena sported as she soaped 
a washcloth.  Invigorated by the very scent of the lathered mint 
soap as she approached, Karen slipped into the steamy shower.
     Karen raised her arms and intertwined her fingers behind her 
head while Dena began walking around her, rinsing her with the 
needle spray hot water.  When Dena hung the shower head on the pipe 
Karen turned to direct the massaging water on her shoulders and 
upper back.  Dena knelt and eased Karen's legs apart.  She gently 
yet thoroughly washed the blushing snatch with the stimulating soap.
     Dena turned off the shower and patted a large fluffy towel 
against Karen's lightly freckled skin, drying her completely.  The 
two women hugged warmly before returning to Karen's clothes and a 
final smoke before Karen dressed and left for the swimming pool.



     Roger Wilco had all the equipment set up and tested at the safe 
house before Karen arrived late in the evening.  They awaited the 
cabal contact who was to direct the signoff mission of the zeppelin.  
Hedda Steam was an old friend of Karen's, but Roger only knew her 
from construction review meetings.
     Roger answered the knock at the door.  The raven-haired Amerind 
was as beautiful, and as businesslike, as ever.  Roger led her to 
the back bedroom where the computers and radios were arrayed.  Karen 
and Hedda embraced warmly and pecked each others cheeks.  Karen 
offered the first hit of red-haired sinse to Hedda, who obliged by 
lighting the bong and drawing deeply.  After several passes of the 
pipe, the three were relaxed and ready.
     The mischief was about to begin.  Karen and Hedda had watched 
Roger transmit the flight instructions that had allowed the zeppelin 
to shadow the formation of six Bell 206 utility helicopters.
     With several keystrokes, Roger selected the radio navaids to be 
jammed.  It was no small coincidence that the formation was 
currently relying on them for navigation.  With a press of the 
RETURN key, programming was uploaded to the special pod which was 
attached to the zeppelin.
     The chopper pilots became concerned when red flags started to 
extend into the faces of their radio navigation instruments.  They 
switched through the various VOR frequencies available to them and 
found the same static everywhere.
     The cabal mission outline had optimistically projected that the 
malathion sprayers would abort their mission and return to base once 
they could no longer rely on absolute positioning.  That hope was 
shattered when the lead pilot ordered continuing on visual.  
"Charlie Mike", he'd called on the radio as he began the final turn,  
leading the legal urban aerial poisoning of sleeping families.
     Hedda nodded and Roger selected and transmitted another 
program.  The zeppelin began forging the signals returned by the 
altitude-encoding radar transponders of the formation.  Roger, 
Hedda, and Karen waited a tense few minutes, listening for trouble.  
When none came, Hedda nodded again and Roger sent an initiating 
signal.  
     In an instant, the helicopters all appeared to have been 
hijacked.  The air traffic controllers saw the assigned squawk codes 
turn to 7500 in one sweep of the interrogating radar beam.
     The nightmare was only starting for the controllers.  Their 
calls weren't heard or returned by the formation.  The pilots were 
apparently getting somewhat edgy about the loss of communication as 
well.  Unable to communicate with one another, the pilots broke 
formation according to contingency plan.
     Once the formation began breaking up, the zeppelin changed the 
forged squawk codes to 7700; emergency.  The encoded altitude was 
rapidly decreased until the signal was completely blanked.  The 
controllers believed that the choppers had crashed and began 
responding accordingly.
     Roger transmitted the final program.  The zeppelin ceased all 
radio interference and turned to its departure path; a secure cabal-
operated landing zone waited in the desert.  The turbofan-powered 
zeppelin slipped away, its anechoic coating hiding it from the radar 
below and above, where the alerted interceptors snooped.
     Roger, Karen, and Hedda were almost rolling on the floor in 
laughter from the conversations between the malathion sprayers and 
the air traffic controllers.  It was going to be a very late night 
for these lackeys of agribiz.

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