The Ventriloquist

Story by aesthil

Here's the start of what's going to be an ongoing story about the rise of a new super-villain and the trials and tribulations of the heroines that face it. Will update tags as I upload chapters.

Sarah sighed and glanced down at the elegant watch wrapped around her equally elegant wrist.

"Dammit, another no-show. What the hell is wrong with the men in this city?"

She reached over to grab her purse and pushed her chair out. As she stood up, men around the restaurant spurned their dates to stare. She was a hair over five feet tall and had blonde hair pulled up into a tight bun on her head. A pair of tear-drop shaped diamond earrings hung from her ears and sparkled in the mood-enhancing lighting of Maggiano's. A form-fitting dress hugged and emphasized her hourglass figure in all the right places. She had curves enough but nothing out of place on her petite frame. The dress's neckline plunged dangerously to reveal cleavage that belied her modest B-cup breasts and a slit slashed its way nearly to her waist to expose acres of mouthwateringly bare, tan skin. There was just enough color to her skin to see that she spent some time in the sun, but not enough to imply she indulged in tanning as a hobby.

The silk of her dress whispered across her skin as stepped away from her table and stepped towards the doors of the fancy Italian restaurant. The host gave her a sympathetic nod and handed her her coat before holding the doors for her. She sighed again, pulled her coat tightly against the brisk autumn breeze and headed down the sidewalk to the thankfully nearby subway entrance, four-inch stiletto heels clicking against the concrete as she went.

*****

The subway train rattle and hissed to a stop before opening its doors and welcoming the New York night-crowd into its warm embrace. The passengers bustled inside in the hurry that only New Yorkers could manage and within seconds the train was shutting out the nearly empty subway station and merrily clacking its way to the next. Only two people remained outside, seated on the lone bench across from a clock. The young man looked up at the clock from his newspaper, absent-mindedly turned the page and then looked back down to continue reading, one leg propped lazily atop the other.

"Next train's ours." A voice like liquid seduction slid from his lips and the Amazonian woman next to him shivered once, her legs parting ever so slightly. She nodded but said nothing and continued to stare out across the tracks.

*****

"Yeah, I'll see you at the usual spot around 3. That is, if I'm not nursing a bottle of wine and lounging in a hot bath."

"Oh shut up Sarah, the guys are probably just standing you up because they're too nervous to meet a gorgeous girl like yourself in person. Hell, maybe they think you're too good to be true and it's just a trap."

Sarah could practically hear the wink through the phone. She rolled her eyes.

"Whatever, Caitie. I'm heading into the subway now, I'll talk to you later." She hung up the phone and dropped it into her purse, as she rushed down the stairs to catch the last train of the night. The crowd awaiting her at the foot of the stairs was thin, as could be expected of the late-night crowd on their way home from a bit of partying. Sarah glanced around. Or perhaps on their way to the party in the case of a dolled-up punk girl. Pink shoulder-length hair framed a cherubic face as the girl tapped away at the buttons on her cell phone with neon blue fingernails. A torn and faded shirt with the logo of some unfamiliar band strained to hold in the girl's chest, the cool autumn air proving the lack of a bra with prejudice. Sarah shivered and pulled her coat closer as if the sight itself chilled her. A pleated mini-skirt halted just shy of halfway down the teen's thighs and the waistband tried but struggled to meet the bottom of her shirt, exposing a navel ring and a thin strip of pale flesh. Long skinny legs--just this side of gangly--ended in a pair of mismatched, untied Converse shoes and no apparent socks.

Sara turned away from the girl and scanned the crowd for any other interesting people-watching to do. Despite the relative small crowd, the bench sitting across from the clock housed only two people. Not even the exhausted looking businessman seemed to have the courage to share a seat with the duo. The woman could best be described as Amazonian. Over six feet tall and with a pixie-cut of platinum-blonde hair so light it was nearly white, the woman was certainly imposing. Sarah could feel herself reflexively sizing up the woman as a threat, her stance changing imperceptibly to be ready for trouble. The tall woman could have passed for an Olympic wrestler, nothing about her was anything less than massive. From her square shoulders, to her thick arms cordoned with muscle, to her thighs no narrower than Sarah's own waist; the woman was huge. Her companion however…

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