Chapter 14
Vincent Hanna hunched forward in his wheel chair, trying to pay attention to the speeches which were being made in his behalf. But his mind was millions of light years away, on that one fatal misstep which had cost him the use of his legs. It was a dangerous exploration mission, into the outer nebulae, and he had volunteered for it.
Everything was going well until he saw a strange crater that seemed to pulsate as if it was radioactive. Approaching the center too closely, his mind concentrating on the camera he held, he lost his footing and plunged hundreds of feet down the side. By the time they pulled him out, the strange volcanic substances had burned and scarred his legs.
The doctors had been able to save the legs, but he would never walk again.
"And because of men like Vincent Hanna, you and I have knowledge of the outer reaches of space, of the incredible storehouse of riches which awaits us."
The speaker had finished and Vincent Hanna allowed himself to be rolled to the podium to receive the medal. A tremendous burst of applause greeted his acceptance and he raised his hands in acknowledgment.
Three days after the ceremony, Vincent was sitting in his darkened room, lost deep in a brooding silence, when he heard the door bell ring. Wheeling himself over, he saw a well-dressed gentleman, with an attache case, smiling down at him.
"Vincent Hanna."
"Yes."
"May I speak to you for a few moments. I assure you that what I have to say is most interesting.
The man walked into the apartment and made himself comfortable. Vincent was curious but his face was serene, as if it was too painful to show curiosity.
"Those of us who are interested in your case and the great feats you have performed in the service of Planet Earth, realize that no amount of medals will restore the use of your legs."
Vincent disliked the way the man talked, as if he was reading from a script.
"Who do you represent?"
The man looked at him archly, as if his question had insulted him.
"The government."
He spoke the word as if it was some kind of church, where everyone who participated in it was automatically made holy.
"We want to send you for an extended stay on a Reward Galaxy."
"I'm sorry," Vincent replied, "but I don't have the foggiest notion what you're talking about."
"Of course you don't," the man continued, smiling, "few people know about such places. Let me explain them to you."
He stopped speaking and looked around the room.
"Is there anything the matter?" Vincent asked, impatiently, his legs beginning to hurt him. He wished to be rid of the intruder so that he could suffer in silence and alone.
"I need a glass of water."
"In the kitchen."
The man left the room and Vincent heard the water running in the kitchen sink. Then he returned, obviously satisfied with the quality of the water.
"Now, let me explain myself. Many years ago, when we first instituted flights to the outer nebulae, we knew that there would be many casualties. And we also knew that the men who were disabled should get some other reward beside medals and a pension.
"We constructed a resort-yes that is the only thing to call it a resort which could accommodate these men. On this reward galaxy, you'll be able to indulge your every whim, within, of course, the range of your disability. The general public knows nothing of this area and we like it better that way. There are still plenty of people in this enlightened age who would object to what goes on there. Do you understand me?"
Vincent leaned back in his chair and lit a cigarette, deciding whether to believe the man or not. It was an incredible story, a whole area devoted to wounded heroes, maintained in secrecy.
The man seemed to realize what he was thinking, for he said:
"Why would I lie about a thing like this?"
"In other words, you want to send me to a high-class brothel."
"Don't be vulgar, Mr. Hanna."
There was a period of silence. Then he said.
"Mr. Hanna, you might as well go. What are you going to do around here? Eat yourself up in self-pity?"
Three weeks later Vincent was strapped into the seat of a trans-galactic jet. As he watched the planet recede and the colors of the earth gradually vanish, he realized that he had acted hastily, that he had, in effect, played their game. To go to the reward galaxy meant there was nothing for him to do on earth.
But it was too late and he tried to sleep, to forget his decision.
A small jet tram met him at the landing zone, driven by a wizened old man.
"Just get in and shut up," he said, "I've been here for five years and I had a bellyful of you heroes."
Vincent didn't feel like talking anyway. He relaxed in the back seat and the tram pulled up in front of a series of plain buildings. They almost looked like barracks. There was absolutely no fauna or animal life surrounding the barracks it appeared to be a desert.
"There's where you sleep," the old man said, pointing out the far building.
A few moments later Vincent was wheeling into the small, tastefully furnished room which had been assigned to him. On the wall was a poster which said; WELCOME HERO--WE SHALL
NEVER FORGET.
Vincent made an obscene sign at the poster, kicked his shoes off and made the difficult transition from the wheel chair to the bed.
Two hours later he was wakened out of a sound sleep by the most beautiful looking woman he had ever seen in his life. She seated herself at the edge of the bed and began to touch his legs. "Was this where?"
"Yeah," he said, half-shocked by the woman's sudden appearance as if she was an apparition.
"I've seen worse."
"Thanks," he said, sarcastically.
"My name is June and I'm here to see that you're taken care of for as long as you want to stay."
"Well, so far it doesn't show me much."
"But you just arrived, Mr. Hanna."
"Call me Vincent."
"And, besides, heroes are always difficult to deal with."
"I may be your most difficult one."
"Perhaps," she mused, "perhaps."
Her hands began to stroke his useless and scarred legs.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
His voice was bitter and angry, as if she had entered his personal world without permission.
"I'm sorry," she said, but kept her hand there. Slowly, the hand began to move up his leg until it rested lightly against his globes. He caught his breath, not knowing what would come next.
"Help me, Vincent."
"With what?"
"Close your eyes."
He closed them, his chest beginning to heave in anticipation.
She pulled back the blanket and then his pajamas, uncovering his maleness. All was black to him, and he could hear only her breathing which seemed to excite him and which seemed to destroy all his qualms at being there.
The woman bent over and lightly, ever so lightly, pressed her mouth against the sac which held his globes. He felt a pinprick of lust, which seemed to roll through his body, delicate but potentially powerful. Then her tongue moved, he could feel the point exit from the mouth like a tiny animal moving toward the sun.
He let himself be caught up in what followed. Her tongue began to pierce his globes, to infuse their spongy quality with the hard fact of her passion. Then the tongue moved up, up to the column, which was beginning to pulse and gain strength. There was nothing he could do; she was doing it all. Her lips moved along the column, kissing it, dropping tiny specks of saliva along its length. It was growing, struggling, pulsing with life. He could feel the muscles and sinews stiffen under her expert care.
It went straight up hanging almost in thin air, a miracle of passion. She moved closer to him and opening her lips in a soft, sensuous rhythm, so that he felt his penis was in the ocean, being lapped by soft waves.
His hands clutched the sides of the bed, almost splintering the wood. She was moving faster and faster, sucking on him, eating him alive. Using his elbows he began to move his body as if her mouth was her vagina. The sweat stood out on his forehead like tiny bullets.
It was happening to him he wanted it to last longer but the juices of his body seemed to revolt against any further delay and his flesh shot a stream of hot molten love into her waiting mouth. He groaned at the joy of release and then all was silent.
She looked up at him, a slight smile on her foam specked lips. "Well, Hero?"
She didn't wait for an answer. In an instant she was gone.
The next day a valet was assigned to him, to wheel him around the premises. It was much more extensive than he had first imagined, with much of it beneath the ground. The days became idyllic for Vincent, spent reading or playing cards or just sitting in the artificial sun rooms where the lights burned his skin to a golden brown. In that heat and light he could forget everything, even the legs which hung like useless vegetables from his waist.
A week after he arrived, the second sexual adventure occurred. Again, it was late at night, only this time he was wakened by two young women, neither of them particularly good looking.
"We are here to bring you pleasure."
It was so matter-of-fact, so without any artistry that he thought of throwing them out. But he realized it wouldn't be worth the effort.
"Don't judge us by our words," one of the girls commented, as if she was able to read his mind.
They undressed completely and pulled the sheets off. The smaller one climbed on his chest and thrust her vagina in his face. He turned his head away. She took her fingers and began to rub his eyelids, slowly, passionately, unti he felt a growing tenderness toward which was unlike anything he had ever felt in his life. Her fingers were like liquid gold.
As she massaged, he found himself being pushed closer and closer to the flower before his mouth. He could smell the sweet petals of her womanhood. The fingers on his eyes made his moist, made his tongue ache to leave the mouth. Then, a second later, his snake-like tongue darted out and sunk itself into her, causing her to gasp and press her fingers against his eyes so harshly that he felt as if his eyeballs were being taken out.
He was sucking her up, sending his tongue deep inside and moving it as quickly as he could from side to side. He could feel the juices of her body move with each plunge. His lips were pressed against her vaginal lips, causing them to quiver.
Vincent had forgotten about the other girl when suddenly he felt something being shoved into his anus. He couldn't cry out because his mouth was full of her sex. The girl was pushing part of the sheet into him, ever deeper. He felt the shame of being violated and with it the unexpected joy of his buttocks closing about that fabric.
She began to move on his face, extracting the last precious bit of quivering joy from his tongue. Suddenly, the other girl yanked the sheet from his buttocks and the quick exit touched the hidden gland and made his penis erect immediately, and the semen poured from it. He was frantic, caught up in a terrible whirlwind. His mouth reflected that and he savaged her flower, drying out the steamy nest until she lay draped over him, her body drained by orgasm.
"There now," said one, "you'll sleep much better."
They left and Vincent watched the shadows dance about the wall. He felt exhausted, weary beyond belief, and the last thought he had was that he would stay as long as they would have him. After all, he admitted, he was a hero.