Hunt, part 1

by Eva

Note: Set in the future, but some old passions always emerge. However, this is deliberately an incomplete story; only if there is any interest will I continue it.

—-

Leanne Keel peeled off her body armour as she walked through the house. She considered calling Harriet's name, but her wife would no doubt be on the Net, plugged in and lost to the real world. Sexurfing, as they called it: the process of wiring parts of your body to the puter-monitor to receive stimulations as you chatted and watched and... Well, in the old days, you would just rub yourself.

You came when you were ready. Or used to. But now you came when others flipped a switch. Like they would somehow know what would turn you on. Take a look at this, see what these people doing this and click, how does that feel?

Porn and the Net had been around years, of course. One handed keyboarding, with the main button between your legs. But now, technology was getting out of hand, Leanne thought... and she allowed herself a smile at her little pun. The Sergeant sighed as she propped her rifle up inside the bedroom door. Harriet would have earphones on, so shouting her name wouldn't do much good. That was the trouble with Harriet –– or Harri as she preferred –– Leanne thought as she threw a glance towards the closed study door. She was more than twelve years younger than the woman. Everyone said you have to marry a woman of your own age but Harriet had been hot. A fourteen year old who insisted on being called Harri and knew what sex was about.

How could Leanne resist a girl like that? She hadn't, but that was over six years ago. The girl was now supposedly mature and outwardly had all the appearances of a good wife. But appearances were always illusory.

Now the precocious girl was out of her teens, what was love had faded. The main focus of Harriet's life was no longer Leanne. It was the Net, chatting to other girls nearer her own age. Make that women of her age; she had developed well over the time she had been wedded to Leanne. No sag; a firm bum still. No doubt right now, thought Leanne, as she walked to the bathroom to have a shower, Harri's cyberfriends were saying something along the lines of: 'Oh, you're married to a Hunter? Wow, what's that like? I mean, is she good with her gun?' Loud lols and rofls would follow. Maybe an ErotiPulse on the wiring as someone would post a picture from Hot Hunters eMagazine.

Shared zaps of cum power, as they said.

No doubt with a picture of a pouting young Gunner of the Month with her pants open and her boobs out and her gun barrel against her pussy. Someone who'd never fired a shot in anger. Someone who didn't know just how hot the barrel would get. Pressed against the pussy? Only if you were a masochist.

God, thought Leanne as she turned the shower on and peeled off the last of her clothes. What has all this come to?

Ten years of chasing men, trying not to shoot them. Not unless you had to; just round them up and put them in the secure installations. The semen factories, as they were called. Goddamnit, and some of them wanted to stop being suppliers of semen! Some of them even escaped with the intention of never going back. Some of them, like the one today, had got a gun and was trying to take some of the Hunters with him. Bastard.

Dead bastard now. One more lost to the Cause.

I hate this job, thought Leanne, eyes closed as she immersed herself in the stream of hot water. She let herself soak in the flow, trying to wash the memory of the gun fight away. She suddenly realised she was so tired she still had her pants on, but didn't care. She should take them off and maybe rub herself, remembering the good times when Harri was younger and keen on her older lover...

A knock on the glass door of the shower startled Leanne and she spun and stared. But it wasn't Harriet. It was the nine year old girl from next door. Yolanda, of all names. A big-eyed dark-haired olive skinned girl staring at the naked –– or near naked woman –– through the not-yet steamed up glass. The girl was cute for heaven's sake, even she was too young.

Leanne slid the glass shower door back but left the water running. "Yes, honey," she said. Part of her was annoyed she had left the back door open and left her weapon against the wall by the bedroom door. Careless. Stupid. Possibly fatal if an escapee had got in.

Even a child might pick it up and wonder what it did. Fuck, thought Leanne. It was too painful to think of what the consequences might be. She could imagine the news all over the Casts: 'Careless Hunter leaves gun where Innocent can find it.'

"You've got your pants on," said the girl, even more wide-eyed than usual.

"Yes, because I'm tired," said Leanne. "Your mummy lets you wear panties in the shower?" A dumb question, but it was the best Leanne could come up with.

"My mummy never lets me do that," said Yolanda, but she grinned. "I'd like that."

"You have to talk her nicely. Now, hon, what are you doing here? What do you want?"

The girl frowned slightly, remembering the reason she had come round. "Mummy asked... She wants to know if Harri –– I mean Harriet –– wants to come over and fuck."

"You and Harriet?" Leanne stared down at the girl and felt all sorts of strange emotions in her.

"No," giggled the small girl. "I'm too young! Mummy and Harriet fuck," said the child, like it was obvious unless you were especially stupid.

Leanne turned off the shower and felt a surge of anger. Harriet was her wife. Oh sure they had an open relationship policy, and Georgina next door –– Yolanda's mum –– was nice and it was okay that she and Harriet fucked occasionally. But not now, for God's sake. Not just when I'm tired and have just got in from killing someone...

"Something wrong. Ms Keel?" The girl was staring up at Leanne, looking amongst other things at how the last of the water from the shower ran in rivulets down over and between the woman's heavy breasts. The pair the young Harri always wanted to grab hold of. Even Leanne's wedding dress had a low scoop front so Harri could ogle them during the service.

"Nothing's wrong, sweetheart," said Leanne, when there was clearly everything was wrong. She didn't say it with any real conviction, but then Yolanda was nine so she wouldn't pick up on the subtleties of adults.

"Can I dry you?" Asked the girl.

"What?"

"You're all wet, Ms Keel." She said it with the unspoken 'Obviously.'

"I know... Look, I'm Leanne. Not Ms Keel. That makes me sound older than I am."

Mistake, as demonstrated by the way the little girl responded with the inevitable question: "How old are you, um, Ms Leanne?"

Leanne let out one of her deep sighs. "Leanne, not Ms Leanne. Thirty three. Just. Old enough to be..." She let it drift. Let's not talk mothers and grandmothers here, she thought.

"My mummy had me when she was fifteen."

"That's nice," said Leanne.

Yolanda nodded, but didn't look as if she understood it all. Leanne shivered, but the girl had a big towel in her hands, and was looking concerned. A caring child, thought Leanne, and instinctively lifted her arms so the nine year old could start to towel her off. It felt nice to have someone caress you, even with a towel. Small hands reaching up, swathed in a rich, luxurious bath towel. Rubbing nicely.

The small girl was smiling in a way, and she seemed to like towelling Leanne's boobs dry. She liked the way they wobbled as she did it. Leanne liked it too. "Shouldn't you be looking for Harri?" Leanne asked as Yolanda attended to her bum, even though it was still hidden in wet pants. She was enjoying this and in no hurry to ask the child to stop.

"Um, dunno," said Yolanda. She was rubbing now between Leanne's thighs. The woman eased her legs apart to allow the child all the access she might need, though she regretted having left her pants on. How much nicer if she had taken them off. Oh well, another stupid moment on a disastrous day.

One male dead. Not that he mattered as such; he was just a number. Someone who provided sperm. Another damned escapee. But it meant less semen available and numbers were falling. Yeah, it was that disastrous.

And the paperwork afterwards. Damn, who invented all those fucking forms?

Little Yolanda was trying hard to dry the crotch of Leanne's panties. Rubbing hard. Leanne moaned. She was trembling again, but a different tremble. She had trembled a little when she pulled the trigger earlier, and then in the shower and now... well, it couldn't be helped.

"The man who was shot today," said the girl. She had stopped rubbing and caressing and drying Leanne's swollen, damp cunt. Stroking her mound through the taut, wet fabric.

"You shouldn't watch the Casts," said Leanne as gravely as she could amidst her delight. Please don't let them have named me, she thought as a wave of pleasure swept over her. In here. Protocol always demanded they said it was just a Hunter who pulled the trigger, and never gave a name. But what if this time––

"They said the Hunter had no choice 'cos the man had a gun," said Yolanda, casually. No name, no blame. She was back massaging Leanne's breasts. They were perfectly dry but her nipples were swollen.

"Yeah, it happens and––" Leanne caught her voice in her throat, and let moan escape her lips as Yolanda was almost tweaking Leanne's hard nipples though the towel.

"If you take those pants off I can make sure you are dry everywhere," said the child, big eyes sparkling.

"You're too young," said Leanne. "What you're doing is... I mean, you can't have sex until you are ten. And that's not until..." Leanne stopped. She had no idea when Yolanda was of age. There would be a party of course, with mature women vying for the pretty girl's attention. Cake and bids, when you thought about it. Candles lit and unlit, used as dildos. But a party wasn't on the diary planner, so surely it was more than six months away.

"Please," said the girl.

Leanne's pants slid down her legs. She tossed them aside and offered her spread crotch to the little girl with the towel.

"This isn't sex, silly," said Yolanda with a laugh, rubbing mostly with her forefinger and middle finger and a little help from her thumb. "I'm just being helpful. Good neighbourly."

She was being a very good neighbour and rubbed long and hard between Leanne's legs, while the woman got dry and wet and very wet again and finally came.

—-

"I'm moving in with Georgina," said Harri, defiantly, as if she expected a row. "Nothing you can say will stop me."

Leanne passed a weary hand over her face. She was ploughing through the online Advanced Sergeant's manual ready for her exam next week. "You know, Harri, I don't want to be selfish but this really isn't the best time."

"Best time for me," said the young woman, but she looked a little pink in the cheeks as if flustered. Maybe her disloyalty was getting to her.

"Okay Harri. We said it's open marriage so... it's open. Off you go. Enjoy."

"You don't care?"

"Oh for fuck's sake... I don't need to. You and Georgina have been going at it hard lately. You have had the hots for her for weeks."

"So?"

"So, you two fuck. I sit here."

"With those damned manuals," saidHarri, crossly. "And gunnery practice. I never get a look in."

"You are sexurfing most of the time I'm home. I hear you shouting with those ErotiPulse things."

"You cam't blame me. You being out all hours."

"I'm not blaming you. No one is apportioning any blame. Look Harri... We had a good go at an open marriage, but you found someone else. Not the end of the world: I'll survive."

"You never cared."

"Oh don't give me that shit, Harri! I am a Hunter. I care, but I have to do something else. I have to shoot men if needed. That's why they pay me, why we have this." She waved her hand to indicate the house. "Our home. Or what was. But I have to get to Advanced Sergeant. I'm not getting any younger. I have to do the exams. I have to train. It's what I do."

"I want a divorce," pouted Harri, arms folded.

"Fine, can be arranged." Leanne went back to her manual, head down. She felt tears in her eyes and almost couldn't read the passage on crowd control protocols. But she had to get over this. You move on. It's how life was.

Harri snorted, stormed out and slammed the door.

"Bye," said Leanne and sniffed back the tears.

—-

"I don't like Harriet," said Yolanda.

"Your shouldn't talk about your new mummy like that," said Leanne as she got some orange juice from the fridge. "Weren't you supposed to be going out with them?"

"To go and see Harriet's mum," Yolanda wrinkled her cute nose. "I don't like her either."

Leanne thought: no, I never did much either. But I don't have to see her at weekends now. There are some advantages from being separated.

"Anyway, Harriet's not my new mum. She just lives with us. I wish you did."

"Yolanda, your mum and Harriet are close. They will be getting married."

"When the divorce comes through. That's what Harriet says."

"Correct, but it takes time." Leanne sighed. She poured herself and the girl a glass of juice each. Then she tried to smile. "But you will be a very pretty bridesmaid."

Yolanda didn't think so. "Can't I stay here with you when they get married?"

"Yolanda! It's your mummy's big day."

Another wrinkle of Yolanda's nose. "If you were there we could cuddle."

"If I was there it would look weird. Or maybe you think I'd make a nice bridesmaid. Or give my ex-wife away? Best woman maybe?"

"You are the best," said the girl. "I like touching you. When I dried you––"

"That was ages ago." Leanne shook her head. Best to put that aside, she had thought.

"I like your uniform," said the girl, after she had drunk some of the juice.

"It's my Advanced Sergeant uniform," said Leanne with a note of pride. "Took some getting, all those exams."

"What's an exam?"

"When they ask you lots of questions."

"Like I do?"

"Like you do, but not nice ones. They ask about loading guns and stuff."

"I liked your gun, when I saw it."

"Yolanda, guns are dangerous. Promise me you won't ever play with one."

Yolanda promised. "I won't play with it if you kiss me."

"Yolanda!"

"What?" The girl frowned. "It's only a kiss."

"Yolanda, you are nine. Girls your age can't do that until they are ten years old and––"

"I was ten last week. You didn't come to my party."

Leanne blinked. "Party? I didn't know." Then she remembered she was away on a sweep; three days combing the hills for an escapee. This one lived though. Less paperwork. Anyway, her mum and Harriet wouldn't have wanted Leanne there at the party. With a fake smile Leanne hid her disappointment well. "You get a nice lady to kiss you then?"

"No, only Mrs Combes, down the road. She's old."

"She's not," retorted Leanne. "Only my age."

"But you're cool." The girl grinned. "So you can kiss me now."

"Mrs Combes wouldn't like it."

"Mrs Combes has another girl. Jessica Harrison. She's fat."

"So... still, she got to you first. Before me. Rules are rules." As I well know, thought Leanne grimly.

Yolanda looked serious. "We could run away together. Be like, you know, wife and wife."

"I don't think that's a good idea," said Leanne, but her heart was bumping hard. There was something very appealing about this girl. More than that; she was beautiful. The olive skin made her look sensational. Leanne tried not to think of the girl naked, between white sheets. Tried not to remember her touch in the bathroom.

"You are mummy's girl and mummy-Harriet's soon, until death does you all part or something." She tried to laugh.

Yolanda looked disappointed. Then she thought for a moment, finished her drink, put it down and ran from the room. The front door slammed and Leanne thought: 'Ouch. That was sudden.'

Kids, she thought, and then started washing the glasses. A sudden chill fell over her. Her gun. With a gasp, she ran to where she kept it in the hall cupboard. The door was ajar. There was no gun in there.

"Yolanda! Wait!" Leanne shouted and ran through the front door.

From the house next door, there was the distinct sound of a gun shot and a scream. A woman's scream.

The pretty ten year old girl appeared at the door, her face white. She was shaking and the gun in her hand was smoking.

Leanne grabbed the girl and snatched the weapon from her. On pure instinct, she grabbed the girl and pulled her away towards her own home. There was crying from the girl's house, more screams. Leanne bundled Yolanda and the rifle into her car and slammed it into reverse, then into forward. The car shot away from the drive with a squeal of tyres.

Oh fuck, thought Leanne, grimly. What am I doing? I'm on the run.

We're on the run, she thought as they sped through the streets. Me and Yolanda and a smoking gun.

End of part 1

Note: if there is any interest in this I will continue it with at least part two. Otherwise, it lies fallow.