There is a moment as the sun
rises on the beach that the ocean looks like molten glass casting
reflections from a neon sun set sharp against an azure sky. The
gulls piping cries mix with the soughing of the surf. A clean
breeze suffused with the astringent brace of the sea spreads
among the walkers and merchants who live there. A temporary member
of these is asleep in a beachfront cottage.
Should an interloper have intruded,
the reward would be well worth the penalty. On a bed, placed
in the middle of the living room, an eccentric but not unpleasing
arrangement, was a beautiful, fascinating creature. With sheets
kicked off and pillows knocked to the floor, ones attention
was drawn to the firm globes of her ass that perched, on their
own, so invitingly in the air. The skin, a golden brown, showed
no tan lines. Long legs, graceful of line, tapered into delicate
ankles and dainty feet.
Further inspection would find
the ever-so-delightful posterior swooped in to form a narrow
waist. That waist flared up to form a back and shoulders that
rounded and padded with muscle. One would pause at the hair.
That gorgeous, thick, golden-white mane that spread fan-like
half way down her back. The silky texture of those tresses could
almost be touched by the eye.
Careful, not to disturb, the
interloper would stoop to see the face. He would see eye brows,
surprisingly dark, forever arched into sensual invitation. Long
lashes lent an air of demureness. Cheekbones, high and wide,
were balanced against the delicacy of an exquisite up-turned
nose. A delicate chin framed the display of a pair of soft lips
parted just-so-much, giving a hint of dazzling white teeth. The
hands, long and artistic, were gathered under her in an act of
huddling. One was draped across her breast. The other lay between
her cheek and the bed, looking all the world like an attempt
Our interloper would have seen
no more. Karas eyes fluttered open slowly. When open, all
other features, however beauteous, would recede. Those eyes,
large and wide, shone blue. A blue that produced more light than
they received. They positively glowed, as if back-lit, with sharpness
and power. Raw physical power that punched holes through walls.
The glory of appearance was enhanced even more by this hint of
the unearthly force that lay at her beck and call.
She arched her head up and smoothed
down an errant hank of her lustrous hair. Propped on her elbows,
she looked around. Then looked far off to some internal place.
A naughty little laugh came from remembering a dream of Kal-El.
Her tummy sent her a reminder of what time it was.
Kara turned on her side to the
moving painting Nature had composed that morning. Her breasts
jutted up, high and heavy, defying gravity. The circular dark
areola contrasted with the pink of nipples that shone like beacons.
Her belly was muscular showing
that vertical furrow of tightness. It flowed out into the shapely
hips. Nestled between them was triangle of hair that was as spun
golden as that on her head. The contrast to the cinnamon hue
of her skin made it more startling.
Kara bounded off the bed to the
kitchen-area. Almost there, a little internal reminder sent her
back to the bed-area. She was soon ransacking a pile of clothes
and found a pale green silk robe. I never will get used to this
taboo on nudity, she thought.
As she looked up from tying the
sash, Kara saw the silhouette of someone on the balcony. She
focused eyes that could see with crystal clarity for hundreds
of miles but the image insisted on remaining a blur. It appeared
to be a man wearing a trench coat. His hair seemed blond and
scruffy. He made a gesture toward his mouth. Kara heard the sounds
of a quick inhale and slow exhale as if he was smoking a cigarette.
In an accent she couldnt quite place, he said, "My,
arent you a brilliant bird!" She took a step forward
and he vanished.
Kara hastened onto the balcony.
Using every sense at her disposal, the
beach was scanned. Nothing. Her vision probed above, below and
cottage. No prints in the sand or bent vegetation. Not even a
She experienced hallucinations before. But only in the heat of
just waking up. Kara took stock. All the same. No urges seemed
ordinary. The making of breakfast quited her anxienty. After
the last of
the orange juice, Kara called her answering service.
One of the messages was from London, England. The House of Chanel
her to model their fall line. Kara thanked the operator and mused
bit. His accent did sound somewhat british but not quite. I haven't
London itself yet. Maybe this is an opportunity to play tourist
Kara tidied up because it wasn't her place. A most grateful photographer
had scored a last minute big sale because Kara had posed in some
shots. He wanted to be generous with her fee but it was tough
had very little use for money. But she did have a use for privacy.
photographer had rented the cottage in his name, handled all
and just kept her name completely out of it.
Thus she was able to come and go as she pleased ( through a sky-light
the roof ). In return, she gave him first dibs on her services.
italian, tall with a face that Michelangelo could have used for
Kara thought that Don was much better built than David.
She slipped on her blue, red and gold uniform. Walking around
put in an aerodynamically designed back pack. Built of titanium,
it was a
gift of the U.S. government after she took a pony nuke away from
over-aggressive Serbians. Closing the sky-light, she shot straight
Going to the uppper most reaches of the atmosphere still was
practical. It was the only real way to see where to go. It was
The only bad experience she had was the tounge-lashing she got
and, later, Bruce when she "mooned" a French satellite.
boosted the circulation of Paris Match. However, the French government
strangely silent. ( One official was quoted, "This woman
is what Bardot
should have been. One word of condemnation and I would be voted
Kara found the green and gray British Isles. She swooped in low
Airport. Finding a convenient spot to change, she then slipped
planeful of passengers disembarking from the U.S.. By the time
she got to
Customs, she was just a knock-out beautiful woman carrying a
backpack. Kara politely refused the matron at customs to open
Soon a uniformed man with a kindly face approached. "What
seems tah be the
problem here?", he asked.
Kara smiled and caused the man's own smile to involuntarily broaden.
explained, "Your government instructed me to not open my
pack, just to show
you my passport.". With that, she presented it to the man.
asked the matron,"Run this through the system,please.".
Milly did and soon
had a puzzled look on her face. "Chief, you had better look
Milly said. Chief looked a little exasperated. He looked and
GOD!!". The passport was quickly handed back. He tipped
his hat and
said,"Her Majesty's Government is very sorry for the delays.
You are very
free to go.". Kara graciously thanked him. She was grateful
suggestion that the British and French governments grant her
diplomatic status. It was to show their gratitude for her single-handed
dealing with a collapse of the English Channel Tunnel. That was
didn't make the papers.
She secured some funds from the banking arm of Wayne Enterprises.
help in this wasn't just from gratitude. It was also a gesture
from one warrior to another. Most of the time, Kara was the recipient
numerous crushes. This time, it was she who had a hopeless, desperate
The irony was he had no powers but his determination that didn't
Walking to the curbside, Kara hailed one of those boxy London
cabs. As she
got in, there was a pair of eyes on her. Feeling this, Kara looked
and there he was. No bluriness this time. Scruffy-looking indeed.
Blond-haired. Trench Coat. Cigarette dangling from an insolent
smile on his
rather handsome face. He mouthed something at her. Kara could
"Shagged any bats lately, love?"
Then he was gone again.