Off Limits
They stretched out, nude beneath the sheets and blankets of Anne Strait’s big bed. They clung to each other, simultaneously eager and hesitant. She traced his strong cheekbones and broad chin with a long-nailed finger.
“First time you’ve engaged in extra-curricular activities?” she asked.
Harris stroked her long, platinum blonde hair with his calloused, construction-worker’s hand.
“You mean cheated?” he said. “Might as well call it what it is. Yes. First time. You?”
“No,” she said, a twinkle in her blue eyes. “I’m not married, of course, but I’ve had a few married men from around here before.”
“Really? Anyone I know?”
“Without mentioning any names, there is one highly placed state official you might have heard of, who is well-known for his public stance on Jesus and family values.”
“The lieutenant governor?”
Straits smiled and kissed the big man, snuggling into his weightlifter’s body. “A reporter never reveals her sources,” she said. She inched away, teasing, as she felt his body respond.
“So why are you here?” she asked. “You don’t seem like the cheating type. Don’t love her anymore since she got those powers?”
“I don’t know. She’s driving me crazy. You wouldn’t believe some of the things she pulls now.”
“Tell me.”
“Well, just last weekend, I’m watching a ballgame. It’s halftime, so I go in the kitchen for another beer. Megan’s sitting at the kitchen table reading a magazine. I pull on the refrigerator door, but it’s stuck. Won’t open, no matter how hard I pull. So I say, ‘Megan the refrigerator door’s broken.’
“She says the door’s fine, but I’m cut off. I’ve had enough beer in her opinion. Can you believe it? Won’t let me open the refrigerator door.”
“Seems a little overbearing.”
“No shit. We really got into it. Finally she tells me to go ahead and become an alcoholic, and lets me open the refrigerator, but by then I didn’t feel like a beer anymore, or like watching the game. So I stomp downstairs to blow off a little steam with the weights, and that’s when I see it. All the iron plates from the five-pounders through the 50-pounders – warped and melted. Some of them were fused together.”
“Oh my God. Megan did that? With her mind?”
He nodded. “That’s not all. The lift bars – solid steel, and probably an inch thick – bent and curled like pretzels.”
“That is scary!”
“Yeah. I was more mad than scared though. I yelled her name and ran back upstairs, but she was gone. Went out flying, she told me, when she got back.”
“I think that’s the part I’d like best,” Straits said. “Flying. It must be wonderful.”
“I wouldn’t know,” he replied, and squeezed her to him. “So besides my great looks and irresistible charm, why are you here?”
She laughed. “Isn’t that enough?”
“If you say so.”
She nuzzled his neck. “Honestly? I should’ve had those powers. I had a chance too. That doctor asked me if I wanted to participate in her experiments, but I said no. Next thing I know I’m doing a story on your wife, and a follow-up story on you. I know it sounds irrational, but it just felt like she’d gotten the powers that were meant for me. Both those stories were torture.”
“Well, it’s your own fault, isn’t it? And even if you had said yes, was there any guarantee you’d have gotten the powers, too?”
“I admit it doesn’t make sense,” Straits replied. “It’s just how I feel.”
“Need to get back a little of your own, eh?” he said. “Me too.” He nipped her neck.
“Owie,” she giggled softly. “You're a wild beast! That hurt.”
“Sorry,” he whispered. “I’m used to tougher meat.” They snorted with laughter.
Straits put a finger over Harris’ lips.
“Forget about her,” she said, stretching languorously against him.
“That might be hard to do considering I’m right here,” said a cool voice beside them. They froze. It was Megan's voice.
The chair had been empty just a second ago. Megan sat in it now, legs crossed, a frightening light in her dark eyes.
Despite her fear and surprise, Straits found herself making mental notes, as if to later describe the woman for a story she knew she'd never write:
Dark brown hair, short, but thick; large brown eyes; lips pursed -- lord, she's mad -- she’s just a tiny thing really. I’m much taller and stronger -- well, stronger-looking, anyway. Without her powers she wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“Megan, I know this looks bad --” Harris found his voice.
“Get dressed. I'm taking you home.”
Harris rolled off Straits and sat up on the bed. “Goddamit, I’m tired of you telling me what to do all the time. I know I’m in the wrong here, but--” He stood up.
Megan stood up also, interrupting him. “You can go home in your clothes or not, I don’t care, but you’re going.”
Straits swung her long legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. “Ms. Harris, this is my house and I want you out right now,” she said.
“Don't worry," Megan said, watching her errant husband pulling on his pants. “I’m just getting my husband and getting out of here. We'll be gone in a minute.”
“No, leave now,” Straits insisted, louder.
“What is your problem?” Megan asked, turning to face the tall blonde woman. “I said we’re going --”
Straits swung, a neat right hook. As a competitor in amateur women’s boxing leagues, her hook had never failed to put opponents on the mat.
This time she cried out in pain as her fist smashed into Megan’s unyielding chin. She snapped her injured hand back and stumbled backward into the wall. Straits held her contused hand at the wrist.
“Are you out of your mind, or what?” Megan asked, unfazed. “Serves you right.” She turned back to her husband.
“God damn you!” Straits snarled. She seized an empty green glass champagne bottle from the bedside table and smashed it like a club on Megan’s head. The heavy glass shattered explosively, harmlessly against the small, invulnerable woman. Harris looked up from his boots, startled.
“Get out!” Straits yelled. “Get out of my house!”
Megan faced the tall naked blond. Straits held the broken, sharp-edged bottle in front of her. “Ms. Straits, I really didn’t want to hurt you,” Megan said calmly. “But it’s bad for business to let people break bottles on my skull, thick as it might be. So there's going to have to be some punishment --”
Straits lunged, jamming the jagged edges of the bottle into Megan's chest, the only effect a further breaking of the glass.
“That’s my good blouse!” Megan shouted. With a flick of her wrist, Megan slammed Straits into the wall. She slid down to a sitting position, dazed.
Megan advanced.
“Megan, no!”
Harris leaped to hold his angry, unstoppable wife back from inflicting further damage on the fallen reporter. He seized her from the back, enveloping her small frame in his weightlifter's arms, but only for a second. An instant's wriggle of her hips and shoulders, and the big man fell away from her like a discarded shirt. He crumpled to the floor stunned, and breathless.
Megan kneeled down in front of Straits. “My husband is off-limits,” she said. “You can quote me on that.”
Straits squinted, trying to focus on the petite woman in front of her. “I should’ve. . .” she mumbled.
“What? You should've what?”
“I should've got those powers,” she said.
“Well, you didn’t. I did. Don't forget that.”
“But I took you on anyway . . .” her voice trailed away.
“Yes you did.” Megan smiled in spite of herself and stood up. “Probably not one of your more brilliant ideas.” A blanket floated off the bed and covered Straits. Megan picked up the phone and punched 911.
“Hello, this is Megan Harris, could you please send -- yes, THE Megan Harris -- could you please send an ambulance to this address?” She listened for a moment. “Yes, that’s the address. Blow to the head, possible concussion,” she told the operator. “Conscious? Yes.” She looked at Straits, who was rubbing her forehead.
Harris groaned and pulled himself up into the chair.
“Yes, I’m keeping her warm,” Megan said. “No, I'm not moving her. No, I won't be here. “And please make sure the ambulance ride and treatment get billed to me,” she said,
hanging up.
“The ambulance will be here in five minutes,” Megan told Straits.
“I don't need--”
“You can tell them,” Megan said. She jerked her dazed husband to his feet. He grunted as she pulled him tight against her with one arm. There was a quick breeze and the whiffle of displaced air, and Megan and mate vanished.