Reading: "cataclysmal" (A.Glass 2017)

“In thirty five minutes, a nine megaton thermonuclear war head would have detonated on a designated target somewhere over Russia. Most likely a nonmilitary target. Six hundred times more powerful than the bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. A deliberate and intended purpose to destroy a whole country, its civilians and everything else within an hour.”

Jansky, her expression serious, looks at the footage of the missile continuing its flight into the upper atmospheres.

“That wasn't much fun...” She says, looking at Denlas while unfastening the securing straps of the console chair she is sitting in.

He turns to her smiling. “Sorry...The Prop guy, who installed this, well, we thought why not recreate what could have occurred...” Denlas looks around the missile command room. “...here within this missile base, but didn't...thankfully...occur with the last Cold War.”

Jansky looks up at the screen as the image shows just a static interface.

“Yes thankfully...Certainly an experience, surreal in someways.”

“The hyper-real,” Denlas replies, also unfastening his restraining straps.

“How many would we, you and me, with just turning these keys, have killed?”

Denlas leans across and lifts the small bag that he had placed down near the command console. Opening the bag he takes out a bottle of Tequila.

“Millions,” he replies, looking at Jansky.

“I have become death the destroyer of worlds,” Jansky says, looking at the key turned clockwise, the simple action of turning a key and killing millions.

“Oppenheimer knew, that dropping Nukes on Japan in nineteen forty five...was more of a warning to Russia. Even before the last Cold War. We didn't have to drop the bombs on Hiroshima or Nagasaki...Japan would have surrendered, conditionally to the Americans.”

“They didn't want the Russians...”

“That's right, under the surrender Japan were able to keep their emperor....Destroying those two Japanese cities with nuclear detentions was an experiment to test the weapons on actual targets.” Denlas opens the Tequila bottle and sniffs the cork. “...Friend of mine, who's a cocaine runner...”

Jansky turns and looks at her male friend.

“...Just joking, trying out your sense of humor.”

She chuckles.

“...Runs a bar in Mexico City, this...” holds up the bottle. “...aged three years in Bourbon barrels....forty five percent alcohol content. I drank a whole bottle of this once...”

“Right, you were sick, but not that sick,” Jansky replies sarcastically.

“Something like that...Anyway, we'll pace this.”

From his bag he takes out two small shot glasses, holding them up seeing if they have been cracked. He pours a portion of Tequila into the small glass, handing it to Jansky. She reaches across taking the glass of the fragrant amber fluid.

“Thank you…,” she replies, lifting the shot glass to her lips. Taking a small sip. “...Wow! That's good.”

He pours himself a glass. Above them both the viewing monitor goes blank. Its screen now completely black.

“Seems fitting,” Jansky says, lifting up her right hand while clutching the small glass, with her index finger she points at the black screen.

“Footage stops after we launch...Presumably World War Three has just started. Everything would go up in flames, thousands of Nuke targets pinpointed in synchronization after whoever launched first.”

Jansky turns facing Denlas. “Subject change!”

“Of course...” He sips the Tequila. “...Damn...You're right, this is good.” He leans across holding out his glass as Jansky taps it with hers, resting back into the recliner chair.

“Relax for a bit, have a drink, then I'll show you later what I've been working on.”

Jansky, taking off her shoes, placing them below the missile command console desk, lifting her legs up.

“Ok,” she replies.

Seeing Jansky using the missile command console prop as a foot rest, Denlas nods with a smile, gulping back the rest of his Tequila. “Fine, get comfy...Why not?”

He lifts the bottle pouring more of the golden liquid into the small shot glass.

“Me too!...” Jansky says, holding out her left hand with the small glass, he obligingly pours an amount into the glass. She sips the tequila, whilst staring at Denlas with a focused look of desire. “...Good idea, I think we should relax for a little while.”

 "...Aware that her lover has not affixed a condom, Denlas with his left foot reaches the straps of the small bag, edging it closer to him, leaning down, he stretches his left hand into the bag pulling out a small box, taking out a single condom. He quickly sliding it onto his penis. Jansky unable to hold back any longer, reaches down, holding up his latex covered dick, she glides down onto him. Her inner folds clutching his hardened length. Both of them begin to fuck hard into an intense rhythm, inside a room that was designed to initiate a thermonuclear war. For a brief moment Jansky thinks of Josh Rigel, she quickly pushes out those thoughts, instead allowing her passion and desire to remain the purpose of this tryst.

Trying to gain traction as she rides him, pushing down onto his pelvis. The recliner chair, a copy of what the original missilers would have used is clearly designed for one person. Denlas also tries to increase his pump into Jansky as she is spread above the chair arm rests. Lifting himself up, at the same time he cups his hands under her ass-cheeks. He kisses her neck, pushing his cock to the hilt, she whimpers folding her arms underneath his, with both hands clinging to the back of his shoulders, partially standing, Denlas maintains his rigorous thrusting, his cock moving with an urged intensity at the same time Jansky tightens her self around his engorged thickness, clinging onto him, as she feels the growing pulse of pleasure – she is close to orgasm. Closing her eyes, in a moment of bliss she thinks about the end of the world.

___

From:  "CATACLYSMAL"  (A.Glass 2017)