Molly's Superhero Fantasy, Pt. 3
by mcmann.molly
“Sorry to pop by unannounced, Dr. McQueen,” Missile Man said in his distinctive English accent. “Might we chat a moment?”
“Of course,” Molly said, fidgeting with her dress and wondering if her hair looked okay.
Missile Man – so named because he could fly as fast and as high as a missile – had burst onto the superhero scene six years earlier when Molly was only 16. Even now, back home at her parents’ house, posters of Missile Man remained tacked up on the walls of her former bedroom.
He stepped from the air onto the stone ledge of the balcony as if he were getting off an elevator, and instead of jumping from there down to the deck he hovered down gracefully.
Most of his head was covered by a tight-fitting blue hood that exposed only the lower half of his face, but Molly recognized his strong jaw line, cleft chin and his always-confident smile.
“I’m afraid I can’t stay long,” he said. “I need to be in Paris in a few minutes, but I wanted to meet you.”
“You did?” Molly giggled girlishly.
“Certainly,” he said. “You do have a superpower, don’t you? Or was that just trickery we all saw on the news today?”
“It . . . was . . . not . . . trickery,” Molly said as she teleported herself four times, disappearing and reappearing all around him until she was standing in front of him, only inches away. Had she not just consumed an entire bottle of wine, Molly might have thought ahead before displaying her superpower to him because now she was displaying her body as well.
Missile Man smiled his dreamily captivating smile. “Very impressive indeed, Dr. McQueen. Or would you prefer to be addressed as you are known by your adoring public -- Naked Girl?”
“Oh crap, is that what they’re calling me?”
“I’m afraid so. You neglected to provide your own superhero name so the press picked one for you. It does have a nice ring to it.”
“But superhero names are suppose to be about your power, not how you dress,” she pouted. “They don’t call you Red Tights Man.”
“Because I picked the name Missile Man myself, else the public might have dubbed me Flying Quite Fast Man. You must control your own image, my dear. I can introduce you to my publicist if you’d like. He’s quite good, but he only represents good superheroes, not evil super-villains. I suppose I should ask: Are you good or evil?”
“I’m good!” Molly exclaimed.
He grinned. “Of that I have no doubt.”
At that moment Molly wanted most of all for him to kiss her because, well, she was drunk and he was Missile Man and she was naked and it seemed so very right. But he didn’t.
“Well, I must be off,” he said, “I have to go catch some art thieves at the Louvre. But first might I borrow your phone?”
Molly laughed. “You’re not going to call Paris, are you? My phone plan doesn’t cover international.”
“I don’t need to ring up anyone,” he laughed. “I wish to give you an encryption code so we can contact you.”
“We?”
“The Council of Superheroes. Until today there were eight of us. Now there are nine. So . . . your phone please?”
Immensely flattered at being invited to the Council of Superheroes – by Missile Man himself -- Molly dashed back into her apartment to retrieve her phone from her purse. In doing so, she had to pause in front of the full length mirror next to her bedroom door. Her bathrobe was hanging in easy reach. Molly looked at herself, naked in the mirror. She looked at the bathrobe. Then she picked up her phone and sauntered back out the patio doors and across the deck, watching him watch her as she approached.
He took her phone and began rapidly punching in codes and commands. Pretending she wanted to watch, Molly stepped closer to him.
When he was done, he handed the phone back to her and said,
“Welcome to the Council of Superheroes, Naked Girl.”
“Teleporter Girl. I mean Teleportation Girl. Woman.”
“We’ll have to work on that,” he said and zoomed into the sky leaving behind a rush of wind that carried a hint of his cologne.
“Dr. McQueen,” Annie whispered, touching her on the shoulder. Molly opened her eyes and sat up on the leather couch. “Is it time for class?”
“Almost, but your purse was making a funny noise. Did you get a new ringtone?”
Molly ran to her purse and opened her phone. There was a message from “M.M.” saying “Urgent Council meeting now. Come to these coordinates.”
“Oh my god,” Molly said. “Annie, I need you to teach the class for me. I’ve been called to an emergency Council meeting.”
“The Faculty Council?”
“No,” Molly said, looking up at Annie. “The Council of Superheroes.”
“Oh my gosh! Sure, of course I can teach the class. And Dr. McQueen if there’s anything else I could do to help you, all you have to do is ask. I know I’m just your grad student, but I . . . I just really . . . want to help.”
Molly’s heart melted. “Well there is one other thing you can do.”
“Just name it, Dr. McQueen.”
“Unless there are students or faculty around, call me Molly, okay? And you’re not just a grad student to me, Annie. You’re very, very special.”
“I am?” Annie asked plaintively, tears welling up in her eyes.
“Of course you are,” Molly whispered. “You have been since the day we met.” A single tear spilled out of Annie’s left eye and ran down her cheek. Molly wiped it away with her thumb and put a kiss in its place. “But as long as you ARE my grad student I shouldn’t kiss you any more than this. Even though I want to.”
Without waiting for a response, Molly disappeared, her dress again dropping at Annie’s feet.
Molly materialized naked in a spacious conference room where eight colorfully dressed men and women were seated at a long table. Every superhero Molly had seen on the news was right here. Missile Man, Ice Woman, Tornado Kid, Lightning Girl – they were all here, and now they noticed her standing there naked.
“Well, well, well,” Lightning Girl said, standing up and walking around the table to approach her. “I’m so glad to meet you, Naked Girl.”
“Um, actually I’m thinking of calling myself . . . Teleportation Girl,” Molly said. “Or something like that.”
Lighting Girl’s super suit was the color of dark storm clouds and she had a yellow “L” on her chest that was shaped like a lightning bolt. She usually wore a dark visor that covered the top of her face, but as she approached she lifted it up to show her face. The irises of her eyes were like crackling blue electrical sparks.
“That name is too long,” she said.
“But your name is long.”
“Lightning is two syllables. Teleportation is, let’s see, five. Too long.”
“Well . . . what would you suggest?”
Lightning Girl looked down Molly’s body all the way to her toes and partway back up again. “Oh I like Naked Girl,” she said. “I think that’s perfect.”
As she said the word “perfect,” a blue spark jumped from her eyes and Molly felt as if the most expensive vibrator in the world had just been tested on her clitoris and nipples simultaneously.
“Pardon me,” Lightning Girl said, lowering her visor. “That was . . . accidental.”
“Might I inquire if you ladies are ready to begin our meeting?” Missile man asked politely. “We do have rather pressing business to attend to, but if you require a few more minutes to complete your flirtation I suppose we could accommodate that.”
Lightning Girl whirled around and walked back to her seat. “I was just welcoming the new member,” she said. “Let’s get down to business.”
Molly had been having a difficult enough time being naked at the Council of Superheroes, and it did not help that her previously private parts were still tingling from Lightning Girl’s electrical caress. There were nine chairs around the table and Molly took her place at the Council, the plush leather seat cool against her bare bottom.
“Okay then,” she said, calmly resting her hands on the table. “What’s our mission?”