"Saving Planet Earth": A (benevolent?) alien arrival story

[desperado1089]

Church Bay Beach

Bob was sensitive from the previous orgasm, so when Carrie's took her, his took him, the both of them cumming simultaneously as he filled her. When she attempted to drag him to the water, he would gleefully let himself be taken along for the ride, shooting the couple an apologetic look as they passed.

When she dove into the ocean, he took a moment to admire her before following her in, and when she came to a stop he would come up behind her and wrap his arms around her even as she got herself clean. "You are wonderful," he murmured in her ear before gently kissing the sensitive skin below it. "I don't want this to be a one-night thing. I dunno much else beyond that, but I don't want this to end."

The Loren at Pink Beach Hotel

In point of fact, Arno had awoken shortly before Florence found the note, and he watched her discreetly as she read, then responded to it. When she did, and walked into the ensuite, he got up, smirking as he noticed his robe had been untied, and picked up the note, reading it quickly with a growing smile.

Before much time could pass, he knocked on the door, the soft moans from the beginnings of her masturbation making his cock twitch. Calling through the closed door, he said, "Florence, if, as I suspect, you do not recall, the thing you said last night was that you wish you were not drunk and that we were lovers, a pair of wishes I have already told you I share. While our time to join with each other in bliss is short, there is enough, if you wish. Oh, and in response to your final question, the kind who wishes to respect the boundaries of non-nudists when going out in public." He paused, and added, "The thing you were about to do before I interrupted, I need to do as well. We may do so separately, but la petit mort is best when shared, non?"

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

Church Bay Beach
Bermuda

As Bob held Carrie tightly to him, kissing her sensitive neck, he told her, "You are wonderful."

"I am aren't I?" she responded, laughing to the slowly darkening sky. She kissed him passionately, whispering, "You were wonderful."

"I don't want this to be a one-night thing," he continued. "I dunno much else beyond that, but I don't want this to end."

Carrie looked into Bob's eyes for a moment, a slight smile on her lips. She didn't know when the last time was that she had had sex that hadn't been a one night stand. It wasn't that she couldn't or wouldn't commit; it wasn't that her lover's couldn't or wouldn't commit. It was just ... life, the way hers has unfolded over the past many years.

She kissed him erotically again, then told him with a sincere tone, "I can't promise you anything ... Bobby." She smiled wider, then explained, "We're likely going to be her for a couple of days. And after that, we will probably see each other ... at the UN ... other places maybe?"

She kissed him again. Again, sincerely, and with kisses between each pause, Carrie said, "I want to fuck you again, Bob ... tonight ... tomorrow ... the next day ... any day."

After another kiss that was accompanied by a laugh after a sudden chill shot up her back, Carrie said, "But right now, I need to get out of this water. I'm fucking about to freeze."

 

[desperado1089]

Church Bay Beach
Bermuda

"Yeah, this was a bad idea!" Bob laughed as he led Carrie back to shore, making sure she made it safely to shore before running for their things. "Oh, fuck, that is cold! Is there a shower on site? Or are you good to get back to the hotel before I pin you against the wall and take you a third time?"

Regardless of her answer, he used his towel (as it was not sandy) to dry her off as best he could before doing the same with himself.

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

The Loren at Pink Beach Hotel

She was beginning to greatly enjoy the workings of her fingers on her clit, her soft moans becoming louder than she'd thought, when suddenly she heard Arno's voice outside the bathroom door, "Florence..."

She panicked, pulling one hand out of her crotch as the other slid the shower door open an inch for a look, fearing that Arno was actually in there with her.

"If, as I suspect, you do not recall," he continued from, thankfully, the other side of the door, "the thing you said last night was that you wish you were not drunk and that we were lovers--"

Florence slapped a hand over her mouth, as if it was somehow going to stop her from saying what she'd already said.

Arno continued, "...a pair of wishes I have already told you I share."

Florence was simultaneously embarrassed by what she'd apparently said during her intoxication and delighted that Arno expressed his wish for the same. She often received similar propositions from men -- the curse of being a beautiful woman -- but she'd learned to ease herself away from them, hopefully without offending the men.

Florence didn't want to ease her way out of anything with Arno, though; she was definitely attracted to him, no doubt in the least. But wanting to be his lover and becoming his lover were two very different things.

Arno continued talking about them being together in bliss, then explained the tightie whities as respecting boundaries. Florence understood that; Arno once again proved to her that he was a gentleman.

Then he shocked her again by telling her that he'd heard her masturbating, that he did so himself, and that maybe they should be doing it together!

Florence was mortified! She had only been caught masturbating twice in her entire life, once by her mother when she was just 14-years-old, resulting in a loving mother-daughter talk about sexuality and pleasure; and a second time by her college roommate when she was 19-years-old, resulting in Florence's one and only sexual encounter with another female, something that has been surprisingly satisfying yet too awkward for her to repeat ever again.

Florence stood there for the longest time in silence until Arno checked to see if she was okay. "I'm okay! Don't come in ... please!"

Florence only now realized that she was shaking to the core. She didn't know whether it was because she'd turned off the hot water to hear Arno or because she'd never been in such a situation.

"I'll be out in a second, okay?" Florence called. "Just ... gimme a minute, please."

She slipped out of the shower, dried off, pulled her hair back into a ponytail secured by a scrunchie, and donned the robe. Still, Florence didn't go out; she was still feeling the shame of having been caught masturbating by a man she barely knew.

Finally, she got up the courage to open the door and step outside, not knowing what might happen next.

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

Church Bay Beach
Bermuda

Carrie ran up the staircase from the beach to the gate, taunting Bob about being slow, despite the fact that she'd made him pack back the picnic basket, including the heavy, empty champagne bottle and the meal that they'd barely even touched. The umbrella behind which they'd fucked and beach chairs in which they'd fucked belonged to the Club; the Beach Boys would tend to them soon enough, taking them to the shed near the bottom of the staircase and spraying them all clean before putting them away for the night.

Even after their active, energetic, and very satisfying sex, Carrie was still able to reach the top without stopping. Her military service with the Royal Military Police and subsequent employment with Special Branch -- 5 years and 7 years respectively -- had each required Carrie to maintain herself in excellent physical condition. Regardless of those requirements, she loved running, swimming, and climbing, so Carrie would have been in the same shape that she was working as a receptionist or school zone crossing guard.

Still, when she did finally reach the gate, Carrie grasped the railing and leaned over, gasping for air. She looked back for her lover to see how closely he was behind her. It wouldn't have surprised Carrie to find Bob just steps behind her, even with the additional load of what was almost entirely her possessions.

Once she'd regained her breath, Carrie headed for the Club's locker room, desperately needing to cleanse herself of the sand, saltwater, and bodily fluids; she'd carried the blanket back with her from the beach and now wrapped it around her waist to hide the evidence of Bob's cum still leaking from her pussy and down her inner thigh.

She had entered the Ladies locker room and was in the middle of her shower when her phone chimed from nearby with a familiar tone; she snatched it up to find a message from Bradley Kingsley, the Senior Attache -- glorified personal assistant, essentially -- for Sir Henry Fleming, the UK Ambassador to the United Nations to whom Carrie and Alec Brosnan -- her superior -- were assigned.

"Fuck," she murmured when she read the message ordering her back to the The Loren at Pink Beach Hotel immediately. She dried, dressed, and headed out to the lobby, where she found and tipped a male Hotel worker to find Bob and inform him that she'd had to leave but would see him tonight.

 

[desperado1089]

Church Bay Beach
Bermuda
6 January 2026, early evening
Bob stood in confusion when one of the beach workers told him that Carrie would see him later tonight. "But it's, like, 7 PM!", he said, irritation creasing his features as he immediately assumed that Carrie was just making things up and couldn't even be bothered to get her lie straight. "Security breach, my ass. Probably a pigeon tripped a damn sensor that they didn't set up correctly," he muttered angrily as he stamped over to his car and got in with a huff. "Goddamn it, I bet she's just blowing me off cause she doesn't wanna see if I have the stones to keep my word. She assumes I don't," he continues muttering as he turns over the engine and peals out of the parking lot much too fast.

The Loren at Pink Beach Hotel
7 (!) January 2026, early MORNING

"Don't come in!" The words hit Arno with the force of a physical blow, and he recoiled from the door as if scalded. Memories from his past, which all involved prudes or those who believed such behavior was healthy for them rejecting him as a freak, deviant and pervert, all came flooding back as he got dressed with breakneck speed. He tore up the notes they both left for one another, leaving the pieces on the room service cart in place of a tray of food with which he absconded, and a fresh piece of stationery with the words, "I'm sorry. -Arno" written on it atop the pile of torn paper.

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

The Loren at Pink Beach Hotel
Bermuda
6 January 2026, 8pm (aka hours later)

"What're you talking about?" Carrie asked Bradley Kingsley, the UK Ambassador's Senior Attache, when he finally emerged from the foyer of Sir Henry Fleming's suite to tell her that being called back to the hotel had been a false alarm. More annoyingly, she reminded him, "I've been standing here for over two hours, waiting to hear if the Ambassador was in some sort of danger ... as is my fucking job!"

"I don't know what to tell you, Officer Underhill," Bradley said. "I was told by Officer Brosnan to--"

"Where is Alec?" she inquired, wanting to speak to her more senior Special Branch partner.

"He's on assignment, I believe," the Attache said, unconvincingly.

Carrie studied him a long moment, her head tilting, her eyes narrowing. She accused more softly, "You have no idea where he is ... do you?"

Bradley only stared at her the way he always did when he didn't have the answers he should have. He was a dufus; Carrie had always known that. She didn't know the details, but Bradley Kingsley was someone's son or nephew or cock-sucking lover or another which was how he'd landed his job as the Ambassador's righthand man.

She turned and stormed out without another word, heading to her room, one doorway down and across from the Ambassador's elegant suite. Once inside, she got on the phone to call Bob's own room, getting the voice mail for whatever reason and telling him in no uncertain terms, "I am slipping into a bathtub to get the rogue grains of and out of my coochie so that you can one again put your cock inside it. Take your time ... but then ... don't. I'm having a keycard sent to your room in a couple of minutes, so you'll be able to just let yourself in ... to the room ... then me."

Carrie didn't mean to, but she giggled before she hung up and called the front desk to have a keycard programed for her room and sent to Bob's. Then, remembering that the tab was being covered -- presumably by Anya somehow? -- she called room service and ordered an extravagant meal with multiple desserts, a bottle of champagne, a bottle or white wine, and replacements for the 8 beers in the fridge that she doubted would be there when the sun rose the next morning.

Then, it was into the tub to shed the remaining sand particles that had gotten into every crevice -- yeah, that one, too -- and, with any luck, end up with her new American lover thrusting deeply and repeatedly inside her once again.

 

[desperado1089]

The Loren at Pink Beach Hotel
Bermuda
6 January 2026, 8pm (aka hours later)

When Ross called into the hotel's network to listen to his voicemail on the way back, he chuckled. "Guess I was wrong. Apology accepted, Carrie." When he returned, he received further proof that she indeed was not blowing him off in the form of the keycard (although it could still be a dud, but he'd find out for sure in a few minutes.)

When he arrived at her room and received the positive green light of the door unlocking, he chuckled. Upon entering her place of residence for the time being, he announced, "I hope you don't plan on sleeping anytime soon. One rule: no booze. I want you sober." Hopefully, the hours of sex they were about to have would help distract her from whatever demons caused her to overindulge in alcohol.

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

The Loren at Pink Beach Hotel
7 January 2026 (the day after Anya's arrival)

When she finally emerged sheepishly from the bathroom, Florence found in Arno's place only a note from him -- "I'm sorry. -Arno" -- lying atop the shredded remains of the previous notes they'd shared. Without hesitation, she immediately began sobbing, tears streaking down her face and splashing onto the flesh of her generous breasts which were not entirely hidden within the loosely tied robe.

She returned to the bathroom to finish her fit of despair before making herself ready for the day's events. She'd received a text message the night before after Arno put her to bed from whoever had been put in charge of organizing what was being called the Bermuda Summit that the entire delegation -- Press included, which meant her and, hopefully, Arno -- had been invited to congregate in the Earl Cameron Theater to meet Anya in person.

Being who she was, Florence spent several minutes researching the venue, learning it had been named for Earlston Jewett Cameron, CBE. She knew that CBE had something to do with knighthood -- in this case also called the OBE, the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire. Earlston, or simply Earl, had been a Bermudian actor who lived and worked in the UK, one of the first black stars in the British film industry. He'd been knighted by Queen Elizabeth II, who Florence had had a great love for, despite being from the country that her country had once owned and subjugated. Two hundred and fifty years ago, Flo, she reminded herself, giggling aloud. Let it go already!

Once she was ready to go -- wearing a colorful sundress and modest heels that conservatively accentuated her lifted C-cup bosom and long, sleek legs -- she was helped into one of the many tour busses heading for the venue; she paused outside the hotel to look for Arno, but didn't see him because he wasn't outside yet, had already left, or was avoiding her altogether.

A short 4-minute drive and they were already unloading at the theater. Florence was surprised by the scene; despite the Summit being probably the most important diplomatic event in the history of humankind, there were only about 50 members of the Press covering it.

Even more so, she recognized most of them as the behind-the-scenes type people like her: the information gatherers who then passed the real news onto the talking heads who ultimately shared it with the world. As hard as she looked, Florence didn't see a single talking head amongst the Press; she did see her counterparts -- whose faces were never seen on TV or the internet -- from CNN, Reuters, News Corp, and two dozen newspapers and television conglomerates from around the world.

Another thing she noticed -- what surprised the hell out of Florence -- was that there were no cameras! Not a one! She asked one of the women she recognized from covering a recent attempted bombing in Philadelphia, and the woman asked her, "Didn't you get the text?"

Florence checked her phone again, realizing with horror that she'd missed one of the special messages from Anya. It explained that all of the visual news that needed to be shared with the world would be provided to them. There was no mention of how or when, only that they'd get it.

"Please, turn your attention to the Theater's Docents," a male voice began flooding over them from speakers on the building's exterior, "and find your places inside. Diplomatic Representatives will be directed as appropriate to their seating area, as will Aides, Security, and the Press. Please, if you are Diplomatic Staff, do not be alarmed by the fact that you will be separated for the moment from your respective Ambassadors who alone will be meeting with the Anya of Yalla."

"What does that mean?" Florence asked a familiar face from Reuters.

"I hear that only the Ambassadors are meeting with Anya," the man told her as they walked up the steps to the theater. "Even the Aides and Attaches and the like who normally sit right there with the Ambassadors during the Security Council aren't being let into the room." He leaned in closer, saying, "I hear that the American Ambassador, Dick something, was pi-i-i-i-issed."

"Connors," Florence filled in regarding the man who'd so wanted to know whether or not her carpet matched her drapes. "Richard Connors is the American Ambassador to the UN. And yes, he's a dick."

They continued inside, finding that the Ambassadors had been taken to a smaller concert hall where they were to meet with Anya; that the Aides and other Staff were being allowed to run free and wild in the main concert hall; and that the press was being ushered to a third hall that was sized somewhat in between the other two.

Soon enough, Anya would be appearing as a hologram before the Press and the Staff, while the Diplomats themselves would be honored by the alien's in-person presence.

 

[desperado1089]

The Loren at Pink Beach Hotel
7 January 2026 (the day after Anya's arrival)

Ross looked significantly different than the last time Carrie or Alec had laid eyes upon him or his partner, Agent Derek Morgan, a tall Black man with a shaved head and a goatee. Both of them, and indeed all the other security staff present, by order of their countries' respective heads of state, wore body armor with various patches declaring which agency they belonged to, badges were worn visibly, and everyone carried an assault rifle or submachine gun that matched their country of origin; Americans with HK416's and MP-7's, Brits and French with much the same, Russians with AK-74's and PP-19's, and Chinese with QBZ-95's and Type 05 SMG's.

Arno, meanwhile, was already in the press room, but maintained a professional distance with the woman whom, as far as he knew, wanted nothing to do with him on a personal level; that said, he would be receptive to a genuine attempt to reassure him that that was, in fact, not the case. Ross would smile and wink at Carrie, but otherwise stayed 'on task', as this was not the time to be flirting, or even speaking to her about anything but the job. Everyone was on edge, which was exacerbated by how the security staff was told that they were not to be with their charges when they were meeting with an unknown party who might be hostile.

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

Earl Cameron Theater
Bermuda
7 January 2026 (the day after Anya's arrival)

"I'm sorry," one of the theater's senior administrators was arguing with half a dozen members of the security services of the various but not all nations in attendance for the Summit. "I have been instructed that no weapons or security personnel are allowed in the Royal Small Theater, where Lady Anya will be meeting with the Ambassadors."

"Lady?" Carrie Underhill mused, drawing the attention of Bob Ross, behind whom she'd quietly slipped up. She smiled wide and whispered about his surprise at seeing her, "I was going to grab your ass, but ... well, you know." She gave him an up and down look, smiled wider, and -- leaning in without looking overly familiar -- whispered, "You look positively scaring all dolled up in armor with a machine gun. I like it ... and I'm having the damndest time not grabbing your cock right now."

One of the others in the crowd -- a member of the Press standing nearby -- caught the man's use of the title and questioned him about it. He confessed in his British Bermudian accent with a bit of embarrassment, "No, Anya did not tell us to use that. It just ... seemed appropriate--"

He paused, lifting his phone up and reading a text message that had just arrive in response to what was happening all around him. People were still sniping at him with questions about the security limitations, leading him to lift a finger in a wait one gesture before, eventually, correcting, "Security personnel are now being permitted to inspect the venue for the Ambassadors' Summit with La-- with Anya ... and may escort their respective Ambassadors into the Royal Small Theater ... but then must leave the area and assemble in the Grand Theater, where they will be able to monitor the Summit via holographic projection ... just as the Press will from the Charleton Theater."

There was more uproar from those security personnel who didn't want to leave their Ambassadors' side, but -- after the man again gestured them to let him speak -- the Administrator said firmly, "You have two choices, Ladies and Gentlemen. Do as I have described ... or put your Ambassadors back on their respective airplanes ... and leave my island."

Carrie laughed at the man's use of the words my island, mocking him to Bob, "My island." She shrugged, and asked, "Wanna go take a look?"

Whether he liked the terms or not, Carrie headed forward to join those who had also chosen to follow the Administrators. Off to her right, the Russian Security personnel were arguing both amongst themselves and -- via cell phone -- with their Ambassador, who was still sitting in the provided car that had brought them all to the Earl Cameron. Off to her left, the Chinese were having a similar argument, though, their Ambassador was standing amongst them.

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

Earl Cameron Theater
Bermuda
7 January 2026 (the day after Anya's arrival)

Florence tentatively entered the Charleton Theater, aka the Press Room; she suspected that Arno had beat her here, and she was concerned about how he was going to react to seeing her. She spotted him across the room; it was a single level seating medium sized theater that had had every other row of seats taped off to spread the Press members out, giving them room to see, hear, and record without interruptions or distractions.

She followed behind some others until she reached Arno's row, and -- seeing that there was no one between the two of them -- chose to walk to him, slowly with her eyes down on her tablet. When she got close, she turned and simply stood next to him for a long moment before saying simply, "Bonjour, Arno."

 

[desperado1089]

Earl Cameron Theater
Bermuda
7 January 2026 (the day after Anya's arrival)

Bob

Ross took Morgan with him, and he saw Alec take Carrie with him as well. One to watch Anya, the other to watch Russia and China. Smart. When the pairs of guards (the Russian Ambassador had begrudgingly joined the proceedings) that accompanied their ambassadors were in place near said ambassadors, it was time to meet the woman of the hour.

Arno

"Bonjour, Miss MacDonald," Arno said, the picture of calm and professionalism, but internally he was positively screaming. Sacre bleu! Why did she come straight for me? Surely she has no desire to interact with me unless she is forced to, non? Why is she tormenting me as well as herself so?

While his thoughts spiraled, he asked, as if trying to distract himself from his own swirling mind, "So...lovely weather we're having today. I wonder if Anya's ship will experience turbulence, or does she beam down like Scotty?"

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

Charlton Theater, inside the Earl Cameron Theater
Bermuda
7 January 2026 (the day after Anya's arrival)

"Bonjour, Miss MacDonald," Arno said with a polite tone.

Florence looked to him for just an instance, smiling tentatively; she was wracked with emotions as wild and confused as was he, even though he seemed to be as calm and collected as could be.

"So ... lovely weather we're having today," he chatted. "I wonder if Anya's ship will experience turbulence, or does she beam down like Scotty?"

Florence giggled, looking away to hide the blush suddenly filled her face. In addition to growing up with her great-grandfather's stories of France, she'd grown up with a Trekkie grandfather and a Trekker father who to this day still argued about which of the nicknames was more proper.

"I talked to some people ... military types," Florence told Arno, hoping to soften the rift between them with some chatter. "They say that there's no indication of a ship, anywhere. How can that be...?" She looked to Arno again, asking with a smirk, "Maybe it's got a Klingon cloak ... or Romulan?"

A short bit of mayhem several yards away over seating too her attention for a moment. Florence looked about for eavesdroppers, saw no one paying them too much undue attention, leaned closer to Arno, and whispered, "Did I hear you right yesterday ... when ... when you said that, um ... that you have a pass ... to a beach ... a, um ... clothing optional beach?"

 

[desperado1089]

Charlton Theater, inside the Earl Cameron Theater
Bermuda
7 January 2026 (the day after Anya's arrival)

"It may be premature to compare Anya's people with those that, for much of Star Trek history, were the enemies of the Federation. For all we know, all of her words are true." The commotion drew his attention, but it was brought back to Florence with lightning speed when she began to speak again.

It took an insultingly long time for him to respond, so long did it take for him to process the possibility that she was not, in fact, repulsed by him as he had feared. Forced to clear his throat several times, he finally managed, "Oui. And since my fears regarding your behavior this morning seem to be misplaced, perhaps you may join me for an afternoon of relaxation after this exciting day?"

Meanwhile...

All of the security teams--two per ambassador--flanked their charges as each walked into the room in which they were to meet Anya. For their part, Morgan stayed by Connors while Ross began to sweep the room for visible threats before Anya's arrival: suspicious packages, places to conceal weapons, and so on. The three NATO members worked together, but the contingents from Russia and China each checked the entire room, including those covered by all the other teams. Now it was just a matter of waiting.

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

(OOC: This post includes a detailed description of Anya. I wanted to note that in case someone comes looking for it later.

Charlton Theater, inside the Earl Cameron Theater
Bermuda
7 January 2026 (the day after Anya's arrival)

Referring to Florence's comment about Klingon and Romulan cloaks, Arno commented, "It may be premature to compare Anya's people with those that, for much of Star Trek history, were the enemies of the Federation."

Florence's lips spread in a happy smile; it wasn't for the dialogue about the best science fiction show in Earth history, bar none -- even Star Wars -- but for the fact that they were so casually talking to one another after this morning's fiasco.

Arno continued, "For all we know, all of her words are true." He was talking about Anya's promise that she was only hear to help the Human Race and the planet on which it lived.

After Florence shyly asked him if perhaps he would take her to the nude beach sometime soon, Arno took his time to answer but, thankfully, answered "Oui."

Her lips spread even wider with happiness ... and then her face exploded again in a fiery blush as she realized that she'd just asked to be taken to a clothing optional beach with a man she'd only met the day before -- a man who she had already seen naked as a jaybird.

Florence whispered just loud enough for Arno to hear, "I can't wait."


Meanwhile...

"Ladies and gentlemen, if you please," the Theater's General Manager was saying into a cordless microphone up on the stage; he'd appeared several minutes earlier to replace the previous man who'd been directing things. The Ambassadors, of course, were hearing the man, but he was speaking directly to the members of the Security Teams when he continued, "If you are satisfied with the security of your representatives, could you all take your seats. Once everyone is seated, that will be taken as a sign that it is time for Anya of the Yalla to arrive and speak to us ... to you, I mean."

The man didn't get his wish as quickly as he'd wanted, but one by one, the Ambassadors and their 2-member security teams were finally all seated. The GM lifted his phone after it chimed, and as he backed away toward the side of the stage with the microphone still in his hands, he announced with a tone of great delight, "Ladies and Gentlemen of the United Nations Security Council, please feel free to keep your seats as we welcome ... Anya of Yalla."

A moment later, in the middle of the stage, a miniscule but impossibly bright spot of light appeared four feet above the stage's floor, rapidly expanding into a sphere 8 feet in diameter, and then suddenly just vanished ... leaving in its place Anya.

Throughout the theater were a variety of sounds, many of them gasps, of awe, fear, shock, and more. Some of the Summit's attendees sat up taller while others stood tall; of the latter, most were Security Personnel, although some of the shocked Ambassadors rose as well.

The UK Ambassador, Sir Henry Fleming, began to rise in shock, but Carrie and Alec both took hold of him by the arms and urged him to remain as he was; they didn't pull him back down into his seat, but after a moment he did retake it on his own.. Once he had, Carrie looked back to their guest of honor -- a mere 15 feet away -- and was simply amazed by what she saw.

Anya stood maybe a hair more than 5 feet in height; she wore what Carrie thought were the most magnificent, mid-thigh high boots, but -- unlike most styles popular in the US and around the world for their effect on the lusciousness of legs and buttocks, Anya's were actually flat soled and didn't seem to add any height to her. And yet, Carrie could see from her angle, the alien's long, sleek legs and tight, round buttocks were still something for which any Human woman would yearn.

Her body was very petite, instantly reminding Carrie -- who had been a huge Ally McBeal fan as a young child -- of Calista Flockhart's notoriously tiny Size 2 figure. Anya -- who would measure out at 33-23-32 if anyone was ever to take a cloth tape to her -- was actually larger in the chest and breasts than Flockhart, with an extra two inches in the former and C-cups in the latter.

As spectacular as her figure, though was the alien's coloring, in her skin, her hair, and even her clothing. Her skin was a perfectly flawless and consistent silver-gray, except at her slightly lighter-in-tone ears at which even Gene Roddenberry's Mister Spock would have said, "Look at those ears!" She could more easily understand now why so many people across the world were comparing Anya to the Elves of Lord of the Rings, the various Dungeons & Dragons productions, whether live or animated, and more.

Anya's hair was the blackest black Carrie had ever seen, straight as an arrow, and so fine that the light movement of air in the theater caused it to waft about her shoulders. She could already imagine that hairdressers around the world would be booking dozens of patrons a day for straightening and coloring to match their alien visitor.

Even Anya's clothing was out of this world. From her feet to her head, she glimmered in a color that floated somewhere between the Gold Ochre and Gothic Gold that in her younger, wild, partying days had once been her favorite nail polish colors. In addition to the gold, Anya's hair pieces -- seemingly affixed to her ears in some way as well as pinned into her hair -- appeared to also feature a lighter colored metal, perhaps a platinum or silver metal or at least a material of either of those colors.
And on Anya's face -- her cheeks in particular -- was more golden decoration, only Carrie couldn't figure out whether those decorations were painted on, glued on, or perhaps actually part of her face! (Much later on, Carrie would actually learn that the facial decorations were a traditional feature that were affixed to the skin permanently.)

As Carrie was continuing to marvel at the alien, Anya casted her gaze upon the Humans before her, smiling in delight at knowing that each of the 5 Security Council countries had sent their Representatives to meet her. While the Ambassadors had all taken front row theater seats, some of the security personnel had sat with their Ambassadors while others had sat in a seat behind them, sometimes to the right or left. Anya took a moment to look into the eyes of each of them too, smiling to them just as if they were as important as the men and women they served.

When she looked back to the Ambassadors again, she greeted them one after another in their respective preferred languages, "Priyatno s vami poznakomit'sya, posol, Vasily Alekseyevich Nebenzya ... C'est un plaisir de faire votre connaissance, l'Ambassadeur Chloe Marie Dubois ... It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ambassador Richard Connors ... hěngāoxìng rènshi nín, dàshǐ Fan Yue, and perhaps last but certainly not least, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ambassador Henry Fleming."

Each of the Ambassadors had responded in their own way; some had repeated a similar greeting, others said something simpler and more direct, while one -- the rep' from Russia -- simply nodded his head politely. When she was finished, Anya began slowly forward toward the edge of the stage; by her request, a staircase had been placed there to allow her to descend to the same level as the Ambassadors and greet them more intimately.

Part 2 coming next.

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

Part 2 (I just couldn't stop writing.)

Suddenly, one of the Chinese Security Officer leaped forward from the front row, raised his sidearm, and screamed at Anya while he pulled the trigger repeatedly, "zhōnghuárénmíngònghéguó bù huìbèi wàilái qīnluè hé zhēngfú de zhǒngzú núyì!" *

The man pulled the trigger 9 times in less than 3 seconds ... and on the stage, just two feet from Anya -- who showed very little reaction to the attack -- each of the bullets disappeared in a quick flash of light as they were absorbed by the invisible security shield that had been left around her when the transport bubble surrounding her upon arrival had vanished.

Probably as unexpected as the pistol attack by one Chinese Security Officer was that even before the man hadd finished emptying his clip, his fellow Chinese bodyguard had launched himself forward to take the man down, scrambling to get the pistol from him as the security personnel of other nations' teams helped him subdue the man.

There was pandemonium amongst some of the delegations while others seemed to handle the situation far more professionally. Carrie -- who had been farther away from the Chinese delegation than her teammate Alec -- pulled Sir Henry away from the violence and down to the floor; her body and bulletproof vest was there to protect him, from either a continuing Chinese attack or Anya's response to it.

The Chinese Ambassador, Fan Yue, stood there in horror initially, then looked to Anya and began loudly begging forgiveness in Mandarin, telling her that the man was deranged and not representative of her or her people. Anya -- who was still simply standing there at the top of the steps with a polite expression on her face -- responded, but her words were heard by each and every person in the Theater in their own chosen language.

"Madam Ambassador, I do not blame you or your country for the actions of this one Human Being," she said calmly. "I failed to ensure him that I am here on a mission of peace and protection. I will strive to do a better job of that in the future.

"And please do not have any concerns for my safety," Anya continued. "The plans for this attack had been discovered by my own Security Personnel in time for me to take precautions ... as you saw." Playfully and with an even wider smile, Anya reached out and tapped a fingernail -- long and pointy and a darker silver-gray than her skin -- on the inside of the invisible sphere that surrounded her. "I am perfectly safe."

The would-be assassin was removed from the Theater but his own countryman, by the order of his Ambassador who reassured him that -- like Anya -- she was perfectly safe. Additional security personnel -- from both the UN delegations and local law enforcement had rushed inside upon hearing the shots, and within a few minutes, things began to settle down.

From up on the stage, Anya looked about the first and second row again, then -- with a less happy expression -- explained, "It was my wish to descend to your level and greet each of you in person ... but ... as you can see, the presence of firearms presents a hazard that my people wish me to avoid. I understand that your Security people wish you to have protection at hand ... but if we are to proceed, I will need all but the Ambassadors themself to depart the Theater."

* Translation: "The People's Republic of China will not be enslaved by an alien race of invaders and conquerors."

 

[desperado1089]

UN Delegations

When the Chinese security man opened fire, both Alec and Bob reacted instantly, swinging their rifles to lock sights on the shooter as Carrie and Derek tackled Henry and "Dick" to the ground, respectively. But just as more bullets were about to fly, a quick glance towards Anya revealed her to be not only unharmed, but perhaps even amused at the attempt; it was laughable, given the level of technology required to travel across the stars. While the Chinese man's weapons were wrestled away from him (why he didn't use his assault rifle was both a mystery to both Ross and Morgan as well as a small miracle) and Anya proceeded to explain that her people had received advance warning of this attack and instituted measures to protect her, Alec and Ross lowered their weapons and proceeded to help drag the would-be attacker from the room.

When order was restored, and Anya asked for them to leave the room, Henry was quick to tell both Carrie and Alec that he'd be okay, Alec turning towards Anya and saying, "It is an honor to finally see you in person, Anya. I hope to speak more with you and your compatriots in future. Believe me when I say, it's my fervent hope that you are being genuine when you say that you are protecting us." Henry took that moment to step up behind Alec and clap him on the shoulder. "My loyal protector here is quite the orator, isn't he? He totally stole those lines from me, by the way," he joked, prompting Alec to playfully elbow Henry in the ribs. When both their laughter died down, throats were cleared, awkward "Anyway"s were uttered and the British and French security contingents, as well as the lone remaining Chinese guard and both Russians, gracefully left the room.

"C'mon, Richard," Henry said softly, Ross and Morgan not moving unless their ambassador told them to, as both men knew that the irascible "Dick" might can them both if they moved without orders.

Press

Arno smiled and replied, "Nor can I. And I promise, other than the joy of finally laying eyes upon your beautiful skin without the restrictions of clothing, any other delights we partake in will be by your leave, and only yours." When the show began, then abruptly cut off, there was a confused bit of murmuring rippling through the crowd until someone close to an air vent heard what sounded like gunshots coming from somewhere else in the building. The news spread through the assembled press like wildfire and Arno found himself pulling Florence tight against him, as if ready to pull her down to the floor at a moment's notice if necessary.

When it became clear from the abundance of sirens outside as well as the lack of continued gunfire that the situation was over, the mood in the room shifted to one of 'what the fuck just happened' as Arno released Florence from all but a relaxed holding of hands.

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

With the UN Delegations

Once the remaining armed Security Force personnel -- some of them very reluctantly -- had made their way from the room, Anya descended the staircase before her to the level of the Ambassadors; she was smiling just as she had been before and even during the gunfire and subsequent takedown of the would-be assassin. The protective sphere around her had seemed to disappear as she began offering her hand out to one Ambassador after another, thanking them for coming -- again in their respective languages -- and also thanking, as appropriate, those whose brave men and women came to her rescue earlier.

"Your loyal protector, as you called him, Ambassador Fleming," Anya said to Sir Henry as she took his hand, "was brave indeed. At some point soon, I wish to meet with him--" She glanced to the other Ambassadors whose people had stepped up as well, continuing, "--with each of the heroes at our mutual convenience."

She'd finished shaking hands and speaking clearly and fluently in all seven of the languages -- she'd even taken on the American and British accents when speaking to Ambassadors Connors and Fleming -- before turning back to the French representative and saying in French, "Ambassador Chloe Marie Dubois, I am--"

"Chloe", the beautiful blonde interrupted. Continuing in French, she begged, "Forgive my interruption, Anya. But if we are to call you Anya, by what I presume is your given name, is it not appropriate for you to call us by our own given names? That is, unless you have a title as well. Should we refer to you as Ambassador Anya, perhaps?"

As Anya smiled to her and considered her answer, Chloe looked to the US and UK Ambassadors; she spoke their languages fluently, but -- other than a few dozen words in each -- didn't speak either Russian or Mandarin. She began to apologize in English, "Please forgive me, Ambassador Connors, Ambassador Fleming. I was explaining that--"

"They understood you," Anya cut in politely, clarifying, "Each of them did." She looked to the Russian and Chinese Ambassadors, each of whom confirmed in the simplest English Yes, we understood you that they had indeed comprehended Chloe's words. Anya continued, "While you are in my presence, each of you may speak in your favored tongue ... tongue, yes...? Yes, good. You each will understand every word spoken by the other."

Anya laughed, an expressive noise that -- maybe because of her petite size -- sounded like it belonged more appropriately to a teenage girl. She explained, "Perhaps that might not be a good thing at other times, having people of other States, Nations, and Cultures understand every word you are speaking ... but for our purposes ... for this Summit...?"

Someone confirmed that that was indeed the word that the Humans had selected, and Anya continued, "For this Summit, each of us needs to understand each of the other of us at all times ... if we are to achieve what it is that we need to achieve."

Anya turned for the staircase again and, as she ascended, gestured with her long fingers, "Please, come."

On the stage, farther back from where Anya has seemingly appeared by magic, was a small round table with only enough diameter to fit 6 chairs intimately around it. Anya took a chair and gestured toward the others, explaining about the nametags before them, "We have arranged you in the same fashion in which you sit while you are functioning as the protectors of Planet Earth ... as members of the United Nations Security Council."

Once everyone had taken their seats, Anya explained to the Ambassadors in this Theater, to their Security Teams in the next larger Theater, and to the Press in the largest of the three, "What we discuss here today at this table ... can be seen across Planet Earth as it is discussed ... I believe you refer to this as live, yes?" She paused for confirmation, continuing, "I understand that it is common for governmental bodies of Earth, regardless of size, to sometimes do their business behind closed doors, for whatever purpose they feel is necessary.

"We, the Yalla ... my People," she said with a smile and a reverent tone, "We do not operate in this way. Everything we do that involves our People or the Peoples we yearn to help in one way or another ... such as you, the People, the Human Beings of Planet Earth ... it is all done in view of those people ... not just in the view of their leadership."

(Part 2; another Help, I can't stop myself! moment.)

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

(Part two)

In the Press Room, earlier:

"Nor can I," Arno said after Florence had whispered that she couldn't wait to accompany him to the clothing optional beach for which he had purchased a membership. "And I promise, other than the joy of finally laying eyes upon your beautiful skin without the restrictions of clothing, any other delights we partake in will be by your leave, and only yours."

Florence's lips spread in yet another big smile, and -- yes -- her fair skinned, freckled face again exploded in a fiery blush. She wanted so badly to partake of Arno, to use his word, but she was still hesitant to advance from where they were -- which was nothing, really -- to becoming lovers. Her experiences with men had been sad and demoralizing and minimal -- two men, once each, more than a decade apart -- and she had a hard time imagining that things would be any different with Arno.

Oh, it wasn't that Florence didn't like men or didn't trust men or ... whatever. She was simply protective of herself -- her body and her soul both -- after what she'd gone through with the previous assholes. Just because they were assholes, doesn't mean he is, she told herself about Arno.

Suddenly, the stage before them filled with a holographic image of Anya that surprised Florence; she hadn't seen the original arrival of the alien in person and had only seen recreations of it on television, computer, and phone screens since. She appeared to actually be right there before them, except that instead of being barely more than 5 feet tall as she was live with the Ambassadors, she appeared to be closer to 10 feet tall here for all to easily view her.

In addition to Anya, the holographic image floating in the air above the stage included the Ambassadors as well. It didn't include the Security Forces officers, though, despite them sitting sometimes shoulder to shoulder with their charges. Through some technological magic from the Yallans, only the Security Council members were visible to those in the other two theaters.

Anya spoke to each of the Ambassadors by name in their own languages and appeared to be about to descend from her height above them when suddenly the holograph simply disappeared. A moment later, one of the Press members called out, "I hear gunfire! It's guns, I hear it."

Confusion, followed by fear and panic in some quarters, spread through the Theater. Without even realizing that she'd done it, Florence had moved closer to Arno and wrapped one arm around behind his back as the other laid upon his chest. Only when she felt his own arms come around her did Florence realize that they'd engaged.

"What's happening," she whispered in fear. She'd been present during a terrorist event once, and the memory of that day came flooding back to her very quickly.

Despite what was happening in the next smallest Theater, the hologram of Anya reappeared, and smiling to those in attendance, she reassured them in all of the necessary languages at once, "Please, do not be concerned. An event that poses no danger to anyone in this theater, on this island, or even on this entire world has interrupted my introductions with your Representatives. I assure you, all is well, all is fine, and the Summit will return to you momentarily."

Later, when the word of the attempted assassination became public, Florence would realize that while Anya had been accepting the Chinese Ambassador's apology and descending to greet her and the other Ambassadors, she had somehow also been speaking to the members of the Press simultaneously. How the hell?

But as Anya -- whose floating image faded away again -- had promised the Press and, in the next theater over, the Security Forces, a few minutes later the image of her and the Ambassadors gathering around a table returned in a holographic display that slowly turned horizontally to, at various times, give the audiences a view of the face of each and every person sitting about the table. In addition, there were smaller holographic bubbles floating about the larger one in which a front view of each of the Ambassadors -- including Anya -- could be seen at all times.

"Before we begin to speak about what I and my People can do for your People," Anya began, "I would like to give Ambassador Chloe Marie Dubois of the State of France an opportunity to once again ask her question ... the one that I unintentionally did not answer."

In her bubble, Chloe donned a confused expression for a moment, then suddenly brightened up with a smile as she recalled her inquiry. "Thank you, Anya. I asked if you had a title by which we should be referring to you."

Anya smiled wider, then answered, "For the purposes of this Summit, I guess you could use the same title that I have used for each of you ... Ambassador. I am, after all, an ambassador to Earth for the people of Yalla.

Chloe sensed there was more, though, and urged, "But ... at home ... on your planet, Yalla ... what are you called there?"

Anya again smiled, looking the beautiful French woman in the eyes directly before scanning the faces of the others sitting around the table. "On my home planet of Yalla ... and throughout our ... territory ... I am known as Queen Anya the Faithful."