The Chosen

The Chosen Claudia Rose Rated: S He alone had done it! Of the twenty greatest dragons deemed eligible for the quest, he alone had flown the thermal that the prophetess had predicted for them. It had been an awesome upwelling of air, squeezed between two enormous weather systems, drawing power from both but subject to neither. It had swept them up into the heavens, testing their strength and resolve, and eliminating all but him. Those it rejected were left battered and exhausted in its wake, to drift back to the surface like so much chaff. Only he had stayed with the flow, to be lifted higher than any dragon then living had ever been. The upwelling finally died out at the point where Kir-na-ra’s atmosphere disappeared into the nether-zone—that place where gravity loses its grip and atmosphere becomes vacuum. Below him he could see the surface of his beloved planet curving to distant horizons, like a giant dome gleaming in ethereal emerald beauty against the inky backcloth of space. The vista was so achingly beautiful that his altitude-befuddled brain urged him to stay up here (where matters of the surface were as distant and insignificant as the surface itself) forever. The universe beckoned him, all it would take was one final flick of his mighty wings to become one with infinity. But before thought could become deed, something stopped him. A voice? No, it was more than one voice; it was a chorus of voices speaking inside his mind. Voices so faint and distant as to be virtually indiscernible. You have made it. You have achieved the first part of your task. But beware; don’t be lured away by the siren song of space. Remember your goal. You must cross over. You must find the Chosen and bring her back. Don’t fail us now. The voices galvanized him. His people, the Dragonrace, needed him. With a deliberate effort the giant gold and silver beast re-focused on his task. Ignoring the attraction of the void, he concentrated on turning himself back towards the surface in order to re-enter Kir-na-ra’s atmosphere. His giant wings gave a powerful, decisive downbeat. Nothing happened. He continued to drift.

I cannot return. My wings do not work! Don’t panic. We can help you. He didn’t believe that the council, for all its power, could help him from such a distance. But, amazingly, the combined might of the Dragonrace’s greatest minds did reach him. It was the faintest of touches—a soft tug, like the pull of a gentle tide on a frond of kelp—but it was enough to reclaim him. He could feel himself being drawn back down towards the planet’s surface. As gravity took hold and air refreshed his lungs, so his desire for the void receded and his mind returned with blazing clarity to the task at hand. He had achieved the ultimate height, which was the first part of his quest. Now he needed to use that height to help him achieve the ultimate speed. Angling his wings, he went into a carefully calculated dive, plotting a trajectory that used the planet’s own velocity to aid his acceleration. Kir-na-ra’s energy sent him arrowing through the upper atmosphere, like a mighty stone hurled from a giant slingshot. Even though the air up here was thin, his great velocity quickly caused him to superheat, making his armored scales glow. Still he accelerated. Air pressure snapped his wings tight against his body, leaving him only the slender vanes of his wingtips to control his descent. It wasn’t easy; he shuddered and bumped violently—at such a speed the currents of the air that he hurtled through felt as if they were made of rock By now he was visible from the ground, appearing to those below like a flaming meteor towing behind a tail of superheated gas three times its own length. The eyes of every dragon were fixed on him. Every voice urged him to greater speed and ultimate success. He was a blazing knot of pain. His eyes were clamped shut against the fearful heat. His jaws were opened in a sustained scream of agony. Despite the pain and fear, a segmented section of his brain objectively monitored the descent, calculating the moment when the ultimate speed had been attained. What he sought was sufficient velocity to be able to jump successfully out of this dimension and into the dimension from whence the next prophetess, the Chosen, would come. Moments later the required velocity was achieved. With a mighty effort of will he changed his scream to a chant. “Tro sul tir na Kir-na-ra. Tro sul tir na Kir-na-ra… ”

Below him the Dragonrace chanted too. Abruptly there was a mighty clap, like a thunderbolt, and he disappeared from view. The watching dragons wailed and prayed.

***** Four humans were alerted in various ways by the dragon’s arrival in our dimension.

Harry Sproule, a local area air traffic controller, glimpsed a brief flash on his radar screen, but when he looked it had gone and the instruments registered little out of the ordinary. He decided to do nothing about it. It was 5:50 am and his shift finished in ten minutes. An incident report would delay him by an hour. If it had been a bomb of some sort it was way too late anyway. Down on the bayou, a few miles in back of the Lonely Hearts Hotel, Peggy-Fae Stubbs was disturbed in her sleep by a deep rumble. She opened one eye blearily, but dismissed the sound as coming from the digestive system of her husband Elmar—the Lonely Hearts Hotel’s Second Assistant Gardener. While Elmar lay there snoring, his gut was doing overtime on an extra large helping of crawfish gumbo that he’d consumed sometime around 3:00 am when he’d rolled his huge body out of bed in search of a “itty bitty snack.” Ironically, the one who saw and understood the most was the Lonely Hearts Hotel’s Third Assistant Gardener, Billy-Bob Potts, the idiot son of a second cousin of Peggy-Fae’ s. Hotel management didn’t know Billy-Bob was in their employ, his hiring was a private arrangement of Cousin Elmar’s, who, for two dollars less tax, allowed Billy-Bob the privilege of performing the bulk of his daily gardening duties. Elmar had offered Billy-Bob the job on two conditions. Firstly, that he only work at night and, secondly, that he didn’t talk to any of the guests or other staff. The arrangement suited Billy-Bob mightily. Being as he was an albino with unusually sensitive eyes he preferred working in the dark anyway, and being as he could only speak two words (“sheee-it” and “awesome”) he wasn’t about to enter into conversation with nobody no-how. But just because Billy-Bob couldn’t communicate, didn’t mean he couldn’t

comprehend. It’s a little known fact that if you really want to know what’s going on in the world the best person to ask is a congenital half-wit. For some unexplained reason it’ s the Forrest Gumps of the planet that have the most close encounters with aliens and supernatural beings. In this respect Billy-Bob was no exception. He loved working in the Lonely Hearts Hotel grounds at night because it was such a busy and interesting place. He was currently on good terms with two vampires, a werewolf, a shape-shifter, an entire coven of witches and a very timid shriek. He therefore took it relatively calmly when, about an hour before the sun was due to rise, an enormous, white-hot dragon materialized over his head making a noise like a DC10 and trailing a huge tail of flame. “Sheee-it!” he said appreciatively. The dragon swooped past him and back-winged powerfully to land two hundred yards away on the service road that ran through this part of the hotel grounds. Unfortunately a sports car (a top of the line Lamborghini) was speeding erratically down the same road at the same time. The appearance of a dragon settling across both lanes sent it off the asphalt and head-on into the only large tree for two square miles. “Awesome!” said Billy-Bob delightedly. The Lamborghini driver brought the number of people alerted in some way by the dragon’s arrival to four. His name was Callan Thornley-Scrubbs III, and he was the world’s richest, and most eligible, crack-head. He was driving the little-used back road because he was on his way back to the hotel after an all-night session scoring his drug of choice out beyond the bayou. His dealer had assured him that this shit was the best he’d ever dealt. Callan Thornley-Scrubbs III, a sucker for a good sales pitch, immediately set out to sample his purchase. The extravagance of the claim was more than supported when the marvelous vision of a giant silver and gold dragon appeared in front of him. With religious awe Callan took his hands off the steering wheel and crossed them reverently over his heart. He never saw the tree. The dragon watched the crash with clinical dispassion. While his superheated body was cooling, his mind was busy with the third stage of his quest. The prophetess had given him one full rotation of the planet to find her replacement, after that he would be unable to return, and would eventually die. There

were certain guarantees attached to the quest. He knew, for example, that he would be given the use of a human body while he was here, and that he would be sent to a place where the Chosen would appear. It was then up to him to seduce her and bring her home. The catch was that she could not be coerced, she must come willingly. But already there was a complication. There were two potential bodies for him to adopt. The human in the car was minutes from death, while behind it stood another, very much alive. In three swift bounds he crossed the neat lawn to land in front of Billy-Bob. He put his great head down close to the ground to better scrutinize the human with one of his large aquamarine eyes. “Awesome,” said Billy-Bob softly. There was something not quite right with this human. The dragon could sense an unusual degree of insight in him, but an insight ungoverned by intellect. This body would be no good. He turned back to the car. Callan Thornley-Scrubbs III felt no pain. He didn’t know that blood from a severed femoral artery was pumping the life out of him. He only had eyes for the dragon, his dragon. It was so beautiful. It was the best thing that had ever happened to him in his spoiled, lonely, dissolute life. With his breath coming in shallow pants and his eyes rapidly glazing, Callan watched the great beast approach him. It’s eye, a glowing orb, peered in the window of the car. Callan thought that it was looking at him with a deep compassion. He felt so grateful he started to weep. Gently the dragon reached a great talon in through the window and with one swift tug pulled the driver’s door off its hinges. Callan’s dying body flopped sideways out of the door, held only by the large shaft of metal that had pinioned him through the groin. He still felt no pain. Intoning a soft chant intended to send the sacrifice straight to the halls of the gods of the Dragonrace, the dragon reverently impaled Callan on the same talon that had removed the door and dragged his body out onto the grass. Then, with one final prayer for the soul of this human whose life was the price for the Dragonrace’s survival, he began to eat. “Awesome,” said Billy-Bob, who had moved in for a closer look. At that moment the first ray of the morning sun pierced through the tops of the trees

that bordered the eastern side of the hotel grounds. Billy-Bob blinked and started. It was time for the day to begin, which meant he had to go quickly. Fortunately the small shelter that he called home, a hut of sorts that he had made in the midst of a dense thicket of trees set in the hotel’s spacious grounds, was not too far from here. Turning away in a hurry, Billy-Bob didn’t see the dragon finish eating his victim. Nor did he see what happened next. The dragon began to shrink and change, his neck shortened, his scales smoothed into skin, his wings turned into arms and within minutes he had assumed the shape of Callan Thornley-Scrubbs III. The dragon, who now thought of himself as Callan, was pleased with the transformation. The quest was going well, and in another hour he would meet the Chosen. In the trunk of the wrecked car he found a suitcase containing a change of clothes. He dressed, and then sat down in the grass to explore the old Callan’s mind. While he waited, he picked idly with a silver toothpick at a small sliver of flesh caught between two of his back teeth.

***** Hayden glanced at the clock on the dash of her racy little Corvette. It said 7.00am. At this rate she’d be at the Hotel in an hour. She was inordinately pleased at having completed the all-night drive so successfully. It was yet another experience to cross off the list of accomplishments she’d set herself to do. The long drive through the night was a private rite of passage, a journey to mark the culmination of eighteen months of hard work. Less than two years ago no one, least of all Hayden herself, would have believed that she could turn her life around so completely. What a sad age twenty-eight had been, trapped in an overweight body with only Royce and his limp prick for company, shackled to a dead-end job and a dead-end life. Then one morning she, Hayden Lacey McKay, had woken up and decided, quite simply, that she was worth more than this. And so she’d set about changing her life. It wasn’t some great epiphany that led to her decision to change, just the awakening of a steely inner resolve coupled with the realization that the only person who could improve her lot in life was she herself. So Hayden got out of bed, threw all her self-improvement and diet books in the

trash, and gave her gimmicky exercise equipment and television (so long Oprah) to the Salvation Army. Then she sat down and wrote a five-point plan. 1. Lose 90 pounds 2. Start my own business 3. Get rid of pencil dick 4. Take some risks 5. Meet a real man That same day she’d gone to the local gym and signed up with a personal trainer, asking for help with a balanced eating and exercise regime to get her down to her ideal weight. She wasn’t after a scrawny figure. She could accept being big, but she was no longer prepared to accept being obese. She was, after all, a big boned women from a family of big boned women. Her heritage could be traced right back to the hardy clans of the Scottish highlands. Indeed, although she didn’t know it, her great-great-great-grandmother had fought and died alongside her man at the battle of Culloden, wielding a huge claymore with deadly effect, her face flushed with effort, her eyes dancing to the end with murderous glee, and her tresses of flaming red hair streaming in the mountain wind. That same bloodline coursed in Hayden’s veins. The next day she signed up for night classes in HTML and computer graphic design.

The next week she told Royce to pack up and piss off. Within a year she was 50 lbs lighter and was earning a great reputation, and a healthy income, designing and maintaining quality web sites for small businesses. In fact business was so good that she soon took on a young database whiz and began providing more sophisticated web solutions. Within a year and a half Hayden had exceeded her weight loss target by three pounds. She then moved wisely onto a program designed to maintain that weight. She had learned the hard way the perils and pain of trying to force her body into a shape that it wasn’t suited for. She was also pleased, and no longer very surprised, by the number of men who seemed to like her looks just the way they were. There was a lot to be said for being tall with big bones, big tits, a comparatively slim waist, good wide hips and a great ass. Maybe anorexia was going out of fashion—shit she hoped so. To her delight

she even discovered, while designing a web site for the official Marilyn Monroe fan club, that her new vital statistics were exactly the same as Norma Jean Baker’s. Now was not the time to stop taking risks, Hayden decided. She intended to travel, invest, learn new things, take on more employees, and treat herself to an expensive toy or two, like her beloved car. She had begun dating, although cautiously, and without commitment. She didn’t intend to let anyone dominate her, ever again, the way pencil-dick had. As well, she wanted a man who affected her in ways most men didn’t. She didn’t know exactly what those ways would be; she just knew she’d recognize them when she found them. So she remained chaste, not deliberately, and not for want of desire, but because she’d learned about planning and patience, and about not settling for less than she was worth. And now here she was, on her way to the Lonely Hearts Hotel (a place a friend had told her about, where magical and mysterious things happened) in search of adventure. It was 7.30 am, she’d be there in thirty minutes. She dug around for a CD and inserted it in the player. The raw, jagged voice of Marianne Faithful filled the car. Now there was a woman who’d pulled herself out of the gutter. Hayden could understand the threads of pain and bitterness woven through many of her songs, as well as the tone of triumph at being a survivor. Yet Hayden had now dealt much of her own pain and anger. She smiled. Perhaps it was time for some new music.

***** Callan was humming softly as he meandered through the large garden areas of the hotel, getting used to the way this human body worked. Along with exploring the human’s mind, he also admired the flora and fauna of this unusual and beautiful world. He was carefully keeping track of the time. In less than thirty minutes he would meet the Chosen. He prayed to the gods to help him convince her, within the allotted twenty-four hours, to willingly assent to mating with him in his dragon form.

***** Scott Carpenter was dawdling behind one of the grand pillars outside the hotel entrance, mulling over in his mind a new money-making scheme: a book on when ancient Mr Buick, the hotel’s oldest long-term guest, would call it quits and go to the great lobby in the sky. He was a little worried that some of his regular customers might

find such a book tasteless, but even more worried that some of his more irregular customers—a particular werewolf sprang to mind—might take the result into their own hands. Perhaps he’d better give that idea away. Still he’d have plenty of time to think about it, the place was dead quiet at 7:55. It looked like it was going to be a slow and uneventful day. The rumble of a high-performance engine caught his attention. A statuesque woman driving a lovely red corvette was pulling up. Scott whistled his appreciation tunelessly between gapped front teeth. What a looker! He liked a woman with curves, and this one had curves to burn and a cleavage big enough to warm both ears. Scott jammed his hand deep in his pocket and scratched his balls, then checked his fly, stowed his book away safely, stepped out from behind the pillar and scampered down the stairs. Hayden had thought the place deserted. Then suddenly a comical little bellboy appeared as if from nowhere. He had sparkling eyes and a wicked grin. He reminded her of a wizened version of Ralph Malph from that eighties comedy series “Happy Days.” She grinned at the thought. Catching the grin, Scott’s pulse quickened. I think she likes me; maybe small men in uniform turn her on. He smiled his widest smile. “Good morning, ma’am. Welcome to the Lonely Hearts Hotel. I’m Scott Carpenter, your bellboy, and I’m here to serve you twenty-four hours a day (or service you, if that’s your preference).” Hayden guessed, from the twinkle in his eye, that this transparent opportunist had things unspoken on his mind. But she was here for an adventure, and she was determined to enjoy every second of the experience. “Why thank you Scott. I’ll call on you the second I need your services. For now would you mind taking my bags and directing me to where I check in?” Before Scott could respond, another car pulled into the hotel forecourt and parked behind Hayden’s corvette. It was a large white limousine with dark tinted windows. As they watched, the driver jumped out and hustled around to open the rear door. A long, slender leg gracefully extended itself from the car, to be followed by an equally long, slender body. Hayden thought she recognized the beautiful blond woman. Her impression was confirmed by Scott, who said in a barely audible whisper, “Oh shit! Michelle Gafferty.”

As if she’d heard her name, the blond woman turned to look in the direction of Scott and Hayden. Her eyes slid dismissively over Hayden like she didn’t exist and fastened malevolently on Scott. “Bellboy, if you’ve finished gawping, hurry up and get my bags.” “Certainly Miss Gafferty, as soon as I’ve escorted this lady into the hotel.” Michelle Gafferty frowned and her lips thinned into an angry line. “That’s simply not good enough. I’m not some tourist you know, I’m here for an important photo-shoot and I only have five hours to prepare for it. If you don’t get a move on I’ll have no option but to report you to the manager.” “Do what you must Miss Gafferty, but I have clear instructions to serve all our guests equally in the order they arrive.” “How dare you,” she hissed, turning pale with fury. “I’m a supermodel not some… some… cover girl for Weight Watchers Magazine. I demand more respect!” Hayden was initially stunned by the woman’s rudeness, but her shock quickly turned to fury. Flushed with rage she opened her mouth to bite back. But a change in Michelle Gafferty’s manner made her pause. The blond woman was suddenly ignoring them and looking instead at someone or something over their shoulders. The poisonous glare of seconds earlier had changed to a honeyed innocence. Intrigued, Hayden turned around. Ten feet away stood quite the loveliest man she’d ever seen. He was tall and tanned, with long silvery-gold hair and the most marvelous aquamarine eyes. His clothes were simple—black shoes and slacks and a long-sleeved cream silk shirt—but they were clearly expensive and worn with style. What most confused Hayden was that he appeared to be studying her with tremendous intensity, as if he might read something in her eyes.

***** Callan was confused. He had arrived at the appointed time, but there were two women here, not one. Nor was the choice as straightforward as it had been with the selection of a body, due to the fact that each woman had characteristics that might benefit the Dragonrace. His personal preference was for the larger of the women—he divined in her considerable depths of emotion and intellect and a latent sensuality that was to him very

attractive. The other, although far less suitable in his eyes, possessed a streak of savagery and cruelty that many among the Dragonrace would find desirable. Which one had the prophetess envisioned? That much had not been made clear. Callan sighed. A hard task had just got harder, and he had only twenty-two hours left. He’d better make a start—he’d introduce himself to the woman with the auburn hair first, she was his preference, and the more likely of the two. Hayden was taken aback when the man smiled directly into her eyes and held out his hand to her. “Good morning, my name is… ” “CALLAN! DAHLING!” shrieked Michelle Gafferty, elbowing her way between Hayden and Scott and throwing her arms around his neck. “How lovely to see you. I was just thinking about you the other day but never imagined I’d run into you while I was down here.” She feigned a sigh of despair. “I’m here on another tedious cover assignment for Cosmopolitan. But at least the whole dreary business will be tolerable now that I know you’re here.” Then she sashayed up close to him her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper and her tongue flicking in and out of his ear as she spoke. “Do you have anymore of that simply wonderful shit that we shared the last time we were together.” Callan disengaged himself from her with slow deliberation and answered dispassionately, “I’m sorry, I appear to have forgotten your name.” Michelle laughed a high-pitched, brittle screech. “Oh Callan you tease. It’s me, Michelle, you remember, Michelle Gafferty. We spent a few days together on your yacht in Cannes last year.” Callan’s eyes lost their focus as he searched his memory. “Oh yes, you,” he responded vaguely, his eyes returning to Hayden. Michelle was not to be put off. “Well Callan, darling, I must go. Some of us do have to work. But shall we meet for lunch.” “Lunch?” replied Callan, dredging his memory yet again for the meaning of the word. “Oh, lunch! Yes of course.” Michelle turned back to Hayden and Scott and hissed at them both, sotto voce. “Get my bags boy, and hurry up! And you, thunder thighs, keep your fucking hands to yourself if you don’t want your eyes scratched out. He’s mine!” Then she turned back

to Callan, smiled sweetly, and continued in a much louder voice, “Au Revoir Callan darling. I’ll see you at lunch,” before hurrying up the stairs and into the lobby. “Well, Miss!” said Scott softly to Hayden. “I’d better take Mata Hari’s bags up to her suite. And I believe Mr Thornley-Scrubbs III wants to talk to you. If I were you I’d encourage him to steer clear of our beautiful model. He’d be safer dipping his penis in a tank full of piranha.” Hayden looked shocked, and then she giggled. “Thank you Scott, there’s no hurry with my bags.” Scott smiled back and set about dragging Michelle’s expensive Louis Vuitton hand luggage up the stairs, contriving to scrape every piece thoroughly. Hayden turned back to Callan, feeling flustered all of a sudden. He, however, remained perfectly calm. Again he smiled and extended his hand. “As I was saying, my name is Callan. I am very pleased to meet you.” “Uh… my name is Hayden. Hayden Lacey McKay.” “Hello Hayden Lacey McKay. Would you care to sit with me and have coffee?” Was this a dream? Had she driven through the night and ended up in Neverland, a magical realm where extraordinarily handsome men preferred her to a supermodel? Hayden took a breath. Whatever wave she was on, she was going to ride it to the end. This is my adventure. I’m not getting off! “Thank you Callan, I’d be delighted to join you for coffee, please call me Hayden.” He was so easy to talk to. He wanted to know everything about her, and was happy to sit and listen as she told him all about her business and her plans for the future. Never once did he take his eyes off her. Everything she said, no matter how slight, seemed to him to be of the utmost importance. It was heady stuff, and Hayden was shocked and saddened when she glanced up at the lobby clock and realized an entire morning had passed and that soon he would be joining Michelle Gafferty for lunch. “It’s almost lunchtime,” she reminded him. “I think Michelle will be looking for you.” “Who?” replied Callan, his handsome forehead furrowing a little. Then he frowned. “Oh yes, her. I suppose I must meet her. But can I meet you again after that?” Hayden struggled to conceal her surprise and delight. “Certainly, if you wish,” she assented with studied nonchalance. “Where would you like to meet?”

Callan thought for a moment. “Well as I recall the hotel has a private spa complex. Would you care to join me there at 2:00 pm for a sauna, massage and hot-tub?” This is going a little quickly, thought Hayden. Then she remembered—Ride the wave, don’t get off. “Certainly. 2:00pm it is.” “Wonderful,” smiled Callan rising to his feet, his unusual eyes looking deeply into hers. “I will see you then.” Without a backward glance he turned and walked off. Hayden spent a nervous two hours in her room looking at herself in the mirror, experimenting with the three bathing costumes she’d brought with her. She settled on the black one-piece. Callan found lunch with Michelle a burden. Her vacant chatter and shallow innuendo were a frustration and a bore. His mind was on Hayden. She must be the Chosen. He couldn’t see much value in this other creature beyond her innate ferocity. Finally the meal was over. He made his excuses and rose to leave. “But where are you off to Callan darling? My afternoon is free and I was hoping to spend it with you.” “Oh, I am sorry. I already have committed myself to meeting Hayden Lacey McKay in the hot tub.” Michelle was dumbstruck. But before she could gather her breath, let alone her thoughts, Callan had gone. How could this be? One of America’s most eligible bachelors was passing her over for some low-rent lardass! She seethed with anger. There was only one thought on her mind. Win at all costs! She wasn’t going to lose this man, at least not to such pathetic competition. Quickly she left the dining room and headed for the spa complex. She knew this hotel well, she’d been here so often before, and she had a plan. Off to one side of the hallway that led to the spa was a small, dimly-lit corridor leading to a storeroom. She’d fucked some senator in there a few months ago while his dowdy wife sat, two doors away, sweating off a few thousand calories in the sauna. She didn’t have to wait in the corridor for long. In minutes Hayden appeared, walking with nervous resolve down the hallway wearing one of the hotel’s luxurious bathrobes. She was hoping Callan would like what he found underneath. Without warning, Michelle Gafferty materialized in front of her. Hayden jumped

and took an involuntary pace backwards. Michelle gave a toothy smile. “Hayden, darling, how… um… lovely… you look.” “You! What are you doing here?” “Oh, just doing you and Callan a favor. He asked me to show you a secret entrance to the private tub, it’s so much nicer and it’s just down here. Come with me.” She was so persuasive that a momentarily-confused Hayden allowed herself to be led down the small corridor. Michelle stood aside when they reached the little room, gesturing expansively. “The door to the spa’s just at the back of this room Hayden. Go on through. Callan’s in there waiting for you. Hayden hesitated at the threshold of the dark little space. Something wasn’t right, this was a trap. But she was too late. Michelle shoved her violently in the back with both hands. She staggered across the room, tripped over some boxes, and crashed her head painfully against the back wall. “Rot in there you fat slut,” gloated Michelle, slamming and locking the door. It was dark, and Hayden was dazed. It took some time for her to find a light switch. The little bulb revealed nothing more than a disordered, windowless storeroom. She tried the door but it was locked. She began banging and shouting.

***** Callan was already in the hot tub. The warmth soothed his dragon soul as he waited for the Chosen to appear. He closed his eyes, imagining the reception from the Dragonrace when he returned with her, the quest successful. He—they—would be celebrated for all time in song, myth and legend. He would become the Chosen’s mate for life. Together they would rule Kir-na-ra, wisely and well for hundreds of years. He smiled at the thought. Then he heard a sound—here she was. His eyes flicked open. It wasn’t Hayden. It was the blond creature. “What are you doing here?” “Callan darling, I was worried for you. A few minutes ago I saw the McKay woman racing away from the hotel in her ridiculous little car, despite the fact that I knew she’d arranged to meet you. So I came to find you in case you’d been abandoned and needed a friend.” Callan’s brow furrowed with suspicion and his mind whirled. He did not like this

woman, and did not trust her. The possibility that she might be the Chosen filled him with revulsion. Yet there was an element of fate in this process, and it was not his place to tamper with that. Only the dying prophetess really knew who would be her successor. Perhaps this woman was what Kir-na-ra needed at this time. He shivered. If she were, it boded a dark future for the Dragonrace. Callan’s responsibility was not to judge the Chosen according to his own limited knowledge and prejudices. His task was to assess her using, the time-honored tests laid down in the Book of Lore. The ultimate test would come with the mating. The penultimate test would be a demonstration of the Chosen’s readiness and ability to mate. The dying prophetess had laughed quietly when she explained this procedure to the twenty sent on the quest. She had called it the “tongue test.” He would have to try the tongue test on this Michelle Gafferty person. “Thank you for coming, then,” he replied. “Would you care to join me?” “Why of course,” laughed Michelle breathlessly. “I’d like nothing better.” As Callan watched, Michelle set about performing the most erotic striptease she was capable of. She’d show elephant girl how a real woman did it. Smiling into Callan’s eyes she did a sensual dance, peeling off her clothing one piece at a time, displaying her body to him bit by bit, breasts, ass and pussy, all for his delectation. When the striptease was over, Michelle slid sinuously into the hot bubbling water, anticipating Callan’s desperate desire to have sex with her then and there. One fuck and you are mine lover-boy. But to her consternation, her questing hand encountered a penis as limp as a dead fish. “Callan darling, don’t I excite you anymore? Shall I suck it for you?” “No thank you,” Callan replied. “Let me suck you instead.” “Oh, how lovely of you,” cooed Michelle, lifting her butt up onto the edge of the tub so that her clean-shaven pussy was at Callan’s eye level. “I was getting worried that you didn’t want me anymore.”

***** Hayden gave up banging on the door. Nobody was around. She was stuck here. She slumped down on the cold floor, her back to the door, wondering how long it would be before she was discovered. Only seconds later she heard footsteps, and they appeared to

be coming closer. She jumped to her feet and began banging and shouting with renewed energy. In response a key turned, and the door opened. She’d never expected to be so pleased to see the wizened, wickedly-grinning monkey-face of Scott Carpenter. It was her good fortune that he’d slipped off to this out of the way place for a quick toke. “Why Miss McKay. I thought we’d given you a better suite than this. At least let me get you a heater, this room’s clearly to cold for you.” Hayden followed the direction of his eyes down to her breasts. Her robe had fallen open and her nipples were protruding prominently through the thin fabric of her swimsuit. “It’s nothing to do with the cold, Scott dear. They were quite flat until you turned up. You just don’t realize your effect on women. If I wasn’t in such a hurry I’d show you how wet you make me” Scott chuckled with delight at her riposte. “In my dreams, hey Miss McKay? What are you doing here really?” “I was locked in here by our friendly piranha. Now I’m off too pull her teeth.” Hayden strode off at speed towards the spa. Scott scampered close behind, digging in his pocket for the tiny digital camera he always carried with him. “This I gotta see.”

***** Callan was getting frustrated. He had licked and sucked the blonde woman’s vagina for ten minutes, during which time she had screamed, moaned, gasped and gyrated with staggering authenticity. Problem was, Callan wasn’t fooled. The prophetess had explained what to expect, and his dragon sense told him that there wasn’t an orgasm within three dimensions of this room. The woman was a consummate actor. But one who wouldn’t know a real orgasm if it hit her between the eyes. Callan stood up in the pool. “I’ve had enough.” Michelle stopped moaning and opened her eyes. “Would you like to fuck me now, Callan?” “No, I’d like you to leave.” “Leave? Callan darling, what are you talking about?”

“I’m sick of this charade, and I’m sick of you. You’re not the Chosen. You are wasting my time. Get out!” Michelle went on the offensive. “How dare you, you pathetic crack-head! I suppose you want that fat bitch. Well you’re out of luck. I’ve taken care of her, you sad bastard. You wouldn’t know a real woman if you fell over one.” Michelle had no way of comprehending the peril she’d just placed herself in. But she quickly had an inkling. Before her, Callan appeared to change. His eyes blazed with an eerie green fire, his teeth seemed to grow longer and sharper, and when he next spoke his voice had a deep hollow rasp to it. “Where is the chosen one, woman? Tell me now or I will rend you limb from limb.” But before either of them could move, the door burst open. There stood Hayden, her eyes blazing with fury. Behind her the diminutive figure of Scott Carpenter hopped on the tips of his toes, camera at the ready, desperate to get a good shot of the room and its naked occupants. “Don’t waste your time with her Callan, she’s mine!” snarled Hayden. In two strides she crossed the room to confront her nemesis. But Michelle had too much expertise at dirty fighting to back down. “What do you want, Mama Cass?” she snarled. “I want you,” hissed Hayden. Without further ado she unwound a right hand that Muhammad Ali would have been proud of. It collected squarely with the point of Michelle’s chin and knocked her lights out. Hayden didn’t wait to see Michelle hit the floor. She was already turning to face Callan, rubbing her bruised knuckles. “I’m sorry I’m late. I was unexpectedly detained.” Callan smiled. “Don’t apologize. You are the Chosen. It was your destiny to be here.” “What do you mean?” “Come and join me in the tub and I will explain.” Hayden glanced down at Michelle, who was slowly regaining consciousness, and then she turned to Scott. “Scott, my dear, I’m going to be busy for a while. Is there any way you could be

persuaded to shift this old bag out of the room?” Scott grinned evilly and slipped his camera into his pocket. “Shifting old bags is my business.” With surprising ease for such a small man, he hefted the naked Michelle onto his shoulder and exited the room, pulling the door shut behind him. “Now what will I do with you?” Scott mused. “I can’t very well carry you through the lobby dressed like this.” Michelle moaned softly. Scott grinned again and headed for the storeroom where he unceremoniously dropped her limp figure on top of the same pile of boxes Hayden had tripped over. Michelle sprawled there in an attitude of naked abandon. “My, my, don’t you look a picture? Thank goodness I have my camera with me!” he chuckled, reaching once again into his pocket.

***** Callan steeped lithely out of the hot tub and faced Hayden. She looked into his mysterious eyes and shivered a little. Ride the wave, don’t get off. Without speaking he eased the robe of her shoulders. He studied her in her swimsuit for a few seconds, and then began removing it. Hayden looked down as he exposed her bosom. She felt momentarily embarrassed at the way her naturally large breasts, with their prominent nipples, appeared to sag downwards a little due to their own weight, when he liberated them. Then she noticed the look of appreciation in his eyes and she felt her fears ease. “You are very beautiful,” he said in a husky voice. Hayden couldn’t speak, she was living a fantasy. It both terrified and excited her. Ride the wave, don’t get off. Callan bent his head to her breasts, as if worshipping them. His mouth, when it opened to kiss her sensitive skin, seemed unusually hot. She gasped as his moist tongue seared a path down her left breast to the nipple. He took the erect nub into his mouth and worried it softly with his tongue and teeth. The sensation was delicious. Desire raced like needles through Hayden’s nervous system. She could feel her pussy getting wet and her knees going weak. She staggered and clutched instinctively at Callan’s shoulders for support. His skin was smooth and beneath it firm muscle rippled under her fingers. She buried her face in his mane of

silvery-gold hair. He smelt so good, an unusual musk that reminded her of the hot desert. Then Callan did something that truly surprised her. Effortlessly he lifted her in his arms and carried her into the hot tub. She clutched more tightly at his shoulders. He must be immensely strong. He set her down on her feet in the middle of the tub so that they were again facing each other, then he slid her swimsuit down to her ankles. She stepped out of it and the scrap of fabric floated lazily away. The hot water bubbled around Hayden’s upper thighs, tickling the lips of her pussy and setting the fine hairs down there waving in the water. Callan smiled at her and kissed her softly on the mouth. Her lips tingled at the touch and she returned his kiss passionately, closing her eyes, feeling her desire mounting. Then he broke the kiss and lifted her, again with unusual ease, into a sitting position on the smooth rim of the tub, her back resting against the wall. “I call this the tongue test,” he explained, smiling up at her as he knelt between her legs. Hayden could feel the sense of unreality growing. Her dream lover was about to bury his face between her legs. There’s no way I’m getting off this wave. Oh…oh…oh…Oh My God! A tongue of delicious warmth was exploring her most private place. Tasting every inch of her pussy, questing between her labia and seeking out her clit. What he was doing was perfect. It was in the right place, at the right pressure and at the perfect speed. The sensation, combined with the fact that it was caused by the tongue of the most handsome man ever to bury his face between her legs, gave Hayden a delicious orgasm. She twined her hands in Callan’s hair and pulled his face hard against her, drenching him with the juice of her pleasure. Callan was having a great time too. In contrast to Michelle, he could taste Hayden’s desire and sense her climaxing. Her moans were music that warmed his heart. This woman was the Chosen. She was strong, brave, clever, sensual and desirable. She would preserve the Dragonrace well into the future. Triumphantly he buried his face even further into the moist folds of her pussy, inserting his tongue as deeply as he could. “Callan, oh Callan,” moaned Hayden. “Please, please, make love to me.” He stopped what he was doing and looked up at her.

“I wish to,“ he replied. “More than anything I wish to. But first we must talk.” Hayden looked down. Callan’s face had gone deadly serious. Her heart sank. So this is where the adventure ends and reality bites me. He’s about to tell me he’s married, or got AIDS, or something. She sank miserably down into the tub to hear what he had to say. He looked her straight in the eyes. “What I am about to tell you Hayden Lacey McKay, will sound ridiculous. But you are the Chosen, and one of your powers is the ability to divine the truth. As I speak, look into my eyes, listen to my words, and test them in your mind. There is a world that needs you, and a destiny available to you far greater, and more important, than anything you could ever imagine. Promise me that you will hear me out, and judge me with your heart, not your intellect.” Hayden was moved by the utter sincerity with which he made his plea. “I promise,” she whispered. He smiled, and then took a deep breath. “I am not of this dimension, and this is not my usual form. In my world I am a dragon. And I have been sent by my people to find you… ”

***** Three hours had passed It was now after 5:00pm. Shadows were growing longer as the sun began to set out west behind the bayou. Hand in hand, Callan and Hayden, wearing only their bathrobes, walked out of the hotel towards a secluded part of the gardens. Hayden walked in a daze, her mind struggling to come to grips with everything Callan had told her. He was right to expect her to be skeptical. In the rational part of her mind an alarm was screeching. She was walking to a secluded spot with a man who, on the evidence, was raving mad, and quite possibly psychopathic. Yet she had done as he had asked. She had listened to everything, and tested his words against what her heart told her. And she was convinced that he believed he was telling her the truth, whether what he had told her was real or not. So she decided to stay on her wave and ride it to the end. She had come here for an adventure and she was getting one. She’d never forgive herself if she backed out now. Callan was well aware of her inner turmoil, and he refrained from saying anything

until they had reached a secluded clearing, well to the back of the grounds. Then he turned and drew her to him. “Thank you for trusting me this far, Hayden. I promise you that whatever happens you will not be harmed in any way. At the very worst you will have made love to me in the garden, and afterwards we will laugh at my delusions.” Hayden smiled nervously, but said nothing. She didn’t recoil, however, when he leant forward and kissed her. The desire was still there latent, and the kiss awakened it again. While they kissed, they removed their robes. In seconds they were naked. They were not entirely alone. With evening fast approaching Billy-Bob Potts had woken in his little shelter, ready for another night’s work. But when he peered owlishly out into the little clearing he was amazed to find a couple standing there naked, their robes discarded around their ankles. “Awesome,” he breathed, reaching for his rapidly developing erection. “Look into my eyes while we make love Hayden,” Callan urged. “Don’t be frightened by anything you see or feel. I am still me, and you must believe that I love you and will do you no harm.” Hayden nodded wordlessly. Callan lowered her to the soft grass and then lowered himself onto her. Suddenly afraid, she sought reassurance by wrapping her arms around his broad back, clutching tightly. She felt a pressure between her legs and allowed them to fall open. His penis was there, in all its hardness, ready to enter her. She looked up into his marvelous eyes. They seemed to pulse and swirl. “Don’t be afraid, Hayden. This is your destiny.” “I’m not afraid Callan,” she managed to say. “I want you. Please make love to me.” She felt his penis enter her. It was unusually hot, as his tongue had been. But it felt good and she moved beneath him to assist his entry. She could feel him sliding in and out, the friction making her pussy hotter and hotter, causing her nerves to tingle with excitement. Yes, it was happening, she was coming again. “That’s so good Callan. Don’t stop. It’s so hot. I’m coming… I’m coming… ” Callan felt the moment of her climax as a physical thing. It was the signal that set his loin s on fire. In seconds he too had joined her in a simultaneous orgasm. Hayden felt his seed gush into her, and gush, and gush. His ejaculation was unprecedented. His flow went on and on, a huge cascading wetness beyond anything she’d ever

experienced. Even in the throes of her own passion she was sufficiently surprised by the sensation to open her eyes. The man above her was changing. His skin was developing gold and silver scales. He was getting larger. His face was growing a snout. And his teeth resembled the razor-sharp fangs of a giant snake. Hayden opened her mouth to scream. But before she could do so, his voice spoke reassuringly in her mind. Hayden, you are safe. Look into my eyes. So she did and, yes, they were still the same. They were still Callan’s eyes, and they radiated love for her. And then the dragon’s seed began to do its work. It filled her womb, liberating hundreds of her own eggs and inseminating each one. She didn’t know it yet, but she now carried in her the beginnings of massive clutch of eggs that, when laid, would produce more than two hundred new dragons. But Callan’s seed did more than impregnate her. It changed her too. Hayden could feel her body stretching and transforming, not painfully but with frightening speed. The greatest change occurred in her brain. It was a metamorphosis of the mind that answered everything, explaining in an instant why she was so important to the Dragonrace. The Chosen of the Dragonrace is always a human woman. It has to be. Human women have an unusual advantage that the Dragonrace values beyond all other things. In no other dimension does there exist a being with a cerebellum so complex. Normally, eighty percent of the human brain remains under-utilized. But when a dragon mates with the right human woman—the Chosen—his seed transforms both her body and her mind beyond the limitations of both human and dragon physiology. The Chosen metamorphoses into a dragon. But not just any dragon. The Chosen’s brain increases in size, power and ability by a factor of five. Hayden’s awesome new brain assimilated all of this information in less than a second. Her mind knew and understood things the old Hayden could never have imagined. She had second sight. She could see patterns in the events of the past. She could divine the best way into the future. And she knew precisely what she must do next. Callan watched with love and awe as his beautiful Hayden transformed into an even more beautiful dragon. She was huge, fully half his size again. Her scales were a deep

red, almost black, but shot through with golden highlights. The orbs of her great yellow eyes swirled and pulsed, signaling her love for him, and her understanding of what he had done and why. They both knew what must happen now. Hayden rolled over with Callan still inside her, so that she now crouched above him. I can see the way, she told him. Just above us is a weakness in the fabric separating the dimensions, and I know how to penetrate it. We will be in Kir-na-ra in no time. You must not separate from me. Callan held on while Hayden stretched her enormous wings for the first time. She gave an experimental downbeat. It was so powerful that a wind of tornado strength half-flattened the surrounding garden, knocking Billy-Bob Potts flat on his back, his erect penis still clutched in one dirty fist. A second downbeat lifted them a foot off the ground. A third took them twenty feet higher. It was an awesome display of strength—Callan felt humbled to be a part of it. He held on tightly, trying to be as light a burden as possible. In two more strokes they were above the tree line, presenting an awesome sight as the last rays of the setting sun illuminated them for a brief second. But only Billy-Bob was there to bear witness. He scrambled to his feet and raced out into the clearing, stopping directly beneath the two huge beasts. Only he heard the gigantic red one bellow in a strange tongue. Only he witnessed the pair of them suddenly disappear. As he stood there, awestruck, his mouth agape, the last traces of their passion, a tiny overflow of dragon sperm, rained gently down upon him. A few drops of it fell into his mouth. He choked, gulped, and then cried out in pain and fell to his knees. His whole body shook. He could feel his skin crawling and changing. He looked up, surprised that his eyes felt much less sensitive to the light. His hands, he saw, were changing too, from thin and white to strong and suntanned. And his hair was growing over his eyes. He reached up and held out a few strands to examine—they were silver and gold. Then he heard a woman’s voice. “Callan! Callan! Where are you? I’m sorry, Callan. Don’t leave me, please.” Into the clearing stumbled an amazing sight. It was Michelle Gafferty, unusually disheveled and wearing nothing but a bellboy’s uniform jacket draped around her

shoulders. She spied Billy-Bob kneeling in the middle of the clearing still clutching his cock with one hand. Crying out with delight, she threw the jacket aside and raced over to throw her arms around him. “Callan, thank God I’ve found you,” she wept, lavishing kisses all over Billy-Bob’s face. “Sheee-it,” he stammered, quite overcome. “Oh Callan, I need you and I want you more than that fat bitch does. I’m much better for you. Take me Callan. Fuck me now!” “Awesome,” Billy-Bob managed to say, just before she pushed him flat on his back in the grass and knelt over him, her pussy grinding into his face. Then he simply moaned with pleasure as the mouth of Michelle Gafferty, supermodel, engulfed his cock —that hitherto neglected organ of the Lonely Hearts Hotel’s miraculously transformed Third Assistant Gardener.

***** They broke out into the air high above Kir-na-ra. To the Dragonrace watching below they had been gone only a matter of minutes. A huge, trumpeting of triumph and welcome greeted their appearance. Callan disentangled himself from Hayden and dropped a few feet, before rolling over and spreading his wings into a graceful glide. Then he looked back. Never had a dragon the likes of Hayden been seen before. She was bigger than anything ever recorded, and she possessed a terrifying beauty. Callan was struck dumb, and edged a little away from her in awe. She turned her head towards him. Don’t leave my side my love, we are as one now. Escort me to meet the Dragonrace, and when we have done our duty by them, take me to a private place where you and I can talk. We have much to learn of each other. Callan looked into Hayden’s eyes and saw there the essential goodness that had so attracted him, and more than that, a deep love for him. With greater happiness than he’d ever imagined possible, he glided down towards the ground to properly welcome the new prophetess—Hayden Lacey McKay, the Chosen. The future looked bright for Kir-na-ra.

***** Books by Claudia Rose Single Titles Ladies Night That First Interview (Quickie)

Series Titles Alien Games