Perry, is it?...the editor in the first Superman TV series, who often exclaimed Great Cesar’s Ghost...remember?
However, for the sake of sanity, and her novels...somewhere...over the rainbow...and past Oz...the Kougar also lives in another reality, often dwelling in an alternate time line. Where the cosmos-traveling Kougaress, known as Savardi, is now trying on her Halloween costume, and admiring her luscious, yet svelte silken curves...purr-purr, wearing the very Halloween costume she would have chosen in this timeline. Robin Hood, the sexy short version ~ from the pattern above.
Lady Robin Hood ~ the Kougar’s latest WIP ~
Phasing to her invisible form, Savardi popped inside the decadent immense suite of the mansion-compound, located in an isolated area of Costa Rica. She materialized like an apparition returning to life, but not before disabling the all-seeing camera system. For a few moments, Savardi appreciated her reflection, staring back at her, from the bronzed surface of the mirror wall panel, a grand towering affair. It was the one Rathbone, as he preferred to be called as an endearment, used to bolster his insane arrogance.
Savardi had often observed him through it, being capable of connecting her own mirror, which was composed of crystal and other gemstones.
Pivoting first one way and then the other, she admired her sex-kitten Robin Hood costume. Not merely the form-fitting costume, but how it fit her form. The short skirt revealed the curvaceous shape of her legs, above the tall lace-up suede boots. Provocatively thrusting her hip, she gave one final look, then spun toward an impressive desk, a one of a kind masterpiece created in the Earth year 1901.
With a flourish, she perched on top of the desk, then slinked downward. Gradually she smoothed her hand over the polished surface, the sensuality pleasing to her heightened senses. Languidly posing like a cheesecake vixen, she waited. Rathbone was due to show for a private meeting with one of his cohorts via his tech-advanced telescreen, then indulge in his favorite fetish behavior. He stroked his lubed cock in the curved arch of a woman’s naked foot while she was helplessly bound, and his cohort watched.
Right on cue he stepped out of his private elevator, and spoke on a subtle lighting.
"Senator," Savardi greeted with a low sultry voice, the moment he halted in surprise. His elegant brows raised suspiciously.
"Who are you?" he viciously demanded, then slipped his hand inside his evening jacket.
"It’s disabled," Savardi tossed casually. Over and over, he pressed his emergency transmitter. "And, by the way, Cara won’t be ‘satisfying’ you anymore."
As the former Senator glared imperiously, Savardi smiled widely, and swung her legs around, so they dangled over the edge of the desk. A mixture of fear and hate boiled in his pale gray eyes while he fumbled in his jacket pocket.
"Also disabled," she spoke as if she merely helped him out.
"What do you want?" He seemed to stare down the length of a predator’s beak, instead of his patrician nose. "And who are you?"
"Can’t you tell by my costume? Who I am." Playfully, Savardi wiggled her shoulders, then extended her booted legs.
He gave a cursory glance over her ‘costume’, then penetrated her with his gaze. "Arrived to steal from the rich to give to the poor." His tone was so perfectly derisive, Savardi grinned briefly.
"Oh, Rathbone, you’re so smart," she coyly sang. "Gonna hand over the keys to your financial kingdom? Or are we going to have a really good time?" Savardi arched one brow.
He snorted elegantly, cast a devil-searing gaze at her face, then strode around his desk.
"It won’t fire," Savardi sang her words, then whirled on her bottom to face him. "I promise."
He snatched the silver derringer out anyway, aimed at her heart, and pulled the trigger. Even the sound of the click didn’t register. Instantly, Savardi aimed her finger toward the center of his forehead, pulsing her own energy.
He grunted in severe pain, his hand flying up to clutch his forehead.
"The keys to the kingdom," she reminded, her voice cutting as a sharply as a cold razorblade.
"What good will it do?" he ground out, keeping his hand planted on his forehead, his eyes tightly closed. "I’ll have the cyber keys changed before you’ll have access to any account."
"Ah, then cooperation should be easy for you. Give me the cyber keys, and I’ll be on my merry way."
Without looking, he fished around in a front corner of the drawer, where he’d retrieved the derringer. "Lady Robin Hood," he mocked, presenting the inch-long cylinder in his palm. The miniature tube glistened with a captivating golden sheen.
Savardi swiftly palmed the cyber codes. "Now the other one, Senator."
"I can’t." He very slowly lowered his hand.
"You will. Or I’ll open up your cranium myself." Aiming, Savardi pulsed her energy, slicing along his hairline.
"Wait!" Desperately, he held up his hand. Lifting his other hand, he placed one fingertip to a point on his head. "If I remove this, my whole compound will be activated, guards and weapons everywhere. You won’t stand–"
"Now, Senator. Or I resume the can-opening operation."
He spun around, to make a dash for it. Savardi dropped him with one pulse shot to the back of his head. Springing from the top of the desk, she landed beside his lifeless-looking body, and seconds later, she located the other cylinder. After making a tiny circular incision, she deftly pulled out the amethyst rod, which beamed to life as she gazed at it.
"Gotcha." She smiled with complete satisfaction, then slid it inside her pouch, along with the golden cylinder. Launching upwards, she blasted the entire grandiose room with light from her palms, frying the advanced electronics system, with what she called her Shiva’s light.
"What did you do?" he groggily asked.
Sarvadi whipped around, facing him as he attempted to sit up. "You won’t be able to change one damn code before I can drain every last account you and a your ‘friends’ stole from all of us. With your endless corruption, Senator. You remember, steal from the rich and give back to the poor."
"You’re a dead woman," he sneered.
Chuckling to herself while the army of guards pounded on every door into the room, Sarvadi phased to lighter-than-air. In the time it took for the guards to charge inward, she floated to the ceiling, then out through the open balcony door.
The night sky welcomed her. And so did Zarion’s hovering jet.