Chapter Five: Rocket Golf

"Of course I'm grateful for the day off," Charity panted, hurrying to keep up as long-legged Dr. Beddington walked briskly to her gleaming private helicopter on the roof of the World Pleasure Enhancement building. "I'm just worried, that's all."

"Worried?" the striking older woman asked, opening the door to her sleek silver helicopter and helping Charity clamber inside. "What on earth are you worried about? The sun is out, and it's a lovely day for a game of Rocket Golf!"

"Look, I know this is going to sound rather silly," the little redhead squeaked, fumbling with her seatbelt as the helicopter rose right off the roof. "But yesterday, when I was at work, the oddest thing happened." Charity quickly filled Dr. Edith Beddington in on the strange disappearance of the Delta who had smiled at her.

"That does sound rather odd," her companion acknowledged, with a slight frown. With one hand firmly on the controls, she reached over and snapped Charity's seatbelt right into place. "Let's see if we can't get some answers after our golf game."

"Oh, certainly, I mean, if you like." Secretly Charity was very relieved. Tall, blonde, Alpha Plus Dr. Beddington was so perfect in every way, but sometimes she didn't listen to what other people were telling her. Perhaps she was finally starting to treat short, freckle-faced Beta Minus Charity like an equal!

The two women found their dates already waiting for them at the golf course. Charity was a little breathless, shaking hands with big, hulking Bishop Humphrey Babcock of the Our Ford Church, but Edith Beddington was perfectly at ease with bright young World Controller Jonathan Swift Warren.

"Now just align your shoulders and focus on the ball," the bishop rumbled, letting his big hands rest lightly on Charity's slim hips. "Just make your mind a total blank and drive the stroke through."

"Wow, what an amazing shot!" Charity was very pleased with herself as the ball soared out of sight, even though she knew there were tiny rockets that guided it to the desired target.

"How athletic you are!" The bishop's hearty laugh made Charity feel warm all over as they zoomed by hovercraft to the next hole. Edith and her younger man were waiting for them.

"Very nice shot, Charity," Dr. Beddington called, as Charity sank the putt effortlessly, guided by the bishop's firm hands. "Do you suppose you could show us a little mercy?"

"Never!" Charity giggled as the ball rattled inside the cup, feeling elated by her success and grateful for the bishop's help. She was very aware of the attractive older man's eyes on her backside.

"That's enough of that, dear child." He smacked her bottom lightly. "Our Ford says that pride goes before a fall."

"You know so much!" Charity said admiringly. When the older man took his turn, she saw how powerful his shoulders and back muscles were. He gave a silly sort of wiggle, just to make her laugh. And then he sent his shot zooming far off into the woods!

"You did that on purpose!" Squealing with laughter, Charity scrambled eagerly into the hovercraft, certain that Bishop Babcock would want to retrieve his ball quickly and get back into the game. Instead the two of them ended up getting lost in the woods, and having each other right up against a tree. The bishop was very vigorous, and so impatient that Charity barely had time to take the proper precautions with her Malthusian belt!

"Did you two find what you were looking for?" Dr. Beddington asked archly, as the two of them came strolling out of the woods.

"We got lost," Charity said, gazing down at the soft green grass under her feet. She knew it was natural and healthy to have an attractive man, and she'd certainly enjoyed meeting Humphrey. Still, now that it was all over she couldn't help feeling a little let down and drained. A very tired feeling swept over her like a wave, so that it was almost a relief when Bishop Babcock clapped his big, meaty paw on her shoulder and said in a firm, deep voice that his little charmer had clearly had enough exercise for one day.

"Thank you for the lovely golf game, Your Fordship," Charity said, putting on a bright smile and hiding the feeling of total exhaustion that had just come over her all at once. "I would have beaten you, you know. I'm quite competitive and I never give up. I was just hitting my stride when we got lost in the woods!"

The Bishop beamed, but Dr. Beddington wasn't fooled. The tall, slim Alpha female looked Charity over from head to toe, taking in her smudged face, dirty clothes, and slumping shoulders. "Fierce competitor that you are, Charity dear, I think you'd be wise to rest for the remainder of the afternoon. Run along to the multi-scented showers and clean up, that's a good girl. I'll meet up with you later at the ultra-rejuvenating deep-tissue massage machines."

Charity didn't like being sent off like a Gamma-minus courier with a pneumatic tube full of rocket mail. But a few minutes of woodland scents cascading over her from dozens of tiny nozzles in the perfumed shower made her fresh as a daisy. It was a pleasure to stretch out naked on a pneumatic couch and be smoothly carried on a soundless conveyor belt past a dozen different massage machines, each one programmed to stroke and squeeze and pound her sore muscles to just the right state of relaxation. Stronger and more sensitive than human fingers, the knowing, probing machines automatically read her age, weight, level of fatigue and matched their soothing automatic rhythms to her heartbeat. At the end of the long line of machines was a warm, womb-like chamber full of soothing scents and soft music. Charity was resting on a delightfully pneumatic couch when Dr. Beddington joined her there at the end of the afternoon.

"Well, I found out what has been happening to your disappearing Deltas," the older woman announced, walking into the resting chamber and slapping Charity smartly on her bare buttocks.

"Huh? What about the Deltas?" Charity had been sound asleep for several hours. She had forgotten all about her conversation with Dr. Beddington earlier in the day, when they were flying to the Rocket-Golf Course in her snug little silver helicopter.

"They're not being kidnaped; there's just been a labor shortage lately in Greenland. Scientific research demands or something. Loads of Alphas and Betas are going too." Dr. Beddington gave a grunt as she sank into the tall, straight-backed arm chair next to Charity's fat, soft resting couch. High level Alphas were entitled to human hands on demand. Instantly a Delta-minus masseuse came over to ease the stiffness from her neck and shoulders.

"Oh." Charity turned over on her couch, watching as the older woman had her brief moment of pleasure. Alphas always seemed so much more adult, more disciplined than Betas. Dr. Beddington didn't lie down for her massage; in fact she barely closed her eyes at all. Yet just a few minutes of rest refreshed her after a workout, while Charity felt she needed hours to recuperate. The tall and rather muscular Delta standing behind the chair was doing such a good job that Charity couldn't resist giving the girl a wink. "Boom ba-boom," she whispered, careful not to disturb Dr. Beddington.

But the girl only frowned, and shook her head.