Author's Note: Whew, finally typed up this shit. Junked the summary, figure it took up too much space and time for comfort. Thanks for the reviews. Nice to know another Peter POV writer out there: Live long and prosper The Mouse of Anon (yes, that's some long-ass review, but hey, it's all good).
Chapter is Rated R for minor cussing and sexual tension, though nothing outstandingly graphic yet. In any case, if ya ain't old enough, Go back! Or actually, if you don't give a shit, then read on.
Chapter 3
I'll admit I have enjoyed the sights outside of Neverland before: the tall city buildings, the trees that seem to grow out of cement blocks, the gaudy, outrageous fashions of women. But the blinding lights and that God-awful honking of those damn automobiles is enough to make any convict pray for the mercy of solitary confinement.
The world's certainly changed since the last time I've visited. Then again, when was the last time? The only memory I can think of is when I came to see Wendy, a grown woman a little past her prime, definitely a mother then. She was sitting in her chair, knitting by the mammoth block she called a radio, with a pair of wire glasses balanced precariously on her nose. Her hair had begun to gray along sides though it was still a vibrant auburn color. Slight wrinkles had crept into the corners of her eyes, mirroring that small kiss at the tiny dip of her thinning lips. She was aging, slowly but steadily she was aging. The last I heard of her, she'd died in that same chair with a case of some disease that diminished the brain, making her forgetful and absent-minded. Often, she was unable to recall her name or even recognize her own husband and children. Pity.
But the sights then are nothing like the modern city's macabre of sensations flooding my system. Even the air smells different, like perspiring bodies, stale oil and rancid food, yet lingered also the alluring aroma of sultry food, like sweet tobacco and liquor, and faintly of. . .well, sex.
I looked back to see Justin tailing behind me. He seemed to be enjoying the view just about as much as I am. I guess when you're barely three feet tall, looking down at the world at a couple hundred kilometers up can be a pretty exhilarating experience.
"How are you feeling, Justin?" I asked him, just as we rounded a tall, column-like building.
He shook his head in awe. "Radical." Then suddenly he noticed the tower we'd passed. "Holy cheese-its, that was Coit Tower! I've never been in there before. Dani says there's nothing in there but stairs that go to the top, and you hafta pay like four bucks or something just to go in. What a rip-off, huh?"
"I suppose so. But I think it depends on how much you value a view of the city. Not everyone has had the fortune of living in San Francisco. It is a very beautiful city."
"Yeah, I guess it is. . .at night," he grudgingly agreed. "Especially if you're looking at it from here." He did a small dip and circled my larger frame. "Woo-hoo!" Justin sprinted forward and back, displaying an array of acrobatics that would have made any gymnast jealous. I sped forward and caught his ankle, steadying him as we flew over the colorful streets of Chinatown. Bright red lanterns dangled over storefronts. Above the narrow streets, yellow and pink banners with blue print streaked across from brick buildings to fire escapes. Apparently, this tourist attraction likes to mimic the same flashy, chintzy attempts as Las Vegas to seek attention.
I slowly glided downward, bringing Justin underneath my arm, and swerved passed Downtown to Sunset Boulevard. I had visited San Francisco once, when it was still under the name of Yuerba Buena during the gold fever days. Many of the roads and street names remain the same, but other areas seemed to have appeared where once there was nothing but ocean. I saw more of those sleek automobiles as we flew by Anza and Balboa. More paved streets, more lights, more goddamn horns. This bizarre city never sleeps.
I veered right, passed some gray and red modern train stampeding in the opposite direction, and flew over the black iron gates leading in to the Ingleside houses.
Even from above the rooftops, I had an inkling Justin came from a pretty well off family. If memory serves me correct, housing in San Francisco was either expensive or very expensive. Ingleside exuded wealth. Money clung to this place like some invisible second skin. Can't imagine what Justin was thinking, falling out of his cradle and leaving this bloody rich neighborhood.
"Hey look, there's my house!" Justin pointed to a two-story mansion the size of eighty Never cypresses. How much room does one average household need? "Wow, it's looks so cool from here. I've never seen to top before." He drifted lower until he came across a window on the top story and peered in.
He smiled and motioned for me to follow.
In the room were two girls. One had her dark head turned away from the window, apparently reading a large book. The other girl, who had her fair hair pulled back into a high ponytail, faced the window as she unbuttoned her blouse. For my benefit, the window was angled in such a way that someone looking in could not be seen by the person inside. Bad architecture. Then again, who would peek through a second-story window?
The girl was fairly good-looking. Noticeable enough breasts and hips, a decent waist though a bit on the muscular side, and . . . well, well—very nice legs.
As she kicked her trousers aside, I noticed how her undergarments (black? interesting) seem to hug every contour of her slender body. In some Freudian sense, the dark color of her brassiere and the tantalizing way in which the panties barely hid her hips increased her sex appeal . . . and vaguely my own arousal.
I leaned in closer against the edge of the window, my breath fogging the immaculately clean glass. I watched as she slipped the delicate clasp on her brassiere free and turned her back to the window. Even from this distance, I could see the silhouette of her breasts. Small mounds that softly jutted out above her ribcage. Strange enough, I had a vision of running my mouth over those soft breasts, hearing her sharp intake of breath as I teased and touched and. . .
I felt more than saw Justin's eyes on me. I turned and saw him giving me an odd look with one brow raised in question. His expression seemed incredulous as though he were evaluating my credibility on a matter of paramount importance. I frowned and returned his quirked brow with one of mine own.
Suddenly the window flew open, and I was left face to lovely face with the girl I've been staring at.
Usually, at this point in my existence, I'm used to having girls gasp and scream in sheer terror or pure delight to find a flying Peter Pan outside their window. But the first sound that came out of this charming young lady's mouth was, "What the fuck!"
She stuck her head farther out the window and thoroughly observed the surrounding area. I assume to see if I were truly flying and not some illusionist on a well-devised harness. I sighed. Her eyes came back to rest on my floating form.
She gave me the typical head-to-toe glance similar to that of an appraiser judging the value of a unique but very dirty antique. I gave her body, now securely encased in a thick white robe, the same treatment, letting my eyes drift slowly from her naked feet to her neatly tied ponytail. Pale skin, wavy cream-tea hair (like Justin's), wide brown eyes, classic European nose, and a bow shaped mouth like a geisha's.
She looked like what I would've called a nice girl, the kind that are tender-hearted, love long walks on the beach and blush even if you so much as look at them with more on your mind than just a kiss.
Unfortunately, her rough, worldly demeanor discarded that classification.
I crossed both arms over my chest and waited for her verdict. She still continued to scrutinize my body. I coughed discreetly. Still nothing. All right. I looked around for Justin, found him hovering above the window's entablature just out of sight, reached up and dragged his squirming body down by my side. Now the girl gasped.
"Holy shit! Justin? Oh my god, baby, what are you doing out there?" She quickly brought him into the safety of her arms, checking him for bruises or other telltale injuries I might have inflicted. I shook my head at the futility of all this.
Just then, another girl appeared at the window. And I almost forgot how to fly.
If I'd thought the other girl was pretty, as in the girl-next-door pretty, this girl was . . . exotic. Her dark hair cascaded in sleek black streams down her shoulders to her lower back, her petite figure (she was shorter that the other girl by at least half a head) lay hidden beneath a thick sweater and similar trousers, and her skin had the same texture and pale tone as the other girl. Her green-amber eyes (exactly like Justin's, right down to the starburst effect) had a slight slant to them, reminiscent of the mermaids, but shimmered with curiosity behind dark thick-rimmed glasses that rested perfectly on her sharp yet small nose. And her lips, the rosiest ones I've ever seen without paint, were so full that they left her mouth in a permanent pout that just begged for kissing.
I was so enraptured in my own thoughts that I didn't notice the fairer haired girl talking to me until she snapped her fingers in front of my face.
"Hey! HelloOo, freak levitating outside our window?" I turned in her direction. "Yeah you, uh—mind telling me what you were doing with my brother?" Her expression seemed impassive, but I need not have been very intelligent to comprehend that she would dismiss any word I say as an outright lie.
I shrugged. "I found your brother wandering around my home, thought he might be lost and so returned him to your welcoming arms." I kept my voice neutral. It wouldn't be wise to fall out of her ladyship's good graces, though, at the moment, that seemed like the direction of this conversation.
She looked doubtful. "Uh huh, ri-ight, and exactly how did he manage to get to your 'home' (she bent the first two fingers on her left hand twice) without anyone noticing?" I started to answer, but stopped short when she continued to ramble. "I mean—look at him—he's too short to even reach the doorknob on the front door, and if he had climbed out his bedroom window, he would've broken every damn bone on his damn body before he'd reach the goddamn ground!"
Well, there goes the impassive expression.
I rubbed the bridge of my nose. This is going to be a long night. "It's a long story," I explained calmly. "Is there a possibility that we could discuss this inside?" I gestured to the interior of the room.
She gave me a dubious look that clearly said, What sort of idiot am I?
I sighed, exasperated. Very well, perhaps trust isn't one of her stronger qualities. I spared a glance at the exotic girl next to her. Her oval-shaped eyes had remained thoughtful throughout this whole exchange. She's a quiet little thing, even her demeanor exuded a sense of aloofness with the world. Superiority perhaps? Arrogance? Or simply a misfit, no common ground with anyone?
"What do you say?" I asked her.
She blinked and looked startled, as though she didn't expect anyone to ever ask for her opinion on anything. She meekly glanced up at me, her eyes wide and watchful like a doe's. Mirroring the taller girl's earlier actions, she appraised me from top to bottom, but her assessment was more hesitant and quickly administered. In a way, her shyness made her quite adorable.
"I. . .I guess it's alright if we. . .let him in," she replied timidly. God, even her voice was exotic. Soft and feminine yet vaguely husky, a bedroom voice. "I mean he did return Justin. . .and he seems harmless en—," the other girl threw her a censored look, "—well. . .soft of," she amended. She nervously glanced up at me then quickly away.
"No," the taller girl said decisively. "No way are we letting some strange tights-wearing, flying-neo-yoga-doing, freak of nature into our room."
Justin chose this moment to pipe up.
"Oh, c'mon Dani," he pleaded. "He's not a weirdo; he's actually kinda cool." Her resolve softened a bit. "And he was really nice to me." He emphasized 'really' as if that might mean something of great value to his sister. "And we had fun flying home and—"
"You flew!" Dani looked about as startled as Justin did from her outburst.
"Of course, how else would we get home?" Justin reasoned calmly.
Dani let out a long breath, then shook her head, sending her curled hair to whip gently across her face. "Shit, fine." Her voice, though irritated, held fatigue. "Let's bring a Green Lantern wannabe into our room."