Evangeline Anderson
Last Man on Earth
Evangeline Anderson © 2006
www.cobblestone-press.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright© 2006 Evangeline Anderson
ISBN: 1-60088-013-4
Cover Artist: Sable Grey
Editor: Melanie Noto
Excerpt from Crossing Borders by Cora Zane
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
Cobblestone Press, LLC
Dedication
Dedicated to my loving husband, Leo. This book started as an erotic bedtime story. When he said, “You’ve got to write that down,” I knew I had a winner.
Prologue
“You’re here to what?” Jackson stared in disbelief at the slender blond girl standing in front of him. She was gorgeous, there was no denying that. With her long silky, silver-white hair and those big black eyes, she was an exotic beauty the likes of which he’d never encountered, even on business trips abroad. And her outfit, although bizarre, was indisputably erotic.
She was wearing some kind of clear plastic dress that clearly showed the upper and lower curves of her full breasts pressed against the ungiving material. Only a thin strip of scarlet hid her ripe pink nipples from view. Jackson knew they were pink because the upper curves of her areolas peeked over the scarlet strip when she breathed.
Below her waist, similar strips of scarlet banded her hips and slipped between her thighs, and a long sash of the same color was belted around her slim waist. If he looked—and he couldn’t help looking—he could see the outline of her shaved pussy lips behind the clear plastic. The scarlet string that led between them and barely covered her slit only served to emphasize her plump pouting outer lips.
The entire vision was enough to give him an instant hard-on. But his cock didn’t rise in reaction to the blond girl’s provocative outfit. As hot as she was, he had several things working against his arousal.
To start with, he was chained to the bed. Jackson liked kinky sex, as long as he wasn’t the one being chained or tied up. But today, no one had asked him if he wanted to be tied. Seven large, Sheera-looking Amazon women had dragged him into the white sterile room, stripped him, and laid him on the bed, locking his wrists and ankles into unbreakable restraints.
The second thing that kept him from reacting to the blond girl’s luscious body was the device she held in her hand. Large, scary, and silver, it looked like an old fashioned milking device his uncle had used on his dairy farm, but with only one nozzle instead of several. Only, this was no farm and Jackson was no cow.
“You’re here to what?” he asked again, aware the girl had taken another hesitant step towards him, a look of uncertain determination on her lovely face.
“Please maintain your erection,” she said, repeating her earlier words. “I am here to harvest your reproductive material. With or without your cooperation.”
Chapter 1
The Year 2706
“Ariana Seven, I’ve called you here today to tell you that your progress has been noted favorably.” The Matron sat straight and stiff in her chair, her iron gray hair pulled back in a severe bun, and her large knuckled hands folded primly on the plasti-wood desk in front of her. The wall behind her was a large glass window that looked out onto the production floor, where hundreds of coders labored under her watchful eye.
Ari took a deep breath and tried to let it out silently as relief flooded through her. She was careful to sit up straight in her chair and keep her eyes on her lap while the Matron spoke. The Matron didn’t like too much eye contact—it made her think you were challenging her authority. And that was something Ari would never dream of doing.
“Yes, Matron B,” she said, nodding meekly. A strand of her long silver-blond hair slipped in front of her eyes and she was quick to smooth it back in place behind her right ear. It wouldn’t do to look unkempt during the interview. She was glad that her plain clear plastic dress, exactly like the one every other girl in the Ministry wore, was a freshly recycled one and that the modesty bands that covered her breasts and sex were crisp and white against her tanned skin. What a mercy that today just happened to be the day she collected her weekly clothing allotment at the commissary! Even her stiff white paper-board boots were clean and spotless and her plain pale blue sash—the mark of the Coding Department—was neatly pressed.
Ari had been scared to death when her summons to the Matron’s office had scrolled across the magno-view glasses she wore while coding genetic material at the Ministry of Reproduction. Her yearly review had been completed only a month before. What in the name of the Goddess could the Matron want to see her about?
“A position has opened in the Fertility Banks,” the Matron said, answering her question. “It is the highest level of security, as I’m sure you know. So it will carry a great deal of responsibility.”
“Yes, Matron B.” Ari bit her lip, her cheeks warming with repressed excitement. Finally she would get to move up—and leave behind the dreary, monotonous work of genetic coding! Best of all, her new job was located in the most mysterious and hush-hush department of the Ministry of Reproduction.
Everyone knew the girls that worked in the Fertility Banks were the most desired and sought-after in the entire Ministry. They walked tall, wearing their scarlet Fertility sashes and modesty bands, looking beautiful and aloof. Ari could already imagine herself in such a sash—it would go brilliantly with her silver hair and black eyes. Every girl in the Ministry would want her. And it was nice to be wanted, even if she didn’t particularly want any of them back. Maybe the new job and greater status in the Ministry was exactly what she needed—that elusive something for which she’d been searching. Maybe it would fill the void inside her nothing else seemed to fill.
“I told the supervisor of Fertility you are the girl for the job,” the Matron continued, interrupting her thoughts. “You’ll report to her immediately. Do you understand?”
“Oh, yes.” Ari finally dared look up, and then looked hastily back at her lap. “I mean, I understand completely, Matron B. Thank you for this chance at advancement. I won’t fail to make you proud.”
“That’s my girl.” The Matron smiled, a sign that the interview was at an end. “Go to the fourteenth floor at once. Your new supervisor’s name is Matron N.”
Chapter 2
Present Day 2006
Jackson Taylor’s broad shoulders slumped dejectedly as he walked to the corner of Fifth and Main. Across the busy street, he could see his light blue Toyota parked in a loading zone where he shouldn’t have left it. But he had been so eager to see Cynthia that he would have parked anywhere. It was always a pain in the ass finding parking at his girlfriend’s apartment. Make that his ex-girlfriend.
When she’d called him on his cell phone earlier that day, he’d been certain that she had finally come to her senses and realized they belonged together. They had been on what Cynthia called a ‘break’, and Jackson called ‘slow torture’, for the better part of two months while she tried to decide what to do. Their relationship had always been rocky and made up mostly of fights and stormy make-up sex sessions, but Cynthia had meant a great deal to Jackson. Now, their relationship was over.
“Damn,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Cynthia had always been high-maintenance, but he hadn’t expected her to end it like this. Hadn’t he done everything she’d asked him to do? He’d taken her car in for detailing, done her taxes, taken out the trash, and even taken her dog for its weekly visit to get its toenails trimmed, although he felt ridiculous carrying the anemic looking Chihuahua around in it’s pink leather satchel. And she had still broken up with him.
“My own fault,” Jackson muttered to himself. He pressed the button on the street light at the corner savagely and waited for the WALK sign to appear. His best friend Matt had always said, ‘women don’t like a doormat.’ True. But he hadn’t been a doormat, not at first. He was just the kind of guy who gave his heart completely. And how could you mind doing favors for someone you loved?
He had met Cynthia at one of the trendier uptown bars and, dazzled by her beauty and her sharp conversation, had bought her a drink. Their first few months together had been fun. Picnics in the park after dark, where she said he made her feel safe, barefoot walks on the beach, cuddling in front of the fireplace at his new condo. All the things cheesy love songs were written about. He showered her with roses and perfume and expensive chocolates. And diamonds—well, one diamond anyway. A diamond ring in a small velvet box that was currently still in his pocket.
Things hadn’t started to go downhill until after Jackson had been passed up for a promotion at work. He’d been counting on making partner at his law firm, but the spot had gone to someone else. Jackson hadn’t been too upset at first, although the bump in pay he’d expected was earmarked for a down payment on a new Jag Cynthia had been encouraging him to get...
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