Among the Mountains, Ch 1

By Kim

Note: This series is set in the same fictional world as the series Swampland

Isabelle Ruiz Avellaneda stood on the hood of her last truck and looked down into the city of Denver. It was late November and the sky was dark and the air was as cold as any she had felt. The truck was parked on the crest of a hill of the state highway they had followed up from the south. Twenty-five, she was a woman with a face of stunning beauty and a rich, voluptuous body, both of which conveyed her strength of will. Her chestnut brown hair hung below her shoulders, swaying in the cool breeze of November. They had been on the road for two months and the dresses she had worn while living with her family and her sister Alejandra were gone. She wore a pair of jeans and a plaid shirt with long sleeves. The muscles on her arms were like thinly wound metal. The shirt stretched tight over her impressive chest, and the open top showed off the deep swell of her cleavage. Her jeans revealed the thin waist and wide hips and suggested the thighs that were as tightly bound as her arms. She stared down into the city her sister had sent her to forge a business deal with and that she meant to make her own.

The jeans and shirt she had been wearing for a week. In the truck was a last suitcase of proper clothes for her for her meeting with the Snow family. They had left Mexico with five trucks and five times the men and five times the supplies. Two of their trucks had broken down and been left behind, and two others they lost in a shootout with a gang of soldiers at the border between Mexico and what had formerly been New Mexico and was now the eastern end of the American Pacific Union and in the same shootout lost most of her men and their supplies. The gold they still had and enough men and guns to get it to Denver. The dust of the road was in every crevice of her body and one month of sleeping on the ground had put a hard focus in her eyes that would never go away.

The city she was looking at was what had been a suburb of Denver. The old city was a bombed-out husk north and east of where she stood, populated by wild dogs and scavengers. After the war between the new states to their west and east, a group of immigrants had moved in and built themselves a new city, with walls around their streets and farms to keep the wanderers and animals out. As the two states fought their war, this new Denver stayed quiet and built its wealth over the decades. The Snow family had come to own the water and by owning the water owned the land. Then the Snow family rebuilt the gun factory in Denver and they controlled everything. The two states that had been at war had wrecked each other and now the Snows were the most powerful force in the region. Isabelle’s sister had heard that the Snows wanted to start repairing the cars and large trucks that could be salvaged and build themselves a real transportation system. She sent Isabelle north to make a deal selling oil to these entrepreneurs of the old world.

Jordan climbed onto the hood with her and said that the men had changed the tire and they were ready. She linked her arm through Isabelle’s and the two women stood looking down at the city. Jordan was a few inches taller than Isabelle and more athletic, a bit wider in the shoulders and hips and with a broad chest and enormous breasts and an equally well-shaped ass. Isabelle leaned into her so that the sides of their breasts rubbed together. Jordan’s face was more handsome than beautiful but her eyes evinced a spirit and determination that made her very attractive in her own way. Her golden brown hair hung down below her shoulders in loose waves and her aggressive attitude and her body fit together. She was twenty years old and since she had developed her adult body she had enjoyed competing against other women. She had been with Isabelle since they had stopped in Albuquerque to find supplies and repair their last truck.

Isabelle had brought Selina Hu with her from Mexico City. A young Asian beauty with a fit and very capable body, Selina had become her girlfriend and managed the men they were bringing with them to Denver. In the weeks on the road Selina spent more time complaining and Isabelle became bored with her. On their second night in Albuquerque Isabelle took two of her men with her and found a bar to drink in. A strong, hot woman named Jordan bought her a whiskey and later when Selina arrived Jordan told her to fuck off. She told Selina that she’d fight her right there for her job and Isabelle. Both women were wearing t-shirts and jeans and they wore their hair loose. Jordan was a few inches taller than Selina and the brunette’s curvaceous body was in contrast with the tightly coiled Chinese woman’s as the two women circled each other, breathing deeply before the fight started. Selina slapped Jordan across the face and Jordan slapped her back twice, hard blows that drove her against the bar. Jordan leapt into her, grabbing her by the throat and bending her back onto the bar. Selina gasped for air and pulled at the hands and then she cracked her across the nose. Jordan backed up, holding her nose, and Selina threw a hook into her side and then an uppercut into her large breast. Jordan moaned in pain and tackled Selina to the ground as their audience cheered and Isabelle watched, enraptured.

The women rolled back and forth on the floor of the bar, pulling hair and grabbing and slapping. Their bodies ground against each other, breasts and hips and thighs. Jordan got on top of her and knocked her across the face and then she pulled Selina to her feet by the hair and threw her. Selina crashed into a table and fell to the floor and as she got back to her feet Jordan seized her by her shirt and slapped her across the face. The blow was loud and sharp over the noise in the bar and the shirt tore open as Selina crashed into the wall. Jordan watched her with a smirk on her face as Selina lay dazed on the ground and when she came forward to continue her assault Selina punched her in the mound. Jordan silently grasped at herself and fell to her knees and Selina hit her in the face knocking her to the ground. The two women lay side by side on the ground and then Selina crawled atop her. The two women struggled and then Selina ripped open Jordan’s shirt and sunk her fingers into her giant breasts. With a rush of strength Jordan rolled the other woman off of her.

The two rose, both topless, Jordan’s twin globes swaying as she moved and Selina’s smaller firm breasts and both of them with hard nipples. Selina threw a punch that missed and Jordan hit her in the side and then closed with her. The two women grabbed each other around the torso and circled, their faces side by side, squeezing and turning each other. Selina yanked on her hair and Jordan hit her in the side. Then she shoved Selina away and drove her into the wall and Jordan pounded her stomach and breasts with punches. Then she seized her bodily and twisted her hips and threw Selina over her and to the ground on her back. Selina was helpless and Jordan straddled her and slapped her face back and forth and then slapped her breasts and when she was done she stood and facing Isabelle she posed with one foot on Selina’s chest and her arms clasped behind her head.

Isabelle and Jordan climbed into the cab of the truck and Isabelle told the man to drive them down into Denver. The air felt crisp and clean and then they were cruising slowly past abandoned houses and schools and gas stations. The roads had been cleared of debris but the truck bounced and hopped over the broken pavement and some of the buildings had been made rubble by the war long over. The turning and knocking of the truck engine Isabelle could feel in her body and each shift of gears. A boy and a girl were running alongside the truck and the girl made a gun with her fingers and pretended to shoot them and Isabelle pointed her finger back at her and winked. When they reached the wall around Denver two men with assault rifles met their truck and after they radioed they let them through. Inside the fence the roads had been rebuilt and the houses had been painted and an older woman was sitting in a chair on a porch. And then they were where the workers and soldiers lived and drank and whored. Isabelle told them to stop in front of an apartment building made of oak that had been built after the city had been moved and five hours later Isabelle owned the building and her men were moving them in.

Late that night Isabelle and Jordan went into their rooms on the top floor and closed the door. Both women had washed the dust of the highway off. Isabelle dropped her towel and she felt cold as the mountain air came over her wet skin and Jordan put her hands on her shoulders from behind her drawing her in close to her body and then she slid the tips of her fingers over the tops and sides of Isabelle’s large breasts. Isabelle sighed and put her hands over Jordan’s as she rubbed her breasts and Jordan kissed her on the ear. The two women began moving their hips together. Outside their window a dog was barking and two men yelled at each other and Isabelle thought that she had never lived in a house where you could hear strangers’ lives from inside your own. She turned and kissed Jordan deeply, their tongues pressing together and she felt every inch of this majestic woman who had fought to be here with her, running her hands up and down Jordan’s shoulders and breasts and waist. And then Jordan pushed her down on their new bed. She laid Isabelle on her back, her dark hair spread out on the pillow, and straddled her. Jordan held her hands down and leaning over with a sly grin on her face, her hair dangling down, she kissed Isabelle gently on the lips and then on the nipples. She ran her lips over the skin of her breasts and then sliding down her body the skin of her stomach and her waist and then she kissed her on the folds of her freshly shaven pussy. She kissed the insides of her thighs and then stuck her tongue deep inside Isabelle and the Spanish woman arced her back and moaned. When it was over they lay front to back, Jordan holding her with one hand on her hip and the other playing with her hair and they talked about Isabelle’s plans for the city.

The next night Isabelle and Jordan and one of her men went to the Snow estate. The house was on the highest point inside the walls of the city, its land blocking off the northwestern corner of the walled-in city. The soldier’s name was Guillermo Ochoa and he had become the captain of those who remained. He was tall and smart and Isabelle had come to trust him to keep the other men and line and nothing beyond that. He had become her bodyguard as well. He parked the car they had bought in the circle drive and led them inside. The house had been built before the nation had fallen apart, probably some three hundred years ago. It was a Victorian brick mansion with columns along the front and separate wings larger than the apartment building Isabelle had bought and behind the house was a barn full of horses and behind that several hundred acres of woods and fields the Snows controlled. A butler met them at the door and escorted Isabelle to the offices of Donald Snow.

Isabelle sat in front of the desk and waited. She was wearing a light brown turtleneck sweater and dark brown skirt and both showed off her curves to stunning effect. Her face was as beautiful as her body yet she was sharply aware that she had none of the makeup and haircare she would have had at her sister’s. She and her sister had been born in Panama where their parents ran a gang that held up government supply convoys and smugglers—two groups that often overlapped. When the pressure got too high they moved the family and money to Mexico and built a factory that made uniforms for the Zedillo family’s troops. Her mother had groomed Alejandra to marry old man Zedillo and she grew up to be a demanding bitch who wanted intensely and had everything she could want. Isabelle was five years younger and her mother had never groomed her to be anything. She played with the boys when she was little and when her parents sent her to a Catholic school on the coast she was expelled after her first semester and she still looked better than her sister or any other woman when she put on the right clothes and the right makeup. She enjoyed the clothes and makeup and having all of the men look only at her when she came into the room at a party just as she had enjoyed beating up the older girl who had flicked a cigarette at her at the Catholic school on the coast and part of her feared that she had seen the last of pretty clothes and nice parties. But she was twenty-five years old now and most of her no longer cared about anything at all except her own desires and she reflected that she had become her sister Alejandra despite her mother’s disinterest.

Donald Snow came into the room and Isabelle was disappointed that he had a full head of dark hair. He was a tall, thin man in his fifties and he wore slacks and a dress shirt. They shook hands and he ran his eyes up and down her body and rather than sit behind his desk he pulled a chair next to her. “I understand you had some excitement during your trip,” he started. “I do wish that you had let us send people to meet you.”

“It was nothing that we couldn’t handle.”

“You’re certainly the capable senorita,” Snow said.

“Capable of doing anything that I put myself to,” Isabelle answered.

“I’m sure you are.”

“As you know, my family would like to sell you oil.”

“Right to it, huh?” Snow rose and poured drinks for both of them.

Isabelle sipped her scotch. “I’ve been very impressed with Denver. You are building something here that will help people. Kids running around, security keeping the streets safe. It’s even actually cool here, a nice change from our city. I want to be part of it.”

He put his drink on the desk and leaned in closer to her, letting his hand dangle by her knee. “I appreciate that you’ve gone to great lengths to come here and see me in person, and I have nothing but respect for what the Zedillos have built in Mexico.”

“We are producing the cleanest gasoline, and we are the only ones who can produce at the volume you need for what you’re building here.”

“But it’s in Mexico, and we aren’t.”

“Our family can guarantee the shipments. We have the manpower.”

“Which is also in Mexico. Like I said, I appreciate your coming up here, and your oil would be great for us. But the trouble you had getting yourself up here should tell you that it won’t work. And you didn’t even have anything worth protecting.”

“I agree with you,” she said. “It’s the reason I came up here.”

As she said that a beautiful blonde walked into the room. She had a stunning figure, the same height as Isabelle and with a chest and legs that dominated the room just as Isabelle’s did. Her face was that of a goddess and on it she wore the disdain she had for Isabelle and the rest of the world. Her towhead-blonde hair was straight and hung down to her chest and the middle of her back. She was wearing a white dress that clung to her body and revealed the deep swell of her cleavage and her strong legs and arms. She stared at Isabelle with naked aggression and Isabelle returned the glare, and when Donald Snow said her name Isabelle rose and shared a long, tense handshake with the blonde. “This is my daughter, Gillian,” Snow said. Isabelle nodded and smiled in a way that made it clear to the blonde how false she was being and then at last both women let loose of the handshake and Isabelle sat down again.

“So you came all this way for something that you agree is a bad idea?” Gillian asked her.

“That isn’t what I said.”

“It actually was. Why don’t you tell us the thing you wish that you could have said a few minutes ago?”

“I said that I know that my sister’s plan to sell you oil isn’t going to work. It’s too far and neither of us has the resources to secure such a long supply chain.”

“And you came up for what, the mountain air?”

“Mexico City is in the mountains, you know.”

“You don’t call it Zedillo City?”

“Call me a traditionalist.”

“I doubt that you’re very traditional, honey. You have the distinct air of a woman who is most,” Gillian said, hesitating, and then she fixed herself on her interlocutor. “Not traditional.”

Donald Snow had been watching the exchange. “What was your plan?” he asked Isabelle. “If you always knew that this wouldn’t work.”

“If she always knew that the oil sale wouldn’t work, she wouldn’t have come up here. She’s making this up as she goes and that absurd sweater and her absurd boobs aren’t helping.”

Isabelle looked at Donald Snow and saw that he had no intention of intervening. “Your assuming that I’m spinning this out tells me that you’re the kind of woman who spins things. And I’m not the one whose boobs are hanging out at what I had thought was a business meeting.”

“The difference is that I make this look classy.”

“I was asking myself what this city needs. You want our oil so that you can expand your city, and I’m sure that you have some nice plans for that. I was thinking that living in Colorado here in the apocalypse would be nicer than living in Mexico in the apocalypse. And I was thinking that you would want me to be a part of what you’re doing here. I thought that your city could use a woman’s touch. A little class.”

“And we need class from you?” Gillian asked.

“What did you have in mind?” Donald asked.

“I am prepared to buy into what you’re starting here. And my sister’s family will keep supporting me because I will make them see that this is a good investment. I don’t think that my sister likes melting down there any more than I did.”

“That’s an interesting proposition,” Gillian said in a faux-sultry voice.

“Yes it is,” her father said in earnest. “Did you have any place in mind?”

“Well, I’d like to take a little time to survey what’s available. Although I do own the building that my men are staying in for now.”

“I heard about this,” Gillian said. “Rather the opposite of class.”

“If you’re going to stay, you should find yourself a place of your own. Until then, you can stay here with us.”

“Oh daddy, I don’t think she wants that. I do think that she would like to go for a ride with me tomorrow. Just the two of us, so that we can have some girl talk.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Isabelle said, rising. She shook hands with Donald and Gillian. As the two ladies shook Gillian said that she had riding gear that would fit her so that she wouldn’t have to worry about finding anything in town. “So thoughtful of you,” Isabelle answered. “You can take care of my clothes for me while I focus on working with your father.”

“I’d never let another woman take charge of my appearance, but that’s just me.”

“Yes, I suppose that it is.”

The next morning Isabelle and Gillian were sitting on horses outside the Snow’s barn. The sky was threatening rain and her father had suggested they wait to do the ride but both ladies had said that they wanted to have their talk immediately. Gillian was on a palomino quarter horse and Isabelle was on a bay Carolina marsh tacky that Gillian had saddled and ready for her when she arrived. Both women wore riding boots and skintight light brown pants and white shirts with vests. Isabelle had learned to ride while her family still lived in Panama and she followed Gillian on a trail up into the woods. They rode in silence through pine trees and over streams and they passed two broken down houses. After the second empty house was in the woods behind them splashes of rain fell on them and the two beautiful women in their riding gear rode in silence. Then they came to an empty wood cabin and Gillian swung down from her horse and Isabelle followed her into the cabin.

“My mother grew up in this place,” Gillian said. “My grandfather ran the stables. This was when it just the old barn and they were still fixing the house.” The cabin was the single room plus two bedrooms the walls of which did not run up to the pitched ceiling. The windows had been broken out decades ago and the room was strewn with branches and animal shit. The blonde had been wandering the room, touching her fingers against the walls and the table and then she turned and stared directly at Isabelle. “My father fell in love with this pretty girl from the wrong family and he married her. Then she couldn’t handle the rise in status and she drank her way out of the best thing that could have ever happened to her. She was a tacky bitch who never did anything for me and I’m glad she’s gone. And I’m not going to allow my father to marry another tacky bitch.”

The rain fell hard on the roof of the cabin and through the holes and it was soon pooling on the floor around them. The women stood staring at each other and Gillian slowly took off her riding boots and Isabelle did the same. Then Gillian stripped off her vest and then she pulled her shirt up over her head and threw it aside. “Fight me woman to woman,” she said, and Isabelle also took off her vest and her shirt. Their full breasts and erect nipples and the rich sweep of their hips and legs still in their riding pants and the tight lines of their stomachs. The blonde and the Latina stared at each other’s bodies, panting in anticipation and hatred. At some unheard toll they ran forward and their gorgeous bodies crashed together. They threw their arms around each other and staggered in a circle, their chests crushed together and their female flesh pouring out to the sides in the violence of their struggle. Their hands clawed at each other’s backs and pulled at hair, the muscles of their legs and asses flexing as they each grappled with the other. Gillian twisted and threw Isabelle over her leg and put Isabelle on her back but Isabelle clung to her and they went down together. The women rolled over each other, pulling hair and grasping at shoulders and backs, their hips and legs grinding and pushing together. Isabelle got on top of her and slapped her across the face and then Gillian rolled her off and got clear of her.

The two women stood and came together again. Isabelle slapped her across the face and Gillian slapped her back and then hit her in the stomach. Isabelle was bent forward and she crashed forward, putting her shoulder into the blonde’s enormous breasts and driving her back into the wall. Isabelle slapped her with her right and left and they were standing under the rain and it covered their bodies in a glistening sheen and their hair clung to their faces, necks, shoulders. Gillian slapped her in the face and yanked her hair. Isabelle grabbed her hair in return and they fell to the floor again. They rose holding each other by the shoulders and then they slapped each over and over. Their blonde and brown hair spun and they grunted and moaned with every strike and they stumbled around the room. Gillian hit her with a wild slap that she brought up from her waist and Isabelle spun all the way around. Then Gillian snaked her arms under hers and got her in a full nelson. The blonde wrenched her upright and they stumbled like that around the cabin, both women grunting. The Latina’s enormous breasts stood upright from her chest and they heaved as she sucked in air and the body of the blonde was pressed against her and she could feel her breasts and her hips on her flesh and her beautiful face behind her. With a rush of strength Gillian drove her into the wall. Isabelle shrieked in pain as her breasts were smashed flat and Gillian pressed her hard, grinding her flesh against the wood and then Gillian twisted and threw her to the floor.

Isabelle lay on the floor and Gillian stood over, both women panting. Gillian then bent down and yanked her head up by the hair with the intention of slapping her but Isabelle knocked the hand away and dove into her knees and knocked her down. The women fell together on the floor. They wrestled and Isabelle got her on her back but as she climbed on top of her Gillian got her thighs around her waist and squeezed. Isabelle gasped in pain and she punched her in the stomach and slapped her face and then pulled her hair. Gillian pulled her hair in response but then Isabelle sank her fingers into her massive chest and Gillian howled in pain and pulled at the hands. Both women were moaning and the cold rain was splashing down on their striking female forms as they strained against each other. Gillian threw a punch that caught Isabelle on the nose and when the Latina was stunned the blonde rolled her to the side. She still had her thighs locked around her waist and she clamped one hand onto her breast and repaid her the torture given to her own chest, kneading her fingers deep into her flesh. Isabelle pulled at the hand and the blonde’s other hand pulled at her hair. She let go of the hand on her chest and after elbowing the other woman’s thigh she got enough space that she could rotate her torso. Gillian continued abusing her chest and her hair but Isabelle using both hands pried open her locked ankles and then she had gotten free.

Isabelle was gasping for air and her chest was afire and she was on her knees facing away from her. Gillian yanked her by the hair to her feet and then grabbed her from behind, choking her with one arm across her throat and abusing her chest with the other, reaching across with her right arm to grab her left breast. Gillian’s beautiful face was pressed cheek to cheek with her own. The women stumbled around the cabin. Isabelle pulled at the two arms and whirled about and at last was able to create space and drove her elbow into Gillian’s stomach. As the blonde’s hold on her faltered she spun around and put her elbow into the woman’s forehead. The two women stood before each other and then Isabelle seized hold of her hair and pulled her forward and threw her knee up into her torso and then shoved her back into the wall. Isabelle then slammed her hands into her feminine assets and curled her fingers in, driving them up her chest. Gillian screamed with as much air as she could muster and Isabelle snarled, “See how you like getting your tits mauled.” She worked on them and then she pressed herself all the way into Gillian so that her mouth was by her ear and when she did Gillian bit her shoulder.

The two women fell apart from each other, Gillian sliding down the wall and Isabelle falling backwards and both sitting on their asses. They stared at each other, bruised chests rising and falling as they gasped for breath, hair plastered to their faces and shoulders, blood on their noses and lips and on Isabelle’s shoulder, and they were as beautiful in their feminine fighting as they had been the day before during their meeting.

“I told you that I wouldn’t let you into my family,” Gillian said.

“You haven’t done shit, puta,” Isabelle answered.

They rose to their feet and circled, hands ready. Isabelle hit her across the face and Gillian hit her back. Then they came together again, grasping at each other, and Isabelle hit her in the stomach and then came clean and hit her in the face and the force of it knocked her through the door and onto the porch of the cabin. Gillian got to her feet and stumbled out into the front yard and Isabelle followed her. The two women stood in the pouring rain and threw punches at each other, hitting faces and chests and stomachs. Isabelle hit her with three solid punches and then she threw her arm under Gillian’s and standing side to side with her hit her three more times in the stomach and then as the blonde stood helpless Isabelle cracked her in the face and she dropped into the rainwater on her back. Isabelle stood over the other woman and then moved on her to finish her off and as she bent over Gillian kicked up with both legs and caught her in her buxom chest. Isabelle collapsed in the wet grass with both hands clutching at her breasts.

The cold rain still fell on both women as they lay in the muck. Gillian recovered first and she crawled over Isabelle and got her in a headlock. She cranked on the Latina’s neck with everything that she had left. Locking her hands together and squeezing on the chestnut-haired head and pulling that beautiful face into her body pressed her breasts together. The flesh oozed around her face and Isabelle opened her mouth and sank her teeth into it. Gillian shrieked and let go of the hold before she knew what she was doing. She sat up on her knees and checked her breast and as Isabelle came to her knees the two women clashed again. They rolled over each other and then Gillian got on top of her and Isabelle did not have the strength to get her off. She lay pinned as the gorgeous blonde sat on her, smiling now as they both sensed that it was over. She was looking up at her, the blonde’s great breasts jutting forward from her chest and the water falling down on them both and she tried again to throw her off. Gillian slapped her across the face and then she hit her in the breasts and pinched her nipples and then Isabelle stopped struggling and closing her eyes turned her face away.

“You’re so beautiful,” Gillian said, sitting up straight. “And you thought that you could just show up and walk into my family. I told you that I wouldn’t allow it.” With great effort she stood and tottered into the cabin to retrieve her clothes and she left Isabelle sobbing in the rain on her back as the rainwater splashed on her battered body.