Sandra Spacebabe looks out for the safety of the
children on Galaxia III.
Rumour has it they're in peril, so Spacebabe's on the case. Undercover
in a kilted skirt and school tie, she lures Dastard Dickie into her
cubicle and onto the Sofa-Lite retractable bed, dimly lit by meteor dust
radiating through the blinds.
Dickie Dastard's chin is rough and grizzled, his breath smells of Camels
and decay. Sandra Spacebabe lets him pull at her skirt and blouse, lets
him think she's a twelve-year old girl on her way to the intergalactic
school.
As soon as he's inside her cosmic box, Sandra concentrates her mind,
summoning forth her supernatural powers to suck the bad blood out of
him. Like venom from a snake bite, she purges him of this evil.
Mission accomplished.
Unfortunately the purge isn't permanent, for the procedure hasn't yet
been perfected. Spacebabe will have to repeat it again and again until
it is.
With Dastard Dickie safely ejected back onto the street, Sandra
Spacebabe hangs up the schoolgirl uniform and slips into her usual
attire: a skimpy halter top made up of two red spangles threaded
together with red satin ribbon, short white tap pants with a
snap-crotch, and thigh-high boots on a lethal heel. She stands proud
before her full-length dressing mirror.
Don't mess with Sandra Spacebabe!
Now there's a thump at the door. Sandra opens it. Her eyes widen. Man,
is he tough! There on the concrete verandah stands a tall, lean and
broad-shouldered man with wavy black hair and a pleasing shadow along
his squared-off jaw. His eyes are dark as midnight and he wears
snakeskin boots.
Could this be the space cowboy she's been dreaming of?
Sandra Spacebabe wonders what the cowboy's looking for, what he needs.
She mentally clicks on her super psychic sense, begins to probe the
cowboy's aura, but runs up against an invisible wall.
'C'mon cowboy!' she says, and pulls him into her cubicle. He can show
her what he wants.
This cowboy is the rough silent type, his speech is limited to grunts. A
man of action, he gives her halter top one good yank, ripping the red
ribbon from the spangles. Spacebabe rues this desecration of her
outfit, but she reckons she can fix it easy enough. His large leathery
hands squeeze her breasts like he's wringing sponges. It hurts.
Spacebabe bites back a yell.
Cowboy starts to undress, unzipping his jeans, so Spacebabe reaches into
the top drawer of the side table and pulls out a condom, which she
passes across to him. He swats her hand away and pulls one of his own
from his shirt pocket. She's almost sorry, she would almost like to
dispense with this precaution and do it for real: these plastic
raincoats make the act seem sham, like a dress rehearsal. Cowboy
unrolls the condom down over his erection. Then he grabs Sandra's hips
and drives himself into her.
He doesn't take long, and she's glad, because he's battered her like an
invading army. Maybe he's not the cowboy she's been waiting for after
all. As he finishes he flings his used plastic casing across the
mattress and onto the floor under the window. He pulls on his jeans and
flannel shirt, then reaches into his pocket for a few crumpled
banknotes, which he leaves on the bed.
As the cowboy lets himself out the door, he turns back to Sandra and
speaks for the first time. He says, 'Now yer gonna die same as me, ya
two-bit whore,' and slams the flimsy door behind him.
Candy the $50-a-trick hooker swings one bruised leg onto the floor, then
the other, and goes to pick up the spent condom. It's landed flat on
top of her stack of Galaxia III comic books, causing the colours of
Sandra Spacebabe's red halter-top to run into the burst of whiteness
around the Master of Infinity's light gun. She pinches the condom
between her lacquered nails, and sees that it is full of holes.
