Chapter 2: The Odor of Love

The guards escorted Orson and Janice out of the King's Hall and into the street. There were just a few reporters waiting outside, as no one seemed to care that another government official had been brought down, but one reporter ran up to the High Marshal.

"How does it feel to be a traitor and a disgrace to your king?" asked the reporter.

Orson frowned and answered, "Come closer and I'll tell you."

The reporter walked up to Orson. The High Marshal's hands were cuffed behind his back, but he still headbutted the reporter when the man drew near. The reporter fell to the ground with blood pouring out of his mouth.

"It feels just like that," stated Orson.

The captain of the guards shouted to the bystanders to step aside as he placed Orson and Janice in a van and drove them to the jailhouse. The duo remained silent as the van took them to their destination. Finally, they were escorted to a private cell, which turned out to be in the back of the jailhouse. The captain addressed Orson directly for the first time. "Sir, I'm sorry that it came to this. But, I have arranged for you and your deputy to be alone in this part of the jailhouse as your presence here would cause riots and trouble if you were placed among the general population. I only wished that the king . . . "

Orson stopped the captain before he could say another word. "I understand, Captain Morris, but say no more. We just have to accept things as they are."

The captain nodded. "I'll have your meals brought to you, so you and your deputy can enjoy your meals in peace. I'm sorry that this cell isn't much, but prisoners of the state have few rights."

Captain Morris took the handcuffs off Orson and Janice's wrists as the pair entered the cell. The captain slid the bars closed and locked them in place. He pocketed the key and gave Orson one last glance before he left the couple alone. Janice looked around the cell, taking in her surroundings. The space was primitive by the standards that she was use to. There was one toilet, a sink without a mirror above it, and there were two cots fastened to the wall. Janice let out a sigh.

"This is just great. Why didn't you just calm yourself?" shouted Janice.

Orson seated himself on one of the cots and shook his head. "I am just tired. That's all. We work day and night for Deckono. We all do and yet only a few benefit from it. I thought the king would have more of a backbone."

Janice rolled her eyes. "Would it have mattered if he had? The general public never revolts. They must be stirred by corrupt leaders to revolt and then it must be stoked continuously to keep the revolution going, especially in this day and age. We have been living with the Internet for ten thousand years now. People want instant gratification instantaneously. They live so much in their dream worlds now that they don't even realize what's going on around them. And now I am going to be a martyr for a cause that doesn't even exist."

Orson had his head in his hands and he looked up at Janice. "The cause exists even if no one cares. Just because people don't acknowledge something as real doesn't make it any less real."

Janice looked down at Orson. The man was an idealist, which was a thing that Janice loved about him and the fact that he could make her feel like a woman – most men could not. Janice was a big woman nearly as tall as Orson and very muscular. Most men looked tiny and weak beside her. Janice was very happy the day she met Orson. The two hit it off and a friendship grew. They worked out together and talked about the books that they had read. In short, the two became a couple. Things were perfect until the media decided that the king wasn't doing enough about the illegal aliens. It was in the tabloids that the High Marshal was having an affair with his chief deputy and that's why the illegal alien problem wasn't being solved. The king called a tribunal together, so they could get to the bottom of the rumors; instead, Orson tried to start a revolution.

Janice let out a sigh. "Is this like the old question: if a tree falls in the forest and no one hears it does it make a sound? Even if the tree makes a sound, it's not important because no one is there to hear it. A cause may have an existence, but if it isn't acknowledged then it isn't important."

Orson stood up from the cot and threw up his hands. "I'm sorry. I just lost my temper."

Suddenly, without warning, Janice's eyes got wide. She grabbed her stomach, ran to the toilet, unbuckled her pants, and flopped her ass down hard on the plastic seat. Farting noises issued forth from her bottom and the jail cell filled with the sour smell of shit. Orson turned his head and walked to the jail cell's door. He grabbed the bars and started coughing, for the odor emitting from Janice's shit was torturing his sense of smell. He could hear Janice moaning something about having a nervous stomach and that she was sorry that Orson had to endure the awful smell. Orson felt sorry for Janice, but was unable to comfort her. He turned around and nodded at Janice. Then he turned his back around so that he was not facing Janice and tried to suck untainted air into his lungs. After what felt like an eternity, he heard the sound of the toilet flushing. He turned around when he heard Janice washing her hands. He thought it best to ignore the shitting incident and say something to comfort her. "At the trial tomorrow I'll tell Judge Roy Rowan that you are innocent of any wrongdoing."

Janice dried her hands on the towel hanging on a ring beside the sink, she turned and faced Orson with tears in her eyes. "Like hell you will. You know what you are to me? You are my home. If you go to the grave. I will go to the grave. You are the only person that ever loved me."

Orson walked over to Janice and kissed the tears from her eyes. "Then we will face whatever tomorrow brings together."

Janice returned Orson's kisses and their lust for one another consumed them. Orson stripped Janice down to her underclothes. He stood back a moment and admired her hard toned athletic body. Her breasts were small and were attached to hard pectoral muscles, her waist was solid and every time she breathed her abdominal muscles stood out like an old time washboard. Orson took off his uniform, revealing his great muscles and hairy chest. He pressed his deputy against him and the heat from her body was indescribable. He picked her up and laid her on the cot. Then he pulled her pants down and did likewise with his own. The two united as only a male and female can – like a train entering a tunnel or a rocket ship shooting off to space. Orson shoved himself into Janice hard and showed her no mercy as he plowed deep into her nether regions, touching her very womb with this his very special staff. The deputy screamed in a mix of pain and pleasure, as she raked her fingernails down his back. The cot broke off the wall as the two lovers climaxed at the same moment. They slipped into a deep slumber, not caring the least what fate had in store for them. And yet the faint rancid odor of shit permeated the air as the lovers slept.