CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
There’s No Time Like the Present; or,
(as Zephyr Branon coins) Timultaneity:
Can’t Live With It, Can’t Live Outside It
July 14, 2036 Earth Date
“Hey! You have got to see this!” my husband says, excitedly. Fanio grabs the corners of the PPV he’s watching. He extends, twists and expands the screen, tilting it in my direction. “Watch this!” He touches replay, and the vid restarts. He laughs delightedly, looking at me to see if I am enjoying it as much as he is.
I stop my own reading and turn to look at his screen. “Wow!” I exclaim, laughing along with him. “Where do you find that?”
He nods, “Right? Right? It’s so cool! I’m on the vidlist,” he says, excitedly. “They always send these to me, first. Probably 'cause I'm married to the CC but I do not care!"
I ask, “What galaxy are those from? And, when are we seeing them?” I squint, tilting my head to look more sideways at the vid. “Are they mating or what?”
He checks the bottom of his PPV, touches the control pad a few times, then looks up at me. “2.6 billion LY ago, Andromeda G, Planet 4, Ocean 11,” he reads off the monitor. He looks up, amazed: “Yesterday! Hot off the presses!” he jokes.
“Probably mating. Or, maybe dancing,” he takes my hand as he answers my last question and continues looking at the PPV with me. “I haven’t looked at the ‘splanation, yet. I like to guess. Their vibes are happy, for sure!”
We are sitting on our couch on a Sunday afternoon. He reformats the PPV back to small and flings it over to the end table. He turns back to me with that sparkle in his eye that makes me hot and tingly. “How 'bout we join them?”
I eye him, quasi-suspiciously. “Is this about my previous complaining session? Are you trying to bribe, distract and otherwise confound the Chief Communicator? That’s probably a felony, somewhere,” I grumble, mock severely, but I fling my own PPV away as well and turn to him, unbuttoning my blouse with my other hand.
“You really don’t want to go this year?” he asks, as he takes over with my buttons. “But they put the meeting on your Earth birthday, especially. And, you know, you have to go….” He bends to kiss the swell of each breast, enjoying the newly opened pathway.
I sigh happily. I do not want to think about my birthday or that celebration. Just this. Only this. Taking his hands and kissing each finger, one by one, I push my breasts closer to his mouth.
He leans back, reclaiming his hands to put them over my head on mine, leaning me back onto the couch. Fanio kisses me on the mouth, pressing his body against mine, sweetly. I squirm beneath him to get more comfortable under his weight.
There. Ahhh....
Damn! How am I going to do this ending thing? I just can’t decide.
Epifanio pulls away from our kiss and looks down at me, quizzically, having caught my thoughts. “Why is it so difficult?” he leans back down to whisper into my ear, licking the lobe.
I groan and reply, aloud, “You know, telepathy isn’t all ‘they’ crack it up to be!”
“I kind of like it,” he argues, “It saves a lot of time and it is all voluntary.” He nuzzles into my neck, starting to nip at my throat a bit. “Are they using their teeth, you think?”
I return my full attention to his touch, stretching to give him more of my neck to nibble and agree, “Probably. I don't actually remember. No blood, OK?”
He laughs. “Never,” he promises. We get ourselves completely undressed, kissing, nibbling, not biting too hard.
Perfect.
We don’t talk for a while.
This Changes Everything Page 58