by Darrell Bain
Rita turned to me. "I don't think I want him questioning me, even if he did help save our lives that time."
I drew her into my arms, feeling the spreading softness of her breasts against me. "Don't worry. Seconders can't be effectively questioned, remember?"
"Maybe we're unique. There's never been a couple pass through a gate at the same time, and so far as I know, no Seconder ever knew any of the others beforehand." I caught the hint of worry in her mind and kissed her.
"If we're unique, I like it," I said, kissing her again.
She responded and again, I could feel that surge of desire in my groin. I had almost forgotten what it felt like. I touched her breasts and it was almost as if my own were being caressed, as I remembered from just a short time ago. Our lips parted and our eyes met in mutual desire.
"Come on," I said. I took her hand and helped her up. We almost ran to the bedroom.
As we came together on the bed and our bare skin touched, it was like a surge of sensual electricity sparking between us. Her nipples pressed against my chest, two hard points of erotic flame that I could feel as if they were originating from inside my own body. Rita's lips parted against my own and her eager moan of pleasure escaped before our tongues wound together. Her nails dug into my back, urging, pulling me over her. She spread her legs and I slipped inside her, feeling a momentary resistance as her hymen broke, but if she felt any pain, she never mentioned it.
***
Unity. Oneness. Twins. Merging. A melding of minds and bodies so intricately entwined, it made no difference who was in which, nor possible to tell the difference.
Pleasure, a pleasure so intense, it was almost painful. Every nerve ending of both bodies radiating waves of ecstatic, sensual anticipation.
Sensations. Plunging engorged penis, sinking and rising with the movement of hips. Friction against throbbing clitoris with every movement.
Awareness. Arms and legs wrapped around body, holding it in fiercely tight contact. Fingers digging into back. Arms under back, gripping shoulders. Softness of flattened breasts against muscular chest and hard nipples, two spreading, burning areas of intense sensual warmth. Groin and bellies smacking together.
Noise. Rising cry of voices uttering unintelligible screams of almost unendurable pleasure, in time with ever-quickening movements.
A slope, a rising hill, a peak, a ride up and up to undreamed of heights, pausing, hanging, teetering on the brink, then plunging down into depths of red and green and blue explosions surrounding us, a part of us, breaking us into pieces, into bits, to molecules, to the very atoms of our bodies, loosening all consciousness and awareness of anything except the incredible orgasm of mind and body and soul reached together.
***
Lee, oh Lee, my love. My heart, my soul.
Rita, I love you. Oh, I love you.
Still united, I could hear her thoughts as clearly as words, just as I knew she could hear mine. In fact, there was no difference. The voices were our minds, speaking together as one.
We slowly came back down to normal, exchanging endearments, sometimes with murmured words, sometimes with exchanged thoughts. It didn't matter. We were one.
When at last we separated, our minds remained in contact, though our bodily sensations became our own again. Our eyes met in the semi-darkness, adoring each other. We touched and stroked each other and moved our lips over the other's body, reveling in the sensation of feeling the reaction of the other as if it were our own.
We coupled again, and again. Each time was like the last, only better as we began learning to use our minds as well as we had already known how to use our bodies.
***
At last we lay apart, completely satiated.
"No wonder the Seconders don't want to talk," Rita said. I heard the words in my mind. We continued our conversation, each of us originating thoughts which immediately became mutual.
"Horst was right to be suspicious. Seconders are different. If this ever got out, we would be mobbed."
"Telepathy. I always thought it was a fraud, something invented by charlatans and science fiction writers."
A laugh. "It's real. I wonder if it's just us, or all Seconders?"
"We'll have to find out. I'm also wondering if we can read other people's thoughts?"
"Or maybe just Seconder's thoughts."
Our minds might have been merged, but our bodies weren't. I felt the urge and got up to go to the bathroom. As I closed the door, Rita's thoughts become less clear, though I could easily sense her presence in the bedroom, as if I were a game contestant who already knew the answers.
Rita also felt the slippage and it impelled us to experiment. We found as we practiced, we could tell where and what the other was doing from any place in the house, and even catch occasional thoughts, though the nearer we were to each other, the clearer they became.
We didn't sleep at all that night. We pranced and giggled and made more drinks and played mind jokes and games with each other until well after daylight. By the time we had breakfast, I began to sense a mental orientation, as if my mind was becoming something solid, unable to be broached unless I held it open. Perhaps that was why Seconders were immune to grilling.
There were lots of questions I wanted to ask of Seconders. The problem was, I didn't know how to contact any of them. They were reclusive, reluctant to come out into the open and now I could see why. Racial or cultural suspicion of others is bad enough, but telepathy confined to a select few would be a bombshell. Let the vast majority of the population in on the fact that Seconders were mind readers and they would never have any peace. They would be looked at as if they were pink monkeys caged with a batch of normal simians and perhaps treated as a pink monkey would be: torn to pieces at first sight.
Rita helped explain that to me (what I didn't already know). Everyone has secrets, fantasies, thoughts which are mostly normal but never voiced or acted upon. Real opinions of other people are seldom given face to face. Salesmen, preachers, politicians and the like would never feel safe with telepaths around, let alone, so called "normal people". There is just too much baggage carried in the human mind that would be offensive to almost every other person were it ever known.
"Can you imagine," Rita said, "just how men and women would act in sexual encounters if either thought the other could read their minds?"
"God's chips!" I exclaimed. "I sure could. I remember when I was a boy, or actually, a young man, meeting a girl and imagining all kinds of things about her, some of them not so nice."
She grinned ruefully at me. "Don't think that's a male exclusive. Women do the same thing, though perhaps they don't visualize it quite as explicitly as men do."
"Really?" I caught the assent in her mind from across the room. With practice, we were getting better able to sense attitudes, even when separated.
"Really," she said, unnecessarily. "Or what about insurance salesmen or lawyers? Why, they would go bankrupt in a week!"
I burst out laughing. Wouldn't that be a comeuppance for a lawyer, having someone read his or her every thought? Still… "We don't know yet that we can read anyone else's minds," I said.
"Well, why don't we take a walk or ride into town and find out?"
"Good idea," I said. I was unbearably curious.
My bodycomp buzzed. I told it I would take the call. The display materialized in front of me and I found myself staring at Messler Scribner, the young man who once was Messilinda. He grinned infectiously at me.
"Hello, Lee. Is Rita there?"
"She's listening," I said.
"Fine. Welcome to the club."
Chapter Twenty-Five
"The club? What kind of club?" I asked, wondering what he was up to.
"The Seconders, of course. We're pretty exclusive, as you well know."
"You mean you think we belong to a fraternity of sorts? Sorry, we had nothing to do with becoming Seconders. Besides-"
"Besides, your chipping church almost got us killed," Rita finishe
d for me.
He frowned, turning his young face into a caricature of a choirboy. "Haven't you had sex yet?"
"It's none of your damned business!" Rita exploded.
"Wait, Rita." There was a purpose here and I thought I knew what it was, but I didn't want to say it aloud. Horst might very well have our circuits under surveillance. I said, "Do you think Seconders having sex is something special?"
He caught my circumlocution immediately. He smiled. "Relax, Lee. We can't be overheard. I have one of the best cryptology programmers in the world monitoring us. Yes, I'm talking about something special, like being able to read your partner's mind afterward, among other things."
"What other things?" So, all Seconders were special, not just Rita and I.
"We'll get to that. I just wanted to touch base with you and warn you not to try getting in touch with other Seconders right away. We don't want to attract any more attention to ourselves than we already have by congregating together."
My heart jumped. "We've already attracted attention. An NSA agent by the name of Whitney Horst called a while ago and said he may want to question us."
Messler nodded. "I figured he would. So far as we know, you're the first pair of lovers ever to both make it through the gates the second time, not to mention, at the same time. If he comes around, just act innocent and go along with him, no matter what he does."
"Easy for you to say. You weren't tortured like I've heard some Seconders have been, especially in other countries."
"It doesn't matter, though we can't help you if you're brought in. A Seconder is immune to questioning under any circumstances. You might wind up with some scars, or even be killed, but you'll never remember any of what happens under duress, even sleep or sensory deprivation. We know."
"Does it mean anything that we came through the gate together?" Rita asked.
He spread his hands expansively. "So far as I know, it was just pure coincidence, though you both must have minds similar to other Seconders to have come through at all. By the way, I'm sorry your friends didn't make it."
"Thanks. We're still hoping they'll turn up someday."
"It may be more than a hope, but don't quote me or do one of your stories on that basis."
I stared at him. "Just how much do you Seconders know about the gates?"
"Not much more than anyone else. We may have a hint of something, but I'd rather not go into it just yet."
"I want to know. When can I see you?" If there was any possibility at all of a reunion with Seyla and Russell and Donna, I wanted the information immediately.
Messler grinned. "Looking for a rematch?"
I think I blushed, remembering our liaison when he was female. He diverted my attention, anyway. "Sorry, I don't swing that way."
"Actually, neither do I. My inclinations were canalized too long ago to change now, though I did get an idea of how the other side operates while I was a woman." He grinned some more.
Rita's frown had returned. She leaned forward, as if coming closer to the screen might intimidate him. "I have a question. What on earth did you think you were doing when you started that chipping Church of the Gates? Besides almost getting us killed, those damn Gaters almost got away with all of Russell's new technology. They killed his friends, too."
Messler not only looked pained, but as embarrassed as a convention speaker suddenly discovering his fly has been open for the last half hour. "You'll have to chalk that up to the folly of an old man. I was really trying to help."
"Help? I don't call what they did helping," Rita snarled.
"Well, it did help at first, and it wasn't that much of a folly, though if I had it to do over, I might have tried a different approach. After I regained my youth, I was scared the government would close off the gates, or make them exclusive, or slap taxes on them so high, only the rich could afford passage; something along those lines. You know how governments are. I gave it some thought and came up with the idea of getting a religion to support free access to them. It worked, too. Look at how some other countries are regulating access, or trying to. Unfortunately, the militant branch got out of hand when your friend discovered a way to get us out to the stars. I had no way of knowing such a breakthrough in theory would take place. Russell was brilliant." His expression saddened, like that of a lottery winner who has lost his ticket.
Rita's frown softened and disappeared, except for a couple of vertical thought lines between her eyebrows.
"Did you Seconders have anything to do with rescuing us and publishing Russell's notes?"
Messler nodded. "We Seconders. I wasn't going to mention it for fear you would think I was trying to absolve myself of causing the mess in the first place, but yes, we did. Even after I resigned from the church, I kept some contacts. I'm just sorry we weren't in time to save his friends. We did save you, though."
"Yes, I suppose you did. And I know enough about mob psychology to give you credit for thinking up a new religion to help keep the gates open. If they hadn't been, Lee and I would probably be dead from radiation poisoning."
He waved a hand, disclaiming the concept. "Might have beens never prove anything. Who knows? If there hadn't been a church, you might not have been near Austin when it was bombed."
"True," Rita admitted. "Well, I guess you did what you thought best. Let's drop the subject. I want to know more about Seconders."
"So do I," I said.
Messler glanced at his thumb watch. "In good time. I'd better cut this off for now. Even with the programmer I've got working, if we stay connected long enough, someone may manage to hack in. Just remember, be discreet about contacting any of us. Any hint that we're organized, even indirect evidence, and the government will surely crack down. The President is an ex-general, you know, and the military is still scared out of their pants about whatever is behind the gates."
"All right," I agreed. "Get back to us, though. I still have a lot of questions."
"So do we all." He disconnected.
Rita giggled.
"What?"
"Scared out of their pants! I haven't heard that expression since I was a little girl, and then it was in colloquial language study." She laughed some more.
"Well, he is over a hundred years old, after all," I said. "Do you still want to go to town?"
"Sure, why not?"
***
An NSA car blocked the road before we got to town. Another pulled in behind it and Whitney Horst got out, accompanied by two rough-looking men in semi-military tunics.
"Hello, Horst," I said, not very enthusiastically.
He pointed to the back seat of the big government sedan. "Get in."
"Where are we going?" Rita asked, all innocent voice and big dark eyes.
"You'll see. 'Get in', I said."
We got in. I could sense he intended to question us under drugs again, but there was a hint of something else in his mind, not yet come to fruition, or perhaps, not decided yet. I realized then that even though I couldn't read his direct thoughts, I could get an idea of his intentions and the general direction his thoughts were running in. My mind blurred at the notion, as if it were trying to conceal any overt indication of my new knowledge. When I stopped thinking of him, my mind cleared up again.
Horst took us all the way to North Houston and I found myself back in the same old room being questioned by the same personnel as last time, using the same old methods. At first. I shuddered involuntarily when I sensed the cheerful malice in the mind of our old white-jacketed friend. His hands felt cold and clammy as he fastened the restraints.
A long time later, I became aware of coming out from under the Veronal injection, or whatever they doped me with. I pinched my thumb to verify the time, squinting through my fuzzy vision to read the numbers. Three and a half hours, about the same as before.
I expected to be unstrapped and freed from the chair, but the man in the white coat left me securely restrained when he departed, leaving only Horst and I there together. He had a sour look o
n his face, as if he had just bitten into a crabapple. He avoided my gaze and I wondered what he was up to now. I avoided trying to gauge his intentions, still afraid I might give something away. Then they brought Rita in on a Gurney.
She was awake, but groggy and helpless. Horst checked her reflexes, then began stripping her clothes off.
"Hey!" I yelled at him. "What do you think you're doing?"
He continued without answering until Rita was totally naked, then he turned to me. "We've tried everything else to find out what you damned Seconders are hiding. Maybe this will work." He reached over and squeezed her breast cruelly, staring at me now.
I tried to surge off the gurney in a mad rage and then my mind went blank. I don't remember anything else. Apparently, what Messler had said was correct. No matter what the duress, questioning a Seconder was useless. When I was able to check my thumb watch again, another hour had passed. Horst was busy tucking his shirt back into his trousers.
Rita was just coming to her senses. She sat up unsteadily on the gurney, then became aware of her nakedness. She started to cover her breasts, then decided that contemptuously ignoring Horst was a better way of showing her disgust. She looked down at her naked thighs. I followed her gaze. We both saw the drying semen at the same time. She looked over at me and smiled grimly.
Her thoughts were almost as clear as if we were pressed together. Disgust, not rage. I commiserated silently with her, mingling sympathy for her and rage and vows of revenge against Horst. She sent her love back, and a thought not to be silly; she wasn't hurt and didn't remember anything about the rape.
Horst left without another word, the mental morass of a rigidly sick mind trailing behind him like a shroud.
A few minutes later, the man in the white coat came in and handed Rita her clothes, then released my restraints.
We knew the way out of the building this time and couldn't leave it fast enough. I called for a limousine from the lobby and we spent the time on the way back to Ruston in a mutually healing embrace, minds as close together as Siamese twins.