Clever Cargo

by Beva John

  Naj continues. “Her doctor is concerned. As you’re aware, Your Highness, it is a matter of health, but of course, human cultural patterns may be different. Particularly the patterns of a vintage human.”

  I hate the term vintage human. Lottie is a human, not an antique pet for sale.

  “If she were modern, there would not be a problem. A woman from Little Earth would have brought her own assistors. But Lottie is not modern. And I wish to know how you want to have this situation handled.”

  I know I should let the doctor tell her, but I will take this excuse to speak to her myself. I have missed her and our conversations. “I will handle it.”

  Naj looks relieved. “Thank you, sir.”

  I walk to Lottie’s rooms, eager to see her again. When am announced, I enter the room, I see that she has acquired several bird cages and she is seated at a table, busily drawing on paper. Goddess, I think I had forgotten how beautiful she is with her hair falling out of its bun and her clothes are wrinkled, as if she has been busy for days and slept in her clothes. “Oh, sir,” she says happily, standing up to greet me. “You have returned.”

  Do I flatter myself to think that she has missed me?

  Her stomach is definitely rounded now, and I feel a sense of proud possession. That is my baby. She is carrying my child.

  “What is this new project?” I ask.

  She points at the different birds. “Your secretary has been very helpful, providing me with several specimens to study.”

  “And what are you learning?”

  She rattles on for several minutes, telling me about the difference between the bird’s plumage and their diet. “I know this all seems very ordinary to you, but to be able to study these birds closely is joy for me.”

  I want her to be happy. At this moment, I would be willing to build an entire bird sanctuary for her on Allathone, if it will make her even happier.

  She says, “But I doubt that is why you are here.”

  “You are correct. I came to see you and to talk to you.”

  She frowns. “Is something wrong? Is it the birds? I know they smell, but I’m having the cages cleaned every day.”

  “It is not that,” I assure her. “It is something else entirely. A health matter.”

  Her hand goes to her stomach. “Is the baby all right?”

  “Yes, the doctors say the baby is fine. This is something that should have been covered when you first came here, but I did not think of it, and apparently no one else did, either.”

  Lottie looks at me quizzically, waiting for me to explain.

  “Let us go to the bathing room, and we will take care of it right away.”

  Lottie follows me. When we enter the room, there are the obvious washing facilities, the shower room and a toilet. I slide open a panel that reveals a collection of assistors. “Has anyone explained this part of the bathing facilities?”

  She glances at the various tubes and attachments. “No, sir.”

  I pull out one of the cylindrical tubes. “Well, these are to be used once a day. Just like cleaning your teeth.”

  She smiles at me. “That is one of the things I like best about Allathone. Your teeth cleaning foam. It is most excellent.”

  She looks at me so openly, without an inkling of what I am going to show her, and for an instant, my usual composure faulters. Lottie is from another planet, another time. Should I have let the doctor handle this?

  I say clearly, “This is what we call an assistor.” I motion to the other tubes in the cupboard. “These are all assistors. Their purpose is to bring a person to climax.”

  I look her straight in the eyes, but I can tell she doesn’t understand me.

  She taps her finger behind one ear. “I assume it must be a translation issue. What do you mean by climax?”

  Brixing hell.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  LOTTIE

  Prince Magnar is quiet for a moment and I can tell that he is thinking, trying to decide what to say.

  He clears his throat a second time. “By climax, I mean a completion of sexual arousal. Orgasm.”

  Good heavens. “You mean for men?”

  “For women, too.”

  I frown. “I don’t understand.”

  “Assistors provide sexual stimulation. Like a massage. It is a matter of health. It improves blood circulation, reduces stress and has been proven to increase longevity. Some believe it helps with memory, too.”

  I know that the Brune are very concerned about their health and longevity, so I am not surprised that they have designed devices to promote that. “Your people are far more advanced than mine, so I will assume you are correct. But how this applies to women, I still don’t understand.”

  He looks at me closely. “What do you know of the human sexual act? You are a scientist after all.”

  I feel blood rush to my cheeks. I can’t believe we are having this conversation, but if he can ask the question, I can answer it. I refuse to be missish. I look him straight in the eyes and say, “Obviously, just like other mammals, humans copulate.”

  “Meaning?”

  “The man puts his –” I pause because I have never said this word out loud before, “his prick inside the woman.”

  “And?”

  I wince. “He ejaculates?” Another word I’ve never said out loud.

  “Yes, but first, the male stimulates the female so she climaxes as well.”

  “Perhaps Brune females, but not human. I have never heard of that.”

  “Brixing hell,” he says under his breath runs his fingers through his hair. I flinch. He says, “Perhaps I should let the doctor explain this.”

  “No,” I say, suddenly brave. “The conversation is going to be awkward no matter who tells me. Obviously, my education is lacking.”

  “Did your mother tell you nothing about this?”

  “My mother died when I was eight and an aunt told me the basic rules when I was eleven.” Her words had been blunt but clear. Don’t let a prick touch you unless you want a baby. After that, I’d overheard conversations and surmised the rest, but I can see that there are gaps in my understanding. “But I don’t understand what any of this has to do that assistor. Unless it’s an artificial prick?”

  Prince Magnar points to one of the assistors. “That would be this one.”

  Good heavens. It’s huge with a bulb on the end. I say, “I understand why men might benefit from sexual massage, because I’ve seen that before – men stimulating their male members with their hands and then ejaculating in alleyways. But I’ve never seen a woman do that.”

  Prince Magnar says, “In your era, did women enjoy sexual intercourse?”

  “Not good women. Sexual intercourse is for the creation of children and to please one’s husband.”

  “And not to please oneself?”

  “Not really. But I’ve heard that some women don’t mind the marital act.”

  “This is what your religion taught you?”

  “And society. Women are supposed to be sweet and pure and above the carnal lusts of men.”

  “And what do you think of that?”

  I hadn’t thought of it before. I was always more concerned about my next meal. “I don’t know.”

  He smiles. “Well, in the six hundred years since you were abducted, society has changed. Science has taught us that females as well as males benefit from frequent sexual stimulation – whether together, copulating, or solo – either by using one’s hands or an assistor, which is usually more efficient. Throughout the Intergalactic Cooperative, this behavior is accepted and encouraged, except for the Namvires, because they’re almost incapable of sexual arousal. But on Little Earth and Allathone, there is no stigma.”

  I look at the assistor in his hand. “So, if I use this, I’m not going to hell?”

  “Not at all. And the doctors say it is helpful for a surrogate’s health during a pregnancy. That is why I mentioned the matter to you.”

  I am intrigued. “All right.
What do I do?”

  He hands me the assistor and presses a button so the tube starts to hum and vibrate.

  Startled, I drop it, and it clatters on the floor.

  We both laugh a little. I don’t know which one of us is more nervous. We both reach down for the tube at the same time and our hands touch. Magnar withdraws his hand. I pick the assistor up and press a button to turn it off.

  Magnar says, “You can use this over your clothes. Just press it over your clitoris.”

  It’s another word I don’t know.

  He lets his breath out slowly, obviously frustrated with my ignorance. “How did women in your time know so little about their own bodies?”

  Now I am offended. I fold my arms in front of myself defensively and lift my chin. “Your civilization is much older than mine. Perhaps the Brune females were equally ignorant in your ancient days.”

  “Forgive me. You are right. That was unkind of me. A human clitoris is the center of female pleasure. For Brune females, this is all under the skin, but with human females, there is a little nub of flesh above the opening of the vagina.”

  I frown.

  “Hidden in your folds.”

  “I’ve never noticed such a thing. Perhaps I don’t have one.”

  Magnar shakes his head. “If you didn’t, it would have been noted during your medical examination. And according to that, you were completely normal and whole, or you wouldn’t have been approved as a surrogate.”

  I remember that the medical scan had been quite thorough, with embarrassing pokes and proddings, and as my employer Magnar has access to all my records. I feel awkward and ignorant now.

  Magnar says, “I can show you, if you’d like.”

  I pull away from him, horrified. “Hell, no. I am not going to strip for you.” What kind of woman does he think I am?

  But the moment the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. I should never speak that way to the Crown Prince. “Please forgive me, sir.”

  But he says gently, “I didn’t mean that. I meant with the data screen.” He presses his screen. Embarrassed by my over-reaction, it takes me a moment to comprehend the visual pictures he is showing me on his outstretched forearm.

  There, on his data screen are half a dozen photographs of human vaginas and clitorises. Some of the photographs have pubic hair, others are bare as if they have been plucked. I see that there is a little nub of flesh and a little hood over it, as well as netherlips around it. “All right,” I say finally. I am certain my face is as red as a beet. “Perhaps I do have that. But that still doesn’t mean I’ll know what to do.”

  Magnar says, “Would you like me to help you? Assist you with the assistor?”

  I smile at his attempt at humor, but I still hesitate. I do trust him. He has always been honest with me and I believe he wants me to be as healthy as possible as I carry his child. I say, “It seems very personal.”

  “It is a biological need. A physical release. Nothing more. And to the Brune, it is practical, rather than personal.”

  I am interested, but I don’t know if it’s morally right to do this. It goes against all the things I was taught as a young woman. But then again, did my religious education prepare me to wake 600 years later a new planet in a new galaxy? “Would your fiancé Lady Jing be angry if you help me?”

  “No. Why? This is to improve your general health.”

  He sounds so calm, so matter of fact. “And you wouldn’t mind if some other person helped Lady Jing with her climax?”

  “Not at all. She goes to parties all the time without me.”

  I am astonished. “Where she is aroused to orgasm?”

  “I assume so.”

  Shocked, my mouth forms an O and he gives a little laugh. “Humans may be different, but to the Brune – sexual release is like other physical pleasures. Like enjoying a musical performance, comfortable clothes or a fine meal. It does not matter who makes the clothes or cooks the food.”

  I think he is telling me the truth. I am in a new world with new social rules. “Then yes, I will.”

  “Excellent.” He brings a chair into the bathroom and sits on it. He then tells me to sit on his lap, facing away from him. “We could do this standing up, but I think the first time it is safer to do it seated.”

  “Why?”

  “If you faint or collapse, it will be better if you’re seated.”

  Now I am alarmed. “You think I am going to faint?”

  He smiles to reassure me. “I don’t think so, but I’ve heard tales.”

  There is a glint in his eyes, and I don’t know if he is teasing me. Surely assistors can’t be dangerous, or no one would use them.

  We sit so I can see our reflection in a wall of mirrors. “Open your legs,” he tells me. I am wearing trousers.

  His breath is warm on my ear, which sends a little tingle of awareness through me. “Yes, sir.”

  “And lean back against me, relaxing. In the future, you can do this by yourself.”

  I lean back against his firm chest and he wraps an arm around my waist, holding me close. I take a deep breath and will myself to relax. I hope I don’t go to hell for this.

  CHAPTER NINE

  MAGNAR

  I am a liar. I want to touch Lottie. I want to see her climax. I want that much more than her health. If I only cared about her health and that of the baby, I would have let the doctor talk to her.

  And now she is seated on my lap and we are both facing a mirror. She has a lock of hair falling on her forehead, and I brush it back, tucking it behind one of her ears so she can see herself clearly. She smiles – half thankful, half nervous. Her legs, encased in the soft fabric of her trousers are open, her knees are on the outsides of my thighs, her calves hanging down.

  I take a deep breath and enjoy the weight of her, sitting on top of me.

  My left arm is around her waist, holding her close. I would like to slide my hand upward, to cup her full breasts, but I will not. I have promised her that this act is not personal, so I will not take advantage of her. My role is to bring her to climax with an assistor – nothing more.

  “It is quite simple,” I say. “The assistor provides vibrations that will stimulate your clitoris and bring you to orgasm.”

  I turn on the assistor in my hand and it starts to make a quiet humming sound.

  I continue. “For Brune females, the entire clitoris is hidden, so the vibrations must be more intense to be effective. But with human females part of the clitoris is outside the body and is much more sensitive, so what might work for a Brune female could be too intense or harsh for a human female. It will be good to do it first, this time, with the fabric of your clothes to protect the clitoris, softening the effect.”

  Lottie nods. “I understand. Thank you.”

  I am the one who should be thanking her, but I keep that thought to myself. I ask for her to lift one of her hands. She does, and I press the end of the assistor against her palm so she can feel the vibrations. “See? There are different settings from light and slow to more intense. But nothing that will hurt you.”

  Again she nods.

  “I will start slowly at first, letting the assistor touch your thighs.” I bring the assistor to her knee and touch the fabric of her pants. Gradually, I draw it upward, first touching the assistor above one knee and drawing it slowly up her thigh. First one leg and then the other. Then I start in the inside of her thigh and gradually move upwards.

  She tenses.

  “Don’t worry, it will not touch your cunt, yet.”

  I watch her reflection in the mirror and see her eyes widen.

  “What is it?”

  “That word.”

  “Cunt?”

  She nods. “It is not a word my people use. Not a nice word.”

  ‘It is a nice word to my people, but I can use another. What word would you prefer I use?” As I talk, I am bringing the assistor closer and closer to the apex between her thighs with long strokes on her inner thighs and then retr
eating. Two inches away, and then one. I am teasing her. “What word would you prefer I use?”

  She blinks as if it is difficult to answer my question. I can tell by the quickening of her breath that she is becoming aroused. “I am not sure I have ever used a term to describe it. Down there?”

  I smile. “Surely there are more words.”

  “Nether mouth?”

  I smile. “Ah, yes, because of the lips or folds. Humans have folds of skin. Brune females have only a slit that opens.”

  She shifts on my lap, making my cock rise. “What other words?”

  “Mound. Temple of Venus.”

  “I like the sound of that. Who is Venus?”

  “Roman Goddess of Love. With the Greeks she was Aphrodite.”

  I now hold the assistor, so it rubs her inner thighs in narrow circles, inching toward her mound. “Let me know if this comes too close or is uncomfortable.” I press the tip of the assistor between her legs, where her opening should be and then slide it slowly upwards.

  I know I have found her clitoris when she jolts.

  “Good heavens.”

  I pull the assistor back an inch. “How are you feeling?”

  “It was a little pinch of pleasure.”

  “Good. I will try that again, but I will hold the assistor farther away, so it feels more like a tickle.”

  She nods.

  Slowly, I rub the assistor up from her opening, over her nether lips and up to the center of her pleasure. Lottie moans and then suddenly clenches her legs together, trapping my hand between her thighs.

  “What is it? Was that too much?”

  “No,” she chokes out.

  “What?”

  Her face flames pink. “This is so embarrassing.” She relaxes her legs again, freeing my hand. “I am wet down there. I am afraid I may have peed myself.”

  I cannot help but smile. She is so sweet. “No,” I assure her. “That is natural and right. Your body is producing lubrication, getting your vagina ready for the sexual act. Getting ready to accept a cock.”

  Would that it was my cock.

  I can see that she is still a little nervous from my explanation. “Is that another word you don’t like?”