Mercury Going Down

by Brambach, C. S.

  “Didn’t the alarms go off in there?” I asked, incredulous.

  “No, either through computer error, or direct outside manipulation. None of our sensors or alarms went off down here at control either. We’re looking into it now. Did Dave ever mention any problems he was having with the Reverend? We’ve traced the wonk on the drone chip back to a religious site, and looking back to trace it farther, but we’re having a heck of a time.” He looked me in the eye, trying to make me squirm. Good luck, I’d been with too many vicious bitches to get my dander up on the carpet by a glorified corporate security guard. Not that I wanted to be ‘Rehabilitated’. I almost shuddered at the prospect.

  “Nope, not a hint. Or a clue. Sorry.” I shrugged. Search me. Looked like Jake was one step ahead, as usual.

  “Well, I had to ask. Proper investigative procedure.” He raised his hands palms up.

  “I understand, you’ve my full co-operation, just so you know. Anything else?”

  “No. Oh, we have the skimmer and we’re trying to fish out the data from it’s on board computer, but the heat did a number on the interior so it might take a couple days to pull it out. Now if you’d go to the studio for the interview and then the press conference we can get started. The sooner we start the sooner we can get you home for rest and recuperation.” He stood and headed for the door.

  “I’m all for that.” Agreeably from me.

  “Me too.” From Karen. Did I detect a tone of pent up horniness from her?

  “This way, follow me.” He said and led the way down the hall to a small studio.

  Once I was situated in the center of the room with a bright light shining directly down on me and a vid camera pointing at me, Fonagy nodded at the tech at the computer console facing me from the back behind a clear plex wall. Karen was seated to the side with Jazz standing next to her. It was so quiet you could have heard the proverbial pin drop. Fonagy took a seat behind and to the left of the camera, turned and gave a thumbs up to the tech at the console. The tech nodded and pointed at me.

  “Date and time recorded. So Mr. Dunn, what, exactly happened out there?”

  So I told him, in explicit detail, leaving nothing but the content of our conversations out, what had transpired that day.

  When I finished I looked up and sighed. Having to relive the experience was not high up on my things to do today list. More like home, a cool bath, a warm meal, and hot sex with my wife. In that order.

  Fonagy looked over his shoulder at the tech in the booth, who shook his head and gave a thumbs up. He then stood up and had Karen move her seat and take it next to me. While she did this a screen descended from the ceiling above the camera. Lou Chin appeared on the screen.

  “Mr. Dunn, Mrs. Dunn, how are you today?” Very solicitous.

  “Fine, just fine Mr. Chin.” Weariness creeping in. Karen smiled her assent.

  “Great, ready to get started?” Barely hidden joy at possibly scoring a PR coup.

  “Sure, let ‘em rip.” Impatience on my part. The screen was soon divided between five images of the five leading news services anchors with their names identifying them and their network affiliation displayed underneath. Each would have one question to ask. I had had a look at the questions in the e mail that Lou had sent me earlier. Each had submitted a question and a back up, just in case. I couldn’t hear our introduction. I didn’t hear anything till Chin introduced the reporters, one at a time.

  “Miss Gloria Lopez, of CNN, first question.” The attractive woman opened her mouth to speak, but I cut her off. Of course with the five minute delay I probably caught her well after she asked her question.

  “First off, I’d like to say good day to you all, and second I’d like to say that I feel OK, I’m happy to be alive and that yes, I feel saddened by the loss of my good friend.” Not that I meant to destroy anybody’s career, but I wanted to cut them off at the pass, for the past 125 years, reporters had been asking the one stupid question of all stupid question’s, the ‘how do you feel’ question. Always when it was obvious how one would feel after a tragedy. I wanted to scream, ‘I feel like shit, someone killed my friend and tried to kill me, how do you expect me to feel?’ I was able to bite back my emotions, barely.

  Miss Lopez quickly recouped and asked her back up question.

  “How’s your recovery progressing?” Dismay in her eye, she had been hoping to spring the ‘how do you feel’ question on me and get it in first too.

  “Quite well, I’ve been released into the care of my wife and with the assistance of a full time nurse, graciously provided by the company, I should be up and around in a week or two.” This satisfied her. Score one for CNN. She already had follow up on her mind. I could see it in her eyes.

  “Mr. Senjin Batwat, of East West News, next question.” Mr. Batwat, shuffled some papers in front of him with a self important air, before looking up at me. He was obviously waiting to see if I would trap him, but when I didn’t he laid one on me.

  “Mr. Dunn, to what do you attribute the cause of the skimmer crash? There’s been some speculation it was due to driver error.” Whoa, where did that come from? I took a deep breath and swallowed. Looked at him and smiled.

  “No, as I’m sure Mr. Fonagy will corroborate, it was due to technical issues, a mechanical failure of some kind.” I waited for a reply and he snuck in another one.

  “Any indication of what that failure was exactly?” Asked the snaky bastard.

  I let him squirm for an extra minute before I answered.

  “It was either electrical or data flow control issues, the repulser plate failed.” I didn’t mention it had failed at speed, and that the over ride governor had not kicked in to slow the craft down automatically when the alarm went off. We were always jimmying those things. Half the time the warnings were false alarms after all. I’d let Fonagy or Chin handle the detail’s, questions, let ‘em earn their pay. Standard bait and stall, ‘we just hauled the skimmer in and it will take some time to...blah, blah, blah.”

  “Miss Dorothy Briskwell, of the BBC.” Now this woman was something to look at, whereas Miss Lopez looked rather dried up and shrewish, though voluptuous as many Latin women are, smoldering eye’s, raven black hair, wide lips, gleaming teeth, this Briskwell had surpassed the usual British prim plainness with a nice cut to her mousy brown hair, blue eye’s of an iceberg hue, a small button nose, and a slight overbite to her huge pouty lips, under which the most cutest round chin seemed to hover over the smoothest shoulders and the nicest cleavage I’d seen on a newscaster in a long time. And her voice didn’t annoy me.

  “Good day Mr. Dunn. Mrs. Dunn. Can you tell me, sir, what was on your mind during that amazing trek, what helped pull you through, and Mrs. Dunn are you glad to have your husband back?” She smiled a wide grin, practically from ear to ear. Two for one in one breath. Sly, sneaky, but in an adorable, charming sort of way. I dug her. Karen could tell. She put a hand on my left leg and dug her nails in. She smiled a warm smile and said,

  “Good day Miss Briskwell, yes,” She looked over at me with a look of genuine affection and continued, “ I’m so happy to have him back, alive and in one piece.” She beamed at me, and eased up on the hand pressure a bit. I looked up at Miss Briskwell.

  I knew which piece she had in mind, but didn’t let it break my train of thought.

  “Well, two things helped me get through and survive the hellish trek, especially when I had Dave over my shoulder that last 60 Kilometers or so, the first was thinking about my wife and how I couldn’t leave her alone, without me, and the second, well it was a tie, between worrying about how Susan, Dave’s wife would get along with out him, and I was worried what the company would do without me, who’d they’d get out to replace me...”

  There, thanks Miss Sultry Briskwell, sucked up to the Misses, women everywhere, and the company all in one fell swoop. Sell out, shit. If only she wanted to do me, uh, do a follow up... I’d probably sell out more than my pride. The hand pressure became more of a soft invi
ting pressure rather than a painful watch out kind of warning.

  “Mr. Harlan, Ellison Harlan, of the North American Union’s AP.” An older well respected correspondent.

  “Mr. Dunn, have you talked to the President yet?” He looked at me with assurance in his brown eyes.

  “The President of the company, Mr. Johnson?” He laughed when it finally reached him. I felt dumb when his reply reached me.

  “No, the President of the Union. Janet Lowe.” I grinned in embarrassment.

  “No, not yet. Not yet.” Lou swept in before he could weasel another one.

  “Mr. Odu Benga, of the Southern Alliance and Reuters. Last question.” This guy was huge and was probably intimidating in real life, he was a large African man, but obviously intelligent, cause the last question was not on the list, and it almost caught me off guard.

  “Mr. Dunn. Glad you’re alive to be with us. So, how does it feel to be a hero?” I looked him right in the eyes and told him the truth.

  “I don’t know, how does it feel? You tell me.” Because I didn’t feel like one. At all.

  Back at the crib I was settling into a cool bath after taking a painkiller and a muscle relaxer. Jazz had helped me out of my coveralls after running the water, and handed me the pills. Karen had come in then and told her she could take the rest of the night off. She went to the other bedroom to ‘charge up’ for the night. Karen sat on the edge of the tub and ran the soap up and down my body, before going to start dinner.

  We didn’t talk much while we ate. Baked pork chops, broccoli, garlic mashed potato’s, a light salad, synth Sauvignon Blanc, followed by espresso and chocolate cheese cake for dessert. After we deposited our dishes in the cleaner Karen took me by the hand and led me to the bedroom. We were lucky, we lived in one of the original living units of the city, a two bedroom unit. You entered a large common living area, on one side of which was the kitchen. At the back were two bedrooms connected by a common bathroom that had a third door between them to the living area. It had originally housed two families, but as the city expanded and more room had been created it had been assigned to one family. Us.

  I helped her out of her coveralls and she knelt down and stripped off my sarong and licked me up from my balls to my chin, pushing up my t-shirt out of her way. I peeled it off and cupped her slightly pendulous breasts in my hands. Gently tugged at the ringed nipples. Her head went back and she moaned softly. I bent down and kissed her shoulder, working my way up her neck to her left ear lobe. She pushed me back onto the bed.

  Her hair felt like feathers touching my skin as she knelt down on my legs and started licking my half swollen cock and balls, her hands raking the skin of my chest and abdomen. Her midriff was covered in brightly colored tattoos of animals that changed color with her mood shifts. All the way around her body. Like a living corset. When the tiger on her back was bright orange almost red, and the flying birds on her chest turned from blue to red I knew she was hot. The colors indicated she was into it. I lightly tapped her hip and said,

  “Come on.” She slipped around and planted her pussy right on my mouth. I ran my hands up and down her body after pulling her down slightly so that my mouth could reach her lightly musty smelling vagina. I started licking slowly as her hot wet mouth slowly descended on my cock. Her left hand cupped my balls while her right rode the shaft up and down as her mouth and all it’s soft wetness, sucked it in and out.

  With my left hand wrapped around her ass, I stroked her clit with my right, alternately licking and nibbling on her labia. Once she was wet, I started to stroke her g-spot with the first two fingers of my right hand and really work her clit with my tongue. Then I started to apply direct pressure with my tongue, moving it from side to side, up and down. After a short while this broke her rhythm on my cock. I reached my left hand down and squeezed her tit’s alternately. She slowly stroked my cock with her hand. She started to moan.

  She sat straight up and went off, drenching my lower face in fluid, letting my cock flop.

  Putting her hands on my chest, she climbed off, looked down at me and with a sleepy grin said,

  “OK if I put on some porn?” I lay back and shrugged.

  “Sure.” She grabbed the vid control and the walls soon had her favorite porn vid on. ‘Buxom Babes Do It All #200.’ I propped myself up with a pillow as she squatted down and watching a giant blonde work a giant brunettes ass with a dildo slid my cock into her pussy and started to ride me reverse cowgirl. Her ass started to pound my pelvis like a velvet hammer. Before she started grunting with every thrust she said, while playing with her own tit’s, fingering her clit, and gently caressing my balls,

  “You can have my ass sometime.” This just caused me to grab her by the hips and slam her down on my cock as hard as I could. After fifteen minutes of the porn queens moaning and groaning, and my Misses grunting with every thrust I slammed her down especially hard and came like a rocket.

  She collapsed next to me and said,

  “You haven’t lost it.”

  “Nice ego stroke there babe.” She stroked my damp, shriveling cock and watched the giant porn goddesses for a few minutes before whispering in my ear.

  “Ready for round two?” I answered with my tongue in her mouth. Later, while doing her doggie style, every thrust again producing a grunt from her, she really freaked me out by saying,

  “I. Think. We. Should. Have. A. Kid.” An hour later, after coming like a volcano and collapsing in a sweaty exhausted heap next to her I said,

  “I think we should think about it.” I had other things to think about. Like who or what had killed the Reverend Gonzalez and his wife, and could it have been the same who or what that had killed Dave and tried to kill me?

  “I almost cried when you described what you went through.” Murmured Karen as she snuggled up to me, her left hand tracing lazy circles around my left nipple.

  “I almost can’t believe I just fucked a real live hero.” She added.

  “Maybe you didn’t, maybe you just fucked me.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t be so modest.”

  Wondering about the nature of hero worship I drifted off to sleep.

  4.

  Psycho Analysis, Psycho Mon Ami

  Day 4

  I woke refreshed from a deep dreamless sleep. Thank you painkillers, muscle relaxers, synth wine, and satisfying, if slightly confusing, sex. Confusing because I wasn’t sure if my wife knew who she was making love to, me or some hero guy. Eh, in the end I didn’t care, I was the one busting a nut. It was also nice to sleep in for a change.

  I lay there for a couple minutes watching her sleep. She looked so peaceful, I couldn’t wake her. I had to get up though cause nature was calling. After I had relieved myself and splashed some cold water on my face I gingerly walked to the kitchen. The swelling in my ankles was gone and there was coffee in the pot. Jasmine had made a fresh pot and was watching the news on the screen in the kitchen.

  “Smells good.” I said as she served me a cup after adding some sugar and soy milk.

  “My food preparation program’s are very precise.” Straight faced.

  “That’s not your only program that’s precise.” I wasn’t fully awake, I knew, cause I was flirting with a Robot! Where was my head at? I shook it off, took control. I couldn’t face the Head Shrink with my head in the clouds or in the gutter. I motioned Jazz to sit across from me. I put in a call to Jake. Left a message. Then I called Dr. Barber’s office to confirm my appointment. Jazz pointed at the screen.

  “There’s been quite a bit of coverage on you, I’ve seen the news conference twice.”

  “Beat anything long enough and you’ll bore it to death.”

  “Would you like a muscle relaxer now?” Asked Jazz politely.

  “Sure.” She fetched me one from the cabinet, and stood expectantly.

  “Would you like breakfast now?” She smiled a slight professional smile.

  “No. I’ll wait till the Misses is up. Think I’ll catch up on th
e news.” I rose a little stiffly from the table and she came around to help me. After assisting me to the couch in the living area, she dialed up CNN Planetary News and then started to massage my legs. I pulled my sarong up to my crotch to facilitate the process.

  Nothing all that ground shaking to report system wise. Thanks to the changes of the last half century the climate was finally stabilizing. The Plagues had brought the population down, that and birth control enforcement, to a stable 5 billion. With the loss of petroleum as a fuel source for personnel transpo and major electrical production, the planet had cooled. Now cars were run by electricity and hydrogen fuel cells. Electricity was provided by solar, wind, geothermal, tide and cold fusion reactors. The oceans had been cleaned up and major eco systems had been restored. Vast tracks of the planet’s wilderness had been restored. Glacier’s were growing. What little petroleum was left was rationed out for air transport and recyclable plastics.

  There were still the minor incidents of governmental corruption, traffic pile ups, bridge disaster’s, and the occasional tornado-cyclone event. Plus the odd earthquake. With the economic justice initiative and the breeding restrictions of the last half century, the lack of poor people to die in droves after a natural disaster meant much lower death tolls. I changed the channel to sports. The Dodgers were doing well, but it was early in the season. The Cubs were kicking ass and taking names which after the last century of dominating the Central Division made up for their first century of crappy performance. The hated Braves were dominating the East, as usual.

  Jazzes magic massaging fingers were doing the trick. When she massaged the inside of my thighs her finger tips would just barely flick the bottom of my scrotum. This caused a stirring of no insignificant proportions. I flipped the sarong clear of my hard on and looked at Jazz who was looking at my huge boner.