"To desire immortality is to desire the perpetuation of a great mistake. Schopenhauer. History is bunk. Henry Ford. Oh, you should like this one. What is history but a fable agreed upon. Napoleon Bonaparte." She clapped her hands at that one. Ah, the French.
"The descent to hell is easy. Virgil. There is no heaven, there is no hell; these be the dreams of baby minds, Tools of the wily Fetisheer, to fight the fools his cunning blinds. Sir Richard Burton. Be not afraid of greatness; some are born great, some achieve greatness and some have greatness thrust upon 'em. Shakespeare. The nearest way to glory is to strive to be what you wish to be thought to be. Socrates." She put a hand on my arm after I took another sip of wine.
“So you think you have had glory thrust upon you? What do you think of glory?” She asked serious for a second.
“I would be happy just to be thought of as a man. Fuck the hero construct. Just a man. Who did what he thought was right.” I looked her right in the eyes as I said it. I meant it.
“Bravo.” She clapped and smiled a smile of warmth and depth and hidden meaning.
"Beware the fury of a patient man. Dryden. I never think of the future, it comes soon enough. Einstein. Fortune favors the bold. Virgil. I have not yet begun to fight. Jones.
Distance lends enchantment to the view. Campbell. But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; tread softly, for you tread on my dreams. Yeats."
“What are your dreams?” She asked me in a voice soft as feathers on cool skin.
“Oh, I used to think of a tree farm on Mars, plenty of space out there, room to grow, grow things, Karen wants a kid now, but I don’t know.” Concern crossed her features.
“It is only normal.” She said. I shrugged.
“Yeah, and I think it’s okay, I just don’t know if I have the patience to raise kids.”
“I think you would make a wonderful father.” She said, and I caught a light in her eyes.
I laughed and continued,
"Learn to duck. My Dad. The price one pays for pursing any profession, or calling, is an intimate knowledge of its ugly side. James Baldwin. The first hours belong to us. The last to God and the straightest shot. Bernie Coy, May, 1946 Alacatraz. You can become anything you pretend to be, so you must be very careful what you pretend to be. I think Mark Twain said that. I have to be real careful here. You’ve read the files. You know where my marriage is at. Being a Psychiatrist you know that men fall in love easier and quicker than women. I think you would be a very easy woman to fall in love with.” To cover her blushing she ate a cracker and took a large hit of her wine.
“You’re not sure the illusion is real. Eh? I took psych courses in high school and college, until they lost me when they asked me to torture rats in Experimental Psych...”
“We are alike then,” she said, “I did not enjoy the Experimental Pscyh but the motivations of people, what makes them tick, what causes them to behave the way they do! What they did, what was done to them, what they inherited, to make them the way they are. To unravel the complexities of the human mind, figure out the variations, the machinations of the human soul! That was it for me. Turns my wheels.” She started to talk about her work. My brain went to shut down levels when she spoke. I focused on her fat, pouty lips and after a time I came up for air as she said,
“I was raised Catholic...but I was raised that love was the highest form of worship!”
Half way through the first bottle of wine Jazz came out and served us some hot, fresh quiche. It was delicious. We then had Jazz carry the wine into the bedroom for us and retired there. Jazz went out to clean up the kitchen and the dishes and Lynette closed the door and lowered the lights. The walls of her room were of the Eiffel Tower, a Martian landscape, pre colonization, and various classic paintings of the Impressionists from Cezanne to Van Gogh. She turned up the L.E.D.’s that circled the room to simulate candlelight and, after turning down the bed she bent over to turn up some soft jazz music on her sound system, and I knelt behind her and grabbing her legs around the knees, started to run my hands up and down her legs under her dress and kissing the backs of her legs and running my tongue up the insides of her thighs, letting the tip of my nose just brush her labia as I pushed her dress up over her ass. She spun around and started to slink out of her dress. I slipped out of my coveralls and knelt on the bed in anticipation.
She lay cross wise on the bed and grasping my now hard dick in her hand, sucked it into her mouth, stroking the shaft gently. I liked the look of her long red nails running up and down the length of my cock. I got on all fours and after a long deep kiss, our tongues working furiously, I kissed and licked my way down her neck, and, after stopping to lavish some attention on both her heaving tits, traced my tongue down across her flat stomach, along the trimmed exclamation ridge of her muff and, after teasing her clit ring with my teeth, plunged my stiff tongue into her near dripping pussy. Soon, after giving her a work out with my tongue and several fingers, being careful to give her g-spot a decent amount of attention, she shuddered in a good medium grade climax. She grabbed me by the ears and pulled me up on top of her.
She grabbed my rock hard cock and slid it into her sopping pussy. She felt like velvet.
As I started to stroke away she looked up at me, and, after wiping the juice off my face with her hand she said,
“Talk to me, cher, talk to me.” I’m not much of a dirty talker during the act, but a poem came to mind, so I recited it to her. Making sure not to lose my rhythm.
“sand
Dust storms
blind the Eyes
of shallow people
Deep water
scares
The weak of
Heart
A wave of
true Love
can wash you
away
Volcanoes ripple
that mean
elemental hot stuff
Earthquakes beneath feet
left unsteady
by a haze of Romance
A dance shared
by far off suns
Draining like sand
from holes
in my pocket”
She started to moan in French as I started to really pound her pee hole. I had to plant my arms on either side of her ass to keep her from bucking from side to side. I didn’t want her to ‘break’ me. She moaned rocking her head from side to side. She started spurting words, phrases in French. In low moaning gasps. I fucked her so hard it was like beating her. Till she looked me right in the eyes and, as I start to slam harder, sweat flinging from my forehead said,
“Do not come in me, come on me.”
“On your face?” I grunt.
“No, come on my tits.” She grabbed her tits and squished them up and out, hard. I could feel my orgasm boiling up from my toes. As she came she moaned then so loud it was almost a scream, just as I slipped out of her and slid upward on her just a bit and the come shot out of me in a rocket like jet that just grazed her right nipple and crossed her face in a line that bisected her right eye.
“Whew.” I said. She laughed and slapped my side.
“Are you okay?” I asked getting up and off of her. I lay down next to her and she said,
“Careful, don’t get it in my eye.” I jumped up and ran to the bathroom and wet a washcloth and brought it back. She grabbed the cloth and wiped her eye clear. She chucked it toward the bathroom and went down on me, waving her hot, sweaty, sandalwood musk smelling pussy over my face. I dived in.
Later I asked her for that Psych eval on my wife. It wasn’t hard to overcome my biologically hardwired urge to sleep after a toe curling orgasm. She was so fine, even sporting that freshly fucked look. We talked for hours.
I told her how the Hawaiins have a tradition of ‘talking story’ which is how people get to know each other. She told me about growing up in Paris. The history. The Art.
I asked if she had a good relationship with her dad, and did she have any chick fr
iends. I subscribe to the Roy Cui theory of chick’s you can have a relationship with. It states that they had to be on good terms with their fathers and have girl friends. As well as the J. Ramirez corollary, if she had a dog, it was a deal breaker. She had never had a dog, and had been the apple of her dad’s eye. It was hard to have chick friends here on base, because she knew every quirk of every resident of the colony. She had had a cat. She missed having one. Funny, they had Robot dogs, but they couldn’t seem to manufacture a passable Robot cat. She always thought she would make a better mistress than a wife.
“I might have an opening in that department.” She smiled at this and said,
“As long as you fill my openings like you just did, I would love the position.” I mention that I married an artist. Hinting that she had a wide open, flexible and accepting personality. Leaving out the whole sharing with Susan deal. She mentions that Karen was born out of place and out of time. If she had been born a hundred years ago, she could have been a feminist, but with those barriers gone, what was there to fight for? She was capable of violence if she found something worth fighting for. A cause, or true love.
Hinting that she knew my marriage was based on the desire for monetary gain rather than hot, burning, passionate love.
“You must beware of your wife, Drew.” She said. That was the gist of Karen’s psych eval.
“Speaking of positions...” I said teasing the ring through her left nipple.
10.
Set Controls for the Heart of the Sun
Day 10
I woke from a dream of Karen in a preachers vestments and Dave and Susan, dressed as nuns, (?!?), kneeling before her as she is about to serve them the Eucharist. She looked up and at me and I could see black flames in her eyes. I woke up disoriented, not remembering where I was. I breathed a sigh of relief when I realized I wasn’t waking up in the Med Unit. Then I felt Lynette roll over and throw an arm over me. She snored, very lightly. She looked so cute in a sweet, fresh kind of way, it almost made my heart sing. But nature was calling in the worst way. It was late. I was a little groggy, but after taking care of nature and rinsing my mouth out with some mint wash I found in her medicine cabinet, I felt better about life and the lack of sleep and gently laid down next to the softly sleeping Doctor. As I started to doze off she woke up and after I kissed her on the cheek, thanks to a fast move of avoidance on her part, she covered her mouth and stumbled to the bathroom.
She came back to bed with minty fresh breath and a gleam in her eye that boded well for my orgasm stat’s.
She climbed on top of me and commenced a slow hot fuck in bed, more as foreplay, which culminated with a hot soapy fuck in the shower. After we soaped each other up, kissing and nibbling as we went, I reached around one hand to play with her clit ring after she guided my soapy dick into her tight inviting ass, my other arm wrapped around her upper torso, the left hand squeezing her slick, slippery right tit. Hard. We made loud squishing noises with every thrust as my lower pelvis slapped her ass, the shock wave flowing up through the flesh of her ass and lower back. I gently gnawed on her wet shoulder as she leaned against the shower wall with the flat of her hands, head thrown back to moan in French as I slammed away like a horny dog on speed as we both reached a thunderous orgasm.
Later the Doctor would feed me warm fresh croissants and espresso. I was bursting to ask questions. Despite the lack of sleep I was filled with energy.
I asked her about Dave, and his tendency to cult worship. About where Karen fit in with that. She explained that Dave was a follower, whereas Karen being raised by a slacker, wife beating father, who brow beat his wife to work and provide him with everything, beer, food and money to go out and fuck who ever he wanted, tended to the manipulative side.
“Karen was the apple of his eye, was she not?” She said, sipping her espresso.
“You bet.” I said tearing off a piece of croissant.
“She has that tendency, to control, using sex and anything else. She is a leader/enabler.”
I thought about that for a second or two and nodding said,
“Nailed her right on the head.” She looked me in the eye over the lip of her espresso cup. Said,
“She is fucking Susan, isn’t she?” Hmm, who was nailing who?
“Hmmm, the ruthless analyzing the mad...” I looked at her, incredulous. I told her,
“You would be an easy woman to love, but I’m just a simple man.” She pooh, poohed that, and said,
“You are probably the most complex man I have ever met. But you would be easy to love.” I said,
“Ah, I have to let you love me. Which has been a difficult thing for me to do in the past. Piss poor track record. I like smart women, but there being a fine line between brilliance and insanity, so many of the women I have fallen for have ended up being stark raving loony’s. Maybe I’m too easy, just give me regular nookie with out any shit, or a minimum of shit, and I’m happy. Oh, and while I’m at it, you’re not a loony, are you?” She smiled as she finished her espresso.
“If I am crazy, I am only crazy for you.” She stood and leaned over and kissed me on the lips. Headed for the bathroom to brush her teeth before heading off for work.
I had Jazz wheel me home to brush my own pearly whites and change into a fresh set of orange coveralls before wheeling me to the port to check up on Jake.
As we neared the port, I called ahead to Jake and had him clear us in. A large, burly guy in tan coveralls, his Porter’s tool belted around his waist opened the lock for us and saw us to Jake’s quarters. Once inside the port he stopped and shook my hand.
“Bod Willis, Mr. Dunn. A real pleasure to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you Bod.”
“Gotta tell ya, half the workers here have been talkin’ about ya, ya know, what they would have done if they was in the fix you was in.”
“Well, it’s only natural.”
“Eh, most of ‘em don’t think they woulda made it, not like you did.”
“Ah, well, you never know...”
“So, bein’ a hero an’ all, must get plenty of action I bet.”
“I’m doing all right.” Obvious understatement, if only Bod knew!
“I’ll bet.” He shook his head as he walked. Soon we reached the elevator and he ushered us in. Once at office level he handed us off to another burly individual in tan coveralls and bid us farewell.
“Great to meet ya Mr. Dunn, my wife is gonna go nuts when I tell her I met you.”
“Good luck with that.” He laughed and waved good-bye as the elevator doors closed, taking him out of my sight. So, now I was getting strangers laid. As long as they didn’t touch me to do it, I was okay with it.
Our new escort was silent as he showed us to Jake’s hideout. Maybe he was shy, maybe he was uncomfortable, I didn’t know or care. As long as he wasn’t trying to kill me, he was all right with me. Jake jumped up and ran over and hugged me, and then Jazz, excitedly and said,
“Thanks Kaj.” Kaj nodded and left us.
“Man, I’m so glad you’re still alive!”
“Chill out man, of course I’m still alive, why wouldn’t I be?”
“Cause Dave’s killer is still out there, and until he’s caught, you are not safe!”
“Now that is bull shit, man, Dave was caught up, albeit in a peripheral manner, but he was involved in the gambling deal and that’s why we think he was offed, he saw or knew something that he wasn’t supposed to and that’s why he was killed, and me? I was just collateral. Now sure, they tried to shut me up, but with the demise of Jim Simpson and the narrowing of the field to Pete Simms, I think I’m pretty safe.”
“Once you bring him in.” Said Jake, skeptically.
“Once we bring him in.” He held out a hand as he sat at his console.
“And that would be when? Exactly?”
“As soon as we establish a strong evidentiary line and some motive wouldn’t hurt either.” Jake rolled his eyes.
“Of course a confession
wouldn’t hurt either.”
“No, it wouldn’t.”
“And the attack on me, what was I? Collateral chicken soup?”
“No, I’d say you’re more like collateral egg roll.”
“Ha, ha, very funny.”
“Speaking of evidence, any luck on tracing out who put the whammy on Fox?”
“Yeah, and you’re not gonna like it.”
“Hey, have I ever intimated or otherwise acknowledged liking any of this whole nasty, stinking deal?” He started to laugh.
“Oh, man, you crack me up, you’ve been offered any promotion you want, you’re probably up to your ass in poon and maybe you don’t know it yet, but you’re set for life.”
“If I live.”
“Yeah, if you live.”
“Yeah, you let me worry about me, you just worry about your end. What’s up with that? Any new info on the starting point of the virus that effected Fox?” He looked at the console and tapped it a couple times, calling up a new visual on the screen and pointing at it said,
“Yup, and you ain’t going to like it.”
“Like it? Are you kidding? I’m gonna love it! Who ever put the whammy on Fox put the whammy on the prospector drone and the skimmer! Who ever put the whammy on them killed the Reverend Gonzalez and his wife, and probably killed Hugo Lakshmi! We find the killer then you and yours truly will be safe and in the clear! Not like it my ass!”
“Even if the killer is your Misses?” He looked at me with a look that was so serious it could have made a baby, or a severely depressed person, cry.
I looked at the screen and looked at the time stamp of the data.
“My old lady? Fuck no, just look at the time stamp, she has an alibi baby.” She was with, or should have been with, Susan, during the time that the virus was made and sent.
“So she was with somebody? You know that for sure man?” One eyebrow was raised.
“Oh, yeah. Airtight.”
“But you’re gonna check, just to be sure, right?”
“Bet your beloved Bots tortured ass I am.”
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