The Sex Gates

by Darrell Bain;Jeanine Berry

  It had been a few years since I had visited Lufkin. New construction was everywhere, and thoroughfares where none had existed in the past made it hard to locate the Church of the Gates temple. I would probably still be looking if it weren't for Rita. I have absolutely no sense of direction, which is one reason I don't like to travel.

  We arrived a few minutes early. I had been jumpy for the last half hour, waiting on the call from my folks. I was afraid they might call in the middle of my interview, but I certainly didn't want to miss them. We solved that problem by merging our phones so Rita could answer my incoming calls. I left my phone on mute with instructions to answer if Rita demanded it, in case something terrible happened.

  Mom and Dad were both nearing sixty. Except for Dad's heart problem, their chances of making it through were excellent. Mom would almost certainly make it through, but Dad was taking a real risk. The scientists were still trying to correlate the various illnesses with age and the probability of success.

  I tore my thoughts away from worries about my parents and focused on the interview ahead. The Church of the Gates temple was brand-new, of course, and constructed to resemble a gate, though larger. The greenish composite material was a poor match to the real thing, but a holographic projection at the front entrance created an eerie impression of a gate face. Both of us hesitated for a brief moment before walking through the gateway.

  Once inside, a young man sporting a neatly trimmed beard greeted us. “Yes, how may I help you?"

  “I'm Lee Stuart. I have a three o'clock appointment with Messilinda.” That was how the new evangelist billed herself: Messilinda, no last name. It was a strange name, but then I figured you had to be half nuts already to become an evangelist.

  “Oh, yes.” He glanced up at a wall clock in the shape of a gate. “She is expecting you. Come with me."

  Rita was told to wait in the lobby. Ordinarily I would have made a fuss, but the folks still hadn't called. I asked her if she minded.

  “Of course not. Go ahead.” She could tell I was worried.

  The pictures of Messilinda on the web programs didn't do her justice. She was far more beautiful than any of her photographs. She rose from a workstation where she had been manipulating pictures of a worshipful crowd surrounding a gate and held out her hand in greeting. I ignored it, not because I wanted to be rude, but because my attention was riveted to her body.

  She was dressed in a filmy white shift, translucent on top, fading to opaqueness around her hips, then flaring gracefully translucent again from her thighs. Her hair was a glorious flame and her full lips were painted a pouty red.

  “Mr. Stuart. How good to see you. Our church is blessed with your presence.” Her startlingly green eyes looked deep into my own.

  Huh? I didn't see how I blessed it, not when the thoughts running through my mind would have earned an X rating on any children's program in the world.

  “Uh, thank you,” I managed. She was still holding out her hand. I took it with an embarrassed smile.

  She squeezed my hand, and intertwined her fingers with mine as she led me through a door behind the workstation and into a smaller room.

  “Please sit down.” She indicated a spot on a long couch, fronted by a coffee table. There was a caddy at one end of the couch. Those three items were all the furniture the room contained, other than an oversized screen on one wall. “I like my guests to be comfortable. Would you like a drink?” She sat down at the end of the couch where the caddy was located.

  “Whatever you're drinking."

  She dispensed a pink concoction from the caddy, then leaned back and crossed long, slender legs. She faced me with perfect confidence, not in the least intimidated by the coming interview. I wondered how a woman so young had gained such experience in handling reporters.

  She licked her lips and aimed a warm smile at me. “What would you like to talk about?” Not about what I was thinking, that's for sure. I sipped at the pink fluid in my glass. It tasted sweet, but it had a kick. I took a bigger swallow.

  “Why don't we start with an overview of your revelation."

  “Certainly.” She folded her hands in her lap and beamed at me, her face full of divine peace. “I believe that the gates are a direct manifestation of God in all his wonderful mercy. Only his love for humanity could possibly be responsible for the blessing of renewed life and vigor. He saw how divided and fractious we were, how males were too aggressive, females too submissive. The gates represent his desire to allow us to perceive ourselves from the viewpoint of the opposite sex so that we may finally understand ourselves and at last bring peace to the tortured earth."

  As she spoke, she leaned toward me, her face earnest. It looked as if she really believed in what she was saying.

  It still sounded like a sermon to me. “What about those people who enter the gates and don't return? What happens to their chance to look at things differently?"

  “They are the doubly blessed. Those who don't return are united with God immediately."

  “The criminals, too? From what I understand, a high percentage of those who don't make it through are criminals."

  “That's what's so wonderful. God has forgiven them their sins, as he will all of us eventually."

  “And how long will that take?” I couldn't keep a hint of skepticism out of my voice. Like most religious people, she had a quick explanation for everything, if you were willing to twist reality.

  “Why, no longer than the timespan until you enter the heavenly gates for the second time. All who believe will be forgiven and taken to heaven."

  Now I thought I had her. “Then why not go through once, turn right around and go through the second time? Why wait?"

  “Isn't it obvious? When God's gates miraculously change our gender, he is instructing us to live out another life on earth before entering heaven. He wants us to lead others to the light. Just as Jesus’ disciples stayed behind after his ascension to spread the gospel, so must we.” A sweet smile touched those full lips.

  I shook my head. I couldn't help feeling she was enjoying our debate. There was a quick mind behind that sexy exterior. “For the sake of argument, suppose an alien race with advanced technology is responsible for the gates rather than God. Doesn't that make as much sense?"

  “If you believe that, you must not have done your homework. Don't you know researchers are saying the gates are immaterial? No physics ever imagined can explain them."

  That was a good point. But I had an answer. I quoted from an old adage first formalized by a science fiction writer of the last century. “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic."

  “Arthur C. Clarke.” She laughed at my surprise. I hadn't expected someone so young to know Clarke. But now that I thought about it, how old was she, really? On the webs she had appeared to be somewhere in her twenties. Close up, she didn't look a day over eighteen. A chill ran up my spine as I guessed the truth. She must have made a passage through a gate, turning from male to female. She must have been a damned handsome guy, because she'd turned into one gorgeous female.

  “You've been through a gate.” I stated it as a fact.

  Her eyes flickered with alarm before her usual calm expression returned. “Can I persuade you not to publicize that conjecture?"

  “Why do you want to keep it a secret?” I leaned forward, feeling a rush of excitement. Until that moment, the interview was going nowhere. I could have stayed home and watched her preach on the web for all the fresh material I was getting. She'd merely been sprouting her usual sermon.

  “I don't really, but I must in order to bring more souls to the light. Many people resent those of us who have been changed. How did you know?"

  My experience with Donna had helped. As beautiful and feminine as Messilinda was, I had caught nuances of her former male persona in her speech and mannerisms.

  “It doesn't matter. You are in the public eye now. You won't be able to keep this secret for long. If I don't break the news, someon
e else will find out very soon, perhaps someone not as sympathetic as I am."

  She frowned, making faint lines appear on her flawless brow, then leaned back and flashed a radiant smile at me. “Well, in that case, I suppose I'll have to live up to the revelation. God knows what he's doing. In any case, since you're the first to know, I grant you permission to use the knowledge."

  I smiled back, inwardly rubbing my mental hands together in glee. This would be a great story. I pumped her for her former name, birth date and other biographical data. As she talked, I let her hear me tell the phone to run confirmation checks on the data. It didn't faze her in the least, so I assumed she was telling the truth. What was astounding is that she had been born almost a hundred years ago, making her the oldest person I knew of who had made the change.

  No wonder she thought God was responsible.

  When we finished, I stood up. We hadn't talked long, but I was anxious to get back out to the lobby and see if Rita had heard from the folks yet.

  Messilinda stood, too, and took both my hands. She pulled me close to her. I was surprised, but she was a beautiful woman, so a part of me was more than willing to embrace her. As I looked down at a perfect view, she put her arms around my neck. Up close I could smell her subtle perfume and feel the heat of her breasts pressed against my chest. It was easy to forget that she had once been a man. I'd never known her as anything but a woman.

  Her lips parted and her tongue darted into my mouth with an eagerness that had lots of practice behind it. Lost in her scent, I pulled her closer. She lifted one arm and reached behind her. I felt the fabric of her dress under my hands go slack.

  I forgot all about Rita. There's nothing so imperative to a man with a hard on as finding some place to put it. Messilinda squirmed, and her dress fell to the floor. She stepped out of it, and I kicked it away.

  A short time later, I slunk out of Messilinda's office feeling like a kid who has spent his church offering on candy. Why Messilinda had wanted to seduce me was a mystery. It certainly couldn't have been because of my looks. Perhaps she was hoping the act would persuade me to put a favorable slant on my exclusive.

  Rita jumped up as soon as I came into the lobby. “Lee! Your dad called. They made it!"

  Her obvious joy made me feel even worse. “What did they say?"

  “They sent their love and said don't call for a few days, but not to worry; they're fine. I'm so glad, Lee. I was afraid your dad might not make it."

  “Me, too. Come on, I've got some stuff here that won't wait."

  As soon as we got to the car, I asked Rita to drive while I plugged in my phone and began transferring the recording of the interview to my agent, flagging it with an “urgent” icon and asking her to put it out for bids. I used the car screen to make minor revisions as it unwound. I didn't want to take a lot of time to edit it for fear of being scooped. This news was bound to be worth a lot of money.

  Unfortunately, I had forgotten to turn my phone off when the seduction began. “Whoops!” I said, feeling as foolish as a lineman recovering a fumble and then running the wrong way. I cut the recording.

  Rita was staring straight ahead at the road. “Did you enjoy yourself?"

  “It happened so quickly I don't remember.” That part was true. It had happened quickly.

  “I'll bet you don't. My, and with a former man, too. Donna may have some hope after all."

  “Donna? What's she got to do with it?” I didn't understand. But I've already mentioned that I don't understand women.

  “Nothing, nothing. Just so long as Messilinda didn't convert you."

  I could reassure her on that point. As for the rest, she suggested we play the seduction portion of the recording when we were home in bed to see if she could learn any new techniques. I said that she already knew more than enough to satisfy me, and besides, I doubted the phone had caught much of the visual since it was down around my ankles most of the time.

  She laughed. Even though sexual jealousy is considered old-fashioned nowadays, I was still glad to hear that laugh. Lucky for me, Rita was like most people in my generation and enjoyed a variety of lovers. After the universal viricide was invented, sexual mores had relaxed to a degree that our parents still had trouble believing.

  After we got home, Rita did her best to wear me out, and I cooperated until she succeeded. Why is it that a little strange sex makes you hornier than ever for your regular partner? Between one of our couplings, I asked Rita if psychologists had anything to say on the subject.

  “They say men are rabbits in disguise and there's no cure for the condition. Shut up and fuck me again."

  * * * *

  The Messilinda interview (minus the unreported portion) got a big play in Texas and the surrounding states and even a bit of national publicity. It also brought in quite a lot of money, enough to keep us in beans for a while.

  Messilinda's reputation didn't seem to suffer from the revelation that she had been a hundred-year-old man before founding her new religion. On the contrary, it enhanced her status. True believers were more convinced than ever that God had called her to start their religion. The number of her converts continued to grow. Of course, there were more debunkers, too, but that only helped keep her in the public eye.

  While the interview helped build my reputation as a reporter, it had other, unexpected, results at home. Rita blabbed to Donna about how the interview ended with my making love to a woman who was once a man. Within a few days, Donna began overwhelming me with attention. One night I mentioned I was tired, and she offered to give me a backrub. At first the feel of her strong fingers kneading my sore shoulders was pleasant, but soon I became all too aware of her full breasts pressing against my back. I finally had to tell her to stop. Next, she began wearing provocative clothes, especially if we were home alone, and touching me when no touch was called for. When Rita wasn't around, she would sit next to me, smiling in an inviting way and batting her big brown eyes at me.

  It became obvious she'd chosen me to initiate her into sex—probably because Russell was so seldom home. Perhaps in tune with his dedication to science, Russell was a real freethinker when it came to sex, and I suspected there was something going on between them. But Russell had reached a critical point in his work and was spending almost every moment at the lab.

  I didn't know how to deal with Donna's sexual advances. First I tried to laugh it off, but soon I was watching so I wasn't left alone with her. I thought her actions must be obvious to Rita, but she never seemed to notice it, which led me to believe I was probably letting my imagination get the better of me. It was hard to believe my one-time best male friend was trying to seduce me.

  The whole thing finally came to a head one afternoon when Donna and I were home alone. I was in the lounging room, sitting down and reviewing some notes on the screen there while having a small drink.

  Donna must have heard me stirring. She came out of her room dressed in a tight tee shirt and short shorts with the top button unbuttoned and the zipper half way down. I couldn't see a panty line. She sat down beside me, closer than was really necessary.

  I was careful to keep my eyes focused on the screen. “Hi, Donna. Did I wake you up?"

  “No, I wasn't sleeping.” She scrunched closer and put a hand on my thigh. “Actually, I was thinking about you."

  “Me?” I refused to look at her.

  “Yes, you, Lee. Why are you avoiding me?"

  “I'm not.” A pure lie.

  “Yes, you are. You won't even look at me."

  I forced myself to turn and face her. Her eyes were damp. As I watched, a tear broke loose and trickled down her cheek.

  “Donna, what is it?” The sight of her tear-streaked face frightened me.

  She hesitated, watching me from under thick lashes damp with tears, then took the plunge.

  “Rita told you I have an implant, didn't she?"

  Where was Rita when I needed her? I didn't want to talk to Donna about sex, and especially not if I was her targ
et. “Yes, she did. Look, Donna, if that's what you want to do, you don't need my approval. There are plenty of men out there who will find you attractive."

  “But I do need your approval. Don't you understand? I don't want my first time to be with any man. It's got to be someone I know I can trust with my heart and soul. It's you I want to try it with."

  “Oh, hell.” I picked up my drink and took a big swallow.

  “Please, Lee. Don't you see? This is a big step for me. I have a man's memories and a woman's desires. I'm scared. Won't you help me?"

  I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything. I looked away, my mind whirling as I tried to think of a way out of the situation. While my eyes were turned, she slid right up against me. When I turned back, she grabbed my face with both hands and kissed me on the mouth. Her lips were soft and full, like the lips of any desirable woman. For what seemed like an eternity, we kissed while images of the old Don and the new Donna raced through my mind. I felt the beginning of an erection and drew back, half-rising to my feet.

  “No, damn it. Donna, you're my friend, not my lover!"

  “Am I your friend?” Her voice sounded as forlorn as a funeral dirge. Another tear glistened on her cheek.

  “Yes!” What else was there to say? I walked away, leaving her sitting there crying.

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  * * *

  Chapter Nine

  Even after I rejected her attempt at seduction with such finality, Donna continued to treat me with warm affection. Her obvious love made me feel even worse, if possible. She didn't mention the subject again, and I certainly didn't.