Spaceways - Corundums Woman Part 4

"Sorry you had to hear that, beautiful. Now that I've relieved you of that thing's presence, why don't you join me?"

She looked at him, glanced at the doorway, looked at him.

"No," Verley said, and hurried to the exit.

"Good thing," she heard a voice say in an un-Sek accent, " 'cause if she'd joined you then we couldn't've. You got room for three s.p.a.cefarers, haven't ya, jacko?"

Verley glanced back. The three s.p.a.cefarers were pulling out chairs to join the man. The middle one was a native of the planet Jarpi.

Someone said, "What'syer hurry, Oasis?" as Verley pa.s.sed, and someone else corrected sarcastically, "What's ya hurry, Sunflower?" But that was wasted on Verley, who was not familiar with the pejorative for Jarp-lover. Someone else reached for her as she hurried past, and some crude s.p.a.cefarer said, "Lookit them warheads swing and bounce!" Verley, large unfettered b.r.e.a.s.t.s indeed alive and lively within her jallaba of beige, yellow, and pale blue, ignored the voices and thumped away the reaching hand with a large swinging hip.

57.She pa.s.sed out of the bar into the little tunnel-like corridor, eyes searching, and followed the loop-and-ramp to the lobby. Eyes seeking. Verley, Seeking. And there was the smiling Jarp, facing her. Waiting for her, smiling!

It extended an orange hand. Four fingers flanked by two long thumbs.

Since she couldn't think of anything to say and had been following the most exciting, uh, being she had ever met, Verley took the hand.

It felt nice. Warm, large, long-fingered. A nice hand. The orange digits did look strange overlapping her sort-of hazel ones, but that was part of the excitement. She felt no difference in pressure from its two thumbs. That must be very . . . handy.

Sekhar was so conservative. This person was not only from off Sekhar but a s.p.a.cefarer, a s.h.i.+p's crew-member! And altogether different as well; excitingly different. She loved the way Tweedle had faced down that man in the lounge. Big-ears! The man was a bigot. Verley had vowed never to be a bigot. And besides, this non-androgynous manIwoman combination was s.e.xy.

(All conservatives were dull, Verley's liberal friends told her. That's what conservative meant. And they were all bigots, her liberal friends a.s.sured her. All of them. They hated all dull conservatives or were contemptuous of them, at the very least.) .

Verley and the Jarp were in the hotel's sprawling artificial-planty lobby. Some people were looking. Two were staring, including that woman in the scandalous scarlet-and-gold "skirt" that was cut on the bias and showed one hip and most of her un-Sekhari legs. And almost everything else, too. Most of these people were s.p.a.cefarers. They had better things to do than look at a t.i.tsy Jarp and a t.i.tsy local holding hands and looking moony at each other.

"Tll-loodl'l-" the Jarp began, and touched or turned something on its helmet of straps. "I am on Sekhar," it began again, "and neither Sek nor human, 58."nor man nor woman. It is definitely best that I quit the bar tonight and forget it. Perhaps you would show me the town? First I will need to go up to my room and take a pherinotal, against the heat. Will you come along?"

"Will you tell me all about s.p.a.ce, and-Jarps?"

"Of course not. We have a s.e.xual interest in each other, and no time to talk all about s.p.a.ce and Jarps or Jarpi, my planet."

It was turning, slowly. Their hands were still entwined. Verley moved with the Jarp. Staring, astonished, affronted, impressed, charmed. Her eyes were bright. Verley, Seeking.

"Please p.r.o.nounce your name again," Verley said.

They were ascending the first broad carpeted set of stairs. Powered elevators would be a silly luxury, on Sekhar. Besides, the Imperial Hotel was only three storeys high. Since there was hardly anyplace else on Sekhar for anyone to come from, the hotel's business derived almost exclusively from s.p.a.cefarers. Not many of them came, either, to Sekhar.

"You still couldn't p.r.o.nounce it," the Jarp said. "But I have not heard your name at all."

"Verley," said Verley, and was distracted by a man bounce-running down the stairs toward them.

His skin was the color of excellent bronze and his eyes slightly atilt. His hair was intensely black and vehemently straight. He was human, a Galactic, but not of Sekhar. He wore black tights in black boots under a silky-s.h.i.+ny yellow tunic emblazoned with a wonderful dragon. And he wore a stopper. Few s.p.a.ceport cities dared tried to prohibit the wearing of side-arms by s.p.a.cefarers. Perhaps some men and women were more arrogant, for that. On the other hand, manners and politeness were back in vogue. Sekhar prohibited nothing to s.p.a.cefarers. Not many of them came to Sekhar.

Verley saw this one's eyes take her in and saw herself pa.s.s the appraisal with high marks. That was life 59.to her: being found desirable, being found wanted. She saw the man's tilty eyes swerve toward her tall companion.

"Ho, Sweetface! Already found the best-looking woman on Sekhar, eh?" Grinning, he swung his black-eyed gaze back to Verley. "Be careful, little girl! You know what they say about Jarps!"

Then he had bounded on by, grinning.

"A ... friend?" Verley asked. They reached the landing, turned, and started up another purple-carpeted flight.

"s.h.i.+pmate. His name is Sakyo."

"S- What kind of name is that?"

"A name-name, Verley. He's from Terasaki."

That's a planet, she remembered. "And he called you Sweetface?"

"Pos." The Jarp sighed, still holding her hand. "It's what I am called. They can't p.r.o.nounce my name. Are you laughing?"

"No." After a moment, "Why should I be laughing? They can't p.r.o.nounce your name so they give you a nickname. He's a-a s.h.i.+pmate," she said, tasting the exotica of it and liking the flavor. "And besides, you have a sweet face."

"So have you. Would you be offended to be called Sweetface?"

"No." And Verley, who had heard herself called a number of things, said, "Really. It must be hard then, being a Jarp? When no one can p.r.o.nounce your real name and everyone else is ... is ... not Jarpese?"

"Just Jarp. From Jarpi. The planet Jarpi. In some ways it's hard. Not in all ways. Do you prefer women or men?"

"What?"

"Since I combine both s.e.xes, I am a true hermaphrodite. All Jarps are. I can be what some people call 'all things to all people.' It isn't true, but it sounds good."

"Oh. I ... I prefer . . . I like both . . . uh-"

60."Say it?"

". . . Men."

Her hand was squeezed. Four long orange fingers, two thumbs. "Good. Think how nice to be able to suck each other's b.r.e.a.s.t.s and have p.e.n.i.s in you too!"

She made a sort of attempt to reclaim her hand. The Jarp did not allow it. It was a half-hearted attempt, anyhow. "You are . . . forward. Outspoken. That is not the way we are, we Seks."

"I just say what everybody thinks and wishes it had nerve to say. It isn't that Jarps have so much nerve, Verley. We are just straightforward. So, everyone thinks we are h.o.r.n.y all the time."

Verley had never heard such talk. While she was trying to be Sekly affronted, she was giggling. "But you're not?"

"I am," Sweetface said. "This way."

About forty seconds after they were in Sweetface's room she was being kissed, and she was kissing back. Red, red hair and her black waves; orange skin and hazel; b.r.e.a.s.t.s against b.r.e.a.s.t.s-except that the Jarp was taller, of course. So she stood on tiptoe, and its hands on her b.u.t.tocks tugged her loins against its bulging tights. It was a long kiss, and the hands were never still on her bottom, through the jallaba. Vanity made her hold the cheeks taut.

"I ... I believe," she said, a little short of breath, "you said you needed to take a ... a-"

"Pherinotal," Sweetface said, "if I'm going out. I probably should, although it was also a fine way to bring you up here. You smell good, Verley. You feel good." It kissed her forehead. "Please do wait."

"Oh I will," Verley said, as it left her.

Sweetface returned to find her staring out the window at Refuge's lights. It came up behind her, but did not touch her. That surprised Verley. She was available; didn't her vulnerable back show that? Untouched, she did not know what to do. After a long moment she moved just a little forward before she 61.turned, so that her prominent backside would not rub the bulge in its tights.

"Please tell me about s.p.a.ce. s.p.a.cefaring, and what it's like. What is the name of your s.h.i.+p?"

"Coronet," Sweetface said, and made a call downstairs, and over the lukewarm beer it had ordered they talked for a long while.

Eventually, their coming together was natural. They knew each other. Feeling possessed by long arms, feeling a tongue demanding entry to her mouth, Verley decided to think of Sweetface as "he." (It was a slender, unusually sinuous tongue, more than a little pointed at the tip.) She was intensely aware of the pressure of his very male organ against her loins, despite the softness of anomalous b.r.e.a.s.t.s. The kiss lengthened and she was grinding against b.r.e.a.s.t.s and p.e.n.i.s alike. Her garment's velcro fastening proved neither mystery nor obstacle to the s.p.a.cefarer. Just as easily he wiped the jallaba from her shoulders. As the fabric began sagging from her body, she set her hands to his halter. Their hands eased onto each other's b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

Then she was marveling that Sweetface really did have these nice firm-soft feminine lobes. Just like hers, except for color and size!-and too this real true manful pump that she just had to bring out of his trunks. It became sensible that they pause long enough to strip. Yes, it was real, all right! It was slim, and not long. She realized that his oasis would be small, too. There was, after all, only so much room down there. She hated to ask silly questions and despite her marriage and subsequent experience, Verley remained shy about s.e.xual matters and talk. She'd have to look up Jarps. Tomorrow. She was not one to touch, to explore, to fondle. Dat had taught her to be a lady.

She was aroused and as a lady she was ready to be stretched out and pumped. They became naked and in bed and for a long while her lover's hands and mouth delighted themselves with her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Eventually that 62.smallish mouth lifted from nipples grown dark and fat. Orange hands stilled their lovely stroking of her.

"I love your warheads."

"I'm glad," she said lazily, also liking the. s.p.a.ce-farer's slang.

He looked at her for awhile, and was still, so that she wondered if something might be wrong. Then, "You don't like mine, Verley?"

"I love them, Sweetface!" The name came naturally to her tongue, and it sounded fine and was all right.

"Then . . . come alive. We are not children. I am not a boy, and girls I ignore. You have my hands and mouth on you. Give me yours. I'll love it."

To Verley such a statement, such a thought and implied criticism, were more a blow than a challenge. It hurt and frightened her. Her heart pounded and her brain whirled. Her stomach threatened to knot. And she had thought everything was going so well! She had been enjoying so much.

She considered, and chewed her lip, feeling desolate . . . and asked some questions and revealed some things. Talking almost mechanically, not quite looking at Sweetface, she talked of herself, and of Dat. She revealed how much experience she had had-with bodies. Without quite saying the words so cruelly, her Jarp lover let her know that she was not experienced; she had "made love" with a lot of bodies, doing the same things-or rather not doing the same things- over and over, without ever really learning anything. For instance: how to be a lover, a partic.i.p.ant, rather than merely a willing object.

And then Verley changed forever. With an alien, she learned that lovemaking was far more than different bodies, and being done to.

At twenty-four she reached the end of her girlhood and began to work at being a woman. It had never occurred to her that it was not automatic, even though she realized by now that Dat was more boy than man. He was also pitifully repressed. And now she knew that 63.she was too and had been right along, while she had thought herself all free, a modern sophisticated woman!

She changed. And she began acting as a woman. She liked it. She loved it! She liked the taste of the Jarp, and the way it licked and sucked and fondled. Sweetface kept making happy noises that encouraged her. After another time Sweetface suggested, urged that she too provide feedback signals, support or positive reinforcement, by making happy sounds. She did. It was nice to let go and let the sounds emerge! She overdid it, but she was learning.

They wallowed naked, rather noisily, while they made love mutually in celebration of each other, and it was wonderful.

Dat had expected her to be a lady, the epitome-or, rather, nadir-of Sekhari repression. An object to which he "made love"-briefly, in the dark. That she became, and that she remained, after the divorce. She had felt that it was working, with a succession of partners. Bodies. Now . . . this s.p.a.cefarer was a lover, sophisticated and accustomed to lovers, not objects. It expected a lover and Verley became one. She opened up more and more. She dared more and more; did and enjoyed more and more.

What fun to seek itsIhis approval and pleasure while she knew that Sweetface was seeking hers!

In a room of the Imperial Hotel, with a non-human who had been a stranger only hours before, Verley popped open like a seedpod. She would never be the same. She was sucked and fondled and she fondled and sucked b.r.e.a.s.t.s and, for the first tune, a (small, slim) pump. (Slicer, the Jarp called it.) And she was fondled and sucked and sliced as well, and she loved it.

She also came twice and enjoyed herself more than she ever, ever had. With an orange non-human. In one night it increased her lifetime o.r.g.a.s.m total by two-thirds! She would never be the same and she was more than glad; she was ecstatic. She was also proud. This because of a non-human being called a Jarp, 64.which dared talk and suggest, and which was a true lover rather than a ... pumper.

She stayed. She slept just wonderfully.

She was still there in the morning when the other Jarp came in.

That was shocking and sort of scary. Verley had not considered that Sweetface might have a companion, a Jarp roommate who spent the night elsewhere. (With a Sekhari man or woman? Verley later remembered to wonder.) Clutching the covers to her, she soon learned that the two Jarps were lovers, s.h.i.+pmates on Coronet. The other seemed somehow more feminine than masculine, as Sweetface was a bit more male than female. The other gave its name as Whistle, but Sweetface reminded it that its name was Tweedle-dee. Tweedle-dee, Verley realized, was not too bright. Verley remained terribly uncomfortable. . . .

Then Tweedle-dee stripped and came smiling to join them!

Verley was ready to jump and run, naked or not. . . for about four minutes. She wasn't being raped or attacked. It was more lovemaking, now extended laterally. Now it was Sweetface and Verley and Tweedle-dee, and it didn't take Verley long to begin to feel unfortunate, being a human and having only a s.e.xual receptacle. The Jarps had both plug and socket, each. (Small, both and each.) Never had she been kissed and licked and caressed so much. Never had she done so much kissing and fondling and licking and palpating not to mention palpitating! When it happened, he was wet and open everywhere and it was natural and wonderful. Only after a minute or two did it occur to Verley that she had never before contained two pumps, either.

She loved it, and just kept on sliding her fingers in and out of a small alien oasis while two alien pumps glided in her and she fondled and sucked a swollen red-orange nipple.

4.

A man's success in business today turns upon his power of getting people to believe he has something that they want, Gerald Stanley Lee Sekhar was a planet Kenowa would be happy to forget and she wished she had stayed on the s.h.i.+p.

Outside the sun was blue-white, and Sekhar was too close to it for comfort. Some Sekhari said it was true that Sekhar's colonization was an accident, result of near-disaster that forced their ancestors to land here, and remain. Some said other negative things about their hotbox world. Let offworlders complain or denigrate the planet, though, and those same Seks took offense. Sekhari were called "Seks" and they were called "testy," among other things.

They were a lot testier in summer.

Those Galactics who now considered themselves native Sekhari, after several hundred years' worth of generations, had adapted eventually. Too bad that s.h.i.+p hadn't been loaded with those darkest brown people most of whom had originated in the vanished black 65.66.race of Homeworld. The s.h.i.+p had not. Those it had brought here adapted, and their descendants adapted and coped and now seemed not to mind. Sekhar was their planet.

Some few wore optic filters and put up with them inside. Even fewer wore gla.s.ses at all times. The pho-toptiks darkened immediately upon exposure to ultraviolet, and to any desired degree, and cleared as soon as one returned inside or turned from a window not made of photoptik pla.s.s. Such gla.s.ses were not popular because of human vanity and estheticism. Who wanted to wear spectacles all the time when no one had to wear them to see, ever?

Most Seks, then, and all visitors wore dark gla.s.ses outside. One learned quickly to cover the eyes before stepping out. There were laws about the composition and tint of windowgla.s.s, on Sekhar. Gla.s.smaking was a major industry, on Sekhar.

There was lots of sand on Sekhar.

Dark gla.s.ses were called "darkeyes." There could be no confusion as to what one referred to, since there was no such thing as eyes other than dark. Darkeyes were of many hues and styles right up through ornate and into ludicrous. They tended to eclectic shape and ornamentation unto over-ornamentation. Styles and popular colors in darkeyes came and went just as they did in cosmetics and furnis.h.i.+ngs, sashes and boots. Many were clipped to the long duckbills of Sekcaps or Waynes, the broad-brimmed headgear some remembered to call ten-gallon hats, without knowing why. (Everyone knew "ten" and "hat"; but what sort of creature was or had been a "gallon"?) Darkeyes snapped up or down at the touch of a finger to a b.u.t.ton or tiny lever.

Most Sekhari wore the "native" headdress called a kaffey. It had begun simply as a circle of cloth with a section cut away. The center of the circle was plopped onto the head. The rest of the cloth formed a skirt around the head with the cut-away area, of 67.course, at the face. Any sort of band or piece of rope held it in place. Over the years a stiff bill had been added, to facilitate the snapping up of darkeyes. Sek-hari kept their heads covered inside, because it was convenient. One uncovered when one was at home at day's end. Over the years that, naturally, had gotten all caught up in custom and taboo. Now many believed that heads really weren't meant to be seen by anyone save one's own family. Fanatics removed their headgear only at home and in the dark.

Kaffey bills-called beaks-were stiff and slightly curved in a sort of jaunty quarter-circle. Every beak had two standard attachments for darkeyes, of which everyone except the very poorest had more than one set and usually more than three.

Seks tended to have pale circles around the eyes, and darkish marks on either side of their noses.

Under any circ.u.mstances, Sekhar's sun was just too much for the eyes to take.

Men and most women wore their hair short, on Sekhar. Not that much of anyone ever saw it.

Most people wore loose robes, on Sekhar. There was a great deal of white and yellow and the pallid turquoise of readout panels and ALL CLEAR b.u.t.tons, and white-shot skyblue, on Sekhar. And beige, too much beige and the color called "sand." Only the rich and ostentatious wore dark robes, so that everyone might know they wore coolsuits beneath. Seks laughed at a dark-robed person with a sweaty face; that person was faking it, trying to appear wealthier than it was. Kenowa thought Sekhar was really dull. Also hot. Temperature on s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p Coronet was maintained at twenty-four degrees-usually, almost always, except when glitches occurred. (It was frequently upped to twenty-five in Captain Jonuta's cabin, and when Kenowa was present it tended to run up another degree Celsius.) A nice gentle winter temperature on Sekhar was thirty-two, which would have been about ninety on the ancient scale some still liked to 68.joke about. Summer on white-cloudedIcloudless, electric azure-sky'd Sekhar was not even discussed.

Some hotels strove to maintain temperatures of twenty-six or twenty-seven for their idea of the comfort of offplanet guests; locals complained and staff dressed warmly.

The Wet Sand Oasis saw few s.p.a.cefarers but, ever in hope, maintained a nice twenty-seven-degree temperature. Too many centigrades. Way too many. Alcohol raised the body temperature and was better consumed in nice cool places. Maybe about a shade over twenty-two degrees, Kenowa thought. So she happily gave the locals something to look at on Coronet's mercifully infrequent visits here. Some were scandalized. So? It was a free planet in a free galaxy. No one had to look at Kenowa.

She and Jonuta had arrived in the Wet Sand over an hour ago, wearing kaffeys, darkeyes, and the voluminous white cloaks all non-Seks called Sektents. They had entered a couple of minutes after the arrival of Coronet crewmember Sweetface, in company with last night's conquest. Kenowa liked the large bosomy woman and the way she was so attached to Sweetface. Yet she-her name was Verley, she said- knew that he would leave this lounge and then this planet without her. She just wanted to stay with him as long as possible. Kenowa knew about that kind of attachment, and it made her wonder idly just how great Sweetface might be as a lover. He was at the bar now, which had a human attendant, and Verley was right there with him. It.

The two Union Security men-locally hired bodyguards-turned up one minute after Jonuta and Kenowa. The rent-a-guards affected not to be together. They took seats on opposite sides of the room. The one on the right side was, as Jonuta had specified, left-handed.

"I should make liars," Jonuta said, "of those who call me Captain Cautious?"

69.Both rent-a-guards wore large nasty guns, low-tech high-noise things that hung in holsters on their aisle-side hips. Both men were fast, good, and surly. They were an additional expense, a hopefully needless precaution. The heat tended to make people short of temper and downright mean on Sekhar, and Jonuta had already set a record for survival. Nearly eighteen years as a slaver, alive and unimprisoned. The record was the result of brilliance, attention to details, keeping up with technology and the opposition, luck, and constant caution. Captain Cautious.