Mindbridge (8 page)

Jacque and Carol put new plastic inserts in two of the breathers and slipped on the masks. They didn’t strap the tanks on their backs, but carried them through the airlock into the chamber.

The drop in pressure made their ears pop.

“Not exactly the honeymoon suite,” Jacque said. Bright white enamel walls and black tile floor, an aquarium full of muddy water on a table in the middle. A folding cot borrowed from the infirmary. Video cameras.

“Omnia vincit Amor,” Carol said.

“We’ll see.” They led each other to the cot. In passing, Jacque threw his jacket over one of the cameras.

“They said the cameras wouldn’t be on,” Carol said. Jacque was taking his shirt off, a tricky business, since it was a turtleneck. He had to worry it over the mask, then thread it down over the airhose and tank. “That’s what they said.” He threw the shirt over the other camera.

Carol’s semiformal jumpsuit presented no problem. She ran her finger down the seam and shrugged it off, folded it neatly and set it on the table by the aquarium. She smiled at him, groped through the murky water and fished out the bridge. It was wet, but not slimy.

“This should be fun.” She sat down next to him on the cot. He stroked her gently, made no move to touch the bridge.

She stretched out on the cot, put her head in his lap, lifted her mask enough to kiss him, then lick.

He ruffled her short hair. “You don’t waste time.”

“I don’t feel like wasting time.” She urged him down. While they were shifting, making room on the narrow cot, they touched the bridge:

 
JACQUE
                       
CAROL

 
Disconcertingly
        
“But quick so

 
accurate closeup
       
quick. . . “Blurred

 
of his face, then
      
picture of various

 
genitals super-
        
parts of her body,

 
imposed “So
            
shifting “Skin

 
nervous he is,
         
hot.”

so solid.”

“I’m not nervous,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

“Of course not.” She ran a finger down his chest.

“Hair’s growing back.”

“Have to-hey!”

“Sorry, ticklish?”

“Only the navel, never could . . . that’s better.”

“I should hope.” She put his hand on her breast and touched the bridge again.

 
JACQUE
                       
CAROL

 
Her eyes closed
        
Her face the sudden

 
he sees dark red
       
curve of her hip “So

 
feels fingers
          
hot, soft, so like...

 
bump over hard
         
so like. . . not to

 
nipple pleasure
        
think, not to think. . .”

 
two places
             
His hand moving over

 
“Think something
       
her breast A BEACH IN

 
sexy”. . . NOT
         
BRIGHT SUN A SLENDER

 
THINK See her
          
GIRL “Not to think

 
mind see his
           
Maria not to think...”

hand “What not

think?”

“Don’t censor yourself,” she said softly. “She looks like me? In your mind she does.”

“Did.” He traced a line with his finger, down her ribs, waist, hard bump of her hipbone.

 
JACQUE
                       
CAROL

 
Warm wake of
           
Sliding down hot

 
pleasure follows
       
damp skin “See her

 
his finger belly
       
jump” and

 
jumps in nervous
       
over sand papery

 
reflex “O hurry O
      
stubble down along-

 
hurry” over the
        
side it stop then part

 
little tendon
          
lips from bottom so

 
corner and down-
       
hot so wet slide up

 
“There O now
           
and find it MARIA

 
hurry” lips part-
      
RUNNING UP FROM

 
ing wet sound
          
THE WATER SHE SITS

 
breath holding
         
ON MY BLANKET DRY-

 
“There O no too
        
ING HAIR LEGS APART

 
hard O-here
            
PINK MYSTERY IN

 
BAD BOY here!”
         
BLONDE HALO “No

                         
bad boy” slippery

                         
here “Too hard?

                         
I...”

“Here.” She let go of the bridge for a second to position his hand.

 
JACQUE
                       
CAROL

 
“Still now” she
        
“So ready!”

 
thrusts against
        
“Don’t press

 
him twice breath-
      
she knows still now.”

 
ing once deep
          
“I ...”

anus tightening

“O.. Oh” away
          
“How can...”

and back again

 
slow featherlight
      
“?”

 
circling touch
         
“Jesus!”

 
“. . .”

hot pulses two

 
“. . .”

three diminishing

“. . . Oh.”

radiate tingling

“. . . Oh, Jacque.”

“Oh, Jacque.” She rubbed her forehead against his chest, wiping off sweat. He let go of the bridge to hold her tightly.

He swallowed twice. “You don’t need much warming up, do you?”

She giggled into his chest. “It’s been over a week. Can’t touch yourself in a suit.”

“You had all day,” he said.

“Saved it.” She resumed rubbing him. “Is this all right?”

“Fine.” He glided the edge of his hand down her backbone, skin slick and cooling. “That was something.” His fingers rested lightly at the top of the crevice between her buttocks, his thumb making little circles in a lumbar dimple. “It’s different than with men.”

“Better?”

“Different.”

She stopped panting. “It wouldn’t be so fast. . . but the bridge! It’s like. . . it’s like. . . being both people. Not quite that, something like that. Exciting.”

It wasn’t like that for Jacque. “Good, good.” For Jacque, it was like being watched.

“We don’t have to hold on to the bridge with our hands,” she said. “How about this?” She rolled over so her back was toward Jacque. “Take me longer this way.” She reached over her shoulder and slipped the bridge between her back and Jacque’s chest.

 
JACQUE
                       
CAROL

 
“If I try think
        
soft nest “God!

 
about something
        
crawly bug trapped

 
else” feel of him
      
spider get it

 
wilting on her
         
away!”

“CRAWLY TRAPPED

SPIDER”

He almost pushed her off the cot, squirming away from contact with the bridge. “I’m sorry, it. . . let’s just hold on to it with our hands. Then we can drop it if-“

“You felt trapped.”

“It was trapped.”

She reached back to hold him. “Jacque, you aren’t afraid of me, are you? Afraid to let me inside-“

“No. No, I like it.” Not a complete lie. “Just let’s keep the bridge . . . at arm’s length. I don’t like it touching me. I don’t like it so close.”

“All right.” She set the creature by her abdomen. “Can you reach it here?”

“Yeah.” They touched the bridge and with her free hand she guided him into her.

 
JACQUE
                       
CAROL

 
“There” pushing
        
Quick shiver good

 
back him warm
          
going in then slight

 
against her “Tell
      
resistance overcome

 
now Maria”
             
buttocks surprising

 
NO CAN’T staying
       
cold “No I can’t”

 
then slow then
         
staying then drawing

 
fast, holding
          
back slowly and

 
tense
                  
quick thrust holding

tense “All right”

“All right.” Both of them eyes closed, faces flushed. Carol stroking him gently, “I trust you,” he said:

 
JACQUE
                       
CAROL

 
Hot wet Trust
          
“Trust you” SITTING

 
“She is like me
        
ON MY BLANKET DRY-

 
with hair-“
            
ING HAIR LEGS APART

 
slick cold outside
     
SHE LOOKING AWAY

 
going in slow hard
     
THEN LOOK DOWN

 
HARD out quick
         
AND SEE ME HARD

 
in slow
                
THEN WHAT REALLY

 
out
                    
HAPPEN SHE LAUGH

 
in
                     
AND SAY YOU GROW-

 
“But Jacque
            
ING UP JACQUES AND

 
you not here”
          
PAT MY KNEE AND

 
in, out in, “Feel
      
RUN AWAY DOWN THE

 
ME Jacque,” out in
     
SAND LAUGHING BUT

 
SHE ON TOP
             
I ALWAYS

 
I LOVED SHE
            
REMEMBER THERE’S

 
DIED
                   
NOBODY ELSE THERE

 
 
“JACQUE”
              
AND WE PLAY TO-

                         
GETHER AND SHE ON

                         
TOP OF ME ON THE

                         
BLANKET SHE SHOWS

                         
ME HOW

                         
“I loved her she was

                         
my sister she died”

“She died when. . . I was twelve when she died.”

“Jacque.” She reached blindly back and touched his cheek, eyes. “My poor Jacque.”

They tried five different sexual geometries in the next hour, Carol becoming fairly exhausted after nine or ten orgasms. Jacque was even more exhausted by the strain of none.

He could start but he couldn’t finish. Not with another person’s thoughts, however attractive, intruding on his privacy; not with his own fantasies being reflected back to him distorted by Carol’s sympathies- and by her revulsion sometimes, though she tried to mask it.