Under A Velvet Cloak (26 page)

“That looks like a magic mirror to me,” Molly said.

Kermit turned back to Kerena. “You have an explanation? I assumed you were registered. Everyone is.”

“I’m not. I don’t think you would believe what I am.”

“For the sake of a term romance with a woman as lovely as you, I am ready to believe almost anything.”

She laughed, aware by the intensity of his gaze that the way this shook her flesh excited him. He was a completely normal and manageable male in this respect. “I am a woman, and I do want to be with you. The rest is complicated. Is there somewhere we can go for a private dialogue?”

“A slow coach is private.”

“A slow coach,” she agreed.

He lifted his hand, which now she saw held a small key. The square screen appeared in the air before him. “Slow coach, here, now, destination home.”

A coach appeared behind him, floating. “Just like that,” Kerena murmured appreciatively. “That’s hardly slow.”

“I gather you are unfamiliar with our society,” he said as he guided her onto the step and into the coach. It was plush and dark inside, very comfortable.

They sat on facing couches as the door shut and the coach floated onward. She noted with satisfaction that his gaze was unable to remain clear of her bare legs. It was another confirmation that he was a typical young man, regardless of the future culture. That was important. “I am. For example, I don’t know exactly what a term romance entails, but am ready to accommodate it. Sex?”

He licked his lips. “If we choose.”

“Let’s do that first. Then I must see about obtaining suitable clothing.”

“If you really don’t know our culture, you may not be aware of the range and degree of sexual expression we indulge in. If you prefer to discuss it first-”

She lifted her bare rear, swung it about, and set it on his lap. “I believe I can handle it,” she murmured, nibbling on his ear.

Things proceeded rapidly thereafter. Soon Kermit was naked and panting beside her on the bed that the merging seats had formed, her breasts still pressing against his chest. His delightfully urgent young ardor was spent for the moment. He was in every respect sexually ordinary, and she was perfectly equipped to accommodate his fondest ambitions. Now she had the social advantage, having verified that she could manage him satisfactorily.

“That signal I received was right,” he said. “You have given me more joy in less time than any girl I have been with.”

She slid up so as to put her breasts at his face. She drew him in, his flushed cheek nestled between them. “I am a woman,” she repeated firmly, conscious of the parallel between her tone and her flesh. His sexual urgency had been abated, but breasts had effects on men that went beyond that. She wanted him pacified as she told him what she needed to, to ensure his informed cooperation. “I am older than I look.”

“I guess you must be, because you certainly know what you’re doing. Will you tell me where you are from?”

She kept her Seeing attuned. So far it indicated that she could trust him. “The key is not where, but when.”

“I don’t understand.”

She used her hand to press her upper breast more closely against his face, so that it brushed his mouth in a reverse kiss. She felt his groin stir. Good; his critical mind would be filtered through his recovering desire. He had spoken truly when he said he was ready to believe anything for a relationship with her; men’s minds were opportunistic when sex was in the picture. “I am from your distant past.”

“I think I would have remembered you, even if I knew you when I was three years old.”

She tweaked her breast again. “I mean your culture’s past. About fifteen hundred years.”

He reacted, first trying to laugh, then shocked. She stifled both reactions with her breast, until he relaxed. “You’re not joking, are you?”

“No. I have traveled far into my own future to learn something I need to. I wore no clothing because mine would have given me away as fabulously out of fashion.”

Now he did laugh, and she let him. “I don’t think I should believe you, but there’s something persuasive about you.” He kissed her conducive breast as his groin heated. “What
do
you need to know?”

“How to keep track of a huge number of secrets.”

“That’s easy. You need a database. A relational database.”

“I have no idea what that is. I don’t think such things exist in my time.”

“Nor computers,” he agreed. “I can tell you the basics, but I’m not expert. You’d need to take a class to get competent.”

“If you could arrange that, despite my lack of registration, I would be most appreciative.” She nudged him with her breast again. It had exactly the volume and quality required to be properly persuasive.

“I-Oh, Kerena, can we-?”

She was well ahead of him. “Lie on your back.”

He did. She straddled him and took him in for another effort, letting him hold her breasts as it progressed. “I believe everything!” he cried as he climaxed.

“I think I would prefer to be anonymous as far as others are concerned,” she said as he lay again in spent bliss. “So that you alone understand my nature. I shall be happy to fulfill all the conditions of a term romance, despite it being unregistered.”

“I’ll say you are an anonymous acquaintance. That is an accepted status for those who prefer not to be known, such as ones having conflicts of interest.”

“Such as being married?”

He looked at her with alarm. “You’re married?”

“No. Not at all. But I wouldn’t mind if others assumed that. It would prevent them asking awkward questions.”

He smiled. “Yes. I’ll register you as an anonymous illicit romance, and no one will inquire further. How jealous the boys will be! You don’t mind my pride in that?”

“Not at all. But I assume that this romance limits us to each other.”

“A closed romance does.
Good
enough.
I’ll do it now.” He fetched his key from his clothing and made the screen appear. “Kermit and Kerena committing to a fortnight romance, she illicitly anonymous.”

“Screen name Kerena, illicitly anonymous,” the woman agreed. She glanced at Kerena. “Mutually agreed?”

Kerena realized that this was to be sure there was no coercion. “Yes.”

“Registered,” the woman said to Kermit. She smiled. “Congratulations. She’s spectacular.”

“Thanks.” The screen vanished. “See-even the clerk sees I have a
good
thing. She can’t figure why a creature like you would waste her time on a nothing like me.”

“But you’re a handsome man!”

“I have not yet graduated from trade college, and my grades are mediocre. My family has no political power. My face is my fortune, and that’s not enough for ambitious girls. I am not even a great lover.”

That was an advantage, for Kerena, because she could readily lead him. “You are fine for me.”

He glanced at her cannily. “Like an older man tackling an innocent girl, delighting in her virginal naivete?”

“I’ll never tell.” She drew him in for a languorous kiss. Actually, there was much truth in the analogy. She did like seducing a relative innocent. That type was far more malleable than cynically experienced older men.

By the time the slow coach conveyed them to his home, they had achieved sex a third time, and he was thoroughly committed to her privacy and welfare. As with any young man, he was smitten with her. This was an advantage of the term romance: he knew there was a limit, so breaking up with him would not be ugly. This was a social concept she would take back with her.

Kermit’s family was nice about his sudden term romance, in part because they too were struck by Kerena’s young beauty. They let her share his room, and they provided her with suitable clothing: iridescent blouses, metallic skirts, and wooden boots. She was uncertain about those last.

“They are floaters,” Kermit explained. “So you can step across flowerbeds, ponds, whatever. You had better practice to get control of them. Folk would wonder if you floated out of control.” He demonstrated, rising from the floor. “You apply them slowly, and use your calves to keep yourself steady.”

Kerena tried it-and promptly landed on the bed, her feet flying up. Those boots really did float!

“I love the view,” Kermit said as he helped her get her legs down. “But just barely press your toes on the contacts, slowly, slowly. You’ll get the hang of it.”

She did, and did use the sturdy upper sections of the boots to brace her body upright. That was why they were so solid: to take the strain off the ankles. These were very nice seemingly magic boots, and quite comfortable inside.

But there was something that interested her more. “That key that makes the picture-what is that?”

“Oh, that’s my spot projector. It’s a virtual communicator.”

“A what?”

He nodded. “I guess those didn’t exist in 500 AD. Here, I’ll show you.” He held up the key. It had little buttons along its sides. “Press here to log on to the Net.” He pressed, and the square screen appeared, this time with no woman’s face. “Here to project my computer.” A panel marked with assorted symbols in jumbled order appeared. Kerena, used to script, could barely decipher them, until she realized that they were stylized versions of the alphabet. He touched his fingertips rapidly to the panel, and letters appeared on the screen above it.

“Could those be shown in script?” Kerena asked.

“Sure.” He touched a combination, and suddenly the text was in legible script. I lovey
ou Kerena.

“Oh!” He had caught her by surprise.

“Yes, I know: you have to go in two weeks. But in that time, what an emotional fling I’ll have! In fact-”

She moved into him, kissed him, and took him down on the bed, obliging his so readily roused ardor. But she was careful never to indicate that her sex drive was as strong as his; she wanted always to seem to be doing him a favor.

“As if that mature man with the teen girl is obliging her passion, rather than his,” Molly remarked enviously. “Very nice trick if you can maintain the pretense.”

“Who spoke?” Kermit asked.

Oops. Kerena would have jumped back a few seconds, but wasn’t quite sure that would be enough, considering his occasional ability to receive thoughts. “I have a confession. There is someone else with me.”

“In your mind?”

“Yes. The ghost of another woman, my friend Molly. She likes you too.”

“There are no ghosts.”

“You might call her a telepathic projection. An alternate personality.”

“Do you have multiple personality disorder?”

“I prefer to consider her the ghost of a friend.”

He smiled. “Very well. What is this about obliging passion?”

Kerena wasn’t sure what was safe. Some men did not like the notion of women having sex drives. “I am not pretending when I enjoy sex with you. It’s fun for me too.”

“And for Molly?”

“Yes!” Molly said.

He gazed at her. “I received that. If Molly is one of your personalities, then it would not be a violation of our term romance if she participated.”

“I’m a personality,” Molly agreed quickly.

Kerena decided not to argue. “You were showing me your-computer.”

“So I was. You type on the virtual keyboard, and the virtual screen shows it. It’s good for writing notes to friends. Of course it’s easier to speak it instead.”

“To speak it?”

“Now I have two girlfriends: Kerena and Molly,” he said. As he spoke, the words appeared on the screen, in script.

“Oh!” Kerena exclaimed, delighted. “Can I do that?”

“Speak”

“I love this magic.” Her words appeared on the script screen. The word “magic” was marked in color.

“That means the syntax program is querying whether that is the correct word, there being no such thing as magic.”

That was another case Kerena decided not to argue. “Science,” she said, and suddenly that word replaced the other. “Whatever it is, I still love it. But can it be rendered into a scroll?”

“And you lacked printed books in your day, of course,” Kermit said. “Let me print it out as a scroll. For this, a virtual device won’t do, because I presume you want it physical.”

“Yes, because that way I can keep it.”

Something made a whirring noise in the corner of the room. Paper emerged from a slit. It was a small scroll. On it was written I love this sci-ence.

Amazed, Kerena hugged the paper.

“But you know, that’s an archaic way of saving information,” Kermit said. “A database is better, as I said before. Not only is it more convenient, it can store more information that a whole library building of physical books.”

“I want to learn about that.”

“Then probably you should take a course in it. Then you’ll know more than you’ll ever need.”

“A course. Is that like apprenticing?”

He smiled. “You really are out of touch. Why don’t I just sign you up for the course?”

“Yes, please, do
.
That’s what I came here for, I’m sure. I’m so pleased.”

“And here we’ve just made love, so I can’t take advantage of the moment.”

Sex, of course, was never far from a young man’s mind. But the excitement had turned her on too. “A change of partners can work wonders. Try it with Molly.”

“Oooo!” Molly said enthusiastically.

Kerena gave Molly the body, and they went at it. Meanwhile Kerena considered what she had learned. The tiny key was an avenue to all manner of communications, including what she needed: a way to save a great deal of information. Yet how could all that fit inside the key? She didn’t quite trust this; there must be something she hadn’t yet discovered.

“Glorious!” Molly said as they climaxed together. “Where were you when I existed alive?”

“One and a half millennia downtime,” Kermit said, kissing her. “But we’re together now.”

Molly kissed him back, avidly. “Oh, yes!”

Next day Kerena registered for the database class. Because she was anonymous here she couldn’t receive college credit for it, but otherwise she was a full participant. There were nineteen other students in the class, boys and girls in their late teens, few of whom seemed really interested. It turned out they were taking it for required credit and hardly cared about the subject. Kermit joined her, his interest having been stimulated by hers. Also, she half suspected, he wanted to be sure she developed no other male interest there. Considering her appearance, readily the prettiest girl in the class, this precaution seemed sensible. She preferred having him there, because she was not at all comfortable on her own in this odd advanced culture.