“Well?” I asked expectant.
“I need permission.” I grabbed her by the back of the neck and guided her face to my cock which almost greedily swallowed it with its lubricant producing mouth. I worked her head up and down with my hand. My implant comm link buzzed. It was the city’s communication central. It was a call from the President.
“President of the Union?” I asked surprise evident in my voice.
“No the company, switching it to your view screen now.” I pulled Jazz off my cock, her mouth making a soft sucking pop as she disengaged, and quickly flipping the sarong over my engorged member looked up at the screen as the face of the President and CEO of Off World Mining appeared.
“Mr. Dunn, I hope I’m not interrupting anything?” He had a smirk on his face. Richard, ‘Dick(head)’, Johnson was said to be 96 year’s old, but thanks to cloning/ growth hormone treatments, looked like he was maybe 45. He was ruthless to his competition, when there was any, but kind to his employees. He had been at the forefront
of the economic justice movement of the last 60 years. No more uber rich, no more uber poor, just one vast diverse middle class. With the revolution in Robotics technology, human’s had been freed from the need to do grunt labor. He had founded the company when the Earth’s resources had started to run out. It had been the need for resources and consumer demand that had really driven man into space and planetary colonization. On a massive scale. There were well over 5 million people living on the Moon. 2.5 million on Mars, and three quarters of a million on Venus. Not to mention the million or so scattered between the mining bases on the asteroids and the moons of Jupiter and Saturn.
He had a monopoly on Mercury, and the moons of Saturn. The Moon had a dozen different companies working on it as did Venus. Out on Mars, the asteroid belt and the moons of Jupiter he faced maybe half a dozen other companies in competition, distance being the main cost prohibitive factor.
“No, sir. Just checking the scores.” I made to stand, but he stopped me.
“Remain as you are, you’re fine. You seem to be scoring OK on your own there.” He chuckled. I laughed out loud.
“Yes sir, just getting a little massage therapy from this Med-unit, Jasmine 2337. She’s doing an outstanding job.” I winked at her and she grinned at me in embarrassment.
“Yes, it would appear so. Are they taking good care of our hero out there?” Real concern evident.
“They’re doing a great job sir. It’s just a shame about Dave...” I let my voice trail off.
“We all morn his loss, he had a great future with the company. His widow, Susan is it? Will be well provided for. She has a future with the company as well if she wishes it. Which is a big part of the reason I wanted to talk to you. First, my compliments on your survival. Second, after going over your performance records and digging into your background a little deeper, I’d like to offer you a promotion to a more lucrative assignment, as well as your wife, if you two would be willing to serve another tour. It wouldn’t have to be on Mercury, necessarily. Take your time, I’d like to meet with you here on Earth at the end of your current tour to discuss it in person.” His smile displayed some warmth.
“Sure, I’d like that, very much.” Sincere. He seemed like a stand up guy. Direct. To the point. Two attributes I admired in a man, or a woman.
“Oh, and compliments also on a job well done at the press conference, Mr. Chin was ecstatic from what I’ve been told.” He seemed to be hiding some mirth behind his eyes.
“As long as the company looks out for me, I’ll be happy to look out for the company.”
Would there be no end to my sucking up? Sure, when he hung up.
“Well, we take care of our own, and just so you know, I’ve transferred 2500 shares of company stock to your account.” A shit eating grin graced his face.
“Wow, thanks.” I was left speechless, for once.
“Don’t mention it. Look forward to meeting you.” He disconnected and the sports channel replaced his face on the screen.
“I won’t, and so do I.” I looked at Jazz with a dazed look on my face.
“Congratulations, that was wonderful. I’m happy for you.” She seemed genuinely pleased for me.
“Uh, thanks.” More feeling’s, just how advanced were her programs?
“Could you get me some juice, please?” She stood up to get it. As she brought it out I heard stirrings from the bedroom.
“Were you comfortable in the spare bedroom?” I asked as she handed me the juice. We had been using the extra bedroom as Karen’s studio. It had a spare bed and was a jumble of canvases, brushes and paints.
“Yes, it was fine, thank you.” I heard a cough come from the bedroom.
“Could you bring me a cup of coffee for my wife?” She brought me a cup, which I took into the bedroom. In the subdued light my wife’s tattoos looked like a black silk corset. She took the cup gratefully and waved a hand in thanks for the coffee and a need for no communication. She slurped half the cup down and made for the bathroom, gesturing for me to follow. After she relieved herself she jumped into the shower. As she started the water I emptied my bowels and then climbed in to join her. We took turns soaping each other up. I spent extra time soaping up her breasts and groin. She took extra time with my gonads and soon enough I was sliding into her from behind. I like doing it in water. It feels sexy as hell and for some strange reason it makes it harder for me to get off. I guess I think about how it feels too much for a complete connection between the parts affected and my brain. Soon after squishing and splashing around we were dried and in bed and going at it in the missionary. I fucked her so hard it was like beating her. After a while, she ended up on top laying flat on me as I grabbed her ass, and spreading her cheeks I continued to pound home.
My comm link buzzed. It was comm central again. I had an incoming call from the President.
“Of the company? Again?” I asked, trying to hide the fact that I was starting to huff and puff from my exertions. “Put ‘im on hold.” I grabbed my wife by the hips and slammed her down on my cock almost savagely and with my whole body clenching, came.
“No, it’s the President of the North American Alliance.” Her image popped up on the wall opposite of the bed. I quickly pulled up a sheet to cover Karen who tumbled off me to my left, and myself.
“Good day Mr. and Mrs. Dunn. I hope I’m not interrupting something?” A big smile on her face. She had a strong face framed in short graying hair. Make up light.
“No, no, just finishing up is all. Good day Madame President, to what do we owe the honor?” Not too high on the suck up factor, after all my taxes paid her salary.
“On behalf of a proud nation I just wanted to commend you on your valiant, courageous attempt to save your friend and coworker, Dave Roose’s life. From what I’m told you’re very lucky to be alive.” She was right on the money there.
“So I’m told.” Make her work for it a little bit. I still didn’t feel the hero.
“You could have left him and ensured the ease of your own survival, but you did not. We need more men, more people like you, especially in government. When your tour ends I’d like to have you and the Misses at the White House for dinner, if that’s at all possible.” She raised her eyebrow’s, slightly, expectant. How could I turn her down?
Well I could, but I wouldn’t, after all, I had voted for her.
“I can’t speak for my wife, but I would be honored to have dinner with you.” Karen piped up, just poking her nose over the top of the sheet.
“I’d love to Madame President.” President Lowe smiled a smile of warmth and acceptance, but more of the assurance of her power and position. I knew Karen would be into it because she had a preference for older butch chicks. Not that the President had started any wars or anything...
“Great, I look forward to meeting both of you, call my staff when you reach Luna Base and they’ll set it up for when you’re back on Earth.” The screen went black, and Karen hugged me.
“Oh, you are sooo my hero.” She kissed me on the cheek and jumped up to throw a fresh set of coverall’s on. Bright pink. A color that tended to mirror her mood. Her tattoos were all glowing in lighter color’s, green’s and blues. I got up a bit slower and shrugged into a fresh pair of tan coverall’s.
“Honey, since you’re going to be with Psych most of the afternoon, I thought I would check up on Susan, if that’s OK with you?” I looked at her astonished. She was so domesticated all of a sudden. Not caring if she got off during sex with me as had just happened, and now asking permission to hang with her friend, to please me? Will wonder’s never cease? Maybe there was something to this new hero status after all...
“Sure babe, I’ll see you back here for dinner, K?” She came up and gave me a deep long kiss. She broke, leaned back and looked me in the eyes.
“I almost can’t wait. You’d better hustle if you don’t want to be late.” She left with a smile on her face and me shaking my head.
Almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades...
On the way to Psych Center with Jazz pushing me in the wheelchair down the corridors all my passing fellow citizens/coworkers couldn’t help but stop and give me a pat on the back and praise for my performance during the ordeal on the surface. We arrived ten minutes late.
The Doctor was understanding and brushed my apology off like lint off a silk suit.
“I was just about to call and tell you to take your time, my meeting ran long and I was trying to catch up my case files. So you are fine, just fine.” With her faint French accent.
Which drove me a little wild. Funny, when I was a kid, I thought a Southern accent was sexy as hell, but as I grew up I found a Southern accent to be a sign of low intelligence generally and annoying as fly’s at a picnic. Now a soft French accent I found sexy.
“So are you, absolutely fine.” I chimed in. She was dressed in a tiger skin coverall, and she was as my Great Grandfather would have said, ‘Broad where a broad should be broad.’ Her hair wasn’t red, as I’d heard, it was black with magenta streaks running through it cut to her shoulders. She had a small gold hoop in her left nostril. She had fine chiseled features, sharp straight nose and a strong, but not cutting chin. She waved my statement off with an almost girlish laugh.
That would establish the pattern for lunch. She would say something, usually bright and articulate, I would lay out a quip, and she would laugh. Occasionally she would flutter her eye lids at me and give me great eye contact. Was the Doc flirting with me?
I hated to think I was just another lab rat in an elaborate experiment...
Back at her office she sat me down on the couch and lightly touching me on the knee, which quite frankly sent an electric chill down my spine, said,
“Are you ready to be examined?” As if she was asking if she could share a secret.
“Sure thing.” I replied, steeling myself for the inevitable probing questions.
“Very well, let me place the sensors on you first.” Soon I had a light weight harness attached to the top and sides and front of my head. She pulled a portable monitor screen and small control panel up alongside her chair.
“Relax while I calibrate the sensor.” Easy to say, difficult to achieve, but I tried.
“So how do you feel now, truthfully.” A stern look on her face as she eyeballed the monitor.
“Physically fine, knees a bit creaky, but me? I feel like shit.” She clucked her mouth a couple times.
“It is only natural for you to feel confused and depressed. Most survivors suffer from the ‘Why did I live syndrome.’ It is very common.” She looked over the monitor with a look of understanding and acceptance.
“No, that’s not it, I believe that when your number is up, your number is up. It was Dave’s time. It wasn’t mine. What confuses me is the evidence, and I know you’re in touch with Chief Fonagy, that Dave somehow engineered the plot to kill me, or attempt to kill me, that ended up taking his life and not mine. It makes no sense. What’s his motivation? What were his reasons? Or reason? I’d like to get a look at his profile or some information from you, which might shed some light on his reasoning that would confirm his culpability or exonerate him at the very least.” I looked at her with eyes raised. Trying to work the hero angle for all it was worth.
“Chief Fonagy says that at this time the evidence indicates Dave had a hand in the incident. I do agree however from going over his profile that it makes no sense. He had had a gambling problem and had successfully gone through rehab for it before coming out here. He showed an easiness as far as being susceptible to being grabbed, how do you say, attracted to sex and religious cults. His personality did not indicate a strong leaning towards plotting capabilities. For personal gain or revenge. He had a fairly normal upbringing in the old Mid-West of the North American Alliance, now Union, was able to cope with setbacks and had normal goals and expectations. Seemed to have a vigorous sex life and loved his wife wholeheartedly.” This explained why Dave never showed an interest in our friendly weekly poker games, and shed some light on the whole ‘services’ remarks on the trek.
“So, are you trying to solve this case, Drew? I saw in your file that at one time in college you had taken some forensic courses, what was that all about?” Inquisitive.
“It’s all about problem solving for me. Which is why I drifted into mechanical engineering and electronics repair. It’s a challenge, and when you’re done, you’re done. Not like programming, which I find to be boring as hell. Programming never ends, you’re always having to screw with it, adjust this, tweak that, boring and annoying. It’s like, you have a plumbing problem, it’s either flow, drain, or vent. You check the systems and see where it’s screwed up and you fix it. With crime, you look at the evidence, you look at time lines, who it could have been by their proximity, you examine their motives and if it all fits, you solve it. Done deal.” Hopeful she could understand the sense of satisfaction I derived from solving problems.
“Part of your recovery, helping you recover, would be to have a goal, something to accomplish. I think solving this crime, or helping to solve it would be a good, and with your experience, a sensible goal for you. I will talk to Chief Fonagy, and give him my recommendation.” Hearing this gave me a sense of relief I couldn’t have explained. Was it that I was more qualified to work this case than most of the members of Security?
“Thanks Doc, I appreciate it.” She leaned forward and lightly touched my arm.
“Don't mention it, just doing my job.” She looked me in the eyes. I could have eaten her alive.
“And a heck of a job it is at that.” She smiled then and asked,
“Is there anything else that is troubling you? Are you sleeping all right?” I frowned. I vainly hoped she would say, ‘Don’t frown, go down.’ I wasn’t that lucky. I told her about my strange, troubling dream of the night before last. About the mention of ‘services’ and now the mysterious death of the Reverend Gonzalez and his wife. Was there a connection?
“They are looking into that, whether it was systems failure or something more sinister, we have yet to see.” A look of concern crossed her face. Her face brightened.
“Oh, maybe you would allow me to try the new dream analyzer out, eh?”
“The dream what?” She touched my arm this time.
“The dream analyzer allows a therapist to join her patient in his more troubling dreams and observe as well as help guide the dream to a more satisfactory conclusion.” Expectant.
“Sure, whatever.” I didn’t know if I wanted someone, even a someone as hot as Doc Barber, rummaging around in my subconscious. If it would help explain my dream and answer my questions, then I figured I’d go for it. Maybe a new perspective would be just the trick.
Shortly she was similarly wired up and reclining on another couch next to mine which she had pulled from a cabinet in the wall. Rather than call an assistant in, she had asked Jazz if she was programmed to handle the controls and was delighted to find out she was.
>
“I am programmed to fulfill a wide array of medical, psychological and entertainment purposes.” With a hint of pride.
“That she is.” I said.
“Oui. Good.” She lay back and pointed at Jazz who touched the console and...
Everything faded to black, then green, then blue and I was sitting on the couch, naked, and the Doctor was kneeling before me, and over her shoulder I could see my wife and Susan making out, my wife just pulling out the vibrator. The Doctor followed my gaze and gasped. Susan was pulling at my wife’s nipple rings as my wife was starting to rub her vagina with the bright pink vibrator.
“What the hell is that all about?” I asked the Doc.
“Well, you wife has known lesbian tendencies...” I shook my head.
“Yeah, but Susan doesn’t, and Karen’s been bangin’ the shit out of me for the last couple day’s.” She laughed and shook her head.
“Don’t be surprised. There is an effect, the ‘hero effect’ a syndrome that effects people that amounts to near worship. You will find that you are nearly irresistible to most women.” That went along way to explaining my success in the sack, which made me think.
“So this is my dream, right?” She nodded her assent. “Well first off, you were naked too.” Her coveralls vanished. Her left nipple was pierced, as was her navel, and her clit, over which her pubic hair was shaved into a narrow ridge straight up and down, the ring and ruff made it look like she had an exclamation point just over her pussy, like, ‘Here it is!’ I pulled her face closer with my left hand.
“How do you find me?” Our lips touched and soon our tongues were swirling around each other like snakes in heat. I kissed her chin. Ran small kisses down the base of her jaw down her neck. Worked my way across her collar bone and down to her breasts, my hands caressing and kneading them as my mouth found her left one. I played with the ring with my teeth, teasing it erect. She had large aureole’s and fat pert nipples on large firm breasts. Her head went back and she moaned. Her right hand found and started to stroke my cock. She gasped, her eye’s flew wide.
Mercury Going Down Page 8
