It was hurting her heart to consider cutting off this flow; Taylor had almost become her new friend’s therapist. Which was fine; she was quite taken with Jennifer and anticipated a long friendship. If the mission was a survivable one—Jennifer voiced plenty of doubts along those lines, and struggled with a mixture of fear and self-judgment of those fears.
As Taylor sat, preoccupied by her thoughts, Chris Friday came to her table and sat next to her. She took no notice, other than being aware that someone was there.
“Hello Taylor.”
Startled out of her reverie, she recognized the voice. And it was so close to her ear. She turned to him with a surprised expression and said, “Why, Chris, hello, what brings you to my table?” She was still on her game, recovering her wits quickly.
“I thought I’d see if there was anything I could do for you. You looked deeply concerned about something. Is there something troubling you that I might be able to help with?”
Taylor wasted no thought on his motivations for finally engaging with her; she saw the opportunity to connect with the man she’d been chasing. She couldn’t talk to him about Jennifer’s plight in any great detail, but she could share a little—enough to work into the man’s confidence. And then into his pants. You have no shame, girl.
She avoided what hadn’t worked, careful not to rev her sex too much, keeping her pupils at normal dilation. Entrancing enough, she gazed with her ice-blue eyes. “Thank you so much for asking, Chris, it’s so sweet of you to notice.” He nodded; she continued in his silence. “Can we go someplace else, someplace private?”
“Sure. How ‘bout my quarters? We’d be comfortable there, and no one will interrupt us.”
Yes. “Okay, Chris, that’d be fine.”
He nodded again and got up. She started to follow. He glanced back and waited a half-second for her to come up alongside. And then he did something that caught her off guard, something so simple but unexpected—he took her hand, smiling a sweet smile at her.
Her pretense faltered, but she couldn’t quite explain to herself why. She had the impression that a child had just taken her hand. Was he really so innocent? As they made their way to his cabin, something else was different. At first, she sensed it without recognizing what it was, but then it hit her: everybody that acknowledged them as they passed, man or woman, had a knowing, happy look on their face as they shared a smile with the two of them.
This distracted her because she recognized the look not for what it was, but for the fact that it was different in the extreme from the looks that were normally cast her way. Those were knowing looks of lust and fantasy, as she led an ensign down the hall. Her super-sexual aura gave away the nature of those connections.
Chris smiled, nodding a wordless greeting, as if he knew them all intimately. Taylor’s mind worked with this information as they walked to his room. To a degree, it impacted the tenor of her feelings toward the man. She was safe with him. It seemed that the sensation emanated from the warmth of the hand that held hers. And as she acknowledged it, the warmth increased, like opening the door to a sunny day.
A light came on in her head. He was a confidant. Like Jenny.
The realization coincided with their arrival at the door to Chris’s quarters. It opened and he stepped aside, allowing her to enter first. It was different from the other ensigns’ rooms that she’d visited; larger, with a high ceiling and walls that rounded outward. In that relative spaciousness, there was an indescribable serenity. The room air seemed cottony in her ears; sounds were muted. Chris stepped past her as the door closed.
Just to hear herself speak, more than anything, she said, “You have a nice room.” Her voice was softer than she’d expected.
“Thank you, Taylor. Have a seat, would you like some tea?”
Her surname seemed formal from his lips, but Taylor decided that she liked the way it sounded; that, somehow, her nickname wouldn’t feel right coming from him. She noted an overall whiteness to the décor. The farthest wall was flat, unlike the slightly curved sidewalls, and the headboard of a doublewide bunk pressed against it. In the middle of the space stood a small, low table, less than a meter square, and two beige, overstuffed pillows on the floor at its edge. Very Zentropian.
“Uh, tea? I guess so.” A heavy feeling began to creep upon her.
Chris was watching her; he answered her unasked question. “That’ll be room spin that you’re feeling. Have to have a little gravity for the tea. You can take those heavy boots off if you want.”
It was a relief, associating the sensation with its source. For that brief moment, she had thought it an inner stress. She did not know the rooms could do that.
He was glancing over a shoulder at her, reading her; he explained further. “It’s a special room, usually only for higher ranks. There aren’t many. What type of tea do you like?”
She chose a tea from the several that he suggested, and he joined her as they gently sank toward the cushions. And here she was. Looking at the object of her desire. A man whom she’d tried to reel in, and in the end, it seemed, had reeled her in.
Again, to the fore of her mind came her friend, and all of the mission data that Jennifer had shared with her. Sitting here in the fractional gravity with Chris she felt a natural inclination to start talking. To share the entire burden on her shoulders. But she knew better. BUMP was listening. She never doubted it. Maybe not to every word of every conversation, but it was no doubt all filtered, recorded, key words flagged and ready for review if necessary.
She sat in uncustomary silence, her eyes resting on the strange looking teacup designed for quarter-gravity. Her vision was unfocused, as she pondered how to proceed with this man whom she did not know but somehow completely trusted.
Of course, to share any of her concerns, it all would have to begin with her secret language, the same as she’d taught Jennifer. She could not begin any undisguised discussion without potentially putting Jennifer in harm’s way.
She thought of this beautiful, reserved man using the gestures and sounds of her language, and there was a sharp incongruity. It couldn’t be helped though, if she wanted to confide these things to him. But she faced the same challenge that she’d had with Jennifer, she couldn’t openly tell him the language and its cipher. She would need to do the same thing as she’d done with her girlfriend—get him into Hahn’s sex cocoon.
The thought brought a sudden flutter to her chest and a radiating warmth to her crotch, making her wet and self-conscious as she sat in a cross-legged position on the pillow. Her sex was aimed directly at Chris, and she felt exposed in an odd but gratifying way. Chris remained silent, waiting for her to share. She thought about his offer that brought her here: “… anything troubling you that I might be able to help with?” With an effort of will, Taylor set aside her desire, deciding it was best to follow suit, rather than switching the game at this point. It just might ruin something if she tried to turn the sex appeal back on.
She focused on her past, instead of Jennifer. Instantly, Garrison’s face came to mind. No, no, no. Not him. That was not for Chris Friday. She went further back. Things that she’d not thought about for a long time. Her parents.
She began to tell him a story about her life, expecting to act out emotions, wondering where to begin and where to stop. But it flowed from her naturally, and after a quarter of an hour she disbelievingly found herself in real tears.
She found buried pain in the alienation of her parents’ affection, sending her to boarding schools—her mischief was more than they could deal with. In school, her antics got her in with the wrong crowd. She was transferred again and again, continually isolated from close friendships, only to turn instigator for the attention and excitement that she needed, both emotionally and physically.
Chris spoke to her in a comforting way, and probed deeper. Her emotion flowed and ebbed. He passed her a steady stream of tissues from a
wall dispenser.
At a point in her unburdening, Chris moved around the table, settling near her, and rested a hand on her shoulder. It was as if his touch was magnetic, attracting her. She flowed from her pillow into his lap, burying her face against his neck. He did not push her away. He continued to comfort her in strong mature tones. He was not babying her. He acknowledged her as a powerful grown woman. He explained that she gave herself a gift by sharing these things with him, allowing herself to feel the things that she’d suppressed. Against his shoulder she nodded, knowing the truth of it. She was raw but renewed and lightened. He had unburdened her.
With that thought, a new feeling swept in: Love. She flushed. She wrapped her arms around him tighter, feeling that she would merge with him if she held tightly enough.
But something happened. It was gentle, yet it was rude in its abrupt change of energy. Chris reached back behind his neck, and lovingly took her hands in his, bringing them around in front. Not understanding his intentions, she allowed him to guide her in this way. He clasped her hands together, cupped in his, causing a space to open between them, and then released them from his own.
The changing energy was confused by another awareness, one of strong symbolism whose meaning eluded her. She looked Chris in the eyes with her own, wet and red. Her cheeks were damp with the residual tears that his flight suit collar had not absorbed. The air in the room cooled her face, though the heat of her passion was rising.
This moment was ripe with her need for his beautiful lips on hers as he met her gaze. It was overwhelming and she leaned in towards him, her pupils dilating in a reflexive response.
Once again he was rude yet soft in his answer. “I cannot bond with you in that way, Taylor; it would cause you too much suffering. I don’t know if you want or need that suffering, but it is my choice not to be the source. I can sense the ‘turning toward’ me in your heart, and I welcome it, as a friend.
“If we were to have had sex before this, for fun and the pleasure that we could get from it, that would have been fine, but now, we have shifted to another level of relationship, one of a deeper, inner connection. Sex, now, could distort this bond and would end up causing you pain, outweighing the moments of pleasure that we would have.”
Taylor was shocked. “You never gave me the chance. I wanted you. I approached you several times, remember?” Emotions were warring within her.
“Yes, Taylor, I do. And I have certain lovers aboard and on Earth. It has taken me many months and years to identify the women who are on a similar path as I, and we understand and agree on fundamental boundaries. With them, there is a ‘coming together’ of our bodies for the pleasure that we find there. There is nothing wrong, and everything right with that.
“Afterwards, we exist in a state of grace, you might say, loving each other from a place of depth and respect, feeling fulfilled by our connection. And then we move back into our working and everyday lives.
“I didn’t take you up on your advances, Taylor, because I didn’t know you well enough. We might be able to enjoy that connection in the future, but for the time, because of the nature of our confidence, it would be the wrong thing to do. It would confuse the definition of our relationship, and I believe a casual friendship would not be enough for you—after the sex—because of the intimate nature of our work together.”
She was incensed. “And just what makes you think that you know so much about me?” Something had turned in her. The flush on her face had downgraded from passion to a mixture of embarrassment and anger.
“I am sorry to come off looking like a know-it-all ass, Taylor, but I have been down that road before, more than once. I know the suffering that it has caused the others and myself. I just don’t let it get me in trouble anymore. I can get just as horny as you, and my sexual escapades can be as wild.”
Taylor couldn’t contain herself. “Ha! You think.”
“Well, maybe you’re right, I don’t know, but my point is…”
She cut him off. “Your point is you’re Mr. Perfect, with your perfect body and your perfect mind.” She wanted her tone to be matter-of-fact, but there was vitriol in it, and it sounded more like a taunt.
Chris was not a lesser man, though, and he did not rise to the sting in her words. “I am not perfect, my body is not perfect, my actions are not perfect, my thoughts are not perfect. I am not perfect. Except that in my imperfection, I am perfect. And so are you. And, incredibly, so is everybody else. The murderer and rapist, and the rest of the criminals—at every level, including criminals of the heart. The most sweet, loving person in your life harbors something that they would consider dark, or at least inappropriate. Perfection is whatever is.”
Taylor listened begrudgingly, unsure if she wanted to contradict him.
“We did not come here to look perfect. To ourselves nor, try as some of us might, to others.
“We came here to get dirty. In another place and another time, as a whole, we said ‘we want the experience of being—we want to be.
“We have been; we are still, and we will be for some time to come. Beings of form. Beings of dense matter and form.
“We have always been conscious. We made this momentous decision from a place of consciousness that has since been out of reach.”
Chris continued, though he had moved into new territory that she had no reference for. “Some of us have realized this, and reached back toward that consciousness. Our long voyage downward into matter has finally reached its apogee. We are into the upswing on the bell-curve of our material journey.
“And now we can be aware of things that previously were shrouded. It could be said that the sweeping arc of our journey passed into a thick cloud. In the cloud, we have been only able to see and sense ourselves. Nothing beyond our body-senses has been perceivable. Before the cloud, and before we inhabited the various races of Man on the Earth, we had a view around us that took in more than what our physical senses can see.”
It was clear to her that Chris was passionate about the subject, and although some of it was beyond her, he was gathering her back in with his ardor.
“As we sweep ever upward, the cloud begins to thin toward its edges. Some have had better sight, and have been able to see through the thinning veil sooner. And sometimes, if one knows to look for something, it can be found by that person, while others will continue, unaware of the thing.
“Some have had the awareness that the longer, greater vision would soon return; they noticed the thinning miasmas before the rest. Others have slowed their own progress—like unintentionally going down the up escalator—eventually they wind up where they’re going, it just takes longer and more effort.”
Chris then rhetorically posed the question-of-the-ages, going on to answer it. “So why are we here? As I said, I am perfect in my imperfection. In this life-after-life, we have been given the opportunity to touch the world of form-and-matter in a way that we could not as the beings of Oneness that we were before. We wanted that opportunity. We chose it. We have chosen to come down into the here and experience all of what it means to be form. To be Human.
“And in our bodies, we have a great capacity for pain and suffering. That fog that shrouds our mind is the source. It limits our senses, keeping us from experiencing the very pain that we inflict in the other. Were we able to instantly feel the pain that we cause, we might make better choices. But in our densest experience, we are separate. We feel only the pain that others inflict on us, or that we inflict on ourselves.”
She identified with this sentiment, feeling that Chris was a source of her pain.
He went further. “But pain is not all. We are also capable of ecstasy. Of the body, and of the mind. We are capable of experiencing the ecstasy of love in our bodies, a physical manifestation of an emotion. And the joy of those moments erases past sufferings and cruelties for that time.
“And then there’s sex.” Taylor n
odded, despite herself. “How much incredible pleasure have we been able to derive from the physicalness of an act that was simply designed to allow for the propagation of the human species?
“We are made of many parts, seen and unseen, but here in this world, two main parts: mind and body. They both feel the pain or ecstasy simultaneously. And we are here to experience, Taylor. To learn from that experience—joy and pain. To love. To hate. To forgive, and to forgive ourselves.
“And it is each one’s right to say, ‘I’m done with learning in this situation.’ We have complete freedom of choice. Sometimes the lesson is one of self-preservation. If there is more for us to learn on any particular pathway, like compassion or forgiveness, or even the results of our hostile actions—whatever the lesson might be—it will come to us in whatever place we put ourselves.
“We cannot escape what we need to know, ultimately. So there is reward in suffering, then—if we know to look for it; if we can say, ‘There is something here for me to learn, without further damage to myself or others.’
“That’s where I am with us, Taylor. I would anticipate a journey with you that could start off with fireworks, but could end with violent explosions. In my life, I’m done with that. I’ve learned the lesson of that path. So, I choose not to travel it with you. You might find it elsewhere though, if you are really looking for that kind of drama.”
Taylor was angry, then confused by Chris’s words. It surprised her to find that, all along, he had considered her as much as he’d just said. All this time, she had thought that he’d barely noticed her.
The words had somehow started to ring with a familiar sound. She was identifying something deep within, something that she normally would not look at. She could not quite reach it, though.
Her response to Chris was metered by this inner question, and she did not come off as biting. “Okay, Chris. I appreciate that you explained all that to me. I don’t get it all, but I get that you don’t want me to feel rejected.”
Parallel Extinction (Extinction Encounters Book 1) Page 27
