Through THe Looking Glass

by TariaT

The battle raged on, high above the towering city skyline. Again and again the forces of the Mad One attacked, their master gibbering insanely as he urged them on. Again and again the assembled heroes bent their will to the task at hand, parrying and riposting as they defended against the blows that rained down upon them. The bright flashes of released energies lit the sky like some midwinter aurora borealis; the unceasing low rumble of the fighting rolled like thunder across the heavens. And every few moments all of creation seemed to shudder, the stars themselves seeming to convulse, as if they screamed in unbearable pain.

Far below the melee three tiny figures crouched on the broad, flat roof of a midtown brownstone. Two of them were attired in skintight outfits of the brightest electric blue, their polished sheen shimmering and rippling in the reflections of the glowing struggle that raged in the skies. The third, a balding, bespectacled middle-aged man in a white lab coat, bent down before a shining metallic contraption that he was prodding with a long-handled screwdriver.

"Gott in himmel," the man murmured in thickly-accented tones. "If I can only complete zis in time!! For if not..."

"Then What, Doctor?" The voice was deep and authoritative. It emerged from the chest of one of the blue-clad figures who accompanied the Doctor, a tall and broad hero with thunderous thighs, thickly-knotted chest muscles, and a neck to match. Covering the front of his face was a blue mask of fabric, a thicket of blonde hair jutting out above it. On his chest was a large white circle around a stylized gold "B."

"Shhhhhh," hushed his companion, a tall, striking blonde woman who was almost as gorgeous as he. She too was masked and muscular, but her generously curved figure rounded out her form in strikingly different ways than his own thickness did. She was well-muscled, although she seemed deceptively frail and feminine beside the paragon of manliness at her side. No letter adorned the woman's chest, although she proudly displayed an illustration of a large, open eye, complete with thick lashes and an arched eyebrow above it, on her torso. As she stood there breathing heavily, her posture erect and her fine attributes aggressively thrust outward, the eye seemed to wink and leer, opening wide and then winking shut with every deep breath she took.

"Quiet, Blue," she admonished her companion once again. "Remember, our mission is as important as everyone's. No--it is *more* important! Doctor Heinfust seeks to save all of the realities, and we must do everything within our power to aid him!"

In tones scarcely quieter than before, the man objected "But *how*? Tell us Doctor, what would you have us do? Surely we may do more than just stand here--helpless!"

Turning away from his work at the machine, Doctor Heinfust looked up into the concerned faces of the heroes standing above him. "I am not sure zere is anysink any of us can do at zis point," he said with grave concern. "I am afraid zat ze universes are colliding," he said, "and zere may be nossink ve can do to stop zem."

Above them the sky brightened once again. The fierce battle intensified. And a madman's laughter rang out over the slumbering city.

Tara rubbed at her gritty eyes with her hand, blinking as she peered at the digital clock on her nightstand. "Blaaaaagh," she groaned, as the red-lit blob coalesced into forms she could recognize as numbers. "2:13," she read, and she shut her eyes tight, opened them again, and looked sharply at the clock once again to be sure. "Oh, for crying out loud," she thought, "why the hell am I awake at 2:13?" She blinked again and listened in the stillness of her apartment, quietly waiting until she heard the muted rumble of thunder in the distance. "That must be some storm," she said to herself. Her assessment was confirmed by the flashes of light she could perceive through the blinds of her bedroom window. Glorying in the warmth that shielded her from the fury of the elements outside, Tara burrowed deeper under the covers and closed her eyes.

Why, she wondered, did she have to wake up *now*? She had been in the middle of such a wonderful dream, too, a sexy thriller from her subconscious that had involved herself, her husband, and some more people whose faces she could no longer summon from her memory. There had been a circus, a Big Top, and a shoe store with the perfect pair of brown pumps, but beyond that all was a blur of rising passion that she could not quite recall in her mind's eye. "Great," she thought. "Now I'm wide awake and I'm horny. Well, if I can't sleep..." Tara closed her eyes and turned over toward her husband, mischief on her mind. She opened them again and began to reach out for her husband, when suddenly her hand froze in mid-reach. A man was lying next to her in her bed, his eyes open wide, staring back into hers. But it wasn't her husband Marc.

Tara gasped and pulled back; the strange man did the same, and she saw him bump against someone lying directly behind him. She cleared her throat, which was suddenly dry from fear and surprise. "Who...who are you?" she grated, and was shocked to hear the same words emerging from his throat. She tried to speak again, and so did he, at exactly the same moment: "I...I..." They both shut their open mouths and regarded each other silently for a moment.

His face seemed so oddly...familiar, Tara realized with a degree of shock. She looked closely at him, aware that he was appraising her the same way. The green eyes, slightly upturned nose, the lips slightly parted in an awfully familiar expression. She took in his thick brown hair, closely cropped, the curve of his jawline. Suddenly it came to her--why, it was almost like looking in a mirror! I see those eyes and that face every day when I wake up in the morning! Her eyes flew wide open, and his did too, at exactly the same moment. Their jaws clicked open, and she could tell he was thinking the same thing she was. What the *hell* was going on here?!? * * * * * In the apartment three floors above hers, Whit Walker stretched, wondering what had awoken him. Staggering to the bathroom Walker rubbed his eyes and flicked on a light, then reached down to splash some cold water on his face. He looked into the mirror and tilted his face slightly off to the side and upward. Attaboy, Killer, he thought to himself, You still got what it takes. That same profile had sold millions of dollars in movie tickets around the world, had appeared in eighteen action thrillers--seven of which had hit Number One with a bullet at the box office--and had made him one of the top-flight, most bankable stars in Hollywood. He grinned at himself in the mirror, that same famous grin that was recognized by movie fans around the globe.

As he turned to leave the bathroom he saw a woman, leaning against the wall, watching him. She was beautiful, her figure divine, her face one that parallelled his own in its symmetry and pleasing lines. Walker stared at her, feeling her own matching stare in return. He tried to get some sounds out, to speak to her, but the words wouldn't come. Finally he spoke: "So...when did I bring *you* home, Gorgeous?" A grin spread across her face, an exact replica of the one which had crossed his own features a moment earlier. "I was about to ask you the same question." * * * * * High up on the brownstone roof Doctor Heinfust worked feverishly, poking with his screwdriver and muttering to himself. "Vot ze hell are ve goink do do...everyssing is all fahrblungert..." Beside him the tall man in blue watched him, puzzled.

"I'm afraid I still don't get it, Doc," he intoned, a magnificent specimin even in his befuddled state. "What exactly is it we're doing? I want to fight Evil as much as the next guy, but this machine here..."

Perched on a corner of the roof, the blue-clad woman turned toward the two men with an equally uncertain look on her face. "I have to admit, Doctor Heinfust, I'm a little confused myself."

Heinfust sighed and sat back, his face taking on the patient look of one who had explained complicated things to uncomprehending simpletons on many occasions. "Ach, zo. Are either of you two aqvainted vith ze elementary principles off qvantum physics?" He sighed again as he perceived the blank, glassy looks he was getting from both masked figures. "Ach, you haff good hearts, my brave muscle-bound friends, but no brains. Let me explain."

Doctor Heinfust gestured expansively with his arms and said "You understand zat ve liff in ze Universe, ja?" The two heroes nodded, slowly. "Now, vhat if I told you zat zere vas not vun Universe, but many? Und zat all of zem haff an Earth, a United States, even people zat are chust like us in every vay?" They looked at him blankly, but comprehension struggled to dawn on the woman's face. "You mean we may have...like, twins? In these other Universes?"

The Doctor beamed at her. "Chust so, ja. Not evrybody, but certain people haff zese...tvins, or analogues, in ze other Universes. Now ze Evil ve are fighting is trying to collapse all of ze Universes, to smash zem togesser into vun. If he succeeds, zis vill destroy not chust our Universe, but all of zem at ze same time." The two heroes gasped, thinking of the implications of his words. "But, then we'll all *die*," the man whimpered, earning him a withering glare from his companion. "Ja, exactly," the Doctor concurred, cheerfully.

"Ve are gettink close now," he continued, turning back to the object before him, "and so ve must hurry. Even as ve speak ze Universes are overlappink, and probably some of zere inhabitants are beginnink to haff contact vis zeir analogues from ze other Universes. For a short time zis presents no particular problems--in fact, it happens all ze time. Haff you never vondered vhy sometimes you haff a sense of deja vu? Off perhaps being in two places at ze same time? Off havink some experiences or sensations you cannot fully explain?"

"Nope," the man replied, with transparent honesty. The Doctor removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes as if he had a severe migraine. "No matter," he said, turning back to his work. "It is happenink, all ze same. I vish I had ze time to study zis phenomenon fully, to see chust vhat really happens vhen analogues interact consciously vith each other." He fetched up a phillips-head screwdriver and began manipulating his construct with it. "Ach. But zen if my Grandmuzzer had vheels, she'd haff been a trolley-car." He chuckled at the joke, and returned his full concentration to the urgent tasks at hand.

Tara rubbed her eyes again and gaped at the stranger in her bed, who continued to gape right back at her. Finally, with some effort, she tore her eyes away from his strangely familiar face and looked toward the bedroom door. She then turned her gaze back to the stranger, an unspoken question in her mind. Together Tara and the man in her bed nodded, and they cautiously eased their way off the bed and padded down the short hallway into the kitchen. Tara went in and pulled out a chair; the stranger followed, flicked on the light switch without any hesitation, and took up a position opposite her, his elbows resting on the kitchen tabletop.

Once they were seated Tara resumed her examination of his face, knowing that the man across the table from her was doing the same. "So," she spoke, slowly. "It seems as if we have a lot in common."

"More than that," the stranger responded, in a voice that was an eerie echo of her own, but deeper. "It seems to me that you are basically a female version of me. The green eyes, the nose, your facial expressions, even the same chin..."

"And what's *wrong* with my chin?" Tara retorted. "If anything, I figure that you're just *me*--if I were a man. After all, we're sitting here in MY apartment, after we woke up in MY bed--" "Nope," he interrupted, a grin spreading across his face. "MY bed. We need to settle this before we go any further, though. Tell me something: where'd you go to school?"

Tara responded without even thinking about it. "State--dual major, History and Economics. I have an office job where I work from..." "eight-thirty to four-thirty, always have," he finished. "What'd you have for breakfast?" "Plain bagel with butter," she answered. "I--" "--HATE cream cheese and detest egg salad." The grin had widened and now threatened to split his face. "I think we got a winner here," he said. "Hi--I'm Terry. And you are...?" "Tara," she answered, with a matching grin. "This is too weird to be believed. All right Hot Shot, tell me this--what were you dreaming about before you woke up just now?"

Terry frowned and concentrated for a moment. "I don't remember clearly, but there was a circus...and a Big Top, and I remember something about women's shoes." Tara stared at him, goggle-eyed once again. They even shared the same *dreams*? She peered a little closer and noticed that a slow blush was creeping across Terry's face, the same blush she'd experienced on innumerable occasions. "And there was something else," he continued, "something about sex...In fact, I was so turned on when I woke up just now that I was about to turn over and do something about it when I saw you turning to face me...What? What is it?" he asked, catching the wide-eyed look on Tara's face.

"Wh...why were you turning over?" she stammered, and he looked puzzled. "Well, I was going to wake my wife.." He trailed off and stared back at Tara. "My wife!" "My husband!" she echoed. And at that moment a peculiar dual scream rang out from the direction of the bedroom, and both of them jumped at the sound. "Oh, jeez!" they moaned as one, and Tara sprinted for the bedroom door, Terry at her heels. Tara reached the doorway and snapped on the light, and then came to a dead stop as she entered the room. Terry caught up in an instant, and joined her in her frozen stare.

There on the bed were two figures staring at each other in shock and horror. On one side of the bed sat a man Tara recognized as her husband, sitting bolt upright; opposite him was a woman who looked like she could've been his twin sister. Tara cleared her throat, and two identical blonde heads swivelled about to look at her, eyes wide and slightly glazed over. "Maybe I should introduce everybody," Tara said. "I'm Tara. The man on the bed is my husband Marc. The guy standing here in the doorway with me is Terry. And you would be...?" she motioned her head toward the female form sitting on the bed she shared with Marc. "Why," murmured Terry, a smile spreading across his face once again. "...That would be my wife. Marcia."

The two bedmates goggled at Tara and Terry, and then stared at each other once again. Without missing a beat two similar voices rang out together. "Exactly what the FUCK is going on here?!?!?!?"

Three floors up Whit Walker let his gaze luxuriate on his erstwhile houseguest. "My, you are a beauty," he crooned, his eyes lingering on the perfect symmetry of her face, the facial qualities that riveted him, invited him. "I'm afraid you have me at a loss...where did we meet? Was it last night? I'm afraid I don't remember very well, because after a few drinks..." "...everything gets a little blurry," the vision chimed in to say the words in unison with him. "I was about to ask you the same question myself."

Whit's voice deepened, grew more seductive, as he employed a bedroom technique he had practiced and perfected over two decades in Hollywood. "It's just...you are so beautiful, so attractive..." What *was* it about her, anyway? He couldn't remember being this turned on in his life, and certainly not so quickly. "I...I want to make love to you," he breathed, and damned if he didn't.

The woman's gaze grew sultry, seductive, mirroring his own. "How...?" she asked, and Whit responded without hesitating. "Something intense...different from anything you've ever known," he whispered. "Come with me...tie me up...bind me with the chains of your passion..." "Sure," she replied, a maddeningly bright gleam in her eyes. "But only if you spank me first."

*Spank*? Whit hadn't even imagined he could raise the stakes to that level so soon. Maybe this chippie was even more promising than he had thought.

In the skies above the city the tides of battle took a turn for the worse, and the heroes began to feel the onset of desperation.

Below them on a brownstone roof, Doctor Heinfust was attempting to perform a delicate maneuver involving a tiny phillips-head screw. At a crucial moment, the masculine paragon behind him sneezed once, loudly. The screw fell into the machine with a metallic tinkle, dropping into the bowels of the contraption. "Dummkopf," hissed the scientist. "I *knew* I should haff brought zat magnetic screwdriver."

The four of them sat on the bed, eyeing each other with some suspicion but a great deal more in the way of interest. Marc was speaking, addressing his remarks to his wife. "So you're saying she"--he pointed to Marcia, who was looking at him as if he were a three-headed Martian--"is me, and you"--pointing at Terry--"are her." "That's right, Sweetie," Tara answered. "And you can stop referring to Terry and Marcia as 'them' now. Let's just get used to it. We're all here, and nothing we do is going to change that. Why don't we just get comfortable with the situation?" Terry smiled at her, gratified. But Marc kept casting sharp quick glances about him, looking for all the world like a paranoid raccoon. And Marcia was huddled in a corner of the bed with her knees drawn up in front of her, her eyes wide and suspicious. Tara sighed. "For Pete's sake! You are ALWAYS like this!" she growled, and Terry muttered his assent. "Why can't you ever just let go and go with the flow of a situation?" he complained. "Like that time my parents stopped by without any warning, and you scowled away the entire weekend." "Yeah!" Tara agreed, enthusiastically. "Or when we took that wrong turn on vacation and ended up in Nova Scotia," she said. "No kidding," Terry countered. "And when you consider how incredibly hard I had to work to get you into oral sex, for crying out--"

"Oops," Terry stopped, abashed. "I'm sorry--I shouldn't have--" Marcia's knees flattened out in front of her and she looked at her husband in cold fury. "How *dare* you! What right do you have to--just because we're not all as into things as you--that doesn't mean--" She sputtered and faltered, but Marc rallied to her defense. "That's right! And it's not as if I haven't gotten better at it--even downright *enthusiastic* sometimes, dammit. I mean, if you ask me--" Marc ground to a halt, his mouth wide open. He looked at Marcia, who was staring back at him with the same openmouthed expression as his own. And then both of them began to blush, and small smiles began to appear on their faces.

Terry and Tara grinned at each other in delight, relishing their victory over their spouses. "Well," drawled Terry, "now that *that's* settled, what should we *do* about this situation?" Marc looked at Terry sharply across the bed and hissed, "dammit, he really *is* my wife!" and looked at Marcia, who shrugged, and looked directly at Tara and Terry. "It was you guys who got us into this--" Terry riposted "I did NOT!" but Marcia continued without acknowledging the comment. "--and if you're going to be so damn *smart* about all this, why don't you two just tell us!" She smirked at Marc, who returned her smirk and lay back against a pillow. "That's right, honey," he said to Tara. "You always have all the answers. So now what?"

Terry looked at Tara with one eyebrow cocked and his eyes gleaming. Tara felt the burning sensation of a bright blush blooming in her cheeks and lowered her eyes, instinctively grasping Terry's meaning. Marc and Marcia watched the interplay between them and shot forward on the bed. "You CAN'T be serious!" said Marcia, and Marc chimed in "is sex ALL you can think of at a time like this?!?" Marcia looked at Marc, her mouth tight and disapproving. "Typical," she said. "Are all you men like this?" "Hey--don't blame me," Marc responded. "You know I feel the same way you do--and *she* is a woman, I might add, and she's just as bad as he is!"

Tara looked at Terry with a mischevious glint in her eye, one which he returned in kind. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" he said; "you know I am," she replied. And in a simultaneous motion the two of them leaped across the bed shouting "TICKLE FIGHT!!!," their hands curved into talons which they used to attack Marc and Marcia. "You're so TICKLISH!" Tara squealed as she grabbed at Marc's ribs as he wriggled and squirmed. "Is she ticklish too?" Terry paused in his attack to shoot a dangerous look at his "twin." "Why don't you find out for yourself?" he challenged, and Marcia looked up in dread as Tara flashed him a devilish smile. "No," she breathed. "NO!!!" "Yes, yes," Tara murmured, as she flung herself away from Marc and onto Marcia.

"*I* get to go first," Whit Walker insisted. "I am a major box-office star and A-list talent, and you are here to make love to *me*. So come on, tie me up. I'm...asking you." His voice trailed away to a petulant whine.

"Why you egotistical buffoon!" the woman snapped at him. "Winnie Walker takes a back seat to no one in star power--or in earnings! On the contrary, I demand that you administer my spanking immediately! Do AS I TELL YOU!" she ended, her voice rising to a crescendo of affront.

"Don't try to kid a kidder, baby," Whit sneered. "Hell, you can't even pick an original name!"

Infuriated, the woman slapped him across the face.

Whit's head snapped back and then he raised it again, his eyes aglow. "Now that's more LIKE it!" he exclaimed. "More!!!"

Doctor Heinfust was ripping and pulling at wires frantically now, but things were decidedly falling apart on the battlefield. Suddenly a brightly-clad figure dropped with a loud THUMP onto the roof where he worked. The blue-suited man emitted a cry--"Beanie!!!"--and suddenly a string of angry imprecations flowed from his lips. "Why you arrogant, greasy, limey bastard! You Papist baby-raper! I'll get you my pretty, and your little lackey running dog, too, you pinko commie!!" He jumped onto the roof's ledge and posed heroically. "Beware and fear, you Marxist scum! For now you must reckon with the power of the BLUE BIGOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

The hero leaped off the roof and up into the sky. The heroine watched him depart with a sigh. "There goes the Blue Bigot," she murmured, "off to meet the Great Evil."

"Better him zan us," the Doctor responded, and once again he turned back to his work.

Tara paused in her tickling for a moment to look at her victim. "Wow--they even dress alike!", she thought, looking at the red-striped pajama tops and bottoms that Marcia wore. Her eyes rose to Marcia's, and she saw that the blonde woman was regarding her carefully. "Why...you even wear the same things to bed," she was murmuring, "those oversized t-shirts, and the boxer shorts..." Tara leaned over Marcia a little further and looked deeply into her eyes. "Look at me," she commanded, softly. "Can't you see? I'm really him, as much as he is me." "Yes..." Marcia whispered, almost fearfully. "You have the same face...your eyes...it's as if..."

Tara reached out and gently took Marcia's hand in her own, raising it to her cheek. "Don't you see, Sweetie?" she quietly said. "It *is* me, the one you fell in love with six years ago. The one who loves you more than anything." A wry smile crossed Marcia's face as she lay beneath Tara, and she narrowed her eyes. "Well, I wouldn't say that, exactly," she said. "There is still the small matter of THESE"--and she grabbed Tara's breasts roughly in her hands and gave a hard squeeze--"and also the lack of something down HERE"--and her hand zipped right under Tara's crotch and goosed her. Tara jumped up in surprise and then sat back down, hard. "So," she purred. "THAT's the way you want to play it, hmmmm?"

Tara leaned forward again and pinned Marcia's hands over her head, grasping them at the wrists and holding them down. She held that position for a moment, her head poised over Marcia's. her hair hanging down around her face, her breasts swinging loosely in the big t-shirt until they were positioned just above Marcia's chin and mouth. The two women locked gazes, and Tara felt a chilling tingle run down her back as the possibilities of the situation began to unfold within her mind. Almost afraid to go any further, Tara turned her head to the side and risked a quick glance at Terry and Marc, who were paying no attention to their wives.

Terry was talking earnestly to Marc, who would not look directly back at him. As Tara watched, Terry reached out his hand and rested it on Marc's upper arm. Marc flinched and pulled back a little, his eyes pointed down into his lap. "He's resisting," came a murmur from beneath Tara, and she snapped her eyes down to see Marcia's head turned to the side, watching as her husband reached out to her analogue. "He wants to--I know he does. But he's too inhibited." She straightened her head and looked deeply into Tara's eyes, until they were drowning in each other. "Maybe we can help him through this." She smiled, a lazy, sensuous smile, and stretched, extending her locked wrists a little further as her back arched up. "So now you have me, Tara," she crooned. "But whatever are you going to do with me?"

Tara's breath caught in her throat, and she felt something click down behind her solar plexus. With a sensuous glance at Marcia she loosed her hold on the other woman's wrists, straightened up as she sat above her, and with one smooth motion crossed her arms and pulled her t-shirt up and over her head. Tara's breasts and hair fell free as the t-shirt dropped to the bed behind her, and Tara raised her arms to shake out her hair, her movement pulling her breasts back and upward just above Marcia. Marcia gasped, and then gasped again as she watched Tara lean back, her arms extended behind her, propping her up, her chest still thrust forward.

Without conscious thought Marcia reached up from where she lay on her back and lightly placed her hands on Tara's exposed breasts. With a light, feathery touch she traced their outlines with her fingertips, running them down the sides, down around the swell of their bottom curves, underneath until they came up inside the cleft that lay between them. Tara sighed happily, and Marcia's hands became bolder, her palms moving to the underside of Tara's breasts to lift them, to feel their weight and heft, their soft solidity. Using her index fingers and thumbs, Marcia rubbed lightly at the slightly indented nipples that lay at the center of small pink circles. Twisting a little, stroking lightly, Marcia began to breathe faster as she felt them harden under her touch, the nubbins becoming erect and firm, and turning pinker as they became flushed and engorged.

Tara moaned and leaned forward again. In an instant Marcia was on her, her mouth opening as she moistened her parted dry lips with her tongue. With her right hand she lifted Tara's left breast to her lips and extended her tongue. She held Tara's breast there, the nipple millimeters away from her lips, and made the barest flick at it with the tip of her tongue; Tara groaned again. Smiling now, Marcia pursed her lips and blew on the hardened nipple, a gentle stream of air that brushed it and stimulated it. She then touched it with her tongue again, and Tara started, as if she had felt a tiny electric shock at Marcia's touch. Moistening her lips again, Marcia surrounded the nipple and aureole with her lips and held it there, lightly sucking at it as she held it in a deep kiss.

Tara's eyes were open, and she gazed hungrily at the woman at her breast. Marcia began to tongue the breast in her mouth with firm, hard licks, her left hand reaching underneath to fondle Tara's other breast, rubbing it and kneading it with hard, squeezing motions. Tara's eyes almost rolled back into her head but she managed to maintain her composure, and as Marcia concentrated on her breasts and her arousal mounted, Tara fumbled with her fingers at the other woman's pajama buttons. "Dammit, I can never get these things open while you're playing with me--you know that!" she complained. With a silvery laugh Marcia stopped her ministrations and popped the buttons open, one by one. "You are such a klutz sometimes," she said with affection, but she ended with a loud intake of breath as Tara spread her pajama top open and ran her flat palms down Marcia's sides.

As she massaged the supine woman's sides and ribs, Tara looked at her naked torso with interest. Marcia shared Marc's broad shoulders and narrow waist. Her breasts were smaller than Tara's but firm, the dark nipples and aureolae larger than Marc's but still similar. Wondering just how far the similarities extended, Tara lowered her mouth to Marcia's breasts and licked around her right nipple in a broad circle with the flat of her tongue. She was rewarded by a loud gasp and a moan, and she attacked the breast harder with her mouth, using her tongue and lips, even her teeth. Marcia arched her back and thrust her chest into Tara's face, her hands wrapped in Tara's hair as she pulled her closer. "Oh, yes," she cried, writhing in delight as Tara licked and sucked and nibbled at her nipples, her breasts, her cleavage. Tara's hands joined her mouth, and Marcia began to groan louder.

Lying atop Marcia, Tara maneuvered her body upwards until her own breasts were rubbing up against Marcia's, their faces opposite one another. She snuck her hands around the woman's waist and ran them up her back--bringing another moan forth from Marcia's lips--until they were up at Marcia's shoulders. With her arms wrapped underneath, Tara held Marcia in a tight embrace, both woman conscious of the warm contact between their bellies, their legs intertwining with each other, their breasts burning where they were crushed together.

"I think I love you," Tara whispered, her lips inches away from Marcia's. Marcia's eyes looked deep into hers and she whispered back "I love *you*." And then their lips were touching and parting open, and they kissed, deeply, sensuously, their tongues playing with each other and grappling and rolling and running along the edges of their teeth. And Marcia almost sobbed with the intensity of their passionate kiss, and Tara almost forgot to breathe, and when they pulled apart it was with a slow, lingering regret, and their lips remained lightly touching each other for an endless moment.

As the kiss ended, Tara moved back up onto her knees, her hands holding Marcia's to pull her up as well. Still holding hands, the two women silently looked over at their husbands, Terry all flushed and disappointed, Marc looking pinched and a little pale. With a reassuring rub of Marcia's hand, Tara shifted herself around until she was next to Marc, her hands moving to rub his shoulders. "Darling...Marc, look at me." Reluctantly he raised his head, his eyes downcast like a little boy's. "Nobody wants you to do anything you don't want to," she said in soft, soothing tones. "I love you and only you," she said, her hands rubbing harder as his shoulders began to lose some of their tension. She placed her hands on his chin and turned his head toward her, planting her lips on his for a deep kiss. It was like double heaven, she thought, as she revisited the kiss she had just broken with Marcia a moment before.

Almost against his will, Marc's body began to respond to his wife's touch. With careful movements she ran her hands under his pajama top, patiently manipulating the buttons one by one until they finally yielded to her efforts. Without giving him a chance to resist she reached down and pulled down at his bottoms, never breaking their kiss. Marc shifted to allow her to remove them, and Tara grinned inwardly as she noticed that she was getting some additional help from Terry, who was careful not to interfere with her calming efforts. Behind her Tara could feel someone else tugging at the waistband of her boxers, and Tara finally pulled her lips away from Marc's as she awkwardly lifted her knees to help Marcia strip her.

The two of them were naked now, facing each other on the bed. Looking directly into Marc's eyes, Tara said "I want to make love to you now. Please. I need this, and I need you." She took his hand and guided it to her breast, her belly, to the triangular thatch of dark pubic hair in her lap. Marc extended his middle finger and rubbed down from her waist, through her curly hair, to the top of her opening and pressed down firmly, shocking her. Almost unconsciously Tara leaned back and spread her knees slightly apart as she kneeled, allowing him easier access to her sex, already warm and moist from her arousing encounter with Marcia. Marc's eyes bore into hers with intensity as she began to breathe faster and thrust her hips forward in tiny motions as his finger moved around her wet opening, up to her clit. "Yes," he said, simply, and Tara lay back before him.

Suddenly Tara saw Marc go rigid, and she saw Terry behind him on the bed, his hand on Marc's shoulder. "No, Marc," she said in a low voice. "It's all right, really. Don't think of him as a man, touching you. Don't reject his touch because of who you think he is. You should love him for that. Because he is me, he is part of us. He loves you just as I do, can't you see?" Marc shook his head in a tight little motion, and Tara felt all the joy and desire she had been feeling drain out of her, replaced by a dull ache of sadness and disappointment.

Then Marcia was above her, almost atop her as she moved forward to look directly into Marc's face. "You can't deny it, you know," she said firmly, forcing Marc's gaze back to hers. "I know what you're thinking and what you are doing, but holding it back is wrong!" Marc looked back at her, a blush rising in his cheeks. "You know you feel the connection between you two, the same way I do with Tara! He's your soul mate, just like she is! All this--" she gestured at her body, at Marc's, "--it's just the package. You *know* that, don't you? Just like I do! It's what's inside that matters," she said with intensity. "And if you say you don't feel that, I say you're lying. To me, to Tara, to Terry, and most of all to yourself."

As Marcia finished speaking, her eyes and Marc's still locked together, Tara touched Marc's dangling penis with the palm of her hand, her fingers caressing his balls underneath, lifting and rubbing. "You know she's right," Tara murmured, squeezing a little harder, and Marc's eyes began to close, a grunt of assent coming unwillingly from deep in his throat. "I love you and I love Marcia too. But don't you see? I only love her because of you--my love for her is my love for you." Marc was listening, she could see that, but he was distracted as his cock thickened and hardened, growing erect in her hand, which she wrapped around his shaft. "Ummmm..." she heard him moan, and then he jerked back again as he felt Terry's hands rubbing his back.

But Tara wan't about to give up this time, and as he pulled back she held tightly onto his cockshaft, the net result being the stimulation of his now-hard cock. She began to stroke and pump his cock just the way she knew he liked it, pulling the skin up and down without too much friction, a rhythmic motion that brought a groan to his lips. She felt his body stiffen again and knew that Terry must have touched him again, but she increased the pressure on his cock and watched as his eyes seemed to glaze over. That look, she thought. Where had she seen...the back rub look! Terry must be rubbing his back! Of course! And if Marcia was anything like Marc then Terry would know which areas to target... Marc moaned louder, and Tara smiled, knowing that everything was all right. Terry must've just reached the small of Marc's back, and once you reached that you were at the point of no return.

Overstimulated, Marc lost his balance and his knee slipped off the edge of the bed. Without missing a beat Terry pulled the other knee off until Marc was kneeling on the carpet by the bed, his cock slipping out of Tara's grasp. She skootched down until she too was at the edge, her legs dangling over and her feet flat on the floor. Marcia came too, shuffling forward on her knees until she was kneeling right next to Tara's head, and looking intently at Marc throughout.

Marc was leaning on the bed with his arms, his eyes closed and his attention focused on Terry's rubbing up and down his back. After a moment he squeezed his eyes tightly shut and Marcia moved her head up close to his, leaning forward. "He's reached your ass, hasn't he?" she said, in hushed tones. "You can't hide that from me. You love it, you know you do. Anytime anybody touches your asssssssssss..." The word trailed off into a hiss, for as she leaned forward to talk to Marc, Tara reached out with her right hand and began to caress her backside, much as Terry was doing to Marc.

Tara fondled, her hand moving softly but firmly across the cheeks, slapping one with a loud SMACK, and then moving down the crevice. She let her fingertips move down between Marcia's asscheeks, playing briefly with the opening to her anus, and then playing with the bottom of Marcia's pussy entrance. The woman groaned and pushed her hips back, the motion pushing her pussy opening down around Tara's fingers, which entered the warm, wet aperture with little resistance.

Marcia reached out with her left hand to steady herself, and placed it accidentally on Tara's pubis. With a smile she initiated her own exploration of Tara's pubic area, tickling the dark pubic hair and flicking at Tara's clit with her index finger. Hearing Tara's groan of pleasure Marc opened his eyes, which widened at the sight of Marcia's stimulation of his wife's pussy. With a grin he looked at Marcia and hefted his penis in his hand, looking quizzical. Marcia grinned back and pulled away from Tara, fetching every pillow on the bed and throwing some to Marc. The two of them stuffed the pillows under Tara, who squealed as she was buffetted back and forth in the process. "Watch it!" she yowled, and was answered by two matching grins that made her tingle in anticipation.

The bed was high as it is. With the additional pillows beneath her Tara began to feel like the Princess and the Pea, sleeping on her twenty mattresses piled up to the ceiling. "I hope you're not scared of heights," Marcia murmured, resuming her position at Tara's side. "Not a bit," Tara replied. "But what's the point of..." and then she gasped as Marcia began to rub her clit harder, stroking her in circles. "Ohhhhhhh," Tara moaned, looking at her husband.

"She's...even...better...at...this...than...you..." The words faded, and Tara began to emit mewing sounds. "Ummm...Ummm...Ummm," she panted, and then she felt a jolt as Marc stood up next to her pussy at the edge of the bed, and touched the tip of his cock to her vaginal opening as Marcia continued to rub her clitoris. His hand around the shaft, Marc moved the tip of his cock around Tara's entrance in a circular motion, moistening it as Marcia parted Tara's pussy lips for him. "Ohhhhhhhhhh," she moaned, and then "Nooo," as Marc pulled his cock away. But Marcia replaced the cockhead with her tongue as she licked all around Tara's entrance, moistening and stimulating Tara's most sensitive spots. "Oh...YES..." she panted, "I'm...gonna..." and then Marcia's tongue was gone and Tara shouted "NOOOOOO!!!!" as she frantically thrust her pelvis toward some stimulation that was no longer there.

"You fucking TEASES!" she howled, frustrated by the nearness of the orgasm that had eluded her. "How could you--AAAAAH!" she screamed in shock as Marc had moved forward and rammed his cock deep inside her all at once, as Marcia moved away. "Oh you fuckers," she moaned, "Oh, yes...that's it...oh baby, fuck me, c'mon, harder, now..." Marc began to move in and out of Tara, but lethargically, ever so slowly, milking every stroke for every moment he could. He pushed in, as deep as his cock could go, held it for a minute, and then pulled back slowly, tortuously as Tara tried to rock her hips, to rub her clit against his pubis. "You fucking BASTARD," she hissed through gritted teeth. "You fucking tease."

"Oh, you know you love this," Marcia purred, "but I don't see why you should be the only one enjoying herself." Still facing Marc, Marcia lefted her left leg and swung it over Tara's head, which was tilted back as Marc fucked her with deliberate slowness. Bending forward at her waist, Marcia pushed back until her vagina was positioned just above Tara's face, her breasts hanging down, her own face above the spot where Marc's cock moved in and out of Tara's pussy. With a sigh she settled herself down, lowering her pussy until she could feel Tara's nose disappearing into her opening. Buried beneath her, Tara smiled ecstatically and wiggled her head from side to side, the movement causing her nose to stimulate Marcia's pussy. Marcia just pushed down harder and Tara opened her mouth and touched Marcia's clit with her tongue, also rubbing it with her lower lip. Incredible! she thought to herself. She even *tastes* like Marc, but tangier!

Marcia moaned and began to move back and forth, moving her pussy up and down with the rhythm of Tara's licking. With her own hand she reached down to Tara's pussy, and touched the juncture where Marc's cock was joined to her. She touched Tara's clit with her finger and was rewarded by a sudden jump and then an intensification of the licking on her own clit. With a smile Marcia matched Tara's rhythm, and began circling at Tara's sensitive love-button.

Then Marc stopped moving, his cock half-buried in Tara, a frozen look on his face. Marcia moved her face close to his, an expression of understanding on her face. "Let him," she said to Marc. "We both know how much you want this." Marc groaned, and Tara heard the sound of a drawer opening and shutting. "He's lubricating you, isn't he?" Marcia whispered seductively. "Ummmm..." Marc grunted, nervously. Then his eyes closed and his lips parted. "He has a finger inside you," Marcia continued, her voice a low and sexy murmur. "I know, because I've felt it inside me. He's moving it around inside you, right?" "Ummmmmm....hmmmmm..." Marc assented, his hips moving back and forth slightly, the effort pushing him further inside Tara. Marcia put one hand under Marc's chin and looked deep into his eyes. "Do it," she commanded. "Let him make love to you. You want him inside you and he wants to make love to you. So open wide and take him in, and let him fuck you like you're fucking Tara...that's it...mm-hmm..."

Tara felt Marc's cock jostle about within her as he spread his legs where he stood and bent forward. And then he cried out in pain for a moment and began to press forward, pushed against her as Terry pushed his cock deeper and deeper into Marc's ass. Tara felt their combined weight pushing her back further against the bed, felt Marc's cock drive deeper into her than ever before, filling her completely as Terry filled him. Tara cried out, the sound muffled by Marcia's pussy on her face as she heard Marc begin to groan, a sound of passion and intensity she had scarcely ever heard from his lips. "I love you," she heard Terry say in her voice, "and I love making love to you," and she could feel it as Marc found a slow rhythm that allowed him to match his thrusts to Terry's and fuck her as Terry fucked HIM and she tried to match that with the tempo of her licking of Marcia and she reached her hand back and managed to insert her index finger into Marcia's opening while she tongued her clit and then she moistened her thumb in Marcia's pussy and slowly entered Marcia's asshole with it and rubbed her perenium from the inside between her thumb and forefinger and Marcia began to buck on top of her face as Tara's own passion washed over her in waves from Terry and Marc's fucking--

Winnie screamed in release as the sharp painful slaps on her naked buttocks pushed her over the limit and she screamed as she ground her pussy into Whit's lap and his hard cock as he paddled her and she was cumming--

"Almost zere--yes!! Zat's got it!!!" Doctor Heinfust shouted ecstatically--

--And Whit was groaning in arousal as he rested back on his knees, his mouth shut by the leather-and-rubber ball gag, his hands handcuffed behind him, his body crisscrossed with the leather straps of his bonds, and his erect cock straining outwards as Winnie slapped at it with her hands and whipped at him with the leather strap and he knew he would cum soon--

--And all four of them were moving together, Terry fucking Marc from behind, his hands clutching Marc's hips, and Marc plunging in and out of Tara's sopping pussy, and Tara fingering Marcia's holes and licking frantically at Marcia's clitoris, and Marcia riding Tara's face with her back arched and her hips bucking wildly, and Marcia began screaming Oh Yes Im Cumming and Tara felt the cresting crashing waves of passion washing over her and Terry rammed his cock deep into Marc and Marc cried out--

--And Winnie was rubbing her clit as fast and as hard as she could and she began to whimper "Oh--I--think--I'm--cumming--again--"

--And Doctor Heinfus slammed shut the panel and punched the green button as hard as he could--

"Now!" Winnie shouted as her hands raced

"Now!" exclaimed Doctor Heinfust, capering on the roof

"Now!" Terry expostulated as his cock erupted

"Mmmmrfffff!" groaned Whit behind the ball-gag

"Now!" yelled Marc as Terry shot into him and he exploded

"Now!!!" Marcia screamed as her body went rigid

"AAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!" Tara felt the entire universe explode around her and her orgasm engulfed her, surrounded her, swallowed her whole and everything that she was and everything around her burst into a million tiny fragments and she came forever and the sensation of cumming went on and on and then suddenly it was over and Marc collapsed on top of her where she lay among the scattered pillows on the bed and there was no one else in the room and they lay there with his cum dripping out of her and the blue VCR clock blinking "12:00...12:00...12:00..." and then all was still.

An eternity later, Tara rubbed Marc's shoulder and said, in a small voice, "hi, honey." "Hiiiiii yourself," he drawled back contentedly. "Ummm...could you describe what just happened?" she said, quivering a little in the aftermath. "What do you mean?" he murmured sleepily, and then he turned his head away and began to snore softly.

Tara wedged herself out from under her husband and blinked several times. What *had* happened tonight, anyway? she wondered. I can't...there was a guy, wasn't there? And a woman? Why can't I remember what happened while we were making love?

She strained but could not recall much more, and so she got up to look out the window at a sky that seemed filled with strange lights. But as she watched they faded away until they were gone. "Weird..." she muttered. "Really...weird." Tara turned back to the bed she shared with her husband and got ready to return to sleep, knowing she would probably be unsuccessful. As she climbed in over the recumbent form sprawled out across much of the bed her hand made momentary contact with the Marc's backside. "What...?" she said, startled, and she raised her hand to look at it in the dim light of the darkened room. It was glistening with what seemed to be male ejaculate. Tara stared at her sticky fingers in shock. "What the HELL--???"

Three flights up, well-known star Whit Walker blinked his eyes open. That must have been SOME night, he thought. I can barely remember anything-- Whit tried to rub the grit out of his eyes, but his hand refused to obey. What the-- he couldn't move! His hands were bound behind him--his body was strapped tightly in leather bonds-- Whit tried to shout for help, but the words came out muffled. A GAG?!? What the hell was going *on* here?!? He looked about wildly, trying to see who had done this to him, to plead for mercy, but no one answered. How the hell had he managed to do this to himself without anyone else around?

"Mrrffff!" he shouted. "MRRRRRFFFFFFF!!!!!"

The Evil One leaned back in his La-Z-Boy leatherette chair and sighed. "Ah well," he said urbanely. "Yet another failure, I suppose."

"You came close this time," said his chief adviser and sycophant. "This was the closest yet."

"Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained," the Evil One philosophically responded. "Tell me, did nothing truly come of this campaign?"

"I wouldn't say thaaaaaat," came the response. "There was some interesting interaction between analogues this time. Of a sexual nature, in fact."

"Enlighten me," said the Evil One, straightening up in his seat.

"There were two actors, Dread Lord, a man and a woman, with masochistic tendencies and some elaborate props. Only pedestrian bondage and spanking activities, I'm afraid."

"I see." The Evil One sank lower in his seat. "Perhaps that will do."

"No Great One, I was saving the best for last. Two analogous couples, with oppositional gender assignment. All individuals with healthy sexual appetites and exploratory natures, although some coaxing was required. Their interlude together involved extensive foreplay, emotional undercurrents, and a climactic mutual orgasm of explosive intensity. To my way of thinking, this episode may prove to be an enduring classic with great potential."

"Yes. Well, that will be all for now. Why don't you just...leave me the tape of that one, and I'll get back to you about it later. Oh, also--see that a wine cooler is sent up to my quarters. And perhaps a gallon or so of Vaseline. Oh--and hold all my calls, would you?"

The adviser bowed his head and left the room, chuckling to himself.

THE END

Blame this one on several sources:

A Jean-Claude Van Damme movie called TIME COP, which my husband and I saw (and heckled) on broadcast TV this past week;

A Christopher Stasheff SF book, THE WARLOCK UNLOCKED, about analogues;

My brother's comic-book collection, and especially a sprawling DC Comics series from ten years ago called CRISIS ON INFINITE EARTHS;

A story from Phil Foglio's Adult Comic Book XXXENOPHILE, that I found in my husband's stash of adult materials (I call it his "pornography box") some time ago.

I hope any "Art Appreciation" fans weren't TOO disappointed, and I hope any new readers enjoyed themselves as well. Feel free to e-mail me with any responses at "taria29c@aol.com." or to look up my stories at Slowhand Luke's website