© Copyright 2004, 2006 by silli_artie@hotmail.com
This work may not be reposted or redistributed without the prior
express written permission of the author.
A work of fiction, meant for adults. Read something else if you are
not an adult, or are offended by stories with sexual content. Then
again, if all you’re looking for is in-out, in-out, in-out, you
should probably read something else. I welcome constructive comments.
Enjoy.
3
I was in my university library study room in Las Cruces. Sherry was sitting across from me, wearing her usual, denim pants and a close-fitting soft top, the lavender velour one I liked so much, the way the colours shifted along the soft curve of her full breasts.
Books on the table -- for our literature class, for my classes.
But something was out of place -- the thermodynamics text on the table wasn’t the one I studied, it was the one I co-authored, the one I taught from.
“What should we do first?” Sherry asked me.
Her brown eyes were so soft and inviting. I felt nervous around her, felt it in my chest, in my thighs, my palms getting wet and my mouth getting dry.
“Are you nervous, Alan? Let me help you relax,” she invited, opening her arms.
That only tightened the feeling in my chest. Glancing at the clock, I knew -- in the building next door, my mom had office hours. I could drop by; she never minded when I dropped by, and I did that so seldom anymore.
“I need to visit my mother, for just a few minutes,” I told Sherry.
“You’re upset -- I can help,” Sherry whispered, brushing my cheek with a fingertip as her other hand pressed on my back, bringing me closer, sending shivers through me.
Oh, I wanted her -- but I wanted to see my mom so bad; I hadn’t seen her in so long.
“It’s okay, sweetie -- let me hold you and help you relax,” Sherry whispered, pulling me closer.
I cried. Mom was next door, in her office on the second floor, her little office strewn with papers and books, pictures I’d drawn as a little kid on the walls, the picture of her and dad hanging above her computer display. Dad was teaching, but he’d be done in an hour and we’d meet at his office and go home together. Dad would drive, and we’d talk about our day. Mom and I would fix dinner while dad walked the fence surrounding the house. Oh how I missed them; how I needed to tell them I loved them, how I needed to see them one more time.
“It’s okay, sweetie -- I’ve got you,” Sherry whispered, holding me closer.
I held her as I cried.
“Let’s start at the beginning,” she whispered. I held her.
She spoke as she held me, rocking me gently, helping me relax. It was hard, oh so hard, but we did it. Then she started taking me up and down. It was so nice to drift, floating in the softness of her voice. I didn’t want to come up. But when I did, I looked for the clock again, not wanting to be late, wanting to see my parents, wanting so much. But we had plenty of time. She took me down once more, down so deep, so relaxed, so comfortable, so safe with her.
“Coming back to me; three, feeling your hands and feet; two, another deep breath; one, eyes open, so relaxed and peaceful.”
I opened my eyes; back in my bedroom in Oxford, looking at Rose.
I burst into tears, reaching for her.
She held me.
“I never got to say goodbye to them,” I cried.
“I know,” she whispered.
Remembering what she’d been through made it all the more painful.
We moved to the bed and she held me. I clutched her, wanting the sound of her heartbeat to drown out the pain. I wanted her to take it all away again, but she held me and I cried. She cried with me. I guess we ran out of tears eventually, and went to sleep.
I woke in the morning so hungry for her, moving closer, finding a nipple, and then in the space of a breath, things were so much better.
“You’re smiling,” Rose remarked as she sat up in bed.
I nodded, feeling the warmth of her skin. “Yes -- with good reason.”
She frowned and I reached to touch her forehead.
“You’ve been here a week,” I told her, “Those first few days -- I wasn’t sure it was real. Now...”
She interrupted, grabbing me, grabbing me and sobbing.
I held her. “I hope those are happy tears,” I whispered. She kissed me. I guessed they were.
As we finished breakfast later, I asked, “What did we learn last night?”
Rose looked at me and sighed. “A great deal... I have some calls to make, some people to talk to this morning.” Then she smirked. “And some things to try in the next few days.”
I held her hand. “I like that look better. And I do feel better this morning. Last night was quite a surprise to me as well. But I’m glad we did it, glad it came out.”
“Will I see you for lunch?” I asked as we cleaned up our little kitchen -- surprise, in only a week, it had become “our” kitchen.
“Oh yes -- I’m not going to cause too much trouble this morning.”
A cold thought -- I moved closer, putting my arms around her waist. “Next week -- your procedure...”
“Harvesting eggs? Don’t worry, I’m used to it. It takes an hour or two. I’m uncomfortable for a few days. But you’ll be well taken care of, I promise.” She smiled more and wiggled her hips.
“It’s not that I worry about,” I told her seriously.
She gave me a serious look in return.
“I’m concerned -- I know what they’ve done to me. No, I don’t know what they’ve done, but I’m concerned. How long would it take them to have you come out singing ‘I’m a little teapot’?”
She sighed and nodded with a very serious look. “Not very long -- for either of us.”
“How do we protect you?”
She glanced up for a moment. “Deev will be here -- I’ll have her attend, and I’ll talk to Geneva. It’s a valid concern, as I’m medicated for the procedure. Thank you, darling.”
“For worrying?”
“For worrying about me.”
When we met at the dining hall for lunch, she was all smiles. “Your morning went well?” I asked.
“Yes, very. Geneva is sending someone to do the retrieval next week -- and I’ll have Deev there as well. How did your morning go?”
I smiled. “It went well. Very good students. Alex said something about my schedule later in the week? To ask you?”
“Oh good -- I’ll chat with her this afternoon.”
“What’s going on?”
She smiled, an evasive female smile. “We’re trying, darling.”
I knew better than to push it further!
My afternoon tutorials went well; Rose met with Alex about something. I’d find out eventually.
We had a second computer installed, and I guess mine was substantially upgraded in the process. Now we could both work in the evening, if we weren’t busy doing other things...
After dinner, we’d been working quietly for a while. I looked up as Rose was taken by a girl’s happy-giggle-fit, bouncing in her chair. She turned to me and gave me a big hug.
“Like to tell me?” I asked.
She squeezed me tighter. “Oh, it’s working out so well! Deev will be here Sunday afternoon!”
It was quite obvious she was very happy with this prospect. “Wonderful! Like to tell me about her?”
Surprisingly, that sobered her quickly. “Alan, we’ve known each other for a while, we’ve ... worked together, closely, and ...”
I nodded, still smiling. “I understand; don’t worry about it.” I’d had students meet in my tutorials and fall madly in love with each other before. It was the falling out that caused the problems...
She smiled, our foreheads touching. “Oh... You’re going to like her as well, I know...”
“Oh?”
She chuckled. “You’ll see, silly.”
“Is she Indian? Hindu?”
“No! Why?”
“Well, from her name...”
Rose laughed again. She pulled us to the couch. “Her real name is Angela. She’s a statistician, an analyst. Because of her, ah, personality, someone called her ‘standard deviation,’ and that got shortened to Deev.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“She’s very, very good,” Rose tried to repair the damage.
“...and when she’s bad, she’s fantastic?” I suggested.
Rose gave me a mock-offended look, but couldn’t keep a straight face. “Let’s go upstairs -- I’ll show you how good I can be...”
My last tutorial on Wednesday ends at three. Shortly after my students departed, Alex came in.
“We’ve revised your schedule slightly,” she informed me, handing me a piece of paper as Rose entered the room.
Friday tutorials have never been popular. I never liked them as a student, even though I didn’t have places to flit off to for the weekend. Currently I only had one, Friday morning from eleven to twelve. That was moved to late Thursday afternoon, leaving Friday morning with only my exercise routine. My other Thursday tutorials had been moved up slightly, and a bit taken out of lunch.
“Have the students been approached about these changes?”
Rose smiled. “Oh yes, they’ve all agreed.”
“And why are we doing this?” I inquired.
“To free up your time,” was the sphinx-like response. I knew from the way they smiled I wasn’t going to get anything more out of them.
Rose looked at the clock. “Oh, and we have a visitor at four.”
I picked up a group of papers I had to review, and a red pen. “At least I have time to get some reading done.”
Alex made a face. “Please do it upstairs! That loo has a fan!” She waved a hand in front of her face in mock disgust.
“Feed me roses,” I mumbled in reply.
The ladies laughed. I went upstairs for a period of relative tranquility.
I returned after completing two of the three papers. Rose was puttering happily.
“And who is our visitor?” I asked.
“She’ll be along shortly,” Rose informed me cheerily.
I sat at the desk and took my notes.
A knock on the door -- Rose answered it.
“Please come in, dear; you’re early.”
I remained seated, hoping I wore a scowl appropriate to an Oxford tutor.
But who did Rose appear with but one of the young ladies I’d seen at the reception desk at her Order’s offices! Quite an attractive lass she seemed to be as well.
“Alan, this is Jessica. She is still in training, and agreed to come over this afternoon.”
I nodded, staying seated at my desk.
Rose gave me a firm and displeased look.
I closed my notebook and walked around the desk to greet our visitor. “I am pleased to meet you, Jessica. How may I be of Service?”
She blushed at that.
“Silly me -- I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” I half-apologized. Still, I knew why they had offices here, and so did she -- I’d handed her sealed-up sample kits.
“Oh, please sit down, Alan,” Rose said in an amused tone.
I sat on the couch.
“Continue, dear,” Rose told Jessica.
“Thank you for agreeing to help with my training,” Jessica said, standing in front of me. I could tell she was a bit nervous.
“What would you like me to do?” I asked, looking up to pretty brown eyes.
She took off the top of her habit, and the head covering they wear, wimple? Her hair was short and black.
She removed her simple gray top; her breasts were full and ripe, held in a plain bra. She fiddled with the center clasp.
She stepped closer and pulled my head to her, nestling me between her breasts. “Hold me, please,” she whispered.
I put my arms around her waist and let my eyes close. I enjoyed her warmth and her scent, and was soon drifting in her embrace.
“Alan?”
I opened my eyes and sat up. I was still on the couch. “Where is our visitor?” I inquired.
Rose sat next to me, rubbing my back. “Oh, she went back.”
I glanced at the clock. Over an hour had passed. “I take it things went well?”
She smiled, almost chuckled. “Yes, very. You were quite a help.”
“She seemed nervous.”
“We all were at one time, and we all are at some times.”
I raised her hand and kissed it. “Very true.”
I took a deep breath. “I feel like a walk. ‘Bird and baby’ for dinner? Is it dry out?”
She frowned a bit but smiled. “A local pub? I don’t think we’re in for rain. Let me check.” She kissed me on the forehead as she stood up.
I stood up and stretched a bit. I felt quite rested. Oh well.
Rose returned with my coat and her cloak. “Alex says we’ll stay dry. Are we going to ‘The Eagle and Child’ pub? My colleagues recommend it highly.”
I nodded as I helped her with her cloak and put on my coat. “Yes. I went there quite often in my early years. It’s still a favourite haunt of the literature types. Good food, good pudding, and they’ll nip out for Indian or Chinese if you like. Haven’t been there in months.”
The walk over was good, the food and ale were good, and the walk back refreshing. I was feeling quite talkative for some reason.
“We should do that more often,” I suggested to Rose as we hung up our coats, back in the cozy warm.
We went to the study. Rose tapped her computer, shrugged, and turned to me with a smile. “Sit with me?” she asked, moving to the couch.
I nodded and sat while she removed her heavy top, leaving the thin gray undergarment.
“What do you remember of this afternoon?” she asked.
“What in particular?” I asked in reply.
“Our visitor?”
“Oh! Jessica? Nice, nicely put together, somewhat nervous, soft and warm.”
Rose nodded. “Do you remember anything else? Anything she said or did?”
It was hard to frown when recalling such things. “She was soft, warm, and held me very nicely. I tend to fade out when such things happen. The next thing I remember, you called me and helped me sit up. I was actually surprised I was still clothed,” I ended with a smirk.
Rose nodded, a neutral expression on her face. “Close your eyes for a moment, darling.”
I closed my eyes; I thought I heard her move. I felt her hands on my head, her hands pulling me to her, holding me gently.
“Think about this afternoon with Jessica, and long ago with Sherry. Did Sherry hold you that way?”
“Oh yes,” I answered quickly.
“Was the scent similar?”
“Mmm... With jasmine and maybe sandalwood...”
She asked more questions, when, how often. It was interesting -- I was somewhere between being there again, and watching it like I was watching a movie. “A week or so after we started studying together, she said she was cold -- could I hold her? She was wearing a short-sleeve velour top, and I could tell she was cold. I was a little nervous, but I held her, and soon she had me nestled so nicely... We did that for weeks. So nice...” I burrowed in closer.
“Was that before or after you started kissing?”
“Oh, weeks before. Funny, I didn’t remember that. Must not have been important...”
She squeezed me, moving my head, and I was back in Sherry’s arms. She was saying something; I couldn’t quite understand it, even though it felt like I was repeating every word.
It was clearer now, how she held me. We both liked it so much. And after we started kissing, and she helped me relax, some days she’d just hold me, at first with her top on, then with her top off, the scent stronger, oh so nice -- I wanted to drown myself in that scent and her warmth and softness. Holding, squeezing, relaxing, so safe.
“Alan?”
I opened my eyes, looking at Rose. I hugged her close again. We sat up.
She was smiling, shaking her head back and forth.
“What did we learn?” I asked.
“This afternoon with Jessica -- do you remember having an orgasm? Ejaculating?”
I frowned.
She touched my forehead, as I touched hers when she frowned.
“Touché,” I whispered. “No, I don’t. Not at all.”
She nodded again. “And do you remember me telling you something, something that made you very excited and very happy?”
“Not at all. I remember her holding me, then you woke me. Nothing between the two.”
“I made a recording, if you’d like to view it. Jessica needs the recording for her evaluation. She did very well. I may have her practice more with you.”
I leaned against Rose, my head on her shoulder. “Explain, please.”
Rose held me, rocking gently. “Oh Alan... She was practicing standard sample collection technique, the technique we use to collect the first sample from a male. She used a mixture of drugs -- one that lowers resistance, a euphoric that stimulates pleasure centers and relaxes muscles, and a third that induces short-term amnesia. It was invented by your government for covert interrogation of suspected terrorists. It allows us to take samples surreptitiously, without raising suspicions or alarms. Very effective.”
I shook my head, burrowing into her shoulder. “Yes, very. So that’s another, what, twenty or so Sherry got from me?”
“Yes. And you’re recalling the language patterns she used as well -- she worked quickly at first, relying on drugs, but then started working in depth as it seemed she’d have more time with you. We’re very lucky we got you when we did.”
I sat up and looked her in the eye. “Oh?”
“Alan, I don’t want to frighten you ...”
“...anymore than necessary,” I interrupted.
She managed a slight smile. “While these techniques cannot be used to make you do something you truly do not want to do, when we associate with a very strong desire, with strong feelings and sensations, pleasurable sensations, practically anything is possible.”
“I’d be speaking Chinese,” I whispered.
A slight rise in an eyebrow, a slight movement of her head answered me.
I couldn’t help it. “But I’m safe, because The Order would only use these techniques for good.”
She smirked, then sighed. “You understand all too well. I wish more of my Sisters did.”
I sat back. “A lot to absorb in one sitting...” I looked at Rose. “She really did me, though? Jessica?”
She sat back, smiling a little, putting an arm around my shoulders. “Yes, she did.”
I shook my head. “Sorry I missed it.”
Rose laughed. “You didn’t -- you just don’t remember. You enjoyed it very much. So did she. And I used the opportunity to impress on Jessica that her subject was in a highly vulnerable state, and should be treated with care and respect.”
“Something I dare say isn’t part of the standard protocol.”
“Not at all,” she snorted.
“And what did you tell me that got me so excited?”
She grinned. “Can’t you remember?”
I gave her my best “Oxford Don disappointed with a student” look.
To which she broke into laughter! “Oh, you are priceless some times!”
“Not me, just my seed.”
She pushed her lower lip out in mock-pout. “Have I offended you?”
“Of course not,” I said, pulling her to a hug.
“Like something you can remember?” she whispered in my ear.
“Yes -- but I’d like to give you something to remember first.”
“Ahh -- that would be delightful.” She stood, pulling me to my feet. “Shall we, darling?” she suggested.
I turned out the lights as we went upstairs.
I woke to the alarm Friday morning. When I looked at the clock, it was early -- very early. I rolled over and reached for Rose, but she was already out of bed.
“Get up -- we need to get going,” she told me.
“Why? It’s warm in here, if lonely.”
She peered at me from the bathroom doorway. “We’re going to the Roman ruins at Bath today -- if you get up!”
It took a few seconds for that to filter through, and then I was up and on my feet!
I joined her in the shower. “Bath? Really?”
She handed me the soap and a washcloth. “Shower, really -- wash my back.”
I was nervous, almost giddy. “You told me about this the other day, with Jessica?”
She managed a chuckle. “Yes, and you were like a little kid, hopping up and down, until we grabbed you and got a nipple in your mouth again.”
I’d soaped her back, so I snuggled up close to get soap on me. “Thank you,” I whispered in her ear. “Now turn around so we can do the front.”
My favourite way to shower -- she turned in my arms and we spread the soap around as we kissed, working up a good healthy foam.
The next surprise, as I was drying off, was seeing her put on something other than her habit!
“Is that permitted?” I asked.
She smirked. “Oh yes, for some of these trips, it’s required!”
“We’ve more than one planned?!”
She laughed. “Calm down! We’re working on it, but we have to see how you behave!”
Opening the bedroom door once we were dressed, I smelled bacon and eggs. I rushed downstairs to find Alex in the kitchen fixing breakfast.
“You’re in on this as well?” I asked.
She nodded. “I’m driving.”
“That your bag by the door?” Rose asked as she entered the kitchen.
“Yes -- you packed? One egg or two?”
“Almost -- two please. Be right back.”
“Bags? We’re staying overnight?” I asked.
Alex shook her head. “Yes, and driving back tomorrow afternoon or evening. You and Rose share a room, and I’m in the adjoining.”
I sat down and picked up my cup of tea. I tried to be nonplussed, but my hands were shaking. In over twenty years, I’d barely made it to the Fens!
I was quiet as we ate. Alex talked about the trip. I hadn’t thought about it, but road maintenance was one of many things that had faltered post-Change, one of those manpower-intensive tasks. With limited manpower, only major routes could be maintained by the central authority these days. Some communities maintained portions themselves. When I remarked on that, Rose told me Oxford enjoyed improved rail and road access because of my presence.
As we were ready to leave, I stopped at the front door, remembering.
“Alan, what’s the matter?” Rose asked, hand on my shoulder.
“I don’t know whether to laugh or cry,” I told her.
“What?”
I looked to her, and to Alex. “My father -- whenever we drove somewhere, the last thing before we walked out the door, he asked, ‘Did everybody go to the bathroom?’”
Rose smiled. “You go upstairs. We’ll use the downstairs.” She kissed me on the cheek.
For some reason, Rose carried two bags, I carried one, and Alex carried none at all, leading us to a garage where our car awaited. It was flanked by two young women who stood attentively as we approached.
“All ready?” Alex inquired out loud, then whispered something I didn’t hear. The other two women smiled and relaxed. We loaded our bags and ourselves into the little fuel-cell vehicle and were soon on our way. I was actually escaping!
Getting back into the car Saturday afternoon, once we were on our way I exclaimed, “God, can I talk now?”
Rose and Alex laughed. “Not quite what you expected?” Rose asked.
“Alex,” I said, exhausted and sore, “I couldn’t have survived without your help.”
“I know,” she agreed.
I moved my shoulders and looked at my hands. “I wanted to learn about the Romans, not live like them!” That got more laughter.
I’d never worked as hard, physically. I understood the duty of Service -- part of the post-Change world. Even at our College, Grad students taught (but didn’t they always?), and undergrads do other things, such as serving in the dining hall. I’d helped with painting and landscaping as an undergrad. I still helped during the summers. But when we arrived at the ruins, surprise -- we joined a crew of students on a renovation project.
“Maybe we should visit Champagne during grape-picking season,” I half-suggested.
“Ooh, that’s back-breaking labor!” Rose cried.
“But grapes are a hell of a lot smaller and lighter than the stone blocks we moved!”
“I’ll agree with that!” Alex added.
I’d been put to work moving stone from point A to point B. Surprisingly, Alex joined me, and was a great help -- much stronger than she looks. We did have a number of talks about the old Roman baths, and time to look around.
“I’m glad you took it so well,” Rose told me, rubbing a shoulder.
“My hands are a mess,” I told her.
“Poor baby,” Alex tossed in.
“Last night after dinner -- why was that woman so surprised I knew Latin? I understand why they didn’t know who I was.” During a tour, we stopped at a wishing well. A number of “wishes” were on display, written in Latin. I read one, translating it out loud: the writer complaining he’d been sold a sick cow, and wishing for the seller’s eyes to fall out.
“They don’t run into that many men,” Rose responded.
That response didn’t sit well. Especially when Alex gave her a nasty look.
“Like to rephrase that, or expand on it?” I suggested.
She shook her head for a moment.
“Later, if you prefer,” I offered.
“No,” she told us, looking to Alex, then to me. “Alan, what’s the percentage of male births, in unselected pregnancies?”
“Usually quoted as thirty to forty percent,” I suggested. “Is that number bogus?”
“No, it’s an accurate spread, but it’s a spread, over a large population. I’m sure Deev can give you a much better presentation. With Northern European whites, it’s about twenty percent, just over one in five.”
“So I should stay busy?” I offered in partial humor.
She smiled, and Alex actually laughed.
“We’ll keep you busy, but for clears the unselected distribution is pretty much fifty-fifty,” Rose confirmed. Her brief smile disappeared. “Over the non-clear population, how is I.Q. distributed?”
I shrugged. “Over a statistically significant population, it should be a Gaussian distribution about a norm.”
Rose gave me a frowning smile. “You’ll get along with Deev really well. I’ll be honest and say I’ve heard those terms before. What’s the norm?”
I thought for a moment before answering. “From your question, I get the feeling there’s a divergence between female and male populations -- but wait a minute -- over time wouldn’t that pull down the entire ensemble?”
“Oh yeah, you and Deev speak the same language. She says ‘highly skewed’ and the male number varies by regional genetic characteristics, but it’s bad. Cognitive specialists talk about ‘trainables’ -- that’s in the 65 to 70 I.Q. range.”
Alex spoke tightly but clearly, “And that’s a big reason behind the Eugenics Acts.”
Suddenly sore muscles didn’t matter. “If they breed, they take the entire race down?”
Rose nodded. “It’s not just intellectual -- it’s a whole host of problems, from maintenance and support to susceptibility to disease -- Alzheimer’s, autoimmune... Margaret can explain that dimension.”
I frowned. I recalled overhearing a remark from dinner last night, a disparaging, “at least he worked for it,” remark as I had seconds. I had been very hungry. “So it’s the additional drain on resources as well?”
“Yes,” Rose agreed, “especially on manpower. The Change reduced our use of many resources, but so much work still needs to be done. We got to experience that firsthand.”
“First hand, leg, and back,” I suggested. “I’ll stick to painting trim, although I haven’t been able to do that for years.”
Alex made a grunting noise. “Like to imagine what some people said when they learned you were three meters up on a ladder wielding a paintbrush?”
“It was fun, and I was good at it,” I said in my defense.
Alex shook her head. “Inhaling paint fumes...”
Rose added, “It’s all about the risk-benefit ratio.”
“I like being outdoors occasionally...”
Both ladies broke into laughter.
I shook my head. Time to change the subject. “Were we that close? Are we still that close?”
“The debate goes on,” Rose told us, “But a lot of us feel we’ve passed the crisis point. But there’s still a difference between genetic and sociological survival.”
“So the weeding continues,” Alex threw in.
That startled me. No, a lot of things I’d learned about Alex on this trip startled me. The simple language and tone of voice she used around me before was gone. She was decisive, analytical, and strong -- mentally and physically -- she kept both of us going yesterday when I was ready to stop. Add leadership to that; I’d been ready to quit and she got me back on track quickly. I don’t remember what she’d said, but I’d taken it as a challenge.
“In some areas, within some populations, it has to,” Rose continued on Alex’s remark, “unless you want inherited disease and disability to become the norm. Yes, I know, in other areas, those same programs may not have as seemingly altruistic a motivation. Remember, we won’t be out of the woods until we go a generation without the virus, and we’re not there yet.”
“We’re not? I don’t hear about outbreaks. Oh -- I don’t hear about a lot of things.”
“It’s not just you who doesn’t hear. Remember, once infected, people carry the virus until they die. With proper therapy, maternal transmission, from infected mother to child is preventable. But it’s expensive, requiring intensive drugs therapy through birth and precluding breast feeding, so it’s limited. We still don’t completely understand reactivation, but when that happens, the cycle starts over again. The number of carriers is relatively small, hopefully getting smaller every year. That’s a very tough part of the problem.”
“I thought there was a natural immunity.”
“For some,” Rose said. “We’re immune, as are the vast majority of our offspring, a positive example of autosomal dominance. The virus can’t get established in the immune population. But others are asymptomatic -- carriers who don’t get ill. Without testing, it’s hard to distinguish the two populations. And over time, those two populations will dominate.”
“Are carriers, even latents, restricted in terms of travel?”
Rose smiled, the first smile I’d seen in a bit. “In the past, yes. But in the last few years, some have even been encouraged to move, to relocate.”
“Why?”
“Think about it...”
“Oh! Put them in populations where they’re surrounded by immunes -- reduce the risk.”
“Way too altruistic... The other extreme?” suggested Alex.
“Yes,” agreed Rose, “those exist as well -- and we watch carefully, to make sure they’re treated well.”
A cold thought... “And which camp are my students in?” I asked.
Rose provided an answer. “They are not screened, at least not officially. Antiretrovirals which greatly reduce the risk of infection or reactivation are made available to all students, faculty, and staff as part of the health scheme. And if anyone near you takes ill, they receive immediate care.”
“Whether they like it or not,” I suggested.
Alex nodded her head.
Time to shift... I rolled my shoulders again; sore. “I need a massage...”
Rose fished in her bag. “Let’s see if we can set up anything for tonight,” she said.
But as she pulled out her handi, Alex put a hand on it and commanded loudly, “NO!”
Rose folded it up and very meekly put it away.
Alex told us, “If we arrive before six, and we should, a medical check and a working over are prearranged.”
How quickly the simple housekeeping Alex disappeared!
“We’re thinking of Stonehenge next,” Rose suggested.
I moaned out loud. “Now those rocks are big!”
We all laughed.
We arrived about a quarter past four, and went together to where I had my exercise sessions. We were greeted by the staff and taken off separately. I was checked quite thoroughly, with comments of “an honest day’s labour,” bandied about. Then it was a very good massage.
After a hot shower (alone), I met Alex in the reception area. She’d changed back into her habit. “Did you get a massage?” I asked.
She smiled and put her arm in mine. “Oh yes, very nice. Dinner?”
I nodded. “I’m starving!”
A good meal; we took a circuitous route back. The labour had done me well, not that I wanted to do the same every day!
“Stonehenge?” I inquired. It was cold and damp out, the usual for this time of year.
“Yes, with a group from one of your Colleges; we’ll know mid-week.”
I took a breath, but said, “Thank you.”
Rose chuckled and squeezed my arm. “This trip will be more intellectual.”
“That’s good.”
“Now let’s get inside -- you need to keep me warm!”
I guess I was frowning as we got ready for bed.
“What is it?” Rose asked.
I shook my head. “Something about the trip; not sure yet.”
“They’re not used to intelligent men, and we were trying to be quite circumspect. We won’t have to be as closed this next trip.”
“That’s not it. Something about the others.”
“They accepted us quite readily,” Rose pointed out.
“Yes -- even though I felt older, an outsider.”
“Well, your life hasn’t been run-of-the-mill, nor has mine...”
I wiped my face and rehung the towel; amazing how domestic I was getting. I looked at myself in the mirror, and then at Rose.
“Ah, you’ve figured something out?” she asked.
“I’ve figured out a question -- thinking about the students, and us, we all look to be about the same age, or at least you certainly do. I’m not sure how men age; I haven’t many to point to, but you certainly looked to be in the same age group. I remember when we first met, I guessed your age at about twenty, but you’re older than that.”
She smiled and nodded, a sad kind of smile, and reached for my hand.
“More story telling?” I inquired.
She nodded. “More genetics. Did you know both of us have generations of family members who lived into their 90’s?”
“A genetic component to longevity?”
She shrugged. “Not sure, but there seems to be something. And, we’re both receiving the best care medical science can provide.” She smirked. “Ever try to order two desserts in the dining hall?”
I shrugged. “No, oh -- early on I suppose I went through the usual ‘I’m away from home’ thing and tried to go a bit wild.”
She smiled. “But they won’t serve you more. Nor me -- when we order, our orders are checked against dietary guidelines. Poor Deev is in for quite the shock. Ever hear, ‘I’m sorry sir, we’re out?’ from a server?”
I nodded, smiling. “They watch to that degree?”
She smiled, nodding as well. “They do -- they want us to live long, long lives.”
I grunted. “We should eat at pubs more often.”
She laughed and hugged me. “How tired are you,” she whispered hotly in my ear.
“Mmmm... Not too tired...”
“I could be on top so you don’t have to do all the work,” she suggested.
I held her. “That’s what you said last night,” I needled her.
She tried to pull away; I held her close.
“And I don’t mind in the least,” I whispered back, kissing her neck and breathing in her ear.
“Good,” she growled.
I took her hand and we went to bed.
End of Part 3
Rev 2006/10/05
A Life of Service
By silli_artie@hotmail.com
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/artie/www
© Copyright 2004, 2006 by silli_artie@hotmail.com